#FINALLY THIS CHAPTER IS DONE AND I CAN SLEEP

[puma-riki]

No One Noticed

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes, [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist (open!): @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki @rikidaze @rinoosformstellation @domfikeluva @b0os-jellfyfish @wensurr @melancholy-z @brinethebean @sol3chu @luvjichang @aerijns @bananna-12 @jungwonsjellies @sumzysworld @right-person-wrong-time @rikikiynikilcykiki @pjselee @maniluvzyou @jungwonswife-real @annybah @flaminghotyourmom @vvenusoncasual @pookalicious-hq @jaykehoonist @raven-odyssey @rodelalaland @planetmarlowe @joonsprettygf @cherryangel-coke @wintereals

IGNORE TIME STAMPS !!

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Author's Note: Pookie angel baby nation how are youuuuu.... THIS IS SO LATE and once again I am so sorry and so thankful for all of the support and patience you've given me and this smau!! I'm finally done with school so I will have A LOT more free time and continue with this smau (which we are almost finished with). Anyway enjoy! Sunoo does not let anything slide here and they're all a bit dense but it's okay

33. I Miss My Family (wc: 8.0k)

Shit.

Ni-ki has sat on his knees beside his bed for much longer than he'd like to admit, much longer than he should be. Your cheek is still resting on the palm of his hand, warm and soft. Still caught in a deep sleep.

Damn, it only took you the small amount of time he was gone getting water to pass out on his bed.

He didn't mind though. Of course he didn't.

Ni-ki lays his head on the mattress, watching your form rise and fall as you breathe. Your arms are hugged close to your chest and your cheek, laying against his hand, makes your lips form a slight pout. He can feel your hair tangling around his fingers as he moves his thumb to ghost over your lips.

God.

Was this creepy?

He had practically guilt-tripped you into coming over—for the first time, mind you—while you were exhausted, and now here he is, watching you sleep and tracing your features like some obsessed freak.

How does he get out of this.

Mulling it over, Ni-ki has come to the conclusion that he has one of two options.

One, he pulls away like a decent human being, risks waking you up, and settles down on the floor as he originally planned. It’s the safer choice, the normal choice, the choice that ensures you won’t wake up, see his hand still under your face, and immediately call the police.

And two... he stays. He lets you sleep on his hand until you eventually move again, and then he can slip away. But you haven’t moved for a while now, and his legs are starting to go numb.

He doesn’t want to wake you. You’ve had a rough week, and right now, with all your responsibilities pushed far away, you finally look like you’re resting.

But if you wake up and see him like this, staring at you like some lovesick idiot, that’s it. He’s never coming back from that.

At least if you did wake up with option one, he could play it off. Take advantage of your delirious sleep-deprived state and pretend he has no idea what you mean when you ask him if he was sitting here for an hour watching you sleep while softly tracing and memorizing every inch of your face so that he might be able to recreate you in his dreams and hold you like this without fear.

....

Option one it is!

Ni-ki exhales quietly and slowly shifts, rolling onto his heels before pushing up into a crouch. His weight lifts off his knees, one hand steadying himself on the mattress as he starts to stand.

He hovers over you slightly, trying to find the best angle to slip his hand away without disturbing you.

Okay. Slow and steady.

He carefully, carefully starts to pull back. His fingers ghost along your skin as he eases his hand out from under your cheek, his breath shallow, his movements painstakingly precise.

Just a little more. Almost there.

Then—

You shift.

Ni-ki immediately freezes, his stomach dropping.

Your head barely moves, just the smallest tilt toward where his hand used to be, like you’re instinctively following the warmth that was there moments ago.

Ni-ki grimaces.

His muscles are locked, body halfway bent over you, one knee still pressing into the mattress, his other foot planted on the floor. He feels like a thief caught mid-crime, except instead of stealing, he’s actively trying not to get caught for whatever the hell this situation is.

He clenches his jaw and exhales slowly through his nose, mentally hyping himself up. Just a little more. He can do this.

Another inch. Another half-inch.

Almost—

Then your hand moves.

Ni-ki watches, helpless, as your fingers blindly reach out in your sleep. His breath catches, heart stopping in his chest—

And then your fingers brush against his forearm.

He swears he feels it in his soul.

Your hand lingers for half a second before moving again, curling around his arm, hugging it close like a plushie.

Ni-ki stops breathing.

Oh.

His throat bobs as he stares down at where your fingers are wrapped around him, completely relaxed, completely unaware of the absolute mess you’re making of him.

You’re holding onto him. Not just in passing, not for a fleeting moment.

Ni-ki swallows hard, something dangerously warm curling in his chest.

Alright. Alright. Don't freak out.

Just… just pull away slowly. Again.

He tries, just slightly, to move his arm.

Your fingers tighten.

Ni-ki's brain malfunctions.

You can't be serious.

A deep sigh leaves his nose as he stares at the ceiling, willing himself not to let this get to his head.

But then what the hell is he supposed to do now?

Stand here half-hunched over you all night like some idiot? Sleep on his knees next to the bed? Just exist in this ridiculous half-hovering state forever?

His mouth twitches with something between disbelief and reluctant acceptance.

He can't move. He has no choice.

With the deepest, most resigned exhale of his life, Ni-ki slowly lowers himself onto the mattress, resting on his side next to you.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe. He just stares at the ceiling, dead weight, entirely at your mercy.

This is fine.

Ni-ki lies there, completely still, as if any slight movement might wake you-- or worse, make you let go. Your fingers, curled loosely around his forearm, feel impossibly warm.

His heart is pounding so loud, he's afraid you'll hear it calling out to you.

He should move. He should. But how could he? Not when you're curled up beside him like this, fitting so easily into the space next to him like you belonged there. Not when you're wrapped in his clothes, drowning in the fabric in a way that makes something deep in his chest ache. Not when you're breathing so softly, so steadily, completely at peace in his bed.

His throat feels tight as he watches you, taking in every detail-- the slight part of your lips, the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the tousled strands of your hair brushing against his pillow. He swallows.

You're breathtaking.

As he lays in his dimly lit room next to you, he lets himself imagine it.

What if moments like this weren't so rare? The last time you clung to him like this was Halloween.

What if they weren't so accidental? What if he could have this every night-- have you every night? What if, instead of you unconsciously reaching for him in your sleep, you did it because you wanted to? Because you knew he was there?

What if, after a long day, you leaned into him the same way you are now? What if you let yourself need him, trust him enough to fall apart in his arms when things get too heavy?

What if you woke up beside him every morning, drowsy and wrapped in his sheets while complaining about the cold as he hugged you closer?

Ni-ki exhales slowly, willing his racing heart to calm down.

It's stupid, but his thoughts keep circling back to it.

You had seemed so stressed about your mom and this Christmas thing.

"And my mom- she keeps asking me to invite you and the others to this dumb friendsmas dinner at my house for winter break"

"I already told her I didn't think you would be into that."

That had been the first time you mentioned it. Your mom, Christmas dinner, the fact you never considered asking.

As if it wasn't worth asking. As if you already knew the answer.

His Jaw tightens.

Did you actually think it was dumb? Or were you just saying that because you thought he would think it was dumb?

The thought makes his chest feel heavy.

Because, yeah, maybe he would have teased you a little if you asked. Maybe he would've laughed and made a joke. But he wouldn't have meant it. And he definitely wouldn't have said no.

Of course he would've gone. Of course he wants to go. And free food for basically a whole night? The others would've been elated.

So why didn't you think they wouldn't?

It makes something ache inside him, this quiet persistent feeling he doesn't know how to name. He hates the idea that you might not trust him with things like this, that you're still holding him at a distance even after all this time.

He shifts slightly, just enough to lay his head beside yours on the pillow next to you. You're so close that he can count the strands of hair falling over your cheek and see the soft part of your lips as you exhale.

His mind wanders just for a second.

What if he had more moments like this with you. What if you reached for him like this when you were awake? Instead of letting yourself fall asleep alone every night, you let him stay by your side.

This is too much heartache for so late in the night.

He decides to just close his eyes and let his mind wander into his dreams. His tense body starts to relax into the mattress as the sound of your steady breathing fills his ears. He makes a mental note to flick you on the forehead and interrogate you about Christmas in the morning before he finally drifts off to sleep

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

The distant sound of dishes clattering and familiar voices pulls you from sleep.

Letting out a deep sigh, you roll your upper body onto your back and rub your eyes. You're still too drowsy to take in your surroundings. But not enough to feel the morning sun leaking through the window. You roll back over to your original position, shoving your face into the pillow you're holding to your chest.

But something feels... off.

The scent of something familiar fills your senses— cologne? There's a warmth beneath you that's soft, yet firm, definitely not a pillow.

Your brows furrow and you run your hand along the soft material. You stop when you feel a faint thump against your fingertips.

Steady. Rhythmic.

Like a pulse.

Your brows knit further together as realization dawns, and, finally, you open your eyes fully.

Ni-ki is a breath away from you.

Your heart stutters violently in your chest as you take him in, the weight of sleep still heavy on his face. His lips are parted ever so slightly, breathing slow and even, lashes resting against his skin in delicate shadows. His hair, tousled and soft, falls across his forehead.

You should really move.

But instead, you find yourself drinking him in. Eyes flitting around his body as if you're trying to commit every feature of his to memory like it's the first time you've seen him.

You raise your head off his arm and peer down at your arms entangled with his.

Jesus, were you hugging his arm the entire night, how did this even happen?

Guilt seeps into your chest as you gently and slowly begin untangling your arms. Biting your lip in anticipation. How terrible would it be if he woke up and caught you clinging to him.

Geez, the first time you're over at his place and you've already acted like a pervert. Well, at least you feel like a pervert.

You've just managed to slip your hand out from under his arm when he shifts. Your heart lurches and you yank your hand the rest of the way out in a panic.

Riki lets out a quiet hum, his brows twitching slightly, and for a terrifying second, you think he's about to wake up. Your body goes rigid, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat.

But instead of blinking awake and catching you red-handed, he only shifts further into his pillow, his arm— now free from your grip—instinctively tucking closer to his chest as if seeking warmth.

You exhale, slow and steady, your heartbeat pounding embarrassingly loud in your ears.

God. What is wrong with you?

You're acting like you've just got caught stealing from a convenience store.

Still, the absence of his warmth leaves a hollow space in your chest.

Not that you should be missing it.

Shaking your head, you cautiously roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling in an attempt to collect yourself. The room is still dim despite the early morning light filtering through the blinds, casting golden streaks across Ni-ki's walls. Somewhere beyond the door, the distant sounds of dishes clinking and muffled voices carry through the apartment— reminders that the rest of the world still exists outside this quiet intimate moment.

You recognize one of the voices to be Jungwon.

Your stomach twists.

For a moment, you'd almost forgotten. The weight of last night, the comfort of Riki's room, the unfamiliar yet oddly welcoming warmth beside you— had distracted you. But now reality presses in, and with it, the reminder that beyond that door is someone who might still be upset with you.

You don't know what to expect from Jungwon. Maybe he won't even acknowledge your presence, just like he's done at work. Or maybe, worse, he'll be totally weirded out by the fact that you're even here, at his place, sleeping in his best friend's bed like you belong here.

When you say it like that it sounds even weirder. God.

Your gaze flickers back to Riki.

Just for a second

His face is soft with sleep, the usual sharp playfulness dulled by something far more delicate. The early morning light casts a glow over his skin. His cheek is pressed into the pillow, and his dark hair falls over his forehead in a way that's so effortlessly pretty and peaceful, it feels unfair.

You turn your head towards the ceiling again, lost in thought. You don't really want to face the inevitable awkwardness outside, nor do you want to get up.

Maybe you could just go back to sleep and leave this to be a problem for future you. Riki's bed is soft against your back, practically lulling you back to sleep. If you fall back asleep now, Jungwon and the others could be out of the apartment or holed up in their rooms long enough for you to slip out quietly. Riki would probably be awake by then too, then you wouldn't feel so guilty leaving unannounced.

Just as your letting yourself feel drowsy again, a sudden, soft "Boo."

Something pokes your side.

You jolt with a sharp inhale, snapping your head to the side. Riki grins at you, eyes barely open, hair tousled beyond repair.

"You—" You slap his arm, making him giggle as he curls away, shielding himself. "Have you been awake this whole time?"

"Mmmm, no. I just woke up." His voice is deeper, still thick with sleep. You hum in response as he returns to his resting position on his side, facing you with his arms crossed. "Why? Scared you got caught watching me sleep?"

Oh shit.

"No, you drool in your sleep." You say blankly, fighting the heat crawling up your body and the guilty smile tugging at your lips as you see him furrow his brows and quickly raise a hand to wipe his mouth.

When he wipes his mouth and finds that he is, in fact, not drooling, he drops his hand on the matress, defeated. "You don't have to lie."

"You don't have to be annoying first thing in the morning."

"I can't help it when you're right beside me."

You click your tongue and loll your head back to look at the ceiling, hands folded over your stomach. You're not sure what to say in response, so you let silence fall between you, but it's not uncomfortable. You're too preoccupied with the thought of Jungwon being upset with you still, and Eunchae.

Riki notices you seem to be lost in thought as you stare up at the blank ceiling of his room. He scoots over so your heads are just centimeters apart. He faces the ceiling too.

"Is there anything interesting we're looking at?"

you blow air past your lips softly, "No... just thinking."

"Well... what are we thinking about?" Ni-ki steals a glance at you.

You let a beat pass, hesitating, before saying, " I think Jungwon's still upset with me." You turn just enough to gently knock your head with his, "And I think it'll be super awkward if he sees I'm here."

Riki hums, the sound low and thoughtful. "Jungwon's always a little awkward, though."

"Yeah, but he's still mad at me. I think." You mutter the last part.

"Well," He draws out. "He's not the type to let an argument, or whatever this is, draw out like this. He probably feels bad now and is thinking of how to fix it."

"You don't think he'll be upset that I'm here?" You quirk an eyebrow in question, even though he can't see you.

"Nah, he'll probably use this as an opportunity to make up with you." He shrugs, his shoulder brushing against yours, "Besides, you were mine first, who cares what he thinks. I'm allowed to invite you over if I want."

Your heart stutters. You're not entirely sure what to say to that. You know he means you were his friend before Jungwon's, but you can't help the heat crawling up your neck at his words.

"But you know what would really help you both get over this?" He asks nudging your shoulder.

"What?"

"Inviting everyone to that party your mom invited us to at your place." He says it rather quickly, but he's completely serious. You completely forgot that you told him about that while you were practically breaking down in his arms. It's embarrassing how whenever he's around you just feel every emotion, every sense, and every word pour out of your very being right in front of him. You shut your eyes and scoff. More at yourself than the boy lying next to you.

"I'm serious!" His voice rises in pitch and volume like he's trying to make a point.

"You're definitely something alright."

"Yet, you're still here."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. "Unfortunately,"

Riki pouts dramatically, nudging you again, "That hurts,"

"I'm sure you'll recover."

"If we went to that dinner party thing, I would."

You turn over on your side, facing away from Riki, "I'm going back to sleep."

"What- [name]." He deadpans turning on his side as well.

"Goodnight."

"But-"

"Goodnight!"

Riki is silent for a minute, and you smile, thinking you've shut down his attempt to bring this topic back up. Until you feel a weight drape over your side.

A rather heavy one.

"Oh my f- Riki get off!"

Ni-ki doesn't budge. He's thrown his entire body over your side horizontally. You shove at his shoulder in an attempt to at least, roll him over to your legs so you can sit up, but alas, it does not work.

"I'm not even that heavy." He huffs like he's the one being inconvenienced.

"You're literally crushing me." You squirm beneath him, pushing up on his back but it's like he only seems to get heavier. He's practically dead weight. "Get up!"

"I can't. You won't even let me accept your mom's invitation. Actions have consequences." He drawls, blankly staring up at the ceiling but you can see the stupid grin on his face and teasing glint in his eyes.

"This is not a consequence this is harassment!"

"Whatever you wanna call it, anyway, I'm not moving until you let me, and the others come over to yours for winter break." He sighs, shifting slightly to adjust his weight like he's getting comfortable.

"Why are you so determined to go to this thing?" You grumble, more to yourself, still trying to push him off by his shoulder.

"Why are you so determined to get us not to? Do you not want us to?" He says it casually, but there's something about his voice that sounds a bit hurt.

Ni-ki feels you stop pushing on his shoulder, your struggling softens to just resting your hands on his shoulder silently. Ni-ki's scared he's messed something up or instead gotten it right on the mark and that you really don't want him to be involved in such trivial matters in your life like small Christmas dinners over winter breaks.

You, on the other hand, are wondering the same thing. Is it really so terrible that you invited people over to your place over the holiday break? You were so scared of being rejected you didn't even ask because it's what you were used to. You don't know which is more embarrassing, the fact that you got so worked up over something this silly or the possibility of being laughed at and dismissed.

Ni-ki is hyperaware of your breathing beneath his back and how your fingers have started absent-mindedly playing with the sleeve of his hoodie. "No, it's not that."

Ni-ki closes his eyes and lets out a quiet breath of relief at your words, "I'm just embarrassed." Your eyes shift down to your hands that pinch and pull at the fabric adorning Riki's arms. "I didn't mean for it to become such a big deal, but you know. Then I went crying about it. I've never actually had anyone come over before; people always declined my invites in the past, so I just kind of thought... that it would be the same now. I didn't want to ask you guys and then have it be awkward because maybe you didn't think we were as close as I did and turn me down."

"You're so dumb," he mumbles, but there’s no bite to it — just warmth. "You think I’d ever say no to you? Please, I’d kill for an invite like that."

You scoff softly. "Yeah, right. You'd fight over a free meal, maybe."

"Exactly." He grins. "But also… I’d go because it’s your house. Your family. And you wanted us — me — there. You're allowed to cry about things, you know? Even if you don't think it's a big deal. Even if its messy or weird or not what you think should matter. If it matters to you, it counts. And that's enough."

Your cheeks burn at the way he says me, as if it holds any special meaning, but you say nothing.

"I don’t know what kind of losers you’ve invited before, but I’m not them. Neither are the others. And I hate to break it to you, but we’re way closer than you think. You're stuck with us now."

He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. You feel his hand brush gently over yours, like he’s trying to ground you without making a big deal of it.

"Besides," he continues, his voice softening just slightly, "I kinda like the idea of seeing where you grew up. Maybe I’ll find some embarrassing childhood photos."

You groan, burying your face into the pillow beside you. "Of course that’s what you’d look forward to."

"Obviously." He grins, nudging you playfully. "But also... I just think it’d be nice. You never really talk about your family. I’d like to know more about you. And I wanna be there, even if you think it’s dumb."

There's a beat of silence, his words hanging in the air. Then he squeezes your hand once, almost like a silent promise.

"Still not getting up though," he deadpans. "You're kind of comfy."

And just like that, the weight on your chest feels a little lighter.

A sudden thud echoes from the other side of the door, followed by a familiar voice.

"Ni-ki!"

The door swings open, and Jay fills the frame, his expression hovering somewhere between exasperation and resigned patience. He doesn’t look particularly intimidating—dressed in a loose hoodie and sweatpants, hair sticking up in mismatched directions like he’d just rolled out of bed. But there’s a sharpness in his eyes that says he’s here with a purpose.

Then, his gaze lands on you. For a second, the irritation flickers into mild surprise. "Oh, hey, [Name]."

"Hey," you reply, trying your best to sound casual, even though you're still half-pinned beneath Ni-ki. Not exactly your most dignified moment.

"Why didn’t you do the dishes last night?" Jay’s focus shifts back to Ni-ki, his voice landing somewhere between exasperated and resigned — like this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.

Ni-ki groans dramatically, throwing his head back like the sheer weight of responsibility has finally crushed him. "I’ll do them next time. I forgot."

"Next time? You said that last time."

"And sometimes I mean it," Riki retorts, voice dripping with faux innocence.

Jay scoffs. "Right, and sometimes I believe it. Guess which time this is?"

You bite back a laugh, but Riki catches it instantly, turning his head towards you. "Don’t encourage him."

Jay shakes his head. "No, no. Encourage me. Please. It’s about time someone held this idiot accountable."

"Idiot?" Riki scoffs in offense. "I am a victim. You barge in here like I’ve committed a felony."

"You're lucky being a horrible roommate isn't a felony; otherwise, you'd be in jail for being a repeat offender," Jay tsks and rolls his eyes.

"I highly doubt you could take me to court for it either way. Didn't you fail your political science class?"

Jay's lips turn into a straight line. "Man, just get up and do the damn dishes."

"In a minute."

"A minute will turn into an hour which will turn into never. Just come do them."

You watch the back-and-forth like a tennis match, mildly entertained. The banter between them is so natural, so easy, like they’ve been doing this for years. It's the kind of closeness that makes the irritation feel half-hearted — more of a ritual than a real fight.

"If you need them done right now, why can't someone who's not busy do them then."

"Because it's your turn," Jay shoots back. "It's the principle. And you're not even busy."

Ni-ki scoffs. "Uh, yes, I am. I’m entertaining my guest." He gestures toward you as if this somehow solidifies his case.

Jay deadpans. "Well, there's five other people here that are perfectly capable of entertaining her, and I'm sure [name] would prefer them over you anyway." Jay starts walking towards the bed,

Jay takes a step closer, his annoyance wavering just enough for you to see the mischief creeping in.

"What are you doing?" Riki immediately sits up, all false bravado gone. He knows exactly what’s coming. The slow-paced and quiet morning vibe is thrown out the window, you sit up as well and sit cross-legged.

"Getting you to do the damn dishes," Jay says, grabbing Riki by the ankles without another word.

"I said I'd do them in a minute!" Riki turns his body, trying to crawl away from Jay.

"We all know that's not true just come do them now!" Jay tugs again.

"No!"

"You-" Jay tugs harder and pulls Riki halfway off the bed, in desperation, Ni-ki reaches out and latches his hands onto the blankets.

"Wait! I said I’d do them in a minute, I promise!" Riki protests, twisting his body and trying to crawl away like a worm on dry pavement. But Jay tugs, dragging him further off the bed with a grunt.

"We all know that’s not true, just come do them now!"

"No!" The situation is so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh watching them bicker and fight each other.

Jay gives another pull, but Riki, in a last-ditch effort, flails and reaches out — his hands finding your wrists like you’re some lifeline. You’re too caught off guard to move, your laughter bubbling up as he clings to you in mock desperation.

"Let go of me!" You gasp trying to loosen his grip on your wrists, but you’re already laughing too hard to be of any use. Jay’s grip on his ankles remains firm, and the ridiculousness of the scene unfolds around you like a sitcom.

"Get him off!" Jay says through gritted teeth.

"I'm trying!" You gasp, though your attempts to pry Ni-ki’s fingers off are about as effective as swatting at a fly. "He won't let go!"

"I won't let go? Do you not see this lunatic!?"

Riki refuses to release his hold. And somehow, despite the chaos, you don’t feel out of place. If anything, you’re right where you belong.

"Fine then, follow me," Jay says and moves himself to grab under Riki's knees. Getting the idea, you then grab Riki, under his arms this time.

"Hey! What the hell!"

Together, you and Jay lift him off the bed in a mess of flailing limbs and complaints. Riki twists, but Jay has his legs locked down, and you’re holding him firm under the shoulders. The two of you maneuver him down the hallway, ignoring his dramatics as he protests the injustice of it all.

"You guys are being ridiculous," Ni-ki grumbles as you reach the kitchen.

Jay grunts. "You’re ridiculous."

With a final heave, the two of you lay him down directly in front of the sink. Ni-ki sprawls out like a defeated soldier, staring up at the ceiling in silent acceptance of his fate.

"Nice," a voice comes from behind.

You turn to see Jake, lazily sipping from a glass of water as he leans against the kitchen island. His hair is sticking up in every direction, his hoodie practically swallowing him whole. It seems like nobody in this apartment wakes up looking normal. You’re grateful for that, considering your own bedhead and oversized borrowed clothes.

"Oh, [Name], now that you're out here, you should try this curry," Jay says, stepping over Ni-ki like he’s just part of the floor now. He makes his way to the stove, lifting the lid off a pot that sends a wave of rich, savory warmth through the air. "I made it last night, but someone was too busy avoiding the dishes to appreciate it."

"Smells amazing," you say, the rumble in your stomach making itself known as you follow him towards the other side of the kitchen.

"It is," Jake adds, raising his glass like he’s making a toast. "Breakfast of champions."

Ni-ki groans dramatically from the floor. "I don't get any because I'm being oppressed."

"Because you're being lazy," Jay corrects, scooping a generous portion of curry onto a plate of rice and handing it to you.

"Same thing," Ni-ki mumbles.

You suppress a smile, grabbing a spoon Jay hands you and taking your first bite. The curry is warm and flavorful, the perfect balance of spice and comfort. "Woah," you murmur. "This is... actually really good."

"Thank you," Jay grins, smug. "See? That’s the kind of praise I deserve."

"Yeah, whatever," Ni-ki mumbles, still on the floor, though his pout is losing its strength.

Just as you settle into your plate, Sunghoon wanders into the kitchen, his hands tucked deep into the sleeves of his hoodie. His eyes are still heavy with sleep, but he brightens when he sees you.

"Morning," he says, voice raspy. Then, in a slightly awkward but endearing motion, he raises a hand to ruffle your hair. Except, he hesitates for a second. His hand hovers uncertainly, like he’s second-guessing the gesture. You catch the flicker of indecision in his eyes before he finally commits, giving your hair a light ruffle.

"Uh... morning," you respond, amused by how he immediately clears his throat and retreats like nothing happened.

"Smooth," Jake comments dryly.

Sunghoon shrugs. "I tried."

Before you can say anything else, Sunoo strolls in with a towel draped around his neck. His skin is practically glowing, the kind of radiant that can only come from a meticulous skincare routine.

"[Name]! I didn't know you were here."

"I'm also here." Riki butts in, still on the floor.

Sunoo leans forward to peek behind the kitchen island where Riki is lying. "Did you sleep in jeans, you freak." You turn to look at him as well, and it actually registers in your mind that Riki is wearing the same clothes from yesterday, jeans and a hoodie. You stifle a laugh.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Ni-ki mutters, knowing Sunoo would explode upon hearing the reason he didn't change into proper sleep wear was because a certain someone started clinging to him before he could.

Heeseung is the next to appear, running a hand through his hair as he slumps against the counter. He’s holding his phone in one hand, scrolling absentmindedly. He glances up and his eyes land on you, his eyes widen, and a small gasp escapes his lips, clearly surprised you're here, but he doesn't question it. "[Name], did you see the new Fortnite shop rotation?"

"Can't say I have," you reply, taking another bite of curry. He waves you over to where he's sitting beside Jake on the kitchen island stools. You comply and make your way to sit on the open stool next to Heeseung.

"Bro," he says, dramatically shaking his head. "They brought the Jujutsu Kaisen skins back, and they added new ones."

Jake sighs. "He’s been talking about it all morning."

"I’m just saying," Heeseung defends, tilting his phone to show you. "Look at this."

You squint at the screen, half-expecting to see something ridiculous — and you're not disappointed.

"Wow," you deadpan. "They added Makito but not Geto"

"Thank you!" Heeseung gestures dramatically. "That's literally what I've been saying." He flails his arms up, exasperated, looking around the kitchen at everyone. But no one is as passionate about Fortnite ship rotations, not at this hour anyway.

"When are you getting a job?" Sunghoon asks, clearly messing with Heeseung. His brows raised, leaning back against the counter next to the fridge, sipping on what looks like a protein drink of some kind.

"You're one to talk, you just started working this year," Riki says, finally rising from his spot on the floor, dusting and adjusting his clothes.

Sunoo snorts, covering his mouth like that would somehow conceal the sound, as he holds a bowl of rice out to Jay to scoop curry onto. Sunghoon, like everyone, hears the sound, and his face scrunches. He sets down his drink and fully turns to Sunoo.

"I don't know why your unemployed ass is laughing, Kim Sunoo." Sunghoon scoffs, but there's no real bite to his words because Sunoo rolls his eyes, still smiling and happily walks over to sit in the seat next to you. "I'm not a part of this." He says, setting his bowl down and then himself, brushing Sunghoon off completely.

It’s so simple — so easy — that you almost forget why you were so worried about seeing everyone. The air is filled with the chatter of boys arguing over shop rotations, Sunoo enthusiastically planning your “skincare awakening,” and Ni-ki half-heartedly washing the dishes with Jay hovering just to make sure he doesn’t quit halfway through. Which Riki finds annoying, you can tell because he asks Jay if he'd like to take a picture, and that just sets them both into another fit of bickering back and forth.

Sunoo is still talking, and you would really love to indulge in the conversation with him. You try— really, you try— to stay focused on Sunoo.

But your attention keeps drifting.

Across the kitchen, Ni-ki's hoodie sleeves are rolled up just past his forearms, lips pulled into a flat line as he half-heartedly scrubs at a plate. Jay's still hovering over his shoulder, close, like a disappointed mother hen, which only makes Ni-ki more dramatic in his suffering. He doesn't look up from the plate when he asks, "Jay, are you about to back hug me? Isn't that a bit romantic for us?"

You're not even listening to what Jay says in response. You're too busy watching the way Ni-ki's hair falls into his eyes, the way he talks with his hands even when they're covered in soap, the way he moves like he's unaware that anyone's watching, but is still effortlessly cool.

You smile before you even realize you're doing it. Sunoo's voice falters. He blinks, then turns to follow your gaze, and instantly he sees it.

And he has to physically stop himself from gasping out loud.

That endearing gaze and love-sick smile of yours was for Ni-ki. Sunoo's sure that if Ni-ki turned and saw how you were looking at him right now, he would drop dead. Or maybe he'd say something stupid, and the love leaking out of your eyes would fly right over his head completely because he really is that oblivious. Sunoo has seen this look many times before, so he's sure he's not misreading the situation. He's seen the way Ni-ki has looked at you, and now you're looking at him. The same way.

When did this happen!?

Sunoo nudges your arm with his. You whip your head towards him like you've just been caught committing a crime. You look like a deer caught in head lights, eyes wide, and a blush crawling up your face. Even though it's clear, you try to play it off anyway.

"Sorry, you were saying? I'm paying attention, I promise." You try to make your voice sound as casual as possible, but the promise at the end of your sentence is an obvious, subtle sign of begging Sunoo not to mention that he just caught you staring.

Sunoo laughs lightly behind his hand. "You sure? Something on your mind?" His voice is teasing; you frantically shake your head. "Or maybe someone?" He adds, raising his eyebrows at you. "Wow, this curry is so good! Sunoo, you should try it!" Your voice is filled with faux excitement as you pick up Sunoos' spoon and scoop a gracious amount of rice and curry onto the spoon.

"But I-" And the spoon is in his mouth before he can say anything that'll pry into you more. You're now aware that everyone's eyes are on both of you, but luckily, they're more focused on laughing at Sunoos puffed cheeks and scornful expression.

Except Ni-ki. He's looking at you. Of course he is.

Except you don't notice. "See? Isn't it delicious?" You're smiling now too, with everyone else, you don't know where the newfound confidence is, but high on everyone's laughter, you ruffle Sunoo's hair.

But from where Sunoo is sitting, he has a clear view of both of you. So he's noticing everything. His eyes flit over to Ni-ki, peeking over his shoulder at you and your hand in Sunoos' hair. And he pouts at that.

"Wow, you fit right in here," Sunghoon says through breathy laughs

You just shrug, a smug smile tugging at your lips. Sunoo swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, shooting you a look of mock offense. "Unbelievable. Betrayed in my own home."

You roll your eyes, turning back to your own bowl, but you're smiling for real now. The easy laughter and chatter filling the kitchen tugs at something warm in your chest. A kind of belonging you're still not used to.

As the conversation shifts, your gaze drifts, scanning the room instinctively. The question feels heavy on your tongue, so heavy you can't help but let it leave your mouth before you can overthink it.

"Uhm, where's Jungwon?"

You try to sound casual, but Sunoo catches the slight pause, the way you fiddle with the edge of your sleeve, like you're trying to act more nonchalant than you feel.

"He went on one of his walks," Jay says from his spot leaning against the counter. "He always does it when he can. He's fine."

You nod, but a quiet guilt settles in your chest

Sunoo watches you for a second longer, then he bumps his shoulder lightly into yours. "Don't worry. He'll be back in like ten minutes max. Probably trying to find a cat to feed or something."

You laugh under your breath, the tension loosening a little. Still, you can't stop yourself from running your fingers along your jaw out of nervousness.

Of course, Sunoo notices. "Something wrong?"

Your eyes shift from the spot on the counter, that you decided was particularly interesting, to Sunoo's. "Oh no- just uh- feeling a little gross I guess. I usually wash my face in the mornings, but I don't have any of my stuff with me." Not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie.

"You didn't bring any of your stuff?"

You shake your head. "No, because someone-" You send a pointed look at Riki's back, while he's unaware and absolutely going in on a bowl with a sponge. "-didn't think to stop at my place to grab anything."

Sunoo leans back in his seat and nudges your arm with his elbow. “Hey, if you wanna freshen up or something, you can use my stuff.”

You blink. “Wait, really? You don’t mind?”

He grins. “Of course not. I have enough skincare to last me three lifetimes. Come on.”

You hesitate for half a second, surprised by how easily the offer came, then nod. “Okay… yeah. Thanks.”

The two of you stand, gathering your empty bowls. When you reach the sink, Riki’s still there, sleeves rolled up and elbow-deep in soapy water. He glances at you as you set your bowl beside the others and narrows his eyes, mock-suspicious.

“Using Sunoo’s routine? Brave.”

You roll your eyes. “What, afraid I’ll come back looking better than you?”

He lets out a soft snort, shaking his head. “Impossible. But I admire the optimism.”

You roll your eyes a mutter a soft 'whatever' before nudging him and walking away with Sunoo. You miss the grin Riki sends you and the way his eyes follow your figure until you've left his field of vision.

You follow Sunoo into the bathroom. The sink counter stretches from wall to wall in front of the shower, along with a line of skincare products ranging from serums to cleansers. Your jaw goes slack. There's even a small fridge in the corner. You open it and crouch to peer into it. Inside are neatly stacked sheet masks and tiny tubs of cream inside "You have so much? This must be so expensive. do you have a side hustle I don't know about?"

Sunoo laughs, watching your amazement at his collection as you inspect every inch of the minifridge. "I wish, I'm just irresponsible with my money."

"You should've opened with that. Now I trust you."

He grins and begins sorting through his collection. "Okay, try this one and then this after." Sunoo slides two bottles over to you. One is an oil cleanser and the other is a regular foaming cleanser. You eye them skeptically. You've used a cleanser before, obviously. But you can't even pronounce the names on the bottles, so you wonder if theres some secret ritual you have to perform to properly apply them.

"So I just- like- rub it in?" You ask, typing your hair back.

"Yes, genius," Sunoo says, gently mocking as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and turns on the warm water for you. "Rub it in gently. Like you're asking your own skin for forgiveness."

You laugh and follow his directions. The two of you settle into a quiet rhythm, and for a moment theres just the sound of running water and soft dabs of towels against your skin. Then:

"So..." Sunoo says casually, leaning against the counter, pretending to be looking for something among the bottles in front of him. "What's up with you and Jungwon?'

You freeze mid-pat. "What?"

"Don't panic, I'm not gossiping," He says quickly, immediately abandoning his fidgeting with his hands up. "I just noticed the vibe earlier. And the way you asked about him in the kitchen."

You glance at the towel in your hands. Unsure of how to start "Oh. Yeah. There was a... thing"

"Like a fight?"

"Not exactly." You pause. "It wasn't really about me, at first. He and Eunchae had some weird tension at work, and it just kind of spilled over. He got short with me. It was small, but it sucked"

Sunoo listens without interrupting. You're grateful for that.

"I didn't say anything when it happened," You continue. "And after that, it just felt too weird and awkward to bring up."

"I get that," Sunoo says softly. "But Jungwon's not the type to let stuff fester. If it was bad enough to bother him, he probably already regrets it."

You glance at him, surprised to hear something similar to what Riki said

"And if he hasn't apologized yet," Sunoo adds, "he will, he's annoying like that. Stubborn but soft-hearted.

You nod, looking down at the marble counter.

Sunoo shifts to sit on the edge of the tub, hands braced beside him. "You were mostly quiet all morning, but when you asked about him. I could tell it was bugging you."

You exhale, long and quiet, mirroring him, and lean against the sink. "Yeah, I just... hate when things are off with people. Especially him, for some reason. It's kind of silly. I barely talked to anyone a few months ago, and now I care if someone's mad at me."

"It's not silly," Sunoo says, smiling and shaking his head. He's happy to have had the chance to talk to you like this. "That's what being close to people is like. It means things matter now. That's a good thing, even if it's annoying sometimes." He's standing up now. Taking his spot beside you again, reaching and unscrewing a tub of moisturizer. He hands it out for you to dab your finger in.

"Thank you, Sunoo." You murmur, glancing at your reflection as you rub the cool cream over your face. You look a little dewy, a little less tired. Lighter even.

Sunoo leans beside you, bumping your shoulder gently. "Of course. I know what it's like to wake up feeling gross with an unwashed face."

You smile. "Honestly, this helped more than I thought it would."

"Good. That's what I'm here for," he says as the two of you begin heading for the door, an unspoken agreement settled between you to return to the kitchen. But the second Sunoo twists the doorknob and pulls it open, two bodies nearly fall into the room on top of both of you.

A panicked "Oh shit-" tumbles out of Riki's mouth before he catches himself on the door frame. Jungwon is more controlled as he jerks upright like he's been yanked up by an invisible string.

Riki blinks at you, "Oh. Hey."

Jungwon clears his throat, brushing invisible lint off his shirt. "What a coincidence."

Sunoo stares at them and scoffs. "What's this?"

Riki straightens up immediately, his voice a little too quick. "We were just walking by."

"You were stood still in front of the door." Sunoo raises a brow.

"No, really, just walking by." Riki insists, taking a small inconspicious step back, as if that'll convince anyone.

"You're still standing in front of the door. You almost fell into the room, you liar!" This disbelief in Sunoo's voice is so sharp it nearly makes you laugh- almost. You're a little too distarcted by the guilty look on Jungwons face, his wide eyes stuck on yours like he's waiting for permission to speak.

"[name]," Jungwon pauses, swallows, and looks away. "I'm really sorry for what happened at work." His voice is quiet and careful. " I thought what Kehoo did was unfair, and I let my frustration out on Eunchae and you."

His gaze lifts to yours again. There's something tender in the way he's looking at you. Sincere, but almost nervous, "You didn't deserve that," He says, "I'm sorry." He lets out a breath after that, like the apology had been sitting in his chest all morning waiting to be let go.

Riki, who's been oddly quiet beside him, jabs an elbow into Jungwon's side.

Jungwon whips his head towards him, confused, until Riki raises his eyebrows, tilting his head in that very obvious "don't forget that thing" kind of way.

"Oh- right!" Jungwon yelps softly, and then immediately starts patting down his jacket pockets.

Finally, after a bit of fumbling, he pulls something from his pocket and holds it out to you in his palm.

A rock. Small, smooth, and naturally shaped like a lopsided heart. You blink, not quite expecting that, but it's in perfect Jungwon fashion, what else could you expect? He presses forward awkwardly, his fingers twitching as if he wants to retract it. Sensing his hesitance, you take it from his hands.

"I found it on my walk this morning," He mutters, scratching the back of his neck. "Thought it looked like a peace offering."

Your eyes flick down to the rock, then back up to him, his hopeful, sheepish smile, and his fidgeting. The apology already softened your heart, but this strange, sweet gesture that only Jungwon would think to do makes your chest feel light.

You smile and turn the rock over in your palm. "It's cute," you say. You step forward, just slightly, and ruffle his hair just enough to mess it up a little “You’re forgiven, Jungwon.”

His grin widens, and a little breath escapes him, like he was holding it in this whole time. The tension between you dissolves in that second, and it’s like a weight’s been lifted off your shoulders.

You hadn’t realized just how heavy it felt until now—how much it had been bothering you. But now it’s gone, and the air between you is soft again. Familiar. Easy.

The moment settles quietly. You glance down at the little heart-shaped rock again, smiling to yourself.

Sunoo shifts beside you. You almost forgot he was still standing at your side, quiet through the whole thing—but not in a distant way. In a watching-everything-closely kind of way.

His gaze flicks briefly across the hall—just a second—and you're too preoccupied with Jungwon to notice it, catching a glimpse of Ni-ki, still hovering in the doorway. His expression is hard to pin down: blank, maybe. Too blank. His lips are pressed into a thin line, and his eyes dart away the second he notices you looking.

You don’t catch it. But Sunoo does.

He doesn’t say anything. Just tucks the observation away like a note to himself, the corner of his mouth twitching ever so slightly before he turns back to you.

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

The living room is alive with sound — the chaotic clatter of Mario Kart, the overlapping laughter and curses, the shriek Sunoo lets out when Heeseung bumps him off Rainbow Road. Jay lounges smugly in the recliner like a king on a throne, sipping soda and giving play-by-plays no one asked for. Jungwon and Jake are locked in a heated rivalry, shoulders hunched, necks craned, fingers jabbing at the controllers with full-body intensity.

And still, somehow, it feels peaceful.

You’re tucked into the loveseat beside Riki, knees barely brushing, a throw pillow squished awkwardly between you that neither of you have addressed. You’re half-listening to the bickering, lips curved in a faint smile as Jake groans dramatically at yet another banana peel sabotage.

Then Riki bumps your elbow — gentle, but enough to steal your focus. He tilts his head toward you, voice just loud enough to be heard under the noise.

“So,” he says, his grin faint but persistent, “any updates on the Christmas thing?”

You exhale through your nose, already regretting telling him. “You’re obsessed.”

“I’m invested,” he corrects, leaning in just a little. “Big difference.”

“You brought it up, like, three times today.”

“And I’ll keep going until you give in.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s manipulative.”

“That’s effective.”

You squint at him, but there’s no real heat to it. “I don’t even know why I told you. It’s dumb. I just… I wanted to ask you guys, but I kept overthinking it.”

His smile softens. “That doesn’t sound dumb to me.”

You shift in your seat, glancing at the others — but no one’s paying you any mind. Jay is arguing with Jake now, accusing him of screen-watching. Jungwon is grinning with his tongue out in concentration, and Sunoo is loudly declaring that the game is rigged.

Still, you lower your voice. “It just feels... weird. I'm used to being- rejected, I guess. I kind of stopped trying after a while. It made things easier.” You shift your gaze from the throw pillow, now smushed between you, to Riki. "And I don't want to revisit that feeling."

He's quiet for a second, his eyes studying you like he’s trying to memorize your expression. “But you’re trying again now.”

You nod once, small.

He leans in, the pillow between you long forgotten. “I think that’s brave.”

You roll your eyes, but it comes out weak. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” His tone dips a little lower — serious now, in the way that always catches you off guard. “I know it’s hard for you. To ask. To be the one to reach out first. But look at you now. You’re different than you were then, and so are the people you're around.”

You blink, startled by the way the words settle into your chest. He’s not teasing now. He really means it.

“I don’t want it to be awkward,” you murmur.

“It won’t be,” he says, like it’s obvious. “You don’t have to turn it into some big, dramatic invite. Just say it. No pressure. And if it helps, I’ll start it for you.”

You look at him then — really look — and for a moment, you forget there are six other people in the room. Forget the clatter of buttons and the yelling and the video game music in the background. His eyes are steady on yours, warm and sure.

“You’re kind of sweet, you know that?” you say, lips twitching.

He smirks. “Only kind of?”

You shrug. “I have to keep you humble.”

Riki opens his mouth, probably to fire something back, but—

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Jay’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife.

You both flinch, turning in unison like you’ve been caught passing notes in class.

But Riki doesn’t miss a beat. “Just talking about winter break.”

He leans forward a bit, voice casual but loud enough for the others to hear. “[Name]'s got plans. Was inviting us over, actually.”

You startle slightly, your eyes flicking to Riki like seriously? but he only smiles at you — the kind of small, confident smile that says you’ve got this.

You clear your throat, shifting under the weight of suddenly being the center of attention. “Um... yeah. My mom’s throwing this Christmas dinner thing. A couple days before the actual holiday. She told me I should invite you guys, if… if you wanted to come.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Sunoo blinks, eyes wide. “Wait—your mom knows about us?”

You nod slowly. “I might’ve… mentioned you a few times.”

Sunoo places a hand over his heart. “That’s actually so sweet. I feel touched.”

“Is there Food involved?” Jake asks, already sitting up straighter.

"She just said it's a dinner party, genius."

You huff a quiet laugh. “Lots of it. Korean dishes, but also Western stuff. My mom likes to go all out.”

“Oh, I’m in,” Jungwon says immediately.

“Me too,” Heeseung echoes. “No way I’m passing that up.”

One by one, the others chime in — a chorus of easy agreement, layered with jokes about who's bringing what and whether anyone needs to dress up.

Just like that, the tension you’d been holding evaporates. No awkward silence. No hesitation. Just... warmth.

The conversation drifts back to the game naturally, pulled along by a shout from Sunghoon as Jay hits him with a red shell.

Riki nudges you again, shoulder to shoulder.

When you turn to him, he doesn’t say much — just glances at you, eyes gleaming, and murmurs, “See? Told you.”

You sink back into the cushions, letting the noise of the room wrap around you. The living room glows with soft lamp light and louder voices— someone's screaming about being blue-shelled, Sunoo screaming injustice, Sunghoon attempting to argue with Heeseung about tapping you in to save his terrible track record of past races, and Riki sitting closely beside you.

It's strange, the way comfort can sneak up on you. How quickly warmth can build in a space that once felt impossible to belong in. Maybe it wasn't about saying the perfect thing or waiting for the right moment— maybe it was just about trying. Saying something. Letting people in.

Your gaze flicks sideways, just in time to see Riki laughing at the screen like he hasn't just completely shifted your world with a quiet nudge and a few soft words.

You feel a continuous thud behind your ribs. Familiar now. Heavy and certain.

[averillaratargaryen]

‘The Bitter Bond.’

Chapter XXXVIII

“She is awake” Ser Simon announced to Aemond, who sat out in the gardens, his elbows rested against his knees, restless and exhausted.

With no sleep, Aemond had been waiting over 48 hours, for Daerlyssa to wake, and hearing that she finally did, he nodded with a sigh of relief.

“Will you not go up to see her?” Ser Simon asks.

Aemond turned to him with a light chuckle, a smile that hid his true emotions well, “she must wish to see her family first.”

Ser Simon stood back, not knowing what to do when the Queen had ordered that he bring Aemond and yet, the Prince sat back without budging.

But it seemed Rhaenyra was aware of Aemond’s situation, when she herself and followed out after.

“Aemond” Rhaenyra called out.

Aemond stood up, noticing her presence when she came to him.

“I heard” he nodded, avoiding contact with her eyes.

“She wishes to see you” Rhaenyra smiled back.

“What of Daemon?.. her brother’s?” Aemond asked.

“She has seen them all, and given how often her brother’s tease and annoy her, she is done for the day with their presence” Rhaenyra chuckled, leaning forward, having Aemond raise his head to look at her.

With a whisper, and a comforting hand at his shoulder, she spoke again, “go to her.”

Aemond nods, looking towards the door that he walked into seconds later.

…

“Father, I am fine-!” Daerlyssa was heard complaining with a slight chuckle.

“I will not let you out my sight again- hell! I won’t let you return to Dragonstone” Daemon warned her.

“You are too much. I am fine. I am awake, and well” Daerlyssa complained.

“Prince Aemond, your Grace” the Kingsguard had spoken out, having Daemon turn around, and Daerlyssa raise her head slightly, her eyes meeting his in an instant.

Rhaenyra, who stood behind, had signalled Daemon, to let the two be.

And even though he did not wish to leave his daughter’s side, he turned to notice the look of calmness the moment she set her eyes on Aemond.

Walking past, Daemon glared down at Aemond, only to be pulled away by his wife, everyone then clearing out the chamber, closing the door behind them.

Daerlyssa noticed the look in his eyes. The look of fear, and uncertainty.

“Aemond?” Daerlyssa called out, “Will you not sit beside me?”

“Hm?” He let out quietly, looking away from her and around the room, “right, sorry.”

He headed towards her, slowly placing himself to sit beside her.

“They told me what happened. That- it was you, who called for help” She tilted her head with a soft smile.

“Only after it were me, who caused it” Aemond responded.

“You can not blame yourself” Daerlyssa whispered, taking his hand, “I have put you in an awful position. You were.. angry, and hurt. And rightfully so.”

“I should have never hurt you” he whispered with a shaky voice.

“It was a mistake” Daerlyssa had seemed to be understanding of his emotions, but Aemond could hardly forgive himself, to agree.

“It was a mistake that should never have happened” Aemond whispered to himself, as he was sat looking everywhere, but toward her.

“Will you.. look at me?” She asks, wishing to get a look of his face. And he was not one to disregard her wants.

Slowly turning to face her, she had given him a saddened smile, seeing the state that he were in.

“It must have been.. terrifying” She whispered, noticing the grimace on his face becoming more and more visible.

Looking down at her stomach, he held her hand back tightly, glancing back up at her.

“I’m so sorry” he whispered, and soon after she hand found herself tightly wrapped around his arms, as he pulled her towards him.

Daerlyssa knew it were an incident that was worrying. But to find Aemond this distraught, she felt that something were not right.

“Aemond?..” her voice was quiet and calming, her hand rested behind his head.

For him, it were comfort. Comfort he hadn’t received in a very long time.

Pulling him away, she held his face up to have him look at her, knowing he would drop his head down.

“If you are sorry, then so am I” Daerlyssa responded.

“You have nothing to be sorry for” Aemond shook his head.

“I did not tell you of our child. I sent you out to kill your own, Aemond, it is alright” she whispered.

The two look at one another in silence, Daerlyssa still holding his face dearly, when she smiled with teared eyes,

“I will hold you, within the depths of your despair. Even if no one is on your side, Aemond, I always will be” She assured him.

At it seemed her assurance is what he had needed, when he nodded in response, the two then letting out a soft chuckle amongst one another.

He brought both hands up to cradle her face, gentle yet full of urgency, as though she might slip away if he didn’t hold on just right.

Her hands were already there, cupping his cheeks with the kind of tenderness that makes time slow.

Their lips met in a kiss that trembled with all the words they hadn’t said, all the fears, all the love that had lived unspoken in glances and near-misses.

When they finally pulled back, neither of them moved far, foreheads resting together, breath mingling, eyes locked.

Tears shimmered in both pairs of eyes—hers glistening like morning dew, his like a storm just passed—but they smiled, small and aching and full of something finally found.

-

Leaving her to rest, Aemond had headed out a while after, making his way down, only to bump into Jacerys.

“Aemond” he called out, holding him back, “a moment?”

…

“I don’t understand” Aemond looked towards Jace, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“My mother- she was right” Jace nods, “Daerlyssa would be much more hurt with you gone, than you beside her.”

“I have caused her enough pain, Jace. I can not-?” Aemond stuttered, not knowing how to feel or what to say.

“You were alone with her. What did she say?” Jace asks.

“She forgave me” Aemond whispered back with a gulp.

“Then what is the need to make this any harder. If she has forgiven you then my word is nothing” Jace shrugged, “is is Daerlyssa’s happiness I want. And if it is with you.. what is there more to say?”

“Jace, she may have forgiven me, but I can not bring myself to forgiveness” Aemond pointed to himself in agony, “I don’t- I do not know what I am capable of. And whether it be now, or the future? Jace, I almost killed her!”

Jace stood back silently, agreeing on that part with a nod.

“You were right” Aemond nodded, “I should have stayed away. I love your sister, but I did not see that I would bring her pain. So it is only right that I love her, by leaving her. So she does not suffer a horrible fate.”

-

Aemond had lay beside her that night, and once again had gone sleepless, knowing within 24 hours, he would no longer see her again.

Keeping her closely beside him, his head rested on the pillow, his back down and himself facing up towards the ceiling.

It was a dangerous thing, having being alone, with a mind like Aemond’s, lost in his thoughts. Yet he was to forget that he was in fact, not alone.

With a swift motion, Daerlyssa had turned in her sleep, turning to face Aemond, her arm resting above him, and around his waist.

Looking down, past his shoulder, he found her fast asleep, a smile on her face, that bought a smile to his.

He could not help but wonder why she would smile. What was there to smile about after everything that had occurred?

He believed himself to have failed not only his vows, but his promise to Aegon, to keep Daerlyssa safe.

“Aemond” Daerlyssa mumbled softly.

Aemond let out a soft chuckle, bringing himself down to her level, as he lay on his side, now facing her.

Cradling her cheek, he whispered, “I’m here.”

Little did she know, it would be the last that he’d be there, beside him.

-

The next afternoon had come by not long after, and after Daerlyssa had fought hard enough, Daemon had given her the privilege to get out of bed.

…

“Are you off somewhere?” Daerlyssa asks Alicent, who seemed to be packing her bags, with her chamber door open.

Turning to face her, she stood up slowly, “actually.. yes. I’m heading home.”

“Home?” Daerlyssa asks.

“Old Town” Alicent responded.

Daerlyssa nods back, continuing to stand out her chamber, “I see you have decided to go back for Helena?”

“Well that is one reason” Alicent responded, going back to folding her clothes whilst she spoke, “but I find it that there is nothing left for me here.”

“There is something here for you” Daerlyssa cleared her throat, before speaking of her mother, “you and my mother still have matters to discuss.”

Hearing this, Alicent had stopped her hands in folding her clothes, reminiscing for a second, only to shake her head away from it, “there is nothing to discuss.”

“My mother says you both were close friends” Daerlyssa leaned herself against the door frame, “I would not call that nothing.”

“You are too.. young, to understand” Alicent ignored her presence, turning her back to her.

“Perhaps I am” Daerlyssa responded, “but I also understand that when friendships go unspoken for many years, with mistakes made and feelings hurt, eventually you would wish for comfort.”

Alicent had found herself reminiscing yet again, except this time she did not distract herself.

Rather, she allowed herself to remember the words that she and Rhaenyra both spoke of, as young girls, before looking around her chamber.

Many years she had been beside her, whether it were as a friend, her father’s wife, former queen and even her enemy.

She and Rhaenyra had spent many years together, and now, it would be the last that she ever would come face to face with Rhaenyra.

Turning around, looking out the door, Daerlyssa had disappeared, but her words stayed stained.

-

“I thought I’d find you here” Rhaenyra sighed, finding Aemond sat by himself, in the drawing room, to take it all in.

To give it one last look.

“It is the one place me and Aegon would spend most our time in” Aemond chuckled, “and then Daerlyssa, once she had become a part of mine and Aegon’s life.”

Rhaenyra smiled, as she also took a look around, “Daerlyssa is one to bring joy out of the littlest things. That is why, after everything she has experienced with her father, she still loves him very much.”

“That much we can agree on” Aemond nods.

“As she does, her brother. As she does, you” Rhaenyra reminds him.

A reminder Aemond did not want to have to face, “I am doing this, for her. For her safety.”

“Do you truly think she is safer without you?” Rhaenyra asks.

“At least this time, if she were to come with child, it would be killed, as I did ours” Aemond gulped as he kept his back facing towards her, hiding his guilt and disappointment.

“You are married, you do not possibly think she’d wish a child elsewhere” Rhaenyra scoffed.

“We are not truly married” Aemond shook his head, “it was just.. vows, we had spoken. With no septa, with no true witnesses, we had given vows. It was a childish alliance.”

“One that kept Daerlyssa happy, Aemond. You are what keeps her safe. What keeps her happy- what keeps her whole!” Rhaenyra felt herself almost pleading for him to stay back.

“I am a madman!” Aemond responded, turning around to face her, “I do not know who I am. With two minds, and one that is dangerous? I am dangerous for her, Rhaenyra.”

In defeat, Rhaenyra could only nods, turning to walk out.

As she silence made her way to the door, she turned to face him, “what will you tell her?”

“That I am seeing my mother out safely. By then, she will be readying herself for bed, she will not think to follow out after me” Aemond responds.

Rhaenyra had given him one last look, but she could no longer plead nor force Aemond to stay back for her daughter.

-

The night sky had come by soon, as the carriage awaited out front, with Alicent and her belongings being taken in, Aemond’s already being taken beforehand.

“I should hope to host you again, soon” Rhaenyra spoke, as she and Alicent stood opposite one another.

“Do not speak words you do not mean” Alicent responded, “even Daemon can not control his smile.”

“Daemon.. he has always been Daemon” Rhaenyra chuckled, “but you were a true friend to me. One that I would not forget.”

Rhaenyra placed a piece of folded paper in Alicent’s hand, and as it had unfolded, both women were looking down at a page that fonded well memories within their youth.

“You must not wish to see her go” Daerlyssa sighed, as she stood beside Aemond.

“I will see her out” Aemond responded, “to make sure that she is sent off safely.”

“Of course” Daerlyssa nods, “she is your mother after all.”

With a shaky hand, his palm was bought to her cheek, when he turned around, positioning himself before her.

“You must get some rest” Aemond warns her.

“You are turning into my father, and he is insufferable at this very moment” Daerlyssa rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

Aemond smiled back, staring down at her.

It would be the last he heard such laughter.

“Is everything alright?” Daerlyssa asks.

“Of course” Aemond responded.

Soaking it all in, he had stared her down, from head to toe, before resting a kiss above her head.

It was a long, softened yet pressed kiss against her head, followed by a couple of short pecks above it, just after.

“Get some rest, Daerlyssa” Aemond whispered.

“I will” Daerlyssa nodded.

Aemond, not being able to help himself, had given in for a hug, which Daerlyssa had found odd, with how tightly he held her.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled away, the two smiling at one another again.

“You must take care of yourself. Always” Aemond gave her his eye of warning.

“You are speaking as though it is you that is leaving” Daerlyssa chuckled once again.

Aemond smiled back, as he shook his head, “I just wish for you to care for yourself that is all.”

“And I will” Daerlyssa held his hand, as it rocked back and forth, “with you by my side, I will always be cared for.”

“Aemond” Alicent had spoken his name out.

Turning his head back, Alicent indicated with her eyes, turning around to walk out whilst the others watched in silence, to Aemond’s decision.

“See her off” Daerlyssa spoke, “I’ll meet you back in our chamber.”

With a much saddened smile, Aemond nodded, his hand slipping out of hers before he slowly turned around, and walked out, with it being the last he would ever see himself here again.

…

“He was acting quite strange” Daerlyssa spoke to Rhaenyra as she walked towards her family, “do you think something happened between him and Alicent?”

Looking at one another awkwardly, Jace then mumbled to his mother, “just tell her.”

“Tell me what?” Daerlyssa asks, looking at all three, confused by their stiffness and uncertainty, “mother?”

Turning to face Rhaenyra, the Queen sighed, taking a step forward to her daughter.

“Just answer me this question, Daerlyssa” Rhaenyra sighed, “do you truly forgive Aemond?”

“Of course I do” Daerlyssa responded, “he is.. he is my husband, I would not be angry at him for something that was a mistake.”

Rhaenyra looked to Jace.

“What does that have to do with anything? Mother? What is going on?” Daerlyssa asks.

“Aemond has left for Old Town, with Alicent” Jace had spoken up, having enough of the secrecy.

“What? No, he has just sent her off” Daerlyssa shook her head.

“That was an excuse” Jace responded, stepping forward to take control of the conversation, “he believes he is protecting you from himself, whilst giving the Hightower’s what they want.”

“Why has no one told me?” Daerlyssa asks.

“Aemond asked that we do not” Rhaenyra responded.

With a scoff, Daerlyssa turned towards the front door, running out as she held her dress up slightly.

“Daerlyssa, get back!” Daemon called out to her, before turning to Rhaenyra, “that girl is going to get herself killed.”

“Let her go” Rhaenyra responds, “Aemond is the man that she loves. Only she can prove to him, that he is worth staying by her side.”

…

Daerlyssa had ran out, and it seemed the gates were closing, but she had ran out in time to see the carriage within the distance, and whilst it was a long distance, she knew she could get herself to him.

Running back in, she called to the guards at the gate, “keep the gates opened!”

Daerlyssa had ran to the stable, finding Aemond’s horse stood within its barn, and was quick to pull him out, and get a saddle above it.

After prepping him, she had jumped up, and rode him out the gates, following behind her heart.

-

Aemond stared out the carriage window, quiet throughout the thirty minutes he had been sat beside Alicent.

“You should get some sleep” she rested her hand above his.

“I am not tired” Aemond responded, turning to face her, “but you should.”

“You did the right thing” Alicent gave him a saddened smile, “if not for your benefit, then Daerlyssa’s.”

“I know” Aemond nods, sighing as his back slid down, with an exhausted expression, “I am just not sure if lying was the way to have done this.”

“She will understand your reasonings” Alicent responded, “and besides, you may return to visit her when you wish.”

“I can’t” Aemond shook his head, “knowing there is a chance she’d have moved on with another, I can not bring myself to look at that.”

“I do not think her to do that” Alicent shook her head with a chuckle, “as much as i do not approve of your relationship with her, i can not agree that she would move on.”

“Only time will tell” Aemond turns his head down, towards his fiddled fingers, his nerves growing as the carriage travelled on.

The silence was deafening, that even the sound of chirping birds were a loud noise.

And then a distant voice, that called out his name.

Alicent turned her head back, herself in realisation that a voice was calling out to Aemond, but the young man only thought the voice was in his head, himself thinking of the woman he loves.

“Aemond, do you not hear that?” Alicent asks.

“I hear her even when I sleep” Aemond whispered.

“No-! Just-!” She turns her head, and looks out the carriage windows, seeing Daerlyssa following behind on Aemond’s horse.

��Aemond, it’s Daerlyssa!” Alicent shook him, without looking back.

Aemond turned to his mother, before his name was called again.

Alicent placed her head back in, turning to face Aemond, whose emotions were delayed before he turned to look out from his side of the carriage, seeing Daerlyssa riding towards him.

“Stop here!” Aemond called out to the footman, tapping the carriage.

When it came to a stop, Aemond was quick to come out, Daerlyssa slowing herself down, as Aemond took a couple of steps back towards her.

But an entire field between them, as they stared at one another from a distance.

He noticed her heavy breath, watching her glide of his horse, looking at him with confusion, a sniffle following after as she wriggled her reddened nose.

“Daerlyssa, what are you doing here?” He called out, loudly enough for her to hear as she was far across.

“Is it that easy?” Daerlyssa asks, her voice raised back, “to leave everything behind, and run?”

With a gulp, knowing she was right, his gaze turned away, “I told you to go back to your chamber. You should not be here.”

“You have not answered my question!” She called out, herself leaning forward when it seemed he was ready to turn away from her.

Fighting the urge to walk away, Aemond turned to look up, Daerlyssa following as the two heard a rumble from the sky, and soon after, the wind struck, and the rain began to fall.

Looking back down, he then spoke, “Go home, Daerlyssa.”

He turned away, his hand in a fist as he fought with his inner thoughts.

“I won’t let you leave!” She shouted, “If you leave, then there is nothing left of me here!”

Aemond stopped in his tracks, after hearing her voice, and what she had spoken, turning his head only, to look back at her.

The two stare down at each other, with much distance between them, yet their hearts continued beating for one another. 

With a sigh, his shoulder had fallen, his misery growing within him.

“All I have done is mess things up” Aemond shrugs with a heartbreaking sigh, “I can’t stay and ruin your life any longer.”

Daerlyssa knew of what he felt, as she too felt the same. But unlike Aemond, she wished to keep her faith strong, believing that the two can overcome this.

“You made a promise to me, remember?” Her voice was pleaded with a tremble to her lips, “you swore by the moon, to love and cherish me until your last breath.”

“What good do those words do when I have already failed you?” Aemond asks.

“If you have failed me, then so have i” she points to herself, her eyes flickered as the rain began to get heavy.

“Daerlyssa, you need to get back home. The rain is dangerous-!”

“I will not leave, Aemond. Not without you” Daerlyssa shook her head.

Aemond looked to her with saddened eyes, knowing he had to leave. If not for her, then maybe himself.

“I failed you just the same. I did not think… of how you felt. But I understand it now. I understand that it is lonely. That you feel you do not belong” Daerlyssa nods, “and when i asked of something i should not have.. it was insensitive of me to do so.”

“And yet it caused no physical harm” Aemond shook his head, “not like what i had caused you.”

“What i did was the same, if not worse” Daerlyssa acknowledged her mistakes, “but that is the point of relationships. Of marriage. We make mistakes, but we grow, knowing in the end we have each other.”

Aemond felt his lips tremble, as he looks away, a shiver falling down his spine from the cold air, his hair wet, that blended out the tears which stained his face.

“I forgive you, Aemond. Whatever has happened, whatever it is you feel bad for, i forgive you” she noticed his eyes slowly turning back to her, afraid but soft.

Loving.

The Aemond that she knew.

“We do things out of grief, that we later regret, but i forgive you. I forgive you for what you believe you’ve done wrong. But i can not forgive you if you leave me” Daerlyssa shook her head.

She let out a light chuckle, the feeling that both were staring with teared eyes and emotional souls was mutual.

Wiping her eyes, she sniffled, pulling the strands of wet hair that stuck to her cheeks, behind her ears.

“I promised to love all of you, Aemond. The good and bad” she chuckled with teary eyes, before calling out his name, “Aemond Targaryen. I swear by the stars, that I love you!”

Her confession had his eyes softened, the fire with him ignited, when she had given him a look. One that he read as a question, of ‘will-you-love-me?’

Her head was tilted, as was her smile, when she stared at him with full adoration.

It had made Aemond realise, that after all of it, she truly loved him. There was nothing more stronger than the love that she had for him. That she felt towards him.

So what must he do? Walk away and leave that all behind? Or finally embrace his fears, that in the end, there might be hardships along the way. But as long as the two continue to love one another, their relationship would never fall apart.

With courage, he began making his way towards her, his steps slow and steady, as were hers, before the two had ran towards one another.

Each of their steps splashed, through puddles, hearts racing faster than their feet. Their eyes locked even before their arms did, the distance between them vanishing in an instant as they collided in a breathless embrace.

Water streamed down their faces, but neither noticed—too lost in the intensity of the moment, too full of longing and relief.

Their lips met in a kiss that was desperate and electric, as though the storm had been summoned just to echo the tempest inside them.

Holding each other tightly, they clung as though afraid the world might tear them apart again, the rain only deepening the warmth they found in each other’s arms.

As their lips slowly parted, their foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the cool rain-soaked air.

Their eyes met—wide, searching, soft—and in that quiet gaze, something shifted. No words passed between them, but everything was understood.

Their soaked lashes blinked away raindrops, but neither looked away, as if afraid to lose the fragile truth that now hung between them like a thread spun from the storm itself.

Alicent, whose head peaked out, overhearing and watching the entire scene before her, had let out a smile.

And for one that was once against it, she had come to realise the answer of it all.

In the end, it was their love, that plastered the bitter bond.

“Shall we head on, your Grace?” The footman asks.

“Yes” Alicent responded with a smile, before whispering to herself, “let us begin this journey with a change of heart.”

Aemond and Daerlyssa hadn’t noticed the disappearance of the carriage, as the two continued to hold onto one another, his hand cupping her cheeks, his thumb wrinkled due to the rain.

With a pained smile, he whispered back, “i love you, Daerlyssa Targaryen.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

END

special chapter

[ashthesalamipiece]

"Still With You" — chapter 1: The Breaking Point

(Kiribaku x Fem!Reader — TW: Suicide attempt, self-harm, hospitalization)

---

The dorms were quiet that night.

Too quiet.

The hum of electronics was replaced by an eerie stillness, like the air itself was holding its breath. Bakugou didn’t realize he was pacing until Kirishima grabbed his wrist.

“She’s been gone for a while,” Kirishima said softly, his voice tinged with unease. “Did she say anything to you earlier?”

Bakugou shook his head, his crimson eyes narrowed. “No. Said she was going to shower after training. That was almost two hours ago.”

They both looked at the clock.

1:37 AM.

Kirishima’s heart dropped. He reached for his phone, fingers trembling slightly as he scrolled through her messages. The last one she sent had a heart emoji. A soft, simple “I love you guys. Don’t forget that.”

Bakugou’s chest tightened.

He didn’t wait—he sprinted toward the girls’ wing of the dorms, Kirishima right behind him. Privacy rules didn’t matter now. Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

---

The bathroom door was locked.

Bakugou banged on it, shouting her name. No answer.

Kirishima didn’t hesitate—he hardened his arm and smashed through the door.

The world seemed to slow.

She was there. Collapsed on the tile floor. Pale. Shaking. Blood pooled near her wrists. A broken razor lay beside her. An empty bottle of sleeping pills on the sink.

“(Y/N)!” Kirishima dropped to his knees, lifting her limp body carefully. Her pulse was faint—too faint.

Bakugou was already on his phone, dialing Recovery Girl while trying to rip a towel from the rack to stop the bleeding.

“Damn it… damn it… you promised…” he whispered, his voice cracking for the first time in years.

---

The dorm was silent as medics rushed in.

All the other students had woken up by then. Some cried. Some stood frozen. Mina sobbed into Jirou’s shoulder. Midoriya couldn’t stop shaking. Aizawa arrived within minutes, his face set in stone, but his eyes betrayed everything.

“This is her sixth attempt,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “We missed the signs again…”

Bakugou sat beside Kirishima in the common room while the ambulance pulled away. His hands were still stained with her blood.

Kirishima stared at the floor. “She didn’t think we’d care enough.”

Bakugou gritted his teeth. “She’s an idiot. A beautiful, kind, perfect idiot…”

“But she’s our idiot,” Kirishima whispered, tears silently falling down his cheeks.

---

The next morning, Aizawa called them in.

“She’s alive,” he said, to their relief. “But barely. She’s being transferred to a psychiatric care facility—long-term.”

Bakugou nodded slowly. He didn’t argue. “That’s what she needs.”

“Can we see her?” Kirishima asked, voice raw.

Aizawa nodded. “Not right away. But yes. And I’ll make sure the class can send letters, drawings. She needs to remember she’s loved.”

Bakugou finally let himself cry—not loudly, not violently. Just quiet tears.

Because he didn’t know what the hell he would’ve done if they’d been even a minute later.

---

To be continued in Part 2: The Ward

---

"Still With You" — Part 2: The Ward

(Kiribaku x Fem!Reader — TW: Suicide attempt recovery, psychiatric care, emotional healing)

---

The facility wasn’t what they expected.

There were no white padded walls, no straightjackets. Just soft pastel tones, quiet halls, and nurses who moved with practiced gentleness. It was secure, but not prison-like. Still, seeing her there broke both their hearts.

She sat near a window in a chair that looked too big for her. Her hospital gown clung to her small frame, the fabric loose, like she was slowly disappearing inside it. IV lines ran from her hand to a pole beside her chair. Her eyes were empty. Dull. Like the lights inside her had gone out.

Bakugou’s fists clenched by his sides. Kirishima stepped forward first.

“Hey, sunshine…” he said gently, kneeling beside her.

She turned slowly, like she wasn’t sure if they were real. Her voice was hoarse when she spoke.

“…You came?”

“Of course we did,” Kirishima said, offering a small, trembling smile. “We’ll always come.”

She didn’t smile back. She looked down at her bandaged wrists and whispered, “You shouldn’t be here. I don’t deserve it.”

Bakugou walked over and sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees.

“Don’t you ever say that again.”

She didn’t reply.

“You think we don’t care? You think it doesn’t wreck us, every time you disappear into that pain alone?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…”

“You didn’t hurt us,” Kirishima interrupted softly. “You scared us. And we get it, (Y/N). We know you're hurting. But you never have to face it alone again.”

Her lip trembled. “I don’t even know why I keep waking up…”

Bakugou leaned forward, voice quiet for once. “Then let us give you a reason.”

She looked at them—really looked. And for the first time in weeks, something in her flickered. A fragile ember.

“You’re not a burden,” Kirishima said, reaching for her hand. “You’re our girl. You matter.”

“Always have,” Bakugou muttered. “Always will.”

---

The visits became a weekly ritual.

Kirishima brought snacks and silly magazines. Bakugou read to her when she couldn’t focus. Sometimes they just sat beside her in silence, letting her feel them there. Reminding her she was still loved. Still wanted.

Her classmates sent drawings, letters, small gifts.

Mina sent a friendship bracelet. Denki’s letter was full of jokes and little doodles of her as a superhero. Jirou wrote lyrics to a soft song she’d been working on. Even Todoroki sent a pressed flower with a quiet note: “You still bring warmth. Don't forget that.”

---

One day, she smiled.

It was small, shy. But it was real.

“You guys are still here,” she whispered, looking at them during one visit.

“Damn right,” Bakugou said with a smirk.

Kirishima beamed. “We’re not going anywhere.”

She looked down at her hospital gown, then at the IV in her arm.

“I hate how broken I feel…”

“You’re not broken,” Kirishima said, brushing her hair from her face. “You’re healing.”

Bakugou added, “And healing looks messy sometimes. But that doesn’t make it wrong.”

They sat with her until visiting hours ended, holding her hand until the nurses had to gently ask them to leave.

---

To be continued in Part 3: Recovery Days

---

"Still With You" — Part 3: Recovery Days

(Kiribaku x Fem!Reader — TW: Mental health recovery, emotional trauma, comfort)

---

It had been over a month.

(Y/N) was still in the psychiatric ward, but things were changing—slowly, like winter melting into spring.

She started participating in group therapy, sketching in the art room, and eating full meals again. Her eyes, once clouded with pain, were clearer now—though the sadness never truly left. Not yet.

But she was trying. And that meant something.

---

One afternoon, Bakugou and Kirishima arrived to find her sitting in the garden outside the ward—her first time allowed there alone.

She turned when she saw them and waved. Waved.

Kirishima ran to her and picked her up gently, spinning her once before placing her back down.

“You’re out of the ward!” he beamed. “Look at you, breaking milestones like a pro hero!”

She giggled, and it made Bakugou freeze for a second. He hadn't heard that sound in what felt like years.

“You’re still idiots,” she said, smiling softly.

“Maybe,” Bakugou muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But we’re your idiots.”

---

They sat in the grass with her, under the afternoon sun. It felt normal, almost like the world had forgotten for a second how close she came to vanishing.

“Do you hate me for what I did?” she asked, her voice barely audible over the breeze.

“No,” Kirishima said instantly, shaking his head. “Never.”

Bakugou stared at her for a moment. “You were in pain. You thought you had no way out. But you were wrong. You have us.”

“I wanted to stop the hurt,” she admitted. “It was like drowning. I couldn’t breathe.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Kirishima said gently. “But if you ever do feel like drowning again—we’ll jump in with you.”

She laughed, tearfully. “That’s not a great safety plan.”

Bakugou smirked. “Then we’ll just carry you until you can swim again.”

---

That night, they helped her braid her hair before bed. It was the most mundane, simple thing—but it grounded her.

“I don’t deserve you guys,” she whispered.

Kirishima leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Stop saying that.”

Bakugou wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. “You do. You always did.”

She closed her eyes and breathed in their warmth. For the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid of waking up tomorrow.

Because she knew they’d still be there.

---

To be continued in Part 4: Coming Home

---

"Still With You" — Part 4: Coming Home

(Kiribaku x Fem!Reader — TW: mental health recovery, emotional vulnerability, support system)

---

The day she returned to U.A. felt unreal.

She stood just outside the dorm gates, clutching the straps of her backpack like a lifeline. The air smelled like sun-warmed pavement and cherry blossoms. Students milled about on the paths ahead, but all she could hear was her heartbeat.

Bakugou stepped beside her and gently bumped her shoulder. “Breathe.”

On her other side, Kirishima grinned, though his eyes glimmered with emotion. “We’ve got you, alright? One step at a time.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to be,” Bakugou said. “You just have to be here.”

That was enough.

---

The doors to the dorm common room swung open.

And Class 1-A exploded.

“(Y/N)!!!” Mina squealed, nearly tackling her in a hug. “You’re back!”

“I—I made cupcakes!” Sero shouted, holding up a pink frosted tray. “They're probably edible!”

“We missed you so much,” Iida said, adjusting his glasses with shaking hands.

Even Todoroki stepped forward and offered her a quiet nod. “Welcome home.”

She stood frozen, eyes wide, overwhelmed.

Then Yaoyorozu stepped in and wrapped her in a soft, careful hug. “We’ve been waiting for you, every day.”

Tears spilled from her eyes before she could stop them.

They didn’t flinch away.

They held her.

---

Later that night, after the excitement settled and she sat curled up on the couch between Bakugou and Kirishima, she looked around the room—at her friends playing games, studying, laughing.

For so long she’d believed she didn’t belong here.

That she was a burden. A crack in the perfect system.

But now, sitting between the two people who refused to give up on her, surrounded by classmates who had waited with open arms and full hearts, she finally understood—

She mattered.

Not because she was strong.

But because she was herself. And that was enough.

---

Bakugou pressed a kiss to her hair. “You’re safe.”

Kirishima smiled and squeezed her hand. “And we’re proud of you. Every single day.”

She smiled softly.

“I’m proud of me, too.”

[little-robin-h00d]

Behold! My Ienzo art for mermay! Art done in MS Paint, lighting done in Clip Studio

IT IS FINALLY DONE! My most ambitious project yet, I was working on it on and off since December, done just in time! To celebrate Mermay, but also the Octavinelle chapters of Book 7 of Twisted Wonderland

Ienzo is based off of a bluebottle fish, aka the Man-O-War fish! This fish spends its juvenile years amidst the tentacles of the Portuguese Man-O-War, and is resistant but not immune to its toxin. I feel like this relationship really encapsulates his relationship with Xemnas.

There are 20 hidden mickeys- I mean, lucky emblems. 13 emblems of darkness, 7 emblems of light- you can find them all below the cut, along with a list of every single object in the image, and where it is from!

From top to bottom, left to right:

A tabard from The Three Musketeers, an alien from Toy Story, atlantica treasure chest 1, vase from Hercules, Chip and Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast (and also Tarzan), a magipen (Pomfiore flavor) from Twisted Wonderland, Milo's book and Kida's necklace from Atlantis, an amethyst cluster, the KH3 Winnie the Pooh book, the scuba goggles from Finding Nemo, Jafar's lamp from Aladdin, a disk from Tron, the box the Evil Queen gave the Huntsman (or Terra) from Snow White, one of Captain Hook's hooks from Peter Pan, a mouse trap from Cinderella, a tiny llama figurine representing The Emperor's New Groove, a little flag of the Kingdom of Corona from Tangled, one of Gepetto's cuckoo clocks from Pinnochio, Tarzan's family portrait from Tarzan, a lucky neko cat, a grammophone, a wooden figure of Quasimodo from Hunchback of Notre Dame, a music box that is in Ariel's grotto in KH1, the giant crate of materia from FF7 Advent Children, the spinning wheel from Sleeping Beauty, Elsa's gloves from Frozen, an old boot, the pillow the glass slipper was on in Cinderella, Sora's headset he got in San Fransokyo in KH3, the ball map from Treasure Planet, Rapunzel's frying pan from Tangled but also from Ratatouille, the gigantic portrait of Apprentice Xehanort from KH2, a smaller version of the Magic Mirror from Snow White, a potion and ether from Kingdom Hearts, atlantica treasure chest 2, a conch shell, an antique microscope, the compass from Pochahontas, Masamune (Sephiroth's sword) from FF7, the pink bag and pipe Ariel got from the sunken ship in The Little Mermaid, random pink coral, the flowers and plants appearing in one scene of The Little Mermaid, Doctor Finklestein's artificial heart from KH1, atlantica chest 3, Perry the Platypus' hat from Phineas and Ferb, the Book of Retribution Lexicon, a candelabra representing Lumiere from Beauty and the Beast with utencils in it, a banner from the opening of Sleeping Beauty, the busted Octavinelle safe from Twisted Wonderland, a grandfather clock representing both Alice and Wonderland and Peter Pan, carpet from Aladdin, barnacles and mussels, a pink starfish from Finding Nemo, a scream canister from Monsters Inc., seaweed, Rafiki's staff from the Lion King, an anchor, a beer keg, the sword of Shan Yu from Mulan, a giant globe.

I tried to include at least one object from every Disney world in Kingdom Hearts!

[hannibals-grahamcracker]

Hannigram Long Fanfic Review List!

I know there are only 2 fics on here right now, but if you've sent any long fics to my ask box, I promise I'm working on them! I have three different notes full of fics from specific blogs if you sent me more than one at a time!

These took forever to get around to, but I finally did it! Anyway, on with the post, please enjoy!

Reviews under the cut! :)

Like A Lucid Dream

Author: DruidGurl

Word count: 75,975

Summary: In the days following Will's fateful fall from the bluff, Molly Graham begins to understand the extent of her ignorance regarding Hannibal and Will's relationship. The discovery of her husband's deceit leads her to seek refuge and escape in their cottage in the mountains. There's only one problem: she's not the only one who is looking for a place to hide. - After the fall, Will and Hannibal rest, recover, and fall in love all over again... under the watchful eye of Will's wife. -

This was an absolute whirlwind to read. It's incredibly good, and I finished it in one day! Lots of emotions, complications, and changing dynamics. It leaves off on Molly getting her happy ending, which I appreciated. Molly gets too much hate sometimes, justice for my girl fr. I've been considering writing a fic featuring Molly, and this fic may have just convinced me to do so!

The Fault In My Code

Author: LiaS0

Word count: 90,434

Summary: Soulmate AU: Soulmates find their other half when they look into their eyes. After the next time they sleep, they wake with one eye the color of their intended. Will Graham avoids eyes. He's never wanted a soulmate, never wanted to be told by the universe who he was supposed to feel a connection to. He already struggles enough with connections, thank you very much. As a psychiatrist, he works with soulmates who have lost their other half through various means, part of a social system that regards the journey to your soulmate as the most important thing a person can do. Coerced by Jack Crawford to consult on a case where the assailant is targeting soulmates, Will finds himself turning to the notorious Dr. Lecter to gain insight on how he's choosing the soulmates to target. Things go horribly awry when he looks into Hannibal's eyes, though. The next morning, he wakes up with one eye blue, the other maroon. He's never wanted a soulmate, least of all one behind bars for murdering dozens of people and eating them. Hannibal thinks it's delightful -it's been dreadfully boring since he was locked up. Romance, thriller, mayhem, mystery, soulmate au with a realistic twist, and a grumpy Will Graham

Okay so I have a lot to say about this one, because it was very long and very detailed! I love details.

I love the allusions to Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon throughout this fic. I noticed it right away in chapter one, and I adored it instantly.

Looooove that Hannibal has maroon eyes like the books! This is one of my favorite things in fics, and I loved that it was included in this one. And the chapter names all having to do with the characters' eyes is brilliant in the context of this soulmate AU! Chapter 2 and 20 having the same title? Incredible.

I liked that many of the characters we know (and some from the books) make an appearance, and some of them even have different appearances from the show, i.e., their book appearances (namely Dolarhyde). This is the first Hannigram fic I've read that mentioned Barney (the orderly from SotL who helped Clarice Starling), and I found it very cool! I've always liked how Barney and Hannibal had a quiet respect for each other, and I wish they had interacted more in this fic.

I also found it interesting that Hobbs gave will the scar across his stomach, which to me has always been a symbol of Hannibal's claim over Will, something he left to mark him and remind him both of what he'd done to earn it and who it belonged to—who he belonged to. I just wanted to note that, because I'm me and I'm obsessive about Will Graham's scars.

I have very few complaints, the main one that comes to mind being that even in the end, Will doesn't accept the cannibalism (example: there's a comment about him being grateful that his meal is cow and not "pig"). We see Will (in the show) being momentarily shocked by it and somewhat repulsed, but then he goes right back to eating dinners with Hannibal and even providing human meat for him. At this point in the show, they've known each other for an estimated 10 ish months. In this fic, he also never fully accepts his Becoming and is still repulsed by his darkness and doesn't embrace who he is, even in light of who his soulmate is, and of having taken lives. This is obviously me being nitpicky, but I love to see a Will Graham who's sure of himself and who he is with Hannibal, and doesn't shy away from his cruelty and darkness. No hate to the author obviously, it's just my preference.

This was an incredibly well written fic, and I did very much enjoy it. I was less satisfied with the character development than I hoped to be, so I likely won't read it again, but I definitely will be recommending it to others! If you're looking for a Soulmate AU and you like the I Feel Your Pain/Your Emotions + the Hurting You Hurts Me Trope, this one is for you!

[aladaylessecondblog]

Severed Destiny, pt. 9

"Now, what have we learned?"

Haj-deek took a deep breath.

"The spear is not a weapon--" and then, correcting herself, "The spear is not only a weapon. It is...an extension of my body and will. With it, I can both bring order and sow chaos. It is not an evil thing but in the hand of one meaning to do ill, it can become a symbol of evil."

"Very good," Vivec said, "A thing on its own is not evil. But imbued with and surrounded by it, it cannot help but become so. Good and evil leave their echoes upon mind and object alike."

Haj-deek had, as she'd had many times over the past weeks, a distinct feeling that Vivec was trying to say more than he was saying. Most of his lessons were like that, presented as one thing and coated in two more. Knowledge she'd take in and then unwrap to discover something else at the core...usually while eating or doing something else.

This, he said, was why he tried not to impart very much each day. "Wisdom takes thought, and thought takes time."

(Sometimes she was unsure how serious he was about things. Was he trying to be thorough in his teaching, or was he jerking her around? Maybe it was a combination of both...that thing he had given her, too, they did not speak of. He'd said she'd know when to use it, but how could he be certain of it?)

Weapon training was almost easy by comparison. She did best with her fists, but Vivec insisted on her becoming familiar with the spear and longsword as well. Her fists and a dagger were hardly enough, considering her lack of ability to maintain her own magicka. Alchemy could only carry her so far.

"Is that why you were able to...kill Nerevar?"

Such questions were ones Haj-Deek only ever asked when she was certain she was alone with Vivec.

Vivec was silent for a moment.

"Nerevar was grief-stricken," he said, "And so comforted by his queen, he did not notice my approach."

"So the story of robes and candles some of the books talk of...?"

"We made that part up ourselves. Consider in the future, if you are in a situation which may yield conspiracy theories and lurid accusations, it is good to have a hand in crafting at least one of them yourself."

Haj-deek thought for a moment before nodding.

"He intended fully to pray to Azura to gain some wisdom, and it seemed a likely enough thing to happen had I not..."

Her father's name almost slipped her lips at that point, but it didn't feel right to say the word.

"I remember hearing him say...Azura abandoned...me...us...whatever this is. When you'd all proceeded to the Heart, I mean."

"That is the very thing that I intended not to be," Vivec replied, "The sort of god who abandons those who need him most."

"And it worked...for a long time. But V...my father woke up."

"I think it would be best not to speak those words just yet. That he is what he is to you. But...yes. It did work. Regrettably we could not stop Tiber Septim, but...let me let you in on a secret of my own. We never thought that using the Numidium would go so well for him. It had a tendency to...well...kill those who used it."

"And cause dragon breaks."

"Dragon breaks. Laziness, more like." Vivec huffed, in a very ungodly way, "What an excuse."

"Laziness? Excuse?"

He suddenly sat up straight, and pivoted. "Do you feel ready to begin the trials of the Nerevarine?"

"I'm not sure I ever will," Haj-deek gave up on the subject as clearly Vivec wouldn't respond and settled for saying quietly, "But I guess I shouldn't waste too much time. Not that the training you give is wasting my time! It's just...."

"A reasonable point of view. Though I do wonder how long you would choose to stay, despite my...eccentricities."

"I don't know if I want to go north to the tribes just yet, or Red Mountain either, but...maybe there might be something else for me to do first."

Vivec seemed to brighten at that.

"Correct. To go to Red Mountain now would be disastrous...but I need not go on about that, you are bright enough to know the reasons even if your youth tells you that you may overcome them."

"So is there anything I might do first?" She wanted to leave the city for a little while, put to use these fighting skills Vivec had insisted she train herself in. What was the point of learning to fight if she wasn't going to actually fight anything?

"You can go to Tel Fyr," he replied, after a minute or so of consideration, "Your blood may be of interest to Divath Fyr - he is studying corprus, you see, and you are the first person to be born with it. And since you are clearly immune - he will want to study you."

"I don't want to be STUDIED!" Haj-deek burst out, "I'm not a test subject!"

"If you would let me finish--"

"No, I don't think I will. I'm not going to go get blood taken and...and who knows what else."

Vivec's face sunk into his palm for a moment. "Unfortunately he is the premier expert on corprus. I'm not asking you to take up residence in his tower. The opposite, actually. I want to see if your immunity may be passed on to others, and the only one who has the expertise to gauge that sort of thing is Divath Fyr. And...there's something else."

"What?"

"You wish to...correct certain things, yes?"

"...yes." She spoke with some hesitation, unsure of what he was getting at.

"Speak to the dwarf," Vivec replied, and noting the presence of someone in the far corner, lowered his voice as he went on, "In his corprusarium, the bowels of his tower, Divath Fyr tends the last living dwemer. This dwarf is...was...familiar with certain relations of yours. Go to Divath Fyr with the story that you are immune to corprus, and speak in secret to the dwarf."

"And you think that will help?"

"It is a lead. And the trip will be an excellent way to test the training you have received so far."

Haj-deek huffed slightly. The idea was a good one, and she hated having to admit it. Something of Nerevar kicked about in her head. Or maybe it was her own thoughts, or a combination of the two, or--regardless, she felt something, and that something was a grudging admission that Vivec was right. And he hated to think it.

"Fine," she replied, "I'll go."

"Excellent." Vivec brought his hands together, and when they saw the visitor was in fact Archcanon Saryoni come to ask some sort of question, he added, "Then go, with my blessing."

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

It had not been terribly difficult, getting along in Vivec City. Certainly she had to mind her manners around the Ordinators, but Haj-deek felt a lifetime of holding her tongue and making nice in Ebonheart had prepared her very well indeed for the problem. She found herself doing little chores for the Temple - to soften them towards her, Vivec said. Privately she knew it was to establish a sort of cover for her among Temple faithful - see, the Nerevarine is a devotee! See her dedication to the Tribunal!

At the same time...

...it'll get back to HIM, and that'll make anything I want to do...harder than it already is...

He wouldn't give the time of day to someone dedicated to the Tribunal. She would be lucky to even get in the door.

After getting supplies together, she found herself needing to duck the same sleeper as had greeted her on arrival to the city. Haj-deek moved toward the Hlaalu Canton - and on rounding one of its corners tried to back away instantly on sight of who was walking along the opposite side.

Orvas Dren, flanked by a couple of his Camonna Tong guards, was walking down the pathway. He saw her immediately, and though momentarily surprised made right for her.

"And what might you be doing here? Did the lizards put you out now that you are old enough to shift for yourself?"

"No," Haj-deek crossed her arms, "Better odds of getting work here that doesn't...well, they don't really know about the--the argonians here, and that hindered me in--"

Orvas's eyes traveled ever so slightly down and for a moment Haj-deek had the uncomfortable feeling he was ogling her - until she realized the hand with the moon-and-star was frontmost and the ring itself was clearly visible. She saw his expression shifting in the time she watched his face - confusion, anger, thinking, then a sink back into his usual bland interest.

"Well, well, well, little Haj-deek, wearing the moon-and-star. But, that being the case," his tone darkened, "I should think you would be smarter than to put yourself under the Tribunal's power."

"I didn't have much of a choice," she replied quickly, "I left Ebonheart and one of the ordinators all but herded me into the city. Lord Vivec - ah - wants to direct me himself, I think."

"Of course he would." Orvas huffed, "I imagine he will have you locked away in Baar Dau before too much longer has passed...re-education, that is his aim with most who dare to disobey his direction. You're fortunate I was in the city on business."

Haj-deek played along, and lied, "He's been training me, so I've had to pretend I actually want to be here. Around him. It's not that I believe what he says."

She wasn't sure how to phrase this, and from the way she saw Orvas's face working she felt she'd already tripped up.

"Well, you've always been intelligent in that way, you're quick minded. Learning the ways to fit in among those who don't have your best interests at heart. But there is something I'm curious about."

"What's that?"

"The ring. Did you already have it in Ebonheart? If you had gone to some forsaken place in a long pilgrimage to get it I'm certain you would have a different look about you. Sleep deprivation is a close bedfellow with anyone who takes a long journey and you look as if you have never been deprived of rest a day in your life."

"Well, I--"

"Perhaps you found it somewhere? Lifted it from the lizards who knew not what it means? Or you--"

"It was my mother's--" Haj-deek burst out and shut her mouth the next instant. Her eyes widened. he realized her mistake almost immediately, but definitely too late.

"Your mother's?"

Orvas's face went through a shifting series of expressions again. Surprise, thoughtfulness, and then focus as he went on, "The ring belonged to your mother? So she was the previous Nerevarine?"

The wheels were turning. He was working something out, she could see it from the way his eyes darted back and forth at nothing, but what?

"I--yes. Please, I have to get going," Haj-deek went on, "I'm...on my way to see Divath Fyr. A way of--proving my identity, you know, since I've--"

There was something sharp in Orvas's expression then, and another look like he was thinking deeply, or as deeply as one could when trying to be quick. "You've always been a healthy child. Go. Speak to your Telvanni wizard. But do remember I always have need for someone of your talents."

Orvas gave her an ironical sort of bow and an accompanying smirk then. He'd gotten enough out of her and it seemed to satisfy him, but why she couldn't figure out. She was too eager to get on, and hurried past him to finally exit Vivec City.

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

Besides the expected attacks from wild cliffracers (Sunchaser had to be healed up from several, while trying to defend her) and other dangerous Vvardenfell fauna, and sneaking by various hideouts and caves, Haj-deek had only one incident of particular note on the five-day journey she took to Tel Fyr.

While passing Dren Plantation, she happened to pass an Argonian slave who promptly dropped one of the apparently heavy sacks he was carrying. When she stopped to help he thanked her and introduced himself as Hides-His-Foot, and she returned with her own name, which surprised him, but he said nothing more until she spoke up.

"I am sorry to see you in chains," she replied, "I would free you, if you could but tell me--"

It is our duty, Im-Kilaya's words, frequently spoken to her as a young child, echoed again in her head, To help those still shackled by slavery, in whatever way we can.

"Go free?" Hides-His-Foot shook his head emphatically, "No, I am old and could not make it on my own."

He would say no more to her, and as she watched him go she told herself she would be back. He couldn't go now, and where would she take him, anyway? Perhaps if she freed a few slaves during her journey some of the other Twin Lamps members might trust her enough to tell her where she could take older slaves like Hides-His-Foot.

The sea breeze persisted as she passed Telasero, and even at Molag Mar where she sold a bundle of cliffracer plumes for more food and to repair her spear and dagger, as well as buy a lengthy hooded cloak . She glanced only briefly at the slave market, hearing again what Im-Kilaya had said.

I will be back for you. All of you. I swear it, she thought. If I'm Lord Nerevar returned I can do whatever in oblivion I want, and what I want is the slaves freed.

(There was a tug in her chest, and whether it was Nerevar or the Hist she couldn't be sure. But something was definitely pleased by her declaration.

It was a struggle to make herself move on, but she managed it.

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

Haj-deek turned north, and the land began to darken along with the animals. Past the Maesa-Shammus egg mine, a blight storm started to kick up, and Sunchaser wedged herself beneath the cloak to hide from the ashy winds, her beaked face protruding from the hood beside Haj-deek's, her usual high-pitched calls now completely silent as her wings hugged at shoulders. When the blighted kagouti and cliffracers began to appear she wouldn't emerge to help in the fight, merely tremble and kept her head down as if to avoid seeing them at all.

"It's alright, it's fine," she said, reaching up to try and pat at the beak by her ear, "I've got you."

If not for the map she'd have gotten entirely lost, and for a stretch she was afraid she had, but on having to hide from a couple passing Ashlanders Haj-deek realized the gathering of Dunmer she could dimly see through the red winds was the Erabinemsun camp.

Okay, so I'm close. Good. Good.

Her feet hurt, ash was everywhere, and she was ducking ashlander hunters but at least she was nearly to Tel Fyr. That was something.

Finally, she hit the shoreline. Thankfully, just as the blight storm was beginning to let up--and not wanting to waste the magicka, she removed the cloak, shoved it into one of her bags. After, of course, making sure there weren't any ashlanders watching her back or hiding nearby.

Sunchaser complained, but Haj-deek shrugged the cliffracer off. "Come on, I have to get in the water, you can fly that far."

She had learned to swim so early she couldn't fully remember when it had happened, and was almost pleased to dive into the water, even with the bags weighing her down and messing with her pace.

It was half an hour later that a waterlogged Haj-deek made it to the front door of Tel Fyr. She ducked behind a rock and changed from her damp armor into the darker clothes that still smelled faintly of skooma. Once she was changed Sunchaser took her perch up once again, and they entered the tower.

Five days, she thought, five days it had taken her, and finally she was here.

Haj-deek was greeted by a Dunmer woman who said, "Are you here to plunder the dungeon? Have you got corprus disease? Did you want to talk to Divayth Fyr?"

"No, sort of, and yes," Haj-deek answered all of her questions, and on receiving a strange look she went on with, "I didn't even know there were dungeons here. And I do have corprus, but I...don't, at the same time."

She lifted her right hand to show the moon-and-star, and said, "I'm the--newest Nerevarine."

"I see. Well. You'll be wanting to see Lord Fyr, then."

"I was told I should offer some blood," Haj-deek replied, shifting uncomfortably, "I hope he's not going to ask for any."

"I doubt he will bleed you like a vampire, but I won't tell you that he won't. He does surprise people now and then."

"He's up there, then?" Haj-deek gestured to the hole in the ceiling, and the dunmer woman nodded.

"I hope you know how to levitate, or you shan't be able to see him."

"Oh, I know, I just don't like to use the spell if I can help it. We Atronach signs have to be careful with our magicka supply, miss...?"

"Beyte Fyr," the woman replied.

"Nice to meet you, then. I'm...Haj-deek."

She cast the levitate spell and moved up, stumbling about lost for only a minute or so before literally running into Divath Fyr. She stumbled back, groaning in pain, and apologized quickly, "I'm so sorry, Lord Fyr, I--I'm not familiar with your tower."

Divath Fyr was fairly tall, and now she could see why it had hurt to run into him. He was wearing a full set of daedric armor - she'd only ever seen it in art! It was hard to imagine that it existed at all, given how rare it seemed to be. After allowing her a bit of gawking, he spoke up.

"Well! What a pleasure! A visitor! An entertaining diversion!"

It was more cheery than she expected, and it stunned her that Divath Fyr was that overtly friendly.

"Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr? You have the divine disease?" He seemed perfectly at ease, and all she could think was she was missing something. Telvanni weren't this friendly to outsiders, this wasn't how things worked.

"Well--well, yes...and no."

Divath's head tilted just slightly to one side. "I don't imagine you've come here before, which is the only way I've ever seen someone cured."

"No, I haven't," she replied, "That--that person you talk of, that you cured. That was my mother...and I guess I've inherited her immunity."

The wizard (she hesitated to think him one, with such armor on his person) leaned down a bit, and stared her directly in the eye, completely ignoring Sunchaser's fixing one of her eyes on him in turn. "You've no sores? No rashes, no memory loss, no strange intrusive thoughts?"

Haj-deek took a step back, a little unnerved by the stare Divath was giving her. "No. I've had the dreams, but...nothing more. No sores, no rashes, nothing. I've never even had so much as a sniffle."

"Strange...very strange. Of course I've heard of mothers passing their resistances to certain diseases, but corprus...this..."

"Lord Vivec suggested," she went on, hesitating to speak, "That I might give you a sample of my blood."

It was a disgusting idea, and she still would rather do anything but.

"An agreeable idea..." Divath seemed to be thinking on something, and went silent.

"I'm not cutting my hand if I can help it," she started quickly, "Even if it's just a trifling sort of cut and I don't lose much blood--"

"Oh, there's no need for that. You thought I take blood by way of a dagger? Unrefined, that. Inclined to infection...not that you would need to worry about that, but it is a concern for the rest of my patients. No, there's a tool I've invented that makes drawing blood much easier, and safer for the would-be donor. I simply stick a vein, and let your body pulse out the blood all on its own. Then heal it as you please. For my patients, I...install a permanent one, which makes studying their blood much easier."

"That's--" The idea of being bled was still gross, but the idea of not having to cut her finger like she was doing some sort of secret vow made it just a little bit less so. "I'll want to see how it works before I let you do anything, though."

"My oldest patient, he'll have a set of them handy. I've some things to tend to up here - you go and fetch the blood-drawing tools from him in the corprusarium, and I'll be more than happy to display how they work. But I warn you - do not attack my patients. They're mostly passive but some may attack you."

"I have a pet cliffracer," Haj-deek said, "There's nothing they can do to me that cliffracers haven't done worse."

That prompted a laugh. "Ah, to be young and arrogant again. Go on then, off with you. You've presented me with a very interesting prospect and I want to prepare for what I'm to see in your blood. Or not see."

Haj-deek moved off quickly, not really understand most of what he said next.

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

The first person she met was the so-called "Warden" Vistha-Kai, an argonian.

"Ruheeva," she said speaking first the Jel greeting for a stranger, "I'm not a new patient, but...Divath Fyr says I have to talk to his 'oldest patient' to collect some blood-drawing tools. Which of them would that be?"

"You want the dwemer," Vistha-Kai said, "You cannot mistake him for anyone else. Yagrum Bagarn is his name, and he is in the bowels of the Corprusarium. Pass through the gate and go straight across to the next door. He rides in a four-legged cart. He's not as dangerous as the other corprus victims. I doubt he'll give you any trouble."

"Thank you." She paused, took a deep breath, and then looked up to Sunchaser. "Stay here. I don't want you getting in trouble for attacking them."

Sunchaser gave one of her cries.

"No. You could get hurt, and I--I don't want that to happen. Stay here." She reached up to gently tug the cliffracer forward, and set her down on the ground. Then she pulled out a chunk of dried fish she'd been carrying in one of the bags. "Here. Eat."

She looked up to Vistha-Kai.

"If you can help it..."

"You do not want her attacked. You need not worry, I believe we understand each other. Though...I would not tarry in speaking to Yagrum Bagarn, if you can avoid it. These are devilish, temperamental beasts at the best of times."

"I've had to fight so many on my way here, I can't say you're wrong." Haj-deek gave a brief laugh, and stepped through the door. She readied a healing spell, in preparation for the corprus patients. As she walked ahead, she saw one at the end of a stony corridor--and it made straight for her. She ducked off to the side of the path, waiting, ready to bolt past it once it got close enough.

But it didn't attack her.

The thing before her, enormously bloated and half-limping, dragging the more swelled of its two legs with a great effort--it stopped short of where she intended to let it get.

And just stared, groaning as it swayed in place. Its eyes focused on her but she felt something more from it - pain. It, no, HE, was in pain. But given the horrible state of his corprus infection, it only made sense.

Are you sure you want to make the attempt, if this is what he does? The thought drifted across her mind, whether hers or someone else's she wasn't sure. It was uncomfortable to the extreme. You want a father. They don't want to be like this. Kill him, and let them receive the only mercy they are now capable of accepting. Let their suffering end.

She shuffled around, but the corprus victim turned to keep his gaze locked on her. She half-expected it to chase after her, but it didn't, merely stood in place.

The next she encountered did nearly the same thing, with some difference. This victim was smaller, or at least not as bloated with corprus as the first had been, but he stared at her as she passed him just as the first one had. It seemed to shake, and then groan in some unseen agony. A moment later it coughed--sending a wretched looking (and smelling) black fluid from its mouth. She stopped--

It groaned, and lurched forward, clumsily grabbing at her, and she ran off before it could close a hand around anything. It wasn't until she rounded the next couple of corners that she realized she'd gotten turned around and had made a whole loop right back to where she was.

Another turn, ahead to the (correct) door this time, another set of victims, another set of sick eyes that fixed too keenly on her. It was almost worse than them attacking her, to have them simply watch. What was happening?

This is what he has done. He thinks it is helping them? He thinks this a gift? How can he not SEE?

Haj-deek wondered if her mother had thought the same thing.

On passing another corprus victim she thought, I have to make him see.

The absurdity of it made her laugh. Blood or not, who could make him do anything he didn't want to? For a moment she despaired of the thought - what made her think she could do anything about this? If her mother couldn't change his mind, how could she expect her own effort to be any different? And she hadn't even SEEN the man yet!

She saw another Dunmer woman, who seemed to take notice of her but said nothing as Haj-deek approached.

"Voryn?"

The voice was thick, muddled, like someone with a terrible cold or a tongue too thick but it was distinctly male.

"You're new here, aren't you?" the dunmer woman spoke, "My name is Uupse..."

"I'm here to see Yagrum Bagarn," she said quickly, "I...I was told Divath Fyr wanted to sample my blood, and that this...dwemer had the...the tools to get it out of me without injury."

She felt entirely wrong here, out of place. Everything felt sick here, even the air.

A heavy tk tk tk sounded off, and from out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadowed figure moving.

"No...my mind is playing tricks on me again...my weak eyes..."

Before her now appeared Yagrum Bagarn, bloated with corprus and entirely situated within what looked more like a contraption to give him spider's legs than anything else.

He stared at her, as the others had, but he had words to go along with the motion.

"I'm sorry, I thought for a moment you were someone else."

"You thought I was Voryn?"

Her father's name. Yes. And this dwemer, riddled with corprus, his mind blighted as all hell, had picked her face out just as Vivec had warned her might happen. Perhaps ten people in Morrowind that knew her face--her father's face.

"The resemblance is extraordinary," he said as he squinted at her, "Truly, I thought you...well. I heard you say you're here for the blood-collecting tools. I've got them here somewhere...Uupse. I hate to ask, but could I...have dinner a little earlier? I'll want to ask how this turns out with Divath Fyr and I know once I start speaking to him it'll last half the night and I won't want to eat."

Uupse nodded, and then looked to Haj-deek. "You--if you harm him, you will have ME to deal with."

"I won't!" she burst out, "I swear, I won't."

Uupse gave her a suspicious look, but moved away. Not until she was firmly out of earshot did Haj-deek speak to Yagrum again. And too eager for answers, she couldn't help but ask the most burning question in her mind at the moment.

"You knew my father?"

"Your FATHER!" Yagram burst out, and devolved very quickly into a fit of coughs that lasted a minute or two. "Now I know my senses fail me! Voryn has no--never had any children! And never a chance to do it, either!"

But after squinting at her a bit longer, his suspicion cleared.

"I suppose I MUST believe you," he said, "For that face - it is uncanny, how closely you resemble him. But I warn you, it is best not to spread such information around. You think those with corprus are treated poorly outside of Tel Fyr? You have seen nothing of what they would do to a natural daughter of one who blighted the land with the disease to begin with. Why are you really here, young one?"

"To see if there might be a way to..." Haj-deek gulped slightly, "To save him. Vivec said you knew him...well...before..."

"That I did. He was the first friend I ever made, your father. Brilliant man. Is that why you come to me? You want me to speak of him so you might know the man you will fell?"

"No, no, I--" she worked quickly, stumbling over nearly every word as if something were holding her back, "I--I want to--if it's possible, I want to fix him. Help him."

Another laugh. Another hacking cough.

"Excuse the laughter. How very like a Dagoth to tackle the impossible! But if anyone can help you, I can. Whatever you think you may get out of this..."

It was a spot of good news. It was something.

It was a start.

[youkaigakkou-tl]

Karma Karma Chapter 2

the haruisms and sanoisms are strong in this one...

also!! karma karma is getting a volume release!! to be on sale on january 27 2025, at the same time as yohaji volume 18!!

(my goodness.... the possibility of karma karma art by 2024 tanamai.... my goodness.......)

Read on Mangadex!

(or on google drive)

[morathicain]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: เธม-โป้ Heart That Skips a Beat | Thame-Po: Heart That Skips a Beat (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Thame Thima Kanjanakitkul/Po Pawat Nuenganan, Jun/Po Pawat Nuenganan Characters: Jun (Thame-Po Heart That Skips A Beat), Po Pawat Nuenganan, Earn (Thame-Po Heart That Skips A Beat), Thame Thima Kanjanakitkul, Ice - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, set after episode 7 and 8, bickering and teasing, Flirting Through Teasing, Unrequited to requited love, they need some time, Jun IS in love with Po, Character Development, which makes them slightly OOC, switching POV, Earn is an asshole and here to push the plot forward, Yearning, Longing, unresolved tension for a while, no beta we die like my teeth after watching that show, Breakup Summary:

Kind of set after my first two ThamePo fics (reading first might be advised) and dealing with the dynamic between Jun and Po.

  Of course. The movie had started twenty minutes ago and there was no Thame to be seen. Still. He’d said he’d only be late for ten minutes and Po didn’t know why he’d even bothered to wait at the cinema instead of going home directly to stay there till Thame appeared, as usual.

 Or: It's been a year since Thame and Po got together and things are still ... fine. That is until Jun surprisingly appears when Thame is too late once again and some things are about to change.

Warning: I love Thame but he won't be much in this fic! He'll be fine in the alternative universe, I promise! <3

[bluestrawberrybunny]

It is currently 2 AM where I am…

I finally finished the Schmicago chapter… after I started writing it at 1 AM yesterday…

And yes I have been working on this thing all day. After so many drafts, I have decided fuck it we ball. If it is poorly written I apologize in advance…

[1am-s0-veryt1red]

with the leaks to the 2nd to last chapter out can I just ask that we hold off on criticism of whoever until the last chapter is officially out? I know it's asking a lot

[orcelito]

ITNL chapters 11 and 12 re-edits are posted !!! im rly happy with the changes ive made in these

also i dont think i mentioned but chapter 10 i wasnt expecting big changes but i. changed the bath scene. so that he doesnt have his damn prosthetic on in the bath. bc that makes no goddamn sense

Patch Notes: removed electronic prosthetic from the bath. made vash even more obnoxious (unrelated)

[writersdrug]

no thoughts just waitress!reader showing up for shifts like nothings wrong after the date situation

just keeping it calm and professional. working her shifts efficiently and no longer bantering/flirting with ghost, who would rather reader melt down and tear into him than putting up the walls around herself hehe

Ok I'm combining some asks here that had some different ideas - I got so many of you guys demanding reparation for making reader cry 😭 here's the comfort chapter! (Still a tad angsty at the beginning)

Ghost had finished your tips for you that night. He had half a mind to slide a hundred in your payout folder as an apology for ruining your date... but what good would that do? That would make you quit for good, if you hadn't already.

He lays in his bed, eyes stuck to the ceiling, still in his jeans and black shirt. He wishes he could snuff out the guilt that sits heavily in his gut. He wonders what you're doing - probably crying, possibly making a half-assed voodoo doll of himself and stabbing his chest with a dull steak knife, because that's all he feels right now.

He gets up early the next day after a rough three hours of sleep. He lumbers down the stairs to the office - Price is there, sorting out cash and working on the next supply order. He looks at Simon, who's rubbing his eyes and looking worse for wear.

"Mornin'." Price says, turning back to the monitor. Ghost grunts in response, dropping himself onto the couch behind Price. His head aches from the lack of sleep, thoughts circling in his mind about how to apologize to you. He can imagine you won't want to talk to him - or, if you do, it'll most likely be profanities wedged between insults. He'd love for you to berate him right now, and make him feel like he got what he deserved.

Price sighs. "You sleep alright?"

"I've had better."

"Nightmare?"

"... yea, somethin' like that."

Price huffs. "I'm workin' front of house today." He says, grabbing the bag of tips and standing up. "Goin' down to drop these in the safe, then I'll help you stock up."

Simon opens his eyes, looking at Price with confusion. "You?"

Price nods. "Dove called out sick. Sounded like she's got the lurgy."

That delivers the final blow to Simon. He knows you're not sick - you're avoiding him now. All plans to apologize are now out the window, and the more time passes, the harder it'll be to do it.

"You've only got yourself to blame, Simon." Price says, heading down to the restaurant floor.

He curses under his breath as Price leaves. How he heard about what happened - he could only assume it had been from Soap. He drops his arm over his face and groans. He wants to call out himself, but then they might as well shut down the entire pub for the day.

Should he try phoning you? Would you answer, let alone allow him to get more than five words out? What would he say? "Sorry I ruined your date, I was jealous tha' ya got a life outside of the pub." There is no variation of an apology that feels like it would be enough. He made you cry, for fucks sake. That was a punishment in and of itself, but he still had to own up to what he'd done.

He sighs loudly; his body feels heavy as he drags himself off the couch, trudging down the stairs. He still has a bar to run.

It had to have been the longest shift of Simon's life, and he even wrapped things up a bit earlier than usual. He didn't have the gift of your incessant chatting or being able to tease you to make the time pass. Price was a solid companion in front of house, but there was hardly a conversation to be held - even with the usual bar crowd. The patrons had a look of confusion for the majority of the night, wondering why Soap wasn't popping his head out of the kitchen to chat every once in a while - and why the hell the owner was serving tables, and not the chipper, spunky waitress.

When Simon had locked up for the night, he noticed your bike was no longer in the alley. Johnny must have dropped it off on the way back to his place.

Today isn't much different - at least, not for Simon. He's still suffering from a lack of sleep, he's irritable (he had a spat with Johnny in the morning, over something he can't even remember), and his work ethic is suffering. He's not worried about slicing bar fruit; it'll give him something to do later, when he needs it. Maybe the rush will kick him back into shape.

He stares at the dishes on the edge of the bar - they're all in need of a good polish, but he finds himself stuck on staring at the bar fridge. There's nothing else he needs to stock up on - it's packed completely full with wine, champagne, and cans of beer. He gently kicks the side of it with his boot. He should be checking the to-go boxes, helping Soap with setting up the condiments and soups, making sure the tables all had full salt and pepper shakers. That's what you would be doing. But, you're not here, and neither is Price. He can only hope tonight isn't as busy as the previous night, otherwise he'll have to close some tables. Which would make customers mad. Which would make Price mad. Which would-

Suddenly, he hears three loud bangs against the back door. He freezes, the sound triggering a Pavlovian response. He immediately looks up to the kitchen window - Soap opens the door, and you come jogging inside. You greet him with a smile. He asks how you're feeling, and you say "much better".

He doesn't know what to do with himself, but he just stands there like an idiot as you hang your bag and jacket on a hook. Stands there as you push your way into the restaurant, barely sparing him a glance as you scurry by him. Stands there as you run up the stairs, two at a time, diving nose-first into your chores so you can avoid Simon.

He can't speak. Should he? What can he say? "I'm sorry," for starters, but it isn't that simple. He thought you might have quit, and was preparing his heart for the worst. But now, here you are, running back and forth through the pub and setting up your tables - and it feels like you've never been farther away from him.

In all honesty, you can't bring yourself to talk to him either. You're feeling just as ashamed with your behavior two nights ago as he is about his own. Why the fuck would you expect someone - let alone your boss - to do your chores so that you could run off and have fun on a date? Not only that, but you'd made a scene; you felt like you had half-assed the ice bins in your scramble to get them cleaned, and then you sobbed in the middle of the restaurant. The cherry on top, however, was when you called Price yesterday and told him you had a cold, calling out of your shift. It was a cowardly thing to do, and you could tell he wasn't buying your story.

But: bills need to be paid, rent is due, and you can't lose this job. So you sucked it up and came in today - Simon is easy enough to ignore, separated from you by the bar.

At first, the quiet bartender was relieved that you had showed up for your shift - he wouldn't have searched for a new waitress if you had quit, instead choosing to deal with the consequences of his actions. But he's quickly getting more and more irritated with the silent treatment you're serving. You only talk to him when necessary: a simple "thanks" when you grab your drinks and run them to your tables. You busy yourself between rolling silverware, (over)stocking napkins and condiments, and even going so far as to spray the menus down and scrub them with a rag. You spend more time in the kitchen with Soap; each peal of laughter shared between the two of you is another arrow in Simon's chest. He's stuck behind the bar, listening to woes spilling from drunken lips, forced to watch you flit around and pretend he doesn't exist.

You can't keep this up forever.

Still, you do for most of the night. Even when your shift is coming to an end, the kitchen closed while you close the tabs for your remaining tables, you don't cave and sit at the bar with Simon. You sit at the farthest table from him, the farthest chair, in fact, skimming over your tip receipts - and talking to Soap (who was only able to sit with you since you had helped him knock out his tasks).

Simon's never been as angry with Soap as he is now - and the worst part is he knows it's not justified. He's watching from behind the bar, polishing glasses so hard they might wane into cups. He wants to talk to you. He will talk to you before the night is over. He doesn't expect forgiveness, but he expects that you'll at least let him offer an apology.

One of the regulars at the bar looks to whatever Simon is glaring at, chuckling quietly when he sees you. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Stuff it, Mike." Simon grumbles.

Meanwhile, you walk back from closing out your last table, plopping back in the booth with Soap. "What are you doing after this?"

"Sleepin'." he replies instantly, tossing back an onion ring. "Been dealin' with a grumpy bawbag since early this mornin', and I'm beat."

You glance over at the bar; Simon's back is facing you as he organizes the beer glasses. You really should apologize to him... you just couldn't figure out when the right time would be. He'd still be working by the time your shift ends, and you don't even know if he wants to speak to you at this point.

"Is he mad at me?" you ask, tapping your pen on the table.

Soap sighs. "I'm not goin' t' be the middle man, Bonnie." he says, looking at you intently. "If ye feel like somethin' needs to be said, go talk to 'im."

You groan, leaning back against the seat. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't! He's already pissed at me, and he probably thinks I'm a slacker. What good is an apology?"

"Ye won't know 'til ye talk to 'im, hmm?"

"What if he fires me?"

Johnny barks with laughter, and you frown. "I'm being serious."

"He'd never fire ye." he says, getting up out of the booth. He stretches both arms above his head and lets out a grunt. "In fact, he was throwin' a fit yesterday n' today 'fore ye came in. Bitch took it out on me."

You winced. "I'm sorry-"

"Save it fer 'im." Soap interjected. He left you at the booth with the onion rings and your tips, disappearing into the kitchen. You huff, hunching back over your tips and scribbling through them.

Deep down, you know Soap is right. If anything, you could just apologize to Simon. If he chooses to be grumpy about it, so be it. You've got tough skin... still, you can't stand the thought of him being upset with you - not because of your work ethic, but because you liked him. A lot. And you wanted him to like you back, even if it was in the most platonic way.

But that didn't change anything. An apology was due, and you were going to give him one before you left tonight.

You grabbed an onion ring and popped it in your mouth, grimacing when you realized they were cold. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Simon making his was across the floor to your booth.

Great. Guess the apology is coming now.

He stops at the edge of the table, wiping his hands in a rag. You pretend to punch numbers into your phone's calculator, but they're all random - you just want to look like you're busy.

"May I sit?" he asks, tucking the rag into his back pocket.

You mumble out a "sure", still not looking at him. You hear his large frame slide into the seat across from you, polyester squeaking underneath his weight. You continue to do random equations on your calculator, letting a thick blanket of tension settle between the two of you. You can feel his stare burning into your head, his arms folded over his chest... and you notice that his mask is in his hand. You finally look up at him.

It's not the first time you've seen his face - you've caught glimpses of it when he smokes in the alley, or when he eats whatever Soap throws under the warmer for you and Simon. But this time, he's not taking it off to be convenient. And, dear god, you're just now paying attention to how scarred, rugged, and handsome he is - but now's not the time for those kinds of thoughts. You feel like he's reaching out an olive branch, showing a possible vulnerable side to himself. So, you place your pen on the table and lean back.

He stays quiet for a moment longer, trying to figure out how to start this. He wants to make sure that you know he's here to apologize, not to ask for forgiveness. From his silence, you assume he's waiting for you to go first.

"I'm sorry about Tuesday night." you say, eyes dropping to the table. Simon's astounded that you're the one apologizing, but you continue. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I'm sorry for trying to dump my job on you."

He feels worse, now. Was that even possible? He was expecting anger, insults - a detailed, frustrated explanation of what you did last night since you did not go on that date. But you're the one saying sorry? You think you're to blame for all of this unspoken aggression? Oh, you really do confuse him, sometimes...

"You don't need t' be sorry, luv." he says, gazing at you with a softness you'd never seen before, not in his brown eyes, at least.

"No, I do." you say, nearly pleading with him to let you be apologetic. "I was being a brat, and whether you usually do the ice bins or not, I shouldn't have expected you would do them without asking." You push your pen on the table, doing your best to convey your feelings. "And yeah, I was late for my date, but... well, he sounded like a dick, anyways."

Simon chuckles, watching you stare at the table. "Well, I owe you an apology, too. I jus'..." he sighed heavily, running a hand down his jaw. "I don' even know. Guess I was bein' lazy, or... I got jealous tha' you've got a life outside of this pub. Feels like you belong here."

He immediately regrets saying that - it sounds way too possessive and... just straight up weird. But you smile, taking comfort in the fact that he still wants you here. That this was the whole reason behind the mess.

"Soap called you a bitch. Said you were an asshole all day."

Simon scoffs. "Yea... 'm pretty sure Price would tell ya the same. And he wants ya back, too. Couldn't stand waitin' on tables, he was tryin' t' trade places with me all night."

You laugh. The world seems alright again - not perfect, but good enough. It might take a night of sleeping the tension away before you're fully back to your normal self, but this is a leap in the right direction. You look at Simon, into his brown, steady eyes, as they stare right back at you.

He breaks the silence. "I really am sorry for ruinin' your date."

You smile softly. "Thank you, Simon. I forgive you."

And just like that, the weight of his guilt is lifted away. The lingering sourness remains, a reminder that he had made you cry. But you had forgiven him, which was more than he was hoping to get tonight.

"Are we better?" you ask timidly.

He nods once. "Better."

You smile - you slowly slide your stack of receipts to him, biting your lip. "Cool - can I have my money?"

Just like that, his smirk drops - but you know it's all in good humor. He huffs, snatching the stack from the table and scoots his way out of the booth. "Always got money on the mind, eh?"

"I've always got rent on my mind." you retort, following after him with the bowl of onion rings. You plant yourself at your usual spot on the end of the bar, right near the POS where Simon cashes out your tips. He tries to hurry up, assuming you want to dip and go home after such an intense conversation. He slides the mask back over his face and punches his code in, trying to edit your tips into the system as quickly as he can.

"Simon?"

"Hm?" his response is instant, turning around to look back at you. You've got your phone on the bartop, and your back and jacket on the unoccupied seat next to you.

"Can I stay for a drink?"

He's melting on the inside, only held together by his own skin. He sets your receipts down and opts to do them later, right before whenever you decide to leave. He won't miss on an opportunity to have you stay longer.

"Course, luv. What's it gonna be?"

"You know how to make a cosmo?"

He chuckles, grabbing a glass from the shelf behind him. "Sure do."

[fazcinatingblog]

But can't my boss just take a laptop into respite????? Do they not have wifi there??? Are they Amish????? Also do they have Scrabble games and communal dinners and fun activities for her to do with the other residents or is it a strictly isolating experience

Do they do morning yoga

Is it like a cult

I have so many questions

[joemama-2]

velvet lies

pairing: gojo x fem reader synopsis: crippling debt and possible evictions have ruined you. working two jobs with no downtime, and a five-year-old son, you really don't know the meaning of taking a break. after continuous questions about his father, you have decided to finally let your son meet his dad. only thing is, he has no idea said son exists. and to top it off, you have not a single clue about what kinds of things will transpire from this sudden revelation. wc: 8564 tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, fluff, romance, alcohol, classism, mom! reader, lying, abuse, MAJOR angst, slow burn, exes to lovers, (mentions of) cheating, scandals, death, blood, drugs, drama, family drama, miscommunication, blackmail, unhealthy coping mechanisms , depression, manipulation a/n: longer chapter woohoo, was gonna write after break but had so much inspo. wrote on my phone, so if there’s any typos, please ignore 🥹 series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The nights haven’t been easy in the past couple of days. Mingled with a growing sense of anxiety added on top of your already heightened stress, your brain just can’t seem to shut off. You’ve tried melatonin and no more caffeine, but caffeine is ultimately getting you through the day and keeping you up when needed. In all honesty, you’ve already been struggling with sleep, but with the surprise meet with Suguru, dread’s been pooling in your stomach.

You have no doubt he spilled the beans. Hell, you would too if that was your best friend. You can only hope he somehow didn’t, though. A small part of you would be a little annoyed if he did, because again, he has no role in this. At least not a big one.

A sudden banging on your door jolts you upright, checking the clock and it’s not even 7:30 yet. Only one person could be demanding your presence so early. A heavy sigh leaves you, forcing your stiff muscles out of bed, wrapping yourself in a robe before trudging to the front door. When you peek through the peephole, your landlord stands there with an annoyed expression on his old face, foot tapping the ground in impatience.

“Bastard,” you mumble to yourself before opening the door. “Good morning, Mr. Sato.”

Seems he doesn’t have time for fake pleasantries, “Y/N, I’m assuming you saw the eviction note I left on your door yesterday morning.”

Unfortunately. “Yes, sir. I did.”

His arms cross, scratching at his greying mustache, “So, is it also safe to to assume you’ll have the money by next Friday?”

You sigh heavily, hand running through your hair. This is not how you wanted to start your morning. He was already making your life hell by suddenly raising your rent out of nowhere three months ago for so-called “renovations”. But you’ve yet to see any actual renovations being done. Not to mention, you’ve been bugging about your heater no longer working, and during this time of year, you and Koji are practically freezing to death. You had to buy a portable heater, small, but it gets the job done. Although it’s mainly in Koji’s room because you’d rather freeze than let him. “Look, Mr. Sato, I’m really trying here. I’m working hard to get the money, but please understand that—”

“Understand? I’ve been understanding, Y/N. I even applied last month’s rent to this month, just ‘cause of you.”

Of course, he’s gonna throw that in your face. Landlords seem to take their title so literally that if he didn’t have this much control over your space of safety, you would’ve ripped him a new one. Also, how could you forget that to even get him to agree to that plea deal, you were forced through an hour and a half of an uncomfortable, infuriating dinner with the man. Really, he’s not giving you much to work with here, but then again, you shouldn’t have had such high hopes. “I know, I know,” you reply, scratching at your roots. “I’ll have the money, okay?”

“You better,” he says gruffly. “Or I’m renting this unit to someone who can actually afford it. I’m hurting here too, you know?”

You huff. “Yeah, thanks.”

Without another word, you close the door in the man’s face, locking it. Leaning your back up against the hard surface, you close your eyes and will yourself to stay calm and positive. Counting back from ten and then back, a small tip your therapist showed you before your insurance no longer covered it. It’s okay. It’s only the start of the day, you have 20 something hours left. Now’s not the time to throw yourself a pity party and play woe is me. Now’s the time to just pick yourself up and move on. You’ll find a solution for the money, you always do.

Though this time, you can’t help but feel you’re really fucked.

I mean, you honestly have no idea how you’re going to come up with almost four thousand dollars in just a week. That sounds quite literally impossible in every single way. You get paid next week, but with taxes, you’re going home with maybe three thousand, so how will you get that extra thousand?

Unless some miracle decides to hit you, which almost never seems to happen. You used to think someone hoaxed you, or you were just born with the most unluckiest luck ever. Or, the more cynical thought you tend to have, you were fated to live a life in strict financial management, and hardships are constantly thrown at you left and right.

But hey, you’ve made it this far, right?

“No, I haven’t.”

“You what?!”

“I haven’t told him.”

“Y/N, what the fu–”

“Jesus Christ, I know, Hana. You don’t have to make me feel even more like shit.”

Your friend stops mid-way, eyeing your very displeased expression. She sighs and relents, slumping back in the small chair in the backroom of the cafe. She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, letting your confession simmer and process. When she does, it’s an honest question. “But…why?”

Why. You feel like you’re staring to hate that damn word. “A lot of reasons, I know it’s not really justified, but I just…need someone to understand me for once. Not come at me for my dumb decisions.”

Your words feel bare and raw, not completely exposing the extent of the emotions you’ve been harboring, but enough to make her stop. Hana regards you with pursed lips, a hint of sadness in her eyes. Finally, she nods. “Okay, I won’t question you anymore. You have your reasons, and your reasons are always valid. So, I’m behind you on this. We stick together, remember?”

A hint of a smile forms on your lips, quietly thanking her. She comes forward to give you a hug, one you immediately reciprocate. Her auburn hair tickling your nostrils, arms seemingly tightening. “Don’t go holding things in anymore, I told you that. I’m here, to talk, listen, whatever.”

You and Hana met three years ago. She was just your co-worker at the time, now promoted to your manager. Although she’s two years younger than you, you two relate to a lot of things. Whether that be movies, food, what guys are hot, or alcohol. If anything, Hana might be your only friend in general. It’s a little sad, maybe, but at least you have someone to come to when you need to talk about adult issues your five-year-old wouldn’t be able to comprehend.

“I love you.” You find yourself muttering.

“I love you too, girl. Now, get out there, your break’s up.”

Jokingly scoffing and nudging her, you stand from the seat and do a quick stretch. Preparing yourself for yet another few hours of dreaded customer service and fake smiles, you walk out of the backroom, pushing the small curtains aside that separate the back from the counter, and clock back in.

“Cash or card?”

“Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Would that be all?”

“Have a nice day.”

Are all phrases any retail or customer service worker finds a little annoying, if not a lot. It’s so draining. And when the customers don’t greet you back, your pettiness shines through and you won’t even say have a good day to them when they’re leaving. Although, the job does have some upsides to it. For example, you get to make free coffees, take whatever pastries are left at the end of the day home, and the customers are never really bad. Of course, you have had a couple experiences, but nothing compared to a chain store. You’re even starting to use your customer service voice throughout the day, even when you’re not at work. Honestly, that’s not very good.

As you’re wiping up the counter, you feel a buzzing in your pocket. Taking your phone out, you see a set of numbers, an unsaved contact. You give Hana a quick glance, muttering a “just a sec”, before going back to the back to answer. “Hello?”

“Y/N?”

God, it’s gonna take some time getting used to his voice on the regular now. “Oh, Suguru. hey…uh–what’s up?”

There’s some shuffle on the other side like he’s adjusting the phone. “Are you busy right now?”

“Well, yes. I’m on the clock.”

He sighs, phone switching to his car output. “Where do you work? I’ll come now.”

“What?” you splutter out, head shaking. “No, Suguru, you can’t just pop out at my job. I’m busy, just tell me what you need right now.”

“I’m not sure I should.”

That statement alone scares you a bit. His cynicism always got on your nerves, but it also worried you from time to time. Most of the time, he didn’t mean any harm because that’s just how Suguru was, but it still did its job. Contemplation strikes through you. “Is it bad?”

He hesitates, which only further skyrockets your anticipation. “Honestly, it’s not too bad. But still, I need to talk to you.”

A breath emits from your lips, one you didn’t know you were holding. Eyes meeting the ceiling, you ponder over your decisions. Eventually, you come to a conclusion. “Fine, but it can’t be too long. I’m at Deja Brew, the cafe on–”

“On Express, got it. Be there in a bit.”

He’s hanging up before you even get a chance to question that he knew the cafe you worked at. If he did, surely he would have visited at least once, but you’ve never seen him come in. And you’re every day. Unless he usually comes when you’re not clocked in anymore. Anywho, you steel yourself for the inevitable conversation. Anticipating whatever bad or not-so-good news he'll give you.

“So.”

“Mm, this is good.” Suguru nods appreciatively, sipping from his coffee. You made it for him before he arrived, as a weird sort of gift to him. You two have situated yourself in a booth in the corner. Hana was a little confused as to why you were taking a break while you were on the clock, even regarding you with an almost scolding look. But the second she saw Suguru follow, her expression changed.

You practically saw the heart eyes form, smiling in a bashful way. That’s one thing you forgot about. The way girls would magnetize themselves towards the man, his best friend too. The two together were an almost deadly duo.

“Suguru,” you say, a hint of exasperation in your tone. “Please just…don’t stall anymore. Why did you want to see me?”

“Right,” he clears his throat, sitting up straighter. Once more, his steely gaze meets yours, you have to hold back the sudden urge to look away. “Like I said, it’s not terrible news, but not very good either.”

You nod, wanting him to just stop with the extraness and get to the point. “Okay, say it.”

“Satoru.” is the first thing he says, gauging your automatic grimace to his name. “He knows.”

Figures. “And you told him?”

He nods in response. You exhale, rubbing your face. “Suguru, why? I didn’t say you could.”

“I mean, I didn’t think I needed permission to tell my best friend he has a secret love child he hasn’t known about for five years, Y/N.” You hate when his voice gets like that, like you’re a school child who’s just been caught by her teacher for doing something she wasn’t supposed to. “Anywho, he knows. He wasn’t…very happy.”

You slowly ask, unsure if you’re ready to hear the answer. “What did he say?”

“More so what he did than said,” he pushes a stray strand of black hair out his eye and behind his ear, arms crossing. “He’s been quite easy to anger. I mean, I haven’t really talked to him because he’s not answering my calls, but I’ve been hearing from people at the office. He also kicked my ass out right after I told him. But that’s all I know at least, Nanami says he’s like a ticking time bomb.”

Jesus Christ. You don’t know what else you were expecting, you’re surprised he hasn’t done worse, but like Suguru said, that’s all he knows. His state is most likely a hundred times worse than what’s being thrown at you right now. You feel an intense guilt pool, mixing with a slight fear. “Did he…do anything else? Say anything?”

“I don’t know, he’s not talking to me right now.” Suguru concedes, leaning closer to you, brows furrowing in a seriousness. “Look, I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel worse, but I should let you know. He’s going to try and seek you out now that he knows about his son. You know that, right?”

Of course, you fucking know that. That’s what makes you scared, the possibility of somehow running across him in the most unsuspecting of places makes you want to stay holed up in your shitty apartment. “Yeah,” you gulp. “I figured.”

“I don’t know how he’ll react if–when–he does see you.” he honestly admits. “I just think you should reach out to him first, before he does it. I have his number, you should ca—”

“Stop.” you hold a hand up, eyes closing. “No more, I don’t want to be told what to do. I just…need some time processing everything right now.”

“Y/N–”

“Suguru,” your eyes open, staring at him dead on. “You seriously can’t expect me to jump from one thing to the next. I need fucking time to figure out what I’m gonna do. I’m already stressed as it is, now I have to worry about my son’s father possibly trying to reach out and that just sets me more on fucking edge. You come to my work, spring this on me, and I–” you’re rambling. Cutting yourself off in the middle of a sentence, choosing not to finish it. The last thing you need to do is rant to him. Besides, you’re just starting to see him again after five years, that would absolutely put him in a weird place between comforting someone who was once his friend, and backing up his life-long best friend.

You jolt a bit when you feel a warm palm envelope your hand, his thumb gently rubbing across your knuckles. Looking back at him, he gives you an all too familiar look. One that can make you just pour out everything you’re feeling right at that second. It’s a horrifying technique he has. “I’m sorry. Really, I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is make you feel like shit. I should’ve been more considerate. I’m sorry.” He apologizes with a soothing intonation. Again, it’s making you feel warm. “It’s a hard situation, I could never know exactly what you’re going through. but…I care about you, Y/N. I always have, even without Satoru’s involvement. So, I’ll do better and not overwhelm you.”

Damn it, Suguru. Now you’re making me feel bad! Not trusting yourself with words, you meekly nod, slowly pulling your hand out his grasp. You miss the way his eyes dart down to his now empty grip, a small downward twitch to his lip that he expertly hides. “I should go back to work, I’m assuming you do too.” You stand on wobbly feet, giving him one last lingering gaze. “On the house, by the way….yeah, bye.”

Suguru watches you disappear behind the curtains, a small pit expanding in his gut. He pushes it away without thought, sighing to himself as he stands and exits the cafe. He walks down the sidewalk to his blacked out 2025 Mustang GT parked on the street. Getting in with a heavy head that’s full of all kinds of emotions. Some he doesn’t try to acknowledge, but the ones he does, it’s all worry and concern. He really doesn’t see how this situation can somehow turn around. Maybe you two will have a very mature and calm conversation when you cross paths.

He almost laughs to himself when he begins driving. Calm? Mature? Yeah, right. How do you have a calm conversation about hiding a kid for five years? Not to mention, you and Satoru are equally stubborn; it used to be so infuriating for him.

Suguru had patience, a lot of it actually. But you two tended to test that. Although, he would always forgive one of you the quickest. Cough, cough. You. It was like you had this weird thing about you that made the people around you just…like you.

His grip tightens on the wheel, biting his lip. He gets to a red light, thumb tapping on the material. Damn it all.

There’s a ringing that emits from the car’s speakers, looking at his touch screen to see the familiar name. Using this as a distraction, he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Shoko’s voice sounds out. “Where are you? Thought you were paying for my lunch.”

He huffs, eyes rolling, and moving the car forward once the light turns green. “I never agreed to that.”

“Sure you did,” Shoko replies, exhaling a breath. She must be smoking. “Anyway, hurry up. I’m already waiting outside. I thought Satoru was coming, is he gonna be late again?”

Yeah, no. “I don’t think he’s coming anymore.”

“Why not?” Shoko asks.

Suguru exhales heavily, turning the street towards the meet-up spot with his friend. “Some shit happened, I don’t think he’s doing good.”

Shoko pauses, adjusting her phone in hand. “What happened?”

Suguru too stops, completely forgetting how Shoko has no idea about what has transpired in the past couple of days. “I’ll tell you when I see you.”

Satoru has never been surprised before, not technically. He’s a smart man with quick instincts and a good foresight, it’s like he can always tell when something is going to happen, before it happens. Even for birthday parties, his perception and people reading skills are great, he knows when someone’s lying or not telling the full truth.

In short, he knows a lot of things.

But, what he didn’t expect was for 1) even hearing your name ever again after the breakup, and 2) you have a son, his son. A son he had not one goddamn clue about. The only person who’s ever been able to throw him off his game is you.

Even back when you two dated, there were moments where you’d either say or do things that would make him pause for a second and think how unlikely that was of you. He knew you’d lie sometimes, small white lies weren’t foreign to him because he did it too. But, he never thought you’d deliberately keep something like this from him.

And to top it off, if Suguru never saw you by chance that day, would you have ever even told him?

Now that really fucking pisses him off.

When Satoru is mad, everyone else’s day is ruined. When he’s mad, you can see it in his face, his body, how he’s just barely holding himself back. It’s even more scary when Satoru is known as the laid-back, playful and unserious type of man. So when he’s mad, almost no one in the office wants to make him even angrier, let alone be around him.

He’s barely slept a total of ten hours within the past two days, mind keeping him awake. He’s trying to not imagine the image of you holding a boy who looks like him because he’s already broken one too many pairs of glasses and the thought alone makes him infuriated. He sees a blinding white flash of betrayal, hurt, confusion, and anger.

He doesn’t mean to take it out on his employees, but their feelings are not on his list of priorities.

He has a son.

A son who’s five, apparently.

Five whole years of being kept in the dark, not even being blessed with a smidge of information about his offspring. While he was off fucking women, having fun, dreading about taking over his father’s business, you were god knows where, changing fucking diapers and losing sleep. And for what? Were you that fucking scared to tell him?

Oh, he’s so going to rip you a new one when he sees you.

But, he’s still not sure if he wants to do that. Afraid of what might happen, he’d rather not blow up on you, but can you blame him if he does?

He just found out he has a secret love child from a woman he knew years ago and know he’s expected to act like everything is normal in this boring fucking meeting?

Not to mention, if his father finds out, he’s not sure what will happen. If anyone else finds out, for that matter. If anything, he needs to get a reign over this messy situation before he’s allowing anyone to know.

“Mr. Gojo? What do you think?”

At the sudden mention of his name, he snaps back into focus. Eyes flickering over to the bald-headed man who currently stands in front of the table of other withering men, the screen projector displaying a multitude of different statistical data. The man falters slightly, his grip tightening on the laser pointer as Gojo’s eyes land on him

Shit. He has no idea what they were even talking about. “About?” He clears his throat, appearing nonchalant, though the tight hold on the ballpoint pen says otherwise, the faint click of it opening and closing the only indication of his simmering irritation

The room feels colder, quieter.

The man clears his throat nervously. “The expansion plan... into the Asia-Pacific region. Whether you think it’s viable in the current climate.”

Gojo leans back in his chair, his posture relaxed, though his pen continues its faint, rhythmic clicks. His expression is unreadable, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he lets the silence stretch a moment too long. “And you need my opinion on this?” he says finally, his tone polite but tinged with condescension.

The bald man shifts on his feet, adjusting his glasses. “W-We... wanted your insight, given your, uh, experience overseeing the European division.”

“Right,” Gojo says, dragging the word out just enough to make the man squirm. He tilts his head, his icy blue eyes narrowing slightly. “Well, if I’d been paying attention, I’d probably say something about how overly cautious you all seem to be. But that’s just a guess.”

The bald man blanches, stammering, “O-Overly cautious? We’ve taken every factor into account—”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Gojo cuts in smoothly, his voice softening just enough to disarm the growing panic in the man’s voice. “I’m just wondering if maybe all those ‘factors’ are holding you back. Are we leaders, or are we playing it safe like everyone else?” His eyes flicker briefly over the rest of the table, daring anyone to challenge him.

The bald man hesitates, then nods quickly, his nervous energy palpable. “Of course. You’re absolutely right, Mr. Gojo. I’ll revisit the projections to—”

“No need,” Gojo interrupts again, flashing a faint, humorless smile. “I trust you’ll figure it out. Unless you think I shouldn’t.”

The man practically trips over his words in an effort to assure him. “No, no, of course not. I’ll make the adjustments immediately.”

“Perfect,” Gojo says, the finality in his tone dismissing the topic entirely. He shifts his attention to the projector screen, the numbers and graphs blurring together as his thoughts drift.

The room eventually moves on, the hum of conversation resuming. But Gojo doesn’t miss the quick glances from across the table, the subtle unease lingering in the air.

He taps the pen against the table, his jaw tightening. It’s taking everything in him not to snap, not to let the weight of the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a filthy fucking person seep through the cracks.

Let them sweat. It’s the only thing keeping him entertained today.

The minute the awful meeting of ifs and hesitant decisions is over, he’s pushing out his chair, being the first one to leave the haunted room. It’s a bad mistake on his end, because his secretary, Aiko, is on his ass. “Mr. Gojo, your father is waiting for you in your office.”

Great, as if things couldn’t get any fucking better. He holds back a remark, gruffing out. “For?”

“He didn’t say, sir. He just wanted me to tell you to see him as soon as the meeting finished.”

He really, really doesn’t want to see his father right now. The two were too alike, constantly butting heads which only ended in a harsh set of insults being tossed around, mingled with occasional threats of “never passing the company down to someone as idiotic as you”. His father is bluffing, of course. He has no other person to pass it down to, with Satoru being the oldest and only son of his father’s. His long legs easily lead him to the doors of his office, to which he hesitates. Taking in a big breath, before opening the doors and closing them soon after. “What is it?” he asks, walking over to sit in his chair, leaning back comfortably.

His father, Yamato Gojo, the current CEO of the Gojo Group, who sits leisurely on the black leather coach stands up to position himself across from his son. Arms crossed and the permanently etched frown on his face. “Why didn’t you come to the dinner yesterday? There were very important people there you needed to meet. I texted and called you.”

Why didn’t he go? Can he really just say “sorry dad, I was stressing about this shithole I’ve found myself in”. No, he can’t. Instead, he shrugs and brushes his father off. “I was already busy.”

“Busy with what? What’s more important than networking?”

“A lot of things, actually.”

Yamato dislikes that answer quite a lot, frown seemingly deepening, regarding his son with another usual disapproving look. “Satoru, this is serious. They were expecting you and you embarrassed me. I won’t let this happen again, when I say you need to be somewhere, you be there. No if, ands, or buts. You’re pissing me off.”

How ironic of him to say that considering he’s having the exact same effect of Satoru. He isn’t scared of his father, hell no. But he does know to pick and choose his battles. And with the way his mind is completely scrambled right now, he forces himself to intake a huge breath of air. “Yeah, yeah. Fine, I’ll be there next time. Happy?”

“Only after you prove it.” Like father, like son. Satoru hates how his father always seems to want to get the last word in. But his father hates how he does the exact same.

Throughout the entirety of his shift, up until he clocks out of work and walks to his designated parking spot which houses his white 2025 Mercedes-Benz SL-Class. Driving back to his high rise penthouse on autopilot, his thoughts zeroed in on one person only. Or well, two people.

Satoru wasn’t ever sure he wanted to be a father. He knew it was expected of him, but so many people had such high expectations of him, it became exhausting. Too exhausting. Does he even have a right to call himself a father to a child he never knew, a child who probably doesn’t even know him?

His right hand reaches for his phone, calling a number without taking his eyes off the road. It answers on the first ring, but Satoru doesn’t give him the chance to respond. “Do you know where she lives?”

There’s a falter, hearing Suguru’s deep breath come out on the other end. “No, I don’t. And nice to hear from you too.”

“I don’t have time for your sarcasm right now.” He stops at a red light, using his left hand to rub the crease between his furrowed brows. “Do you know anything? Her number? Where she works? Where did you see her so I can go over?”

“Satoru, I’m not sure it’s a good idea for you to go meet up with her again. You’re obviously not in the right mind space and I don’t want you two to—“

“I’ll argue with her all I want, I have that goddamn right to.” Satoru grits out, interrupting his friend before he has the chance to spew out more shit he’d rather not listen to right now. “Answer me.”

In Suguru’s mind, he knows if he gives Satoru even the tiniest bit of information regarding your whereabouts, he’ll storm over there and probably say things he doesn’t mean. Satoru tends to think emotionally in very dire situations, a bad habit of his. Still, although he knows his best friend should be angered by this situation, Suguru doesn’t want to involve himself. More than he has. After speaking with you, he’s come to the conclusion that you’ll reach out to Satoru soon. Considering the fact that he already knows. “I don’t know, I saw her at a grocery store, but she was just shopping.”

“Fuck,” Satoru groans, moving his car forward again. “Well how the hell do I—“

He’s cut off by a small vibrate to his phone, a message. When he looks down, the screen is overtaken by a new call coming in from Himari. Honestly, she’s the last person he wants to talk to right now.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks, after noticing the small beat of silence from the other end of the phone.

What isn’t wrong? “Gotta go, call you later.”

“Sat—“

Satoru ends the call, picking up the new one. “Hey.”

“Baby,” Himari’s light voice fills his ears, sighing in relief. “Can you come pick me up? I’m at the mall but the tires of my driver’s car popped.”

He’d rather not, but Satoru has found out that it’s been quite difficult to say no to his girlfriend. So, he puts his own internal and external battles to the side, making a right turn and exhaling. “The mall?”

“Yes, baby. Thank you so much.”

He hums back in response. “Be there in ten, wait outside.” Once again, he hangs up and a suffocating silence fills his car. Hands tightening around the wheel, he reels himself in with a big inhale, then exhales. He can’t show these sorts of emotions in front of the woman, for she’ll no doubt question and question about what’s wrong, which will then lead to an argument. He doesn’t need arguments.

As Satoru sees the mall in the distance, he’s overrun by the sudden determination. The determination to find you and meet his son.

“Just one more question, Koji. Then let’s eat dinner, how does that sound?”

The young boy groans in annoyance, the math work of simple addition problems laid out in front of him. He hates math, almost as much as you, excelling in other subjects like English and Art. “But Mama……” he drags the words out in a childish manner.

Plating two plates of tonkatsu chicken with curry, one plate smaller than the other, you turn to your son who now has a pout on his face. You resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. “You can do it, you did the other ones so well.”

Sitting next to him, you look over at his workbook. Just one more problem. It’s a problem consisting of three numbers, 5, 23, and 6. Simple in your eyes, but a disastrous monstrosity in the eyes of a five-year-old. “Mama will help you, okay?”

“Okay, Mama.” Koji grumbles, reluctantly grabbing his red pencil again.

Times like these you cherish. Sure, it’s mundane and not very exciting. But it’s the little things that matter most to you. Helping your kids with homework, helping them learn to ride a bike, tie their laces, it’s all wonderful experiences from your perspective. Proof of the fact that your chubby little baby isn’t very little anymore, growing into his own person. Although, the more he grows, the more he’s starting to resemble his father. It’s scary at times, when he looks at you and you get random flashbacks.

Eating dinner and washing up is another thing you love. After such a hectic day, you just want to unwind with your son. You had put in your PTO for the convenience store a month in advance; after a particularly hard month. Finishing at 5:00pm, like most people do, is a breath of fresh air.

You let Koji tire himself out in the tub, then the living room, to which he has Cars playing (his favorite movie at the time). He plays with his own small set of matching cars, while you sweep the kitchen. Your eyes flicker over to your phone that lays face up on the island, a bubbling sensation forming in your being, one of contemplation. You wonder to yourself, would you call Satoru? You know his number by heart, he most likely hasn’t changed it.

After the breakup, you cut off all contact with him and his friends, even choosing to get a new phone and new number, just to avoid any possibly drives of texting him, or to avoid him texting you. You quite literally wanted to erase every memory about him.

Kinda hard to do that when you’re raising his carbon copy.

After another blind minute, you pause your sweeping and grab your cellular device. You’re about to grab Suguru’s business card from your purse when a sudden question hits you.

How was he able to call you earlier at work if you had never given your number to him in the first place?

Your brows knit together while you come up with any possible solutions and reasoning to that thought, coming up blank. Seriously, how did he call you? Without thinking, you go to your recent calls, pressing the first one, and raising your phone to your ear.

It rings for about a second, before Suguru’s coaxing voice follows. “Hello?”

“How did you get my number?”

“What?”

“How did you get my number? I didn’t give it to you at the store.”

You can practically hear the way he’s trying to formulate an answer. Coming up with a shitty one. “I just…guessed.”

You say nothing, your eyes narrowing on a certain spot on the blank white walls of your kitchen.

Another second passes before he gives in, too easily. “Okay, okay. Look, I don’t want to sound creepy or anything but—“

“Were you stalking me?”

“What?! No! Of course not, Y/N. I’d never do that.”

“Then tell me how you got my number without me telling you.”

He sighs. “…I have a friend. He’s in the law enforcement and I…may have asked around. But before you get any ideas, I was worried. You just fell off the face of the Earth and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You can’t stop the huff that leaves you. Should you feel complimented that he went out of his own way to do all this or invaded? Maybe both. Honestly, you did that all for a reason. And he blatantly went behind yours, probably everyone’s, back to get some information on you in a shady way. Isn’t that illegal or something? “Suguru, when people do that, it doesn’t mean they want to be found.”

“I know, Y/N. But I was worried, so was Shoko and Satoru—“

“Does he know my number too?” You ask, already feeling your panic run up your veins, boy straightening into a stiff position.

“No, no, he doesn’t. Just me.” He quickly relieves you.

You guess that’s somewhat better. Although you still feel mildly annoyed at Suguru for what he did. “Is that all you know?” The way he doesn’t respond immediately makes you feel even more frustrated, jaw clenching.

“I….” He lets out a heavy breath. “No, it’s not.”

“What else do you fucking know?”

He winces at your now harsh tone of voice, though he knows it’s all expected. “It wasn’t on purpose, I just wanted your number, I swear. But when you’re looking for that kind of stuff, other things pop up like…address and…yeah.”

If only he could see your expression right now. “You know where I fucking live?”

“Yes, Y/N….”

Okay, now your privacy is very invaded. You have never really gotten angry with Suguru, let alone get into an argument. He always knew when to stop, what not to say to make someone else feel worse, but did he just get fucking dumb after all these years? “…are you serious?” You know he is, not even giving him the chance to answer your rhetorical question. “Fuck you, Suguru. I can’t believe you—you completely—I don’t even know what to tell you right now.”

You can hear the guilt in his voice, tone softening. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I had the best intentions, I was never going to visit you or call you without your specific permission to.”

“Did I give you permission to call me earlier?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Exactly.” With another scoff, you bite your lip, picking the correct words to voice out. You wouldn’t say you’re a word vomit person, usually. But right now, you just feel…slightly weirded out. All this time, you thought you had solitude. But Suguru knew where you were this entire time? “Goodbye, Suguru.”

“Y/N, wai—“

“Don’t. If I need you, I’ll tell you. But right now I don’t want to speak to you.”

He pauses, feeling his gut tighten. Nonetheless, he nods and mutters. “Okay, I’ll give you space. Just please know I’m sorry and I really didn’t have bad intentions.”

Seems like this is the second time today he’s apologizing to you. You don’t like it. Without another word, you end the call, putting your phone back on the hard surface of the island. Jesus Christ. What the hell is going on, seriously?

One minute you’re stressing about getting evicted, then you have to worry about Satoru somehow running into you, and now you find out Suguru has just casually known your address all these years. Why is all of this deciding to be sprung on you all at once? Out of no where? The world must be punishing you for every unholy deed you’ve done in your life; it really doesn’t seem fair. At all. Can’t things just go right for once in your life? You just want to go at least a day without external stressors fucking you over in every way possible.

Of course, you’re unlucky. That’s just how things have always been for you. The universe has a twisted sense of humor, and you’re the punchline to every cruel joke. The thought of Suguru knowing your address sends a cold, uncomfortable shiver down your spine. What else does he know? What else has he been hiding?

The questions swirl in your mind, each one more suffocating than the last. You sit down heavily on the edge of your worn-out couch, its cushions sagging beneath you as though they, too, are tired of carrying your weight. You bury your face in your hands, the skin of your palms rough against your cheeks, and take a deep, shaky breath.

Satoru (and Suguru). Their names alone bring up a storm of emotions you can barely keep bottled up. You’ve worked so hard to keep them, and everything they represent, in the past. Yet here they are, forcing their way back into your life like unwelcome ghosts.

You glance at the stack of overdue bills on the coffee table, mocking you with their bold red lettering. As if you didn’t already know you were drowning. Maybe it’s time to stop fighting the tide.

You watch Koji focus on the bright screen, moving his toy cars in unison with the movie. Willing yourself to worry about the now, to convince yourself that you’re not done, that there’s still some fight left in you.

However, that seems to be proving harder each and every single day.

It’s a chilly, but sunny winter day. The sidewalk filled with other people going about their day. You’re wearing a black trenchcoat, along with a scarf. Hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat as little puffs of white air leave your mouth, a stark piece of evidence of how cold it is today. The heels of your shoes clacking down the concrete, making your way to the familiar cafe of Latte Lounge.

Saturdays are supposed to be happy days, a final breath of fresh air after the business of the weekdays prior. The day where people enjoy Mother Nature and what she has to offer, a day of sleeping in, a day of no responsibilities.

A woman like you has no Saturdays. It’s like every day is a cold, hard Monday.

You finally spot the cafe, its large, glass windows giving you a sneak peek to the liveliness that resides inside. Of course, most people do choose to go to cafes on Saturdays. Especially this early in the morning. Walking in, the small bell above the door dings. The workers behind the counter greet you; while you give them a half greeting back, your eyes scan the environment. It takes a few seconds, but you see Mr. Ito sitting at a table for two in the corner.

You prepare yourself with a heavy sigh, forcing your feet to maneuver you over to the man who smiles and stands once he sees you approaching. “Ms. Y/N, good morning.”

“Good morning.” You’re a little caught off guard when he takes the empty seat from across from him and pulls it out, a silent move of help. Sitting down, he pushes your chair in then walks back over to his own. He laces his fingers together on top of the table. “Get whatever you’d like, on me, remember?”

“Oh, I’m not very thirsty right now.”

“No, please. It’s my pleasure, especially for meeting with me so early this morning.”

A part of you wants to deny his niceness. But, he did cause you to lose money you could’ve still had to spare if you didn’t have to call in Sana to watch Koji. And well, coffee always makes you feel better. “Just an iced vanilla latte.”

He nods and stands up. “Great, I’ll be back.”

Watching him go up to the counter and order, you look back down at your lap. Koji misbehaving sounds odd, he’s always been an obedient kid. Of course he has his moments, but he understands when to listen and when to goof around. A few minutes later, Mr. Ito sits back down with two cups of coffee, sliding yours over to you. You thank him and sip. Hm, not too bad.

There’s a small silence that flows over you two as you taste your coffees, but you wait for him to speak first. He did schedule this little meeting, after all. He clears his throat. “So, Ms. Y/N, again thank you for meeting with me.”

You nod. “Of course, Mr. Ito. Anything for Koji.”

Mr. Ito smiles, his hand waving you off. “Oh please, call me Haruto.”

Already trying to get on a first name basis. Simply nodding again, you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

“Anywho, like I said earlier this week, I have concerns about Koji’s behavior. You see, he’s had about six instances where he doesn’t listen to me when I say it’s time for silent reading time. I understand he’s a talkative child, but he usually does not act out like this. Would you happen to have any idea as to why he is behaving this way so suddenly?”

“No, I don’t. Koji listens well, and he hasn’t come to me specifically about getting in trouble.” You respond, lips pursing.

Mr. Ito nods in understanding. “I can assume so, but his behavior has started affecting his peers, as well.”

You sit up straighter in your chair. “In what way?”

“Well,” Mr. Ito tilts his head, seemingly recounting the times Koji has misbehaved. “The students who sit around him have started coming to me, complaining about how Koji doesn’t leave them alone. They feel as if he’s taking away from their learning.”

What? Not to mention that that sounds quite…interesting for other five year olds to say, but no way Koji has been that bad. Maybe it’s your bias as his parent, but this is brand new to you, very brand new. Even when he’s home, Koji always insists on doing his homework before playing or eating dinner. So really, you’re not sure how to react to this surge of new information about your own child. “I really don’t know, Mr. Ito. I mean, Koji is a great boy, he listens very well to me and the other adults in his life. I’m just as shocked as you are right now.”

Mr. Ito leans back in his chair, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. “I’m not doubting your parenting skills. Koji’s clearly a bright and energetic boy. Maybe too energetic for some of his classmates to handle.” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent there, something you can’t quite place. “It’s possible he’s just seeking attention in ways that might not be obvious at home.”

You nod slowly, though his words don’t sit right with you. Koji doesn’t come across as attention-seeking at all. If anything, he’s a bit reserved until he’s comfortable around someone. “I’ll talk to him tonight and see if I can figure out what’s going on. Maybe there’s more to this than meets the eye.”

“I’m sure you will,” Mr. Ito says, his smile deepening as he leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. The movement feels deliberate, like he’s closing some invisible gap between the two of you. “You’ve always struck me as a very attentive parent.”

The compliment lands awkwardly, and you find yourself straightening your back again, instinctively pulling away from his lingering gaze. “Thank you, Mr. Ito,” you say curtly, steering the conversation back to its purpose. “I just want to make sure Koji’s doing well and that his behavior isn’t affecting his classmates.”

“Of course,” he says smoothly, not missing a beat. “And I’m here to help however I can. We could even set up regular meetings if you’d like, to make sure we stay on the same page about Koji’s progress.”

“That won’t be necessary,” you say, your polite tone edging into firmness. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

His smile falters for a brief moment, but he quickly recovers, leaning back in his chair as though he hadn’t just been testing the waters. “Understood. Please, don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever need anything. My door is always open.”

You nod, feeling a distinct shift in the atmosphere—one you’re eager to step away from. “Well, are there any other concerns I should know about, Mr. Ito?”

He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it. “No, Ms. Y/N. None at all, thank you for coming out.”

“Thank you for the coffee, have a nice day.” You reply, wasting no time in standing up, grabbing your drink in one hand and bag in the other. Though, his voice speaking again causes you to stop.

“Ms. Y/N,” Mr. Ito’s voice stops you just as you push your chair back. You glance at him over your shoulder, and there’s a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. “I really hope I didn’t come across as too forward earlier. I’m just...invested in making sure Koji has everything he needs to thrive.”

You offer a polite smile, settling the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “Of course, Mr. Ito. I appreciate that.”

He smiles, but there’s a pause before he continues. “It’s rare, you know, to see a parent as involved as you are. It’s refreshing.”

The compliment makes you pause, and you clutch your coffee cup a little tighter. “Well, Koji’s my world,” you reply simply, brushing off the remark.

“As he should be.” Mr. Ito leans back in his seat, his fingers lightly tapping the side of his own drink. “But I imagine that must get exhausting sometimes, especially since you seem to handle everything on your own.” His tone is casual, but there’s a softness to it, as if he’s inviting you to confide in him.

You blink, his words catching you off guard. Is he fishing for something? “It’s not always easy,” you admit cautiously, “but that’s just part of being a parent.”

“True,” he says with a small nod, his eyes lingering on you a moment too long. “Still, you shouldn’t hesitate to lean on the people around you when you need to. It’s not a sign of weakness, you know.”

You stiffen slightly, unsure how to interpret his words. They seem innocuous enough, but the way his gaze flickers toward you feels... calculated. “I manage just fine, thank you,” you reply, keeping your tone light but firm.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, raising his hands slightly as if to placate you. “You strike me as someone who handles things with grace. It’s admirable.”

You glance at your watch, eager to end the conversation. “Well, I should get going. I’ll talk to Koji about everything we discussed.”

“Of course.” Mr. Ito stands as you do, his smile as steady as ever. “Thank you again for meeting me. And...if you ever want to talk more, even just about life in general, I’d be happy to listen.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, and you force another polite smile. “Thank you, Mr. Ito. Have a good day.”

“I can walk you to your car, I’m heading out as well.” He quickly suggests.

You shake your head almost instantly, smile feeling more narrow. “No need, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite sure.”

“But I—“

“Thank you again, but I really must go.” You cut him off, feeling your patience run thin and the desire to be cordial and polite stretching too much. You nod stiffly and turn around to briskly walk out the cafe. However, just as you do so, you collide into something, or someone.

Your open-lidded coffee fumbles a bit in your hand, quickly steadying it. Though it does manage to stain the white shirt of the person you just bumped into. Just great. You hold back a wince and apologize. “I’m really sorry, I wasn’t—“

Your words leave you, your breath feeling like it’s been stolen straight from your chest. Every hair on your body stands up straight, your heart falling straight to your ass like you’ve just hit the biggest drop on a rollercoaster. You know that feeling when you question if something is real or not, pleading with yourself and every deity watching that it’s not? Well, that’s exactly how you feel right now.

It feels like a spotlight has been shone on you without your consent and you suddenly want to throw up. Because as your eyes have moved up to profusely apologize to the stranger, a bucket of water filled with nostalgia and past memories drowns you.

The bright blue, unmistakable irides stare back down at you. A million memories play on repeat, but one thing’s for certain.

The past has never felt so close, and you suddenly want to erase it all and scream.

a/n: the dreaded reunion is here! thank you for reading and the tremendous support! <3 stay tuned for next chap, sorry if yall thought these two were boring, chapter 3 will be getting more into it

taglist: @celestialforce @theclassbookworm @tbzzluvr @uhenivid @ofkilljoysandslytherins @sadmonke @bunheadusa @shartnart1 @lady-of-blossoms @itsinherited @duooy @ari-sa @dakotali @mew4-ever18 @iv-vee @devils-blackrose @a-girl-with-thoughts

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT (in the next chapter), tom can read minds, female reader, reader is a virgin, they’re all infatuated with her, ron and draco are really touchy with each other, reader is a pureblood and a rosier, but no physical characteristics are included.

a/n : please let me know if you enjoyed this, it motivates me to write more and faster. also, i really wanted to include smut in this part, but i didn’t want to rush it and make it bad. love 🤍

────── ☾ ──────

“you don’t look too good” a deep, low voice said from behind you, and you immediately turned to see its owner. not that it was needed.

you hummed, incredulous. “nice to see you too, draco.”

he only laughed at your dismissive attitude and sat down next to you. his eyes scanned the paper you were almost ripping into, and he searched for your gaze, silently asking you to let him look at it. “what kind of idiot would even take muggle studies? it’s optional” he nodded slowly, making you feel even dumber. “you don’t have to take it.”

huffing, you took the paper back and tried your best to ignore him, as if that would make him go away.

“okay, sorry” he mumbled, scratching the tip of his pen against a plain piece of paper, his eyes avoiding yours. “i just. i would’ve never taken it. ever. and take that from someone who’s good at every subject.”

and that made you finally snap. “okay, you’re so good at everything! congrats on that, dimwit!” you spat at him, rolling your eyes as you felt your blood boil. “you think i’d actually take this class on my own accord?! think again.”

draco fell silent at that. you were right, you were a pureblood after all. and your family would go crazy if they found out about you taking this class. so that only left him one option - his eyes lit up. “you like a mudblood” he said with disgust, making a face that you were so familiar with already.

and you wanted to lie to him and tell him it’s not true, but your cheeks reddened and you tried to hide it with your hair, but it was no use. draco knew you like the back of his hand. “oh, merlin!” he stood up from the chair, mouth open wide, but instinctively curling into a scowl when madam pince shushed him.

“which one is it? is it riddle, please say no” “no, draco… why would i even take muggle studies for him? he despises muggle-borns. he doesn’t even like his own grandmother since she’s the reason he’s a halfblood.”

draco made a realisation sound, but his eyebrows furrowed. “you know an awful lot about this guy.”

“i only spend like half of my time with you lot. and mind you, the other half i’m sleeping.”

your words didn’t do anything to him, though. only made him fall deeper into thoughts. why was he comfortable enough with you so that he could be himself, yet you weren’t?

you looked up at him curiously, noticing his nails tugging at the thin skin on his knuckles, and you couldn’t help but place your hand over his, that causing draco to look up at you as well. “what?”

he was visibly more relaxed under your touch, but you could tell that he didn’t expect it. you were not too touchy, especially with him. “do you wanna go back to the common room? you look tired.”

but he shook his head, dragging his chair even closer to yours. “no. no, i’m just fine” he whispered whilst trying his best not to yawn.

you smiled to yourself. he was a cutie when he wanted to be. or when he wasn’t trying so hard to make other people feel bad. “i’ll go with you. i’m done here anyway. i think i’ll try to get help from an actual muggle-born.”

he didn’t really let it show, but he was grateful. either you did it because you were tired too, or for him, he was more than content when you took his hand and dragged him behind you back to the common room.

🤍

yet when you arrived to the common room, with draco basically glued to your side, you almost prayed that it would be quiet. it was anything but that.

loud chatter could be heard all the way down the hallway, and as you whispered the password, you could even distinguish the voices.

“oh, look who’s here!” lorenzo basically threw himself at you two, kissing your cheek and squeezing draco closer to him. yet, he only let go of you, keeping the younger boy wrapped around his body.

you took the opportunity and plopped down on the sofa next to a visibly tired theo. he shot you a lazy smile which you returned, your hands resting on the back of the sofa. “i’m fucking tired.”

“poor baby. you stayed late studying again?” blaise cooed at you and your brows shot up hearing his voice, not even aware of his presence until then.

you whined quietly, your eyes closing for a mere moment. “yeah. i think i might need hermione’s help though. i don’t think i’ll be able to do it on my own anytime soon.”

“granger’s help?” theo seemed more awake now, and your words made even tom put his book away. “what for? i’m sure it’s nothing draco couldn’t help you with.”

draco hummed softly from beside you, head resting against enzo’s chest as he looked just about three seconds away from falling asleep. “she’s taking muggle studies.”

you gave him a dirty look that you’re not sure he even caught, judging by his eyes being more than 80% closed by then.

though, around you, strings of questions followed. “oh, dolcezza, what for?” theo was the first one to ask, a gentle smile on his face.

to be fair, you weren’t sure why. you just found yourself wanting to know more about muggle-borns. you were concerned about their abilities. of course, other reasons ensued.

you sighed. “i’m just really curious. how can a muggle do magic? how can some of them be even better at it than us?” you paused, opening your eyes to look at them. “do you ever think about that?”

“i always thought that they’re not really muggle-borns. just adopted by clueless muggles” mattheo shrugged, taking a drag from his joint.

tom looked at his brother with something that you could only call disdain, before he looked at you, your eyes locking. “distant ancestors is my humble guess” his tone had a bite to it, but you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

maintaining eye contact, you felt as if he was eating you alive with just his eyes, gaze so intense that it made your knees give out. “that’s what the books say” you agreed, slightly startled when theo’s head dropped on your lap, your fingers almost instinctively going to play with his soft curls, the boy humming with appreciation.

you smiled down at him. “what do you say, teddy?”

“whatever you wanna do is fine by me, amorina” he replied a bit too quickly, his long, slender fingers rubbing at your knee.

that made you snicker, and you relax against the sofa, closing your eyes again. you didn’t hear much after that as you drifted off. but you surely remembered someone’s arms wrapping around you and carrying you to your prefect dorm.

🤍

you woke up with a headache the next day, and your owl delivered a letter - oh no. you wanted to postpone opening it, but you had no chance as it opened on its own, your mother’s high pitched, obnoxious voice ringing in your ears.

“y/n rosier! how dare you embarrass us this way??! taking muggle studies?! might as well put a knife in my heart. i don’t care about extra points, as long as you’re risking all of our lives - if the dark lord is made aware of this nonsense, he’ll have our throats! if you put another toe out of line, we’ll bring you STRAIGHT HOME!”

sighing, you ripped the parchment into pieces and threw your bag over your shoulder. you knew it was coming, you just didn’t know who told them.

walking down the stairs, you were met with a pair of curious eyes - they probably heard it all. how could they not?

“what was that about?” a confused blaise came to stand beside you, placing a hand at the small of your back as he walked with you out of the common room.

“my mother” you looked straight ahead as you walked, an unreadable expression on your face. “I have to drop muggle studies or the dark lord will have our throats.”

blaise chuckled lowly and squeezed you closer to his side, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “didn’t you expect that? i mean, we’re friends with his sons, of course they’d tell him.”

“you think so? i thought matt hated him” you said confusedly. mattheo did hate him, but his evil twin was a spitting image of his father.

your mouth opened in realisation. that bastard.

“listen… i love tom, but i don’t always trust him” he explained quietly, his face inching closer to yours as if he was afraid tom would actually hear him. “he’s a lot smarter than i think possible. and we all know that he’s always trying to please his father.”

that left you deep in thought. you had known tom for years, but you never thought he’d turn you in.

arriving to your first class of the day, potions, blaise left your side and went to sit at the table in front of you. funnily enough? tom was sitting just behind you.

“you’ll be paired up today as this is quite a difficult task and i’m not sure all of you can manage” professor slughorn eyed adrian pucey and you giggled quietly, blaise turning to you to shoot you a devilish grin.

dismissing you both with a hand waving in the air, slughorn continued. “alright, if miss rosier and mister zabini will allow me, i’ll start reading” he eyed you rather playfully and you gave a curt nod.

“mister zabini and mister pucey,” you could see blaise’s fall even from the side, as he gathered his things and went to sit with adrian, but not before shaking his head at you. “mister weasley and mister malfoy,” and your head snapped, your eyes widening when you finally heard your name, “mister riddle and miss rosier.”

you froze on the spot, unable to move as you heard shuffling from behind you, and soon after, tom was neatly placing his cauldrons on your table. “morning” his voice was soft but firm.

“morning” unlike your own, which was rather shaky. “did you hear what kind of potion we have to make? i-i wasn’t paying attention.”

he could see the blush creeping up your neck, his eyes observing every little detail - as always. “I didn’t tell father about you.”

you choked on air, tom having to pat you on the back, a foreign glint in his eyes. and once you finally relaxed, your throat rough, you asked. “how do you know that?”

“i read blaise’s mind” he shrugged as if it was nothing.

mouth agape, you stared at him like he’d grown two heads. and when you didn’t speak, he continued. “see weasley and malfoy there” he pointed to them and you nodded. “he’s thinking about screwing him. malfoy.”

“draco?!” you almost yelled and half of the class turned to look at you, which earned you a disappointing head shake from tom.

“yes, draco” he whispered nonchalantly, and his face fell. “they’re screwing more than any of us. they even do it in broom closets and if you catch draco drinking more than two butterbeers, he’ll tell you all about it.”

you nodded once, twice… and your brows furrowed. “any of you? who are you screwing?”

“our group. plus the golden trio, but i’m not big on that. it’s casual, not to them apparently” he nodded toward ron and draco again, and you sighed, still very much confused.

“why… why am i not a part of that?”

tom looked down and you could swear it was the first time he actually hesitated. “draco started all of this. i’m not… i’m not sure why.”

“bullshit” you spat, turning your face away from him. it actually made you feel bad. why did they not include you?

just as tom was about to speak again, probably come up with some lame excuse, you raised your hand, feigning stomach ache. “may i please be excused, professor? i don’t feel so good.”

and obviously, crazy scared about these things, slughorn let you go, and you felt tom’s burning gaze on your back as you left.

you decided that you didn’t want to see any of them that day. maybe the next day too. and the days after that.

you felt deeply hurt. not just because of the physical things you were missing on, but because they were your friends, and you were the only one being excluded from their activities.

sitting alone on the great hall, your mind started to wander. it wandered to all those times theo would disappear right before dinner and come back disheveled, when hermione would leave your study sessions early, when enzo and mattheo would feign being sick whilst the rest of you went to hogsmeade.

and your conclusion? none of them found you attractive. not a single person. you had had problems with the way you looked, as one does, but they were never this serious.

never to the point that you could physically feel the hole in your heart.

putting an end to your thoughts, the bell rang and students started making their way to the great hall. it was already lunch time.

you contemplated leaving, as you could already hear some of your friends nearby, but instead, you sat a few seats down from your usual spot, adrian pucey claiming the sit next to you.

“i must say i didn’t expect this, but i’m not mad” he chuckled as he started cutting into his meat, eyeing you curiously.

you tried to put on a smile, as insincere as it was due to your state. “i could use a change of scenery… what about your match against gryffindor on saturday? tell me about that.”

his eyes lit up instantly, and you thanked merlin for it. he would blabber and never shut up about it, so he couldn’t ask any more questions about your unusual behaviour. “so, we’re gonna beat those dimwits up. i don’t care what it takes-”

“yeah, shut up, pucey” you were startled and pulled out of your daydreaming by mattheo’s rough voice. looking up at him, you could see his eyes turning red with anger, and he took your hand in his.

he was so gentle even though he looked about ready to jump adrian. you stood up and held him close to you. without another word, he shot adrian a dirty look and led you out of the great hall and back to the slytherin common room.

the walk there was quiet, yet you could feel how tense he was. his hand on yours, even if gentle, was stiff. his shoulders were tense and it almost looked like he refused to blink.

you didn’t dare speak a word to him as he led you inside, the common room much too crowded at this time - dinner time, more specifically.

but the people there were not just random people.

“what is this?” you asked meekly, feeling too exposed as all of their eyes were on you.

they all looked at you with different kinds of expressions. draco looked angry, whilst ron, leaning back against his chest, was more excited than ever. blaise had a stern look on his face, and theo, enzo, tom, hermione and harry just looked thrilled to be there.

when none of them answered, mattheo spoke up. “my brother here is an idiot.”

“say something new” draco scoffed and blaise elbowed him in the ribs, the blond looking down as mattheo glared at him.

he turned back to you, his thumbs rubbing your knuckles as he looked down at you. “sweetheart, we didn’t include you because…” he sighed and you gulped, not feeling ready for the refusal. “because we know that you’re a virgin.”

you gasped, trying to push him away with your hands, but he tugged you closer to him, his hands wrapping around your smaller frame. “this is bullshit, i don’t care-!”

“okay, okay!” theo interrupted you and all of you looked at him, your brows rising. “we thought that even if you agreed to it… we didn’t- fuck! we couldn’t accept that, when you had to pick one of us to be your first, the others would just have to- live with it.”

you froze for what felt like the hundredth time today - they didn’t find you unattractive. they wanted you more than you could begin to think of.

────── ☾ ──────

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Summary: Your pack is back home, but things aren't quite as good as you try to make them seem. Some truths get revealed, while others remain in the dark.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,337 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, '09 Ghost's backstory, mentioned abuse/child abuse, still pretty heavy emotionally, language, finally some of the comfort after the hurt, plenty of fluff

A/N: This stupid fic making me cry again. I may have lied about this one not being quite as heavy as the others...it's still pretty heavy, but there are some sweet moments in there too. There is a bit of a time jump in the middle, it's roughly a week long or so. Not much, but it does cut ahead a bit just for the sake of plot and moving things along. Also yeah, I got it done earlier than expected.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re warm. Sweat has begun to form in the creases of your body. You’re wrapped around something solid, something contributing to the intense warmth. The smell of leather and eucalyptus fills your nose as you nuzzle your face against soft fabric. It sends a shiver down your spine despite the heat, your eyes fluttering open. You’re staring at a blurry mass of black fabric, your brain beginning to catch up as you become more and more aware. 

Leather. Eucalyptus. Something distinctly alpha. 

Fuck. 

You’re spooning Ghost. 

He has to be asleep, otherwise he would never let you get so close to him. He would have shoved you off, pushed you back towards Johnny, who you’ve traded places with in the middle of the night. You must have gotten too hot sandwiched between the two betas and tried to escape somewhere cooler. That led to you spooning with Ghost, not that he’s much cooler than the betas. 

You can get away before he wakes up, remove yourself from his personal space before he realizes and forces you away. Avoid the shame and embarrassment of his rejection, his anger at you for crossing that boundary, even just in your sleep. Despite the fact you know that boundary is there, despite the fact you did it unintentionally, you’re not sure you could handle such a rejection right now, even from him. 

You slowly begin to withdraw your arm from around his middle, sliding it back towards your body. If you go slow enough, you should be able to untangle yourself from around him without waking him and avoid a confrontation. 

A quiet gasp is pulled from your lips as his hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you from moving. 

“Don’t.” He says quietly. 

Your heart is thudding in your chest as he tugs your arm back around him, keeping you where you are. Your exhale is shaky as you slowly relax, pressing your face against his back again. You’re not sure what to do. You were expecting him to push you away, get up in disgust and leave because you got too close, you pushed past the barrier he had placed around himself when it came to you. A barrier that got let down only while you’re training, then it’s put right back up as soon as you’re finished. Now here you are, spooning him after sleeping in the same room, the same nest. 

You wouldn’t have taken him for being a little spoon type. 

Your eyes begin to droop again as you lay there, breathing in Ghost’s scent. It’s like a comforting blanket, lulling you into a sense of relaxation, of safety, something you haven’t felt in days. For the first time your mind is quiet, not panicking about what happened, or what could happen. You don’t have to worry about your pack now, because they’re here with you again. 

You drift off to sleep again for a while, sleeping soundly in the cocoon of safety your pack has provided for you. 

You wake a while later, sticky with sweat. Your back is pressed against Ghost’s, and there’s something draped across your face. You push it away, blinking your eyes open. Johnny has starfished across the nest on his back, his mouth open as he snores. He’s stolen your bear, one arm holding it against his chest, and the other arm had been what was draped across your face. Kyle is curled up on his other side, having moved from the middle to the far side of the nest. John is missing, making your brows furrow. 

You push yourself up to sit, the air in the room almost like a sauna. You rub your eyes, trying to blink away the sleepiness. That might have been the best sleep you’ve gotten since your heat. It was likely the exhaustion taking its toll, paired with your brain finally being able to relax while surrounded by your pack.

You feel like you could lay down and sleep for another ten hours. 

You’re warm, though, sweat causing your clothes to stick to your skin. The blankets have all been kicked to the end of the mattresses, likely ditched early on in the night. You wiggle out of your sweatpants, kicking them off the end of the mattress as well, leaving you in a baggy shirt that you think is Johnny’s. 

You feel suddenly exposed sitting there, your eyes flicking around the room as a chill runs down your spine. John would have noticed if something was out of place, but he could have just brushed it off as you in his room. He had given you permission to be in his space while he was gone, if you needed to. One of them would have noticed if things were out of place in their rooms. Ghost would likely notice, since you haven’t been in his room at all. 

You lay back down on your back, staring up at the vent on the ceiling. The cover is in place, and no matter how hard you look, you can’t see a camera hiding in the gaps. It doesn’t ease your worry any as you stare up at it, wishing you had your phone so you could at least try to look for one. Though, perhaps it was better you didn’t have your phone with you. You hadn’t been brave enough to pop it open and look for anything strange hidden inside, though you wouldn’t even know where to begin to look, or what to look for. 

You should tell them. What if someone is watching you right now? 

You flinch as John appears in the doorway suddenly, five water bottles tucked against his chest. Your skin is crawling from the thought of someone watching, someone listening in on such a private moment with you and your pack. You hadn’t even thought about it last night, the stress and your fear had taken over your mind. You push yourself back up to sit as John passes Ghost a water bottle, handing one to you as well. You unscrew the cap as John places the other bottles on his desk. Johnny and Kyle still asleep, unaware of the world. 

Unaware of the danger. 

A cold shiver slips down your spine as you gulp down the water. What if someone had entered the barracks last night? You weren’t in your room, and the door wasn’t locked. Anyone could have just walked in and put up cameras again easily. 

One of the guys would have heard someone snooping around, right? You were so out of it you likely would have slept through one of them getting up. What if they were also so exhausted from their deployment they could have slept through someone breaching their space as well. Did Ghost lock the door last night? You can’t remember. 

“Alright, sweetheart?” 

Your head snaps up to where John is leaning against his desk. His brows are slightly furrowed as he stares at you, and you realize you’ve been projecting your scent. With them gone, you didn't have to worry as much. You could stink up a room without a care. It just meant more protection for you. Now that they’re back, though, you have to be more careful. You can’t just go panicking over nothing, not that you should have to panic while they’re here. 

That’s their job, right? Protect the omega? 

They can’t protect you if they don’t know there’s a threat in the first place. 

“Yeah.” You say, gulping down more water to think up an excuse quickly. “Thought I might be dreaming for a moment, that you didn't really come back.” 

John approaches you slowly, kneeling down on the end of the mattress with a quiet sigh. He has to be sore after their deployment. You can tell just by the way he’s holding his shoulders, by the stiffness in the way he moves. You can’t even begin to imagine the kinds of things they did, the kinds of things they went through over the last week. 

John takes your hand, pressing it against his chest. He’s warm underneath the shirt, and you can feel the steady beating of his heart under your palm. “We’re real.” He says, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand as he holds it against his chest. “We’re really here.” 

You stare at his hand where it covers yours. You’ve seen it before, many times. Scarred and rough with calluses. His knuckles are dry and just slightly bruised. Did he punch someone? Or maybe he hit it against something else. 

His hand moves, snapping you out of your thoughts. You fight the urge to flinch as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “You’re thinking too much.” 

You swallow thickly. “Well, I didn’t have much to do this last week besides think.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “We’ll try to make life more interesting for you, then.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get these two muppets up for breakfast.” 

He pushes himself back up to stand, staring down at Johnny and Kyle, still sleeping. You shift onto your hands and knees, crawling over to Johnny before swinging a leg over to straddle his stomach. You lean forward, planting your hands on either side of his face, his breath catching as he begins to wake up, sensing a disturbance. You stare down at him, watching his eyes flutter before they crack open. The haze of sleep leaves his blue eyes, clarity coming back to him quickly as his lips begin to lift in a grin as he stares up at you. 

“Didnae expect tae wake up to such a sight.” He says, voice thick with sleep as his hands come to rest on your bare thighs. “A beautiful woman on top of me? I must’ve died and gone tae heaven in my sleep.” 

“Even better,” You say, leaning down closer. “Because I’m real.” 

“That ye are.” He says, slowly dragging his hands up your legs, pushing the shirt up as he goes. 

Ghost pushes himself off the mattress, leaving the room so quickly he nearly knocks his shoulder against the doorframe. A frown pulls at your brows as you watch him go, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit on Johnny’s stomach. Guilt starts to well up in you as you stare at the empty doorway. You hadn’t meant to make him uncomfortable. 

“Don’t mind him, kitten.” Johnny says, pushing himself up to sit, sliding you backwards into his lap. “He’s still miffed he didn’t get a greetin’ yesterday.” 

“Oh,” You say, blinking in surprise. You hadn’t even thought about greeting Ghost in that moment. You had been so desperate for your alpha, and then swept up by the betas, it hadn’t even crossed your mind to acknowledge Ghost. “I didn’t-” 

“It’s not yer fault.” Johnny says, wrapping his arms around you. “He hasnae been the most...open with ye. It’s his own damn fault for it.” 

“Oh, well, I’ll be sure to give him a big hug when he comes back in.” You say. 

“Please do.” Kyle says, rubbing his eyes where he’s laying next to you. “I’ll pay to see his reaction.” 

All three of you burst out laughing, Johnny pressing his forehead against yours. “Missed ye, kitten.” 

“Not as much as I missed you.” You say, pouting. 

Johnny chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His hands slide to your hips as he presses another soft kiss to your lips, and then another. 

“Let me get in on some of that.” Kyle says, pushing himself up to sit. He grips your chin in his hand, turning your face to his before pressing his lips to yours. 

His kiss takes your breath away, deeper and more passionate than Johnny’s had been. You hum against his lips as Johnny’s grip on your waist tightens. 

“Christ almighty.” Johnny breathes, staring at you and Kyle as you kiss. 

“Alright, you three.” John says as the air in the room starts to turn musky with arousal. “Let’s feed our omega first before we get too carried away.” 

Kyle pulls away from you, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Can we...eat in here again?” You ask, wrapping an arm around Johnny’s shoulders as you turn slightly to look up at John. You had almost forgotten about his presence, caught up in the attention from your betas. The thought of him watching the three of you has a different kind of thrill racing down your spine. 

“Of course.” John says, bending down to kiss you. 

Both Johnny and Kyle groan at the sight of their pack alpha kissing you, Johnny’s cock twitching in his boxers beneath you. You press a kiss to Johnny’s cheek after John pulls away from you before pushing yourself up to stand. You stretch your arms over your head, the shirt riding up a bit, giving both Kyle and Johnny a good view of your legs. The musky scent of arousal intensifies in the air as they stare at you, Johnny licking his lips hungrily. 

“Alright, get out of here you cheeky little minx, otherwise they’ll never get out of bed.” John says, gently guiding you from the room. 

You can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as you leave John’s room, stepping out into the hallway. It’s much cooler outside of the room, goosebumps forming on your legs. You have half a mind to go back to your own room, but you find yourself unable to even approach the door. Memories of the fear and your panic come flooding back, the thought that someone might have snuck inside, someone might be waiting for you in there snapping to the front of your mind. It’s a ridiculous thought. Someone would have noticed if there was an intruder, if there was someone who shouldn’t be inside creeping around. 

Your gaze flickers from your door as Ghost makes his way down the hallway, his clothes changed from what he’d been wearing to sleep in. You bite your lip as you stare at him, meeting his gaze. Perhaps it's the fear driving you forward, or maybe you’ve gone slightly crazy in their absence, but you find yourself approaching him, making him stop in his tracks. 

He eyes you as you approach, your steps quick as you try to avoid chickening out. Your mind is repeating Johnny’s words over and over in your head, an explanation for Ghost’s behavior yesterday, and obvious annoyance at you and Johnny this morning. You wonder if he’ll take it as a threat as you get closer to him, if he might snap and defend himself. He’s completely still, not even his chest moving. He’s watching you like a predator watches its prey, waiting for your next move. 

It’s like hugging a tree as you wrap your arms around his waist. He’s stiffer than a board as you hug him, resting your face on his chest. Leather and eucalyptus and musk all float around you as you press close to him, his scent enveloping you in a hug, even if his body doesn’t follow suit. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. 

“Hugging you.” You say, tightening your hold around him. You’ve been this close to him before in your training, but this feels different. “I’m sorry for not greeting you on the tarmac. I wasn’t really thinking clearly at that point.” 

He lets out a quiet sigh, something you probably wouldn’t have noticed if you weren’t so close to him. You can imagine it’s a sigh of exasperation at Johnny for spilling about his feelings. “It’s fine.” He says, awkwardly patting your back. “Don’t know why you would have wanted to.” 

“Well, you are part of the pack.” You say. “That should be enough reason.” 

You nuzzle your face against his chest, his scent going straight to the back of your brain. Your omega wants to roll in it, cover herself in it until it’s all you can smell. The intensity of his scent has something in your hindbrain purring, the sound rumbling through your chest. 

Ghost puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back from him. You blink up at him blearily as your mind begins to clear a bit with the distance. “At least put some pants on before you completely lose it.” He grumbles. 

A small smile tugs at your lips before it falls at the thought of having to go into your room. You turn to face the door, your vision almost tunneling as you stare at it. You don’t want to open it. You don’t want to go in there. 

“Ghost?” You say quietly before he can walk away. 

He turns to look at you, his eyes squinting just slightly as he frowns. “What?” 

“Will you...will you open my door for me?” You shift your weight, knowing he’s going to want a reason, an explanation for your behavior. 

He turns fully to face you, shoulders squared as he slowly approaches, suddenly on the defensive. “What is it?” 

You shake your head. “Just a feeling.” 

He steps between you and the door, wrapping his fingers around the handle before he swings it open, scanning the inside. His shoulders relax just slightly and you let out a breath of air. There’s no one inside. No one’s waiting for you. No one broke in last night. 

He takes a step back before turning to you. “Nothing.” 

You let out a sigh of relief, staring into the space that was once your nest, your safe place. You can feel Ghost’s eyes on you, waiting for an explanation for your behavior. You can’t tell him the truth, despite how easy it would be. You could confess right now, admit to what happened, what you did, the mistake you made. You could drop to your knees right now, beg for forgiveness for what you did. 

“It was hard...while everyone was gone.” You say. It’s not a lie. Not entirely. “Made me uneasy, being alone here. Kept thinking I was hearing things.” 

He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his eyes. He knows your lying, he knows you’re withholding the truth from him. You aren’t, you just aren’t giving him the whole truth. You had felt lonely, you had been on edge even before General Shepherd arrived and your room was bugged. Being alone was hard. Harder than you thought it would be. It would have taken its toll on you, even without the stress of your space being invaded multiple times. 

You should have told someone. You should have called Dr. Keller right away. You should have never opened the door in the first place. 

“Thank you.” You say, slipping past him and entering your room. 

He stands there for a few breaths, watching you warily as you open your closet, looking for something to wear. You ignore him, acting like he’s not there, but you can’t hide the squaring of your shoulders, the stiffness of your movements. You’re not sure you could resist if he pressed, if he tried to force you to tell him. You’d spill immediately, even without him using his alpha against you. 

The thought has another chill racing down your spine. 

Your omega is on edge as you change with the door open, not caring as the guys move around, getting dressed to head out to grab breakfast for everyone. You hate how inconvenient it must be, but you still don’t think you could handle being in the mess. Not yet. Not so soon. You’ll have to eventually, otherwise they’ll think something is up, happened, and then they’ll start questioning. 

You couldn’t handle an interrogation. Especially not their disappointed and angry faces when you confess to what you did, the mistakes you made, how you allowed someone to walk in so easily. How you left so easily with a stranger. They’d never trust you again. 

They won’t trust you if you keep things from them either. 

They have to know. They have to know General Shepherd came to base and talked to you. They have to know about you meeting their superior while they were away. A high ranking General couldn’t just be on base without someone knowing, and why would he hide it? He had come to check in on your progress and how you were settling in with your pack. He would have included your pack in that questioning as well, right? Besides, there has to be cameras everywhere on base. Someone would have seen you and let them know. 

There’s no way they don’t know about it. 

You stand in the doorway of your bathroom, staring at the cabinet where the broken cameras and recording devices are hidden. They’re broken, you ensured that. They’re hidden away, buried under enough stuff no one could find them unless they were purposefully looking for something. 

You let out a breath, trying to relax as you finish your morning routine. It’s over. There’s nothing that can be done now. All you can do is try to move on, try to mend the fraying bonds with your pack, heal the sense of fear and unease surrounding your safe space. 

Maybe Dr. Keller could help. You could admit everything to her, everything that happened while she was supposed to be watching you. If you had just gone to her office that afternoon, perhaps things would have been different. She would have known, but that wouldn’t have stopped the cameras from being put up. It would have just made it easier for them. Maybe they might have finished the job properly, and you wouldn’t have even known. Even if you had called Dr. Keller, what kind of argument could she have made against a Commanding Officer? 

If you told Dr. Keller now, she’d tell your pack. She’s promised to keep everything between you confidential, but would something like this be an exception? Would she tell your pack anyway because she thinks it’s the best course of action to help you? 

You want to cry. Tears are welling in your eyes as you stare in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself. You look tired, strung out, sickly almost. Are you not, though? Is that not how you feel? You know omegas can get sick from stress sometimes, if it gets to be too much. You don’t want to get sick. You don’t want to be more of a burden than you’re already being. They have to be so tired after their assignment, and here you are making things harder for them. 

“You alright, love?” 

You jump, letting out a shriek as you whip around to face the door of your room. Your heart is racing as you slap a hand over your mouth, staring wide-eyed at an equally surprised Kyle. You let out a breath, slowly lowering your trembling hand as you try to calm yourself. It’s just Kyle sneaking up on you. Not a stranger. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” He says, brows pinching in a frown. 

“‘S okay.” You murmur, turning off the light before leaving the bathroom. “Was lost in thought.” 

“The others left to grab food.” Kyle says. “They’ll be back shortly.” 

You nod, trying hard not to make your trembling too visible, or give any hint at your discomfort. “Okay.” 

You stare at him as he leans against the doorframe. He hasn’t entered your room. He’s still standing in the doorway. The thought has a lump forming in your throat. Your bonds have frayed so much he doesn’t even feel comfortable entering your space anymore. There’s a wall up again, and you’re only forcing it higher and higher. 

“Come on.” He says, holding his hand out to you. “Let’s go to the rec room.” 

You take his offered hand, letting him pull you from your room. The door clicks closed behind you as you let him lead you down the hallway and away from the place that’s become fuel for your nightmares. 

Kyle sits down on the couch, pulling you down on his lap. You wrap your arm around his neck as he wraps his arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth and scent. 

“I’m sorry for startling you.” He says softly, bringing your other hand to his lips so he can press a kiss to your wrist. 

“It’s not your fault.” You say, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Been on edge since everyone left.” 

“I bet.” Kyle leans his cheek against the top of your head. “We’re here now. We’re gonna fix that.” 

“What happens when you have to leave again?” You ask. 

“You won’t be alone again, that’s for sure.” A different voice says. 

You nearly jump out of Kyle’s lap as John appears in the doorway of the rec room, Johnny and Ghost right behind him. Kyle’s arms are the only thing keeping you steady as your heart nearly beats out of your chest. You’re not sure how much more you can take, intentionally or unintentionally. 

“I spoke with Kate this morning.” John says as he sets the food he’s carrying on the coffee table. “We’re going to do everything in our power to avoid having you left alone again. At least one of us will be staying behind with you from now on.” 

Your brows pinch a little. Is that why he had been absent from the nest earlier? You’re not quite sure what to feel. On one hand you’re relieved at the thought of not having to be alone again, but on the other hand, you don’t want to disrupt their lives, their jobs. You wonder just how hard he had to fight to even get Kate to agree to something like this. 

You also feel a bit afraid that they know, they figured out what had happened and that’s the reason they don’t trust to leave you alone again. You’ll make another stupid mistake or another risky decision that might cause you actual harm next time. 

Kyle eases you off his lap and onto the couch beside him. Johnny sits on your other side, squishing you between them as a tray is passed into your hands. You don’t feel very hungry as you stare down at the food, but you know after a meager dinner last night, you need to eat. You won’t be doing you or your pack any favors by being hungry. 

It’s quiet in the rec room as you eat. It’s almost eerie how silent it is, aside from the occasional scrape of silverware on the trays. You begin to float back into the time when they were gone, the haunting silence that had settled over the barracks in their absence. Everything had seemed so still, not peaceful, but more like the very walls were holding their breath. 

Perhaps it was in anticipation for what was to come. Perhaps somehow the very walls knew they would be beached, the safety they once promised would be upended. 

Or maybe you’ve just gone crazy. 

You shift forward on the couch, careful not to tip your tray over as you grab the remote from the coffee table, turning the TV on. 

“Finally! I couldnae handle the silence much longer.” Johnny exclaims, letting out a relieved sigh. 

The corners of your lips pull up in a smile as you pass the remote off to him, letting him search for something bearable to watch on early morning TV. You’re glad at least you weren’t alone in your distaste for the silence. You curl up closer to Gaz, reminding yourself that it’s not a dream, that they really are here. They really did come back. 

Now you just have to move on and put the nightmare of what happened behind you. 

As the days pass, things begin to return to normal. The guys start their normal routine of training and running drills almost immediately. To avoid being stuck in the barracks alone, you ask to go with them, blaming it on the distance and your need to be clingy still. At first you were afraid someone would take advantage of the barracks being empty again, but every search has come up empty handed. No more cameras, no more recording devices. 

Whoever it was who planted them must have given up, or perhaps the risk of doing it with the entire pack back on base was too high. 

Despite this fact, you spend the least amount of time in your room as possible. Even when you can’t go to watch them train or run drills, you spend your time in John’s room, or in the rec room. At night you rotate between John, Kyle, and Johnny, opting to sleep with them over spending a night alone in your room. 

As you discussed, you begin seeing Dr. Keller twice a week. You’re not quite sure what she told John to convince him it was necessary, but whatever it was, it hadn’t given away any of your secrets. It probably hadn’t taken much to convince him to say yes, given your current state and his worry about you. 

You know he’s worried. You can see it when he looks at you, like you might snap if he stares too hard. You’ve seen the way his hands twitch when Johnny holds you too tightly or gets too rough in his affection, like he’s worried you might shatter.

It’s reassuring to see the distance has not just affected you. Johnny holds you tighter than he used to, Kyle stands closer to you like he’s trying to fuse you both into one. Even Ghost has started hovering closer, using his hands to steer you and guide you when you’re around others that aren’t part of your pack. 

You’ve started eating in the mess again, knowing you can only avoid it for so long before they’ll start getting suspicious and asking questions. You still feel paranoid, being around the other soldiers on base. You can’t help but be suspicious that it was one of them that planted the cameras, that it was one of them that tried to get into your room that night. Who would willingly breach such sacred ground and invade an omega’s space like that, you couldn’t even begin to guess.  

Sure, some of them still stare at you, but most of them now ignore your existence. You’re no longer a spectacle, not after a few weeks on base, not that you’re a claimed omega now. 

That won’t stop some alphas. 

Going up against your pack, though? That would take one hell of a cocksure alpha. 

Just like the one that invaded your safe space. 

It had to have been an alpha. Sure, that beta soldier had entered the barracks, but to go so far as to put up cameras and try to come back and get into your room? That takes a special kind of audacity, something only an alpha could possess. 

So life has gone back to normal, or at least as normal as it can be after what happened. 

The return to normal hasn’t all been good, though. Your nightmares have returned, coming on quickly as soon as you began to settle into routine again. The real nightmare has passed, so now your mind has to plague itself with nightmares that have already happened. Things that can’t even hurt you anymore. 

You start avoiding sleep again, despite your work with Dr. Keller, too afraid to risk having a nightmare in front of one of them again. The last thing you need is to have to spill about your nightmare. You might not be able to stop and wind up spilling about what happened while they were gone too. 

Unfortunately, things don’t work that way. They never work that way for you. 

Someone is screaming. Your body feels like it’s being constricted by a snake, crushing and painful as you’re clutched desperately against your mother’s chest. She’s the one that’s screaming, the sound hurting your ears. Your face is pressed against her shoulder, into the softness of her sweater. It’s the pink one, the one she made. Her favorite. 

There’s knocking coming from somewhere, a door handle jiggling. It’s locked, but you can hear someone trying to get in, multiple people based on the voices from the other side. You don’t know who it is. You don’t recognize any of them. You can’t even make out what it is their saying, if they’re saying anything at all. The voices sound more like the unintelligible roar of monsters, the ones you used to be afraid of as a child. 

Everything is muted by the blood pulsing in your ears, drowning out everything but the jiggling of the door handle. Someone’s trying to break in. Someone is breaking in. You can make out the thuds against the door, the desperate attempts to get inside, to get to you. 

The arms around you tighten, pressing your face harder into the soft yarn of the sweater. You inhale the familiar scent of brown sugar and vanilla, the scent surrounding you and enveloping you in a sense of safety. Nothing can get you. Nothing can hurt you. 

That’s not true, though. You know it’s not. 

There’s a bang as the door is finally forced open, the screaming getting louder as footsteps enter the room. You’re shaking, trembling in your mother’s arms as she clings to you desperately, just like you used to cling to her when you thought there was a monster under your bed. 

The monsters were real, you realize as you desperately cling to your mother, just as tightly as she’s clinging to you. 

Hands grab at you, claws digging into your skin, tentacles wrapping around your body, trying to pull you from your mother’s grip. You can hear her pleading, begging, screaming at them not to take you, not to separate you. You’ll never see her again if they manage to pull you from her. They’ll take you away, hide you away, keep you from the warm comfort of her embrace. 

You let out a scream of your own as you’re yanked from her grasp, your arms reaching for her as the monsters pull you from the source of your safety and comfort. The last thing you see is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door slams in your face. 

A scream tears from your lips as you’re pulled from sleep suddenly. You’re falling, hitting the tile floor with a thud. Your shoulder cracks against the unforgiving floor, making you yelp. The blanket has tangled around your legs, rendering you immobile from the waist down. 

The frantic pounding of boots on the floor meets your ears, seconds before the four members of your pack are sprinting into the rec room. Their faces look just as frantic as their steps had been, concern laced with fear laced with worry. You hadn’t even realized they’d returned already. They had been at their afternoon drills while you stayed in the rec room watching TV, slowly succumbing to the exhaustion that’s been plaguing you. 

“What is it? What happened?” Kyle asks, moving to step forward but John beats him to it. 

“Fell off the couch.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit, wincing at the pain in your shoulder. There’s tears sliding down your cheeks despite you fighting the remnants of your terror and pain from the nightmare. 

“I think there’s more to it than that.” John says, kneeling down in front of you. 

You want to confess everything. How you haven’t been sleeping well for weeks now since your heat, how you keep having horrible nightmares about your past, what happened while they were away, how the nightmares have returned. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at John, the tears sliding down your cheeks as you give up trying to control them. Guilt plagues you as you stare at the worried face of your alpha. He just wants to help you, he just wants to take care of you, but he can’t if you’re keeping things from him, if you’re lying to his face. 

“I had a nightmare.” You say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You clutch your arm to your chest, trying not to move your shoulder too much. 

John lets out a quiet sigh, his fingers lifting to press against your shoulder, feeling around the joint. You wince as he hits a tender spot, the pain sharp, but not horrible. You’ve certainly felt worse things. 

He turns to the others behind him, all of them staring at you with equally worried looks on their faces. “Get me an ice pack.” He says before turning back to you. 

He lifts you off the floor, placing you back on the couch before untangling the blanket from around your legs. Johnny grabs an ice pack as Kyle moves to sit next to you on the couch, draping his arm across the back, projecting his scent to try and help you relax. John sits on the edge of the coffee table, staring at you. Despite the worry still present on his face, his eyes are sharp. You can’t help but feel like you’re suddenly in an interrogation. They’ve done this before, probably many times, though likely not as gently as they are now. You’re terrified still at the way they shift so easily into the mindset of a soldier. You can’t even imagine what it would be like if they were serious in their interrogation of you. 

“How long have you been having nightmares?” John asks as Johnny takes a seat on the other side of you, passing you the ice pack. 

You press it against your shoulder, trying to keep your thoughts straight. You have to try not to spill anything, try not to confess to all of your sins, all of your stupid mistakes now. Your gaze drops to your lap, avoiding the looks of the two alphas staring at you. Ghost has moved to stand behind John, his arms crossed as he watches the exchange. You can feel the pressure of their gaze, the sharpness of it digging into your skin like knives. 

“A couple weeks.” You admit, unable to even think of a lie. You don’t want to lie now, not with them staring at you so intensely. They’d know. They’d be able to tell before the words even left your mouth. “Since my heat ended.” 

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding sleeping?” John asks. 

You wince at his question. Of course he noticed. Why wouldn’t he? He’s been trained to notice weaknesses in others, gauge the capabilities of his men. Of course he’d notice you’re more tired than usual, not sleeping quite as much. He probably even knew all the times you woke up in the night when you slept next to him.  

You nod, still staring at your lap, too afraid to see the disappointment in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He breathes, almost sounding upset. 

You’ve made a mistake in keeping this a secret. You regret it as soon as you hear the emotion in his voice. He thinks you don’t trust them, he thinks you don’t trust your alpha. You need to tell him. You need to tell him everything, but the fear keeps you paralyzed. How much more upset will he be when you confess that you kept such a major event from him, from all of them? 

A quiet sob leaves your lips as you sit there, terrified of the reprimanding you’re sure to get. The shame burns hot in you, the reminder that you’ve disappointed them. You’ve let them down and now they won’t even trust you to tell them anything. 

“We’re not mad at you, sweetheart.” Gaz says, shifting his arm so it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his thumb brushing the hand that’s holding the ice pack to your shoulder. Johnny shifts just slightly closer to you, both of the betas projecting their scent around you, trying to cocoon you in their comforting presence. 

“I just want to know why you felt it necessary to hide something like that from us.” John says, his voice softer than it had been before. 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You find the words spilling out before you can stop them. Maybe it’s the exhaustion or the fear or your brain finally getting tired of holding everything in. This is your moment to let out a little steam, to finally release some of the pressure that’s been building. “My nightmares are nothing compared to the ones you all probably have and it’s stupid and I shouldn’t even be having them, it’s been years since the last time I dreamed like this, and I don’t even know why they’ve come back now.” 

“No nightmares are stupid.” Ghost says, stepping up closer to the coffee table. 

“We’re here to help you.” John says, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We can’t do that if you don’t tell us what’s going on.” 

Guilt burns through you at his words. He’s right. You should be honest with them, tell them everything. They can’t help you, they can’t keep you safe even from the things that plague your mind if they don’t know about them. 

“What are the dreams about?” John asks, blue eyes boring holes into you. 

You feel small under his gaze, like you're a child again, facing down your father after doing something wrong, after making a mistake. You have made a mistake, though. You’re facing the consequences of your mistake right now. 

“The day I left for the institute.” You say quietly, voice hardly more than a whisper but you know they heard you in the silence of the barracks. It feels threatening, like the walls are silently vowing to tell the truth if you don’t. 

Your pack shifts a bit at your words, sharing looks amongst themselves. They have to know what it’s like, or at least heard stories about the trauma of being pulled from your pack to be taken to a strange place, surrounded by others just like you. 

“What happened that day?” Ghost asks, staring down at you. 

You can feel his gaze piercing into you, screaming the silent threat that you’re going to tell them, no matter how long they have to sit here and wait. You don’t have a choice anymore. You have to tell them. 

You’re warm. The ice pack pressed against your forehead does little to soothe the burning under your skin. You’re thirsty, the two empty plastic bottles on your nightstand were not enough to ease the dryness in your mouth. 

Hands shift the ice pack, pressing it against your cheek. Your mother is there, seated next to your bed diligently. She’s crying, tears sliding down her cheeks, quiet sniffles breaking the silence in the house. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, bringing your hand to her lips. “I’m so sorry,” She apologizes, as if it’s her fault, as if she brought this onto you. 

She gasps quietly as the door opens, her back stiffening as your father enters. His face is stern, mouth almost twisted with disgust as he stares at you. It feels wrong, having him invade your space. If you’d had the energy, perhaps you would have been brave enough to protest his presence. 

“Come on.” His voice is gruff, worn down from years of smoking and yelling. “Get up.” 

“No, please-” Your mother attempts to reason with him, but he won’t have it. 

“Shut up and sit down.” He snaps at her, and she has no choice but to sit back and be silent. His voice has something tingling in the back of your neck, almost like a warning. There’s nothing you can do, though. You’re far too weak. 

He moves to the side of your bed, grabbing your arm and pulling you up from the comfort of your blankets. The ice pack falls from your head, your skin prickling with warmth almost like it hadn’t been there in the first place. Your brain is sluggish as you try to comprehend what’s happening, your legs giving out as you’re forced upright. You can’t get your body to work, you can’t even force yourself to behave. You want to crawl back under your blankets and lay there for the rest of eternity. 

You whine as you’re dragged from your room, knees knocking on the floor as you attempt to get your feet under you to ease the pain in your shoulder. Your father drags you into the living room, two people you don’t recognize standing next to the front door. 

“Please, please don’t do this!” Your mother pleads with him, right on his heels as he drops you in a heap in front of them. He catches her before she can rush forward to you. How you wish you could have her arms around you again, holding you and comforting you in your confusion. 

“Enough.” Your father snaps at her, looking down at you with disgust. “She’s no daughter of mine.” 

You blink up at him, the words seering through the haze, registering in your foggy mind. Tears gather in your eyes as you stare up at your parents, your siblings watching tensely from the living room as the scene unfolds before them. 

“No, no!” You cry as hands close around your arms, lifting you from the floor. “Mama!” You scream, trying to fight them as you’re pulled from your home, your safe space, your family, your pack. 

Your mother is yelling, fighting against your father’s hold around her, but it’s useless. He’s stronger. He wants this, so no one is going to stop him. She’ll pay later for her actions, her disagreement with him. You won’t be here to see it, though. You’re leaving and you won’t be coming back. 

The last thing you see as the cool air outside washes over your feverish skin is your mother’s grief stricken face before the door closes, locking you out forever. 

You’re dragged into the back of a van parked in the driveway. Two men in uniform climb in behind you before the doors are slammed shut. You curl up in the corner, sobbing uncontrollably. You want your mom, you want to be back in the safety of her arms, the warmth and comforting softness that only she can provide. 

One of the men approaches you, a needle in his hand. You whimper in fear, pressing further back into the corner as he gets closer to you. He forces you down onto your stomach, the pain brief as he injects you with the sedative before he moves back to take his seat. You curl up in a ball, quietly sobbing as the drugs begin to work, your vision going hazy before you’re forced into unconsciousness. 

“I woke up hours later at the institute.” You say, wiping at the tears streaming down your cheeks, but it does little against the cascade of tears falling from your eyes. “Never saw or spoke to my family again. They didn’t even try to reach me, and I know my dad was the reason why. He hated me as soon as I presented.” 

“Fucking hell.” Ghost breathes, hands curled into fists at his sides. You can smell the intensity of his scent above everything, the burning ozone of anger rolling off of him. It makes you wince, even though you know it’s not directed at you. 

“That’s why he wanted to send you so quickly.” Kyle says, his arm tightening around you. 

“How did he get you into FIOT so soon after your presentation?” John asks. 

You shrug your good shoulder. “I don’t know. I didn’t even know he’d be sending me, much less so soon until it was happening.” 

“Christ,” Johnny breathes, gently taking your hand in his. “No wonder yer havin’ nightmares, kitten.” 

“I haven’t had this nightmare since I arrived at the institute. They started there, lasted a few weeks while I adjusted to being there.” You sniffle. “Haven’t had them since, until now. Dr. Keller says it’s because I finally feel safe enough to process the trauma of it happening.” 

John sits up a little straighter. “Is that why she suggested seeing you multiple times a week?” 

You nod. “We’re working on it. I asked her not to tell you, because I did plan on telling you eventually.” 

“I’m glad you told someone, at least,” He says. “And I’m glad you finally told us too. We might not be able to stop the nightmares, but at least now we can help support you in whatever way you need.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You say, squeezing Johnny’s hand slightly. He was the only one that knew you were having nightmares, but you hadn’t even confessed to him what was going on out of fear he’d tell the others. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl.” John says, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad it finally came out and now we can help you.” He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his thumb brushing your skin gently. 

The moment is broken as your stomach growls impatiently. It’s past your normal dinner time, your confession having kept you longer than you thought it would. You hadn’t gotten in your afternoon snack either, your body having chosen to nap instead. 

A small smile tugs at John’s lips. “Hungry, love?” 

You nod. “Yeah. Didn’t get my snack.” 

“We’ll go get some food and bring it here, how does that sound?” He asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. That sounds good.” 

He pushes himself up to stand, his knees cracking as he does. You fight the urge to say something, squeezing Johnny’s hand tightly. 

“I’ll stay.” Ghost says, still looking at you. 

John looks down at you and you meet Ghost’s gaze for a moment before nodding. John presses another kiss to your head, Johnny and Kyle pressing kisses to your cheeks before they get up, leaving the rec room to get dinner for everyone. 

Ghost moves from his spot on the other side of the coffee table, sinking down at the end of the couch. You fight the urge to stare at him in surprise. You’re not sure you’ve seen him sit anywhere but in the chair the entire time you’ve been here. 

It’s silent between the two of you for a few moments, aside from the occasional sniffle from you. You wipe the remaining tears from your face, removing the melted ice pack from your shoulder, tossing it on the coffee table. This feels very familiar to you, this position. You’ve been here before, back when you punched the asshole alpha who insulted you. 

“My dad was a real asshole.” 

You turn your head slightly in surprise when Ghost break’s the silence suddenly. He’s not looking at you, his gaze distant, far away. You know that look well. You’ve seen it on him before, and also on a few omegas at the institute. You’re sure it’s graced your face as well many times. 

“He was a trad alpha, real piece of shit who couldn’t control his anger. Took it out on all of us. My mum, my brother, me.” He scoffs. “Mum took the brunt of it, but Tommy and I faced our fair share of it too. He used to bring dangerous animals home and taunted us with them. Made me kiss a snake once. He did all kinds of horrible things to us.” His voice softens a bit in a way you’ve never heard before. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable, not even when he told you about his own nightmares. “I’ve never wanted an omega, because of the things my dad did to my mum. I never wanted a pack either, but...maybe something deep down in me did because I said yes to this whole experiment.” 

The silence hangs heavy between you for a moment. You’re not sure what to say, or if you can even manage to say anything in response to what he’s just told you. You had no idea what his life was like growing up, except that he was also a purebred. 

“I was always too afraid the cycle would continue, that I’d turn out to be another piece of shit, just like my dad.” He says. 

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

He huffs out a breath. “Thanks.” He stares down at the coffee table, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Did your dad ever hit you?” 

You shake your head. “Never directly. He got rough sometimes, grabbing us, squeezing too hard, yanking us around. He never stopped my brothers when they got too rough, though. They liked to wrestle, and I wanted to join because I wanted to spend time with my cooler older brothers. Sometimes they’d forget I was smaller than them and I got hurt a couple times. He never reprimanded them when it happened. I think he enjoyed it more than anything. He mostly just yelled a lot.” 

“Trad alphas only speak the language of yelling and violence.” He says. “If my father wasn’t screaming at us, his fists were getting the message across. Sometimes he’d do both at the same time.” Ghost shakes his head. “Real pieces of shit, trad alphas. Makes me sick, the kinds of things they believe in.” 

“I’m sorry about what happened to you.” You say, fishing for anything to follow up his confession with. Nothing feels right, nothing feels like enough. 

He shrugs. “It happened. It’s in the past. He died a few years ago. Left nothing but a stain behind.” 

“What happened to your mom and brother?” You ask. 

“Tommy got into drugs for a while, but he cleaned up and got married. Mum lives with him now. Still doing well.” He says. 

You’re surprised by his words. You’ve always heard that omegas don’t last long without their alphas. But what if their alpha was an asshole? Is the relief of their death enough to scrub out the grief of losing your alpha? 

You stare at the side of Ghost’s head, your heart thudding in your chest. You feel sorry for him, but at the same time, you’re grateful he shared this with you. You have much more in common than you thought you did with the giant aloof alpha. Maybe, perhaps, this can be a way for the two of you to grow closer, maybe you finally have common ground that you can share with him to get him to open up to you more. You know he wants it. The revelation of his disappointment at your lack of greeting, and the fact he let you hug him is enough to tell you he wants something more with you. It might never breach the realm of romance or even a casual fling, but you can’t deny the bond is there. You can feel it, the tugging in your chest as you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach when he puts a hand on your back to steer you through the crowd in the mess. 

You want him to want you. You want him to open up, to peel the layers back and bare his very soul to you. He’s already started. This confession is the beginning of that kind of bond between you. That he trusts you enough to tell you this makes something flutter in your chest. 

If only he knew you were keeping something worse from him. 

You could tell him. Confess to him right here, right now. Spill it all in this sort of mock confessional, this mock therapy session between you. He’ll be mad, but perhaps after everything that’s transpired today, he’ll be lenient. You’re not sure you could say the same about John, though. 

“Ghost, I-” You start but he cuts you off. 

“Simon.” 

“What?” You breathe, blinking in shock as he turns to face you. 

“My name. It’s Simon.” 

NEXT ->

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