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luvvixu · 7 months ago

Text

the end

synopsis: the end of your relationship was inevitable. that's why both of you and gojo satoru individually prepare yourselves against the pain and separation of an upcoming divorce. and when that thing came, you suddenly found yourselves trapped inside the circle of your marriage where denial is present, and acceptance is absent. let us all see how the marriage walk through the end.

tags: divorce!au, ex-husband!gojo, angst, hurt/no comfort, mentioned of death, mentioned of trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: here's an almost 8k words of oneshot about gojo marriage again. i've mentioned this before but im taking a very small break and will be back on june 5 with an update regarding to the chapter of mind over matter ff. be sure to check out the announcement!

it was a peaceful morning on your balcony with satoru gojo, your husband for almost two years. you are reading your newly purchased book with your glasses on to help you see the letters.

you take a second peek at your husband who was already gazing at you from the beginning. his gaze was painted with a mixture of sadness and adoration towards you. looks like he had something to say, and you're right, he did have something to say when he mumbles your name.

oh god, you knew where this conversation would be. keeping your eyes bore on him, you fully turned your attention to him and waited for him to speak what's on his heart and mind.

"i think we should file a divorce."

his voice was monotonous and yet you knew it really wasn't, his face also did the same since you also didn't hold one either. your expression still remained calm like he was not asking for a divorce as you closed your book and then put it back on the coffee table.

meanwhile, satoru couldn't read you at this moment because you were quiet, too quiet for his liking. were you so shocked that you couldn't react to his sudden cut of ties? or was it just you already expected this the moment when you woke up?

probably, the most accurate reason and answer was the second one. satoru watches you lean on the seat with your hands clasp on your lap. he also never fails to see the neutral glaze in your eyes.

"if you are wondering why i didn't hold any emotion as you speak, that's because i already reacted a year ago." a sigh escalated from your lips as you removed your glasses also and put it on the table.

"you expected that this day would come?" he said in silence while secretly fiddling with the calluses on his hand—a hidden and canonical habit of satoru whenever he feels anxious and worried.

before this day would come, the two of you got married when both of you were twenty. a young, dumb, and somehow not stupid but definitely reckless who took a big tramp of change among themselves.

satoru was the one who asked you to get married after almost four years of being inside an on and off relationship. that was very fast and very reckless at that time—but of course you agreed because you are a fool to get yourself blinded by your love towards him.

so, the two of you got married and with only some people whom you both held close dearly attended the said wedding. it was simple and civil, but to you, it was your everything. the wedding and this marriage mean so much to you.

your marriage went pretty well in your first few months of being married. both of you got yourself a house with a nice garden that you absolutely adore, you also got yourselves a work almost instantly too. satoru got more missions since he was now a graduate, while you work in your own cafe and occasionally take jujutsu stuff.

things were really fine with heaven as the witness. until one night during your almost first anniversary, you caught him going home around three to four o'clock in the morning with a smell of alcohol and woman's perfume that's definitely not yours. he's really drunk, which was weird because he hates alcohol. you wondered what's the occasion or any celebration that should be celebrated and whatnots, but you can't think of any. so that leads you to silently crying.

you did not confront him about your first suspicion of cheating, you want him to admit it himself, but that doesn't mean you're going to tolerate that piece of shit because for god's sake! there's a fucking hickey on his neck that night, you knew it wasn't yours since you've barely had an intercourse due to both of your busy schedules.

you remember asking him about his whereabouts that night like you weren't aware, but his answer just disappoints you, he told you that he had an emergency mission and needed him in action asap at kyoto around 11pm and it took him some time to finish it. as mentioned before, his answer disappoints you, because your assumption has been partially proven.

satoru was clearly lying about his whereabouts that night but still the cheating allegations were not clear. maybe the seemingly foreign hickeys on his neck was already evidence but you're probably still in denial, so you didn't instantly conclude that he was really cheating with you.

but you still couldn't shake off his illicit affairs. why? because satoru was lying about the emergency mission on kyoto. he wasn't there, you knew that because you were the one who took the mission, not him. satoru actually rejected the mission because he's busy with other matters so you took it yourself without even telling him.

all of these things that are happening leads you back to that day when he proposed to you. it was so sudden that it made you a little bit skeptical. but when you asked him why he suddenly asked you to get married? easy, you didn't know.

however, you had your hypothesis that after geto disappeared and went on his rebellious phase, you let gojo use you to relieve his grief. that is why when you realize that this marriage is meant to not last long, you secretly cry to yourself during your first year anniversary as a married couple.

meanwhile, satoru knew to himself that he couldn't stand a long-term relationship. though he also started to feel bad for making things go very quickly with you, his love towards you is pure and genuine. in fact, he would do anything just to keep you safe and happy. but he wasn't able to do that when you're the opposite of him.

he is selfish and you are selfless.

no matter how hard he tried to change or even make things up for you, he just couldn't do it. there's this invisible dark string that pulls him inside the void of darkness. and he couldn't afford to bring you down with him. the thing that geto did really left a scar, a permanent scar to his chest that creates an inescapable hole that keeps on growing bigger and sucking his life in the process.

while you, you fully commit yourself to him. that's why everything would be pointless for satoru to let himself get hurt just to protect you. because you would literally throw yourself in the fire when he's burning.

it was like the two of you are a magnet with the same pole. you can't attract each other no matter how hard you try to let them collide.

back to reality, your head was faced downward. your husband sought for your eyes by calling your name meticulously, but you refused. an internal laugh at your pathetic figure rang through your mind, you are laughing at yourself for believing that you are already prepared for this moment, turns out, you're not—you’ll never be.

satoru mumbles your name again. and all of the sudden, you just let out a nod, followed by a small sigh. you let yourself look at him again despite the unnoticed tears in your eyes.

"okay, but let's spend this whole day as husband and wife for the last time. let's do the things we usually do during our free time." you said, and satoru agrees with you almost instantly. he thinks this is the least thing he could do for you before setting each other free.

everything went normal for the rest of the day. satoru takes you out for lunch, visits your favorite cafe for desserts, and even goes to the park where he asked you out to be his wife.

and right now, the two of you are in the cemetery, specifically in haibara's graveyard. the sun was proceeding to its dusk, making the place a bit solemn because of its ambience.

"do you think he'll be mad at my decision?" your soon-to-be ex-husband asked you with his small tired voice. haibara was your bestest friend of all and he actually talked to gojo when he's still alive about his relationship with you. he would like gojo to take care of you and treat you more than you deserve in your entire life.

"i don't think so. haibara only wants the best for us. he's a man of freedom, after all. and yet, how ironic because he, himself, has no freedom during his time in the jujutsu." you answered him as you watched the candle burn itself.

satoru looked at you. "how about you, y/n? are you mad at my decision?" he asked you a bit hesitant.

you just smiled at him and said, "i will answer that later, satoru." satoru nodded at your answer, he understood that you had a lot to say to him later.

after some time, you two decided to go home to your shared apartment. the journey back was fun and relaxing, it was filled with smiles and laughter that will soon vanish as the dawn is coming.

6:00 PM

both of you arrived at home. you helped satoru hang his coat on the raker like you usually do whenever he comes home during winter. this small act is something that would be definitely missed by him dearly, since you will not be around to do it.

"thanks for agreeing to go out with me." you said to him with a smile that almost reached your eyes. the only thing that stops you from giving your bestest smile was the divorce, but you subside because this is your last day as a married couple. you have to enjoy it to the extent.

"that was the least thing i could do for you before…nevermind." he said. satoru was not cheerful enough to make you smile whenever your eyes met. you also noticed that he was downhearted since you visited haibara's graveyard.

though as you were heading in your shared apartment, he was smiling and laughing. guess you didn't overlook him at all and you failed to notice his hidden pain.

you watched him lay down on the couch. "you looked bothered. was it because i didn't answer your question earlier?" you said quietly.

satoru didn't say anything, and according to his vocabulary, silence means yes. you sigh to yourself and take a seat on the same couch where your husband was lying in.

your hand reached out for his face, cupping it as satoru looked at you with his hooded eyelids. those magical six blue eyes are staring at you with known emotion, pain and agony.

"you didn't ask me why i suddenly wanted to get divorce…" he mumbles, nestling his head in your palm.

"you agreed without questioning me. i don't even see you cry about this. why y/n? are you hurting yourself by keeping your emotions inside you?" he continued. the pain in his voice breaks your heart into bits of pieces. satoru looked so vulnerable, his true emotions are showing exclusively for you.

you let out a small but bitter chuckle. "crying is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together, toru." his eyes widened at your answer. a droplet of tears slide down on your palm. satoru was crying, and you let him weep because you knew he's pent up.

"and i'm not mad at you. i also didn't ask you any questions because i know you know what you are doing and i respect your decision." you added.

"although, i admit. i want to bawl my eyes out. i want to scream because my heart is aching for believing that i was prepared for this moment." your breathings started to become shaky also just by watching satoru weep under your touch.

you refused to cry. at least not now.

"but i don't want to ruin this day by crying. i want both of us to savor this moment with smiles and laughter. so that when we part our ways, we wouldn't have any regrets to hold."

"so, satoru…let's continue to spend the rest of our night happily, hmm?" you let yourself smile for him to be motivated to stop from crying. however, he did the opposite. satoru cried even harder.

your hand is being cradled by him. you could feel his tears on your palm followed by his little hiccups. this scene alone in front of was usually enough to make you cry even harder than him. it was utterly heartbroken to see your man cry like this.

"hush, my…" love, that's the word you would like to say but forbids you to do so. satoru also noticed it too and he absolutely hates the feeling of it.

"l-love. call me love. c-call me like you used to call me before. first name basis is not part of the things we usually do during our free time together." he mimicked your words earlier. though it may sound like a joke, it isn't. satoru has been dead serious since the beginning of the day.

"my love…"

"y-yes, my sweetheart?" he responded.

your lips quiver from the overflowing emotions in your chest, but you still refuse to let yourself cry even when you're all by yourself. god, you are hopeless and devastated.

but dear me, it felt so good to hear him call you with endearing words. oh how you wish this kind of moment would last forever. maybe in another life, it would be. only if fate would be kind enough to give satoru to you again, maybe it will and it would be.

8:00 PM

satoru was all alone. his eyes were puffy from crying and stuff. he was such a mess. and if anyone would see, they would probably think that he's a zombie because of how low energy he was.

it took him almost an hour to stop crying. and you declared that this is the first and would be the last time that you would see him cry very hard.

right now, he was currently packing his things as he was about to move out tonight while playing betty by taylor swift. somehow, his mood got even more affected by this song, for every lyric hits him hard and he doesn't know why.

"♪ you heard the rumors from inez, you can't believe a word she says ♪" the radio sang. a shaky sigh came out from his mouth, he felt like crying again.

“♪ most times, but this time, it was true ♪”

"let me help you pack your things." you suddenly barge inside your onced shared bedroom after cleaning up for tonight. you are also in your sleep wear when satoru looks at you.

“♪ the worst thing that i ever did, was what i did to you ♪”

you didn't fail to notice that he is listening to one of your favorite artist's songs. a flashback hits you, it was the moment where you persuade him to listen to it with you. now, he has grown invested in their songs.

he mumbles a small okay as he watches you sit down beside him and redo the messy clothes he just stuffed inside his luggage. most of his clothes were luxurious like polo shirts, slacks pants, coats, and his favorite, blindfolds.

your eyes soften when you come across a small pouch that contains hair ties and bobby pins you onced bought for him as a prank. you still remembered the moment he let you tie his messy white locks with colorful pins and he looked so incredibly pretty with it. you couldn't help but to feel yourself getting emotional again.

don't cry. don't cry. don't cry.

meanwhile, satoru remained very quiet, for he was staring at the photo in his hand. it was your wedding photo where the both of you are wearing traditional japanese attire. he couldn't help but stare at your smiling face for too long. you looked so beautiful.

the wedding was very simple, but satoru describes it as one of his happiest days, and he is not lying to himself whenever he would say that. because he onced dreamed of getting married to you, and it came true. he also had the same state as you, both on the verge of crying.

"i wonder…would you get remarried someday?" he asked out of the sudden. you shifted your gaze to him and found him staring at your wedding photo. instantly, your eyes went soft.

"i am not sure." you replied silently as you closed his luggage and proceeded to the other one.

your hands momentarily stop working as you stare at them and watch it shake. "but if i do, it would probably take me a decade or so to find another husband to love." you said. but truth to be told, you had no motivation left to find another husband.

"you're twenty-two right now. so like…you'll be thirty plus by then when that happens," he calculated. "how about you? would you consider getting remarried also?" you asked him the same question.

he thinks for a moment before nodding slightly. "probably yes." your heart let out a wince but you tried your best to hide it. those words unintentionally hurt you and cut you deeper than a knife.

"w-well, i just wished good luck for both of us in the future." the crack in your voice didn't go unnoticed by satoru. he was about to reach you but then eventually dropped it. "me too…" was all he could say.

"anyway, do you mind if i ask…where are you staying after this?" you trailed off.

"i'll stay with higuruma for a day before moving out to my new apartment. speaking of that man, i told him to be here around midnight. so we still have four hours to be together." he answered

"...yeah."

10:00 PM

the two of you are sitting on the same seat just like this morning in the balcony. you are wearing your favorite cardigan as satoru was in his coat to fight the cold weather of the night.

all of his things were already packed and ready to leave. soon, you'll be alone and this house will not be lively as usual because his presence will be missed.

both of you refuse to say a word, yet. because you two are scared to have another breakdown that made this marriage even harder to break. especially satoru, he was aware that deep inside him he was not ready to let you go. he was just lying to himself because he is aware that he can heal if he gives himself some time.

"y/n, can i hold you here in my arms?" satoru swallowed all of the bitterness he felt for leaving you just to hold you again, for one last time. you slowly stood up from your and came towards in front of him.

your soon-to-be ex-husband gazes upon you. however, you refuse to meet those warm eyes that you loved the most. satoru slowly pulls you into his lap and cradles you like his greatest treasure, which you definitely is.

when your face hits his shoulder, you couldn't help but to hide your face deeper into his neck. "the place i'm going to stay afterwards is far from here. are you sure you will be okay?" he whispers in your ears.

"yeah, i'll be fine." you nodded solemnly. "i also planned to stop from my work for a while." you added.

"why?" satoru raises his eyebrow. he thought you loved your job as a barista. you enjoyed making coffee and wherever there's extra pastries left in the cafe, you would take it home for him to try it.

"don't worry, i had a lot of fortune that could last for a century. and besides, you even said i had a midas touch, so surviving won't be too hard for me." when your parents died, they left all of their fortune to you. so that makes you an instant millionaire and nobody knows that beside your husband.

satoru gently pushes you to meet his eyes. "i think this moment is perfect to give all of my secrets away. i don't need any perfect lies to hide from you anymore." he tucked the loose hair on the back of your ear, admiring your beautiful frame under the pale moonlight.

he gulped nervously, and for some reason, you're becoming very anxious about what he's going to tell. all you had to do was to wait for him to speak his thoughts out.

"the reason why i want to divorce is to have a new life and forget about the past. that includes you, y/n." though he only started, millions of knives already stabbed your poor heart. your eyes stared at him, a bit widely.

satoru couldn't bear to look at your pained expression, but he forced himself to look at you. so that you would feel his sincerity. "before suguru disappeared, he once told me to choose another path of life. he told me to run away from the jujutsu, run away from my life." he said, almost whispering.

"although, i want you to come with me. but…"

"i somehow got myself involved with the jujutsu too?" you continued it for him. satoru falls silent, so that means yes, it is true.

satoru cups your face. "i'm sorry, y/n. i really, really love you. but this is not the right path for us. you'll get more hurt if you continue to get tangled with me. so, after a lot of thinking and consideration…"

"i became selfish once again. i chose myself over you, y/n."

for the nth time, the walls you have been building around your emotional state are starting to shake once more. you could feel the hot tears building in your eyes.

you will not cry. you will not cry. you will not cry.

"i-i understand…although, you don't have to apologize for choosing what is the best for you. i'm actually glad that you're finally doing it." you plant your palms over his hands on your cheeks, closing your eyes to swallow up those annoying tears.

"i'm such a bad husband, aren't i?" satoru chuckles weakly. what has he done to deserve you like this? your understandment is something that he greatly admires in you. your heart is pure like an angel from above.

an angel like you can't fly down hell with him.

but god, you're making yourself willing to go down with him without any hesitation and that is just completely wrong.

and for the past years, satoru would make a mistake and you are there to correct him patiently. he would always tell himself to make something and make everything up for you. but who would have thought a divorce is the best thing to do?

"to be honest, not at all. remember what i told you before we got married? you are the fire and i'm the—"

"gasoline?"

"no silly, that's a song." your laugh brightens up the atmosphere. satoru smiled at your happy demure, he likes seeing you this joyful.

"you are the fire and i'm the fireman. a fireman would not function completely when there is no fire. meaning, why would i, a fireman, be here if there's no you, a fire." you raised your fingers to help you visualize your point.

"does that make sense to you?"

satoru shook his head. "no."

you snapped your finger. "exactly! you think i'm bad at explaining things, while i think of myself as great at explaining things. that's the same as you thinking you're a bad husband, while i think of you as a great husband."

"..."

"i made you speechless, meaning you agree and i'm great at philosophy!" you boosted yourself by imagining a crowd was giving you a round of applause.

your husband wonders for a moment before cackling a laugh. "that still didn't make sense to me but it brought a lot of comfort to me. thank you, y/n."

"come on! just admit you love my philosophical nonsense." you pouted, hitting his shoulder playfully.

satoru laughed once again, pulling you by waist as he buried his face in your hair. "of course i do. i love everything about you." and he would still do, always and forever.

"i'm going to miss this." you mumbled as you relaxed on his touch. satoru also agrees, kissing your head all over again.

"and i'm going to miss you too, a lot." he said sincerely. the two of you held the longest stare on this day. you just let yourselves drown with each other's enticing orbs.

satoru was the first one to break the record by sighing and rubbing his eyes. the truth is, he couldn't bear to look at you any longer because he could see how broken you looked through your eyes just because of him. instead, he hides his face once more on your neck.

“i'm really, really, really sorry, y/n. i'm so sorry for using you. i’m so sorry for cheating on you. i’m so sorry for hurting you. i'm so sorry for not choosing you again. i'm so sorry for being selfish. i'm so sorry for everything." there it is, again. his hot tears are back and now drenching your shoulder.

"i used you as a getaway from my sins and from the grief that day, y/n. you should've said no when i asked you to marry me, but why did you do the opposite?" his voice became slightly thicker, he's definitely frustrated.

"i did it for love, satoru." you answered without hesitation.

satoru momentarily stopped crying as his breath hitch. "yes, i'm already aware of your true intentions that day. but i still chose to marry you because i love you. i know it sounds so dumb but it's true." you continued.

you could feel his arms around your body tighten, scared of letting you go from nothing. it was like he was begging the gods, if there was one seeing the both of them right now, to let him be delusional and not take you away from him.

"let me ask you this time, do you regret marrying me?" you whispered.

your husband looked at you with unshed tears. "i don't. but i regret that this is the end of us."

why is it always the time where someone would tell their true feelings when everything is falling apart? so if this divorce wouldn't happen, does that mean his word would be forever kept inside him?

"i've always wanted to tell you that i was actually glad that you became my wife. i thought you would be my endgame. instead, you became the reason why i am still here and breathing."

the void of regret is slowly pulling him inside. but you are there to make sure that he would survive the gravitational pull. you just loved him so you will help to let you go.

"i love you, my sweetheart, my y/n, m-my wife..."

12:00 AM

it was quiet, really, really quiet. higuruma was looking at the two of you all over again. his eyes showed sympathy for both of you and he was sad because this is the end for you and satoru.

right now, both of you are staring blankly at the divorce paper on the table. no one was making a first move by signing it.

you let out a sigh, a heavy feeling was buried deep in your heart. your whole body feels so numb and you still haven't cried for today. everything feels so wrong, yet at the same time it feels right. you don't know what to do anymore.

as you recall your conversation with him, you just wished it didn't end and would continue forever. because you know you'll never get tired of hearing his voice, his laugh, and his philosophical nonsense too.

not to mention, you've also dreamed of building a family with him. a mini satoru and mini y/n sounds nice, doesn't it? as your eyes wandered across this apartment, you can depict your children with him running around. god, if you were dreaming, please don't wake up.

"higuruma, can you please just wait for me in the car…? i-i would like to have a final conversation with my wife." satoru suddenly spoke and nanami left without hesitation.

"so this is it?"

"yeah, t-this is the end." satoru chuckles breathlessly. there was like a big chuck on his throat that made him feel suffocating. truth to be told, he doesn't want this to be the end. but again, he has to.

"thank you for giving me a total of the best six years of my life, toru. i mean it, thank you." you counted the first four years of your relationship and the two years of your marriage. playing with your hands to mend the shakiness, it was a constant reminder that only a few minutes left before the surname satoru would be stripped of your name.

"thank you too, y/n. i also had so much fun and love these past six years. thank you for all of the things you have done for me." he said silently.

all this time, you are the only one looking at him because his eyes were focused on the paper in front of him. "good luck on your new path. i wish you the best." you intentionally called his attention.

"you're really staying here in this apartment…alone?" satoru asked you.

you let yourself smile slightly as you shifted into a more comfortable position. "yeah… just in case you feel homesick, this would be a reminder that you still have a home…only if you want to." the air in this room is very thick and it's suffocating you.

"t-thank you, y/n, really." he expressed his gratitude once again.

a nagging feeling tells you that satoru was about to go back on his decision at any minute. and you too would probably go back to your decisions you had set for both of you. it would be more devastating for you if satoru didn't achieve his plans for himself in the near future.

"let's not make higuruma wait."

satoru falls silent. now he was stuck in a madness of a dilemma. in short, he was starting to rethink his decision to the point that he didn't notice he was staining the divorce paper with tears. his hands began to shake violently along with his cries becoming louder any minute.

satoru finally lost his cool as he wailed loudly in front of you. the sound of his sobs made you clench your lip as your chest tightened once more.

you on the other hand, you're trying your best not to slip any tears down from your cheeks. you successfully stopped them from falling this morning, you couldn't afford to cry not because there's only a few minutes left before you would let yourself fall into a pit of sadness.

sensing that neither of you would make a move, you are aware that satoru couldn't bring himself to do it even though he had to. so, you gently steal the paper away from him.

divorce agreement…it read. oh how you despise those two words.

"satoru, i mentioned to you a while ago that the reason why i want to spend this last day as a married couple is because i want us to leave without holding any regrets." you started with your pen touching the paper. satoru's eyes widened, he wanted to stop you from doing it but nothing was coming out from his mouth.

"i can see it in your eyes, you're doubting your decisions." you continued as you wrote your name. in satoru's horror, only your signature is needed and everything would be over for him.

however, you stopped writing. you tapped the table to gather his attention to you. there he saw you smiling dearly at him.

"did you have fun spending time with me this whole day?" satoru knows your intention. you are encouraging him to do what he was supposed to do even if it means leaving you.

"yes…yes i do, i enjoyed being with you." he stuttered. the tears were still streaming down his face and he was using his sleeve to wipe it. you reached for the tissue and gave it to satoru as you watched him wiped his eyes and blow his nose.

"that's good to hear. i also had fun being with you. not only for this day, but the whole time i was with you, i enjoyed it." you grabbed his hands to soothe it by massaging those long and calloused fingers. satoru watches you and eventually becomes slightly calm by your actions.

you inched your lips into his fingers and kissed it delicately just like he used to do with you before. everything went blur to him and only the sound of your sweet nothing was audible into his messy world.

"i know you'll be doing great with or without me. so satoru, put more faith in yourself. this is another big step for us, and i want you to be ready just like i am." you swiftly slide the divorce paper in front of him. but this time, it has your signature on it.

satoru felt like he was being showered by the cold water as he stared at the paper with pure horror evident on his face. you finally did it, so there is no turning back now.

"h-how—when…! when did you sign it?" his voice cracked due to his frazzled emotions firing him repeatedly. satoru reaches the highest point of heartbreak he ever experienced in his life.

"when i gave you the tissue." you whispered weakly. to your dismay tears are only a slip away from your eyes a thousand times today.

"i don't want to sign it. i don't want to! i don't want to leave you anymore y/n!" he yelled. you accepted his lash out with open arms, but you can't do anything anymore. you finally signed the divorce settlement, and this paper wouldn't go if there's no signature of satoru.

you suddenly pull him into a passionate yet heartbroken kiss to shut him up. satoru eventually responds to your kiss, becoming more emotional than ever. while you are busy keeping him in company, you sneakily put the pen in his hand.

satoru felt an object in his palm, he knew you're telepathically telling him to sign the paper but he still refuses to acknowledge it, at least not yet. as he continues to devour your lips, his eyes are still producing salt tears that add more emotions in the atmosphere.

"i could see a bright future ahead of you, satoru." you muttered between the kisses.

"mhmp—you should grab it, please." you continued to deepen the kiss to lure him. but he voluntarily stepped away just to make a counter argument for that.

"but i could lose you if i do that." he whispers solemnly.

"we've already lost each other when we realized that everything was going too fast for both of us." you chuckled bitterly at your statement. "that it why it is time to face the consequences, by setting us free." you added.

"do…do you really want to do this?" he hiccups.

"this is what fate wants us to do." your voice is soothing as hell. it held no grudges nor resentment, just pure calm and adoration towards him.

but satoru still didn't bug and he still doesn't want to sign the papers.

your gaze never leaves him as satoru buries his face on his palm, weeping so quietly that you could almost hear a pin drop. it was getting so hard to watch so you looked away and slowly walked away.

"i am going out for a bit." you mumbled quietly, not waiting for him to reply or look as you walked away with your whole body shaking.

outside, there you saw higuruma leaning on his car exterior. "hey…" you greeted weakly. higuruma looked at you with a hint of sympathy in his eyes.

"hey…how did it go?" higuruma asked, his gaze falling on the papers in your hands.

"emotional." you joked.

"so, that's the end now?"

"...yep, that's the end now."

silence engulfed both of you, just your almost steady breathings and his observing orbs burning through your skin.

"never thought satoru could cry harder than he did when geto-san…you know." higuruma said, sighing as he tucks his hands on his pockets.

you nodded. "i know. satoru lost suguru literally, while he only lost me through relationship. he'd become more vulnerable around me, and that scares the hell out of me."

"i, his weakness, has become more exposed to his enemies. i know sooner or later, they would swoon to get me just to make him fall on his knees. we don't want that to happen, i don't want to be a bait nor a cause of his downfall. temporarily or permanently, satoru must not fall, no, not anymore." you continued.

"y/n-san, i hope you would also realize that failures, downfalls, mistakes, and damages are unavoidable, gojo-kun is no exception to all of that." higuruma argues.

"satoru is going to live a good life and have a future that he deserves, so who am i to halt it?” you ignored what he said because you know he was right.

“this is a big step for both of you. i just wished that everything would go well for the two of you.” higuruma smiled at you.

“we will, eventually.” you return the smile and then excuse yourself to go back inside, just to see satoru still crying nonstop.

approaching his figure, you wrapped your arms around his body to console the man. “don't go back to me now, satoru. if you cannot bring yourself to let go, then i will help you.” you whispered into his hair.

satoru pulled away just to look at you with his teary eyes. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m really sorry.” he keeps on apologizing to you, while you just smile at him and wipe the tears in his eyes.

“it's alright, satoru. i already forgave you a long time ago.” you said.

“i can't sign it. i don't want to sign that anymore.” he confessed. a small form made its way to your temple” “but this is for both of us. don't you want to have a brand new start? how can we thrive when we both have shackles on our feet?”

“i-i thought everything was easy. i thought i could l-let you go that easily. but i was wrong. it's so hard to let go of us, y/n. and as much as i would like to do what i meant to do, it's just so hard to see us disappear from our now individual lives.” satoru buries his face on your stomach. your hands immediately made its way towards his hair as tears are threatening you once again.

“it's hard to let you go too, satoru. but it would be harder to see you suffer more when you're here with me.” it was getting late and satoru was still amidst the crisis, but you are determined to get him out of there.

“look at me, toru.” you cupped his cheeks and made him look at you. “you’ve still got a whole world to see. so don't you ever get worried about me because i’ll be more happy to see you free without any worries.

“go live a life that you weren't able to do when we were still kids. do what you always wanted to do.”

“and just so you know, i will always love you and you will always have a special place in my home.” you put his hand to your left chest where your heart lies. “here, satoru. you'll always be here.”

satoru pulled you into the tightest hug since it was literally the last and you wouldn't mind. reciprocating the hug, you finally smiled whole-heartedly and it even reached your eyes.

“whatever happens, i love you, y/n. i love you more than anything. i have loved you since the first time i saw you. and i will always love you even if this would be the last time i would see you.” throughout the six years that you two had been together, from boyfriend-girfriend relationship until to marriage—this was the very first time he declared his love to you with so much intensity.

your eyes nearly gave up on how long you've been trying to hold your tears. but you still swore that night that you'll never shed a tear unless satoru is out of the scene because you knew how much effect your crying causes him.

to hide your emotions, you pull him closer and share the last and passionate kiss as two persons who share the same surname are binded by the law. both of you could feel the emotions begin to overflow as things become more sensitive.

you were the first one to pull away as satoru was still crying. cradling his cheeks, you connected your foreheads together and said again, “let's not make higuruma wait any further.”

satoru knew it was time, time for him to finally sign the divorce paper that he's been planning for a month now.

he expected this one too just like you, so it shouldn't hurt, but why is his heart still aching? with a final stroke of his signature, satoru felt so empty. his soul feels like missing and something was taken away from him.

both have done it—a trial away and the marriage will no longer be valid. there would be no mr. and mrs. gojo now because both will live differently.

grabbing the paper with your shaky hands, you turn around at satoru and give him the final hug with a final kiss. “good luck on your new life, satoru. i’ll always cheer for you and support you until the end.”

“thank you so much, y/n. i really mean it.”

and with that, you and satoru shared the same sad smile you could utter at that moment. sure, this night will end bittersweet, but tomorrow is a brand new start.

you watched satoru walk solemnly towards the car. he looked like a ghost wandering around the vicinity without any will to search for the true paradise for him to rest. it really broke your heart that this is the end for both of you.

and with now fully signatured divorce paper on his hands, satoru felt that each step he took, he felt like fainting on the spot because of how devastating he felt.

but you cannot undo everything now. satoru had officially become your sweet memory and a stranger on the street at the same time. just as he was about to go inside the car, you called out for his name one last time.

your ex-husband looked at you with tired, red, and puffy eyes. you let yourself give the bestest smile you could offer at this moment. a smile entitled one last smile before saying a goodbye.

"if we found each other in another world, let me be your wife again!"

satoru's eyes glisten with tears once more. nevertheless, he also offers you the bestest smile he could manage. he is now letting his broken heart go out of your grasp. forcing himself to swallow and accept that in this lifetime, you are no longer his.

but if the two of you would be reborn or somewhere in the multiverse, he would pray that the two of you got the life you onced failed to build, and that was something he would wish for forever.

"of course! and i will choose you this time. we would make a family that we once dreamt of, and i will give you the honor to name our children." satoru yelled back, making your smile widen.

you could finally rest knowing that there would be a lifetime waiting for both of you somewhere in the future. and this time, you are not being delusional because you know it'll be going to happen and you'll make it happen.

"emi!"

"what?" satoru halted his steps to focus his attention on you.

"i want our first born daughter to be named emi." you've actually dreamed of having a child with him, in that dream, her name is emi. it was like a sign to you, so when you woke up, you immediately searched its meaning and found out that emi means blessed.

you are blessed.

both of you definitely feel blessed to have each other.

that being said, you have kept that name for a while now. sooner, you wished that name would be used with satoru's surname entangled to it.

because in this life, it was unfortunate not to use the name emi. you only want to use that name with him and only him. for you lived with him, loved him, and dreamed with him.

but patience is a virtue. you are willing to wait for that dream, for him. time is not a problem to you because you'd be fully patient just for him.

"have a safe journey, gojo satoru. i will be waiting for you in our next lives." you gently bow your head to send your wish for his safety.

with that, satoru enters the car without looking at you anymore. he was afraid that if he looked at you, he might find himself running back into your loving arms again.

"we'll be going now, y/n." higuruma rolled the window and waved a farewell to you.

you just nod at him while you watch the car slowly disappear from your eyesight. sad but true, you will be waking up all alone from now on 'till your thirties.

no more satoru to wake you up with cuddles. no more satoru who would make corny jokes randomly. no more satoru to who would always remind you that you have a husband. just no more satoru gojo—

drip…

a tear, followed by another, and another until it just flows uncontrollably. you are finally a crying-mess. you're letting yourself cry and let your emotions out by a shout of pain escaping out from your lips.

it was all over.

satoru chooses his life over you, and you choose satoru over your life. with your knees planted on the pavement, your hand travels towards your mouth to cover your loud painful sobs.

all of the tears that you had been keeping since this morning, finally had their freedom to flow at your cheeks along with anguish scream that came out of your broken heart.

you finally lost this time.

[a special chapter will be posted soon, so stay tuned and just comment if you want to be added on the taglist for this one — ©luvvixu2024]

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #anime #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #jjk satoru #luvvixu #gojo satoru angst #satoru angst #angst #jjk angst #jjk gojo

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aethon-recs · 1 month ago

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This Week (x2) in Tomarrymort (8 – 21 November 2024)

Hello! We have three multi-chaptered fics finishing this week, highlighted below. In addition, I made a rec list for Tomarrymort Necrophilia Fics 💀🤍 in support of the Tomarrymort Necro Fest hosted by @magical-menagerie-server, which kicks off in January.

Completed Fic:

Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89 (M, 47k, complete) Age catches up with everyone. The infamous serial killer Voldemort now spends his time reading newspapers and making trips to the local library in search of a new crime novel. But one day he makes an interesting new acquaintance that shakes his quiet life and rekindles old flames and unknown desires. What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries (M, 17k, complete) Harry is sold at auction to a man who is clearly in some kind of disguise - Lord Riddle isn't as charming as he looks, and the way he looks at Harry... A Regency AU inspired by the magnificent artwork of @stolenviolet. If I were you by @onehitpleb (E, 9k, complete) It is 1945 and Tom is eighteen, freshly graduated, and working a non-reputable job as a store clerk in Knockturn Alley. Somehow, he grows attached to the worst sort of person - an idiot.

In addition, a recap of the author notes from last week! (Please feel free to add some extra context to your fic update in the reblog, such as a little bit about the chapter(s) updated, and I’ll throw it in the update for next week!)

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP) “As for the new chapter of A Simple Request, Harry tries and (unsurprisingly) fails to keep his personal life private. Some are having the time of their life, some others, not so much. Lifts can take you up, but going down is more interesting.” Wish by @sri-verse (E, 3k, WIP) “Wish is set after Harry's fifth year where he gets the ownership of Bellatrix's vault along side the Black vault. Looking at a gold goblet, he remembers his childhood wish of buying a gold cauldron and brings back Helga Hufflepuff's cup with him to fulfill that desire, unaware that he has freed the horcrux living in it.” To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP) “To The Hilt is a royal arranged marriage au featuring nontraditional a/b/o, political schemes, ancient greek and abrahamic religion references, feral harry potter, and lots of power play and worship. It's neither only tomarry or only harrymort, but tomarrymort—meaning the core relationship is Tom/Harry/Voldemort. This includes Tom/Voldemort.” we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 50k, WIP) “The consequences of Harry's Time Travel seem inconsequential, at first. Until they stare right back at him with vicious eyes. There's trouble brewing in every direction, and the Future is not as certain and set in stone as one might think.” Time Stumbler by @wintumnly (T, 102k, WIP) “Harry is stuck in 1937 and spends the holidays with almost-eleven-year-old Tom Riddle. On the first day of Christmas, they both anxiously wait for Tom's Hogwarts letter together. Fluff, humor, and Tom Riddle is not good with feelings." 7 by @moontearpensfic (E, 44k, WIP) “Harry goes back in time to raise Tom AU: the boys discuss what might have happened to make Voldemort go to "sleep."” Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 22k, WIP) “Harry corrupts Tom AU: Tom and Harry celebrate Christmas--and something more! Your Wish, My Command by @moontearpensfic (E, 8k, WIP) “Hinny adopts Tom AU: Tom finally gets Harry to crack. 🔥”

Tomarrymort One Shots and Completed Fic

Complete | Chapters 8 and 9 of Memories of a Killer by @chemfreak89

Complete | Chapter 6 of What quickens me is the violence in thee by @i-dream-of-libraries

Complete | Chapter 4 of If I were you by @onehitpleb

Complete | Chapter 19 of Sits the wind in that quarter by @mosiva

One Shot | To be Imagined by @cyandenial

One Shot | god's hands by @curioushabitforarivergod

One Shot | bad behaviour by @milkandmoon-ao3

One Shot | two ways of being: the noun & the verb by cycloalkane

One Shot | set my soul on fire by @wynnefic

One Shot | Beach Episode by @crowcrowcrowthing

One Shot | First Duel by @being-luminous

Tomarrymort Ongoing Fics

Chapter 12 of Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse

Chapters 7 through 11 of in the silence by @satflesk22

Chapter 4 of friend of the devil (a friend of mine) by @shyinsunlight

Chapter 15 of Embryo by @cannibalinc

Chapter 4 of As It Begins by @duplicitywrites @moontearpensfic

Chapters 7 and 8 of Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing

Chapters 15 through 17 of Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear

Chapter 1 of the night is cold in the kingdom by @girl-with-goats

Chapters 5 and 6 of you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria

Chapters 131 through 134 of Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis

Chapters 1 and 2 of Small Mistakes by Crisis_Brewing

Chapter 5 of Hit 'N Run by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 11 of Days always end in sunsets by @d00medbythenarrative

Chapter 25 of Time Stumbler by @wintumnly

Chapters 8 and 9 of Venom or Valor by @lightningant

Chapter 21 of Outrunning the Villain in You by @zenyteehee

Chapters 6 through 8 of To the Hilt by @izharmilgram

Chapter 9 of Do It Over by @thefangirlibrarian

Chapter 2 of Infinite by @moontearpensfic

Chapter 2 of Prizefighter by @dragonaireabsolvare

Chapter 8 of Fetters of the Damned by @sc0rpiflow3r

Chapters 13 and 14 of Hole in the Wall by tomrddle

Chapters 23 and 24 of Learning to love by @l-archiduchesse

Chapter 13 of He Who Shall Not Be Changed by @moontimefilter

Chapter 17 of Last Son of Black by @treacleteacups

Chapter 6 of Dreams Beyond Blood by @hikarimeroperiddle

#tomarry #tomarrymort #harrymort #tomarrymort recs #aethon recs #tomarry recs #ao3 recs #fanfic recs #hp fic recs #harrymort recs #tomarry weekly #this week in tomarrymort

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focusonkayjay · 11 days ago

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Wildly Wealthy Koreans (5); inspired by Crazy Rich Asians

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: photographer/ filmmaker! jungkook, rich girl/ fashion designer! reader, established relationship, angst, fluff, smut

Series summary: When you invite your boyfriend, Jungkook, to accompany you to your brother's wedding in your hometown, Daegu, he’s overjoyed, eager to meet your family and experience a side of your life you’ve never shared with him. However, once he uncovers the truth about who you really are, he’s unable to grasp the full extent of your reality. The situation becomes even more complicated when a certain someone makes him feel profoundly unwelcome, leaving him to question not only your world, but also his place in it.

Disclaimer: This series is heavily inspired by the movie Crazy Rich Asians, with the storyline closely following the original film's plot. However, I wanted to reimagine it as a fanfiction, where Jungkook and OC take center stage as the main protagonists. While I’ve kept the core elements and themes from the movie, I’ve added my own touches here and there, such as altering certain character dynamics and incorporating a few original settings. Some scenes are directly inspired by the movie, and I’ve worked to recreate them in a way that it hopefully resonates with the fans of the movie. Hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8k+

Chapter Warnings: vandalization, wooyoung, your mom.

A/N: i’m so sorry for the super late update omg. since it’s the holiday season, my friends dragged me on an impromptu trip to the mountains, and I didn’t have proper wifi for like three days, so I couldn’t really proof read and post updates. anyways, i was thinking it might be a good idea to set fixed days of the week for updates, so I don’t leave you all hanging for too long. how about we make it every tuesday for this one? and if I’m feeling extra motivated, you might even get impromptu updates in between !! let me know what you think <3 also what do you guys think about this part? i really tried to mirror eleanor's character here hehehehe

part 5

Jungkook gulps, the uneasiness in his chest growing heavier with each passing second. His thoughts spiral... how could he not know something so significant about you? The weight of Wooyoung’s words lingers like a dark cloud, and Jungkook feels a pang of frustration at his own cluelessness.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung sits there, exuding smug satisfaction, his tone dripping with judgment and condescension. Before Jungkook can even think of a response, a familiar voice cuts through the tension.

"Hey, Jungkook! There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

It’s Namjoon, one of your and Taehyung’s cousins. Jungkook immediately recognizes him from the tea ceremony and their brief interactions earlier on the cruise.

Without hesitation, Namjoon strides over, his easy grin never faltering as he helps Jungkook up from the bar, casually slinging an arm over his shoulder in a protective, almost brotherly gesture.

Jungkook blinks, startled but compliant, his gaze lingering on Wooyoung for a moment longer before he lets Namjoon steer him away.

As they weave through the pulsating crowd on the dance floor, Namjoon leans in slightly, his voice pitched low enough to be heard over the booming bass of the DJ’s set. "Looks like you needed some saving." he murmurs, a soft knowing smile tugging at his lips.

Jungkook casts one last glance at the chaotic swirl of neon lights and bodies moving in sync with the music. The atmosphere feels oppressive, the conversation with Wooyoung still swirling in his head, but Namjoon’s steady presence offers a much-needed sense of calm.

"You okay?" Namjoon asks once they’re out of earshot, his concern evident as he peers at Jungkook.

Jungkook exhales deeply, his hand running through his hair. "Who... was that?" he asks, his voice strained, laced with lingering frustration and confusion. Namjoon chuckles softly, his grip on Jungkook’s shoulder steady as they put more distance between themselves and the chaotic energy of the party.

"That?" he repeats, shaking his head slightly. "That was Wooyoung. A bit of a wildcard, but mostly harmless... as long as you don’t let him get into your head."

Jungkook frowns, his mind still caught in the web of the earlier conversation. "He said some... things." he murmurs, his voice laced with tension. "About Y/n, about their past... and how her mom wanted them to—" He stops abruptly, the words sticking in his throat, as if saying them aloud might solidify them into something undeniable.

Namjoon sighs, his expression softening as he glances at Jungkook. "Yeah, Wooyoung does have a knack for stirring the pot." he admits. "And... well, he’s not entirely wrong about some of it."

Jungkook’s head snaps towards Namjoon, his brows furrowed in confusion and frustration. "But you’ve got to understand something, Jungkook." Namjoon begins, his tone measured.

"Y/n’s life before you? It’s complicated. Her mom? Even more so. She’s... traditional. She wanted Y/n to settle down here, to live the life she envisioned for her. Going to New York? Pursuing fashion? That wasn’t part of the plan. Her mom thought..." He trails off as they reach a quieter corner, settling near a small table where the thumping bass of the music fades to a faint hum.

"She thought Y/n would drift away... from her culture, her roots, everything she was raised with." Namjoon continues, his voice lower now. "So, she brought Wooyoung into the picture."

Jungkook leans forward slightly, absorbing every word, trying to piece together this part of your life he hadn’t known.

"They didn’t date." Namjoon clarifies quickly, sensing Jungkook’s unease. "Hell, Y/n couldn’t even stand the guy. He’s off-putting, doesn’t know how to respect boundaries, and, honestly, just a jerk. I don’t even know why Seokjin invited him tonight. Even Taehyung can’t stand him." He pauses, shaking his head in exasperation before continuing.

"Anyway, Y/n’s mom had this whole idea that Wooyoung was the perfect match... stable, from a good family, all that nonsense. She thought marrying him would keep Y/n grounded, keep her here. But Y/n? She wasn’t having any of it." he pauses, looking at Jungkook.

"She rebelled, stood her ground, and thank god for Taehyung and her dad. They backed her up, and eventually, her mom had no choice but to let her go and do what she wanted."

Namjoon leans back, his gaze steady as he studies Jungkook. "Look, Y/n’s family dynamic is... complex. But she’s here now, and she chose her path. And she chose you." His words linger, grounding Jungkook in the present as the weight of the past begins to feel just a little less overwhelming.

Jungkook stays silent, sitting stiffly as the reality of everything sinks in. His hooded eyes stay fixed on the table, his mind churning with thoughts he’s struggling to process. Namjoon notices, his concern deepening at the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and his distant expression.

"Hey..." Namjoon says gently a few second later, leaning forward. "Why don’t we head back to your room? I’ll call a few friends, and we can just hang out, play some cards, or something chill." He’s clearly trying to distract Jungkook, offering him an escape from the storm brewing inside.

Jungkook finally looks up, his lips curving into a tight, appreciative smile. The gesture speaks volumes, and Namjoon doesn’t push further, understanding the gratitude in his silence. A distraction sounds good, better than sitting here, drowning in the spiral of his own thoughts.

"Yeah, sure." Jungkook agrees, his voice subdued. He rises from his seat, and Namjoon drapes a casual arm over his shoulders again as they make their way out.

"You’re a good guy, you know that?" Namjoon says, his tone light but sincere. "I’ve heard so much about you from Y/n and Tae. Don’t let stuff like this get to you. It’s not worth it."

Jungkook nods, his expression unreadable. He’s heard words like that more than once lately, but they leave him unsure... comforted, yes, but also questioning what kind of person he truly is. Still, he doesn’t dwell on it, choosing instead to follow Namjoon’s lead.

As Namjoon pulls out his phone to text a few friends, Jungkook exhales slowly. The familiar comfort of his cabin feels like a welcome retreat. But the moment he unlocks the door and steps inside, the comfort vanishes.

"What the fuck?" Namjoon blurts out beside him, his voice sharp with shock. Jungkook freezes, his eyes widening as he takes in the chaos. His room is unrecognizable... furniture overturned, belongings scattered everywhere. But it’s the wall that grabs his attention, a chill running down his spine.

GO BACK TO NEW YORK, YOU BROKE MOTHERFUCKER.

The words are scrawled in bold red spray paint, glaringly hostile against the pale wall. Jungkook’s lips part in disbelief as he struggles to process what he’s seeing.

His gaze darts around the wreckage, landing on his camera lying on the floor. The sight makes his stomach drop... the lens is shattered, pieces of glass glinting in the light. His fists clench at his sides, and his jaw tightens as anger bubbles beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps forward cautiously, his brows furrowed as he surveys the destruction. "Who the hell would do this?" he mutters, his tone a mix of anger and disbelief.

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he stares at the damage. Whoever did this wasn’t just trying to vandalize... they were sending a message. A clear, personal message meant to hurt, to unsettle.

Namjoon places a firm hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “Jungkook...” he says, his tone steady but urgent. “We need to report this. Now.”

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “No, it’s okay.” he breathes out. “I don’t want to make a scene.” He doesn’t elaborate, but deep down, a suspicion simmers. He has a hunch who’s behind this.

Namjoon’s lips press into a thin line, clearly unconvinced. His gaze flickers over Jungkook’s tense expression before he nods reluctantly. “Alright...” he concedes, though the hesitation in his voice is evident. “But at least... let’s get someone to clean this up.”

As they step out of the cabin in search of help, Jungkook’s eyes catch a flicker of movement down the hallway. A group of men stand at the far end, partially hidden behind the corner of a wall. They’re watching him.

The moment Jungkook’s gaze locks on them, they smirk, their expressions dripping with smugness, almost as if they’re proud of what they’ve done.

Jungkook’s stomach churns as the group casually turns and saunters away, their laughter echoing faintly. It’s obvious... they’re Wooyoung’s friends. The realization cements his earlier suspicion, and anger flares in his chest.

Childish. Immature. Petty. That’s all he can think. What kind of people stoop so low, targeting someone just because of who they’re dating? He feels the bitterness rise in his throat but forces himself to swallow it. Dwelling on it would give them more power than they deserve.

Namjoon notices the shift in Jungkook’s demeanor and follows his line of sight. “Them?” he asks, his voice low. Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose and nods, though he says nothing.

Instead, he straightens his posture, his resolve hardening. “Let’s just focus on fixing this.” he says finally, his voice steady. He’s unsettled, undeniably, but he refuses to let them win by giving the reaction they clearly want.

As the staff arrive to clean up the mess, Jungkook quietly requests Namjoon to let the incident go. “Please... don’t tell anyone about this.” he murmurs, his tone firm. “Not Taehyung... not Y/n. No one.” He says and Namjoon nods understandingly though he feels Wooyoung's actions need to be informed, especially to you.

The cruise crew, apologetic and accommodating, offers him a new cabin for the night while all the repairs are arranged. Jungkook accepts with a quiet nod, and Namjoon insists on helping him move his luggage.

Once everything is settled, Namjoon lingers at the doorway of the new cabin. His brows knit together in concern as he looks at Jungkook.

“You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” he asks gently. Jungkook stands in the middle of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He offers a tight-lipped smile, nodding. “Yeah, don’t worry about me.” he says, his voice quieter now.

Namjoon observes him for a beat longer, noticing the tension in his shoulders, the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes. “Thanks for tonight, Namjoon.” Jungkook says after a moment, breaking the silence.

“No need to thank me, man. Just... if you need anything, call me, okay?” Namjoon’s voice is soft but reassuring. He gives Jungkook a small, supportive smile before stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Now alone, Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh as he sinks onto the edge of the bed. The events of the night replay in his mind, but they’re overshadowed by the larger storm brewing within him.

The spray-painted words and broken camera are bothersome, sure, but they pale in comparison to the weight of the new information he’s learned about you.

Why hadn’t you told him?

The question gnaws at him. His thoughts spiral, each one sharper than the last. He wonders about the secrets you kept... your family’s reality, their influence, their power, their reach. Part of him understands, he really does.

But another part wonders if you didn’t trust him enough or if you were testing him somehow. The doubt curls in his chest, tightening with each passing second.

Before he can sink further into his thoughts, his phone buzzes. The screen lights up, and your name flashes on it. He stares at it for a moment, his thumb hovering over the answer button as he draws a calming breath. He doesn’t want you to know what happened tonight. Not yet.

And even amidst the chaos, he’s missed you, and the thought of hearing your voice is a welcome relief. He finally picks up, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hi, Kook!!” Your voice is bright and warm, cutting through his clouded thoughts. Despite himself, Jungkook smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Hi, baby.” he murmurs softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matches yours. For a moment, everything else fades, and it’s just the two of you again.

“Oh my god, I missed you so much.” you whine, your voice filled with a playful pout. Jungkook exhales a soft laugh, leaning back onto the mattress and clutching his phone tighter against his ear. A smile tugs at his lips, one he doesn’t bother to suppress as he stares at the unfamiliar ceiling of his new cabin.

“Why? Is Jeju that boring?” he teases, the humor in his voice masking the heaviness still lingering from earlier. “Without you? Everything’s boring.” you retort, the response so quick and earnest it pulls a chuckle from him. The sound carries a warmth that he didn’t realize he desperately needed until now.

“How’s the cruise going? Having fun?” you ask, your words bubbling with genuine curiosity. Jungkook’s eyes flit to the corner of the room, where his suitcase sits haphazardly unpacked.

Fun. The word feels almost foreign after the day he’s had. But for you, he keeps his voice steady.

“Yeah, it’s been fun.” he lies smoothly, weaving the words together like armor. “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that!” Your excitement is so pure, so untainted, it makes him momentarily forget the day he's had. “I went to the Snoopy Garden today and it was so freaking adorable! You’d love it. We have to come here together.” you beam.

He can’t help but smile at your words. “That sounds nice, baby.” he chuckles. “Make sure to send me pictures. I wanna see.”

“Of course! I’ll send them right after we hang up.” you promise, your enthusiasm so contagious that Jungkook feels the tightness in his chest ease ever so slightly.

As you continue to talk, filling him in on the small joys and whimsical adventures of your day at the island, he feels the tension seeping out of him.

Wooyoung, the spray-painted words, the shattered camera, the mocking laughter from the hallway, all of it fades into the periphery. Your voice, your laughter, the ease with which you share your world with him... it all anchors him in a way he can’t quite explain.

A few minutes later, there’s a sudden muffled noise on your end, and Jungkook recognizes the sounds of your friends calling you. He doesn’t need to ask, he already knows what’s coming.

“Okay, baby, I think I have to go.” you say reluctantly, your voice tinged with guilt. “Miyeon and the girls are dragging me to dinner.”

He hums softly, a small, understanding smile curving his lips. “Of course, baby. Go have fun. Call me when you’re back, okay?” There’s a pause before he adds, with a quiet sincerity. “I love you.”

“Yes, I'll call you and I love you too.” you reply, your voice warm and unwavering. “Bye!”

The line goes dead, and for a moment, Jungkook stays there, staring at the phone in his hand. The cabin is silent again, but it doesn’t feel as suffocating as before. You’ve always had a way of making the world feel a little lighter, and tonight is no exception.

The next day flies by in a haze of chatter, laughter, and shared moments as Jungkook spends most of his time with Namjoon and Namjoon's friends.

Despite the tension simmering beneath the surface, he doesn’t let Wooyoung or his friends’ antics claw their way under his skin. He’s determined not to give them the satisfaction of a reaction.

By the next afternoon, he’s in Taehyung's car along with your cousins, Namjoon and Seokjin, driving home back from the port. The ride is filled with easy conversation and the occasional bout of laughter, a welcome distraction from the remnants of unease still lingering in his mind.

“Thanks for coming, Jungkook. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you.” Taehyung says, glancing over at Jungkook from the driver's seat, his expression apologetic. “You know how it is... my friends were dragging me everywhere.”

“It’s all good, man.” Jungkook replies with a grin. “And I totally get it. It was your bachelor party, after all.” he adds. Taehyung laughs, the sound light and carefree. “Still, I wish I could've spent more time with my sister's boyfriend.”

The familiar sight of your house comes into view not long after as Taehyung zooms past the long driveway, and Jungkook feels a wave of relief wash over him. Exhaustion tugs at his limbs, but more than anything, a quiet longing stirs in his chest. All he wants right now is to see you.

After bidding the others goodbye and hauling his luggage inside, he heads straight to your room. Your flight should be landing any time now. He checks his phone absentmindedly, hoping for a message or a call to signal your return and for now, all he can do is wait.

Miyeon giggles as she stretches her arms, stepping out of the car. “Most healing bachelorette party ever.” she declares, a dreamy expression on her face.

“I can still feel my masseuse’s hands on me. I don’t know what magic she used, but it feels like my back and shoulders have been reborn.” she exhales. You laugh as the guards step forward to collect your luggage. “Honestly, same. I want to go back just to get that massage again.”

As the guards carry your bags towards the house, you follow Miyeon inside, the faint chatter of voices growing louder the deeper you go. Your heels click softly against the marble floor as you both approach the lounge, as familiar voices draw your attention.

You peek inside and instantly smile. Seokjin is hunched over the billiards table, holding his cue stick with a dramatic level of precision. Namjoon stands to the side, visibly exasperated, one hand holding his cue stick against the floor while his other hand rests on his hip as he watches Seokjin line up a shot.

“Look Namjoon...” Seokjin drawls, his tone a mix of amusement and condescension. “You're supposed to stand like this. Your posture is a disgrace to billiards.”

Namjoon groans, running a hand through his hair. “Hyung, my posture isn’t the problem. The problem is you’re cheating.”

“Cheating?!” Seokjin straightens, feigning deep offense. “Excuse me, I play with honor and integrity. You, on the other hand, couldn’t aim if your life depended on it.” he shrugs.

“You’re just salty because your aim’s been off the entire game." Namjoon fires back. “Watch. I’m about to sink three balls in one shot.”

“Sure.” Taehyung interjects from his spot by the bar, swirling a glass of whiskey casually. “And when you miss, Jin hyung will find a way to roast you for the next hour.”

You and Miyeon exchange amused glances, both of you shaking your heads as the banter continues. Namjoon leans over the table dramatically, his cue stick angled as though he’s about to make the shot of the century.

Seokjin watches him like a hawk, ready to pounce on any mistake. Taehyung simply sips his drink, muttering something under his breath about “hopeless competitors.”

As you approach them, your thoughts wander. Despite the comfort of home and the familiarity of these voices, a part of you feels incomplete. Your eyes sweep the room once more, subtly searching for your boyfriend.

You’re desperate to see him, to feel his arms around you, to close the unbearable distance that’s stretched between you these past two days.

Somehow, two days have felt like an eternity. You’ve replayed every text and call in your mind, but nothing compares to having him here, tangible, in front of you.

“Oh my god, baby...” Taehyung is the first to notice the two of you approaching. Without missing a beat, he sets his glass of whiskey down on the bar and strides forward, pulling Miyeon into a warm hug. “You guys are back!” he exclaims, his smile wide and genuine as he steps back to take a good look at both of you.

You can’t help but grin at him, waving at Namjoon and Seokjin, who have momentarily paused their game of billiards to acknowledge your arrival.

After a few exchanges of pleasantries and brief chatter about the island trip, you finally ask the question that’s been burning on your mind. “Where’s Jungkook?”

“Oh, he’s up in your room. He seemed a bit tired.” Namjoon answers. Your lips part slightly as you nod. “Okay then. I’ll go to him. You guys enjoy yourselves.” you say, offering a warm smile before hugging everyone. Turning on your heels, you exit the lounge and begin making your way towards the staircase.

Just when you're in the middle of ascending the stairs, a voice interrupts you. “Y/N!”

You glance over your shoulder at the sound of your name, only to see Namjoon trailing behind you, his steps hesitant. His expression holds something you can’t quite decipher, like he’s battling with his own thoughts.

“Joonie?” you say, your voice laced with curiosity and just a hint of concern as you watch him climb the stairs to meet you.

“Hey...” he breathes out, stopping a step below yours, his gaze briefly dropping to the floor before he looks at you. His hesitation sends a ripple of unease through you.

“What’s up, Joonie??” you ask gently, studying his face for clues. The slight tension in his shoulders, the way he exhales like he’s carrying a weight he’s unsure he should share, it all sets your nerves alight.

“Y/N…” he begins, pausing as if choosing his next words carefully. “I’ve been debating whether to tell you this, but…” He trails off, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. You take a step closer, your heart beginning to pound. “Joonie?? Is everything okay??"

He sighs deeply, the sound heavy and conflicted. “Well.. It’s about Jungkook...”

The mention of your boyfriend immediately tightens something in your chest. “What happened to Jungkook?” you ask quickly, your voice rising with worry.

Namjoon hesitates, his gaze searching yours. “He didn’t want me to tell you this... but…” He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t feel right to keep this from you. You should know.”

Your stomach churns, dread blooming in your chest. “Know what? What happened?” you ask again.

Namjoon looks away for a moment, as though gathering the courage to speak, before his eyes meet yours again. “It started at the bar… Wooyoung approached him. He said some things... about your past... about how your mom wanted... you and Wooyoung to get married.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you can’t breathe.

Namjoon presses on, his voice tinged with anger. “But it didn’t stop there. Wooyoung’s friends... well.. they went after Jungkook. They trashed his cabin... broke his camera... spray-painted some cruel things on the wall.” He pauses, his jaw tightening.

“They did what?” you ask, disbelief dripping from your voice. This was the last thing you ever expected to hear. Your chest tightens painfully as the weight of Namjoon’s words settles in. Jungkook had endured all of this alone and you hadn’t had the slightest clue.

And of course, knowing him you understand why he didn't want this to reach you. And somehow that breaks your heart and fills you with guilt, especially because he found out about something you’d been carefully waiting for the right moment to tell him. The layers of emotions overwhelm you, each more suffocating than the last.

“Why... why was Wooyoung even on that cruise?” you ask, your voice rising with frustration now, the disbelief giving way to simmering anger. Namjoon raises his hands quickly in defense. “Hey, That's on Jin Hyung.” he says.

"But anyways, I really thought you should know this." His voice softens as he continues. “Jungkook seemed pretty shaken up by it, even though he tried not to show it. So… please, just take care of him.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. The gratitude you feel for Namjoon is momentary, overshadowed by the urgency now coursing through your veins. Without wasting another second, you turn on your heel and dash up the stairs, heading towards your room.

Jungkook smiles to himself as he rests on the pillow, scrolling through the videos you'd sent him over the past two days. His chest warms as he watches a clip of you playing with two cats on the island, your laughter echoing softly through the speaker.

The way your nose scrunches in delight makes his heart flutter, and he giggles quietly, his thumb hovering over the replay button. "Where are you?" he mutters under his breath with a wistful sigh, the corners of his lips still tugged into a smile.

And just like magic, the door to your room suddenly bursts open with a loud bang. He jumps slightly, his phone nearly slipping from his hand. Before he can even process your sudden arrival, you’re bolting towards him.

Jungkook barely has time to sit up straight before you fling yourself onto him, wrapping your arms around him with a ferocity that nearly knocks the breath out of his lungs.

“Baby—” he starts, his voice laced with confusion and concern, but you cut him off before he can finish. “I’m sorry.” The words tumble out of your mouth in a shaky breath, muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

Your hold on him tightens. “I’m sorry. Namjoon told me everything. I’m sorry about Wooyoung, I’m sorry about his friends, I’m sorry about your cabin, I’m sorry about your camera…” Your voice breaks slightly as you ramble, the guilt pouring out of you in waves.

Jungkook exhales deeply, and you feel the tension in his body ease as his arms come around you, his hands resting gently on your back. He holds you close, rubbing soothing circles against your spine.

“Is this how you’re going to greet me after spending two whole days in Jeju?” he teases, his voice light with humor, though you can hear the warmth beneath it. “What happened to ‘hi, hello, I missed you?’”

Despite the joking tone, the tender way Jungkook rubs your back anchors you. You pull back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. There’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet warmth that seems to steady your unraveling thoughts.

“I’m really sorry, Kook.” you repeat, your voice trembling as you try to convey the depth of your regret.

He shakes his head gently, his hand leaving your back to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Baby, why are you apologizing for something you had no control over?” he asks, his tone light but earnest. “You’re not responsible for what Wooyoung or his friends did.”

“I should’ve told you about him...” you admit, your voice low, almost wavering. “About us, our past… everything. I should've been honest.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he leans forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple gesture makes your chest tighten with emotion, grounding you in a way that words can’t.

When he pulls back, his gaze is steady but contemplative. “Baby...” he starts carefully, his voice softer now. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod instantly, your heart thudding. “Of course. Anything.” you say. He hesitates, the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes making your stomach churn. “Why didn’t you... why didn't ever you tell me about your family?” he asks at last, the question laced with a vulnerability that makes your chest ache.

Your breath hitches at the question, and for a moment, you feel exposed. But a part of you knew this was coming. You knew that hiding your life from Jungkook and then unveiling it all on a random Thursday would inevitably lead to this moment.

“It's just…” You pause, your voice wavering as you try to find the right words, your eyes searching his face for reassurance. “Kook, when we first met... you had no idea who I was or who my family was and... you were just so... so different from all the men I grew up with.”

Jungkook doesn’t say anything, his gaze steady, waiting for you to continue. Instead, you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly, his silent way of encouraging you to speak your truth.

“You were this bright, passionate man with these beautiful, expressive eyes and that gorgeous, dreamy smile...” you begin, your voice trembling as a fond smile tugs at your lips.

“And for the first time in forever, I felt like I could just… breathe around someone. With you, I didn’t have to be this polished or poised woman who had to fit into some high-class society mold. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else... because being myself around you... was just... so easy, without having to worry about where I came from and who my family was.”

Your thumb gently traces over the faint scar on his cheek, a gesture so intimate it makes his heart jump. His gaze softens, melting into yours as if you're the only person in the world. “You just... liked me for me. Not because of my family, my connections, or my status, but because of who I was with you. You saw me... the real me... when I didn’t even know how to see myself.”

Your voice falters slightly, but you don’t look away, letting him see the emotion in your eyes. “I know it was selfish of me... but I... so badly wanted to hold on to that feeling... the feeling of being loved in a way that felt so… pure." you pause, a shallow breath escaping your lips.

" I just… I just I didn’t know how to tell you about that part of me...”

Jungkook listens intently, his expression softening even more as your words sink in. Slowly, he tugs you closer, pulling you into his warm embrace. You feel his heartbeat steady against your own, his presence grounding you in a way only he can.

“Baby...” he whispers, his voice low as his fingertips trail soothing patterns along your back. “For me, it’s always been you. It always will be you. None of that other stuff matters... your family, your status, your class... they’re just parts of you that I’ll embrace because they make up the woman I love. But beyond all that, I love you for you.”

His voice dips into something deeper, more vulnerable. “And I’m glad I could bring out the real you. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and it’s an honor to be able to experience that side of you." he hugs you tighter, before continuing.

"You have no idea how my world has changed ever since you entered it. You make everything... brighter and just... more bearable. You make it all make sense. So thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for trusting me with your heart.”

Your eyes well up as you close them, leaning into his embrace. The warmth of his words, paired with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feels like the safest place you’ve ever known. “Thank you for coming into my life too.” you breathe out, voice thick with emotion.

After a beat of silence, you pull back slightly. “But I’m still sorry about Wooyoung. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind, I swear—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he shakes his head. “There’s no need for that. Let’s just forget it happened, okay?”

You pout, reluctant to let it go, but his soft, reassuring expression makes you falter. “Fine...” you huff, a sigh escaping your lips. “Still...” you murmur, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the hem of his collar. “I’m sorry, Kook. Thank you... for always being so understanding. I truly don’t deserve you.”

He shakes his head, the faintest hint of exasperation softened by the smile tugging at his lips. "You deserve the world, baby. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

A soft giggle escapes you, the light in his eyes mirrored by the smile that refuses to leave your lips. “I love you.” you whisper, the words filled with every ounce of emotion you’ve been holding in.

His toothy smile, the one that always makes your heart flutter, breaks across his face. “I love you too.” he replies.

And just like that, as if drawn by an unspoken force, he leans in, capturing your lips with his. The warmth of his kiss washes over you, soothing every ache, every worry, and filling you with a certainty that everything is exactly as it’s meant to be.

"Do we get to eat them ??" Jungkook asks, leaning against the doorframe, his eyes following your reflection in the mirror as you brush your hair. A giggle escapes your lips at his eager tone. “Of course, baby. You can eat all of them if you want to.” you reply, shooting him a playful grin.

With the wedding just around the corner, the house is bustling with preparations, but today feels different. Your grandma insisted on gathering everyone to make dumplings for the rehearsal dinner that's coming up.

You and Jungkook make your way to the dining room, the air filled with the warm aroma of freshly prepared ingredients. The large table is the centerpiece of the room, and as soon as you step inside, the sight of your family fills you with comfort and joy.

Taehyung and Seokjin are already deep in their dumpling-making attempts, though it's clear they’ve caused more chaos than progress.

Both of them have flour smeared across their faces like war paint, a result of what must’ve been an enthusiastic but poorly thought-out experiment.

“Hyung, that dumpling looks like a deflated balloon.” Taehyung teases Seokjin, holding up his creation for comparison. Seokjin huffs, rolling his eyes. “At least mine isn’t oozing out stuffing like yours, Tae. What are you making? A dumpling that's throwing up?”

“Call it modern art, Hyung.” Taehyung retorts, grinning mischievously as he tosses a bit of flour at Seokjin, who gasps dramatically. “Yah! Taehyung, do you want me to dump this entire bowl of stuffing on your head?” Seokjin warns, clearly frustrated.

Across the table, Namjoon and Miyeon work with quiet precision, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance. Namjoon occasionally sneaks a glance at the chaos brewing between Taehyung and Seokjin, shaking his head with a fond smile.

“You two are worse than toddlers.” he quips, not looking up from his perfectly shaped dumpling. “At this rate, we're all gonna finish a hundred dumplings before you guys finish ten.”

Miyeon chuckles, her hands deftly sealing another dumpling. “Joon's right. How are you both so bad at this? It’s not rocket science.”

Taehyung gasps in mock offense. “Excuse me, babe, I don't know if you've noticed but Jin hyung is literally sabotaging me!” he exclaims. “I’m the one sabotaging you?” Seokjin laughs incredulously. “Look at my face, Tae. I look like a ghost, thanks to you!”

Namjoon’s mom, your favorite aunt, sits at the far end of the table as she rolls the dough into perfect circles, her laughter ringing like a bell.

“Boys, boys...” she interjects, her voice gentle but firm. “Stop fighting and focus on your dumplings. Otherwise, your future kids will hear stories about how their dads couldn’t make dumplings to save their lives.”

Everyone bursts out laughing at her comment, even Taehyung and Seokjin, who share a sheepish grin before returning to their task.

As you and Jungkook approach the group, everyone greets the two of you with warm smiles. Jungkook pulls out a chair for you to sit, earning a scrunch of your nose in fondness at the sweet gesture. After you’re settled, he takes the seat beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours under the table.

"So, I see Tae and Jin are already setting records... for failure...” you quip, your eyes gleaming with mischief as you glance at the disfigured dumplings piled in front of them. “Hey, those are Tae’s!” Seokjin protests, pushing forward another plate of equally disastrous dumplings. “Mine look way better, see?”

“Ah, yes.” you reply with mock solemnity, inspecting the plate. “Such fine craftsmanship. Truly an expert.” you giggle.

Everyone bursts into laughter and so does Jungkook, his eyes crinkling as he takes in the scene. He looks around, marveling at the tender warmth that surrounds your family.

“Okay, watch closely everyone...” you suddenly announce, picking up a perfect circle of dough. “The secret to making a good dumpling is love. And also, not being like Taehyung.” you grin.

“Hey!” Taehyung protests, earning another round of laughter. You press on, your tone turning exaggeratedly instructive.

“First, you scoop just the right amount of stuffing... not too much, or it’ll explode like Tae’s modern art pieces.” You hold up a small spoonful of filling, placing it precisely in the center of the dough. Jungkook observes your actions, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Next, you fold it in half, like you’re tucking it in for a nap. Be gentle, it’s delicate.”

Jungkook leans in closer, watching intently as your fingers press the edges together. “Then, you join the edges, like this... pinch... pinch... pinch.” you continue, your fingers deftly creating a neat, ruffled pattern. “Think of it as accessorizing your dumpling... it needs to be cute, you know?”

“Wow...” Jungkook murmurs, his voice full of awe. “You’re like the Michelangelo of dumplings.” he giggles. “Please.” you reply with a dramatic shrug. “I’m just a humble dumpling artist.”

Emboldened, Jungkook picks up his own piece of dough, determination written all over his face. “Alright, let me try. Scoop... fold.... pinch, pinch, pinch… done!” He holds up his quick creation triumphantly. You glance at it and press your lips together to stifle a laugh.

“Hmm....” you say, tilting your head. “Looks like your dumpling had a very long night.” you tease as the rest of the table laughs. “It’s rustic.” Jungkook counters, grinning despite himself. “Rustic indeed.” you tease, your laugh mingling with his.

As Jungkook continues fumbling with the dough, his brow furrowed in concentration, he glances around the lively table and decides to engage. “So, did you guys do this even as kids?” he asks, his voice light and curious as eyes dart between you, Taehyung and your cousins.

Before anyone can respond, the mood shifts. Your mother strides into the room, carrying a fresh tray of stuffing. Jungkook’s posture stiffens instinctively as her gaze briefly locks with his.

Her expression is impassive... polite on the surface but brimming with subtle tension. She sets the tray down and takes a seat directly across from the two of you, her movements precise and deliberate.

“Hi, Mama.” you greet warmly, your voice bright as you flash her a quick smile. She returns it with practiced ease but doesn’t linger, her attention quickly shifting to the task at hand. Her eyes flick to Jungkook, assessing him with a glance that’s colder than he’d prefer. He swallows hard, the discomfort settling in his chest like a heavy stone.

“It was more like we didn’t have a choice.” Namjoon pipes up, steering the conversation back to Jungkook’s question. His teasing tone earns chuckles from Seokjin and Taehyung, who nod in agreement.

“Exactly.” your aunt chimes in, shooting Namjoon an exaggerated glare. "We taught you, so you'd know the blood, sweat and tears it took to raise and feed you monkeys." she says as everyone laughs. Jungkook smiles faintly, grateful for the distraction, though the unease lingers.

The past few days at your family’s home had been a mix of warmth and tension for him. While the rest of your family had embraced him easily, your mother’s guarded demeanor made him feel like he was walking on eggshells. He’s done his best to stay out of her way, but now, sitting face-to-face, her disapproval is palpable.

“If we don’t pass down traditions like this, they’ll disappear.” your mother says suddenly, her voice cutting through the chatter. She folds the dough around a perfect mound of stuffing, her movements sharp and efficient. Without lifting her eyes from her work, she continues. “I’m sure you find all of this unusual.”

Her words hang heavy in the air, and Jungkook feels the weight of her unspoken judgment. “They don’t teach things like this in the West, do they?” she continues, finally meeting his gaze. Her eyes are cool, her tone sharp enough to draw blood.

The room falls silent, the cheerful chatter replaced by thick tension. Jungkook swallows, unsure how to respond while you shift in your seat, your breath hitching at the unwanted confrontation. Before you can step in, Seokjin's voice breaks the silence.

“Grandma!” he exclaims, leaping to his feet as your grandmother enters the room. He strides towards her with exaggerated enthusiasm, offering his arm. “You’re finally here!”

Grateful for the distraction, everyone rises to greet her respectfully. Her presence is like a balm, soothing the room’s strained energy. She smiles warmly, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she takes in the bustling scene.

“Y/N-ah...” she says, her gaze landing on you before shifting to Jungkook. “You brought Jungkook too.” Her smile widens as she inches closer to him, her hand lifting to cup his cheek gently. “Hello, sweetheart.” she says, her voice warm and affectionate.

Jungkook bows slightly, his lips curving into a polite smile. “Hello, Grandma.” he replies softly, the tension in his chest easing under her kind gaze.

As everyone settles back into their seats, your grandmother sits at the head of the table, near your mother, her sharp eyes scanning the dumplings in front of her. “Did you make those?” she asks lightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

Your mother forces out a stiff smile. “Yes, Ma.” she replies. “Hmm.” your grandmother hums thoughtfully, inspecting the dumplings more closely. “It seems you’ve lost your touch.” she adds.

Jungkook notices the way your mother’s jaw tightens, her forced smile barely hiding the undercurrent of irritation. “I’ll do better.” she replies, her voice taut, the words clipped as if forcing themselves out.

It’s a subtle moment, so fleeting it slips past everyone else in the room, including you. But Jungkook catches it. The way her fingers pause ever so slightly over the dumpling she’s shaping, the sharp edge in her tone... it all lingers in the air, faint yet telling.

Just as he processes what he’s seen, your mother’s gaze suddenly snaps up, meeting his. Jungkook’s eyes widen instinctively, caught off guard by her piercing stare. Her expression shifts in an instant, the forced warmth melting away to reveal a sour look that seems to pin him in place.

In that split second, Jungkook realizes... she knows he saw it.

Not wanting to overstep or make things worse he quickly averts his eyes, pretending to focus on the dumpling in his hands. He swallows hard, willing himself to appear unaffected, as though he hadn’t just witnessed the moment.

But the unease remains. He can feel her gaze lingering on him for a second longer before she looks away, her mask of politeness slipping back into place.

Jungkook exhales softly, his shoulders tight as he resumes his task. He glances at you, wondering if you’ve noticed anything, but you’re too engrossed in folding the dumplings to sense the silent exchange.

Still, the weight of your mother's reaction stays with him. For the first time, he wonders if your mother’s reservations aren’t just about him but about something deeper, something unresolved within her.

As Jungkook steps out of the dining room, the faint smell of flour and spices still clinging to his hands, he glances around, searching for the washroom. Despite having spent days at your house, he still finds the maze-like layout disorienting. The grand size of the place only adds to his sense of displacement.

He sighs in mild frustration, realizing he’s turned down the wrong hallway yet again. Just as he’s about to retrace his steps, he notices someone approaching from the other end. His stomach sinks slightly as he recognizes your mother.

She seems preoccupied as she carefully dusts her dress. Jungkook freezes instinctively, his smile faltering as she nears. Though he musters up a polite smile when she looks up, she doesn’t return it.

As the silence stretches and her gaze lingers on him, Jungkook decides to break the tension. “I’m…” he begins, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m a little lost.” he admits with an awkward laugh, gesturing vaguely towards the hallway behind him.

Your mother stops a few feet away, her arms crossed loosely. Her expression is unreadable, though Jungkook can feel the weight of her scrutiny. “This house can be... confusing.” she replies, her tone neutral but edged with something unspoken.

Jungkook nods quickly, eager to agree. “Yeah, definitely. I thought I had it figured out, but I keep ending up in the wrong place.” He chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

She studies him for a moment longer before sighing quietly. “The washroom is down that way.” she curtly says, pointing towards the opposite hall.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Jungkook says, his tone earnest. He hesitates for a moment, feeling the urge to say something more... something to break the wall between them. “Also... I… I just really wanted to thank you..." he starts and your mother's brows furrow, trying to understand where this is coming from.

Jungkook notices her confusion and decides to press on, his voice tentative yet earnest. “For, um… for letting me stay here. I know it can’t be easy, having someone new around. But I just… I really appreciate it.” he says, his words measured yet sincere.

She studies him for a moment, her gaze unreadable. Then, a faint, almost imperceptible smile curls one corner of her lips. “It isn’t easy.” she admits, her tone steady, though there’s an edge to it that makes him slightly uneasy.

“But, surprisingly…” she begins, stepping a little closer, her expression unreadable. “I see myself in you.” she says. Jungkook blinks, unsure how to respond. He waits, the weight of her words hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

“Y/N’s grandmother...” she continues, her voice calm. “She was never accepting of me. When Y/N’s father told her he wanted to marry me… well, let’s just say it was far from a warm approval.”

Her gaze locks onto Jungkook’s, her eyes sharp and unwavering. “I wasn’t her first choice. And, honestly...” she chuckles dryly, though the sound lacks humor. “I wasn’t her second either.”

Jungkook’s expression softens as understanding starts to dawn, the earlier interaction between her and your grandmother now making more sense. “Gosh… I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” he says quickly, his voice laced with genuine remorse.

She acknowledges his apology with a small smile, though her gaze remains cold, unyielding. “I didn’t come from the right family, didn’t have the right connections. To her, I wasn’t an adequate match for her son.” she explains.

“But… she eventually came around, right?” Jungkook asks cautiously, his tone tinged with hope. She exhales, the sound heavy with years of pent-up emotion.

“It took many years.” she admits, nodding faintly. “She had her reasons... valid ones, even. But I worked hard, sacrificed more than I ever thought I could. Eventually, she saw how much traditions and family mattered to me, and maybe that earned her respect. But...” she pauses, her faint smile turning somber. “There were many days when I wondered if I’d ever truly measure up.”

Jungkook listens intently, his chest tightening with a newfound appreciation for the struggles your mother seemed to have endured.

“And having lived through all of that...” she begins again, her voice lower now, each word carrying weight. “I know one thing for certain...”

She takes another step closer, her presence suddenly oppressive. Her smile twists into something darker, a faint smirk with a sharp edge that sends a shiver down Jungkook’s spine.

“You will never be enough.”

<- part 4

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taglist: @mirinaeii @taetaecatboy @tsukiesimp @lovingkoalaface @taekrve @jaytheatiny @loverofannabeth @jaerisdiction @whoa-jo @parkinglot-nights @reneeblack6230 @rrosiitas

#jungkook fic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #bts #bts jungkook #bts fic #enemies to lovers #jungkook fanfiction #crazy rich asians

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azrielslittleslut · 3 months ago

Text

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 11

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, slight angst, fluff

Word Count: 8k

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a/n: i know, i know. it's been 2 months. but i'm back in the game, and i promise to update more frequently.

Enjoy!

Azriel leaned against the wall outside of his bedroom, his shadows swirling lazily around him. He smiled softly as he listened to you talking and laughing with Elain as she helped you get dressed. He was thankful that Elain had taken the task of helping you into this world upon herself, but he hadn’t been surprised.

Elain was kind and compassionate, and she knew what it was like to be forced into a world of magic and shadows. At one time, that was what had drawn Azriel in, and he had fantasized about what it would be like to be with Elain. But the Cauldron had other plans, giving her a mate that wasn’t Azriel.

Months ago, Az had hated that, and he had lost sleep over it. After that almost kiss on Solstice, he had distanced himself, deciding to let Elain choose her own path. The undeniable scent of her mating bond, a sign that she had accepted Lucien as hers, made him thankful for his decision.

Elain was happy now, the joy written all over her face. His entire family was happy, even though they were facing a strange darkness in Prythian. Az thought that perhaps he would be the one to never find happiness, and he had accepted that. He had made peace with it, even.

He had lived a life full of pain and torture, and he had hurt more people than he cared to admit. He had thought that his loneliness and pain were the world’s way of punishing him for all of the wrongs he had done, for all of the sins he had committed.

But then he had been pulled into a strange world and had met a beautiful, compassionate woman with wildfire in her eyes. He had learned that his lack of happiness had nothing to do with everything he had done. It was simply the fact that his happiness, his mate, had been lost in another world.

The world had a strange way of doing things, Azriel thought, but he wasn’t going to question it. One minute, you could be facing darkness and shadows and horrors beyond the imagination, and the next, you could fall through a portal and into the arms of the love of your life.

The bedroom door opened, followed by the sound of your musical laughter. “I think this color suits me,” you said as you walked into the hallway. “I’ve always liked blue, especially dark blue. Like cobalt.”

Azriel pushed himself off the wall, his eyes wandering down your body. You were wearing a simple pair of black leggings and black ankle boots. You had donned a cobalt blue sweater, the same color as Azriel’s siphons. The material looked soft, and though it covered your body completely, it hugged your form in a way that made his head spin.

Elain chuckled softly, and Az pulled his attention away from you long enough to meet her gaze. She was raising a knowing brow at him, amusement twinkling in her brown eyes.

Had Rhys told everyone about you being Azriel’s mate?

“Thank you for helping me, Elain,” you said, placing a gentle hand on Elain’s arm. “And for buying me these clothes.”

“Don’t mention it. It was no trouble at all,” Elain responded. She turned on her heel and started down the hallway. “I’m going to check and see if they need any help in the kitchen.”

Alone in the dim hallway, Azriel took a step forward, his hand trailing down your arm. The material of the sweater was warm and soft under his palm. “You look lovely,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the exposed skin of your neck. “I like seeing you in my color.”

You ran a finger over the siphon on his hand. “You said these are a way for you to channel your magic?”

Azriel nodded in response, unable to form words at the sight of your pulse. He longed to know what it would be like to have it under his lips. Your scent of warm vanilla and jasmine filled his nostrils, and he found himself leaning down, his mind clouded by want and need.

“Why is it blue?”

The innocence of your question pulled Az from his desire. Now was not the time to let his mind wander to those places. Hopefully, in the future when this whole mess with the unstable magic is dealt with, he will have all the time in the world to get the soft skin of your body under his lips. But for now, he needed to focus.

By the Cauldron, he still needed to tell you about the bond.

Azriel reluctantly pulled away from your warmth. “The color of the siphons depends on the color of the magic.” He shrugged, his hand laying atop yours on his siphon. “My magic is blue, so my siphon is blue.”

You raised your eyes to meet his, and he could see a wariness in your gaze. He could tell you were trying to hide it, but in the few days he had known you, he had learned to read your every expression. “Oh,” you said softly, pulling your hand away from his.

“Are you alright?” Az asked, placing his palm on your cheek. “If you don’t want to meet my family, we can-“

“No,” you said sternly, cutting him off. “I won’t get the answers I want by hiding away in that bedroom. I need to face this, even though I’m scared shitless right now.”

Azriel smiled softly, his thumb sweeping across your cheekbone. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into his touch. “My brave fyrvor,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. He pulled away and gestured down the hallway with a hand. He offered his arm to you as he asked, “Shall we?”

You looped your arms through his and followed him down the hallway. The wall was lined with paintings, all thanks to Feyre, and he watched as your eyes took in each one.

“Feyre painted those,” he said, gesturing to the walls. Some of them were of Nyx, and others were of Rhys and Nyx together. Az could see the paintings of the Illyrian mountains and Elain’s garden. He was always impressed at his High Lady’s talent. Meanwhile, he couldn’t even draw a straight line.

You hummed as you looked, a small smile blooming on your face. “When we were at Serena’s studio, you said you knew a better painter.” You looked at him then, your expression soft. “Were you talking about Feyre?”

Azriel smiled faintly as he thought back to that day. Had it really only been a few days ago? “Yes,” he said finally.

“You missed them a lot when you were in my world? Your family?” Your tone was full of gentle curiosity, your face searching his.

He nodded, the weight of those days away from his world pressing in. “I did,” he admitted. “More than I expected. I have never… fit in with my family. I’m different in many ways, so I’ve always felt like an outsider, even to them. But they’ve been my sanity through the centuries.”

Though they do drive me insane most of the time, he wanted to add but kept that to himself.

“An outsider,” you mumbled, seemingly to yourself. You shivered, as if you were shaking off an unwanted thought. “I know what that’s like. To feel like you don’t belong.” Your voice was quiet as you confided in him. “I suppose I feel more so like an outsider now.”

The sudden graveness on your face startled him, so he trailed his hand down, lacing his fingers with yours. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Maybe we can feel like outsiders together?”

You smiled up at him, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease at the light in your eyes. “Yeah. We can make it a club or something. Give it a name to make it official?”

Azriel chuckled. Things felt so normal between the two of you, despite the dark could that hung over his shoulders. “I like the sound of that.”

The conversation died out as the two of you walked toward the dining room. Your eyes took in the interior of the River House, your mouth hanging open slightly as you looked at all of the expensive décor.

As he pulled you toward the dining room, the clatter of dishes and the soft murmurs of his family greeted him. His shadows swirled around his shoulders, telling him that Cassian was already seated and tearing into pieces of toast, while Rhys and Feyre exchanged quiet words at the head of the table. Nesta was there, too, apparently looking at Cassian with a rather disgusted look as she watched her mate eat like it was his last meal.

At the doorway, Azriel squeezed your hand, leaning down to whisper into your ear, “Are you ready, fyrvor?” Your hair tickled his nose as you turned to look at him, your eyes filled with determination.

“Yes. I’m ready.”

“Cassian.” Nesta’s sharp voice cut through the room over the clatter of plates. “At least use a napkin. You’re getting toast all over-“

Azriel stepped into the dining room, clearing his throat, not caring that he cut Nesta off. “Family,” he greeted, his hand tight in yours as he pulled you around his wings. “I would like everyone to meet Y/N.”

The room was silent, utterly silent. Cassian stopped his chewing, his mouth open as he looked at you with raised brows. Nesta’s eyes were sharp and calculating as she leaned back in her chair, a faint smile playing on her lips. Rhys was biting his lip, his hand protectively on Feyre’s shoulder, while Feyre was nervously twirling her fork in her hands.

Azriel swallowed against the tightness in his throat. He couldn’t think of anything to say to ease the tension, not knowing how to begin explaining all of this. He opened his mouth to say something, he didn’t know what, but was thankfully cut off as Elain entered the room, Lucien at her heels. They were both carrying plates of steaming food.

“Y/N! Azriel!” Elain greeted with a warm smile. “I was wondering when you two would make it here.” Leave it up to Elain to be the one to bring down the blade to cut the tension.

Feyre dropped her fork as stood, pushing Rhys’s hand off her shoulder as she did so. “Welcome to our home,” she said, raising her hands in welcome. “My name is Feyre. I’ve heard that you’ve already met Rhys, my mate.” She gestured to the other side of the table. “You’ve met Elain, but the female next to her is Nesta, my other sister. The male eating his body weight in toast is Cassian. The male sitting next to Elain is her mate, Lucien.”

Following the awkward introductions, everyone nodded once in greeting. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off of you, so he ran a calming hand down the center of your back. “It’s nice to meet all of you,” you said in a quiet voice, but Az could hear the steel behind it, a sign that though you were nervous, fear had no hold on you.

Feyre smiled, her face radiant. “Az has told us so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” you said with a soft laugh.

Nesta drummed her fingers on the table. “If you consider being from another world, one completely different from this one, a good thing… then yes. All good things.”

Your smile faltered at Nesta’s tone, and Azriel fought the urge to snarl at Nesta for making you uncomfortable. But he knew that Nesta meant no harm by what she said. It was just how she talked to people who she didn’t know that well.

Still, Azriel glowered at Nesta, a quiet sign that he would not tolerate her sneering.

“Nesta,” Rhys drawled, his eyes moving between you and the female. “Maybe we should hear Y/N’s side of the story.” He managed to force a smile onto his pale face, and Azriel could see the dark circles under his eyes. When had his brother last gotten a good night’s rest?

Not since before you left, shadowsinger, his shadows answered him as they swirled around his shoulders and wings.

“Please. Have a seat,” Elain said, gesturing to two empty seats at the end of the table. Azriel noticed that the seats were farthest away from Rhys and Nesta, but they were closest to Elain and Lucien. “And dig in. The both of you look like you could use a hot meal.”

After the two of you had taken your seats, Azriel grabbed the nearest dish and spooned some of it onto your plate. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“I can do it, Azzy,” you murmured, taking the spoon and bowl from his scarred hands.

Cassian chuckled, no doubt at the nickname you had given him. Az ground his teeth as he shot a glare at Cass, silently warning him to keep his mouth shut. His brother shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his toast, not caring that his face was covered in jam.

“So,” Feyre said, picking up her fork. “Az tells us that you come from another world.”

You set down the bowl and took a deep breath. “Yes. I come from a place called Earth.” You reached for his hand under the table, and he returned your gesture with a soft squeeze, encouraging you. “I grew up in a place called New Orleans, Louisiana. I was a nurse, working at a hospital in the trauma department. My parents, they-“ Your voice trembled slightly, your eyes filling with tears. You looked down at your uneaten food, obviously trying to hide it from everyone’s prying eyes.

Azriel’s heart broke at the sight of it. He knew, deep down, you had not had the time to deal with everything that had happened. Madja had said that you were more than likely still in shock from the whole ordeal. The healer had told him that he needed to be ready for when everything hit you, that he needed to prepare himself to weather the storm.

Azriel had told Madja not to worry about that. He would fight through the deepest, darkest pits of hell to make sure you didn’t have to bear that burden alone.

You continued on, your voice shaky but clear, “My mother was a teacher. My father was a mechanic. They raised me with so much love and kindness… My life was so simple, before all of this…”

Feyre nodded solemnly, her eyes shadowed. “Azriel told us about your parents. About what happened,” she said, her voice soft like silk. “We are very sorry about what you went through.” Her tone was genuine, and Az knew she was telling the truth.

His High Lady knew was it was like to suffer and watch someone you love die. All of them did.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You blinked the tears away, pulling your eyes back up to Feyre. “As much as it hurts, I know that none of that matters right now.”

“What do you mean?” Lucien asked, leaning forward in his chair. “Surely the loss of your parents should be at the forefront of your mind. None of us would blame you if you took the time to grieve for them.”

You turned your eyes to the male, your gaze lingering curiously on his mechanical eye. “I worded that wrong. It matters, yes, but I think more important matters are at hand right now. I will grieve when I find out the truth about this… mess. My parents are dead because of who, or what I am. That is what I am focused on.”

Rhys ran a finger along the edge of the table, his gaze nearly piercing as he looked at you. “And what exactly are you?”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly at the High Lord, not caring that you were talking to the most powerful male in Prythian. Azriel wanted to laugh at the sight of it. “You know as much as I do. You were there when Madja said I wasn’t human, and that’s all I know.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes. “How can you not know that you’re not human?” His voice was almost a snarl, and it was enough to pull Az out of his silence.

“There is no magic where she’s from, Rhysand,” Azriel growled. “When I first met her, I was convinced she was human. Up until I saw her burst into flames, I thought she was human.” He planted his hands on the table, pushing himself out of his seat. He leaned over the table, his face twisted into a snarl. “So, believe me when I tell you, she doesn’t fucking know what she is.”

Cassian whistled. “Damn, brother,” he said, his voice full of amusement. “Why are you so on edge?”

Azriel snapped his head toward Cassian. The other male wiggled his eyebrows, a silent taunt for Az that said, Come and get me. Get it out of your system before you make a fool of yourself.

Az planted a foot on the ground, meaning to take Cass up on his silent offer, but a small hand wrapping around his wrist stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head, only to be met with your steady gaze. Just like that, his heart rate calmed, his breathing slowed.

Calm down, his shadows whispered. Our mate is scared.

“I think,” Nesta said, her voice echoing through the now-silent room, “that we all need to sit down and have a normal fucking conversation.” She looked at Cassian, Azriel, and then Rhys, her eyes as sharp as a dagger. “Can the three of you handle that?”

After a beat of silence, the three of them nodded. Azriel took his seat, Cassian went back to nibbling on toast, and Rhys leaned back in his chair.

“Good.” Nesta turned to you, her face warm and open, so unlike her usual demeanor. “Now, you said there was no magic where you are from. If that’s the case, how did Azriel show up in your world?”

You shook your head, your hand still tight on Azriel’s wrist. “I don’t know. He just… showed up one night.” You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your hair. “We tried to find answers while we were there, but we got nothing. We only met a weird artist and a lady who threw epic masquerades.”

Azriel paused. He had told his family about the bigger details, like falling through the portal and you going up in flames like a wildfire. But he hadn’t told them about Serena or Mama Laveau. Maybe his family knew something he didn’t?

“The artist,” Azriel said, his voice low. “Her name was Serena. She said she had dreams and visions of Prythian, and she painted them.” He turned his head toward Rhys. “She painted Velaris, Rhys. It looked like she had been here before, but she said she hadn’t.”

Elain spoke up, her voice soft. “Was she a seer?”

“I don’t think so,” Azriel responded. “She said she came from witches and warlocks, whatever that is. But yes, I think she was human.”

“And what about this woman who threw masquerade balls?” Rhys asked, his brows raised. If the fact that a woman from another world knew about Velaris bothered him, Rhys didn’t show it. “What about her?”

“Mama Laveau,” you said. “She was… strange. There was something about her that was different. Serena seemed odd, too, but this woman was..” You shivered slightly. Azriel hadn’t been aware that she had affected you that much.

But then again, the two of you hadn’t really had time to talk about that before everything went to shit.

“She mentioned something,” you continued on, turning your head to Azriel. Your brows were furrowed in confusion as you tried to recall what was said. “What was it she said, Azzy?”

Azriel swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “The World Walkers.” He turned to Cassian. “Do you remember Firewine?”

Cassian grimaced. “That shit that made me puke for two days? Yeah, I remember that stuff, even though I wish to forget it.”

Azriel pressed on, “She had some. She said she got it from a World Walker.” Az shook his head, his mind suddenly feeling clearer than it had in days. “There is no way she could have had that unless there was someone from Prythian who gave it to her.”

“What are World Walkers?” Lucien asked, his face twisted up in confusion, as well as something almost like fear. Azriel wondered if he sometimes regretted getting involved in the Night Court’s drama. “Did she ever explain what that is?”

“No,” you murmured. “She did not.” Your expression was one of defeat, and Azriel knew what you were feeling. You felt like the two of you had failed in trying to figure out why he landed on your doorstep. He felt the same way, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on that, not when so much was at stake right now.

“Hey,” he murmured to you, his voice low. “We got something, Y/N. We will figure out the rest. I promise.”

You offered him a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “Okay.”

“We need to figure out the rest sooner rather than later,” Rhys said, standing up from his chair. “Things here are bad, Az. I know Cassian has told you some of it, but things are worse than you can imagine.”

“Then enlighten me,” Az snapped back, still on edge from earlier. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I know I haven’t been present these last few days, but now that Y/N is awake, I’m all ears.”

Rhys glanced over to you, his eyes wary. “Perhaps we could talk about it in my office?”

“I think you should talk about it here,” Elain cut in. “Y/N lives here now, so she should know. There’s no point in hiding it from her.”

Azriel nodded his head toward Elain, silently thanking her for saying what was on his mind. Feyre glanced up at her mate. “Elain is right. She should know, Rhys.”

Rhys sighed. “Alright,” he grumbled as he sat back down. He raked a hand through his black hair, and Az noticed the slight tremble in it. “You know how all of this has affected us, especially our magic. I know Cass told you about the Illyrians. But it’s more than that.” Rhys took an unsteady breath. “The magic is… going away. There have been reports of the land dying. Creatures in the woods have been found, but the only thing left of them is their rotting corpses and the scent of something dark and wrong. Crime throughout the courts has risen. Riots have started. We’re on the brink of another war, Az, and we’re not on the winning side this time.”

Rhys’s words hung in the air like a dark cloud. Azriel felt his heart stutter in his chest, and his ears started to ring. A chill crept into his bones as he pondered what could be causing this. He had faced darkness in his life, more darkness than most people. He had fought in wars and seen the worst that life had to offer.

Still, nothing in his centuries of living could compare to the fear he felt right now.

“The magic is going away?” Azriel asked, his voice almost a whisper. “How is that possible?”

Rhys shook his head. “We don’t know. It’s like someone, or something, is stealing it. That’s all we’ve been able to come up with.”

Azriel felt your body lock up beside him. “Mathias,” you hissed, your voice full of disgust.” He mentioned a queen. He said the queen had requested my presence.” You tightened your hold on his wrist. “Do you think that has to do with any of this?”

“There are no queens here, other than the Mortal Queens,” Azriel responded.

“The Mortal Queens wouldn’t do this.” Lucien’s voice was hard. He had spent much time with Vassa, so out of anyone, he would know if they were capable of something like this.

Feyre’s face paled. “Do you think Amarantha-“

Rhys growled lowly. “No. She is dead. You know that as well as I do, Feyre.”

“What if she had someone on her side? What if she had been planning this before she died?” Feyre asked biting her lip.

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice dripped with command. It was the voice he used only when he was trying to deal with the Illyrians who wouldn’t listen. “I will not sit here and listen to that bitch’s name be spoken in this house.” He glanced over to Rhys and Feyre. “Especially not by the two of you.”

Nesta cocked her head to the side, her eyes on your face. “Who is Mathias?”

“He was a man that moved in next door to my parents.” You swallowed. “And he was the one who killed them.”

“He wasn’t human,” Azriel said. “He appeared to be human, but he was glamoured. When he removed it, I felt his power. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever experienced, other than what I felt in the Whispering Woods.”

“And he mentioned a queen who wants Y/N?” Elain asked, her eyes locked onto you. She had a strange look on her face, as if she could see something the rest of them couldn’t.

“Yes,” you mumbled. “He wanted to bring me back here, to Prythian.”

The room was filled with voices, all questions directed to you and Azriel. Why did he want you? Where did he go? How could you let him get away, Az?

Azriel was about to stand and yell at his family to shut the fuck up. He could see the stress on your face, the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks. He needed to tell you more about his world before his family scared you so much that you decided to find the fastest way out of here.

He had just placed his hands on the table, pushing himself out of his seat, when Elain’s eyes went white, her expression going blank.

“She walks in the shadows of mountains. Her breath is death and decay. Her smile is sharper than any blade, and she is coming for what is hers.” Elain’s voice was no longer hers, carrying with it something dark and sinister.

Lucien reached over, placing his hand on his mate’s shoulder. “Elain,” he murmured. “What do you see?”

“Mountains. Snow. A throne. A sword.” Elain’s eyes refocused, her gaze still on you. “I see you, too, Y/N. She’s coming for you.”

You shuddered. “I don’t- I’m not-“ You started to tremble as you spoke, your eyes wide. “I’m just a girl from New Orleans! I’m nothing!”

Azriel pulled you into his arms, holding your shaking body against his. “You’re everything, fyrvor,” he whispered. “I won’t let her take you. Nothing will happen to you. Do you understand me?”

You pulled away, raising your face up to his. At that moment, the dining room and his family melted away. It was only you. You were the center of his being, his entire world. He could feel the bond in his chest, glowing so brightly that it almost took his breath away.

“You promise?” you asked in a small voice, so broken, so fragile.

He ran a hand down your cheek, savoring your warmth against his scarred flesh. “I promise.”

“Well,” Cassian drawled, “this is all very endearing. Really, it warms my heart. But we still know nothing about this queen, or what she wants with Y/N.”

Azriel forced himself back into reality, turning his head to face his family. Lucien was holding Elain, who was staring at her food. Rhys and Feyre were pale, eyes on each other, no doubt talking to each other with their minds. Nesta was the only one who seemed unphased by the whole situation.

“I’ve faced one evil queen,” she said with a shrug. “I think I can handle another one.” She smiled darkly, her eyes glancing over to Ataraxia where it leaned against the far wall.

“Azriel,” Rhys said. “Can you check in with your spies? See if they have heard of a queen amongst the courts?”

Azriel nodded numbly. He didn’t want to leave you, not now. But he still had a job to do, and he had to trust that his family would protect you while he was gone. “Yes. I can leave after breakfast.”

“Then it’s settled,” Nesta said, rising from her chair. She smiled at you, her eyes bright. “I’m assuming you want to know more about our world, Y/N. About magic and all of that. But tell me,” she said, leaning forward slightly, “have you ever heard of a Pegasus?”

---

The Pegasus, it seemed, was a rare creature here in Prythian. According to Nesta, it came from this place called “The Prison,” and the only remaining two in existence belonged to some guy named Helion.

“So, you’ve never seen one?” you asked Nesta. The two of you were sitting in the living room of the River House. The room was warm, smelling faintly of citrus and jasmine. After breakfast, everyone had gone their separate ways. Elain and Lucien had wandered into the gardens, Rhys to his office, and Feyre to her painting studio. Cassian went back to this place called the House of Wind, saying that he could not miss another day of training.

Only Nesta had stayed with you, choosing to keep you company in Azriel’s absence.

Nesta shook her head. “I’ve seen a miniature Pegasus, but never the real thing. My friends and I would be very happy to see one, to say the least.”

You hummed as you looked around the room, your eyes wandering as you took in everything around you. Rhys and Feyre were rich as hell, no doubt. You had never seen a house that was so well furnished. Somehow, though, it all looked cozy despite the grandeur of the place.

A part of you wanted to curl up in this chair and sleep for an eternity, hoping that you would wake up and this nightmare would be over. You knew that wouldn’t happen, no matter how much you wished for it. Whatever was happening in Prythian, whomever this queen was… It was your problem now, and sleeping wouldn’t solve it.

Your eyes caught a small object sitting on the floor next to the fireplace. It appeared to be a tiny sword, small enough that a child would be the one to play with it. “Is there a child here?” you asked Nesta, who was quietly sipping her tea.

“Yes,” she said. “Rhys and Feyre have a son named Nyx. He is here in the house, but he’s been napping all morning.” Her voice was tight, and you could tell she was lying.

“It’s alright, you know. You can tell me that Rhys and Feyre don’t trust me enough to bring their kid around. I get it.”

Nesta smiled sadly. She leaned forward and placed her tea on the small table next to her chair. “We’ve been through a lot these last few years. They will come around. Just give them time.”

Your eyes snapped to Nesta. There was something about this female that settled your nerves. You could tell she was powerful, that something different lurked beneath her skin, but it didn’t scare you. “Do you trust me?”

“I do.” Nesta crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know you, but I can tell that what you say is the truth, about not knowing what you are. Besides,” she said, a smile forming on her face, “if Azriel trusts you, and that male trusts nobody, who am I to argue with that?”

The mention of Azriel caused your heart to clench. Immediately after breakfast, he had pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before leaving to meet with his spies, whatever that meant. You missed him, even though it had only been a few hours since he had left.

“When do you think he will be back?” you asked, forcing your voice to remain steady.

“I’m not sure,” Nesta said with a shrug. “Hopefully he doesn’t wander into another portal while he’s gone.”

Your chest tightened at the thought of Azriel leaving, an unsettling mix of fear and anxiety setting in you. The thought of him landing on another girl’s doorstep made you want to sob. “What if he doesn’t come back this time?” you whispered, the words slipping out before you could catch them.

“Azriel will come back, Y/N,” Nesta murmured, leaning forward to place a hand on your knee. Her touch was oddly comforting. “This is Azriel’s job. He’s Rhysand’s spymaster, and he needs to see what he can find out about this whole ordeal.”

You nodded, but the sinking feeling in your chest didn’t go away. The room was filled with silence after that, save for the sound of the wind softly howling against the windows. You looked toward the city- Velaris- the one Serena had painted. It was beautiful, to say the least. You could see the river winding through the city, and you could make out the forms of people as they walked, completely oblivious to whatever dark forces were at work here.

Your mind wandered to Azriel’s family. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain seemed nice enough, and Cassian reminded you of the gym-obsessed frat boys you had met during your college tours. Rhys seemed… on edge, but you couldn’t blame him. You would probably act the same way if your court and people were at risk. You hoped he would warm up to you eventually.

Lucien didn’t seem to fit in here, but you could tell he was attached to Elain, his mate. Wait. What the hell is a mate?

“Nesta?” You turned your attention back to the female, who was busy stirring her tea.

“Hmm?”

You bit your lip, annoyed that you had so many questions. You always hated being around those who asked questions constantly, but now you were one of them. “What is a mate?”

Nesta’s gaze snapped to yours, her eyes like the color of a raging sea. “A mate is like a husband or a wife, but it’s more than that. It’s more of a soul-bond.” She placed her hand on her chest, right over her heart. “You can feel it here, like a pull or a tug, connecting you to them.”

You furrowed your brows. “So, like soulmates?”

Nesta smiled as she nodded her head. “Yes. I suppose that’s a good comparison.”

Your mind worked, thinking back to the conversation at breakfast. Rhys and Feyre were mates, and so were Lucien and Elain. Nesta had Cassian, so that left only one…

“Does Azriel have a mate?” you blurted out, unable to stop yourself. The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls closing in at the thought of Azriel being bonded to someone else like that.

“No,” Nesta said, “he doesn’t.” There was a shadow over her face, though, and you had the sinking feeling that there was something she wasn’t telling you.

You wanted to press more, but your heart couldn’t take it. You remembered the kiss at the ball, the way Azriel’s hands had caressed and held you like a lifeline. You couldn’t bear the thought of another being the one to receive such affection from him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you asked, hoping she didn’t notice the sudden change in conversation. “Elain has been kind, but everyone else has been keeping their distance. Why?”

She ran a finger around the rim of her teacup, her eyes suddenly filling with sadness. “I was human once,” she said, her voice low. “So was Feyre and Elain. We were forced into this life a few years ago, when other dark forces were at work in Prythian. We dealt with it in our own ways, of course. Feyre had Rhys to help her, and Elain, after suffering through depression, found her own way. I, on the other hand, did not deal with it all that well.”

You looked at Nesta. She was clearly not human, fully Fae, with her pointed ears and longer limbs. “What did you do?”

“I nearly drank myself to death. I also slept with at least half the males in Velaris,” she said, but there was no shame in her voice. She spoke like a woman who had been to hell and back and had come out on the other side triumphant. “Cassian and my friends helped me through it. So did Azriel. They helped me discover that this life isn’t as bad as it seems.”

She leaned forward then, her eyes locked onto your face. “I’m being nice to you because I know what it’s like to have your world turned completely upside down. I know what it’s like to be one thing one day, only to wake up and be something else. I watched my father die before my eyes, and I watched the others move on as if nothing happened.” She tilted her head to the side, her eyes soft. “The only difference, I suppose, is that I grew up in Prythian, unlike you.”

You were at a loss for words, your throat closing up. “I’m… sorry. I had no idea. I-“

Nesta raised a hand. “I figured Azriel hadn’t gotten around to telling you about that yet, so don’t feel bad,” she said.

“Do you miss it?” you asked. “Being human?”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she thought for a moment. “Sometimes I do, but I’ve gotten used to being Fae. I’m able to fight now, and I have a badass sword. I have Cassian and my friends, so I can say that I don’t miss it as much as I used to. “

You smiled softly. “I hope I can say the same thing one day.”

“You will, especially if Az has anything to do with it,” she said with a sharp laugh. Suddenly, she stopped herself, clearing her throat as if she had said too much. “I do have a question. Azriel told me about what happened at your parents’ house, more than he told the others, I think. He said you grew wings and went up in flames, that you healed him. What do you remember about that?”

“Mathias had killed my parents, and he was trying to kill Azriel,” you said with a shrug. “I don’t know… I just felt so much anger and rage. I felt something like a flame inside of me, begging to be let out, to grow.” You looked at Nesta, your gaze as cold as ice. “So, I let it out, and it grew.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Is that the flame that I see in your eyes? The one flickering like a small candle?”

Damn. Everyone could see it, then.

“Yes. I still feel it now,” you said, running a hand over your chest. “It’s stronger here, in Prythian. I don’t know what any of it means.”

“Hmm,” Nesta mused. “It must have been something, considered Az admitted it scared the shit out of him. Nothing scares that male, except for…” She trailed off, a small grin on her lips.

“Except for what?” You couldn’t imagine that Azriel, stoic and emotionless as he is, could be scared of something.

Nesta ran a finger along the arm of her chair. “Except for me,” she said frankly. “I have a different power, too, Y/N. Az can tell you the details of it all. But you should know that I am willing to help you. So is Elain, Lucien, and Cassian, and of course Azriel.” She sighed softly. “Even Rhys and Feyre will help, though their attention will be more focused on the bigger threat in Prythian. We can help you figure this out.”

For the first time since you arrived here, you felt a small flicker of hope bloom in your chest. Azriel’s family wasn’t all that bad, after all. You were thankful they were willing to offer their aid, despite the darkness surrounding their world.

You opened your mouth to express your gratitude, but you were cut off as the door to the living room opened, revealing the frame of a female you hadn’t met. She was incredibly beautiful, with a strong, curvy body that would send any male to his knees. She had brown eyes and flowing golden hair. She was wearing a pair of black pants paired with a silky red sweater threaded with gold.

She was easily the most beautiful female you had ever seen.

“I swear if I have to stay in that library for any longer today, I will lose my mind,” the female said as she gracefully glided into the room. She was rubbing her temples as if she had a throbbing headache. “It’s so dim in there. I don’t know how any of the priestesses see anything.”

Nesta gestured to the female, completely unbothered by her complaining. “Y/N, meet Morrigan.” She gestured to you with a hand. “Morrigan, meet Y/N.”

Morrigan pulled her hand away from her face as a beautiful smile bloomed on her full lips. “Oh! You’re Azriel’s Y/N!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been dying to meet you. But please, call me Mor.”

A part of you wondered just what had been said about you while you were unconscious. You weren’t Azriel’s anything, but you decided not to comment on it. “You weren’t at breakfast,” you said.

Mor sighed and took the extra seat between you and Nesta. “No. I was in the library trying to help Gwyn with her research about this whole mess.”

You wanted to ask who Gwyn was, but Nesta said, “Did you find anything? She said she had been researching ancient spells that could have something to do with the magic going away.”

Mor shook her head, causing long, blonde waves to fall over her shoulder. “No luck with that,” she said. “But we did find something strange. You know the map of Prythian that hangs on the wall next to Gwyn’s desk? You know, the small one that has been the same for thousands of years?”

Nesta nodded slowly, her eyes wary. “Yes. Gwyn said it had been there since before the library was even built. What about it?”

Mor reached into her back pocket and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. With long fingers, she unrolled it, laying it on the small table at the center of the chairs. “That,” she said, pointing to a spot at the top of the map, “was not there three days ago.”

You leaned forward in the chair, inspecting the map. It looked oddly like the maps you had seen of Europe, but it was outlined differently. You saw an island to the right of the mainland named Hybern. As your eyes scanned the paper, you saw the Mortal Lands, all of the courts. The court at the top was the Night Court, where you were now. Above that, you saw a mountain range called the Illyrian Mountains.

Mor’s finger was hovering over a black spot at the center of the mountain range. “In the centuries I have looked at maps of Prythian, I have never seen anything in the middle of those mountains.”

“What mountains?” came a deep voice from the doorway. Azriel stood there, his wings tucked in, those beautiful shadows swirling lazily around his body. One of the shadows darted out, moving over to you.

You smiled down at it as it wrapped itself around your wrist. “Hello to you, too,” you whispered to it.

Mor looked back at Azriel, her finger still on the map. “Az,” she greeted. “It seems we’ve had a recent change of geography in Prythian.”

Azriel walked into the room, looking every bit like a dark prince from a storybook. Your heart lurched as he bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “What do you mean, Mor?” he asked, but his attention was still on you.

“Look at this.” Mor pulled the map from the table, offering it to Az. “Look at the Illyrian Mountains.”

He kept his eyes on you as he took the map from Mor. He smiled at you as he looked down to study it, his brows creasing. “It looks like the mountains,” he said. “The same frozen wasteland that’s always there.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “No, you idiot.” She sat up and put her finger on the black dot. “There. That isn’t normally there.”

“Perhaps you got ink on it?” he said with a shrug, handing the paper back to Mor. “Nothing looks amiss to me. Then again, I try not to look at those mountains unless I have to.”

From the other chair, Nesta chuckled, her shoulders shaking as she tried to contain her laughter.

“Whatever,” Mor groaned, throwing up her hands. “I’m still going to take it to Rhys. Even if it is just an ink stain, he’ll need to get Gwyn a new map.” Mor stood and made for the door, stopping once she got to the threshold. She turned around, her eyes on you and Azriel. She had a soft expression on her face, like she was looking at something that brought her great happiness. “Hey, Nesta. Elain wanted me to ask if you could help her with something in the kitchen.”

Nesta glanced over to the blond female as she settled herself back onto the chair. “Right now?”

Mor nodded, her eyes as hard as granite. “Right now.”

“Fine,” Nesta mumbled, standing up and walking over to Mor. Her green dress swayed around her body as she walked, making her look regal. While Az looked like a dark prince from a fairytale, Nesta looked like a queen.

Once they were in the hallway, you heard Nesta say, “Just when things were getting good, too.”

Mor laughed. “Do you think he will tell her?”

Tell me what? You strained your ears to listen to the rest of their conversation, but you were distracted by Azriel as he placed his hands on your hips, pulling you into a hug. You melted into him, breathing in his scent, letting his warmth thaw out the chill that had settled into your bones.

“You’re back,” you mumbled into his leathers, your words barely understandable. “Find out anything?”

Azriel squeezed you once before pulling away, moving his hand up to cup your chin. “No,” he murmured. “My spies have been blinded. They haven’t heard of anything strange going on. At least nothing that we didn’t know already.”

You felt your heart sink at his words. You had hoped that he could find out something. “Back to the drawing board, then?”

“Mm hm,” Az said, moving his head down. As his lips pressed against yours, the world melted away. There was no horror or pain or darkness. There was only this moment with him, only his soft lips touching yours.

As the kiss started to grow, Azriel pulled away. You wanted to cry out in protest, but he placed a finger on your lips. “Are you tired?” he asked, his voice low.

You were tired, but you had been sleeping for days. You knew that you would be haunted by strange dreams if you went back to sleep, and you needed to do something, anything, to take your mind off things.

“Not really,” you admitted, smiling up at him, hoping he would believe you.

He returned your smile, his lips still swollen from kissing. “Good. I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight. I know things are… strange right now. But I want to try and make things normal for you. As much as I can anyway.”

You blinked at him, your chest filling with emotion. “What do you have in mind?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his slim waist.

He unfurled his wings slightly. “How do you feel about flying?”

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adonis-koo · 1 year ago

Text

wicked • 17

↳ Summary: In a desperate hope to stop war from breaking you are a serviced to wed the most vile man alive, the one who has committed atrocities and war crimes beyond comprehension, he who is responsible for the fall of many nations, the wicked prince who’s heart is made of stone. You are to marry a man who challenges every belief and moral you stand for, all while being faced in a foreign land with nobody but yourself too trust…But are you both truly that different? Or is hate not too far from love?

↳ Pairing: Jungkook/reader

↳ Genre: arranged marriage AU, enemies to lovers, it’s kind of a period AU??? Historical but also technically not? prince!AU, eventual smut

Word Count: 8k

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Note: it’s actually difficult to believe it’s been eight months since I’ve updated, went through two jobs, a friend group and a boyfriend who gaslit the absolute fuck out of me and made me experience female hysteria 😍 I wrote this chapter the night he broke up with me so it just has that nice little extra touch of ✨ intensity ✨ enjoy lovies and I will be back hopefully sooner then last time with another update

It felt wrong, packing a small case of clothes while so many things at the castle had yet to play out, and Wheein’s life was hanging in the balance of it.

You had no intentions to trudge your way to the barracks but here you were; early morning where all of the guards were training and the person you were looking for was watching them, hands on his hips as he called out to one of them to tighten their guard.

You hadn’t planned on talking to him today, but leaving without so much as saying a word felt wrong, and perhaps after everything that had happened you were searching for sober reassurance.

“Jungkook.”

Everybody froze at the sound of your voice, you ignored all the eyes on you, after having lived in Penumbra for almost a year, you had somewhere along the way gotten used to all of the eyes that constantly followed you.

The guards exchanged awkward glances with one another, Jungkook looked surprised by your appearance, eyes glancing over you as if you were a hallucination, but after a moment it was evident you weren’t going to disappear upon blinking.

He glanced between you and the guards before he waved them off, “Keep going.”

You couldn’t stand the hopeful look in his eyes, almost a bit bashful as you walked in line with him further away from the barracks, “How can you expect me to leave the castle when Wheein is in a dungeon? And furthermore sending your aunt to try and reconcile with me?”

Jungkook frowned, “Well I doubted you wanted to see me after my drunk display- which truth be told I hardly remember anything I said, and It’s probably for the best that I don’t, Y/n…” He sighed as he stopped, “It was only a suggestion, it crossed my mind about the estate because truthfully I think you would like it there, and it would be safe,” His hands tenderly grabbed your shoulders as your lips curled in anger but you said nothing, “And I think it would be good for you to put all of this out of your head for a few days. I’ll continue to handle things here and if things change with Wheein trust that I’ll be able to take care of it.”

Your expression didn’t change as Jungkook frowned, “I would also like to remind you that she’s been one of my closest friends since I was a child. You’re not the only one who cares for her.”

You begrudgingly looked away from him but your expression softened, a stab of guilt surging through your stomach at the realization that he was very much right, “I know, I’m sorry I just-”

“Don’t be,” Jungkook replied, “You have a mean bite but I can appreciate your loyalty. I can’t undo the past but I want to make things right. I…” Jungkook paused, looking hesitant his eyes darting away from you and then back to you once more.

You offered no words forcing him to sigh, as if it was difficult for him to admit, “I want to be with you Y/n, not as two people amicable due to marriage or friends on uneasy terms…” He bit down on his cheek, unable to hold your steely gaze as his hand hesitantly reached out, tenderly stroking along your jawline, “I want more than that with you, I want all of the fire and all of the rage, I want the pain, the hardships. I want you, all of you, every flaw that makes you, you.”

You hadn’t even realized your eyes had blurred until his thumbs were tenderly pushing your tears away, “Is this a declaration?”

“It’s a promise.” Jungkook’s eyes held such a softness in them filled with something you still felt uncertain to assume, “You told me that you wanted to bear the deepest parts of yourself to me, all of your insecurities, the parts you don’t like about yourself, the parts you may even hate, so I am standing here to tell you to show me, show me all of it, and I will still take you as you are.”

He was saying many overwhelming words to you, but you knew he was dancing around the most important word, you could see it in his eyes, how it lingered on the tip of his tongue.

But something was stopping him from truly confessing it.

Perhaps even after all of these months, it was still too soon.

Evidently so given your circumstances.

“I don’t want you away from me,” Jungkook admitted, a frown slowly forming on his lips, “But if that’s what it takes, I would wait a lifetime if it meant your forgiveness, if it meant a second chance to be with you.”

“Is that why you’re willing to send me away?” You sniffled, “Otherwise you’ll continue to drink and wake me up in the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t my finest moment,” Jungkook gave a weak smile, “But you can’t deny it got my point across didn’t it?”

Just his smile made something in you crumble, a vast desire to embrace him here and to forgive him, surely you could put this all behind you…?

But a bigger part of you didn’t want to rush this, you didn’t want to be complacent anymore, that was how you got into this situation, how you immediately jumped to Claudin’s offer rather than confide in the person you were married to.

It was such a raw feeling, you could feel it licking at your very soul, trying to tame your desire to throw all caution to the wind once more.

And for a brief moment you could feel Jungkook have the same reaction as you, as if it took every fiber in his being to not beg you to stay, you don’t know if you could stand your ground against him again if he came on as strong as he had last night.

“Just for a few days.” You whispered out as he frowned, giving you an understanding nod.

“You’ll love it there.” His hands finally let go of you, somewhat reluctantly.

And then it was silent for a long moment, tension still lingering in the air and both of you clearly hesitant.

“Then…I’ll see you in a few days.” You mumbled and Jungkook nodded once more. It felt like the ground was trying to engulf your feet as you turned around, feeling oddly empty at your goodbye, waiting for something that wouldn’t come.

What was it you had hoped for? A hug…?

Maybe a kiss…?

But then again, it felt as though you were no longer deserving of those things, Jungkook may have done things to hurt you but you had also done things to hurt him, how could you both love one another if you couldn’t trust one another first?

You wished Jungkook had reached out for you, to at least give you some form of affection before leaving, but he also knew this was true, and let you leave with no grief.

It left you feeling empty inside, but this was for the best.

You journeyed over horseback for the day, trying to leave your fretting heart behind as you nervously glanced back at the far away sight of the castle, what if something developed with Wheein?

You felt as though you were betraying her just by leaving, more than anything you were desperate to get her back, perhaps that was why Jungkook was sending you away, as if he sensed your desperation would only heighten the longer this went on.

Dare you say, he feared the worst might happen if you stayed.

Your grip tightened on your reigns, once more trying to put it out of your mind, taking a deep breath you took in the heady scent of the pine tree’s the surrounded you, the Estate was much closer to the mountains then you had anticipated, by midday you had journeyed far enough that snow had already reached the ground.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi had slowed his horse down to ride next to you, his eyes however still scoured ahead for possible danger.

“What do you mean?” You frowned as you glanced at his back, hearing a branch snap as your eyes darted towards the left of him.

Your faithful companion Fenrir having accidentally broke the branch he had been carrying in his mouth the past hour he had grown fond of, a whine leaving him in disappointment as he picked up the bigger side.

“Journeying away from the castle during these trying times…” Yoongi glanced back at you, a frown of his own, “It can’t be easy leaving with everything that’s happened.”

You didn’t reply for a long moment, Yoongi slowed down to ride beside you as he curiously took in your expression.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally relented, “It is difficult, but…After a long night, I figured this was probably best. It seems like my involvement in things only tends to make them worse. And truthfully there's no telling what lengths I’d go to at this point to get Wheein back.”

“Oh?” Yoongi looked curiosity once more, “I didn’t realize you had such a taste for danger.”

His joke made a smile finally tug on your lips, “Neither did I before coming to Penumbra. It seems this kingdom has a way of bringing out the primitive nature in me. But then again, it seems people have always looked down on me when I think of it.”

“On you?” Yoongi scoffed in amusement, “Dryad Matron of Eunoia? It’s difficult to believe, you’re like a pillar of light to the commonwealth of Penumbra, it used to drive the Prince nuts during your engagement.”

“It did…?” You peered somewhat hesitantly at him.

This made Yoongi grin, “Oh yes, when news of your engagement first broke out it had the people ecstatic, it had him gagging every second he heard good things of you.”

“This is hardly making me feel better…” You winced, though a small part of you was amused to hear this, though you wish you could say the same.

It always seemed to you that people in Penumbra didn’t fully grasp just how much people feared them on the outside world, instead poking fun at the titles they had earned as if it was a little joke.

The whole two years of your engagement are two years you’d rather die then live through again, the anxiety that kept you up at night, the endless amounts of tears you cried, the emptiness it left inside you how no one even tried to comfort you.

Looking back you understood, nobody wanted to feed you lies to comfort you, but at the time, you didn’t understand, it felt cruel.

“Not everyone feels that way about me, evidently from what I saw in the Underside.” You replied, somewhat reminiscing on the horrendous memory of the mock version of you.

“You shouldn’t pay that any mind,” Yoongi scoffed, “The humor is juvenile there, everything it stands for is juvenile, even it’s name; the Underside was a joke, a mockery meant for every royal that has to say it’s name with seriousness, point being- they don’t respect anyone who won’t give them money.”

You only shook your head, “It’s not just that though, there has always been a small part of people and court alike who haven’t liked me, even long before I was engaged to Jungkook. I was known for having a temper,” It made you smile wryly, “-The Bitch of Eunoia, that’s what they ran around calling me behind my back. It was horrendous in Kimhae.”

“Was it now?” Yoongi looked amused by this, “That in some ways does, and doesn’t surprise me.”

“The court ladies in Eunoia often liked to call me that as well. But it was very pronounced by Kimhae court men. When I was younger, I used to wear traditional Eunoian attire when i’d visit. Apparently shoulders and knee’s used to drive them crazy. I had one of the aristocrats boldly ask me if I was an exotic woman of the night, willing to pay for me.”

Yoongi’s jaw had dropped making you laugh as he gestured you on, “What did you say?”

“Something along the lines of calling him a perverted old man whom ought to have his loins cut off for making such a comment to a women- let alone a Princess.” The memory made you smile as you shook your head, “The Bitch of Eunoia…why is it men are allowed to be angry Yoongi? Why is it women are shamed so?”

Yoongi let out a hum, “This is indeed a good question, but perhap it’s because they know a woman's scorn could even bring heaven out of the sky. I’m not all too surprised about Kimhae- but you said Eunoians called you this as well?”

Your smile became saddened, “By many court ladies yes,” You scratched your cheek in thought, “I was always lonely as a child…the war took a toll on me, I was temperamental and childish. But the court ladies as children, also liked to mock me and egg me on. As we grew older they grew closer and I still stayed a distance away. They’d find any reason to pick me apart or give me more work to do. They were practically leaping for joy when the news broke that I was engaged.”

“Why do you think that was though?” Yoongi asked, “That they didn’t like you?”

You shrugged, you had never really thought about it much, rather you preferred to keep the past where it was rather then dwell on it, “I suppose it had a lot to do with the fact that while we were all training to be healers I excelled more at it, it came naturally to me and they ended up putting me in the tents before the others. They all assumed it was from favoritism…Maybe it was,” You pondered on this briefly, “I just remember thinking it wasn’t fair.”

“Fair?”

You didn’t elaborate on the word for a long moment, feeling something akin to guilt bubble in your stomach.

You glanced off into the distance where the mountains towered high, it made you feel so tiny in comparison to its greatness, and briefly you felt awe.

You always admired nature, how vast it was compared to you and all your humanly troubles, you turned to it and it’s kin when you needed comfort and in these moments you could turn to it when you were also troubled with words.

It was difficult to adequately explain to people the rage you had felt since you were a child, anger had always been in your bones, from the moment you were born. Your mother used to tell you, that when she gave birth, you had come out of her womb with a roaring cry.

You craved to be vulnerable, to be soft and tender, to be all the things you were not, and you were many things, just not those.

Many people people heard you, they just never listened, didn’t understand.

“I had a lot of resentment as a child, to everything, the war, my parents, our country. I didn’t want to be a healer, I didn’t want to have to watch people in my care die, I didn’t want to attend the burnings or hear the whales of agony and pain, the cries of mourning, the people who blamed me for not being able to save their loved ones.”

You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel haunted by those memories, watching the lifeforce leave someone's body as you tried to stop the bleeding, the maimed limbs and mangled bodies that were beyond your skill or help.

“I didn’t want to be made to go past our lesson times to keep studying, or made to go back in to practice when all the other girls were allowed to play. Or put in a tent over night while they all slept. It wasn’t fair.”You mumbled, perhaps still a lingering tone of resentment.

The past was the past, it couldn’t be changed, you had come to terms with this, but if you stopped and really thought about it, old feelings old eventually begin to resurface, it was why you tried so desperately to just forget about it.

At one time you blamed Penumbra, you hated it’s people for what they did, what they caused.

But then you married Jungkook and you journeyed here yourself, and saw with your own eyes, that these people, were simply people, who were also victims of their own royalty.

You felt the soft grip of a hand on your shoulder, “I am sorry, for what it’s worth,” Yoongi held a face of sympathy, “We all felt the same, or…I suppose a mutual feeling on the opposite side of things. Children being forced to enlist into a war we didn’t want to wage with little choice…”

You gently grabbed his hand giving it a small squeeze, a weak smile on your face, “It wasn’t fair for any of us. We’re all a bi-product of our parents' sins. It’s up to us now to break that cycle.”

You had arrived to the estate by nightfall and it was shrouded in tall pine and fir trees, the aroma had you closing your eyes for a moment to savor it, just as Jungkook said, it truly was beautiful.

Snow covered the ground in a few inches, and a chill was left in your bones, but you settled in rather nicely, Yoongi had managed to get a fire going rather quickly and it was quiet in the solitude of the estate.

For once, it was nice to be able to breathe without being watched.

The first two days had went by surprisingly quick, but you had found a natural rhythm in nature, you went on long peaceful walks, kept yourself wrapped in a blanket while sitting on the terrace taking in the crisp cool air.

You had even spent the evening watching the snowfall outside, enchanted at how it came in big fluttering puffy balls, you had heard of snow before, but you had never actually seen it fall from the sky, like a thousand little gifts from the heavens.

It was dull and gray out today, the same as it had been for the last week now, at the estate was unsurprisingly no different.

Today however you had Yoongi set up some haybales in the pit area where guards would typically be trained, it was run down now, old boxes used as storage had been broken down and were hazardously strewn everywhere, long nine inch rusty nails sticking out of wooden pieces at razor sharp jagged angles.

But with Yoongi’s help you both had piled it up safely away and got a decent bit of space ready for training.

“Too stiff-”

“Ah!”

It was a second too late, you had already released the string, sending the arrow flying, it had veered off target as the string slapped your forearm with a sharp snap causing you to drop it.

Fenrir suddenly popped up from the ground where he had been laid out the last half hour, head cocked in concern at the noise that escaped you.

“How many times do I have to tell you,” Yoongi groaned, “You can’t hold it with a stiff arm! Look at this!” He got up from his spot as he held up your arm by the wrist, “It looks like somebody gave you a lashing! Jungkook will have my head if it isn’t heal by tomorrow.”

Your lips twisted into a sulky pout, “I am trying!”

“Not hard enough that’s the fifth time within the hour,” Yoongi whistled out as he let you go, Fenrir walking up to you as he sniffed your hand, giving it a lick before nudging it.

You rubbed your forearm, that was undeniably sore and throbbing with pain before placing your hand on Fenrir’s head to give it a nice long rub.

He had grown remarkably big in the last month, almost as big as you now, just a five or six inches shorter, it made you give a sad frown, at how big he was and soon he’d become a monstrous size…

You’d simply have to build a bigger stable you supposed.

“Aim comes naturally but holding a weapon does not,” You sighed as you placed both your hands on Fenrir’s head, now giving him generous rubs and pats that had him giving a toothy puppy grin that made you smile, “I’ve practiced here and there with a bow but with everything going on, I just haven’t made it a priority.”

Yoongi sighed, “Natural ability will only get you so far, discipline if a far greater advantage Princess, thankfully we can start working on this daily, I think it’d be good for you to have a hobby.”

“I have hobbies.” You frowned as crossed your arms.

“Such as…?” Yoongi gestured.

“Well…” You could think of several as a matter of fact, but you had given them all up once you had moved to Penumbra, the thought made you frown in realization, you had been so caught up in all the highs and lows of your new life that it was true.

You had hobbies, you just never participated in any of them.

“I suppose it would do me some good to work on it,” You sighed as you relented, “I still feel a tad guilty though, shouldn’t I be honing my skill in swordsmanship? Jungkook once told me that it’s expected the Crowned Prince and Princess are supposed to be the best at it.”

“Well…” Yoongi stretched the word, “This is true but, I don’t think somebody is going to fault you for not being the best at it. I’d like to think it’s an expectation from those born in Penumbra, not those who marry in. Not only this but if you are inclined to another form of weaponry, then it’s as simple as that.

“As long as you have some form of sword training then it’ll do,” Yoongi shrugged, “What matters is personal protection, some training is better then none, but having a form of training you’re good at is even better.”

“You Penumbrian’s certainly like taking precautions.” You sighed wistfully as you picked up your bow once more.

“The more the better,” Yoongi said, “Guards are great, but what happens when you’re caught without any? Learning to defend yourself is vital.”

You glanced down at your bow, “I understand but…”

“But?” Yoongi asked.

“Well, I suppose a part of me just feels odd,” You replied, “I grew up being taught to save lives, not take them,” You rubbed your neck in uncertainty, “When I took the Dryad’s oath, it was a promise to myself and my ancestors that I would abstain from our carnal nature. That I would never take a life nor would I consume its flesh. Animal or human. Even though the chances of me having to defend myself in such a way are so low, it’s odd to train for it, after taking that oath and living by it my whole life.”

Yoongi let out a small smile, “Then don’t view it as such.”

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head.

“Sword play is considered an art form in Penumbra, you can view a bow in the same light. It’s quite a beautiful thing really, it’s not just aiming and shooting, it’s how you hold it, the type of arrow you use, the weight of your feet. A lot goes into it.”

You thought on this for a while before nodding, “I suppose you are right.”

“Min Yoongi! I’m looking for a Min Yoongi?”

A voice called out that had you both glancing around the courtyard before seeing the courier at the gates glancing around before meeting his gaze.

“Yes?” Yoongi called out, walking up to meet him.

“I have a letter for you sire! It was urgent from the court” The courier dug through his bag before handing it to him, giving a short bow to you and then departing.

You glanced at it anxiously as you exchanged a look with Yoongi, was this about Wheein?

Yoongi opened the letter, reading it before he sighed,

“What, what is it?” You asked, anxiety in your voice.

“It’s not about Wheein,” You let out a breath in relief as Yoongi continued, “But it is a request for help.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

Yoongi sighed, “There’s a watchtower just east of here, about an hour away give or take on horseback, apparently they’ve been dealing with a gang of bandits up there. Supposedly they’re going to siege the tower.”

“They can do that?” You asked in surprise.

Yoongi shrugged, “I suppose so, I don’t know what they think I can do about it.”

“Well you said you were an assassin before you became a knight? So surely that counts for something.” You said, setting down your bow on a lonely bale of hay.

Yoongi sighed as he folded the letter back up, “Even so, I won’t just leave you here by yourself.”

You frowned, “It’s only us here, and it’s secluded so I won’t be in any real danger, and you said it was only an hour away. I doubt you’d take long in taking them down.”

“Are you just trying to get rid of me?” Yoongi asked in mild amusement.

“I would never!” You said, “But I’d hate to see something unfortunate happen that could be prevented, you’re far closer then someone is to the castle. It would make the most sense for you to go.”

Yoongi sighed, “Even if I’m over cautious, it doesn’t sit right leaving you here all by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be alone!” You replied, grinning as you gave Fenrir a solid pat, “Fenrir will defend me! Jungkook and I have been working on commands. Sit!”

Fenrir immediately complied.

“Very fierce.” Yoongi said dryly.

You held up a finger, grabbing a piece of wooden box that was free of any nails off the ground, “Fenrir,” He perked up at his name, “Attack!” You threw it causing his gaze to follow it with a loud snarling howl, his jaws crunching the board in half immediately grabbing the smaller end.

Running back to you before dropping down on his front paws, tail wagging as he tried to get you to chase him.

Yoongi looked a bit more startled at the thick board of wood that had been crushed as he nodded, “Okay, a little more fierce than before…” Yoongi thought about it for a long moment, “I suppose if I left now I would make it back by supper….Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

You gave him a small smile, “It’s only a few hours, I think I’ll be able to manage.”

Yoongi still seemed hesitant but he nodded, “I’ll go gather a few things then and be off. The sooner I leave the sooner I’ll be back.”

“It’s one night,” You smiled, “And then we’ll be back at the castle tomorrow.”

You had waved Yoongi off before you continued on with your day.

Spending another few hours training with your bow you had eventually given up once the string of your bow hit a particularly sensitive spot on your forearm.

The rest of your day had been spent taking walks along the trail’s with Fenrir before eventually settling inside, roaming the halls and exploring empty rooms.

And eventually the afternoon came.

But slowly the sun began to set and a vague feeling of dread followed along with it.

Yoongi…would’ve been back by now, right?

Or perhaps it took him longer to clear out the bandits.

You nodded at this as you stayed curled up in your large chair, Fenrir curled up beneath your feet as he let out a sigh, as if sensing your discomfort and unsatisfied with it.

Continuing to read, time went on and soon the sun had set.

You had managed to get a fire going on your own and had lit the candles in the hall, making the estate feel less consuming then it had before but it didn’t quell your anxiousness as the hour went on later.

Yoongi would certainly be back by now…

You were certain you’d manage the commute back to the castle if you had too but…You wouldn’t feel right just leaving without him, but you also had no way of sending a message to the castle for help without going back yourself.

You felt at a loss for what to do, as you roamed the main hall, pausing at the sound of the gate opening. Opening the doorway you hurried out to the courtyard.

“Yoongi, I’ve been waiting all day, you worried me sick!” You stopped short at the sight ahead of you.

“Not who you were expecting?”

Di Jin’s smug smile was the last thing you saw before the sudden blow to your head caused your vision to go dark.

“You look lost.” Jimin commented as he plopped in a seat right next to his dearest friend, both sat out for breakfast on the terrace.

“Was it a good idea sending her to the Estate?” Jungkook stared down in hard contemplation, his food untouched, “If something happens I won’t be able too…!”

He inhaled sharply as he forced himself to lean back in his chair, but despite the motion his body refused to relax.

You had left two days ago and he felt a void ever since.

Jungkook didn’t realize how much your presence had filled every inch of the castle until you had left, and now, he felt utterly useless, it was one thing for you to be mad at him, it was another for you to be gone.

Jimin looked amused but felt bad for him nonetheless, “Nothing is going to happen to her, the estate is nice and tucked away, the entire court has forgotten about it anyways, it hasn’t been used in years. You did a good thing.”

“Did I?” Jungkook finally slumped.

He had been constantly replaying his last memory of you, the conversation you both had before you left, the memory of you looking up at him for a long moment as if silently yearning for some form of affection.

It left Jungkook’s hands twitching and an unfamiliar ache in his chest, he couldn’t even describe how it felt. And he was honest when he spoke with you the night before, true he didn’t remember much, but what he did remember was straight from his heart, he thought he knew many things.

But after meeting you he found out quickly that he knew nothing at all.

Tomorrow, surely you’d be back tomorrow. You hadn’t given him an exact timeframe, but surely when you said a few days, you had meant no more then three?

“What if I-”

“No.” Jimin cut him off, “The whole point of her going was to get out of the castle and by default away from you. Not only that but what if something happened to Wheein while you were gone?”

Jungkook sunk back in his chair, that was right…He had promised you he would take care of anything that might possibly happen.

He wouldn’t let you down.

“Have you found any evidence yet?” Jungkook lowered his voice, his gaze lingering on the far side of the table where Claudin had been dining with a group of court ladies.

Jimin frowned, “Yes but the problem is getting it open,” He huffed, “I was able to slip into his room last night, it was empty but he has a lock box beneath a hollowed broken floorboard piece, seems he was in a hurry when he left, otherwise it wouldn’t have been left afar.

“Regardless I haven’t been able to crack the lock. Whatever is in there, it has a master’s lock on it. I’ll need at least another dozen picks before I even come close to cracking it.”

Jungkook sighed as he shook his head in disdain, “Of course when we need Yoongi he’s gone.”

Their elder would be able to open it within the hour if he was here.

Jimin frowned as well, “I’ll try again this afternoon.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, “That’s early for you.”

“We’re running out of time Jungkook,” Jimin sighed, sinking back into his chair as well, eyeing Claudin with a certain wryness, “I keep hearing stirrings from the guards about how they’ve narrowed their search, but they’re hellbent on saying it was Wheein.”

“Sire,”

They both paused at the sight of Taehyun, a frown on his face as he glanced between them both, an anxious look as he bowed slightly, “It’s the council…they’ve summoned you. It doesn’t sound good, you should come as well Jimin.”

Jungkook glanced at his friend but said nothing as he stood up, not liking this one bit.

The walk to the throne room was swift and Jungkook wasted no time in arriving, the other council members had just arrived as well.

Clearly he wasn’t the only one uncertain of what was going on, other members had started hushing whispers to one another, all glancing in Jungkook’s direction occasionally as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he glanced at the empty throne the seats on its left occupied by his aunt and uncle whispering to one another.

They both glanced at him once before quickly looking away.

The tension felt suffocating and the longer it lasted the more anxious Jungkook felt, seconds turned into minutes and the whispers began to get louder.

And all within a moment, the doors open and a sweepingly silence took over the room save for the sound of boots against the ground. Dae Seong walked with confience in every step before standing before everyone on the throne.

“It is with confidence I have come to announce something of the utmost importance,” His voice boomed, “The attempted assassination on our Crowned Princess, was indeed committed by her maid Jung Wheein, we have reason enough to believe it was her as all the evidence points as such. Her form of punishment will be burning at the stake, tonight at the height of the moon. I ask you all join me on this divine distribution of punishment,”

Groaning softly your vision was blurry at first, and the first person to appear in your vision was not who you expected.

“Not so quick witted now are you Eunoian Bitch,” Seohyun sneered, her smirking figure beneath you as your vision of her doubled.

Your mind was confused as you only remembered Di Jin being here, your eyes closed briefly only for a sharp pain to spread through your side that you recognized as being kicked in the side by her.

Groaning your eyes opened and her eyes beaded, sneering at you as another voice spoke, “Come along now Seohyun, why don’t you go see if that insufferable knight has managed to come back yet, I will finish our business here.”

She eyed you warily but said no more as she left and soon Di Jin stood in front of you, “You have truly been a pain in my ass since I was enlisted to kill you, I only hope you realize that.”

There was no remorse in his eyes as he pulled the wickedly curved knife from it’s sheath and a sadistic smile curled on his face, “Don’t worry Princess, i’ll make sure you have a slow miserable death.”

Despite your sluggish movements, adrenaline had shot in your veins as you realized you were about to die, you had too much to live for still. You needed to see what would come of Eunoia, you needed to make sure Wheein was okay, that you would keep your promise to Jungkook.

You couldn’t die, and you would fight if it meant living to see it.

Your mind was slowly coming out of it’s haze as Di Jin stepped closer to you, realizing you were in the courtyard near the hay bales, the pile you had cleaned early next to you, your arm reached over to grab one of the planks, three long rusted nails sticking out of it.

You swung it with as much force as you could towards his legs, it made contact, the nail piercing his skin with a wet noise as he cried out in pain, falling back on the ground as he growled out. “You dumb bitch, a pain until the end!”

You attempted to crawl away, heart pounding in your ears as you scurried but he was still too mobile, yanking the plank out of his leg with a growl of pain as he managed to get on top of you, you caught his wrists as he attempted to plunge the knife in your throat, “I’ll enjoy watching the life leave your eyes. I’ll be sure to bring your head back for your little husband to see one last time.”

Your strength was already failing as you winced out, the knife slowly coming closer to your skin as you whimpered out as it pierced the first layer of your flesh.

It was an indescrible pain that had you yelping in pain,

“I’ll make these last few moments the most excruciating and perhaps if you beg me enough, I might just end your pathetic little life girl,” Di Jin grinned leaning in closer, “Maybe if you beg me more i��ll give you a little more than just a long death.”

He pushed the knife a little deeper as blood spilled from your skin making you cry out, his body weighing heavier on yours and his lips suddenly pressing to your ear, “Something tells me you’d prefer that over this.”

Something about his lips pressing against your skin lit something primal inside of you, every sense heightened inside you as your lips parted taking a wide bite into his neck, you could taste it first, the metallic flavor of blood running across your tongue and dripping down your throat and then his skin was next, uncomfortably soft and tender and next was the cartilage, it was rubbery and had hard bits in it, next was the sensation of something warm and wet against your face.

Di Jin could no longer properly speak, his grip suddenly loosened on the knife as you yanked the large chunk of flesh straight from his neck, grabbing the knife as you yanked it away shoving him down as you managed to get on top of him.

The chunk missing from his neck was ghastly, blood pooling on the ground, oozing everywhere and squirting from various places and he was gagging loudly, choking on his own blood.

Anger trembled in your body, it wasn’t enough, even with chunks of flesh missing and blood covering your face, skin hanging and cartilage visible it still wasn’t enough, before you could even think you plunged the knife into his neck, eyes blurring as you watched him gurgle, choking on his own blood as the life left his eyes.

Your hands were shaking as you waited for him to jump back to life to kill you, and then you slowly realized your vision was blurred from tears, your heart pounding as you took a shaky breath yanking the knife out of his neck before you let out blood curdling scream slamming it back in his neck again.

Jungkook’s betrayal.

Wheein being taken.

Exiled from your own kingdom.

Being forced to wed.

Made into a healer as a child.

Bone.

Blood.

Ash.

The mourning bells rang in your head and you could vividly taste the metallic on your tongue stronger than ever as the taste of raw flesh lingered in your throat.

Blood splattered upward as you stabbed the spot over again, all of the rage searing in your veins as Di Jin’s form became disfigured, his neck nearly separating his head from his body as you shoved the knife in deeper.

Hearing the wet gurgling noise as you heaved a breath, staring at his cold dead eyes staring back at you, the next scream was not your own, but it came closer within seconds before the door to the estate opened.

Seohyun was heavily bleeding from her left thigh, sporting a large bite as a loud snarl came from inside the door, shakily you stood up, “Fenrir, wait.”

The large wolf paused, and that's when you noticed the large gash on his leg, causing him to limp, rage quelled in your veins again as you limped over, Seohyun looked pale a ghost at the sight of you.

From the moment this woman met you, she had given you nothing but grief, attempted to humiliate you, belittle you, try to win a lost battle, attempt to kill you, and now she had hurt your precious companion.

Even with a mangled body behind you, it still wasn’t enough.

Tripping over her own two feet she fell down as you walked over, “We can talk about this Y/n!” Her eyes were as big as saucers, “Please! I’ll leave Penumbra and- and never come back.”

You felt nothing for her as you stood above her, watching pathetic tears drip down her face for a long moment, finally you knelt down, “If Penumbra has taught me anything Seohyun, It’s that some people do not deserve my forgiveness, nor my kindness.”

Her lips parted rapidly, her throat scratchy, and for the first time, you saw genuine fear in her eyes, “B-but you’re a Eunoian,”

Her words were pointed, bargaining, pleading even- if you listened close enough, “Eunoian’s don’t kill.”

Your lips slowly lifted into a joyless smile as you let out an uneasy laugh, “Well,” Your smile dropped, your hands were still shaky, unbridled rage still taunt in your veins.

The primal urge of need to prove her wrong, prove all of them wrong, that you would never again be looked down upon as weak or underestimated.

Your hand grabbed her neck, causing her to let out a choked sob as you squeezed it tight enough to choke her airway, yanking her nearly nose to nose with you.

“We’re not in Eunoia, are we?” Your nails dug into her neck, not stopping until you felt the blood from her skin oozing, you shoved her back before you stood up, ignoring her blubbering, tears trickling down her face as you walked away, “Fenrir.”

“Please!”

He let out a growl, “Attack.”

Her cries of agony were left of deaf ears as you walked back over to the corpse of Di Jin grabbing the knife from his neck and yanking it out before taking the sheath that went with it, adjusting it on your waist.

Collapsing on the ground away from him you noticed your hands for the first time, shaking, trembling as your vision blurred once more, scarred and covered in blood, just what had you done?

Fenrir’s mouth was covered in blood, but the whine didn’t escape your ears as he tenderly tried to sit down in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You ushered, grief strong in your voice though uncertain of who it was for, yourself, your country, your companion, you reached out for him, gently rubbing your hand down his neck, “But we have a long journey ahead of us Fenrir.”

The bells were ringing and a somber air had taken over, Jungkook had nearly lost his entire wits, his father had banished him from the room, not wanting to hear another word from him about this.

Being told he was too sentimental fell on deaf ears, he didn’t care, it was his friend, it was injustice, it was corrupt. He hated it, he hated that despite being the crowned prince, his son, his father simply didn’t care.

All Jungkook could do was wait for Jimin to unlock this damn box. But it felt as though it was too late, he was banned from so much as leaving his room, guards at his door there to keep him boxed in but this wouldn’t stop him.

pulling the cloak over his head, he opened the window, the bricks were jagged and uneven enough that he could easily climb down, he did it often when he was younger, much to the blindness of his father.

Scaling the wall, Jungkook got down, feet planted firmly on the ground as he kept the hood over his head tight as he made his way to the courtyard. A crowd had gathered, all wanting to witness the supposed assassin.

Nobody paid mind to him with his identity concealed, it would be soon now. If he couldn’t get evidence to get Wheein out, then Jungkook would take matters into his own hand. He didn’t want to have Wheein leave Penumbra, but if this is what it took to keep her safe until her innocence was proven, this is what he would do.

He owed so much of his existence to her, he couldn’t let this happen.

He wasn’t going to let this happen.

The bells stopped as Dae Seong stood up from his throne on the wooden stage they had set up, “We have all gathered here to see the execution of the assassin who tried to kill our crowned princess! Her very own handmaid, this is the killer, our own flesh and blood, and the punishment for a traitorous woman is fitting, burning of the steak!”

Wheein was brought out, her hands tied behind her back, her eyes had dark circles and she was crying as she shook her head, “Please! I would never do that to Penumbra! To Y/n! Please you have to believe me!”

But her cries were in vein as the crowd boo’d her, all shouting vile words her way as they dragged her down to the large wooden steak pyre that had been set up.

Jungkook shifted in his spot as he watched them begin to tie her up.

“Are there any last words you would like to impart to us traitor?” Dae Seong looked at her with pure disgust.

Wheein’s lips quivered as she parted them.

A loud bloodcurdling scream interrupted her before she could speak, the crowd tensed and everyone seemed alert, Jungkook was towards the front, having intended on getting her off there the right moment, but he quickly turned around to see people quickly departing and creating a path.

And the next thing he saw was hardly comprehensible.

You, covered in blood, your face was a horrific sight with it’s dried crimson color covering your mouth all the way down your neck, but what was even more horrifying was what was next to you, Fenrir limping beside you, a corpse held in his mouth.

Women screamed and men gasped in horror as they all moved.

The looks on the royals faces were indescribable, Dae Seong most of all, “What is the meaning of this?”

You stopped in front of the throne, Fenrir as if knowing this was the destination, dropped the body from his jaws, it smacked the ground with a wet echo, the head finally detaching from the body as it rolled towards Dae Seong.

You don’t think you had ever seen an expression quite like what Dae Seong had, and you were sure this would be the only time.

It was silent for a long moment before you finally spoke, your throat raw and scratchy, “That’s your assassin, he tried to kill me again just hours ago.”

Dae Seong’s look of shock slowly twisted into one of rage, “Where is your proof of this!” He stood up from his throne towering over you with a growl, “What does a girl like you have meddling in business you don’t understand and taking the lives of those who were helping!”

“Am I standing in front of you not proof enough?” You snarled back, “From the moment I have come to this kingdom I have been nothing but disrespected, disregarded, used, and seen as nothing more than a tool to further someone’s agenda. And i’m sick of it.”

“Even when it comes to my own life, you stand in front of me questioning it!”

“Why I ought too!-”

“I have it!” A voice cried out, Jimin was running from the side entrance of the courtyard, a notebook in his hand as he panted, his eyes widening when they set on you, ‘Y/n!? Are you okay? I have it, I have proof that Di Jin was the assassin! Here, your majesty.”

Dae Seong snatched it with a certain level of venom as he looked through the book, but slowly as his eyes read through, an unreadable look took over his face.

Exhaustion began to take over, your body beginning to sway.

Dae Seong closed the book with a sense of finality, “Very well,” He aid with gritted teeth, anger still simmering in his eyes, “Perhaps, you do have the grit to survive here princess.”

You didn’t hear his words though, your gaze had went down to the body of Di Jin, and swaying backwards you collapsed into an abyss of darkness, nothing more then multiple people calling your name.

#bts #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader smut #prince!jungkook #bts au #Jungkook imagine

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alxtiny · 1 month ago

Text

Ad Astra per Aspera

Episode 4

Pairing: Pirate!Ateez x Navigator!reader

Genre: pirate!au, fluff, angst, maybe smut

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: none?

Notes: its here woohoo 🥳 i’m lazy please understand, also maps been updated for this chapter

Playlist : wonder by shawn mendes | this side of paradise by coyote theory | in the kitchen by mree

Series Masterlist | Episode 5 | Episode 3

When the first light of dawn started creeping in, it stirred you from your slumber, and you blinked your eyes open to a fresh new day. For a moment, you wondered if last night had been just a dream, considering how you felt renewed and well rested.

But as you shifted, you became aware of something—or rather someone—behind you. You froze, realising you were nestled snugly in Yunho's arms, his head resting against your back and his arm tucked underneath your head. Your legs were tangled together in a dangerous dance that left you more flustered than you’d care to admit. You slowly pulled yourself away and turned around, staring at him for a second, taking in his peaceful expression, his flushed cheeks, and messy hair. He looked so… soft, you brushed away a few strands from his face, the ticklish feeling making him twitch.

His movement made you panic, and you quickly shot up from the mattress, almost losing your balance as you did so. The sudden jerks caused Yunho to awaken, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked, looking at you with a sleepy, lopsided smile that made your heart race.

"Good morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. He looked like a sleepy puppy.

"H-hi, good morning," you stammered, feeling your face heat up. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was aware of how close you had been.

Yunho stretched lazily, his long limbs extending out as he groaned. His tunic rose slightly, exposing a glimpse of his toned midriff, which only made your blush deepen. You quickly looked away, trying to compose yourself.

"We should probably go back up," you said, your voice a little shaky.

Yunho smiled again. "Yeah… let’s go before the others start wondering where we’ve been," he teased lightly, pushing himself to his feet and smoothing down his hair.

As Yunho flipped a few switches, the room began to transform back to its original state, the balcony retracting and the wall closing back up seamlessly. He gestured for you to follow him as he led the way back up the narrow passage. The ship was quiet, the crew likely still fast asleep, save for a few on night watch. Luckily, no one seemed to be around as you quietly made your way up and out of Yunho’s secret spot.

Once you were back on the deck, Yunho turned to you with a grin. "Alright, we’ve got a couple of hours before we need to get back to work. So, what do you want to do?"

You hesitated for a moment, still feeling tense because of the accidental cuddle, but Yunho didn’t seem to remember it at all. Maybe he hadn’t known, or maybe he was just brushing it off. Either way, it made the awkwardness dissipate a little.

"Well," you started softly, "I haven’t seen much of the ship yet. Maybe you could show me around?"

Yunho’s smile brightened, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "A tour of the ship? I can definitely do that!"

He stepped closer, his hands gently resting on your shoulders as he led you further across the deck. "Let’s start with the main deck. This is where most of the action happens during the day—sails, rigging, steering, all that fun stuff. Oh, and that’s where Hongjoong spends most of his time barking orders," Yunho said with a laugh, pointing toward the helm.

As he guided you through the ship, explaining each section with enthusiasm, you began to relax. The edge from earlier softening as Yunho’s cheery energy rubbed off on you. He showed you the various stations, the cabins, the weapons storage, and the little parts of the ship he liked the most.

By the time you went around and reached the bow of the ship, the sun had fully risen, sprinkling glitter over the water. Yunho leaned against the railing, looking out at the horizon.

"You know," he said, his voice softer now, "not many people get a personal tour of the ship directly from its engineer. It’s kind of special. That’s why I named it the Treasure."

You nodded, chuckling at his words, "I guess I’m lucky then.”

Yunho glanced at you, his eyes warm and gentle. "Yeah, I guess you are."

You stood together in silence for a while, watching the ocean stretch out before you, the ship cutting through the waves with ease. For the first time since being taken aboard, you didn’t feel like an outsider. You felt like you belonged, even if just for a moment. And standing there with Yunho, you couldn't help but think that maybe—just maybe—this strange, chaotic life might suit you well after all.

Unfortunately no moment lasts forever, as you and Yunho were abruptly interrupted by the loud voice of a crewman calling out for him. "Yunho! Captain’s asking for you!"

Yunho gave you an apologetic smile, "Looks like duty calls. You can stay here if you want, or maybe explore a bit more on your own. I’ll come find you later, okay?"

With a brief wave, Yunho left, leaving you alone on the deck. You sighed, feeling the quiet settle over you once again. Leaning against the railing, you closed your eyes, enjoying the sound of water splashing against the hull.

"What are you doing?" a deep voice cut through the white noise.

You glanced over to find Mingi standing next to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you.

"Nothing much," you replied lazily, used to people showing up out of nowhere. "Yunho gave me a tour of the ship."

Mingi chuckled, amused. "Did he now? That’s interesting. He doesn’t usually do that. In fact, I think even most of our crew doesn’t know every corner of the ship like Yunho does."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"Mhmm," Mingi confirmed with a nod. "But anyway, I’m sure you know why I’m here."

You groaned, already knowing where this was going. "Not again," you complained, slumping back against the railing. "You saw me last time—I barely managed to not cut myself. Isn't that enough proof of my lack of skill?"

Mingi chuckled, clearly not deterred by your reluctance. "Well, that’s why you have me, right? To help you out. Besides, we're doing self-defence and hand-to-hand combat today. San’s with us this time."

You pouted in defeat as Mingi grabbed your arm, easily pulling you up to your feet. There was no escaping this. "Fine," you muttered. "But don’t expect much."

With a resigned sigh, you let him drag you below deck, where he guided you to a spacious room. The floor was lined with mats, and some training equipment was stacked off to the side. The room had a faint smell of sweat, which made you grimace slightly, but you kept your complaints to yourself.

In the middle of the room was San, already stretching like a cat, his lithe movements making it clear how flexible he was. You couldn’t help but stare in awe at how effortlessly his body moved. As soon as San spotted you, his serious expression brightened.

"There you are," San said with a playful grin as he walked over. "Took you long enough."

"Well, she wasn’t exactly eager to come," Mingi replied, shrugging.

"Ahh, that makes sense." San smiled at you and gestured toward the mats. "Alright, we’ve got a lot to cover today. Why don’t you stretch a bit while Mingi and I demonstrate?"

You nodded, sitting down on the mats and began to stretch your arms and legs. The movement caused your joints to pop in protest, reminding you of just how long it had been since you’d done any serious physical exercise. In front of you, San and Mingi stood at a safe distance, preparing to demonstrate the basics of hand-to-hand combat.

Mingi positioned himself in front of San, his stance wide and solid, while San moved with the grace of a ballerina. "First things first," San began, his voice steady, "we're going to show you some defensive moves. You’re not going to be attacking anyone right away. The goal here is to protect yourself and get out of a situation safely."

Mingi nodded in agreement, raising his arms in front of his face, "First you need an idea on what areas to look out for and how to optimise your body weight to deflect an attack," he instructed.

San advanced on Mingi, throwing slow, deliberate punches that Mingi blocked easily, deflecting each one with minimal effort. "You see how Mingi doesn’t try to overpower me," San said, still moving. "He’s using my momentum against me, redirecting the force of the attack rather than absorbing it."

You watched, trying to take in as much information as possible. They moved with such ease, clearly experienced in the art of combat, while you still felt clumsy even while walking, but you knew you had to try. This wasn’t just some practice session for you—it was for your survival.

"Alright," San said, stopping and turning to you. "Now it’s your turn. Don’t worry, we’ll start slow."

You got up, feeling slightly nervous as you stood in front of San. Mingi stepped aside, watching with an encouraging smile.

"Okay, I’m going to come at you slowly," San explained. "All you have to do is focus on blocking and deflecting. Don’t worry about hurting me—I can handle it."

You swallowed nervously and nodded. San advanced, throwing a light punch, which you awkwardly tried to block. Your arms moved in the right direction, but your timing was off, and the force of San’s hand still made contact, though gently.

San's teasing grin was both playful and exasperated. "Oh wow, you are bad at this," he said, shaking his head. The comment made you pout in sadness, feeling pity at your own inexperience. But he wasn’t giving up on you, not yet.

"We’re gonna be here for quite a while. Let’s do it again, but this time, try to anticipate the movement a little earlier," San instructed, his tone still gentle.

You nodded hesitantly, feeling the fatigue already creeping into your limbs. Each movement took a lot of effort, and frustration was beginning to build. You didn’t understand why it was so difficult for you to get the hang of this. Part of you wanted to ask them to give up, to admit that maybe combat wasn’t for you, but then again, someday you might not have anyone to rescue you.

San threw another punch, and this time, you managed to block it more effectively. It wasn’t perfect—your movements still lacked the smoothness that came with experience—but it was better. You could feel the difference, even if it was small.

"Yeah! Like that!" Mingi cheered from the sidelines, his voice full of encouragement. "You're doing better."

His words gave you a boost of confidence, and you found yourself blocking a few more of San’s punches, though ineptly. Each round started to feel like a small victory. Even though it wasn’t easy, with every block, you could feel yourself getting a little more coordinated. It was a slow process, but progress was there, and that was enough for now.

Finally, after what felt like hours—though it couldn’t have been more than two—San grinned at you after another successful block. "See? You’re tougher than you think," he said, his eyes twinkling with approval.

You managed a weak smile, wiping the sweat off your face. "I’ve never done this much exercise in my entire 24 years of living," you said, your voice exasperated.

Mingi clapped his hands, full of energy as always. "Well, we’re not done yet. We still have to learn offense."

At his words, you nearly melted into the floor. "Ugh, I don’t think I can anymore. I might die at this rate," you wailed dramatically, feeling utterly spent.

San laughed softly. "Now, now. Nobody’s dying. Get up, and we can finish quicker."

With a groan, you begrudgingly got up, forcing your body to continue despite the overwhelming urge to collapse. They taught you how to throw a few punches—San showing you how to position your fist and use your body weight. You learned how to knee someone effectively in the stomach, break out of somebody’s grip, and a few other basic self-defense techniques. It was exhausting, but by the end, you felt satisfied, having learned at least something.

By the time the training was over, it was almost five in the evening, and you were both thirsty and starving. Earlier, you had managed to grab some bread and a banana for breakfast when you were with Yunho, but since then, you had been burning more calories than you could keep up with. The hunger gnawed at you, and your mouth was dry.

Collapsing onto the floor, you lay flat on your back, hoping the ground would somehow absorb you and put you out of your misery once and for all. Alas, that didn’t happen.

San and Mingi sat down next to you, both trying to catch their breath. "You did good for a beginner," San said, offering you one of his cute, dimpled smiles. "I think you’ll be fine. We’ll keep practising, of course, once we’re back from our job."

His smile did make you feel a little better, the exhaustion easing slightly in the warmth of his words. You smiled back, feeling grateful for the time he spent helping you.

Mingi stretched his arms above his head and glanced at the clock on the wall. "We should go eat. I’m kinda hungry."

You couldn’t agree more. Finally, you were allowed to leave the stuffy training room, the outside air feeling like a blessing against your sweaty skin. The scent of saltwater and fresh air was almost pleasant after the dusty, sweat-soaked room. You couldn’t wait to take a long shower, but that would have to wait until you docked. For now, food was your top priority.

The three of you made your way to the kitchen, with San and Mingi walking ahead, chatting quietly about something. When you entered the dining hall, it was much quieter than before. Wooyoung wasn’t here this time, and the room was mostly empty, save for some pots and pans that held the remnants of lunch. It seemed you had missed the main meal, but there were still leftovers.

You piled some food onto your plate—a mix of whatever was left—and ate with a ravenous hunger, barely pausing between bites. It was delicious, like everything else on the ship, and once your plate was cleared, you felt somewhat revived.

"Well, I’m off to find some peace and quiet," you said, waving goodbye to San and Mingi, who still seemed to be in the middle of their conversation. You were looking forward to some downtime, maybe even a nap before the next task came up. But first, you had to check in with the captain and get an update on the ship’s location. With a sigh, you made your way back up the deck, your body tired but your mind a little sharper, thanks to the training.

Outside, the sky had deepened into soft shades of dusk, the air crisp and cool with a light breeze that carried the scent of the sea. You made your way quietly to the helm where Captain Hongjoong stood, as usual, keeping watch with Seonghwa steering beside him. You stood silently next to them, earning a quick side glance and nod of acknowledgment from Hongjoong.

It was the last stretch of light before you reached your destination. If everything went smoothly, the ship might reach the shore by early morning—just in time for you to slip into your accommodation unnoticed. All of a sudden, a familiar voice rang out from the lookout.

“Land ahoy!”

Instantly, the deck erupted with a flurry of movement. You could hear the crew working, the sounds of ropes being handled and sails rustling into place as they adjusted for the final stretch after the confirmation of land. You glanced behind and saw Wooyoung descending from the lookout’s nest with his usual flair, skipping the makeshift ladder entirely and opting to climb down the rigging with scary speed. A small smile tugged at your lips—of course, Wooyoung wouldn’t do things the ordinary way. That simply wasn’t his style.

He rushed towards the helm, slightly out of breath, though his energy didn’t falter. “Captain! We have approximately 350 nautical miles more to go—” he began, before you cut him off.

“That means seven more hours?” you asked, already calculating the time in your head.

Wooyoung turned his head towards you, a little impressed. “Yeah, exactly.”

You looked ahead at the distant speck of land. “We might reach earlier than I thought,” you mumbled to yourself, glad that you had managed to lead them through successfully.

“The sooner the better,” Captain Hongjoong said, his tone laced with carefully concealed excitement. “We might get some time for respite.” He was a man of efficiency, but even he couldn’t deny the appeal of some well-deserved rest.

“The arrangements for our arrival will have already been made,” Hongjoong added.

“I can’t wait to take a shower,” you sighed, the thought of fresh water and cleanliness feeling like a luxury after days at sea. The salt, sweat, and exhaustion from the combat training earlier were still clinging to you, making the idea of a long, hot shower even more enticing. One would think you would have gotten used to the dirt and grime given the nature of your job, but unfortunately for you, you never did.

Wooyoung grinned, his usual playfulness shining through. “I think we’re all in need of that at this point. Just a little while more.”

Seonghwa spoke quietly from his place at the wheel. “Enjoy the peace while it lasts,” he said, his eyes focused on the sea, “because once we dock, it’s going to be a different kind of chaos.”

You sighed, knowing Seonghwa was right, but before you could dwell on it too much, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found Wooyoung with a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He silently gestured for you to follow him.

Curiosity piqued, you trailed behind him until he stopped in front of the makeshift ladder by the main mast.

“We’re going up,” he said with a grin, pointing upwards towards the crow’s nest.

Your eyes widened. “You want me”—you pointed to yourself—“to climb that high?”

Wooyoung nodded eagerly, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch you if you fall,” he added with a wink.

You squinted at him, unsure if he was serious or teasing, probably both. “Alright, but if I die, it’s on you,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

With a long sigh, you began the climb. The ladder was rough under your hands, and each step felt more unstable than the last. Twice, you nearly lost your grip, your heart leaping into your throat each time. Wooyoung, climbing right behind you, would chuckle softly each time you faltered, keeping an eye on you and helping you regain balance. After what felt like an eternity of effort and several near-death experiences, you finally reached the crow’s nest, breathless but alive.

“Woah,” you whispered in awe as you took in the view. The world stretched out infinitely before you, the sky blending into the sea. From up here, the ship seemed smaller, a lone vessel cutting through the vast ocean. The sunlight shimmered as it hit the waves, creating a mesmerising dance of light across the water, and the ship’s shadow rippled gently below.

“I know, right!” Wooyoung’s voice was full of excitement as he settled in beside you. “I thought you’d appreciate a little change of scenery. Something different from all that running around on deck.”

“I do,” you said, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply. The air up here was lighter, fresher—less of the dense, salty air that fogged around everything on the deck. For a moment, you just stood there, breathing it in.

Unbeknownst to you, Wooyoung was watching a different view, with a fond smile. Despite knowing so little about you, something about your presence felt familiar, comforting, like the easy bond of an old friend. He knew the others felt it too, it might have been because of the chemical that ran through all of your veins that created this invisible link between you. Whatever it was, Wooyoung knew he wanted to savour it for as long as possible.

Maybe, just maybe, you were the one who could help them like Captain Hongjoong had said.

“Thanks for bringing me up here,” you said, eyes opening slowly as you turned to Wooyoung. “I needed this.”

“Anytime,” Wooyoung replied softly, leaning back against the railing of the nest. His eyes flicked briefly to the sky before returning to you. “We’ll reach land soon, but before all of that starts, it’s nice to have moments like this, right?” Wooyoung’s voice was soft, and unusually calm.

You nodded, giving him a small, appreciative smile before you both made the climb back down. Once on the deck, you found yourself wondering what to do with the remaining six and a half hours, and the answer came easily—sleep. Who knew when you’d next get the chance? Dragging yourself to your small cabin, you collapsed onto the bed, and the moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

You were woken by a strange sensation—like something soft and warm was… licking you? You cracked an eye, startled, only to find yourself staring right into Byeol’s big twinkling eyes. She was perched against the side of your bed, held up by none other than San himself, who was watching with an amused grin.

“Isn’t this the best alarm clock?” he said with a snicker, clearly entertained by your half-awake state.

You scowled, still groggy, and took Byeol from his hands, nestling her against your chest, trying to cuddle her to sleep with you. “This is why you don’t deserve her. She should live with me instead,” you muttered, pressing a kiss to Byeol’s head and closing your eyes again.

San huffed dramatically. “As if she’d want to live with you,” he teased back.

You squinted your eyes open again, giving him an offended glare. “Alright, what do you want? Why did you wake me?”

“Well, princess,” he began, leaning back with a smirk, “we’re about an hour from land. Captain sent this for you.” He held up a large leather backpack, swinging it back and forth in front of you. “You don’t have much since you were… uh, abducted twice. So we packed a few essentials for you, things you’ll need until we can dock, apart from clothes—those you can get at the port, since we’ll have a bit of time to spare.”

You blinked, taking the bag from him. “Ah… I see. Thank you.”

San’s grin softened, and he gave you a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Alright, I’ll leave you to it. Meet us up on the deck in half an hour.”

With a click of his tongue, he called Byeol, who bounded after him, leaving you alone with the bag and a few moments to gather yourself. Opening the pack, you found various useful items—water, some bandages, a small pouch of coins, and a map of the area near the port, along with a neatly folded blanket and some dried snacks. It was certainly very thoughtful of them, they could’ve left you without anything if they wanted to but they didn’t.

You took a deep breath, setting everything back into the bag before slinging it over your shoulder. After a few more minutes of preparing yourself phys and mentally, you climbed up to the deck to meet everyone. They were gathered near the bow, and as you joined them, Captain Hongjoong gave you a quick nod.

“Ready?” he asked, a little uncertain seeing the queasiness on your face.

The grip on your bag tightened as you nodded, pushing down the feeling, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With the ship anchored just out of sight, hidden strategically behind raised rocks, the nine of you and two other crewmen piled into two smaller boats, making your way to shore. Once you were safely dropped off, the crewmen paddled back. The added part to the plan was that you’d accompany Jongho, Yunho, and Mingi into the marketplace the next morning when they went for restocking, so you could pick out new clothes. The thought of wearing something that actually fit and didn’t make you look like a shapeless blob made you more excited than you’d have expected.

As soon as you reached the shore, a masked man appeared, greeting Hongjoong with a bow and a firm handshake. The two seemed familiar, as the man led your group to a small clearing where another masked figure stood holding six beautiful horses, their coats gleaming under the moonlight. He greeted Hongjoong in the same respectful manner, and soon instructed everyone to pair up for the journey.

Hongjoong and the masked man rode alone, with Yeosang riding with Jongho, Mingi with Yunho, and Wooyoung with San, you were left with Seonghwa. Despite still feeling a bit wary around him, he was nothing but a gentleman. He helped you onto a beautiful black mare with deep, gentle eyes, his movements smooth and elegant, like a prince, as he climbed up in front of you. Your bags were strapped to the side for balance. You had never even sat on a horse before, you wondered how long it would take for you to fall off. Seonghwa glanced back at you, his expression a mystery as usual.

“You can hold on to me,” Seonghwa said in his low voice, breaking you out of your thoughts. “I don’t bite, and we’ll be going quite fast.”

You hesitated, lightly gripping the back of his coat, but he let out an exasperated sigh, reaching back to take your hands and wrap them firmly around his waist. “Keep it tight,” he instructed, with a small lilt in his tone. “We don’t want you falling off just yet.”

“Okay,” you squeaked, feeling your cheeks heat up as you adjusted your grip. Thank goodness he couldn’t see the flush that spread across your face.

With everyone ready, the horses set off, following the masked man and Hongjoong in the lead. The terrain was rough, the path dimly lit only by the full moon above, but the horses and riders moved with ease, as though this was a journey they’d made countless times before. You marvelled at how the men manoeuvred the horses, their motions so natural and in sync with the horses as they navigated the changing landscape at a fast pace.

Although to you, in the dark, every sudden shift or dip felt like you might topple off, and without thinking, you tightened your arms around Seonghwa, pressing yourself closer to his back. You were sure he could feel the thudding of your heartbeat, but he said nothing, simply adjusting the reins and shifting slightly to keep you both steady.

The moonlight cast everything in a soft, silvery glow, but the wildness of the ride kept you tense, your focus on not falling rather than the view. It was only when you felt Seonghwa’s voice rumble low in his chest that you realized he was speaking to you.

“Relax,” he murmured, his tone gentler than you’d heard before. “You’re going to be fine.”

You heeded his words and calmed yourself down a little, and though you still clung tightly, you were able to look up, taking in the beauty around you. The trees loomed like shadows on either side, the air crisp with the scent of pine and earth, and the ocean now far behind, not even a scent of it in the earthy breeze. You loosened up just a little, letting the rhythm of the horse’s strides carry you as the group forged on toward their destination.

The rumbling of hooves finally gave way to silence as you and the others arrived at a farmhouse, just as the sky had begun to lighten with dawn. The sweeping farmhouse before you was surrounded by tall stone walls, with a sprawling farm and livestock area enclosed in the back, as far as your eyes could see. A hefty metal gate swung open to let you pass through on foot, and stable hands waiting close by took the horses from you, leading them toward the stables. The others retrieved their bags, and together, you walked toward the house’s intricately carved wooden doors where a man awaited you.

“Hyung!” Hongjoong called out, hurrying over to the man and engulfing him in a warm hug. You noticed his sunglasses were nowhere to be found.

“It’s been a while, you’ve grown I see” the man chuckled, patting his back. “I trust everyone’s been well?”

He looked over the group, his eyes scanning each face until they landed on you, and his brows raised. You felt yourself shrink back a little, inching behind Seonghwa.

“Who do we have here? A new face?” he asked, his voice warm yet curious.

Hongjoong nodded, a smile playing on his lips. “This is Aurora, our new navigator,” he explained as Seonghwa nudged you forward gently. “Aurora, this is my brother, Bumjoong. We’ll be staying at his place during our visit.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” you greeted him with a little bow, trying to keep your voice steady.

Bumjoong broke into a reassuring smile. “No need for formalities. If you’re with these guys, you’re family too.”

You could only offer him a queasy smile at that statement.

“Let’s get inside, then, and get everyone settled,” Bumjoong said, leading the way through the doors.

Inside, the farmhouse was even more expansive than you’d expected, with high ceilings, rustic beams, and warm wooden furniture filling the space. You let out a soft “whoa” as you took in the surroundings, noticing that the others seemed more at ease, now that you were inside. At the entryway, you were greeted by an older man dressed in a crisp suit, whom Bumjoong introduced as Mr. Shin.

“You can all leave your things here, and Mr. Shin will make sure your belongings are taken to the rooms while we have breakfast, I’m sure you’re all famished,” Bumjoong explained before stepping away, “I’ll be in the dining hall,”

The group immediately launched into a discussion about rooming arrangements, seemingly forgetting your presence until you cleared your throat softly.

“Um…where will I go?” you asked, turning all eight heads towards youself.

“Oh, right. We need to make room for you too,” Hongjoong said sheepishly. “There are four guest rooms, three of which sleep two people, and one that fits three. Normally, that one has an extra space, but since we’re all here, it looks like you’ll have to share.”

“Dibs on the three-person room!” Wooyoung called, raising his hand. “Me, San, and Yeosang will take that one.”

“I’ll pair with Jongho,” Mingi added.

You tried to keep the disappointment from your face, realizing that no one had suggested rooming with you yet. Hongjoong, however, quickly took charge.

“Alright, Seonghwa and I will take our usual room, which leaves Yunho with Aurora. Is that alright with you?” he asked, glancing your way.

You nodded, glancing back to find Yunho already looking at you with a small smile. You hadn’t talked to Yunho, since yesterday morning, you had been subconsciously avoiding him to make sure he wouldn’t bring up what had happened before. You hoped this arrangement wouldn’t cause any more awkward situations.

“Alright, then,” Hongjoong confirmed, turning to Mr. Shin. “Please take our things to the rooms.”

The old man bowed, collecting everyone’s bags with practiced efficiency and surprising strength.

“Now, let’s get some food,” Hongjoong declared, leading the way to the dining hall.

The dining room was as homely as the rest of the house, the wooden table set with a mouth watering spread of breakfast foods—freshly baked bread, variations of different egg and meat dishes, fruit, and steaming pots of tea and coffee. You found yourself seated next to Yunho, your stomach rumbling at the sight of the food.

Bumjoong signalled for the kitchen aids to start serving, soon enough your plate was piled spectacularly high with food and you dug in. With a life like this, you wondered why Hongjoong lived like a pirate. As you ate, you found the exhaustion leaving your body, you even joined in the laughter as the guys shared stories of the sea with Bumjoong. Yunho, of course, paid close attention to you, making sure you had enough on your plate and felt comfortable in the loud atmosphere.

“You look less anxious,” he remarked quietly, offering you a warm smile.

You nodded, “It must have been the exhaustion keeping me on edge,” you replied, savoring a bite of fluffy omurice. “It’s nice to be off the ship for a bit.”

After a satisfying meal, Bumjoong stood, clapping his hands. “Alright, make yourselves at home. We’ll be heading into town soon enough, but in the meantime, rest up or explore. It’s not every day you’re grounded here, after all.” Yunho had mixed feelings about that, he felt the most at home on the ship, even after all this time.

With everyone scattering to their rooms or settling into the common room, you decided it was the perfect time to explore. The farmhouse was certainly alluring—spacious, well-built, and grand without feeling gaudy. Starting on the ground floor, you roamed through the expansive kitchen, the dining hall, and a cosy common room where some of the crew lounged, chatting lazily. On the first floor, you discovered three bedrooms—one master bedroom with an attached bath and two double bedrooms with a shared bathroom in the hall. Above that, the second floor housed two more bedrooms—a triple-sharing room and a double-sharing, along with a library and a study. You were struck by how thoughtfully designed the house was, and you hoped you’d get a chance to explore the never ending outdoor grounds someday, too.

Finally, you got to having the shower you’d been craving since you set foot on land. You gathered up your toiletries and a fresh set of towels provided by the staff, making your way to the shared bathroom on the first floor. It was a quaintly decorated space, with a large, inviting bathtub at the centre, surrounded by shelves lined with a variety of soaps, shampoos, and bath salts. Just how rich were these people, you weren’t used to having such luxuries available so easily and for free at that.

After a bit of fumbling with the ornate taps, you managed to draw yourself a warm, fragrant bubble bath. Slipping out of your travel-worn clothes, you eased into the bath, letting the warm water melt away every ache. You washed your hair, scrubbed away the grime, and felt yourself sinking deeper into the pillow of relaxation Finally, you stepped out, drying off and wrapping a towel around yourself, with a second one around your damp hair. As you scanned the bathroom for your fresh clothes, your stomach dropped—you’d left them in your room.

Sighing at your own mistake, you edged into the hallway, hoping the coast would be clear for the quick dash to your room. Just as you stepped out, though, you collided into something—someone, to be exact. You looked up to find Seonghwa standing before you, his eyes widening at the sight. His shirt was open, his perfectly sculpted torso right in front of you, and he looked like he’d just been on his way to shower himself. The air was thick as you fought the urge to let your gaze leave his eyes and travel further away.

Before either of you could speak, Seonghwa shrugged off his shirt and draped it over your shoulders, quickly fastening the top button by your collarbone. “Be careful,” he murmured offhandedly, his voice low. “You can’t be wandering around in just a towel.”

Your face flushed at his words, and you mumbled a soft “thank you,” locking your gaze on the floor. Seonghwa gave a small nod and slipped past you into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. You made your way quickly back to your room, glad that no one else caught you, and that Yunho hadn’t returned to the room yet.

Inside the bathroom, Seonghwa let out a shaky breath as he leaned against the sink, trying to compose himself. The moment was replaying in his mind—the way you’d looked so innocently at him, with your big eyes and the teasing drops of water trailing down your neck and disappearing beneath the towel you clutched to your chest. He felt his own face heat up as he tried to push the memory aside.

Taking a cold shower was probably a good idea right about now, Seonghwa thought, letting the icy water shock him out of his flustered state. Meanwhile, you were in your room, practically jumping into your clothes. Embarrassed was an understatement; you couldn’t believe how nonchalantly Seonghwa had reacted, as if seeing you in a towel was just another everyday event for him. Now, not only was being around Yunho already a little awkward, but now you could add Seonghwa to that list of complications.

You stared at yourself down in the mirror, forcing the flush on your cheeks to fade. “Just act normal,” you whispered to yourself, giving your reflection a firm nod. Fixing your appearance one last time, you headed downstairs and took a seat beside Yeosang, who gave you a small smile. You made some polite small talk, asking about his day and listening as he spoke about the journey and how glad he was to be on land again. His voice was gentle, helping you pass the time while the rest of the group assembled.

Once everyone was settled, Bumjoong addressed the room. "Hongjoong’s already updated me on the situation and the plan," he began, hands clasped together. "Each group will have an assigned servant to accompany them for assistance, except for San and Aurora, to avoid any additional suspicion. Now, let's go over each team’s role and objective."

Hongjoong took over, “Right, so our first team to dispatch will be Yeosang and Wooyoung.” He motioned to them. “Your job is to follow Myung Seokchul, the lawyer…our target. He’s in his early forties, lives alone since his wife passed due to an illness that swept through the southern part of the island a few years ago.”

At the mention of the disease, you noticed both Hongjoong and Bumjoong’s faces darken a little. There was clearly a history there.

After a pause, Hongjoong continued. “Apart from this basic information, we don’t have much on him, except for a distinct scar that runs from his left temple down to his chin. That’s his main identifying feature.”

Wooyoung let out a small scoff, adjusting the old ascot hat he’d donned as part of his disguise. “I can’t wait to see this guy. Sounds like a real charmer.”

Yeosang shot him an unimpressed look,“Don’t forget we’re just tailing him, Wooyoung. Let’s keep this smooth and unnoticed. The last thing we need is to get on his radar before we understand his movements.”

Wooyoung shrugged, but the glint in his eye betrayed his excitement. “Alright, alright. I’ll keep my distance—promise,” he said, smirking behind the dull brown cloth he’d drawn over the lower half of his face. “Though, I can’t say I’m not looking forward to playing the part of the humble farmer.”

Yeosang sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “If you get us caught, I’ll personally see to it that you’ll be the one taking care of the goats in the morning.”

“Relax, Yeosang,” Wooyoung replied, patting his shoulder with a grin. “If anything, I’m here to make you look even more convincing. You’ll thank me later.”

Hongjoong cut in, exasperated, before Yeosang could retort, “Alright, you two, enough bickering. Remember, this is a low-profile mission. Blend in, observe, and come back with any useful information.”

“Yes, Captain,” Yeosang said firmly, his gaze returning to Hongjoong. Wooyoung gave a mock salute before the two of them turned and made their way to the door.

You watched them go, Wooyoung tossing a wink over his shoulder as Yeosang tugged him along. “Wish us luck,” Wooyoung called out with a confident grin.

“Just don’t blow our cover,” San replied, rolling his eyes, but with an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Alright, as for the rest of you,” Bumjoong said, nodding for Hongjoong to continue.

Hongjoong clasped his hands and directed his gaze to you and the others. “The next group to leave will be Jongho, Yunho, Mingi, San, and Aurora. You’ll head to the marketplace. Once there, we’ll split into two smaller teams: Jongho and Mingi will handle restocking the ship’s supplies, while Yunho and San will take Aurora to pick up whatever essentials she might need for her time onboard. Regroup here by 3 PM. After that, we’ll proceed as planned.”

Everyone nodded, gathering things they would need. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were to remain at the farmhouse to prepare a room for their ‘guest’ in the evening. But before that, they had something else to confirm.

Once the rest of you departed, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Bumjoong moved back into the library, the heavy wooden door creaking shut behind them. Bumjoong turned to Hongjoong, looking grave. “Are you sure it’s her?” he asked, voice teetering on uncertainty.

“That’s what we need to find out,” Hongjoong replied. He paused before adding, “Are you still in contact with Mr. Hwang from the public library?”

“Well of course,” Bumjoong replied thoughtfully. “He helped us quite a bit back in the day. He retired a few years back, though. You think he might know something?”

“He was part of the Guardian’s Guild here for a while, till their ideas changed. He might know what she looks like. We need to meet with him urgently,” Seonghwa said.

Bumjoong nodded, reaching for a bell to call for Jihye. “He lives nearby. I’ll send Jihye with you—she’s close with his granddaughter.”

A few minutes later, Jihye entered, she was a stable hand at the estate. After Bumjoong explained the situation, she nodded, an three set off toward Mr. Hwang’s humble cottage without delay.

Mr. Hwang’s “cottage” was anything but humble. After a ten-minute walk from the farmhouse, they stood before a grand, albeit slightly worn, manor nestled amidst tall trees and overgrown thickets. Though smaller than the Kim estate, it was still impressively lavish, with ivy trailing up the stone walls and stained-glass windows that gleamed in the sunlight.

Jihye stepped up to the door, rapping her hand against the wood. A servant opened it and regarded the trio with mild curiosity before Jihye explained their visit and the urgent need to speak with Mr. Hwang. The door closed again for a bit, then servant came back, ushering them inside and leading them down a corridor toward Mr. Hwang’s study.

The man himself sat behind a large, carved desk, spectacles perched on his nose as he pored over a large leather-bound volume. He looked up as they entered, a small, welcoming smile gracing his face.

“Hongjoong, Seonghwa, it’s been a long time,” he said warmly, setting his book aside. “What brings you here today?”

Hongjoong wasted no time. “Mr. Hwang, we need your expertise on a very particular matter.”

The old man leaned forward, his expression shifting to one of interest. “Of course, son. How can I assist?”

Hongjoong drew in a breath, and removed his sunglasses, looking at the old man with intensity. “We’re searching for someone—a young woman, we believe she’s connected to something the Guardians were once involved in, if you’re catching my drift.”

Mr. Hwang’s eyes widened slightly. “You mean…the World Z Project?”

Hongjoong nodded. “So you’re aware of what we speak of. I remember you telling us about this ‘legendary scientist’ when we were kids. She was your best friend at the facility, wasn’t she?”

A distant look clouded Mr. Hwang’s face. “Yes, Lee Junhee. She endured so much, only to be cast aside after her greatest discovery. The Guardians discarded her once they had what they wanted. They might have even killed her, but we managed to escape. She passed away a few years back… But if you’re saying it’s her you’ve found—”

Seonghwa shook his head. “Not her. We heard about her passing from Haneul noona. Her Guild has been keeping tabs on the older Guardians. We think it’s her granddaughter—a young woman around our age. We brought her aboard as a navigator, and while she hasn’t shown any unusual abilities yet, there may be something neither she nor we fully understand. Her name’s Aurora.”

Mr. Hwang’s eyes widened in realization. “Little Aurora… Of course! How could I forget?” He rose shakily, leaning on his cane as he shuffled toward a nearby shelf, pulling out a dusty leather book. He flipped through it carefully and retrieved an old photograph, handing it to Hongjoong and Seonghwa. “This picture… Junhee once told me her granddaughter was exceptionally bright beyond her years, though quite timid. It’s a few years old, but she should still be recognizable.”

Hongjoong took the photograph, examining the face of a young Aurora, likely about twenty. She looked younger, happier, her features still touched with traces of adolescence, but it was undoubtedly her.

“Hwa,” Hongjoong whispered, elation laced his voice, “it’s her. We’ve found her. We finally have the link to that damn map.”

Seonghwa’s tense expression softened, furrowed brows relaxing. They had a real lead after six years of relentless searching.

Mr. Hwang looked at them both, he wasn’t entirely sure, what all this was for, but he still prayed in their support. “I hope she is everything Junhee hoped she would be… You have my best wishes. Go, and be careful.”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa rose, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Mr. Hwang. We can’t express how grateful we are for your help,” Hongjoong said.

The older man simply nodded, waving them off with a knowing look in his eyes as they turned to leave. They exited the manor with Jihye, who led them back to the Kim estate. Once back, they reconvened with Bumjoong, who listened intently as they shared everything Mr. Hwang had told them, fixing the pieces for the final puzzle. But before they could settle down completely, a loud, frantic voice echoed through the hall.

San burst into the house, his face pale and drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he stumbled forward. “Aurora, she’s gone!” he shouted, falling to his knees, utterly defeated. “The others are still searching, but… we can’t find her.” His voice cracked with panic and frustration.

“What?” Hongjoong’s eyes widened, and he shot up from his seat. He quickly approached San, Seonghwa close behind. “San, what happened?”

San looked up, his face stricken. “We were at the dressmaker’s. She went behind some curtains to have her measurements taken, and then she was just… gone. I was right there, and Yunho was with us too, I swear!” His voice wavered as he struggled to hold back tears.

Seonghwa placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, his voice low and calm. “Take a deep breath, San. We’ll find her; we have to.”

Hongjoong’s expression hardened, the calm before a storm brewing in his gaze. “San, take us to the others. Lead the way.”

Comment under masterlist to be added to taglist

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY

Taglist: @yandere-stories @passionandsuga @beabatiny @sadtoru @pixie0627 @nagynomi98 @bunnychui @nuggiesnuggetdog04

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trippinsorrows · 7 months ago

Text

with me + part twelve

authors note: you guys are seriously the nicest and most supportive. the comments always make me stupidly smile and laugh cause not a single one of ya'll is gonna let bdj die off. 😭 also, i know a couple of people have commented and asked about the backstory with joe and jadah, and i promise it'll be explored deeper. there's a subplot i'm working towards unveiling here, and it's nearing the reveal part, but we're not there yet! i promise, though, it's gonna be touched on!!!

i also had to chop this chapter in half, because it's honestly so much stuff, so the next update shouldn't take as long cause it's almost done.

the next two are gonna be so fun. maybe some shit will go down too. we shall see.

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, some angst, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

words: 8k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

“So let me get this straight, in the time that I’ve been gone, you and Joe told Callie he’s her dad, you found out Amir and Mariah been fucking behind your back, and you had a semi mental breakdown after running into your father and, plot twist, long lost sister.” She counts each off with a finger, then asking. “Did I miss anything?”

Nodding, you take a scoop of your ice cream before adding, “Joe told me he loves me.”

In true Alexis fashion, she randomly arrived in town the night before, completely unaware of all that transpired in her absence. So, you take this time while Callie sleeps to catch her up.

“Did I miss anything that I didn’t already know?” You give her a look, and she rolls her eyes, also eating some of her Rocky Road. “Come on, Y/N. Ray Charles could see that man is in love with you. You’re the one being stupid by not reciprocating.” Before you can push back against her, even if she isn’t entirely wrong, she switches topics. “Now when are we gonna go beat Lieriah’s ass? I told you it was something about that girl. She’s a snake.”

Typically the one to defend your friends, it’s hard to find it in you to come to Mariah’s aid. Nevermind the fact that she knows the shitty things Amir has done to you over the years, it’s the fact that she’s supposed to be your best friend but is messing around with same ain't shit ex? You would never do something like that to her, but maybe your loyalty to her has always been stronger than hers to you.

“I’m not worried about him or her. They’re not worth it.” That’s partially true, but the sting of betrayal is slow to pass and even slower to heal. You’ve always had mid to low expectations for Amir, but Mariah? That’s a crushing blow. “I have more important things to figure out.”

She studies you, leaning back against the headboard. “Your sister.”

“Bianca,” you correct. It’s too uncomfortable referring to her as such, even if that’s exactly what she is.

In the weeks since the big fireworks show—both metaphorically and figuratively—you’ve tried to slowly return to your sense of normalcy. Focusing on Callie—who is an entirely different issue in and of itself that you really need to talk to your mom about—being more on top of things at work, and navigating your relationship with Joe.

He hasn’t been back to visit since Christmas, but you figured as such. Wrestlemania season has arrived, and you know better than anyone how crazy that time is, especially with him main eventing.

But the one thing you haven’t really allowed yourself to think too much about is Bianca. You’d sent her a vague apology text a few days after your mad dash and explained that you were dealing with some things and just needed time to sort through them. That you’d reach back out when you were ready.

That still hasn’t happened, and it’s entirely intentional.

“I remember you mentioned that you always wanted siblings?”

“Yeah, cause we have so much to bond over,” you mutter, bitterly.

“Well, you actually do have a lot in common. She’s a teacher, like you. She has a daughter, like you—”

“You know what we don’t have in common?” You interrupt, feeling the agitation growing again. It’s not directed toward Alexis, just the situation in general. “A father who loves us.”

You were done referring to that man as your father. A father shows up. Like Joe. That son of a bitch isn’t even in the same universe as Joe.

Her expression softens. You didn’t tell her everything, just enough for her to get the gist that he’s a piece of shit. And you definitely did not tell her about the time you went to see him. You’ve never told anyone that story. Joe is now the only one who knows, and you’d like to keep it that way. It’s just….it’s just too painful. “I had no idea that was the situation there…..I’m really sorry, girl.”

“It is what it is. I don’t need him.” And you’re not too sure if you need Bianca either. “I’m just trying to figure out if I should power through this for Callie’s sake. You should have seen how she and Taylor clicked. I would hate to take that away from her.”

“I get that,” she acknowledges. “You have to make the decision that’s best for the long run, not necessarily how you’re feeling right now.” That’s very easy to say and nearly impossible to do. “Even if you just allow the girls to interact while you keep some distance with Bianca.”

You’re partially intrigued, spooning some more cookie dough. “How would that work?”

“They don’t live here, right?” You nod. “Maybe the girls can talk on Facetime or even play some game on their tablets. That won’t cause you to interact much with mom outside of coordinating virtual playdates, and Callie still gets to spend time with her cousin, or, not cousin."

You sit on her words, not expecting to be as open to the idea as you are. It’s a pretty genius compromise. “You really do give some great advice sometimes, you know that?”

“That’s what I’m here for,” she smiles mischievously, and you just shake your head. “Now, who’s gonna knock this bitch Mariah over the head with a steel chair? Me or you? Or should we hit her with a bus, Regina George style?”

“Alexis!”

________

You clearly don’t love yourself because you decided to do both yours and Callie’s washday on the same damn day. A Sunday, at that. Meaning, you have no choice but to get it done because you have work the next day.

And Alexis being in town would be even more of a benefit than it already is if she actually knew how to do hair. Natural hair. She can lay any wig down better than Tae, but caring for coils and curls is another story. It’s why you declined her offer, and she lays knocked out in your bed, while Callie is fast asleep in hers.

Thankfully, you have an insanely generous and sweet man who’s offered to talk to you while you power through this debacle, noodle arms, sleep deprivation, and all.

“Oh, before I forget again.” You grab the bottle of leave-in to apply more to the next section of hair. Shingling may give you the most definition, but it also gives you the most discomfort. “Can you be here May 8th?” A smile falls on your face. “Our baby is graduating preschool, and I know she’d want you there. I do too.”

“Shit, they have preschool graduations?” He seems genuinely taken back before answering. “But, of course I’ll be there.”

“I know. I used to think they were stupid, but now it’s my kid, so it’s the best thing ever. Her cap and gown should come some time in March, so I’m gonna have one of my old teammates who’s a photographer take professional photos of her.” It’s literally just preschool, but that’s still something she’s accomplished, and you want to commend the occasion the best you can. It’s been years since you’ve had professional photos of her taken anyway. Not since she was first born. “And yes, I’ll get extra for you.”

“How much—”

“Anyways, let me show you the tattoo.” Joe has already done so much, the least you can do is cover the photo costs. Even though you know him well enough to know he’ll find some way to contribute. Thankfully, the side of your hair that still needs to be shingled is clipped at the top of your head, so all you have to do is turn around and push down the thin strap of your shirt to reveal your latest ink. “He did an amazing job.”

“Shit, he did.” Joe’s agreement and approval somehow makes you even more satisfied with the outcome. Your Christmas gift to yourself was finally getting that Moana tattoo Callie has wanted to see on you since you told her you were getting one damn near a year ago. It’s on the back of your left shoulder, a black manta ray, some blue ocean-like coloring with one of your favorite lyrics from the movie: I will carry you here in my heart. You remind me, that come what may, I know the way.

It’s one of Callie’s favorite songs but also feels like an ode to your grandma as well.

He then asks, “do you want more?”

Readjusting your shirt and turning back around, you answer, “of course. More Disney but also….” This discussion triggers something for you, something that seems a little out there, but also maybe not. “I saw this tattoo on Pinterest that I want to get for Callie.” You grab your phone. “Let me send it to you.” It’s saved in your favorites folder and thus an easy send. Placing the phone back on the counter, you wait for him to receive and see it.

“I like it.” It’s a baby’s footprint with the name written in cursive and date of birth in print right underneath it. You’ve always wanted Callie’s name on you but couldn’t settle on a design until you came across that one. Something about it just resonates with you.

Licking your lips, you suggest, “why don’t you get it with me?” Couples getting matching tattoos isn’t something you’re entirely against, you just don’t agree with it for people who are only dating and not married, if marriage is the goal. You remember when Amir once suggested you do so, and you literally laughed in his face. You’d soon rather get branded with a tramp stamp than have that man’s name permanently burned into your skin.

But, matching tattoos for the child you created together with the man you love. That is something you could get behind.

And apparently so can he.

“Let’s do it.”

“Really?” You’re not sure why, but the ease of his agreement shocks you. It’s not too far-fetched when you think about it. He loves his daughter, and you’ve always known Joe to only get tattoos that have meaning. He could give you a detailed explanation for every piece of ink on his body.

“Yeah.” There’s almost a sense of excitement in his voice, like he’s eager to have her name on him, to share this with you. “Same location?” At that, you make a face. He laughs. “Inner bicep does hurt, I’m not even gon’ lie to you.”

Yeah, you’ve definitely heard as such, and considering his entire right side is tatted, he’d know. “I don’t know. I have to think about it. I might need to squeeze your hand the whole time, or I’ll end up punching the tattooist.”

He laughs, “you can squeeze my hand.” Joe then asks, “when do you want to get em’ done?” You start to think about it logistically, as well as financially. Tattoos aren’t cheap. “Do you want to go to the Super Bowl?”

His question surprises you because it’s such a change in topics but also….what? “Yup. And Hawaii and Puerto Rico. And then maybe if we have time, stop by Alice in Wonderland.”

He’s too good at matching your sass, retorting, “I can make the first two happen easily. The last one may be a stretch.” Rolling your eyes, you grab for the gel. “I’m serious though. My tattoo artist is based out of Vegas. The game is in Vegas this year. It’ll let me see Callie too, cause I’m having a hard time finding a gap to visit.” As he continues to speak without laughing or chuckling, you realize he’s dead serious. “I’ve been meaning to ask you to go anyway but kept forgetting.”

You need extra clarification. “Like this year's Usher concert where there’s apparently a game too?”

He rolls his eyes, providing the guest list. “It’s me and the twins, their family, some other fam…..we have a whole section, cause you know it's a bunch of us.” It’s still hard to sit on the fact that this man really just invited you to the fucking Super Bowl like it’s dinner at Golden Coral. His eyes soften. “I wanna see her. I wanna see you.”

Joe’s closing statement, so true and vulnerable, is what breaks you from your temporary state of shock. You get the sense he misses ya’ll just as much as you miss him. “Of course, we’ll go. I’m sorry, I just—I wasn’t expecting that.” And it’s true, you weren’t. “How will we get fl—”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of everything. I just need you to show up at the airport.”

That seems to be such a recurring theme with this man. He does everything he can to make things as easy for you as possible. It’s tremendously appreciated and doesn’t go without notice.

“This is the first time she’ll be meeting the twins,” you realize aloud. Hell, his family at all.

Joe nods, chuckling. “Yeah, they’ve been on my ass about that anyway. They want to meet her.”

Pinning down the section you just finished, you take down the next. A little over halfway done now. “Whoever you want her to meet is fine with me, Joe. I don’t even really have a say in that. She has every right to meet your family just as much as she’s had to meet mine.”

And it’s true. Unless it could present some harm to Callie, you don’t really feel like you have the right to object to things like that. You have zero desire to interfere with Joe and Callie anymore than you already have.

“I know. I just wanted to tell her the truth before introducing her to anyone else. Less lies.” Makes sense. Thinking about Callie meeting more family brings a small smile to your face. It’s what she deserves. Family members who actually want to be in her life.

The conversation brings something else to the forefront of your mind, partially due to Joe’s confession to you on Christmas but also a question you’ve wanted to ask him for much longer than you’d like to admit.

“So….” This shouldn’t be as nerve wracking as it is. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I don’t…..I don’t want to overstep.” If he were to tell you that he’d rather you not, that’d be fine with you, one less stressful thing on your plate. But, of course, he’s silent, meaning he’s not going to object. So….you decide to bite the bullet and go for it. “What happened between you and your wife?”

You’re certain he wasn’t expecting that to be what you asked, but to your surprise, he answers. “We were young and got married for the wrong reason. I was 22. She was 21.”

Unsure but taking a big risk regardless, you ask in a small voice. “What was the reason?”

His answer isn’t what you’re expecting either. “She was pregnant.”

It takes a second for you to process what he’s saying. Your stomach is suddenly in knots, chest feeling tight. There’s no way he’s kept something like that from you. No way in hell. “Wait, does Callie have—”

“No.”

And just like that, you know. He doesn’t need to explain. It’s painfully obvious, especially as he looks away from the camera. You have a feeling you've unlocked a painful memory he’d most likely kept tucked away.

“I’m sorry.” It feels so stupid and unhelpful to say. What does that do for him? It doesn’t take away that experience, that loss that you can’t even begin to imagine. But, it’s all you can offer. “Just—forget I asked, let’s change the subject.” Do you have more questions? Of course. Like, why was there such a gap between their loss and the divorce? But, this is understandably a difficult and sensitive subject, and the last thing you want to do is trigger him more than you already have.

You know better than anyone how awful that can be.

He agrees with the subject change, going along with the transition of topics, clearly grateful for your understanding. But, in the back of your mind, you can’t help but think about the fact that this man lost his firs child before he could even meet the them, and the child he had who did survive was kept a secret from him for nearly five years.

There’s a sudden sickness and disgust you feel. And it’s not towards anyone but yourself.

Joe had every goddamn right to be furious with you about your subterfuge.

He still does. ________

“Mama, something is up with Callie.”

You’re thankful Alexis agreed to keep Callie preoccupied in the living room while you have this conversation with your mom, because Callie had another incident just this morning, slamming her door when you told her she needed to pick up her toys.

She’s never done that.

But she has done other things in the past two weeks or so, rolling her eyes or pouting her mouth at you when you say something she doesn’t want to hear, beyond typical tantrums.

Your mom stops her stirring at the pot to turn around and look at you. “What do you mean? Is she sick?”

“No,” you answer and then realize you’re not entirely sure how to explain it. She’s not being bad, per se. Just….difficult. “She’s just been…..off.”

Genuinely intrigued, and partially concerned, you watch your mom turn the fire on low as she joins you at the kitchen table. “Tell me.”

Shaking your head, you explain. “I thought it was just me, that I was just being overprotective and hyper-vigilant, but when I picked her up from preschool yesterday, her teacher pulled me to the side and asked me if she’s been having sleep problems. I told her no and asked why, and she told me Callie has been irritable. With staff and other kids.”

“Callie?” Your mom seems just as taken back as you were hearing these words. “That doesn’t even sound like her.”

“I know, and that’s what I said at first, but then I thought about it, and she’s been crabby with me too. It’s not horrible, but it’s unlike her.”

A small part of you wonders if it has something to do with you running off on her on Christmas. It would make sense. She was doing absolutely fine before then, but it’s the timing that throws that theory off. You’ve noticed this change only in the past two weeks, well after Christmas day passed, so why the delay?

“What does Joe think it is?”

“I haven’t told him.” It’s not that you don’t want to. You’d just like to have a better grasp of what it is before doing so. Have more actual information to provide him.

“He hasn’t seen the behavior for himself?”

You shake your head. “She’s fine with him. Matter of fact, after his calls, she’s like a completely different child.” It’s watching your mom’s face settle into a look of realization that makes you ask, “what? What is it?”

“Honey” she starts with a soft chuckle. “She’s missing her daddy.”

Her answer catches you by surprise, painting your face with confusion. You’ve had a lot of theories, but that definitely wasn’t one of them. “What?”

Reaching across the table, she places her hand over yours. “Think about it. How would she react if you were gone as much as he is? She’d be a mess, cause you’re her mama, and she has a strong attachment to you. Look how easily she attached and connected with Joe. It’s always been there. Except she knows the truth now, so her attachment is even stronger.” You heed to her explanation, wise and sensible. You hadn’t even thought of it that way. “And isn’t this the longest he’s been gone without her seeing him? She’s acting out because she misses him and probably doesn’t know how to verbalize it, so it shows in her behavior.”

As relieved as you are to have an explanation that makes sense, it’s an explanation that makes you incredibly sad for your sweet child. You know how hard it is for Joe to get away right now, you understand it. It never crossed you that she wouldn’t.

Devastated, you ask, “what do I do?”

“Talk to her. Try to help her understand. It may not make a huge difference, but it’s something.”

You nod, so so grateful for her, for all that she does for you, for Callie. For all that she’s done. Reaching across the table, you hug her tightly. “thank you, mama.” As much as it devastated you to not have that man in your life, your mom made sure to go above and beyond to make sure you knew you were loved. She played both roles beautifully, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to make her understand what that meant to you.

You still haven’t really sat her down and explained everything that happened Christmas night, nor has she asked, but you know it’s because she’s trying to respect your space. It’s appreciated, but you also know you’re gonna have to eventually tell her.

Just not now.

Right now, you’ve gotta take care of your baby.

________

Even the energy in Callie’s playroom feels off.

You’re so used to walking in and finding her with that million dollar smile that makes your entire day better. Instead, you walk in and she doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. She just continues to color.

“Hey, baby….” Disappointed, but refusing to show as such, you welcome yourself in and approach her table. “Is it okay if I color with you?”

She still doesn’t say anything, just nods, and you do your best not to hide your sadness. You hate seeing her this down, it’s so unfamiliar, and you’ll do just about anything to fix it.

Sitting down in the uncomfortable seat, you take a couple of her pages and pull out a crayon. “I have an idea.” At that, she looks up, slightly intrigued. “Why don’t we draw how we’ve been feeling lately? I draw me, and you draw you.”

You scold yourself for not selling it to her better, for not telling her it’s something you sometimes do with your students. Some level of innocent peer pressure. However, she surprises you by agreeing with a simple “okay.”

It takes a second for you to register that it was really that simple. Step one is done. Now for step two.

Grabbing some crayons, you don’t really concern yourself with skin tone, just getting something out on paper. The two of you color in silence, and you start to offer to put on her favorite playlist but decide against it.

You want her to really think about what you’re asking.

It’s when you see that she’s placed down her crayon and is just staring at her picture that you ask, “you done?” She shakes her head, but her eyes are on the table in front of her. “Is it okay if mommy sees it? I’ll show you mine too.”

Handing you the page, you expect an influx of emotions, but actually seeing her literal representation of how she feels is simply heartbreaking.

She’s drawn herself, frowning, surrounded by broken hearts and a blue tear leaking from her eye. Callie did what you asked. You just wish it didn’t have you feeling so helpless.

“This means you’ve been feeling sad, huh?” You hate how your voice gives away your emotions. This is about her, not you, but it’s so difficult for you to not be impacted. No mother wants to see her child hurting, and Callie currently is. It kills you. “Callie….” Moving up from your chair, you move across to kneel in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “Have you been sad because you miss your dad?”

All you need to hear is one sniffle, and instantly, you’re reaching for her, holding and comforting her.

“It’s okay,” you soothe, kissing the top of her head. “It’s okay, baby.” She cries into your chest, and you have to hold back your own tears.

“Why doesn't he come back?” She asks in between tears, wiping her eyes. “He’s been gone a really long time.” It’s only then you realize that she’s not entirely exaggerating. Joe was last here for Christmas. It’s now the end of January. For a child like Callie, that must feel like an eternity.

“He would if he could, Callie. I promise you he would. Daddy just…he gets really busy with his job this time of the year, and he can’t leave or he’ll get in trouble.” It’s so difficult to explain this to her. WrestleMania season is inarguably chaotic and stupidly busy. Even back in the day, Joe’s trips to see you were most far and few in between during this time of year. And that was before he even had a title. You can’t even imagine how busy he must be as the literal fucking face of the company.

Enough to keep him from being able to come see you and Callie.

You’ve just gotten so used to the dynamics of him being away for periods at a time that it never occurred to you Callie hasn’t had the same experience. That at the end of the day she’s still a little kid who just wants to be with her dad.

It’s then that a thought crosses your mind.

“What if…..what if we went to see daddy?” For the first time since you stepped into the room, her eyes actually light up and you notice her tears lessening. “Instead of him coming to us, we go see him?”

“Really?” There’s the faintest smile on her face, and you know then that you’re going to make this happen. You don’t know how or in what way, but it will be a reality. No matter what it takes.

“Yeah,” you answer, brushing away some of her tears. “You can go see him at his show. He’d love that.” Not as much as she clearly loves the idea alone. “Now, we’d only be able to stay a day or maybe two but—”

“Please,” she interrupts, and you get the sense that she fears you’re going to find a way to say that you couldn’t or shouldn’t go. “I’ll be a good girl. I promise.”

“Baby, you’re already the best girl.” You push back some of her hair, resting your hand against her cheek. “Mama’s gonna make it happen, okay? I promise.”

If you have to sell one of your kidneys, then you’ll just be less one organ, because you’re getting your baby to that damn show. Matter of fact, you don’t say anything to her, but you’re wondering if you can make it to this week’s upcoming show. It’s only Sunday, and that gives you a couple of days to make arrangements and secure tickets. It’s doable, but you don’t want to get her hopes up, so just in case, you say nothing.

And yes, in the back of your mind, you know she’ll see Joe in a couple of weeks for the game, but that’s too long. Your child is hurting. You need to do something now. She can’t wait that long.

“Thank you, mommy!” She wraps her little arms around you, and just like that, you see the spark and joy that fills your days with light and laughter. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby.” Kissing her temple, you release her, realizing something else. “Now we can't tell your daddy because we’re gonna surprise him, okay? Can you do that for me?”

She nods, happily, unaware of the real reason. You know that you can’t tell Joe about this. Well, not now at least. This is not something to be discussed over the phone or even video chat. And if you tell him you want to take her to see him as soon as possible, he’ll know something is up.

So, you have to move in silence.

Coloring with Callie commences for a little longer as you value and cherish your time with her, but as soon as she’s down for her nap and before you wake Alexis from hers to tell her the news, you need to do something. It’s in that time bonding with her you realized how you’re going to make this happen.

You’re suddenly immensely grateful for that random conversation you’d had with Joe a while back regarding the fact that he and the twins have had the same phone number since they were in high school.

Pulling out your phone, you scroll through your contacts until you land on the one you need. You type, backspace, and type some more, only sending out the text once you’re fully pleased with it.

You: Hey, Jon. This is Y/N. Can you call me when you get a chance? Preferably sooner rather than later. I need your help with something. And please don’t tell Joe. It’s a surprise.

________

God clearly wants you to bring Callie to see Joe.

There’s just too many things that have lined up perfectly for that not to be the case. The discussion with your principal went well, though that wasn’t entirely surprising. You’ve always had a cordial relationship and know she respected your grandma. The whole school system in your town did. That was just her level of impact. But that respect has slid down to work in your favor as your principal told you to take as much time as you need.

“You’ll always have a job here.”

While not a huge concern, it’s reassuring and not entirely unsurprising. Again, your grandma’s impact definitely granted you a level of nepotism. You were slightly surprised when she actually encouraged you to take more time off, pointing out how in the almost nine years you’ve worked there, she could count on one hand how much PTO or vacation time you’ve used. And, it’s true. It was really only when Callie was sick and your mom couldn't help or you wanted to stay home and nurse her back to health that you called out. For the most part, you had damn near perfect attendance.

But, that’s certainly about to change, and you’re thankful you have a job that’s flexible enough to accommodate the change.

And then there’s the actual getting there. You should have known when Alexis was asking questions about when you and Callie were leaving that she was up to something. You naively chalked it up to her planning her flight out, as there was no way you expected her to wait around for ya’ll to get back. Instead, she was busy buying not just her ticket to come with ya’ll but yours and Callie’s as well.

You instantly felt bad when she forwarded you the itinerary information. You couldn’t see the cost, but you weren’t stupid either. Getting flights out with such short notice had to be expensive as all outdoors. You were just going to put the bill on your credit card and work to pay it off. And, of course, when you offered to pay her back, she nearly cussed you out. As if such an offer was insulting.

“What good is a trust fund if you can’t spend it on your college roomie and pretend godchild?”

So, while you still felt slightly uncomfortable, you were able to push it to the backburner for the sake of Callie. This is all for her, and you don’t care what it takes to make it happen. Even if it means sucking up your pride.

And deep down, you know if Alexis didn’t do what she did, Joe would somehow find a way to compensate you. The same way his ass somehow got his card on file at the hospital and covered all of Callie’s medical bills without ever even asking you if you needed help.

You still haven’t talked to him about that, not really having or finding the right time, but it also feels a bit bitchy and ungrateful to be upset with the man for covering his daughter’s medical expenses.

Then there’s the actual show itself. One thing you were initially concerned about was if Joe has a match lined up for this upcoming week’s show. You two have only had a couple of discussions about it but still enough for you to learn that he’s extremely hesitant to expose Callie to his wrestling persona.

“I don’t want her seeing me like that, thinking that’s who I am.”

And you understand him fully. Roman may be a fascinating character, but he’s equally narcissistic and ruthless as he is intriguing. The complete opposite of Joe and who he is.

Still, you’ve worked to help him understand that talking to Callie, explaining to her that he’s playing a “character” could help her understand better. You both are in agreement that she’s too young to watch actual matches, especially his as they tend to get brutal, but she can see certain promos. And she does. You let her watch a couple where the dialogue is safe enough to go over her head. And truth be told, she’s so focused on watching Joe that she's not really paying attention to what’s being said anyway.

Needless to say, you were massively relieved to hear from Jon that Joe doesn't have a match lined up and his promo is reportedly tame and safe enough for Callie’s eyes and ears. He didn’t give specifics, but from one parent to another parent, you trust his judgment.

And the most important thing of all is the fact that Callie has done a complete 180. She’s no longer as irritable, just the usual attitude when she’s sleepy or hungry. Just like her mama. And there’s that spark of joy in her eyes. She’s even started packing what she wants to bring with her. She knows you’ll only be there for one night, but even that can’t seem to dim her joy.

It makes your heart swell.

All of this brings you to your conclusion that you’re doing exactly what you should be doing.

“Ahhh, and here it is.” The old woman’s voice breaks you from your inner dialogue as she walks toward the counter, returning from the back. “Sorry about that sweetheart.”

“No worries, Mrs. Ella.” Your eyes light when you see the item in her hand, even if it’s covered by a cloth bag. The fact that it’s ready is more than enough to make you smile. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this.”

She waves off your concern, offering a warm smile. “Your grandma was one of my best friends. As far as I’m concerned, anything you need is a done deal.”

That warms your heart. Mrs. Ella has been the town seamstress for longer than you’ve been alive but doesn’t look a day over 50. She’s not lying either. Your grandma always cited her as one of her “life” sisters.

“Why don’t we take a look to make sure it’s alright?” She offers, removing the item from the garment bag. She takes the hoodie and turns it over so you can see the back.

In awe, you acknowledge, “it’s perfect.”

Among the many things Joe has gifted Callie, WWE apparel hasn’t really been included in that list. You’ve chalked it up to his hesitation about familiarizing her with his Roman persona. However, you know that girl loves her daddy and will support him in all the things, so you took it upon yourself to pick her up a few items over the holidays. One of those things being a black hoodie with Roman’s picture on the front with him wearing one of his head of the table shirts. Wanting to make it special and personal, you had the idea of customizing it. Thus, asking Mrs. Ella to add to the back, Acknowledge my daddy!, and she did a fabulous job. It looks like that was the original design.

Pulling out your wallet, you ask, “how much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

Your eyes snap to her. “Mrs. Ella, no, this was a rush—”

“Don’t argue with your elders, child,” she scolds, and you smile warmly. “Just show me a picture of her wearing it, and we’ll be even.”

Moved by her generosity, you offer your gratitude again. “Thank you, Mrs. Ella. Seriously. Thank you.”

Hand over yours, she just nods and then ushers you out the door, “well, you better get a move on child.”

With a small laugh and one more thank you, you leave out with the hoodie, excited to show Callie and even more, to see Joe’s reaction when he sees her wearing it.

“Y/N?”

Fuck. You’d know that voice anywhere, have known it since you were five years old.

That doesn’t mean you have to heed to it.

You keep walking.

A stupid decision, because the footsteps behind you become louder and faster as she asks, exasperated, “would you just talk to me?”

You spin around, suddenly pissed at her repeated question. “Why? Why should I talk to you?”

You’ve dodged and ignored her texts the same way she did yours, so what’s the issue now? Being on the receiving end must be one hell of an unpleasant experience for her. Not that you give two shits. Mariah is the last thing on your plate right now.

Mariah seems taken back, and that just pisses you off more. How can she not see her wrong in this situation? “You’re my best friend, Y/N. We’ve been friends since we were in kindergarten. Does that mean nothing to you?”

“Did it mean something to you when you were fucking Amir?”

Something you can’t identify flashes in her eyes followed by apparent hurt. “Are you serious right now? You’d really believe him over me.” It’s hard to tell how sincere her watery eyes are or if they’re performative. You’ve never known her to be fake, but then again, maybe you’ve never really known her at all. “That’s fucked up.”

Finding some level of compassion and understanding for the woman you called your best friend for almost your entire life, you try to offer her the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, let’s say you’re not fucking him. At the very least, you’ve been telling him my business while ignoring my texts and calls. Like, what the fuck, Mo?”

She shakes her head. “He came to me, worried about you—”

“He came to you nosy and upset because I cut it off with him, and you fell into his trap.” How she can possibly fall for Amir’s bullshit is beyond you. She knows how he is. Hell, she’s been right beside you, up until recent weeks/months, dealing with his bullshit. So, her excuse is just that—an excuse. “And even if he was, as my best friend, you should know that’s still girl code violation.”

It feels almost silly citing that, but the morals behind it still ring true. You would never talk to Caleb about things going on in her life when you know they’re not on good terms. And you damn sure would never fuck him.

“Girl code?That’s funny coming from you, because you didn’t seem to to care about girl code when you were fucking another woman’s husband and had a whole ass baby for him.”

Her words stop you dead in your tracks. Any facial expression you may have been showing is dropped and neutral. Even your voice is softer, less accusatory. “Excuse me?”

For her to say that to you, knowing how sensitive a subject that is truly takes you by surprise. Truly.

It doesn’t stop there though. “I mean, forreal, Y/N. You’re up in my face about Amir, but aren’t you still fucking Joe? Shit, how many niggas do you need?” It’s hard to believe the words coming out her mouth, so angry and hostile. But, even her volume rising has you stumped. It’s like she wants to draw an audience. “It’s not enough to be one man’s whore, but you still gotta have another on the side?”

Truly baffled, all you can ask is, “where is this coming from?”

She sucks her teeth, just as irritated, if not more by your question. “It’s always been this shit with you. You do whatever the fuck you want and don’t care who you hurt or betray in the process!”

And now you’re just straight up confused, because what have you ever done to her? Cause that’s what it sounds like she’s implying. Like you’ve done her wrong. Like you’ve been doing her wrong. “What are you even talking about?”

“You got Joe. You got Amir. Shit, when is enough enough for you?” She scoffs, and it’s hard for you to even look at her let alone listen to all the hurtful things she’s spewing. “Like damn, find a new hobby. Focus on raising your kid—”

And that…..that is the moment that you’re no longer confused, or hurt, or saddened to hear your best friend say such awful things. You’re pissed. Cause one thing no one can convince you you’re not, is a good mother. You’ve dedicated your entire life and being to taking care of Callie, making sure she’s straight. That’s always been your priority, and for her to suggest otherwise….those are really fighting words.

You step toward her, finding all of the will in the world not to shatter her jaw. “You and I have so much history. It is the only reason I’m not whooping your ass right now, but know this, Mariah. This was your freebie. Fuck with me again, speak on my child again, and I’ll bash your fucking head into the nearest wall.” It’s not a threat. It’s a promise. “Stay away from me, bitch.”

You don’t give her time to respond or even yourself the chance to lay her out, you instead rush to your car, locking the door and speeding out of the parking lot.

Your knuckles are nearly white with how tightly you’re gripping the steering wheel.

It’s been a while since you’ve been this hot. Years maybe. Amir would piss you off, sure, but never to the extent of your emotions in this moment. It truly took all resolve and imagining Callie’s disappointed face at not being able to see her dad because you got yourself locked up for aggravated assault to keep you from beating Mariah’s ass. She knows better than anyone that you don’t play about your daughter, so for her to include Callie in her mud slinging is not only repugnant but hurtful.

She’s supposed to be Callie’s godmother.

But beyond that, you’re having a hard time reconciling with the rest of the things she was saying. It didn’t feel like something that’s been building up over the past few months. No, this was different. Much…..deeper.

Regardless, you don’t have time to deal with this shit. You need to put your focus on preparing to bring your little girl to see her dad.

Mariah can fuck off.

She’s always been all bark and no bite anyway.

________

“Mommy.”

Callie doesn’t even have to say anything else for you to know a request is to follow.

“What's up, sis?”

She climbs on top of where you lay on the sofa, you and Alexis watching some random dating show she swears up and down is the best thing since Love is Blind. So far, you’re entirely unimpressed. Granted, reality shows of any kind have never been your cup of tea in the first place.

Your YouTube history is mostly crime documentaries and Bloodline videos.

She climbs on top of you, throwing her arms up and shouting, “dance party!”

Of all her typical requests, that’s one you haven’t heard in a while.

You’ve always raised Callie with music, even back when you were pregnant, you would take your Beats and place them on your belly. It’s seemingly worked because this child loves music, so much so that you two would have random “dance party’s” where you’d blast music and dance around, no care in the world, just the two of you.

You haven’t had one in a while, but seeing Callie so happy, a stark contrast from how she’s been is more than enough to get you up and on your feet. You look over at Alexis. “Come on, Lex, it’s dance party time.”

She feigns a gasp, looking at Callie for approval. “Do I get to come to this party?”

Callie giggles and jumps on the sofa. “Of course! Everyone can come to dance party!”

What’s also ironically funny is the fact that you and Alexis used to have dance parties all the time in your dorm, just often with much more explicit Travis Porter, Speaker Knockerz, type music and a lot of ass shaking.

“Well tonight, it’s just the three of us,” you laugh, grabbing your phone and opening your Spotify to figure out what will be your kickoff song. It’s when your eyes land on that one though, you know you’ve found it.

Connecting your phone to your Bluetooth, you confirm the connection and hit play.

We're a thousand miles from comfort, we have traveled land and sea

But as long as you are with me, there's no place I'd rather be

“My favorite white girl song ever!” Alexis shouts, starting to dance with Callie who’s just as excited about your selection. Together, the three of you dance and sing when the iconic chorus hits.

If you gave me a chance I would take it

It's a shot in the dark but I'll make it

Know with all of your heart, you can't shake me

When I am with you, there's no place I'd rather be

At some point, Alexis grabs your phone, recording and capturing the laughter and joy you experience dancing and being silly with your very, very best friend. Callie’s laughter could revive any soul, and it’s so genuine. Even more, you know a large chunk of it is her excitement to see her dad in a couple of days.

And that makes it all the more special.

Eventually needing a break and time to catch your breath, you laugh as the song ends and the next one starts. Lex and Callie immediately go at it for round two, spinning around and dancing to Dance the Night.

You take a second to check your phone, seeing that you have a Snapchat from Joe. Frowning, you open the message confused as to why he’s using that and not just text. He only has the damn app because you made him get it. He’s not very big on social media outside of occasional Instagram posts.

Swiping it open, you see why he was messaging you on there.

Because your wonderful best friend sent him the video she recorded of the three of you dancing.

Joe: How do I save this?

Joe: Fuck it. It’s too confusing. Just send it to me.

Laughing, you chew on your bottom lip and type out a reply.

You: You’re such an old man. 😩

You: But yes, I’ll send it, even if I didn’t know Alexis was recording to send it to you...

You: Callie loves “dance parties” lol

Joe: I love her laugh. She looks so happy…

You: I know. ❤️ She loves music. Def my kid.

You: Skillet is next on the queue, btw. 🙃

Joe: Don’t know what that is, but if I had to take a guess, it’s some rock shit.

You: You know me so well. 😊

Joe: Of course, baby.

Leaving his thread, you realize that if she sent it to Joe, she probably posted it to your private story as well, which is fine. You only have people on there you know and trust to keep the contents within that space.

But, it’s in checking the views that you see Mariah not only watched but screen recorded your story. It’s strange, normally you wouldn’t think twice about it. She’s always screenshotted and screen recorded stuff you posted, and you did the same with Micah.

But now…..

Now, it feels wrong to share these moments with her. She’s lost that privilege.

Moving to your contacts, you ignore her old Snapchat name she never uses anymore and instead just block her primary one from seeing your stories, and that includes close friends. And interestingly enough, when you check your texts, you see one from her muted thread that momentarily causes you to pause.

Mariah: Kinda stupid to ice out the one person who knows everything about you.

But the pause comes and goes, Mariah always says shit, and that’s where it stops, the saying. She’s always been the mouse of you two, and that shit ain’t changed.

Closing up the app, you switch back to Spotify and focus on what’s before you and not behind you.

You have all the people you need in your life.

Mariah can fuck off.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns x black!reader #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #arisnotebook

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avocadoguru · 2 years ago

Text

He was staring at her in a way no one had in her entire life. She couldn’t read anything in his eyes - not surprise, not fear, not malicious intent - nothing. (wolfrry, werewolf!harry, alpha!harry, ranger!y/n)

Lupus Noctis- Masterlist, Author’s Note & Warnings

Chapter 10 / alternatively, read on wattpad

Chapter 11 (word count: 8k) -updated July 3rd

Harry had never cared less about appearing vulnerable to someone else. The amount of times Niall had seen him cry and cling to Y/N whilst whispering sweet nothings into her ear was well out of his comfort zone. But it didn’t even occur to him to mind.

It was like no one else existed.

Y/N was all that mattered. Her frail state that he could barely look at the first two days. Niall had told him not to, but he’d climbed next to her in the hospital bed. When he realized his friend was worried for his own injuries and that it would not affect his human, he completely disregarded his admonishments.

And Harry was aware that Niall had saved his life. He was lucky for such a friend as him and he would tell Niall as much once he got his mind in the right place. Once his human was up and talking and smiling again. But until then, he would sit by her side and talk to her, holding her hand and caressing her face, petting her hair.

His own wounds would heal. He was okay but in pain, as his body had lost an almost fatal amount of blood. But he wasn’t thinking about that. He wasn’t worried about himself. He could endure the pain, the healing. He could endure the aftermath, his anger.

He’d not made his friend’s job easy. Niall had had to operate on him right there, next to Y/N, because he simply would not leave her sight. At Niall’s practice in the city, he set up two beds. One for Harry and one for Y/N. Lester helped aid him as much he could because time was of the essence with Harry. He was aware Y/N was too far gone to save but he did what he could in order to clean her up and close the wounds. Keeping her stable only prolonged the inevitable but Niall wouldn’t live with himself if he didn’t at least try. He knew it was of no use but he could stop her bleeding and get her to safety. That was all he could really offer.

For Harry, though. He was strong and could heal. He’d lost too much blood but he was a werewolf and his body would repair itself at a rate a human’s body would never be able to. So he cleaned and stitched, and stapled Harry’s wounds and broke him the news about his human.

“No. She’s still alive. That means something. She’s not gone.”

“Harry…” Niall spoke softly and slowly knowing his friend had to hear the truth as awful as it was, “She’s not going to recover. I just want you to be prepared for this. Currently, her heart is still pumping but it’s getting weaker as the hours pass. Her lungs aren’t working and we’ve connected her to a ventilator so she can breathe but that just means her body is unable to function properly.”

He refused to believe she was dying. He was looking right at her, leaning over her body, his hands grasping her limp ones. She was only asleep. She was only unconscious and her body needed time. Just a little more time.

Niall went home every night to sleep in his own bed but he stayed with Harry as long as possible and he always returned the following morning with food for his friend.

He was worried about Harry. Not because of his injury, but because he wasn’t sure if Harry would be okay when Y/N’s body finally gave up. He was sure Harry would lose it. He was worried he’d go and get himself killed. The muttered words, “If she doesn’t come back to me I’m going to kill every fucking person that was involved,” told him as much. Niall was worried he’d lose his best friend.

The more time went on, the more desperate Harry became. While at first he’d just sat next to her bed, he’d ended up crawled next to her by the crack of dawn. If he barely could take in the sight of her at first, he was now scanning every inch of her as if to memorize her better. Barely daring to talk to her at first, he was now whispering right in her ear. Not for fear of being overheard. Again, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about how he appeared to Niall, Lester, or any of the nurses who came in during the night to check on Y/N. But as to be as gentle as possible with her, as to not startle her in her slumber, for he knew she was only asleep.

He did hope she could hear him. Because he had a lot he wanted to tell her. Things he was desperate to get out, for fear he maybe wouldn’t get the chance to later on.

It wasn’t ideal, this wasn’t how he wanted this to happen. But he couldn’t hold it in any longer. “My love, please come back to me,” he murmured in her ear, not for the first time, not for the last time. “Please, I want to look into your pretty eyes again. Wish I’d told you how much I love your eyes before. I get so lost inside your eyes. Would you believe it? Or would you scoff and look away, thinking I was taking the piss? I don’t think you ever knew how far gone I was. I never showed you what you do to me. Not just my body, but my heart. Was too afraid to. Like a fucking coward. I wish I could take it back, wish I could show you just how much you’ve meant to me all along. Wish I could’ve seen your eyes when I first told you I loved you, no, when I sobbed it, when Niall brought us in and finally left us alone after he poked at my injuries for what felt like hours. It’s not that I didn’t want him to hear, hell, I’ll shout it from the rooftops. Mountain tops. I’ll howl it to the moon. I just… I wanted your ears to hear it first. I love you. You’re my mate. I’ve known from the start. I wish I could’ve told you. I wish there’d been a better way. Wish I’d been braver. Anything. Anything but this. Anything but you in this bed. Anything but you so weak and in pain, and–”

Harry buried his face in the crook of her neck and allowed himself to sob once more. He’d not cried since he was an infant, as children do, but he could physically feel his heart breaking. It was unbearable. If he held onto her tight enough, she couldn’t leave him. Right?

“Everyone left. My parents. My brother. Don’t leave me too. Not when I finally found you. Not when you finally know. Not when I know that… you love me too… I know you do. Tell me you do, Y/N. Please. Please open those pretty eyes, and move those pouty lips and tell me. I swear I’ll not want for anything ever again. And if you don’t… That’s… that’s ok, too,” he sniffled, pulling away a bit and wiping his tears away from her skin. “Just wake up. If I’m wrong, and you don’t want to see me again, if… if seeing me was too much, is too much… I swear I’ll understand. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll get lost forever if that’s what you want. Just please… wake up. Please.”

On the morning of day three, Niall came in with bagels and fruit. And it was no surprise when he saw Harry sitting next to her in bed. After assessing the scene and finding that Y/N was still alive he greeted Harry, “Hey, morning.”

Harry turned to look at his friend and ticked his head in a nod before bringing his full attention back to Y/N as he continued speaking in whispers to her. Private confessions. Promises. Declarations. Apologies. Supplications. The sort of things one whispers to a loved one on their deathbed.

“Got bagels and some spreads. Some bananas and melon too. It’ll be over here if you’d like any,” Nialll placed the food on the table he’d been using to eat on next to the window.

Harry was a little hungry. He hadn’t eaten all that much in the few days since the fight. He hadn’t really been that hungry. But his body was healing well and now it was asking for some sustenance.

Lifting his head he turned to face Niall, “Yeah. I think I’ll eat,” he stood from his chair and walked to the table selecting his bagel and a packet of butter as Niall watched him closely, “What?”

“Just… I’m glad you’re eating first thing. That’s good news. You’re healing well I think-”

“I don’t give a fuck about me. I know I’m fine. That makes all this so much worse!” He gestured around the room.

Niall nodded, “Yeah. I know. I just mean, for me. You know? You’re my friend. I’m just glad, is all.”

Harry was chewing into the bagel as he nodded, keeping his eyes on his friend. Swallowing down his bite he looked across the room to Y/N then back to Niall, “You’re a great friend, Niall.”

Harry took his usual quick nap once he’d finished eating the bagel. He would stay up all night with his eyes on his mate to watch for anything. He refused to sleep since Niall wasn’t there to check on her. He couldn’t risk being asleep if anything happened to her and no one else could watch over her, even with an overnight nurse present in the practice in the doctor’s absence.

Niall hoped against hope that, somehow, she would wake up. That she would be okay so that his friend would also be okay. He knew it was just about impossible, but if she didn’t wake up Harry would get himself killed by trying to avenge her.

After the last patient had left and Niall was shutting everything down he heard Harry calling for him. Niall took a deep breath, imagining the worst as he turned into the room the pair were in.

But it was the opposite of what Niall had thought. The patient monitor was showing a stronger heartbeat and slightly higher blood pressure. He scratched his head as he looked at the vitals on the screen and immediately pulled his stethoscope over his ears and held her wrist as he placed the chest piece over her heart to check the stats for himself.

He looked up at Harry who had an expectant, hopeful expression on his face.

But Niall was confused. How? He double-checked her heart rate and swallowed, “I… She’s getting stronger. But I don’t know what this means. Um, I should stay the night. We can take shifts-”

“No. You can sleep if you need to. I’m gonna stay right here with her,” Harry spoke as he looked over his human and took her hand into his, “You’re doing so good, Y/N.”

Niall put on a pot of coffee and continued monitoring her as Harry stayed by her side. But the night didn’t change her status. She still had a stronger heartbeat and that was good. But no improvements were notable by the time Niall laid down to shut his eyes for a bit. His friend was glued to Y/N’s side.

After Niall had fallen asleep Harry paced the room a bit. His nerves were getting to him. She’d gotten stronger suddenly and Niall was surprised by that. The not knowing what was to come was hard. Harry was used to being in situations where he could pretty well foresee the outcome because he was the one calling the shots. But this was different. Y/N’s life hung in the balance and he had no way of forcing his hand in this. It was up to fate. To chance.

When the sun slowly drizzled into the room, golden first light hues scattered over her face as Harry sat by her side. Even asleep she was beautiful. Even with a tube in her throat. With a bandage on her neck, scratches on her face.

“Good morning, Y/N. Sun’s up. Where are you? Are you coming back today, my love?”

Seconds after Harry whispered his words the patient monitor sounded with an alarm and Harry stood up quickly to see what had caused it. Rapidly increased heart rate.

Niall was quick to jump out of bed and take over but before he could pick up his stethoscope she moved. Her neck turned and her brow furrowed and Harry inhaled a sharp breath as he watched his mate come back to life.

Quickly snapping on his gloves, Niall carefully pulled the tube from her throat, “She’s breathing. Respiratory waveform is active. I may need to reintubate but she’s breathing!”

Harry didn’t know what Niall was talking about but he didn’t care. It was all good news to him. She was moving and wincing as the tube was pulled out. Once it was tossed to the side Y/N began to cough and her scratched throat and trachea sounded like she had laryngitis but Harry was smiling and his heart was pounding in his chest.

“Y/N!” He pulled her hand into his and squeezed as she slowly blinked her eyes open. When her vision cleared and Harry came into sight she startled and yanked her arm away from him, eyes wide and looking around the room.

The smile fell from Harry’s face at her reaction to him but figured that was deserved. He was just happy she was with him. She was awake. She was alive.

Niall quickly adjusted the settings on the monitor so the alarms would stop and then he looked her over, “Y/N. You’re in my clinic right now. You’re recovering from an injury. Do you know who I am?”

She tried using her vocal cords but winced and coughed, “It’s okay. You don’t need to use your voice right now. You had a tube in your throat and you’ll be a bit sore and uncomfortable for a bit. Just nod or shake your head to answer.”

She nodded slowly and scrunched her face in pain.

“She’s hurting, Niall!” Harry spoke quickly. Her little body was in pain. He could tell.

Niall pulled an IV and inserted the appropriate amount of narcotic to put into her bloodstream to ease her pain, “I know, Harry. One thing at a time, man. She’s just becoming conscious.”

Harry could feel warm tears begin to fill his eyes and blur his vision but now that she was breathing, and looking around the room, he didn’t want her to see him falling apart. Now that she was back he knew he needed to stay strong for her. He quickly exited the room so he could let himself feel the sadness and joy heave from his body. He leaned into the wall and tilted his head back to look upward as he clutched over his pounding heart causing the tears to drip into his ears and on his neck.

If Harry didn’t need Niall he’d have strangled him then and there when he re-entered the room after collecting himself and seeing Y/N was back asleep.

“I had to sedate her! She was in too much pain!”

Harry kept it together upon hearing that. “But she will wake up again. Right?!”

“Absolutely. She’s… I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but she’s on the mend. She’s getting better. It’s only uphill from here, man. Listen, I know you wanted to talk to her… but she was struggling, I could tell. Another round of IVs and she should wake up way smoother next time. Plus, she’s breathing all on her own! Look!”

And Harry was looking. He’d not taken his eyes off of her. Niall had better been right about this, otherwise he’d never forgive himself the mistake of stepping out for the brief moment she was awake. But he didn’t want her to see him fall apart like that. He needed to be strong for her. Needed to reassure her. Brighten her up.

He hoped he hadn’t missed his shot.

Niall decided to sleep at the practice again that night, knowing Y/N would probably wake up and he wanted to be there to give her proper medical care and make sure Harry didn’t accidentally smother her back into a coma. He kept that thought to himself, along with his other suspicions regarding her sudden, and quite miraculous recovery, at that.

Instead, he tried distracting his friend who seemed even more impatient for her to wake up than before, “She’s a fighter, your Y/N.”

Harry couldn’t help but smile at that, ungluing his eyes from her frame. He sat on a chair on the side of her bed when Niall was in the room, mostly so he could prod at her freely.

Niall was very pleased with her vitals. She was almost fully recovered, judging by all her stats. The bloodwork had come back almost impeccable. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a scientific miracle. It kind of was, in a way. But Harry wasn’t questioning it at all. Maybe to him it didn’t seem like such a miracle, with all the pleading he’d been doing for her to get better, it was like all his prayers had been answered. He didn’t have the medical knowledge to grasp the uniqueness of the situation.

“She always has been, you know. Brave little thing.” He told Harry how she had gone looking for him that night and found Niall at his apartment and how he knew she didn’t buy his story about taking over the lease. He’d called Lester the very next morning to tell him that Y/N was concerned about Harry being missing and Lester told him that she was in danger and he was on his way. Lester knew not to trust Harry’s pack. He knew something wasn’t right. He’d been around long enough to know what was what in that world.

“And then Lester said that as he was leaving the house and saying goodbye to Alma, Edward growled and pounced on him to get him to wait and that’s when he shifted back. No one expected it but it happened. So Lester, Alma, and Edward all made the trip together because Edward wanted to help. Then I tried calling her and texting her so I could warn her but by then it was too late. And that’s when I found her apartment door open and her purse left behind.”

Y/N had been smart to go searching for Harry. If she hadn't, Niall might have not known he was missing because it wouldn’t be uncommon for Harry and Niall to go a week or two without talking. And both she and Harry might be dead at that moment if not for Lester and Niall’s intervention.

Lester’s sway amongst the leaders of the packs was wide-reaching. He threatened to call on reinforcements if Harry’s pack didn’t offer a trial (which they weren’t going to at first). So, as grim as the current outcome had been, it would have been worse if Niall and Lester weren’t there to help.

But it had all started with Y/N. She’d been worried about him, even mad that he’d gone missing, again.

Eventually, Niall left the room to nap in his office and Harry was once more alone with his little human. Knowing she was definitely going to wake up again now made him focus on how he was going to fix this mess. He wasn’t foolishly assuming she’d forgive him and want him back, even though he did know that she loved him too. He’d seen it in her eyes when he was about to fight that scumbag for his life.

Be that as it may, he knew that didn’t equate to her wanting him in her life necessarily. What she’d witnessed was hard to accept. What he’d kept from her was hard to come to terms with. And she was fragile now. She needed space, he knew. But he wasn’t going to leave her out of his sight no matter how much she opposed it. He was going to bring her back home and assure her he would give her space, the space she needed to figure things out whilst recovering safely.

He didn’t trust her alone at her own place. Sure, he’d earned their freedom from the pack but there were still loose ends he needed to trim. Like Irina. Harry hadn’t forgotten about her and her complicity in all of this. She was going to have to pay, too. But that was for later. For now, he was focusing on Y/N and her safety, and he didn’t trust his former pack, especially Irina, not to try and get to them again. They were conniving, double-crossing fiends, and even after earning his freedom fair and square he was still expecting some sort of retaliation.

His plan was for them to move away for good as soon as she made a full recovery. Granted she still wanted him, of course. He had no plan for the eventuality that she would kick him to the curb. He couldn’t even ponder that option.

But Lester’s offer was all the more appealing now. And he knew she loved it there on his farm too. Maybe that could be their new home. Anywhere she wanted. As long as they were together.

Just then, he felt her stir, and he climbed off the bed gently and sat on the chair next to her bed. He didn’t want to suffocate her with his proximity. Didn’t want to give her the impression that he was assuming anything. But he still held her hand, he just couldn’t let go. He didn’t need the monitor to feel her heartbeat pick up and know she was waking up, and he saw Niall approach from the corner of his eye, his watch alerting him of the changes on the monitor.

“She might be a little woozy ‘cause of the higher dose of painkillers I gave her. So don’t worry about that.”

Harry nodded and squeezed her hand in his gently, “Y/N? Are you awake, kitten? C’mon. Open those pretty eyes for us.”

And open them she did. Fluttering eyelashes gave way for her lovely irises in which Harry had feared he’d never see his reflection again.

Both men smiled widely at her compliancy and Niall brought a tall tumbler of water to her lips, “Need to lubricate your throat a bit, Y/N; have a sip, please?”

She looked up at him and gave the faintest of nods, and he took it as his cue to hold the straw steady as she puckered her lips around it and began drinking out of the glass slowly. She winced at first, taking the first few gulps, her throat sore no doubt, but she finished the glass in its entirety which prompted Harry to squeeze her hand once more and coo, “Good girl.”

Her heart rate picked up a bit at that and Niall gave him a sly smile, but Harry was too enthralled watching his little human to notice. She rested her head back against the pillow, the strain in her neck keeping her head up getting to her. Niall fluffed the sides of her pillows a bit to give her even more support and smiled at her, “You’re doing so well, Y/N. You’re recovering beautifully. Would you mind trying to talk to us a bit? I know it’s a bit uncomfortable and your throat must still be sore, but I know someone is dying to hear your voice again.”

Harry kicked his friend in the ankle at that. He had no business putting that kind of pressure on her and Niall got the message loud and clear, but she seemed to miss the interaction altogether and opened up her mouth to try and get some words out. “How…” she frowned at the sound of her own groggy voice, and tried clearing her throat but it came out the same, “How long was I…?”

“A few days. Nothing major. Don’t worry about that. You’ve made a full recovery, so nothing to worry about whatsoever! You still have some scarring that will fade but I guarantee there will be no marks left to tell for them. And of course, you need to build your strength back, but at the pace you’re going, you should be on your feet as soon as tomorrow!”

Harry shot up his eyebrows to Niall’s statement as he watched him prod at her further, making her follow a small light he fished out of his breast pocket and then asking her more questions to assess her reflexes and awareness. Wasn’t that a bit too optimistic? He’d never heard of anyone making such a speedy recovery waking up from a coma. He didn’t want Niall to create false expectations for her.

“In fact, I’m discharging you today!”

Y/N was just as surprised as Harry to hear that she was going to be ok to leave so soon. She had no idea how long she’d been out of it exactly, but she disliked hospitals as much as the next person, so she was glad for it.

“Now… I know this is a sensitive subject, so I’m going to step out and leave you two to it, but I’m going to have to need you to tell me if you want me to send over a nurse to look after you for a day or two at home, or if you’re comfortable with nurse Harry over here,” Niall nudged over to his friend. “There’s really nothing special he needs to do, just make sure you take your meds on time and keep an eye on you, make sure you make no sudden movements, make sure you hydrate and feed yourself properly, you’re still going to need to sleep as much as possible so it’s easy to lose track of all that yourself.”

Y/N made to say something but stammered, trailing off and Niall took it as his cue to leave the room, but not before praising her for her recovery again, “You’re doing great, Y/N. I’m so happy to see you on the mend. Had us worried for a moment there, but you’re a fighter.”

Harry watched his friend close the door behind him and then turned back to look at his little human and found her eyes already on him. He was still holding her hand, running his thumb over her skin in soft strokes all along, and he took one more look at the sight of her small hand in his before he removed himself in order to give her the space she needed to make the decision.

He looked back at her then and his heart soared at the sight. He didn’t know whether it was the drugs she was on, but the brazen look in her eyes and the way she didn’t shy away from his as she sometimes did had his own heart pounding against his ribcage. For the first time ever, he didn’t know how to approach her. She intimidated him. A feeling so foreign to him. He didn’t think anyone had ever made him look away, stare him down to the point where he had to break eye contact. Surely it was the guilt he felt, he reasoned.

“Are you alright?” she whispered as to not strain her vocal cords. Her voice sounded more like her old self when she did that, she found.

Again, Harry felt his heartbeat pick up at her concern for him. “I am now. How are you feeling? Are you hurting?”

She shook her head slightly, “I feel fine. It’s like I just woke up from a deep sleep. But I remember the pain…” she winced at the thought, and Harry made to grab her hand in his again but stopped himself just short of.

Instead, she stretched her arm ever so slightly and grazed his hand with the back of her fingers. Both of them watched intently as their fingers intertwined. Harry couldn’t fight the urge to raise their conjoined hands to his lips and kiss hers. “I was so afraid I’d lost you,” he murmured against her soft skin, his brows furrowed and eyes shut tightly.

She understood all the different meanings to his statement and wanted to say the same. But she needed more time. She needed to clear her head a bit. But she also needed him, that she knew for sure. She didn’t want to go home without him. Not after she thought she was going to lose him, herself. No. She wanted him near. “So take me home, nurse Harry.”

Y/N felt exhausted by the time Harry had brought her back to his house. He’d carried her all the way, to and from his car, and she could’ve sworn she felt his heart threatening to break free from his chest as she laid her head atop of it, in his arms. She’d never seen him drive that slow, avoiding every little pothole just so she could be as comfortable as possible for the small journey to his house. She knew they needed to talk and clear the air, but she didn’t have the energy for it quite yet. She was happy he was alive, and she allowed herself to bask in that feeling.

She’d asked him to run her a bath, the sponge baths the nurses had been apparently giving her had left her sufficiently clean but she felt like she needed to really soak and preferably wash her hair too. Harry wasn’t too sure about that, though. He wanted to give her space, but this could be too dangerous for her still weakened state. He didn’t want to push it and suggest he get into the tub with her, but he told her he’d be standing by the whole time and wash her hair for her, and she agreed to it.

He tried looking away when she undressed, and he even helped her to an extent, but then he reasoned he needed to assess how her bruising and scarring was developing. He was pleasantly surprised to see her skin was barely tainted.

And Y/N was very aware of his eyes on her, on the way his blood quickened in his veins, could almost guarantee he’d stiffened in his pants at the sight of her bare body before him, but she couldn’t act on it as much as her own body was responding to their closeness. She needed time. Her body needed time, too, not just her heart and her mind.

He helped her climb into the tub and sink into the perfectly warm water and Harry sat on the floor next to it and leaned on the margin, looking at her through bubbles, content to have her safe in his presence. Content to know she wasn’t in any pain. He didn’t know how he’d gotten so lucky. It seemed like a miracle that she was awake, let alone able to do all this so rapidly.

But he didn’t want to tell her how close he’d been to losing her. Didn’t want to tell her how worried Niall had been and adamant she wasn’t going to wake up. Didn’t want to tell her that he’d been prepping himself for losing her for good, telling her all he had weighing heavy on his heart.

They sat in silence, and it was perfect. She was there. She was alive and well. And she’d not told him to get lost. His heart was hopeful.

Eventually, he helped her wash her hair, sitting on the edge of the tub behind her. He was extra gentle, and she hummed deeply at how good it must’ve felt. He was happy he could make her feel better, in any way.

And later, when she let him dress her in one of his shirts to bed, his heart soared. He wanted so badly to kiss her, just a soft peck. Just to be close, and communicate how he felt. But he wouldn’t push it. Her hair was still damp but the look in her eyes had gone soft and hazy, and he knew her energy was running low. He gave her her meds and helped her in bed, and then stood there stupidly, unsure what to do.

“Are you not tired?”

He nodded. He was exhausted. He’d barely slept for all those days, and he was still recuperating himself from fatal injuries. Of course, being a werewolf, his recovery was expedited, but he still felt weak. Above his physical injuries though was his mental exhaustion. He’d worried so much for her that he was now feeling it all catch up to him.

“Will you hold me, then? I know you’re injured, too, so only if–”

She didn’t even have time to finish that sentence before Harry was undressing and climbing into bed behind her. He’d kept his boxers on- again, boundaries. But he tentatively reached for her soft body and pulled her into his chest, holding her to him.

Her own hands grabbed on to his arm and she nuzzled closer against him as he spooned her, “I just know I couldn’t fall asleep without your scent all around me,” she mumbled, already so close to falling asleep.

He’d not had time to shower himself that day, so hopefully it wasn’t off-putting for her. But he’d get that done in the morning. As well as cook for them, his appetite was growing now that all was well in the world again. And, well, he’d have to do something about the erection he was trying to keep from pressing into her. He was determined to give her the space she needed and that meant keeping his urges at bay.

He was so happy she was in his arms, he felt like crying from happiness. It was hard refraining from smothering her in his affections when she was right there, pressed against his chest.

“Oh…” she gasped softly. “Is that… are you purring?”

Harry froze and immediately stopped, “‘m sorry, thought you’d fallen asleep…”

“No, no. Don’t stop. I like it. Please keep doing it?”

Harry didn’t even have to force himself to, just hearing her asking him to purr had him doing so naturally. It felt incredible to be able to do so freely, after having to hide it from her for so long. His natural reaction to her proximity when he felt happy and warm and fuzzy.

She giggled. Harry smiled widely at the feel of her trembling in delight in his arms, and it spurred him further, tightening his arms around her a bit more, still careful not to harm her in any way though. “This feels amazing…” she trailed off, drifting into unconsciousness. Harry agreed wholeheartedly.

Harry had woken her up at around 6am to give her her meds, then before she could drift back to sleep he told her he’d be stepping out very briefly in the morning to restock their fridge so he could cook something for them, as promised, making a point out of how he’d be back before she’d even wake up but in case she needed anything, anything at all, she was to call him ASAP.

But she was feeling fine, in fact, she’d used the bathroom before going back to sleep all on her own, no need for him to help her to the ensuite, she was just very tired still.

So when she woke up later, she didn’t really need to go downstairs and check to know that Harry was not back yet. In fact, he’d probably just left since his scent was still lingering pretty heavily around her. Plus she couldn’t smell any cooking taking place.

Still, just to be sure, she got out of bed and decided to go inspect. She was feeling… surprisingly fresh and reinvigorated. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d woken up so well-rested. She couldn’t believe she’d suffered any injuries, she was feeling fine. More than fine.

Strange.

But she wasn’t gonna complain about it. She did feel hungry though, so she was hoping Harry would be back soon from grocery shopping and she was determined to convince him to let her help. She had a burst of energy and couldn’t imagine being made to lay in bed for one more day.

She still felt like this house had way too many rooms. Was way too big. Who needed all this space?! She liked it, she really did, but she much preferred the cosiness of her own home. That was probably what was wrong with it, this just felt like a house, not like a home.

It hadn’t been lived in all that long, to be sure. But still. Passing by a spare guest room she suddenly stopped in her tracks.

She furrowed her brows, following the overwhelming scent she was picking up on, coming from that room.

She’d expected it to be a laundry room with the kind of scent she was picking up on, but there were no hampers lying around the room. It all smelled of brand new furniture, except for one specific chest of drawers.

Approaching it, she reluctantly opened up the uppermost drawer, on a whim.

Her eyes rounded in shock. She gingerly picked one of the several pairs of panties. Not just any panties, but her very own. Her very own used panties.

She dropped them back and took a step back, incredulous laughter escaping her lips that she then covered, still in shock. “...Holy shit!”

Maybe she should’ve found it repulsive, she reasoned, but to her dismay she found this was turning her on for some reason. She didn’t know what it was about her discovery, but it awakened something in her, something very… primal.

But she didn’t really have time to contemplate this when she heard the faint sound of a car door. The huge, semi furnished house must’ve had quite the echo if she could hear him out front when she was on the other side of the house entirely.

Nonetheless, she decided to bring it up later, use it to her advantage somehow, the idea sending a thrill through her body.

For now, she needed to eat. She was truly ravenous.

She made her way into the kitchen, just in time for Harry to emerge with the groceries. He was being very careful and quiet in his movements, but she noticed him rush to the kitchen after he’d entered the house, almost as if he knew she’d be there.

“What are you doing here!?”

She shrugged, “Waiting for you. I’m hungry, you said you’d be quick.”

Harry didn’t know whether to be annoyed or glad. He was happy she was feeling good enough to get out of bed, happy she was hungry, but he’d told her to take it easy. “I told you to call if you needed something!”

“Why? I knew you were probably on your way back, and I don’t exactly need anything. But you’re letting me help.”

Harry placed the groceries on the island, taking her in. She was quite sassy all of a sudden. Again, there was something about the way she was looking at him. Something was just… different. Like she was challenging him, more than before. She was never the meek and obedient kind, and that’s one of the things he liked about her, but now… she’d amped it up a notch. Or two.

And he liked it.

“Is that so?”

She nodded. “Are we making eggs benedict?”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows, his lips quirking up in a smile. “I am. You’re gonna wait on the couch all snuggled up.”

Y/N frowned, “But I’m tired of lying around! How long was I even out for, I feel like my muscles need a good stretch! Could we go for a swim later? Besides, you went for a jog yourself, don’t be selfish!”

Harry was taking all of this in, trying to process what she was saying. He wasn’t all that familiar with human recovery, but this sounded out of the ordinary, even to him.

“It was just a quick run before I headed out. I’ll have to check with Niall and see if he approves. He told me to make sure you take it easy.”

“Yeah, nurse Harry, I remember. But surely swimming isn’t too strenuous… I just wanna stretch my limbs a bit.”

Harry had a different idea as to how he could help her with that but he kept it to himself. For now. Especially with how he was certain he could smell hints of arousal on her. But he knew he couldn’t dream of pursuing that idea until they had a serious talk about what had happened. And he was waiting for her to initiate that conversation. For now, he had to burn off his pent-up energy by doing things out of character, like jogging. He would’ve skipped it had he known she’d be up so soon. For as long as he’d known her, Y/N had never been a morning person. And now especially, she should’ve been still in bed, recovering. But it was barely 9am and here she was, giving him lip that early in the morning.

“I just don’t know where,” she mumbled while she started unpacking the groceries. “Can’t exactly go back to the preserve…”

Harry furrowed his brows even deeper watching her unpack the groceries. His mind was racing, trying to make sense of it all. “How did you know I was planning on eggs benedict?”

Y/N shrugged, “Guess I had a hunch? Oh, crap. The hollandaise is dripping!”

Harry approached her side to inspect the jar, luckily not much had dribbled down the side of it, “Yeah, I opened it up to check if it was any good otherwise I’d have had to make it from scratch. The lid must’ve unscrewed on the way here…”

Part of him wondered if she’d smelled the sauce, and that’s what had given it away, but there was no way she could smell that tiny bit that had dribbled out of the jar. He could smell it now, of course, being as close as he was to the opened bag, but had he been able to get a whiff of it earlier he’d have secured the lid in place.

Y/N was having a hard time with him so close to her. He smelled delicious, all manly after his jog. She felt like burying her nose into his neck and forgetting all about breakfast. Suddenly she had a different appetite that needed sating. And then there was the tiny detail about him collecting her discarded panties…

No sooner did she finish even thinking about that, that Harry pulled away as if electrocuted and she watched him take a few tentative steps back. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered I’m long overdue a shower, I must reek. I’ll be quick, please don’t start without me, alright? Turn on the TV or something, sit.”

She rolled her eyes and watched him rush for the staircase. Fine. She’d wait.

Harry had not allowed himself any reprieve since this whole nightmare had started. The first good night’s sleep he’d gotten was that very night, with Y/N safe and sound in his arms, in his bed. The jog earlier that morning was meant to help him blow off some steam, but Y/N’s proximity was making it very hard for him to ignore his urges, especially when he most definitely smelled hints of arousal on her.

He was determined to keep it in check for her sake, and aside from the fact that he really did need to shower, quite desperately so, he was also going to jerk off to clear his head a bit.

He came way too fast, and very hard since he’d not released in over a week. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gone so long without. Probably not since he’d first masturbated as a teenager, which was saying something. But it left him unsatisfied. He needed more. He huffed his frustration but then heard a loud knock on the ensuite door. He turned the shower off so he could hear her properly, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“You tell me! It sounded like you were in pain, are you alright?!” a very distraught Y/N could be heard from the other side. Harry frowned. Surely he hadn’t been that loud when he came. And the water should’ve muffled it.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” He quickly grabbed a towel, placing it around his hips and holding it together in his fist as he emerged from the ensuite, taking in the distressed look on her face.

But her look of distress quickly morphed into something else. He could visibly see her eyes darken as she unashamedly scanned him head to toe, her hungry gaze following the path the water droplets were making on their way down his body.

She took a step closer, then, to his surprise. He was already hardening again just taking in her own body’s response to his. And Harry definitely noticed the way her eyes widened when they reached the way he was tenting his towel, even held snug around his hips as it was.

And he could definitely smell her arousal, too. She must’ve been dripping with how potent it was. Harry was in limbo, frozen in place waiting for her to do something, anything. He knew she desperately wanted him, just as much as he wanted her, but he wasn’t going to push her. Not when he knew there was so much to–

His throat went dry immediately when her eyes traveled back up to meet his. Her eyes. It couldn’t be…

“I, uh, I forgot something in the car! Be right back!” he stammered, clutching his towel tightly as he made his way downstairs in a rush, all wet and slippery on the marble floor.

He not only went outside, but surpassed his car parked out front, and instead circled the property all the way to the furthermost corner of the expansive garden. He’d made sure to grab his phone first from the kitchen island where he’d left it, and dialed Niall’s number as soon as he was as far away from the house as he could get, given his state of undress.

An amused voice sounded from the other end when Niall finally picked up, “So… did you figure it out, yet?”

Chapter 12

A/N: (@fkinavocado and @gurugirl here) What do you think this all means for Harry & Y/N? Did you vote correctly?

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bvidzsoo · 11 months ago

Text

Love Me Like A Rockstar (5)

ー☆ Chapter 5: Avalanche

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: cussing, mentions of suicide ー☆ Word count: 8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Updateee, hehet. Now, now...this chapter is emotionally loaded, but at least we can notice some progress in their relationship lol, it was about time if you ask me. Please listen to Avalanche before or while reading this chapter, it's really important as it portrays Mingi's story and feelings in the past, so please don't skip it! I can't promise the next update will be soon because I have a deadline by next week, but if I won't be too burned out then I might just update towards next weekend. ALSO G U Y S!!!! Tunnel?!?!?!?!?! SONG MINGI'S SOLO???? ARE WE FINE?!?!?! WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE RELEASES T H A T WHILE I'M WRITING A STORY EXACTLY LIKE THAT???!! No, but seriously, I'm completely not fine, I still can't believe this happened BECAUSE IT'S NOT THE FIRST TIME I WRITE SOMETHING AND IT HAPPENS. Okay, I'm done screaming, sorry. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I tried my best and I hope it turned out okay. Feedback is appreciated, enjoy now!!

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @juicy-red @scarfac3 @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @okokmaybe01-blog

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

There was a beat of silence, of nobody moving, of nobody blinking or saying anything. My heart shouldn’t have picked up its rhythm so fast, but as my eyes briefly ran over Mingi’s tall form standing in the doorway opposite mine, I realized he looked the same as in the video I have seen on Seulgi’s Instagram story, the only change to his outfit was the black hoodie covering his broad frame—and wet, almost see-through, white shirt.

“What are you doing here?” My mouth was moving before I could think, mind suddenly a puddle.

“Picking up some food since I’m headed home from Outlaw.” Mingi’s explanation came quickly, his own eyes taking in my appearance as they briefly ran over my body. My grip tightened around the doorknob as I suddenly felt embarrassed. I knew I didn’t look like my usual self; my eyes were still red from crying, and I couldn’t help but sniff every other few minute. And I was completely soaked in rainwater.

“What are you doing here?” Mingi asked at once, eyes finally meeting mine. His expression was neutral, but there was something in his eyes—he seemed tired. Black eyeliner rimmed his already sharp eyes, creating the illusion of them piercing right through you. I suddenly felt naked under his attentive gaze, too exposed for my liking. I cleared my throat and stepped away from the doorway finally, circling my arms around my body, just now noticing the teetering of my teeth. I tried to offer my body some comfort by hugging myself, but it wasn’t exactly working.

“I was on a walk when it started raining, so I took shelter in here.” That wasn’t a lie at all, yet under Mingi’s watchful gaze, it felt like one. My eyebrows slightly furrowed at the thought, wondering why it felt like I was lying. Perhaps it was the doubt in his eyes as he looked over me once again, clearly questioning why I was drenched from head to toe if I took shelter in here, but I would not further explain myself to him.

“Right,” His voice conveyed nothing and I tried to hide my surprise as he didn’t prod further, “I understand.”

He stepped outside the men’s restroom finally, making me press myself up against the cold wall of the hallway as it was narrow, sniffing as another shudder ripped through my body. Despite having warmed my hands and cheeks with the warm water, I could feel the cold seep through my bones once again as my clothes clung onto my frame uncomfortably. Mingi didn’t cast me any other glance as he took off towards the main hall and I found myself following after him, licking my dry lips as I tried to hug myself tighter, rubbing at my side clumsily. It was my last attempt to warm myself up. My eyes were trained on the floor as they were burning, but I found them drawn upwards soon, curiously watching the back of Mingi’s head. His black hair was damp, and the blue sheer sunglass I saw him wearing in the video was put on backwards, making me frown as I stared at it as it rested against the back of Mingi’s head. Couldn’t he just take it off? Why wear it backwards? Was this a new trend he was following to become more famous? I scoffed at myself quietly as Mingi and I rounded the corner, walking back inside the main hall of the diner, the lady at the front counter looking up from a notebook she was writing in, cash placed next to it. Her eyes were trained on Mingi only, and I rolled my eyes subconsciously, awaiting her to act like one of his baboons—fangirls—from Outlaw and even from our university, but instead, her eyes held warmth as she leaned down and grabbed something from behind the counter. I found myself rooted to my place, watching the interaction—just slightly intrigued—as if I were a child waiting for their parent to finally move and leave the diner. It was silly, really, why was I waiting for Mingi? It’s not like him and I would be leaving together—yet my feet refused to move despite my thoughts telling me to do so.

“Steak with mashed potatoes and some side dishes, just the way you like it.” The lady said kindly as she placed a casserole inside a bag on the counter, pushing it towards Mingi. My eyes were glued to the side of his face, watching his reaction, waiting for his usual arrogant and flirty self to come to the surface, but instead, a small smile made it onto his face as his right hand slipped inside his pocket. Huh, that was new, I’ve never seen Mingi act like—himself—in front of a woman before.

“Thank you, Dahyun, you always seem to know what I’m craving.” Mingi told her quietly and I squeezed my eyes shut as I felt a sneeze trying to fight its way out of my nose, it burned.

“No, you just always ask for the same meals on the same days,” She chuckled as Mingi extended the money towards her, “You’re a simple man, and my memory is simply too good—it’s on the house tonight, Mingi.”

“But—”

“I already closed the register.” Dahyun winked at him and pushed Mingi’s hand back, ignoring the noises of complaint he made, “Seriously, do you want me to overwork myself?”

“Fine,” Mingi sighed, his eyebrows furrowed. My head started to lightly thump and I found myself leaning against the wall, eyes heavy and burning. My mother would kill me for getting sick for such a dumb reason as to staying out in the rain without realizing it was even pouring. Damn Yunho, it’s his fault, “But at least let me leave a tip.”

Dahyun gave Mingi a pointed stare before her eyes fell on me, suddenly realizing I was there too. I cleared my throat awkwardly as I stood up straight, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Mingi turned his head, his eyes falling on me as well, and suddenly I felt—so small. Both of them were looking at me with concern in their eyes, and I couldn’t help but look away as my eyes were suddenly burning with tears in them. Why was I in such an unstable state all of a sudden? My chest felt lighter, my throat wasn’t closing in on me anymore—I was fine, so then why?

“Can you make her some tea? If I’m not asking for too much.” My eyes snapped up in Mingi’s direction as he was looking at me, face still emotionless, but eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course, we’ve still got like five minutes until we’re closing.” Dahyun answered him cheerily and then turned around, opening some cabinets as she got to work.

“Okay, but accept the money this time.” Mingi muttered and placed some bills on the counter, pushing it towards the notebook she seemed to be busy with before we disturbed her.

“Whatever.” Dahyun huffed and cast me a quick glance as Mingi turned to look at me again.

“Are you cold?” Mingi asked and I tensed my muscles, trying to stop the trembling, but it was hard—and it wasn’t even working. But I just gulped and pulled myself together, walking closer to him.

“No.” My teeth clanked against each other again and I sniffed as Dahyun turned to face me, a plastic cup in her hands.

“We only have wild berry tea; I hope you like that.” She said with a smile as she placed the cup on the counter and pushed it towards me. I cleared my throat and looked down at it, the steam hot and inviting as I reluctantly reached out for it. It was embarrassing—this whole situation. I was looking like a mess, on the verge of another breakdown, because why not—my brain decided that I simply wasn’t finished crying over nothing—even if it wasn’t exactly nothing, I refused to acknowledge it. I reluctantly reached for the cup, slightly annoyed that Mingi and this Dahyun girl were looking at me like I was going to break—or explode—at any given moment. I let out a frustrated sigh as my fingers wrapped around the hot cup firmly, skin slightly burning, but I welcomed the feeling as I have stopped feeling my fingers a good few minutes ago.

“Stop looking at me like that, Mingi, I’m fine.” I didn’t mean to snap, but my tone was sharp as I sucked in a sharp breath, bringing the cup up to my lips and blowing on the hot water, the steam warming my skin.

“I’m not looking—anyways,” He cut himself off as he grabbed the bag with his food inside and stepped away from the counter, “Thank you, Dahyun, we won’t be holding you back for longer.”

“No problem, see you soon!” She said with a smile, waving a little as Mingi nodded at her, barely returning her smile. It seemed almost like there was something wrong with him, but I couldn’t tell, I didn’t know him well. He could’ve been simply acting to gain our sympathy—I could see Mingi doing something like that, it didn’t seem too far from his atrocious character.

“Uh, thank you.” I thanked the girl quietly as I slightly bowed my head and she just smiled, waving at me as well as I quickly hurried after Mingi, who had stopped in the doorway, apparently waiting for me.

His hand reached out for the handle, but he hesitated for a second, not opening the door just yet, “It’s still raining…and you don’t have an umbrella…”

I raised an eyebrow as I took a sip of my hot tea, taking a glance at Mingi. He was looking ahead, eyes trained on the road through the glass doors. The sweet taste of wild berries exploded in my mouth and I bit my lip as the warm tea flushed down my throat, warming me up from the inside as I eagerly took another big gulp, slightly burning my tongue.

“Yeah, I don’t have an umbrella.” I said, the two of us looking at each other at the same time, “But it’s fine, I’m already drenched. I’ll just run home—”

“You’re already shivering and shaking constantly, Y/N.” Mingi said matter of fact, and I rolled my eyes almost instantly, “Let me drive you home.”

“You don’t have to, it doesn’t matter.” I muttered with a shrug and took another sip of my tea, but Mingi just shook his head and turned his body slightly towards mine.

“You keep sniffing and you are clearly cold, even if you say you aren’t.” He raised an eyebrow, pointing towards my flushed cheek—I could only hope I wouldn’t have a fever, “You’ll catch a cold at this point, just let me drive you home. It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Mingi,” I sighed loudly, giving him a glare, “I’m fine, I’m not cold and I won’t catch a cold—”

Almost as if the Universe—or my own body—was having a laugh at me, a sneeze forced its way through my nostrils, loud, and an obvious sign that I wasn’t doing too well currently. Mingi’s lips pressed into a thin line as he tried not to smile and suppress his chuckle, making me grumble to myself as I quickly drank the remaining tea, feeling slightly warmer.

“Still going to pass on that ride?” Mingi quirked an eyebrow as a smirk appeared on his lips and I scoffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest.

“Lead the way, Prince Charming.” I mocked, but it only made Mingi giggle as he pushed the door open, the breeze freezing as it suddenly hit me. I instantly shivered and made myself smaller, clutching myself around my middle.

“That’s my car.” Mingi pointed towards a black car across the street and suddenly he took off, pulling his hood over his head, running out into the rain. There was no oncoming traffic, so I quickly left the shop and ran across the road, headed for the passenger seat. As I got there, the car was unlocked and Mingi was pulling the key out of the lock and opening his side of the door quickly, jumping inside. I followed his lead and slammed the door closed after sitting inside, shivering and groaning at the cold gripping at my skin again, pressing myself back into the leather seat of Mingi’s car. He placed the food in the backseat, putting the keys into the ignition. He looked at me, lips slightly pursed.

“Uh,” For the first time in my life, Mingi looked embarrassed as he scratched his nape, “The car’s old so uhm—we’ll have to wait a little bit before we take off. For the engine to warm up and shit, you know.”

I hummed and gulped, grip tightening around the plastic cup I was still holding onto. I did not want to prolong my time spent together with Mingi, so why couldn’t his car work just fine? I watched him as he turned the key, but the engine didn’t start right away, screeching for a second as Mingi tried again, groaning with his eyebrows furrowed. I remained silent as I watched him struggle for a few more seconds until the engine finally rumbled to life, the sound louder than I expected. But it only lasted for another second before it settled down, the pouring rain overshadowing the sound of the old engine. Mingi went and pressed a few buttons on the dashboard and I allowed my muscles to relax slightly, noting the way I was still shaking. When will it stop? It was getting annoying. As if Mingi sensed my train of thoughts, he turned his head towards me and cleared his throat.

“Are you cold?” He asked, making me sigh as I shook my head no, refusing to admit that I couldn’t feel my feet anymore. Maybe if this old wreck could warm up faster I wouldn’t be shaking so much—and I knew Mingi’s car had zero faults right now, but I had to pour my irritation onto something instead of admitting defeat in front of him, “You’re very obviously cold, Y/N.”

I scoffed and my eyes snapped to him as he suddenly leaned more towards me, reaching for something in the backseat of the car, “If it’s so obvious, Mr. Obvious, do something about it—”

My mouth clamped shut the second Mingi was holding a black denim jacket in his hand with a lopsided smile, extending it towards me, “I am doing something about it, here, wear it.”

He let it fall into my lap before I could refuse him and suddenly my cheeks were on fire—and not from the cold. I cleared my throat loudly and averted my gaze as Mingi settled back into his seat with a small grin, watching me as I rolled my eyes, fumbling with the heavy jacket he had given me. I didn’t want to wear it—that was the last thing I actually wanted to do, but a violent shiver racked through my body and I was suddenly moving faster than lightning, groaning as my clothes were still stuck against my body. It was a horrible feeling, but at least Mingi’s seats were leather, easier to clean. I pulled the black denim jacket around my shoulders before putting each arm through the sleeves, trying to ignore Mingi’s eyes on me, and the amused smile he had on his face. It wasn’t funny—but it was probably entertaining to him. I wonder how many girls he took home like this before me, letting them wear his jacket only to flirt with them afterwards as a means of getting to sleep with them. Men were easy, and Mingi was one of them. I could see right through his bullshit, and so, despite the warmth and masculine scent enveloping my senses, I gave Mingi a sharp glare, making him chuckle.

“You’re so predictable,” He said quietly, almost as if to himself, but I heard him, and I scoffed, “You won’t thank me, right?”

“I’m still cold.” I evaded his question instead, giving him a look, but Mingi just giggled, the sound low and deep inside his chest. I watched as his features relaxed and found my heart beating faster once again as I realized that I was enclosed in a tiny space with him, barely a few feet away from each other. There was something different about Mingi all of a sudden as he threw his head back, sighing loudly and gripping the wheel. His eyes fluttered close and I couldn’t will myself to look away, suddenly curious of the man sitting next to me. Who was he? Why was he like this? But the confusing butterflies deep inside my stomach sent me into distress, and I averted my eyes as Mingi opened his, and realized it was becoming suffocating. The silence. I didn’t like it. Mingi wasn’t saying anything, the engine was still dully rumbling and the rain was hitting the roof of the old Honda Prelude loudly. It didn’t feel as restricting as earlier, but my throat was squeezing in on itself and without asking for permission, I reached forward and pressed a button on the stereo, turning the radio on.

The instrumental wasn’t something I have heard before, and the harsh beat of the drums resounded in the car loudly, making my heart jump. Soon, the drum was accompanied by the lively but soft melody of the guitar, guiding it through. It felt like a storm, the loud and harsh beats of the drums lead by the soft yet determined guitar. It was almost as if two sides of the coin were leaning on each other for support—almost as if one was desperate to be shown some light in the darkness. I saw Mingi shift in the corner of my eyes, and I was startled at the intense look in his eyes as he looked at me, lips parted and eyebrows drawn up. He seemed surprised but at the same time almost angry, it was a look I couldn’t read well yet. I didn’t understand why he was looking at me like that. Suddenly, the drums slightly softened, until they became silent, and the guitar guided the melody smoothly, bringing it a comforting feeling. Mingi and I were still looking at each other and I was about to ask why he was looking at me like that, but suddenly the raspy, yet warm, voice resounding in the car took me off guard as my eyes widened, leaving me gaping at Mingi.

『Cut me open and tell me what's inside

Diagnose me 'cause I can't keep wondering why

And no, it's not a phase 'cause it happens all the time

Start over, check again, now tell me what you find

'Cause I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?』

His voice was smooth as the drums and guitar accompanied it, dropping lower at times and feeling like the caress of a whisper at the same time. Mingi’s face had turned emotionless once again as his eyes locked with mine, and I tried to give him a glare, but my mind was focused on the words he was singing—on the message behind his lyrics.

『It's like an avalanche, I feel myself go under

'Cause the weight of it's like hands around my neck

I never stood a chance, my heart has frozen over

And I feel like I am treading on thin ice』

The beat picked up again, the drums louder as the melody grew more aggressive, Mingi’s voice reflecting it and gliding with it. His voice was powerful and held sincerity as he sung, his words ringing through my mind as the raspiness of it became more hearable. I couldn’t hold Mingi’s gaze anymore and I swiftly turned my head, playing with the cup I had in my hands as I gulped, the melody slowing down once again.

『Am I broken? What's the chance I will survive?

Don't sugarcoat me 'cause I feel like suicide

Just give it to me straight, 'cause I'm running out of time

I need an antidote, now what can you prescribe?』

My eyebrows furrowed the longer I listened to his words, wondering if this is what he actually felt like. Wondering when he wrote this song. Wondering why and how was Mingi hiding such feelings locked away in himself, in a way that nobody would be able to see the real him. Why were his words so relatable and why did I suddenly find myself teary eyed, biting my lower lip to try and get a grip of myself again.

『It's like an avalanche, I feel myself go under

'Cause the weight of it's like hands around my neck

I never stood a chance, my heart has frozen over

And I feel like I am treading on thin ice, and I'm going under』

I wonder who made him feel like that. Who had hurt Mingi so much that he felt like he was on the verge of giving it all up. Did he still feel like that? Were the two of us not so much different from each other after all? I sniffed, turning my head to look out the window instead, scared that if I hung my head down the tears would actually fall.

『I need a cure for me 'cause the square doesn't fit the circle

Give me a remedy 'cause my head wasn't wired for this world

I need a cure for me 'cause the square doesn't fit the circle

Give me a remedy 'cause my head wasn't wired for this world』

My grip around the cup tightened and I heard Mingi shift in his seat again, but I didn’t turn around to look at him. Emotions and thoughts of all sorts were whirling in my head, and I couldn’t stop thinking. I haven’t really paid attention to what he sings in his songs before—not that I had many occasions to do so—but this one suddenly felt so familiar, as if there was at least one person in the world who understood my struggles too. I’ve had low points in life before, especially after Yunho left me, and I really felt like there was no way out for me. I didn’t know how to cope and what to do with myself, I became uncaring and closed myself off to the world, only talking to those necessary, and barely doing anything if I could. That was the only time in my life when my art didn’t help at all, when I couldn’t pick up my pencil out of fear of what my mind would conjure up to torment me with. My life revolved around Jeong Yunho, and I knew because of missing him, he would be the only thing I would be drawing. He was my muse, and I hated it for such a long time not realizing that it was in some twisted way helping with getting over him. I have memorized every single feature and flaw of his, knowing it by heart. It was freeing when I was able to highlight all the things I knew he hated about himself, it made it easier for me to remind myself that he wasn’t as perfect as I thought he was. It was just the idea I had created of him in my head.

My fingers were tapping against the cup, following the rhythm of the song as Mingi’s beautiful voice carried on singing, the melody wrapping me up in my thoughts, almost getting lost to the point where I wasn’t paying attention to the song anymore. But it was actually impossible to do that, Mingi had a way to keep you focused on himself even if he was just simply singing, his raspy and warm voice keeping you in a vice grip, making you yearn for more. As the song came to an end, I released a breath I didn’t even realize I had been holding. Mingi was swift as he leaned forward and turned off the stereo, clearing his throat loudly. For a few more seconds nothing was said between the two of us, silence enveloping around us once again. But I didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, I felt—almost sad, but mostly curious of the making of this song. Of what prompted Mingi to write it. Why were his emotions so raw in this, and who caused him to feel like this.

“It wasn’t bad,” I found myself speaking up, not really thinking through my words first, “you’re not too bad at this, Mingi.”

I didn’t expect him to laugh, and as I turned my head, he was already looking at me with an amused look on his face, covering his mouth as his laughter got louder for a second. My eyebrows furrowed, and I was about to say something less nice to him, but I realized my compliment sounded oddly similar to the one I had gotten from him back at the library. Despite fighting against the smile wanting to appear on my lips, I quickly let out a chuckle, our eyes with Mingi connecting. Despite the depth of the song and the somber atmosphere it created, Mingi seemed to be almost ecstatic as he shrugged, drumming his fingers against the wheel. Subconsciously, I nuzzled further into the collar of the denim jacket, the cologne stronger as I inhaled it, reminded that I was wearing Mingi’s jacket. I didn’t miss the way a fond smile appeared on his face for a few moments, quickly disappearing as he cleared his throat and looked ahead, pressing some other buttons on the dashboard.

“Thank you, getting a compliment from a fine arts genius certainly feels like I have won a Grammy or something.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes as Mingi chuckled, grinning at me for a second before he turned his body fully towards me, taking me off guard, “I wrote this song a long time ago, when—well, there’s nothing to hide here, when Yunho left for college. When I—remained alone at home, here in this town. Nothing was set in stone yet, to be honest, I had absolutely no idea what to do with my life back then. I was eighteen and I was confused and scared. The pressure of figuring out what you wanted to do with your life at such a young age was frightening and breaking me down, to be honest. I’ve always struggled mentally—you know, with depression and anxiety—and I think that period of time was the lowest I had ever been.”

I was soaking in every word Mingi was saying, mind silent and eyes focused on him, wanting to hear more as he continued talking, “Yunho was always the stronger one between the two of us and he always knew from a young age what he wanted to do, so when I realized I hadn’t planned my future ahead like him, I lost myself. And he—left, to college—in a different city. Hours away, leaving me all alone. I know I might sound dramatic, but I don’t deal well with change. I never have and I never will, I’m afraid. It took me almost a year to finally get used to living alone and sometimes I still struggle, it’s really frustrating. So you can imagine how badly I took my best friend, whom I have never been separated from before and we’ve known each other since kindergarten, leaving and abandoning me in the small town I have always hated and had no future in. I fell into deep depression and nothing was helping, like at all. Not even Yunho returning home out of the blue after two weeks of no contact on my part. When he saw the state I was in, we—we cried for hours, Y/N. It was horrible. I hate making him feel like that, because it wasn’t his fault, it was all mine.”

My eyebrows furrowed and my heart clenched upon hearing Mingi’s words, quietly letting out a breath which felt like it was restricting my lungs. In this moment, I heard my own thoughts and feelings in Mingi. His struggles and pain, I understood them. My fingers crushed the cup accidentally, but thankfully Mingi didn’t seem to notice as he took a deep breath and continued, “I wanted to kill myself. If Yuyu wouldn’t have come home in that exact moment—I don’t think we’d be having this conversation right now.”

My eyebrows furrowed and without really thinking, my left hand reached over the center console and I found myself gripping Mingi’s right hand, his skin so much hotter than mine. He bit his lower lip, eyebrows twitching as he averted his gaze all of a sudden, turning his hand upwards so that my fingers could slip over his palm. It was weird how easily my skin tingled at the contact; thoughts silent for once.

“He suggested I find a way of getting these thoughts and feelings out of myself. And after he left once again I knew I had to do something unless I planned on completely losing my mind, so…I took a pen and paper and started writing. Everything I felt, everything I thought. And miraculously, it worked. Slowly, of course, but it started working. I found a good therapist as well and suddenly I could see a way out of this dark cloud hung up around my head, fogging my thoughts up. I searched for a beat on YouTube and realized I could turn these thoughts and feelings into music. And they didn’t even sound bad, but what was most important was that I enjoyed doing it. I felt free, I felt like I could finally say anything I ever wanted. And I knew if this helped me, then it would help others as well, let them know they weren’t alone, and that you can go on even if it seems like you can’t. I wrote this song right before signing up to our university and sent it in as a sample. I was granted access to the studious a week later, and two weeks later accepted to the university. It’s probably one of my happiest memories, especially since Yunho surprised me that day by coming home and celebrating it with me.”

As Mingi was done talking, silence settled between the two of us. Comforting, understanding. I looked down at my lap, mind a whirlwind of thoughts all of a sudden, threatening to rush out at once. The sudden thumb sweeping against my knuckles made me slightly tense, realizing that I was completely holding hands with Mingi. My cheeks burned all of a sudden and my heart jumped, yet despite my thoughts telling me to pull my hand out of his, I didn’t move just yet. The feeling—wasn’t so bad.

“My sketchbook—the one you flipped through without my permission—” I sent Mingi a small glare as he snorted, cutting me off for a second, “is like my journal. I doddle in it daily, sometimes I even write little messages next to the sketches, noting down the things on my mind or just simply how my day went. When I draw, my mind is completely silent, I feel at ease. There’s nothing bothering me and I don’t have to worry in that moment of what the next line will illustrate or what the overall drawing will be. My thoughts are often too loud and I get overwhelmed by them, it’s hard to ignore them, you know? But by drawing, I can escape them and free myself even for a little while, it’s similar to what you must feel when you write music. Just letting go and releasing everything you feel.”

Mingi’s eyes were warm and soft as a small smile appeared on his lips, his skin suddenly burning mine and as my heartbeat showed no signs of slowing down, so, I carefully slipped my hand out of his, turning ahead and staring out at the pouring rain, feeling exposed and too small, “I understand what it must’ve felt like going through all of that. There was a time in my life, when—my whole world revolved around one person only and when—when he left, I thought I would die. I didn’t want to continue on living, to be completely honest. But with time, and thanks to my mother and Seulgi, I built myself back up. It’s fine now—I mean, I’m fine now.”

Mingi just hummed and I could feel his gaze on me as I leaned forward in the seat, rubbing my face as I felt fatigue settle over my whole being. At least I wasn’t shaking anymore, the car had warmed up significantly and my clothes weren’t sticking to my skin so violently anymore.

“Everyone has their story, Y/N.” Mingi spoke up, and I could hear the smile in his voice, “And it was very obvious to me that your attitude towards me is just a defense mechanism—”

“Oh, don’t get too cocky now that I’ve shared something so insignificant from my life.” I snapped as I turned my head, giving him a small glare. Mingi chuckled, holding his hands up in a way that said he wasn’t trying to attack me.

“I don’t think it’s insignificant—”

“Mingi.”

“Tell me something…” He trailed off and I sighed loudly, not in the mood to converse anymore. I wanted to go home, “Are those eyes really Yunho’s in your sketchbook? Because I really don’t think they are. I mean, I know what my own eyes like look and—”

“Whatever, they are yours, okay?” I snapped defensively as I crossed my arms in front of my chest, cutting Mingi off. I knew I should’ve never confessed to him that those were indeed his eyes, because now the shit eating grin he had on his lips and the way his eyes sparkled weren’t worth it. Not when my cheeks felt on fire, and I knew it wasn’t from the warmth inside the car.

“I knew it!” He said triumphantly, giggling a little, making me role my eyes.

“Just because you have pretty eyes doesn’t mean I’m in love with you.” I scoffed and suddenly Mingi froze, staring at me like I said something wrong. I raised my eyebrows at him in question.

“I never said you were in love with me.” Shit. I scoffed and rolled my eyes again, giving him a deadpan look.

“Very well, can’t have you thinking that now that you know those are your eyes.” Mingi laughed, again, as he playfully leaned towards me, making my glare deepen.

“So, you think I’m pretty?” He bit his lower lip and my brain blanked for a second as my eyes ran over his face quickly, taking in his features. Yes, he was very pretty—what the fuck?!

“Just because you have features which are easy to draw, Mingi, doesn’t mean I think you’re pretty. Have I told you already that you’re self-absorbed?” I raised my eyebrows mockingly as I clicked my tongue and Mingi chuckled as he faced forward, turning on the windshield wipers.

“Yes, quite a few times, actually.” I scoffed, putting on my seatbelt when I saw Mingi doing the same.

“Just take me home.” I muttered as I turned my head and looked out the window.

“Tell me your address first.” Mingi’s tone was playful as he turned on the stereo again, this time a channel of a radio playing music in Mingi’s vintage car as he slowly drove off.

After arriving home I had taken a very long and very hot shower, letting my body stay under the stream for a long time, probably making my mother think that I was drowning. I could feel my muscles finally relaxing, the shivers completely gone from my body as I dressed into my warmest pajamas once I got out of the shower, blow-drying my hair quickly, eager to get underneath my warm blanket. Thankfully my mother wasn’t angry at all by the time I got home, she was waiting for me with two mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows, and a big hug. She didn’t want to tell me where her sudden affection was coming from, but she said she knew there was something wrong, and that I could go to her the next time I’m struggling. It’s funny how she always knows what the problem is, yet I don’t want to burden her furthermore with my own dramatic emotions.

After drinking the hot chocolate and having a laugh with my mother over the comedy show she was watching in her room, I finally retreated to my own room, under the oh, so warm blanket. I couldn’t help but sigh contently and nuzzle even further into the pillow under my head, grateful to be finally able to rest. But as if the Universe was out against me tonight—and it probably was hence the shitshow today was—sleep never came to me. I was beyond tired, yet I couldn’t sleep. I felt slightly restless, as if I had to do something and I wouldn’t be able to rest until I have done it—and that was drawing. The image in my head was begging for me to be released onto a blank canvas, but I wished it could wait until tomorrow—but it couldn’t, so, with a loud sigh, I sat up and turned on my lamp. The sketchbook was bigger than the one I use as a journal since I rarely use it outside of class, but for what I wanted to draw tonight I needed the bigger one. I flipped it open to a new page and grabbed my pencil, twirling it around my fingers as I sectioned the blank paper, searching for the right angle to start the drawing.

First, I settled on drawing the outlines with faded lines, the background not the most important but since it played a part in the spacing of the drawing, I had to start with that. I went and first did the outline of the car from the inside, adding shading to show where the streetlamps couldn’t reach as the car drove down the empty road, gloomy clouds raining down on us, making the roads slippery and reducing visibility, but Mingi was an attentive and calm driver as he hummed and nodded his head to the beat of the music playing on the radio. His jaw was set and eyes focused up front, on the road, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed and lower lip quite often between his teeth as he bit into the supple flesh, his lips cherry colored and plump. His jawline long, and sharp; and cheekbones well defined, yet not too sharp; his brow bone more forward, giving him an intimidating look from the side with his eyebrows drawn together. His nose, tall, and long, and pointy—too pretty. I cleared my throat and shook my head, focusing on drawing the rest of Mingi’s features and willing my brain to shut up about whether Mingi was pretty or not—he wasn’t. I couldn’t help but draw the sunglasses he wore so hideously backwards, ruining his overall nice look, making me grimace as I darkened his hair by adding more shading to it. I illustrated the shadows falling over his face as well, his gaze slightly obscured from my view. His long fingers gripped the wheel tightly, the gemstones of his rings glinting whenever the light fell on it in a peculiar way, and I couldn’t help but recall the feeling of his skin against mine as drew the lines defining the muscle of his hands. Just as I went to draw his neck, my phone pinged, slightly startling me as it was loud. It was placed on my nightstand and I groaned as I had to lean over half of my bed to reach it. And as I took my phone into my hands, my heart skipped a beat.

I hate him: are u asleep?

I glanced at the clock and realized it would be soon midnight, I had to get this drawing done and then go to sleep as I had class early in the morning tomorrow. Besides, I didn’t want to talk to Mingi. Why was he texting me? Just because we shared a few sappy stories about ourselves doesn’t mean that we have suddenly become best friends, sharing even more life stories with each other—and most certainly Mingi had no business texting me this late at night. With a huff, I let my phone fall next to me as I continued to draw, focusing on my creation instead. Drawing the neck was easy and quick and I focused on adding little details to it instead, the silver chains he had hanging against his neck tonight, peeking through the collar of his black hoodie. I continued drawing the rest of his body, his arms and torso as well as I could as they weren’t too essential to the drawing as of now. I only wanted to draw Mingi’s profile as he drove, the darkness combined with the streetlamps casting beautiful shadows over his flawless face. But drawing Mingi, knowing that Mingi had texted me all of a sudden felt weird, and I sighed as I dropped my pencil, grabbing my phone again as I unlocked it. He had sent the message five minutes ago, that was enough time for him to fall asleep so even if I text him he’ll only see this in the morning and if he’ll answer I won’t have to text him back anymore—because I didn’t want to be texting with Mingi, at all.

Me: no. u?

As I went to close my phone, his reply came instantly, leaving me surprised. There goes my plan of Mingi being asleep and not having to talk to him tonight…

I hate him: nope, why aren’t u sleeping? Me: i can’t sleep. u?

I chewed on my bottom lip as I shuffled around for a second to be able to sit cross legged in my bed.

I hate him: yeah, same. the rain makes it hard for me to sleep…i hate rain, actually, especially the thunder.

I almost went ahead and typed back that I knew, but Mingi wasn’t supposed to know that. Mingi had no idea Yunho and I had dated back in highschool—Mingi had no idea how much I actually knew about him due to Yunho, and I intended on keeping that a secret from him. I didn’t want to wake up old ghosts in my heart which would bring pain once again.

Me: ig i’m fine with rain as long as i’m somewhere inside, but the humidity kills me. it’s the winter time i actually hate…i can’t deal with cold weather, i get easily sick…

I rubbed my forehead as I pressed send and sighed as I lowered my phone into my lap, suddenly aware of the weird butterflies in my stomach, making me almost nauseous. As I glanced back down at my phone, the three bubbles signaling that Mingi was typing back appeared, and I had to take a deep breath to settle my erratic heartbeat. What was happening? Why was my body reacting in such a weird way?

I hate him: oh, yeah, i totally get the winter thing as someone who loves dressing light. i feel like i am more myself in the summer time lol; my style rocks during the summer and then gets okay-ish during the winter, it’s sad actually…

I chuckled and smirked as I quickly typed back.

Me: why? cuz you can’t show off your biceps during the winter? I hate him: ha-ha aren’t u so funny tonight? Me: i’m always funny, mingi…

I couldn’t help but chuckle as I quickly sent the message despite Mingi still typing.

I hate him: u wish u were always funny, doll…if someone’s funny then that person is me, y/n Me: yeah, right, u wish, prince I hate him: aren’t u just in a delightful mood tonight, doll?

I scoffed but couldn’t fight off the amused smile from my lips.

Me: it’s all thanks to you, idiot I hate him: i think I prefer u calling me prince, actually… Me: u wish, idiot. I hate him: anyways, what’s your favorite season?

I raised an eyebrow as I read the text from Mingi.

Me: interesting question I hate him: well u said u didn’t like winter, so what do you like then? Me: not u, that’s for sure…

I couldn’t help but cackle at my own reply, feeling proud of myself over such little thing. I could imagine Mingi chuckling and shaking his head at it, perhaps glaring down at his phone.

Me: autumn or spring, really…not too cold nor too warm, in-between, just perfect u know?

There was a second of nothing until the bubbles popped up again, making me realize I was smiling down at my phone, so I quickly cleared my throat and got it together. There was nothing to be smiling at here.

I hate him: i get it, those seasons are really pretty…talking of pretty…do you really think i’m pretty?

I couldn’t help the loud scoff which left my lips at the same time as I rolled my eyes, very tempted to leave him on read and just go to sleep right then and there.

Me: i have already told you, mingi, i don’t think u are pretty because u a r e n ‘t, get it???

The reply was instant.

I hate him: hahahahahahaha; u are cute!

My body froze for a second, eyebrows furrowing as I reread his reply. What the fuck? Me? Cute? Yeah, sure, cute my ass—this idiot was testing my patience and kindness, once again.

Me: u’re disgusting, I’m blocking u I hate him: whatever u say, gorgeous, I know u a r e n ‘t!!!

My jaw clenched at the blatant mocking and I scoffed loudly as I looked ahead, glaring at nothing particular as my blood was boiling. He really thought I wouldn’t block him? There was nothing holding me back from doing so—suddenly the bubbles appeared again, and I looked down at my phone—just slightly curious.

I hate him: sorry if that was too much, i was just joking. i wanted to ask something all night, but i just didn’t know whether the timing was right or not or just whatever, but…are u okay? like…do you feel okay?

I gulped, my anger dissipating like it never even happened, leaving me confused. Was he now worried about me? Why would he be?

Me: i’m ok, why?

It took a little time for Mingi to answer, and it made me gulp as I read it.

I hate him: bcz your eyes were red when we met in front of the restrooms and idk…u just kinda felt off or smth…i just wanted to make sure. Me: i had a rough day, but i’m fine… thanks for asking ig… I hate him: ofc, anytime

Did he mean that? I couldn’t help but wonder. But there were so many things about Mingi that I didn’t know yet and…something changed tonight. I couldn’t completely hate him like before. The conversation we had in his car, the things he willingly shared with me were so personal and hard, yet he trusted me with them. I couldn’t help but feel good about it, thankful in a way, that despite my demeanor he still found me worthy of knowing about his past—of knowing of the backstory of said song we have listened to. I thought Mingi was all smirks and a cocky attitude, nothing in that empty and self-centered brain of his—yet he pretty much proved me wrong today, and for some reason I didn’t seem to mind too much. I couldn’t help but bite my lower lip as I looked down at my phone, realizing that it was past midnight now, I had to go to sleep.

Me: goodnight, i have classes early in the morning… I hate him: sweet dreams, y/n…see u at uni.

『I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?

'Cause I'm going out of frequency

Can anyone respond?』

❱❱ Next chapter

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painterofhorizons · 5 months ago

Text

poh's Akuze masterpost

Since Akuze is my fav Mass Effect playground since 2020, it's time for a masterpost.

Published Fic (x)

20 times Akuze almost gets Shepard (AO3, tumblr): After Akuze, Shepard fights to gain back agency. // 8k, pre-ME1, PTSD, recovery, Captain Anderson

Ghosts from the Past, pt. 01 (AO3, tumblr): Fifteen months after surviving the thresher maw massacre on Akuze, Shepard is confronted with ghosts from her past, when a relative of one of her dead former comrades takes a position on the same vessel that she’s assigned to. // 2k, pre-ME1, Engineer Adams

Ghosts from the Past, pt. 02 (AO3): With both of them hurting a relative’s death, Adams tries to mend burning bridges. // 3.5k, pre-ME1, Engineer Adams

Area secure, Commander (AO3): Tali’s first encounter with a thresher maw doesn’t exactly go ideal, but little does she know. // 1.5k, ME1, PTSD, Tali, Garrus

Currently Working On

The Good, Bad, And The Ugly (work in progress): An episode long fic for the post-Akuze recovery, losely following the 20 Times timeline, but adjusting things and diving deeper into the struggles, people and places important during the long way back. It takes fire to forge a N7 soldier. // ~18 chapters, pre-ME1, PTSD, recovery, Captain Anderson, James vega, Jeff Joker Moreau

WIPs

Arcturus Station, 2179

Two Aces In Disguise

Of all things Akuze has taken from her, the ability to communicate is the most excruciating one.

at some point post-Akuze in the rehab facility, Shepard meets a young James Vega

jello

reliving Akuze

“How’s Giles doing?”

grief

white noise

birthday

cake

Tabatha Adams

tbc

Art

post Akuze promotion portrait

meta human portraits Reda Shepard&James Vega & updated version

illustration for the post-Akuze rehab long fic

[previews below, please see the original posts above for quali!)

Akuze Giving Me A Headache (random musings)

x x x x x

Things I've Said (asks)

x x x x

Random Bits And Pieces

Mass Effect Writing Masterpost incl. non-Akuze writings

Last updated: 2024-11-03

#mass effect #akuze #reda shepard #david anderson #james vega #jeff joker moreau #greg adams #painterofhorizons writes

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split-spectrum · 1 year ago

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 12

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: (please read updated tags for this chapter <3) explicit content, i.e. SMUT, 18+ only - minors DNI. sex, oral sex, cum play, dubious consent, drug use, hair pulling, very slight violence

Chapter Length: 8K

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Thirty-Second Hour

When you sink back into the vision, you let out a slow, albeit shaky breath, to steady yourself. The instant that you can see again, it's clear the effort was wasted.

He's brought you right back to the spot you'd left - the sudden, choked noise in the back of his throat letting you know he's close- so close. Everything in his body language is telling you he's seconds from spilling into you.

But no matter how much the drugs may have altered his mind, Obi Wan is still Obi Wan, and he is nothing if not brutally controlled.

He's dragging it out, you realize. The obscene sound of him fucking you has slowed into a steadier rhythm and you hear the first half of a desperate moan escape you before it's cut off. You watch your own hand fly up to cover your mouth. Your jaw looks tight from this angle.

Obi Wan doesn't slow down, doesn't miss a beat of rocking his hips, releasing his hand from your throat and deftly sweeping up to uncover your mouth. He pulls your hand away, dragging it down and pressing his grip over yours until you're holding your own throat.

"No, no," he admonishes next to your ear. "If it feels good, young one, you mustn't be quiet about it."

You hear the whining groan that answers him. You nearly mirror it, in the here-and-now.

It's beyond you, how he's able to keep his voice so composed while the rest of him is nearly snapping, at the obvious precipice of his orgasm. Every muscle is taut, glistening with sweat as he pumps diligently into your body. Your thighs clench around him, a sign that you're close, too, and he notices.

The hand he'd been using to hold your hip slides between your legs and though you can't see it, you feel the movement in his thoughts when two of his fingers drag the wetness from where you're dripping around his cock, spreading it over your clit. Your desperate noises turn strangled.

"There we are," he soothes. "Be a good girl and show your master. Let me feel-"

The vision blurs, the Obi Wan in the room with you breathing unsteadily. You feel him shake his head, dropping the tips of his fingers away from you. "Forgive me, I-"

But you're aching now, and you don't hold back your impulse, lifting your hand to his head, brushing your middle finger gently up from the hair at his ear over to his temple, and resting it there. "Oh, don't stop. Please."

His aura is so thick with desire that when you open your eyes to look into his, you're not sure if the air around you has turned hazy. He relents almost immediately.

"Let me feel you come," the Obi Wan in the vision purrs, the sound of his voice filling your mind again. The honeyed rumble of his command burns through your bloodstream and coils up hot in your stomach. You're about to come in the vision. You might come now, just from watching.

Your body shudders on top of him, doing as he's told you, tumbling over the edge hard and fast, and crumbling against him with a mess of moaning and finally a high, keening sound that could be his name. He turns it into a choked whine, tightening his grip around your larynx and fucking into you even harder when your climax starts to taper off.

Your voice goes quiet, and when your movements begin to slow, he pulls his hand from between your legs and folds you onto your side. His other hand finally releases your throat as you roll, and his leg hooks behind your knee, opening you up for him to reach even deeper.

"That's it," he pants roughly, your body spasming beneath him and your voice pitching upward again. His mouth is pressed into the nape of your neck, where the marks from his teeth are starting to turn dark.

One of his thumbs hooks down to brush your nipple, his lips meet your neck in a kiss that you remember feeling, and all at once, you recognize what you're seeing. This is the scene he'd shown you, back on the ship, during your meditation.

But he hadn't shown you all of it.

You can see the dazed, glassy look in your own eyes as he bears down on you, his thrusts turning ragged, grinding you into the floor.

"Obi Wan," your plea comes out guttural, wrecked, and the sound of it it makes your head swim. You realize it's his reaction you're feeling, and suddenly it's like you're floating out of your own body. It's overwhelming and at the same time, not enough. It's you; it's him. You can't tell whose feelings you're having anymore, or whether they're a part of the vision, or something happening right now, in the room you're sharing. You don't know where the line is. You don't know if there is a line.

"Fuck-" he says, hard and clipped. He leans into his forearm, pinning you down, and you bite the inside of your lip to keep from becoming a whimpering mess while watching the man you'd always known as tender, who'd never accepted anything not freely offered, bury himself into you. Watching him take and take and take exactly what he wants, losing himself in cruelty; in pleasure...

This time, when Obi Wan brings the vision to an end, it's a slow stop. Like breaking the surface of the water and coming up for air. It's not as definitive and sudden as before. You can still feel it while you're gazing into his eyes. His lips are bright, pink, and slightly parted. He closes them into a hard line, to swallow.

You're so wrapped in the vision and in wanting to feel more of him that your consciousness keeps pressing up against his, at first. To the point where Obi Wan not only cuts off the contact between you, but actually begins to push back. The walls of his mind are rigid once again, and his presence is firmly closed off.

It takes an eternity for you to gather yourself. You're too afraid to speak. Your hand is still at his temple, resting against the warmth of his face, and you stay there. You're not ready to break your connection with his skin.

"Obi Wan..." His name leaves your mouth before you're ready to talk, and the rest of your mind catches up clumsily as you realize your tone is too breathy and far too intimate. His eyelids dip deliciously, and it nearly sends you over the edge. But you swallow, vehemently tamping down your desires, and force yourself to even out your voice.

"Thank you," you tell him simply. "For showing me. Now I know."

You shift in the bedding, bringing your noses just a bit closer.

"Now you know," he says back. There's a long, loaded silence hanging over you. He's trying to remain unreadable, as he always does, but you'd caught that first look he'd given when the vision ended, and it was enough to tell you why he's still lying next to you instead of moving away.

The wind howls outside, and it's the first time in hours that you've thought about the rest of the world existing.

"Was it... as you thought it would be?"

His question catches you completely by surprise, and you have no idea how to answer.

The silence that envelops you is perilous. The kind of silence that threatens to make you into a fool. The kind of fool that would lean in and close your lips over his. And you can't allow that to happen.

Because even as you're coming down from the high of watching him take you in ways you'd never even let yourself imagine, you know - you know that if you were to press your lips against his, he would stop you. He would do it gently, but the disappointment and shame would tear you apart.

So, you allow yourself to bask in the feeling of this moment for just a little longer before you pull away. You feel numb when you speak, forcing yourself to operate on auto pilot.

"I don't think there's a good answer to that question," you murmur, almost lowering your voice to a whisper.

His eyes betray nothing, but he smiles softly, and you see the tightness in it.

"Right," he says. "Of course not."

A thousand words go unsaid. You want to tell him that it was nothing like you'd imagined because you can't allow yourself those kinds of thoughts for even a moment - even a second - or they'd seep into you so deeply you'd never be able to think of anything else.

"I'm... going to get some sleep," you tell him instead, flatly, breaking your gaze apart from his at last.

You roll over, putting some distance between your bodies. You close your eyes. But you can't find sleep.

Thirty-Sixth Hour

"Fuck-" he says, hard and clipped. He leans into his forearm, pinning you down...

You've seen this before.

Obi Wan cums, and it fills you, and he fucks you through it. He keeps fucking you until the air has left your lungs, and until the room is silent, and until his muscles drop him to the floor, cock still wrapped inside you. He looks down, watching himself drip down the backs of your thighs. He moves slightly, watching himself ease out of you and then disappear inside you again. He's dripping. And still hard.

"You-" your voice beside him sounds far away, delirious, blissed-out. Like any words are an afterthought. You can hear yourself panting, and after a long time, you try speaking again. "You... finished inside me."

Obi Wan's gaze flicks up to your face, looking at your closed eyes, your face pressed sideways against the floor. He's still moving in long, unhurried strokes, and after a while, he brings his eyes back to where he's slow-fucking you.

Your body is still so pliant, so willing, beneath him. The noises you make are warm and soft, inviting him to stay exactly where he is. "I wasn't aware," he drawls, "we were in the midst of making careful decisions."

The filthy sound of him entering you again and again ends when he bends down and presses his hands around your waist, pulling himself out of you with a soft groan.

"Turn over," he tells you, settling back, pants still around his legs.

You sit up slowly and your hand wraps around his cock, keeping your connection as you start to turn around. He stands up, looking down at you, and you come up to your knees, bobbing your head forward to spread your lips eagerly around him. The warmth makes him stop still, easing the lower half of his body into your welcome embrace.

His knees unstiffen for a brief moment while you swallow his cum, cleaning him dutifully with eyes locked on his. It only lasts a moment before he's snaking a hand behind your head. It's not clear at first whether he's pulling you closer or stopping you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, the message is clear.

He jerks your head up, your mouth still full of him.

"Did I say, 'get on your knees'?" His hand follows your head as you shake it gently back and forth, gagging on him. "No, I didn't. I told you to turn over."

He releases your hair and drags his hand down to your chin, pressing into your jawbone. "You don't listen."

He pulls you off, your face pinched between his thumb and his knuckle, shoving you backward and sinking down between your legs all in one fluid motion. He crowds you, aligning his hips with yours, your body half-pressed against the floor and the wall of the ship. You dimly wonder how he could still be hard, but decide to simply attribute it to the drugs, not particularly caring about the cause so much as the effect.

Slowly pressing inside you again, he rubs his thumb tenderly over the spot he'd squeezed on your jaw. "What was all that training for, hm?"

He pulls back, dropping his other hand to the juncture of your hip, and shoves his cock into you so hard it draws out a yelp, even as his hand gently cups your face. "So disobedient."

Obi Wan ends the vision like slamming a book shut. This time, when your eyes open to meet his, they're stormy, dilated. Dark.

You aren't prepared to mask your feelings when you're suddenly awakened and blinking back into consciousness. You just gaze back at him, not hiding your hunger. Not keeping your energy hidden, but letting it bleed out so that he can feel what he's done to you. The fire is all but gone, dying embers lighting the corners of the room. The air is sharp and icy.

"I'm sorry. That was not-" He breaks off, shaking his head. "I'm sorry."

"Don't-" you tell him, moving closer to his warmth. You try to calm your breathing, and into the cold silence you whisper, nerves raw, "Fuck." The obscenity escapes you before you can think to catch it.

He stares. Then he seems to gather himself and clears his throat. "In my sleep I... failed to guard my thoughts." You're silent, still reeling, and he lowers his voice. "Now you remember as much as I do. Or... nearly."

You're taking careful breaths, drinking in the way his mouth curves when he speaks. "Nearly?"

The muscles in his jaw tighten. "I would... prefer it if only I remember the rest."

Despite his somber tone, you can't help your body's reaction. You want to pull him to you. You want to beg him to take you further into this darkness. You're flushed with heat when you think about the things he did. Imagining him taking it further is driving you to the point of madness.

"I understand," you tell him instead, finding your voice weak.

"I regret it," he says, more of a statement of fact than an apology. "Hurting you."

"And," you surprise yourself, speaking without thinking, "the rest?"

He doesn't say anything for several long heartbeats.

"I wish none of it had happened," he says at last, with stark directness. Then his gaze softens. "But, if I could have chosen, it would not have been... like that."

Your heart thuds wildly. Your voice is barely audible. "No?"

His eyelashes dip once, then twice, as he seems to hold back his answer. He looks stunningly beautiful, pinning you under a deadly serious expression. "No."

It's a long time before you can bring yourself to say anything back.

"I should go."

The spell over him suddenly seems to break, and he tilts a brow, watching you reach for the robe lying on the floor behind you. "Go? Where?"

It's late. Or it's early. But you've rested enough to call this morning, and though there's only darkness outside, you push your blankets to your waist and sit up. If you stay here even a few more seconds, you will try to have him. Looking at him like this - hair a mess, eyes wild - you stand absolutely no chance.

You wrap the robe around yourself, stepping carefully out of the makeshift bed you'd been half-sharing, and you back away slowly. "I think I should meditate," you tell him. "I think I should be... alone."

You can tell he's trying to read your expression in the dim light of the fire, and you turn away, after giving him a curt bow of your head to take your leave. It's so overly formal that your stomach turns in embarrassment. You don't know how else to behave.

It's cold and dark inside your sleeping quarters, and as you turn the knob to close the door, you heave a sigh of relief. You won't be able to stay in here for long without any heat, but cold and dark is exactly what you need. You sit on your freezing sheets, pulling your legs up and crossing them with a shiver.

But you know now that it doesn't matter how cold it is. He's burning through you, and it won't stop.

Thirty-Seventh Hour

When you emerge from your room, you find that Obi Wan hasn't gone back to sleep, either. He's lit another candle in the kitchen, and his hands are busy in the sink, washing one of the cups you'd used earlier. When he sees you walking up beside him, he finishes rinsing and sets it to the side. Then he turns to you, wiping his hands on a towel. His face holds some concern, but it's reserved.

"You don't need to do that," you tell him, nodding to the cup.

"I thought it best to take advantage of the running water while we still can."

Sensible as always.

He holds the towel, just looking at you, not making any move to come closer. He looks unbelievably handsome like this - wearing his bed clothes, a simple brown undershirt and pants, with his sleeves rolled up to keep from getting wet.

"Are you alright?" He floats the question quietly to you.

You nod, crossing the short distance between you and sitting down at the table to look up at him. "I'm sorry for leaving."

"I understand. You needed time."

You nod again, not elaborating on his comment. "Can I ask you something?" you venture.

"Of course."

"Back on the ship, when we were... meditating," you begin haltingly. "You showed me such a... small part. Why didn't you tell me you remembered so much more?"

His features are contemplative for just a moment before the corner of his mouth turns up. "You didn't ask."

Your throat feels sticky as you try to push out your next words. "I wanted to tell you... Not that it matters now, but..." you sigh, then try again. "I'm on a contraceptive. I don't know if you worried about-"

"Yes, I know."

That catches you by surprise, and you stare at him for an explanation.

"You told me, later," he elaborates quietly. In your long silence, he adds, more seriously, "I would have spoken to you about it. All of it. I wanted to, for some time."

The pain his words cause you is unintentional, but you nearly wince anyway. While you'd been ignoring him, focused on dealing with your own feelings, you hadn't shown any concern for his. He'd wanted to be open and honest about everything. But you'd kept him alone, instead.

You open your mouth to say something - to apologize, or try to make it right. But he goes on, closing the subject. "But perhaps it was for the best. After all, what could it have changed?" He places the towel on the counter, looking down, then smiles back up at you. "Sometimes talking only complicates a simple matter."

You have no response. Just an aching feeling. Your chance to make this right is long gone, and anything you say would seem empty. Finally, dumbly, you glance over at the wood stove in the other room. "I should make us something to eat."

His smile softens, tapering off. A thousand thoughts seem to be playing behind his eyes, but he only answers what you've said. "Breakfast would be very nice. Thank you."

You stand up and busy yourself with the kettle, picking up the towel from the counter to dry it, and he begins washing another dish. You don't stop him this time.

"Would you mind if I borrow these?" He holds up a small pair of scissors, their golden shine twinkling in the dim light, pulling your attention from the simmering water you'd been checking.

You glance up from the fire, replacing the lid on the kettle. Then you look down at the table where he'd presumably found the scissors, sitting next to a plant. "Hm? Oh. Sure. What for?"

He brushes a hand over the edge of his beard. "I've been in need of a trim."

You turn to face him, quirking an eyebrow. "I use those to cut my plants. They might be dirty."

He gives you a smile. "Oh believe me, I've made due with worse." He turns toward the refresher. "Thank you. I'll give them a rinse."

You stand up from where you'd been crouching next to the fire, deciding to leave the water a little longer to come to a full boil, and go back to preparing the jogan fruit.

As you finish cutting up the last of the fruit, you reach for a plate, and when your fingertips graze its edge, a cool, creeping sensation suddenly trickles down your spine. You stop, staring at the ceramic pattern in front of you. Stretching your mind into the Force, you try to capture the fleeting feeling, but it leaves as quickly as it came.

You stand there another moment, almost wondering whether you should ask Obi Wan if he'd felt it, too. But really, you aren't even sure it was anything in the Force you'd felt. You glance around one more time, and sensing nothing more, you place the fruit down on the plate and head back into the main room.

Picking up the packet of polystarch portion bread and shaking it in one hand, you use your other hand to lift the lid on the kettle and check for a proper boil. Seeing the bubbles break on the surface, you reach down, using a cloth to move the kettle from the stove.

...Bright red feathers. Scrabbling claws digging into the crevices of a rocky cliff face at a dizzying speed. A leap, and a blinding light...

Your hand slips, the kettle jolts forward-

...the teal of protective outer scales turn into the tan of a soft underbelly. The tan and brown of a Jedi's clothing isn't far behind. Hands grasp to reach leather reigns, a futile gesture as the creature and the Jedi are now falling, falling... His blue saber's light is extinguished and you can feel his pain and confusion as the explosion of rubble surrounds him, following him down into the endless abyss...

You bark out in pain and jerk your hand away, the boiling water splashing over your skin as the kettle crashes to the ground. Sucking air through your teeth, you instinctively grasp around your wrist and look down at your burned hand.

Before you can get a good look at it, you hear the door of the refresher swing open and Obi Wan call your name with concern.

You turn to face him, wincing. "Sorry, it was nothing, I-"

When you catch sight of him, you stop talking. The connection between your mind and your mouth has fizzled out. He crosses the room, trading looks between you and the overturned kettle, clearly trying to decipher what had happened, while you stand speechless, pain in your hand momentarily forgotten. He's bare-chested, presumably to keep his shirt clean while trimming his beard, and he's nothing but angled brows and perfect lines of hard muscle as he approaches you cautiously.

You take a breath, embarrassed, and try again. "It's nothing, I just got distracted and I dropped the kettle."

His eyes slide to your hand, where you're still holding your own wrist. "Are you alright?"

You pull your hand up, inspecting it properly for the first time. It's a little red, just on the back of your thumb down to the start of your wrist, where the water had splashed.

You shake your head dismissively. "I'm fine. I'll run it under cold water."

He gently reaches a hand out. "May I see it?"

Your heart is still racing from your... dream? Vision? Whatever it had been. But it doesn't slow down at all when he takes your hand in his, holding you still. He looks back up at you. "You should put something on this."

You make no effort to pull your hand back. "It's just a little burn."

"Burns can be deceiving," he tells you, then turns around, heading back to the refresher. A moment later, he emerges with some bacta gel and a gauze wrap. He's also carrying his shirt, but he doesn't put it on quite yet.

His hand finds the small of your back and gently guides you into the kitchen, toward the sink. "Don't be difficult."

You try to ignore the way your mind turns immediately back to the same commanding tone he'd used in the earlier vision.

He turns the faucet on for you to run your hand under cold water while he twists off the cap. The cool relief does wonders for your hand, but it does nothing for the heat in your face as he stands in front of you like this, on display.

His body has always been lithe, almost wiry, but it seems the war has made him a little bulkier. His shoulders are rounded, his ribs lined with lean muscle. You're doing your best to keep your eyes trained on the water pouring out of the sink, but when he turns around briefly to find a place on the counter to set down the cap, you drink him in from behind, trailing your gaze from the lines of his trim waist up to his shoulder blade, where the stark contrast of dark ink paints his skin.

The symbol there has lived at the edge of your consciousness ever since you first saw it, back on Keoth. Watching his muscles move underneath the tattoo is making you weak in the knees, and your chest rises with a weighty breath when he turns back to face you.

"Come now, it can't be that bad," he says with a half-smile. The way his eyes glitter in the candlelight sends a shiver through you, and you shake your head again, trying to remain in control of your thoughts, despite the way they're continually running away from you.

"It isn't. Not that bad," you murmur. He puts his hand out for yours again, and you turn off the water and offer yourself over to him. He holds you carefully, tenderly turning your arm to the side and patting it dry with a dish towel.

He pauses, holding your hand in his, drawing his eyes up to meet yours. For a moment neither of you speaks, and you both seem acutely aware of how close you're standing, how little clothing separates you, and how tenderly he's touching you.

He lowers his gaze. "This will sting."

Normally, you'd make a sarcastic comment at that. You're both intimately familiar with using bacta to treat wounds. But he's filling the silence, and you know it, and since neither of you is going to comment on why this silence is so pervasive, you bite your tongue.

He swipes the gel onto his fingers, then gently dabs it across your skin. You try to concentrate on anything besides the feeling of his touch. Your eyes drift to his shoulder again, though you can't see the tattoo from this angle. He catches the glance and you lower your eyes quickly.

He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you wonder if you've offended him by staring. But when he pulls back his hand to get more bacta gel, you find him looking more pensive than anything. He's using one hand to slick a finger over the top of the gel tube, and he's still holding your wrist with the other. "I've never told you what it means - that symbol of mine. Would you like to know?"

You flick your eyes up from his hand. You nod, half-opening your mouth to say "yes," but never quite getting the word out.

"It's an ancient dialect of Mando'a," he tells you, "When I was very young, Qui Gon and I spent some time on Mandalore. We were still finding our balance as master and padawan, and having some... difficulties."

He slides the cool gel across your skin again in a second layer, two fingers gliding flat over your wrist. "While we were staying with a small band of Mandalorians, I had decided to partake in their clan's tradition and get a tattoo. The design I'd chosen was the symbol of the Republic, as I felt there was nothing by which I could better define myself."

His finger traces along your thumb. "But when I told my master, he was not as enthusiastic as I had expected." He looks down, carefully using his own thumb to swipe away the excess gel from around your burn. "He told me to think carefully about the way I chose to define myself, and the ideals to which I committed. Of course, lacking any understanding of nuance at the time, I believed that he was disapproving what I'd chosen, and it led to a heated discussion."

He looks wistful for a moment, then melts into a smile with a shake of his head, and starts to unwind the gauze. "I said that I would never regret branding myself with the symbol of that which I held most dear. "

He finishes wrapping your wrist and uses the scissors to cut the gauze, tucking away the end, then draws his gaze up to meet yours. "And he, in turn, told me that the Force created living beings for a reason. That reason is simply to live. To experience all that the universe has to offer. Some experiences are worth a stain. Worth a scar." Obi Wan gently removes his hand from yours. "'We all carry scars in the end, but it's up to us to decide which ones are worth having.'"

You shift your arm back down to your side. "But, you got the tattoo anyway?"

He gives another smile. "Oh, yes. The next day, I returned to him with something I was very proud of. I'd gotten tattooed with their symbol for 'regret'."

You look at him in utter confusion and he goes on to explain. "You see, I thought I'd taken my master's words to heart. After our disagreement, I wanted to show him I understood. I now had a permanent reminder that any decisions I made about how to define myself would stay with me forever."

You raise your brows. "...and Qui Gon? What did he say to that?"

Obi Wan picks up his shirt from the countertop, then starts to pull it over his arms. Your eyes dart to his exposed stomach, then quickly dart away. "I believe it was the most disappointment he'd ever shown in me." He finishes pulling it over his head and down his stomach. "Which annoyed me to no end, of course. And we never spoke of it again."

You watch the candlelight play across his features, his thoughts seeming far away. Brushing your hand over your bandaged wrist, you lean your hip into the countertop and look down at the floor.

His voice is very soft when he speaks again. "It wasn't until much later that I realized how I'd missed his point entirely."

You look back up at him. "It's still a beautiful symbol."

He meets your eyes. "Yes, it is. And the lesson becomes clearer each day."

He holds your gaze a little longer, then picks up the bacta and the scissors, and leaves to put them away. You stare at the overturned kettle on the ground, and your thoughts linger on his words while you pick it up, and refill it, and while you finish preparing the food. You want to ask him what he'd meant, but you know.

The way he'd looked at you - you know.

Through breakfast, you talk about the war.

Thirty-Eighth Hour

You exhale, the Force rolling through you, and release your tension from your shoulders down to your fingertips. Your eyes are closed, the hum of your saber the only noise in the room.

After breakfast you'd tried reading again in an attempt to distract yourself from the unbearable tension plucking at your mind, but had found yourself unable to sit still. After having pushed most of the furniture in the main room up against the walls, you're now standing in your makeshift dojo, practicing lightsaber techniques.

You run repeatedly through your opening stance, then begin to move through more advanced forms, muscles glad for their use. As you bring your saber upright, you shift your body around it slowly and deliberately. It's a type of meditation you've practiced so much that it's second nature.

Sliding one foot backward, you glide into the next pose and you hear the door to the next room open, Obi Wan leaving the refresher, presumably finished with the trim that he'd started earlier. You can feel him watching you, saying nothing until he crosses the room.

"If that's meant to be 'circle of shelters', your left arm is a bit low."

Your eyelids open smoothly. "It's 'singing fortress'."

"Ah, well in that case, you would want to tighten your stance. Your knees should be aligned with your shoulders."

You drop your blade slightly, reforming your body around it and easing back into the same position, with an emphatically tighter stance.

"Better. Now, your chin-" You look at him, and the rest of his sentence hangs in the air, then dissipates as he gives a slightly rueful smile. "I'm sorry. Old habits die hard, I'm afraid. I'll leave you to it."

Many years ago, when you hadn't known each other in the same way, you might have tensed under his scrutiny. But not now. For the first time since he'd arrived, his comments had made things between you feel almost... normal. He's always shown his affection, even what could be called compassion, through criticism.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask suddenly, opening your stance back up, "Whatever guidance you have to offer, I'll gladly take."

It's meant as an olive branch to his intrusion. It is, just for a moment, like you're back in the temple, during one of the many times he'd found you running through exercises and stepped in. It's only courteous for you to invite him. It's courtesy that should keep him from accepting, now. But, surprisingly, it doesn't.

He looks around. "There isn't much room."

You take that as your answer, tightly whipping your saber behind your shoulder with a bit of flourish. You face him. "Never been a problem before."

The tightness in his face sifts away, his eyes brightening. "True."

You had practiced in many a smaller space than this, although those spaces were designed for training in tight quarters and not surrounded by your personal belongings. Still, your blood is thrumming unexpectedly at the prospect of a spar after two days cramped inside, and you don't much mind if your walls get singed.

Obi Wan reaches to his belt. Having changed out of his bed clothes, he has his lightsaber clipped back at the waist of his tunic. Unless asleep, even in this setting, he's still battle-ready.

He illuminates his saber, then eases into a simple opening pose, arms raised, both hands on his hilt. "Perhaps this will do us both some good."

For a moment, you're silent, feeling one another's signatures.

You strike first.

The burst of light and sound that erupts across the room is cathartic. Green and blue, groaning through the air, then exploding against the darkness. It makes your fingers tingle; your muscles tighten.

You press in, then let him push you back, testing strengths, listening in the force for the hum of his aura. He winds his wrist casually around in a circle, grinning. "I see your hand has healed nicely."

Buzzing, you begin to circle him. "You'll go easy on me since I'm injured, won't you?"

He mirrors you, winding around the room in slow half-steps. "Have I done so in the past?"

You lunge, a quick swipe, and he crouches, hardly dodging. You'd anticipated the movement, using his shifted center to let you roll your blade in a semi-circle and drive back toward him. He meets it with a graceful side swipe, redirecting your attack to the ceiling. Whipping around, you stab at him and you feel a puff of air leave him as he cracks his blade against yours, pushing you back without so much ease as the first time.

When you step back, his lightsaber comes crashing over you in ruthless, repetitive swipes. He knocks you back into yourself until your shoulders are tight and beginning to ache from the effort of rebuffing him. Relenting at last, he leaves you to catch your breath. His careful, slow steps around you are no longer playful.

"Your speed has improved," he tells you. "I can feel you sensing my attempts as the thoughts form. Very good." As he finishes the word 'good', his blade crosses yours suddenly and he presses in until his face and the two blades are inches from your face. "You should be careful, though, when my thoughts are guarded."

He'd closed himself off and attacked so quickly, you'd barely had enough time to counter, let alone anticipate. Your eyes narrow. "You never tried that trick when I was a padawan."

He lets out a soft, breathy laugh. "There are many things I've learned since you were my padawan."

Shoving him back, you roll your shoulder and widen your stance. "I see. So this is new."

With a twinkle in his eye, he lets his shoulders drop into a deceptively relaxed pose. "You know me. I'm full of surprises."

You whirl on him again, and for a long time neither of you says another word, blades and muscles speaking for you. You're well-trained in defensive positions, so you make as many attempts as you can to bait him into attacking, but your few successes are hardly worth the effort. It's clear he's driving the fight from every angle. By the end, though, you're both panting.

"You've practiced well, young one," he admits, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth as he straightens his back, ready for another round.

You catch your breath, swallowing. "Not much else I could do with my time."

He slashes, you block. He slashes again. "That's not entirely true, though, is it?"

You take a step back, letting his next swipe pass, then raise a brow. "What do you mean?"

"You chose to come here. You speak as though the choice was someone else's."

You have to struggle to repel his next strike, caught off-guard by the remark. "I know. I know it was my choice."

"If you were bored by the assignment, you could have returned to duty."

"Yes," you say, your voice growing softer, but your returning thrusts becoming more ambitious, more intense. "I could have."

"Then why not come back?" He bats your attempts away with equal fervor. "After a year? Why not come back to Coruscant?"

Your wide eyes meet his. "What?"

He draws back from you, his arms spread, his saber to the side. Still on guard, but not locked into your aggression. "You heard the question."

You take one, then two breaths. Then you lunge at him wildly, pinning him against the wall. "You know the answer."

"Then tell me."

You're panicking, and you know he can feel it. You sink your blade downward in a futile attempt to rend his hilt away from him, but he blocks it easily.

You force your expression to remain steady as you step away, pulling your shoulders back, hard. "The same reason you came here to tell me we can't work together."

His face drops, and he echoes your earlier heart-wrenched, "What?"

You shake your head slightly, confused at his reaction. When he stares at you, you raise your saber in defense, staring back. "Is that not the answer you expected?"

His saber is low at his side. "I... had thought it was fear that kept you here. I wanted to help you admit it. Face it."

"It was fear." You stand still for a moment, then remember your lightsaber and swing it. "What did you think I meant?"

He parries. Then he stabs at your side, forcing you to step left, where he pulls back his blade to meet your throat. "You told me you'd stayed because you could no longer trust in the Force."

He's won the round, in more ways than one. You've let too much slip.

You raise your arms and concede the point to him. He backs off, but his gaze is still pinned on you, waiting for your answer. You admit as much as you can without admitting anything at all. "When you said we shouldn't work together - you were right."

"Meaning?" He presses, and somehow you can still feel his blade at your throat.

A long, slow, painful silence. You tighten your palm around your hilt until it hurts. "I think I've made my feelings clear." Anxiety ripples from you, the Force crashing around your aura erratically. You flick your wrist, swinging your saber down and behind your back, where you trade hands. Your left arm brings a surprise attack down on Obi Wan, who catches it at the last second. It isn't a particularly impressive move, but you know he wasn't expecting it from you, which made it useful in the moment. "Something I can't ask from you."

It isn't fair for you to turn things on him like this, but your goal isn't to be fair. It's too late to turn back. You can only redirect. He raises a brow, then spins to deflect your left-handed strikes backhanded. "And what does that mean?"

The words are pouring out of you now, thoughts half-formed as you jab and dodge, pulse pounding. "It means you can't expect me to talk about my feelings when you showed up at my door to tell me we'd never see each other again with hardly a goodbye."

He meets you blow for blow with ease, but the look on his face is disoriented. "I never said that."

You match his shocked expression. "You told me this was the last time we'd ever work together."

"The last time that I thought we should work together, yes, but certainly not the last time we should see one another."

It's as if you can actually hear the sound of your final shred of sanity being torn apart. Though your mind is racing in a thousand directions, you try to calm yourself enough to speak as your sabers meet. You hold still, and so does he. "And why did you say it?"

For the first time in your spar, his eyes are pleading for mercy. He says nothing.

You grit your teeth, holding your blade against his, unable to pull away from the path you're set on. You need to know. "You told me not to pretend anymore. Please, Obi Wan. The truth."

"You already know the truth. Must I say the words?" He bends your arms back, putting more weight against you.

You step back, put off-balance, and the back of your knee brushes against the chaise lounge. There's no room left for you to back away.

"Yes," you tell him, forcing yourself to keep looking into his eyes, and not to look away.

He crushes his blade against yours, then relents, finally allowing you to push him back. He doesn't turn off his lightsaber yet, and neither do you. He stretches out his other hand toward you in the darkness. "For all of the reasons we work so well together." He lowers his hand, his body tense; frustrated. "Because you are... resilient, and remarkably clever. And passionate. Obstinate at times, and unpredictable. And because you are beautiful. Because I look at you, and I wonder what could be. Those are dangerous thoughts in the best of times. In battle, they're an unacceptable risk."

"Obi Wan..." you murmur, unable to come up with any other word but his name in reply.

"But that is my burden to bear. And though I won't allow it to interfere with a mission, I cannot let it be the end of our friendship."

There's absolutely nothing you can say back. You're stunned speechless, but beyond that - to say anything truthful back to him would rip you apart.

Instead, you step toward him, leveling your blade in front of your chest. "You've been holding back."

The earnestness in his face drains away at your response. He drags his gaze down from your eyes to your lightsaber. His tone is guarded again. "Of course I have. Haven't we both?"

It's obvious he isn't talking about the sparring.

"Fight me." It's the only thing you can ask for that's real. "It's going to be the last time."

The silence bears down on you, and the room is so much darker, now. You let your emotions show on your face, and you let him feel you in the Force. But you can't bring yourself to say the words. When you meet his eyes, you know he can feel you burning.

His shoulders come down, and his body takes a new shape. He seems almost more relaxed than before. It occurs to you, then, how much effort he was putting into keeping himself from dominating you. Then, all at once, he shows you why he's one of the most celebrated duelists of your generation.

His speed is frightening when he lunges at you. It takes all your strength to keep from toppling over. Two of his brutal strikes rattle your arms bone-deep as you struggle to keep your lightsaber upright. You suck in a sudden gasp of air, letting him force you backward. You try to return a blow, but he catches you swiftly, knocking your saber wide and stabbing at you, making you hop back again.

It's over before you can even fully register what's happened. He knocks you back with two more thrashes of his saber, and you lose your balance when your knees hit the furniture. You fall back onto the chaise in a seated position, legs splayed apart. You're panting and arching your back to get away from him, but he digs a knee into the cushion between your legs and reaches out with a hand to deactivate your lightsaber and pull it to him. He uses his other hand to bring his blade just below your chin. Yet again, he's caught you out.

You tip your face up toward him, heart racing as much from his close proximity as it is from the duel you've lost. His chest rises and falls in front of you. He doesn't look triumphant. His eyes are penetrating. He's waiting for you to speak.

You catch your breath. His hand is tightening around his hilt threateningly, but there isn't anywhere in the universe you feel safer than with his blade at your neck. You take your time, staring deeply into his eyes, and you finally find your words.

"I said you were right that we shouldn't see each other, and I meant it. The boundaries between us are broken. Nothing can set that right. I don't want to set it right. But I can accept that. I can move on. I just can't do it with you."

The light beneath your chin goes out. He holds your two hilts in each hand and simply looks at you.

"I understand," he says then, quietly, and leans into you, setting down your two lightsabers on either side of your thighs.

You inhale his scent, struggling to keep your eyes from closing. "Stars, Obi Wan..."

He knows he's too close. You both know it. He should have stepped back, and his knee shouldn't still be surrounded by the warmth of your body. You're half-lying down, one arm still spread over the top of the chaise, too afraid to shift a muscle. Too afraid for the moment to end.

Instead of standing up, he stays close, eyes locked onto yours, and says softly, "What is it?"

The finality of it all truly sinks in, and you shake your head slightly, just drinking in every detail of him. There's no point anymore to lie. You'll never see him again. "Even now. I want to kiss you, so badly."

You watch the conflict on his face melt away, into something else. He whispers his reply against your mouth. "Then kiss me."

You blink. You close the gap between you, pressing your lips against his and opening up, giving yourself over to him.

You don't care that he shouldn't have said it. You don't care that he might stop you. You want his mouth against yours. The feeling is as sweet as you'd imagined for over a year, while making every desperate effort to drive it from your mind.

He tastes just as you remember, and as he lets you slip your tongue into his mouth, your body shudders with a mixture of desire and relief that leaves you dizzy.

Please... Please... you silently beg him not to stop you. To let you feel as much of him as you can, and keep the memory of the softness of his lips, the feeling of his jaw working beneath your palm, and the gentleness of the sigh he lets escape when he opens for more of your tongue to slide in.

He doesn't stop you. He tilts his head to the side, leaning in for more. When he presses his chest to yours, you finally regain enough of your sense to break your mouth away from his. Every part of you is screaming, but you claw back to sanity just for a moment, to breathe a weak, confused, "Why...?" against the corner of his mouth.

He catches your lips in a searing kiss once more before answering, driving every last thought of stopping from your mind.

"If this is truly the end..." he murmurs, then pulls back to look at you properly, and his eyes sparkle like sapphires in the dying light of the fire. "Let us be miserable for good reason."

A/N: Sorry for the missed promise of an update last week! Holidays really get crazy fast. Thank you, as per usual, for tolerating my schedule. Planning shorter chapters upcoming, in hopes of quicker updates. :) For anyone who has tagged me in recent posts, I appreciate it and I'll respond as soon as I can!

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