#work was rough today but nothing makes my day better like watching 2 middle aged men pine for each for over a decade

[peachyysugaa]

gravity

– nasa operator!sim jaeyun x astronaut!gn! reader

miles of sky and space doesn't stop gravity from pulling him to you.

genre: strangers/coworkers to lovers, fluff

wc: 2.7k

warnings: 3rd person pov, probably inaccurate astronaut/nasa lingo sorry i'm a chemistry major LOL, one curse word, couple of time skips, food cw

a/n: yea it's another fluff one-shot 😎 finally a jake one-shot! i hope y'all enjoy this i took a while to write this but i'm p proud of how it turned out despite no proofread.

♞──────────────────────────♞

time on earth: 3:43 am

one of nasa's star rookies sits inside the mission room, monitoring the ISS diligently. today, sim jaeyun was assigned to keep watch on their astronauts as well as the station itself. it's supposed to be a reward for performing well on the latest calculations, but he can't help but find it a little boring. he flips through the cameras quickly, as if trying to find something new.

'yeah right, like anything happens in space,' he mumbles in his head. adjusting his thin glasses and stretching his chair to feel just a tad bit more alive, jake takes a look at one of the three astronauts on board as they float to the window. it seems to be l/n y/n, a rookie who excelled at their simulation tests and the one they say has stars in their eyes themselves.

the astronaut peeks over their shoulder surprised. they make swimming motions to reach over the intercom, which makes jake laugh a little. finally, they push the button and make a reply. "yes houston, this is l/n. is something wrong?"

the astronaut peeks over their shoulder surprised. they make swimming motions to reach over the intercom, which makes jake laugh a little. finally, they push the button and make a reply. "yes houston, this is l/n. is something wrong?"

the astronaut peeks over their shoulder surprised. they make swimming motions to reach over the intercom, which makes jake laugh a little. finally, they push the button and make a reply. "yes houston, this is l/n. is something wrong?"

now jake hadn't planned this far, but since he was already doing it, he might as well go through with it. "do you miss earth?"

he can see through the cameras that y/n wasn't expecting that question as their eyes widen. someway somehow, jaeyun was able to see the stars in their eyes everyone gushed about. maybe it was even better because they were actually living with the stars in space at the time.

"i-i don't know if we should be talking about this, but yea, i do miss earth," they finally reply. "not that being in space isn't fun! i just can't help myself especially since i can see the planet spinning in front of my eyes..."

it's silent for a bit, making the astronaut worry. "h-hello? houston?"

jake blinks before shaking his head and hurried to reply. "y-yes! sorry, i was just caught up in how lonely you sound?"

again, an awkward silence stills. the nasa operator curses to himself, realizing how awkward he must have made it and scrambling to fix the mistake. "i'm really sorry i didn't mean to overstep my boundaries!" he rushes. "my name's sim jaeyun, by the way. people know me better as jake."

"sim jaeyun? rising star sim jaeyun?" they owlishly repeat.

"that's me," he states back, rubbing the back of his neck. "i guess you've heard my name."

he sees the astronaut nod in camera before they're absentmindedly spinning circles midair. "you're my age, and you're already working in nasa headquarters. quite a feat would spread around, you know?"

jake laughs and shakes his head at their comment. "you say that like you're not star rookie l/n y/n."

at the sound of their twinkling laugh, jake's eyes perk up to capture the joyful astronaut holding their stomach on the cameras. "i can tell we're a lot alike, jake," you say with a smile stretching across your face.

it turns out he likes hearing his name off their lips albeit via nasa intercoms. calming down the beating of his heart, jake starts off the first of many late night conversations. "so would you like to hear what's happening on earth?"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 2:26 am

"—and layla was having such a good time meeting other puppies at the park this morning!" jake laughs out with the rookie astronaut laughing with them on the other side of the intercom, separated by thousands of miles in between them. they've been talking like this over the system for weeks now, practically a little over a month. safe to say, the nasa operator was developing feelings for them, perhaps already smitten. sunghoon in the other unit said something about being whipped?

"i wonder how she would react seeing my puppy," they reply.

"when you come back to earth, the first thing we'll do is have them meet on a puppy playdate," he tells them earnestly.

"just layla and rosie on a date? what about us?" he could hear the smirk in their voice even though they weren't next to him.

"i-i-huh? what?" jake stammers. he heard the smirk, but did he hear the words properly? for one, he's not sure they know what he looks like. does that matter to them? without realizing it, his hands are taking off his glasses and fiddling with them.

"are you nervous?"

"hah, what makes you think that?" jake asks nervously.

"jake, i can hear you playing with your glasses."

"shit," he curses, and an endearing giggle is heard on the other side.

"i like you, let's make it a date between us too," he hears, his face gradually becoming hotter.

the chance to confess to his crush is literally handed to him on a silver platter, but he's too busy acting like a middle schooler trying to give chocolates to the person he likes. it's unusual for him to feel like this, his heart's beating way too fast for him to think, and he has to cough to calm down.

"it's a date then." a happy hum is the response he gets, which does nothing to calm the beating of his heart but ignites a new warmth in him. "hey, wait a minute, do you even know what i look like?"

"i kinda remember, but does that even matter?"

"i don't know what if you don't like my face?"

"please, my roommate told me you're on par with that sunghoon guy, and he's known as the prince of his division."

"yeah, but-"

"don't take this the wrong way, jake, but shush." he's sure that if they were here in person, they would put a finger on his lips. it seemed like a(n) y/n thing to do based on the time they've gotten to know each other. "i don't care what you look like. the connection we have together is enough, don't you think?"

he knows they're right, but it doesn't stop the sassy compliment from tumbling out of his mouth. "well, we have a connection and i know you're pretty and smart and funny."

perhaps it's just the color of the screen, but jake swears he saw a blush on their face. it makes him proud after he had somewhat embarrassed himself earlier.

"good night, jake," y/n playfully scoffs at him.

"good night, y/n."

'what a night,' jake thinks to himself with a stupid grin spreading across his face as he prepares the systems for the person on the next shift.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 9:18 am

today is the day. today the pod that stayed at the ISS for 3 months was coming back to earth, and everyone was on their toes. jake was currently scanning the computer calculations from any errors, clutching the paper and burning holes in it with his eyes.

"you good there, bro?" he doesn't need to lift up his head to know that it's sunghoon.

"i have to make sure these are perfect," jake replies in a tone that screamed don't-bother-me.

he feels his coworker's hand pat his shoulder in reassurance. "relax, jake. they'll get here just fine."

jake's whole body sighs when he takes a deep breath. "yeah, i know. i'll just check one more."

his friend offers a comforting smile and one more pat before leaving him to perform his own duties for the landing.

for this last check, jake takes it upon himself to calculate the angle in which the pod enters the earth's atmosphere by hand as a safety precaution. his head jumbles with all the physics equations necessary as his hand complains by cramping from how fast he's calculating.

upon finishing, he looks at the two final numbers side by side. "same to the 5th decimal place," jake affirms to himself.

"great, does that mean you're ready to turn it in, mr. sim?"

turning around abruptly to the sound of the voice, jake finds his supervisor and rushes to grab all the papers for presentation. "yes, ma'am!"

a smile graces her face as she takes the materials from him and flips through the calculations. "good work," she finally says. "our astronauts will get home safely thanks to you."

it's like a weight lifted off his shoulders when he hears those words. jake lets out a sigh of relief once his supervisor walks away and tells him to wait for further instruction. he folds into his chair, thinking about how soon he'll finally be able to see y/n in person.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 9:45 am

"everyone, standby!" jake's supervisor announced. the whole command center took a deep breath as they tuned into the astronauts, soon to be leaving the ISS via pod.

"l/n, song, johnson, do you read me?"

"loud and clear, houston," y/n l/n replies in crisp audio.

"get ready to launch then, atlantis ii."

"copy that, houston." the sounds of buckling and buttons flicking can be heard on the other end as jake's palms sweat.

"3... 2... 1... launch!" and they're detached from the ISS, launched into the endless ocean of stars and dust that is space.

"coordinates and angles, houston?"

"atlantis ii, the speed, angle, and coordinates at which you are to enter..." and jake hears his checked numbers be repeated to them. "...you'll be dropping in the gulf of mexico."

"copy that, houston. ready to enter earth's atmosphere in 3... 2... 1... entering!"

the audio delivers the rough shaking as the temperature regulation beeps steadily.

"your temperatures are in the right range, atlantis ii."

it's a rough 5 or something minutes, jake's not sure of the time. he just knows his armchair is having a field day with all the gripping he's doing. he can hear the shaking of the pod driven by the weight and the acceleration of gravity once it takes its pull on the astronauts' pod.

"prepare for impact, atlantis ii!"

everyone is rising up to see the camera pan to the oceanview team who waits for the pod to enter.

"initiating parachute!" and there! the pod appears on the command center's screen in high definition, the mic picking up some of the breeze of the mexican gulf. it enters the ocean with a large plop! and everyone is standing up and cheering.

"successful landing, everyone! congratulations!!"

sunghoon is coming to jake and lifting him out of the chair, engulfing him in the joy that comes from returning the astronauts home. he didn't realize he was staring stupidly at the screen with a blank look and still sitting.

"dude, we did it!" at the sound of his friend's voice, jake mirrors his friend's smile and they embrace each other.

"we did it!" jake replies. soon, he'll finally be able to see y/n in person.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 8:04 am

the next day when he clocks in for work, it's calmer and more exciting. jake can feel it in the atmosphere as the nasa operator walks through headquarters.

he makes his way towards the rehabilitation center for their astronauts, his heart unable to calm down the rapid rate of beating. he hears it before he sees it: the bell-like laughter jake was so familiar with, the one he associated with late nights. his feet is pulled towards the sound like gravity, his strides getting longer and his steps having a bounce to it.

jake hears his name being called happily, and he turns to face the voice with an unstoppable grin before taking steps towards the astronaut going through rehabilitation.

"hey, gravity got you bad, i see."

they laugh joyfully. "i'll be good in about a month or 2—i'm pretty quick at this."

"i have no doubt about that."

the two are silent for a bit as they do a few more crunches, jake crouching down in front of their feet to meet them. it's nice and comfortable between the two as he helps them go through their exercises.

"so about that date..." he starts off, watching as their eyes sparkle like stars upon hearing his phrase. his mouth starts to hang a little, loosening up to have words spilling out without his complete knowledge. "wow... your eyes really do have stars in them..."

they stop as they finish a crunch and reaches out to close his mouth with an eye roll. "close your mouth first, sim jaeyun."

"okay, but what about that date?"

"we're getting it. just wait a week or so when i can walk properly," they say with a teasing smile. jake can't help but to smile back.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 2:57 pm

the only thing keeping his nerves calm is layla. the golden retriever was far from nervous as she sat wagging her tail happily with her tongue out.

"jake!!" he hears from the voice he's come to love listening to over the past few months. looking up from layla while holding her leash tightly, he spots the person he's been waiting for and he's mesmerized, left breathless by what he sees.

a light summery fit adorns their figure as they dash towards him with a puffy pomsky dog equally excited. their smiles are bright and sparkles adorn their eyes as usual, but it doesn't make the effect any less beautiful. they slow down, owner and dog panting a little.

immediately, layla gets up from her sitting position to greet the new guests, starting to sniff the two of them.

y/n laughs as they squat down and let the golden sniff them and their hand before giving her warm pets. "hi layla! i'm y/n, and this is rosie."

the two dogs sniff each other in circles, but soon enough they're bouncing and pouncing each other as if they've been best friends since litter days.

"they're getting along so well, and we haven't even gotten to the park yet," y/n comments with a giggle.

"should we get going?" jake offers. they reply with a nod and holds their leash in one hand, grabbing jake's with the other.

if he's taken by surprise, he doesn't show it, but inside, his heart is pounding more than ever before and his head is screaming in joy. the pair walk together hand-in-hand towards the park with two even happier pups prancing ahead of them.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ゜・・゜゜・*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

time on earth: 4:31 pm

the two dogs are getting a bit tired, it seems, as they walk back to jake and y/n who were talking comfortably, y/n's head rested on his shoulder.

"look who's back from playing," y/n says as they ruffle rosie and layla's head, jake following suit.

"let's go get some ice cream for us and puppucinos for them?" jake suggests.

"ooh! that sounds good!" the pups seem to like the idea too, wagging their tails once more and looking at their owners with puppy eyes. jake thinks he's surrounded by three pairs of puppy eyes as he shakes his head in endearing disbelief.

"let's go then."

once they get to the shops, order, and receive their foods, the four of them sit down and enjoy their treats. the owners laugh at their dogs when they see them lap up their puppucinos with so much excitement and vigor, getting the cream all over their faces.

as the sun sets, it casts its glowing light onto the astronaut-in-rehabilitation, making jake's eyes move onto them. he notices a smudge of ice cream at the corner of their lips and without thinking moves in to kiss it off. y/n blinks their starry eyes at him, reminding him of their first "meeting" over intercom and camera screens.

"i like you," he blurts out. "can i... kiss you?"

"i thought you would never ask," they reply with a wide grin, leaning in to press their lips together before he does.

it's like gravity pulls them towards each other because they can't ever seem to get enough of one another, no matter how far apart they are.

[gladerwolfstarkimagines]

Imagine being the outgoing social daughter of Bumi and developing a friendship with Huan Beifong. Huan develops feelings for you but doesn’t know how to handle that so uses art to express himself...which Wei and Wing share with you, exposing Huan’s secret.  

Part 2 here

Part three here

You had come along on the avatar’s trip to find airbenders mainly because you and your father were now airbenders too thank to harmonic convergences but also because you longed to see more of the world and this seemed like the perfect excuse. You were obsessed with Zafou for many reasons but the art and culture was the main reason. Growing up in the fire nation, where your mother was from, there was not much of that. All art work was usually portraits or statues of royal family members and there were no dances just for fun or non-formal occasions. But in Zafou everywhere you looked there was individuality or creativity. Through their dancing to their method of bending, everything about Zafou was beautiful to you. When you first saw Huan it was while he was working on a sculpture. He got annoyed when Bolin couldn’t tell what the sculpture was but you hardly even heard their argument. “it’s not a banana. I was inspired by harmonic convergence, it represents the dawning of a new age..obviously” Huan glared before frowning as he noticed you. You’d stepped closer to look at the sculpture and were now right beside him gazing at his work “wow this is amazing” you grinned “you do all of this just using your bending?” you asked positively beaming. Huan looked at you, confused why you were smiling so brightly at him. “Erm yes...” he nodded. “That’s so cool” you told him “that must take a lot of precision and skill!”. “...well yes it does” Huan agreed and you smiled at him. Huan looked away from your intense eyes, blushing slightly and walked away. You stared at his pieces of art in awe not noticing his discomfort at all. 

Huan was the first artist you’d ever met and you were very intrigured by him so you found your way back to Huan’s work area later that same day. He didn’t hear you as you walked towards him but when you got close enough to see his face you saw he was wrapped up in thought and paused. You didn’t want to disrupt him, you understood not to stop an artist in their flow (something your dad always told you when he was in the middle of one of his stories) so paused. You’d wait for him to stop and them greet him. You hopped up onto a statue you could use as a bench and waited.

Huan’s POV 

When Huan did see you, your red airbender uniform catching his eye, he jumped not knowing how long you’d been there watching him. He stared at you trying to think of a reason why you’d be here when you noticed he’d seen you and waved happily. “Hi Huan” you called and he frowned “erm hi, what are you doing there....”. Your smile didn’t fade at all “I was just watching you work, I hope you don’t mind I’ve just never seen an artist work before! Can i sit in on your session?”. Huan didn’t blush easily but he felt his cheeks heat up and his throat go dry. “Erm sure, just keep quiet okay? I need to concentrate”. You nodded obediently “you won’t even know i’m here” you smiled but Huan doubted that.  

Huan could tell you were an airbender because hours later you were still sat as still as a mouse watching him contently and it drove him crazy. Huan couldn’t focus, his mind kept wandering back to you and he could swear he could literally feel your gaze on him. Huan didn’t get why you were here?  Everytime he glanced back there you looked happy and interested, you’d smile at him and he’d blush. Embarassed Huan decided he wouldn’t look at you anymore but his mind was still on you. Had Wei and Wing put you up to this? There was no reason you were this interested in art to sit on an uncomfortable metal statue for hours watching him achieve nothing. Frustrated Huan sighed “nothing’s coming to be today I am done for the day”. You hopped off your perch “that’s okay i’m sure you’ll get it tomorrow”. Huan stared at you confused at your niceness and just sighed tired of trying to figure you out. “Can i come back tomorrow?” you asked shyly and Huan couldn’t bring himself to tell you no, you seemed like one of those people too sweet for even Huan to disappoint. “I guess” he shrugged and you grinned “thanks Huan” and bounded away. Huan sighed watching you, he figured you were just intruged by the loner Beifong, you’d soon realise he was nothing special and grow bored of him.

Huan was proved wrong, everyday you’d appear in Huan’s work space and watch him quietly. Even though your visits were now regular it didn’t mean Huan coped better, if anything he got worse. His work progress dwindled but he had to admit there was something comforting about your optimistic presence. Huan found he was thinking about you more in these sessions than his own work and had given up trying to stop thoughts of you popping up in his head and just let them be. Recently Huan was wondering if you were uncomfortable sat on the metal beam you’d chosen as a seat. It wasn’t really a seat and must be cold and hard but you never complained or fidgeted. Huan wondered if he should make it into a bench and got annoyed at himself for focusing on that instead of his art work. He tried turning his attention back to his work but couldn’t get his worry for you out of his head so just sighed turning around "y/n stand up". You bounded up and looked at Huan trustingly. Huan didn’t especially like talking to you, it made him blush and feel stupid because he always stuttered or muddled up his words so he just pulled you away from the statue. He started to bent the metal and could feel you watching right behind him which made sweat roll down his forehead. It took a while and the silence as you waited made Huan uncomfortable but finally he was finished and nodded to you "there now you can sit more comfortably". You looked from Huan to the bench and smiled "a bench...you made a bench for me". Huan blushed "i just thought...". "That’s so kind thank you" you smiled placing a hand on his arm. Huan tensed as you touched him but didn’t pull away. "I’ll let you get back to work" you smiled and walked away to your new bench happily

1 week later

You spent more and more time with Huan, not only in his outside work space but also in his inside studio and had even minorly assisted Huan with one of his projects. Huan had come to class you as a friend, well maybe not a friend but he liked your presence and although he didn’t speak to you lots he’d come to speak with you more than he did his family. You were just an easy person to talk to and Huan was growing in his confidence with you when it was all yanked away when the avatar left Zafou and you had to go too. When Huan heard the news you’d be leaving he told himself this was good, now he’d be able to get back to his projects, which he’d fallen far behind on and finally focus. But when you left Huan felt weird. Being in his studio now felt lonely without you, the empty bench in the yard felt so daunting and large without you on it and he couldn’t help but picture you sat there and wish you were there. All this annoyed Huan and he decided he needed to get it out, to get the image of you out of his head and onto something solid. Maybe then he’d stop thinking about you so much. So he locked himself away for three weeks and worked on a painting of you just as he remembered in what was becoming his most fond memory, you sat in the garden of his work space watching him. Huan worked tirelessly night and day to make it fitting and corrected any small imperfection mercilessly. When Huan finally finished at 5am on the third week of his project he was utterly exhuasted and promptly collapsed into sleep right there on the floor. The painting he’d created of you finished proudly in the centre of his studio.  

Huan woke up to voices and knew there were intruders in his studio. He peered through the darkness and saw it was his twin brothers as expected. “Ow” Huan cried when one of them stood on his hand. “Ow there you are” Wei said “why’s it so dark in here...”. Wing reached the curtain and tugged it open giving Huan the urge to hiss at how bright it was. “He lives” Wei cried. “Yeah but he looks pretty rough” Wing smirked before his eyes drifted across the room and Huan realised he hadn’t covered your painting. “Ow what’s this...” Wing called crossing the room and Huan tried to grab him but failed. Wing dodged his brother and stood infront of the painting “Wei come here” he said after a few seconds of staring. “No stop it” Huan cried getting onto his feet but his brothers had already seen it. Wei whistled at the size of the painting but them paused “wait is that...y/n?”. “Oh my god it is” Wing cried as Huan tried to cover it up finally reaching them. “You painted her! did she ask you to do this?”. “No she doesn’t know” Huan muttered getting the cover over but Wing just tugged it away. “Is it a gift for her?”. “No it was just...something I did” Huan sighed and Wei and Wing smirked locking eyes. “No...no” Huan started but his brothers ignored him. “Awww you’ve got it bad brother” Wing smirked grabbing Huan. “I don’t have anything” Huan snapped trying to get out of his stronger brother’s grip but Wei grabbed his other arm trapping him. “Yes you do, look at how you drew her, you drew her like an angel, the light on her face like that...”. “No I didn’t...that’s just how she looks”. “You realise you just implied she’s an angel right?” Wei asked “and yet you claim you don’t totally fancy her”. “I do not! Y/n’s just a friend...maybe not even that” he snapped yanking his arm out of their grip “now get out of my studio!”. “Ow my god there’s more” Wei cried seeing the canvases behind the painting and Wing laughed “i don’t think he just likes y/n...”. “They were my first drafts!” Huan cried “that’s all! I was going to do one more focused on her face but that’s hard when she’s not here so i did a more landscape version”. “Yeah sure” Wing smirked “how about we show y/n these and see what she thinks?”. “No, no way!” Huan cried putting himself between his brothers and the paintings. Huan didn’t totally know how he felt about you, although he had his suspicions, but he knew his brothers telling you terrified him. The twins went to argue and Huan’s anger peaked “You will never tell a soul about the painting or else! Now get out!” he yelled. “Fine geesh” Wei smirked “we know when we’re not wanted, come on Wing”. 

Wei and Wing’s POV

Wei pulled Wing out of the room and Wing turned to him “we’re not seriously keeping this quiet right?”. “No we’re going to get the painting to y/n, our brother needs some help admitting he likes her and what better thing to prompt him to confess that y/n herself?”.

Your POV  

“Y/n!” you heard someone call you and came out of your room to find your father and uncle Tenzin dragging a large package into the house. Given the size of the package a crowd had gathered and you joined them. “Woah what is this?” you asked and your father huffed “well don’t you know it’s addressed to you”. “Me?” you cried “but i didn’t order anything”. “It says your name very clearly” Tenzin said reading the label “maybe it’s a gift?”. “A gift that size” Asami whistled and Bolin nodded “open it y/n! open it! open it!”. Your cousins joined in the chant and you nodded “okay, okay” and stepped forwards. “Erm Korra a little help?” you asked and she nooded. She slit the box with metal bending and the box opened with small foam balls falling everywhere. “This is the best gift ever” Meelo cried and Tenzin frowned “Meelo that’s not the gift....Meelo don’t eat that!”. You laughed as Tenzin yanked the plastic from Meelo’s mouth when Korra gasped “y/n it’s....it’s”. Your aunt Kya got to the box next and she had a similar reaction “it’s beautiful” she gasped “y/n who did this?”. “Did what?” you asked and Korra turned to your father “Bumi hold the box while I pull it out. It took Tenzin, Bumi, Kya and Korra to get it out but when they did you all went silent. It was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. The painting showed a young woman sat on a metal bench surrounded by flowers and trees. The sun was setting making the colour of all the plants stand out against her red clothes. The girl seemed to be mid laugh and looked beautiful. “Wow” you gasped as Asami smiled “you look beautiiful”. “What do you mean?” you asked and she frowned “y/n thats you!”. “No it’s not me...” you frowned before realising the red clothes were your air bending uniform. “Who sent this?” Bolin asked as you stepped closer to the painting. The scenery looked familair...and the metal bench... “Huan” Korra said suddenly “that’s his name there in the corner signed isn’t it?”. Tenzin nodded “yes, he is more talented than I thought”. “Huan did this?” you asked before smiling “he knew I liked art so he made me a painting”. “It’s beautiful” Jinora smiled “it’s probably one of the only pieces of art featuring an airbender in centuries and I’ve never seen one this beautiful before”. “You’re probably right Jinora” Tenzin nodded “airbender rarely comissioned paintings or had much use for fine arts so this is quite special, did you know about this y/n?”. “No” you smiled “he must’ve been working on it for ages without telling me, I have to go thank him, uncle Tenzin can i borrow Oogie?”. Tenzin looked to Bumi who just stared at him and so nodded “yes...”. You thanked him rushing out of the door in the blink of an eye. 

Bumi’s POV

“Now that is a nice piece of art” Bumi smiled exmaining the painting as Tenzin appeared beside him. “Yes...Huan must really like y/n”. “Well who doesn’t like my daughter? She’s amazing” Bumi said smiling proudly. Tenzin coughed not sure why his brother was so relaxed about this. “yes, but aren’t you concerned?” Tenzin asked but Bumi just shrugged. “Why would I be concerned?”. “Well Huan has taken it upon himself to do this beautiful painting of your daughter and she see’s it and runs off to travel three hours in this weather to tell him how much she likes it”. Bumi nodded still not getting what Tenzin meant and Tenzin sighed “aren’t you worried that this large gesture is a show of Huan’s intentions for y/n?”. When Bumi continued to frown Tenzin rolled his eyes “that he’s possibly in love with her”. Bumi physically jumped “no he can’t be, this doesnt mean that, my y/n’s still a kid, she’s still my baby girl”. “I mean her and Huan did become pretty close” Bolin nodded and Bumi glared “you take that back”, “And look how he drew her” Mako nodded “she’s the most beautiful girl i’ve seen in any painting”. Bumi glared “are you interested in my daughter too huh police boy?”. “No, i just meant look at how he sees her, I think Tenzin’s right”. “Ow no, i’ve let my daughter run off to her boyfriend unsupervised” Bumi cried “I need to stop her before I loose her forever” and he ran out the door. 

Your POV    

You arrived at Zafou cold and tired but still so excited to see Huan. You hoped he wouldn’t mind you showing up so abruptly and made your way to his inside studio figuring he’d be in there given the weather. It started snowing an hour into your journey and hadn’t stopped since. When you got to Huan’s studio however the lights were off and the door locked so you sighed not sure where to try next, you had no idea where his bedroom was. You were wandering around trying to find the main house when two figures appeared. “Y/n?” Wei and Wing called and you grinned relieved to see them. “Hey guys it’s so good to see you! I’m lost can you help me find Huan?”. “Why?” Wing smirked “did something come in the mail?”. You grinned “you guys knew?”. Wei nodded “Huan showed it us, it was beautiful wasn’t it?”. You nodded “It was amazing, that’s why I came, to thank him for it, nobodies ever given me such a beautiful present before”. Wing smiled “yeah well it would be Huan”. You frowned as Wing an Wei exchanged looks “why because he’s an artist?”. “No, we meant if anyone would give you a gift like that of course it’d be Huan”. Your frown deepened “it would...why?”. Wei sighed “now look y/n we don’t usually get involved in stuff like this but seeing as our older brother is useless at stuff like this we’ll tell you okay?”. You nodded not sure what you were expecting them to say but it wasn’t what came next. “Huan likes you...a lot....like a lot of a lot”. You paused “he does? but...no, we’re just friends”. Wing smirked “maybe to you but to Huan? He liked you y/n, he sulked for ages after you left”. “No...I mean i wasn’t even sure Huan actually liked me until I saw the painting, we’re just friends I’m sure”. “Y/n didn’t you notice how he painted you, how much attention to detail he paid to you, you don’t do that for any friend”. “well maybe not...”. “And we’ve seen him with you” Wei told you “y/n he’s never show an interest in any girls...and he’s had interest from pleanty of pretty ones before but he never even paid attention to them, let alone made them a 4 foot masterpiece”. You blushed “you really think your brother likes me?”. Wing smirked “we know so because he does that same blush when we mention your name to him”. You blushed even more and Wei smirked “the light in Huan’s room has just switched on, my guess is he’s in there”. You looked at the illuminated window and suddenly felt nervous to see him. “You think I should...talk to him about this?”. “Yes” Wing and Wei answered automatically and you paused “i don’t know maybe he doesn’t actually...” making Wei sigh and look to Wing.  “Huan!!!” they both yelled. You jumped and hit them both lightly “why did you do that! Now he’s gonna...”., “Y/n?” a familiar voice called and you spun to see Huan’s head poking out of his window. “Hi” you smiled “I just came to thank you for the painting and i bumped into Wing and Wei”. “painting...Wing and Wei?” Huan asked and it all clicked and he glared at his brothers. “You little...” he started when Wing and Wei smriked “aren’t you going to invite y/n in Huan? She flew all this way just to see you”. You and Huan both blushed but Huan looked at you “you did? that’s like four hours and it’s almost winter”. You shrugged “it was only three and i wanted to see you in person”. Those words made Huan feel dizzy and he smiled without realising it “well come inside you must be freezing”. You hurried inside and Huan glared at Wing and Wei “I will pay you back for this” but they just winked and walked away. You reached Huan’s room and huddled in front of the fire. Huan resisted the urge to wrap a blanket around you and tried not to stare at you. You’d never been in Huan’s room before and broke the silence after looking around “your room’s lovely” you smiled and Huan felt pleased. “You think so?”. You nodded admiring the many books and instruments dotted around “but I knew it would be”. “How?”. “Well i mean you’re an artist and well dressed, you have an eye for colours and stuff so i guess i assumed you’d be good at decorating too”. Huan blushed but smirked “you know that’s not how art works right?”. “I know” you nodded blushing and Huan was confused why, you’d never acted nervous around him before but now you did....was it the painting? Had he creeped you out? “What did you think of the painting?” Huan asked bravely and your face soon broke into a smile again “I love it!”. “Yeah?” Huan asked acting like those words didn’t make his stomach do backflips “you do?”. You nodded “it was so beautiful, all the delicate brush strokes and merge of colours, I was so pleased you based it on me”. “It wasn’t based on you it was you” Huan said confused and you blushed again “I mean but it can’t be...I don’t look like that, the girl you based on me was...well more beautiful than any human i’ve ever seen”. Huan frowned, it had taken Wei and Wing a second to realise it was you too. “I apologise” Huan frowned “I must not be as good a painter as I thought”. “Are you kidding you’re amazing” you cried and Huan shook your compliment away. “You’re not the first person to struggle placing the girl as you, I do not understand though, to me that is how you look”. Huan seemed to realise what he’d said after he said it and saw your reaction in slow motion. You gasped slightly, your lips parted as you stared at him and what he’d just said. You met his eyes and then both looked away rapidly.  Huan was blushing and kicked himself for saying that. “Do you really see me like that?” you asked and Huan nodded “yes”. “so it’s true” you said softly “what Wei and Wing said”. Huan frowned “wait what?”. You jumped and Huan regretted talking so loudly, “i’m sorry” he said lowering his voice “what did Wei and Wing say to you?”. You blushed and Huan swallowed this could not be good. "They said you...were fond of me". Huan’s tanned skin turned red and you paused unsure if that was a good or bad reaction but carried on now you’d started "that you liked me". Huan didn’t reply so you sighed "do you Huan?". Huan fiddled with his metal bracelet before nodding "yes". He looked at you waiting for your response and saw you frown. His heart sank, when he realised you weren’t looking at him but to the door where you could hear raised voices. "Dad?" you asked when the door was thrown open and Bumi appeared. "Ow y/n!" he smiled seeing you before he spotted Huan "you!" he all but gasped. "Get away from my daughter you tatooed dyed haired ruffian” Bumi yelled and you stared eyes wide “dad!”. Huan didn’t seem concerned though he just watched your father calmly. “Sir I am not inappropriately near your daughter and I don’t have a tattoo” when Bumi cut him off punching him in the stomach. “Put them up” he cried “we will fight for my daughter’s honour!”. “Dad!” you cried pushing him away from Huan with airbending. You rushed to Huan who was doubled over “Huan are you okay?” you asked putting an arm around him and he nodded “he just winded me that’s all”. You spun on your father a face like thunder “outside now!”. Huan watched amazed as your father hung his head in shame and obeyed.

After strong words with your father you sent him away to wait by Oogie for you and returned to Huan. You knocked nervously and opened it when you heard Huan call back. He was sat down and you scanned him for any signs he was hurt. “I’m sorry about that” you frowned “are you okay? He didn’t hit you too hard did he?”. Huan blushed embarassed and shook his head “i’m fine”. Your father just beat him up, there was no way even if you did like him before that you liked him now. "My father always has amazing timing" you frowned "Huan i’m sorry...i never got to reply to you". "It’s okay" Huan shrugged but you shook your head "no it’s not but hopefully i can take you out on a date to make up for it?". Huan paused and looked up at you "what?". "Well if you wanted to..." you blushed "i like you too". Huan stood up and honestly you expected a smile, maybe a laugh, perhaps ever a hug or kiss but you didn’t expect Huan to disagree with you. "No you don’t" he said simply. You paused "i’m sorry what?". "Girls like you don’t talk to people like me and if they do they certainly don’t want to date us". You frowned "what do you mean girls like me?". "All pretty and confident and nice..." he sighed "why would you like me i’m nothing like you?". "Maybe that’s why?" You shrugged “opposites attract and all that?”. Huan shook his head "no you date boys like Wing and Wei not me". "Says who?" You asked "i don’t want to go on a date with your brothers...no offence they’re lovely but well you're different..:.”. “Because I’m an artist?” Huan asked “is that it? You’ve never met one before you’re probably just impressed with that!”. "Why are you trying to convince me i don’t like you?" you asked and Huan rolled his eyes "because its better that way, it’s easier you realise it now rather than later down the road..it would certainly be a lot kinder on me". “But I...what do you think I’m going to do? Get bored or something? Change my mind?”. Huan went quiet and you knew that was it, Huan didn’t think you really liked him, he thought this was a phase. "Why don’t you believe me?” you asked confused and Huan sighed angrily “because why would I? Why would I believe someone like you would like me?”. “Because you’re an amazing guy with tons of good qualities” you shot back and Huan laughed “sureee I can’t think of a single thing you like about me other than me being an artist”. “I could name tons of things!” you cried and Huan raised his eyebrow “ow yeah?”. “Yeah” you cried and took a deep breath. Angrily, you faced Huan fully and listed whatever came to mind. “I like how your hair looks and the dyed green bit especially. I like how sure of yourself and your art you are. I liked how your face clouds when you’re working and how you scrunch up your nose when you’re concentrating especially hard! I like how you speak your mind and don’t try and be polite! I like how you can also be really sweet and thoughtful. I like how you’re like nobody i’ve ever met before and not because you’re an artist or a Beifong but because there’s nobody else like you Huan...”. You would’ve carried on but Huan was embarassed and overcome with emotion so just did what he body told him to do. Huan cupped your face and cut you off as he kissed you. You gasped in shock at the sensation and the realisation that Huan was kissing you sunk in but rushed to kiss him back none the less. Huan seemed to lose confidence really quickly and his eyes snapped open and he let go of you just as you were getting into it. “sorry I...” he started but you cut him off “no don’t apologise” you smiled grabbing his hand “I liked that...I like you Huan”. Huan blushed and he couldn’t help smile. You grinned to see Huan finally believed you and how he was holding onto your hand a blush on his cheeks. “So that date?” you asked and Huan nodded “i’d like that a lot”. “You would?” you asked and Huan nodded “I know a great place we can go if you want to see more of Zafou, we could go this weekend if you wanted”. “That sounds amazing” you grinned and Huan blushed “great”. You smiled and just stared at each other before both going red. I should probably go" you blushed "but i’ll be back in 3 days for our date?". Huan still couldn’t believe that sentance but nodded "yes, 3 days". You blushed staring at him and Huan froze, did you expect him to kiss you again or something? He barely had enough confidence the first time he didn’t think he could do it a second time. But was he supposed to initiate something now you were leaving? As you started leaning towards him Huan panicked even more unsure what to do when you kissed him but you just hugged him. "Thank you again for the painting it’s the nicest present anyones ever given me" you told him. Huan blushed and hugged you tighter "it’s no problem". You smiled pulling away and looked at him “I have to go...my dad”. Huan nodded leading you to the door “of course, thanks for coming all this way”. “I’m glad I did” you smirked and Huan nodded “I am too”. You eyes lit up and you grinned “bye Huan” you smiled softly ghosting his hand with your own before walking away. Huan stared after you until you’d gone and then collapsed against his door frame. He couldn’t remember being this excited about a social event in years and still couldn’t belive this had just happened. He actually wouldn’t mind thanking Wei and Wing for this, they deserved it. 

---

So this is supppppper long and maybe odd considering how little screen time Huan got in Lok but idk what happened!! I got major Huan feels suddenly and started writing and this appeared and now i’m low key in love with Huan. Ow well, thats another Beifong to add to the list

[hawks-supremacy]

Ghostly Roommate

After moving into a small home you begin to notice some weird things that have been happening.

Warnings: Swearing, that’s about it. There’s an alcoholic beverage at the end.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This was something I wrote for Halloween but only had half of it done when Halloween got here lol. Let me know if you want a part 2. I think the beginning is a little rough? But after that it gets better I hope.

Living alone at the age of 28 wasn’t something you imagined yourself doing when you graduated from school. You and your roommate from college always talked about moving in together after school, but things change. In this case she got a boyfriend and wanted to move in with him instead. So here you were moving into a small rented home with your cat instead of her. The house wasn’t super small but it wasn’t big either. You didn’t need much, just a place to eat and sleep and lounge about on your days off. You got the house for cheaper than what you would’ve expected. It's not falling apart or in a super terrible place either, but you weren’t going to ask questions. As the months went on you learned that maybe sometimes you should ask questions.

The first month came and went with no issues that concerned you. Sure you had to call your landlord twice because your heating system was broken. It’d be one temperature in one room and in the next it’d be colder. It wasn’t a huge difference but it was enough for it to bug you. You also noticed a few things out of place when you’d get back from work, but you brushed that off as your cat messing with things while she was alone in the house. 

The second month was a little weirder to you, but you brushed it off as the stress of living in a new area and starting a new job. There were times where you’d leave your room at three am and see something move out of the corner of your eye. You had originally brushed it off as your cat moving about at night, but one night you realized that she had been in your room the whole time. You decided to push it to the back of your mind and mark it off as you being paranoid. 

You had a day off and you decided to have your old roommate, Nemuri, over for a small hangout so you could catch up. It was an hour before she was supposed to come over and you were cleaning up your home when you came across a cat toy you were 80% sure you put away. You glanced over at your assumed culprit and back at the toy before speaking, “Seriously Saturn what am I going to do with you. Every time I put away a toy it seems like you drag it out again.” You sighed and placed the toy over with the rest before finishing the little cleaning you had to do.

You were finishing up cooking when you had heard the knock on the door as it opened. “Knock knock I’m coming in darling.” You had heard Nemuri let herself in and chuckled softly to yourself before taking everything off the stove. “Oh there you are. For a second I thought I walked into an empty home.” Nemuri stated as she gracefully strided into the kitchen.

“How was the commute over here? It wasn’t too long was it? I said we could meet somewhere, you didn’t have to come all the way here.” You moved around the kitchen getting out bowls and cups for you two, “What do you want to drink? I have tea or I have some coffee from this morning, it’s still warm.”  You heard her say that tea was fine before wandering around the front area of your home.

“This is a cute little home you have here Y/n. However, it is a little chilly. You should get your heating checked out, I’m nipping out over here.” You rolled your eyes at the fact that she still has no filter when it comes to more crude topics. You thought for sure she’d mellow out, but it’s not Nemuri if she wasn’t the definition of “TMI”. 

As you set everything on the table you called out your response, “I have, twice. They have no idea what’s wrong with it. It’s not like it’s terrible, I just put on a sweater and call it good. Anyway, the food is ready so come eat. I made dumplings because I remember you saying you were going to miss them when we graduated.” 

As you both ate you had some light conversation about where you were working and how the move for both of you went. Finishing up the meal and setting the dishes in the sink to wash later you turned to Nemuri, “So how’s your little boytoy?” You asked as you walked over to the couch where she had decided to make herself comfortable and find something to watch for background noise.

She laughed as she gave you her response, “He’s fine I’m sure, but we broke up a little while ago.” Before you could ask what happened she had let out a deep sigh, “Men these days are so vanilla. You wanna spice things up a little bit and all you get back in response is “That’s not going to fit” or  “what the hell are you doing with that” I swear it’s so hard to find a man who wants to experiment, yanno?” 

Upon hearing her reasoning you started choking on the drink you started taking before she talked. After calming down from your sudden near death experience you looked at her with both your eyebrows raised, “Uhm, no I can’t say that I do know. Honestly Nemuri sometimes I wonder if you were just born without a filter or if you got to a certain age and it broke.” 

She replied with the fact that she’s never had one as she laughed at your reaction, “We should get you a man...or woman...You know I just realized I never asked about that. So like, Girl in Red? Sweater Weather? Or?” You just gave her a look that said you were confused before she sighed, “I’m asking if you’re gay.” 

You made a face of realization before you felt your face get a tinge warmer. “I’ve never really been in more than one relationship but I do know that I like both. Actually I don’t think it matters, yanno? If I like someone, I like someone. I don’t care what they are.” She squealed excitedly before jumping straight into a plan of going out on a weekend and finding someone for you before you cut her off, “Nemuri! I’m not really looking for a relationship right now. Between work, and still trying to figure things out I don’t really want to throw a relationship into the mix.” She nodded in understanding before moving the topic to something else. Even though she had to filter you were glad she respected your boundaries and didn’t push anything.

You spent the next hour or so catching up before she said she had to leave for some appointment. You walked her to the door and watched as she put on what looked like six inches of death in shoe form and left. You walked into the kitchen to clean everything up and noticed that the dumplings you had left on the hot plate were gone and the hot plate turned off. You laughed and told yourself you’re just being silly and you probably put them in the fridge for later. You quickly did the dishes and put everything away before going to grab a drink from the fridge. As you glanced in there you had noticed that the dumplings weren’t in the fridge like you thought and they had just disappeared. You quickly glanced around the kitchen to make sure you weren’t crazy. You realized they weren’t there and quickly made your way around the house. You decided before you checked all the rooms in your house that if there was indeed someone in your house you were fucked. You went to the living room and found a weapon, not that you had any that were useful. You grabbed an exacto knife from your various supplies and decided it was better than nothing.

Heading over to your bedroom first you slowly pushed open the door before walking in and noticing that no one was there. You checked all of the rooms, leaving only one room you hadn’t quite decided what you were doing with last. As you were checking the rooms you told yourself that this was ridiculous and that no one was in the rooms and I was probably Saturn that ate them. That still doesn’t explain how the hot plate was off, also you haven’t seen Saturn in a while. You lowered your weapon before pushing open the last door. You dropped the exacto knife as you saw what looked to be a homeless man playing with your cat. He looked at you and the exacto knife you dropped and then your cat and back to you. Without saying anything he disappeared. 

After seeing that you screamed and ran out of the room before running back in and snatching Saturn off the ground and running to your room to pack your shit and get the hell out of town. “Oh hell to the motherfucking no! I am not going to be in a horror movie, not today Satan. I prefer to watch them, not live them! Saturn, aren’t you supposed to see this shit! Why didn’t you say anything?! Fucking traitors, just gonna let me get killed by the ghost. You’d like that wouldn’t you you sick fuck.” During your ramble and rant you hadn’t noticed the figure standing in the doorway with his arms crossed watching you. 

In the middle of you scolding your cat you heard a “Are you done yet?” You dropped the pair of sweatpants you were about to pack and let out a high pitched scream. Turning around you looked at the ghostly man and whispered a pathetic “please don’t kill me”. He shook his head in response, “If I were going to kill you, I would’ve done it already. Why would I wait months to kill you?” You paused and narrowed your eyes at the man. You had no clue why he would wait months to kill you, that still doesn’t make this situation any better. You were still scared and now a little creeped out that this dead (somewhat handsome) man had been living in the house and watching you. 

“Okay well if you aren’t going to kill me, what do you want?”  He gave a shrug in response before uncrossing his arms and walking into the room to sit on your bed with your cat. You instinctively took a few steps back when he started walking into the room. “So have you been moving all my stuff around and getting things out.” He nodded in response. You both stayed quiet for a few moments before you slowly started to unpack the suitcase you had thrown on your bed.

After unpacking everything you looked at the man for a few moments. You feel a little bad about the homeless comment, but upon looking at him you can’t really blame yourself. He looks a little gruff. Long hair and some stubble, he also had terrible bags. You coughed a bit before speaking, not quite sure how to start this conversation, “Do you want some tea? Wait, can you even drink things? No that’s a dumb question you clearly can, I’m assuming you ate the dumplings from earlier. I still think we should talk about things whether you want to drink tea or not. I’m having tea, specifically a calming tea because I feel like I just ran a goddamn mile and I’m having a heart attack.” As you talked you walked to the kitchen and put on a kettle.

“I’ll have a cup of tea. Yes I can eat and drink, I don’t need to, but sometimes I liked to just to remember what things tasted like.” You gave a sad smile at that thought and made you both cups of tea before sitting down at the couch. You noticed the exacto knife on the counter and felt your cheeks get warm, what were you gonna do with that? “What questions do you have?”

You thought about it for a moment, “Uh is there anything you don’t want to tell me?” he shrugged in response so you figured that meant he didn’t care. “Well to start off with, what’s your name?” 

“Aizawa Shota.” You nodded, glad you had a name for him and weren’t just calling him ghost. You would’ve felt awkward if he didn’t remember or something and you had to call him ghost. “How did you die? When? You don’t have to answer if it’s like a sensitive topic or something.” You quickly tacked on the last part just in case he got upset and disappeared again, you felt more comfortable being able to see him and knowing where he was.

“I don’t remember how, as far as how long, it’s probably been a few years. They all start to meld together after a while.” Well that’s not depressing, you thought as you took a drink of your tea and thought of another question. “So what was your plan of attack with the exacto knife?” He decided to ask a question while you thought of another. You felt your face get redder than before and you stuttered out a response before he chuckled and told you he was kidding. 

You talked and asked questions back and forth for a few hours before you thought you had a pretty good understanding of your new roommate. He was a teacher before he died and was stuck at the age 30. He likes cats, although you could have guessed that from your first interaction, he also likes sleep but doesn’t need to as a ghost. He could choose when and when not to appear visible. You also learned that he can’t leave the house, so he’s been stuck here for a while. 

As it got later in the evening you let out a yawn and he asked if you wanted to go to bed. You had nodded and thought of something, “Where have you been sleeping?” He silently pointed at the couch as he got up and grabbed the cups from the coffee table. You frowned and gave the couch a few experimental bounces, “Is it comfortable?” You got up and called into the kitchen. You jumped as he walked through the wall towards you, “Jesus I’m never going to get used to that, I can tell you that right now.” 

He silently laughed before responding, “It’s comfortable enough, why? Going to offer your bed?” He quirked an eyebrow at you as you began to stutter for the millionth time that day. “I’m just messing with you, it’s fine you don’t need to worry.”

You frowned once again, “I can set up a ‘spare room’ and that can be your room. I won’t be having guests over often but on the off chance someone does you’ll have to go back to the couch for a night or two.” 

“Yeah you can do that if you want, but you don’t have to buy things for me to sleep on, I’m fine with the couch, I slept on a floor before you got here.” You never thought about it like that, but when you think about it yeah he had nothing to do before you moved here. If you didn’t feel bad before you do now. You let out a fine and went to your room to get ready for bed.

It had been nearly a year since moving into your new home and almost ten months since you found out about your new ghostly roommate. Everything had been pretty interesting. True to your word you still hadn’t got used to him walking through the walls to get to his destinations. You think one of these times it’s going to give you a heart attack and send you into the afterlife with him. You started making extra helpings during your meals, deciding that if he doesn’t eat them you can take them to work with you. You also bought a bed and nightstand for the spare room. You would have left it as just the bed but if someone like Nemuri did stay the night you figured it’d be weird if there was just a bed and nothing else. 

You two had gotten pretty close over the months you’ve lived together, you talked everyday and learned more about each other. You would consider him one of your three friends. You didn’t have many people you considered friends, so yeah he’s one of them. You had hoped that he considered you a friend as well. Nemuri had come over a few times where you forgot to tell him and he almost walked into the room with her. Not that you think she would care, but you definitely thought she would lose her shit if the way she found out was him walking through the wall. You just haven’t found out how to tell her. I mean how do you bring that up in conversation, “Hey I have a roommate, but surprise! He’s dead!” that didn’t seem like it’d get you thrown in the loony bin at all. You talked about him pretending to be alive, it’s not like you can tell he’s not alive anyway. For now you just haven’t told her, it hasn’t caused problems yet.

Tonight Nemuri had finally convinced you to let her set you up with someone. You didn’t necessarily want to but she had been bugging you about this for a while so you figured if you let her do it this once she’d finally leave you alone about it. You had been getting ready when you realized you weren’t sure what you were doing. You didn’t know if she meant going to a bar and her trying to find someone there or if she had already found someone. You started to look for your phone in your room to text her when you realized it was in the living room. You sighed and walked over to the coffee table when Aizawa had looked over and saw you were dressed up.

He gave you a once over and raised his eyebrows, “Where are you going tonight? You never go out.” You laughed at the question and the comment.

You sent Nemuri a text asking what the hell was going on because all she told you prior was “look hot”. After sending the text you looked at Aizawa, “Nemuri is setting me up tonight, but I don’t know if she means on a date or finding some random guy in a club.” Aizawa paused for a moment before letting out an oh and turning to the tv. You looked at him with a confused look on your face before walking back to your room to finish getting ready. 

Nemuri had texted you back saying you were going to a club to find someone and you rolled your eyes. You had been hoping for the other option, she also sent you a text stating that she had been here. You went to leave and say goodbye to Aizawa but saw that the tv had been shut off and he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You shrugged and left the house, you got into Nemuri’s car and buckled your seatbelt when you sat down. You were all for “living on the edge” as she called it, but when it comes to Nemuri and driving you weren’t taking chances. She was a driver from hell.

“What club are we going to? Also what do you hope to accomplish tonight? I’m not a one night stand kind of girl, I’ve been in one relationship that ended in a disaster.” She told you that you guys were just going to look and you didn’t have to have a one night stand, but at least talk to a few people. The rest of the way to the club was just you two listening to the playlist that she had decided for the night. Upon arriving she parked the car and walked straight up to the bouncer. You were already wary of tonight because she had just cut in front a lot of people. You didn’t know much about the clubbing scene but you guessed that was a big no no. She had told the bouncer her name and was immediately let in. You quickly followed her in careful not to make eye contact with the people who were in line.

“I know the dj that works in this club so I get let in for free.” You nodded in understanding and continued to follow her to the bar. You both ordered your drinks, while you waited for them to get done Nemuri started scoping out the room and looking for god knows what. You had no clue what her standards for men were anymore, or what she thought your standards for men would be. You thanked the bartender as he set your drinks down in front of you. As she continued to look around you started at your drink taking a hesitant sip, you weren’t big on alcohol. 

Nemuri tapped your shoulder and you turned around, drink in hand, as she pointed in a direction. You tried following her finger but failed miserably, it was so packed in here. You gave her a questioning look before she decided on describing them instead, “That blonde guy in the black and gold tank top. He kinda looks like he’s wearing eyeliner.” You found who she was talking about and squinted trying to see him better from here. You didn’t like this clubbing idea so far. 

Upon looking at him you gave her your answer, “No.” she let out a ‘why, he’s cute’ to which you responded with, “Yeah and looks about ten years younger than us. Nemuri, all of the people in here look way too young for me. You might be into the younger generation but I’m not. Thank you and all, but I’m just going to go home.”

“Y/n it’s only been like fifteen minutes come one.” She whined as you paid for your drink and thanked the bartender.

“Nemuri I shouldn’t have even come out tonight. The lights are hurting my eyes, the sound is giving me a headache, my claustrophobia is going to kick in, and I can already tell that none of these people aren’t my type, because my type wouldn’t be at a club. I’m sorry but I’m going home.” After saying that you walked outside and called a cab to take you home.

Twenty minutes late you arrived home and sighed as you kicked off your shoes. You went to take off your make-up but left your clothes on as you decided to make yourself a snack. You kneeled down to pet Saturn as she joined you in the kitchen while your food was heating up. Jumping in place as you saw Aizawa come out from the wall. You let out a small hey as you stood up and took your food out of the microwave and began to eat.

He leaned against the counter with a glass of water in hand, “Have fun? Meet anyone you liked?”

You laughed in response, “Uhm no, I hate clubs and everyone there was way too young. I don’t think she realizes we have two completely different tastes. Besides, my type wouldn’t be at a club anyway.”

He nodded in understanding, setting his glass in the sink and turning to you again, “What is your type?”

You finished eating as you thought about it. You’ve never really thought about it before, you definitely know they wouldn’t be at a club though. “I’m not sure to be honest. I’m going to bed though. G’night Aizawa.” You gave him a brief hug before going to your room.

After you got ready for bed you thought about what your type would be some more. You stared at the ceiling as you thought, they probably wouldn’t be loud. They would probably be quiet, but not like a pushover quiet. They’d have to like cats, if they don’t it’s not gonna work out. Probably a homebody who you can nap with. But also someone you can joke around with. That’s when it hit you. Fuck.

Aizawa is your type.

[wienerbarnes]

The Undercover Mission (1/3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (Cheek to Cheek)

Word Count: 1,984

Warnings: Lowkey angst👀

A/N: lollllll don't hate me

MAIN MASTERLIST | CHEEK TO CHEEK MASTERLIST

Bucky stands outside your door for fourteen minutes before you open it. He never knocked, he hadn’t built up that courage yet.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. told me you were standing outside.” You inform him, confused as to why he hadn’t knocked, but deciding not to question it. Yet.

You look cute, even if you’re just in jeans and one of his shirts. He’s looking at you and he already hates himself for what he’s about to do; for what he has to do.

You’re rambling, but it’s good rambling; means you had a good day. You’re telling him about how you went to the shooting range today and did really well and how you’re going to try a new recipe for dinner tonight. But he has a feeling he won’t be staying long.

He already feels the lump growing in his throat when he walks up to you, slipping his arms around your waist, and kisses you where you stand, silencing your words. One last kiss. One last time to feel how your body feels in his arms.

“What’s going on with you?” You ask after pulling away, gentle smile on your lips.

He hesitates for what feels like hours, “We… we need to break up… I want to break up.”

“...What?”

Your smile has dropped. You pull away from him completely, taking a step back. You’re slow in your movements, as though waiting for him to tell you he’s just kidding. But he doesn’t. And he’s not going to.

“Bucky, what the fuck are you talking about?” His eyes water at your question.

“Why are you crying?! I should be fucking crying, why are you doing this to me?!”

Bucky doesn’t have a response for you, so he stutters on his words until you take the reins and yell at him; he deserves it, after all.

“Everything was fine, we were fucking fine this morning, what the fuck happened?! Say something!” You yell, tears finally coming to your own eyes as what he said to you finally sets in. You step back towards him to hit and smack at his chest, and he takes it all, lets you hit him as hard as you can.

“I-” He’s crying now.

“Is it somebody else?” You ask, begging for some kind of explanation.

“Yes!” Bucky snaps, finally finding his words and taking any excuse he can get.

But it was probably the worst one he could pick. Your face drops, tears sliding slowly down your cheeks. It’s like watching someone let the air out of a balloon; he watches as all of the emotion drains from your face until he just sees nothing.

You look like how you looked when he first met you in prison. Numb.

“Okay.” Is all you say before turning around and walking towards your kitchen sink.

“Babe- “

“Don’t call me that.”

“But-”

You grab the closest thing to you, a mug drying on the counter, and chuck it at him as hard as you can. Bucky, of course, dodges it and it shatters against the wall behind him.

“Get out!” You yell.

Bucky takes one last good look at you before stepping back out into the hallway, closing your door behind him. He waits until he reaches the elevator to break down. And he breaks down. He sobs and sobs and sobs in that elevator, to the point where he has to drop to one knee from the pain he feels in his chest after doing that to you.

He feels sick by the time he’s done sobbing, but he knows he’s not done crying for the night. He steps out of the elevator onto his own floor, sniffling every once in a while, trying to keep quiet enough until he can make it to his room. There’s someone else in the hallway, though.

Sam watches his best friend, cheeks wet and face red. He slowly opens the door to his own room and leaves it open; a silent invitation.

One that Bucky takes.

He takes a seat on the couch Sam has in his room and he feels like he’s at his therapist’s. Sam doesn’t say anything, going about his own nightly routine, making a cup of tea to relax his mind and body before bed, letting Bucky compose himself before telling him what’s wrong.

“Did Fury tell you about the mission?” Bucky finally asks him, voice rough and nasally.

“Briefly. The undercover one?”

“Yup.” Bucky confirms, popping the ‘p’.

“Couldn’t have any ties to… her.” Bucky gets out, not even being able to get your name past his lips.

“So, you had to dump her?”

Bucky pauses. Technically, no one was supposed to know about your relationship. The two of you tried your hardest to keep it as quiet as possible. But Bucky guesses they weren’t so good at hiding it in the first place, after all.

“Yeah. It was either cut the ties or she gets taken off the team indefinitely. And I couldn’t do that to her; she’s been doing so well; on missions, with her powers,” Bucky lists. “She’s happy.”

“Well, now she’s not.” Sam corrects.

Bucky glares at him, but Sam continues, “How is she involved, anyway? Why cut ties?”

“...The target is her father.”

…

Bucky hadn’t shown up to the last eight briefings. That’s about two months of no missions. That’s a long time for Bucky. But you refuse to figure out why. You refuse to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. where he is, or what he’s doing. You’re lucky that Sam and Sharon don’t bring it up around you.

But it’s been a long two months. You haven’t slept well, your voices are back, and it’s affecting your job. Your powers are haywire; never showing anything wrong, but just showing you shit that isn’t important. Instead of looking for missing people or suspected killers, your powers show you a minor car accident in Manhattan, or a couple fighting in a restaurant.

There’s no way Sam hasn’t noticed. But, there’s also no way Bucky didn’t tell him what happened. So, you’re grateful that Sam is pretending to be ignorant.

You know you’re being unhealthy about this. You know you should talk to someone, find better coping mechanisms other than crying, not sleeping, and contemplating shaving your head in the middle of the night. But you don’t want to; you only want him. You don’t care if it makes you desperate.

You realize now, in this briefing where you’re not paying attention to a single thing Sam is saying, that you just want closure. You want to know why. The two of you were fine. There was no fighting. Bucky only had eyes for you, and you for him. He loved you, that you were absolutely certain of that. So why the sudden breakup, and why the sudden interest in someone else?

It doesn’t make sense.

Before you know it, the briefing is over, and you remain in your seat while everyone else files out, like always. Except you notice Sharon follow with them. You glance to the front of the room to Sam, but he’s looking down at a file in his hand. Not the file he was discussing during the briefing, a different one, a blue folder.

You don’t know what’s in them, but the tan folders are the regular missions that involve everyone, and the blue folders are the ones that usually concern Sam, Bucky, Sharon, and recently you. Blue is usually bad. But why did Sharon leave?

The door shuts and it’s just you and Sam in the room.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., cut all video and audio recordings in the room starting sixteen seconds ago.”

“Clearance level 1 or 2 necessary for that, Captain.”

“Clearance level 2; Wilson, Samuel T.”

“Thank you, Captain. All recording has been paused.”

Reminds of you of when you first got here.

“Agent, did you know that your father is alive?”

You stare at him from your seat in the middle of the room. You can’t say that was what you were expecting. You were expecting a talk about Bucky, a talk about your less than average performance lately, a talk about your powers. But your father?

“I... don’t even know my father.” You admit. Is your father here?

Sam looks at you, seemingly waiting for some insight, as though he doesn’t know what’s going on with your father, either.

“My father was a Marine like I was. He was deployed when I was born and stayed deployed when my parents got divorced. And when my mom died he gave custody to my grandparents; I never saw him again, why? What’s going on?” You inform him, the fact that your father is alive and is somehow currently involved in the Avengers’ radar finally connecting to your brain.

“Sam, why did you stop all of the recordings?” You ask when he has no response.

“Because you’re not supposed to know, but I don’t like leaving my teammates in the dark.” Sam finally explains to you.

“That doesn’t tell me what my father has to do with all of this. Is he here? Did he do something?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know. And if I find out, I can’t tell you. You’re not even supposed to know anything about the case because of the familial relation.”

“So there’s a case?”

Shit. Sam is slipping.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. resume all recordings.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Wait, but -”

“That’s enough, Agent 51. If you don’t see anything with your powers, you’re free to go. I have work to do.” Sam commands, Captain’s voice returning.

You huff before standing and making your way back to your room.

Except when you get to the elevator, you change your mind.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., is Gunnery Sergeant Tyler Camm still alive?”

“Yes, Agent. Gunnery Sergeant Camm is currently 55 years of age, residing in -”

“Okay, okay. Is he here in the building?”

A pause from the A.I., as though she knows she shouldn’t tell you, but hasn’t been given orders not to.

“Yes, Agent.”

“Where.”

“Interrogation Room Two, Agent.”

“Take me there.”

And the elevator descends.

You assume that Fury and Sam didn’t think you’d go investigating, and that’s why they didn’t put any restrictions on the case regarding your father. But you’re still trying to be careful.

No one has said anything, because you assume they pity you after your breakup, but you know it’s been noticeable the change in your powers and performance on missions. You haven’t been doing well. The last thing you need is to be caught interfering with an investigation.

You had tried looking into your father when you joined the Navy; you figured someone there knew who he was. But you were scared of the answer. Scared of this exact thing happening; finding out he was alive the whole time and he just didn’t want you.

The interrogation floor is eerily quiet. You know there’s arguments and begging and yelling happening behind each of the doors, but it’s all soundproof.

You approach the second room and peek into see a man in uniform sitting across from Sharon. Your father.

Why is he here? Is he being asked to help in a case? Is he being questioned? Is he a suspect?

You go to the door next to the room labeled with a large number two, the observation room that stands opposite to the two-way glass. You turn the knob quietly but it doesn’t budge. Locked. You close your eyes in a quiet sigh before turning back around.

This is a sign, you idiot. Get out of here before you’re caught and they flame your ass.

For once, the voices are right. You make your way back to the elevator. One way or another, you’re going to figure out what’s going on here.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 8 - Familiar

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it him?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Alex sat at his drum set, sticks in hand, and began hitting things at random. Watching the cymbals wobble at dramatic angles every time he made a blow, hearing the crash ring in his ears over and over, making the toms sound da-da-dum in a roll, like his frustration could finally sound out something that fit what he meant to get across. His mom had bought him a punching bag last Christmas in a passive aggressive insistence that he needed a quiet thing to hit if he was going to get things out. Sure, he used it, but only when he actually wanted to work out. He made sure she knew so she couldn’t complain to him about wasting her money on such an expensive gift.

He needed the drums specifically. His thoughts and feelings couldn’t always come out of his mouth, but they were definitely sounds. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t make them with his own tongue. The only time he’d gotten close was when he and Willie had been screaming over the railing of the observation deck at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

Today’s tantrum (and preceding argument) was over school. He was a good student, but the way things were going with Sunset Curve, Alex had little desire to continue. What was another year of subjects he already grasped the concept of when he had no plans to use them? It was a circular conversation at this point, like most things he had with his parents lately. Sometimes he could nod and pretend to just accept whatever they said, but other times they got under his skin. They got in like termites, making anything that was stable inside before feel hollow and weak.

A knock sounded at the door and Alex stilled his cymbals before getting up to answer it. It was his younger sister, Abby.

“You have a phone call,” she told him. Her tone was sassy, but Alex smiled a little at hearing it mirror his own. She was learning. He was proud. Messing up her hair as he moved past her, he went over to the phone and grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered, knowing it could only be one of three people on the other end.

“Hey, man.” It was Bobby. “Luke’s been having a rough day. He won’t say that it’s because Julie is heading out to finish her tour soon, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about. Reggie and I are thinking we take him to the pier; hopefully we can distract him.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Alex said. “I can meet you at your place in about five minutes.”

“Sweet, dude, see ya.”

They hung up and Alex grabbed his fanny pack, slipping outside without saying a word to anyone. If his parents weren’t used to it by now that was their fault.

Less than an hour later, all the guys were on the boardwalk, surrounded by the many games and rides at Santa Monica. Someone else was busking in the corner they usually occupied, playing a saxophone and they each dropped some change in the tin set out before them. Luke was bouncy and energetic for the most part, but relatively quiet. A few thrill rides would break the silence soon enough, though.

They all walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a wall that forced anyone else to move around them. Alex had made sure Luke was in the middle, sandwiched between him and Reggie, with Bobby on Reggie’s other side. It didn’t last long, thanks to Alex’s long legs getting them all out of sync, but they still liked doing it. Soon it was just Luke and Reggie, letting Bobby and Alex walk slightly ahead on their own.

“We wanna get something to eat first?” Luke suggested.

“And blow chunks on the rides?” Alex responded. “Kinda not in the mood to pay for my own puke, thank you.”

The look of slight horror on Luke’s face made Bobby laugh.

“Thanks, Alex, for that,” Luke was saying.

“Guys, there’s a short line over here!” Reggie was already heading toward one of the rides, eyes bright with excitement. Alex held out a hand so Bobby could go before him, receiving a head shake of denial before he followed him and pulled Luke along behind. It was a two-seater anyway, and even if Alex weren’t trying to give them a nudge, having Reggie scream in front of him was far better than directly into his ears.

He usually didn’t scream on the rides as much, but he took the opportunity this time. It felt great. Willie had unknowingly given him a gift in that simple act of emptying his lungs into the air. Ride after ride, he wanted to lose his voice to all the things he let out. The safety guards didn’t quite feel like Willie’s hands grabbing onto his jacket, but he wanted to pretend. Among all the realities he kept near his chest, it was alright to imagine he still had Willie there - smiling, giggling, hands open to be held.

He’d had a good amount of time to bang it out once they’d gotten home. Alex broke more sticks that day than he ever had in his life. The main reason he stopped was because Abby came to his room crying, both because she was extremely annoyed and could tell something was wrong. Maybe his parents weren’t much for support, but he was grateful for her. He was also glad she was only nine and was still a huge cuddle bug.

After getting dizzy on rides, Luke was finally at full energy again and had moved them onto games. Alex preferred to watch, but Luke and Bobby were competitive while Reggie cheered for both.

“Is this what it was like in the arcade?” Alex asked, elbowing Reggie as he hollered at Bobby trying to throw a basketball in the net.

“You bet!” Reggie turned with a smile. “We went lo-co.” He enunciated the last word. “You got this Bobby!”

Luke had finished his turn and come up with nothing, so he joined the other two.

“Okay, after this, I’m hungry so I say we get hot dogs,” he told them.

“Yes,” Alex agreed, feeling hungry himself.

Suddenly Reggie began cheering, and they turned to see Bobby celebrating as well as he made a final shot into the hoop. The guy working the booth let him choose from their ridiculously large stuffed animals, and he grabbed a giant puppy. Reggie’s excitement overcame him and once Bobby was facing his direction, Reggie butted his forehead against him, leaving Bobby blinking in confusion. Yikes, Alex thought. They were going to take a long time to sort things out.

Luke guided them all to his favorite hot dog vendor and they all sat at a table that was placed along a wall covered in posters. Alex positioned himself facing away from the table. Sometimes they liked to scout venues they hadn’t tried playing at yet, and it had been a while since they had come to the pier to check the wall. The missing person posters had become more numerous in their corner, which was a sad change. Alex saw one for the Viper Room and nearly had the impulse to cross himself reverently for the sake of Rivers Phoenix. 

He unfortunately spotted a familiar face among the missing person posters. Luke’s parents were still hoping he would come back home. He peeked up at the rest of the guys, all bent over their food too far to pay attention, and decided he didn’t need to say anything. The whole thing with the Pattersons was touchy for all of them, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up.

Taking a bite into his own hot dog, Alex looked back up and caught the picture beneath Luke. It was a young boy, aged nine, with dark hair growing over his ears.

William was the only name associated with him, but it listed other things like ‘missing since 1988,’ and ‘last seen in Reno, NV’ and a physical description. Alex furrowed his brow and slowly chewed the rest of his bite as he lifted a hand to pat Reggie on the back.

“Hey, you - you don’t think that’s Willie, do you?” he asked quietly, pointing at the poster. Reggie looked over his shoulder at the kid in the picture. He returned a look of sympathy to Alex.

“Alex,” he said softly. “I know you miss him, buddy, but sometimes a kid is just a random kid. We’ve probably seen his poster every time we’ve been here and just never cared. I hope the little dude’s okay, though.” He glanced back at the picture before facing forward again.

“Yeah,” Alex huffed lightly. “You’re probably right.” He flipped himself around to face the rest of the guys at the table and finish his food, ignoring the pit in his chest.

Julie sat by her mom’s side, holding her hand gently and feeling her breathe as she rested soundly. She was going to hate leaving in the morning, but she only had to finish this leg of the tour and then she could be home. They had made plans together to make scrapbooks about her shows, and she wasn’t going to miss it. Her mom always knew how to motivate her, and she was really grateful for that.

One of the nurses entered the room and gave her a sweet smile. She had kind, squinting eyes and her black hair was tied into a bun that had since loosened up.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just making some checks, doing some cleaning, this and that,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Julie assured her. It was hardly the first time she’d been around while one of the nurses was doing their routines. Something about it had become calming, like it let her know that her mom was in good hands.

“She’s so proud of you,” the woman said among her movements.

Looking up, Julie felt her chest straining to hold the weight that had entered. She couldn’t help but take those words as heavy as they could come.

“I’m sure she tells you, but if you weren’t already making a name for yourself the entire hospital would know who you are by now anyway.”

“She talks a lot, huh?” Julie asked solemnly, a hint of a smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

The nurse raised her eyebrows.

“When she’s having a good day, she’s the best to be around.”

Julie nodded.

“That’s my mom,” she said quietly, smiling.

They both were quiet as the nurse continued about her work.

“Do you have any kids?” Julie asked.

The nurse chuckled.

“Quite a few, actually. I have six. Well, seven, but six at home with me.”

“Wow!” Julie couldn’t imagine handling that big of a family.

“Some of them are older than you, but my youngest is ten now. Most of them just go off and do their own thing or take care of each other.”

“Does the seventh have their own family?”

Pausing, the nurse seemed to blink strangely. She took in a deep breath and then went back to the sheet she had been folding.

“No, unfortunately, we lost him,” she said, the warmth she had spoken with earlier a little more withdrawn.

Julie immediately felt bad for asking, and she seemed to freeze at the tension.

“Don’t be sorry,” the nurse said. “I don’t mean he passed away. We don’t know where he is.”

A horrific realization swept over Julie as she realized there was something more terrifying than the death of a loved one. Not knowing where they were or if they were okay - it sounded like hell. A well of pity deepened inside her heart.

“Has it been a long time?” she asked tentatively.

The nurse nodded.

“It’s hard to let go,” she said, almost sounding like she was changing the subject. “But we all figure out something that helps us carry on.” She straightened with her clipboard in hand at Rose’s bedside.

“What did you find?” Julie asked, genuinely hoping it was a good answer.

The nurse’s eyes glistened as she smiled wistfully.

“Never forgetting,” she said. “But I think you’ve already found something that will help you.”

Julie cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she meant.

“My niece is a big fan, by the way,” the woman said, bowing her head down as she exited the room.

A small noise from her mom made Julie turn to see her eyes slowly opening up.

“Hey, mom,” she said softly, leaning closer to her.

Rose smiled and rubbed her thumb over Julie’s hand.

“Sweetie, hi,” she responded in a raspy voice. “You’re gonna play a mini show for that nurse’s niece, too, aren’t you?”

Julie chuckled. Of course she could overhear them.

“I’m thinking about it,” she told her.

Quietly shutting the front door behind him, Alex surveyed his family’s dark front room before tip-toeing up the stairs to his room. Thank goodness his dad wasn’t reading in the living room this time. He was always guaranteed to be caught when that happened. Once he got to his bedroom he took off his hat and fanny pack and was pulling his hoodie over his head when he heard a small knock. Dammit, he’d be so close.

Opening his door, he looked down to see Abby in her pajamas holding something behind her back.

“Abby, god,” he whispered. “I thought you were gonna be mom.”

She shyly shook her head. Her little blonde braids made small shuffling noises as they barely reached past her shoulders.

“What did you want?” Alex asked her.

“I wanted to show you my picture,” she told him quietly.

Any other night he would’ve sent her back to her room to show him in the morning, but her cuteness was a weapon and Alex was oddly weak tonight.

“Come here,” he said, nodding his head to let her inside. He patted the space beside him on his bed. She grinned as she sat cross-legged and held up the picture.

Alex could definitely identify himself, because she always drew him with his fanny pack on. There was also what appeared to be Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

“Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a fifth person in the picture.

“It’s your other friend. I don’t know their name. I heard you talking about them.”

Alex sat back and looked at her, not sure if he was mad about it or not. He tried to be cryptic in his conversations over the phone with the guys, especially if they brought up Willie, so how she picked up on anything was almost impressive.

“Do you not like it?” Abby wondered.

Shaking his head, Alex put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side.

“Abby, this is great!” he assured. “I just didn’t know you paid such good attention.”

“I have good hearing, you know,” she stated proudly. Alex chuckled and gave her a light noogie. “Heeeyy!!” She put up her hands to get him off of her.

“Look at this, though!” he said, pointing to the drawing. “You even got that he has long hair!”

“It’s a boy?” she exclaimed, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “You have a crush on a boy?”

Alex’s jaw hung open a few seconds too long and immediately felt his body begin to shake and all words were caught in his throat.

“I know what that’s like, Alex,” Abby was saying, in her sassy way. It was enough to reboot his brain.

“Wait, how do you know that? You’re nine!” He looked at her like she was his odd sister again.

Abby simply shrugged.

“Not telling you about it,” was all she said. “And your boy sounds cute.”

The emotion that took over was too good to just be relief. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, seriously trying not to cry. They sat like that for a minute until he got afraid of crushing her.

“You’re a stinker,” he told her, rubbing her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Alex,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Alright, now go to bed, okay?” He let go of her and she hopped off the bed and out the door. Seeing it shut behind her, Alex climbed under the sheets and lay on his back, exhaling sharply. She had been kept out of that conversation long enough, he guessed. It barely even had to be one with her. He let a few tears leak out before aggressively wiping them off his face and turning on his side. Man, did he need some shut-eye.

[uwua3]

your name (pt. 2)

❄️📚 tsukioka tsumugi

part 1 — part 2 — part 3

summary: you find yourself in a familiar, but at the same time, new place.

author’s note: hi, everyone! :D this is the second part of the ongoing “your name” series~ ♡ this time, from your perspective! please enjoy, have a good day !! ☆(>ω・)

word count: 1,668

You woke up.

It was like a dream, like you had brought something back. You didn’t know what, but you were now awake. As you attempted to adjust to the darkness, all was quiet in the world. Until, you realized you had no idea where you were.

You quickly sat up from an uncomfortable position, the worn sofa beneath you doing nothing to help you feel better. Two separate stacks of unfamiliar papers surrounded both your sides as a T.V. was flashing colors against your shadow. Except… it wasn’t yours, per say. You looked over the sofa at the large shadow, moving your hand to see it do the same. This was real… but, who were you? When you reached into the person’s pockets to find some sort of a phone, you were disappointed to find a vintage, rundown flip phone weighing down the palm of your hand. Great, were you some sort of old man?

Trying not to scatter all the papers onto the ground, you took a careful step off the couch before hearing a sickening crack. This explained why you could barely see, as you crouched down to make out a pair of shattered glasses. You ignored the mess, moving away to find some sort of mirror. Instead, you discovered a barely lit studio apartment with everything wrong with it. The door was closed with a stool, half the lights didn’t work properly, and a distinct smell of cup noodles came from a broken microwave.

As you kept your hand on a wall to navigate, you began picking up small details that made this place home. The heavily marked calendar on the wall decorated the space, multiple photos of what seemed like student graduations neatly framed by the front, and certificates in psychology and education gave insight on who you were living through. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it felt like a place that made you trust the owner.

By the time you reached the bathroom door, you breathed a sigh of relief that the light didn’t cut out as you flipped the switch. When you looked into the mirror, you expected to see an aged teacher having a rough night of grading. Instead, you could see your expression form into shock at the reflection. You were… a college student? You knew that wasn’t the case considering the multiple Bachelor’s degrees, but you looked so young and old at the same time. It was like the person was physically young, but ancient from the way his hands automatically gripped the sink to keep himself up. You were looking into the eyes of a tired boy, and you could feel it in your bones that no amount of sleep could cure whatever he was going through.

You had to tear your eyes away to turn on the sink, waiting for the water to build up in your cupped palms. The water pressure was barely there, but it was what you needed to remind yourself this wasn’t a dream. For some reason, you had woken up in a random boy’s body in his no-good, terrible apartment. As you washed your face and met your reflection once again, you could sense the determination in the way his mouth formed a line. You were going to find out why you were here.

You took a moment to admire the body you were in. Although the boy seemed to carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders, he was doing rather well for himself. He had long, overgrown dark blue hair that just revealed his same-shade blue eyes. His eyes held the light of a student ready to learn, even after many years of strict academia. His features resembled one of a game protagonist, and you weren’t used to this tall height on your side. Even in just a striped shirt, you could tell he was beautiful in his own right.

“No matter what, I’ll find you again.” You said for absolutely no reason, with no one to hear except yourself—well, him. His voice didn’t take you by surprise; it was expectantly gentle and inherently kind, it was fitting to a light smile like his. You left the cramped bathroom with two goals in mind: 1. Figure out where you were, 2. Decide what to do next.

The room seemed lighter in comparison to before, meaning the sun must’ve been rising. You didn’t have to search long to find a passed-down clock by the sofa’s makeshift nightstand. The lines read it was nearing 5 A.M. as you identified an alarm was about to go off in exactly thirty minutes. Next, you were about to rummage around for any sort of geographic location before a loud car horn cut off your thoughts. Immediately snapping your head towards the opening, you saw a cracked open balcony hidden away behind a bookshelf. As you made your way through, you had no idea how you thought it was quiet. Although it was still the start of the day, you could already see a highway jam packed with automobiles going towards the big city. The buildings around you were nothing compared to the distant skyscrapers, and a realization occurred within you.

You were in Tokyo, Japan.

Before you could go watch what the T.V. was saying, a ring sounded from the flip phone. Hurrying to answer, you stood upon the balcony in an unfamiliar city you always dreamt of visiting. When you finally put the phone to your ear, you noticed how… modern urban accents were compared to your original rural one.

“Heya Tsumu-Tsumu! I knew you’d be awake, you crazy workaholic!” A loud voice made you wince as you flinched back from the sudden volume. Your silence didn’t deter—you looked at the contact—Miyoshi Kazunari as he rambled on. It was way too early for this type of energy, but you could spot college student caffeine addiction from a mile away.

“Lucky for you~,” Kazunari dragged out his vowels when he spoke. Not in a country way, but it was actually a stylistic choice all trendsetters seemed to have. “I’m also crazy! Just finished a project and I got an early morning class.” Kazunari made crying noises, and you genuinely didn’t know if they were exaggerated or he was having his midlife crisis breakdown. Too many things were running through your head, you could barely keep up with the bold personality Miyoshi Kazunari was. How the hell did a quiet person end up friends with an extrovert like Kazunari?

“And because I’m super smart, I know you’re usually grading papers or somethin’. Wanna get coffee today? I need it, bad.” Kazunari invited you to get coffee… but you barely knew your way around your own apartment, nevermind Tokyo. You were so lost in thought that Kazunari took your lack of response as a deafening “no”. A slightly awkward laugh interrupted the twenty seconds of silence, the noise suddenly much less confident than before.

“Ah… sorry, Tsumu-Tsumu. You’re probably too tired, right? You usually don’t want to go anyways, I don’t know why I asked.” Kazunari trailed off in a mumble, clearly discouraged already. Hearing this total stranger give up felt like kicking a puppy. You had no reason to agree, but you did anyway. You don’t know if it was you or “Tsumu-Tsumu” trying to reassure Kazunari.

“U-Um! No, let’s get coffee,” You paused, letting out a similar laugh that was obviously strained. “Kazunari?” It was Kazunari’s turn to be silent on the phone, before exploding into a pattern of shock and disbelief.

“KAZUNARI?! Yo, Tsumu-Tsumu! Are we suddenly BFFS now or what?! You’ve never called me by my first name before, you must be real sleepy!” Kazunari teased, but you could pick up on his revived energy and excitement about the day now. You responded with a laugh once again to show you were listening, and Kazunari took it as a sign to drop the sudden lack of honorifics between you two. As Kazunari said he’d message you the address of the “hottest cafe right now in all of Japan”, you mentally beat yourself up over the slip of tongue.

This Tsumu-Tsumu guy didn’t seem like the type to just call people by their first names. You hoped this wouldn’t severely affect anything for him in the long run. When Kazunari told you to be there by 7:30 A.M., he hung up and an instant message came with a winky emoticon and star symbol. The quiet finally gave you enough time to process everything that just happened.

You had agreed to meet a total stranger—well, to you—at a random cafe in the middle of the biggest city in Japan. You didn’t even know your own name. Staring out at the city you would soon find yourself in, you headed back inside and shut off the T.V. without another word. It was time to get ready and somehow figure out a way to get to… you checked the address again, Omi's House.

You checked the calendar from before and saw neat kanji of a name that felt familiar. “Tsukioka Tsumugi.” You read out loud, subconsciously tracing the characters with your finger. It felt right, you had no doubt it was this person’s name. You were quick to relax when you noticed Friday was the one day Tsumugi had off out of the entire week. You felt pitiful at how the one column of Fridays were being crowded by filled blocks of events, part-time gigs, and more work. When could Tsumugi just get a coffee?

Maybe, meeting Kazunari was a good thing. You found a brown peacoat hanging on the knob of the door and slipped it on. You said goodbye to an empty apartment, and left with no clue where you were going. All you had was a ripped bag and a newfound spark to your eyes.

You were Tsukioka Tsumugi, a random boy in Tokyo, and you were going to make the most of it.

[thekillerssluts]

The Story Behind Every Song On Will Butler’s New Album Generations

Will Butler has a lot on his mind. It has, after all, been five years since his solo debut, Policy. A lot can happen in half a decade, and a lot has happened in this past half-decade — much of it quite dire. Butler was in his early 30s when Policy came out, and now he’s closing in on 40. He’s a husband and father. And he’s shaken by the state of the world, the idea of being an artist and a soon-to-be middle-aged man striving to guide his family through the chaos.

At least, that’s how it comes across through much of Generations, his sophomore outing that arrives today. Generations is a big, sprawling title by nature, and the album in turn grapples with all kinds of big picture anxieties. Mass shootings, the overarching darkness and anxiety of our time, trying to reckon with our surroundings but the system overload that occurs all too easily in the wake of it. Then there are more intimate songs, too, tales drawn from personal lives as people plug along just trying to navigate a tumultuous era.

Butler is, of course, no stranger to crafting music that seeks to parse the cultural moment and how it impacts in our daily lives. Ever since Arcade Fire ascended to true arena-rock status on The Suburbs 10 years ago, they have embarked on projects that explicitly try to make sense of our surroundings. (Not that their earlier work was bereft of heavy concepts — far from it — but Reflektor and Everything Now turned more of a specific eye towards contemporary ills and trials.) But as one voice amongst many in Arcade Fire, there is a cinematic scope to whatever Butler’s playing into there.

On Generations, he engages with a lot of similar concerns but all in his own voice — often yelping, desperate, frustrated then just trying to catch a breath. Butler leans on his trusty Korg MS-20 throughout Generations, often giving the album a synth-y indie backdrop that allows him to try on a few different selves. There are a handful of surging choruses, “la-la” refrains batting back against the darkness, slinking grooves maybe allowing someone the idea of brief physical release amidst ongoing strife.

Ahead of Generations’ arrival, Butler sent us some thoughts on the album, running from inspiration between the individual tracks to little details about the arrangement and composition of different songs. Now that you can hear the album for yourself, check it out and read along with Butler’s comments below.

1. “Outta Here”

I think this is the simplest song on the record. Just, like, get me out of here. Get me fucking out of here. I’m so tired of being here. No, I don’t have another answer, and I don’t expect anything to be better anywhere else. But, please, I would like to leave here.

I can play plenty of instruments, and can make interesting sounds on them, but kinda the only instrument I’m good at is a synth called the Korg MS-20. That’s the first sound on the record. It makes most of the bass you hear on the record. It’s a very aggressive, loud, versatile machine, and I wanted to start the record with it cause I’m good at playing it and it makes me happy.

2. “Bethlehem”

This song partly springs from “The Second Coming” by William Butler Yeats:​ “What rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” Like a lot of folks, I woke up after the election in 2016 mad and sad and scared and exhausted. This song is born of that emotion.

My bandmates Jenny Shore, Julie Shore, and Sara Dobbs sing the bridge, and it’s a corrective to my (appropriate?) freaking out — this isn’t the apocalypse. You’re misquoting Yeats. Get your fucking head on straight. History has not ruptured — this shit we’re in is contiguous with the shit we’ve been dealing with for a long, long time. But still, we sometimes do need an apocalyptic vision to make change. Even if it’s technically wrong. I dunno. It’s an ongoing conversation.

There’s a lot of interplay with backing vocals on this record — sometimes the narrator is the asshole, sometimes the backing vocals are the asshole. Sometimes they’re just trying their best to figure out the world. This song starts that conversation.

3. “Close My Eyes”

I tried to make these lyrics a straightforward and honest description of an emotion I feel often: “I’m tired of waiting for a better day. But I’m scared and I’m lazy and nothing’s gonna change.” Kind of a sad song. Trying to tap into some Smokey Robinson/Motown feeling — “I’ve got to dance to keep from crying.”

There’s a lot of Mellotron on this record, and a lot of MS-20. This song has a bunch of Mellotron strings/choirs processed through the MS-20. It’s a trick I started doing on the Arcade Fire song “Sprawl II,” and I love how it sounds and I try to do it on every song if I can.

4. “I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know”

This makes a pair with “Close My Eyes” — shit is obviously fucked, but “I don’t know what I don’t know what I don’t know what I can do.” I’m not a proponent of the attitude! Just trying to describe it, as I often feel it. In my head, I know some things that I can do — my wife Jenny, for instance, works really hard to get state legislatures out of Republican control. Cause it’s all these weirdo state legislative chambers that have enormous power over law enforcement, and civil rights, and Medicaid, and everything.

The image in the last verse was drawn from the protests in Ferguson in 2015: “Watch the bullets and the beaters as they move through the streets — grab your sister’s kids — hide next to the fire station…” It’s been horrifically disheartening to see the police riot across America as their power has been challenged. I’ve got a little seed of hope that we might change things, but, man, dark times.

More MS-20 bass on this one, chained to the drum machine. This one is supposed to be insanely bass heavy — if it comes on in a car, the windows should be rattling, and you should be asking, “What the heck is going on here?” Trying for a contemporary hip-hop bass sound but in a way less spare context. First song with woodwinds — rhythmic stuff and freaky squeals by Stuart Bogie and Matt Bauder.

5. “Surrender”

This song is masquerading as a love song, but it’s more about friendship. About the confusion that comes as people change: Didn’t you use to have a different ideal? Didn’t we have the same ideal at some point? Which of us changed? How did the world change? Relationships that we sometimes wish we could let go of, but that are stuck within us forever.

It’s also about trying to break from the first-person view of the world. “What can I do? What difference can I make?” It’s not about some singular effort — you have to give yourself over to another power. Give over to people who have gone before who’ve already built something — you don’t have to build something new! The world doesn’t always need a new idea, it doesn’t always need a new personality. What can you do with whatever power and money you’ve got? Surrender it over to something that’s already made. And then the song ends with an apology: I’m sorry I’ve been talking all night. Just talk talk talking, all night. Shut up, Will.

Going for “wall of sound” on this one — bass guitar and bass synth and double tracked piano bass plus another piano plus Mellotron piano. The “orchestra” is about a dozen different synth and Mellotron tracks individually detuned. And then run through additional processing.

6. “Hide It Away”

This song is about secrets. Both on an intimate, heartbreaking level — friends’ miscarriages, friends’ immigration status, shitty affairs coming to light — and on a grand, horrible level: New York lifting the statute of limitations on child abuse prosecutions, all the #MeToo reporting. There’s nothing you can do when your secret is revealed. Like, what can you do? You just have to let the response wash over you. If you’ve done something horrible, god-willing, you’ll have to pay for it in some way. If it’s something not horrible, but people will hate you anyway, goddammit, I wish there were some way to protect you.

This song has the least poetic line on the record, a real clunker: “It’s just money and power, money and power might set them free.” But it’s a clunky, shitty concept — the most surefire protection is being rich and knowing powerful people. But even then, shit just might come out. Even after you’re long dead.

Came from a 30-second guitar sample I recorded while messing around at the end of trying to track a different song. I liked the chords, looped them to make a demo. And the song was born from there. This is the one song I play drums on. Snare is chained to the MS-20, trying to play every frequency the ear can hear at the same time on some of those big hits.

7. “Hard Times”

[Laughs] I sat down and tried to write a Spotify charting electro-hit, and this is what came out: “Kill the rich, salt the earth.” Oh well. Written way before COVID-19, but my 8-year-old son turned to me this spring and asked, “Did you write the song ‘Hard Times’ about now, because we’re living through hard times?” No, I didn’t.

In Dostoevsky’s Notes From Underground, the narrator is a real son-of-a-bitch—contrarian, useless. Mad at the strong confident people who think they’ve got it figured out. And they don’t! And neither does the narrator — but he knows he doesn’t, and he at times yearns for some higher answer, and he’s funny, and too clever, but still knows he’s a piece of shit. I read Notes From Underground in high school and kinda forgot how it shaped my worldview until I sat down with it a couple years ago. The bridge on this song is basically smushed up quotes from Notes From Underground.

I was asking Shiftee, who mixed the record, if there are any vocal plug-ins I should be playing around with. He pointed me toward Little AlterBoy, which is basically a digital recreation of the kind of pedal the Knife use, for instance, on their vocal sound. It can shift the timbre/character of a voice without changing the pitch. Or change pitch without changing character. Very fun! Very much all over this track. Tried to make the bridge sound like a Sylvester song.

8. “Promised”

Another friend song masquerading as a love song. I’ve met a handful of extraordinary people in my life, who stopped doing extraordinary work because life is hard and it sucks. People who — I mean, it’s a lottery and random and who cares — could be great writers or artists, who kind of just disappeared. And it’s heartbreaking and frustrating. I don’t blame them. Maybe they weren’t made for this world. Maybe it’s just random. Maybe they’ll do amazing work in their 60s!

We tracked this song before it was written. Julie and Miles came over and we made up a structure and did a bunch of takes, found a groove. Which I then hacked up into what it is now! The bed tracks are lovely and loose. Maybe I’ll put out a jammier version of this song at some point. The other big synth on this record is the Oberheim OB-8, and that’s the bass on this one (triple tracked along with some MS-20).

9. “Not Gonna Die”

This song is about terrorism, and the response to terrorism. I wrote it a couple weeks after the Bataclan shooting in Paris in 2015. For some reason, a couple weeks after the shooting, I was in midtown Manhattan. I must have been Christmas shopping. I had to pop into the Sephora on 5th Avenue to pick up something specific — I think for my wife or her sister. I don’t remember. But I remember walking in, and the store was really crowded, and for just a split second I got really scared about what would happen if someone brought out a gun and started shooting up the crowd. And then I got so fucking mad at the people that made me feel that emotion. Like, I’m not gonna fucking die in the midtown Sephora, you fucking pieces of shit. Thanks for putting that thought in my head.

BUT ALSO, fuck all the fucking pieces of shit who are like, “We can’t accept refugees — what if they’re terrorists?” FUCK OFF. Some fucking terrified family driven from their home by a war isn’t going to kill me. Or anyone. Fuck off. Some woman from Central America fleeing from her husband who threatened to kill her isn’t going to fucking bomb Times Square. You fucking pieces of shit.

In November/December 2015, the Republican primary had already started — Trump had announced in June. And every single one of those pieces of shit running for president were talking about securing our borders, and keeping poor people out, and trying to justify it by security talk. FUCK OFF. You pieces of shit. Fuck right off. Anyway. Sorry for cursing.

I kind of think of the outro of this song as an angry “Everyday People.” Everyday people aren’t going to kill me. Lots of great saxes on this track from Matt Bauder and Stuart Bogie.

The intro of the song we recorded loud, full band, which I then ran through the MS-20 and filtered down till it was just a bass heart-pulse, and re-recorded solo piano and voice over that.

10. “Fine”

I kind of think that “Outta Here” to “Not Gonna Die” comprise the record, and “Fine” operates as the afterword and the prologue rolled into one. An author’s note, maybe. It was kind of inspired by high-period Kanye: I wanted to talk about something important in a profane, sometimes horribly stupid way, but have it be honest and ultimately transcendent.

In the song, I talk semi-accurately about where I come from. My mom’s dad was a guitar player who led bands throughout the ’30s and ’40s. In post-war LA, he had a band with Charles Mingus as the bass player. Charles Mingus! One of the greatest geniuses in all of American history. But this was the ’40s, and in order to travel with the band, to go in the same entrances, to eat dinner at the same table, he had to wear a Hawaiian shirt and everybody had to pretend he was Hawaiian. Because nobody was sure how racist they were supposed to be against Hawaiians.

Part of the reason I’m a musician is that my great-grandfather was a musician, and his kids were musicians, and their kids were musicians, and their kids are musicians. Part of the reason is vast generations of people working to make their kids’ lives better, down to my life. Part of the reason is that neither government nor mob has decided to destroy my family’s lives, wealth, and property for the last couple hundred years. I tried to write a song about that?

Generations is out now via Merge. Purchase it here.

https://www.stereogum.com/2098946/will-butler-generations-song-meanings/franchises/interview/footnotes-interview/

[perfeggso]

till the sun’s seeing through my eyes (yumark)

hitting for six

Yuta and Mark are next-door neighbors who grew up together, joined at the hip until Yuta went off to college. Due to their four-year age gap, Mark’s freshman year at the same school marks the halfway point of an unprecedented amount of time apart. Yuta is sure he can handle it, until Mark’s arrival home for spring break makes him wonder if the fondness he has for his friend might be blooming quite literally into something stronger. It’s up to him to handle the consequences.

Chapter 1  |  Chapter 2  |  Masterlist 

Characters: Yuta x Mark + NCT ensemble, other SM (and non-SM (?)) idols tbd, character families 

Genres: heavy angst, fluff, Hanahaki!AU, small town!AU, slight Witchcraft/Magic!AU, College!AU

Warnings: blood and gore, mentions of death, disease, vomiting, college-typical alcohol use, swearing  

Rating: T

Length: 8.3k

Yuta twirled the stick of rock candy he’d picked up at the market around between his lips, enjoying how it felt rough on his tongue and filled his mouth with the flavor of unadulterated sugar.  He checked his phone – no new messages.  

He tapped the toe of his sneakers against the linoleum floor of Kun’s coffeeshop and drummed his hands against the seafoam counter before pulling the candy from his lips with a pop and dunking it in his glass of mint tea.  All around him, the clinking, hissing, and chatter of a well-liked café filled his ears, and the arousing scent of coffee steam kept him a fidgety kind of alert.  On second thought, replace “alert” with “distracted.”   

“Did you hear me, Yuta?” Sicheng was saying, sitting at the table nearest the espresso machine and picking at a mini egg custard tart.  Yuta had not heard him, that much was evident.  

Yuta sighed with some effort, then made a fake sorry face.  “No – no, I apologize, babe, I didn’t.”    

Sicheng rolled his eyes.  “Whatever, it wasn’t important.”  He took a large bite of his tart, pale, buttery crumbs affixing to his lips.  

“Neko latte!” Kun interrupted, setting a white coffee cup in front of Yuta, the frothed milk on top of it shaped like a stubby-tailed cat that wiggled as the cup moved.  Yuta had to restrain himself from jiggling its foam butt into oblivion.  Kun returned a moment later with a plate. “Aaaand, let’s see, one slice of orange poppy seed bread.”  He dropped his smiling customer service face momentarily as he leaned in towards Yuta. “I thought you said you could handle calling out the orders.  That was my condition for letting you behind the counter, wasn’t it?” 

Yuta shrugged, repeating the order at double Kun’s original volume and smirking when a customer instantly shot out of her seat to come collect it.  Yuta downed his tea, burning his throat, and stuck the melting candy back into his mouth as she made her way over, pushing the now-empty cup forward as an encouragement to leave a tip in it, which the poor girl did.  Kun snatched the sticky bill from the cup and shook it out, disapproval contorting his face as he voiced his disappointment with a simple “nope.” 

“But Kun, I watched her earlier and she didn’t leave a tip when she ordered,” Yuta protested, making himself laugh until it was threatening to become a cough.  Dammit.  He pulled in a shaky breath.  “I’m only trying to help.” 

Kun pointed to the seating area.  “Out.” 

Yuta sulked his way to the chair opposite Sicheng, noting on his way that it was still pouring not insignificantly outside.  Yuta had gotten off work early because of the rain; the indoor soccer field had been reserved weeks earlier for the high school team.  Instead, he’d taken his kids to Yukhei’s gym for a short workout and then sent them home, choosing to wile away the rest of his time waiting for Mark with his buddies over a warm beverage.  

“Has he responded yet?” Sicheng asked.  

“No,” Yuta pouted.  He’d sent Mark a text nearly twenty-five minutes ago saying he was ahead of schedule and to come meet him at Kun’s shop.  “Ugh, wait, I’m sorry.  What were you saying earlier?  Nothing you say is unimportant, friend.” 

Sicheng looked like he wanted to smack Yuta and hug him at the same time.  Yuta was used to this.  

“I was only teasing you for missing my speech last night because no one cut you off,” Sicheng clarified, wiping his hands against each other once he’d finished eating.    

The memory of heaving in his bathroom in an attempt to extract whatever was obstructing his airways hit Yuta like an unforeseen ocean wave.  He nodded slowly, schooling his face to pretend to be irritated rather than scared.  He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but not even he knew what the real issue was, and it would undoubtedly get sorted, so why worry people?  

Yuta made his face into the disappointment emoji.  “Mm-hm,” he said.  “Well since you can only process my suffering as it pertains to you, maybe you’ll cut me off next time you have something important to say.”  

Sicheng raised his eyebrows.  “Someone’s feeling bitchy today,” he observed.  “This is because your boyfriend’s not texting back, isn’t it?” 

Yuta scoffed.  “Boyfriend,” he huffed in disbelief, but the word stirred a sickened feeling inside him.  He chose to ignore that.  “Yeah, it is,” he teased, “you jealous?” 

Sicheng shook his head.  “Not at all,” he said.  “It means you’ll let me be for a couple weeks.” 

Yuta laughed, his body once again nearly giving into coughing.  Like, choking on one’s dinner and needing the Heimlich kind of coughing.  Instead of letting that happen and calling attention to himself, he doused his throat in the contents of a glass of water.  

His breathing had been a bit better since he’d spoken with his mother that morning, but the problem wasn’t gone, and the raw coughing fits that started the day before were only growing more frequent.  A particularly violent one had gripped him during practice, scaring some of his kids enough that he’d run away to the bathroom to get it under control.  Thankfully, Yukhei had been in another room.  

*

Yuta came from a tradition of hedge witches, of which his mother was a shining example.  She ran an apothecary in town with his father; handling the medicine and potions side of it while he handled the business angle.  She was a skilled potion-maker and healer, and she had a keen sense of spiritual effects on the physical.  She was often able to gain insights that seemed so spot-on that Yuta had no choice but to believe whatever she told him to do.  

She’d encouraged her children to utilize tarot cards from an early age and endeavored ever since to teach them everything she knew.  Now and then, having someone so spiritually inclined as a parent could be burdensome, but it was times like these – when Yuta felt something strange and unwelcome stirring in him – that he felt he was lucky.  

When Yuta had gone to the main house that morning, he found his mother in the kitchen, making banana pancakes as his little sister looked over her advanced biology homework.  The high school still had a week left before spring break.  

“Hi Haruna,” Yuta greeted, shoving her face softly into her papers and receiving a well-earned glare.  

“Good morning, dingus.  You really shouldn’t be partying when you have work in the morning.” 

Haruna was a senior, less than a year younger than Mark (a fact which regularly escaped Yuta’s mind) and possessed an attitude problem – though one quite different from Yuta’s.  That morning, she wore a long, eggplant-purple frock dress with lots of heavy eyeliner and her hair in a helmet-like bob.  She might have been sartorially challenged and a bit of a bitch in Yuta’s view, but she was also his adorable little sister, and a veritable genius, he had to admit.  

Yuta went to the fridge and pulled out an apricot yogurt.  “I assure you I can handle myself,” he said, grabbing one of a collection of mismatched spoons and plopping it into his breakfast.  “The last thing I need is a seventeen-year-old lecturing me on alcohol.”  

Haruna tried to flick some of the syrup on her fork into her brother’s hair but missed.  “I can’t wait until Momoka comes home to visit,” she grumbled.  “Maybe you’ll listen to her.”   

Yuta’s mother gave her youngest and middle child a heavy look of disapproval as she flipped a pancake with a wet, resounding plop.  The action itself communicated as much authority as any scolding words could have.  Yuta just smiled sweetly, digging into his yogurt.  

“Yuta, dear,” she began, “can I interest you in some pancakes?” 

Yuta shook his head, feeling a little guilty, but he was rarely very hungry in the mornings.  “No, this is enough for me,” he said.  His mother smiled.  It was the same smile Haruna would flash when she was about to tease him.  

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way over here just to bother your studious sister and refuse my cooking, so there has to be something else, hm?  I’m right, aren’t I?” 

Yuta sighed.  As usual, she was indeed correct.  “As a matter of fact, there is something bothering me.” 

His mother listened attentively as he recounted the last day’s events: the asthma scare, trying to use the potion she’d taught him with a prayer, his concern over the reading he’d had that morning.  All the while, she finished shaping her stack of pancakes and leaned on her elbows, steam rising from the food and swirling in front of her paisley house dress, fluffy hair, purple kerchief, and concerned face.   

“It sounds to me like you’re having anxiety about change,” she offered once he’d finished.  “You always tend to have flare-ups during transition periods.” 

“Yeah,” Haruna cut in, spearing a chunk of pancake and narrowly escaping dropping it on her school papers, “remember when you were a freshman and you had a panic attack before coming home for winter break?  You said you could hardly breathe all night and that you didn’t think you wanted to come back.” 

Haruna seemed a little too casual with that difficult memory for Yuta’s liking, although she was right that he hadn’t forgotten.  He pinched his eyebrows together.  

“Is this a transition period though?” he asked.  Everything for him was more or less the same as it had been all year.  

His mother nodded.  “I’d say so.  Some of your younger friends are coming home, and Taeil will be going back to the city soon.  There are a lot of moving pieces in your life at the moment, dear.  I don’t think it's at all strange that you’re feeling off and maybe hiding some things from yourself.” 

“Alternately,” quipped Haruna as their mother went to fetch a cloudy, pastel purple concoction she had sitting in a beaker by the window, “you’re just a drama queen.” 

Yuta started.  “Wanna get your butt kicked by a college athlete?” he threatened.  Haruna stuck her tongue out at him. 

“You mean former intramural college athlete?” 

“That’s enough!” 

Yuta and Haruna both turned to face their mother.  She looked like her hair would be suspended in exasperation if she were in a Ghibli Movie.  Yuta knew that meant it was time to Shut Up.  Oops.  

She sighed, running her hands over the lip of the beaker in her hand and muttering to herself to calm down.  Then, she slid it forward to her son.  

“Bring this to work with you, Yuta,” she advised, voice still stern.  “I made it fresh this morning for the shop, but I think you could use it.  It has lavender, mint, chamomile, soy oil, salts, and I’ve charged it with moon water.  It’s something I’ve been messing around with for dealing with anxiety and stress during liminal periods in life.”  Yuta nodded, listening attentively and twirling the little vial in between his fingers.  She went on.  “Then later whenever you have time, I want you to sit alone with your confusion for a little while.  I think that might give you more insight into what is driving this spiritually and subconsciously.  Try not to smother it, whatever it is.”  

Of course his mom’s advice was essentially “meditate.” Why had he even bothered to ask? He nodded one more time, subdued, and dropped the vial of pale liquid into his pocket.  He would put it into a water bottle and bring it along.  

Yuta finished his yogurt and chucked the container into the recycling.  “Thank you, Mom,” he said, snagging a pancake on his way out of the kitchen just to win a little more of her favor.  “And have a good day, Haruna.” 

“You too, dingus.” 

“Tell me if you’re feeling better tonight!” his mother called after him, finishing off with a mild threat: “And I’ll be able to tell if you didn’t follow my directions!” 

*

Yuta sighed for what felt like the eightieth time all day, watching the café’s glass door from over Sicheng’s shoulder for any signs of Mark.  He didn’t know how to summon people or things, but he half-imagined that he did, concentrating so hard on the door that it was making his eyes cross.  And in a matter of seconds, it worked (or, at least, the universe gave the illusion of it working).  

Mark rushed into the coffeeshop, looking harried and tugging a cumbersome guitar case along with him which he tried desperately to protect with a too-small umbrella.  The image put Yuta at attention, smiling.  

“I’m so sorry!” Mark spluttered as he rushed through the door.  “I was practicing, and I didn’t check my phone!” 

“Whoa there,” Kun warned from behind the counter.  “This does not need to be advertised to my entire clientele.” 

Mark shook out his umbrella and shoved it into the holder in the entryway, checking with Yuta that they planned on staying for at least a little while and apologizing sheepishly to Kun.  

He sat down at the table with Yuta and Sicheng as Yuta grinned at him.  

“Don’t be sorry, Markie-boy,” Yuta said, poking Mark in the side and making him almost giggle his way out of his chair.  As the chair tipped and then slingshotted violently back to its starting position from Mark regaining his balance, it clattered so loudly that it attracted more concerned looks than Mark had when he’d busted through the door.  Yuta hardly seemed to register this as he gushed about how devoted his friend was to his craft that he would haul his equipment through a rainstorm.  Kun rolled his eyes and huffed in defeat at yet another disruption. 

“Mark, the usual?” he asked, and Mark nodded after nervously confirming Yuta didn’t have other plans for them to go eat somewhere.  

Only then did he allow himself to settle in, peeling off his damp jacket and balancing his guitar case against the side of his chair.  

“Did you carry that all the way here?” Sicheng asked, and Yuta shot him an obvious look.  

“Of course he did,” he replied for his friend, and Sicheng glared at him.  “The kid can’t drive, after all.  Just like you.” 

Mark nodded in confirmation as Kun set a mug of hot chocolate and a cream cheese bagel in front of him.  “I love being referred to as ‘the kid’ as if I’m not present,” he snarked.  “Also, thanks, Kun.” 

“Sure thing.” 

Yuta crunched absently at the end of his rock candy.  “Aw, don’t go trying to make me feel bad when you forced me to wait for thirty-five minutes and didn’t even tell me you were on your way.  It’s like you want to keep me in constant suspense with your little surprises.”  Mark scowled, but his mouth was too stuffed with bagel to form a retort, so Yuta went on.  “Anyway, you got a guitar in there?” 

Mark swallowed.  “What do you think?” 

“I think we’re just impressed you lugged it all the way here,” Sicheng clarified, trying to clear the air of Yuta’s usual bitchiness.  “Surely, you brought it for a reason.” 

Mark clapped his hands against each other to rid them of crumbs, body going taut with excitement.  

“Actually yes!” he mouthed around his food.  “I did have a reason.  I wanted to show off what I’ve been practicing!”

“Oooooh!” Yuta buzzed, applauding preemptively at hyper-speed.  “You might want to check with the stickler in charge though,” he warned, stage whispering and indicating towards Kun.  The subject of the jest frowned at his table of friends.  

“I can hear you, Yuta,” he said, “and it’s fine.  Just give me a minute to turn the speakers off.” 

Soon enough, Mark had extracted his guitar from its case and had it over his knee, strumming experimentally to warm up and drawing the attention of most of the customers behind him.

“Don’t look now, Mark,” Sicheng began.  “But it looks like you’ve roped yourself into a little concert.”

“A little what now?” he asked, immediately going against the advice he’d just received and turning around to meet the gazes of at least fifteen people he only marginally knew.  “Oh, uh, okay.  This is fine.” 

Yuta smiled to himself as he watched his friend adjust his fingers over the metal strings and clear his throat, red face betraying that he might not, in fact, be fine.

Pretty soon though, he was finger-picking his way through the intro to Frank Ocean’s “Cayendo.”  Once Mark started singing, Yuta found himself lulled into an admiring trance at the smooth sweetness of Mark’s voice.  Mark was usually shy about singing solo, but he’d been working on it and Yuta loved that he had gained some confidence.  The fact that the song was in a language Yuta couldn’t understand served even further to pull him under its calm spell.  

He pretended to swoon at the little performance, rolling his eyes around and fanning himself theatrically.  “Ooh, Markie, take me now,” he joked, just loud enough for his table to hear and no one else.  Mark’s ears went red and he struggled to sing through a giggle.  

Right in the middle of the song though, Mark sang a stanza that Yuta did understand.  It ended with a melancholy plea of love:

When I still really, really love you, like I do

If you won't, then I will

If you can't, then I will

Is it love to keep it from you?

It was such a sad sentiment.  Yuta thought that if he were a more sentimental person, and under different circumstances, he would have started to cry.  Though, maybe he wasn’t as unsentimental as he thought he was… 

Mark transitioned back to singing in Spanish and Yuta took the moment to lose himself less in his friend’s voice and more in the space around them: the chatter of impressed coffee-sippers, the whirring of the espresso machine, the soft and appreciative expressions on his friends’ faces.  It was almost as sweet as the leftover sugar which coated the inside of his mouth – almost sweet enough for him to forget that some kind of repression within him was causing him vascular stress.  Almost; almost.  

Mark plucked the last note of the song and the café broke into a pitter-patter of applause which echoed the pounding of rain outside, and in that moment, as if to remind him of the tenuousness of his almosts, Yuta found himself hurled into the most intense pain he’d felt in the last twenty-four hours.  

He bent himself over and started retching into a napkin.  It was the same sensation he’d gotten the night before at the party, when he’d locked himself in the bathroom and coughed himself raw into the white sink, trying to force something out that just wouldn’t budge.  He felt like he had a copper wire weaving through his muscles, and someone was sending shocks of electricity through it.

Sicheng and Mark stared at him in concern and Sicheng pushed a glass of water his way.  He choked out his thanks before downing it in one go, once again taking note of the clump of – something – which drifted back down along with the liquid.  By the time he had himself back under control, both his friends were posing some variation on the same ‘you okay?’ question.  

“Yeah, yeah,” he lied.  “Just aspirated some very sharp candy.” 

Sicheng winced.  “Ouch,” he said.  “At least you had the courtesy to wait until Mark was finished.” 

Yuta stuck his tongue out, but the way his friend went so casually back to teasing him actually made him feel a little better.  

“I know the Heimlich maneuver!” Mark said, a stupidly proud grin crossing his face as he set his guitar back into its case and puffed his chest out involuntarily.  “So I could have saved you if it came to that.” 

Yuta smiled weakly.  “That’s very reassuring, Mark.”

“NBD.”  Yuta groaned, the sharp pain from only moments ago leaving him just as quickly as it had come.  He cringed.  Had Mark really just said “NBD?” Whatever.  Mark continued.  

“Seriously though, what did you guys think?” 

“It was really good,” Sicheng said, “and I would say, a glowing testament to your four years of high school Spanish.”  

Mark snickered.  “What about you, Yutaaa?” 

“Well if you couldn’t tell by the way I reacted at the beginning, I loved it!  Really, like your voice just keeps getting better and better.”

Mark placed a hand over his heart, meaning to indicate that Yuta’s compliment had touched him.  

“Aren’t you not supposed to be using instruments though?” Sicheng chimed.  “I mean, considering you’re an a cappella person?”  

Mark rolled his eyes.  “Very funny,” he said.  “But thanks, guys.  I think I might play it live sometime on the Serotonin Hour.”  That was the name of the radio show Johnny had left to him upon graduation.  

“You know,” Yuta began, rapping his fingers against the table, “when Johnny willed his time slot to you, I don’t think he expected you’d use it for such self-serving purposes.”     

Mark rolled his eyes even farther into his head this time.  “It’s an hour where I impose my music taste on the small group of people who actually bother to tune in.  What could be more self-serving?” 

Yuta clicked his tongue.  Mark had a point.  

“Anyway,” said Mark, hopping to his feet, “what do you want to do, Yuta?” 

*** 

Since it was raining out, they decided they would have to stay mostly indoors, so they resolved to wander around the market hall until they came up with a more exciting activity, Yuta letting Mark store his guitar in the trunk of his car while they perused.  Sicheng was invited along too, but he had a dance class to run in half an hour and needed to review his lesson plan ahead of time, so it was just the two of them.   

Well, it was just the two of them until they got to the Jung family farmstand at the end of the long, warehouse-like building.  Jaehyun sat behind it, writing something into a notebook and looking so bored that his face was practically melting into the hand supporting it.   

“Oh, thank god,” he said when he saw his friends approaching.  “It’s been such a slow day I was ready to choke myself out just to have something to do.” 

“Ooh, kinky,” Yuta guffawed at his friend as Mark nodded slowly.  

“Nice to see you too, man,” Mark said.  

“Want anything?” 

Yuta and Mark surveyed their options: a selection of dairy products, meat, and eggs in a set of coolers, and a table covered in artichokes, celery, pears, asparagus, broccoli, brussels sprouts, cabbages, and a veritable rainbow of root vegetables.  As usual, the Jung family farm’s output looked delicious.  Maybe Yuta would get something for his parents to put in tonight’s dinner.  He grabbed a bundle of radishes by the leaves and shoved them at his friend with a grin.  

Mark, on the other hand, knew immediately what he would go for.  

“And, uh, can I get a banana milk?” 

Jaehyun nodded as Yuta gave his younger friend his best side-eye.  

“You just drank a giant hot chocolate.  Haven’t you had enough dairy for one day?” 

Mark pouted, fishing for his wallet, and Yuta couldn’t help but smile at the way Mark’s eyes looked like shiny tea saucers.  He could be devilishly cute sometimes.  Cute enough to make Yuta want to buy shit for him, which he did, paying for the radishes and the milk before Mark even had the opportunity to complain.  

“Drink up!”

Mark glared.  “Fine.  I’ll just sneak-buy you something next time.” 

Yuta wobbled his head like an anime heroine as he spoke.  “Oh, so I’ll get a next time?  Man, this date is going so well!” he said, and Mark’s ears flushed for the second time in thirty minutes.  A niggling voice in the back of Yuta’s head told him he wanted to see Mark like that more often.  He brushed that idea away, not quite knowing how to process it.    

“Whatever,” Mark mumbled as Jaehyun looked on in his usual casual detachment.  Yuta turned his attention back to him.  

“By the way, Jae, where are your parents?  Can’t they come relieve you of your existential dread?” 

Jaehyun blew a puff of air at his bangs.  “I wish,” he responded.  “They’re out of town for the weekend though, so I’m left to suffer alone.  Oh – which reminds me!  Can you go check on Sugarfoot and Lacey for me?  They probably need their water troughs refilled right about now.  And besides, I’m sure they miss Mark.” 

Yuta and Mark agreed easily.  Everyone loved those horses, even if Sugarfoot could be a pain in the ass.  When Yuta was a teenager, she had apparently decided he’d lived long enough, because she tried to buck him off until Yuta was pretty sure he’d suffered acute whiplash.  Besides Jaehyun, Johnny was the only person she seemed to tolerate (and tolerate simply meant she was a bitch to him rather than straight-up murderous), but alas, Johnny wasn’t around.  

“Perfect,” Jaehyun said.  “I’d do it myself, but everyone here knows my parents and they’d definitely somehow manage to tell them I’d abandoned my post.  You know where the keys to the stable are and everything, right?” 

“Yup!” 

And with that, Yuta and Mark left Jaehyun to return to pondering auto-asphyxiation. 

It had stopped raining outside, and the sky was in the process of clearing from a mournful grey to a clear periwinkle, like a windshield-wiper was slowly swiping across it to rid it of clouds.  They ran into Taeil on the way to Yuta’s car, in the middle of walking five dogs of varying sizes and breeds.   

Naturally, Mark became immediately preoccupied by the tangle of fur attached tenuously to Taeil’s wrist by a set of leashes.  The cute scene made Yuta’s chest go tight with fondness.   

Yuta told Taeil they’d missed him at the party the night before as Mark rolled around on the wet ground, getting his face smothered by a particularly friendly Chow Chow and laughing like his lungs were about to burst out of his chest.    

“I know, I’m sorry!” Taeil said, trying not to let himself get tugged around.  “It was just last minute and I’d already been roped into cooking for my family, and we had friends over – bad timing.” 

Yuta waved him off.  “Don’t worry, I’ll only hold it against you forever.  But when do you go back to the city?” 

“Next week,” Taeil replied, leaning down awkwardly to save Mark from five rough tongues.  Taeil didn’t have a dog himself (although he did have a goose in his backyard, a fact which Yuta was never not perplexed by) but his family owned the local pet shop and he always had dog-walker duty when he was home.  It was also how he made money when he was in high school.  “We should definitely get together before I go back though!” Taeil continued.  “You guys can help me make this pasta dish I’ve been wanting to try.  Sound good Mark?” 

Mark got up, brushing the wet dirt off his backside.  “What?  Oh yeah, for sure!  I’m always down to eat – and to see you, Taeil.  I didn’t forget about you.” 

Taeil looked dryly at his younger friend. “Yeah, of course.  But listen, Mark, it’s really good luck we’re home at the same time.  I need you to tell me all about how the Aca-Fellas are doing.”  Mark nodded shyly.  Taeil had been the star of the a cappella group at his college, so he’d had plenty of run-ins with the Fellas at competitions.  His own superiority at singing was something it was at times difficult to get him to shut up about.  Taeil continued:

“Anyway, I should be going.  These guys are getting squirrely, and I don’t want them to do their business right here.  I’ll see you two around, I guess.  Enjoy the rest of your date!”

Hey, Yuta thought, that’s my joke.  Somehow it made him feel weird to hear someone else use it.  

*** 

They were at Jaehyun’s stables after a short drive, and they found the keys easily.  Mark scratched lovingly at Lacey’s chin as Yuta filled the troughs with water.  Then, they decided it was as good a time as any to see if Johnny was free to FaceTime.  He was.  

“Heyoooo,” Johnny greeted once his pixelated face flashed onto Yuta’s phone.  Yuta laughed.  His friend looked happy and healthy.  “Oh what? You have Mark with you?  Sweet!” 

They caught up on Johnny’s life for a few minutes; he was having a great time on his own, but he missed everyone and couldn’t wait to come home in the summer.  

“Hurry home,” Yuta joked, getting up from the bail of hay he’d been sitting on because Sugarfoot was cribbing on the door to her stable.  “I think Taeyong is wilting without you here.” 

Johnny chuckled indulgently.  “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”  He gasped and his image froze in the exaggerated reaction face he’d pulled, making Mark squeak with laughter.  “Is that my favorite girlie?” came his crackling voice.  

Yuta held the phone up to Sugarfoot, nudging her head a bit to get her to detach her teeth from the wood.  “Sure is.” 

Johnny asked if Jaehyun was there, so Yuta informed him on their friend’s predicament.  Then Johnny addressed Mark, telling him he should try braiding Sugarfoot’s dark mane – he’d found she had come to enjoy it.  Mark, being the least experienced with Jaehyun’s bitch of a mare, immediately fell for it and tried, causing Sugarfoot to squeal and jerk her neck away from his touch.  He fell back on his butt in surprise and Johnny cackled through Yuta’s phone speaker.  

“Aw, I see college hasn’t made you less gullible, Markie-boy.” 

“It most certainly has not,” Yuta confirmed, and Mark attempted a glare, but it only ended up looking like what he’d done when Johnny tried to teach him how to flirt that one time.  

Johnny continued.  “Anyway, Mark how are you really?  I don’t care about this old hag; Yuta, give the phone to Mark.”

Yuta handed over the phone with a casual threat of murder.  

Mark was doing well.  Johnny asked if his a cappella group had let him rap yet.  Mark rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, leaning against the stable door right next to Lacey.  

“Naw, not yet,” he said.  “Just beatboxing for now.  Eventually...” 

Johnny shrugged.  “It’s okay.  When you’re a senior you can run the group and do whatever the hell you want.  And, when they see how good you are, that’ll really show ’em.” 

Yuta watched the conversation unfold, reveling in the warm feeling he got from watching some of his favorite people interact.  

“Are you doing the Serotonin Hour justice, by the way?” Johnny asked.  “Playing that good shit?” 

Mark fumbled around a response so Yuta cut in, yelling from off-screen.  “He’s great, Johnny!  Wish you were here to tune in because I think he might be surpassing you in quality already.” 

Yuta heard Johnny scoff as Mark looked embarrassed.  “Impossible!”  Yuta leaned in next to Mark and Johnny asked about his own parents.    

Yuta frowned.  “Can’t you just call them and ask how they’re doing?” 

“I did! I do!” Johnny said, exasperated.  “I wanted to hear it from a third party though, otherwise all they tell me is ‘we’re good, John, we’re good.  Everything’s just fine.’  Know what I mean?” 

Mark answered.  Mr. and Mrs. Seo were doing just as well as they let on to their son, as far as he could tell.  This seemed to satisfy him.    

Johnny had to go soon after this, so Yuta and Mark took the opportunity to get back in Yuta’s car and drive to his house, where brand new purple crocuses had pushed through the dirt in the front yard.    

Yuta led Mark straight to his loft when they arrived, happy to finally have some actual alone time with his friend.  He didn’t know where this territorial streak was coming from.  He usually did it as a joke – especially with Mark and Sicheng – but all of a sudden, he didn’t feel like he was joking anymore.  He shrugged it off mentally.  It probably had something to do with his repression, he figured, realizing he hadn’t followed all his mother’s instructions yet.  Oh well, the meditation could wait.  

“Do you want to stay for dinner?” he offered.  “We can hang out all day that way, until you’re absolutely fed up with me.” 

Mark giggled as they traipsed through the wet grass, passing the fresh crocuses.  

“Uh, yeah, that sounds good,” Mark agreed.  “I’ll text my parents and ask them.”

“I don’t think you’ll need to,” Yuta remarked, pointing straight ahead to where Mr. Lee stood in his driveway, getting ready to go out.  “Mr. Lee!”

Mark’s dad turned around, startled for a moment, before waving.  

“Your son is eating dinner over here!”  Yuta yelled.  “We’ll take good care of him!”

Mark laughed nervously at Yuta’s side as his dad consented.  Yuta had to admit that his life was a little emptier when Mark’s ridiculous giggle-fits weren’t a daily feature.  

Back in Yuta’s room, Mark hooked his phone up to Yuta’s Bluetooth speaker and played one of his most recent DJ set playlists while Yuta sat at his vanity and yanked a radish from the bunch he’d bought earlier from Jaehyun, biting off a chunk.  It tasted watery and sharp.

“What are you doing?” Mark protested.  “I thought those were for your parents.”

“I’m only taste-testing,” Yuta defended, mouth full of radish.  “Calm down.”  He poised the other half of the radish as if he were about to overhand chuck it in Mark’s direction.  That was, in fact, what he planned to do.  “Open up.” 

Mark’s eyes went wide.  “But it has your spit on it!” 

Yuta rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” 

Mark nodded in acquiescence, opening his mouth for a split second before thinking of something else to worry about. 

“This seems dangerous though, like what if I choke on it?” 

“Then that’s really too bad because I do not know the Heimlich,” Yuta snarked.  “Try not to.” 

Mark opened his mouth again and Yuta threw the radish in an arc the few feet between them.   Mark shuffled a little to align his mouth and caught the radish, doing a little dance of victory when he realized he’d succeeded.  

“Yoooooo!” he yelled around his mouthful.  

Yuta clapped, he remarked to himself, like a cheerleader congratulating his boyfriend. Whatever.  He wasn’t above that.  

“That’s what I call synchronicity!” he said.    

Then, Yuta decided to experiment with combinations of the new earrings he’d bought recently while he and Mark talked.  They ended up mostly reminiscing about the stupid hijinks they’d gotten themselves into over the years: the time they got drunk and went skinny-dipping in the bioluminescence despite a slew of recent shark sightings (Mark kept trying to drift off into the mist and when they heard a loud splash near them in the water, Yuta asked Mark if he’d retrieve his dick if it got bitten off.  “Is that something you would want me to do?” Mark had responded); the time they went cliff-diving as a group and somehow Yuta managed to injure himself while stumbling over rocks to take a picture and then tried to tell everyone who hadn’t been there that he’d hurt himself jumping into the water so he wouldn’t sound like an idiot; the time Mark tried weed for the first time and became convinced he was suffering an aneurysm, begging Yuta to make him a potion for it; all the times Yuta and Mark travelled to dance competitions together as kids and shared hotel rooms, planning their entire futures as they waited to get sleepy.  They had promised to always have houses next to each other, and that their families and spouses would be forever close.   

Yuta sometimes found that, with long-time friends he didn’t get to see as often as he would have liked, it was easier to reminisce than to create new, whole memories.  It had nothing to do with Mark’s value as a friend, and they still came away from every summer with plenty of additional experiences and stories, but Yuta hated the feeling he sometimes got of their rhythm being off during the shorter breaks.  He worried their friendship would calcify into something past tense.  But then again, he figured, a deep understanding like what he and Mark shared didn’t need constant updates.  

Being with Mark sometimes took him back to being eighteen – right before he left for college – and in a way he liked that as much as he liked his friend.  He just got an occasional sinking feeling that they were missing each other’s landmarks.  It was irrational, but he couldn’t deny it. 

Mark had moved on to updates about his friend group as Yuta held a thin and dangly silver earring against his lobe.  Mark nodded in approval and Yuta worked to stifle a sudden bout of coughing.  Ah yes.  There it is. 

Later, at the dinner table, Yuta hardly got a word in edgewise with his parents and sister grilling Mark on how his first year was wrapping up: was his friend group holding up?  Yup.  Did he like his second semester classes?  He did.  Was he still sure he wanted to pursue a conservation major?  Yes.  Did he know who he’d room with the next year?  He was going to try to room with his friend Yeri, but they had to sign a consent form for co-ed housing first.  When was his next a cappella performance?  The big one was in late April.  Did he have a significant other?   

Yuta almost hacked up a spoonful of his root vegetable soup before glaring at his mom, the source of that query.  

“Aish, why does everyone wanna know that?” asked Mark, setting his spoon down for a second.  “Sorry, it’s just really funny to me.  No, I don’t.” 

Yuta looked across the table to his mother and caught her sending an irritated look right back at him.  He figured it was probably related to the vague threat she’d made earlier that she would know if he didn’t follow all her advice by the time he got home in the evening.  

Once they’d finished eating, the boys helped wash the dishes and Mrs. Nakamoto gifted Mark a little vial of her signature lucky potion for him to use during finals.  

“Bye, little dingus,” Haruna called to Mark as he and Yuta were on their way out for a quick post-prandial stroll.  Yuta turned around. 

“Don’t talk to your elder that way!”  She rolled her eyes.    

Outside, it was fully dark, and a distinct late-winter chill tinged the air enough that Yuta had to burrow his chin into the collar of his bomber jacket.  Rather than the chatter of crickets they would have heard at that hour during summertime, the air sung with the hush of breeze rustling the pines and the distant break of ocean waves.  Yuta thought bittersweetly about how the next time he’d see Mark for an extended time, the crickets would be back.  

“Sorry for all the prying,” Yuta grumbled as the two made their way to the little pedestrian suspension bridge over the river on the edge of town.  The river led to the ocean eventually, but inland, it felt thin and closed-off all the same.  This bridge passing over it was one of Yuta and Mark’s favorite spots to sit and chat late at night without anyone hearing.  In fact, it was that type of spot for most of the town’s young residents.  

“Don’t be,” Mark said jovially, kicking his feet leisurely as he walked.  “I expect it at this point.  Bet you remember what that’s like.” 

Yuta nodded.  He did.     

“You know,” Mark began, “it’s actually sorta calming to get the same questions over and over again.  Cuz like, for some reason I keep getting really stressed out when I come home.  I don’t know why…It’s kind of annoying.”  

Yuta pointed at Mark in recognition as he chimed in.  “No – I know exactly what you mean.  I used to get that too.  Remember when I had that panic attack?” 

Mark nodded.  “Oooh yeah, man, I do.  You were calling me at like two in the morning and you sounded like you were crying.  I had no idea what you were on about.  But I guess now I understand more.”  

Yuta smiled to himself as the sound of the river added its own particular hush to the mix of natural noises.  He tried not to take too much comfort in the idea that his friend was now suffering the same way he had.  At least it was a pretty privileged form of suffering…

Yuta took a deep breath, looking up and trying to find stars in the hazy dark sky.  

“My mom calls it liminality.  She says it's natural to feel spiritually detached at times of transition.  It’s like your identity is thrown into flux and it can be hard to balance your competing selves all at once.  You’ve got your independent college self and my little Markie boy who lives with his parents and can’t drive.”  At this, Yuta grabbed Mark and tried to give him a noogie.  “I think that’s what’s stressing you out. Might do you some good to recognize it and hear it verbalized.”    

Mark laughed.  They were approaching the entrance to the bridge.  “I guess that makes sense.  I – wait.” 

Yuta took a second to register that Mark had cut himself off and stopped walking.  He was staring into the distance towards the bridge, so Yuta followed his gaze.  He blinked a few times in the dark, but once his vision focused, he noticed what Mark had been looking at: a dark lump in the center of the suspended walkway.  It seemed to be moving – writhing almost – and Mark placed a finger over his mouth to indicate they should be silent.  Little groans and giggles emanated from the wiggly lump over the rush of the water.  It was a person – no – people.    

Yuta felt himself about to start laughing, and he didn’t want to disrupt whatever moment was going on in front of them, so he grabbed Mark’s arm and hauled him away, running back towards their houses and cracking up the minute they thought they were out of earshot.  

Mark tried to catch his breath from all the exertion.  “Were, were they –” 

“Fucking?” Yuta finished for him.  “Yeah, I think so.” 

Mark leaned over his knees.  It was the same position Yuta had used several times in the last day to combat his lung issue.  “Shit, man,” he said.  “I was not expecting that.” 

Yuta shook his head in disbelief.  “Me neither.  Here; on that note, let’s get you home. The Lees deserve their son back.” 

“Sounds good.  That’s enough excitement for one night.” 

***

Yuta tiptoed back into the kitchen before going to the barn to sleep, opening the fridge to sneak another few bites of the raspberry meringue cake his mom had bought on a whim from the Seos while shopping for dinner.   

Her voice in the dark startled him so badly that he jolted against the refrigerator shelving, rattling a whole row of bottled drinks and sauces and causing a racket.

“Holy shit, mom, you’re going to kill me,” he said, holding a hand against his chest like a 19th century gentlewoman.  

“Come to the living room with me, Yuta,” she said, bypassing his griping.  

Yuta gulped, following his mother’s directions until he was sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her lounge chair.  

“Didn’t I tell you I’d notice if you blew off my instructions?” she asked, sipping from a cup of tea.  It smelled like chamomile and it was making Yuta sleepy.  

“I know,” he said, “but I was with Mark all day and I didn’t want it to be weird for him while I like, went off into a corner to ruminate on my inner demons or whatever.  I was still gonna do it.  Also, I drank the potion you gave me.” 

“I understand Yuta,” she said, cutting him off before he could spew any more excuses, “but you’re going to do it right now.  I want you to feel better.” 

“I already do feel a little better,” Yuta said, though he knew he was lying.  His mom knew it too, because she gave him a skeptical sideways glance.

“You looked like you were holding in a coughing spell all through dinner,” she informed him.  Had he?  Yikes… “So, close your eyes.” 

Yuta knew how this was going to go, but still, he let his mom lead him through breathing and visualization, focusing on tracking and changing the color and temperature of his internal energy as it passed through each of his limbs, his gut, hit neck and shoulders, his head, and finally, to his lungs.  He tried to pull air in until it touched the extremity of them, boundaries of his body going fuzzy in concentration, but it was difficult for him; shaky almost.  

His mother’s voice floated into his consciousness, instructing him to imagine the hollow of his mind and let thoughts begin to trickle in without obstruction; to let them come and go without judgement. 

He thought of what Mark had been saying on their walk and how it resonated with his own experiences, how it frustrated him that he could never quite recreate the comfort of his and Mark’s dynamic when he visited him at school and they were with all Mark’s first year friends (at least Kun and Jaehyun were around at times, but still).  He thought about how weird it felt for all his friends to be scattered around.  Mostly though, he thought about the strange burning tightness that had been threatening to cut off his air supply over the last day whenever he dwelled too much on thoughts of his best friend, on observing him, on feeling lucky to know him.  

Next thing he knew, he was coughing aggressively again, dragging in empty breaths whenever his throat gave him a break from its violent convulsing.  The metal wires felt like they’d made their way into his heart.  Neither his breathing nor his coughing was satisfactory though; there was still something stuck.  What on earth was wrong with him? 

Yuta latched back onto the sound of his mother’s voice as he calmed down and opened his eyes.  She knelt next to him on the floor, rubbing over his back and knitting her brows in concern.    

“Oh darling,” she cooed.  “Have some tea.”  He drank gladly, but this time the obstruction inside him stayed right where it was halfway down his windpipe.  “It’s just as I thought.  Something is blocking you off from your spiritual self.” 

Yuta blinked some tears of exertion from his eyes, smirking as he returned somewhat to himself.  

“You sure it’s not just my sarcasm?” he joked, and his mom scowled.  

“Well, that’s certainly not helping,” she said.  She kissed his forehead and pulled away to find her tarot deck.  “But I am proud that you took that seriously.  It obviously stirred something.  Let me do a quick reading for you and then we can both get to bed.” 

Yuta waited as she set up the deck and drew a six of cups, reversed.  He sighed.  Intense nostalgia; feeling caught in the past or with a past self.  That much was obvious.  

Yuta’s mother smiled at him softly.  “Whatever this is, it’s holding you hostage in memories and longing.”  He nodded, remembering his earlier conversation with Mark where they couldn’t seem to stop dwelling on an idealized highlight reel of teenage shenanigans.  Right.  “Do you want to talk about it now?” 

“Not really.”  Yuta yawned.  He didn’t know if it was because he was actually tired or because he wanted this to wrap up.  

Mrs. Nakamoto started packing her cards back up.  “That’s alright.  You should get some sleep anyway.  Good night, dear.” 

“G’night.” 

***  

Yuta gave back into coughing the minute he’d crossed the threshold to his room.  He ran to the small trashcan next to his desk, still full of bottles from the night before, and heaved into it so hard he thought his eyes might pop out.  Finally though, he had a twinge of relief when the thing that had been caught in his airway materialized on his tongue and his trachea cleared fully for the first time all day.  He reached into his mouth and plucked out the offending object, holding it between his fingers over the trash.  It was long and yellow and smooth, shaped like the wooden paddles Donghyuck’s ice cream shop gives out for testers.  

A horrifying thought crossed Yuta’s mind as he rolled the delicate yellow petal softly between his fingers, watching it disintegrate under his touch and the acid of his saliva.  He turned to the bouquet on the coffee table to his left, shivering as he caught a glimpse of the sunny yellow rays of petals adorning each of the three baby sunflowers in the vase.  His heart dropped into his feet.  

Of course.  

[dadzawa-adopt-dabi]

Secret baby ch18

Dabi strolls into the cafe, Giran had wanted to discuss something in person with him. It was slightly unusual to meet with him in person these days. In the month or so Dabi had been a shovel he had only met with Giran twice, both times as more social meetings than business meetings. Preferring to send a messenger to a meeting location or shooting him a text with basic vague information for business.

“I’ve got a job offer for you honey.” Giran was already sitting at their table and he motioned to the seat across from him.

“You know my rules by now Girian. Nothing that requires me to take off my scent neutralizer and nothing that requires me to work with others.” Several times Giran had offered Dabi an escort or partner but he always remained firm that he would do the jobs himself. He’s uncomfortable working with people in general. Which is something Giran is well aware of.

“You’ll be like a paid babysitter more than anything else Dabi. I promise these are good people you're going to be working with.” Giran watched Dabi closely to make sure he wasn't going to leave without hearing him out. If Dabi didn't want this job offer, he didn't have to take it, but it would be good for everyone involved if he did.

“ We've discussed this Girian, for fucks sake I’ve killed someone you assigned to be my partner before. We discussed this when we talked about me moving up to ‘shovel’. You only call me ‘honey or sweetie’ when you're trying to butter me up. You already know that won’t help. You know what I will or won’t do. So tell me outright what you want from me so I can turn you down already.” Picking at the muffin in front of him, Dabi glared at Giran. Eventually he cracked and gave a chuckle.

“You’ve got me there sweetie. I didn't even realize I did that thing with the names, I’m honestly just fond of you. You’ve got to admit that they suit you. You’d never harm a fly that didn’t bite you first.” He chuckled and tapped his coffee cup lid on the table, one of his more obvious nervous habits.

“The job giran, tell me about the job.” The raven haired omega rapped his knuckles on the table irritatingly. The muffin was damn good though, he made a mental deal with himself. He would let Giran try and talk him into whatever he was so nervous about until he was done with his banana nut muffin then make his decision.

“I'm getting there! Patience. There's this new up and coming group-”

“No.” Dabi scoffed. Giran knew he didn't do groups. He didn't care about whatever Giran though was so special about this group, they weren’t special to him.

“I know you don’t like groups. You don't like others getting in your business and all that.” sensing Dabi was feeling patient. He continued  taking the chance that Dabi wouldn't be storming off right away. Giran took a large sip out of his coffee. Trying to give himself some time to figure out how to convince the stubborn young parent across from him that this would be good for him. This group had some major players backing them. They could protect both him and his kid. He hadn't asked Dabi why he was going by a fake name. Instead of his rather famous one that should have come with a lot of perks.  Then there was that little girl of his. Bright red wings that matched a Hero who had been climbing the rankings alarmingly fast, only problem was as far as anyone knew Hawks didn’t have an anthropomorphic quirk like Kiyoko clearly did. Made Girain wonder what or who was pushing the Hero kid so far and fast. Asking such questions would only push the kid away, and that's not what he wanted to do.

“They attract too much attention and I can't afford to get arrested Giran. Somebody in the group always gets caught and blows the whole thing” He hissed at him across the table, Sapphire blue eyes on fire and glaring at him before he could even explain himself.

“It's a small group,they are all trying to stay in the shadows. A do their own thing kind of group, seems like they want to avoid the bigshots as long as they can. It's been a good couple months and the leader is avoiding making any moves so far.” Giran grinned large enough to show off his missing tooth when Dabi set down his food. He had until the muffin was gone. He might need to order another to keep the omega there but Dabi was at least listening. That was the only reason that Dabi was still too skinny and small for his age had nothing to do with it. He waved at the barista on duty, motioned to Dabi and held up 2 fingers. Whatever muffin Dabi had ordered got brought out again along with a bubble tea. 

“ Bubble tea? You don’t seem the type sweetie.” Giran smirked as the barista dropped off the food and left the table.

“I like it when the weather is nice and cool, like today. Job Giran. Two muffins will not make me sit here longer so you can persuade me, but nice try.” He gave Girain a cocky smirk that was somehow also fond. Girain shrugged off the cold tea, it was late autumn now and quite cold outside which made it unusual but Dabi did have a fire quirk which must have kept him warm.

“I'll get on with it then, the league of villains aims to eventually take out the Hero society.” Giran grabbed Dabi’s wrist as soon as he shoved his chair back. Ignoring how hot the wrist immediately got. He figured this would happen when he got to this point.

“That’s what they are going to try and sell you when you go apply but it's not what’s really going on. C’mon Dabi. Finish the muffin n Tea and just give me a chance to explain. At least finish the tea. I'll pay you your old regular rate for this conversation and double ‘shovel’ rate if you take the job.” He tried bribing him.

“No way in hell am I going to be risking something like that Giran. I’ve got a fucking kid. You know that. I can't raise her if I'm in jail or if I’m dead. And That's exactly where this group would get me, dead.” however Dabi sat back down. Giran didnt risk getting the fuck burnt out of him for no reason and he had always respected his right to turn down jobs whenever he wanted before.

“I’ve already sent a friend in. A guy who’s had it really rough with everyone else and he’s reported that the guy set up to inherit doesn't really know what to do. He’s not-” Girin tries to explain in a rush. When he sent Jin in he hadn’t expected him to settle in so quickly or make friends. But he had, and then had started reporting back on the situation. A young possessive and lonely omega set up to take over the world, a serious super villain plot, only the kid wasn't that interested in leading the destruction of the world despite being more than capable.

“Sounding better and better, Giran. Now you’ve added the danger of someone not knowing how to lead along with a bunch of stressed out over eager criminals. All in one big group.” If he had to, Dabi would set the place on fire to get away. What was Giran even thinking? Bringing him into this kind of mess? More like trying to bring him into , he thought with amusement, there was no way in hell he was joining this.

“Look Kid, whatever you’ve got going on that brought you to me? Whatever you're running from Dabi?  These guys can hide you from it and give you some okay people to hang around. You can’t keep Kiyoko in your apartment for forever.” Giran finishes off his coffee. “And the brat leading it does want to lead the group. He just doesn't want to lead the way his sensei wants him to.”

“I've been doing just fine on my own. I don’t need some upstart cocky fucking al-” Dabi started defending himself heatedly, literally as he was lightly steaming around his eyes as he started ranting about how he didnt need anyone. He didn’t know, He’d been getting along pretty well by himself but He also wanted that support for him.

“Actually the boss is an omega, figured it would be another thing you guys would find in common. Both of you Headstrong and won’t let anyone tell you what to do.” Giran smirked at the curled lip and middle finger Dabi flashed at him. Mouthy kids were going to be the death of him, he knew it. He really wanted Dabi in with this group. The kid’s kid was going to need to be socialized at some point and Dabi had been stuck in an apartment raising a kid by himself for long enough.

It was time he got Dabi some actual support and conversation other than a crime boss in his upper 40’s.

“Why are you doing this, Giran? For real? This group, how far do you think they are going to get at destroying the fake heroes?” Dabi picked at the last remains of his muffin. 

He didn’t necessarily want all the heroes gone. He just wanted the asshole’s who abused their family’s and used their status to get away with it gone. He just wanted the people like enji gone. Even Hawks, now in the top 10 hero’s wasn’t as big of a threat to Dabi and Kiyoko living their lives freely as enji still was. He could maybe bargain with Hawks if he ever found out, Would fight him. Enji and Hawks both haunted his dreams but Enji was the one he would be worst against in a fight.

“How far they get isn't the point. If it's Shigaraki leading they are going to take over the hero society easily, going to rock the very foundation of it. As villains if that’s what they want to do. But what this guy actually wants to do is take out the fake heroes and remind the civilians that they are not powerless. He wants people to stop waiting on the heros and save each other.”

“So more like a league of vigilante’s? That's what he’s doing? Vigilante groups always have the worst in fighting and drama. Unless he’s got a set of rules somewhere for everyone to follow and some way to make sure that it's followed.” Dabi sipped at his boba.  At least he was getting free food and getting paid for this conversation, might as well go along with it. “I’m Not the biggest fan of following rules or of being a jackass or of being spied on. This is just how I pay the bills, Not a lifestyle for me.” Dabi frowned and checked his phone, the babysitter was texting him about when he would be back. Ever since Kiyoko had started flying and screeching she had been less and less willing to watch her for long periods of time. 

“Not really, there’s a sense of ‘whatever you want goes’. This guy does want to get rid of the current society like a villain but he also wants to change it. not destroy the whole thing. He’s in his own category and I'm not sure what he really wants. Neither is he. The only response I get when I ask is ‘ someone to fill the gaps, be someone I needed that never showed up.” Giran shrugged, finishing off his coffee.

“So what? Is this just a personal vendetta for him?” Dabi frowned. This guy seemed to be all over the place. Not a Villain out for himself, Not a Hero wanting to save people, Not a Vigilante trying to be a darker version of a hero either.  He had questions now. The pay was also tempting. Kiyoko was going to need a coat soon and it would probably have to be special ordered again. Not to mention he had to start a school fund for her, Kiyoko wouldn’t start for a few years but he was already thinking of bribing teachers to look the other way for her wings and the other hints at her parentage. Plus with how well Giran paid he could start planning on moving out of his crappy apartment with the skevy landlord and move someplace where Kiyoko could have her own room.

“Interested enough yet Dabi? I’ve told you all I know. I can get you into a meeting with the boss soon as well. I've got it set up for a young girl to go in and meet him soon. I can add you to the meeting now or we can wait a few months and have him meet you by yourself.” Giran braced himself for the chewing out the blackhaired omega was going to give him, well deserved he knew. He didn't have much choice however. When all the pieces fell together it would make sense to Dabi, He’d already gotten his biggest competitor out of the game at the same time as providing himself a way to lure a big shark out of hiding. He wasn’t planning on fighting him himself, oh no he wasn't that cocky but he was smart enough that he could get rid of him all the same.

“You're letting a kid get involved in this shit?” Dabi couldn’t help the way his voice lowered and growled out the words. Giran didn’t like getting kids involved in his work, preferred to drop them off with police or a friendly hero and be on his way but it happened sometimes.

“She’s a murderer run away with a trouble some quirk. I can't do anything better for her. Not unless she gets some stability. She doesn't trust me enough to help her get to a decent quirk center either.  She just showed up one day threatening my barista for blood and food.” Giran growled back in a much lighter tone than Dabi had growled at him. Fuck he was soft for these dam kids, must be the age catching up to him.. It wasn't like him to let actual children get involved in the mess of the underground world. This girl had refused all other kinds of help, while threatening him at knifepoint, not leaving him much to work with. Dabi knew better than to insinuate that he would let children get hurt, no matter how grown they thought they were or what quirks they had.

“Put me in the fucking boss meeting with the girl. I'll make sure we at least make it out in one piece when everything goes to shit.” Dabi snarled at him.

Giran looked across the table and despite his own anger, despite the very real threat Dabi was posing to him, he was proud. Shoulders back and head held high, bright blue eyes on fire, Dabi looked almost like he was ready to fight. No longer another runaway pushed to his limit he was standing stall and looking him in the eyes. Standing his ground in a disagreement. Yeah he was proud of how far Dabi was truly coming, all on his own with the bare minimum of help.

“Thank you Dabi. I'm truly not asking for the girl either. She needs a roof over her head and you need to socialize before you go nuts with just you and the kid.” Giran sat back down when Dabi motioned at him.

“I’ve got you too you know, it’s not just us anymore. Tell me about the girl, name, quirk, age. Give me some details about her giran. Anything that should be avoided around her? You mentioned she had a difficult quirk and is a murderer. Does it have anything to do with her quirk? Why is she homeless?” Dabi pulled out his phone and opened his note app, shoving it across the table at Giran when he started talking. “Write it down so I can review it before I go in.”

@ruelukas22 @mostladylikeladythateverladied @xxsnowchildxx @i-like-to-shruggy

@drxgonstone

AN: remeber to ask if you want to be added to the tag list or i’ve been forgetting you. im going to start making a actual list soon so i don’t forget people

[ckret2]

Mutant Dorat (Part 2)

This is part 2 of a commission fic for @sableghoste. You can read Part 1 here, but if you don't wanna read that part: the premise is Ghidorah is three juvenile dorats (cat/bat/snake pet things) and Rodan is a horrifically mutated baby dorat rescued from a military experimentation facility. And then they flirt. It’s nothing but Baby Monsters Being Cute fluff here, folks.

Cast of characters, ME-319 is a Xilien dorat breeder/caretaker, Noodle is Ichi/Ghidorah’s middle head (because I refuse to dignify him with a respectable name), and the "new arrival" is, of course, Rodan.

I ain't proofed this because it's already pretty late, it'll get proofed when it goes up on AO3.

###

Day three of the new mutant dorat living in ME-319's aerie.

Every time she glanced out of her office, he was easy to immediately spot. For one thing, among a sea of sleek golden serpents, he was the only one covered in dark rough rocky chunks.

For another, he was almost always alone.

When the other adolescents chased each other around in a flurry of excited activity, he tried to join in; and every time he did, they moved out of his way en masse, like a school of fish fleeing before an approaching predator. Whenever he flopped down to rest, the others gave him a wide berth, even getting up and scooting somewhere else to nap if he was too close.

It was just like she'd feared. The poor escaped lab experiment was just too different for the other dorats his age to see him as one of their kind. At least they weren't aggressive with him—but for a social little dorat, this kind of isolation wasn't any better.

ME-319 was worriedly checking up on him for the tenth time that day when she saw, for the first time, another dorat getting close to the mutant. Who was that—Noodle? Yes, that was Noodle. Huh. She'd never noted him to be particularly curious or courageous. Was he trying to figure out what the new arrival was?

She got up from her desk and stood at the door to her office, one hand on the latch as she watched out the window, waiting to see how this turned out. If all went well, she'd let them be; but she had to be ready to intervene at the first sign of violence.

She hoped this went well.

###

Okay. This was the third day the new arrival had been here. So he wasn't one of the temporary visitors that came in with owners for an afternoon and then go home. He probably going to stick around for a while.

It was time.

Noodle was going to make his move.

He couldn't risk letting anyone else move first. Sure, they were avoiding the new arrival for now—but sooner or later someone else was going to notice his gorgeous golden eyes, or realize how wonderfully intimidating those copper-black spines of his were. Noodle wasn't exactly what one would call a catch, what with his flaky scales (itched like nobody's business) and his rather under-developed tail spines. Not like, say, Pineapple. Mister Pine-"Wow I Haven't Even Noticed How Hot My Big Sharp Tail Spines Are, Let Me Swing Them All Over The Place And Get Them Stuck On Everything"-Apple. Jerk. If he took an interest in the new arrival—or, heck, anyone else between Noodle and Pineapple—he wouldn't stand a chance.

His only chance of getting close to that fine set of wings was by beating all his competition to the punch. He had to make his move.

So he waited on the fringes of the mob of playing kids—they were all avoiding the new arrival (for now)—until the shared frenzy of activity had died down; and then, while the new arrival was flopped down tiredly, grooming his spiny hide, he scooted in.

He was uncomfortably aware of others watching him as he approached the new arrival. If this didn't go well, he was going to draw everyone else's attention to the new arrival. He'd better get this right the first time. He had to be the most attractive, the most handsome, the most amazing and impressive—

What if the new arrival was into flights instead of spinetails? What would Noodle do then?

Don't worry about it. Just keep going. Stay on task—

Oh he was looking at Noodle.

Noodle—who until then had been slinking stealthily down low, neck and long tail practically slithering across the floor—jerked abruptly upright, staring. Oh. Okay. He had the new arrival's attention. Good! That was what he wanted! Exactly as planned!

The new arrival tilted his head curiously.

Should Noodle just—just start, then?  He raised a his tail uncertainly but didn't try to rattle its spines just yet, not sure if he was supposed to just go for it or if he was supposed to wait for some sort of signal from his audience. It always seemed easy when the elders did it. Maybe he should have followed some of them around to find out—

The new arrival let out a harsh greeting caw, launched himself up in the air, and dove at Noodle claws first.

Noodle yelped.

They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of wings and claws.

Abort mission abort mission he was not prepared for this! Wrestling was way farther than anything he'd planned for today! He was not trained in combat! He was hardly even trained in running around in circles! He was not an athletically inclined child!

He barely managed to whack the new arrival off of him with his tail and scrambled for the safety of the watching crowd.

Stupid stupid stupid STUPID stupid. Ohhh wow he looked like a loser now. That was it. He'd ruined his chances.

No—no, it couldn't be too late. He refused to accept the possibility. If the new arrival wanted him to prove himself in combat, then he'd learn how to fight. He knew the kids that got into scraps most often—he could spar with them. And once he wasn't terrible, he could try again.

In the meantime, if anyone else got close to the new arrival, he'd just have to sabotage them. Right? Sure. How hard could it be.

He shuffled off behind the chains dangling off the nearest low nest to watch the new arrival from afar. He'd righted himself after their brief skirmish, glanced around—for his battle partner? For someone else to fight?—then apparently had given up. Now he was flapping his way up to a higher nest. Instead of getting in, he latched his claws into the chain linked bottom side, dangled from the bottom of it, and swung back and forth, chirping merrily to himself. Wow. The power and grace. He was so acrobatic.

One way or another, Noodle was going to seduce him.

###

ME-319 winced as her newest dorat lost his grip on the bottom of the nest and tumbled to the ground with a squawk. At least he didn't seem harmed; he rolled over, shook his head, and fluttered right back up. And his short confrontation with Noodle had ended before she'd needed to intervene. He was fine. She forced her grip on her door handle to loosen.

Still. It had taken three days for one of the other adolescents to finally work up the nerve to try to befriend him, and he'd immediately scared him off. Why? Was he as scared of the other dorats as the dorats were scared of the strange mutant? It was possible—she had no idea what kind of experiences he might have gone through before he was rescued and brought to her. Between his physical deformities and the fact that he clearly hadn't been socialized by other dorats, she couldn't pick up on any of the usual body language she used to determine her other dorats' moods.

After that disastrous first meeting, maybe ME-319 had better prepare herself for the possibility that her little mutant was always going to be a loner. At a minimum, she doubted that Noodle was ever going to express any interest in him again.

###

If you enjoyed this fic, I'd appreciate a comment or reblog! Part 3 coming... eventually.

[zero-gravity-darling]

Love Languages: Week Two

A little ficlet for @arthureamesmonth week two! Prompts: “You know you love me” and Love Languages.

Day 1: Receiving Gifts

“You know you love me,”

Arthur was frozen bent over his desk, fingers still on the keyboard, “Mr. Eames, what exactly about this situation is supposed to endear you to me?”

“I brought you waffles! You’re American, you love waffles!”

Arthur spun around in his chair to focus fully on the other man for the first time in their conversation. “Let’s run through the day’s events, shall we? I wake up, I shower,” at this Eames smirked lecherously, “I get a large, hot cup of coffee, I come into work, you spill that hot coffee all over me, you grope me while pretending to help me dry off, I work for five hours straight, and now you’ve brought me waffles. Waffles which are currently dripping syrup onto my paperwork.”

“Well it’s your fault for having paperwork in the first place, pet! I’m just conditioning you to give it up,” He leaned against the desk casually, sending even more paperwork drifting to the floor. “To save the trees, as it were.”

“Did it not occur to you to bring me another cup of coffee?”

Eames lit up, Arthur was frustrated to see, like he was somehow taking Arthur’s rebuke as encouragement, “Well I have now. Thank you for the tip! I’ll go and fetch you a cup of coffee.”

Arthur screwed his face up briefly in some combination of confusion and disgust, eyes squinted and lips slightly curled, and snagged Eames by the hem of his pastel monstrosity of a shirt. “What, no, get back here.”

Eames stopped promptly at the tug and grinned, “Well if you insist darling, I could never refuse you.”

“I mean, why would you do that? I don’t need coffee,” this was a lie, he always needed coffee, “I need you to do your job.”

“Why am I doing this? What do you mean why am I doing this? Isn’t it obvious that I’m wooing you?”

“Wooing me.”

Eames swept his arms in an all encompassing gesture to the warehouse around them, as if asking it to bear witness, “Like the fair maiden you are!”

“Good fucking lord.”

“Yes I am rather good, aren't I, but I beg you not to take my name in vain,”

Arthur spun back around to his work, decisively plunking the waffles on the floor—not in the trash, Eames took note, “Go back to your desk, Mr. Eames.”

Eames stuffed his hands in his pockets and started backing away slowly, “Alright, alright. So your love language isn’t gifts. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, startled and genuinely perplexed, “What? You know what, nevermind. Not important. Aren’t you scheduled to paint Ms. Chapman’s nails in 45 minutes?”

Eames checked his watch, “Ah, yes, look at the time,” and that was that.

Day 2: Words of Affirmation

Rain was coming down fast and hard and, unfortunately, sideways. Everyone in the warehouse, which was a gloomy and unfortunate affair already, was dripping wet and unhappy, trying to hear themselves think over the loud echo of the rain on a tin roof. It was on this unfortunate scene that Eames burst in, dressed in the most obnoxious of suits and yelling to be heard over the rain. “God is really pissing on us today, isn’t he? Arthur, darling, how do you cope?”

Arthur continued to shuffle through a file, “You’re late.” The effect of his unhappiness was diminished considerably by the fact that he had to yell as well, but he was trying not to think about that.

“Only a tad!” Eames dropped his coat on the floor and walked to Arthur's desk. “I bet you’re never late.”

Arthur glanced up briefly, “No. I’m not. And if you ever came in at a reasonable time you would know that.”

Eames grinned down at him boyishly, “Wow. You are so good at your job.”

Arthur glanced up and back down again, but quickly focused his full attention on Eames when he realized he was missing something, “Yes,” responded slowly, “I really am.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, “I’m sorry, are you fishing for compliments? Because I thought we had established this. Yes, you’re an excellent forger, I’m an excellent point man, Janie is—”

“No, no! You’ve got it all wrong, love. I’m just trying to give you a compliment.”

“A compliment.”

Eames bent over the desk until he could rest his head in his hands, putting him at eye level with Arthur. “Yes. A compliment.”

Arthur paused, “Yeah, alright.”

Eames closed Arthur’s laptop and attempted to close his file before Arthur yanked it back. “Darling. Arthur. Darling Arthur. Has anyone ever told you that you look like a god in those suits of yours? Or that the fact that you could kill a man without breaking a sweat is like something from a wet dream? Or that your ruthless competency gives me butterflies?”

“Not in those exact words, no.”

Eames pulled back dramatically, throwing a hand over his heart and gasping, “A tragedy! I’ll just have to make up for these years of neglect, won't I?”

“Eames, you’ve already wasted enough of the day already. I think that—”

“No, no, this is happening—”

“I think that everyone would appreciate it more if you actually did what you were being paid for.”

Eames put in an effort to look very hurt and offended, “But don’t you enjoy being showered with praise? Everyone enjoys compliments. For example, your arse looks impeccable today.”

“I’ve been sitting down this entire time.”

“Well I’m sure that it does, if it’s track record has anything to say for itself.”

“Mr. Eames.”

“Alright, okay, giving up.”

Day 2, Evening: Quality Time

The rain had ended sometime around four o’clock, but the clouds never cleared. Everyone had left at five—they didn’t have nine to five jobs, but everyone seemed to agree that it was a reasonable time to give up for the day. Everyone except for Arthur, of course.

He was the only one left in the warehouse at nearly seven. He always put in the most work at the beginning of a job, when everyone needed the information to get going and make a plan. After that most of his time was dedicated to working on the dreamscape, and sometimes not even that if someone else could do it better.

He only looked up at last when he heard the click and resounding slam of the door. Eames’ footsteps echoed in the empty space as he walked to his desk and sat down, pulling a battered paperback out of his coat and opening it to the first page.

Arthur’s voice felt too loud when he spoke, “What are you doing back here?”

Eames looked up with a smile. “Keeping you company through these long, grueling nights, of course. You know, you really work too hard.”

Arthur scoffed, “You don’t work hard enough.” He didn’t believe that, he and Eames actually worked together spectacularly well when they got the chance, but he wasn’t quite sure what their relationship would look like if he wasn’t disapproving. He finally caught up to what Eames had said, “You’re keeping me company?”

“Yes, do try to keep up.”

“But why?”

“Because otherwise you’d be sitting in this miserable place by yourself, and we can’t have that.”

Arthur paused in real confusion, “But… it’s my job. I don’t mind.”

“But wouldn’t it be better with someone else?”

“But you don’t have to be here.”

“Oh, please. What else would I do? Go to a club? Pick up a flexible young person to fuck into the matress for everyone to hear? Watch even more Star Trek on television?”

“Yes! Any of those things!”

“But what flexible young person in this city could ever compare to the flexible young person sitting in front of me?”

Arthur shook his head in exasperation, “Whatever. Do what you want.”

Ten minutes of very unproductive attempts to focus later, Arthur finally gave in. “So, what are you reading?”

Eames held up a finger, then dog-eared the page and closed the book. “I’m so glad you asked! It’s called The Hot Virginia Sun. It’s turning out to be an excellent read, and, just between the two of us, the reviews promise that the Virginia sun isn’t the only thing that’s hot.”

“And this is really entertaining for you?”

“One word: cowboys.”

Arthur snorted, “You’re a middle aged mother of three.”

Eames shrugged, “What can I say, middle aged mothers have great taste.”

“Okay, but really, this can’t be fun for you.”

“It’s fine, Arthur. I chose to be here.”

“But I can’t focus knowing you’re sitting there reading a shitty harlequin because I won’t leave!”

“It’s not because you won’t leave, darling—”

“Please. If I left you wouldn’t stay.”

“Well no, the main attraction would be gone.”

“But I’m not being interesting! I can’t entertain you like this! I’m just working!”

Eames held his hands up in surrender, “Alright, at ease. This was clearly a bad idea.”

Arthur groaned, “And now you’re leaving. You put in the time to come here to keep me company, which still makes no sense, by the way, and now I’ve kicked you out. You know what, I’ll be done too. We can head back to the hotel, maybe get takeout for dinner. I’ll come in early tomorrow, it’s fine.”

Eames hurried over and pushed Arthur back down in his chair by his shoulders, “While I will always jump at the chance of dinner and a stroll with you, the entire thing is rather ruined if I’ve guilted you into it. So I’ll go—”

“But—”

“I’ll go, and you finish up your night’s work.” Eames gave Arthur’s shoulders one last firm press and attempted to make a hasty exit.

“Eames.”

“Arthur. It’s fine, it’s really fine.”

“Eames!”

“Goodnight, Arthur!”

Day 3: Physical Touch

“Oh, Jesus, ow, ow!”

“Eames?”

“Yes, it’s me, let me up!”

Arthur got up from the sidewalk where he had Eames pinned, helping him scramble to his feet as people filtered around them. “What the hell possessed you to sneak up on a trained killer?”

“I’ll admit I didn’t quite think this through.”

“And then you grabbed me?”

“It was a companionable touch!”

“It was dangerous!”

Eames looked up hopefully from where he was brushing gravel off of his palms, “Well, can I put my arm around you now?”

“Fuck me, no!”

“I don’t know how we got from this rather violent encounter to fucking, but alright. Can I assume you like it rough?”

“You can assume nothing,” Arthur admonished with a sharp backhanded slap to his shoulder. Eames sucked a hissing breath in through his teeth. “Ah. Yes, sorry about the shoulder.”

Eames shot him a pained smile, “Yes well, I rather deserve it, don’t I? Not my smartest idea.”

Arthur fought back a smile, “Come on. There’s ice at the hotel.”

“Why Arthur! Is this finally a—”

“Don’t even think about it. Ice. And keep yourself to yourself this time, Mr. Eames.”

Day 4: Acts of Service

“Come on, love, we’re getting out of here.” Eames hoisted Arthur up by his armpits, hastily draping one of Arthur’s arms around his broad shoulders to keep him up.

Arthur’s head rolled on his shoulders, “What? Wait—”

“You’ve had a nasty reaction to the somnacin, darling, but everything will be okay.” Eames shot a murderous glance at Jason, their chemist.

Arthur shook his head drunkenly, “Nooo, I’m not aler— allergenic—” he screwed up his face in concentration, “all-er-gic… to anything.” His head rolled onto Eames shoulder, “Promise.”

Eames chuckled and gazed down at Arthur’s scowling face, “I believe you, my darling Arthur, but let’s head back to the hotel just in case, yeah? Have a nice nap.”

Arthur flung his head back, causing Eames to jerk his back in response in protection of his nose, “Ha! Yooouuu— you’re trying to sleep with me.”

Janie giggled, then did her best to turn it into a cough and looked away. Eames looked torn between giggling himself and defending Arthur’s dignity. “Not this time,” he grinned and parroted Arthur’s worlds back to him, nudging his face a little closer to Arthur’s teasingly, “Promise.”

Arthur squinted suspiciously, leaning his head away from Eames’ face in an effort to assess him from afar—unsuccessfully, his arm was still wrapped around his shoulders. “Hmmm. Fine.” He looked down, puzzled, at their bodies pressed together, then brought his unoccupied hand up to squeeze Eames’ bicep, “Wow.”

Janie let loose a short shriek of laughter, earning herself another glare, “O-kay, I think it’s time to go.” Eames turned his squint back to Janie and spoke in a low voice, “You know, for a criminal you have horrific self control. Can I trust your discretion is a little more operational?” He raised an eyebrow.

He was going for threatening, but Arthur ruined it by giggling and smoothing his fingertip clumsily along Eames’ raised eyebrow, “Oooh. Scary.”

Eames glared good naturedly at Arthur, who was snickering into his shoulder, “You are not helping your case.”

“I’m fiiine.”

“Alright, leaving now,” Eames dragged Arthur’s stumbling figure towards the exit, “Don’t make me carry you.”

Arthur gasped in horror, his voice fading as he was hauled further from the listening ears of the team,“Nooo! That’s indig— undignified. I am a gentleman!”

_____________________

Arthur was tired, exhausted really, but that was quickly being replaced by a jittery sickness as the drugs worked their way out of his system. Arthur groaned when they finally made it to Eames’ room (he wasn’t nearly lucid enough when they left to have taken his own key card with him). He slumped into Eames’ side, clinging embarrassingly, too shivery from the detox to care about his reputation.

“Will you be okay, darling?”

Arthur expelled the air from his lungs in one long breath, “No. Never again.” He stumbled toward the bed to the best of his ability, dragging Eames along as his crutch. “It’s fucking freezing in here,” he chattered, “Why are hotel rooms always so cold?” He reached the bed and climbed in clumsily, shaking too badly to pull back the covers without Eames’ quick assist. He tucked himself into a ball under the sheets, pulling the duvet over his head. His voice came muffled from beneath the layers of fabric, “Turn the heat up.”

Eames’ voice was softer than he normally allowed, “Alright.” Arthur heard the beeping of the thermostat being turned up several degrees, but continued to shiver violently. “Well, if that’s all, perhaps you would prefer—”

“Eames.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t make me beg.”

Eames stared at the quivering pile of blankets, face uncomprehending, until Arthur pulled the layers down over his head enough to glare out at him. “Eames.”

His eyes widened at what he realized he was being asked, “I— yes, alright.” He took several halting stops towards the bed but stopped just short. “Um. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about just— it’s just that, enthusiastic consent, you understand? And”

“Eames. This isn’t sex.”

“Well, even so—”

“Oh, Christ, just climb under.”

Eames lurched forward, as if Arthur’s words had cut his strings, and lay down under the covers. He hovered across from Arthur for several seconds before releasing a long, slow breath and reaching out to touch.

Arthur stared at him with wide eyes as he slowly swept one broad palm down Arthur’s shaking arm. He repeated the motion several times, focused intently on the path he retraced, before finally letting his fingers curl over Arthur’s shoulder and drag heavily down to the small of his back. With one final scrap of courage he pulled his body into Arthur’s front, Arthur’s body uncurling under the warm press of him.

Arthur let his arms unclench and move around Eames’ sides, under his arms and tight around his back. He clutched Eames close, twining their legs together, his body shuddering at the heavenly warmth sinking into his starved skin.

Eames relaxed unto the embrace, carding his fingers through Arthur’s gelled hair and resting against his neck. “Better?” he whispered.

Arthur nodded against his chest.

“Are you going to be sick?”

Arthur laughed painfully before whispering back, ‘Probably. Eventually.”

“Okay then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They laid in silence, listening to their own breath.

“Eames?”

“Yes?”

Arthur paused, “I might. One day.”

Eames smiled into the crown of Arthur’s head, his eyes crinkling at the edges, “I would like that.”

[mrneighbourlove]

The Rising Sun: Ch 2. Taiyo Town

Malik and Asakonigei rode through the valley and into the desert for an additional three hours. They were exhausted, and every bump made the woman ache. True to his word, they fucked hard. However, Malik kept his wife close with a blanket around her the whole way, planting the odd kiss on her forehead. “Still awake my dear? We’re almost there. I’m sure you feel warm.”

Sore and tired, Asakonigei was grateful for the huge blanket of warmth. The desert at night was cold, and she was not a fan of the chilly temperatures. Yet, the constant bouncing on the horse was not doing her nether regions any favors. Malik was rough and she adored how he loved her, though the achiness she could deal without.

"Hmm-hmm." The Kovina snuggled closer to her husband. "I'm toasty as can be, love, though in-between my legs feels like I did too much on weight day."

“Hehehe, I’m sure. Just close your eyes and I’ll carry us in.”

Eventually they arrived at a massive gate. The guard was laxed tonight, with few on lookout for monster. Upon seeing Lord Malik they opened the gate to the town. It was much of a haze for Asa, but she next found herself being laid to rest in a the silkiest sheets of her life.

"Goodnight my metal Queen. I'll see you at the rise of the desert sun."

~

The next morning, Asa woke from a restful sleep. She was not expecting such a luxurious bedding in the middle of the desert. Then again, Malik had been working on this project for a long while. Who knew what else there was here?

Malik was still asleep, his naked body lying amongst the pillows and sleeping next to her. His muscles were at peak form, and he had matured newer battle scars over his new years of life. It was still only early morning, the sound of a wind chandelier blowing gently outside to slightly stir him.

Seeing this rare opportunity with her husband, Asakonigei slinked over his body, laying flat on top of him. Her chin rested on her hands atop his chest. As he slowly started to rouse, she had an impish grin on her face.

"Good morning, handsome..."

“Oh. Good morning my rose.” Malik nuzzled his beard to her neck, breathing her in. A hand ran down gently upon the scar on her back. “You sleep well?”

"Indeed I did," Asakonigei lounged on him like a cat, then kissed his lips gently. "It was nice to have you sleeping beside of me for once."

“It was. Do you like the silk?”

"I do like the silk." Asakonigei admitted as she traced a hand over the material. "Though, I think I like laying on top of you better. Much more comfortable, wouldn't you agree?"

“I do. Though, I think we should wait before wrestling around in these sheets.” Malik played with her hair gently.

"Would be a shame to rip such finery." Asakonigei sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, resting. "What all do you have to do today?"

“Train the guard more effectively and show you around. But first...” Malik rose up, his body on full display in the sunlight coming down through a window. “We should go wake our daughter. I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you here.”

"... sure we can't just stay in bed all day?" Asakonigei playfully smacked his ass as he got off the bed. "That's plenty of exercise in your 'training' book..."

“And have all the women in town, including Domana hear you scream to god all day? I don’t think so.” Malik smiled down at his perky wife. Carefully going through a cabinet, he selected some very light, but stylish clothing for her. “You’ll want to put these on to counter the heat.”

"They'd just be jealous... though, Donoma hearing us isn't exactly a good thought." Asakonigei walked over to her husband and took the clothes. This was very different than what she was used to wearing. It almost felt... fancy. This material, this chamber... she felt like he was spoiling her. "This feels so soft..."

“Vai clothing custom of my people. Shared the colour scheme of your dragon companion. Try it on.”

"You're doting on me, I know it." Asakonigei carefully dressed in the new clothing and then stared at herself in the mirror. The array of red, oranges, and gold were beautiful, floating through the fabric like a rising sun. She twirled around, watching it flow. "This is gorgeous material... I love it!"

“It’s only gorgeous because you are.” Malik got dressed into a light plate suit of red armour. It held material that helped with heat resistance. “Let’s go surprise our little girl.”

On the walk to Donoma’s residence, Malik nodded hello to some of the Gerudo women who kept upkeep on the palace. They looked Asakonigei up and down, giggling at her lightly.

When they reached Donoma’s room, she was sleeping in a bunk bed with another Gerudo girl sleeping on the bottom bunk. Looking to the top, Malik nudged his daughter awake. “Rise awake my little sunlight.”

"Five more minutes..." Donoma groaned, opening her eyes to see her father... and mother? "Mom?! What are you doing here?"

"Your father finally decided to bring me along for a visit." Asakonigei thought it was adorable how Donoma looked so surprised to see her... that, and her hair was so frazzled, going every which direction. "I missed you, sweetie."

The Gerudo bellow her, a girl named Sandra, took a stick a poked upwards, groggily snarling from lack of sleep. “Don. Shut. Up.”

"Sandra, my parents are here." Donoma said through gritted teeth. "Quit poking me."

"Sounds like you're not the only one who isn't a morning person, sweetheart." Asakonigei had to stifle a laugh.

Sandra jumped, hitting her head on the bunk when she saw Lord Malik. “Lord Ma- OW! Donoma! This is why I want the top bunk!”

"You lost it fair and square in an arm wrestling match, so stop being a sore loser." Donoma hopped off the top bunk and gave her mother a hug. "How long are you staying with us, Mom?"

"Well, I think I'm here until your father decides to return me home." Asakonigei smiled at her daughter. "I can't leave the forge unattended forever."

“You could if you moved here, but that’s another discussion.” Malik ruffled his daughters hair, addressing all the younger Gerudo in the room. “Everyone get changed and have your hair fixed. Time for a full day ahead in the greatest town in the world.”

“Yes Lord Malik!”

“You got it!”

Sandra decided to make Donoma angry, jumping up to kiss Malik on the cheek as she ran out to get changed. “On it my Lordship!”

Malik brushed his cheek, shrugging his shoulders. “Teenagers.”

"Hey!!! That was uncalled for, get back here!" Donoma chased after Sandra with an angry huff. "I told you, my father is off limits!!!"

Asakonigei, on the other hand, blinked and then crossed her arms with a quirked eyebrow. "What was that all about?"

“I suppose some of the girls have crushes on me. Nothing harmful my dear.”

"Crushes or not, I don't like them being too touchy with you." Asakonigei stated. "I rather you cease that kind of behavior."

"What? Does it make you jealous Asa?" Malik chuckled, patting her on the back as he lead her outside. "Trust me. You have nothing to fear."

Leading her out the palace, Asa was greeted to the site of a fully functioning market. Many Gerudo were trading and selling wears. Asakonigei could spot a few different races interacting with the Gerudo, all other women. Some Rito having flown in rather easily over the winds, a couple Vatra who dared the desert heat, a Hylian couple, and a single Goron selling ores. From the center, Gerudo were taking bucket of water from the well and carrying it back to their homes. "It's beautiful, isn't it Asa?"

"Don't have to be jealous when I know you're already mine." Asakonigei huffed at him. "Besides, you never know what these women might be thinking. Don't let them fool you." As Malik showed her the town, the Kovina was already making a metal list of possible improvements. There was a need for a plumbing system, a way to grow more crops, perhaps a school... and of course, ideas of how she could help the infrastructures. "It is lovely, Malik. Maybe you could bring Queen Zarazu out here sometime with her husband? I'm sure she'd love an introduction to Gerudo culture."

Malik brushed his beard, something obviously deep on his mind. "Eventually. I don't want to overwhelm the people too much with such figures. Perhaps Luimaya first. Ease them with someone younger." His cape blowing lightly, he took his wife through some the alleys that eventually led to a courtyard where a group of middle aged Gerudo women were waiting for him. He raised his arm to get them on their feet and saluting him on the spot.

"Lord Malik!"

"At ease. As you know, the attack Kissandra received concerned me. Once, long ago, their was an elite group of Gerudo warriors known as the Iron Knuckles. They were lost to the blades of an archaic Hyrule. Now, you will learn their ways." Malik set down instructions of old fighting styles and techniques. "Take these papers around and study them. I will then test you in a practical use. In time, you will learn to craft your own armour and fight with the weight of a tortoise on your back."

One of the Gerudo eyed Asakonigei, snickering to herself. "Oh? Who's this?"

"Luimaya is a little... hotheaded sometimes." Asakonigei knew the princess was notorious for being a touch reckless. Though, she was a sweet girl, and truly did have the best interest at heart. She had watched the young queen-to-be grow up into a fine young woman. As Malik instructed the new group of women training to be elites, the Kovina felt... very small. Why were Gerudos, both the men and women, so tall? So big? Covarog dwarfed his wife and Malik did the same to her, but being around these new women just confirmed exactly how strong these people were. When one of the women inquired as to who she was, the Kovina politely replied, "I am Asakonigei, Malik's wife. It is very nice to meet all of you."

"You're Lord Malik's wife? But you're so... tiny!" This particular woman, named Ellie, tapped her feet and laughed. She was standing tall at 6.4ft tall. No where near Lord Malik's height, but still enough to tower over his wife. "Why'd he want to marry a runt like you? Your hair is black, you're short, and you don't even have any real abs. You got less meat on your bones then a Stalfos."

"Yes, I am small compared to---" Asakonigei was interrupted by the barrage of insults thrown her way. She had to bite the inside of her jaw to keep from snapping at the woman. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin Malik's hard work. "... despite being 'tiny' as you so delicately put it, I am still able to hold my own and fight if necessary. Size isn't everything."

"HA! You have milk drinker written right here on your face." The armoured Gerudo tapped Asakonigei on the noggen. "How about we see if someone like you is really worth some as special as Lord Malik's time. Use any tool you can to knock me down. I know you can't."

Malik said nothing, going to let his wife teach the soldiers a lesson. Best they learned to be humbled now and to never judge by appearances.

"... very well." Asakonigei took a deep breath. The Kovina was not too happy about this type of welcome. She had dealt with enough bias in her life. A female forge master? Preposterous. A woman fighting in a war? Unlikely. Uncultured magical witch? Very much so, that's what the kingdom used to think of Lorleidians. Sometimes, the best way to win a fight was not by brute force, but simple humiliation. Malik taught her that long ago. So, she was going to use precisely that tactic. "I do not require a weapon." She stood opposite the woman, placing her feet into the correct position. "Are you ready?"

"Oh? Hand to hand eh? I promise I won't break anything, you milk drinking, twig legged, brimstone smelling, fancy dancing, tiny child looking, long haired hussy!"

The armor the woman wore was minimal. Yet, it was still attached to her body just like any other protective wear. There were traces of rust in it, a touch of iron, maybe a little copper. Metal was metal, and she could already feel the magic at her fingertips. Normally, this situation would be over with in a moment. All it would take is a simple movement to pin her to the ground. This time, however, Asakonigei had another idea.

Yanking her hand forward, her grip on the metal caused Ellie to trip over her own feet until she was being dragged by the unseen force. Forcing the woman to bow on her knees, Asakonigei had increased the weight tenfold on the metal with her magic and was holding her in place. Now eye-to-eye with Ellie, the Kovina bent down and hissed, "I can defeat an arrogant bitch like you easily with one stroke of my pinky finger. Want to watch what happens if I squeeze the armor around your midsection? Or perhaps, I could just drain you of all the iron in your body, leaving you unable to move. You really, really shouldn't piss off a Kovina when you're wearing metal."

"You can do WHAT TO MY BLOOD?" Ellie was in total shock. The other Gerudo gathered around were murmuring shocked observations to one another.

Malik clapped his hands together, getting their attention. "This is an example of magic. Some of our enemies will use it against you. There are ways to counter even a Kovina's magic, but like all combat situations, you must be prepared. Or you will die. Everyone thank Ellie and Asakonigei for this demonstration."

The other Gerudo immediately thanked Asa for humiliating Ellie.

Asakonigei pinned the woman to the ground before stepping over her like a defeated foe. With a flick of her black hair, the Kovina muttered as she returned to her husband's side. "Demonstration my ass, next time, I'll toss her halfway through the desert if she speaks to me like that."

Malik nodded to his wife as he addressed the other Gerudo. What Asakonigei didn't expect would be her hand suddenly being grabbed by Ellie's. The Gerudo was on her knee's looking up at the Kovina. "You were magnificent. Are you and Lord Malik going to be a swingers couple? I would be honoured to be made yours." The Gerudo woman went from salty insults to heart eyes for Asa within the span of a minute.

Asakonigei turned blood red in the cheeks, flabbergasted.

"WH-WHAT?!?!" She yanked her hand out of Ellie's grasp. "The hell you talking about?!" Her face was steaming, even her ears were burning. It was then she was able to put two and two together. A village of women. All women. There had to be some way to relieve sexual urges. Shaking her head furiously, Asakonigei exclaimed, embarrassed, "No, no, no, we certainly do not do this 'swing' thing!"

“But you’re so powerful. And cool. And hot~” Ellie stood up, playing with the pigtails in her hair. “I’d love to have you by my bed side. Maybe you could even use your magic on me again.”

"Malik, will you control your horny guards?!" Asakonigei hid behind her husband, gesturing for him to make Ellie go away. She kept inching out of sight. "That one is almost as bad as Kelly!"

“What?”

Ellie went back to training, waving with fondness at Asakonigei. “Think about it.”

The Gerudo man didn’t catch a whiff of that exchange. For the next 6 hours, he tirelessly trained the guards in all matters of survival and combat. “Asa, you can explore the village if you like, find Donama perhaps. Should tell her about her brother’s tournament. I’ll be here a while.”

~

Asakonigei took her time to explore the village. Malik had done a lot of good work here. It would be a thriving place soon enough, and hopefully, the culture would start to rebuild itself. She wondered if Revan could learn here with his sister? Growing up, she had taught her children all she could about their Lorleidian heritage but Malik only had limited information to share about the Gerudo.

Amongst various Gerudo she saw, Gali was teaching Donoma and other girls ancient Gerudo history. “With the help of the hero, Nabooru became the Sage of Spirit. She’s one of the first examples of Gerudo heroism, having stood up to tyranny. Can anyone tell me what famous Gerudo figure had her brainwashed before being liberated by Link?”

Donoma loved to learn of her Gerudo side of the family. While there were texts in Castle Hyrule and stories her father had told her, there was something rare about learning from an actual Gerudo woman. She thought it silly, of course, knowing she was half Gerudo, though this seemed special to the girl.

"Was it Ganondorf?"

“Yes and no Donoma. While Ganondorf was the King of Evil and ultimately ruled over her, Nabooru was brainwashed by his witch mothers, Koume and Kotake, also known as Twinrova. What do you know of Twinrova?”

"One was of ice and one was of fire. They could fuse into one woman... and..." Donoma paused for a moment. "They... worshipped the twin sand and stone goddesses?"

“That they did. As do most Gerudo. Although they are incredibly rare in our people’s history, there have been a set of twins found in the country of Uskar that fit the description of Twinrova.”

"I wonder if there will be another Gerudo sage at some point?"

“There is always a possibility. Although you lack a sister of ice Donoma, you might be able to learn further Gerudo magic if you train further. I believe, just like the old hero Urbosa from the age of calamity, there is another Gerudo in Uskar who knows the magic of lightning. There is a possibility you might be able to meet these Gerudo women someday.” Gali saw Asakonigei peering in, giving her a nod. “Before we end class, can anyone give their opinions on boys and men, the topic of next class?”

"Every gal could use could deep dicking."

The comment from the back of the class earned a snicker from all the women, including Donoma.

“Felix. That’s not the exact term I’d use, but yes, reproduction is a strong reason. We also need to learn about the dangers of strangers and the history of how Gerudo have been sought after, some aspects terrible for our people. Class dismissed.”

One of the other Gerudo poked Donoma to get the twenty year old’s attention. “Donoma, you grew up in Hyrule. You get any “good dicking” there?”

"Um..." Donoma's face turned red. "There's plenty of men if that's what you're asking. But I don't have a Voe. Haven't really been looking for one, been focused on studies and improving my magic."

“Have you been with one before?” Sandra asked.

"No." Donoma was not going to lie. "I want to do like my parents did. Meet, fall in love, take things a little slow... get to know each other better. My mother waited on my father for nearly five years."

“Boooo. Hey, you have a brother right! Is he single?”

"Well, yes and no. He does have someone he likes." Donoma thought of Luimaya and then shrugged. "But I don't know how that will turn out."

“So, can I have your blessing to suck his di-”

"Ew, I don't want to think about my brother's dick." Donoma made a disgusted face. "You can try to pounce on him if you want. He's hard to catch."

“We’ll see~”

Some of the girls giggled with each other as all the younger Gerudo left Gali to clean up class. She tilted her head at Asa, curious about her behaviour in observing from afar. “Can I help you with something?”

Donoma left with the girls and did not realize her mother was listening in on the class.

When Gail approached Asakonigei, the Kovina said, "Oh... oh no, I was just interested in what you had to say about Gerudo culture."

“I’ve gathered a great deal of knowledge over my family’s generations. I work very closely with Malik on the prosperity of the town.”

"I'm glad that Donoma is learning from you. We could only tell her so much... and after a while, she grew tired of hearing the same stories." Asakonigei then asked, "Malik told me he had several very reliable friends to help him."

“He’s a handsome, intelligent, wise and powerful man. I think he’ll make a good king should he ever choose to take that role.” Gali finished gathering up old papers and rolling them into bags.

"... wait, what?" Asakonigei was not sure if she heard right. "King? We have a king. Covarog, the son of Ganondorf and Zelda."

“Yes. But Covarog is King of Hyrule.” Gali perked up; happier to speak history then address any concern in Asakonigei’s voice. “Long ago, even if there was a princess, queen, or king on the throne of Hyrule, there have been Gerudo Kings. Now this King usually turned out to be Ganondorf. The Gerudo of Hyrule have often been led by either a Chieftain or a Monarch. Kings in our society are mostly figure heads, but serve in the protection of the Gerudo people. Even the Termina Gerudo abid by this model, although being pirates, it’s usually a fleet captain. Take the ex pirate, Captain Adda, Queen of the seas. But she’s not important. What is important is that your husband has righter than anyone to be King of the Gerudo.”

Asakonigei then wondered if Malik had been rebuilding the entire community for the sole purpose of intending to rule it. He had never mentioned such an idea. She felt a little conflicted. Her loyalty was to the queen, the ruler of the Lorleidians. Zarazu's husband was Covarog, therefore she was also loyal to him. The Kovina currently was not fond of the idea of being a queen herself. She had no intention to rule, did not want to rule over anyone. All she wanted was for her children to mature, to find love, to have families of their own one day and grow old with her husband.

"That... may well be true, though I don't think..." Asakonigei chose her words carefully. "I'm not sure if that's his intention."

“Does it matter? He’s the man with a vision. He has more passion than any man I’ve ever met. People love him. They look up to him. This is your first day here, but if you stay longer, you’ll see it yourself.”

"I do agree with you, this is a wonderful place, but we have friends and family back in Hyrule." Asakonigei was not going to uproot her entire business and leave behind her uncles and cousins. Revan and Donoma were grown and could make their own decisions, though moving was never part of the plan. Not to mention, all her clients, her status as forge master, all of that work took years, and she would be a fool to leave it behind. Zarazu needed her, her family needed her... these were all strangers. "We couldn't leave them."

“You couldn’t you mean.” Gali leaned against her desk, crossing her arms gently. “You ever think Malik deserves to be king?”

"He has family there too." Asakonigei frowned at the woman. "Does he deserve to be treated like royalty? With all that has happened to him, I believe he deserves a good life. Yet, being a king, it would be too much. He already does enough and spends so much time away from his family."

“Asakonigei. That is your name right? Asakonigei, Gerudo have always been brought down by the central powers of Hyrule, because we are the biggest threat to their ruling ship. We have too much passion and independence. The Zora are too fanatic in serving the Hylian throne, the Goron are nearly indestructible, the Sheikah are bound to the will of the Zelda lineage, the Rito need trade desperately from Hyrule, and the Koroki are considered too weak to be a threat. Malik is a man who’s always served titles under Hyrule. Captain, Commander, Lord. To be king would to be his own title. He’s very happy here. You can see the light in his eyes being here. Tell me, are you happy with him? Could you be happy enough to follow him as a Queen when his heart travels here?” Gali raised a curious brow, her question pressing hard on the woman. She didn’t blow steam like the previous Gerudo that challenged Asa. The historian nearly wanted the truth out of Asa, calm and forwardly.

"... I am not Hylian. Whatever qualms you have with Hyrule, I am not a part of it." She clarified to Gail. "I am a Lorleidian, and I follow my queen. I cannot leave her and I won't leave her as long as she has need of me." Asakonigei told the woman. "There is nothing wrong with Malik wanting more. I want him to be happy. If he wishes to be king here, then that's him. I would support him because I love him. Yet, I would not want him to be king if it meant more strife between us. More tension. More loneliness." She then stated. "Malik deserves a good life. Yet a life here? ... being king here would mean more serving as you put it. For once, I'd like him to be free of such duties. Free... for once."

“I think he’s been freer here cultivating a new land then he has been all his life. Isn’t happiness and following your passion true freedom after all? I think he deserves to be the King of a free Gerudo people. And a man like him deserves a queen who’d stand by him here.” Gali gathered her lecture notes and gently made her way out. “If you excuse me, I need to lock up.”

"Freedom is not having chains. Hyrule or here, Malik will always have something or someone he believes he will have to save." Asakonigei retorted firmly. "He's done enough. If you truly want a leader that bad, then cast a vote with all the Gerudo women here. A king isn't needed for a realm ruled by women. Nominate a queen." She then watched as Gail exited the tent. "He's already my husband and I am his wife. Nothing will change that."

Gali lead Asa outside, and looking her in the eye, she shut the lock on the door. “The present is never hundred percent certain. But we’ll see, won’t we.”

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/622288999627833344/the-rising-sun-ch-1-dawn-of-the-gerudo

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/622482284480774144/the-rising-sun-ch-3-test-your-might

Crossover with @ridersoftheapocalypse. Also shares characters with @s-kinnaly

[xmagicxshopx]

Spring Cleaning - Chapter 1

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy Rating: PG Warnings: None at this time Pairing: personal assistant!jungkook x ceo!reader Notes: AU fic. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: It’s a slow start but trust me, things will get better. ;3 I’ve not proof read this so be warned.

Summary: Your mother built you to be a thriving business machine. However, in her old age, she’s growing soft and wants grand kids to spoil. Your home and yard are a mess due to your busy schedule. So your mother attempts to kill two birds with one stone.

chapter 2

A modest looking SUV slowly rounded the corner till it came to a soft halt in front of a gorgeous looking home. Checker patterned roof sparkled under the sun’s light as did the water from the outdoor pool. The surrounding trees helped keep the beautiful architecture hidden from the public eye. Good thing too because the woman stepping out of the SUV couldn’t help but scoff.

“Really, child?”

Mumbling to herself, the middle aged woman sporting a sundress with matching heels walked along the path that lead to the front door. The walk felt like it was taking forever as she had to endure the sight of overly tall grass and weeds along with trees that desperately needed trimmed. The pool clearly hadn’t been cleaned properly......was that scum in the water???

“Oh, my child......what have I done to you?”

Annoyance turned to guilt as the woman known to all as your mother suddenly started making her walk of shame up to your door. It had been no secret that you were being trained to be the successor of a grand cosmetics company; your mother’s company. Something she had built from the ground up. Something that she was proud of.

However, your mother was growing too old to properly lead the business. Naturally, that left you to take over. And take over you did. Good gravy, how your mother was so proud of you. You took control with no fear and handled yourself wonderfully in the face of struggle. You faced stock market crashes, losses and gains alike. You faced it all and you faced it with grace.

You had been trained well.

A little too well.

In becoming the greatest CEO in the cosmetics industry, you had also became heartless. Nearly void of emotions. Your own feelings were determination and the satisfaction that came with success. Aside from your mother, your only other love was work. Once a child who despised work and only wanted to play......had become a woman of all work and absolutely no play.

And your mother was to blame.

Ringing the doorbell, it came as no surprise to the older woman when you opened the door with a phone stuck to your ear. Phone tucked snugly between your ear and shoulder, you had put a tablet and matching stylus pen in one hand so you could open the door.

“Yes......Yes that’s perfect. Type that up and have it ready for Monday. I’ll have the proposal done in time for you to look it over before the meeting.......Alright. Sounds good. Talk to you later.”

“Working the weekend through, I see.”

You simply ignored your mother’s comment as you hung up the call with your second in command. His name was Jimin and he was amazing at what he did. He was the only other employee you could just to get things done even outside of work hours. He wanted to see this company thrive just as badly as you did. Jimin was in this for more than just the money and that pleased you greatly.

After letting your mother in and shutting the door behind her, you settled for letting out a soft sound of acknowledgement before asking casually while looking down at your tablet,

“Want something to drink, mother?”

“Oh it’s alright, my dear. I can get something myself.”

Receiving nothing but another hum of lazy acknowledgment, your mother sighed as she watched you retreat back to the living room. It was a beautiful, spring filled Saturday and your mother was feeling......things. She had been mulling over her life choices and thinking about what she wanted with this last half of her life. In her younger years, she had thrived just as you were now. But.......things were changing in your mother’s old age.

As your mother rummaged around for a glass to pour herself some water, she noticed your pantry was practically empty. You had more takeout boxes than you did dishes and your stove and oven looked untouched. Half afraid, she opened your refrigerator only to find a few bottles of water, a few condiments, and some left over takeout.

“Oh dear god.”

Quickly closing the door to the fridge and nearly slamming it shut, the older woman had to lean on the kitchen counter to try and collect herself. Her daughter, the beautiful young woman just in the other room, was working herself to death. Cooped up in this huge home void of love. Nothing but work. Work work work work. It was consuming you.

“Honey? Why don’t we head out to the back patio? There are some things I’d like to discuss.”

“Sure. Let me just grab my tablet and----”

“Oh you won’t need the tablet, honey.”

You stared at your mother in confusion with an arched eyebrow. Surly if your mother wanted to talk, notes would need to be taken. Clearing your throat, you spoke up softly but professionally,

“With all due respect, mother, I would like to take notes of the discussion.”

Oh how you were breaking your mother’s heart. You were so blinded and consumed with being a CEO, that you couldn’t even recognize an invitation to a normal, non-work related conversation when it was presented to you. Smiling sadly with what she hoped was apologetic eyes, your mother took both of your hands in her own and spoke softly,

“Come sit with me, my beautiful girl. We need to talk.”

Finally sitting out on the back patio, your mother took note of all the dead potted plants littered throughout the area. Apparently you had attempted to try and brighten up the place at one point. But due to your never ending work schedule, the plants had long been neglected and failed to be watered, resulting in them dying before they even got a chance to live.

Were you going to end up like that? Working your life away before you even got a chance to live? A chance to discover something exciting? Or perhaps.....someone exciting?

“I noticed your yard is looking a little rough around the edges.”

“Ah......Yeah........I need to cut the grass before nightfall. I’m just waiting for the weather to cool down a bit. It’s a lot of grass to cut.”

“Indeed it is.......this place is beautiful but it’s a lot for one person to take care of. Especially when they’re so busy with work. Don’t you think?”

You glanced over at your mother to see her flashing you a smile that you had never seen before. Were her eyes twinkling??? While you were over here fidgeting like a druggie going through withdrawals. Normally, your hands were busy with either your cell phone, work phone, or tablet and pen. Sometimes even a combination of the three. But right now all you could do was tap anxiously on the patio tabletop.

“Yeah but I’m managing.”

“Oh, honey. That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told me. You were a far better liar as a child.”

Your head quickly spun to face your mother once more and this time, your mother was anything but impressed. This was so freaking awkward. Why was this conversation happening??? All you wanted to do was get back to work. A big meeting was coming up Monday and this was Saturday. Which meant you had only a day and a half left to work on this presentation. Well you were working on the proposal part of it but still.

“Wa-What?”

“You heard me. Look at this place. Look at yourself. Honey.......you’re working yourself to death. It’s causing you to neglect not only your home, but yourself.”

Before you could argue, your mother went on.

“Your grass is taller than the Amazon Rainforest, both your front yard pool and back yard pool look like swamps. These poor potted plants would have lasted longer at the store you bought them from. And while we’re at it, let’s discuss the inside of your house.”

Oh boy.

“You have absolutely no food in your kitchen. Your refrigerator looks like you just put it in yesterday. Your work clothes are all over the floor and it’s hard to tell how much laundry you have to do. I saw a good three inches of dust on your coffee table and it’s hard to tell how many spiderwebs I counted.”

Aaaannnddd she was still going.....

“And let’s discuss you. You have bags under your eyes that would put a panda bear to shame. You eat nothing but sloppy, greasy takeout food. You’ve been put on high blood pressure medicine and you’re way too young for that. And----”

“Okay, okay. I get it. I get it.”

After taking a couple breaths to get the oxygen back in her lungs, your mother found herself pouting a bit as she realized this was it. The moment she had been dreading but needed to get off her shoulders or the guilt was going to eat her alive.

“This is all my fault.”

Okay.....your mother was acting really weird today. With knitted eyebrows and orbs filled with confusion, you stared at the older woman across from you as you waited for an explanation.

“I did this to you. I turned you into this unhealthy workaholic. At the time, I was simply thinking about making sure the company I had worked so hard to build and make a success stayed a success. You were born to take my place. But now......things are changing and.......I’ve seen the error in my ways of thinking.”

Smiling sadly with......were those tears in her eyes?

“Instead of preserving my legacy.....I have been destroying it. I’ve been destroying you. My beautiful girl. My only child. I am so very sorry, my darling.”

“Mother......what’s gotten into you? You’re talking nonsense. I’m fine.”

You tried to put on a smile that you had hoped was reassuring, but dang it felt awkward. The only times you ever smiled was during business meetings when you needed to go in for the kill. Your smiles had always been extremely fake. And now here you were trying to soothe your own mother but didn’t know how.

“I just.......times have changed. Things have changed. My priorities are shifting, my dear. At first, I wanted a successor. But now......I just confess......You see.....”

Now as your mother was wiping away tears, she was turning quite bashful. You had rarely ever seen your mother turn shy for anything or anyone. Perhaps your father, when he was still around. Biting her lower lip in apparent nervousness, she finally admitted,

“I want grand kids, honey.”

Thank the good lord above you weren’t drinking anything, because you would have choked. Your eyes widened and you stared at your mother in complete and utter shock. Had you heard her right? She wanted what??? Swallowing hard and clearing your throat, you adjusted yourself in your patio chair and mumbled a bit stupidly,

“You want what???”

“Oh you heard me, child. I’m not getting any younger and neither are you. All the women at the cafe are talking about spending time with their grand kids and I’m stuck there feeling jealous. They talk about small feet and tiny toes and big round eyes.”

Your mother was flat out pouting like a child herself and you could see the jealousy radiating off of her. So that’s what this was really about. It wasn’t your house or yourself, this was about her. Your mother had always gotten everything she wanted because she was in a position to obtain it. But a grandchild......That was a little more difficult. Only you could give her that.

“Mother......I love you dearly. I really do. But........I can’t give you a grandchild. I can give you just about anything else your heart desires......but not that.”

It was deadly silent as you carefully stood up from your seat. The air of defeat surrounded your mother as she too slowly stood up; her head bent a little in disappointment. Clearing your throat, you spoke in your usual polite but professional tone,

“I’ll see you to the door.”

It had been a few weeks now since the awkward visit from your mother. In that amount of time, you had attempted to clean up your kitchen area and at least do a couple loads of laundry. The front yard was cut but the back had not been touched. You tossed all the potted plants in the huge dumpster. Eh. They had been pretty while they lasted.

You still hadn’t kicked your habit of takeout. It wasn’t like you had a choice, though. With your busy schedule, you didn’t have time to cook anything. Hell, you didn’t have time to grocery shop for the food to cook. It was far more convenient to just run in, grab food that was already cooked for you, and go. Of course you were no fool, you knew this food was horrible for your health but again......what choice did you have?

Work continued like usual without any contact from your mother. Usually she’d check in on you with either a text or phone call but these last two or three weeks, you had heard nothing. Was she mad at you? Probably. Then again.....Your mother was used to getting everything she wanted. Granted she had worked hard for everything she had, but this was something completely different.

“Got something on your mind?”

You looked up to see Jimin as he was in the middle of going over another proposal you had typed up yourself. Given the lack of sleep you were getting, you often didn’t trust yourself with spelling and grammar so you had Jimin look over your work before anyone else could lay eyes on it. Clearing your throat and adjusting your suit jacket, you shook your head and mumbled softly,

“No. Just tired, I suppose.”

Meetings, proposals, late nights, more meetings. It never ended. Emails coming and going. Playing phone tag with companies that were being hard to get along with. It was all just so frustrating. There were some days you just wanted to throw hands and walk out. However.....This was your mother’s pride and joy and you knew that wasn’t an option.

It was finally Saturday and you planned to sleep in......Okay......So you were going to sleep in till 8am. That was normal, right? Sighing heavily, you rolled over onto your side so that you could reach over for your personal phone only to see that your mother had sent you a text.

Mother: I’m coming over today for lunch. Please be presentable.

Be presentable? What the hell did that mean? You were always presentable. Scoffing, you rolled out of bed and decided to take a shower so you could be presentable. After scrubbing and washing yourself in annoyance, you dried yourself off and did your hair like you normally would for any other day of work. A tight and tidy bun with not a hair out of place.

You applied all the concealer you could to try and hide the bags that were under your eyes. Dear god they seemed to be getting worse. Why? You got plenty of sleep. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. After dressing in a simple blouse with a pencil skirt that came down to your knees, you adjusted your pantyhose and made just to wear a pair of heels that matched your business attire.

Upon looking in your kitchen, you had absolutely nothing to eat for your mother. Well......the two of you could always go out somewhere for lunch, right? Nothing wrong with having a lunch meeting out and about, right? Sighing heavily, you decided to wait by the front window and peeped out between the blinds just in time to see your mother’s familiar SUV parking in your front driveway.

What you didn’t expect.....was her to have company with her.

Oh dear god......Please no......Please please please please please pl----

And there the doorbell rang. Hands suddenly sweaty and clammy, you almost tripped on your own feet as you scrambled towards the door. Taking a second to collect yourself, you took a deep breath before finally opening the door and offering your classic fake smile. The one you use at business meetings. The only smile you knew how to make.

“Honey! You look radiant as always.”

There stood your mother holding a couple boxes that you could only guess contained food, judging from the smell, alongside a young man that had to be close to your age. He smiled warmly as he too was carrying a couple boxes full of food. The smell instantly made your stomach clench in pain as you were starving. However, you were too scared out of your mind to think about food right now.

“Be a dear and let us in. The food is going to get cold. Jungkookie, help me set the table, will you?”

“Of course, Mrs. Kwon.”

What the blazes was going on here?!?!?

You just stepped aside and let your mother and some stranger into your house like it was no big deal. Furthermore, said stranger was making himself at home and helping your mother set the table for lunch. Wait..........

Wait wait wait wait wait wait.......

“Mother----May I have a word with you?”

“Oh honey, just be patient. We can talk once we sit down to eat.”

“Mother---I meant in private.”

“Nonsense nonsense. Now come sit with us and enjoy some lunch. You’re practically skin and bones.”

Sighing heavily, you made a move to sit at the table but made sure to sit as far away from the mystery male as possible. Which put you sitting straight across from him. At least it wasn’t right next to him. Thankfully you had just enough bottles of water in your fridge and ice left in your ice making machine to produce three glasses of ice water for all of you.

“Darling, this is Jeon Jungkook. His family has a prestigious landscaping company and Jungkookie here just happens to be amazing at lawn care.”

“Mmm. I see.”

You really tried to appear respectful, but it was so dang hard when all you could think about was your mother’s true motives. You had been subconsciously stabbing the food on your plate ever since the three of you sat down to talk. It was more than obvious that the only male in the dining room was extremely nervous.

He looked super handsome. Almond shaped doe eyes and a slender nose. Rosy lips and a sharp jawline. You couldn’t help but notice his earrings. Was that a double helix he was sporting? Truth be told.....in your younger teens......you had always been a sucker for guys with earrings. And lots of them. Wait......did your mother know this too???

“Considering how Jungkookie is amazing with landscaping as well as cooking and cleaning, I’ve taken it upon myself to hire him as your personal assistant. Where he will take care of the things that you don’t have time for outside of work.”

It was dead silent at the dining table as you processed what your mother had just so casually explained. Personal assistant, huh? Yeah right. You knew better. As you gave the male sitting across from you a sharp and quizzical stare, you simply took a sip of your ice water before asking just as casually,

“So just how much is my mother paying you to knock me up?”

“Honey!”

It all happened so fast. Your mother looking appalled while you remained unfazed. Meanwhile, poor Jungkook was coughing as his food had went down the wrong pipe. He had been right in the middle of swallowing when you asked such a blunt question. Needless to say, it had taken him by surprise. Finally calming down with a few sips of water and your mother rubbing his back, he tried to gain his composure by quickly shaking his head and raising his hands in defense.

“I can assure you, Miss. Kwon, I mean nothing of the sort. I am strictly here to take care of your chores and errands that you otherwise cannot complete in your free time. I am here to serve and make your life less stressful. Less complicated.”

‘Such pretty words from a pretty mouth....’

Still looking bored and unimpressed, you simply nodded and took one last sip of your water before setting the glass down. With a heavy sigh, you simply stood and started to gather your half eaten lunch and spoke softly but firmly,

“Your services are not needed here, Mr. Jeon. I’m terribly sorry for my mother wasting your time.”

As you walked away to place your dishes on the kitchen counter, you could hear your mother speaking softly, no doubt with a hand on the boy’s knee.

“She’ll come around, Kookie. Just give her time.”

However, when your mother approached you in the kitchen and left the boy alone in the dining room, the older woman was anything but soft. A silent glaring match took place as you stood there facing your mother. The woman who took you under her wing and built you into the strong young woman you were today.

“My dearest child, you go in there and apologize to that poor young man. He’s absolutely mortified.”

“With all due respect, mother, I’m not going to apologize for asking a perfectly reasonable question. We both know why he’s really here. He’s the perfect age and ripe for giving you a grandchild. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said you were. Look----While I may have other motives behind hiring him......Your house is an absolute mess. Zoo animals are living better than you.”

You couldn’t help but scoff as that seemed to take a blow to your pride and ego. As you tried to sooth said pride, it was your mother’s turn to sigh heavily as she added in proposition,

“Look---Just give him a chance. Let him take care of the indoors and outdoors and if he sucks at his job, you can fire him. You don’t have to like him, just let him pick up the slack. He really is great at what he does. He’ll have this place looking beautiful again in no time.”

And that’s how you wound up with a personal assistant living with you. His name? Jeon Jungkook.

[artificialqueens]

Washed in the Tide of Her Breathing 2/4 (Branjie)--athena2

A/N: Thank you to everyone that read and commented on chapter 1! Your support means so much to me! I would love if you could leave some feedback on this chapter. Writ is the best and I can’t thank them enough for beta-ing, brainstorming with me, and answering all my questions. (Also, I’ve taken too many English classes not to cite my source, so the article about the Melville to Hawthorne letter can be found here).

For a second when she wakes up, Brooke forgets.

She forgets there’s a woman just feet away, tucked under a plaid quilt in Brooke’s old bedroom-turned-guest-room that’s been useless until now, her presence breaking through the dust of memories coating the room. The room overlooks the ocean, and Brooke used to read by the window while sea-kissed breezes flowed through. Her parents smiled at her from the precious few photos she had of them, a collection that stopped growing before she did.

Brooke had moved into her grandfather’s room years ago, after carefully packing most of his stuff away (something she discussed at length with Dr. Ganache), and tries not to feel like an imposter in his room. This morning, she reminds herself that she’s capable and deserving of her job, capable and deserving of being in his space, capable and deserving of living, and gets out of bed.

Smoky gray casts a shadow over the window. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, splattering on the roof, and it seems the roads really will clear by Monday. But that still leaves three days of the same gentle water Brooke loves imprisoning her like some princess in a tower.

It’s not being stuck inside that bothers her. Brooke has more than enough food, books, and streaming services to last. It’s the thought of being stuck with someone, mind racing and skin itching with the thought of someone watching her constantly.

She takes slow, measured breaths and ties a few knots, fears rising out on a steady stream of air. She’ll be polite to Vanessa, they’ll watch TV, and Vanessa will be gone Monday. This whole thing will be just a memory for Brooke, a tiny drop of water in the ocean. A few weeks and she won’t remember the sound of Vanessa’s laugh, how it’s rough and velvety in the same breath. A few months and she’ll probably forget her name, how it’s sweet like chocolate in Brooke’s mouth.

Brooke flicks through a book, the weight of it as steadying now as it was in her childhood, the idea of all those worlds beneath her fingers making her feel secure, comforted. It was these worlds she escaped to, to have adventures alongside the characters, to pretend she had parents waiting for her like they did.

“Morning, Brooke!”

Alice in Wonderland slips into Brooke’s lap as she jumps.

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Vanessa asks.

“I’m fine.” Brooke takes a good look at Vanessa, stomach stirring as she does. Vanessa looks stronger today, more vibrant. Her cheeks bloom with rosy life, eyes bright and grin broad. Brooke is so relieved she’s okay, showing no pain from whatever (or whoever) hurt her, that she ignores her ridiculous theory about Vanessa being some sea creature. Vanessa’s okay, and that’s enough.

She realizes she forgot her medication in her cloud of worry, and notices Vanessa watching.

“I take medication, I–”

“It makes you feel better?” Vanessa asks.

“Yeah.” Brooke has bad days occasionally, but when the mental illness was at its worst she couldn’t even get out of bed, could do nothing but lay there and pray for sleep to avoid being conscious. She wouldn’t be able to function without the meds, and she’s not ashamed of it.

“That’s all that matters,” Vanessa says firmly. “You don’t have to explain anything.”

Brooke nods appreciatively. Her offer of coffee is met with an enthusiastic nod, and Vanessa is practically vibrating with energy as Brooke passes her the lobster mug. It’s a good thing she made decaf.

Vanessa is at ease in the kitchen, cheerfully eating eggs on toast, and Brooke wonders what it’s like to be so comfortable around others, to say things without turning them over in her mind a hundred times, worrying how they’ll sound. To be the kind of person other people go toward, instead of away from.

“We gonna watch Thrones today?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke nods.

Vanessa crunches her last bite of toast. “Let’s go.”

—

The morning passes quickly, Vanessa letting out whoops and gasps as they move through episodes. It makes Brooke grit her teeth at first, because she always watches things in silence, but when Vanessa screeches about ‘Sharpie Bannister’ (as she’s renamed Cersei Lannister), Brooke has to laugh. There’s something about watching the shock and excitement play out across Vanessa’s face that’s simply infectious, impossible to resist.

Vanessa tags along when Brooke climbs the steps for her afternoon light routine. Brooke’s skin prickles as Vanessa watches her. The only person that’s seen her work is her grandfather, and Brooke sweats with worry that she’ll mess up the one thing she’s good at and look like an idiot in front of Vanessa.

It takes Brooke a few windows to sink back into her rhythm. She can’t really blame Vanessa for staring. Brooke used to observe her grandfather with the same bright-eyed wonder over how his gnarled fingers moved of their own accord, how he didn’t even look where he stepped because his feet knew the way. If Vanessa’s open mouth is any indication, Brooke has perfected his movements, making it all look as natural as breathing, and she bursts with pride.

“So, how do you know this stuff?” Vanessa asks, motioning for Brooke to sit with her at the base of the light. This close, Brooke can smell her own lavender body wash Vanessa’s been using. “You have a degree in lighthousing?”

Brooke hugs her knees to her chest. “I have a degree in English, actually.” It may have taken her a while to finish it, after a leave of absence because the anxiety and depression grew so severe she couldn’t complete her assignments, but she had finished all the same, with a minor in marine studies. “The lighthouse stuff is from my grandfather. He taught me everything I know.”

“He’s a lighthouse keeper too?”

“He was.”

The silence hangs like a midday sun as Vanessa processes the words.

“I’m sorry, Brooke,” she says softly. Vanessa’s hand curves toward Brooke’s knee before darting back, like she wants to comfort Brooke but isn’t sure she should. Brooke suddenly wants her to, wants to see what Vanessa’s hand feels like, wants its steadying weight.

“It’s okay,” Brooke says.

They sit in fog-thick silence and Brooke wonders if she should speak or leave, sink or swim. The air is wide open for her to talk about her grandfather, but she just doesn’t want to. She’s been thinking about him constantly since she found Vanessa, trying to be kind like him, but she selfishly wants to hoard her memories like treasure, not share them. Vanessa doesn’t know how he preferred waffles to pancakes and put cinnamon in the batter, how we let her practice dance recitals in the living room and applauded wildly, how he let bugs go outside rather than kill them, and if Brooke tells her, then the memories aren’t just Brooke’s anymore. It’s like she’s giving part of him away.

“It’s real cool. This lighthouse stuff, I mean.” Vanessa fills the quiet. “You make it look so easy.”

Brooke shrugs. “I’ve had lots of practice.” Learning it was the best thing for her after losing her parents, and she had thrown herself into it to ease the pain. It gave her something to focus on, something to keep her worried mind occupied. A way to help people get home, like her parents couldn’t.

“Well, it’s beautiful. The way you move and everything.”

Brooke swallows nervously, stomach fluttering like butterflies are running wild. No one’s complimented the way she moves since her dance days. But Vanessa notices the grace Brooke’s always carried, even thinks it’s beautiful. The last bit of fear melts away, and Brooke stops thinking of Vanessa as an intruder and starts thinking of her as a fri–acquaintance. It’ll have to do, because there’s no title for ‘nice person that washed up on my lighthouse’.

“Thank you,” Brooke says finally. “Um, do you like quesadillas? I was thinking of making them for lunch.”

Vanessa grins, exposing bright white teeth. “Of course!”

—

Vanessa asks if they can play a board game that night, and Brooke brushes the dust of her childhood and pulls out Monopoly. They play on the floor, lantern illuminating the board, the glow highlighting all the different shades of brown–chocolate and hazelnut and mocha–swirling in Vanessa’s eyes. Brooke keeps getting lost in them, and has to tear her gaze away to focus.

Brooke quickly sees that Vanessa came to win, racking up properties and snatching money from Brooke like a middle-aged banker. But Brooke’s had years of practice, and she takes Vanessa’s money right back, their stacks too high to tell who’s winning.

Vanessa asks questions while they play, wanting to know Brooke’s favorite foods and colors and movies. Brooke hesitates at first, but what’s the harm in giving these pieces of herself to someone she’ll never see again? So Brooke answers questions and echoes them to Vanessa, hours ticking by like minutes as she learns the colors Vanessa likes to wear, the funny movies she watches to cheer herself up. She talks more with Vanessa in an hour than she does in a week.

Brooke coughs and sneezes through the game, using a whole box of tissues. Not changing her clothes after finding Vanessa is catching up with her. When Brooke sneezes so hard it sends paper money fluttering, Vanessa’s eyes flicker to her in concern.

“You gettin’ sick?” Vanessa asks.

Brooke shrugs. “Probably a cold. Happens a lot near the water.” Brooke often got sick as a kid because of how cold and damp it was by the sea. Her grandfather would set up a makeshift bed on the couch, tell her stories, and let her watch anything she wanted, a Star Wars marathon making the coughing and sneezing and bitter cherry medicine almost bearable.

Brooke can’t help but wonder what it would be like to have Vanessa sitting at her side, telling her stories.

—

Brooke is definitely sick when Saturday morning rolls around, her head cloudy like it’s stuffed with cotton, tissue after tissue chafing her raw nose.

The rain is still trickling down, mocking the weather reports that said it would stop by Friday. The new report is predicting Sunday.

Brooke shuffles into the kitchen and sees Vanessa sipping coffee and looking so right at the table. Brooke’s never considered her kitchen empty before, but Vanessa makes it full.

“You’re sick!” Vanessa yelps with worry. Vanessa is worried about her, is upset that she’s sick, and maybe it’s the illness making Brooke’s thoughts fuzzy, but she’s grateful Vanessa is here, grateful to have someone worried for her.

“I’m fine. Just a cold.”

Vanessa’s hand stretches up to her forehead before Brooke can stop it. She figures it’s rude to push Vanessa away, and her touch is soothing, so Brooke leaves it.

“I don’t think you have a fever,” Vanessa says, hand lingering longer than necessary.

“It’s just a cold,” Brooke repeats, wracked with a sudden shiver from the loss of contact.

“Well, why don’t you lie down?” It’s an order more than a suggestion, and Brooke gives in, too tired to argue despite the strangeness of it all. No one has cared for her like this in years. She usually just took medicine and went on with her day, no one even knowing she was sick, and Vanessa seating her on the couch and buzzing with concern spreads affectionate warmth through Brooke’s chest. Some part of Brooke likes it, likes having someone take care of her when she’s done it alone for so long. And some part of her likes that the someone is Vanessa.

Vanessa carefully drapes a blanket over Brooke, watching her with such tenderness and adoration it makes her ache with a sudden longing to hold Vanessa. The cold is really messing with her head. Vanessa brings her cold meds, cough drops, and extra tissues before settling into the armchair and starting the next episode.

Brooke’s eyelids grow heavy after the theme song, and she drifts off into a warm sleep punctuated with dreams of sailing with Vanessa.

A gentle hand nudges her shoulder, and Brooke blinks awake to see Vanessa, bowl of steaming soup in her hands. Brooke’s mind lags as she processes the scene. Vanessa made her soup. Vanessa took the time to go through her pantry and cupboards just to make soup to help her feel better. It’s been seven years since someone cooked for her. Brooke’s eyes dampen at the corners (it’s probably the cold).

“S-sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you,” Brooke says, sitting up and eating a spoonful.

“Don’t worry about it. You need sleep when you’re sick.” Vanessa pauses. “Anything else I can do? Call a doctor or somethin’?”

“I don’t need a doctor for a cold,” Brooke says, melting at how concerned Vanessa is. “Soup and meds are enough. You didn’t have to do all this for me,” she adds, looking down at the bowl.

“I want to,” Vanessa says firmly. “You got sick ‘cause of me.”

Brooke shakes her head. “I was only outside a few minutes getting you. I didn’t change my wet clothes after. That’s my fault, not yours.”

“Still,” Vanessa insists. “It’s the least I could do.”

Vanessa tucks a strand of hair behind Brooke’s ear and Brooke has no air in her lungs. Her whole face tingles, and she wishes she could grab Vanessa’s hand and put it on her cheek, let the warmth rest there forever, an eternal flame to keep Brooke warm.

The day is cozy and carefree, but there’s something bugging Brooke, swirling below the water like a predator. It’s not until Vanessa gives her more cold meds that night that it hits her: Vanessa isn’t sick. Vanessa was sailing in a thunderstorm, thrown into the icy sea, left in the rain all night, and doesn’t have so much as a sniffle.

Brooke would say it isn’t humanly possible, but it’s true. Unless…

No. She needs to stop with her theories. It’s probably just the grayness of the world affecting her judgement. Some urge to keep her grandfather alive, to put a wild story in everything she sees.

It’s a quiet night, Vanessa more hushed than usual, a mug of hot chocolate making Brooke full and sleepy, electing to sleep on the couch because she’s too comfortable under her fleece blankets to move.

Vanessa heads to bed with a soft ‘feel better, Brooke’ tumbling from her lips and soothing Brooke’s skin like hot water, but when Brooke wakes the next morning, Vanessa is back in the chair, watching over Brooke like a tower watching over ships. When Brooke asks her about it, Vanessa just says she wanted to make sure Brooke was okay.

—

The weather report was right, and Sunday is the first dry day in what feels like years, the world bathed a delicate gray-blue as the public works crew clears the roads. Vanessa radiates her own sun in the lighthouse, growing more exuberant by the hour.

Vanessa wasn’t exactly quiet before, but she bursts with renewed energy over waffles that morning. She makes Brooke take more medicine and drinks two cups of coffee with a pound of sugar, asks (commands) Brooke if they can make brownies, and eats three of said brownies in one sitting.

“You know any stories?” Vanessa asks that night. “Sailors always tell stories in the movies. And lighthouses are good places for stories, all spooky and shit.”

Brooke has to agree. The night is perfect, orange fire glowing against the pitch-black darkness outside, wind rattling the windows like a monster begging to be let in, she and Vanessa trading smiles over mugs of hot chocolate, blankets wrapped around their shoulders. It’s nights like these that Brooke believes the legends with all her heart, the world so alive with magic they had to be real.

“I know some old legends about sirens and mermaids and stuff,” Brooke suggests.

Vanessa flinches so quickly Brooke might have imagined it, an unreadable expression settling over her features.

“Sure,” Vanessa agrees. “Maybe somethin’ happy, or romantic?”

Most legends were darker than the depths of the ocean, used as terrifying warnings to respect whatever creatures lived in the sea so they didn’t kill you, but Brooke searches for something at least a little happy.

“Sit by the fire with me?” Brooks asks, heart thumping.

Vanessa’s eyes twinkle brighter than ever in the firelight, and Brooke’s not sure if her face is burning from the fire or Vanessa’s knee pressing against hers.

Brooke clears her throat. Her ears are full of her grandfather’s voice, deep and rich as the sea. She can hear him clearly tonight, in her spot on the rug that used to be his, and she knows he speaks with her when she begins.

“Once upon a time–”

“This some kinda fairytale?” Vanessa interrupts.

Brooke shoots her the same look Vanessa gives Joffrey on-screen. It must work, because Vanessa bursts into giggles.

“Okay, okay, keep going.”

“Once upon a time, there lived a lonely young woman named Arabella. Her father was a lighthouse keeper. He told her mermaids lived in the sea, and every day, Arabella went to the water’s edge, hoping to see one. But none ever turned up.

“One day, a mermaid named Cordelia swam to shore. She had been watching Arabella, but was too shy to see her. Cordelia had hair like spun gold and eyes of sapphire. Some said the ocean herself had made her eyes. Arabella fell in love instantly. But she couldn’t breathe underwater, and Cordelia couldn’t walk on land, so Arabella took her boat out while Cordelia swam beside her.

“As the days passed, their love grew like the waves. They were so in love, neither noticed they were going farther and farther into the ocean. Soon, they were at the cove of the murderous sirens, falsely promising people their heart’s desires and drowning them.

Vanessa’s hands fly over her mouth. She leans closer, eager to hear what happens next, and Brooke surges with pride.

“Arabella’s desire was to breathe underwater, and Cordelia’s desire was to walk on land. The siren queen, Marina–”

“It’s Marilla,” Vanessa says. “The siren queen. Marilla, not Marina.”

The crackling fire is the only sound in the room.

“You-you’re right,” Brooke says. “Marina is the mermaid queen, I always mix them up. I just–how did you know?” She’s not judging or doubting Vanessa, just curious. Most legends have died out.

“I…I think I read it in one of your books when you were sick,” Vanessa says.

“Oh. Anyway, Marilla promised them their desires, and they were pulled beneath the waves. But Marina, the mermaid queen, didn’t want the lovers to perish. She convinced Marilla to grant their wishes, but at a cost.

“She allowed Arabella to breathe underwater for one hour each dawn, and allowed Cordelia to walk on land for one hour each dusk. But if they met any other time, or stayed longer than an hour, they would be cursed with eternal solitude.

“They obeyed. Cordelia stayed beneath the sea, longing for the hour she could feel sand between her toes. Arabella stayed on land, longing for the hour when the water flowed around her. The two hours they were together each day were the happiest in both their lives. They met every day, even as old age meant Cordelia had to hold Arabella in the water and help her walk on land. They stayed in love until Arabella died, and Marina released Cordelia’s soul, so their spirits could be together for eternity.”

Vanessa’s mouth opens and closes a few times before she can speak.

“Wow, Brooke,” Vanessa breathes. “You should have people come here on tours and tell them stories. You’re really, really good at it.”

Brooke beams with joy. It’s a small compliment, but it means more than Vanessa knows. Her grandfather could have an entire room biting their nails in suspense, hanging on his every word. Brooke has never told a story to anyone, and not only is she good at it, she loves it. Loves the rush of bringing words to life, of having Vanessa so close that Brooke could just reach out and touch her, maybe even kiss her–

“Thanks. Someone asked me about doing tours before, actually. I said no.”

“Why?”

“Just…didn’t want anyone inside.” Brooke confesses.

“I get that,” Vanessa says. “This place is special to you. If you don’t want to do tours, that’s fine. I’d just hate to see you say no because of fear.”

How could Vanessa understand her fears so effortlessly? Brooke loves the history of the lighthouse, how it’s served ships for centuries. Maybe, if she works hard with Dr. Ganache, she could feel safe enough to let people in and share that history.

“I’m headin’ to bed.” Vanessa yawns. “Thanks for the story.”

“Sure.”

Brooke lingers behind, curiosity driving her to the book of myths on the coffee table. She checks twice, but there’s no mention of Marilla.

—

“Is that the sun?” Vanessa asks Monday morning, jaw dropping open.

“I think so.” Brooke smiles.

Vanessa whistles. “Damn. I thought I ended up on some planet with no sun! Can we see the town today?” She asks, bouncing in her chair.

“Okay.”

Three days ago, Brooke would have been out the door at the crack of dawn to get Vanessa on the earliest train home. But somehow, between the daily meals and board games and stories, Brooke has grown comfortable with Vanessa, smiling whenever Vanessa laughs, passing dishes to the left for Vanessa to dry without thinking, her heart softening every time their soap-slick hands brush against each other. There’s a certain ease between them, one Brooke didn’t think she’d have with anyone but her grandfather.

Even when they watch TV, Brooke finds herself turning to Vanessa during big reveals, to see Vanessa’s eyes widen and her jaw drop, revelling in the knowledge that she’s not alone, that someone is sharing it with her. She smiles when Vanessa does the same, trying to discern spoilers from Brooke’s expression and gloating when her predictions are right.

Brooke’s heart is heavy over Vanessa leaving, and she wants to make an amazing day for her, one she’ll remember even after returning to the bright city lights.

Brooke thinks of what Vanessa might enjoy in town. Brooke has always liked the main street of Cape Charles, how the cheery shops smiled at her even when most of the owners didn’t, turning their noses up at the crazy lighthouse keeper. But she can take Vanessa to the diner, and the bookstore, where Brooke used to need a stool to reach the shelves until her growth spurt hit and her bones screamed as she shot up eight inches in a year.

She wonders what it will be like to have feet beside hers on the cobblestones again, to eat with someone across the booth again, to see another reflection in the shop windows.

“D-do you want to have breakfast? There’s a really good diner on Main Street.”

“You ain’t gotta ask me twice!”

Being cooped up must be hard for Vanessa, Brooke guesses. Vanessa lives in the city, where she could do anything at any time. Brooke has never liked the dizziness or buzz of the city, how easily you could get lost with no one to even care about finding you. Even when she took classes in the college there, she would ride the commuter train, take her usual walk to campus, and return the same way, never straying for fear of getting lost in a sea of concrete, no light to guide her home (it was a relief when she found out two years in that she could finish her degree online). She hasn’t returned to the city since that bad day when her grandfather died.

“Hey, Brooke?” Vanessa snaps Brooke out of her thoughts. “You got anything I could wear that’s not a wool sweater? Don’t get me wrong, they cute on you, but I don’t think they’re working for me.”

“Of course.”

Vanessa in her house is strange enough, but having Vanessa in her room, her big brown eyes roaming across the bed where Brooke sleeps and the photos linking Brooke to the past, makes Brooke feel like her entire being is on display, like Vanessa can see right through her.

“And I thought your wool stuff was out of control!” Vanessa exclaims.

Brooke smothers a laugh at the array of flannel shirts hanging in her closet.

“I do have a lot of wool and flannel, huh?” They’re Brooke’s favorites because of the coziness, protecting her from the cold sea air.

“Well, they look good on you.”

It’s the second time Vanessa’s said she looks nice, Brooke notes. She wonders if it means anything, if Vanessa’s heart squeezes when she looks at Brooke like Brooke’s does when she looks at Vanessa. She also wonders if it means anything that she thinks Vanessa is beautiful in anything.

“Your jeans are longer than my whole body,” Vanessa mutters. “What are you, like, six-five?”

“Five-ten.”

“Shit.”

Brooke laughs. She’d put Vanessa at five-three, if that, and she likes how tiny Vanessa is, how Brooke’s clothes make her even tinier and more adorable.

“This coat is cool.” Vanessa nods at the navy coat in Brooke’s closet.

“I’ll show you if you want,” Brooke offers.

It’s her grandfather’s lighthouse keeper coat, navy with brass buttons, done in the old style. He took excellent care of it and it’s impeccable, heavy and warm like his hugs. Brooke used to put it on as a kid, giggling as it dragged on the floor and thinking she’d never be big enough or good enough to fill it. But she’d inherited his height as well as his eyes, and when she put it on a year after he died, the coat fit her like it was meant to do nothing else. She had taken it as a permission of sorts, some sign from the universe that she was worthy of wearing it, of running the lighthouse. That she would be okay on her own.

“What’s the K for?” Vanessa asks, pointing to the gold loops embroidered on the lapel, neat K’s stitched inside.

“For keeper.”

“You sure are.”

Brooke flushes as red as a warning sky, and busies herself finding clothes for Vanessa, grabbing a red sweatshirt since it’s Vanessa’s favorite color, and leggings so she won’t trip on any pant hems. Brooke takes jeans and a navy fisherman’s sweater for herself and changes in the bathroom.

Vanessa is fully dressed when she gets back, gazing at the pictures on Brooke’s dresser. “This your grandpa?”

“Yeah.”

“You have his eyes. They look like the sea.” Vanessa smiles. “I bet he was kind like you too.”

“He was.” It’s all she can manage, tears hovering on the horizon. Whenever she was upset, all she had to do was look at him and she knew things would be okay. All she’s ever wanted is to be like him, to be good and dedicated, a beacon of hope for people.

Nina says Brooke is like him, but Nina knew her grandfather, saw Brooke’s similarities to him emerge, and Nina is always nice. But Vanessa doesn’t know her grandfather. She barely knows Brooke. She has no reason to say it, no idea how much it means. For her to think Brooke resembles the man who was her guiding light for so long is irrefutable proof that Brooke is like him, is maybe as good as him, and it warms her heart like a fire. She’s never been more grateful for Vanessa.

“Do you miss him?” Vanessa asks, cringing a second later. “Shit, sorry, you don’t have to answer. Don’t mind my nosy ass.”

“I do,” Brooke says. “He–he was a great person. One of the best.” It’s gotten better over the years, the wound receding to a dull pain, one she sometimes can’t even feel. But then she’ll do something that tugs on the scar tissue, like looking at his picture a second too long or making waffles that taste almost exactly like his, but not quite, and the pain comes roaring back anew.

“Hey,” Vanessa says gently, wiping a tear from Brooke’s cheek, one she didn’t know had fallen. Vanessa is so close Brooke just wants to wrap her in a hug. She wants Vanessa’s head against her chest, wants to bury her face in Vanessa’s hair, wants Vanessa to feel her heart beating. “Let’s go eat.”

—

Nina almost drops her pen when she sees Vanessa next to Brooke. Brooke’s mouth dries out as she struggles for an explanation.

“I’m an old friend of Brooke’s,” Vanessa supplies smoothly. “Just visiting for a few days.”

Vanessa and Nina carry on like actual old friends as Nina takes them to a booth, and Brooke isn’t surprised. Nina can make friends with a wall, and Brooke doesn’t know anyone who wouldn’t love her in seconds.

“So,” Vanessa says, peeking over her menu with a grin, “what’s good here?”

“I always get the apple-cinnamon pancakes,” Brooke says.

“Always always?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t ever wanna change it up?” Vanessa asks in confusion.

Brooke lowers her head, heat creeping up her neck. “I don’t like change,” she admits. Change had been a police officer’s scuffed black boots in a cheery kindergarten classroom. Change had been an unknown number calling from the city, saying her grandfather was in critical condition.

“I know change can be scary,” Vanessa says softly. “But what if you did just a little one? Like, what if you still get pancakes, but with”–Vanessa scans the menu–“bananas instead?”

Maybe Vanessa is right. Dr. Ganache had said a routine would be helpful when Brooke began her recovery, but she should never feel trapped by it. Brooke’s been sticking to it so long she’s never considered if it’s guiding her or forcing her, protecting her or caging her.

Brooke knows bananas aren’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. She knows her palms shouldn’t be sweating. But if she doesn’t have apples, does that mean the day won’t go like it should? Will it make something bad happen? What if she did something different on those bad days, like eating raspberry jam on her toast instead of strawberry, and that was why the bad things happened?

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Vanessa says quickly.

“I want to.”

Brooke’s fork shakes a bit when the banana walnut pancakes arrive, but they’re just as delicious as the apple ones, and Brooke doesn’t think anything bad can happen with Vanessa smiling at her, eating hash browns.

“So, Miss English Degree, you ever read that book about the big-ass whale?”

“You mean Moby Dick?” Brooke snorts.

“Yeah! With Captain Abfab!”

“Ahab.” Brooke giggles. “And I did. It’s kinda gay, actually. Melville was basically in love with Nathaniel Hawthorne. He wrote him a letter saying their hearts beat in each other’s ribs.”

“That’s romantic as hell.” Vanessa’s eyes are bright with admiration.

Brooke lets herself dream of writing letters to Vanessa, pressing kisses to the envelope.

Next in line is A’keria’s boutique. It takes all of ten seconds for Vanessa and A’keria to cackle in unison and talk about clothes. Maybe Vanessa is magic, just not how Brooke thought. Being so open with people, winning them over with a few words, is certainly its own magic, one Brooke has never been skilled in.

Vanessa squeals in delight when they drive past Monet and Monique’s Clam Shack. “Oohh, can we stop there?” she asks, wriggling in her seat like a toddler. She sticks her head out the window to read the specialties advertised on the sign. “Are you one of those ‘we have food at home’ people? ‘Cause my mom used to–” Vanessa cuts herself off abruptly, shaking her head like she’s trying to clear water out of her ears, or maybe a memory out of her mind. Her smile flies back. “Look, they have fried shrimp, that’s your favorite!”

Brooke takes a second to respond around the lump in her throat, because no one has known her favorite food or wanted her to have it in seven years. It makes Brooke’s face warm, almost impossibly so, given the cold air blasting through Vanessa’s window.

“Fried shrimp it is.”

—

“Brooke?” Vanessa asks, looking up from her fried shrimp.

“Yeah?”

“Can I pay you back somehow? I mean, you saved me, and let me stay with you, and bought my food, and I…aren’t I in your debt?”

Brooke’s heart breaks at Vanessa’s earnestness. Was she not used to people being kind to her? Brooke could never make Vanessa give her anything back, especially when she’s just as much in Vanessa’s debt. How can Brooke explain that the past days have been a gift to her, one she can never repay?

“There’s no debt. There never will be,” Brooke says firmly. “I wanted to help you. I don’t want anything in return.”

Vanessa’s hand slides across the table, fingers curling around Brooke’s. “Thank you, Brooke. Really.”

Brooke grips Vanessa’s hand like she would grip a sailing rope to keep herself steady at sea, her body coming to life at the warm touch. “Of course. You’re my guest, for as long as you want.”

“I was thinkin’ about that, actually,” Vanessa begins. “I don’t have to be back in the city till Monday. And I like y–like it here, and I’m so grateful for you, and if it’s okay, do you think I could stay till Saturday?”

You could stay forever, Brooke thinks. A lifetime of board games and cooking together, of movies and morning coffee, of breathing salt air and watching the tides ebb and flow. Autumns tinted gold and springs tinted green, crunching on leaves and splashing in rain puddles. Winters of snowflakes sticking to windows and melting in your hair, a crackling fire and soft blankets. Summers of fresh blueberries and walks on the sand, the sunset so close you could touch it, fill your hands with its buttery light.

“I’d like that,” Brooke says.

—

Last week, four days had seemed like an eternity. Now, Brooke has five more days with Vanessa, and they aren’t enough for everything she wants to do.

Brooke’s heart has a crack in it, the first crack in a ship that leads to disaster as more and more water flows in. Each day that crack widens, another realization slipping inside and dragging her whole body down. How she won’t see Vanessa’s smile anymore. How the couch will be empty, not even a dent in the cushion where Vanessa sits.

They go bowling, and Brooke laughs till she cries over Vanessa’s hunched stance, rolling the ball with both hands and one time shooting it into another lane. They rack up tickets at the arcade and earn a Cape Charles pencil (‘300 tickets and all we get is a pencil?’ Vanessa rages). Vanessa wins a stuffed dolphin at the claw machine and gives it to Brooke. Brooke has slept with it every night since, holding it to her chest and pretending it’s Vanessa.

Every time Brooke burns from people’s stares, wondering why the ghost was released from her tower, Vanessa shoots them a death glare until they back off, reminding Brooke she doesn’t need to concern herself with them.

They finish Game of Thrones, Vanessa screaming about how they did her girl Dany dirty, and start on the Ghibli collection, wordlessly passing the tissue box to each other when Sophie puts Howl’s heart back into his chest.

Brooke relishes the brushing of their arms as they make dinner, Vanessa tossing croutons into the air and catching them in her mouth. Brooke loves putting the food on the table knowing the meal is something they created with their hands working together, trying to ignore that her future meals will be made with two hands, not four.

Before she knows it, it’s Friday night, and Brooke is trying to keep it together. She cooks Vanessa’s favorite foods, rice and beans with shrimp, plus salad, garlic bread, and chocolate cake.

They talk like they do every night, but Brooke has always been sensitive to change, and the air is different, thick with the knowledge that this is the last time, that there won’t be another dinner.

Brooke cuts the cake, and halfway through the first slice she realizes that she’ll have leftover cake and there won’t be anyone to share it with. This cake that she and Vanessa made will belong to Brooke alone, its frosting hardening and crumb drying with only one fork to eat it.

She looks at Vanessa’s lobster mug, irreparably labeling it Vanessa’s, and knows she won’t be able to look at it again without picturing Vanessa’s slim fingers wrapped around it, tossing her head back with laughter.

The crack in her heart widens into a chasm. All the sorrow over Vanessa leaving, the emptiness that will consume her after Vanessa’s gone, rush into Brooke’s heart until it sinks to the ocean floor, never to see sunlight again.

Stay, Brooke thinks but doesn’t say. Please stay. Her chest aches, and she thinks her ribs are throbbing with the pulse of Vanessa’s heart as well as her own.

But she can’t ask Vanessa to stay, stop her from returning to a life more exciting than this, to fabrics shinier than wool and flannel, to more restaurants and stores than she could count.

She can’t ask no matter how badly she wants to.

Brooke doesn’t do this. She doesn’t get attached. Dr. Ganache says she has a fear of abandonment, that she isolates herself as an unhealthy coping mechanism. She doesn’t form relationships, doesn’t even try, because her mind is trying to keep her safe, denying her any connection to spare her the pain of that connection’s loss.

You can’t lose someone if you don’t know them, let yourself get close to them. And Brooke has learned more about Vanessa, gotten closer with her, than she has let herself do with anyone else since her grandfather died.

She knows that Vanessa always buys the Rainbow Room in Monopoly just because she likes rainbows. She knows that Vanessa stops dead in the street to pet dogs, like Brooke used to. She knows Vanessa dances every chance she gets. She knows Vanessa has brought her places she hasn’t visited in years, has shielded her from people’s stares and kept her safe like a lighthouse tower.

“I have something for you,” Brooke says after cake, handing Vanessa the bracelet she made from ropes on her grandfather’s old boat.

“It’s a sailor knot,” Brooke explains. “Sailors wore them at sea. It’s supposed to bring good luck and protection on your travels.”

Vanessa is silent as she runs her fingers over the bracelet, tracing the fibers like she can feel the ocean clinging to them.

Brooke takes a breath. “Vanessa, um, I really liked having you here, and if you ever want to come back…” Tears stream down Vanessa’s face, and Brooke’s heart shatters. “I’m sorry! Did I do something wrong? Are you okay?”

The panic claws at Brooke, heart racing, each breath frantic as Vanessa’s tears thicken. Brooke wants to cry herself over seeing Vanessa so upset, and she struggles to stay above the tide of fear. Finally, Vanessa shakes her head, like she’s answering her own question.

“I can’t do this anymore, Brooke.” Her voice runs deep with sorrow, but Brooke is so relieved she’s talking that she manages to get air into her lungs, heart slowing. “I can’t keep lying to you.”

“What do you mean?” Brooke has ignored Vanessa’s obvious lies and refusal to talk about her life in the city, but the questions always lurk in her mind. Is she finally going to find out what happened? Is Vanessa running from something? Is–

Vanessa sighs. “I’m a siren.”

[treasure-my-aurora]

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

A/n: Just to be clear, this is not a y/n fic because I seriously can't write in "you" form (or whatever you call it) to save my life. Oc/reader is scandinavian because a major plot point is her blonde hair and blue eyes. Sorry not sorry  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This can be read as a seperate work but there is a refrence in it that comes from my previous work, 'Making Love Out of Nothing at All' so please check that out first if you haven't ♥

Pairing: Hongjoong / fem!Reader

Genre: Porn with Plot, fluffy af

Summary:  I worked shifts in a small club underneath a 4-star hotel in the middle of Seoul, as a hostess. I wasn’t a prostitute, my main job was to entertain, serve drinks and host events. But I wasn’t allowed to decline if someone wanted a private session. The clock neared midnight a hot wednesday evening the 10th of July and my hope of getting a good days pay was dissapearing with every minute. But the anxious feeling in my stomach was interrupted when a group of eight almost fell through the entrence door and one certain red haired promised that he'd make my night.

I thanked the power of air conditioning for the hundredth time that day. It was hot outside, the summer sun cooked anything underneath its beams, and I squirmed, uncomfortably in the white Qipao dress I was wearing. The fabric hugged my body, with golden details and embroidery that made my pale skin shine, packing it tight and I swallowed again, contemplating if I should just excuse myself for a few minutes to push a finger down my throat and throw up my lunch because I was fighting to keep it down anyway. “Hey you!” A man’s voice echoed between the walls of the booth I was serving, and the snap of his fingers made me flinch, “You don’t get paid to just stand there and look pretty, serve me my drink or get me someone who can” I felt my face flush, thankful that my make-up covered it and set down the tray of drinks I had in my hands. Rough, calloused fingers found their way to the lower parts of my thighs as I leaned over and I swallowed, repressed the vile taste that rose in my mouth. I let the action happen, not being able to do anything as the hand reached higher, touching just below my buttock. I cleared my throat, “A private session will be 121420 won” The slap against my thighs that followed made me fall forward and I nearly spilled the drinks when I caught myself on the edge of the table. I made eye contact with a co-worker and close friend, who gave me a sympathetic look, seated between two others in the company we were serving. “Don’t kid yourself woman, I will not pay that much for you” The man laughed and muttered something about foreigners while pointing at me like he couldn’t believe what I was saying. I looked down, ashamed, my hair hanging like a curtain to hide my red cheeks. I was born and raised in Korea, but my family was Scandinavian and even though I consider myself equal to the rest of the black haired and brown eyed population, many would disagree. My blonde long locks and blue eyes spoke of my difference and it’s been multiple times when I had to tell people that I could understand everything that they whispered about me. The man and his three friends roared with laughter, hands pounding the table and my co-worker clenched her jaw, so subtle that you wouldn't notice it, stress visible in her eyes as the man next to her threw his arm around her shoulders. I don’t think he meant to, but we’d been serving them for hours and they were quite drunk, and my co-worker, who couldn’t be more than 160 cm and weigh less than 50 kg was easily manhandled to the ground underneath the table. She shrieked in surprise and I signalled to the barkeeper, a big and burly man, at least 2 meters high and with biceps as thick as my thighs, who had been watching us the whole time. My heart broke from not being able to rush forward and help her out. The men’s laughter reflected on the walls and I found myself swallowing again, trying not to puke as one of the men grabbed a handful of my co-worker’s hair. Her screaming silenced by the barkeeper’s sharp open hand against the man's head, who immediately released her and jumped up, ready to give out punches to the person who’d slapped him. “You’ve had enough, leave now and there won’t be any more trouble” the barkeeper ordered and the men held up their open hands, when they realised that they it wasn’t worth getting their asses beaten, an innocent look on their faces and they got up from their seats. The one that had slapped my thigh, grabbed my chin forcefully, coming disgustingly close to my face, “I’m not done with you yet; you better be careful. I didn’t get to finish my beer. I’d sleep with one eye open tonight if I were you” I flinched at his breath, the smell of cheap vodka burned my nostrils and he chuckled before spitting on the floor in front of me before he grabbed his coat to join the others. My co-worker stumbled over to me and I invited her in my arms, “Let’s get you cleaned up” I said while patting her back and gave the barkeeper a thankful look before I lead her to a private toilet at the back, behind the bar. We worked shifts in a small club underneath a 4-star hotel in the middle of Seoul, as hostesses. My employer owned the club and was brother with the barkeeper who just helped us. I wasn’t a prostitute, my main job was to entertain, serve drinks and host events. But I wasn’t allowed to decline if someone wanted a private session. The prices ranged between 121420 won to 2428400 won, depending on what kind of session it was and even though it was rare, only twice or thrice a week, I wasn’t always happy with it. I enjoyed sex, I enjoyed when men (and women) worshipped my body, taking me and using me to get themselves of. It was empowering, most of the time and it gave me a hell of an ego boost. It was safe, we always used protection, got tested regularly and the barkeeper had his eyes on us and was sure that we escaped a worse fate than what just happened to my co-worker. But there would always be people who thought they were entitled to one more session, one more dance, one more drink and that’s where things could get dangerous. Just as early as last week, an 18-year-old a few blocks down, was strangled to death and I always feared that it would happen to me, or to one of the girls I was working with. I looked down at my co-worker, just barely knowing her real name and age. She was closest to me but didn't enjoy talking about things that was too private and I didn’t want to guess. Her hands trembled in her lap when I wet a towel and removed the tear smeared makeup, patting her back with comforting movements. “I hate this, I hate it” She whispered, and I hushed her, scared that someone would hear before I nodded. More tears welled up in her eyes and she looked away, down on her hands, her leg anxiously bouncing, and I let her act out her restlessness as I washed her face. I led her to our changing room and made her sit down in a chair while getting the makeup. It wasn’t complicated; some blush, mascara and a red lip and she was ready. “Are you ok?" I asked and she gave me a weak smile. I knew that she wanted to tell me that no, she wasn't and that she probably never would be, doing the work we did but those words were unspoken, and I gave her a hug instead, holding her tight. "Let’s go” I told her, and we went out again going our separate ways when she noticed one of our regulars. It was getting late, closing in on midnight and I fiddled with the hem of my dress nervously, prepared to greet the next client that walked through the door. It was a Wednesday and we didn’t count on much more activity. Just the usual regulars and me, not exactly being new but still one of the newest, had most of my regulars throughout the weekend. One of my other co-workers walked up and joined me on the lowest step, watching the door three steps up and gave my arm a squeeze. I thought for a second that she’d joined me for my company, but the door opened just as the clock hit 11:10 and one of her regulars walked in. She gave me a small smile before leading him directly to the back, knowing his schedule and what he wanted by now. I sighed, feeling how my heart sank to the bottom of my stomach. I’d made enough today to eat and pay my rent, but tomorrow was Thursday and those days were even slower than today had been. If no one would enter by 12 am I’d have to seduce someone first thing tomorrow and though I didn’t mind the sex, the seducing part, the part when I felt that I wasn’t in control, scared me. 11:30 and my back hurt as I arched it, needed to constantly carry my body in that beautiful S shaped form. Suddenly several clamping feet over the floor above me, interrupted my concentration and my heart jumped as the door opened and a whole gang of eight entered. I forced down my shoulders so that I wouldn’t look tense, clasped my hands over my midriff in the same way a prude princess from a fairy tale would. Lips curled up in a way that invited to conversation, eyes open and curious. Lovable, sweet and gorgeous, honey sweet with my blonde hair and white Qipao. “Damn look at you” One of them, with a silver blonde bowl cut said, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom and I gave him a brilliant smile, “Hyung, I don’t think that you need to look much further. If you don’t choose her, I might do” he continued and I couldn’t help but smirk, it wasn’t rare for me to see one or two K-pop groups come by, and this moment was one of those times where it was so obvious that K-pop was their profession. Their hair colours ranged from the silver blonde, to light brown, black, blue, red and the blonde that had been called ‘Hyung’. My work came with secrecy and I could only observe in silence as the beautiful men (and occasional women) that ruled our music industry released weeks and sometimes months of training and stress from world tours and comebacks in our laps. I didn’t complain, almost teary eyed with happiness as the anxiety I’d been feeling in my stomach disappeared when I realized their intentions as they flocked around me, like dogs around a treat and I felt my cheeks flush when the blonde that had been called Hyung looked at me with hungry eyes. The bar keeper’s voice thundered down on us, suggested them a table and something to drink and the group dissolved around me just as my co-worker from before joined me, being done with her client. “How’s your scalp?” I asked, not looking at her because my focus was supposed to be on the group that just entered. I could hear her scoff out a small laugh though, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her Qipao, hers a gorgeous green that matched her eyes. She’d accidently spilled that she had roots in England over a glass wine too many just over a year ago. Her grandmother an immigrant and though the red hair that she used to have wasn’t passed down to my co-worker, she considered herself lucky enough with the exotic eye colour. “I’m fine, thank you” She whispered just as the blonde whistled. “You, you’re going to join me later” He pointed at me and I gulped at the sudden proposal. My co-worker sighed beside me in defeat, she needed the money just as much as me and after everything that had happened to her today, I felt like she deserved a treat. It wasn’t a secret that idols where the best kind of clients, all of them young and fit with almost endless stamina and most of them just wanted casual sex, nothing too complicated and were generally generous back. I couldn’t help but smile big, putting my hand on her back and pushing her slightly forward, “Why settle with just one when you can have two?” I asked and the blondes smile disappeared. My request made his mouth fall open; eyes wide with surprise that it was even an option. His friends hit him on the back, screaming for no apparent reason and I wondered how much sugar they must’ve mixed with alcohol before coming here. Their energy was insane, and I would’ve taken a step back if it wasn’t for the positivity they radiated. “Can I just pipe in with one thing” One of the guys, the smaller with light brown hair and delicate features, “It’s San’s birthday and of course he deserves the best but…” He turned to the red head across the table, “Our leader deserves something nice as well, Aurora has received amazing support and I think that he did a really nice job” I suppressed the reflex of raising my brows as the leader, who I first thought was the maknae rose up and bowed to the small applause that followed. “Winner gets the blonde” the black haired screamed and a couple of people in the club looked over at the spectacle as the apparent Hyung and leader proceeded to play rock, paper, scissors. It was close but, in the end, the red head was victorious with 3-2. He downed the shot that had been placed at their table at their arrival and scooted past the blondes upset face, extended his hand for me to take and said, “Shall we"?” Before sticking his tongue out at his friends. I bit down on my lips, suppressing a giggle because it would be inappropriate to show any sort of enjoyment from their game. I turned around just as we rounded the corner to see my co-worker smiling as the blonde haired; San, quickly got up, not slow to show her everything he first intended to show me, spun her around and dipped her, her laughter bounced on the walls and I smiled to myself while leading the red haired to my room. He closed the door behind him, and the sudden silence was deafening, my slightly soundproof walls just picked up the beat of the music. He sat down on the bed, smoothed out the white linen and I propped myself up against my wardrobe, ready to obey his every command. “I’m sorry about what just happened” He said softly, not looking up at me, the light strand above my bed softly illuminated his features and I gulped, “What that just happened?” I asked, fearing that he might call me stupid, but he just chuckled, “You’re worth much more than just three papers in a row but I just had to have you for myself. Even though it’s San’s birthday and I feel just slightly bad that I ripped him off but I just… He leaned back against his hands, eyes at the ceiling and I gulped. It has been some time since I had someone that looked so good in my bed. His skin looked so smooth it was almost ridiculous and the contrast with the red hair made it glow in the soft light. He wore a simple black t-shirt with a print that I couldn’t fully read, a blazer and matching black slacks and I almost groaned at the sight of him, “I just couldn’t lose. Not this time” He looked over at me, intensity in his eyes and I wet my lips, suddenly nervous. The feeling settled uncomfortably in my stomach and my heart jumped. It had never done that before, no matter how handsome the person in front of me were. I knew that I looked good, I was fortunate with a nearly perfect body according to most beauty standards. I was curvy but at the right places, a bit thicker than my co-workers and men, especially foreigners, seemed to love it. But even though I felt blessed now, with a healthy diet and daily exercise, I used to be bullied in school for my extra fat. My Scandinavian roots didn’t make it any better and, in the end, school was the main reason why I ran away from home. My parents had tried to understand me, but they were so busy with work that they barely even had time for each other, and I felt lost, abandoned. So, I ran, and tried to get by with a few thousand won, some clothes in a backpack and my phone. That was seven years ago, and I’d been through some bad shit since then. I quickly got addicted to alcohol and became a sex worker for almost four years after I ran away. It was a literal hell hole to climb out of and I lost a whole year to a battle I never ever want to experience again. Quite quickly after that, I moved to another part of Seoul, wanting to start anew. I found a contact who knew one of my old co-worker’s. She set me up where I was working now and even though some would argue that it was basically the same job, there hasn’t been a day where I regret my decision. I have another purpose than just being a body to fuck. I’ve been trained in the art of standing still for hours, never breaking my smile and never waver from my position. I learned how to elegantly walk with a tray of drinks, how to talk, sit, laugh and move properly and I like to think that I am good at my job, having most of my clients from Friday to Monday when it’s busiest and most of them were people who wanted to just get a quick fix, be it attention, affection or sex. The age range is big, from rich middle-aged agents looking for someone to dominate them for a chance, unhappily married middle class office workers, poor students who only increased their debts and the occasional group of idols who came in to blow out some steam. “Why?” I asked, coming back from my train of thought and the man chuckled, and I had to bite back a smile as his eyes squinted and a perfect set of white teeth were revealed, “You really want me to say it, don’t you?” He had something teasing in his voice and I could feel my heart jump again, “Yes… tell me why you couldn’t lose” My voice was low, and my body writhed slightly against my arms that were locked against the closet I was leaning against. He got up, slowly, like a carnivore ready to attack its prey and I gasped at the duality of him. One moment he was sweet, squinted eyes and a big smile and now I had to lean back, as if his presence had grown a meter. He managed to look down on me even though he couldn’t be more than a decimetre taller and I felt my body quaking before him. He licked his lips and stepped into my intimate zone just half a meter or so from my face. “I knew that I wanted you since the very second I saw you. You are special... reminding me of someone I met a few months ago” Something sad shadowed his features and I felt my heart drop, realising that I wasn’t special because I was me but because I was like somebody else. “Who was she?” I asked quietly, determined not to let his words hurt my ego and he sighed, pulling his fingers through his hair, “Just a fan really, but she taught me a lot. About what to do, what to say…” He trailed off and bit his lips, “She was my noona, are you as well?” I swallowed. Damn these younger groups and their age kinks. I clenched my jaw, “How old are you?” I asked and crossed my arms across my chest, determined not to let him push me around if he was younger than me, “21” He answered, and my heart picked up harshly in my chest, “Then I’m your noona” I said, and I could swear that something glazed over his eyes. He took another step forward, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him from going any further. He flinched slightly as if I burned him, but I kept my hand in place, feeling the muscles under his shirt clench and I swallowed again, my mouth dry and I could feel my stomach doing somersaults. I collected myself, cleared my throat and then said as definite as I could, my voice still shaking a little, “One basic session is 121420 won for 30 minutes and then prices range up, depending on how nasty you like it” He only nodded as if he wasn’t interested in either how much it would cost him or much time we had and placed a warm hand on my waist, thumb pressing on my hip bone. I shivered involuntarily and he flushed his body against me, all lean strong muscles and soft skin and I bit my lower lip. “What’s your name?” I asked, my voice but a whisper and he smirked, “Hongjoong” Before meeting my lips in a soft kiss. I groaned against him and he smiled between the kisses as if he knew the impact he already had on me, his hands traveling up my sides to my throat and my breath hitched as he cupped my face and deepened the kiss, licking his way into my mouth. I tasted the shot he’d taken earlier on his tongue and underneath that, traces of strawberries from a previous drink. He consumed me, pushed me against the wardrobe with his body weight. His taste, the smell of his cologne and his body against mine made my heart pound. I’d fucked hundreds of men, kissed even more and it was rare that I felt the sweet feeling of butterflies in my stomach. This was one of those moments though and I could feel my body flush with excitement as he pushed one knee between mine, softly separating them and grinded agonizingly slow against me. I gulped at the apparent boner poking against my thigh and he chuckled when he realised that I’d noticed. I placed my hands on his chest, my want and lust overshadowed any kind of soft foreplay and he gasped as I pulled his blazer over his shoulders, the fabric of it softly crinkling as it hit the floor. I broke away from his lips and pressed him closer to me, placing kisses from the corner of his mouth, down his cheek to his throat and I could feel him swallow as I nibbled over the big artery on the side of his neck. A groan escaped his lips from the teasing, and I pushed him backwards, the back of his legs hit the bed before he fell. His back hit the bed first with a small thump and I bit my lip to suppress a giggle as he gave out a small surprised yelp. He raised himself up on his elbows and I swallowed, serious again as my hands reached for the buttons of my Qipao. I’d done this more times than I could remember and yet, this time hit differently. There was an almost intimate feeling between us, and he cocked his head to one side, biting his tongue and his hooded eyes met mine as I slid the dress off my shoulders, letting it pool around my ankles, revealing a white lace set. “God, noona… you’re gorgeous” He said, voice almost a whimper and I bit my lip when I noticed his cock twitching from anticipation in his black slacks. His legs rested on the side of the low bed and I twirled a lock of hair between my fingers, watched as his chest rose with every fast inhale, “Tell me what you want me to do” I said, voice sugar sweet and he groaned softly, eyes rolling as he popped open the button on his slacks, “I want you to suck me off noona, please? I promise I’ll do you after if you want, I just need…” I didn’t hesitate for a second as soon as he gave me the command, dropped to my knees and earned a small gasp of surprise when I unzipped him and pulled down the slacks and underwear to his midthigh in an instant. My mouth watered, breath hitched, and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears as my hand closed around the girth of his cock, “…need some release” He breathed out the rest of his sentence as he threw his head back when I pumped him lazily, feeling how he grew harder under my touch, inspecting how his facial expressions changed to see how I could get him off best. “Please” He whined, hands reaching out to touch my cheek and I looked up at him, confused. His brows furrowed, bottom lip between his teeth and his fingers pulled on my hair, downward and I understood that teasing wasn’t really his thing. I paused my movements and locked my gaze with him, watching as his mouth fell open when my tongue flicked out. I lapped the head of his cock a few times, feeling how my panties got soaked as a low guttural moan escaped his throat. The salty taste of pre-cum laid heavy on my tongue as I took him in my mouth and swallowed, letting him hit the back of my throat, my gag reflex non-existent from doing this for years and he choked out a sob, grabbing my hair forcefully but I didn’t mind. I loved the taste, loved the weight of him on my tongue and I placed my hands around his hip, pushing him down as my nose bumped onto his pubic bone. I hollow my cheeks and came up for air, bobbing down his length and licking my way up, dipping my tongue into the slit at the top and he was a writing mess underneath me, one hand thrown over his eyes, panting breaths escaping his mouth and his other hand tangled in my hair, holding me in place. I swallowed down around him again and his chest heaved with irregular breathing and I could feel him holding back his need for release. I let go of his hips, placing my hand on the sides of his thighs instead, pulling his hips upward a few times and he quickly got the idea. A deep choked out growl made me squirm and I could feel how saliva coated my chin as he thrusted into my throat, first carefully, as if he was scared that he’d hurt me but I’d been through worse and he got bolder, pushing my head down to meet his thrusts and I could feel my eyes tearing up from the raw friction as he fucked my throat, using me to get himself off. My arousal burned between my legs with the confirmation that I got him into the moaning mess he was underneath me. I was the one who got him panting and gasping and moaning for release. “Noona… I…. I’m…” He gasped, pulling on the sheet with his free hand, thighs shaking, and I swallowed around him again, his thrusting irregular and offbeat and I knew he was close. I kept him there, moaning at his desperation and the vibrations of it set him off him and he came undone, mouth falling open, head thrown back and body freezing and then shuddering as hot spurts of cum filled my throat. I groaned at the surprisingly sweet taste, fantasized that maybe he’d been planning on getting here and have been on a strict diet of fruit all day for my enjoyment. He shook, and I let him ride out his orgasm before letting him go and leaned back to see what I’d done to him, reaching for a napkin on the windowsill to clean myself up. I watched him as he came back from his high, beautiful as a painting, face and neck flushed a gorgeous pink, his lips red from biting onto them too hard and cock still twitching. I tossed the napkin away and he looked up at me with drunken eyes. “Wow, I needed that” He said, and I smiled back, just happy to help. I sat up again in front of him, my hands resting on my knees, ready for him to give me another command. “What are you waiting for?” He asked, puzzled as he sat back up, looking down on me from the edge of the bed. “What do you want me to do?” I asked again, my job was to please, and I didn't want to make any decisions for him. His eyebrows rose in a ‘huh’ expression and he leaned back against his hands, “Undress for me” he said, a smirk on his lips and I swallowed, standing up. My hands reached back, and I unclasped my bra, keeping eye contact with him and he deflated like a balloon when my breast sprung free and I pulled down my panties. A low gasp fell from his lips when he saw me standing there, naked as the day I was born. My hands fiddled with each other and I felt how my heart skipped a beat. My skin flushed from arousal and I looked away, suddenly shy from his gaze as he looked at me like he wanted to devour me. There was a clear stain on the inside of my thigh where my wetness escaped my cunt and Hongjoong smirked when the light behind him reflected in it. His ego blew up like a fire when he realized the influence he had on me. It filled the room, suffocating me and I involuntarily took a step back when he got up. He stepped out of his slacks and underwear and pulled the t-shirt over his head in one swift movement and I felt my breath hitch in my throat as he stepped into my intimate zone, putting his arms around my waist and pushing my naked body against his. His touch send electric jolts through my skin and goose bumps made my skin prickle and nipples harden and he cupped my breasts, delighted to see such a reaction from me. I let out a whiny moan and looked away as he teased one bud between his fingertips, his other hand moving up to my throat and I swallowed, my heart beating so hard I that I was sure he could hear it. “Come” he said softly and lead me to the bed again. He pushed me down softly with a hand on my chest so that I lay on my back, much like he’d done just a moment ago and I felt like my heart was going to burst when he laid down between my separated legs, pressing his body weight on me again. He cupped my face, softly and I sobbed silently against his lips when they met mine in a chaste kiss. I’d never experienced that someone wanted to take it so slow. To just enjoy me and my company. Most of the men I was with would be done by now, not giving me a second glance and here he was, Hongjoong, looking down at me like he saw through me. Past the fact that we only had a moment, the fact that he would pay me when he was satisfied, the fact that he was just one of many. He saw me, my personality, my insecurities, my passion and lust for him at this moment and I could feel how he radiated from satisfaction that he made me feel as hopelessly lost to him as I made him feel lost to me. His hand travelled from my sides, up my neck to my cheek and he cupped them, looking into my eyes and I could feel his chest rising and sinking against mine. “God, I’ve missed this” He whispered and leaned down to kiss my lips again, another slow chaste one and placed his thumb on my lower lip, carefully pushed it between my teeth into my mouth. His tongue flicked out, tasting my lower lip before slipping it into my mouth in an open kiss. My own tongue met his and it was wet and messy, and I loved it, my body writing underneath his as I felt my arousal tick like a small bomb between my legs. He groaned when tasting the traces of himself on my lips and I gasped as his hand flicked over my right nipple. He squeezed my breast, kneading it hard, a desperate gasp escaping his lips and he grinded down heavily on me with his body as if he wanted to disappear within me. His already half hard cock poked at my thigh and I spread my legs wider to allow him to sink closer to me. “You’re going to be the death of me, Jagi” He moaned and I swallowed, feeling how my eyes teared up to the sweet nickname, something you only called someone you really liked, someone beloved and the butterflies that was flying around in my stomach picked up their speed. He paused, sensing the difference in the energy I emitted, and his brows furrowed when he saw my emotional state. “Wha-?” “Call me Jagi again” I begged, and he smiled, scoffing out a small laugh and brushed the hair from my face. “My beautiful Jagi, who’s made me all hot and bothered” I stuck my tongue out as he teased me. “Do you like me all sweet and smiley, Jagi? He continued in a voice dipped in honey as his hand travelled down between my legs and I gasped when he put his hand flat on my vulva, “Or do you want me to take control? How much do you want me Jagi?” he asked, voice dropping an octave and I swallowed, excited that his nature could switch so fast, “Tell me” he breathed into my ear and I shivered with wanton lust, my thighs rubbing his hips and he grinded slowly against me, the underside of his cock rubbing my clit in slow movements as his fingers separated the folds and he shook with the need to restrain himself from plunging into me. I was so wet that he glided over me, the delightful burning pleasure made me choke on my breath, “Tell me how much you want me; how much you want me to destroy you” I wasn’t one for begging, preferring the men I slept with to beg for me. Loving the feeling of being in control of their need, their release but I couldn’t help but squirm under Hongjoong’s gaze, his eyes so black that the sweet brown was just a thin circle around his eyes. “I want you to fuck me, want you to take me and use me until you are completely spent. I want you to walk out of here knowing that you’ve left me drenched in your cum” He inhaled sharply as I played out the scene of him using me and I could feel his cock twitching between our bodies. “Play with yourself Jagi… I want to watch you lose control” I whined out a gasp, biting my lower lip and I grabbed my breast, flicking my nipples between my fingers and my heart jumped with excitement as his eyebrows raised and he motioned for me to move my hands lower. My fingers stroked down my sides and I bit my lip as they reached my legs, rubbing my inner thighs. He leaned back to see properly, and I inhaled sharply at his figure. He was more turned on than I’d guessed, cock already angry red and blood filled. Rock hard and pointing proudly against his belly button and I shuddered from need as I raised my legs to wrap them against his hips. My fingers reached their destination and I pressed down on my clit softly, my back arched as pleasure shot through my body. “Damn Jagi, look at you” He moaned and wrapped his hand around his cock, not able to contain himself at the sight of me, melting under his own touch and I gasped out a breathy moan as his head fell back. He tugged on himself a few times, beads of pre-cum smearing over his clasped hand, panting increasing and I lazily stroked my clit while watching him, my heart beating hard in my ears and I couldn’t help but whine. “Hongjoong please, I need you inside me” My voice seemed to wake him up because he growled and reached over to my bedside table where the condoms were, opened one with his teeth and rolled it over his cock, hands shaking and I held his gaze as he pulled my body against his hips with a sharp tug, locked my legs around his waist, hands gripping my thighs hard as he lined up. He entered me with one swift movement of his hips, the eagerness of not letting me adjust to the size of him had me gasping and he burrowed his face in the crook of my neck when he was fully inside of me. His labored breathing in my ear and my own heartbeat was the only thing I heard, and I pushed on his lower back with the heels of my feet, making sure that he was so deep into me that he could. Not able to help myself from moving, I rolled my hips agonizingly slowly, clenching around him, teasing him and he groaned before pulling out of me, just slightly before jolting his hips forward and I held onto him as the friction made me writhe. He was deliciously slow, feeling me up and bringing me down with every snap of his hips. His hand cupped my face and his lips met mine again, all lips and tongues and playful nibbles as he thrusted harder, faster, pounding my body into the mattress and soon I was a gasping mess underneath him. “Fuck Jagi, you’re so wet” he moaned against my lips, “Feels so good…” his moan turned into a choked sob as he bit down on his lower lip, hands on my hips, pulling me down on his cock to meet his thrusts and I swore, my hands pulling on the red strands of his hair, “Touch yourself, I need you to come first” He growled against me, sitting up again and my fingers reached between us. I rubbed myself, angling my hips down and he bit his lips, a groan leaving his lips and his head cocked to the side when he looked down. My fingers spread the wetness around my clit as I rubbed myself, a small gasp escaping his throat when he watched with hooded eyes, the lips of my cunt swallowing him down, over and over again and I moaned, loved seeing him coming undone from the sight of me. His body was covered in a sheen layer of sweat, chest heaving and thighs shaking but he didn’t seem like he needed to slow down at all. Quite the opposite, as he placed one hand on my chest to stabilise himself and hoisting me into his lap, leaning back, toes digging into the bed and his other hand threatening to bruise my waist and my head fell back against the pillow. I could feel my entire body move with every powerful thrust and I felt myself tipping over the edge embarrassingly fast. I clenched up and Hongjoong moaned when he felt my walls constrict around him, watching my face as I came harder than I’d done in months. “Fuck Jagi, I’d gladly pay to see you make that face again” He swore, and I choked out a chuckle. He slowed down as I came down from my high, leaning forward again to press down a kiss on my lips and I hummed against his lips, meeting his slow thrusts and enjoying the afterglow. He wrapped his right arm around me, holding himself up slightly with the other and buried his face in the crook of my neck, placing soft kisses there and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling my heart swell as we laid so close against each other. The sweet burning stretch of his thrust made me squirm with bliss and I wanted to pause time. To take a snapshot of this intimate moment to fill my mind every time I was with someone who was less giving. I swallowed as he got up again, locked his eyes with mine and the tender look he had made me want to cry. His fingers brushed my forehead and I melted against his gentle touch as he combed my hair from my face. His lips met mine again and he paused, as if he wanted to capture this moment as well and I felt my heart skip, “We don’t need to take it slow” I whispered, his forehead against mine, his hard, warm breath against my face and my fingers played with the short hair in the nape of his neck. He chuckled softly, “I know, I just wanted to give you a breather” My brows furrowed and I only caught a glimpse of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes before he pulled out and flipped me around as if I was light as paper. He hoisted my hips up and entered me again with one sharp snap of his hips and I cried into my sheets when he didn’t give me time to get used to the new position. He pounded fast into me from behind and I immediately arched my back, ass in the air, arms above my head while supporting myself on my elbows. He groaned, gripping my hip with his left hand and I bit down on my lip when he dug his fingers into my flesh, desperate and needy to claim, to control. His other hand grabbed a handful of my hair and he twisted it before pulling and my head snapped back, the sweet pain in my scalp made me choke on my breath. He pressed a sloppy kiss on the nape of my neck, kissing down my spine and I felt my skin prickle as he flushed his chest against my back. He moaned, the hand holding onto my hip traveled over the round of my ass and he kneaded my buttock harshly before bringing down his hand, flat and hard over the soft skin, the slap echoed between the walls of my room and I whined out a moan as the sharp sting shot straight to my core. “Damn, I can’t get enough of you Jagi” He gasped, voice low and husky and I groaned in response, not able to find my voice as his hand left another stinging slap on my butt cheek. I clenched around him with surprise and a thick moan left his throat, “Do that again Jagi… fuck… I’m so close” His voice erratic and I clenched around him again, loving the sounds that spilled from his lips as his thrusting became irregular, thighs shaking and his grip on my hair hardned, arching my back so that he could fuck me harder, deeper and i let out a choked sob when i felt him tensing up behind me with one last thrust and I shuddered, feeling how his cock twitched as he pushed himself balls deep into me, a whimpered growl leaving his lips as he softly bit down on my neck to stifle his moan. The motion so ancient and primal that it was on the verge of being animalistic and I felt my heart beating hard in my ears, the thumping deafening. He let go of me a moment later and i turned over to lay on my back again, winching slightly from the pain in my scalp and back. I looked up at him, his flushed cheeks and the red hair spread in every direction, beads of sweat on his forehead and in the roots of his hair. Chest heaving and cock still half hard and I bit my lip, feeling how my own arousal still burned between my legs. He left me for just a second, discarting the condom into a bin next to my bed before he placed his hands on my thighs, fingers tapping butterfly soft on my inner side of them. It was supposed to be a sweet gesture but I couldn’t help but gulp, still very much turned on and his eyebrows raised when I rubbed my legs together, wanting nothing more than those fingers inside of me. “You’re not done yet, are you?” He asked almost amazed, voice so incredibly low that I shuddered. He leaned forward, rubbed circles on my thighs, urging me to seperate them and I complied, my face burrowed behind my hands and I could hear him sigh softly when he watched me. “Look at me Jagi” He ordered, voice silky smooth but the dominant undertone made me gulp and I inhaled sharply when I removed my hands, feeling my face flush when I met his eyes again. He kept his gaze locked with mine and his left hand on my thigh, holding me in place, my legs on either side of his hips where he sat on his knees. His right hand caressed the inner side, just a decimetre from their destination and I sucked my lower lip into my mouth, clenching around nothing when soft fingertips stroked over the sensitive skin there. “Tell me what you want me to do” His voice husky and i could feel tears forming in my eyes from arousal as he repeated the same words as i had used at the beginning of our session, as if our roles were changed. He looked down on me, eyelids heavy and fingers tapping just centimeters from where I craved them “You gave me a promise” My voice was needy and whiny and I could feel my heart pounding, not being used to be the one in control, to be the one getting worshipped. But he only smirked, happy to please and laid down on his stomach, kissing my inner thighs on his way down and I shuddered from the sweat gesture, his lips soft on my skin. He placed my legs over his shoulders and I choked out a cry when he placed his tongue flat on my folds, licking between them and I shuddered against his face. I could feel him smiling, nose bumping against my pubic bone as he began eating me out, drinking my juices like a starved man. I borrowed my fingers into the red of his hair, loving the scene of it between my legs. He gently sucked on my clit, paused to come up for air and I could feel my eyes tearing up as he smirked to my reaction, chin wet and eyes hooded, hair tousled from being pulled and I gasped breathlessly when he leaned closer, pushing his body against mine, fingers pressed onto my clit and my back arched as they rubbed softly and agonizingly slow. He bit his lower lip, keeping eye contact with me when his finger travelled down between my folds and my mouth fell open when he pushed in his middle and ring finger to the knuckle, softly hooked in a “come hither” movement and a whiny gasp left my lips when he tickled my sweet spot. “Need one more taste” he groaned and leaned down again to lick my clit, fingers still pumping lazily into me and my back arched, the back of my head pushing down on the pillow and a silent scream leaving my lips when my eyes rolled back from the pleasure shooting through me. I could hear him breathlessly chuckling against my folds, the obscene sound of him slurping my juices filled the room and i got drunk on them, got drunk on him, the mixed smell of sex and his cologne surrounded me, clouded my senses and I never wanted him to stop. His left hand gripped my thighs harder as he pushed himself closer to me, as if he couldn’t get enough either, wanting to reach deeper, his toungue lapped against me, pushing against his fingers as he tried to fuck my hole in as many ways as possible and I could feel myself standing on the edge, hands in his hair and mouth dry. I licked my lips and whined out, “Don’t stop” while moving my hips against him, riding his face and he gripped my thigh harder, picking up speed with his fingers and i was gone within seconds. My mouth fell open as I convulsed against him, my hearing blown out and body going numb as pleasure shot through me. He let me ride out my orgasm and came back up when I was down from my high and I choked on my own breath. He looked so wonderfully fucked out that i wanted to cry and I swallowed hard. He bit his lip and his cheeks flushed red when he suddenly clasped around his cock hard. I looked down, surprised to see him leaking from precum, a clear stain where he’d laid and I gulped as he tugged on himself, a breathy moan escaping his lips and eyes glossy from arousal. “Can I come on you?” He asked, voice husky and I nodded almost embarrassingly quick as I took a shaky inhale, not even realising that he was so far gone already. He placed his left hand on my thigh again, fingertips digging into my skin as his head fell back. His movements where fast and erratic when he started to fuck his own hand, slowly grinding into it and I groaned from the sight, touching myself and writing from the oversensitvity. Beads of pre-cum dripped down on my thigh and he locked eyes with me again as I separated my legs, letting him see my wetness, putting on a show for him as I dipped my fingers into my hole. An animalistic growl left his lips and he pushed his cock down to slide the head between my folds, and I didn’t stop him. I got checked regularly and knew that I didn’t carry anything. Normally I’d scoot away, not trusting the person I was with to be healthy as well but his despreration clouded my judgement and found myself not caring as I just pressed down on my clit harder when he dipped the head of his cock into me, furiously jacking himself off at the same time, his breathing labored, eyebrows furrowed and his lower lip between his teeth, threatening to draw blood. The overstimulation from pressing down my clit became too much and soon I was coming again, my body tensing up and Hongjoong whined when he noticed me clenching around the head of his cock without warning, his name fell from my lips as I writhed underneath him and his hand tightened on my thigh, face contorted from coming for the third time that night. Body convulsing as hot ribbons of cum painted my lower stomach and chest and I groaned with satisfaction. He fell forward, caught himself with one hand and I swallowed when his lips suddenly met mine again. It was slow, sweet and I felt my eyes tearing up when I realised that it was a goodbye kiss. His lips moved against mine and he pulled on my hair to hold me closer, a gasp fell from my lips and he hummed back, sharply inhaling through his nose. We separated, the need for air taking over and I smiled when he cupped my face, placing a playful kiss on the tip of my nose before getting up and walking over to the bathroom. He came back with a wet towel and I thanked him when I took it, debating with myself if I should just let him leave with his cum still stained on my stomach, marking me like his. But I decided that even though I loved the feeling, waking up with it crusty would be less pleasant. He stood up again, looking for his clothes and I swallowed, feeling my cheeks flush as I cleaned myself before putting away the towel and I asked before I could stop myself, “Can you… stay?” I bit my lip, my jaw clenching. It wasn’t something I ever asked, the moment we had was over and I had only asked it once or twice over the years I’d been working here but he smiled. His eyes squinting again and my heart swelled, thumping hard in my chest. “Of course, for a little while...” he said, pulling on his underwear and dragging the duvet over our bodies as he laid down next to me. I could feel how my body froze, so used to causing pleasure that simple cuddles made it feel awkward. But he laid on his side, placing his right arm under the pillow I rest my head on and the other around my body, intertwining our legs and placed his chin on the crown of my head. I took a sharp breaths of air, my own arm around him and my nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck. The musky smell of sweat and cologne filled my senses and I allowed myself to relax in his arms, welcoming a deep sleep.

……….

I woke up when the sun peeked from underneath my blinders the next morning, my bed cold and I shuddered, pulling the duvet closer around me. I was alone and I bit down on my lip when I felt empty sadness fill my heart and poison my lungs, making it hard to breathe. I forced myself up, placing my feet on the sun-heated floor. A letter was placed on the table next to my bed and I frowned, picking it up. My heart picked up in speed as a stack of 20 ‘50000’ banknotes fell into my lap. A gasp escaped my lips at the sight of the money and my heart raced as I read the note,

We’ll meet again, Jagi

[futurewriter2000]

Perfection ~Pt. 2

A/N: Yeah, I accidentally posted my draft but yolo. I fixed it immediatelly and just want to say this fic helped me so much today. I gues I was feeling really down and now I feel a little bit better. I hope you guys like it.

XX

Since everything that happened, you were doing better but even if you still continued to act as if nothing has ever happened, it did and the dark bits inside of you were still there.

You haven’t cried since that day. If you were honest with yourself, you couldn’t cry anymore. As if nothing could ever make you sad enough for you to shed a tear, big or small, one or a million. And no matter where you were, in a room filled with sun and light or a dark and poorly lit space, everything was still the same.

You never truly knew the real joy, what your actual laugh sounded or what a genuine smile appeared to be... your happiness was an act, your laugh fake and your smile forced that it sometimes hurt your jaw.

Excitement, amusement, hope, relief, love, affection... When was the last time you felt any of those? Would you even be able to recognize those emotions if you ever felt them again?

“ I am going to Hufflepuffs a bit. Find Jonah.” your roommate got up from her bed and winked at you.

“ Jonah? Your brother Jonah?” you asked, smiling at her.

“ Yeah. He said he got an O in last year’s essay on Goblin battles and I’m going to copy it from him.” she smiled mischievously. “ I can ask his roommates for theirs and you can copy theirs?” she asked and you shook your head.

“ No, thanks. Mine is already written.”

“ Alright. Then good luck to your Arithmancy exam tomorrow.” she glanced down on your book and walked through the door. “ You’ve got this!” she shouted before closing them.

Your smile faded as soon as she left and you threw the book beside you. You sat there, silently, your mind blank, your eyes directed anywhere. You looked at the bathroom door and got up.

You were standing in front of the mirror. The reflection of (y/n) that appeared in front of everybody wasn’t real.

If they knew. If they only knew what goes through your mind. If they knew how much you scream, how many times you lost your inner voice because of it, how many times you looked at yourself and wanted to hit the mirror because you felt so hideous. You disgusted yourself at how you acted, how you talked, how you sounded, when you laughed and how you walked or how you turned out to be on the photos. The wrists were too wide, the nose too big, lips too small, hair the same as always, the ruby-red ring on your ring finger was looking so awful on it. If your roommate wore it, it would probably look prettier on her.

The sound of water running from the pipe awoke you from your thoughts. It was loud, too loud almost and you put your hands under, watching how the water soaked them. You splashed your face once or twice, rubbing your eyes with your palms and later running your hands through your hair.

The ponytail was too tight.

You loosed the rubber band and looked at your hair in the mirror.

“ So ugly.” you gritted your teeth and glared at your reflection, grabbing your hair aggressively and putting them in a bun. Without a look in the mirror, you turned your way and left back to your dorm.

Immediately you opened the window and pulled down your sweater. The air was stiff and suffocating. It was too hot and it smelt like the awful perfume your other roommates loved to wear.

You stepped next to your bed, you saw the wrinkled sheet and you stared at it for some odd reason. You stared at the wrinkles and you gritted your teeth once again.

At one point you wanted to iron the wrinkles and sit down but at the other, you’ve wanted to take the scissors and tear it apart.

Instead, you sat back down and took the book you were previously reading.

‘ “ Shh.” he shushed quietly, holding onto you tightly and pressing your head closer at his chest. “ It’s rough and it’s hard but you have to know it’s not the end.” he whispered quietly into your ear. “ At least not for you.” ‘

The same Seville orange- Bergamot entered your nostrils and you closed your eyes shut, imagining how relaxing it felt to smell the citrus once again. The trees, the field and Italian old men walking around with a lovely smile on their faces.

‘ “ This is jesvah, the Turkish coffee pot. You put in the water and wait for it to boil.” the old man beamed, his Italian accent drawing your attention more than it should have.

“ And what then.”

“ Well, we wait for it to boil.” he laughed and sat on the wooden chair while you continued to look at jesvah. “ See, little Bella. Most of the European people learn to make Turkish coffee since they are very little, your age. And look.” he stood up and grabbed the sugar. “ One, two.” he put two spoon-fulls of sugar in it. “ And now it boils and we take the pot from the fire.” he carefully removed.

“ Is it done now?” you asked and continued to watch as he reached up for the coffee.

“ No, not yet. “ he laughed again and put three spoon-fulls in, mixing it with the water and putting it back on the hot stove. “ We put it back and we wait for the coffee to rise to the edge, yet we must be careful that it doesn’t go over.” he looked back at you and winked.

You let out a burst of small, child-like laughter and pointed at the pot. “ It’s coming up!” you shouted and he chuckled once again, removing the pot, waiting for the coffee to settle and pouring it into a coffee cup.

He placed the hot coffee cup in front of you and watched as you stared into it. “ Smell it.” he smiled and you leaned forward, breathing in the sensational smell of coffee. “ No, no.”

“ No?” you looked at him.

He leaned forward and pushed the coffee cup closer to you. “ Smell it. Close your eyes, breathe it in and let it fill your heart instead of your lungs. “ ‘

The old man was still inside your memory, the same as he was when you were nine years old. You could remember his long, slim fingers. The ring finger had a wide golden ring on it and a P engraved in it. The first letter of his wife’s name, Palmira. His eyes were jade green and his eyelids were hanging a bit above them because of his age. His upper lip was thin, his lower a bit more full. Above his light pink lips was a nose, long bridge and pointy, yet his tip was a bit rounder. Eyebrows, they were dense as his hair, dark grey colour with a few white strands. His skin was tanned. He was a white man, yet from all his work on the field, it was dark brown, sometimes with darker shades on his shoulders and below his eyes.

‘ “ You know what makes me feel better when I’m down?” he looked down on you while you were sitting on the grass with your knee bruised, tears falling down your cheeks.

“ What?” you sniffed and brushed the tears with your sleeve.

“ Coffee.” he beamed and squeezed your chin gently. “ Want to help me make it?” he asked and you giggled, getting up on your feet and taking his hand, pulling him towards the house.

“ Yeah!” ‘

You felt your lips curve into a smile from the happiest memory of the man and the coffee. ‘ No matter how dark life gets, coffee makes it at least a tiny bit better. ‘ you remembered his words and you let out a snort. That man and his obsession for coffee sure was something.

You closed the book and got on your feet, walking down the common room, out on the hall and through the Hogwarts ground, down the kitchen, tickling the giggly pear and entering the kitchen.

“ Do you have a Turkish coffee pot?”

---

You smiled at the freshly made Turkish coffee and you couldn’t help but smile as the steam made pleasing swerves.

‘ “ You know what I do before I drink it.” he smiled, leaning on the table and looking at it and you mirroring his position.

“ What?”

“ I tell it how beautiful it is.” ‘

You laughed at another memory, feeling so foolish to even think about what you were about to do.

‘ “ That’s stupid.”

“ It’s not stupid. It makes it taste better, especially if its made from love.” ‘

“ Old fool.” you snorted, looking at the coffee cup and rethinking the words in your head. “ No, way I’m saying this...” you told yourself but after a moment or so you lifted your chin from the table and looked down on the light brown colored coffee.

You took it in your hand and closed your eyes. “ Close your eyes, breathe it in and let it fill your heart instead of your lungs.” you repeated his words and took a deep breath in, doing exactly as you said it.

The curve on your lips stretched wider and before your lips touched the cup you whispered. “ You are beautiful.”

“ And you are talking to a coffee cup.” chuckled the boy standing at the entrance and shaking his head.

“ sHH.” you raised your finger in the air and pressed your lips on the cup, taking a small sip. “ Ahh.” you let out a satisfying sound, feeling the warmth fill your stomach as well as your heart. “ What are you doing here?”

“ Getting food.” he smiled and walked to the three pieces of cakes that stood on the counter.

“ Liar.” you narrowed your eyes at him. “ You’re stalking me.”

He grabbed the fork and stabbed the middle cake, tasting it. “ Oh, this cake is good. A bit too fruity but still sweet.”

“ Sirius.” you tilted your head on the side and continued to look at him.

“ Alright!” he lifted his hands in defeat. “ I am stalking you but do you blame me?” he asked and your expression immediately turned flat. “ I’m just checking if you’re alright.”

“ Look, what happened on the Astronomy tower...it doesn’t matter anymore. I’m fine and I have my coffee and I’m showing it my love...” you drifted off, glancing at the cakes in front of Sirius. “ And you have cake!” you smiled but he still watched you cautiously. “ I’m fine.”

“ You know for someone who’s “fine” you really try too hard to convince me.” he stabbed the cake once again and put the piece in his mouth.

“ Doesn’t matter anymore, Sirius.” you brushed him off and sat on the counter, taking a sip of your coffee.

“ Bullshit, it doesn’t matter!” he scoffed. “ You wanted to-”

“ Sirius!” you cut him. “ Not here.” you glanced at the elves and he sighed.

“ I’m just saying that what happened that night doesn’t just go away. I know you’re pretending like everything is fine. Trust me, I’m a professional at it. I can see directly through the fake smiles and the forced laughs. I’m not dumb.”

“ I- I-” you were lost with words.

“ Whatever I told you that night- it didn’t stick, did it?” he glared at you. “ You’re still pushing it down, bottling everything in and listening to others. That’s why I’m looking after you. Because if you try again and if I’m not there to stop you... I couldn’t live with myself because I could have stopped it and I just let you do it again without any lecture.”

“ Lecture?!” you scoffed and put the coffee down.

“ Yes, lecture. You wanted to do it! And I didn’t tell the professors as I should have. And now you’re going through the same shit all over again.”

“ Ugh!” you tilted your head backward and closed your eyes. “ Okay, fine! Fine!” you looked back at him. “ I still feel the same as I did before, okay?! Nothing has changed! NOTHING! But what can I do?! I have to be the same as I was before. I have to pretend because if I don’t then everybody will just go walking around that I have changed and that I turned to a looney person.”

“ So? Let them talk. “

“ You don’t get it, Sirius. All my life, I’ve been thought to be perfect. Perfect kid, perfect posture, perfect hair, perfect life, perfect grades-”

“ Screw that.”

“ No. I have worked too hard to throw it all away.”

“ Don’t you see it’s ruining you!”

“ I’m already ruined! There is no fix for me. I can’t just change everything and be happy. It doesn’t work like that.” you took the coffee cup and threw the coffee in the sink, leaving the cup on the counter and storming out of the kitchen.