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partystoragechest · 1 year ago

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A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan is called to see the Commander.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,639. Rating: all audiences. Warnings: talk of addiction withdrawal.)

Chapter 21: Forgive Me

Trevelyan did not usually take her morning walk in the courtyard, so near to the infirmary, but a change of pace was often a beneficial remedy to the boredom of routine. That was her excuse, at least.

But she was far too cowardly to actually step into the infirmary, and enquire after the Commander’s health. It wasn’t her place to ask, really, and it was better for him to rest. That was her excuse, at least.

So, she diverted course. Turned about at the armoury. Greeted mages as they passed. Kicked the weeds outside the Herald’s Rest. And meandered down to the courtyard below.

Soldiers trained here. Feet churned up dust as they pushed forward into attack; grass tore beneath heels that dug in for defense. Trevelyan skirted the clattering horde, an eye kept upon them, just in case.

But they were under the watch of no Commander. Captains appeared to patrol the lines instead, and conducted their instruction with an admirable accuracy.

So Trevelyan wandered on, to the market just beyond the bridge. Sellers had set up there, and were already doing business. Denizens of Skyhold bustled about the tables, examining the wares on offer. Being in the mountains, this was likely the only taste of commerce they got.

Trevelyan joined the crowd. Perusing the stalls might help keep her mind off things.

And there was one in particular that caught her attention: a bookseller, with an array of tomes on a pantheon of subjects, displayed elegantly on a ream of purple crushed velvet. The dwarven man behind the stall—his bearing typical of a merchant surfacer—gave her a beardy smile as she approached.

There were only so many books in Skyhold’s library. Trevelyan wondered if she might find something new here.

An Astronomer’s Illustrated Guide to the Stars, read one golden title, embossed onto blue leather. Trevelyan certainly didn’t recognise this one. The moon and Satina were even engraved into the cover! It was beautiful.

“May I look at this?” she asked the seller.

“’Course,” said the man.

Trevelyan carefully opened the book. The Inquisition had literature on the stars, of course, but none illustrated so. There were the constellations she knew—the Oak, the Maiden, Sacrifice (their Tevene names included!)—but also their Elven and Avvar interpretations. Comprehensive indeed!

“Lovely book, isn’t it?” the seller-man commented. “You don’t get many like that.”

“It’s wonderful,” she agreed.

“That does mean it’s a bit pricier than the rest, but it’s worth it for the quality. Most books I stock are about ten to twenty silvers; this one’s forty.”

Trevelyan stared at him, mouth agape. “Oh.”

She hadn’t quite expected to be buying anything. She was confined to the mountains as much as these other folk. This was the only taste of commerce she got.

Besides, it wasn’t like she had any money.

Her father hadn’t wanted her to possess a (what he called) ‘running away fund’. Trevelyan had begged her parents for something, only finding success when she mentioned how poor they’d look if they sent her with nothing.

The compromise? All her money was kept in a lockbox, and Cara had the key.

Forty silvers was nothing to her parents. And Trevelyan had been doing quite as they asked, spending so much time with the Commander it had driven him to sickness. She could persuade Cara.

“I don’t have any coin on me now,” she told the seller, “but I can fetch some! Would you be able to hold this until I return?”

The man shook his head. “Sorry, miss, had too many occurrences of holding things, only for people to never come back. Impacts trade.”

“Fair. Then I’ll be as quick as I can!”

Trevelyan hurried away, as promised. Out of the market, past the soldiers—she took the stairs back to the upper courtyard two at a time! (She took the ones to the Great Hall a little slower).

Catching her breath at the top, she locked eyes on the next flight that awaited, and—

“Lady Trevelyan!”

Couldn’t go anywhere in this damn castle without finding oneself summoned to conversation. A messenger, from the direction of Montilyet’s parlour, swerved towards her.

Trevelyan permitted them their approach. “How may I help you?” she asked.

They bowed. “Your Ladyship, the Ambassador wishes to see you.”

“Right now?”

“If you’re available,” said the messenger. “I can tell her you’re delayed, if you wish.”

Trevelyan thought on it a moment, but shook her head. “No, no. Thank you.”

After all, she had something of an idea as to what this might be about. As urgent as the book was, this was more so. Montilyet’s open parlour door beckoned.

She surrendered to its pull. “Lady Monilyet?” she called, upon entering.

Montilyet, behind her desk, stood on sight. “Oh, Lady Trevelyan! That was fast.” She stepped out to greet her properly, and asked: “How are you feeling, this morning?”

“I’m fine,” said Trevelyan, who was actually a concentrated mess of worry. “How is the Commander?”

“Better,” Montilyet reassured her, “but still recovering. However, he has asked to see you—that is why I called you here. He is waiting now”—she glanced at her parlour’s other door, that led to the secretive war room beyond—“but only if you are happy to see him.”

Trevelyan pushed out an uneasy breath. “Is he well enough for this?”

Lady Montilyet sighed. “He and I have different answers to that question. But, he insisted.”

“Then, all right.”

Montilyet nodded. “Please, take a seat.”

Trevelyan did as requested, taking her usual place on the sofa. It felt odd without Lady Erridge sat beside her, or the Baroness sewing in her chair, or Lady Samient reclined on hers.

Lady Montilyet, meanwhile, had gone to the door, and disappeared within. Trevelyan took this moment to prepare herself for the man that might emerge.

The door opened. She was pleasantly surprised.

The Commander stepped out of his own accord, firm on his feet, at least. His skin had its colour back, and his eyes seemed more alert. He did not wear his armour, nor his mantle—just a simple shirt and a quilted jacket, left open at the front.

He was good at masking the pain.

“Commander,” she said, standing by instinct, “how are you?”

His voice was hoarse, quiet. His reply: “How are you?”

Trevelyan forgave him the trespass of not answering, as she recognised an audible guilt in his question. “I’m well, thank you.”

He managed a subtle nod in response. Lady Montilyet came to his side, and directed him to a seat. The walk over was stable, but slow.

His weight sank onto the chair with a creak, evident of the heaviness of one whose body felt as lead. At least sitting seemed to settle him. Trevelyan waited until he was comfortable, to ask again:

“Commander, how are you?”

“He is better,” answered Montilyet, for him. She remained at his side, observant. “The healers said he recovered well enough in the evening to return to his own bed��but aches and pains still linger, and will for a few days yet.”

Though that did not prevent him from mustering the courage to speak: “I am sorry you had to… witness that.” He said it without ever meeting Trevelyan’s gaze. “Thank you, for fetching help.”

Trevelyan shifted along the sofa, to take Lady Erridge’s usual spot. She tried to catch his eye—and, when she did, smiled at him. “I am glad to see you better.”

“I am sorry,” the Commander repeated. “That day… I had forgotten my medicines. I—believe Josephine told you about them?”

‘Josephine’ interjected: “It was not just that day. The healers said it was four of his last six doses that had been missed—hence why this flare was so terrible.”

Trevelyan’s next question, of how such doses had been missed in the first place, was answered before she could voice it:

“Lyrium affects memory,” the Commander explained. “I forget things, on occasion. But forgetting my medicines meant that the forgetting only worsened. One missed day, turned into two, turned into four. I’m sorry.”

Trevelyan regarded him gently. “I hope you do not mean to blame yourself, Commander.”

“It is my fault.”

She shook her head. “With things like this… lapses happen. No matter how you try or how you prepare, as with anything in life, we are still prone to stumbling. I fear if you blame yourself, it will only dissuade you from continuing this path.”

He seemed to find strength in this, and sat taller. “I do want to continue,” he said, voice full of conviction, “if I prove it’s possible, others may have a chance...”

Trevelyan smiled. Perhaps Baroness Touledy was not compatible with the Commander romantically, but she was not wrong that he was like-minded. Trevelyan was determined to have them make friends of one another yet.

“That is an honourable purpose, Commander,” she told him, “and I think you will succeed in it. I believe you have the fortitude.”

“Some call it stubbornness,” Lady Montilyet commented, with a smile.

Trevelyan shared in it. “That too.”

The Commander, shy again, evaded her gaze, and murmured, “I appreciate your faith in me.” He took a breath before continuing—“I, ah...”—but lost his chain of thought.

“Commander?”

He shook his head. “Forgive me. My head aches.”

Lady Montilyet’s smile dropped, and her regal demeanour returned at once.

“You had best return to your room, and take the rest of the day,” she told him. “And do not think you may work. I have had all your reports removed.”

His displeased frown was rather funny—but it soon turned to one of effort, as he pushed himself up, out of the seat. With a grunt, he managed to stand. Trevelyan rose as well.

“If there is anything I may do to help,” she said, “please, do tell me.”

He smiled, albeit weakly. “Thank you. I hope you are all right.”

“I am, I promise you. Rest well, Commander.”

“Thank you.”

Satisfied, he allowed Lady Montilyet to escort him to the hall door. They were met by a guard at the threshold, who took the Commander’s flank, and marched with him as if following his lead.

Trevelyan stretched as much as she could, to watch him go. But, eventually, he vanished from sight—and Montilyet let the door shut close.

“I am sorry for surprising you with this,” she said as she returned, “but the healers tell me that as soon as his mind was present yesterday, he was asking for you. He was terribly concerned that he had caused you upset.”

Technically, he had, but given that it was hardly intentional—and that the majority of the upset was her own anxiety—Trevelyan had little injury to report.

“I’m all right.”

“Indeed,” said Montilyet, arriving at her desk. “Thank you for agreeing to this. It will have settled him greatly.”

“Of course.” Trevelyan patted down her skirts. “I take it all engagements between he and his suitors are cancelled for now?”

Lady Montilyet, though she had taken to counting out coin, paused to address Trevelyan:

“Naturally, until he feels well enough… and, after I have informed the other Ladies.”

Ah. Time to save her Ladyship a job.

“They already know,” said Trevelyan. Montilyet’s eyes widened. Trevelyan quickly clarified: “It was not me who told them. They had figured it out from the rumours they’d heard.”

This, seemingly, was accepted as adequate explanation, and, thank the Maker, Lady Montilyet pressed no further. She finished counting her coin, and with her quill, struck through an entry on a ledger.

Trevelyan would have left her to this work, but hesitated. There was still something she needed to know. After a moment to build her resolve, Trevelyan crept closer to Montilyet, and asked:

“Your Ladyship, just in case, may I know—what are the signs of one of these flares? If you can tell me, that is.”

Montilyet thought a moment. “Few have happened while I have known him, but… I suppose there are commonalities. First, there is the distractedness—he always seems to lose focus, in the days before.”

Trevelyan thought of the chess match between him and Lady Samient. Not his best play. In fact, he had been rather… distracted.

“Then, of course, the irritability—more so than usual!”

The training, which she had interrupted with the Baroness. It took very little for him to leap to her defence that day. Trevelyan wondered that she had not realised it before.

“And… also hunger. I worry when the cooks say he is eating well. A healer once described it to me as like the body is trying to satisfy a hunger that it can never fulfil.”

That damn crumble. Of course he’d eaten the whole thing. Trevelyan cursed herself.

“Thank you,” she told Lady Montilyet regardless. “I shall bear it in mind.”

Her mind, indeed, ran over the three almost obsessively, so that she would not forget. Eager to be away and write them down, she curtsied, opening her mouth to give a farewell and take her leave. Montilyet raised a hand.

“Wait a moment,” she instructed. “I have something to give you.”

She collected from her desk what she had been preparing—a small coin purse. It jingled pleasantly as she picked it up, and offered it to Trevelyan.

“Here. Your wages, for the last week.”

Trevelyan blinked. Wages?

She accepted the satchel, and drew it open. Golden coin glittered within a silver sea. Maker, this couldn’t be right.

“Usually this would be the bursar’s role,” Lady Montilyet explained, “but I wished to give you this first one myself, as personal thanks for your work.”

Trevelyan counted the coin. “But… this can’t be the right amount?”

“Seven royals is a good wage,” Montilyet told her. “Better than most.”

But Trevelyan’s head shook. “It’s too much.”

A realisation came across Lady Montilyet’s face. Her open mouth closed into a sympathetic smile.

“This is not a Circle allowance,” she explained, “this is a fair wage for fair work.”

“Are you certain?”

Lady Montilyet placed her hands on Trevelyan’s, and closed them around the purse. “This is your money, Lady Trevelyan. Spend it as frivolously or frugally as you wish. It is yours.”

Trevelyan already had an idea. “Thank you,” she said, tying the purse-strings back up tight, “thank you.”

With a low cursty and a very fond farewell, she hurried out of Lady Montilyet’s office. There was a book in the market that required her attention.

And now, it would not even be her parents’ money with which she bought it. It was her own money. She would pay for that book, and it would belong to her, wholly and completely. They could never take it from her, claiming they were the true owners. It would be hers.

Trevelyan almost tripped over herself, running down the steps to the lower courtyard. Clutching the purse to her chest, she weaved her way through the dilly-dallying crowd of market-goers, and found that velvet table.

But the book was gone.

“Do you have that book?” she asked the seller. “The astronomy one?”

She did not like the expression that marred his face.

“Sorry, miss, sold it just a minute ago; I did say someone else had their eye on it, but they were keen as you.”

“Do you have no other copies?” she asked, desperate.

He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s a rare one. But, I could have another by the time I return.”

“Oh! When will that be?”

“I pass through here whenever I’m travelling between Ferelden and Orlais—should be back in about… three weeks, say? Maybe a month.”

Too long.

“I’ll be back home by then,” she told him. And she’d be returning with nothing of her own. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Wait, wait!” He scribbled something on a scrap of vellum, and offered it to her. “This is the name of the book, and the author. Show that to any bookseller worth their sovereigns where you live, and they’ll find you a copy, I’m sure.”

Trevelyan smiled, and took the slip. “Thank you.”

But it was a poor consolation prize. She trudged back towards the stairs, contemplating her misery. No pretty book. But the money was something, at least. She’d have to hide it, where the snakes that called themselves her ladies’ maids would never find it. If they knew, then her parents would, too.

Sure enough, when Trevelyan arrived in her room, one of the little vipers (Cara) was turning down her bed. She thanked the Maker for her smock’s large and concealing pockets.

“Your Ladyship,” greeted Cara, “some things arrived for you. A letter from the Bann and Lady Trevelyan, and an Inquisition woman delivered a parcel.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan, “you may go.”

Cara curtsied, and left. The second she was gone—with a glance down the corridor to check—Trevelyan scurried to her bed, poked a hole in the mattress beneath, and stashed her money in there. Worked well enough in the Circle.

Satisfied it was adequately hidden—though she would make sure to check every morning and every night—she turned her attention to the post waiting on the table. The parcel Cara had mentioned was a rectangular sort of shape, and decently thick. The letter was a letter.

Trevelyan forwent her parents’ admonishments for now, and took up the parcel. Wrapped in brown paper, and very poorly too, she quite easily found a gap to tear into.

And revealed a blue leather beneath.

In disbelief, she tore the rest of the paper away. The book! The book of constellations! Illustrated, complete! Here. How?

She opened the cover. A note awaited her.

To Lady Trevelyan, it read, something for you, by way of apology. C.

Her heart fluttered. Buying something for herself was one thing, but having something bought for her was another. Trevelyan had never had anything so lavish bought for her—at least, in earnest. All her parents’ purchases had been begrudging.

Her fingers stroked the pretty pages—all hers, every constellation, every star—before she snapped the book shut, and held it to her chest. Apology most certainly accepted.

She would have to do something for the Commander in return. A book for him, perhaps? It would be nice for him to read something other than a report, during this mandated rest of his. She could get him a romance! A better one, too, than his current recommendation.

Though… such a thing might be taken the wrong way. Like a winking suggestion. But, she could always—

Her reverie was cut short, as she snatched a glimpse of the waiting letter from her parents. Sighing, Trevelyan set down her book, and picked up the letter. The seal of House Trevelyan cracked open, and revealed its contents:

To our daughter,

I am writing to remind you of the upcoming banquet, for which you shall be in attendance. I faithfully request that you comport yourself with utmost dignity and elegance. Nobles of all regions shall be in attendance, and our reputation should be kept polished in their presence. Remember to—

Trevelyan set the letter aflame in her hand, and watched it burn to nothing more than ash. She had something better to read, now.

And she knew the perfect place to read it: the battlements, that very night.

***

And Maker, it was a lovely night.

With the same flame she used to light her parent’s letter, Trevelyan illuminated the pages of her new book—careful so as to not award it the same fate—and used it to map out the stars above.

Each culture had a different story for them. It reminded her of the Commander. So many different interpretations she had heard. But as with the stars, she need not adopt any for herself. She could have her own meaning, for the heavens, and for him.

She wondered how he had fared today. If he had actually taken his rest, or instead intimidated some soldier into bringing him his reports. Likely the latter.

Had everything been all right, they would have their usual Montilyet-appointed walk together again this afternoon. There was a pang in Trevelyan’s chest when she thought of it. A shame.

“Comman—oh!”

The nightwatchman’s call startled Trevelyan. But it seemed she was not the only one.

She whirled, to see the Commander in retreat. Still in his lighter clothing—though his jacket was now buttoned up against the cold—he was attempting to return the way he had come.

Trevelyan hurried to catch him. Not hard, considering his present state.

“Good evening, Commander!” she called.

He stopped and faced her, reluctant—or perhaps shy. He gave a subdued bow, likely all his aching muscles could manage.

“I simply wished to say thank you, for the book,” she told him, smiling—brighter and more genuinely than she had for him all this time. “It was very kind of you. I had been looking at it myself this morning.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, “it was the least I could do.”

“You didn’t—oh, well.” She wouldn’t argue with his stubbornness fortitude tonight. “I shan’t keep you. I just wanted to thank you.”

He smiled, at least.

“If you were headed this way, you can pass,” she reassured him. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh—if you’re sure.”

“Whatever gets you back to sleep the fastest,” she joked.

He chuckled, but it soon turned to a cough. “Right... then, I’ll be on my way. Good evening, your Ladyship.”

“Good evening, Commander.”

Though she smiled as he departed, though she held her book close, there was a little sadness that came with her return to the stars. If he were not so unwell, then perhaps he could have joined her.

That would be… nice.

#unwanted #unwanted fic #cullen rutherford #commander cullen #cullen x trevelyan #dragon age #dragon age fic

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sunsetpinsandcoins · 11 months ago

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seriouslysam8 · 2 years ago

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Idk if it’s just me but I find it incredibly curious that you chose Selcouth, meaning different/new, for the triwizard story, which should in theory be something Harry (being a Triwizard champion) should be seen before?? Also the meaning of Precipice sort of terrifies me, so obviously I’m requesting a sneak peek lol

Well, it’s new to James… 😉

Sirius looked at Harry with an odd expression with his eyebrows knitted low on his face and the corners of his mouth turned down. He rose slowly from the kitchen table and crossed the room to Harry without a word. When Sirius pulled him into a hug, Harry returned the embrace without hesitation.

“Happy birthday, Harry,” Sirius whispered in a soft yet gruff voice.

Pulling back, Harry offered a smile. “Thanks.”

“You know when you turn seventeen, it’s wizarding tradition that you receive a watch,” Sirius explained.

Harry nodded. “I know. The Weasleys bought Ron a really nice new watch.”

Sirius offered a small smile. “I don’t really like a lot of wizarding traditions. They’re mostly outdated and too posh for my liking. But I do like the watch tradition.”

“I like it too, I guess,” Harry replied, suddenly feeling very awkward.

There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that Sirius had bought him a watch, but Harry didn’t understand why he was making such a big deal about it.

Sirius cleared his throat. “As far as I can gather, James’ watch was buried with him. Nobody thought to keep it for you. I’m sorry, Harry.”

Harry froze, never thinking that it was even possible for him to have his father’s watch. Now that he knew he wasn’t getting it, he couldn’t help the stab of disappointment.

“That’s all right,” Harry replied, shifting his weight. “I have the cloak. And the map. That’s… that’s plenty.”

Sirius frowned. “It’s really not, but there’s nothing I can do about the watch. I can, however, offer you what I hope is the next best thing.”

Harry blinked at his godfather. “The next best thing?”

Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gray box. He extended it to Harry who took it. Inside sat a watch. A very nice and expensive looking watch with constellations embossed on the face.

“I told you before that I ran away from home when I was sixteen. It was during the Christmas holidays of my fifth year. I never went back to Grimmauld Place until two summers ago,” Sirius explained. “I lived at the Potters for the next two summers and spent both the Christmas and Easter holidays with them. They treated me like I was a second son. Your grandmother had a shouting match with my mother on the platform at the beginning of my sixth year. She couldn’t believe that my mother didn’t even attempt to contact me nor really care where I was. Euphemia was a wonderful woman. There wasn’t a day that I felt out of place or unwanted when I was with them. Molly reminds me a lot of her. They both have the biggest hearts of anyone I have ever met.”

Harry smiled softly as he ran his thumb along the leather of the band. “Mrs. Weasley’s pretty great. I’m glad my grandmother was like her.”

“That watch belonged to me. Your grandmother picked it out and got a matching one for James,” Sirius continued and Harry snapped his attention up to his godfather.

“This is yours?” Harry asked. “Sirius, I can’t… I can’t accept this.”

Sirius shook his head. “I haven’t worn it since before Azkaban. It was confiscated from me when I arrived at the prison. It was in my personal effects that Andy accepted and stored. It seemed…” Sirius’ brows furrowed. “It seemed odd, I suppose. I got used to not having a watch. Anyway, it’s a watch your grandmother picked out, which I think is nice. And the inscription on the back seems fitting.”

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest as he carefully pulled out the watch from the box. It seemed so fragile and breakable as he imagined a woman with dark hair and a warm smile looking at watches. Turning over the watch in his hand, his eyes zeroed in on the words my son engraved on the back. Harry’s eyes felt oddly misty at the words.

“I know I’m not James,” Sirius said in a thick voice. “But I love you, Harry.”

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

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物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Characters : Alpha! Jungkook x Omega ! OC.

ABO Dynamics.

Genre : Arranged Marriage / Temporary contractual Marriage.

Warnings : Non- Con/ Extremely Dubious Consent . High functioning alcoholism. Genre related consent issues. Implied suicidal thoughts.

Summary : A recently widowed Jungkook agrees to a contract marriage to keep his company afloat. His grief overwhelms him and it is hard to look at his new wife as anything other than an intruder .

[ Author’s Note : 物の哀れ ~ Mono no aware can be translated as ‘the sadness of things’. It comes from the words 物 (mono – thing) and 哀れ (aware – poignancy or pathos). The ‘sadness’ in question comes from an awareness of the transience of things, as taught by Zen Buddhism. When we view something exceptionally beautiful, we might feel sad because we know it won’t stay so beautiful forever – but appreciation only heightens the pleasure we take in the beautiful thing in that moment. ]

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

I wrapped the white wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. The night was still chilly and the and smelt faintly of impending rain. Why they would plan a party outside while it rained, was beyond me.

After my little skirmish with Jungkook, I had found Namjoon quickly only to be told that we couldn’t leave for another hour at least because there was a certain investor who wanted to meet Namjoon . The guy was running late and he had to wait for him. So here I stood, shivering lightly, all while keeping an eye on my husband as he got progressively drunk.

Namjoon’s words made me sigh a little.

“You can’t decide what someone else’s normal is, Namjoon. Especially when it comes to grief. But the drinking is an issue. And you’re right about the therapist. I know she’s doing her best but I’m not sure if she has the right answers for him. Or even the right tools to help him.”

“I’ve been searching up on therapists who specialize with alphas. There’s one in Itaewon , his name is Kim Taehyung. I really think he could help. He’s an alpha himself.”

“That sounds good. Betas may not fully understand alpha mating bonds or what it’s like when one of them dies. Taehyung may have a better understanding of what Jungkook’s going through.” I nodded, a little hopeful.

Therapy with the beta lady the hospital had recommended wasn’t really helping Jungkook the way it ought to.

Namjoon hesitated.

“Would you be willing to go with him? Taehyung insists a family member stay in the waiting room just in case...” he asked gently. I turned back to look at my husband, leaning on the mahogany countertop of the bar, fingers curled around a glass of whiskey.

“And I’m the one you want to consider for that? That’s ridiculous. Jungkook hates me.” Did I really have remind him of this salient fact?

“I’ve offered to, before. He doesn’t want me there." I sighed as Jungkook threw the drink back with ease.

“That was three months ago though. Things have changed now right?” Namjoon prodded.

I laughed, shaking my head.

“Not between us they haven’t. He’s spending more time with Mina and he isn’t throwing stuff around but he still loathes me.”

“He loathes what you represent: his own shortcomings and failures. Your father wasn’t kind in his approach and you are a reminder of all the things he can’t control.”

How fucking unfair, I thought playing with the tiny ring on my finger ( or should i say handcuff really? ), my wedding ring , the platinum band engraved with my husband’s name, a drop of his blood embossed into the metal.

An archaic tradition, that carried no meaning in modern Seoul but the idea of it was still alive and well. The idea that what we had was a blood bond, imbued in our veins now. An alpha’s connection with a beta or an alpha mate was usually quite fragile. But an alpha and omega mate bond. That was supposed to be powerful.

Unless the alpha was still phantom bonded to a dead wife , that is. It was odd thing. Mate bonds had to be mutual to work. So there was no bond between Jungkook and I . We didn’t have any feelings for each other of course. But wearing someone’s blood on yourself changed that . it forced a bond that wasn’t there. It was ancient magic and it worked on my kind. Not on his.

How fucking unfair because it wasn’t like I could control any of this either?

I grimaced. I had thought of taking the ring off

“Ouch.” I said with a smile. Namjoon waved off my self pity with an eye roll.

“You know what I mean. Even for an Alpha, Jungkook has always held on to his pride. Losing his wife and his company all in the same week probably left him feeling incredibly helpless and your father browbeat him into this whole thing. Of course he isn’t going to be eager to share heart to heart talks with you. ”

I held my hand up.

“I know all that Namjoon. I was there, remember? And I’m not blaming him for any of that. Trauma makes you do shitty things and I understand that . I also understand that if he was in his right mind he wouldn’t behave the way he does now. But that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t change his mind for him. If he doesn’t want to get help, I’m kind of helpless myself, you know?”

Namjoon reached out and squeezed my hand.

“I’m just asking you this because , he does listen to you at times. I’ve noticed it. He doesn’t outwardly agree with you but he takes your opinions into consideration. And, Heejin you live with him and you’re the one who managed to convince him to start scenting Mina. ”

And God, how exhausting that had been. I had kept at it because Mina was so young and she needed her father’s scent to grow. And while i could be persistent when necessary, I couldn’t work miracles.

“Namjoon oppa, “ I said softly, trying to explain myself without sounding like a horrible human, “ I don’t hate Jungkook. Far from it. I want him to get the help he needs and I’m here for him. If you can convince him to go see Taehyung and he’s okay with me coming along, I won’t say no. Mina needs him and there’s nothing I would like more than for him to get better. ” i smiled a little, “ But he’s still going to have to be the one to make that choice. i can’t make it for him.”

Namjoon nodded.

“ Fair enough. Well, I’ll talk to him about it. We’ll set something up. Thank you for not refusing Heejinah. I know it can’t be easy for you either.

I opened my mouth to respond but out of the corner of my eyes I caught a glimpse of someone, staring intently right at me.

I turned sharply, eyes locking with those of Kim Yugyeom and I stiffened, stepping closer to Namjoon on instinct. Yugyeom smirked, winking at me.

I shuddered in disgust.

Creep.

Namjoon followed my line of vision and swore.

“This motherfucker.” He made to move towards him. and I grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his forearm. The last thing i wanted to witness was an alpha alpha showdown in the middle of a party with me in the middle.

“Please, no. Don’t make a scene. It’s what he wants.”

“Jungkook has the shittiest friends on the planet.” Namjoon shook his head and I couldn’t agree more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mina’s appointment with the doctor went about as expected. She was right on time with her milestones and I sat in the waiting office for a mere twenty minutes before being called in. The doctor, an alpha named Min Yoongi gave me a small smile of recognition before flipping through the pages of her file.

“ Jungkook didn’t come along?” He asked casually, grabbing a pen and making a note of her weight and length before plotting it on the small graph. She was a little on the smaller side but she was growing well.

“He’s busy...” i said with a shrug, “ So I still keep giving her the polyvisol supplements?”

Yoongi nodded, “ The nurse will fill in the prescription for you. Are you sure he’s busy? He called me last night and told me he wanted to come see me?”

I blinked.

“He did ? “ I couldn’t quite process this.

“He wanted to talk about how she’s doing and I told him he could come in for her appointment today.”

I imagined a world where Jungkook actually spoke to me, instead of forcing me to navigate stormy waters on rotten plywood. Nine more months, i told myself firmly, already digging for my phone. Nine more months and I would be out of this living hell I’d gotten trapped in.

“Can I try calling him? He’s probably forgotten. I think he might regret missing out.” I begged and Yoongi gave me a small smile, waving me off.

“Of course you can Heejin-ah and tell him that if he wants I can drop by at the office and talk to him as well.”

I nodded quickly , moving out to the waiting area while the nurses held Mina, soothing her before getting her ready for her shots. I tried calling him and not surprisingly he didn’t pick up. I called his office next and Jungkook’s secretary picked up the phone .

The woman hated me.

“He’s busy.” She said curtly.” He’s specifically asked me not to bother him with stuff that isn’t important.”

Her whiny voice grated on my ears and i bit my lips to keep the irritation in.

“Since when does his daughter make that list, Ms Lee?” I said calmly and she hesitated.

“He’s in a meeting right now and-”

“I’m in the hospital with his daughter. I hope you’re willing to take the heat when he finds out that you wouldn’t let me get through to him. “ I said casually.

It was a twisted version of the truth for sure. Meant to imply that Mina was hurt in some way. But I couldn’t bring myself to regret it much. I had enough on my plate without dealing with twenty year old secretaries who fancied themselves in love with their hot boss.

“I... just a moment, Mrs. Jeon.”

I loathed the name. It wasn’t mine. It was hers and I felt like a thief every time someone addressed me that way.

After two minutes, Jungkook’s familiarly low and perpetually exhausted voice came out ,

“Hello? Heejin?” He sounded listless and his voice just a little slurred and i groaned.

“Please tell me you aren’t drunk.” I whispered.

“I’m not. “ He said shortly. “ What’s wrong? What happened? Is Mina alright? ”

“Did you tell Yoongi that you were going to meet him today?”

He was quiet for a second.

“i’ll talk to him.”

He hung up and I stared at the phone. I realized that I shouldn’t have called him in the first place. Should have asked Yoongi to call him himself. What was wrong with me? Even a few syllables exchanged with Jungkook felt like staring into an abyss .

I moved back to the clinic , just as Mina plaintive wail filled the room. The shots were done. It took us another thirty five minutes to finish filling her prescriptions and for Yoongi to finish examining her. She was already dozing off and I wasn’t supposed to feed her for another thirty minutes so perhaps the nap would do her good. I had just finished settling her into her Bjorn carrier when Jungkook’s voice came from the entryway.

“Is this the way to Dr. Min’s office?”

I glanced back to watch him . He looked ridiculously handsome in a three piece suit, jacket thrown over his arm and hair lightly damp from the misty drizzle outside. I saw the secretary’s mouth actually drop open and stay agape as she tried to process his questions. i could see the way his beauty had rendered her entirely witless and as someone who had experienced it first hand , i could sympathize,

But Jungkook was beginning to look annoyed from the lack of response and i decided to give the poor girl a break.

“He’s waiting for you.” I called out and Jungkook startled. He glanced up at me and for some reason he looked surprised. He always looked surprised when he saw me. As if i was just some monster out of his worst nightmares turning up in odd places . As if he couldn’t quite believe that i did exist in his life now. Unwelcome but impossible to avoid.

“You’re here.” He said blankly.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

“Yes, i am. I’ve been here for three months now. “ i said shortly, before i could stop myself, “ Mina’s fine. She just had her shots. I’m going to drive home and put her down for a nap. Do you want me to come with you ?” I pointed at the clinic.

He hesitated before shaking his head.

It was all according to script then. Jungkook would never include me in a single thing. Even if i was smack damn in the middle of the room with nowhere else to go.

“Alright. i’ll see you after work.”

“We’ll have guests for dinner today. ” He said suddenly.

I stared at him, confused.

“For dinner??”

“ Sooah’s parents.”

Oh, God.

Wary of the extra nurses suddenly filling the room, the little whispers and the curious glances, i kept my smile even.

“Of course. ” I bowed a little before turning on my heel and walking away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sooah’s parents were, for lack of a better word, selfish .

They had lost a daughter, so of course i could understand with their need to keep their daughter’s memory alive. But the way they chose to do it was unhealthy and borderline vindictive.

" She’s growing well.” Mrs. Kim had the same statuesque figure as her model daughter and she held her grandchild with a slightly unsure grip and Mina felt the uncertainty in her grip, breaking out into cries at once. I stayed still, my throat dry from disuse. I hadn’t said a word since they came in.

We were seated at the table, dinner was done.

Jungkook sat next to me, staring straight ahead while his father in law tried to engage him in conversation.

With Jungkook, the grief came in waves. Some days, the waves were small and gentle, like the ones that lapped at your feet on the shore of a tranquil lake. on those days e went about his day as usual, spoke to his friends and signed deals. And somedays they were big, behemoths carrying guilt and accusation, crashing over his head with a vengeance.

On those days , he looked like he’d been run over by a two ton truck.

Today was just one of those days and i could sense it.

The man was going on an on about some charity that Sooah had been involved in as a young girl... Could Jungkook make a contribution in her name?. Could Jungkook pay for a concert of her favorite singer in her hometown..? Could Jungkook possibly consider contributing to opening a foundation in her name?

I could feel the urge to scream, grow by the minute.

Each syllable that spilled out of her father’s mouth was aggravating, the sentences began and ended with her name, over and over over again and It felt terribly like she was standing right next to me, ice cold and dead but real and relentless at the same time. He spoke of her like she was still alive and i couldn’t fathom how that was healthy. How that was going to help Jungkook move on.

If anything it made it harder for him to move on.

And in a moment of chilling clarity, i realized that this is what they wanted.

They didn’t want Jungkook to move on from her. They wanted him to be consumed by her. In the wake of that realization , i felt anger surge.

There was just enough hurt and heartbreak and pain and grief in this room without these idiots adding to it.

“Jungkook is tired tonight, uncle.. Perhaps we can discuss this later.” I said finally, unable to bear it any more.

The man gave me a glare.

“I wasn’t talking to you girl.” He said sharply. I frowned.

“We’re trying to help Jungkook. “ The woman said sharply. “ Unlike you and your father we do not prey on the weak. “

Jungkook shifted at the phrase and I glared at her.

“He isn’t weak. “ I snapped, resisting the urge to add on a you bitch , “He’s grieving . And what he needs is space to process his grief. Not you people trying to shove your daughter into his throat with every sentence. “

“Don’t you dare talk about our daughter!” Mrs. Kim snarled and i felt a headache come on.

“I thought that was why you were here? To talk about her? Or should I say use her as an excuse to get money out of him?? What you’re doing is unfair and awful!! . Jungkook isn’t ready to talk about this and one look at his face should tell you that, if you even bothered looking at anything except his wallet.” I shouted.

“Heejin, that’s enough.” Jungkook said hoarsely and i bit my lips.

Of course he wasn’t going to support me even if we were on the same side. Defending him, protecting him was exhausting and it was such a thankless job. i wanted it to end.

“I think we should call this a night. please, just leave” I said sharply, standing up and reaching for Mina. She glared at me but handed the baby over.

“You don’t get to make that decision. My son in law is who I’m here to see. You’re just the parasite that’s attached herself to him. You sit there in my daughter’s place and you dare disrespect me this way. ” The woman snapped.

“Its still my house. “ I gritted out. “ I’m married to Jungkook whether you like it or not and so i have the right to ask you to get out of my house.”

“Heejin, stop.” Jungkook’s voice only made me angrier. He sounded drained and empty and still these leeches wanted to suck him dry. And he was too blind to see it.

“I’m done with this” I stood up moving to the small pack and play that sat in the corner of the living room. i placed Mina in and watcher her eyes flutter shut gently.

i turned back to stare at Mrs. Kim.

“i want the pair of you to leave. Get out before I call security.”

She gaped at me.

“you had a wedding... that doesn’t make it a fucking marriage. “ she sneered. “ Its probably not even legal until you consummate it. So go ahead, call the cops right now. You think i wouldn’t take you to court. ??!! ”

She was spouting absolute nonsense, probably driven by her own grief but i wasn’t feeling particularly charitable tonight.

“Why don’t you ask your son in law that? Ask him if the marriage was consummated or not...” I smirked.

She faltered, eyes wide and disbelieving.

“No. You’re lying ...he wouldn’t.” She turned to Jungkook who looked at me with fury in his eyes.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He said sharply and I scoffed.

“With me? What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with these idiots that they think they can come here and ask you to sign a fucking cheque when you’re still out here grieving for their daughter?!”

“You don’t know shit about them or her...”

“I don’t have to. I don’t have to and i don’t care to either. All I know is that i married you and you’re my husband and whether you meant those vows or not, i did. I swore in front of my God and my family and I’m going to keep those promises. I’m going to protect you because I love your daughter . I’m going to protect you because you need to fucking live to be able to care for her. “

i turned to stare at his in-laws. They were staring at me, some of the fire dying out and in the span of a few minutes they somehow looked older .

“You don’t deserve to be here.” Mr. Kim said finally, voice cracking and i exhaled.

“And yet, here I am. And I’m not leaving. you are.” I said calmly.

They stared at me for one more second before standing up and moving out of the dining space and into the hallways leading out.

“We’ll call you later Jungkook-ah...” The man said before walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence between us grew heavier as the seconds ticked.

“We can’t decide how people grieve.” Jungkook said softly.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“You’re telling me that , Jungkook? Or did you forget all the times I indulged you when the only way you could grieve was apparently by forcing yourself on me.” i snapped.

His eyes widened , just a fraction before going blank again.

He took a deep breath and went on.

“They lost their daughter and they’re hurting. We can’t tell them they aren’t allowed to honor her memory...They’re clearly in pain...”

“Not more than you!” i snapped. “ You’re the one in pain here Jungkook. Your pain is so much more than theirs ..... Or may be it isn’t i don’t know.. But i do know that I can’t sit here and watch them bleed all over you when you’re cut just as deep as them.”

“You don’t know shit about e!” He roared. “ Don’t you fucking dare talk about my grief like you can understand it...like you actually know what its like to lose the woman who had your fucking heart, because if you did you wouldn’t have agreed to this fucking marriage...you wouldn’t be here in this room with me, intruding on my grief and my pain... “

The sound of his voice made my entire body freeze in fear. I stayed perfectly still, jumping when he crossed the distance between us and grabbed my face, fingers curling around my jaw.

“ You want to know how i wanted to grieve? I wanted to grieve in solitude!!! I wanted to grieve without some fucking stranger hovering over my shoulder like a fucking plague!”

I exhaled shakily, fingers trembling as i reached up to hold his wrist, my entire jaw throbbing with how hard his grip was.

“It’s the price you pay for getting your company back. Jeon Jungkook. “ I choked out.” Or did you forget that marrying me is the reason you aren’t homeless on the streets “

He laughed a little yanking me closer and wrapping an arm around my waist.

“You’ve learned to talk back these days...” He muttered , “ I think I preferred the girl who hid in the nursery for the first three weeks of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t hiding . I was avoiding you. Because your misery was contagious and i didn’t want any of it on me.” I snapped and his hold on my waist tightened.

“Are you trying to make me angry? ” He snapped, fingers curling on my waist and I swallowed the whimper of pain that threatened.

“Maybe i am... Maybe anything is better than watching you walk around this house like a corpse. You’re alive so I don’t see why you act like you died with her.”

He growled at that, eyes blazing as he stepped back enough to stare into my face.

“You’re right... I didn’t die with her. Although i wanted to...Maybe if i wasn’t such a fucking coward, i would have gone through with it. .” He laughed and I felt my heart go ice cold at the very thought of it.

“You didn’t die... So why don’t you get some help. There’s no shame in getting help... Taehyung...”

“I don’t need help. i need to be alone.” He snarled. “ I need to be allowed to cry and mourn my wife the way I want to but you and your father made sure that i couldn’t.”

I sighed, looking away in defeat.

“Fucking look at me!” He snarled, hands grabbing both my arms and yanking me forward. “ Why won’t you look at me huh? is the guilt finally catching up?”

“No. No guilt. Just loathing and resentment.” I snapped back and he laughed again.

“Well too bad. Because you know what? You’re right. I paid for my company with my right to grieve and you...you paid for my name with your right to say no . “

I swallowed as he yanked me away from the table, dragging me to the couch in the side.

“ I never refused you a thing.” I choked out, breathing ragged as he shoved me into the soft leather surface, crawling on top of me at once. “ I only said no when you were drunk out of your mind. When you thought it was okay to fuck me and call me by her name.”

He made swift work of the buttons of my blouse and I stayed still, arms lying by my side.

“ Are you telling me you want this ? You expect me to believe you want my hands on your body?” He sneered, fingers moving up to grip my hair. “You don’t want this and you don’t want me....Just like i don’t want you either. i’ll never want you. ”

“You don’t want me.??.. You have a funny way of showing it..” I scoffed , staring right into his eyes rolling my hips up into his , greeted by the hard press of his length against my thigh. “ And to be honest i don’t give a damn if you’re still in love with her , all I want is my name on your lips if you want to get off with me. Because I’m not just a toy you can use to replace your dead wife. I have a name and you should remember it. "

He growled again, fingers squeezing hard against the back of my head till my scalp felt like it was on fire.

“I hate you. “ He said clearly. “ I hate you and everything you’ve done to me.”

“Everything I’ve done to you? Oh you mean save your life? Taek care of your baby girl like she was my own? Give you the chance to rebuild your entire career.? Turn you into multi millionaire again? Good. Hate me. The feelings mutual. “ I snapped. “Now if you hate me so much why are you still here? Get off me.”

“I’m not going anywhere, wife.” He sneered. “ Because like you said, I’ve paid for this.” He drawled, reaching down and squeezing between my legs. “And I’d be a pretty bad businessman if i don’t collect from my investments.”

Before I could retort, he pulled back, just enough to grab me by the waist and flip me over on my front. I flinched when he grabbed my arms, yanking them back and trapping my wrists together in his fist at the base of my spine. My cheeks pressed into the leather couch, sticky and uncomfortable.

i heard the sound of his zipper, the clink of his belt buckle.

Coward.

I shivered when he pushed my skirt up.

“Don’t enjoy this too much, yeah?” I snapped, “ You hate me remember?”

“Easy enough to forget its you when I don’t have to look at you.” he retorted.

He slipped one arm under my waist, lifting me up just enough for him to yank my panties down.

“Just remember , you don’t get to blame the alcohol for this .” I sneered. “ You’re sober and clear headed and you’re hard for me. “

Somehow that seemed to bother him.

He stopped .

I could feel the hesitation in his limbs.

It made me laugh.

“You know Jungkook, i took you for lot of things but a coward wasn’t one of them.”

“What the fuck does that mean huh? I should put you in your fucking place for how insolent you are with me... ” he pressed down on me and i gasped when I felt his chest pressing into my back, his face inches from my own. I flinched when he sank his teeth into the mating mark on my neck.

“it means that if you’re going to do this, if you’re going to talk big about putting me in my place like the big bad alpha that you are, at least own up to the fact that you’re attracted to me. ”

“ You forget your fucking place, omega.” he hissed, voice sharp and furious against my ear. “ Another word out of that mouth and i won’t be responsible for what i do.” I gritted my teeth when he curled his fingers around the inside of my thigh, parting my legs and settling in between.

He pushed into me in one strong thrust and my eyes flew open in shock.

“Fuck.... why are you so fucking tight...” He groaned and my shoulders began to throb as he fucked into me, setting a punishing speed that left both of us panting . We were too fucking would up for it to last any longer than a few minutes and yet, i could feel pleasure swell inside me, wetness seeping out of me and onto the leather couch beneath us.

I wondered just how fucked up this whole thing was. Just how much damage were we doing to each other?? But it was hard to care too much about it, because even if though it was a terrible way to talk things out at least he had talked. It was nothing new....nothing earth shatteringly enlightening but he had said it all out loud and that made a difference.

“You think you can come into my life and dictate how i fucking live.” He grunted against my ear, fingers tightening on my hair. “ it pisses me off.”

“Everyone dies, Jungkook. People die and they leave loved ones behind but Life goes on. It has to go on. You can’t just pause life to grieve. Mina needs you.” I felt my eyes begin to sting with tears, the adrenaline from the argument fading and my body threatening to go limp as he drove into me at the same punishing pace.

He didn’t respond, fingers closing around my throat and squeezing lightly instead.

“Save your platitudes before i decide that the warmth of your body isn’t worth the grate of your voice on my ear.” He snapped and I whimpered when he stilled, spilling into me.

He stayed pressed up against me. breathing harshly against my ear and i waited till both our breaths evened out.

“It’s not selfish to move on Jungkook. You aren’t insulting your wife’s memory by wanting to move on. “ I said softly. ” Someday your heart and mind will agree with me. Whether you like it or not. That’s just how pain works, Jungkook. One day it’ll pack itself up and walk out of your heart in the middle of the night. You just have to hold on till then.”

He didn’t reply, merely drawing himself up and off me.

Once i heard the door to his bedroom slam shut i dragged myself up , thighs shaking and sticky. I grimaced at the mess on the couch. I stared at the packet of baby wipes on the table nearby and shuddered. That just felt wrong.

I’d just have to go grab a washcloth from the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On that weekend, we had another dinner to attend, this time with a few investors from out of the country or so Namjoon told me.

Although we didn’t talk about what happened and he didn’t try to touch me again, things were subtly different.

Something had changed in the way Jungkook behaved with me. There was a little less of the usual zombie like indifference and he actually seemed to be avoiding alcohol actively. It was a welcome change. But to make up for it, Mina went into a growth spurt. Which meant ten minute naps every hours or so with wailing sobs in between.

i was exhausted.

So much so that Jungkook told me that he didn’t want to pick Mina up from Seokjin’s place till the next day.

It was a little past one in the morning when I finally trudged into the apartment. Jungkook wasn’t black out drunk but he was definitely a little loose limbed, eyes just a shade more glassy than usual.

“Tonight went well. I’m thinking the guy from Macau is definitely going to consider investing.” He muttered, gripping the door frame and taking off his shoes.

I toed my own heels off, feeling upset and bereft.

“Why would you tell Jin oppa that we’ll get Mina in the morning? She’s not used to being away the whole night.” I complained, feeling jittery and nervous because the house felt so empty and strange .

I didn’t like the idea of being alone with Jungkook without the buffer of his daughter between us. The house felt foreign, the walls seemingly closer together , the space to cramped.

Jungkook dropped his keys in the bowl and tugged on his tie, watching me carefully.

“It’s too late and Jin hyung said she was already asleep. He’ll drop her off in the morning. Just relax. Would you like a drink?”

I stared at him.

What now?

He looked nervous and a tad worried.

Swallowing , I shook my head, turning on my heel.

“I’m going to bed.” I was almost at the door to the nursery when he grabbed my arm, seemingly moving faster than I could breathe.

“Wait, Heejin… “ He stopped, worrying his lip between his teeth before sighing, “I… I need to say something..” He finished and I exhaled sharply.

I tugged on my arm but he wouldn’t let go.

“Jungkook , let me go.” I said sharply. “ I’m not in the mood tonight . You aren’t drunk now and I’m running out of reasons to excuse your actions.”

His hold on my arm relaxed but he didn’t let go.

“Namjoon hyung told me about that new therapist.... Kim Taehyung?? . I don’t think it’s a good idea.” He said roughly.

I sighed, defeated. It was expected and yet it stung. I wondered if perhaps I was just beating a dead horse at this point. But Mina deserved to have a father who loved her with all his heart and Jungkook’s heart was so filled with grief it had no place for his daughter. If there was any chance I could help change that, I would take it.

I tugged my arm away again and this time he let go.

I tried to smile encouragingly. it was hard because i was all out of comfort, my own exhaustion too overwhelming at the moment.

So I took a deep breath and reached out to lightly touch his arm.

“Listen, no one’s asking you to make a decision tonight, Jungkook.” I tried to smile a bit more widely but it probably came out as a grimace, “ Just sleep on it and think about why you think it isn’t a good idea. Taehyung’s an alpha and he may understand you better. Think about it and you can let Namjoon know later.”

He didn’t reply, merely staring at me till I began to feel a little hot around the collar.

“Well, Good night then.” I made to turn away but he grabbed me again, this time by my wrist.

“Wait.”

Patience wearing just a little thin, I stared at him, waiting as he requested.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night. At the party last week. About you not being her mother. I shouldn’t have said that.”

It was the first time he had apologized for anything.

It took me a second to even remember what he was talking about.

“Alright. I’m not mad. And I understand why you said it. Its fine. And you’re right. I’m not her mother and I should be more careful. ”

He nodded and then stepped back.

“ I’m sorry. For a lot of things. ” He bowed awkwardly and I could only stare at him, shaking my head. The apologies were somehow both welcome and abhorrent to me.

They were the kind of apology you would offer a stranger. And that made them insincere because I wasn’t a stranger. I’d been through too much these past few months, to be treated that way.

For now I could only accept them at face value.

“ Its alright. Just go to bed Jungkook. And listen to Namjoon oppa . I know you don’t trust me but you should trust him. He only wants what’s best for you. ”

I sounded twenty years older than I actually was and grimaced.

"There’s one more thing. Can I... I need... “ He stopped and stared at the floor.

I felt a huge sense of foreboding rise up at that.

“Are you going to pull the i paid for your body card? “ I said bitterly. “ You made it very clear that i can’t say no. I don’t see why you’re bothering to-”

“You can say no.” He said softly. “ You can say no.”

And then he looked up at with limpid doe eyes, shining with all the stars in the galaxy and I wanted to sob at the unfairness of it all.

“ And if I say no, where will you go? To a brothel? you’ll come back smelling like another beta or omega and you can’t come near your daughter till it fades. Which is what? A week? “

Jungkook didn’t say anything and I felt helpless.

“Is that why you sent her away tonight?” I demanded and he looked genuinely surprised.

“What? No. Of course not . i just...You looked exhausted. I thought you’d like a night off. And just... I don’t want to have sex. Can you just sleep with me. I just... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

“What’s so special about tonight?” i rolled my eyes already moving to his bedroom instead of the nursery.

He stared at me for a few seconds, eyes empty in the dark of the hallway.

I waited a whole minute before sighing. This was excruciating and my heels hurt from wearing heels all evening. i wanted to curl into the air mattress on the floor of the nursery , possibly lie sleepless till dawn and then drive down to pick Mina up from Jin’s place.

“Jungkook , let’s just go to bed and forget-”

“Its her birthday.”

I barely heard him, his lips barely moved and his voice was so low.

I stared at him. Not sure if I’d misheard.

“What?”

“Its her birthday. “ He repeated.

“You can say her name.” i said calmly. “ You’re not betraying her by saying her name out loud in front of me.”

He went a little stiff at that and i wanted to kick myself for the remark. What a hypocrite I was. I’d reprimanded Namjoon for trying to dictate Jungkook’s grief and here I was , doing the exact same thing.

“I’m sorry. God, Jungkook... I’m sorry. i shouldn’t have said that. i didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me.. I... of course you don’t have to be alone. Should i call Namjoon oppa? Or Jimin?” I asked gently.

“It’s Sooah’s birthday.” He was still staring at the floor, apparently he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.

I had a sudden flash of memory, remembering that Jungkook used to sing. He had sung at his wedding seven years ago. Serenaded his wife as she walked down the aisle. I had been young then but i remembered thinking how evident his love was in every syllable sung .

Something i could hear even now, in the way he said her name.

“Okay. What would you like to do? I... I can make seaweed soup.” I said softly. “ We can go see her if you like?”

He stared at me.

“I want to go alone.” He said finally.

I hesitated.

“I’ll drive you. i’ll stay in the car. You can’t drive.” I reminded him.

Jungkook’s driver’s license had been suspended after one too many traffic violations. I drove him around often .

He didn’t reply, staring out of the huge bay windows and i sighed.

“Alright... Why don’t you go change into something more comfortable yeah? i’ll get the soup going and we, “ i bit my lips, “ , I’m sorry, And you can go see her. “ I smiled, before moving to the kitchen and grabbing the dried seaweed. I soaked it in cold water, before getting the beef, garlic, soy sauce, salt and pepper and the sesame oil from the cupboards.

Ten minutes later, the soup was boiling away and I peered out at the door leading to his bedroom. I was still wearing the cocktail gown and my head was beginning to throb. I oved to the nursery and stripped quickly, slipping on my white t shirt and a pair of pink corduroy shorts.

I would be in the car anyway. By the time i finished taking off all my make up, the soup was done and Jungkook was slumped over the counter. He looked drained, more so than usual . In fact he looked notably worse than how he was ten minutes ago.

Torn between the urge to draw him into my arms and the helpless knowledge that he would absolutely hate me touching him , i merely hovered near the stove, pouring the stove into a small airtight container.

On a whim I moved to the cupboard in the corner that housed all the crockery and threw it open.

“What was her favorite bowl?” I said casually, staring at him.

He blinked, staring at me like i was speaking a foreign tongue.

“Her favorite bowl , Jungkook The one she always drank or ate from?”

He swallowed but leaned his palms down on the granite countertop, levering himself off the tall stool of the kitchen island and making his way over to me. I stepped back, giving him space to peer into the depths of the black marble shelves.

He finally stuck a hand in and drew out a pale yellow and mauve bowl , a little worn but intact.

He held it carefully, running his fingers gently over the bowl, savoring the surface his wife had once caressed with her own fingers. I watched as his lips curved, a pale pale imitation of a smile but a smile nonetheless and I felt my breath catch in my throat.

This was probably the first time he’d smiled in the three months i’d known him.

My heart began to pound, a steady staccato that began rising in volume and i willed myself to stay calm.

“I..uh.. I can wash it for you.” I said softly .

The smile disappeared as quickly as it had come and he stared at my outstretched hand like it was a snake .

Face almost eerily blank he cleared his throat.

“I’ll do it.”

i watched as he moved to wash the bowl under the spray from the faucet and finished clearing up the kitchen. i grabbed a small bag to keep the sea wood soup in and held the bag open when Jungkook finished washing the bowls. He grabbed a fresh kitchen towel and carefully wiped down the moisture before wrapping the bowl in the towel and keeping it inside the bag, carefully.

I smiled and zipped the bag shut.

“Lets go shall we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat waiting in the car, staring out into the darkness of the parking lot, while the rain poured torrents outside the glass windows of the car. I felt unaccountably alone, like I was the only human being left on the planet.

It had been a little past an hour since Jungkook had disappeared into the building that held his wife’s ashes. I wasn’t sure if i should give him a call. Had he fallen asleep in there.

I told myself I would wait another hour and if he didn’t come out, I would go check on him.

I dozed lightly against the window, exhaustion beginning to creep in. I wanted to sob at how tired i was. I could have gotten a full nights sleep, something i hadn’t had since the day I took Mina into my arms.

But then, i remembered the tiny smile that had sprung up on his face and i grinned despite myself. That was progress wasn’t it? It definitely was. I was sure that if only Jungkook could be convinced to go meet Taehyung , the alpha therapist, things could get so much better for him. I wanted to have him at least halfway to being ..... capable of handling his own daughter, before i left him. if not the worry alone would eat me alive.

I was just getting ready to perhaps climb over the console and nap in the backseat when my phone rang.

I glanced at the dashboard, frowning. it was two thirty in the morning.

Who?

I grabbed my phone from the bag and my heart leapt to my throat.

“Jin? What’s wrong? What happened to her?” I could feel my heart threatening to give out, any number of terrible possibilities running through my head in a vicious loop.

“nothing happened, Heejin , take a deep breath... She’s just running a fever. it was quite low earlier but its hitting 101 now and I’m getting a little worried. I’ve given her cold baths and kept a wet towel on her but it doesn’t seem to be coming down.”

“We’ll be there in ten minutes! “ i said quickly.

“I’m sorry, Heejinah, i don’t have any experience with babies and-”

“it’s alright...thank you for calling me oppa!” i hung up , already fumbling with the door and stepping out into the rain. i was soaked through in three second flat. What a day to wear a white t shirt.

I ran quickly, stumbling a little on the gravel pathway and hoping to God i was going the right way. I ran into the foyer, the poor security guard falling asleep over his desk glancing up at me in sympathy.

“there was a man here earlier?”

“Second floor third room.” He said casually.

I nodded, already rushing for the steps. I climbed the four flights of stair in two minutes, my heart threatening to give out. I found Jungkook in the room , kneeling on the floor and he looked at me in shock that swiftly turned to anger.

“Jungkook-” i gasped because the run up had robbed me of my breath.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He moved so quickly I could barely blink before he was right up in front of me.

“Jungkook, I... We need...” I tried to draw a breath in but before I could form the words he grabbed my arm, so hard that I whimpered in pain.

“I told you i wanted to be alone, what the fuck is your fucking problem?!” He snarled.

“Jungkook-” Before i could finish, he yanked me just a bit closer to him before shoving me out of the room with his wife’s portraits and the small ornate vase that held her ashes.

it wasn’t that hard.

He didn’t push me in a very brutal way.

In fact it was probably with lesser force than what anyone slamming a door would use.

But,

Jungkook was six feet two. He weighed a 170 pounds.

I was a hundred pounds wet and barely came up to his shoulders.

And it was just my luck that the wall opposite to the door had a large concrete and granite horse figurine placed right in front of it.

I crashed into the torso of the equine, my bones rattling inside me and I whimpered when my wrist made contact with the hard surface, bending a bit out of place.

I slid to the floor in a wet lump, trying to catch my breath and process what had just happened.

Jungkook stood frozen by the door horrified as he stared at his hands, as thought he couldn’t quite fathom what he had just done.

A sharp burning pain began in my sides and I gasped out.

“Oh, fuck.” I swore.

Jungkook moved to help me up but i was already crawling away from him, scrambling to my feet, ignoring the ache in my side.

“I’m sorry.” I said softly, holding both my hands up. “ It’s Mina...she’s running a fever. We need to go get her.”

“Heejin-ah, I’m...”

One more apology and i would officially lose it, i thought slightly hysterically.

“its my fault.” I said sharply, “ I should have probably tried calling you from the car instead of barging in like this but Jin called and i got worried...I wasn’t thinking straight so I’m sorry about that... I think we should go get her as soon as we can.”

“Did i hurt you?” He demanded , reaching out for me again and I nearly fell again trying to move away from his touch.

“No.. No I’m fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure, we don’t have to go the doctor.? “ He asked nervously, watching me carefully wipe down her body with the slightly damp wet cloth. I nodded, carefully squeezing the water out before dipping the towel in water again.

“She’ll be fine. Her fever’s come down and with babies this young, its safer to care for them at home than to take them to a hospital.” I said casually,

“I wasn’t talking about her.” He said stiltedly.

I blinked, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?”

“I think we should go to the doctor. You fell hard. ”

“Jungkook what are you even on about?” I said crossly, steadfastly ignoring the pain in my sides. It was sharp and unbearable with every breath I took in but I was too terrified to go to the hospital and have them tell me I’d cracked my rib or something.

Partly because that would be so inconvenient.

Partly because Jungkook would probably go back to being a guilt ridden shadow of himself if that happened.

“I’m going to call Yoongi hyung.”

Before I could protests some more he was already on his feet, moving to the living room.

Yoongi arrived thirty minutes later , annoyed and sleepy, dressed in a soft white t shirt and stone wash jeans.

“It’s four thirty in the morning , she better be dying Jungkook..” He rasped out near the front door and i flinched at the murderous tone to his voice.

Suddenly , i hoped desperately that my ribs had cracked.

Yoongi stepped in , staring at me . He took in the mess of quilts i sat on and sighed.

“Come here and take your shirt off.” He said gruffly.

I blinked, feeling blood rush to my face. Was he always this handsome? Hating the very unwelcome flutter of nerves, I moved to stand in front of him, grabbing the hem of my t shirt .

But the movement jolted my rib and pain sharp and lancing shot through my side. I yelped and dropped my hand again breathing harshly which only seemed to make things worse.

I swallowed and Yoongi blinked, reaching out to gently grip my elbows.

“Hey...relax ... “ He said gently.

I felt the press of a warm chest at my back.

“Let me help hyung.” Jungkook’s voice rumbled through my body, his chin brushing the top of my head and he bent over me from the back, fingers gripping the hem of my shirt and carefully lifting it up to just above the curve of my breasts.

Yoongi was staring at Jungkook over my shoulders expression unreadable.

“So you do know how to act after all.” He commented drily and I heard Jungkook inhale sharply behind me.

“Hyung...” He said sharply, and Yoongi merely rolled his eyes.

“How did this happen?” He ran slender fingers all over my skin, feeling each dent and dip carefully.

“I ..uh.. I sort of fell into a statue? It was made of concrete and quite heavy.”

His face shifted into a frown.

“Jungkook , tell me you didn’t push her.” He said sharply and I jumped a bit.

“No...he didn’t.” i said sharply and Yoongi ignored me , staring right at the alpha behind me.

“I didn’t mean to.” He said finally.

“You broke her rib, kid.”

I groaned in defeat. Behind me Jungkook stiffened.

“It was an accident.” I said sharply and Yoongi gave me an unimpressed look.

“If i had a won for every wife that told me that.”

“It was my fault and-” I shut my mouth. I did sound like the poster child for abused wife in denial.

“Relax... I’m not going to send your handsome husband to prison.” He chuckled. “ This time.” He added, giving Jungkook another glare.

“It won’t happen again. ever. “ Jungkook’s voice shook a little.

I sighed, already imagining the self flagellation that was probably going on inside the alpha’s head.

Yoongi’s voice drew me out of my head.

“Its not a break. It looks like a crack which is easier to heal. But i still want you to come in tomorrow. We’ll get it x rayed. Its going to take a couple of months to heal.”

I gaped.

“Months?”

“As long as you take it easy you’ll be fine. Now where’s the little one?”

Yoongi dropped off a small bottle of pediatric paracetamol and told me to keep an eye on her temperature before bidding us goodbye.

Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook turned to me , eyes wide and lips parted.

“If you apologize , I’m going to throw this at your face.” i said calmly, fingers closing over the neck of the ceramic vase on the table.

Jungkook blinked.

“I’m sorry. “ He said nonetheless and I sighed, pulling my hands away.

How fitting. Neither of us could act out of character.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything under the sun.

I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt him in any way.

“Just go to bed , Jungkook. I’ll be fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note : As always the pain is here and probably going to get worse. But Jungkook seems to be turning mildly human so let’s see if he can keep that up. Also handsome pediatric doctor Yoongi as second lead because i like to torture myself.

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gftimelord · 28 days ago

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*The doctor let out a quiet laugh, the sound slipping out before he could think to hold it back. The prior tension in his posture melted as he allowed himself to be drawn into the rambling, ridiculous tale. Each bizarre detail seemed to tug a bit more of his apprehension away, like a gentle unraveling of his tightly wound mind. He’d encountered plenty of eccentricities in his time, but this wild story? It had him leaning in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes as he felt that familiar, unquenchable itch to know more.*

*Ford chuckled softly, eyebrows lifting as if in disbelief.*

“Well...”

*He started, his tone filled with both awe and a touch of humor. After all, when you've stumbled into a dimension chuck full of pastries— hearing about two that ended up the size of houses didn't sound all that outlandish.*

“I can’t say I haven’t seen pastries that size before…”

*He raised an eyebrow, looking almost comically intrigued; his head tilted on instinct as if to accentuate his point. Albeit in a somewhat unintentionally cute manner.*

“But still— Baba Yaga? And what was it you mentioned…pixies as well?”

*A small grin flickered at the edges of his lips as he leaned closer, entirely taken by the vivid imagery. The usual hard lines of his face softened, replaced by the warm glow of a man genuinely lost in his fascination. It was rare to get lost in something like this, to indulge in a curiosity that felt so delightfully harmless. And for all his caution, he found himself delighting in this Bill’s chaotic enthusiasm, which somehow reignited the zeal from his younger days where he constantly sought out the strange and traversed the unexplored.*

*Ford’s eyes sparkled as he continued to talk, voice carrying an almost conspiratorial curiosity.*

“I have to ask—”

*He said, barely able to contain his grin, much like a kid in a candy store no doubt.*

“How exactly did you end up crossing paths with the Baba Yaga in the first place?”

*His smile grew wider, eyes narrowing in an almost playful disbelief.*

“Doesn’t she also have a bit of a reputation for, ah… eating people?”

*A laugh slipped through his words, soft and warm. He reached for his journal, fingers brushing against the well-worn cover as an almost childlike excitement washed over him. It had been so long since he’d felt that thrill of discovery unburdened by fear or consequence. He held up the journal, his cheeks tinged with a faint hint of color as he met the witch's gaze with a mixture of hope and curiosity.*

“Oh!”

*He exclaimed, holding up his journal with an eager grin. The cover was now blue, the symbol on the cover also something different. Not only was the six-fingered hand embossed on it, but so was a silver oyster engraved into the palm of the hand. Entirely reminiscent of the symbol that his twin Stanley sports on the fez he always used to wear. Now, the symbol rested on a pin Mabel had gifted to Lee attached to the man's red beanie.*

“Do you mind if I take some notes?”

*His fingers hovered over the open pages, as if poised to capture every word. In his other hand a deep blue fountain pen, on the side of the a stainless steel pen body was engraved his name in gold script and a glowing blue infinity symbol as well it seemed like. It wasn't just any old fountain pen, somehow the Doctor had managed to get his hands on an infinity model; one that never ran out of ink.*

*It was entirely overkill, but he wouldn't really be Ford if he didn't take anything the whole nine yards and then some more.*

“This is…well, it’s too fascinating to pass up. If it’s alright with you, of course.”

*He looked towards the triangle, a bit bashful but practically glowing with excitement. The opportunity to document such folklore firsthand— it felt like a long-lost dream come alive.*

“Can’t resist documenting tales like this in action.”

*Stanford added with a quiet chuckle, his eyes gleaming with that pure, unbridled joy. He could almost feel the weight of his usual worries drift to the background, at least for this one moment, letting him become nothing more than a curious researcher with a newfound access to a treasure trove of legends and fables unfolding before him.*

got anything weird you can show us?

"I always got something weird! :D"

#ooc: You've activated his geekazoid GOOD LUCK LMFAO #ooc: I love the art sm flustered ford is best ford but also #ooc: CMON TRIANGLE YOUR TURN >:)#ooc: I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING I YAP TO THE ENDS OF THE EARTH HAHAHAHA #ooc: once again AM EATING YOUR ART LIKE NOMNOMNOM

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jaskierswolf · 4 years ago

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Soo how about a night at a tavern that starts with Geralt unable to take his eyes off of Jaskier's hand as he's playing because those are rings Geralt bought him to claim him and he knows after his set Jaskier will use them to mark up Geralt and claim him as well ;) (is that coherent? I'm slightly tipsy. You know what I mean)

Geraskier, Rated E, Word count: 869.

CW: public masturbation (sort of?), sexual fantasies, mentions of spanking, biting, marking, light dom/sub vibes,

Jaskier's voice was weaving magic throughout the tavern. The usually rowdy patrons had fallen silent as the bard warbled a heart wrenching ballad of unrequited love. The tune achingly beautiful as Jaskier cried out, he never lost his tune but Geralt could hear the wails of heartbreak.

He’d been the one to cause them.

This song still hurt them both, but it was popular and it brought in coin. Geralt shifted in his seat, focussing his senses so he could block out the song. He wasn’t watching Jaskier for the songs. He knew them as well as the bard did, possibly better, although his skill was lacking. No, he watching Jaskier for the simple pleasure of admiring his beauty.

There was nothing more radiant than Jaskier mid-performance, owning the room with his natural charm and charisma, seducing everyone out of their coin. He was something else.

But now he was also Geralt’s.

Pushing Jaskier away hadn’t numbed his feelings for the bard in the slightest, if anything it had made them stronger, a dull never-ending ache where there should be light, should be Jaskier. Months later, and several days grovelling for Jaskier’s forgiveness, they were finally together.

Geralt still struggled to believe it was real somedays but Jaskier found ways to remind him. Bruises healed quickly but there was rarely a morning where Geralt didn’t wake up with dark marks on his neck, trailing down his shoulder, along his collar bone. Geralt swallowed and took a long gulp of his ale, his mouth felt too dry as he remembered with painful clarity how Jaskier looked between his legs, hair tousled, cheeks flushed as he bit the tender skin of Geralt’s thighs.

The promise of more, each bite closer to Geralt’s aching cock. He groaned as he blinked back into the room.

“Fuck,” he growled. His trousers were suddenly too tight to be decent. He wouldn’t be able to move without anyone noticing his predicament. He tried to focus back on Jaskier’s performance but it didn’t help. If anything it made it worse. His vision seemed to centre on Jaskier’s hands, every note plucked from the lute was suddenly pure torture, each movement of Jaskier’s fingers made his rings glisten in the candlelight.

Two of the bands had a wolf engraved on the flat of the metal, similar in style to Geralt’s medallion. Jaskier never took them off, he preened and showed them off to anyone who would stay still enough to listen, but it was the other three rings that captured Geralt’s attention, golden and embossed with buttercups, each design slightly different in style.

Geralt stared, entranced by Jaskier’s hands, mind feeling hazy in the middle of the tavern, memories flooding him unbidden. Geralt could feel every caress of Jaskier’s fingers against the lute strings, remembering the care Jaskier took to stretch him. Jaskier never rushed, not even when they were both desperate and clawing at each other’s clothes, Jaskier never rushed, making sure Geralt felt every single finger as it pumped inside him, scissoring, stretching him until he was ready for Jaskier’s cock.

Geralt swore under his breath, as he palmed himself through his trousers, too weak to ignore it any longer. He ached. Jaskier’s performance couldn’t end soon enough. It was the best kind of torture. The song was happier now, more upbeat, lively. Jaskier danced around the room like a fae in their court. He was magical, and Geralt was under his spell.

Jaskier feet stomped on the bench in rhythm with his music, creating a percussion accompaniment to rouse the audience. Geralt counted each thump of Jaskier’s foot under his breath,

“One,” he muttered, desperately resisting the urge to unlace his trousers. In his memory Jaskier’s hands landed firmly on his arse, sharp and stinging pain where the rings hit his naked skin.

The buttercups that lasted longer than bruises, clear signs of who Geralt belonged to. He was Jaskier’s as much as Jaskier was his.

“Two,” another beat in the music, another phantom hit.

He wanted to close his eyes. He couldn’t bear to take his eyes off Jaskier.

“Three.”

Jaskier spun round in a circle, their gaze met across the room. Jaskier’s tongue flicked out to wet his lips. He winked with a knowing smirk and launched into the next line.

“Four…” Geralt gasped, his mug splintered and burst in his hands. He hadn’t realised he’d been gripping it so tightly. Jaskier’s fingers slipped on his lute, but he carried on to finish the song, ignoring his mistake, tossing a withering glare in Geralt’s direction.

By the time Jaskier had finished the song Geralt was across the room. The bard barely had time to thank the audience before Geralt had picked him up and thrown him over his shoulder. The innkeeper could collect the coin. Jaskier had more important things to attend to.

“Right, well… that’s all for tonight,” Jaskier sang cheerily, his lute knocking against Geralt’s back “you have been delightful, really quite splendid but well, I can’t say no to my White Wolf now, can I?”

Geralt felt a swell of pride in his chest. My White Wolf. Jaskier was so casually admitting to the entire inn that Geralt was his.

Tag list (18 +): @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @slythnerd @hailhailsatan @thecomfortofoldstorries @gelos @moonysourenza @frances-the-red @honeysuckletook @elliestormfound @sleepy-thief @artistsfuneral @kittynannygaming @stinastar @fontegagrilledcheese @baka-yu @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @kueble @justjess94 @kozkaboi @wherethewordsare @dapandapod @damatris @mayastormborn @jaskierslastbraincell

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hiptoff · 3 years ago

Text

The beach case

The time has come. This is my last chapter in this story. I want to take advantage of it to thank you all for being here every day sharing this experience with us. It means a lot.

I also want to thank my sweet Simone for this gift. It has been a pleasure. You can't imagine how fantastic it is to work with her. Don't forget to enjoy her super chapter tomorrow: the absolute end of our little story.

See you soon!!!!!

Find chapter 25 in AO3.

Chapter 25.

The cutest Labrador on this planet came toward us with graceful stride, attending to Kristoff's whistle.

“The rings.”

Kristoff crouched down in front of the charming Sven and untied the pouch with the wedding bands from his sleek new faux leather collar embossed with his name runes (ᛋᚠᛖᚾ). He carefully took them out and handed them to the priest who handed them crossed to us.

It had not been easy to convince the priest to officiate the ceremony on the beach, but a beautiful letter talking about how we will be the house of the Lord and how we feel taking his hand in nature, managed to make him give in. However, the moment he set foot on the unexpectedly snowy beach that day, a smile spread across his face and he held the Bible tightly to his chest as he muttered something about the paths of the Lord. What, however, didn't quite see with good eyes, was the clothing of the bride and groom and the setting. Our clothes, the wooden decorations, the burning torches, the stone paths… Everything seemed to scream “pagan festival!”; but we couldn't help it. It all started as a joke, but we soon realized that there was no going back. Our wedding would have a Viking ambient!

The wedding rings, made of white gold also engraved with a message written in runes, earned the priest a grimace of displeasure, but for us they were perfect; ᛏᚫᚴᛖᛏᛡᛖᚱ ᚠᚫᚱᛖᚠᛖᚱ (Together forever); that's the message that would appear in that symbol of our union for the rest of eternity.

Kristoff took my hand gently and decisively. The nerves that had been eating him since the previous day, had completely disappeared, and only that loving look remained, that warm touch even in the middle of a snowy beach and that smile that filled my soul.

“Anna. I'm better at this kind of thing at work than here. Everyone here knows that I am a disaster for emotional speeches and that when it comes to expressing my feelings, my words become utter nonsense.”

Some of those present nodded and I could hear Bulda let out a low-key laugh.

“I don't know which god it’s that has brought you into my life, but…”

The priest cleared his throat, and Kristoff took in his words as Sam's hysterical laughter mingled with Olaf's.

“Oh! It's just a saying, of course!” he exclaimed ashamed, apologizing to the poor priest. “What I mean is that I don't know how it is possible that I was lucky enough to find you, well, to be found by you, or to get to know you as I do, or to have the privilege of being able to love you. But I'm not going to waste it. I will take advantage of this gift that life gives me and dedicate myself body and soul to making you happy, because, if your smile is in my life, I don't need anything else.”

If that was not being good at speeches, if he had turned out to be good at it, we would have had a serious problem because, by now, half of the guests and I were already crying a lot.

Kristoff placed the wedding band carefully on my ring finger, squeezed my hand with his, and smiled at me letting me read an "I love you" on his lips.

The priest nodded his agreement and addressed me.

“Your turn, Anna.”

‘I can do this. I just have to discreetly sniffle and say all those beautiful lines that I have been memorizing for days and that… I have completely forgotten. How can he be so handsome? How am I going to be able to articulate a word if he keeps smiling at me with that sparkle in his eyes?’

………

Anna brusquely wiped the tears from her cheeks and took the opportunity to try to hide how her nose was crying on its own. I adored that woman. It had to be her; I had no doubt. I offered her a handkerchief that she gratefully accepted and we all listened, in absolute silence and suppressing the desire to laugh, her high trumpet.

“This wedding is being priceless,” I heard Cecilia whisper in Yelena's ear. At what point had my sister teamed up with my boss?

Anna finished her music with the colors skyrocketing, bit her lip, and finally gave me a frank smile.

“When you want,” the priest urged, rubbing his hands in the cold.

“Of course…”

My imminent wife patted her face energetically leaving us all eyes widened and began to speak.

“Merry Christmas to everyone.”

This time I couldn't hold out. I exploded in a huge laugh that was overshadowed by the sea of laughter that covered that almost desert beach of December.

“Merry Christmas!” Honeymaren yelled from her seat.

“Merry Christmas!” all the others yelled in chorus going along with her.

“Merry Christmas, Anna,” I said with the wide smile that always came over me when she was with me and getting an embarrassed but happy smile back.

“Merry Christmas, dear,” the priest added. “Please, your vows.”

“I…” Anna began at last taking my hand with her icy fingers. “I had memorized a lovely two-page speech for this moment explaining what you mean to me, but it's probably too cold to be still for so long, so I'm going to cut it short.”

“You forgot?” I whispered hoping no one else would hear me.

“Totally,” she said confirming my suspicions and shrugging.

I smiled and winked at her. I knew she didn't need to prepare anything. Her heart always spoke for her.

“I… I have always believed in love. Loneliness has been my faithful companion for many years, and if it hadn't been for the wonderful colleagues I am fortunate to have at work, that loneliness would have been devastating. But one day… one day I found a treasure on the beach and I knew I shouldn't let it escape. As soon as I saw you open your eyes for the first time, I felt that my lonely days had come to an end. But you have not only taken the loneliness of my life, you have also filled it with joy and enthusiasm, with laughter, comfort, security, tenderness… You have given me a family. Now, finally, I am living. I thought I was the one who rescued you, but it was undoubtedly you who came to my rescue. I can never thank you enough for how happy you make me every day, but I will give everything so that that happiness comes to you too. I love you, and I will always be there for you.”

If before half the guests were crying, now we were all of us who did, but despite Mattias's loud sobs, it was my tears that Anna gently wiped away just before placing the wedding ring on my finger.

A goddess. I had been wrong all this time. Anna was never a Valkyrie, she had always been the goddess Freyja herself! Her image, rosy and shy, but determined and brave; her soul full of love and tenderness, passion and truth… I would never forget her. She was already a part of me. She was already my life.

“I declare you husband and wife. What God has joined, man cannot separate.”

‘Finally mine.’

Anna and I pounced on each other without waiting to see if the priest had any intention of saying more, and we melted into the warmest and most unshakable of kisses.

“Sure… you can kiss.”

The guests burst out laughing once more, but we didn't mind at all. What better background music for the beginning of a life together than a lot of happy laughter?

By the time we undid the kiss more out of obligation than desire, the priest was already waiting for us with pen in hand so that we could sign for the world what we had just sealed before God.

After a few signatures and the priest's congratulations, he left for his chores and we were surrounded by an avalanche of greetings, hugs, kisses, and tears.

“Where are you going so soon? The party has only just begun,” Sam asked, watching Anna lovingly say goodbye to everyone and drag me with her just four pieces of chocolate cake and a couple of hours after the ceremony.

“Home, of course!” Anna replied with a wide smile at our friend's face of incomprehension.

“So soon you leave tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for the honeymoon. You were going to Norway, right? What are you going to do with the dog?”

“Olaf is going to take care of Sven during these days. They get along like a charm. But we're not leaving tomorrow. Tomorrow is time to rest. We will leave the day after tomorrow.”

“Really? So where's the rush?”

Sam looked at me waiting for an answer from me and I blushed knowing that I could never give it to her.

“You guys enjoy the party. We have… something to do.”

“Wow… You guys are so impatient! Not that it is something new for you!” Sam said, getting the wrong idea.

“Oh, it's not like that!” Anna replied, talkative and unfiltered as always. “Well, maybe after, I suppose, sure; but it is not that. I'm not waiting anymore, we have a rule to break!”

Anna started to run pulling me with all her strength and leaving Sam completely puzzled and I followed her tothe edge of the beach.

“Anna! Wait!”

“You can't take it back now!”

“I didn't intend to,” I answered chuckling.

“Then? What is it?”

“Will you give me at least a minute to hug my wife?”

“I guess I can do that,” she said turning to me and taking refuge in my arms. “Mine at last.”

“I’ve always been.”

I kissed her forehead, basking in the happiness that flooded my being knowing that we were one at last, and turned my gaze towards the sea. Our guests danced and chatted taking refuge from the cold and humid winter air between the torches, the waves shook the shore with force and calm, as in a kind of eternal struggle between elements, Anna's delicate hand ran up and down my arm sweet and playful, and, the sand, covered with snow, remained meek, stable, impassive and always different, loaded with buried secrets, forgotten memories, with history, with future… And I thanked God, the Viking gods, the goddess fortune, and everyone that went through my head at that moment. I thanked all of them for that sand that once was my bed, for that sea that lulled me that night, for that beach that brought me life; for the place… where it all started.

#kristanna #kristanna wedding #fanfic #kristoff #anna #frozen #disney #roll with it #the beach case #with @annaofthenorthernlights #Viking wedding #winter wedding #christmas

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paintedwarpony · 4 years ago

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I’d love to know your thoughts on Luthic worship!

ABSOLUTELY. I would be glad to share! This is something that I started to explore as a player myself (but sadly the DM I had at the time seemed to actively discourage creativity) but then picked back up and continued to explore and expand on as a DM myself when one of my own players wanted to work up more orc-ish heritage culture for his own half-orc.

So typically the god that most orcs and half-orcs are associated with is Gruumsh the One Eye, the Ruiner, who in most instances aint a good dude. Specifically in my campaign, running in Matt Mercer's world Wildemount, Gruumsh is a Betrayer God and known to be a savage and brutal warmongerer and pillager, the orc and half-orc army under his command is cursed with equal savagery and brutality.

So two of the many brilliant things that Matt Mercer's world allows for are:

1. Races/Species historically considered monstrous or evil are given the opportunity canonically to be free of that villainous heritage

2. While there is a Prime Pantheon he built in and has made PLENTY of room for Quasi and Lesser Deities.

Alot of orcs and half-orcs in Wildemount turn to Kord the Storm Lord as their chosen deity, using his expectations of challenge and strength and sportsmanship as an outlet for the energy and rage thats left behind when breaking from the cursed influence of Gruumsh but I wanted more, "less aggressive" options.

So while exploring a bit about Gruumsh in older editions of D&D and orcs in the Monster Manual I came across little bits and blurbs about his "wife" Luthic. Of course in the info from the Forgotten Realms and older references she didn't have all the best traits but there was surprisingly ALOT of potential to really use Luthic as a benevolent goddess compared to the Ruiner.

Luthic is the orc goddess of home, hearth, family, fertility, wisdom, medicine and caves (and a few other less ideal things but we cherry pick because we can). Her totem is the orc rune for "home" and her animal is the cave bear/bear. She's referred to as "Cave Mother" which is the common deity name I and my player chose to refer to her by (akin to the Wildmother or the Moonweaver). She most associated with the Life and Nature domains. And while Luthic isn't particularly depicted as being soft or kind, her focus is always shifted to being protective of home and hearth, of family and to the health, prosperity and propagation of the family to carry on strong bloodlines.

Those were the biggest themes I decided to run with when it came to those that follow Luthic is their loyalty and protectiveness of their home and family clan, that orcish clans and families that follow Luthic are far more likely to produce Clerics and Paladins than more war-like classes, almost all Luthic followers have knowledge or home training in medicine and fall back of remedies readily.

Arguably Luthic is the reason half-orcs exist at all. One of the “commands” of Luthic is to go, propagate and bring strong young into the world regardless of heritage. A true goddess of fertility, Luthic doesn’t care about the parentage of children as long as they are strong and healthy. Feeding off that I made it a trait of Luthic Orcs to be far more tolerant and accepting of other Races and Species and especially accepting of individuals that are mixed races (wither orc is one of them or not). They are also far more relaxed and willing to seek partners and mates of any gender in other races and species. This makes for A LOT of diversity and mixing of culture as well as racial traits and physical attributes in Luthic Orc clans and families. In my personal campaign this is part of the reason why Luthic Orc clans thrive so well in Xhorhas and under Dynasty rule, where there is a similar mindset concerning mixed race family units and children. (The Kryn and Dynasty canonically embrace and view mixed race pairings and children as blessings and displays of genuine love). So a lot of Luthic Orc clans are made up of half-orcs of a variety of heritages and origins. The strength and bonds built within Luthic Orc clans start very early but they don’t prevent members from scattering to find their own families and places in the world but there is always a desire to eventually return, either for a visit or to knit two family groups into one. All in all this aspect of followers of Luthic make them exceptionally protective of children, their own and any they cross.

While many a villager or adventurer find themselves pleasantly surprised (or outright lucky) to find that some of the best midwives, surgeons, and healers have the surprising origins of being connected to Luthic Orcs or a Luthic Orc clan by some means, worshippers of the Cave Mother are not soft pushovers. A part of Luthic’s mythos and origins was that she was a general and great warrior of Gruumsh’s armies. While they are not the ravagers of the Ruiner’s followers nor the more aggressive tribes that follow the Storm Lord, Luthic devout orcs and half-orcs will without hesitation lay down their lives to defend their families, clans and homes. Often this protective instinct is so strong it extends to the community and/or country an individual orc or half-orc may be from and Luthic Orcs are often exceptionally fierce and revered soldiers and guardians.

Within the campaign a few of the symbols and signs of worship of Luthic that had come up are holy symbols and totems in the form of bear claws or teeth, either left whole or carved with runes or turned into beads and charms used in any form of jewelry or ornamentation. The use of a bear pelt to accentuate or ornament clothing or armor, use of orcish runes (particularly ones meaning “cave”, “bear”, “home” and “family/clan”) are often embroidered, engraved or embossed on clothing, weaponry or armor as subtle ways to display loyalty to the Cave Mother. Simple shrines are made and often adorned with home and hand made carvings or crafts made of bone, clay, wood, stone, anything natural in the shape of a bear or a female/feminine figure representing Luthic herself. Her most holy day is the Winter Solstice and followers of Luthic gather up their families and closest friends and clan members for a long day and night of feasting around comfortable, roaring fires where familial and communal bonds are strengthened and prayers offered up for a healthy and hearty year to come and that any babes born are whole and hale (as in the more “primal” communities of orcs the winter is often considered the “mating season” as war bands and ravagers hole up in caves to ride out the worst of the winter weather).

Keeping actual bears is not common practice as bears are notoriously terrible pets and difficult to fully train and tame, though some Luthic worshippers that find themselves wandering the world as an adventurer do occasionally challenge themselves with raising a bear cub. Though any bear dens found in non-nomadic Luthic Orc territory are considered protected and to be left alone unless the animal proves to be a danger to the clan or community in some way.

NOW that all being said I am only just starting my research into Maori culture and traditions and how I can weave it into Orcish and half-orc culture. The Maori have an extremely rich and deep culture and it has so many unique traditions and aspects. A major part of the Maori culture I intend to borrow from is the use of traditional arts. They include whakairo (carving), raranga (weaving), kapa haka (group performance), whaikōrero (oratory), and tā moko (tattoo). The patterns and characters represented record the beliefs and genealogies (whakapapa) of Māori. Tattoo especially will play in a lot into Luthic worshippers especially for clans in certain regions of (my homebrewed parts and cultures) of Wildemount that will display more diverse and influenced cultural traditions. BUT because I haven’t done all the research I want on that subject yet I will at this point refrain from commenting much further on the use of Maori cultural influence because its really important to me to get it right.

I went off on a bit of a ramble but hopefully this was informative! I’ve had a lot of fun developing this stuff for my campaign, characters and players and am glad to share it!

#d&d shenanigans #d&d #dm life #matthew mercer #how to dm #world building #i love orcs #i love half orcs #orc culture #deep dive #luthic #cave mother #explorer's guide to wildemount #homebrew #maori culture

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ggukkiedae · 4 years ago

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❝ 𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 ❞

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜:

⇢ just a short thing of taehyung and yoonmi bonding bc why not? (also i’ll add the keep reading thing later when im on my laptop aksjfj)

Yoonmi looked up from her desk when she heard a knock on her door. She saw Taehyung peep his head in.

“Can I come in?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Yoonmi’s eyes lit up when she saw Taehyung holding chocolate milk. You can’t drink that. You still need to slim down more for the comeback. Yoonmi shook her head and turned back to the laptop. She made a mental note to save up for her own so that she wouldn’t have to keep borrowing from the company.

Taehyung sat next to her and gave her the chocolate milk. He looked at her screen, the gray background with colorful layers staring back at him.

“Is this the one for the show Somi is on?” he asked her.

Yoonmi nodded. “One of them. I still can’t believe the producers reached out to have me produce songs for them.”

“I think it has to do with you being friends with one of their most popular contestants,” Taehyung responded. He leaned forward to press play. “That, and we have been attracting some attention recently. Oh, this sounds a little foreign but not.”

“Right? Like a Cher Lloyd collab with Little Mix kind of style.”

Yoonmi sipped at her chocolate milk while she watched Taehyung react to her song. He had closed his eyes and was bobbing his head to it. He even started moving his shoulders around a little. She let out a laugh when we got up to start dancing around.

“Aigoo, our makdungie did so well.” He squished her cheeks together. “Because you did well and worked hard, oppa’s going to treat you. Come on, Let’s go.”

“I don’t know,” Yoonmi hesitated. She knew that Taehyung meant food. Probably Burger King or something, and she wasn’t sure if she could eat fast food. Besides, she still had her second song to finish. Well, technically speaking, she already finished it. She just wanted to go through it again to make sure it was perfect for the final evaluation of the show.

“But your Tae oppa knows.” Taehyung pulled her up and pressed save on her progress just in case. “We are going to go out and bond because we haven’t had Taemi time in so long!”

“I guess I do need to buy Yoongi oppa a birthday gift.” Yoonmi relented. Taehyung cheered and ruffled her hair. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her head before running to her closet to look for a jacket for her to wear.

That’s how she found herself walking around Itaewon with Taehyung, who was busy looking around to buy street food. Yoonmi could faintly hear the song by the newly debuted group that had a female member as well. Astro. I should really try to contact her, too.

“Oppa, why are we in Itaewon?”

“You wanted to buy Yoongi hyung a gift, right?” Taehyung asked her. “He likes useful everyday things, and you like making handmade and customized gifts. How about a wallet?”

“A wallet?” With that, Yoonmi felt Taehyung gently pushing her to one shop in particular.

The store was filled with products made with different colors of leather. Yoonmi found herself walking around and staring at everything in awe. The bags she saw all looked so pretty. A particular backpack caught her eye, but she pushed the thought of buying it for herself to the back of her mind.

“Anything I can do for you?”

At the random voice, Yoonmi let out a surprised squeak and hid behind Taehyung. She wasn’t really good with surprises. Or with talking to store clerks. Waiters, too, to be honest.

“We were wondering if you do customized wallets,” Taehyung spoke for her. “My little sister wants to make a personalized wallet for our other brother.”

The clerk, a friendly looking old man, smiled at her and brought them over to a display case. Yoonmi looked at its contents. It held multiple pouches, wallets, and other things made out of leather. She could even see patterns and letters embossed and engraved into a few of the products. Yoonmi grinned. She could get Yoongi a wallet customized for him. Taehyung was right!

“We have a series of wallets here,” the clerk told them as he opened the display case and took out one wallet in particular. “This is our most popular one. We usually do the embossing and engraving ourselves, but we give the customers a choice to cut and sow the wallets on their own.”

Yoonmi’s jaw dropped. She wanted to make it on her own. That would make the gift more special. She looked at Taehyung who nodded at her encouragingly. She pouted at him as if to silently tell him to ask for her.

“Is it possible for us to come back tomorrow? She wants to make one herself, but it’s getting late, now.”

“Of course,” the old man smiled and pulled out a notebook and a pen. “Just tell me the time, your name, and which one you want to make.”

Taehyung looked at Yoonmi with encouragement. He wanted her to say it on her own. She sighed before taking a deep breath.

“My name is Kim Yoonmi,” she began. She pointed at one of the simpler wallets in the case. “I’d like this one in black, please. Is 5PM okay?”

“Coming from school tomorrow, are we?” the older man asked her with a laugh. “Of course. I’ll have it ready for you by then.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung said while bowing at the owner. “Yoon-ah, what do you say?”

“Thank you,” Yoonmi bashfully told the old man. With a promise that she’d be back the next day, they left the store.

Taehyung brought her to the nearest Burger King he could find, just as she expected. She trusted Taehyung to choose something for her and went to go look for a booth to sit in. She chose one off to the side beside the window. Taehyung eventually came back holding a tray where she could see one very big burger and one a lot smaller.

“Any updates on the whole adoption thing?” Taehyung asked her as he settled into the booth. He placed the tray to the side and arranged their food in front of them. Yoonmi gratefully accepted the iced tea and took a sip.

“Channie oppa’s parents talked to Yoonsung oppa’s parents,” Yoonmi informed him while unwrapping her burger. She still hesitated to call Chan’s parents Mom and Dad sometimes. “Last night they told me they were doing the last paperwork they needed.”

“Looks like you’ll be legally part of their family by tomorrow then. Eat some fries! I got one really big set mostly because it’s cheaper than buying two small ones.”

Yoonmi looked at the fries and hesitated. Their comeback wasn’t until May. She had time. With that, she took a fry and ate it. Taehyung had a satisfied smile on his face, and that made the hesitation in her mostly disappear.

“Oppa,” she called out to him. She giggled a little when he tried to respond but couldn’t because of the burger. “Thank you for spending time with me today.”

“I love spending time with you.” Taehyung’s eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe she said thank you for doing the bare minimum. “Yoongi hyung and Jungkookie just hog you all the time.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them that.”

“Please do. I think Jin hyung is getting anxious about not seeing our princess as often as he wants.”

Yoonmi and Taehyung burst into giggles. She then went back to eating her burger and listening to Taehyung talk about something he found interesting.

#bts #yoonmi.hyyh2 #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts female member #bts female addition #bts 8th member #v #taehyung #kim taehyung #miya #yoonmi #kim yoonmi

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luisrspring2021 · 4 years ago

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Research Post

Lately I refound Mel Bochner’s work. I can’t remember exactly where I’ve seen his work before, maybe in an art history class or somewhere BUT it’s something I can’t take my eyes off of.

This one is a close up of Obliterate and it’s actually a silkscreen print. The colors and how they bleed together are interesting.

This one is called Amazing and it’s a monoprint collage made by embossing and engraving hand dyed homemade paper. The fact that he basically almost made everything by scratch is crazy and it inspire me to think about not just collage of materials but also of subject matter. I also love how all of these words and phrases have their own personalities.

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rayshippouuchiha · 5 years ago

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god the follow up with jiraiya kills me both because godammit jiraiya you fucked up but also because whats gonna happen when he gets there. that is, what is GAARA going to do when he realizes this guy is here because He Lost Naruto? gaara: i promised naruto i would stop killing people who annoyed me But Im Willing To Make A Fucking Exception

Gaara isn’t sure, exactly, what he was expecting when he was summoned to the Council Chambers directly after returning to the village.

He hasn’t killed anyone inside of the village since before the failed invasion and since Rasa’s death and all that had followed, he’s been attempting to … turn over a new leaf he believes is the way the saying goes.

To protect Suna and its people, to prove himself more than the monster he spent so long trying to be, has become Gaara’s driving force.

‘Well,’ Gaara can’t help but think more than a bit wryly, a hand coming up to press against the pocket sown into the inner folds of his top and the treasure it holds safely against his heart, ‘that is, perhaps, not entirely accurate.’

Gaara’s true driving force is a great deal more … focused.

Either way he’s been making a concentrated effort to be better than he once was so a summons to the Council Chamber is more than a bit unexpected.

Stepping inside and coming face to face with none other than Jiraiya of the Sannin is even more unexpected.

There’s a few minutes of obligatory introductions, the Council making ingratiating small talk and the like, but Gaara stands silent in the center of it all.

He never once takes his eyes off of Jiraiya even as a prickle of unease traces down his spine.

Finally the Council trails out of the room, surprisingly comfortable with leaving Gaara alone with the Sannin. Or, more than likely, less than eager to be trapped in a room with the both of them on the off chance violence erupts.

Normally Gaara would hold his silence but there’s a prickling down his spine and a curiosity and unease itching at his brain that prompts him to speak.

“Tell me,” Gaara says softly, “Jiraiya of the Sannin, where is Uzumaki Naruto?”

Across the way Jiraiya’s brows furrow and his mouth thins.

“That,” Jiraiya says after a too long pause, “is actually what I came here to ask you.”

Gaara’s already rigid posture stiffens even more.

In the back of his mind Shukaku stirs in discontent but Gaara presses the urge down ruthlessly.

He can’t, won’t, attack the Sannin.

Not when he knows exactly who he is to Naruto.

Not unless or when Naruto tells him otherwise.

Because if Naruto were to ever give the word, if he ever even hinted that he would prefer Jiraiya or anyone else gone…

Well.

“Explain.” The demand comes out as more of a hiss than a word, like a kettle steadily building steam.

“Look,” Jiraiya reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “me and the kid we had a …. disagreement and he took off. He won’t go back to Konoha, at least not for a while, so I figured … he talked about you. A lot actually. Said you were friends. I figured if he went anywhere that wasn’t Konoha, it’d be here. To you. So if he asked you to act like he isn’t here, if you’re housing him, I’d like to know so we can put this behind us.”

Gaara stays silent, mind whirling like the desert sands.

Naruto had … run away?

The very thought feels almost blasphemous somehow.

So Gaara very carefully doesn’t answer Jiraiya outright.

Instead he just inclines his head in Jiraiya’s direction, a gesture ambiguous enough to hopefully buy him some time.

“Naruto was very … excited about traveling with you,” Gaara states quietly and just the slightest bit leading. “He was very upset when he left you.”

Gaara has no doubt about that.

Jiraiya’s wince is rather surprisingly poorly hidden even as he holds his silence.

Yes, there is definitely more to this than is being said.

Gaara is certain, without a single shred of doubt, that there is more to the story.

And he also knows, as sure as the rising sun, exactly whose side his aid will fall on.

“The Council will provide you with rooms,” Gaara finally says, already turning towards the door. “Refresh and rest yourself. I will return to my rooms and see if a … resolution of some sort can’t be found.”

“Tell the kid I’m not upset,” Jiraiya tells him, something like grief or guilt flashing across his face, tugging the wide set of his shoulders down for a split second. “Tell him I’m … just tell him to come see me. Soon.”

Gaara doesn’t answer, just keeps moving.

~~~

A hour later finds Gaara in his own rooms, settled down in his customary place by the window.

The apartment is empty around him as it always is.

Even though he has made some progress with Temari and Kankuro both Gaara still lives on his own in a set of rooms in a more secluded part of the Compound. So many years on his own, pressed into isolation, makes the very idea of sharing a living space with his siblings … unsettling.

His hand comes up to press against his heart again, a move that’s quickly become second nature to him over the past months.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Gaara whispers to himself, to the stillness of his home, to the watching moon. “What was done to drive you away and where have you gone?”

Because he’s not here with Gaara no matter how certain Jiraiya seems to be that Gaara would be Naruto’s first stop.

Gaara, on the other hand, is rather certain he knows better.

He likes to think that months of letters being exchanged has given him a certain degree of insight into his first and only friend.

No one had been more surprised than he when Naruto’s first letter had arrived only weeks after they’d last seen each other.

But Gaara had read that letter with a mix of helplessness and elation bubbling to life inside of him.

And then he’d written back.

And things had spiraled from there.

And now Gaara has a chest set aside solely to hold Naruto’s letters as well as copies of the ones he himself had sent to his friend, each copy carefully dated and stored away in their proper order.

The only thing out of place is …

Gaara reaches into his top and removes his prized possession from the hidden and reinforced pocket he always keeps it in.

It is, after all, the first gift he’s received since he killed Yashamaru.

It’s nothing extravagant, just a thin piece of lacquered wood, simple and unremarkable really.

But it’s what was painstakingly engraved on it that matters to Gaara.

Because pressed into the wood is a single, perfect spiral.

An Uzumaki Clan Spiral Gaara knows now.

And nestled, cradled, in the very center of that spiral is a familiar kanji.

Ai.

Love.

His kanji.

The symbolism had been enough to take Gaara’s breath away when he’d first seen it. He still feels a little breathless every time he looks at it even after all this time.

‘It’s you and me,’ the letter Naruto had enclosed it in had explained. ‘My spiral and your tattoo. Now we can be together no matter how far apart we are.’

And in that moment Naruto had disarmed him completely without even trying.

With a nearly silent sigh, Gaara brings the token up, presses his lips against the smooth edge of the wood, and then tucks it back into his top. A comforting ritual now complete.

He doesn’t know what’s happened between Jiraiya and Naruto but he does know where his loyalties lie.

And so he knows exactly what he’ll do.

He’ll do everything in his power to buy Naruto time.

Perhaps he’ll be able to stall long enough to give Naruto even more of a head start on his journey. Maybe he’ll be able to ensure that Naruto has more time to put even more distance between himself and whatever it is Jiraiya has done to hurt him.

It is the very least that Gaara can do.

For Naruto.

His friend.

The one who gave him a new way of life.

His driving force.

Besides, if Gaara doesn’t hear from Naruto soon, he’ll just have to set out and look for his friend himself.

It’s not like there’s anyone in the village who could stop him.

~~~

Weeks later a letter embossed with a familiar seal makes its way into Gaara’s hands.

He smiles.

#Naruto #Team Uzumaki AU #Anonymous #RayRambles #Team Uzumaki AU Drabble

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rune-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Family Album

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Cloti Fall Festival 2020 by @clotiweek Day 2: Tradition

Word count: 2269

Rating: T

Warning: none really, but there are mentions of the Nibelheim Incident and Cloud’s mother’s death. Not anything too graphic though.

Summary: Cloud was cleaning the storage when he came across an old dusty book on the shelves. As he pulled it out, a small square paper fluttered by and landed on his feet. It was a photograph of a little girl with long ebony hair and bright ruby eyes sitting in front of a piano.

Read on AO3.

~*~*~*~*~

Cloud was cleaning the storage when he came across an old dusty book on the shelves. Blackened and burnt, it stood out among other thick, heavy volumes and an abandoned computer set, fraying around the edges with a hint of red leather underneath. A little haphazard in the way it was placed, as though whoever had unpacked their moving boxes had dumped its contents with no regard of what was inside.

Cloud scrunched his brows and tilted his head to the side. He set his rag down and pulled the book out of the shelf, blowing the dust away and wiping the rest from the hard, crisp edges. It looked like it had caught fire a long time ago, but the binding was thick enough to preserve the overall shape. The scorched pages had grown musty, the edges set in permanent blackened curl. The front cover had nothing except an engraved border that had seemed to be embossed in gold once upon a time, but had now faded with age.

Curious of what such a book contained, Cloud gingerly lifted the cover. As he did, a piece of small square paper fluttered by and fell on his feet. Cloud reached down and picked it up.

A photograph? It was so old that the paper had grown yellow and the colors had faded. Upon closer inspection, he could make out a little girl, probably around seven or eight years old, that looked uncannily like Tifa. The same round face, the same ruby eyes. Her long ebony hair hung low down her back as she sat in front of her piano, facing the camera with a huge grin across her face.

A picture from before the Fire…

Cloud recognized the piano. He recognized the room. He remembered sitting by his windowsill every time a piano melody drifted in from the house next door, followed by laughter and giggles as Sara Lockhart taught her daughter how to play the instrument. Cloud’s fingers trembled as his gaze shifted back toward the book.

Lifting the cover once more, Cloud adjusted his position to get the best light possible in the dim storage. LOCKHART was spelled across the front page with doodles and scribbles of what looked like a deformed dog, a flower, and then three faces beneath it. Papa, Mama, and Tifa.

Cloud stopped short. It was Tifa’s family album. When he flipped to the next page, the first picture he met was of Tifa’s parents in their younger days. Probably around the time after they just got married. Brian Lockhart had his arm around his wife in front of their two-story house Cloud knew so well, their faces parting into small smiles. The next picture was of the small garden they’d kept in their front yard, to which Cloud often saw Tifa help her mother tend. Then there were many pictures of Brian—Brian going to work, Brian in the living room, Brian having dinner. There were not many pictures of Sara herself—at least not alone. She was always with someone, either her husband or one of the villagers. When Cloud spotted a familiar face, his hand went still.

His mother, in that brown dress and white apron, her blond hair tied back to a ponytail, stood shoulder to shoulder with Sara. The huge toothy grin plastered across her face seemed enough to brighten a room. She looked so young then—much younger than he was now. Had she even had him?

Cloud traced his mother’s face with his finger. The painful twinge to his heart every time he thought about her had gradually ceased, but sometimes, there were moments like this when her face was so visible that his mind brought him back to that fateful day seven years ago. When he’d stood in front of his burning house while his mother hung limp from a long steel blade, her face so pale, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth.

Run…

Her mouth had formed the word, her voice was nothing more but a strained whisper and a choked gurgling sound; her gaze, scrunched up in pain, bore into his. His heart had seized, as though Sephiroth had stabbed his Masamune into Cloud himself.

“Cloud?” The call was sudden and loud in the quiet stillness, pulling him out of his reverie. Cloud blinked in surprise, only to find tears had sprung to his eyes. “Cloud, are you here?”

Footsteps approached. Cloud hastily blinked away his unshed tears, slipping the picture of Tifa with her piano inside the photo album before shutting it close. Just in time before Tifa poked her head in, her hair swaying to her side. Her eyes narrowed, her lips drawing back in a frown at the sight of the still-disorganized storage. She stepped inside and folded her arms over her chest.

“Are you still not done? We’ve finished cleaning the bar.”

Cloud chuckled under his breath, willing his voice not to quaver and hoping it was enough to hide his mental disquiet. He placed the book back on the shelf and said over his shoulder, “There’s a lot to clean here, you know.”

That wasn’t a lie. This was their smaller storage room where they kept many of their old belongings, including their undamaged possessions Marle had retrieved from the Sector 7 Slum ruins while they had been away. She, and some survivors, had found the hidden entryway to Avalanche’s hideout. Everything they’d kept inside was unscathed, including Jessie’s computer set, Barret’s punching bag, and Tifa’s camera. Books had been scattered across the floor—the tremor from the fallen plate had probably shaken them off their stack. There was also a TV—but what good would a TV do with no cable or signal?

Those were some that now crowded the space in their small storage. After packing and moving everything to Tifa’s new bar at the new city of Edge, they’d dumped most of everything in the small room at the back. That was well over two years ago now. Neither Cloud nor Tifa had ever cleaned or organized the shelves since then.

Cloud wondered if the family album had been among those belongings found within their old hideout. If so, how had it reached the place? He doubted Tifa had gone back to Nibelheim. Had some traveler found it and brought it with him—and later by chance it had found its way back to Tifa’s hands? That would be nice if that was the case. He wondered if any of his mother’s belongings had survived the Fire. Cloud never thought to look.

He felt Tifa’s gaze on him, the annoyance transforming to concern. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

Cloud gave a shake of his head, averting his eyes away from the album and resisting the temptation to check if there were other pictures of his mother there. But his movements were too slow. Tifa had already followed his line of sight by the time he grabbed the rag from the shelf. He heard her quiet intake of breath. Saw, from the edges of his vision, her taking a step forward before stopping short and pulling back.

“That’s—”

Her voice wavered. Cloud glanced over his shoulder. Tifa’s eyes were wide in a mixture of surprise and apprehension. As though she’d forgotten the album existed. Her voice was quiet when she spoke next.

“Master gave me that—Zangan.”

She finally took that step forward, then another, then strode over to the shelf where the book lay between heavy volumes on computers, programming, and stage acting. She reached over and made to pull the album out, before she paused, her hold on the book faltering. But then she shook her head and set her jaws, gripping the book binding and pulling it out of its place.

The picture fluttered out again. Cloud grabbed it before it reached the floor. When Tifa accepted it from his held-out hand and her eyes finally landed on it, her body went still. One moment; two… Cloud was wiping the shelf with the rag when Tifa broke into a small, melancholy smile.

“I remember this,” she murmured. She flipped the book open, her smile growing by the inches at the sight of her doodles on the front page. “I remember drawing this.”

From the corner of his eyes, Cloud watched as Tifa slowly turned the pages one by one, absorbing every picture in that album that wasn’t burned. He noticed some pages were lost, while others were burned to a crisp they couldn’t even make out the pictures on it. Tifa drew a shuddering breath as she stopped on a rare lone picture of her mother sitting on a rocking chair, her stomach big and round in late pregnancy.

“A few years after I settled here, Master came by one day. Said he was checking up on me, and that he was glad I’d found a way to make my own living. We chatted for a while, catching up. Then he told me he had returned to Nibelheim and found it reconstructed with people living there, as though nothing ever happened.” One corner of her lips twisted into a hateful scorn. “None of our belongings should have survived. But somehow, Master found the book lying around in a ditch a little ways away from the house. It might’ve fallen off a cart or something when they were cleaning up the place.”

Tifa gazed at the picture of her mother. The picture beneath it had Sara holding a tiny bundle in a blanket, with Brian in a rare joyous grin as he looked at the camera. A tear rolled down her eye, and Tifa blinked them away.

“I never had the courage to look through it. So I stashed it among Jessie’s books in the basement.”

She turned to another page, and a quiet laugh burst out of her. She lifted her head. Cloud caught the twinkle in her eyes.

“Look, it’s you.”

Cloud’s eyes widened in surprise, his rag already forgotten while he listened to her talk. Tifa turned the album around and showed him the picture on the top right corner. A small square picture with Tifa and Cloud standing in front of his house. Tifa was grinning from ear to ear, wearing that white one-piece dress with the brown ribbon, one hand held high in a wave while the other clasped his.

“Look at the camera, Cloud!” Sara had said then.

“Smile!” his mother had shouted. “Come on, Cloud, say cheese!”

When he had refused, the two women had only giggled among themselves. He remembered scowling and thinking it was such a pain to have to take a picture with the girl next door. What would the other kids say if they saw him? They’d probably jeer and mock him. He’d refused to look at the camera.

But then he’d felt her hand enveloping his and heard her say, “Come on, Cloud. Smile.” He couldn’t have smiled. Not when Tifa had been smiling so close in front of him. She’d only made his ears burn, and he’d turned his face away despite the two women’s urging.

Judging from the picture, Cloud should have been six or seven then. He couldn’t believe he still held a memory from so long ago.

“Here’s another one,” Tifa said, turning to another page and finding a group photo in what looked like a birthday party. There was a cake on the table, and they’d strung a banner across the living room. It read Happy Birthday, Tifa! Cloud had stood on the side, still with a frown on his face. But at least he was looking at the camera now.

“Seems like it’s my seventh birthday.” Tifa’s eyes drew back in reminiscence, nostalgia tinging her voice. “You were so cute back then.”

“I should’ve smiled more then.”

What were photographs if not preserving a moment in time? Had he thought that, had he known those days would come to an end just sixteen years into his life, he might have appreciated taking pictures together more.

Cloud had always thought they were a farce. That people should just live in the moment and let it stay in their memories. If memories failed to retain them, then those moments were not worth remembering. But who was he to say anything about it? He’d forgotten the most crucial parts of his memories. He’d forgotten his friend. He’d almost forgotten his mother. Cloud regretted now not having anything to remember them by.

“Should we make them?” Tifa asked then. “A family album.” He met her gaze, open and inviting, as she smiled a soft smile at him. “I got my camera. We should start making one.”

“Tifa—”

“Photography was a hobby of my mom’s. That’s why she took many pictures. This was only one of the many albums she had in store. The only one that survived...” She pursed her lips, keeping her sadness at bay. “That’s why when a traveling merchant came by the bar a few years ago and I found a camera among his wares…” She chuckled. “It wasn’t that hard to buy it.”

So that was why she always had that camera with her. On days off or break times, she would often go out with a camera in hand, taking pictures of Marlene, of Denzel, of people visiting the bar or just people passing by. They’d smiled at her and posed for her. She had even tried to take his picture a few times, despite his reluctance. Tifa always looked so happy behind the camera.

“Sure,” Cloud found himself saying. A quiet smile broke through his lips. “Why not?”

~ END ~

#always cloti #cloti fall festival 2020 #cloti #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #final fantasy #final fantasy vii #fanfiction #ff fanfic #ff7 fanfic

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