#and lots of slowburn enemies to friends to lovers goodness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ichorai · 2 years ago

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i’m not made by design ; jaime lannister.

track seven of BROKEN MACHINE.

part two.

pairing ; jaime lannister x stark!reader (she/her pronouns)

synopsis ; wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

words ; 47.8k

themes ; heavy angst, action, fluff, (actual) enemies to lovers, slowburn

warnings / includes ; war/violence/murder/injury/blood, attempted sexual assault, this story covers the events from game of thrones s1-4, politicking, incest, talks of sex, foul language, animal cruelty, a lot of generally terrible things going on but what else can you expect from asoiaf, reader is known as the bitter wolf and is ned’s youngest sibling, bittersweet ending

main masterlist. read on ao3!

You first met Jaime Lannister during the Year of the False Spring, at the Great Tourney of Harrenhal—you had only been ten years of age, still starry-eyed and gentle-of-tongue. Knights, lords, and ladies hailing from all over Westeros were buzzing about the opening feast. Chalices of golden ale, platters of fruit and cheese, and sizzling trays of freshly-roasted meats were splayed out over several long tables.

To your right was your eldest brother, Brandon, biting into a large turkey leg and gingerly offering you a piece when he caught you ogling him. To your left was your sister Lyanna, popping voluminous grapes into her mouth and chattering to your two other brothers, Benjen and Ned, across the table. Her grey eyes were alight with glee, and she tipped her head back to laugh when Benjen made a snarky comment about Ned’s overgrown hair.

You were well into your second serving of glazed lemon cakes when the crown Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen, stood up front. A hush descended upon the crowd when the handsome, silver-haired man brandished a large, golden harp.

He sang a song of sorrow, one of tragedy and death. His voice was soft and beautiful, saturated with honey and rich soil. It was a strange choice for such a joyous event, but the crowd seemed to be enjoying it. Your sister, most of all, as she had tears warbling over her stormy irises upon his serenade.

When Rhaegar finally finished, Benjen noticed Lyanna’s tearful eyes and began cackling loudly with no restrain. Your sister scowled deeply and poured her entire glass of wine over Benjen’s head, Dornish red dripping down his shocked face. The younger man moaned with grief at his soiled tunic, but was still giggling nonetheless. You had watched the entire ordeal with a wide, toothy grin.

As the feast progressed, more and more people left to go dance. You and Brandon were exchanging knowing glances when the great beauty, Ashara Dayne, a woman of lengthy midnight locks and dark mauve eyes, began dancing with Ned Stark upon Brandon’s request. The two of you cheered him on from the sides, embarrassing your quietest and shyest brother beyond relief, his cheeks stained with a permanent dusting of rouge.

“Come, little sister,” said Brandon, only seven-and-ten at the time, holding out his hand with a kind smile. The soft grey of his eyes gleamed with earnest. “You shall be my last dance of the feast.”

You glanced around, apprehensive. “Would you rather not dance with any of the other ladies present?”

“I’ve had enough dances with girls I hardly know, much less any I’d ever see again. Come, let me have a dance with my youngest sister. It may be a long while until I see you again after this.”

Acquiescing to his wishes, you slid away from the table and took his hand, beaming up at your oldest brother. The two of you were no good at dancing—you trod on his feet more times than you could count, and he wasn’t quite used to having a dance partner less than half his height, resulting in a clumsy waltz of flailing limbs and awkward shuffling. Nonetheless, the both of you were laughing and smiling regardless of your quickly-numbing feet.

The joy was abruptly leeched away when the hall grew eerily quiet, orchestral music halting mid-note. You stopped in your dance with Brandon, letting go of his hand to turn and see what was going on.

King Aerys shuffled in, back slightly hunched, his glossed-over eyes surveying the crowd. His white hair was long and tangled beyond salvaging, the ends split and the strands near his scalp bunching together in matted clumps. There was a sickly, pallid color to his skin. His hands were twitching wildly by his sides, long, ochre-hued claws scratching the bare flesh of his irritated wrists.

A shocked murmur rippled through the crowd. You felt yourself step back closer to your brother, suddenly feeling a wave of fear dance through you. This was the first time you’d seen the King in the flesh—and from what you’ve heard, he was far from a good one.

The rumors did not fall upon deaf ears—you knew he was going mad. Now that you were looking at him, it seemed so obvious. He went from yelling at his squire at the top of his lungs, threatening to burn him alive, to laughing hysterically about a trivial matter that was lost to you, until he began wheezing and coughing and spluttering spittle every which way.

All of a sudden, the King’s wild gaze fell upon Jaime Lannister, a young blonde sitting on the table across the hall from you, beckoning the young man closer to kneel before him. You craned your neck to get a proper look at him. He was a sharply handsome young man, with soft tendrils of spun-gold, and gleaming viridescent eyes. There were many tall tales about him—of his unending skill in battle, of his excellent swordsmanship, of his bold fearlessness.

The young knight was called to swear the oath of the Kingsguard in front of the entire hall. You watched with muted curiosity—he was barely older than Brandon, and yet he was already swearing away his entire life to the Mad King.

What a waste.

What you hadn’t picked up on, however, was that Jaime was none too happy about this ordeal, either. His expression was not set in stone, subtle flashes of anger bubbling through his stoic facade.

The crowd burst into raucous cheers when he got back onto his feet.

You did not clap.

The King had sent Jaime away later that night to guard the Queen and her children, and you did not see him for the rest of the tourney.

Perhaps that was a good thing—the Tourney at Harrenhal led to many, many things shortly in the aftermath. The abduction of your older sister, Lyanna, by the crown prince. The death of your eldest brother, Brandon, along with your father, Rickard Stark, by the hands of the Mad King. An entire war broke out. Your brother, Eddard, marrying Catelyn Tully in Brandon’s stead, and siring a newborn son, Robb. Off he went to battle not too soon after—leaving only you and Benjen and tiny Robb as the remaining Starks in Winterfell.

Rhaegar Targaryen dying from a blow by Robert Baratheon, who’d been madly infatuated with your sister. Or, at least, he’d deluded himself into thinking he was.

Jaime Lannister slitting the throat of the Mad King.

Everything had spun by so quickly—it all happened in a mere few moons. You were infamously named the Bitter Wolf, for not once have you smiled since the deaths of your dear family. It did not help that Benjen soon left to the Night’s Watch, leaving your only kin left to be Eddard and his young son.

“The Bitter Wolf,” the people of Winterfell always whispered as you passed by, foolishly thinking that you couldn’t hear them. “Take care not to get in her way… lest she ties you naked to a stake outside the castle walls to freeze overnight.”

Thwack.

Little Bran stomped a small foot in frustration when his arrow flew wildly off course, splintering into the damp wood of a barrel beside his intended target.

Jon patted his half-brother on the shoulder comfortingly. “Go on,” he said, “father’s watching. Your mother, too.”

The second arrow whizzed straight over the target entirely, disappearing somewhere into the trees behind. Bran’s older brothers began to chuckle under their breath, an even younger Rickon joining in on their laughter.

“And which one of you was a marksman at ten?” asked Ned from the platforms above the courtyard. You briefly thought back to when you were ten—right when the war started. When you’d lost Lyanna, Brandon, and your father…

The other two boys chimed in with their advice.

“Don’t think too much about it,” said Jon.

“Relax your bow arm,” piped Robb.

Having a certain soft spot for your young nephew, you decided to voice your own thoughts. “Keep practicing, Bran. It’s alright not to be perfect at first, despite what your foolish brothers may tell you. For years, I kept missing my targets just because I always gripped the bow wrong. There is a certain art to it,” you told the young boy with a steely tone whilst nocking your own longbow, lining your gaze up with the target. In the blink of an eye, you sent it arcing forward, impaling the center of the coal-lined circle perfectly. Robb whistled with an impressed expression coloring over his features. “Archery is something you build up to—you won’t magically learn to perfect it in half a day.”

From somewhere behind the lot of you, an arrow whistled through the air, piercing the target right beside the tip of your bolt. You rounded your gaze behind you to see your young niece, Arya, holding her own bow, and grinning widely, immensely proud of herself.

It was no secret that Arya admired you greatly, aspiring to be like you when she grew older. Ned would often lightheartedly blame you for his second daughter’s callous, wild, and unladylike nature, but you would always reply with a straight tone, “Arya is every bit Lyanna. I am not Lyanna.”

With a frustrated huff, Bran darted after his sister, angry that she had bested him in something she wasn’t even supposed to be good at. Arya scurried away with a cackle, mud and gravel flying up beneath her boots with her remarkable speed. Robb and Jon burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter.

The smiles fell away when you shoved a bow into each of their arms. “Alright, boys. You think you’re so much better than your brother? Show me. I want ten perfect hits—only grazing the circle does not count.”

The two young men incredulously glanced up at their father, as if expecting Ned to save them from your stern wrath. Your older brother merely shrugged, half of a grin tilting his lips lopsided.

With a groan, the boys turned to do as they were bid, until Theon Greyjoy came bounding up to Ned with a message. A deserter from the Night’s Watch was captured not too far from Winterfell. An execution by Ned’s hand was in order for breaking a sworn oath.

Saved by the raven, you thought grimly, though you made a mental note to get them to practice again afterwards, even if it meant you had to drag them out by the ears.

The biting winds nipped at the small amounts of exposed bare skin that wasn’t covered by layers of thick furs, turning your face frigid. Outside the castle walls, the cold was more daunting and the gales were far stronger. You were well-acquainted with this sort of weather, however, and showed no sign of discomfort when Bran quietly asked you if you were as cold as he was.

They set the deserter upon a log, his neck resting upon the wood for Ned to chop it off. The poor fool was mumbling incoherently, too quiet for you to catch, but you could see the panic crystal clear in his far-away eyes.

“Don’t look away,” said Jon to his younger brother. “Father will know if you do.”

Bran blinked, looking up at you for a brief moment. You dipped your head in agreement. It was something he needed to face eventually—death was inevitable.

“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm,” said Ned. “I, Eddard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die.”

With that, your brother raised his longsword and swung it down cleanly onto the back of the deserter’s neck. His severed head fell to the frozen ground with a squelching thud.

“You did well,” you quietly told little Bran, who had a slightly disturbed expression upon his quickly-paling features, but did not flinch all the same. He didn’t look at you, feeling a certain sickness coiling in his stomach.

Both Jon and Robb gritted their teeth. The older of the two turned and led Bran away to the horses.

“Bran is an imaginative boy,” you told Ned once he lumbered over to you, sheathing his sword. “He dreams of fights and knighthood—the glory and praise of it all. He knows not of the blood and death that consequently comes with it. Prepare him for that, Ned. Or he will be left traumatized and shrouded with fear.”

No one had prepared me, you wanted to say, but bit down on your tongue.

Your older brother took a pause at your words, considering them seriously. With a grim nod, he strode off to speak to his second-youngest son.

The ride back to Winterfell was rocky and far colder than when you had left. On the way, the group came across a mauled carcass of a stag, its bloodied guts pooling out of its abdomen, flesh nearly clawed apart.

“What killed it?” asked Jon.

“Mountain lion?” offered Theon, eyes darting to the trees in search of such a beast.

You shook your head. “Mountain lions don’t venture up this far. Must be a Northern animal. Claw marks are too small to be a bear.”

With slow strides Ned walked around the dead animal and down a muddy hill, where a bubbling creek rushed by. You followed along, brows quirking upwards upon seeing the large body of a direwolf, fresh blood coating the entire front of its pelt. There was an antler sticking out of its throat—no doubt the poor wolf died in agony.

Your attention was brought down lower to small, yipping pups, suckling at the teats of their dead mother.

“It’s a freak!” Theon said.

You shot him an icy glare, making him whither beneath your eyes. “Show some respect. The direwolf died protecting her pups.”

“Tough old beast,” Ned gruffed, before pulling out the bloodied antler.

“There are no direwolves south of the Wall,” Robb postulated, befuddled as to how this had happened.

“Now there are five,” said Jon, before picking one of the pups up by the scruff and moving it out to Bran. “You want to hold it?”

The pup whimpered as he was placed into Bran’s awaiting arms, wanting to go back to its mother. “Where will they go?” asked the boy. “Their mother’s dead.”

“They don’t belong down here—better a quick death,” said Ned, pulling out his sword once more. “They won’t last without their mother.”

Eager to please, Theon leapt forward, brandishing a knife and pulling the direwolf pup away from Bran. “Right, give it here.”

“No!” cried your nephew.

“Put away your blade,” you barked out, stepping closer to the ward.

Theon gulped nervously, but was stubborn to a fault. “I take orders from your brother, not you.”

“Please, father!” begged Bran, ever the sweet boy. He had already witnessed one death today, and was not yet ready to see five more.

“Put it away,” you repeated menacingly at Theon, before looking to your brother. “Ned, there are five direwolf pups… one for each of your children. The direwolf is the sigil of our house—it would do us no good killing off our own symbols. ‘Tis a rare thing to find direwolves around these parts. This is a blessing, brother. Take it as one.”

With a sigh, Ned hung his head, before staring directly at Bran. “You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. If they die, you will bury them yourselves.”

Theon sheathed his knife at Ned’s words, thrusting the pup back into Bran’s grasp.

The group began to walk away, and you hauled up one of the pups into your arms, wondering whether it will go to Sansa, Arya, or Rickon, as Robb and Bran seemed to already have their pick.

“What about you?” Bran asked Jon.

The dark-haired man stiffly replied, “I’m not a Stark.”

The sound of another whimpering pup roped your attention away from the one in your arms. Jon knelt down by the stump of a tree, brandishing a pure-white direwolf, its eyes a hazy shade of crimson.

“Ah, the runt of the litter,” chuckled Theon. “That one’s yours, Snow.”

Jon still seemed disheartened, staring at the scrawny little thing with narrowed eyes as the rest of the group were already hitching their horses.

“Come on,” you nudged the younger man along with your elbow. “The runts always turn out to be the strongest. Perhaps not physically, but their wills are unmatched.”

It was not often that you were remotely affectionate to him, but when Jon turned to glance at you, your expression had hardened back to its usual state. “Now get on your horse, before I convince your father to abandon you out here.”

The month passed by in a blur. The direwolves were growing at a rapid speed, reaching taller than the height of your knee when they sat up, ears perked. News of Jon Arryn’s death had come not too long ago, and King Robert Baratheon was due to arrive at Winterfell any minute by now, along with his family, and a plethora of other royal subjects.

“I want to see the Imp,” Arya babbled to you, scurrying along by your side as you swiftly crossed the courtyard to the stairs that led to your chambers, eager to change into something more appropriate for the arrival of the King.

“Why? Because you want to meet someone shorter than you, for once?” you asked her dismissively, allowing her to slip through the door behind you as you changed out of your muddied garments into much cleaner ones. “Take no offense to this, Arya, but Tyrion Lannister prefers the company of much older women.”

Arya hopped onto your bed, eyebrows furrowing. She reminded you much of your late older sister, and it pained you to look at her for too long. Your comment about Tyrion’s tastes flew right over her head. “I’m not that short! Bran and Rickon are much shorter than me!”

A derisive snort fell from your lips as you did up your tunic, leaning close to the warped mirror to make sure you were decent enough for the public’s eye. “Not for long, girl. Not for long.”

Before Arya could reply, you were already making your way out of your chambers, just in time to see Bran clamber down the tall castle walls, yelling out, “The King is here! I saw him, he’s here!”

Not ten minutes later, nearly a hundred horses clopped through the gates, carrying fluttering Baratheon and Lannister flags.

You stood beside Catelyn, head held up high. To her other side was Ned, then Robb, then Sansa, then Bran, and finally, little Rickon. Arya pushed forth between Sansa and Bran, shoving her younger brother aside. “Move!” she gruffed, earning her an angry glare from both parties.

Behind you was Jon Snow and Theon Greyjoy, the former looking like he’d really rather be doing anything else, and the latter looking excited to see Southern folk—the girls there are much prettier, he’d always thought.

The King certainly wasn’t a sight for sore eyes. He’d grown twice as wide since last you saw him, rounded belly straining the buttons of his stretched coat. His dark beard was thick and long, wild locks of black hair hastily combed back. A servant had to place down steps for him to clamber off his horse.

Ned knelt down before his old friend, and you followed suit. The King strode up to him, beckoning your older brother to rise, along with the rest of the people of Winterfell. You stood back up on your feet, hands clasped behind your back. Your eyes wandered further behind the King, wondering where the rest of the royal family were.

“Your Grace,” said Ned, bowing his head.

Robert scanned his eyes over the Warden of the North, thick brows quirking down with disapproval. “You’ve got fat,” he quipped. Pot, meet kettle.

Your older brother tilted his head, using his chin to gesture to Robert’s own protruding stomach. The King then let out a loud, wheezing laugh, spreading out his arms to wrap Ned in a tight embrace.

He gave Catelyn a hug next, exclaiming her name warmly.

His dark eyes then landed on you. “Ah, the infamous Bitter Wolf,” he boldly said. He dared not hug you, wondering if you’d bite off his hand, uncaring that he was the King of the bloody Seven Kingdoms. There was a pregnant pause—his gaze rested a second longer than it should have, for he couldn’t help but notice how you’d grown well into your features, sharing a few traits with Lyanna—though she looked much like your father whilst your appearance favored your late mother. “Time has done you wonders. Last I saw, you were only but a wee thing.”

“If only I could say the same to you,” you replied, voice sharp and level. Robert only gave a grand chuckle at your words, before moving his gaze back to Ned.

“Nine years—why haven’t I seen you? Where the hell have you been?”

A ghost of a smile graced Ned’s lips. “Guarding the North for you, Your Grace.”

“From what? Naked tree branches and piles of snow?” he said, amused at his own jests.

A little ways behind Robert, you could see Queen Cersei Lannister step out of a carriage, lifting her golden skirts just slightly so they wouldn’t drag along the mud.

“Where’s the Imp?” you heard Arya ask her sister.

“Will you shut up?” Sansa shot back, rolling her deep blue eyes to the side.

The King walked on to see the Stark children, a proud glint to his expression. “And who do we have here? Ah… you must be Robb,” he said, shaking the eldest boy’s hand firmly. Robert looked at Sansa, brows raised. “My, you’re a pretty one.”

He then leaned down closer to Arya, who looked much too preoccupied looking for the Imp, asking for her name. Arya absentmindedly responded, still searching for Tyrion, not even bothering to look the King in the eye. Robert seemed not to mind, only barking out a gruff chuckle.

“Ooh, show us your muscles!” Robert told Bran, who immediately raised a scrawny arm with a small grin. The King wheezed a chesty laugh. “You’ll be a soldier!”

The last of the horses rode into Winterfell, and you keenly noticed a golden-armored knight climbing off his steed, tugging his helmet off his head.

Jaime Lannister.

The man who killed the King. The very same King that murdered your father and brother.

Nearly unchanged from all those years ago, he was. His golden hair stood out starkly against the grey walls of the castle, green eyes bright and cunning.

You hadn’t even noticed that you were staring at him until your attention was ripped away by Cersei Lannister, her hand held out in front of Ned.

“My Queen,” he said, lightly kissing her knuckles. Catelyn bowed, a polite smile to her lips. You watched her with narrowed eyes, and for a brief second, Cersei met your cold gaze, as if challenging you to back down.

Before she could say anything, Robert strode back in front of Ned. “Take me to the crypts. I want to pay my respects.”

To Lyanna. He wanted to see Lyanna.

Cersei scowled. “We’ve been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait.”

The King ignored his wife. “Ned. Let’s go.”

Your brother glanced apologetically at the Queen, before leading Robert away, down to the crypts.

“Where’s the Imp?” Arya asked a third time, bouncing on her feet.

Nobody spared her a response, but Cersei swiftly rotated around to Jaime, taking hold of his arm. “Where is our wretched brother? Go and find the little beast.”

You watched Jaime huff in amusement, before striding off in search of Tyrion.

When Cersei turned back to the Stark family, you were nowhere to be seen.

The feast was held at sundown.

Your creamed potatoes were growing cold, but you hadn’t the stomach to eat anymore—not when Robert Baratheon was sticking his tongue down a servant’s throat only two tables away from you. So you opted to sipping on your drink instead, half-listening to whatever tall tale Robb was exaggerating to the lords around him.

It was only when half of the food was already scarfed down, did your brother Benjen arrive. He came clopping on horseback, striding through the crowded entrance and ducking between cheering men with overflowing chalices of ale.

“Little sister,” he greeted, clapping a hand on your shoulder and drawing you into a tight hug. Surprised at the sudden embrace, it took you a moment to reciprocate his affection. Your nose buried into the thick furs of his coat. You did not smile, but there was a faint trace of fondness to your eyes. “You are looking as sour as ever. Not a wonder why people only ever call you the Bitter Wolf these days. ‘Tis a rare thing to see you at a social calling, much less one this crowded.”

“Aren’t you a charmer? I’m only here because the King ordered me to be. Why, I cannot possibly say,” you dryly replied, before shoving him away and handing him a goblet of wine. “Here. Must be better than what you’ve got up on the Wall.”

Benjen said something in reply, but it was muffled into the rim of the cup as he slurped it down with a greedy groan. “Ah, I missed this terribly. You can’t imagine how awful alcohol tastes up there. Where is our dear brother? Ned!”

The taller man strode away to the eldest Stark by the main table, cuffing his shoulder with a wide grin. Ned, however, was solemn-faced, pondering about the mad boy he had beheaded all those weeks ago.

You chanced a glance towards the King—he was far too occupied with two other ladies fawning over him to notice you slipping out of the Hall. With that, you began weaving through the packed throng, eager to take your leave.

To your dismay, you were stopped in your tracks by a taller figure, the dark lapels of his tunic brushing against your face with your sudden halt. You reared back a step, your narrowed eyes meeting his curious green ones.

Jaime Lannister.

“Excuse me,” you said, none too pleased about being stopped in your tracks.

“Lady Stark,” he murmured, voice silken smooth. “Or, should I say, the Bitter Wolf?”

Annoyance growing, you only scowled at him. “Pardon me, Ser Jaime. Or, should I say, Kingslayer?”

Jaime frowned. The action twisted his sharp features in a manner that did not suit him at all, as if such an expression did not belong on such a face. The words stung like he’d just been slapped. Nonetheless, he pressed forth, determined to keep your conversation ongoing.

“I hear your brother is to be Hand of the King.”

What was this? Amicable chatter? With the Queen’s brother, no less? You were bewildered as to how you got to such a predicament—you only wanted nothing more than to retire to your chambers.

“Yes, lovely to hear that I am the last of my siblings to remain at Winterfell,” you snarkily replied, deftly stepping around him and ushering out of the Hall. It was to no avail, for Jaime simply strode with you, ambling after you out into the cold snow. “Why are you following me?”

“Walking you to your chambers,” the blonde knight simply replied, as if it were common sense. “You were there, were you not? At the Tourney of Harrenhal? I saw you. Small thing, you were.”

A beat of silence. In the distance, a raven cawed. You could feel the tension in your shoulders only barely dissipate.

“Yes,” you carefully replied. “I remember little of it… I was so young. Times were simpler then.”

Jaime huffed out a dry laugh and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Not for me, they weren’t.” It was clear to you that he was implying his time with the Mad King. You were given no chance to reply when he continued speaking. “You weren’t so bitter then. I saw you dancing with your brother… Brandon, was it?”

A lump formed in your throat. “Yes,” you quietly responded, voice suddenly hoarse.

“I’m sure a tournament will be held in honor of Lord Eddard’s new title, should he accept,” Jaime said, hands clasping behind his back. “I would hope to see you there, Lady Stark. Perhaps you can watch me best your brother in combat.”

Much to Jaime’s amazement, you scoffed, bordering on a near laugh.

He had made the infamous Bitter Wolf nearly laugh! A strange sense of pride curled within the confines of his chest.

“Your arrogance will be your downfall, Ser Jaime. Besides—Ned doesn’t fight in tourneys. I wouldn’t, either.” You turned the corner to climb up the steps to your chambers, halting in your tracks to look down upon Jaime. “‘Tis a foolish thing, fighting for naught but gold and praise. When the enemies come striking, there is no gold waiting on the other side. Just the bittersweet relief of survival.”

Jaime tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s not always a relief.”

“Pardon?”

“Relief… not all are relieved to be alive,” he mused, hand resting upon the stone wall beside him.

You observed the man before you. Perhaps you had severely misjudged him.

“Yes,” you murmured, casting your gaze up to the starry night sky. “I know what that’s like.”

The two of you stood in silence for a while longer. It was neither comfortable nor was it unbearable. It was simply just there.

“I’ll be retiring for the night, Ser Jaime. You’ve followed me this far—I could only hope you won’t follow me into my chambers,” you said in a warning tone, eyes locked intensely with his.

With a playful tone, Jaime pushed at the elasticity of your limits. There was a roguish grin to his mouth. “I would never. Not unless you invited me, of course.”

And there it was again—your gruff scoff-laugh. Jaime stood up straighter, wishing to hear you laugh properly.

“Good night, Ser,” you curtly said.

“Good night, Lady Stark. Sleep well. Perhaps we’ll reconvene on the morrow,” he replied with a small bow of his head. With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered back into the mess hall. You hummed in thought, thinking back to his earlier words as you slid into your dark chambers.

Not all are relieved to be alive.

You were up early the next morning, sharpening one of your many throwing daggers by the foot of the staircase.

It all happened in a blur. One moment, you heard a faint thud from the edges of the castle walls. You thought nothing of it at first—brushing it off as one of the saddle boys accidentally knocking a barrel over. But the morning was still young, and you doubted any of them would even be up at such an hour. It would do you no harm to go check. And so, you sheathed your dagger and strode across the yard and rounded the bend.

The next moment, you were happening upon Bran’s small, broken body, laid across the grass and gravel, clearly having just fallen from a great height. You had yelled for the maesters so loudly that the entirety of Winterfell seemed to awaken at the commotion. With frantic motions, you gathered Bran up in your arms and sprinted towards the infirmary, murmuring panicked prayers to the Old Gods beneath your breath.

The startled Maester Luwin swooped to take Bran from you, setting him down on a bed to check on him. The small boy was unresponsive, but still breathing.

Catelyn and Ned came running in soon after. You took to comforting an anguished Cat while answering Ned’s solemn questions as to what happened.

For the days to come, you rarely ever left your nephew’s side, curled up in a chair by the head of his bed, only ever leaving to occasionally clean yourself up and grab food for yourself and Catelyn. The boy’s poor mother was in shambles, often crying into his blankets and pleading for him to wake up. She prayed to her Seven Gods, begging them to bestow mercy for her sweet boy. When she wasn’t sobbing, she would read to him in a low, croaking voice, or occupy her shaking hands with needlework.

Cersei Lannister had appeared by the doorway the morning after Bran’s fall, clutching her thick coat close to her form.

“Oh, I would’ve dressed, had I known you were coming, Your Grace,” said Catelyn, standing up to bow slightly. You glanced up from your own book, dipping your head in acknowledgement to the Queen.

The woman hummed. “Please, this is your home. I’m your guest.” She looked upon Bran, green eyes dark and thoughtful. “Handsome one, he is. I lost my first boy—a little black-haired beauty. He was a fighter, too… tried to beat the fever that took him.”

Her words made you set your book down, brows furrowing.

She seemed to sense both you and Catelyn’s agitation, clasping her hands in front of her. “Forgive me. That must be the last thing you need to hear right now.”

“I never knew, Your Grace,” said Catelyn, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her palm. She was exhausted, having forgone sleep for the entire night.

“It was a long time ago,” Cersei replied wistfully. “Robert was furious… beat his hands bloody on the wall. All the things men do to show you how much they care.”

“Without actually caring,” you murmured, thinking back to his crazed infatuation with your older sister. Cersei’s stare turned to you, and she nodded once.

There was a long, pregnant silence. The Queen cleared her throat and continued on. A thin film of tears warbled over her viridescent irises. “The boy looked just like him. Such a small thing. A bird without feathers. When they came to take him away—Robert held me. I screamed and battled, but he held me. I never saw him again. Never visited the crypts.” She drew in a shaky breath and fixed her stare back on the motionless Bran. “I pray to the Mother every morning and night that she will return your child to you, Lady Catelyn.”

“I am grateful,” Cat sniffled.

“Perhaps this time she’ll listen,” said Cersei. She turned to take her leave, but not before glancing at you. “You were the one who found him, were you not?”

You set your jaw at the question. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Hm. It is a miracle you were there… he would have been dead if not for you,” she murmured, a strange edge to her tone. The skirts of her dress swished noisily as she strode out of the room.

The fresh air was doing you good. Your head felt much clearer as you made your way around the castle, the cold winds settling nicely over your skin, pleasantly tousling your hair. You made your way to the smithy, where you spotted Jon hovering over the wooden table where a blade was being carefully cleaned.

It seemed the young man was quite taken with the prospect of going up to the Wall with your brother, Benjen, and swearing the vows of the Night’s Watch. You weren’t too happy to hear of his plans on leaving Winterfell, but you supposed he’d feel much more at home further up North with people cut from the same cloth as him. Not only was Jon leaving to the Wall, but Ned, Sansa, and Arya were also going to the capital with the King quite soon.

“Jon,” you greeted, dipping your head at your nephew. “Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?”

The grey-eyed man shook his head, curls flying. There was a small, wary smile touching the corner of his lips. “I was going to come visit you and Bran before you left. I have something to give to Arya first.”

You peered over his shoulder to take a closer look at the thin sword. “A sword for your sister? Be sure your father doesn’t see you giving her that.”

Surprised flashed across Jon’s face. You were never one to pass up the chance to nag him until his ears fell away. “Are you not going to tell me off?”

“No,” you grimly replied. “King’s Landing is a dangerous place. The girl’s going to need it someday.”

Jon nodded once, pleased that you weren’t going to stop him.

It was then that you heard a familiar voice susurrate from behind you, making both you and Jon turn around at the same time.

“Lady Stark, my deepest condolences for your young nephew. Let us hope he makes a speedy recovery,” he said. He was grinning strangely, in a manner that you rather misliked.

“Yes,” you responded stoically. “I suppose this is a farewell for us, then.”

The blonde knight tossed his head back in a confident manner. “Only time will tell, Bitter Wolf. You never know—our paths may yet cross again.”

You couldn’t quite tell if that was a promise or a threat. Perhaps both.

You spared him a distant hum, turning back to look upon the sword Jon was having specially crafted for Arya.

“A sword for the wall?” the Kingslayer asked, head tilting.

“No. I already have one,” said Jon.

The older man’s brows lifted. “Good man. Have you swung it yet?”

The bastard scoffed. “Of course I have.”

“At someone, I mean,” the knight clarified. Jon remained silent. “It’s a strange thing… cutting a man open for the first time. You realize we’re nothing but sacks of meat and blood and bone to keep it all standing. Let me thank you ahead of time, Jon Snow, for guarding us all from the perils beyond the Wall. Wildlings and white walkers and whatnot.”

Jaime tightly clasped Jon’s hand, clearly mocking the man with a condescending lilt to his words. It took no genius to discern that Jaime was no fan of the Night’s Watch—to him, they were nothing but a group of lowly thieves, rapists, and murderers.

The younger boy tried to pull his hand away from Jaime’s grip, but the blonde man merely grasped harder. “We’re grateful to have such good, strong men like you protecting us.”

“I’d appreciate it if you let go of my nephew, Ser Jaime,” you cut in, voice icy and eyes ablaze. You were rather indifferent to the blonde knight, but he was starting to get on your nerves.

Jaime took one glimpse at your hardened scowl, before relinquishing his hold on Jon and stepping back. You couldn’t quite read the expression on his handsome features. “Give my regards to the brothers at the Wall. I’m sure it will be thrilling to serve in such an… elite force. And if not, well… it’s just for your entire life, right? Small price.”

The Kingslayer left the both of you glaring at his back, making his way back into the castle to find his brother. You looked to Jon.

“His arrogance will be his downfall,” you whispered, parroting what you’d told him the night of the feast.

Jon only grunted in response, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

It was easy to say goodbye to Jon. You knew he was going to be safe with your brother watching over him, and he was going to be much happier at the Wall without feeling out of place, like he did in Winterfell. You gave him a one-armed hug, pulling away to pat his cheek twice.

“Write to me, will you? I want to know how you’re faring,” you said, tone uncharacteristically soft. It’d been nearly a month since Bran fell out of the window, and you weren’t keen on losing another one of your nephews.

Jon nodded, lips pursed grimly. “Of course. Will you let me know if Bran wakes up?” he asked.

“When he wakes up,” you corrected.

“Right. When he wakes up. You Starks are hard to kill.”

Though you didn’t smile, there was a clear glimmer of fondness to your irises, one that Jon only rarely caught when you were speaking to Ned or little Rickon. The fact that it was directed to him for the first time made his stomach roil—he was going to miss you.

“You’re a Stark to me, Jon. You’re my nephew, my blood… never forget that. Now, get on—Robb’s waiting to speak to you.”

You ushered the younger man off to say his farewells to his half-brother, but Jon paused in his steps and lowly asked, “Before I go, I wanted to ask you… do you know anything about my mother?”

There was a beat of silence. You certainly hadn’t expected Jon to ask you that. “Your father never spoke to me about her. All I know is that she must’ve been a good person if Ned took a liking to her. I’m sorry… I wish I could tell you more, but I know little of the matter myself.”

You didn't miss the glimmer of disappointment to the young lad's grey eyes. “Don’t be. Farewell, Aunt Y/N.”

You watched Jon turn on his heel and walk off to speak with Robb.

“You don’t look too happy to see me off,” said Benjen, magically appearing by your side and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. He ruffled your hair with a mild grin. “Then again… you never really look happy, do you?”

With a scowl, you ducked away from his hands. “Oh, stop it. I’ll be seeing you again sooner or later, no doubt.”

“I’m being serious, dear sister. I cannot remember the last time I’ve seen you genuinely smiling,” he said, evident concern flooding his winter-hewn features. “Give me a smile—just one before I leave. You used to smile all the time when we were little.”

Before the war. Before father and Brandon were murdered.

You shook your head, a soft sigh slipping from your lips. “That was a long while ago, Benjen. I am not the same person I was before.”

Barking out a laugh, Benjen crossed his arms over his chest. “Indeed you are not. I’ll be on my way, then. I’ll be keeping Bran in my prayers.”

“You don’t pray,” you dryly said.

“I would for him,” your older brother replied solemnly before mounting his horse. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

Your own goodbye was too quiet for him to hear, as he was already clopping away.

The next farewells in order were for Ned, Sansa, and Arya. Your brother tugged you into a loose hug, face grim.

“Winter is coming,” he had whispered into your hairline. “Take care, Y/N.”

As for the two girls, Sansa was rather intimidated by you, and squeaked out a stiff goodbye, whilst Arya hugged you tightly, her face buried into the fabric of your tunic. You had frozen at first, but loosened with time and gently patted her head.

There was too much of Lyanna in her, you thought with a frown as she pulled away from you and scurried off to get into the carriage behind her older sister.

Hours later, you found yourself sitting by Bran’s bed once again, Catelyn on the other side weaving together a prayer wheel for her son. You were flicking through a voluminous tome on the history of dragons, muffling a yawn behind your fist. It was only when Maester Luwin strode into the room did you pull your attention away from the book.

“It’s time we reviewed the accounts, my Lady,” he hesitantly said to Catelyn, hands clasped together. The woman’s eyes watered, and she glared at the maester for even thinking that she was up for speaking of money when her son was still hurt. “You’ll want to know how much this royal visit has cost us.”

She hummed dismissively. “Talk to Poole about it.”

Sympathetic, Luwin lowered his voice. “Poole went south with Lord Stark, my Lady. We need a new steward, and there are several appointments that require our immediate attention—”

“I don’t care!” Catelyn bit out. “I don’t care about appointments! My son needs me.”

Another figure stepped through the doorway. “I’ll make the appointments,” said Robb. “We’ll talk about it first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll be happy to help, if need be,” you offered, nodding to Robb.

“Very well, my Lord—my Lady,” said Maester Luwin to the both of you, before dipping his head and excusing himself out of the room.

You casted a worried glance to Catelyn, who’d taken to intensely staring at her prayer wheel once more.

“When was the last time you’ve left this room?” Robb asked his mother. Crossing the room in three long strides, he reached out to open up the windows. The noise of the howling direwolves flooded into the chambers.

There was a tremble in her voice when she said, “I have to take care of him.”

“He’s not going to die, mother. The maester says the most dangerous time has passed,” Robb tried to reason fruitlessly.

“What if he’s wrong?” she retaliated, eyes wild. “Bran needs me!”

Her eldest son shook his head. “Rickon needs you. He’s six. He doesn’t know what’s happening—he follows me around all day, clutching my leg, crying out for you, for Bran, for father—”

The direwolves howled some more.

“Close the windows!” Catelyn cried, abandoning her prayer wheel to curl her hands into fists and knock them against her knees in frustration. “I can’t stand it! Make them stop!”

The howling only grew louder.

With furrowed brows, you stood up on your feet to stand beside Robb and glance out the window.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

Fire.

Red, greedy flames. Licking at the air, spitting embers at the gravel.

With urgent movements, you dashed out of the door to help put the growing blaze out, catching Robb ordering his mother to stay in the room.

When you returned to the chambers not fifteen minutes later, you found Catelyn curled up on the cold floor, murmuring prayers beneath her breath, her hands soaked in dark ichor. An equally bloodied Summer was laying protectively over Bran’s unconscious form.

On the other side of the room was a man, throat nearly turned inside out, crimson so dark it nearly looked black, gushing out of his neck.

And on the ground between them was a dagger.

A dagger to change the fate of the entirety of Westeros.

“This is where he must have fallen,” you whispered to Catelyn, gazing out from the opening in the tall tower.

Your sister-in-law gritted her teeth. “Or where he was pushed.”

Anger bubbled within your throat. It made sense—Bran had never fallen before while climbing, and someone was sent to murder him not too long after the first failed attempt.

“Who would do such a thing?” you asked in an icy voice, gaze scouring around the rest of the tower.

Catelyn knelt down on the ground, eyes widening. From the ground she picked up a long strand of blonde hair.

Fury turned your vision red.

Cersei Lannister.

Nearly an hour later, Catelyn had convened a small group she was sure to be loyal to her. Ned’s ward, the master-at-arms, the maester, you, and her eldest son.

“What I am about to tell you must remain between us,” she said, an urgent edge to her words. “I don’t think Bran fell from that tower. I think he was thrown.”

Maester Luwin bowed his head in thought. “The boy was always sure-footed before.”

“Someone tried to kill him twice. Why? Why murder an innocent child?” Catelyn whispered, blue eyes hardened. “Unless he saw something he shouldn’t have seen.”

Theon tilted his head. “Saw what, my Lady?”

“I don’t know… but I would stake my life the Lannisters are involved. We already have reason to suspect their loyalty to the crown.”

“Did you notice the dagger that the killer used? It’s too fine a weapon for such a man. The blade is Valyrian steel, and the handle is dragonbone. Someone gave it to him… someone with a lot of money,” said Rodrik, presenting the sharp dagger for everyone to see.

Enraged, Robb snarled, “They come into my home and try to murder my brother? If it’s war they want—”

“If it comes to that, you know that I’ll stand behind you,” Theon interrupted, ever desperate to please.

“Perhaps it is best you think first with your head before your fists,” you told the two bristling boys in a placating tone. “War is the last thing we need. We have to keep our emotions in tact… find out who did this. Justice will be served, but it mustn’t be rushed.”

Robb blew out a frustrated breath, but nodded. It was not wise to rush headfirst into war. Everybody had to be smart about this.

“Lord Stark must be informed,” said Maester Luwin.

Shaking her head, Catelyn responded, “I don’t trust a raven to carry these words.”

“I’ll ride to King’s Landing,” Robb offered.

Immediately, Catelyn refused his proposal, not wanting to put another one of her sons in danger. “No. You are Winterfell’s heir—you should remain here. I will go myself.”

“Mother, you can’t—” Robb began to protest.

“I must,” said Catelyn, heavy with finality.

Rodrik pursed his lips before saying, “I’ll send Hal with a squad of guards to escort you, my Lady.”

Again, Catelyn denied the offer. “I don’t want the Lannisters to know I’m coming. Too large a party will attract attention.”

“Then let me accompany you,” said Rodrik. “The Kingsroad can be a dangerous place for a woman alone.”

Crestfallen at having to see his mother off, Robb whispered, “What about Bran?”

Catelyn’s lips trembled. “I have prayed to the Seven for more than a month. Bran’s life is in their hands now.”

By nightfall, Catelyn had packed a small rucksack to take with her, and Rodrik was awaiting her by Winterfell’s gates.

“Watch my boys for me,” she murmured, taking your hands within hers and squeezing. Tears lined her eyes, threatening to fall, but none did. “There isn’t much you can do for Bran but Robb… Rickon… they need you.”

“I’ll be here, sister,” you said solemnly, squeezing her palms in a reassuring manner.

With that, you helped her mount her small horse, and watched as she rode off with Rodrik in tow. Robb came by your side, his jaw set.

“All my life, I’ve watched people go,” you said to him, wistful. “My father, my brothers, my sister, and now your mother. The waiting is the worst part.”

The younger man casted you a curious look—this was the first time he’s heard you speak of your past. He pulled a hand over his weary face. “I’m not good at waiting.”

“You’ll have no choice,” you told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Look at me, Robb. We have an entire castle to uphold. We must work together, you and I. You are a young man, with a heavy responsibility weighing over your head… but I will shoulder it with you. You hear me, boy?”

Conflict warred within the blue of his eyes. He looked so much like Catelyn, nothing like you or Ned. “Yes,” he said. “Thank you.”

To his surprise, you pulled him into an embrace, and he couldn’t help but swallow down the lump in his throat, forcing away the sharp sting to the corner of his eyes. Never before had you openly shown him such affection, but these were changing times. You loved your nephew dearly, even if you weren’t one to show it.

“Come,” you said once you pulled away, holding him at arm’s length. “Let us go have supper.”

A week had gone by when Bran awoke.

He was tired and groggy, and felt nothing from the waist down. He’d never be able to walk again, the maester had said. Bran was angry at the news, spending his days looking glum and solemn.

When Robb had asked him if he remembered anything, Bran merely bit his bottom lip and shook his head. You wrote to both Jon and Ned of the bittersweet news, sending the raven off first thing in the morning.

Nearly a moon later, Lord Tyrion returned back to Winterfell after his little adventure to the Wall, with a brother of the Night’s Watch, Yoren, accompanying him.

“I must say I received a slightly warmer welcome on my last visit,” the Imp mused, standing before you and Robb and Maester Luwin.

A scowl flitted over your features. “Winter is coming, Lord Tyrion. Not much warmth going around the North these days.”

Robb tilted his head. “Any man of the Night’s Watch is always welcome in Winterfell.”

“Any man of the Night’s Watch but not I, eh, boy?” Tyrion asked.

With a steely tone, your nephew gritted out, “I’m not your boy, Lannister. I’m the Lord of Winterfell while my father is away.”

“Then you might learn a Lord’s courtesy!”

It was then that the door to the hall swung open, and Hodor lumbered in, carrying Bran in his arms.

“So it’s true,” said Tyrion, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Hello, Bran. Do you remember anything about what happened?”

Maester Luwin responded on the boy’s behalf. “He has no memory of that day.”

Frustrated, Robb asked, “Why are you here?”

Ignoring the question, the Lannister looked back to Bran. “Would your charming companion be so kind as to kneel? My neck is beginning to hurt.”

With a straight face, Bran quietly said, “Kneel, Hodor.”

The large man did as Bran asked.

“Do you like to ride, Bran?” queried Tyrion.

“Yes. Well… I used to.”

Luwin’s brows furrowed. “The boy has lost the use of his legs.”

Brandishing a paper scroll, Tyrion easily replied, “With the right horse and saddle, even a cripple can ride.”

The small boy frowned at the wording. “I’m not a cripple,” he said, clearly upset.

“Then I’m not a dwarf!” Tyrion exclaimed before handing Bran the scroll. “My father would be rejoiced to hear it. Here—this is for you. Give it to your saddler, and he’ll provide the rest.”

He unraveled it eagerly, a smile touching his lips upon seeing intricate designs for a special-made saddle to accommodate for his legs.

“Will I really be able to ride?” asked Bran.

“You will,” said Tyrion. “On horseback, you’ll be as tall as any other man.”

Narrowing your eyes, you asked, “What game are you playing at, Lord Lannister? Why are you helping my nephew, if you even are?”

“No game,” the Imp replied. “I have a tender spot in my heart for cripples, bastards, and broken things.”

Bran smiled at the blonde, and Robb seemed to soften a bit at this.

“You’ve done my brother a kindness. The hospitality of Winterfell is yours,” he said.

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “Spare me your courtesies, Lord Stark. There is a brothel outside your walls. There, I’ll find a bed and both of us can sleep easier.”

With that, Tyrion turned to leave.

“I’ll be right back,” you told Robb, who watched you go with curious eyes. You said nothing more, getting up from your seat and hurrying out after the surprisingly quick man. “Lord Tyrion.”

“Ah, the Bitter Wolf—I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of speaking to each other alone before,” he hummed. “My brother seems to think you’re amusing… though you don’t quite look the kind to jape.”

You waved away his words, getting straight to the point. “Do you know where Cersei Lannister was the morning Bran fell?”

The Imp’s brows raised. “I can’t say I do… I was sunken into my whore and my cups… and Cersei avoids me like the plague. I scarcely know where she is even when I’m sober. Why? Do you believe my wretched sister played a hand in his crippling?”

“Indeed, I do,” you shot back, a sharp edge to your words. “These are dangerous times, Lord Tyrion. Sleep well.”

With no more to say to him, you turned on your heel and marched back into the hall, with the Imp’s gaze burning holes into the back of your head.

The small scroll the raven brought to Winterfell bore nothing but bad news. Catelyn had taken Tyrion as hostage in belief that he was the one responsible for Bran’s fall, as the dagger apparently belonged to him. She planned on bringing him up to the Vale to contest his crimes with her sister, Lysa.

It is not Tyrion, you wanted to scream at your law-sister, even though she was thousands of miles away. It is Cersei Lannister. I am sure of it.

Not too long after the news of the Imp’s imprisonment reached you, another raven came flying into Winterfell. This time, its contents were far graver.

Jory was dead. Ned was seriously maimed on behalf of Catelyn—a spear pierced cleanly into his thigh—and he was tossed into a jail cell by order of Jaime Lannister.

Fury had consumed you whole when you read the little parchment, nearly ripping the paper apart from your tight grip. You had half a mind to ride to King’s Landing and demand your brother be freed at once, but you steeled yourself with reason. There was little you could do—the Red Keep was swarming with golden lions and hungry cats of the same ilk. It was no place for a wolf of winter.

When you had told Robb of the news, he was surprisingly calm about it, drawing away from you to mull it over silently. He did not want to jump headfirst into violence—but what choice did he have now?

“My mother shouldn’t have done that,” murmured Robb, voice lowered so nobody would be able to overhear. “The Lannisters will go to war with us for this.”

You hummed, pensive. “No, she shouldn’t have. It is not Lord Tyrion that pushed Bran—he may be a drunkard, but he is not a fool. He wouldn’t equip an assassin with his own personal dagger. Only an arrogant idiot would do such a thing.”

“Then who do you think did it?” asked your nephew, blue eyes cold.

“Cersei Lannister. Your mother and I found a long strand of blonde hair in the tower Bran fell from. Who other than Cersei has long blonde hair? I don’t know why she would do such a thing—but I’d bet an arm and a leg that it was her. She loves nobody but her own children… and she is none too fond of your father, or the King, or any of you. Perhaps Bran saw her with someone. Someone she wasn’t supposed to be with,” you said, tone slow as you spelled it out for him.

Brows raised, Robb reared back at the realization. His breath seemed to crystallize within his throat. “If word were to get out about Cersei’s couplings, the King would have her head on a spike. It would make sense for her to eliminate any… threats.”

“Yes, boy. We must keep this to ourselves for now—we could lose our tongues at the very least if we have no proof.”

The younger man blew out a sigh. The heavy burden laying over his shoulders seemed to only grow weightier by the minute. “Should we not tell Bran? About any of this?”

Both of you looked at the sweet summer child, hollering out excitedly as he rode about on Dancer, strapped into the new horse saddle Tyrion had designed.

“He seems happy. Perhaps it is best we let him remain in such a state for a little while longer.”

It was then that Theon made his way to the two of you, having heard the news of Jory and Ned from a grave Maester Luwin.

“Are you not going to make the Lannisters pay?” he asked Robb, grey eyes ablaze.

Setting his jaw, Robb firmly shook his head. “I will not go to war.”

“It’s not war—” Theon firmly replied, “it’s justice.”

A scoff lodged itself in your throat. “Queer definition of justice, ey, Greyjoy? Is revenge the only way you settle fights back on the Iron Islands? ‘Tis a wonder the lot of you haven’t already murdered each other, then.”

The ward bristled at your nonchalant comments, but decided to ignore you, addressing Robb once more. “Jaime Lannister put a spear through your father’s leg. The Kingslayer rides for Casterly Rock, where no one can touch him—”

“It was not him,” you sharply corrected Theon, scowling.

“What?”

“It was not Ser Jaime who speared Ned,” you repeated yourself, slightly quieter.

Mirroring your frown, Theon shook his head with frustration. “What does it matter? He was there. He fought Lord Stark in front of a whorehouse!”

“What would you have me do?” demanded Robb, lifting his head in a challenging manner. “March on Casterly Rock and order the Kingslayer to come out of hiding? Then you are more a fool than I thought, Theon.”

Raising his voice ever so slightly, Theon retaliated, “You’re not a boy anymore! They attacked your father. The war has already begun, whether you like it or not. It’s your duty to represent House Stark when your father can’t.”

“And what do you know of duty?” you spat, glaring angrily at Theon. “It is not your house—I’m afraid you’re confusing captivity with duty.”

With an angry yell, Theon pushed himself up to his feet, towering over you, but you merely rolled your eyes to the side. The both of you knew that if Theon were to lay one hand on you, he would be hanging from a noose by the end of the day. Uncaring of the bridling man, you glanced around to look for Bran.

Where the devil was he?

“Where’s Bran?” asked Robb, wildly looking around for his younger brother.

Still upset, Theon hissed out, “Don’t know. Not my house.” With that, he stalked away, shoulders slumped.

You and Robb hurriedly scoured the forest in search of little Bran. A nocked bow was gripped in your hands, and a dagger was safely tucked beneath your cloak in case you ever needed it.

Finally, the two of you heard whispers and mutters coming from behind a bush, and you raised your bow with narrowed eyes. It was Bran on his horse, appearing frightened—and around him were four Wildlings, their furs muddied and their faces covered with soot. One of them had a blade against Bran’s paralyzed leg.

“Drop the knife,” Robb commanded, voice booming. He unsheathed his sword, the cold metal gleaming with the sparse rays of sun through the dark grey clouds. “Let him go, and I’ll let you live.”

The wildlings glanced at each other, snickering. One of them dove forward with a yell, arcing an axe down upon Robb. Your nephew was quick to parry and duck away, his sword slicing cleanly along the flesh of his throat.

You let your arrow loose straight through the eye of the wildling closest to Bran, and he fell back with an ear-splitting scream. With nimble movements, you ran to the horse, beginning to unbuckle the straps to the saddle keeping him in place. To your right, another wildling came charging at you, her dull axe swinging down to your arm. You jerked away before it could make a clean chop, but the blade carved a large gash into your forearm nonetheless, blood splattering all over your tunic. Pain blossomed over your hand and you rolled away before she could hit you once more. Robb came forward, slanting his longsword against the wildling woman’s jugular.

The last straggler grabbed your injured arm, making you cry out at the sudden pressure, the tip of his own dirty knife pressing into your jaw. A crimson bead leaked out from your skin, rolling down your neck.

Robb’s eyes widened. From his horse, Bran worriedly yelled your name.

“Drop the sword!” the wildling yelled, glaring at Robb holding his friend. “Do it!”

With slow, cautious movements, Robb reluctantly lowered his sword, but didn’t relinquish his grip on the woman.

All of a sudden, an arrow flew through the air, piercing straight through the wildling that was holding you with a sickening squelch. More blood splattered over your face and you grimaced, shoving him away with a gasp. You rounded your gaze behind to see Theon Greyjoy, his face grim yet smug.

Robb was quick to rush to Bran, asking if he was alright. His blue eyes glanced at you with concern, noting how your entire arm was drenched with your dark blood.

“I’ll be fine,” you whispered to him, wincing as you put pressure upon your gash. “Maester Luwin will stitch me up.”

“Do I not get a thank you?” Theon asked you, nocking another arrow to point at the wildling woman’s forehead. “In the Iron Islands, you’re not a man until you’ve killed your first enemy. Well done, Robb.”

A scowl crossed your features, but Robb replied in your stead. “Have you gone mad?” he growled out. “What if you’d missed? You could’ve gotten her killed!”

Indignant, Theon gruffed, “That wildling would’ve killed the three of you anyway, had I not been there.”

“You don’t have the right—!”

“To what? To save Lady Stark? It was the only thing to do so I did it! Would you rather her be dead?”

You raised a hand to placate the two, tone calm and soft. “Alright, alright. Thank you, Theon. Happy? Can we get on with actual important matters now?” Your eyes darted to the last wildling alive.

Whimpering, she cowered beneath the tip of Theon’s arrow. “Please, m’lord, gimme mah life and ah’m yours,” she simpered, crawling closer to Robb.

Ever the tender boy, Robb bowed his head. “Keep her alive.”

She blew out a sigh of relief, kneeling down to press her head into the cold, damp soil with gratitude. You turned away, marching back to the castle, leaving a trail of blood dripping from the deep gash in your wake.

Benjen had disappeared. The small raven’s scroll was read over and over nearly ten times altogether… desperate for some sort of misreading or that the words would magically change. But they did nothing of the sort—your older brother had vanished into thin air beyond the Wall.

Before you could even begin to process your grief, another message came to Winterfell, written by Sansa.

Ned had been arrested.

“Treason?” Robb whispered after he read the message. “Sansa wrote this?”

“Sansa’s hand… but a Lannister’s words were stuffed down her throat. No mention of Arya either,” you growled out, pacing back and forth in front of your nephew, Maester Luwin, and Theon.

The old man clasped his hands in front of him, appearing grim. “You are summoned to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the new King.”

Brows furrowed, Robb spat, “Joffrey puts my father in chains and now he wants his ass kissed?”

“This is a royal command, my Lord,” said Luwin. “If you should refuse to obey—”

“I won’t refuse. I’ll go to King’s Landing… but not alone. Call the banners,” Robb told the Maester, grave and solemn.

Lowering his voice, Luwin asked, “All of them, my Lord?”

“They’ve all sworn to defend my father, have they not? Now we see what their words are worth.”

There was a glint of pride in Luwin’s eyes. He’d been the one to pull Robb out of his mother’s womb, and now he was practically a man grown. With a bow of his head, he turned to amble away, off to send the ravens to the bannermen.

Robb’s hands were shaking violently. It didn’t go beyond your notice when he clasped them over one another in an effort to stave his nerves away.

“I’m going with you,” you told him firmly, surprising both Robb and Theon.

A protest formed on the tip of your nephew’s tongue. “No, you should stay here with B—”

“Ned is my brother. The only one left, if Benjen is truly gone. I need to go, Robb. I need to.” Your voice cracked with desperation and you reached out to tightly clutch at his shoulder, eyes cold with muted fury. “When the King summoned my father and my brother, Brandon, to King’s Landing… they never returned to Winterfell. And now Joffrey is calling for you… I can’t let you go alone. I’m coming with you—end of story.”

There was a lengthy beat of silence.

Eventually, Theon was the one that caved, barking out a laugh. “There’s no stopping her, Robb.”

“For once, Greyjoy seems to be finding sense,” you snidely remarked.

A small sigh fell from Robb’s lips. “Alright. Perhaps this is the best thing to do—I don’t know if I could lead a war all on my own.”

“You’re not alone, my boy,” you told him, patting his cheek twice. “You’d have to pry my cold, dead body away from you if it meant I was to be leaving you.”

A grand feast was held for the bannermen’s arrival at Winterfell. Everybody drank and ate and chattered joyfully, exchanging tall tales of war and battle. Everybody save for Robb, who was still ridden with anxiety, prodding around pieces of chicken with the prongs of his fork, having no appetite to eat. You sat beside him, taking small bites of a berry cake.

From across the table, Lord Umber was barking out, “For thirty years I’ve been leaving corpses in my wake! I’m the one you want leading the vanguard!”

His efforts to convince Robb were fruitless. “Galbart Glover will lead the van,” he repeated himself, quite exhausted of the matter already.

“The bloody Wall will melt before an Umber marches behind a Glover!” the old man yelled. “I will lead the van… or I will take my men and march them home!”

You paused mid-bite, placing the half-eaten cake down on your plate as you glared at the northman. Icy were your words as you threatened, “Do so, Lord Umber, and you would be hanging from the gallows in under a fortnight. Your house would be branded with the name of an oathbreaker.”

The man’s dark eyes hardened and he stood up from the table, slamming his fists against the top. Plates of food and cutlery clattered with the sudden motion. “Oathbreaker, is it, Bitter Wolf?” You stood up as well, which prompted Robb to get up onto his feet, along with the rest of the table—save for Bran, who glanced worriedly between you and his brother. “I’ll not sit here and swallow insults from a woman who doesn’t even know the first thing about war!”

“How dare you speak to Lady Stark in such a way?” Robb bellowed, making the older man’s heated gaze fall on him.

“And you! How could I be taking orders from a boy so green he pisses grass?”

With that, he drew his blade, the sound of steel singing across the table. In a blink of an eye, Grey Wind leapt onto the table and knocked Greatjon onto his back with a great thud. The direwolf’s sharp teeth sank into the Umber’s hand, tearing off two fingers completely. Blood splattered all over the floor, accompanied by his agonized shrieking.

With a frustrated growl, he pushed himself back up onto his feet, clutching his maimed palm close to his chest.

“My Lord father taught me it was death to bare steel against your liege Lord,” said Robb. After a considerable pause, he continued, much softer. “But doubtless… you only meant to cut my meat for me, no?”

Oh, Robb. Sweet summer boy… too kind for his own good, you thought with a mild scowl. It will be the death of him.

It appeared as if the Umber wanted to curse Robb out some more. He glanced down at the direwolf, its muzzle covered in his blood. A bolt of fear jolted down his spine.

“Well,” he reluctantly said, clearing his throat, “your meat is bloody tough!”

The rest of the hall slowly fell into laughter, chortling at the dissipation of what could’ve been a bloodbath. Robb laughed amicably, finally sitting back down to actually start eating his food. You didn’t laugh, nor did you touch the rest of your cake.

By the time the feast had waned away, you escorted Bran and Hodor out of the hall, following behind the large, gentle giant into Bran’s chambers.

You sat by his bed once Hodor laid him down. With nimble, fleeting touches, you tugged the blanket up to Bran’s chin and brushed his hair away from his face. You were not the nurturing, motherly kind… you were not Catelyn, nor were you what Sansa wanted to be. You didn’t know how to care for Bran in the way he needed to be—Rickon even less so. But they were your family, and you needed to try for them… now more than ever before.

“Have any of your memories come back?” you asked, tone soft. When he shook his head, you blew out a sigh. “That’s alright. You just rest for now. How have you been sleeping?”

Bran bit into his lip, as if contemplating whether he should lie or not.

“I dream a lot,” he said, deciding to tell you the truth. “Every night. The same one.”

Cocking your head, you silently beckoned for him to go on.

“I see a raven… with three eyes,” he whispered. “Every time I get closer, it flies away.”

“Your mind knows no bounds, even in sleep,” you said, a hint of fondness to your gaze.

There was a long pause before Bran hesitantly queried, “Can I ask you a question, Aunt?”

“Go on, boy.”

“Does it ever… bother you? When people call you the Bitter Wolf?”

You leaned away from your nephew, humming in thought. “It did. It still does. It’s a constant reminder of my past.”

“Well, why don’t you order them to stop? You’re of higher rank than any of them!” squeaked Bran.

“The creatures of winter will always whisper, dear boy,” you murmured. “Only once the frost has taken them and iced their bodies into hard stone—only then would they fall silent.”

The young boy looked as if he wanted to ask you more, but the door creaked open, pulling both of your attentions to Robb, making his way into Bran’s chambers.

“What is it? Has something happened?” asked Bran, his deep blue eyes widening at Robb’s solemn features.

“It’s alright, nothing’s happened,” he replied, quiet. He met your gaze, and you nodded once in understanding. It was time to go.

It was then that Bran noticed Robb had donned his traveling furs. “Where are you going?”

“South,” Robb said. “For father.”

“But it’s the middle of the night!” he protested.

“The dark gives us cover for a few hours,” you spoke, voice only barely louder than a whisper. “The Lannisters have spies everywhere, no doubt.”

Bran reared back to face you. “Us? You’re leaving, as well?”

“Yes, Bran,” you told him simply, grim-faced.

“Can’t I come with you?” pleaded Bran. “I can ride now, you’ve seen me! And I won’t get in the way, I’ll—”

Before he could finish, Robb was already shaking his head firmly. “There must always be a Stark at Winterfell. Until I return, that will be you. You are not to leave the castle walls while we’re gone. Do you understand?”

Crestfallen, Bran reluctantly nodded.

“Listen to Maester Luwin. Look after your little brother,” you gently told him. “Be brave for us, Bran. Winterfell needs you.”

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“Until we return,” Robb added, stepping forward to ruffle Bran’s hair affectionately. “We’ll ride together once I come back.”

A ghost of a watery smile traced the corner of Bran’s lips. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

With that, you pushed yourself onto your feet and both you and Robb made your way outside. Snowflakes danced with the cold wind.

“Do you really think this is smart? Going to war with the Lannisters?” asked Robb. You glanced at your oldest nephew, lips pursed. He was so young… and already carried himself as if he were two decades older than he actually was.

“No,” you quietly admitted. “War is never smart. But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

Robb hummed. “No. I suppose we don’t.”

A fortnight breezed by in the blink of an eye.

The war was steadily waging on—with Jaime Lannister at the crux of the oppositional side. To think that you had once thought him a decent man… it made your stomach roil just thinking about it. With Tywin Lannister’s armies approaching as well, Robb seemed to be vastly outnumbered in battles.

Your good-sister, Lady Catelyn, joined you in the Neck, the marshy region of House Reed. She had embraced you tightly, before pulling away to query about her two youngest sons with tearful eyes. You assured her that they were safe in Winterfell, pointedly avoiding the encounter with the Wildlings, not wanting to worry her any further.

Many strategy meetings were held on whether to move ahead on Jaime Lannister’s army, or Tywin’s. You butted heads with Greatjon Umber far too often, as you bore no liking for him and he would rather think with his fists than his head. Either way, the group would have to cross the Twins, which meant you had to garner the support of the Freys. The Lord of the Freys, Walder, was no man easily swayed. He had a penchant for gold and young girls, often of his own kin, and thought very little of his sworn oaths.

It was all one big headache.

You spent many sleepless nights practicing your archery, which was hard to do with your injured hand. It was steadily healing, but still throbbed when overworked. On days the pain would grow too overbearing, you would write letters for the ravens to take. To Maester Luwin, enquiring about the boys. To the Wall, wondering how Jon was doing after taking the black… and if Benjen had returned. You dared not write to Sansa or Arya, knowing full and well it would only be intercepted by the cunt of a Queen, Cersei Lannister.

By the next three days, Robb had reluctantly agreed to have his mother go into the Freys’ castle in hopes of bartering an agreement with the prickly old man, since she’d known him when she was a young girl.

When she came back, her face was solemn.

“Well?” Robb asked. “What did he say?”

“Lord Walder has granted your crossing,” she replied. “His men are yours, as well—less the four hundred he will keep here to hold the Crossing against any who would pursue you.”

The damn Lannisters, you thought grimly.

There was a steely glint to Robb’s eyes. “What does he want in return?”

“You will be taking on his son, Olyvar, as your personal squire. He expects a knighthood in good time.”

Nodding, Robb stroked the shadow of a stubble growing along his jaw. “Fine, fine. And?”

Catelyn blew out a shallow sigh. “And Arya… will marry his son, Waldron, when they both come of age.”

You gritted your teeth. “She’ll be none too happy about that.”

When Catelyn nodded at your words, she pursed her lips, as if she had more to say.

“There’s more?” said Robb.

“And… When the fighting is done, you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer—he has a number he thinks will be suitable.” Reluctance weighed heavily in Catelyn’s tone.

If Robb was upset at the news, he did well to hide it.

“I see,” he said. “Did you get to see them? His daughters?”

“I did. One was… nearer to your age,” she replied, slow and cautious. “Do you consent?”

The poor boy, you thought. Having to give up his choice in exchange for duty.

“Can I refuse?” he asked. For a moment, he looked as if he were his age again, eyes wide and fists clenched.

“Not if you want to cross,” replied his mother.

There was a long beat of silence. In the distance, his direwolf barked at a stray mutt passing by.

“Then I consent,” Robb said. With that, he quickly stepped out and away from the tent, in need of some time to digest his new betrothal.

As you watched him go, you heard Theon come up to stand beside you.

“A small price to pay,” he crooned, a slight smirk to his lips. “A marriage to win the war.”

“You only say that because you’re not the one paying,” you lightly responded, though there was a sharp edge to your tone, as if warning him not to toe your boundaries. “Robb carries a heavy burden. Do well not to add yourself to that, Theon.”

With a nod, you excused yourself, heading back to your tent, itching to write to Jon of the news.

Two thousand men sacrificed to distract Tywin Lannister… whilst the other eighteen thousand took over Jaime’s armies.

And now Robb had the Kingslayer in his grasp.

He was bound and kneeling before you and Cat, blonde hair caked with dried blood and face filthy with dirt and soot.

“By the time they knew what was happening, it had already happened,” said Robb, staring down at the Lannister with pure hatred roiling within the blue of his eyes.

“You did well, Robb,” you said, keeping your narrowed gaze trained on Jaime.

The knight looked to you, a lazy smirk curled at the corner of his bleeding lips. “Bitter Wolf. It is a pleasure to see you again. Terrible circumstances, but a pleasure indeed.”

You frowned. All you could see when you looked at him was his sister, who you suspected played a hand in Bran’s fall. His nephew, the cruel boy that had your brother imprisoned. He was a Lannister first and foremost… no amount of lives he took or saved would ever change that.

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same, Ser Jaime,” you replied in a stiff tone.

Jaime merely hummed, before turning his head to face your good-sister. “Lady Stark. I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have lost it.”

With stinging words, Catelyn sharply said, “It is not your sword I want. Give me my daughters back. Give me my husband!”

Jaime swallowed, his throat itchy and dry. “I’ve lost them as well, I’m afraid.”

“Kill him, Robb!” said Theon, eyes wild. “Send his head to his father! He cut down ten of our men—you saw him!”

Brows furrowing, you shook your head firmly. “What use would that be, you foolish boy? Killing him would bring us nothing but Tywin Lannister’s wrath. We keep him alive for leverage.”

“Is that all I am to you, Bitter Wolf? A bargaining chip? You wound me,” Jaime sardonically gruffed, though there was a twinge of gratitude to his voice.

“You are nothing to me, Kingslayer,” you spat, effectively wiping away the smug look on Jaime’s face.

Robb bowed his head at your words. “Aunt Y/N is right. He is more useful to us alive than dead.”

Catelyn nodded in agreement. “Take him away and put him in chains.”

Just as two of the guards were ready to haul him away, Jaime barked out, “We could end this war right now, boy. Save thousands of lives. You fight for the Starks, I fight for the Lannisters. Just you and me—swords, lances, teeth, nails… you take your pick. Let’s end this here and now.”

Save thousands of lives, he had said. A tempting offer. But would that be worth the life of your nephew?

Robb squared his jaw. “If we do it your way, Kingslayer, you’d win. We’re not doing it your way.”

The guards laughed as they began tugging Jaime along, off to shackle him down. “Come on, pretty man,” one of them cackled, kicking at Jaime’s feet.

Turmoil danced clear as day over Robb’s features. “I sent two thousand men to their graves today.”

“The bards will sing songs of their sacrifice,” said Theon.

Robb momentarily shut his eyes. It was all so incredibly loud. “Aye. But the dead won’t hear them.” With that, he stepped forward to address the rest of the army. “One victory does not make us conquerors! Did we free my father? Did we rescue my sisters from the Queen? Did we free the North from those who want us on our knees? This war is far from over.”

Stone-faced, Robb turned on his heel and marched off.

You blew out a long, tired sigh. From the trees above you, you noticed a rotund pigeon staring straight at you from a high branch. It chirped lightly, before flying off, making its way North. You bit down on the inside of your cheek, before stalking away, retreating back to your tent.

The sun had not yet risen when a ground-shaking scream tore through the camp. Guttural, visceral, rageful…

Broken.

You had fallen to your hands and knees upon reading the raven’s message, wailing your sorrows to the ground.

Ned Stark was dead. You were the only one of your siblings left.

Dead. Your brother is dead. Winter is coming. Killed by Joffrey’s command. Bitter wolf. Bitter, bitter, bitter wolf. Your brother is dead. Winter is coming.

Fat tears rolled down your cheeks and your eyes stung as if hot pokers were pressing against them. Thunder rumbled within your chest and you curled your hands into fists. Someone tugged you up and held you close. Your cheek was smushed into their neck and you cried even harder, sobbing hysterically.

Gods, give him back to me, you pleaded silently. Give him back. He was the only brother I had left. Give him back, give him back, give him back—

“Shh, shh, I know, I know,” Catelyn’s hoarse voice whispered into your hair. It took you a moment to realize that it was her cradling you.

Immeasurable guilt filled your lungs. She was the one who lost her husband. She had lost just the same as you, if not more so… and yet she was the one holding you, comforting you, mothering you.

“I’m sorry,” you wailed against her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Cat, I’m sorry, I—” You dissolved into another fit of heart-wrenching cries, fruitlessly trying to pull away and wipe your tears.

“It’s not you that should be sorry,” she patiently told you, cupping your damp cheek to gently stroke the hair away from your face. The blue of her eyes warbled with her own unshed tears. “Let it out, good-sister. Let it out.”

And so you did. For hours, you did nothing but cry until your voice mellowed into buzzing silence and your eyes could bear it no longer.

By the time the sun was beginning to sink down the horizon, you finally left your tent.

Robb. You had to speak to him.

Your nephew was in the thick of the woods, far enough from the camp where nobody could hear him cry. Dried tear tracks on his cheeks reflected the waning light of the disappearing sun as he swung his sword against the tree over and over and over again.

He stopped when he heard you coming, hands slackening around the hilt.

When he turned to take you in, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that you were just as much a mess as he was.

“Robb,” you whispered.

“Aunt,” he whispered back.

“You poor boy,” you croaked, vision blurring over once more. In no less than three long strides, you made your way to him, tugging him into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, Robb. I’m sorry.”

The young man only loosely reciprocated your hug at first, choking back his own tears. He had so much he wanted to say… but his thoughts came too quickly and too many at once, all lodged into the back of his throat. And so he fell quiet, soaking in your rarely-offered comfort. He had already cried out his promises of revenge with his mother, cursed his enemies with Theon, angrily strategized with his grieving bannermen.

All he needed now was some quiet support—a steady shoulder to lean on. And if that was all you had to offer him, he would gladly take it.

“You were right,” you whispered into his ear, expression hardening. “The war is far from over. Winter is coming, Robb. And lions do poorly in the frost.”

The hall was dimly lit with blazing torches hanging on the walls, casting ominous shadows across the room. You were seated beside Robb, with Catelyn on his other side. The bitter, the young, and the stone-heart.

“The proper course is clear! We join our forces with his!” yelled one of the bannermen.

He was speaking of Renly Baratheon, the late King Robert’s youngest brother.

Frowning, Robb firmly replied, “Renly is not the King.”

“You cannot mean to pledge allegiance to Joffrey, my Lord!” the older man responded, affronted by the notion. “He put your father to death!”

Evenly, Robb said, “That doesn’t make Renly King. He’s Robert’s youngest brother—if Bran can’t be Lord of Winterfell before me, Renly can’t be King before Stannis.”

A murmur rippled through the hall, Lords leaning their heads together to whisper and heckle.

“You mean to declare us for Stannis?” asked one of the Lords.

“Renly is not right, either!” exclaimed another.

“If we put ourselves behind Stannis, he would surely send us all to our deaths!” yelled a voice from the back.

Pounding his now-empty chalice down onto the table, Greatjon Umber stood up to address the riled-up mass. “My Lords—here is what I say to the two Kings!” He bent at the knees and spat a mouthful of wine onto the ground. “Renly Baratheon is nothing to me! Nor Stannis, either! Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery fuckin’ seat in the South? What do they know of the Wall, or the Wolfswood? Even their Gods are wrong! Why shouldn’t we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to… and now the dragons are dead.”

The sharp sound of steel rang loud and true as Lord Umber unsheathed his sword to point at Robb.

“There sits the only King I mean to bend my knee to. They can keep their red castle, and their iron chair, as well. The King in the North!” he proclaimed. “My sword is yours, in victory and defeat. From this day, until my last day!”

A beat of silence.

One after the other, the rest of the Lords pulled their swords out of their respective scabbards to pledge fealty to Robb, and bend the knee.

Robb stood up, casting his gaze over the kneeling crowd.

“The King in the North!” they all cheered. “The King in the North! The King in the North!”

You glanced at Catelyn, noticing the conflict warring across her weathered features. Briefly, Robb caught your eye, and you bowed your head in an encouraging manner.

“The King in the North!” you yelled along with the rest of the Lords.

No longer would a lion be able to hold their paw over a wolf’s throat.

Robb was King now.

The King in the North.

It was colder tonight than it had been for the past decade. Your sigh misted into an opaque fog once you stepped out of your tent, small pinpricks of frost kissing your skin. Most of the knights and lords had retired to their own cotts, deep in slumber. Some of them were on the outskirts of camp, patrolling the perimeter in case Tywin was to come surging forth with his army to retrieve his prized son.

And that was just who you were leaving to see. You needed to ask him the same thing you had asked Tyrion—if Jaime knew where his sister was when Bran fell.

The guards raised their eyebrows at you, as if asking what you were doing here at such a late hour, but you simply stared at them until they uncomfortably shifted to the side to allow you to pass by.

It was certainly quite a sight—seeing Jaime Lannister shackled. He was cold, you could see, the tip of his sharp nose was crimson and his fingers were quivering ever so slightly.

You had made no noise whilst stepping in front of him, silent as a wraith. Jaime only noticed you were there because of your shadow looming over him in a near menacing fashion.

“Lady Stark,” he greeted, strangely pleasant despite being bound, freezing, and starving. “You look lovely tonight. Had I known you were coming, I would’ve cleaned myself up a bit.”

“Ser Jaime,” you replied in a curt, level tone.

The man before you tilted his head curiously. “To what do I owe such a pleasure? Is your bed lonely? Is that why you came? I’m not at my best, as you can see… but I think I could be of service for you. Slip out of those furs—let’s see if I’m up for it.”

His words were crude and unbecoming, but held no weight to them. Your expression remained unchanging.

“Celibacy is a part of the Kingsguard’s oaths,” you lightly said.

Jaime barked out a rogue laugh, leaning his head back against the stone wall. “Surely you know what everybody calls me. Oathbreaker.”

“For killing the King,” came your whisper. For a moment, Jaime could swear he caught a glimpse of gratitude within your stormy eyes. It was gone just as quickly as it came. “I can’t say I fault you for doing it. Aerys wasn’t fit to be King.”

The knight hummed, a ghost of a grin to the corner of his lips. “See… your brother seemed to disagree. He thought it wasn’t honorable. And look where his own honor got him—beheaded in front of his daughter, and placed on a spike by the walls of the Keep. Terrible shame, what happened to him. I wanted to have a clean duel with him before he kicked the can.”

Your fists clenched by your sides at the callous way Jaime spoke of Ned.

The green of his irises gleamed when he looked up at you. “How does it feel? To watch your family die off slowly, one by one?”

“Your tongue likes to run, doesn’t it?” you murmured with a scowl. “You’ll understand what it’s like soon. The war is sure to leave a trail of lion’s blood in its wake.”

Jaime sucked in a humored breath. “Bitter Wolf, indeed. Tell me, how long have you had that long stick shoved up your arse?”

There was a long moment of tense silence. Your hand was hidden within your cloak, resting upon the hilt of a dagger. When you began to speak again, you ripped your eyes away from him, refusing to meet his gaze, training your stare upon an uninteresting stone on the ground.

“When I heard Aerys burned my father alive, I wept until I nearly blinded myself with my own tears. My father was a good, honorable man. My brother, too. I loved them dearly. The Mad King took them away from me and I hated him for it. I hated you, as well… the youngest of his Kingsguard just stood by and did nothing. But then, not too long after, I heard that you were the one who slit his throat. I still hated you—but I couldn't be more grateful. You were right to kill him.”

Another beat of silence, this time longer. The atmosphere between the two of you seemed to shift. Jaime looked nearly stunned at your admission. “Do you still hate me?” he asked, voice uncharacteristically soft. It was as if he was eighteen all over again, having to ‘go away inside’ when he didn’t want to deal with what was going on anymore. Your gaze left the stone on the ground to meet his. “No, Ser Jaime. To hate is to care. I do not care—not for you, at least.”

Strange, Jaime thought. His chest seemed to ache uncomfortably at your cold words.

Before he could say anything, your good-sister strode up by your side, her features stony and grim. For a moment, she met your gaze. If she was wondering what you were doing here, speaking to the Kingslayer, she didn’t ask.

“Lady Catelyn!” said Jaime, grateful for the distraction from the uncomfort within his ribs. “Join the party—we were just exchanging war stories. Except… neither of you have been to war before, I’m afraid. Oh, well—I suppose I can just entertain you with—”

Before you could react, Cat bent down to grab the exact same rock you had been staring at, jerking forward to strike Jaime across the face with its sharp end. Pain rattled throughout his face, blood streaking down where she had struck him. He grunted at the impact, working his jaw gingerly once Catelyn pulled back.

“I would kill you tonight, Ser… pack your head in a box and send it to your sister!” growled Cat.

“Then do it,” Jaime replied, infuriatingly glib for someone who nearly had his skull bashed in. “Hit me again, over the ear. Again, and again, and again. You’re stronger than you look—it shouldn’t take too long.”

Frowning, Cat asked, “That is what you want the world to believe, isn’t it? That you don’t fear death.”

“But I don’t, my Lady,” said Jaime. “The dark is coming for all of us. Why cry about it?”

Lips curling with contempt, Catelyn spat out, “Because you are going to the deepest of the Seven Hells if the Gods are just!”

“What Gods? The trees the Bitter Wolf here prays to? Where were the trees when your husband’s head was getting chopped off?” he murmured. Fury coiled within your stomach, as black as tar. “If your Gods are real, and if they are just… why is the world so full of injustice?”

Cat’s fingers curled tighter around the rock. “Because of men like you.”

There it was again—his hoarse bark of laughter. “There are no men like me. Only me.”

More silence stretched thin between the three of you. You thought about your original purpose for coming here, pursing your lips.

“Do you know where your sister was the morning Bran fell?” you asked him, voice hardened with steel.

His eyes met yours—bright green to a frigid storm.

“No,” he curtly responded, nose twitching as he sniffed lightly. A tell.

A lie.

“How did he come to fall from the tower?” Catelyn’s question was quiet, as if she were afraid of the answer.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jaime said, “I pushed him out of the window.”

Shocked, you flinched back at his blunt confession, eyes widening. It was him. Him that put Bran in his coma, him that crippled your nephew. Was it him that sent the assassin, as well?

But… you’d found long blonde hair at the tower, undoubtedly Cersei’s. You had thought that Cersei was coupling with some nameless squire or stableboy, not her own brother. By the old Gods, that could only mean—

“Why?” whispered Catelyn, appearing like her heart had been trampled on and torn to shreds.

“I hoped the fall would kill him,” Jaime simply said.

“Why?” she pressed.

You were stunned and at a loss for words, lips parted and chest heaving.

Jaime leaned his head back against the stone wall, inhaling sharply. “You should get some sleep, Lady Catelyn. It’s going to be a long war.”

The red-headed woman glared at him with the might of a thousand suns. She relinquished her hold on the rock, which had cut into her own palm, and stormed away.

Jaime and Cersei coupling… and her children were golden-haired with no trace of Robert Baratheon within any of their Lannister-esque features…

The realization slammed against you like a tidal wave—Gods, the boy on the Iron Throne was a bastard.

You would’ve laughed at the thought if not for the dire situation at hand.

It was no wonder Ned was imprisoned and later executed. He knew, just as you now. Only, he was foolish enough to get his honor in the way of his head. You had to be smart about this. A running tongue was a dangerous one—and you weren’t too keen on losing yours.

Jaime regarded you with a guarded look. He wasn’t aware that you knew of his vile doings with his sister. “Let me ask you again. Do you still hate me now?”

Perhaps his father was right. Maybe he did care what others thought of him.

Disgust ran thick through your veins at the sight of him. The man you had once begrudgingly respected, now a boy-killer. A sister-fucker.

With quick motions, you stepped forward, curling your hand around the front of his tunic, yanking him closer just as you drove your fist into the side of his face. Over and over again you struck him, rage shadowing over your wild expression, until your knuckles split and bled and ached with each punch. Jaime put up no fight. He groaned once you finally pulled away, shoving him back against the stone wall. Blood-flecked spittle dripped from his lips.

Cold steel kissed his throat when you unsheathed your dagger, slanting it just below his Adam's apple. “One cut, Kingslayer. That’s all it’d take.”

“Do it,” he challenged, baring his teeth. “Do it.”

If only you could. You still needed him… Cersei had Sansa in her wicked clutch.

“Never before have I changed my mind about a man so quickly. To hate is to care, Ser Jaime,” you bit out, words dripping with venom. “And I hate you, more than I’d ever care to.”

With that, you slipped your dagger back into its scabbard and turned on your heel to stride away, fury splayed clear as day over your features. You were going to tell Robb of your newfound knowledge as soon as morning broke.

Jaime watched you go with a soft exhale.

He found no sleep that night, but went away inside nonetheless.

Battle after battle, Robb found himself victorious.

Camp after camp, Jaime found himself stinking of his own piss and shit.

When you had told Robb of Joffrey’s true parentage, he huffed out a hesitant laugh, unsure if you were jesting or not. Then again, you were never one to jest.

And now he stood before his captive with you by his side, gazing down at the Lannister were pure contempt. This was the first time you’d seen the Kingslayer since he told you he pushed Bran out the window. And time had done nothing to mellow your anger.

“I keep expecting you to leave me in one castle or another for safe-keeping,” surmised Jaime, tongue darting out to lick at his dry lips. “But you drag me along from camp to camp… have you taken a liking to me, Stark? Is that it? I’ve never seen you with a girl.”

Unfazed by his insults, Robb said, “If I left you with one of my bannermen, your father would know within the fortnight. My bannermen would receive a raven with the message: Release my son. You’ll be rich beyond your dreams. Refuse, and your house will be destroyed, root and stem.”

Jaime shook his head. “You don’t trust the loyalty of the men following you to battle?”

“I trust them with my life. Just not with yours,” Robb quietly replied.

“Smart boy,” snorted Jaime. At the crinkle in Robb’s expression, Jaime piped up with a mocking frown, “Oh, what’s wrong? Don’t like being called a boy? Insulted?”

From behind you, Grey Wind stalked up to his master, a growl rumbling low within his chest. For the first time, you could see genuine fear dance across Jaime’s green irises.

“You insult yourself, Kingslayer,” said Robb. “You’ve been defeated by a boy. You’re held captive by a boy. Perhaps you’ll be killed by a boy.”

Grey Wind lithely moved closer and closer to Jaime, snarling and pawing at the dirt.

“Stannis Baratheon sent ravens to all the high lords of Westeros,” you said, jaw squared. “Ravens detailing that the boy King, Joffrey Baratheon, is neither a true king, nor is he a true Baratheon. He’s your bastard son.”

Jaime scratched at the shackles over his wrists, growing restless. “If that’s true, then Stannis would be the rightful King. How convenient for him!”

“My father learned the truth,” Robb hissed out. “That’s why you had him executed.”

Frowning, Jaime pointed out, “I was your prisoner when your father lost his head.”

“Your son killed him so that the world wouldn’t know who fathered him. And you… you pushed my brother from a window because he saw you with the Queen,” accused your nephew.

Swallowing, Jaime coughed out, “Where’s your proof? Or are we just trading gossip like a couple of fish wives?”

“I’m sending one of your cousins down to King’s Landing with my peace terms.”

Jaime scoffed at that. “You think my father’s going to negotiate with the likes of you? You don’t know him very well.”

Bowing his head, Robb hummed in acknowledgement. “No, I don’t. But he’s starting to know me.”

“Three victories don’t make you a conqueror,” said Jaime.

“Better than three defeats,” your nephew countered. With that, Robb rotated on his heel and marched away, trailing his fingers along Grey Wind’s pelt.

The direwolf snapped his jaw only a hair’s breadth away from Jaime’s face. His eyelids squeezed shut, bracing himself for the agonizing pain. When none came, he cracked one eye open. The wolf was gone, leaving only you standing before him.

“When you were in King’s Landing, did you see my niece?” you asked.

“Sansa?” he replied. “Yes… in court here and there with her betrothed.”

Her betrothed. The bastard boy. Jaime’s son.

“No, not Sansa,” you snippily replied. You worried for Sansa, yes, but at the very least you knew she was alive in the Keep. There hadn’t been a single word about your younger niece in any of the ravens you’d received. “Arya.”

The Kingslayer pursed his lips. “Which one was she again?” Whether he was genuinely miffed as to who Arya was, or he was just pushing your boundaries to purposely annoy you, you couldn’t tell.

“I have no taste for your games,” you gruffed, your patience wearing thin. “I’ll see to the guards forgoing your meals for the next two days. Good night, Ser Jaime.”

Not waiting to see his reaction, you promptly turned and followed after Robb.

Theon had left for the Iron Islands in hope of garnering his father’s support, along with his large fleet of ships. Catelyn, on the other hand, was off to try and obtain Renly Baratheon’s allegiance.

You and Robb planned the next battles together. The cut on your arm from the wildling, Osha, was now fully healed, leaving only a dark mark in its wake. Whilst Robb and the Northern bannermen fought, you would watch from a distance, taking down Lannister-allied soldiers with your bow and arrow.

And once the battle was done, you made your way onto the field, side-stepping half-dead men and corpses alike, plenty with your arrows sticking out of their chests. Most of the casualties were part of the Lannister’s troup, and so you bore no sympathy for their pain.

You met up with Robb just as he was parting with a pretty girl—a medic, by the looks of it. She was leaving on a cart, hands bloodied and dark hair drenched with sweat.

When you glanced at Robb, you could see the unmistakable glint of youthful curiosity and lust behind his blue eyes. With a sharp cuff to the back of his head, you growled out, “You are betrothed, boy. Do well to remember it.”

Robb scowled at you. “What are you on about? I was only talking to her.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “And my name is the Smiling Wolf.”

“I’m a King now, Aunt. You shouldn’t be disrespecting me in such a way,” warned Robb, though his words lacked any true bite.

With a huff, you patted his cheek softly. “You’ve been King for only a few moons by now. But you’ve been my nephew for your entire life. One takes precedence over the other, I’m afraid.”

Robb smiled at that, but it disappeared as he glanced around at all the dead bodies littering the hills, decorated with your arrow shafts. “You took down nearly four dozen of these men…” he said, brows raised. “And all from far away, as well. Color me impressed and a little intimidated.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, walking along with him back to the tents to clean up. “I do what I can to help.”

“I’m grateful you’re here with me. With Theon and mother gone… it made me think about how you’ve always shouldered the burden of ruling with me, without complaint. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Aunt.”

Not one to be very good with sentimentalities, you tugged him into a brief embrace and let him go the next second, gently shoving him off into the tent.

“Alright, alright, boy,” you said, tone rife with affection. “Go take a bath—you stink of war.”

A week later, Catelyn returned to the camps. Accompanying her was a blonde soldier, a woman taller than any man amongst Robb’s army.

“It’s good to see you, Cat,” you told her. “No battles have been lost just yet.”

The woman smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “King Renly… he’s—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Roose Bolton came running up to the two of you.

“Apologies, my Ladies,” he panted out, holding up a small raven’s scroll. “News from Winterfell.”

Initially, you were quite excited, because it’d been a while since you heard from Bran, Rickon, and Maester Luwin.

When you filed into the tent to listen to Robb read it aloud, however, your heart plummeted to your stomach upon hearing the news. Theon had taken Winterfell, holding Bran and Rickon hostage.

“I TOLD YOU, NEVER TRUST A GREYJOY!” yelled Catelyn to her son, face scarlet with fury and twisted with anguish.

Teeth gritted, Robb announced, “I must go North at once.”

“There’s still a war to win, Your Grace,” Roose Bolton protested.

“How can I win a war, call myself King if I can’t even hold my own castle?” spat Robb. “How can I ask my men to follow me if I can’t—?”

With firm hands, you placed them on your nephew’s shoulders. “Robb. Stop—think about this. You have thousands of men at your disposal. You needn’t do this yourself. If you loosen your grip on the Lannisters now, they’ll go scurrying back home and rally more of their allies.”

The young man appeared conflicted. In his haze of rage, he hadn’t thought about the lives of all the rest in the war, only focused on his little brothers.

“Let me go talk to Theon,” Catelyn offered, worried to death for her two youngest boys.

“There will be no talk. He will die for this,” snarled Robb.

Stepping forward, Roose offered, “Let me send word to my bastard at the Dreadfort. He can raise a few hundred men and retake Winterfell before the new moon. My boy would be honored to bring you Prince Theon’s head.”

Bowing his head, Robb blew out a sigh. He glanced at you for a moment, before returning his gaze to Roose. “Tell your son Bran and Rickon’s safety is paramount. And Theon—I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask why… and then I’ll take his head myself.”

It was the dead of night when Jaime Lannister escaped.

In the process, he’d become a kinslayer, as well. Just another name to add to the extensive list.

The golden lion. Oathbreaker. Kingslayer. Now a kinslayer.

He had bashed his cousin’s brains in with a stone, alerting the young guard on duty. Jaime then strangled the boy, a Karstark, and fled the camp.

The taste of freedom had never been so sweet.

And, inevitably, the taste of defeat had never been so sour.

By the break of day, he was recaptured. You had emerged from your tent at the loud commotion, fingers wrapped around the wood of your longbow. Men were jeering, yelling, and throwing rotten food and small stones. They were pushing and shoving, some unsheathing their blades with manic, greedy expressions. In the middle of the crowd was Jaime, rebound and so bloody you could barely see a clean patch of exposed skin. Strangely, he was smiling and laughing, seeming to enjoy how riled up the Northmen were.

“Die, Kingslayer!” they yelled.

“You’ll pay for your crimes!” they shouted.

“Gut him! Put his head on a spike!” they screamed.

You forcefully wove your way through the crowd, brows knitted and your bow and arrow knocked at the ready. The men had parted instantaneously upon seeing you, all of them expecting you to order Jaime’s execution on behalf of Robb, who had temporarily left to accept the Crag’s surrender. To their enraged shock, you stood between them and Jaime, the tip of your arrow pointed not at the Kingslayer himself, but at the men calling for his head.

“Back the fuck away from him,” you barked out, voice loud and commanding. “Have you all gone mad?”

“Get out of the way, Bitter Wolf!” Lord Karstark yelled, hell-bent on getting his revenge for his murdered son. “I deserve justice!”

“Or what, Lord Karstark?” you shouted back with an equivalent ferocity, teeth bared in a near snarl. “You’ll cut through me to get to him? Need I remind you that if you were to lay a hand on me, you’d be laying a hand on the King’s blood.”

Reluctant, a few of the lords lowered their weapons, stepping back slightly. Some held guilty expressions, looking like children being scolded by their mother. Most stayed their ground, angry that you were stopping them.

Your countenance hardened. “If Jaime Lannister is dead, we lose any leverage we have over Tywin’s army—over Cersei, who has hold of my nieces! What good do you think would come of this? We put his pretty head on a spike, hoo-fucking-ray! Has it not occurred to you that we keep prisoners for a reason? That they’re not toys to toss about as we see fit?”

“You’re right, Bitter Wolf,” growled Karstark. “He’s not a toy. This monster killed my son. He deserves worse than a slap on a wrist and a few measly chains. He deserves death. Slow and painful, just as he did to my boy!”

It was then that Catelyn came rushing through the crowd, her pale features gaunt and eyes widened with fear.

“I understand your pain, Lord Karstark,” she assured, exhaust lacing heavy with each of her words. “He crippled my boy. He will answer for his crimes, in due time, I promise. Just not here.”

“If you try and stop me—!”

“I am the mother of your King!” Catelyn yelled.

Rearing back with frustration, Karstark bit out, “And where is our King now? Gone to the Crag, sure, but not to negotiate. He brought that foreign bitch with him!”

Your brows raised in surprise. The medic girl.

Steel sang out as Brienne unsheathed her sword. “Threatening my Lady is an act of treason!”

“Treason?” barked the Karstark. “How can it be an act of treason to kill Lannisters?”

“In the name of my nephew, the King in the North,” you lowly spoke, bringing his attention back to you. The tip of your arrow was pointed right at his chest. “Stand down.”

With a squared jaw, Lord Karstark bowed his head. “When the young wolf returns, I will demand for the murderer’s head.”

“Wise men do not make demands of Kings!” protested Cat.

“Fathers who love their sons do.” With that, Karstark turned to stomp away, back into his tent.

The crowd slowly began to disperse. Only then did you put down your weapon, relaxing the drawstring.

“Thank you for fighting for me, Bitter Wolf,” snarked Jaime, an infuriating smile plastered over his filthy face. “I’m surprised you would have put down one of your own men just for me. Growing rather fond of me, eh? Tell me, you haven’t lost your maidenhood yet, have you? It would be an honor to be your f—”

Gnashing your teeth, you swiftly knelt down in front of the Kingslayer, grabbing his grimy cheeks with one hand, squeezing uncomfortably tight, nails digging into his skin.

“I said we’d have you alive, Kingslayer… not whole. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t carve your eyes out with a hot spoon,” you hissed, eyes cold as winter.

To your fury, Jaime merely laughed, a roguish grin dancing across his bloody lips.

“Go ahead,” he said. “Take them. Take every part of me, until nothing is left. Let’s see what my father would think about having another crippled son.”

You released your hold on him, shoving his face back.

“Gag him tight,” you told one of the guards. “Mix in shit with his food. Piss in his water. Make noise every time he falls asleep. It might very well be his last night amongst us—see that it’s spent in agony.”

With that, you stepped back, nodding at Catelyn, before retiring into your tent.

The later the night grew, the more drunk the men became, and the angrier they got.

“He won’t last the night,” commented Brienne, her hand resting comfortably and cautiously over the hilt of her sword. “Won’t be long until the Karstarks draw their swords. And when they do… who wants to die defending a Lannister?”

With pursed lips, Catelyn bowed her head. “If he dies, my girls die with him.”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable.

“We need to release him,” your good-sister whispered. Her words made your eyes snap to her, lips parting. “We need to exchange him for Sansa and Arya.”

“Cat…” you began, about to protest, but the words lodged in your throat. She was right. The men were going to kill him if he wasn’t released—and Jaime Lannister was of no use to you dead.

A glassy film of tears layered over Catelyn’s blue irises. “I need my girls back, Y/N. I need them back, I need—” She covered her quivering mouth with a shaky hand. “If we give Jaime back to Cersei, we’ll make him swear to return the girls to us.”

You shook your head, frowning. “Jaime is a man with no honor—an oathbreaker. We cannot rely on his word. I’ll take him to King’s Landing to barter with Cersei. Threaten to put an arrow in Jaime’s head if Sansa and Arya aren’t handed over to me. I do not trust anyone else with the job but myself.”

A shiver danced down Catelyn’s spine and she tugged her furs closer to her. “You’ll need protection. At least bring Brienne with you. I trust her with my life. She can escort both you and the Kingslayer to the capital.”

Wistful, you blew out a long breath. “Robb won’t be happy about this, Cat. He’ll hate you for letting Jaime go. He’ll hate me for abandoning him. He’ll send a hundred men after us. We won’t be able to outrun them.”

“Not on foot, no,” said Brienne, stepping forward. “We take a boat down the river. We’ll put more distance between us and them that way—but only if we leave now.”

Conflict warred within you. Was this really the smartest decision? Letting go of the Kingslayer?

And if you were to leave now… you wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Robb. The dark thought of never seeing your nephew again crossed your mind, but you shoved it away. You’d see him again. He was a strong lad.

“Alright… but Tywin will then have reason to march his army and slay Robb’s if they no longer hold his son,” you said, tentative.

Catelyn clutched your hands within her colder, quivering ones. “We are so close to winning this war already. This is a risk we must take for Sansa. For Arya. Please, Y/N. Please.”

With a determined nod of your head, you whispered, “I won’t let you down.”

The Kingslayer smiled lazily when he saw you approaching, Catelyn and Brienne in tow. To his muted interest, the red-headed woman ordered the guards to leave with a sharp tongue and a hardened glint to her eyes.

“Come to say goodbye?” he crooned. “I believe it’s my last night in this world. I could think of no one better to spend it with. You sure are the life of the party.” His tone dripped with sardonic mockery, to which you supplied no reaction. If Jaime wanted to provoke you, he would find himself sorely disappointed.

You had a mission tonight—and there was no time for jesting.

“They want your head, Ser Jaime. Do not make me hand you over to them,” you quietly said, just loud enough for him to hear. It was an empty threat, one that you couldn’t follow through, but Jaime didn’t know that. You were completely serious, for all he knew.

With a huff, Jaime said, “No, no, Bitter Wolf. You like me too much to give me away. Lord Karstark, however… he doesn’t seem very fond of me, does he?”

Scowling, Catelyn hissed out, “You strangled his son with your chains!”

“Oh,” Jaime simply said. There was no remorse in his tone. None at all. “Was he the one on guard duty? He was in my way—any other knight would’ve done the same.”

“You are no knight!” spat Catelyn. “You have forsaken every vow you ever took.”

Rolling his bright green eyes to the side, Jaime snorted in contempt. “So many vows. They make you swear and swear! Defend the King, obey the King, obey your father, protect the innocent, defend the weak. But what if your father despises the King? What if the King massacres the innocent? Like Rickard Stark, eh, Bitter Wolf?” A part of you seized up at the mention of your father. Jaime lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “It’s just too many rules. They make sense alone, sure… but together? It’s a load of shit. No matter what you do, you’re forsaking a vow for another.”

There was a long pause. Jaime grinned sharply, feeling as if he had won the argument—if it even was one to begin with.

“Is that a woman?” he asked, changing the topic, eyes drawn to Brienne. “Where in the seven kingdoms did you find such a beast?”

“She is a truer knight than you will ever be, Kingslayer,” Catelyn replied, tone as hot as ever.

At the offensive name, Jaime narrowed his gaze. “Kingslayer. And what a King he was! Here’s to Aerys Targaryen, second of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm… and to the sword I shoved into his back. What did you say about me before, Wolf? That you were grateful that I did it?”

You could feel Catelyn’s eyes on you for a moment. You didn’t grace either of them with a response.

“You are a man without honor,” said Catelyn.

“Hm.” Jaime tilted his head. “You know… I’ve never been with any woman but Cersei. So in my own way, I have more honor than poor old dead Ned. What was the name of that bastard he fathered?”

Jon.

“Snow—a bastard from the North.” Jaime smirked in a rogue manner. “Now when good old Ned came home with some whore’s baby… did you pretend to love it? No, I don’t think you’re very good at pretending, Lady Catelyn. You’re an honest woman. You hated that boy, didn’t you? How could you not? The walking, talking reminder that the honorable Lord Eddard Stark fucked another woman.”

You were no stranger to Catelyn’s grievances with Jon, but it sounded all the worse coming from the Kingslayer’s tongue.

“That’s enough,” you said, heavy with finality. “Your sword, Brienne.”

This is it, thought Jaime. This is how I’m going to die. Covered in filth and looking up at a snarling she-wolf. It isn’t so bad. At least she’s pretty—even if she never smiles.

Instead of the steel striking his head, it struck at his chains. They gave way after the third lumbering hit. His green eyes snapped up to you when you reached out to grab his arms, hauling him onto his feet.

“Come, Kingslayer. We have a long way to go.”

It was quite an amusing sight, Jaime Lannister falling off the horse with a sack on his head. He grunted through the fabric and you tore it off, shoving it into the pack slung over your shoulder. Brienne urged the horse to ride away, back to camp.

Jaime blinked up at you, vision still adjusting to the sudden brightness. “Ah, Lady Stark. You’re certainly a sight for sore eyes.” He glanced at Brienne. “Oh, the big lady-knight came with us, as well? She is much uglier in daylight! Damn—and here I was hoping we’d spend more time alone together, Bitter Wolf.”

“Shut up,” you told him, stepping back to allow Brienne to haul him up to his feet and shove him towards the small boat.

“Ooh, cranky today, are we? You want to turn around and go back home? I’m sure your little King nephew will welcome you back with open arms—or maybe not. Maybe he hates your guts now. Care to find out?” he goaded, a lazy smirk curling at the corner of his lips. He sat down in the boat, Brienne following suit.

You eased yourself in last, taking a seat behind her.

He’s right, a voice snarked inside your head. Robb is probably furious with you. He’d never forgive you.

“And what might be your name?” Jaime asked the large blonde woman, tilting his head.

With a stony countenance, Brienne replied, “Brienne of Tarth.”

“Mmh, crescent moons and starbursts. Lord Selwyn Tarth is your father, no? You have any brothers and sisters?”

Silence. Brienne began to row the small boat, taking the three of you downstream.

“Come on, it’s a long way to King’s Landing—we might as well get to know one another. Have you known many men? I suppose not—perhaps women? Horses?”

At the last question, Brienne purposefully struck the blunt end of the oar against Jaime’s knee, which made him grunt out in pain.

“I didn’t mean to offend, my Lady,” he said, looking none too sorry. “How unlikely it is! It seems you’re not the only virgin amongst us.”

He fixed his stare on you, though your eyes were trained on the river banks, cautiously watching in case anyone had followed your trail yet. So far on your journey, you haven't come across a single soul. The Gods were on your side, for now. At his words, however, you curled your hands into fists.

“Tell me, Bitter Wolf, did any man in Winterfell ever dare to court you? Were they all intimidated by you? Or did you just bite off their heads as soon as one tried?” Jaime seemed genuinely curious, having known little of your childhood.

With a squared jaw, you replied in a steely tone, “They tried. The nice ones were politely declined. The more… pushy ones were stripped naked and thrown into cells of ice. The winter took their souls whilst their bodies froze.”

Jaime blinked, smiling in a fox-like manner. “Now that is a fine tale! Why did you turn away the nice ones? Are Northerners too ugly for you? They’re too solemn for my taste, I’d say… no offense.”

You didn’t grace him with a response.

For the next half an hour, Jaime chattered on and on about the most trivial topics. He’d ask the both of you questions, to which he was often met with dead silence.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re as boring as you are ugly?” Jaime asked Brienne.

With a roll of her eyes, Brienne rowed the boat harder. “You will not provoke me to anger.”

“I already have!” countered Jaime, excited that she was finally retaliating. “You look ready to slice my head off my shoulders. Do you think you could? Could you beat me in a fair fight?”

“I’ve never seen you fight,” Brienne replied in a leveled tone.

As if it were obvious, Jaime said, “The correct answer is no. There are only three men in the entire Seven Kingdoms that might have a chance against me—you’re not one of them.”

“All my life men like you have sneered at me,” the blonde woman stated. “And all my life I’ve been knocking men like you into the dust.”

“Unlock my chains, then,” said Jaime. “Let’s see who beats who.”

To his disappointment, Brienne spared him no more words.

His gaze landed on you once more, and to his surprise, you had dozed off to sleep, having gotten none the entire night while helping him escape. By the side of the boat, your hand was curled tightly around the longbow you had taken along with you.

Funny, he thought with a slight, huffy laugh. Even in slumber you were scowling.

Brienne had pulled ashore for a short break, and you were grateful for the opportunity to stretch your legs. She helped you out of the boat and over the large, slippery rocks it was slanted against.

“Five minutes,” she told you kindly. Then, she looked over her shoulder at Jaime. “Five minutes!” she parroted, much colder this time.

You were really beginning to like Brienne.

Rolling his eyes, Jaime hobbled out of the boat as well. “Childhood must’ve been awful to you,” he commented to Brienne. “Were you a foot taller than all the boys? They probably laughed at you, called you names. Some boys like a challenge—one or two must have tried to get inside big Brienne!”

Brienne frowned.

“Ah, did you fight them off? You probably did. But maybe you wished one of them would overpower you… fling you down and tear off your clothes. None of them were strong enough, were they? I’d be strong enough.”

“Stop it,” you calmly told Jaime. “Or would you prefer I gag you?”

With a smile, Jaime cocked his head to the side. “Oh, are you jealous? Don’t worry—there’s enough of me to go around.”

But you weren’t paying attention to Jaime anymore. Instead, your eyes were trained up to the creaking branches, where three women were hanging. They were discolored and slightly bloated—the bodies must’ve been up for around a day by now. A sick feeling twisted within your gut.

Around the neck of the woman in the center was a sign that said—

“They lay with lions,” read Jaime. “Tavern girls, most likely. Probably served my father’s soldiers. Maybe one of them gave up a kiss and feel—that’s how they earned this.”

“They earned nothing,” you coldly replied, stepping back slightly. “These are victims of war.”

Jaime barked out a laugh. “How hypocritical of you. This was done by your men, Bitter Wolf. The glorious work of Northern freedom fighters. Must make the both of you proud to serve them.”

Before you could spare him a response, Brienne gruffed out, “I don’t serve the Starks. I serve Lady Catelyn.”

“Hm. You tell yourself that,” said Jaime, allowing himself to be pushed around when Brienne shoved him towards a tree, ordering him to stay put. You moved to stand beside him, making sure he wouldn’t flee as Brienne made towards the thick rope tied around the tree trunk keeping the women hung up.

Confused, Jaime asked, “What are you doing?”

“Burying them,” she replied.

“We shouldn’t stay here, we should get back on the river!” said Jaime.

Scoffing, you retorted, “Eager to get home? I’m sure your sister would be delighted to have her fuck-toy handed back to her.”

“In exchange for you darling niece, is it?” Jaime immediately snarked back. “Oh, turns out I’m of great value after all, Bitter Wolf. Admit it. I’m important to you—”

Just then, a few men’s voices echoed through the woods. You pressed yourself closer against the tree, pulling the hood of your cloak up over your head so your face would be obscured by shadows.

“Untie me!” said Jaime.

“Shut up,” you replied. “Keep your head down, and pray they won’t recognize you.”

The voices were growing louder.

“Woah!” one of them said, having spotted Brienne. “What’s your business here?”

“Traveling prisoners,” she hastily responded.

The three men burst out into raucous, incredulous laughter.

“You? But you’re a woman!” exclaimed another one with a pig-nose and blackened teeth. “Well, fuck me! They’ve really gotten desperate for soldiers, haven’t they?”

Clearing her throat, Brienne started to say, “If you’ve quite finished—”

They began cackling at her again. You frowned, fingers curling around your longbow, which you had stealthily covered within your cloak. If you were to play the part of a prisoner, you had to look like it, as well.

“We’ll be going,” Brienne curtly said, in no mood to deal with the oafish men.

The men immediately halted in their laughter. “Now, hold on there. Who do you fight for?”

“The Starks,” said the blonde woman. She briefly glanced at you, nearly hidden behind Jaime. Good.

One of the last men, a red-head, pointed at the two of you. “What did they do?”

After a momentary pause, Jaime spat out, “Apparently eating is now a crime. My friend and I were merely trying to get some food.”

Hm. A good actor.

“By stealing it—which, indeed, is a crime,” Brienne added on.

“It’s not a crime to starve, that’s justice for you,” Jaime murmured. You dared not speak, worried they would recognize you by your voice alone.

The pig-nosed man stepped forward, narrowing his beady eyes at you. “Where are you taking them?”

“Riverrun,” said Brienne.

“Why?”

“Steal from the Tullys, it's their dungeons you’d rot in,” she quickly responded.

“No. I mean why not just kill him?”

A thrill of adrenaline and a twinge of fear shot through you, nestling within your feet, as if preparing yourself to act.

“For stealing a pig?” scoffed Jaime.

One of the men lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve killed for much less. Alright—have it your way… m’lady.”

The red-head squinted at Jaime. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

You were grateful that Jaime’s usually lighter hair was dirtied with mud and soot and appeared far darker than it actually was. “Have you been to Ashemark?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then you don’t know me.”

Just as the three of you were about to stride off, pig-nose queried in a disgustingly prideful manner, “What do you think of these beauties?”

“I hope you gave them quick deaths,” Brienne reluctantly told him.

He smirked maliciously. “Two of them we did, yeah.”

White-hot anger coiled within your abdomen.

“Wait!” exclaimed the red-head. “I do know you! That’s Jaime Lannister!”

With a hoarse chuckle, Jaime said, “Well, I wish you’d have told me, I wouldn’t have had to steal that pig!”

“If this is the Kingslayer, I think I’d know about it,” said Brienne, urging you forward.

Noticing this, the red-head barked out, “And who’s the one in the cloak? Another Lannister?”

Couldn’t be more wrong.

“I was at Whispering Wood,” he vehemently said. “I saw him! They dragged him out of the woods and threw him down before the King!”

The King. Your boy, Robb.

“I have a question for both of you. And I want you to answer at the same time,” pig-nose snarled, hand on his sword’s hilt. “I count to three, you both answer. What’s his name?” He pointed accusingly right at Jaime’s chest.

“One.”

You discreetly lined an arrow up to your bow.

“Two.”

You pulled against the string.

“Three.”

You brandished the bow from out of your cloak and sent the arrow whistling through the air, straight into one of the men’s heads.

Unsheathing her sword, Brienne quickly slashed the throat of the red-head.

“Two quick deaths,” she hissed, before knocking pig-nose down onto the ground. Slow and painful, she drove the blade into his stomach and twisted, gutting him like a pig.

Jaime’s brows were raised, impressed at the both of you.

“Those were Stark men,” he said, surprised that you had willingly killed a man of your nephew’s army.

“There are always a few rotten apples in an orchard,” you easily replied, lowering your bow and knocking back the cowl of your cloak. “And rotten, they were.”

Brienne nodded, before heading off to bury the tavern girls.

“Do you know how long it’s going to take us to get to King’s Landing by walking through fields and forests?” Jaime just about whined, growing tired of the journey.

Without sparing him a glance, you asked, “And what do you propose we do instead?”

“We could take horses.”

“Too noticeable.”

“Take a ship, then.”

“And how will you pay the ship-keepers? Will you pay them with your own gold? The gold you currently do not have?”

Jaime frowned. “Walking, it is. How ever will we pass the time?”

Both you and Brienne glanced at each other, exasperated.

“By putting one foot in front of the other,” the large woman told him, shoving him along.

Stumbling from the impact, Jaime blew out a sigh. “It’ll be such a dull walk.”

“I’m here to escort Lady Stark to King’s Landing and exchange you for her nieces. Dull is fine,” Brienne snapped.

Lolling his head over to you, Jaime spoke, “Is dull fine for you, Bitter Wolf? I’m sure you have so many interesting stories hidden behind that scowling exterior of yours. Tell me one!”

Deciding to indulge him for only just a little bit, you said, “What would you want to know?”

Jaime smiled triumphantly. “Tell me about Winterfell. I overheard one of the guards speaking about it—that Greyjoy pup claimed it as his now, has he?”

Stiffening, you shot Jaime a glare. “I will not be discussing such matters with you.”

His shackles clacked against each other as he raised his hands defensively. “Alright, alright. We’ll talk about something else.” After a lengthy pause, he said, “Tell me about your sister.”

Anger flooded across your features. “Shut up.”

“Why? Have I struck a nerve—?”

“Shut up!” you barked again, which made Jaime fall silent, though there was still a slight smile to his grimy face.

Sensing that he wasn’t going to get anything of value from you, Jaime looked back to Brienne. “What about you? How did you come into Lady Catelyn’s service? That’s something we can talk about, no?”

The blonde remained as sour-faced as ever. “Not your concern, Kingslayer.”

“It had to be recently. You weren’t with her at Winterfell… I would’ve noticed your dour head smacking into the archways.”

The memory of Jaime’s visit to your home flashed across your mind. Things had been so much simpler then. Until he pushed your nephew out of a window with the intent to kill the boy, of course.

“If you don’t serve the Starks… did you pledge yourself to Stannis?” the knight asked.

“Gods, no,” Brienne quickly responded.

Brows raising, Jaime exclaimed, “Ah, Renly, then! Wasn’t expecting that from you. He wasn’t fit to rule over anything more important than a twelve-course meal.”

“Shut your mouth,” Brienne hissed. It seemed Jaime had a particular talent for irritating the life out of both of you.

“Why? I lived with him at court since he was a boy, don’t forget. Could hardly escape the little tulip… skipping down the corridors with his embroidered silks. I knew him far better than you,” Jaime bragged, taking pleasure in getting beneath her skin.

Frowning, Brienne spat, “I knew him just as much as anyone else. As a member of his Kingsguard, he trusted me with everything. He would’ve been a wonderful King.”

Would he? From what you could recall, he never really cared much for the wellbeing of the realm. Nonetheless, you remained silent.

Jaime, however, cackled gleefully. “Sounds like you quite fancied him.”

“I did not fancy him,” she gritted out, a tad too fast.

“Gods, you did! I can see it all over your brutish face! Did you ever tell him? No, I suppose you wouldn’t, being a part of his Kingsguard and whatnot… well, I hate to break it to you, but you weren’t quite Renly’s type. He preferred curly-haired little girls like Loras Tyrell. You’re far too much man for him.”

How ironic, you dryly thought. “I didn’t take you one to gossip,” you said, sensing Brienne’s uncomfort. “Neither of us have quite the appetite for your foul rumors.”

“Oh, but it’s not gossip, Wolf,” said Jaime. “It’s very much true. His proclivities were the worst-kept secret at court!”

“Who gives a shit about what he used to do with his free time? It’s not like he was hurting anybody,” you retaliated. Truthfully, you bore no love for Robert Baratheon’s youngest brother, but since Jaime made it his mission to antagonize him, you couldn’t help but want to defend the late Prince.

Jaime dryly chuckled. “Don’t tell me you fancied him, too. He wouldn’t quite like you much, I’m afraid. He liked his affairs brainless and sweet-faced—two traits you sorely lack, Bitter Wolf. Hm… it’s a shame the throne isn’t made of cocks. They’d have never gotten him off of it.”

Snapping, Brienne grabbed at Jaime’s hair and yanked him back, her sword against his throat in a blink of an eye. You calmly watched, not moving to stop her just yet. She was a loyal, honorable woman, and you were confident Brienne wouldn’t actually kill him if it came down to it.

“Shut your mouth!” she just about shouted, baring her teeth in a snarl.

Jaime winced at the pain of her hand yanking his hair. “I don’t blame him,” he said, tone considerably much softer. “And I don’t blame you, either. We don’t get to choose who we love.”

The insinuation behind his words was as clear as day.

You bitterly scoffed. “But we do get to choose who we have sex with, don’t we, sister-fucker?” Rolling your eyes to the side, you gestured for Brienne to unhand him. “The journey is still long—let’s save our energy by spending it in silence.”

Brienne reluctantly relinquished her hold on him, but before either of them could say anything, the clopping of hooves pulled your attention away.

It was a simple tradesman, tugging along his packhorse, who had bundles of wheat and hay strapped to its back. He waved at the three of you, a smile to his innocent face.

“Hullo. Where are you lot headed?”

“South,” said Jaime. “You?”

“Riverrun,” the man said. “Stayin’ off the Kingsroad, are you?”

The three of you nodded.

“They get you no matter where you go,” he advised. “You can’t run.”

Ominous were his words, but he could simply be speaking of the road tax they were imposing amongst the common folk. Nothing more than that.

Right?

“Looks like you two are safe enough. Meaning no offense, of course… I wouldn’t want to tangle with you lot,” he said with a chesty chuckle. “Seven blessings to you.”

Off the tradesman went, his horse in tow. You briefly wondered if he had recognized you or Jaime. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he didn’t.

“He knows who I am,” Jaime muttered under his breath.

“He doesn’t,” said Brienne.

“Maybe you’re right. But what if you’re not? What if he tells someone? We have to kill him,” Jaime pressed.

Blowing out a breath, you turned to him. “We’re not killing him. Unlike you, Kingslayer, I wouldn’t take innocent lives for no reason.”

Your words seemed to strike him in the face and he reared back with a sneer.

“And you wouldn’t risk his innocent life for your innocent nieces?” Jaime countered.

A beat of silence. You could feel a lump growing in your throat.

Wordless, you beckoned Brienne to push Jaime along your path. There would be no more bloodshed than necessary.

The three of you had stopped for a break by the river. Brienne had told you to get some sleep, that she’d keep watch for a few hours.

Body aching and weary with the long journey, you gratefully nodded, leaning against a tree trunk and pulling your cloak up over your head, slipping into a dreamless slumber.

It seemed that luck was not on your side, for you were startled awake by the clashing of steel not even two hours later. You scrambled onto your feet, blinking away your grogginess, and grabbed the bow you had kept by your side.

Jaime and Brienne were by the river, yelling at each other so quickly that you couldn’t make out anything they were saying. When you rushed closer, your eyes widened upon seeing one of Brienne’s longswords clutched between his grimy hands.

Quiet as a shadow, you nocked an arrow to the drawstring, silently creeping up to the dueling two. Jaime was breathing in a haggard fashion, clearly exhausted by the fight. Brienne, on the other hand, had yet to break a sweat, but her movements were rough and lacked calculated grace.

“That’s enough,” you commanded, tone steely, raising your bow so the tip of the arrow pointed straight at Jaime. “Just in case you’ve forgotten, Kingslayer, we are doing you a favor by taking you back home.”

Before he could reply, a dozen clopping horses resounded from over the bridge, and you swiveled your gaze over to the group with baited breath as they drew closer.

They were carrying Bolton banners of flayed men. And riding on one of the horses was the tradesman you had let go. You squared your jaw. Mercy was to be your downfall.

“Looks like the Bitter Wolf has gotten the better of you, Kingslayer,” said Locke, the man leading the group crooned, thick brows raised.

You exchanged a quick glance with Brienne, who still had her sword raised.

“Let us go,” you said, raising your chin. “As your liege lord’s blood, I order you to let us go—!”

Locke barked out a laugh. “Let you go? If the King in the North hears I had the Kingslayer and his precious aunt and let you go, he’d be taking my head right off. I’d rather he takes his.” The man jutted his head towards Jaime, who began to slowly step back, your arrow grazing against the base of his neck.

There was no way you and Brienne could fight off all these soldiers.

With a scowl, you loosened your hold on your bow as Brienne simultaneously sheathed her longsword in surrender.

One of the men grabbed your bow and arrows, breaking them over his knee with a cackle before he bound your wrists together with rope and roughly tossing you onto a horse. He moved to do the same with Jaime, who had tried to fight off with his sword, but easily batted to the ground in his already-fatigued state, shoved behind you. Brienne was forced onto another horse.

“Never thought I’d see you as a prisoner… for your own nephew, no less,” Jaime leaned forward to murmur into your ear. “It’s not so bad. You get used to it after a while.”

“It looked like Brienne had the upper hand on you,” you coolly said.

Jaime frowned. “She did not. I was in chains. Had I not been shackled, I would’ve easily beaten her.”

You gave him no reply, staring straight ahead with a cold, distant stare. The group began moving, and you swallowed down the urge to puke over the side of the horse.

“When we make camp tonight, there is a great chance those men will take you and Brienne and have their way with you.”

A moment of silence passed before you firmly replied, “They won’t. I am their King’s—”

“Their King believes you to be a traitor for helping me escape,” countered Jaime. “They’ll rape you, and they’ll call it justice. None of these men have ever been with a noblewoman, much less the Bitter Wolf herself.”

There was a thickness to your throat, as if you’d swallowed a mouthful of cold honey.

“It’d be wise if you didn’t resist,” Jaime said, voice lowering. “They’ll hurt you more if you do.”

“You want me to just let them rape me?” you asked incredulously, loathing the way your voice tremored ever so slightly. You were afraid.

Jaime blew out a sigh. “I stood guard outside the Queen Rhaella’s chambers as the King raped her. Night after night, I could hear her screaming. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I asked Jonothor Darry once, ‘Are we not sworn to defend the Queen, as well?’ He didn’t even look at me when he replied, ‘We are… but not from him.’ And so I had no choice but to stand and listen. Listen to her pleading, crying, trying to fight him off—which only made the Mad King angrier. The maids said she looked as if she was mauled by a wild animal by the time he was done with her. Scratches, bruises, and bites littered her body.” There was a long stretch of silence before Jaime bowed his head. “It is better you let them get it over with. Let them have what they want, and they’d have no reason to hurt you anymore.”

“You said you had no choice,” you hoarsely said, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “You always have a choice, Jaime. Always.”

Though you couldn’t see his expression, you could imagine the way he would grimly chuckle. “I realized that right before I put my sword through his back.”

Your nose stung as you sucked in a chestful of air. “They’ll kill Brienne if she fights them. They can’t kill me, but they can and would kill her if she fights back—which she will.”

This time, Jaime was the one who didn’t grace you with a response, brows furrowed and his thoughts far, far away.

The chains around your wrists were cold. There was an itch on your back, but with your hands tightly bound together, there was little you could do about it. And so you slumped against the tree, stomach cinched with hunger, and back itchy as you watched the Bolton men eat their roasted meats over the fire, drinking fresh river water that your throat ached for.

Jaime and Brienne were bound to other trees across the camp. From this far, you couldn’t quite see Brienne, but you could see Jaime as clear as day—and he was staring out into the distance, not a single thought behind those green eyes of his.

Once the men had had their suppers and were mildly drunk on the wine they brought along with them, they stumbled onto their feet.

“I’ll take the big bitch first,” you overheard one of them proclaim. “You lot… can tame the Bitter Wolf. We can switch after.”

They burst into raucous cheers. Fear coiled within the bottom of your chest.

Let them have what they want, you could hear Jaime’s voice say.

His green eyes were on you now, watching you with furrowed brows.

“My Lord, I am Brienne of Tarth. Lady Catelyn Stark commanded me to deliver Ser Jaime to King’s Landing—!” Brienne began to protest when four men began dragging her up onto her feet, but was quickly cut off.

Grinning maliciously, Locke interrupted, “Catelyn Stark is a treasonous cunt. Orders were to take the Kingslayer and the Bitter Wolf alive. Nobody said shit about you.”

You didn’t see it when it happened. Sickening thuds, cracking bones, and a resounding slap. Brienne’s screams as they began beating her. From what you could hear, she put up quite a fight. Tears filled your eyes, and you yanked on your chains, knowing it would do absolutely nothing.

“Take her over there where it’s dark. I’d like a little privacy,” said Locke. “The Wolf can go over there—behind the bushes.”

Two men seized you on each side. Though you didn’t fight as wildly Brienne did, you were more calculated in your retaliation, allowing them to think you weren’t going to resist. But after the first few steps, you jerked away, shoving one of the men down onto the ground and using the cold metal of your shackles to wind around the other’s throat. Gurgling chokes erupted from his purpling lips.

You pressed, and pressed, and pressed—

Until another man came and hauled you off, striking you twice across the face, both of your cheeks stinging with the impact. You were bleeding—you could feel it dripping down your jaw, but you didn’t quite feel the pain just yet.

In the distance, you could hear Brienne’s yells echo through the trees.

You bared your teeth in a snarl when the man yanked your head back by your hair, eliciting a tear to fall from one of your eyes. “I’m going to have fun with you, Bitter Wolf. You’re a pretty little thing when you cry—maybe I’ll ask your nephew if I can keep you.”

“You think my nephew would want me to be raped?” you growled as he began dragging you away.

“He doesn’t give a shit what happens to you… fucking traitor,” he snarled, brandishing a dull knife gleaming with the reflection of the fire. The blade tore through your tunic and smallclothes, and you struggled to keep yourself covered with the few remaining scraps clinging onto your skin.

Your breath caught in your throat when he began undoing his own pants, a scream tearing from your chest when he held you down with his free arm.

“No!” you shouted, so loud it felt like the ground beneath you rumbled. “ROBB WILL HAVE YOUR HEAD FOR THIS! GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF OF ME!”

The man’s hand wrapped around your throat, his thumb digging into your airway. You were beginning to grow lightheaded

Without thinking, you garbled out a cry, “BRIENNE! JAIME! JAIME, PLEASE!”

Please what, you fool? you thought. Brienne can’t help you. Jaime can’t do anything. Nobody can save you.

You kicked out against the captor, landing a solid punch to his face as you tried to crawl away.

From the camp, Jaime’s jaw twitched upon hearing you cry out his name, heavy and broken with desperation. The Lannister glanced up at Locke.

“You know who she is, right?”

Locke smiled. “Some big, dumb bitch from who knows where? Hm… never been with a woman that big.”

“Brienne of Tarth. Her father is Lord Selwyn Tarth. Ever heard of Tarth? They call it the Sapphire Isle… every sapphire in Westeros was mined in Tarth. I’d bargain that Lord Selwyn would pay his daughter’s weight in sapphires if she’s returned to him,” said Jaime, trying to appear nonchalant. “Only if she’s alive, though. Don’t think he’d pay you much if you brought him his dead, defiled daughter.”

After a long moment of consideration, Locke turned and called out, “Bring the big one back here!”

From the distant dark, Jaime heard you scream out again. You were still fighting.

“I don’t think it’s wise for you to handle the Bitter Wolf in such a way. It’s better to leave her honor unbesmirched. See, if you’re going to sell her off to Robb Stark… he loves his aunt very much. I saw it myself, during the year I was their captive. He wouldn’t take kindly to his kin being tossed around and raped in such a fashion,” he said.

Narrowing his dark eyes, Locke stepped closer to Jaime. “Unbesmirched?”

“Not defiled,” Jaime clarified.

Much more reluctant, Locke huffed out a sigh, before calling out to his men. “Bring the Bitter Wolf back here!” He fixed his gaze back on Jaime. “Fancy word for a fancy man.”

“I hated to read as a child. My father forced me to study the books every morning before I could practice with my sword or horse. Two hours, every day, holed up in the maester’s chambers,” replied the knight. He caught sight of you being dragged back to the camp, your face bloody, leaves and foliage clinging to your hair, and your tunic torn off of you. “For God's sake, get some clothes on her! She’ll catch a cold and freeze to death in such weather! Little Robb Stark wants her alive, doesn’t he?” Jaime urged, cocking one of his brows upward.

With a haggard sigh, Locke undid his cloak and shoved it onto your shivering, horrified form, your arms crossed over your chest in an effort to salvage what little dignity you had left. Jaime’s loose, running tongue had saved you from being raped. You grabbed at the cloak and wrapped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around you.

Brienne, on the other hand, was brought back fully clothed, still struggling. Blood dripped from her nose, but she seemed otherwise physically fine.

“Your father…” said Locke, “he’d pay your weight in gold to get you back?”

“You’ll be a rich man till the end of your days,” he responded. “And your sons will be rich men and their sons after them. Lands, titles… you’ll have them all. The North can’t win this war. You’re a smart man, you understand that, don’t you? We have the numbers, and we have the gold. Fighting bravely for a losing cause is admirable—but fighting for a winning cause is far more rewarding.”

Locke nodded once. “Hard to argue with that.”

Jaime momentarily glanced over at you, staring at him with wide eyes.

He looked back at Locke. “Now that we’re speaking man to man… I wonder if you really need to keep me chained to this tree. I’m not asking to be freed from my constraints, but if I could sleep lying down, my back would thank you for it. I’m not as young and spritely as I once was.”

The man in front of him smiled. “None of us are. Unchain Ser Jaime from the tree. I suppose you’ll be wanting something to eat.”

“Hm, I’m famished, actually,” said Jaime, his stomach giving a loud rumble at the enticing thought of hot food.

“Famished—another fancy word,” mused Locke. “We’ve got a spare partridge on the fire.”

“Splendid. I do like partridge.”

Now free to stand, Locke led the Lannister closer to the fire—closer to you. You watched with narrowed eyes, unsure of what was happening, still reeling from the fact that you were nearly raped.

“Bring the bird here, and a carving knife.” There was a dark glint to Locke’s eyes that you misliked. “Any other fancy words you want to tell me, Ser Jaime?”

Before the blonde could reply, Locke had kicked out at Jaime’s leg, shoving him against a wooden log, his cheek painfully pressing against the dry bark. Two other men came forward to hold him down, and a third brought the knife.

Locke took it from him, pressing the blade just below Jaime’s one of eyes, squeezed shut. “You think you’re the smartest man there is… that everyone alive has to bow and scrape and lick your boots.”

“My father—”

“And if you get in any trouble, all you have to do is say ‘my father!’ and that’s it. All your troubles are gone. Hm? You got something to say? Want to tell me more about your rich, fancy childhood of books and horses? Careful, Kingslayer. You don’t want to say the wrong thing. You’re nothing without your daddy. But your daddy ain’t here! Never forget that.”

The blade Locke was holding came away from Jaime’s eye.

You blew out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

And it came down onto his right hand, cleaving it right off his arm.

Jaime screamed so loud you flinched back against the tree in shock, eyes wider than saucers. Dark blood spurted from the amputated limb. You yelled out his name, chest rising and falling unevenly with rapid, panicked breaths.

Locke turned his greedy eyes to you, slanting the crimson-slickened blade against your cheek, smearing Jaime’s blood all over your face.

“You keep silent, Wolf,” he snarled, grabbing at your face so you would be forced to stare at Jaime writhing in raw, undulated pain. “Listen to him… listen to his screaming. Music to my fucking ears.”

And so you did.

For the rest of the night, you could do nothing but listen to Jaime’s agonized yells.

In the next hour, he had passed out from the pain, clutching his severed hand to his chest.

“Jaime,” you whispered, trying to nudge his unmoving body with your foot, worried he was dead. “Jaime.”

He never replied.

The hand thumped against his sternum with each step the horse took. It smelled rancid: of rotting flesh and dried blood, accompanied by the stench of shame.

Shame.

That was all Jaime could feel for himself.

He was ashamed.

He could feel your eyes on him. Those pretty eyes of winter, usually cold and hardened… now gaunt with trauma and exhaust. If he looked closely, he’d be able to see the concern behind your irises, as well.

But he didn’t look closely, because he was too ashamed to. His own gaze was rooted to the moving ground, watching the foliage pass by. He felt like he needed to puke, but his stomach bore nothing for him to retch. The woodsy dirt seemed to grow closer and closer with every blink…

“How many of those fingers do you think we could shove up his ass?” one of the Bolton men jeered.

Locke coughed out a laugh. “Depends on if he’s had any practice. Is that the kind of thing you and your sister go for, Kingslayer? Did she loosen you up for us?”

The knight teetered on his horse. Your gaze flickered from him to your captors, brows furrowing.

“He’s going to fall,” Brienne called out, her voice rattling through the trees. The men paid her no mind, going on with their sneers and their crude japes. Again, she exclaimed, “He’s going to fall off the horse, someone help him!”

They all watched as Jaime slid off the poor creature’s back, falling face first into a schlop of cold mud. He groaned at the impact, weakly squirming in a fruitless attempt to try to push himself back up.

“Water. Please, water,” he croaked just as the group came to a grueling halt. Locke swung himself off his horse to stand in front of Jaime.

In a cruel manner, he unstoppered his leather water pouch, only to pour its contents over the top of Jaime’s head.

“Just give the bloody man some water,” you snarled. “It’s been days. He’ll keel over without it.”

Locke rolled his eyes. “Oh, enough.” With a smirk, he shoved another waterskin into Jaime’s single quivering hand.

Greedily, Jaime ripped it open with his teeth and tipped the pouch bag to chug down what was inside.

“Hm. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a man drink horse piss that fast,” Locke observed.

Jaime doubled over, gagging, puking out everything he had just gulped down into the filthy mud. Two cackling men seized him on each side, but Jaime was quick to react, elbowing one in the stomach and grabbing his sword.

It was one against a dozen… Jaime when he had two hands would’ve beat the lot of them in a blink of an eye. But he was no longer Jaime with two hands. Just the one.

A man kicked out at the back of Jaime’s knee, sending him sprawling forward.

“Stop!” Brienne yelled, jumping off her horse. More men surrounded her, beating her down to the ground, as she was tied and weaponless. They placed the tips of their blades to her throat, telling her she had gone far enough.

You wisely stayed up on your horse, watching as Locke landed several kicks into Jaime’s stomach and chest. A sickening crack sounded out through the woods. You weren’t really sure what broke, but it didn’t sound good.

“Stop! Stop hurting him,” you gruffed. “You’ve already taken his hand. He poses no more of a threat to you than I.”

“And what are you proposing, Bitter Wolf?” Locke asked, spreading his arms out. “That I beat you, instead?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, you spat out in a steely manner, “Yes. Go ahead. Beat me until my skin turns purple and blue. It won’t change the fact that you’d simply be wasting your time.”

Locke’s upper lip curled back into a snarl. “Fucking traitor.” He glared down at Jaime. “Be grateful the Bitter Wolf has decided to abandon her family for the side of the enemy. If I had it my way, I’d cut off your other hand and stuff it down your throat.”

A breath of relief slipped from your lips when Locke stepped away, leaving Jaime to lie in the mud for a few more seconds. The men eventually tossed him back onto his horse as if he were a sack of potatoes.

He wheezed every time he inhaled, still refusing to meet your gaze.

“Thank—” wheeze, “—you.”

“You did the same for me,” you quietly replied.

Neither of you spoke after that, continuing the journey on in a mutual, respectable silence.

Harrenhal was much larger than you’d remembered. Then again, you were only a small child last time you came, hyper-focused on all the food and fighting.

The Boltons hauled you off your horse, shoving you onto the ground, followed by Brienne and Jaime.

From in front of you stepped Roose Bolton.

Locke kicked Jaime to the muddy ground. “I give you the Kingslayer, Lord Bolton.”

“Pick him up,” he said with a dour expression. “He’s lost a hand.”

Cackling, Locke shook his head. “No, my Lord. He has it here!” He pointed at the severed limb tied loosely around his neck.

Roose scowled, stepping forward to rip the hand off of Jaime. “Take this away.”

“What? And send it to his father?” asked Locke, slightly miffed.

A muscle jumped in Roose’s jaw. “You’ll hold your tongue unless you want to lose it. This is the King’s uncle.”

The realization of the Bolton’s betrayal to Robb dawned upon you like a sharp strike to your cheek. “You… you fucking traitor!” you snarled, chest heaving with anger. “Fucking traitor!”

Roose arched a sharp brow. “Look who’s talking, Bitter Wolf. We’re on the same side now, you and I.”

You wanted to snap back, tell him that you’d never be on the side of the Lannisters. But you held your tongue—perhaps if you could play the part of a traitor to the North, they would treat you less harshly. Maybe even allow you to integrate into their group after long enough. You’d be a spy of sorts. You’d have to be patient… and play the long game.

“Cut them free. Apologies, my Ladies. You’re both under my protection now,” Bolton ordered. Someone sliced through your ropes, and you struggled to push yourself onto your legs, weak with exhaustion. “Find suitable rooms for our guests. We’ll speak later.”

Just as Roose was about to stride away, Jaime croaked out, “Lord Bolton. Has there been word from the capital?”

“You haven’t heard?” he said. “Stannis Baratheon laid siege to King’s Landing… sailed into Blackwater Bay. Stormed the gates with thousands of men. And your sister, how can I put this…?”

Fear danced clear as day across Jaime’s features.

“Your sister is alive and well. Your father’s forces prevailed,” Roose hummed. Overcome with a sudden barrage of overwhelming sensations, Jaime jerked forward, falling to his knees with a pained groan. “Ser Jaime isn’t well. Take him to Qyburn.”

You watched as they led Jaime away, somewhere inside the castle. Another man nudged you and Brienne forward, taking the both of you to the baths, where you were to clean yourself up.

When the hot, steaming water kissed your skin, you couldn’t help but moan out in relief. It’d been months since you bathed in anything but cold, frigid river water. Brienne sank into the waters across from you, blowing out a sigh and respectfully avoiding her gaze to give you a bit of privacy.

“I never had the chance to thank you for taking me so far. Or trying to, at least,” you quietly said as you began scrubbing the dirt away from your skin. “Thank you. You’re a good woman.”

An indiscernible look flickered over her expression. “I failed you. I failed Lady Catelyn. You shouldn’t be thankful for that.”

“You kept me alive. You saved my life several times. You helped me during a long, rough journey. If that doesn’t warrant my gratitude, I don’t know what does.”

The two of you were silent for a while longer. You leaned back to wash all the accumulated dirt and oil away from your hair, lathering your body with fresh soap by the stony bathtub’s edge.

“May I ask you a question, Lady Stark?”

“You may.”

“Why does everyone call you the Bitter Wolf?”

You let the question soak in for a few seconds as you rinsed away the soap. “I haven’t smiled since the Mad King killed my father and my brother. Not much to smile about, anyway. I suppose they also call me that because I’m none too friendly around people.”

There was a beat of silence. “I’m sorry, my Lady.”

“Sorry for what? Sorry for asking or sorry that it happened?”

“Both.”

“It’s alright.” Another long moment of quiet. Then, you asked, “Do you ever miss home, Brienne?”

The blonde tilted her head. “Sometimes. My father is a good man, and Tarth is beautiful. I often wonder what my life would be like if I never left. If I stayed and married a nobleman, like my father wanted.”

“But it’s not what you want,” you quietly said.

“No, my Lady. It’s not.” Brienne scrubbed away the dried blood on her bare shoulders with a brush. How it had even managed to get there, she wasn't sure. “Do you miss home?”

The thought of home made your chest ache. The fluffy snow, the direwolves, your comfortable bed. “Yes. More than anything, I miss my family. I miss my brothers, all of whom are gone now. I miss my sister, dead long ago. I miss my nephews, two of them may very well be long gone by now. I miss Robb and Catelyn, and I can only hope he’s not giving her too hard of a time. I can only hope he doesn’t hate me, that he can find it within him to forgive me. And I miss my nieces. It seems our little quest to save them has come to an abrupt end.”

Brienne shifted uncomfortably. The idea of failure still hung heavy over her broad shoulders.

After another ten minutes, Brienne had found that her fingers were beginning to prune, and so she slipped out of the tub, wrapping a thin linen towel about her tall, dripping figure.

She bid you adieu, but not without first saying, “I’ll protect you, my Lady. I may have failed in bringing you to King’s Landing and escorting your nieces out, but I will protect you with my life.”

Though you didn’t smile, Brienne could catch the faint look of fondness behind your usually frigid irises. “Thank you, Brienne. Truly.”

The big blonde exited the bathroom, having a guard lead her to her chambers.

You sank further into the tub, wishing to just stay there for a little while longer and forget. Besides, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be offered a bath would be, and you wanted to savor it for as long as you possibly could.

You grabbed a scrubbing brush, lathering it with soap before running it up and down your body, still feeling immensely dirty despite washing it all away. The bristles scratched your skin raw, but you didn’t stop, memories of men touching and shoving you flashing across your thoughts.

“Not so hard,” said a familiar voice. Your head snapped up, thinking Brienne had come back for a moment, before your eyes met Jaime. He was tired and weak, tugging his dirty clothes off. “You’ll scrub all your skin off.”

Brows furrowing, you sank lower beneath the water to make sure he wouldn’t see anything. You remained silent, simply watching as he made his way to the bath, nude as the day he was born.

It seemed Qyburn had done quite a number to his stump, which was cleanly bandaged and no longer bore the coloring of rotten flesh.

When he lowered himself into the tub, he let out a long groan of relief. The feeling of hot water kissing his body was a simple pleasure he missed dearly. Jaime noticed you shifting farther away, until you were pressed up against the opposite edge.

“Don’t worry,” he said, voice gravelly. “I told you before, haven’t I? I would never… not unless you invited me, of course.”

Those were his very same words from all those moons ago, when he was standing in front of your chambers in Winterfell. You looked at him, expression softening.

“Your hand. What did Qyburn do?” you quietly asked.

Jaime waved the bandaged stump just above the water’s surface. “Want to see?”

Apprehensive, you slowly crossed the tub until you were only half an arm’s length away from him. With gentle hands, you reached out to take his arm, inspecting the wrappings and the visible outline of the stitches beneath it.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yes. More than when it was lopped off, actually,” Jaime admitted, surprised at himself for being so honest with you.

“And does it hurt now?”

“I was given milk of the poppy,” said the knight. “Numbs the pain.”

A shadow of disappointment danced across the green of his irises when your hands fell away from him.

You were entirely aware that the both of you were naked, and he was so close you could feel his leg brushing yours. You’d never been this close to a man in the nude before. Clearing your throat, you stepped back just a bit.

“If I faint, pull me out,” said Jaime. “I don’t intend to be the first Lannister to die in a bathtub.”

“I should let you drown,” you murmured.

The blonde man tilted his head to the side. “But you wouldn’t.”

“No, Ser Jaime. I wouldn’t.”

“And why is that? You’ve grown fond of me?”

The quiet that stretched between you felt heavy and tense, thick enough to cut through with a knife.

“I don’t know,” was all you said.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Jaime said, a mild grin to his cracked lips. “You’re fond of me. When we spoke at Winterfell, you had the same look. Then it was gone when I was your nephew’s prisoner. And now it’s back… not many look at me in such a way.”

You paused in your scrubbing for a moment to look at him. “What are you talking about? You’re the Golden Lion. Everyone loves you.”

“No. They all want me to think they love me, because they’re scared. I know how they really feel. I’ve seen their hatred for seventeen years, face after face. They all despise me. Judge me. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. A man without honor. Your law-sister, Lady Catelyn, had that face. Brienne of Tarth, too. Hell, even Roose Bolton, who betrayed his King in the North… he still looks down upon me. Everyone but you.”

You blew out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. What were you supposed to say to that?

Before you could think up a response, Jaime continued on, “Have you ever heard of wildfire? The Mad King was obsessed with it. He loved to watch people burn. The way their skin blackened and blistered and melted off their bones. Each time he burned a victim, he’d drag his Queen to the chambers and rape her until she passed out, then do it again and again, until he’s had his fill. He burned lords he didn’t like… Hands who disobeyed him. He burned anyone who was against him. Before long, half the country was against him. Aerys Targaryen saw traitors everywhere. So he had his pyromancer place caches of wildfire all over the city… beneath the Sept of Baelor, and the slums of Flea Bottom. Under houses, stables, and taverns. Even beneath the Red Keep itself. He burned your father during a trial by combat, claiming fire to be his house’s champion. Your brother was put in a Tyroshi strangling device… forced to watch as your father cooked in his armor, and choked himself to death trying to save him.”

The corners of your eyes stung with a warbling film of tears. You knew Rickard and Brandon Stark were killed by the Mad King, but not like this. Not in such a miserable, painful way. You ducked your head as you furiously swiped the stray water away from your cheeks.

“Finally, the day of reckoning came—Robert Baratheon marched on the capital after his victory on the Trident. But my father arrived first, with the whole Lannister army at his back, promising to defend the city against the rebels. I knew my father better than that… he’s never been one to pick the losing side. I told the Mad King as much. I urged him to surrender peacefully. But the King didn’t listen to me, nor did he listen to Varys, who tried to warn him. Hm, but he did listen to Grand Maester Pycelle… that grey sunken cunt.”

A long pause. You took a step closer when you noticed Jaime slumping back with a haggard sigh, the rims of his eyes red as he recounted the story. He was tearing up, just as you were. This was equally as traumatizing for him as it was for you. You had reached out, but didn’t touch him, stopping yourself before you did.

“‘You can trust the Lannisters,’ he said. ‘The Lannisters have always been true friends of the crown.’ So we opened the gates and my father sacked the city. Once again, I came to the King, begging him to surrender. The blood everywhere, the dead bodies… it was a massacre, Lady Y/N. In response, Aerys told me to… he told me to bring him my father’s head. Then he turned to his pyromancer. ‘Burn them all,’ he said.” A tear fell down Jaime’s grimy cheek. “‘Burn them in their homes. Burn them in their beds.’ If you were commanded to kill your own father and stand by while thousands of men, women, and children burned alive, would you have done it? Would you have kept your oath then?”

Your lips parted. “No,” you hoarsely whispered.

Jaime blinked away the tears, inhaling sharply. “First, I killed the pyromancer. And then when the King turned to flee, I drove my sword into his back. ‘Burn them all,’ he kept saying. So I slit his throat. I don’t think he expected to die. He… he meant to burn with the rest of us, and rise again, reborn as a dragon to turn his enemies into ash. That’s where your brother, Ned Stark, found me.”

“Why didn’t you tell him?” you whispered. “Ned would’ve listened—”

“You think the honorable Eddard Stark wanted to hear my side? He judged me guilty the moment he set eyes on me.” Jaime’s chest started to stagger with heavy, uneven breaths. “By what right does the wolf judge the lion?”

“No, Ned would have heard you out if you explained—”

Jaime’s face twisted into one of frustration. “Your love for your family blinds you, just as mine does for me. You were the only one, Lady Y/N… the only one…”

A wheeze and a puff. Jaime teetered forward, eyes slipping shut.

Quickly, you darted forward just before he could fall into the water, holding him slightly upright within your arms. His face pressed against your shoulder and he groaned out something incoherent.

“Guards!” you called. “Help!”

“The only one who called me Ser Jaime before calling me a Kingslayer,” he muttered against your skin, just before the guards rushed in to help him out.

The dress they had given you to wear was an ugly shade of yellow. It was not at all akin to the type of dresses you would wear up in the North, which were thick and voluminous with high collars. No, this one had a tight bodice with a flowing skirt, its neckline square and plunging. It was a dress Southern ladies would be quite comfortable with, you were sure, but you were no Southerner.

Jaime’s green eyes had shimmered with slight mirth upon seeing you uncomfortably amble into Harrenhal’s mess hall, two guards forcing you out of your chambers so you would speak with Roose Bolton. In front of the knight was a generous plate full of roasted meat, along with a heaping of creamed potatoes and glazed carrots. It was a most appetizing meal, especially to a man who hadn’t had proper, hot food in longer than a year, but it proved to be hard to cut into the meat with just one hand.

“Lannister gold,” said the knight, glancing at your dress as you took a seat next to him, before fixing his stare on your sour expression. He then went back to trying to cut his meat with his one hand. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. Not as bad as hers, anyway.”

To his other side sat Brienne, who was forced into a frumpy pink dress, the collar rimmed with brown fur. Somehow, she looked even more out of place than you did.

“I see my men have found you both appropriate attire,” said Lord Bolton, smirking at your clear uncomfort.

“Yes, most kind of them,” Brienne replied, though it lacked any true sincerity. “You’re a Stark bannerman, Lord Bolton. I am acting on Lady Stark’s orders to accompany Lady Y/N and Jaime Lannister to King’s Landing.”

With a scoff, Roose rolled his eyes. “If Catelyn Stark wasn’t the Wolf-King’s mother, he would have hanged her for treason.”

Growing frustrated at Jaime’s obvious struggles, Brienne reached over for a fork and stabbed it through the meat, allowing for him to cut through it easily.

“I should send you back to Robb Stark, Kingslayer,” said Roose.

You narrowed your eyes. “And here I assumed you already betrayed my nephew?”

“Gold is a tempting wealth, one that the Lannisters have in abundance,” Roose said, words sharp. “But it is easier to offer it than to dole it out.”

With raised brows, Jaime popped a piece of tender meat into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “And here you sit, watching me fail at dinner rather than tossing me into the back of a carriage and dumping me in front of Robb Stark. I wonder why that is.”

“Wars cost money. Many people would pay a great deal for you,” Roose told Jaime. Then, he looked at you.

“And we both know who would pay the most. Or who would make you pay the most if he found out you captured me and sent me back up North for a summary execution.”

A set of cutlery was placed out in front of you, and you trained your stare onto a dull butter knife. Not as sharp as you would’ve liked, but it’d do.

“Perhaps the safest thing to do is to kill all three of you and burn your bodies,” said Lord Bolton.

You wrapped your fingers around the butter knife, but, to your surprise, Jaime’s hand let go of his fork to gently rest over yours, as if to stop you from doing anything rash. This didn’t go past Roose’s notice, and he narrowed his cold, pale grey eyes.

“It would be, yes… if you truly believed my father would never find out about it.”

His hand slipped off of yours.

“King Robb is keeping him quite busy. He doesn’t have time for anything else.”

Humming Jaime, bobbed his head. “He’d make time for you.”

It seemed that Roose Bolton was convinced. “As soon as you’re well enough to travel, I will allow you to go to King’s Landing… as restitution for the mistakes my soldiers made. And you will swear to tell your father the truth—that I played no part in your maiming.”

“Very well,” said Jaime, seeming satisfied. It dawned on you that he thought both you and Brienne were to go with him. “My Ladies, may our journey continue without further hindrance.”

You bit down on your tongue when the Bolton simply smiled cruelly. “Oh, they won’t be going with you. They’re charged with abetting treason.”

Incredulous, Jaime said, “I’m afraid I must insist.”

“You’re in no place to insist on anything,” Roose scathingly replied. “I would have hoped you’d learned your lesson about overplaying your position.”

“Then let me insist. Send me back to my nephew,” you barked, brows knitting. “He can deal with me as he sees fit. I’m not going to be your prisoner.”

With a wide smile, Roose Bolton pushed away from the table to stand. “Oh, but your nephew doesn’t know you’re here, Bitter Wolf. And I intend to keep it that way. It seems like you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could ask him anything else, Lord Bolton was already striding away. You exchanged a worried glance with both Jaime and Brienne, fear clutching around your heart.

They’d put you in chains, and tossed you into a dark room, Brienne in another far, far away from you to prevent an elaborate escape scheme from forming between the two of you. The one they put you in had little to light the space other than a single lonely torch hanging by the doorway, and a small, rectangular window that filtered pale moonlight through the glass. You sat on one of the cold, uncomfortable chairs, arms wrapped around yourself as you shivered. The dress they’d given you wasn’t one fit for the cold. You supposed they were probably aware of that.

The door on the other end of the chambers creaked open. In strode Jaime, his arm in a sling, a guard following close behind.

You rose to your feet, face solemn.

“I thought you’d left already.”

“Tomorrow,” replied Jaime. He stepped closer. “I tried to bargain with Roose. He’s adamant on keeping you here. I’m sorry. I’ll convince my father to buy you out. No man can deny the gold when it’s presented right in front of him.”

You wrenched your gaze away, fixing them upon the torch’s warbling flames. “Why?”

The blonde knight tilted his head. “What do you mean, why? I’m going to get you out.”

“Yes, I got that,” you softly said. This time, your eyes met his inquisitive green ones. “But why would you want me to get out?”

“Because I… I owe you a debt. You released me from my imprisonment,” he replied.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you strode forward the rest of the way, until you stood only inches from Jaime. You lowered your voice as you said, “I did it for a reason, Ser Jaime. Please… when you get to King’s Landing, swear you’ll send my nieces back to Robb. Send the girls to him, and consider the debt repaid.”

Jaime nodded. “I swear it.”

You studied him for a moment longer, eyes watering and nose stinging. “I wish there’s more you could do than simply swear. But I trust you, Ser Jaime. I trust you.”

Something within his expression changed, as if crumbling apart, piece by piece. He could see the anguish written across your complexion, clear as day. “Lord Bolton is traveling tomorrow. He’s going to the Twins for Edmure Tully’s wedding.”

Your eyes widened. “Edmure Tully? So… Robb isn’t the one marrying the Frey girl? It’s Edmure?”

“Your nephew married a foreign girl,” said Jaime with a hint of a smile. “Stirred up quite a scandal amongst your people.”

“Oh, Robb. Foolish, foolish boy. The Freys couldn’t have taken that kindly,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose, remembering the medic he was making heart-shaped eyes at. “But if Roose isn’t loyal to Robb anymore… he must be scheming something. What it is, I’m not sure.”

After a second, Jaime cleared his throat. Guilt splayed over his striking features. “You know what this means, don’t you? You’ll be left alone in this castle with Locke and his men. Without Roose, and without me.”

“Not another rape speech, Jaime,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Suddenly, Jaime’s hand darted out to grasp one of yours. Your eyes snapped up to his again, lips parting at the unexpected touch.

“Offer them money. As much as they might want. Even if you don’t have it, offer it. These men are greedy, sniveling creatures. Offer it to them, and they might just leave you alone,” said Jaime, deadly serious.

You looked away again, squaring your jaw and nodding. A second passed before Jaime let your hand go.

“Jaime,” you whispered, fear suddenly shadowing over your chest. “If your father buys me out, I’ll simply be moving from captive to captive. I won’t be returning home, will I?”

The blonde man’s features softened ever so slightly. “I wouldn’t be your captor,” he said. “I could never find it within me to stand back and watch you suffer just the same as I did.”

“I wouldn’t be your captive. I’d be your father’s. All my options seem to be dead ends for me,” you responded. Utter hopelessness flooded your features. “Thank you for trying, nonetheless. Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

It might have just been a trick of the quivering fire’s light, but you could’ve sworn there was a whisper of tears in the corner of Jaime’s eyes. “Goodbye, Lady Stark.”

He held his hand out for a handshake, and you took it firm and steady. With a dip of his head, he turned and left your chambers.

And then, you were alone.

“Qyburn hopes your father will force the Citadel to give him back his chain,” said Roose, striding up behind Jaime as the knight mounted a horse, struggling with only his one hand to aid him.

Snorting, Jaime retorted, “My father will make him Grand Maester if he grows me a new hand.”

Roose hummed with thought. “You’ll give my regards to Lord Tywin, then, I trust?”

A nod, and a slight smile. “Tell Robb Stark I’m sorry I couldn’t make his uncle’s wedding. And that his aunt dearly misses him. The Lannisters send their regards.”

There was a malicious sort of glimmer to Roose’s pale eyes. He bowed his head.

And off Jaime went, his horse walking slowly out the gate, a few Bolton loyalists accompanying him. There were eyes on him from every point of the castle, burning into him. Locke awaited by the gate a sneer to his lips. “Safe journey, Kingslayer. Ooh, nothing to say? I liked you better before… I don’t remember chopping your balls off, too!”

Jaime remained wisely silent, jaw clenching.

“Don’t you worry about your companions. We’ll take good care of them. I’ve never had Wolf before, you know?”

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. It settled heavy within Jaime’s stomach.

He rode out of the castle without looking back.

They took a pause on their journey around half a day later. His legs were weary and numb, but his stub throbbed. Qyburn took care of that, placing a strange sort of white ointment over the stitches before rebandaging them. In no time, the pain seemed to ebb away.

After a bit of smalltalk on Qyburn’s rather disturbing confession to performing experiments on diseased men, Jaime swallowed uneasily and said, “You were in charge of the ravens at Harrenhal, no? Did you get a bird off to Brienne’s father in Tarth?”

Even if there was nowhere for you to go, Jaime surmised that at least Brienne would be able to return home with a proper ransom, right?

“A bird flew off and a bird flew back,” said Qyburn. “Lord Selwyn Tarth offered three hundred gold dragons for his daughter’s safe return.”

“A fair offer,” hummed Jaime as he stood up to his feet to head back to his horse.

“Yes. An offer Locke won’t take.”

Jaime faltered in his steps. “Why not?”

Qyburn frowned in thought. “He’s convinced Lord Tarth owns all the sapphire mines in Westeros. He feels he’s been cheated.”

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

Jaime blew out a long breath. “They’d be fools to kill her.”

“Hm. These men have been at war for a long time. Most of them will be dead by winter, and they’re well aware of this. Both she and the Bitter Wolf will be their entertainment for tonight. Beyond tonight, I don't think they'd care very much what happens to her. They’ll have to keep the Stark alive for Lord Bolton, however. Use her as they see fit until he returns.”

Brows knitting together, Jaime shook his head. There was no chance he’d be able to live with himself knowing he condemned Brienne to her death, knowing you’d be raped and tortured and beaten when he could’ve put a stop to it.

He turned to one of the men accompanying him. “We have to return to Harrenhal,” he said.

“Why?” asked the soldier, upper lip curling with contempt.

“I’ve… left something behind.”

“Absolutely not. I’ve got orders from Lord Bolton to take you to your father in King’s Landing, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Cocking his face, Jaime narrowed his keen green eyes. “You think you’ll get a reward?”

“I serve Lord Bolton. Any appreciation from your father—”

Cutting him off, Jaime hissed out, “Let me explain something to you. When my father sees me, the first thing he’s going to ask is what happened to my hand. And I’ll be telling him that you were the one that chopped it off.”

“I had nothing to do with—!” “Or,” Jaime interrupted once again, lifting a finger, “I could tell him this man saved my life, and he’ll reward you greatly. We’re returning to Harrenhal. Now.”

The man in front of Jaime considered his words for a moment, before reluctantly nodding, ordering the rest of the men to get ready to turn back.

He was going back to get you, one way or another.

Jaime hurriedly leapt off his horse once he was within the dreary confines castle. From afar, he could hear drunken singing and chanting. With quick feet, he rushed up several creaking stairs, up and up and up he went, before he came up onto an elevated platform more than twice his height, where hundreds and hundreds of men were gathered. He could barely hear anything over their loud song about a bear and a maiden.

To his horror, as Jaime pushed through the crowd, he caught sight of a large arena. And within it… was a large brown bear.

Brienne was down there as well, in her tattered pink dress, her hands wrapped around a rather useless wooden training sword. And behind her, she was shielding you. Your expression was wild with terror, eyes darting every which way in an effort to search for a way out. The golden dress you were wearing was soaked with mud, torn in several places, and hanging haggardly off of one shoulder. Brienne was no better, with deep claw marks running along her neck down to her clavicle, blood dribbling down from the wound and staining her dress’ neckline crimson.

“Don’t spare her!” one of the onlookers yelled.

“Let the Wolf fight! Fucking coward!”

“Get on with it already!”

The bear roared angrily. Jaime could hear Brienne yelling, “Stay behind me, my Lady! I’ll protect you!”

“Well, this is one shameful fucking performance. Stop running and fight!” exclaimed Locke. Jaime’s eyes snapped up to him.

“You gave her a wooden sword?” he asked, nose wrinkling with disgust.

Locke glanced at the Kingslayer, thick brows raising in surprise. “Thought you’d gone.”

“You gave her a wooden sword!” he gritted out.

“We’ve only got one bear,” scoffed Locke.

Shoving people out of the way, Jaime stormed closer to the rotten man. “I’ll pay their bloody ransom. Gold, sapphires, whatever you want. Just get her out of there!”

With a smirk, Locke shook his head. “All you Lords and Ladies still think that the only thing that matters is gold.” He grabbed Jaime’s bandaged stub. “Well, this makes me happier than all your gold ever could! And that makes me happier than any of her sapphires! I’m sure taking the Bitter Wolf’s cunt for myself is going to be more pleasurable than winning the fucking war myself. So go buy a golden hand and fuck yourself with it!”

Furious, Jaime shoved Locke away, turning back to watch the fighting pits. The bear had swiped out at Brienne, causing her to fall back with a yell as one of its claws snagged against her jaw. You had yanked her to the side, effectively saving her from a deathly blow from the bear.

And without another thought, Jaime clambered over the railings, and jumped down. He had no idea what he was doing. His heart was racing within his chest, thumping an irregularly quick pace. All he could think was to stand in front of you and Brienne.

“Get behind me!” he yelled.

“I will not!” Brienne spat out a wad of blood as she struggled back onto her feet.

Just as the bear was about to strike again, an arrow shot out from the stands. You looked up to see one of the men Jaime had left with, clutching a crossbow.

“What the fuck are you doing to my bear!?” Locke yelled, incredulous.

“Lord Bolton charged me with bringing him back to King’s Landing alive, and that’s what I intend to do!” he gruffed in response, loading another arrow.

The next one missed its target, landing into the large bear’s shoulder. Jaime took its distraction to his advantage, grabbing your hand and shoving you towards one of the tall walls.

“Pull her up!” he ordered the people above. “Climb on my back!”

You did as he told with little complaint, hurriedly taking one of the offered hands and rolling onto the platform, breathless. Wasting no time, you got onto your feet and stormed to Locke, shoving him aside. You blew out a breath of relief as Brienne was also hauled up, leaving just Jaime in the pit.

Terror clawed within your ribcage. Another bolt went flying to the bear, but it missed completely, skirting off to the side. Frustrated, you grabbed the crossbow from the man, loading another arrow and aiming with narrowed eyes.

Before the bear could maul Jaime in one strike, you let the bolt flying loose, and the sharp arrowhead pierced the bear clean through the skull. It fell down with one large thud, mud flying every which way at its collapse.

“Help him up!” you told Brienne, placing another arrow into the crossbow and aiming it straight at Locke. “Put your hands on me, and I’ll have your eyes shot through the back of your head.”

To your relief, Brienne had helped Jaime back up onto the platform.

The men all around you booed, upset their entertainment was ripped away from them.

“You’re staying here. The big bitch, too,” said Locke, infuriated.

“If I stay, you’ll be dead. If Brienne stays, you’ll be dead. Is that a deal, or are you going to let me go?” When Locke found himself at a standstill, you growled out, “I’ll put a bolt through Jaime Lannister’s fucking head right now if you don’t let Brienne and I go. Do you think Tywin Lannister is going to be happy with his son dying by a Bolton arrow?”

There was a tense moment of silence. Locke stepped back, defeated.

Jaime and Brienne both made their way to you, escorting you out of the castle.

“Sorry about the sapphires,” remarked Jaime just before he went down the steps, his smile sharp.

He caught up to you, still gripping the crossbow tightly.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fucking peachy,” you spat. You casted a worried look to Brienne, quietly asking if she was too hurt to travel. When she expressed that she was fine, you finally turned your eyes back on Jaime. Your expression softened as you studied him. “You came back.”

“I came back,” he echoed, tone equally gentle. “Though, did you just threaten to have me killed up there, or—?”

“You know I wouldn’t kill you.”

“Do I?”

“You do.”

“Hm.” Jaime smiled. “I guess I do.”

The journey to King’s Landing was going by quicker than you expected. Perhaps it was because Jaime had become less of a thorn in your side, and more of a respectable companion. Most of the time, anyway. He was still quite an annoyance, pestering you for stories of your past and never failing to jest about your infamously stoic disposition.

The Kingslayer was not your friend, no… but he certainly seemed to be treating you as one. Were you treating him as a friend, as well?

You were resting against a tree, arms crossed over your chest as you tried to find sleep. The crossbow you had taken with you was propped up against your leg. Brienne was on watch, sharpening her sword a few meters away from you.

To none of your surprise, Jaime had come ambling past, dropping beside you with a mild grunt. You didn’t spare him a glance, simply humming in acknowledgement.

“What do you want to do?” he asked, lolling his head against his shoulder so he could look at you. The green of his eyes glinted with the pearly moonlight, sharp and curious. “You’re free to go if you’d like. I told you I wouldn’t be your captor.”

Freedom. Something you hadn’t tasted in a long while.

Slow, you turned your head to face him, startled to see how close he was. Nonetheless, you didn’t pull away.

“I need to find my nieces and bring them back to Cat. To Robb. This… all of this… it can’t have been for nothing,” you murmured. “I can’t give up now.”

The man nodded. “I’ll help you, then. I swore I would.”

“I know,” you whispered in return. Jaime studied your features. Tired and weathered, broken and determined. Your eyes, however, read nothing but gratitude. “I still can’t believe you jumped into a pit with a bear in it. It was a foolish thing to do.”

“Yes, well, it saved you from a gruesome death. Some would say it was brave rather than foolish.”

“Bravery and foolishness go hand in hand,” you mused, with a slight scoff. After a lengthier silence, you croaked, “Thank you, Jaime.”

The blonde smiled. You didn’t see, for you had already turned your head away from him to gaze upwards, to the hazy stars in the night’s sky.

Not ten minutes of amicable silence later, Jaime felt a weight drop upon his shoulder. You had slipped into a peaceful rest, accidentally resting your head against the knight. For a moment, he considered moving, giving you more space to sleep for longer. Your hair tickled his cheek, and your chest rose and fell with unencumbered breaths. You looked so much younger when you were asleep, free of the waking world’s burdens and tribulations.

And so Jaime stayed still. Jaime couldn’t quite understand why he began grinning. He didn’t even notice that he was smiling like a damn fool, even after the sun had long risen and you had jerked awake when light rays danced across your irritated eyes, murmuring flustered apologies and stumbling onto your feet to hurry away with a lame excuse of checking on Brienne. No, the smile stayed for a long, long time.

King’s Landing was smaller than Jaime remembered. Much smaller.

When Jaime stepped foot into the Red Keep, the first thing he did was go to see his sister. His beloved sister. Her door creaked open. Her back was to him. Golden hair shimmered beneath the sun’s waning light.

“Cersei,” he said.

She turned, startled at the sound of her twin brother’s voice. Those sharp eyes of hers caught sight of his filthy state. Of his handless arm.

Disgust flickered over her expression.

Hot shame washed over him. You didn’t look at his stump with that kind of disgust. No, you had looked at it with a certain kind of soft curiosity. Cersei looked angry, almost. Affronted that he would show up in such a broken, weak state.

Why wasn’t Cersei happy to see him? After all this time?

A few hours later, you were tossed down in front of King Joffrey, still in that disgusting, ripped golden dress the Boltons had given you. In contrast, Jaime had already been bathed, donned in golden armor and a white cloak. He hadn’t been able to speak with you since the three of you had arrived at the Keep.

Guilt, guilt, guilt.

“And what are we to do with you?” his nephew, his son, crooned, smiling wide as if he’d caught himself a prize. “Sister to a traitor. Aunt to a traitor. Bitter Wolf, indeed.”

You refused to meet Joffrey’s burning gaze. Instead, you were looking at Sansa, off to the side of the courtroom, her blue eyes wide and tearful. Youthful hope was plastered clear as day across her pale, beautiful features. Relief.

“Maybe I should put your head on a spike,” Joffrey mused.

At his words, Jaime stepped forward. “Your Grace, Lady Stark saved my life several times. She was the one who helped me escape. She is the entire reason I’m here now.”

It looked as if Joffrey wanted to spit at his uncle for ruining his fun. Before he could say anything, however, Tywin Lannister interrupted, “As the Hand, Your Grace, I’d advise to exercise compassion for the Bitter Wolf. We should be grateful to her for returning one of your Kingsguard back to you.” He thought it wise to make allies with you��after all, you were now technically the Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North, with all the Starks dead except your nieces. The rest of the North would be keen on following after you, rather than Roose Bolton.

“What good is a Kingsguard with just one hand?” snarked Joffrey. With a heavy sigh, he rolled his eyes. “She helped you escape, then, Uncle? Did she play a part in the Red Wedding? She must have, if she was so willing to betray her nephew!”

Wedding…?

You finally tore your eyes away from Sansa, looking up at Joffrey. Confusion clouded your expression.

The blonde King raised his brows. He grinned so wide it was a wonder his face didn’t split into two. “Oh, Gods, she doesn’t know!” He began laughing. It was a cruel and calloused sound. “Robb Stark is dead. The traitor wolf died at his uncle’s own wedding! His pregnant whore of a wife and his bitch mother, as well.”

At the news, your lips parted, and your hands came up to cover them. Tears were quick to sting the corner of your eyes, and burn the bridge of your nose. Roose fucking Bolton did this. You didn’t want to cry in front of the monster of a boy, you really didn’t. But you couldn’t help it—your nephew was dead. Your good-sister was dead. And you weren’t there for them.

Did Robb die hating you?

A silent sob wracked your entire body and your knees buckled. Sansa took a step forward, but stopped when one of the Kingsguard snarled at her.

The rest of the court had fallen into a hushed silence. It was only broken when Joffrey stepped down from the Iron Throne, smirking maliciously.

“Welcome to court, Lady Stark. We are… forever indebted to you,” he chuckled, taking great pleasure at the fact that he was the one to break the tragic news. Then, he walked straight past you, humming as he left the throne room. The rest of the whispering Lords and Ladies trickled out after him.

Jaime watched, brows furrowed in concern, as Sansa finally was able to run forward and envelop you into a tight hug. You gripped your niece and cried harder against her. It shattered your heart in a million pieces when she began to quietly cry into your neck, as well.

Lips pursed in a tight line, Jaime spared you one last glance before he turned to head after the King.

They’d put you in a large chamber, with large, arched windows giving you a perfect view of the ocean. Warm air billowed through, the breeze tousling your just-washed hair and cascading a heated flush down your face. You weren’t fond of hot weather—you were a Stark through and through, made of ice and snow.

The handmaids laid out a dark grey Southern dress for you to wear. It was loose and lightweight, with a neckline that plunged far too low for your liking, wide enough to only barely hang off your shoulders. The sleeves were long and drooped far past your hands. You narrowed your eyes, shifting the fabric around your waist, frowning at how it cinched uncomfortably. Damn Southerners.

There was a knock on your door just as you had finished readjusting the dress to the best of your abilities, and you turned to see Sansa quietly slide in, her handmaiden following after her.

“My dear girl,” you whispered, reaching out to her. When Sansa stepped closer, you gently cupped her heart-shaped face with one hand. Her red curls were twisted into an updo, blue eyes scared and wide.

She looked so much like her mother… her mother who was now gone…

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you roped her into an embrace. She was crying again, pulling away to hastily wipe her tears away, sniffling.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Though you’d never been too close to Sansa back when you were in Winterfell, as she wasn’t a fan of your cold nature, you still loved her, nonetheless. Sansa had lost her entire family in such a short span of time, she was immensely grateful to see you alive and well. A naive part of her hoped that you would whisk her away. Away from Cersei, away from Joffrey, and away from King’s Landing.

“Where’s Arya?” you asked.

“I don’t know. She disappeared when… when father…”

You nodded. Disappointment danced over your irises. Hopelessness. “She must’ve run out of King’s Landing. No doubt tried to make her way back home on her own. She could be anywhere from here to Winterfell by now.” Biting your lip, you encompassed her hands within yours. “Sansa, tell me. What’s happened here? Have they been treating you well?”

She shifted uncomfortably at the question. She hesitated for a moment, but quietly spoke upon remembering that you were her aunt, and that she could trust you. You were family. “No. Joffrey’s a monster. He’s cruel, and he likes hurting people. He’s pursuing Lady Margaery Tyrell now… and I’m married to Tyrion.”

“What?” Horror flickered over your expression.

Quickly, she added, “He didn’t… he didn’t do anything to me, though… he’s not like Joffrey.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Sansa’s handmaiden shift from foot to foot.

“That’s a relief. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tears pricked Sansa’s eyes once more. “Better, now that you’re here.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that all on your own,” you whispered, shaking your head. “You poor girl.”

“What happened to you? Why did you leave Robb?”

“I wanted to save you and your sister. I thought that if I traded Jaime for you and Arya, I could… I could bring you back. It’s a long story, but… it didn’t work out. Your sister is gone, and Robb is gone, as well. Winterfell is not ours anymore. There is nowhere safe for us to go.”

Fear made her lips warble. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… we must stay here for a while. It’s safest here. For now. But when we find an opportunity, we must take it.”

She looked like she wanted to protest for a minute, but she blew out a shaking breath. “Alright. I trust you.”

The weeks passed by in a breeze. A warm breeze. Jaime had grown rather accustomed to the cold of the North during his year of imprisonment. The heat down here was sticky and uncomfortable—especially beneath his golden armor.

He never would have thought that he’d miss the sight of snow.

He was rarely given the chance to speak to you or Brienne, busy with his duties as part of the Kingsguard. But he would see you in the distance, hovering protectively over your sweet-faced niece, walking the gardens, staring out at the oceans, as if planning out an escape. It was a strange thing seeing the two of you together. The little dove and the bitter wolf.

Exactly four weeks after Jaime had returned to King’s Landing his father called for a meeting with him. Apparently, Tywin had something to give him.

“It’s magnificent,” Jaime said in awe, slowly swinging the Valyrian steel sword in his hand, testing its balance. “Fresh-forged?”

“Yes,” said Tywin, stoic-faced.

Jaime turned to look at his father. “No one’s made a Valyrian steel sword since the Doom of Valyria,” the knight commented, brows raising.

With a nod, Tywin sank into his seat with seamless grace. “There are only three living smiths who know how to rework Valyrian steel. The finest of them was in Volantis. He came here to King’s Landing at my invitation.”

Jaime hummed. “You’ve wanted one of these in the family for a long, long time.”

“And now we have two.”

“Two?”

“The original weapon was absurdly large. Eddard Stark’s. It provided more than enough for two swords.”

There was a long pause before Jaime stepped forward. “Well, thank you. It’s glorious.” As Tywin nodded, whatever small glimmer of pride in his eyes waned away when Jaime struggled to sheath the sword, with his only one hand to aid him.

“You’ll have to train your left hand,” his father gruffed.

Frowning, Jaime replied, “Any decent swordsman knows how to use both hands.”

“You’ll never be as good.”

A pause. Even with both his hands, Jaime was never good enough for his father.

“As long as I’m better than everyone else, it doesn’t matter, does it?”

Narrowing his keen eyes, Tywin sternly said, “You can’t serve in the Kingsguard with just one hand.”

“Where’s that written?” Jaime snapped back. “I can and I will. The Kingsguard oath is for life.”

“The war is over. The King is safe,” said Tywin.

Jaime scoffed. “The King is never safe! How many people in this city alone would love to see his head on a pike?”

You, for one. Jaime knew you would snap Joffrey’s neck if you were ever given the chance to.

Damn it. There he went, thinking of you again. It was as if you were some sort of disease festering in his mind.

“The King was protected by other knights while you were a prisoner. They will continue to do so when you go home.”

Ah. So that’s what this was about.

“Home?” Jaime echoed.

“You’ll return to Casterly Rock… and rule in my stead.”

Tywin wanted him to go back and abandon all his duties. Find a wife from a noble house, bear children—preferably sons, and secure heirs for the Lannister household. But that was not who Jaime was. No, Jaime wanted… he wanted…

“You are the Lord of Casterly Rock,” reminded Jaime, studying his father as if he’d gone daft.

Face ever so stony, Tywin replied calmly, “I am the King’s Hand. My place is here. I don’t expect to see the Rock again before I die.”

“You know what they call me? Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. A man without honor. And now you want me to break another sacred vow,” sighed Jaime, blowing out a long, exasperated breath.

Tywin’s green eyes, paler than Jaime’s were, bore holes into his head. “You won’t be breaking anything. There is a precedent to relieving the Kingsguard of his duties. The King will exercise that prerogative.”

How could Jaime leave his brother and sister here for a life he didn’t even want? How could he leave you with his monster of a nephew? How could he leave Sansa when he swore to you that he would get her to safety?

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” parroted Jaime.

Tywin’s upper lip curled into a slight snarl. “I don’t believe I asked you a question.”

“But I’m giving you an answer,” said Jaime.

“If you think your bloody honor comes before—”

“My bloody honor is beyond repair, but my answer is still no!” Jaime interrupted, his voice raising in volume. “I don’t want Casterly Rock. I don’t want to marry some woman I barely know. I don’t want to bear her children.”

“Then what do you want?”

For a moment, Jaime struggled for words. Cersei, he thought. But Cersei doesn’t seem to want me anymore. Not with my hand missing.

“Supper would be nice,” said Jaime.

The older of the two scowled heavily. “For forty years I’ve tried to teach you. If you haven’t learned now, you never will. Go. If serving as a glorified bodyguard is the sum of your ambition, then go serve.”

“I suppose you want the sword back.”

“Keep it. A one-handed man with no family needs all the help he can get,” spat Tywin.

No family. That stung Jaime much more than he’d care to admit.

With no more words to spare his father, Jaime strode away, sword in hand, his white cloak fluttering with his departure.

A golden hand. Qyburn had brought him a golden hand.

“A work of art,” he declared.

Jaime wasn’t so impressed. The gold just brought more attention to the fact that he didn’t have a hand in the first place. Not to mention that it was heavy and clunky. He would’ve been much more satisfied with something dull and lightweight.

“If you like it so much, chop off your own hand and take it,” he dryly remarked.

Pouring herself a chalice of wine, Cersei rolled her eyes. “You’re such an ingrate. I spent days with the goldsmith getting the details just right.”

“Days?” Jaime asked, skeptical.

She shrugged. “The better part of an afternoon.”

Once it was properly fixed onto his stub, Qyburn asked how it felt.

“A hook would’ve been more practical,” said Jaime.

It was then that his sister dismissed the older man, thanking him for his services present and past. Jaime waved around the new hand, testing its lopsided weight.

Finally, Cersei turned to him.

“Odd little man,” he quipped.

“I’ve grown rather fond of him. He’s quite talented, you know.”

Tilting his head, Jaime asked, “What past services? You were hurt?”

“None of your concern,” she calmly replied.

Frustration licked its way up Jaime’s chest. It was as if Cersei was purposefully dangling her secrets in front of him, but kept him at a safe distance by not disclosing anything. He wanted to yell, throttle her, asking her to be plain and truthful with him. It was wishful thinking, of course.

“You let him touch you?” was all he could think of saying.

There was a laugh to her tone. “Jealous?”

No. Bitter, more like—he’s spent too much time with you, perhaps. “Surprised. You never let Pycelle touch you,” he said.

“You think I’d let that old lecher put his hands on me?” She sipped on the wine. Then took another, and another, and another. “He smells like a dead cat.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever smelled a dead cat.” Narrowing his eyes, Jaime observed his sister finish what was in her chalice, reaching over to pour more. “You drink more than you used to.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

The way her lip curled in disdain was eerily reminiscent of his father. Jaime felt the beginnings of a headache pound at the front of his temple.

“Hm, let’s see. You started a brawl in the streets with Ned Stark and disappeared from the capital. My husband died in a tragic hunting accident.”

An accident you made sure to cause, Jaime thought. She is just as much of a Kingslayer as I am.

“Must have been traumatic,” Jaime sneered, dripping with irony.

“My only daughter was shipped off to Dorne.”

Our daughter.

“We suffered through a siege.”

Blowing out a sigh, Jaime barked out a humorless laugh. “A rather short siege.”

“One that I didn’t expect to survive,” she quickly snapped back. Wisely, she decided not to tell Jaime she was a hair’s breadth away from poisoning Tommen. “And now I’m marrying my eldest son to a wicked little bitch from Highgarden, while I’m supposed to marry her brother, a renowned pillow-biter.”

Without her noticing, Jaime had stood up and came to sit beside her. “Father disowned me today,” he said.

“He can’t disown you. You’re all he’s got,” she said.

“You’re forgetting Tyrion.”

At the mention of her other brother, Cersei’s face twisted with repulsion.

“You don’t really plan on staying in the Kingsguard, do you?”

Jaime leaned forward, placing his golden hand behind her and his remaining one atop her knee. Truthfully, he didn’t know what he was doing. Trying to kindle whatever there was between them again, perhaps. Desperately seeking what he used to have before he left King’s Landing. “Staying in the Kingsguard means I live right here, in the Red Keep with you.”

Just as he dipped his head forward, his nose brushing against her cheek, Cersei yanked herself away, standing up to stride back to the table and pour herself some more wine.

“Not now,” she said.

Frustrated, Jaime gritted out, “Not now? Then when? I’ve been back for weeks! What’s changed?”

“Everything!” she practically yelled. There was fire behind her irises. “Everything’s changed! You come back after all this time with no apologies and one hand and that bitch wolf and expect everything to be the same?”

Baffled, Jaime asked, “What do you want me to apologize for?”

“For leaving me,” she spat.

“You think I wanted to be taken prisoner?”

“I don’t know what you wanted. You weren’t here. You left me alone.”

It seemed that Cersei was so blinded by her rage, she refused to see anything from his perspective. They’d always considered each other to be their missing half. Now, Cersei felt more like a thorn in his side rather than something that’d make him whole.

“Every day, I was a prisoner. I plotted my escape, every day.”

Cersei shook her head. “But you didn’t, did you? Not until the Bitter Wolf set you free.”

“I murdered people so I could be here with you!”

“You took too long.”

“I… what? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you took too long,” she echoed.

There was a knock at the door.

“Go away!” yelled Jaime.

“Come in,” said Cersei.

The door swung open. Beyond his limit, Jaime stood up and shouldered past the handmaiden to storm out of the chambers.

Brienne fidgeted beside you as you watched Sansa pray down by the stony shores. What she was praying for, you weren’t quite sure. It seemed that Brienne was restless, seeing that Sansa was right there, but she couldn’t quite do anything about it. There was nowhere to take the both of you. She felt like she’d failed you—again.

Jaime came to stand by the two of you, commenting on how strange it was to see a Wolf in Southern drab, but quickly shut his mouth when you spared him an unimpressed look.

“You made a promise,” said Brienne.

“Mmh, yes, to return the Stark girls to their mother, who is now dead,” Jaime replied.

It was a wonder your teeth didn’t crack beneath all your jaw-gritting.

“To keep them safe,” Brienne emphasized.

“Well, Arya Stark hasn’t been seen since her father was killed. Where do you think she is? My money’s on dead. There’s a certain safety in death, no?”

Your stomach lurched. With a scowl, you spat out, “She’s not dead. Arya’s a smart, nifty little thing. She’s probably off posing as a stableboy somewhere. People always mistook her as one back in Winterfell, anyway.”

With a huff, Jaime continued, “Alright, well, regardless, she’s not here for me to protect. And Sansa Stark… well, she’s Sansa Lannister now, yes? Bit of a complication.”

Brienne drew herself to her full height, staring Jaime down. “A complication does not release you from a vow!”

“And what would you have me do? Kidnap my sister-in-law? And take her where? Where would she be safer than here?”

“Look me in the eye and tell me she’ll be safe in King’s Landing,” hissed Brienne.

Jaime wasn’t able to do so. Instead, he crossed his arms and narrowed his green eyes. “Are you sure we’re not related? Ever since I’ve returned, every Lannister I’ve seen has been a miserable pain in my ass. Maybe you’re a Lannister, too. Got the hair for it.”

Trouble in paradise? you thought in mild amusement.

Though you were reluctant to admit it, you said, “She’s not safe here. But this is the safest place she can be for now. I was thinking of the Vale, but Lysa Arryn is not sound of mind… I doubt she’d welcome Sansa into her home with open arms. There’s the Night’s Watch, where Jon is. But there is no way we could pass through the North without a Bolton hound sniffing us out.”

The blonde knight hung his head. “It’s better if you just stay here. Things will be less messy that way.”

Before either of you could fit in a reply, Jaime was already striding away. Brienne glanced at you apologetically, before heading away, murmuring something about having to speak with Margaery Tyrell.

Tyrion Lannister invited you to breakfast. You’d stared at the parchment with raised brows, chewing on your bottom lip in thought. From what you could recall, Tyrion was a sharp-tongued man, but Sansa was clear that he was kind. And so, you accepted the invitation.

Needless to say, you weren’t expecting to see Jaime there.

But of course he was there—they were brothers, after all.

The knight bowed his head in a silent greeting, looking overall weary but tried to offer you a small smile nonetheless. You nodded in return, taking a seat beside him. Tyrion watched the exchange keenly, sat down across from the two of you.

“How is the capital treating you, my Lady?” asked Tyrion, voice pleasant.

“Fine,” you replied hastily. “Hot. Dry. The air tastes like salt.”

With a chuckle, Tyrion began digging into his breakfast. “Yes, that would either be the piss on the streets or the ocean itself. You can never tell here.”

You glanced down at the plate full of eggs and sausages and fried potatoes the cupbearer put down in front of you. Suddenly, you had no stomach to eat. It seemed Jaime was thinking along the same lines, because he had yet to touch his food.

Glancing down, you noticed his new golden hand. Following your gaze, Tyrion quipped, “That new hand is better than the old one.” He looked up at his cupbearer. “Wouldn’t you agree, Pod?”

With a quiet hum, you shook your head. “Heavy, immobile metal over real, living flesh? Your definition of better must align with expenses, then.”

Tyrion smiled a genuine smile. “It looks better.” Quickly, he changed the subject. “Neither of you are eating. Why is no one eating? My wife wastes away, her aunt sulks around, and my brother starves himself.”

“I’m not hungry,” Jaime was quick to say.

“You lost a hand, not a stomach.”

Drawing in a breath, you gritted out, “You’d sulk if your entire family was killed, wouldn’t you?”

The comment made Tyrion wince slightly. “Apologies, my Lady. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just wanted to have a meal with my family. The tolerable ones, at least. I invited Sansa, but she politely declined. So please, try the boar. Cersei hasn’t gotten enough of it since one killed Robert for her.”

After a beat of intense silence, you sat up straight and began cutting through the food, eating slowly. It didn’t go past your notice when Jaime pushed his plate further away from him.

“A toast to us,” said Tyrion, lifting his goblet. “The dwarf, the cripple, and the Bitter Wolf.”

Both you and Jaime grimaced at the names. Jaime reached forward to grab his wine chalice, but clumsily forgot that his golden hand couldn’t bend to take it, effectively knocking it over. Purple-crimson spilled all over the table, dribbling down onto you and staining the dress you were wearing a darker shade of mauve.

“I’ll clean it,” started Pod.

Jaime waved him away. “No. I’ll do it. Leave us.” He turned to you, frowning and handing you a dishtowel. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s alright,” you quickly reassured him, taking the rag and wiping away the excess. “It’s not my dress. Not my wine. It feels refreshing on my skin, actually.”

Jaime watched you for a moment, his eyes soft.

Tyrion tilted his head. “Seems the wolf isn’t so bitter, after all. The journey softened you, I take it?”

At his words, your expression hardened, and Jaime sent him a sidelong glare.

The younger of the two quickly backtracked. Gods, you were just not a very good conversationalist, were you? “My brother told me you shot down a bear to save him.”

“I did,” you curtly said.

“You and I are going to be good friends, I think,” Tyrion mused. He grinned wide, before taking another sip from his cup.

Joffrey’s wedding ceremony was a grand event. It was all decorations and Lannister heraldry, candles and flowers and bells every which way you looked. You didn’t care at all for it, really. As long as the monster wasn’t marrying your niece. It was a shame—Margaery Tyrell seemed a nice enough woman. At least, you knew Sansa took a liking to her.

You hadn’t even realized that the ceremony was over until people began clapping, Joffrey pulling away from his kiss with Margaery. If she was upset about the ordeal at all, she didn’t show it. Either she was as deranged as her new husband, or she was a very good actor. Jolting out of your reverie, you lightly clapped thrice before letting your hands fall back to your sides. Gods, this dress itched. A pale shade of pink, laced with golden thread. How the Southerners wore this kind of garb every day, you never knew.

Before you knew it, the wedding feast was commencing. Somehow, it was even more of a large-scale event than the ceremony had been. Performers in every corner, some swallowing swords, others juggling flaming torches, and a few with seductive eyes, twisting themselves into knots and rotating their bones in ways you never knew the body could bend. There were a million and one dishes lining the gilded tables, platters upon platters of rich foods, sweet pastries, fruits with cheese, and savory meats. Chalices of golden ales and honeyed wines were passed around, filled to the brim. Frankly, you would’ve enjoyed the event, had it not been in honor of the most rancid boy you’ve had the displeasure of knowing.

The lords and ladies attending avoided you like the plague—either spooked by the deep glower etched over your features, or by the fact that you were the infamous Bitter Wolf herself… It didn't make much of a difference. Two people who didn’t treat you as if you carried a disease were Oberyn Martell and his paramour, Ellaria Sand. Both of them regarded you with poorly-hidden lust, offering for you to join them in their chambers after the feast, to which you had no idea how to respond. You were flattered, truly, and there was no doubt that they were both very attractive people, but you were in no mood to fool around in the capital. After you bid them a hasty farewell, Tyrion came to say hello as well, and you dipped your head in greeting. He was quick to walk away, claiming he was in dire need of alcohol in his system.

After the short interactions, you made a beeline for the royal table, wishing to be by your niece’s side—no doubt she was feeling anxious at Joffrey’s wedding, even if she wasn’t the one to wed him.

Just as you grazed a hand against Sansa’s shoulder, clad by a soft purple dress, Olenna Tyrell made her way to the two of you.

“I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of speaking to you before, Bitter Wolf,” said the old woman, smiling kindly at you.

“We haven’t,” you curtly replied. “Congratulations on the wedding.”

She waved away your words. “Congratulations to you for making your way to King’s Landing alive, despite everybody’s expectations. You were surely a surprise for everyone at court.” Then, she darted her eyes to Sansa. She reached out to brush her hand along her braids and the necklace resting against her clavicle. “I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was to hear about your brother, and your nephew. War is war, but killing a man at a wedding… it’s horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing? As if men need more reasons to fear marriage!”

Roose Bolton. The name seared hot fury through your chest. According to Jaime, Tywin had given the North over to the Boltons to take over—but he would be met with all the stubbornness of the Northern houses, and they wouldn’t bend the knee to anyone but a Stark. It was a relief to also hear that Tywin wouldn’t be helping the Boltons any further.

Olenna’s voice snapped you out of your reverie. “Perhaps if your pauper husband were to sell his mule and his last pair of shoes, he might be able to afford to bring you to Highgarden for a visit! Now that peace has come and all's right with the world… it would do you good to see some of it,” she told Sansa, smiling kindly. Then she glanced over at you again. “You look wonderful, Lady Y/N. You’re much prettier than I thought you’d be… your name carries a certain weight to it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I ate some of this food I paid for.”

She ambled away, and you rubbed your hand along Sansa’s back. From afar, you caught a glimpse of Jaime speaking with Loras Tyrell. The green of his eyes caught yours. “I’ll be back,” you whispered to your niece, before making your way to Jaime. You didn’t quite know what you were going to Jaime for. Perhaps it was because he was the only other person in the wedding than Brienne and Sansa you felt comfortable conversing with. What a long way the two of you had come.

“Y/N,” he greeted, straightening himself when you grew close. His heavy golden armor shone beneath the hot sun. “You look beautiful.”

There was a warm sincerity to his words, but you shook your head anyway. “In comparison to your months with me covered in mud and filth, of course.” After a pause, you asked, “What’s it like? Watching your nephew get married? I… I wasn’t there to see Robb marry the medic girl he seemed so smitten with.”

“It’s strange,” Jaime truthfully admitted. “Especially when I hardly know the Tyrell girl. My sister detests her, though. Calls her a whore more often than she drinks, and we both know how much she drinks.”

Though you didn’t smile, there was a glint of amusement in your eyes. “Be honest with me. I know he’s your nephew… your… your blood… but you can’t truly love him, do you?”

The knight bit the inside of his cheek. No, of course he didn’t. Jaime was well aware that he was a monster, beyond saving. “Family is family,” he eventually replied.

The disappointment in your expression didn’t go beyond his notice.

“I wanted to ask, Jaime,” you carefully began. “What would happen if I were to leave the capital with Sansa? Would you be ordered to bring me back? Or would we be able to walk away free?”

“Not this again. I told you, it’s safest for you to be here—”

“It’s a hypothetical. Would you turn me in if you were ordered to?” you quietly asked. “I need to know if… if I can trust you, Jaime.”

Jaime’s eyes searched yours. He stepped closer, hand lifting to grasp your forearm and tugged you to the side, where it was a bit less crowded. “No. Is that what you want to hear? That I’d betray my oaths for you? That I’d help you cross the world if you asked, honor be damned?”

Stricken by his words, you found yourself speechless.

You cleared your throat after a long moment. “Well… even if that was true, it’s not like we’d have anywhere safe to go. My bannermen are scattered, and between them are the Boltons and the Freys. The seas are occupied by the Greyjoys and pirates alike.”

Jaime nodded. “Stay here. I can keep you safe from here.”

“Can you?” you challenged, eyes narrowed.

A bark of a laugh. Jaime spared you a roguish grin. “Don’t make me swear it. You know my habit of breaking my vows well by now.”

You blew out a breath. “Thank you, Jaime. Truly.”

“Yes, you chose a perfect time during my nephew’s wedding to discuss such matters.”

And then came a sound foreign to his ears—you laughed. You just laughed! It was awkward and barely counted as genuine, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Jaime’s mouth parted, gaping at you with amazement.

“Did you just laugh?”

“What? Am I not allowed to?”

“No, no, it just… took me by surprise. It was nice.”

He smiled, wide and genuine. From the corner of his eye, he caught his sister glaring at the two of you with an intense, angry gaze. The smile fell away from his lips, and his entire body stiffened. You followed his gaze, raising your brows upon seeing Cersei. With a nudge and a grunt of a goodbye, you stepped away from Jaime, not wanting to antagonize the Lannister woman any further.

You moved to the tables to pluck at the sweet, fat grapes, popping them into your mouth with a pleased hum. Not too soon after, Brienne joined you, chattering about the food and how it reminded her of her own home. Just as you were about to ask her what her favorite dish was, glad to have someone you could call a friend, a certain blonde woman came forth to the two of you.

“Lady Brienne,” greeted Cersei. You turned to look at her. “Bitter Wolf. I owe you both my gratitude. You returned my brother safely to King’s Landing.”

The taller woman gave you a glance, unsure of what to say. You nodded. “Jaime did his fair share of saving. We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him, either.”

The green of her eyes flashed dangerously. It didn’t go past her notice that you called him by his first name without his formal title of Ser. “Did he, now? Strange… I haven’t heard a thing about it from him.”

“Not such a fascinating story, I’m afraid,” said Brienne, grimly thinking back to the men trying to rape her.

“I’m sure you have many fascinating stories, Lady Brienne,” Cersei crooned in a condescending manner. “Sworn to Renly Baratheon. Sworn to Catelyn Stark. And now my brother. Must be exciting to flit from one camp to the next, serving whichever lord or lady you fancy.”

Brows knitting together, Brienne protested, “I don’t serve your brother, Your Grace.”

“Hm.” Cersei lifted her chin pridefully. “I just find it funny how… a few moons ago, the Bitter Wolf was our sworn enemy, behind the mighty King in the North. And now here you are, safe in our capital, making seductive eyes at my brother. You betrayed your nephew, who’s to say you won’t betray my brother, as well?”

Seductive eyes?

Anger began clawing up your throat, smoldering hot. You swallowed painfully slow. “Is that all, Your Grace?” you asked in a level tone. She wanted a reaction out of you… to warn you to stay away from her brother. Her lover. You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of being upset. “Brienne and I want to go watch the performers, if you would excuse us.”

She looked infuriated at your dismissal, watching as you linked arms with Brienne and gently led her to the stage.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” asked the large woman.

“I’m fine. She’ll have to do far worse than that if she truly wants to provoke me,” you replied.

The two of you enjoyed each other’s company for a little longer, striding through the crowds and plucking food off of the mountain-high platters. Though she was younger than you, she carried herself with the weight of someone with several decades’ worth of experience. You appreciated that about Brienne.

Your conversations were cut short when Joffrey stood up from the royal table, screeching for silence. He was presenting a show—one depicting the so-called ‘history’ of the war. It was a crude rendition, riddled with falsities.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach when several dwarves ran out in offensive costumes, depicting Stannis and Renly Baratheon, Joffrey himself, Balon Greyjoy, and Robb Stark. One by one, they battled one another. Stannis killing off Renly, Robb taking out Balon, Joffrey eliminating Stannis with wildfire.

Tears filled your eyes when Robb was the only one left standing, with only Joffrey left. You glanced at Sansa, who watched the show with a stony expression. Her time in King’s Landing taught her never to give anything away. Keep her emotions within herself, for her own safety.

And finally, you couldn’t take it anymore once they knocked his direwolf’s head off. The actor playing Joffrey grabbed the head and began to motion humping it, moaning as the crowd cheered. The real Joffrey—the one lounging at the royal table, only a few feet from your sweet niece—spat his wine all over as he laughed and snorted and chuckled.

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away. For him to disrespect your family in such a way… it was sickening.

Once the disgusting performance was over, Joffrey clapped and hollered. He turned to his uncle Tyrion, offering him to go and prove his worth by fighting the actors.

In response, Tyrion said, “One taste of combat was enough for me, Your Grace. I think you should fight them, instead. This was but a poor imitation of your own bravery on the field of battle. I speak as a first hand witness. Climb down from the high table and show everyone how a true King wins his throne. Be careful, though. This one is clearly mad with lust.” He gestured towards the imitator of Joffrey who had pretended to fuck Grey Wind. “It would be a tragedy for the King to lose his virtue hours before his wedding night.”

A hesitant ripple of laughter echoed across the crowd. Joffrey was so furious it was a wonder his teeth didn’t crack under the pressure of his clenched jaw. With no further words, Joffrey grabbed his chalice of wine, stomping over to Tyrion and tipping the cup over so the sticky liquid spilled out to drip down his uncle’s head.

“A fine vintage,” said Tyrion. “A shame that it spilled.”

Acknowledge me! Joffrey wanted to scream. Fight me! Show me how angry you are!

“It did not spill,” he gritted out.

“My love, come back to me,” said Margaery, reaching out for her husband, wishing to quell the tense atmosphere. “It’s time for my father’s toast!”

The young boy made a grand show of being void of wine, and demanded Tyrion be his cupbearer, seeing as he was too cowardly to fight. He dropped the empty chalice for him to pick up, cruelly kicking it away just as it was within Tyrion’s reach.

“Bring me my goblet,” he said.

He relished watching his uncle get to his hands and knees, crawling beneath the tables in search of the goblet. Your niece, your sweet, darling niece, stood from her chair to bend down and pick it up, as it was closest to her. She handed the cup to her husband, pursing her lips.

The next few moments passed by in a tense haze.

Tyrion filled the cup. Held it out for his nephew to take.

Joffrey ordered him to kneel.

Tyrion refused to do so, staring straight at him with defiant eyes.

The pigeon pie came out, large enough to feed the entire wedding three times over.

You watched as Tyrion and Sansa were about to leave the wedding, and you had half the mind to follow them, wanting nothing more than to be alone in your chambers for the night. However, before they could leave, Joffrey called out for his uncle once more.

“Where are you going? You’re my cupbearer, remember?”

“I thought I might change out of these wet clothes, Your Grace.”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect the way you are. Serve me my wine.”

Tyrion glanced back at Sansa. With a huff, he made his way back to the table, handing the goblet back to Joffrey, and turned to walk back to his awaiting wife.

The King gulped down the contents of the cup greedily. Droplets of Dornish leaked from the corners of his mouth.

“If it please Your Grace, Sansa is very tired—”

“No!” yelled the boy-king. “No. You’ll wait here and—”

He dissolved into a fit of coughs. Drank more of that wine of his.

Both you and Brienne glanced at each other.

Joffrey wheezed. Cersei sat forward in her chair. Margaery’s eyes widened.

“He’s choking!” she screamed once Joffrey began clutching at his chest.

“Someone help the poor boy!” yelled Olenna Tyrell.

Joffrey staggered forward, falling as he continued coughing, spluttering, and choking. Bits of pigeon pie fell from his mouth, flecked with wine and a far darker liquid: his blood. This was no mere obstruction of his windpipe—this was the work of poison.

Your lips parted open as you watched Jaime hurriedly push through the crowd to get to him, kneeling beside him, calling his name, unsure of what to do. Cersei screamed even louder, shoving Jaime to the side, cradling her oldest son to her chest as she weeped.

His face turned purple. His eyes bulged out of his skull. Foam frothed about his lips.

He twitched, and twitched, and twitched again. One of his hands lifted to jerkily point at Tyrion, who was watching on in confused horror.

Blood dribbled out of Joffrey’s nostrils.

A second later, the twitching stopped.

Joffrey Baratheon was dead.

And you were too busy relishing in the fact, you hadn’t even realized that Sansa was gone.

It wasn’t often that Jaime visited the Sept.

Now that Joffrey was dead… well, that was plenty of reason for him to go. Especially now that Cersei seemed to spend all her time there, hovering over her dead son like a vulture. When he came through the grand doors, he passed by his father and little Tommen, the former in the middle of telling the young boy about the duties of marriage, seeing as he was now King.

Tywin didn’t seem too upset that Joffrey was dead. To be fair, neither did Jaime.

“How are you?” Jaime asked, stopping in front of his youngest nephew. It wasn’t an easy thing—watching your older brother die in front of you at his own wedding.

“I’m alright,” he murmured.

Jaime nodded, patting his shoulder. “Good.”

Then, he made his way down the rest of the steps, Tywin leading Tommen out. Jaime dismissed the rest of the priests, wanting to be alone with Cersei.

Once only the two of them were left in the Sept—along with Joffrey’s corpse, of course—Cersei finally spoke. Her voice was croaky and hoarse with disuse. “It was Tyrion,” she said. “He killed him. He told me he would. ‘A day will come when you think you are safe and happy, and your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth.’ That’s what he said to me. You saw it… you saw Joff point at him before he—”

Lowering his tone, Jaime whispered, “I don’t know what I saw.”

Cersei shut her eyes. “Avenge him,” she said, words warbling with emotion. “Avenge our son. Kill Tyrion.”

What she said seemed to strike Jaime across the face. He reared back, affronted. “Tyrion’s my brother. He’s our brother. There’ll be a trial. We’ll get to the truth of what happened.”

“I don’t want a trial!” she hissed. “He’ll squirm his way to freedom, given the chance. I want him dead.”

Tears slipped down both of her eyes. It was as if the dam inside her had finally broken under all the weight of her grief.

“Please, Jaime,” she sobbed. “You have to! He was our son! Our baby boy!”

He drew closer to her, tugging her into an embrace. Her fingers curled into the leather of his tunic. When she raised her tearful face to yank him into a desperate kiss, Jaime didn’t resist.

Then, as quickly as she had advanced upon him, she shoved him away yet again. Jaime was beginning to grow tired of her pushing him in such a way. It wasn’t fair.

“Tyrion’s wretched wife, Sansa, has disappeared. No doubt she played a hand in Joff’s murder. I want you to find her. Kill her, too. And I want the Bitter Wolf locked up in her niece’s place.”

Jaime’s eyes widened as he regarded his sister with an incredulous stare. “What? But Y/N hasn’t done anything. She has nothing to do with this!”

“Oh, because you were watching her the entire time, when you should’ve been guarding my son? It’s not a wonder he was murdered right beneath our noses, then!” Cersei screeched, voice raising several octaves. “Tell me, do you love her? Do you love that fucking wolf traitor more than you love me, your own sister? More than you love your son?”

Jaime was at a loss for words. Did he love you?

When he didn’t reply, Cersei angrily turned away from him, drying her face with the fabric of her sleeves. “You’re a disgrace to us. To our family.”

She sounded exactly like father. Anger coiled within his stomach. Jaime narrowed his sharp eyes.

“You are a hateful woman,” he seethed. “Y/N is anything but. Bitter Wolf, people call her, but she is not bitter. She is hurt. She is grieving. Just as you are. She saved my life, and I owe her nothing but my gratitude.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, Jaime strode away, off to go pay you a long overdue visit.

A knock on your door. It was the dead of night, and you were only minutes away from falling asleep, having exhausted yourself with tears and stress. You weren’t at all dressed properly for visitors. Nonetheless, you dragged yourself out of your bed, your shift hanging wrinkled and lopsided over your body.

Your door creaked open, and you were tiredly blinked upon seeing Jaime on the other side. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you shifted away from the entrance, silently opening the door wider to make space for him to come in. Without hesitation, the knight slid in, dipping his head as greeting. You’d been crying—he could still see the dried tear tracks on your cheeks, only faintly illuminated by the sparse candles in the chambers.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” croaked Jaime, looking every bit as defeated as you. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Are you alright?”

You gingerly shut the door behind you, leaning against it with a weary sigh. “My entire family is gone. Lost or dead.”

“Right. Stupid question.” Jaime cleared his throat. “We’ve both lost our nephews now.”

“It’s not the same, Jaime,” you whispered, shaking your head. “You know it’s not. Joffrey was a monster, and the world is better off without him. And I… I loved Robb as if he was my own son. The younglings, Bran and Rickon, as well.”

For a second, Jaime looked like he wanted to say something. Wisely, he held his tongue. He took a small step forward, closer to you. He was keenly aware that he was alone in your room, not at all appropriate for an unmarried lord or lady, but he really couldn’t care. The two of you were above that. Besides, he’d seen you naked before, for heaven’s sake!

So why was he suddenly so flustered now?

“Cersei wants me to find Sansa,” he began, carefully. “And she wants me to kill her.”

Noticeably, you stiffened. Your eyes were wide, he could see the panic begin to set within your wintry irises.

In a placating tone, he quickly reassured, “I would never do such a thing. Frankly, I’m offended that you’d think I would. I swore an oath, and I intend to keep it, even if Catelyn Stark is dead.”

After a second, your muscles loosened. You avoided his eyes, but murmured, “I believe you, Jaime.” There was a soft silence hanging between the two of you. Finally, it was shattered when you asked, “What of your brother, Tyrion? What is to happen to him?”

Jaime nodded, glad that you were on the same wavelength as him. “I was hoping… you’d come with me to speak with him.”

The dungeons were much colder than above. You were well acquainted with the drops in temperature, but it seemed that Tyrion had yet to adjust. He was shivering, bundled up in a musty blanket that Podrick had brought him.

“To tell you the truth, this isn’t so bad,” said Jaime, glancing around the spacious cell. “Four walls. A pot to piss in… I wasn’t given such a luxury during my time as a prisoner. I was chained to a wooden post or a stone wall, covered in my own shit for months on end.”

The younger brother sent him a half-hearted glare. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Maybe a bit,” replied the knight. He glanced down at his hands. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

“Complicated, yes,” said Tyrion. “And you brought the Bitter Wolf with you. Hello, Lady Stark.”

His eyes, sunken and empty, darted over to you, shrouded in the shadows behind Jaime.

“Hello, Tyrion.”

“Hm. How is our sister?” he asked Jaime.

Defeat danced over his handsome features. “How do you think? Her son died in her arms.”

“Her son?”

Something foul coiled within Jaime’s stomach. “Don’t,” he warned.

Tyrion let the matter drop.

“Do you know what’s to come?” you spoke for the first time since you came.

“My trial for regicide. Yes, I know,” said Tyrion. “I know the whole bloody country thinks I’m guilty. I know one of the three judges has wished me dead more times than I can count—that judge being my father. As for Cersei… well, she’s probably working on a way to avoid the trial altogether by having me killed.”

Jaime kicked at a small pebble on the ground. “Now that you mention it, she did ask.”

“So should I turn around and close my eyes?”

“Depends,” said Jaime. “Did you do it?”

A small smile traced Tyrion’s lips. “The Kingslayer brothers. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?” After a short pause, he spoke again. “Are you really asking if I killed your son?”

Jaime narrowed his eyes. “And are you really asking if I’d kill my brother? How can I help you?”

“Well, you can set me free, for starters.”

“You know I can’t,” Jaime reluctantly said. “What do you want me to do? Kill the guards? Sneak you out of the city in the back of a cart? Have you forgotten that I’m the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard?”

Frowning, Tyrion gruffed out, “Sorry, I’d forgotten, which is a miracle, considering how loud your golden armor is! I’d hate for you to do something inappropriate while I rot away in jail.”

Drawing in a sharp breath, Jaime snapped back, “You’re accused of killing the King. Freeing you would be treason.”

“And was it not treason to put a sword through the Mad King’s back?” you quietly asked. Both men went silent at your words. “Even if the trial goes in Tyrion’s favor, which I highly doubt, your sister would stop at nothing to have him dead. He needs to get away from King’s Landing.”

Tyrion nodded at your words. “If the killer threw himself down before the Iron Throne, confessed to his crimes, and gave irrefutable evidence of his guilt, it wouldn’t matter to Cersei. She won’t rest until my head’s on a spike.”

“Not just yours,” said Jaime. “She’s offering a knighthood to whomever finds Sansa, dead or alive.”

Brows furrowing, Tyrion protested, “Sansa didn’t do this.”

“She had more reason than anyone in the Seven Kingdoms. Do you think it’s a coincidence she disappeared the same night Joffrey died?”

“It’s not a coincidence,” you said. “Someone must have snuck her out, knowing the blame would be placed on her. Sansa’s not a killer. She spent an entire year around Joffrey—if she wanted to murder him, he would’ve been dead long before his marriage.”

Jaime pinched the space between his brows in frustration. “Regardless of who did it, Cersei won’t rest until all of you are dead. I won’t let that happen.”

“Then we have to do something,” you said, words coated with a layer of urgency. “We have to find Sansa. With Cersei practically keeping me as hostage here in Sansa’s stead… we need to send someone we trust after her.”

Brienne drummed her fingers against the table.

A sword of Valyrian steel was laid out in front of her. Both you and Jaime glanced at each other.

“It’s yours,” said Jaime.

“I can’t accept this—” she began to protest.

“It was reforged from my brother’s sword,” you said, voice soft. “And you’ll use it to defend my brother’s daughter.”

Brienne’s eyes widened. “No, my Lady, this should belong to you, not me.”

“I’m no good with a sword,” you admitted. “They’re clunky things, far too large and hard to maneuver if not trained properly. I’m much more comfortable with a bow and arrow. You swore an oath to return the Stark girls to their mother. Now, Arya may be far, far away from us by now, perhaps even long gone… but there is still a great chance of finding Sansa and getting her somewhere safe. Wherever that may be.”

Nodding emphatically, the large woman solemnly said, “I won’t let you down.”

“I had something else made for you.” Jaime pulled at a tarp over a mannequin, holding fine platelets of armor, hewn from the strongest of metals. “I hope I got your measurements right. It’s hard to judge by the eye.”

“I’ll find her,” promised Brienne. “For Lady Catelyn. And for the both of you.”

“I almost forgot,” Jaime added. “One last gift.”

Turns out Brienne wasn’t too keen on her last gift, Podrick.

You couldn’t quite understand why—he was a very sweet, innocent boy, ever the loyal squire to Tyrion. No doubt he’d faithfully serve Brienne, as well.

“I don’t need a squire. He’ll slow me down!” she exclaimed.

“My brother owes him a debt. He’s not safe here,” Jaime argued.

The woman looked like she wanted to protest again, but you intervened, “You’ll be doing him a favor. Cersei wouldn’t hesitate to be rid of him.”

“I won’t slow you down, Ser!” chimed Pod. He winced upon realizing his mistake. “Uhm… m’lady. I promise I’ll serve you well.”

“See? He’s a good lad!” said Jaime.

As Pod went away to ready Brienne’s horse, you were left standing in front of her, contemplating how to say goodbye. They were never your strong suit. Every time you’ve said goodbye to someone close to you, it’d never ended well before. They usually never returned.

Oathkeeper, Brienne named her sword once Jaime claimed that all the best swords have their own respective titles.

“Find her for me,” you said, voice warbling. You stepped closer, placing a hand on Brienne’s arm. “Tell her I love her. Tell her I’m sorry our time was cut short.”

“I will,” Brienne replied. “Thank you for everything, my Lady.”

“I owe you my entire life,” you said, rife with rare fondness. “Safe journeys, Brienne.”

She held her gaze with you for a moment longer, before nodding and heading off to Pod and their horses.

Both you and Jaime watched as they rode away from the Red Keep, their figures growing smaller and smaller before they disappeared into the heart of King’s Landing.

“My entire family is gone,” you murmured. “And I just sent away the closest thing I had to a friend.”

Jaime was tempted to thread his single hand through yours. It looked like it’d fit perfectly. Instead, he merely observed your pained features, laced with regret.

“Look on the bright side,” he said, nudging you in an affectionate manner. “At least now I’m the closest thing you’d have to a friend.”

To his delight, you didn’t refute his statement. All you did was spare him a sidelong stare, and a quirk of your lips—was that a smile?—before turning and making your way back into the castle.

It was time for Tyrion’s trial. It was quite the dreary event—witness after witness called upon to spit accusations and twisted observations of Tyrion’s so-called monstrosity to the three judges. What piqued your interest, however, was when Grand Maester Pycelle claimed that the King’s fool was the last one to be seen with Sansa, spiriting her away after the feast. Residue of poison was found in her necklace. That was not a good look for neither Tyrion nor his wife, your niece. Though you didn’t believe she killed Joffrey, you would’ve been proud if she was the one who managed to do it and get away.

Nearly five hours into the trial, Tywin finally called to adjourn for a break.

You were grateful for the pause in the trial, feeling the beginnings of a headache nursing at the front of your temple. As you left to go get yourself some water, Jaime quickly followed after his father into a separate room.

Tywin poured himself a goblet of wine, swirling the rich liquid around before sipping. His green eyes fell upon his oldest son, stiff in his golden uniform.

“You’d condemn your own son to death?” Jaime hissed, disgust running rampant across his features.

Unfazed, Tywin merely reached over to a platter of food to load fruits and cheese upon the prongs of his fork. “I’ve condemned nobody. The trial isn’t over.”

“Cersei has manipulated everything and you know it!”

An uninterested hum. “I know nothing of the sort.”

Irritation bubbled within Jaime’s chest. “You’ve always hated Tyrion.”

“He killed his King!”

“As did I!” Jaime snapped. “You know the last order the Mad King gave me? He wanted me to bring him your head. And what was it for? I saved your life just so you could murder my brother? Your son?”

The worn features of Tywin Lannister hardened with his words. “It won’t be murder. It would be justice. I’m performing my sworn duty as the Hand of the King. If Tyrion is found guilty, he will be punished accordingly.”

“He’ll be executed!”

“No,” Tywin rebutted, voice raising loud enough to echo back against the stone walls. “He’ll be punished accordingly!”

Jaime drew in a sharp breath. “Once, you said family is what lives on. It’s all that lives on. You told me about a dynasty that would last a thousand years. What happens to your precious dynasty when Tyrion dies? I’m a Kingsguard… forbidden by oath to carry on the family line.”

The father shoveled the forkful of fig and brie into his mouth. “I’m well aware,” he said after deliberately taking his sweet time to chew and swallow.

“And what happens to your name? Who would carry the lion banner in future battles? Your nephews? Lancel Lannister? Others whose names I don’t remember?”

Sitting forward in his seat, Tywin shot back, “And what happens to my dynasty if I spare the life of my grandson’s killer?”

Finally, Jaime spat out, “It’ll survive… through me.”

A pause. Tywin reared back slightly, surprise flickering over his stony features.

“I’ll leave the Kingsguard,” said the reluctant knight. The words felt bitter and heavy on his tongue. “I’ll take my place as your son and heir… only if you let Tyrion live.”

Without hesitation, Tywin immediately said, “Done.”

Jaime certainly hadn’t been expecting that. His white cloak fluttered slightly.

“When the testimony is concluded and the guilty verdict is rendered, Tyrion will be given the chance to speak. He’ll plead for mercy. I’ll allow him to join the Night’s Watch. In three days’ time, he’ll depart for Castle Black and live out his days at the wall.”

Relief flooded Jaime’s veins. His features softened.

Tywin kept speaking, “You’ll remove your White Cloak immediately. You’ll leave King’s Landing to assume your rightful place at Casterly Rock. You’ll marry a suitable woman and father children named Lannister. And you’ll never turn your back on your family ever again.”

“I have one more condition.”

Tywin narrowed his gaze. “What is it?”

“I’ll return to Casterly Rock and sire heirs for you… but only if the woman I marry is Y/N Stark.”

There was a lump in his throat. Letting go of his decades of servitude to the Kingsguard was much harder than he expected. If he married you, he’d be living up to his name, after all. Oathbreaker. A man without honor.

This time, the surprise in his father’s expression was poorly concealed, clear as day.

“Do you love her?” he asked, quick to return back to a neutral visage.

Did he? Did Jaime love you?

His lips pursed, and he trained his gaze on the ground.

Tywin hummed whilst nodding. “Alright. The North may yet be given back to the Starks, should Roose Bolton and his bastard fail to take it for his own. You have my word that Tyrion will be spared.”

Jaime felt like he should’ve given his father his thanks. He didn’t. Instead, he stoutly nodded, speaking not another word, before turning and heading back to the trial room.

The bells tolled, signifying that the trial was to resume. You strode in just as the last bell rang out, catching sight of Jaime speaking to his brother by his stand. The knight was explaining to Tyrion what he was supposed to do: plead guilty, and beg for mercy to be sent to the Night’s Watch. With one final reassuring goodbye, Jaime stepped away, his eyes meeting your curious ones.

To your interest, instead of taking his place by the edge of the court, he wove through the crowd to get to you.

“Jaime,” you greeted, still miffed as to what he was doing, standing beside you.

“Y/N,” he said. “I have to speak to you. After all this.”

Another second passed. You studied his features, pallid and clearly anxious. Before you could interrogate him some more, Tywin called for a start. Across court, Jaime could feel his sister’s angry stare burning through the both of you. His hand brushed against you. Swallowing his nerves, Jaime curled his fingers around yours. You didn’t pull away.

He was to marry you. It was still hard for him to wrap his head around the idea. How would you feel about that?

Angry, probably, Jaime thought.

The trial droned on. It was only when the last witness was called up—Shae, the whore that Tyrion had fallen in love with—did Jaime’s throat begin to close up. Panic clawed at his chest when he noticed Tyrion’s resolve began to crumble away.

He was anguished. The longer Shae spoke, the more questions she answered, the more miserable Tyrion’s expression grew.

Tears filled the brother’s eyes when he growled out his speech—on how he was guilty, yes. Not of killing the King, but of being a dwarf. How watching Joffrey die in front of him had given him more pleasure than a thousand lying whores. How he wished he had enough poison to kill everyone in the courtroom.

The lords and ladies in the crowd burst into scandalous gasps and affronted murmurs.

Finally, Tyrion demanded a trial by combat.

You shared a worried glance with Jaime, who looked practically shattered at the turn of events. Sympathetic, you shifted so your entire hand slotted into his.

The crowd began to thin away when the trial drew to a close. The combat was to be in a few day’s time.

Before you turned to take your own leave, you looked at Jaime one last time. “What did you want to tell me, Jaime?”

His heart fell to his stomach. Now that his father couldn’t uphold his end of the promise, Jaime couldn’t guarantee that he’d have to leave his post as Kingsguard for Casterly Rock. He wouldn’t have to marry you.

The green of his eyes shone with pain when he finally met your gaze. Hopelessly, he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now,” he said.

With that, he let go of your hand, shouldering through the crowd to make his way out of the throne room.

Oberyn was named Tyrion’s champion. The Mountain was named Cersei’s.

To none of your surprise, the Mountain won. He’d crushed Oberyn’s head like a bloody watermelon with his bare hands. The memory was none too pleasant to relive, that was for sure.

The next day’s afternoon, Jaime heard the footsteps of his sister as she slipped into his chambers, uninvited.

She uttered his name, soft and sultry. Jaime only frowned.

“You won. You now have one fewer brother. Must be proud of yourself. There really is nothing you wouldn’t do, is there?”

A cruel smile graced her lips. “For my family, no. Nothing. I would do things for my family you couldn’t imagine.”

“Tyrion is your family.”

“He’s not,” she denied.

“You don’t get to choose!”

Cersei snarled, “I do. And so do you. We choose each other.”

Do we?

On she continued, “You can choose the creature that chose to kill our mother whilst coming into this world—”

Brows furrowing, Jaime incredulously asked, “Are you really mad enough to blame him for that? He didn’t decide to kill her, he was an infant.”

“A disease doesn’t decide to kill you,” the blonde woman snapped back, “but you cut it out before it does, all the same. What do you decide? Who do you choose?”

She stepped closer.

“The things I did to get back to you, to endure all that, only to find you actively trying to have our brother ki—!”

Before Jaime could finish his sentence, Cersei had propelled herself forward, yanking at his face with no abandon, pulling him close until his lips touched hers.

“I choose you,” she whispered against him. Jaime felt sick.

“Those are just words,” he replied. With jerky movements, he gripped at her arm in a fruitless effort to keep her at bay, the golden hand she had forged for him hanging uselessly by his side.

Cersei hummed an affirmative. “Yes. Just like the ones I said to father. I told him.”

“Told him what?”

“I told him about us.”

Dread filled his chest. “You told him?”

“I told him I wouldn’t marry Loras Tyrell. I told him I’m staying right here with Tommen, and with you.”

A foolish woman, Cersei was. She thought she was smarter than everyone, but this might’ve been the most idiotic thing Jaime could even fathom doing. Telling his father that he used to fuck his sister and fathered her bastards was a one-way ticket to being disowned. “You think he’ll just accept that?”

Cersei studied the dubiety in Jaime’s expression. “Go and ask him.” She kissed him again, and again, and again. Jaime was far too shocked to push her away.

“What did you say?” he queried once he’d finally gathered his wits.

“I don’t want to talk about Tywin Lannister,” she hissed, dragging her lips down to his jaw.

Jaime didn’t want this anymore. He felt nothing when she touched him. He thought about how light his chest felt when you held his hand during the trial. No longer did he harbor such feelings for Cersei. Years ago, perhaps. Not anymore. Not now.

“I don’t choose Tywin Lannister. I don’t love Tywin Lannister. I love my brother… my lover. People will whisper and make their jests. Let them. They’re all so small, I can’t even see them. I only see what matters.” She took his handless arm, lifting it so she could kiss the gold. To her, it was an act of love. To him, it was an act of pride.

Having enough, Jaime pushed her away. Not hard enough to hurt her, but enough to make her stagger back a few steps.

“I can’t do this,” he said. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Why?” demanded Cersei. She scrutinized him with a sharp glare. After a moment, she withdrew herself, upper lip curling in disgust. “You’re in love with her. With the Bitter Wolf. You love her.”

Horror sank its dark nails into Jaime’s shoulders.

“I’ll have her killed,” said Cersei, venomous hatred coloring her tone an ugly shade of green. “Have you watch as she gasps and chokes around the noose I’ll tie around her throat. She’s a traitor to the realm, don’t you know that, you imbecile? Aunt to a false King, and to the wife of the murderer of my son.”

Desperate, Jaime shuffled closer again, raising his hand as if he were taming a wild mare. “I don’t love the Bitter Wolf. I don’t. I swear it.”

I do, he thought. I love her.

And so, Jaime knew he had to keep Cersei away from you, at any cost necessary. Keep her occupied, for as long as he could. He pressed forth and kissed her. Her mouth was hard against his, but softened with each of his advances.

“I love you,” he lied. “I love you.”

He repeated the sentiment over and over again, praying to any God that would listen that his sister would believe it. The hours passed by in a blur as Jaime kissed and licked and sucked every inch of her. She climaxed maybe once, or twice, or half a dozen times. Jaime didn’t know, and neither did he care. Most of the time he had disassociated back within his own mind, wanting nothing more than to just get it over and done with.

Eventually, Cersei blissfully passed out from exhaustion, fast asleep beneath his silken sheets. After making sure she was completely unconscious, Jaime slipped his clothes back on and snuck out of his chambers.

The torches lining the halls of the dungeons did very little to illuminate the space. Jaime could barely see half a foot in front of him. Nonetheless, he hurriedly made his way to Tyrion’s cell.

“Oh, go away, you son of a whore!” Tyrion yelled once the grill to his cell rattled opened, thinking it was one of the guards coming in to torment him.

Jaime strode in, tilting his head. “Is that any way to speak of our mother?”

Shocked, Tyrion immediately sat up at the sight of his brother. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Jaime retorted, ushering his brother out and through the narrow halls. “A galley is waiting in the bay bound for the Free Cities.”

“Who’s helping you?” Tyrion asked, bewildered.

“Varys. You have more friends than you thought, Tyrion.”

Deftly, the two of them hurried through one of the many secret passageways of the Red Keep. The ceilings hung so low that Jaime had to duck his head so as to not smack his skull against the uneven stone.

“There’s a locked door at the top of the stairs,” said Jaime once they reached the end. “Knock on it twice, then twice again. Varys will open.”

Tyrion looked up at his brother. “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

Breath hitching in his throat, Jaime could feel the beginnings of tears sting the corners of his eyes as he knelt down and drew his brother into a tight hug. He pressed a lingering kiss onto Tyrion’s cheek.

This was the last they were going to see of each other.

Anguish wrote itself heavy into his tone when he whispered, “Farewell, little brother.”

It ached to pull away.

Just as Jaime was about to go, Tyrion called out his name.

“Thank you,” his brother said. “For my life.”

Jaime nodded. He blinked away the tears as he gestured for him to go. “Quickly, now. Before anyone notices you’re gone.”

With that, Jaime rushed to abscond, taking twisting turns, straight to where he knew your chambers were. Ensuring there was nobody around, Jaime stepped out into the hall, knocking twice on the door and slipping in.

You startled at the intruder, sitting up on the bed, the book you were reading snapping shut, but relaxed slightly upon seeing Jaime.

“Jaime? What’s going on?”

“You have to leave. Come with me,” he said, urgently striding forward and taking your hand in his, pulling you off the mattress and to the door. It was a relief that you were already fully clothed, and had no personal belongings to take with you, because there was simply no time for anything at the moment.

Brows pulling together, you demanded, “Jaime, tell me what’s happening. Where are you taking me?”

“Out!” he impatiently replied, slipping down the secret passageways once more. “Away. Away from King’s Landing—from my sister. She wants you dead. I can’t have that happen. There’s a boat waiting for you. Varys is helping.”

Finally Jaime yanked you into a dingy little room, lined with dust and rusted-over weapons. Shrouded in the shadows of the corner, Varys stepped out, pushing the cowl back from his head.

“Bitter Wolf,” he said.

“Lord Varys,” you carefully replied. “Why are you helping me?”

“I was fond of your brother, Eddard, however foolish he was with his honor. And, though we haven’t spoken before, your death at the hands of the Queen Regent would reign nothing but war from the Northerners.” He glanced at Jaime suspiciously before lowering his voice and saying, “My little birds tell me Sansa Stark is in the Eyrie, posing as Petyr Baelish’s bastard daughter.”

All the air in your chest seemed to slip away. Sansa was alive. She was alright.

For now, at least.

“I can help you get to the Vale to be with your niece,” said Varys, gesturing down another staircase, which led to the waters. “There’s a boat ready for you, with everything you need inside—a map, a cloak, rations. A bow and a quiver of arrows, included. The crew will be silent, I can assure you.”

“How can you be sure?” you queried, cautious. Varys offered you a thin smile. “I cut their tongues out when they were young children. Little birds don’t stay little for so long, but they’re loyal to me.”

Horror painted your insides black. You had no idea what to think of Varys. You glanced at Jaime, who looked none too pleased at the notion, but gave you an encouraging nod.

Besides, what other choice did you have?

After a hesitant, quiet murmur of your gratitude to the eunuch, you slipped down the stairs, Jaime hot on your heels. He wasn’t supposed to follow you out of the Keep, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see you leave for himself, ensure that you left the capital safely.

The boat was a small, rickety thing, but it’d do. You spotted half a dozen young men and women onboard, deathly silent. Their eyes seemed to glow unnaturally against the dark seas. Unease settled within the pits of your stomach.

You turned to Jaime, lips parting as you struggled for words. What could you say to him, after everything the two of you had been through together?

He seemed to be thinking along the same lines, grappling for a proper farewell. The words were lodged in his throat.

“You’re a good man, Ser Jaime,” you finally told him, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Beneath all of your sister… and all of your father… there is good in you. There’s so much of it.”

Taking a step closer, Jaime gently cupped your face with his remaining hand, the golden one on his left arm feeling heavier by the second. You leaned into his touch, allowing yourself to be vulnerable for just a moment. For decades and decades, you refused to let your guard down. With Jaime, you finally felt safe enough to do so.

But you were leaving.

It was a bittersweet feeling, he realized. He was glad you were going to leave: you’d be safer out there, looking for your niece in the Vale than in the capital with his wretched sister. But then again, he wanted you here. He wanted to be by your side, more than anything. To think, he had thought he was going to marry you only yesterday.

He leaned in closer, slow and tentative. There was ample time for you to pull away, but you didn’t. When his lips finally grazed yours, you finally pressed forward, fisting the lapels of his tunic, and tugging him closer.

The kiss was soft at first, one of uncertainty and turmoil. It was quick to grow more desperate, pouring all the unsaid words and months of pent-up yearning into the embrace. You were the one to pull away, resting your forehead against the side of his. He chased after your lips, but you forced yourself to turn your head away.

Jaime’s entire chest ached. It ached and longed and screamed for you.

You had to go. The longer Jaime stayed out here with you, the riskier it was.

“I owe you everything,” you whispered, nose pressed against his cheekbone. There was an uneven warble to your voice. “Everything, Jaime.”

“No, you don’t,” he responded, kissing the patch of skin beside your pained eyes. “You did the same for me. We’re even now.”

A part of him wanted to tell you that he had asked his father if he could marry you. But he held the words back, knowing it would bring nothing but either of you pain. To love each other, only to never be able to be together. Jaime didn’t want you to feel that pain. You deserved to be free, to love a kind and soft-hearted Lord… someone that wasn’t him. That wasn’t a Lannister. That wasn’t the enemy.

After all, wolves and lions tend not to be friends, much less lovers.

A burning tear fell down his cheek. You offered him a watery smile.

You smiled for him, after decades of never doing so.

Jaime loved you. He loved you more than anything. And he had to let you go.

Your hands slipped away from each other, and you turned to board the ship. The silent crew fluttered around you like ghosts, readying to sail away in effortless coordination.

As the boat rocked into motion, edging away from King’s Landing, you heard alarm bells tolling in the distance, signifying Tyrion’s escape from prison. Jaime made his way back into the Red Keep, watching the boat grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the hazy fog.

The Bitter Wolf and the Golden Lion, Jaime thought.

Now that was a tale certainly worth telling.

#jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister fanfiction #jaime lannister fluff #jaime lannister angst #jaime lannister fic #jaime lannister x you #jaime lannister x stark!reader #asoiaf fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #game of thrones fanfic #jaime lannister

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hoseok666 · 8 months ago

Text

and they were roommates - ch. 7

pairings: jungkook x reader/taehyung x reader

genre: strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, eventual angst, eventual smut, fluff, pretty much everything . college!jungkook AU, college!taehyung AU, tsundere! jungkook, warm personality taehyung, slowburn

word count: 32.8 k (😏)

series summary: it all started with a rejection from your longtime crush, jeon jungkook. you decided to confess to him on your last day of high school. after a harsh rejection and a rough summer dealing with the heartbreak, you were starting anew once your freshman year of college came. you were going to be sharing an apartment with two other roommates that you don’t even know. what a surprise you’re going to be in for once you find out it’s the one and only: jeon jungkook and kim taehyung.

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7

It’s around 8 in the morning when you wake up from your slumber. You’re greeted with a shock of pain shooting through your head and your body is feeling as if it’s floating on water. “Fucking hangover.” you grumble to yourself. You press a hand onto one of your temples.

You managed to get up from your comfy bed and walk to your desk drawer, where you found a small bottle of pain reliever pills. You pop two of the capsules into your mouth, washing it down with a random bottle of water you had on top of your desk. The hangover wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. After all, you were able to sober up a lot faster than your friends did.

You were about to lay back down on your bed until you felt your stomach rumble. It was making gassy noises and hunger cues at the same time. Great. I have to shit and eat. You open your bedroom door and are met with the smell of a rich, salty umami scent surfing around the apartment floor. The smell caused your stomach to growl even more.

Before you went to check out whoever and whatever was in the kitchen, you used the restroom to release whatever your body wanted to waste out. After brushing your teeth and washing your hands, you applied heavy concealer where Jungkook had left his hickies on your neck from last night. You entered the kitchen and caught the sight of Taehyung stirring a large pot of miso soup with a ladle. Jimin was already sitting on the table sipping the soup. When Taehyung notices your presence, he greets you with his signature grin. “Morning, __. Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Woke up with a slight hangover though, so I just popped some pills. Do you guys need some?” you ask the two. Jimin shakes his head, rejecting your offer. “This soup is enough to cure me.” He says after swallowing down the rest of his bowl. “I’m good too but thanks for asking, ___.” Taehyung softened at you just being…you. Considerate, selfless you. It was one of the reasons why he fell in love with you. His stomach flip flops after he is reminded about the realization from last night.

“Do you want some miso? It’ll help with rehydrating yourself.” Taehyung offered. You accepted his offer and joined Jimin at the table. “Can I sip on some of your water?” You ask Jimin. “Go ahead.” You gladly reach his large glass of fresh cold water, and your ‘sip’ turns into you finishing it completely.

“So, I said you could have a sip, not finish it.” Jimin stared at you as if he wanted to kill you. “Relax, I’ll refill it for you.” You chuckle, and went to the sink, refilling the water that you indirectly declared was half yours now.

After Taehyung serves you a medium-sized bowl of miso, he joins the table with you and Jimin with his own bowl too. He chose to sit next to you. You give Taehyung a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for the meal, Tae. I’ll eat it well.” Taehyung ruffles your hair and gives you a gentle pat on your back. “Enjoy.”

As per usual, Jimin rolls his eyes at Taehyung being oblivious to his own feelings. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen. Jimin was just scrolling through his phone while you and Taehyung were devouring the miso.

While Jimin is scrolling through his Instagram stories, he sees that Namjoon has posted a couple of things on his story. Jimin skips through the ones of him just recording the party, and himself with his friends. Jimin was about to just skip his story entirely until he gets to a post of you and Namjoon posing in front of the mirror together. He had arm around you and you were holding up a peace sign. His eyes widened at the sight. “Wow, not Namjoon already posting you on his Instagram story.” Jimin excitedly shoves his phone in front of you.

When you see the picture, your face heats up. “Oh, yea that happened.” You say sheepishly. Taehyung tried not to get jealous but he’s just naturally a jealous person. It doesn’t feel good for him to see you potentially seeing another guy, especially upon recently learning that Taehyung indeed has strong feelings for you.

“Well? Are you just gonna say that? What else happened?” Jimin pressed. You debated on telling the boys that Namjoon had asked you out on a date later this week. You felt shy to say out loud that you were going on a first date with someone…ever. Namjoon is your first ever real date. You’ve kissed only two people in your life; Kim Seokjin, and one guy you had lost your virginity to when you were a third year in high school. His name was Hwang Hyunjin. You and Hyunjin were not an official couple. It was more like what they call nowadays; a “sneaky link”. Hyunjin was attracted to you, you thought he was hot enough to fuck. The two of you were just horny teenagers and wanted to get your virginities over with. It was just sex and kisses, no dates and no feelings. Hyunjin ended up transferring to a new school for his senior year and you haven’t heard from him since.

You decided that you shouldn't make it a huge deal to hide the date from them. “He, uh, actually asked me out on a date later this week.” You confess. Jimin’s eyes immediately fixated on Taehyung's reaction. Taehyung tried to get himself to say something. Anything. But he felt as if his throat was closed.

“That’s…great, __. Are you excited?” Jimin began. You nodded. “Yeah, I am. He seems nice.” You didn’t want to admit that he was your first date ever because you knew they were going to just tease you for being an inexperienced loser. “He’s supposed to text me later today to confirm the time and date.” You added. You chugged down a large spoonful of your miso.

Taehyung remained silent. He wasn’t heartbroken but he felt challenged. If Taehyung wanted you, he had to get you one way or another. He doesn’t know if he should suppress his feelings or express it the best way he can.

Suddenly, the three of you heard a bedroom door opening. It had to be Jungkook. Your stomach felt as if it was fluttering with anxiety. This would be the first time you would be facing Jungkook since you decided to end whatever relationship the two of you had. Enemies? Frenemies? Whatever the title was, you didn’t want anything to do with Jungkook for right now.

It came to your surprise when it wasn’t Jungkook who entered the kitchen. The three of you made eye contact with a foreign figure standing in the kitchen entrance. It was a girl. A pretty girl. This pretty girl was wearing an oversized black t-shirt. Your stomach and heart dropped in realization when you knew who the shirt belonged to.

“Morning.” she spoke out, giving you guys a short bow. She looked a bit nervous, as if she was meeting Jungkook’s parents. The three of you didn’t verbally say anything; you all slightly bowed back to her. “Would it be alright if I grabbed some water from the sink?” she asks, while playing her fingers. Taehyung motioned her where she could find the cups. “Go ahead.” He said.

She smiled at him graciously, and grabbed herself not one but two small glasses. She filled them both up with water and gave you guys one final bow before walking back to Jungkook’s room. The slamming of the door brought the three of you back to reality.

“Uhm.” Jimin starts. “Yeah..” Taehyung continues. “So, does he do this often?” Jimin asked you both. Taehyung shakes his head. “This is the first girl he’s ever brought back.” He informs. The emotion that was coursing through you was a mixture of pain, jolt, and numbness. “She’s pretty.” You admit. Jimin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she is but..aren’t one night stands supposed to not interact with household members? That’s like against the law of hookups.”

Taehyung snorted at Jimin’s sentence. “You’re so dumb.” He playfully hits his head. “Jungkook though? He’s really entering his hoe phase now. About time.” Jimin sighs in relief, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back into the chair. It was silent for a few seconds. Jimin sat up quickly at a realization. “That’s why I heard moaning when I came home last night. I thought it was Taehyung watching porn.”

You managed to crack out a chuckle at Jimin’s abruptness. Jimin is the comedic relief in this household that you, Taehyung and Jungkook needed.

. . .

When Yeri returned back to Jungkook’s room, he was still asleep. He was snoring quietly, his pink lips slightly parted. He was shirtless and bottomless underneath the covers. Yeri sat on her side of the bed and simply stared at Jungkook. She was in awe at his natural beauty. She could stare at him for hours. When Yeri took notice of him at the party last night, he was all she could stare at all night. His beauty was striking. When Yeri knows she wants something, she gets it. And that’s exactly what went down last night.

Jungkook leant down to whisper in her ear and ask if she wanted to go back to his place. Without even thinking about it, she agreed. Yeri and Jungkook took an Uber back to the apartment. On the way there, the two of them were in a heavy makeout session throughout the entire ride. Poor Uber driver. At least the heavy tip Jungkook left for the driver made up for the trauma. The rest of the night was pure bliss for Yeri. She hasn’t cummed that many times in a one night stand since…ever. Jungkook was a god with his fingers, mouth, and with his dick. Yeri took a glance at her thighs to see if he left any marks on her. He was kissing them like crazy last night. She was met to see no hickies on her thighs, or neck or anywhere.

Yeri knew that Jungkook shared his apartment with roommates but when she saw you in the kitchen with the other men, she wasn’t expecting one of his roommates to be a woman. And Yeri recognized you too. Yeri has only known Jungkook for twelve hours so she knew that it wasn’t any of her concern of what kind of people live with Jungkook. However, when she had seen Jungkook at the party, she knew that she did not want to use him to be any kind of a casual hookup. She wanted more.

Jungkook’s eyes began to flutter open from his sleep. He was a light sleeper so he could feel that someone had been in his room and observing him. When his eyes fully opened, he was met with the sight of Yeri staring at him. He almost screamed, if he was being honest. He wasn’t expecting her to still be here when he awoke from his slumber.

“Why hello there, Jungkook.” She cooed at him. She handed him a glass of water and two pain reliever capsules.

Jungkook stared at her for a bit. He didn’t understand why she was still here and giving him pills and water as if she was his girlfriend or something. “Thanks.” he muttered and hesitantly took the water and medicine.

He gulped it down and placed the empty glass on his nightstand. “How did you sleep?” Yeri asks. She reached down to tuck a piece of his jet-black hair behind his pierced ears. Jungkook shuddered at her touch. Her hands were freezing cold.

Before he could answer, he looked around his bedroom. Their clothes were scattered throughout the floor. The messiest his room has ever been in awhile. He hates mess. He hates anything that isn’t in his order.

When he attempted to sit up, his back instantly began to sting. It was as if his skin was ripped open. He hissed in pain and attempted to turn his head to examine the cause of the pain. Yeri got up from the bed and went to look at his back for him. When she noticed all the scratch marks she left on him, she winced hard.

“Oh..I’m sorry. Seems like I scratched you a bit too hard.” She flashed him an apologetic smile. His mind flashbacked to Yeri riding him and digging her nails, piercing through his skin, from her pleasure.

He cringed at the memory, not wanting to reminisce on what the two of them did last night. He felt awful to admit that he was embarrassed his drunk self caused him to engage into another hookup. Two hookups in one night was an extremely rare occasion for him.

Over the summer, prior to beginning his freshman year at Konkuk, Jungkook decided to gain sexual experience to prepare himself for the college girls. He found girls on Tinder or Hinge that were willing to fuck and fuck only. As much as Jungkook tried to act like he didn’t care about girls and dating, he knew that he didn’t want to waste his college years without any sexual experience. He wanted to have stories to look back on, like Taehyung did. Jungkook didn’t like catching himself trying to follow Taehyung’s playboy footsteps however it was hard for him. Both Jungkook and Taehyung were extremely popular with women and it was overwhelming trying to contain the amount of attention the two of them had.

“S’okay.” he mumbled back to Yeri’s apology. He got up from his bed and reached into his drawer to look for an outfit to change into. “I saw your roommates. They were eating in the kitchen.” Yeri mentioned. Jungkook silently panicked to himself. Everyone met her already? Why would she go into the kitchen and introduce herself?

“Are you hungry? We can join them in the kitchen, if you want?” She continued to talk. Jungkook wondered to himself why the hell Yeri won’t stop talking. He put on a gray plain sweatshirt, solid black boxers and matching gray sweatpants. “I, uh, actually have to be somewhere and am running late.” He indirectly asks her to leave. Yeri gets the message clearly. “So you live with her then?” She asks without any context. Jungkook cocks a brow up. “Who?”

“The girl in the kitchen. I saw the two of you going somewhere in private last night.” If she was upset, she wasn’t showing it. “Oh. Her. She’s just my roommate. Needed to talk about her boy problems and came to me for advice.” He fed another lie. Yeri took a second to process what he said. She had a feeling that Jungkook wasn’t telling her the full truth. She remembered seeing you look annoyed with him and vice versa.

“I see. Just wondering.” she ends the conversation. “So, I guess I’m going home in my Playboy bunny costume then?” She asks rhetorically, expecting Jungkook to give her an outfit to go home into.

“Oh, sorry.” Jungkook went digging into his drawer to find a pair of shorts that he hoped would fit Yeri’s petite frame. He found a pair of biker shorts that should be able to fit Yeri. “Try this on.” She slides the shorts on. They were a bit loose on her waist but the oversized shirt she had on should be able to cover that. Jungkook then went into his closet and grabbed an unused trash bag. “You can put your costume inside this.” “I’ll order you an uber right now too.”

Yeri’s expectations for him were met expeditiously and she gave Jungkook bonus points for the trash bag. “Thank you.” She gives him a soft smile, which he returns back. “I’ll be going now. Hopefully, I’ll see you around to return your clothes sometime?” She asks with desperation laced in her tone.

Jungkook nodded in agreement. He had actually no plans to get in contact with Yeri again. He just needed to release the sexual frustration that was left in him after not being cum from the hookup with you. However, Yeri was wearing his most favorite black shirt so he definitely wanted that back.

“Can I walk you to the door?” he offered. “Of course.” Jungkook opened his bedroom door for Yeri and the two of them made their way to the apartment door. Jungkook took a quick glance into the kitchen as he and Yeri walked past it. You were no longer in the kitchen. It was just Taehyung by himself and he was washing the dishes.

When Yeri grabs onto the doorknob, she gives Jungkook one last look. “See you around, Jeon Jungkook.” She gives him one final flirty smile and exits the apartment. Jungkook breathes out a breath he was holding in.

“So you’re hooking up now?” Taehyung approached him, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, Tae. I know I shouldn’t do that. I won’t do it again.” Jungkook apologized. “What? I’m not upset. I’m beaming with joy! See?” He flashed him a toothy grin.

Jungkook smirked at his brother. “Very funny.”

“So...how’d you guys meet? What’s her name?” Taehyung gave Jungkook a hyped up smile, finally happy that Jungkook is doing ‘regular-guy-things’ and not just sitting in his room doing homework and watching anime all day.

“This is where I stop talking to you.” Jungkook attempted to flee away from his annoying step-brother, but Taehyung wasn’t having any of that. “Bro, just tell me. I promise I’m not gonna stalk her or anything like that. Yet.”

“What?”

“Kidding. Now tell me her name.”

Jungkook sighs in defeat. “Yeri. Just Yeri, I don’t know anything else about her. I literally just met her at the party last night.”

As Jungkook said that, he was on his phone as if he wasn’t paying him any attention. This ticked Jungkook off. “How are you gonna make me tell you stuff about her when you’re on your ph-“

“Got it. I found her Instagram. Lee Yerim. Must go by Yeri for short.” Taehyung interrupted and shoved his cellphone in front of his face. Jungkook didn’t care to look at her Instagram page that was right in front of him. He doesn’t care about Yeri.

“I didn’t ask to see her Insta, dude.”

“You don’t wanna follow her? At all?”

Jungkook groaned in annoyance. “I’m not like you. I don’t crawl back to every woman I touch.”

Taehyung clicked his phone’s off button and tucked it into one of his pockets. He chuckled at Jungkook’s shade. “When are you gonna meet someone you genuinely care about?” he asked abruptly.

Jungkook was taken aback by his question. “Why are you asking this?”

Tae shrugged. “I just would like to see you experiencing love. Or a crush. Or even tolerate someone.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched a bit. Jungkook can’t remember the last time he felt romantic emotions toward someone. It’s not like he doesn’t do romance, though. It is just not a priority for him right now. He doesn’t prioritize anything that doesn’t benefit himself or his career in any way. Besides, love hasn’t done anything spectacular for his life. Love is like an estranged parent for him: knows it exists, but not familiar to it.

Jungkook is aware that his estranged relationship with love is why he has a cold personality. The closest person in his life that he can confidently know that he loves is Taehyung.

“I don’t have time for love.” He simply answered. Taehyung let out a breath. He knew he was going to say that. Jungkook doesn’t make time for anything that doesn’t have to do with his studies or work.

“Love doesn’t care about timing. You can’t always push the thought of a relationship away.”

“I can do what I want.” Jungkook stubbornly continued. Taehyung rolled his eyes at his brother. “You’re so annoying.” Taehyung walked away from Jungkook and made his way towards his bedroom. “I’m gonna get ready for work.”

Jungkook stared at his figure until he disappeared into his bedroom. After being left alone, he released a long breath of air. Taehyung and his weird questions reminded Jungkook of you. He remembered the question you had asked him a while ago: “Are you content with your life?”

Jungkook still doesn’t know the answer to that question.

. . .

It was the next week, a Saturday afternoon, when you were in the middle of cleaning your room until you heard a ding sound from your phone.

You walked over to where you had left your cell phone charging on your bed.

Namjoon: So how does tomorrow at 5pm sound? Dinner on me.

Your heart quickened at Namjoon finally texting you. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t waiting on his text all day. You didn’t want to respond right away, it would look too desperate.

Instead, you immediately texted Hoseok.

you: guess who’s going on a date tomorrow :)

Immediately, he responded. Typical Hoseok.

hobi: uhm WHAT..

with who???

you: guess 😝

hobi: taehyung ??

You groaned in annoyance. Taehyung and I will never happen.

you: no. -.-

hobi: then i don’t care

you: LOL ur so annoying. Do you remember the guy I was dancing with last night?

hobi: wait him? he’s actually so fine. GO AHEAD 🥸

you: hehe thanks :) I can't wait to see where he’ll take me.

hobi: bring protection <3

you: i don't let them hit on the first date 💋

. . .

“You know Namjoon and __’s date is today, right?” Jimin joined Taehyung in the living room. “Yeah, I do.”

Jimin searched for a sign of jealousy on his best friend’s face. “So, what do you think of the two? Think they’re cute together?” Jimin decided to play with him.

“Yeah, they’re alright.” Taehyung replied dryly. “Hey. Cut it out,” Jimin snapped. Taehyung looked up from his phone and shot Jimin a bewildered look. “Fuck are you talking about?”

“Cut your little act. I’ve been your best friend since we were fucking five. Do you really think you can hide shit from me? I know you like __. Heck, I’m shocked that no one else caught onto it because you make it obvious as hell. When she enters the room, she’s all you’re looking at.” Jimin spat. He was beyond irritated at this point. “Why are you just gonna sit there and let your feelings continue to build up?”

Taehyung remained silent. This time, he didn’t want to lie and say that he didn’t like you when he really did. And he was desperate to talk about it with someone. Someone he trusts.

“She’s my friend,” He starts off. Jimin was about to call him out again until Taehyung continued.

“And I don’t want to ruin the friendship we’ve built together. Plus, she seems happy dating around right now.”

“I don’t understand. Are you admitting that you have feelings for her?” Jimin asked for clarification.

Taehyung takes a deep breath. He’s nervous as fuck. Jimin will never leave him alone once he confirms it to him.

“I do.”

Immediately, Jimin jumps to his feet and runs toward Taehyung, plopping his butt down the couch, next to him.

“Finally! Fucking finally! When did you come to your senses?” Taehyung couldn’t help but to laugh at Jimin’s excitement. He expected Jimin to be happy but not this happy.

“Last night, I guess? I don’t know man. We were just on the way home after the party. And I felt…just so happy doing the most mundane thing with her.”

Jimin smiled in pure genuinity at hearing his best friend babble himself over you. As a good best friend would be, he wanted his best friend to be happy more than anything.

“Wow, this is so crazy, Tae. My boy is in love.” He sings out ‘love’. “Please shut up.”

Jimin topples over in happiness and laughter with Taehyung. “So, what’s next now? You’re just gonna continue being her friend? Even though it'll literally kill you on the inside?”

“For now, yes. I don’t wanna overwhelm her. She’s probably just trying to date around and live life. Doesn't wanna settle down with a simple guy like me yet, right?” Jimin groaned as soon as he finished his sentence. “With that mentality, you will never have a girlfriend. Tae, you have a good personality, good looks, and have a great sense of humor. You have the golden trio! Why not use it to your advantage and get the girl? It’s not like Namjoon is her boyfriend.”

“I just need to be sure that our friendship is ready to go to the next level. I don’t want to just confess, and make it awkward for us if she doesn’t feel the same. Also, you can’t forget that we are literally roommates. It would be a stressful living situation for not just her, but you and Kook would be affected as well. There’s a lot to consider here.” Taehyung rambled on. He knew he was making valid points. Potentially dating your roommate is one of the most awkward and stressful decisions anyone could make. Jimin could see where he was coming from.

“You’re right. Sorry for pestering you about it, I’m just excited to be right about you.” Taehyung snorted at that. “Dickhead.”

“Do I actually only stare at __ when she’s in the room?”

“You literally drool.”

Jimin suddenly had an idea. But it was a bad idea. It was…sort of manipulative. And this idea hit him out of nowhere. Seeing the way Taehyung lit up talking about you, it was something Jimin had never seen before. Like Jimin and all of their highschool population, they all knew that Taehyung used to be quite a player. Therefore, the sight of Taehyung genuinely liking a girl was very new and refreshing. And as his best friend in the whole world, Jimin has the right to do anything to make his friend happy.

. . .

Drip.

A singular droplet plopped on the top of your head. You looked up to the sky, only to be met with incoming dark gray clouds. Fuck. Of course it would rain right now.

As if on cue, one singular droplet turned into two, three, four and many more.

The smell of wet concrete and humidity filled the air. The rain began to drench you. You sighed heavily with great annoyance at this inconvenience. The bus stop you were at had no benches nor a shelter. It was just a pole and a sign. You held your hands up above you, as if you could successfully umbrella yourself on your own.

You checked your cell phone for the millionth time, hoping for a text from Namjoon…again.

Your date was supposed to start thirty minutes ago. You were waiting outside for him, mentally giving him the benefit of the doubt. But you knew he wasn’t coming. He didn’t even have the audacity to call or text that he wasn’t going to make it. You felt humiliated and angry. You’ve never been stood up before and you didn’t know why or if you did anything for Namjoon to ditch you.

You sigh of defeat and begin to make your way home. Even though you were literally at a bus stop, you felt that walking in the rain would match the mood you were feeling. A bit dramatic of you but it was suitable for the situation.

As you were walking, a dark, moody presence was felt behind you. Its presence was so calming yet uncomfortable at the same time. And familiar too.

The rain that was drenching you seconds ago came to a halt.

You were looking down at the ground as you turned and you were met with a pair of black Doc Marten boots. Immediately recognizing whose shoes it belonged to, you looked up and was unsurprisingly met with the sight of Jeon Jungkook, holding an umbrella above you.

You and Jungkook remained in intense eye contact. Your breath was hitched in your throat. This was the last thing you would’ve expected to happen to you. He was the last person you would expect to hold an umbrella for you.

“Hi.” Jungkook spoke. “Hi.” you say back, looking intensely into his soulless eyes.

It was extremely uncomfortable to be alone with him after what happened at the Halloween party. You had been successfully doing your best to avoid him. It was still hard for your mind to wrap around the fact the two of you had hooked up together.

“W-what’s up?” You croaked out. “I’m heading home.”

“So am I.” He said. “Let’s go home together.” Jungkook stood beside you, trying his best to make the umbrella completely cover the both of you. Your heart was beating erratically right now. Jungkook remained quiet as the two of you walked together. “Wait, weren’t we just at a bus stop?” Jungkook halted. You hesitantly nodded. “Then why are we walking? Let’s just head back to the stop. I’m sure the bus will be coming soon.” He said monotonically. You followed him as if you were a lost puppy and the two of you sat on the bus stop bench.

The awkward tension was thick enough to slice your skull open. Your heart’s beating only got quicker and if you felt as if you could faint at any moment. You hated this; why is he here? Why is he talking to you as if nothing went down between you both? You wanted to so badly run away and never come back to your apartment.

The bus finally arrived after what felt like an eternity. Jungkook got up and motioned you to get in first.

You sped away and hopped on the bus and tried to sit as far as you could, hoping that Jungkook would get his own seat.

Unfortunately that did not happen.

“What are you..” You stammer. Jungkook closed his umbrella and readjusted his sitting position.

Jungkook stared straight ahead from his seat, as if he didn't have a single thought running through his head. Soon after, you felt the bus rumbling. As the bus drove away from your stop, you looked out the window.

Just five minutes ago, you were waiting impatiently for your date to arrive, you gave up and tried to go home alone but now you are taking the bus home with Jeon Jungkook sitting right next to you.

It has been a couple of days since the Halloween party incident and you have done a great job at distancing yourself from Jungkook. You hadn’t spoken a word to him since then and have not seen him physically. It drove you a bit mad, though. Not seeing him, not having any contact with him while trying to avoid making the apartment’s tension awkward. You were willing to take the Halloween incident to the grave with you.

“So, I’m guessing the date didn’t go well?”

You snapped your head to face him. “Huh? What makes you say that?” You scoffed.

“If it went well, you wouldn’t be riding the bus home alone right now, would you?”

You scoffed again, completely blown. “This guy..” you mumbled under your breath. “What if I took the bus alon to meet up with him? I’m going home the same way I went. Alone.” you lied. It was for your pride.

“Why would a guy let his date go home alone?” He asked. Why is he asking so many questions? Why does he want to pick on you so bad? Wasn’t the Halloween incident enough?

You decided to ignore him. You weren’t going to feed into what he wants to hear. Silence fell between the two of you for a moment.

Not wanting to sit in silence with Jungkook, you opened your bag and reached your earpods. As soon as you were about to insert a pod into an ear, the annoying boy spoke again.

“Namjoon isn’t a serious guy.”

This got your attention. “What?”

“Going on a date with Kim Namjoon and expecting anything after is like waiting for world peace to happen: impossible. You should’ve known better.” He scolded you. Your eyebrow twitched upward. “Why are you telling me to do better? It was just for fun.” You lied again. You were embarrassed to admit that you were hoping your date with Namjoon would turn into something new and exciting and serious.

“Frat guys are a waste of time. They are not fun nor serious. Don’t waste your precious time with them.” He continued.

This made you angrier. Why does he care so much?

“Well, I got stood up. So, it doesn’t really matter anymore. You won’t catch me trying to hang out with a frat guy ever again.”

You didn’t like that you were venting out your feelings to Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook was the last person to care about your feelings and thoughts on just about anything.

“You can’t just let any guy date you. You have to be careful and selective with whom you choose to date.” Jungkook annoyingly analyzed. You chuckle at him. “What are you, Aristotle? No, he just faked his personality at the party to get himself some pussy.” You shot back. This earned an arrogant smile from Jungkook. “Maybe so.”

“Where did you come from?” You decided to prompt. Might as well try to continue whatever conversation the two of you were sharing. “Just errands.” He cracked his knuckles. Something tells you that Jungkook was doing more than errands. Perhaps he went out with the girl from the party that he fucked last night. You hate the fact that you still feel hurt whenever you think about Jungkook doing things with another girl that wasn’t you.

“Are you okay?” You turned to look at Jungkook. You were shocked to hear him ask you this type of question.

“Why are you asking?”

“Just answer me.”

You gulped down saliva and nodded. “I’m fine. Not my fault that he didn’t have the balls to tell me he didn’t wanna go out anymore.”

Jungkook liked hearing that you weren’t gonna let Namjoon ruin your mood. It made you seem strong. “Was he gonna be your first date?” He continued to ask. Suddenly, this bus ride felt way too long. You didn’t know that Jungkook had such a nosey side to him.

Immediately, you became defensive, like always. “Hey, Jungkook. I’m not this bitchless loser you are making me out to be. I’ve been on dates before,” you lied. “I’ve been kissed before, I’ve had sex before, I’ve done everything, okay?” You said a bit too loudly. You tried ignoring the stares you were getting from other bus passengers. Jungkook stifled back a laugh at your irritated response. “Everything?” He repeated.

You couldn’t help but wheeze out a brief laugh. “Shut up.” You groaned, biting your lower lip to restrict more laughter to come out.

“I am still doubting it. You have no game.” It was as if Jungkook’s favorite game in the world was to get under your skin and you despised how easy it was for you to give him the power to constantly and consistently piss you off.

“Really? Do you remember Hwang Hyunjin? He was one of the cutest guys in our grade,” you looked Jungkook straight in the eyes. He was still facing straight but it seemed like he was listening. “Well, we fucked back then. And when I say fuck I mean actually fucked. Like dick-inside-vagina fuck.” Again, you got more stares from the person sitting in front of you. You returned back a scowl.

Jungkook slowly began to face you. To say that he was shocked was an understatement. Hwang Hyunjin used to be one of the guys that every girl in their school wanted. It was like a competition between him and Jungkook on who was the most popular guy in their grade. Jungkook didn’t give a single fuck about him but Hyunjin constantly tried to belittle him to make him feel better about himself. At first he would try to bully him for being the smartest student in their class and for Jungkook’s preference of sitting alone everywhere. However, Jungkook had to teach Hyunjin a lesson on not to mess with him; a violent lesson.

After that, Hyunjin kept his distance from Jungkook for the rest of the school year; all the way until his transfer to a different high school in the middle of their third year. He was surprised that you were previously sexually involved with Hyunjin. He wasn’t exactly the nicest guy nor was he the type of guy he thought you would go for.

“You…used to sleep with Hyunjin?” He asked. You nodded proudly. “Wow. Maybe you are dumb after all.”

You rolled your eyes heavily and didn’t feel like continuing this conversation with him anymore. “Why don’t I remember seeing the two of you interact?”

“We weren’t in a relationship. Just fuck buddies or whatever.” You mumbled. You have moved on from Hyunjin after he transferred but the memory of Hyunjin’s commitment issues and his treatment towards you still hurts to remember.

You thought that he could’ve been the one. However, he strictly wanted your fling to be sexual only. No strings attached whatsoever. But in your head, Hyunjin was the most ‘thoughtful’ guy you had ever known. He was ‘thoughtful’ enough to worry about you to make sure you don’t get hurt or get led on this situationship. You thought he was careful, articulate, and set on what he wants in life. You thought he cared about you by the way he would caress your body and leave sweet kisses all over you after sex. You thought he cared about you by the way he would give you secret winks at the school hallway, as if he was flirting with you. You thought he liked you by the way he would moan your name and your name only during sex. He would say how good you felt, how good you tasted, how your kisses are the best. You thought he liked you when he would act like he didn’t know you at school. He was just trying to protect your identity, right?

Hwang Hyunjin was not thoughtful. He was not careful, not articulate, and not set on what he wanted. He didn’t care about you nor did he like you. It was all in your head. As if your situation wasn’t any more cliché, Hyunjin was just a popular guy hooking up with a not-so popular girl and he was too ashamed to be associated with you. When in the privacy of your childhood bedroom, that was when he was being his true self. Outside of those walls, he was ashamed of you. Embarrassed of you. He just wanted you for sex and sex only. He used you and a part of you—no—all of you knew that. You just thought, in your little idealized mind, he actually wanted you at all.

And that’s what hurt you in the end. Your fantasies.

After Hyunjin, Jeon Jungkook returned to the picture:

It’s common knowledge that Jungkook was the genius of your high school. He was too focused on his schoolwork to have fun and date around. And you had admired that about him. Jungkook was one of the many school’s heartthrob, but he was the top. The ultimate one, the one that every single girl in Busan knew of and wanted. Due to his prestigious awards and national acknowledgments, your entire hometown knew of Jeon Jungkook. Jungkook was not only idealized by you but every other girl who had a crush on him. You thought he was mysterious, suave, introverted, and humble.

The Jungkook that you know as of right now is still the same introverted intelligent guy but he’s abrasive, cold, and self centered. He’s not emotionally intelligent. He only thinks for and about himself. He’s extremely blunt and honest with his words and he doesn’t know how to read the room. He has the beauty and the brains but you’re not sure if he has the basic foundation of being a good person.

“I’m guessing your type is selfish assholes.” Jungkook spoke. You smirked. “I mean yeah, I used to like you, right?”

Jungkook's eyes darkened at that, slightly intimidating you. “What? Are you not a selfish asshole?” You edged. “I don’t care what you think of me. I could care less of what anyone thinks of me. If you want to think of me as a selfish asshole, then go ahead.” He hissed. He was so irritated with you.

“I don’t have to think about it, I know it. And you’re also someone I was dumb enough to like. You even said so yourself.”

Jungkook looked confused. “You said you don’t like dumb girls, remember that?”

“You’re expecting me to remember any conversations I’ve had with you?”

“I’m not the one who’s trying to engage in conversing with you. You chose to sit next to me and ask about Namjoon. Maybe go sit somewhere else so you can continue to forget about this conversation too.” You couldn’t help your anger at the moment. Jungkook gets under your skin so badly, as if he yearns to piss you off. You’ve never had anyone push your buttons the way Jungkook did.

Jungkook remained silent yet continued to stare at you. A new, indescribable emotion quickly flew through him when he saw the way your lips were pouting softly and seeing the way your eyebrows were crinkled in frustration. He had to hold back a chuckle seeing you so upset with him. You looked as if you were a child that was denied candy. Jungkook kind of melted in a way seeing you in this state. “Didn’t realize you were so whiny,” he continued to tease.

“Jungkook, I swear to god if yo-”

Two small bottles of banana milk and strawberry milk were shoved in front of your face. “Pick one.” He interrupted. You quickly shut up and angrily eyed the two milks. “Why?”

“You don’t want them?”

“No, I do, it’s just…,”

“Just what?”

You gave him a suspicious look. “You poisoned them, right?” This earned a hearty chuckle from Jungkook. “Look at you being a comedian.”

You pouted again as you snatched the banana milk from one of his hands.

“I’m done with boys.” You say out of nowhere. This gets Jungkook’s attention. “What do you mean?”

“I’m done with boys. I’m…not going on another date with a guy unless I truly know him. You know, I’m here to get good grades, make memories and have fun. Not to waste my time on dudes who just want to dip their dick in anything that has a hole.” You vented out once again. “And I meant it when I said that I was done liking you. In case you remembered what went down on Halloween. I don’t know you well, therefore there is no use of me to continue liking you. I hope that we can move forward from what happened on that day.”

Jungkook, stunned, stared at you. He had no idea what to say. He suddenly felt a bit intimidated to be sitting near you. Especially since you brought up that forbidden night between the two of you.

And then, he too, felt pity towards you. The past few months he had gotten to know you had been full of arguing and distance. Here you are, apologizing to him for simply liking him—or liked—him and not knowing him well. Jungkook felt uncomfortable. He didn’t like that you were still being kind to him after everything he’s done to you.

“I’m sorry you haven’t seen the real me yet. I’ll work on that.” He replied.

You gave him a perplexed look. “Real you? You mean you aren’t an asshole?” Jungkook let out a laugh at that, rolling his eyes. “You’re the asshole.” He mumbled.

“Are we on good terms now?” Jungkook bored his doe eyes onto yours. Of course, he’s still gorgeous, that’s never going to change.

“Yeah. Good terms. Good roommates!” You grin. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you again. “Good terms, good roommates. Okay.” And the two of you shared a kind smile with each other.

“Konkuk University.” An automated voice called out the next stop. “We’re home.” You say. The two of you get up from your seats and ride off the bus.

Jungkook felt a sense of satisfaction in his chest after the two of you agreed to remain on good terms. Before, he felt as if he was walking on millions of eggshells around you, trying to avoid the extreme tension between you both. He didn’t want to live in a household where he needed to avoid a single roommate that hated his guts. He didn’t want that energy soaring through the apartment. And so, he needed to reach good terms with you. Not just regular okay terms, it needed to be good for him. For some reason, he didn’t want bad blood between you and him.

It was just you and him walking together towards your apartment. The rain turned into a slight drizzle, pitter pattering on the pavement. Jungkook whipped out the umbrella and placed it above the two of you again.

“It’s just drizzling.” You say.

“Don’t ruin the moment.”

. . .

It was one in the morning when Jungkook was interrupted by his studying when he received a text message from a random number. He dropped his pen on the desk and picked up his iPhone.

unknown: what are u doing tomorrow?

He raised a brow up. Who could be texting me? I have everyone’s number saved.

He decided to reply back to the mysterious human. Maybe it was just a bot?

jungkook: Who is this?

Almost immediately, the person/bot responded.

unknown: wow are you seriously asking this

Jungkook was starting to get annoyed. He wasn’t in the mood to play games, he has a fucking exam tomorrow. He thought that maybe his roommates would know who the mysterious number was. Maybe it was a friend of theirs?

He got up from his desk and opened his door. You, Jimin and Taehyung were in the kitchen baking brownies. The three of them offered Jungkook to join but he declined the offer. “Do any of you guys know who the hell this number belongs to?” He showed the contact to the three, furrowing his brows in annoyance.

“No idea, Kook.” Jimin answered. You and Taehyung shook your heads, also not knowing who the number belonged to.

“Seems like you should know who they are.” Taehyung smirked. Jungkook tilted his head, still thinking about who it could be. “I seriously save everyone’s number, brother. It might just be a bot or someth-“ The mysterious number double texted.

unknown: its yeri. We exchanged numbers the other night? lol.

Jungkook’s confused expression turned into a solemn deadpanned look. “Nevermind. I know who it is.” Jungkook sighed.

“Well who is it?” Jimin asked as he licked raw brownie batter off the mixing spoon. “None of your business. I’m going back to studying. Let me know when the brownies are ready.” Jimin didn’t let him walk away so easily. He jumped on Jungkook’s back, causing an uproar from him. “What the-“

Taehyung joined in and grabbed the phone from him while Jimin physically held him back. “What are you assholes doing?” Jungkook shouted. You were stifling back a laugh at the sight of Jungkook being thrown around.

“Well well well. If it isn't Ms. Yeri hitting you up, eh?” Taehyung cooed out. He reread Yeri’s text over and over. A grin spread on his face. Taehyung was happy that Yeri and Jungkook were still keeping in contact. Finally a girl that could make him happy, right?

Your heart admittedly sank at hearing that sentence. It was obvious that Yeri must be the girl that Jungkook slept with from the Halloween party. You could tell that she was into Jungkook at the night of the party but you didn’t think that the two of them would still keep in contact after the party. He must really like her.

Jungkook was finally able to push Jimin off of him. “She’s the one hitting me up. I had no idea she had my phone number.” Jungkook groaned. He took a quick glance at you and Taehyung. And another quick glance at you.

“Well we aren’t gonna let you leave until you respond to her.” Jimin jumped on his back again, causing Jungkook to whimper in pain. “You’re so heavy, Jimin.”

“Quit stalling and text her back already.” Taehyung snapped. “I’m not stalli-”

“Now.”

Jungkook snatched the phone away from Taehyung and quickly replied back a “hey yeri” to her. “Okay, I replied.” The two boys gave a congratulatory slap on his back, grinning from ear to ear. “Look at you! Finally hitting it off with a girl. Don’t they grow up so fast, Jimin?”

“They sure do, Taehyung.” The boy's unseriousness caused you to giggle. “You guys are traumatizing Jungkook.” you say. Jungkook nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re traumatizing me. Why are you two happy that you are traumatizing me? I’m supposed to be studying.”

“Fuck you and your studies and come hang out with us.” Taehyung sneered.

Jungkook wanted to kill himself. It is now close to four in the morning and his three other roommates were up laughing their asses off at a movie Taehyung had chosen. It was supposedly a comedy but it was anything but funny. Jungkook just wanted to desperately go back to his room and continue studying. And it didn’t help that Yeri wouldn’t get the hint that Jungkook didn’t want to be texting her at the moment. He was sending the driest texts and she would still find something else to talk about.

yeri: So what are u up to right now?

Jungkook rolled his eyes. She’s already asked this question like five times now. He caught sight of your eyes drifting back and forth into a slumber. It was as if you were trying hard to fight the sleep away. No one else noticed this but Jungkook.

jungkook: Watching a movie.

yeri: oh cool! What's it called?

jungkook: Idk.

At this point, you were averaging a couple seconds of sleep, and returned back to watching the movie. Taehyung and Jimin still had their eyes glued onto the screen, fully awake, like children who didn’t want to go to bed at all.

yeri: we should watch a movie together! How does tomorrow night sound?

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the text. Yeri boldly just asked him out on a date. He didn’t know what to say. He has never been asked out on a date before. It wasn’t like he was nervous or anything but he hardly knows Yeri. Jungkook debated whether or not he should even agree to the date or not.

Taehyung turned his head over to glance at you. You were in the middle of sleeping. Your lips were slightly parted open, with just a trickle of drool dropping down from your lips. You were snoring as soft as a baby. Taehyung’s heart clenched at the sight of you deep in sleep. This was the second time he had seen you like this. He doesn’t think he will ever get tired of this view of you looking so gorgeous. It’s all he can look at. The movie wasn’t as interesting as seeing you subconsciously away from the world.

And then out of nowhere, you screeched out a heavy snore. Immediately, Jimin yelped at the horrific sound. “What the fuck?” Taehyung bursted out laughing, not being able to hold it in. Jungkook too had a smile twitching from the corner of his lips. “Has she always been a snorer?” Jimin asked in a whispered voice. “Yeah. She snores pretty often.” Jungkook answered without a second thought. Taehyung and Jimin gave him a shocked stare, as if they weren’t expecting him to know that.

“What? She literally lives right next to me? Our walls are thin.” Taehyung and Jimin nodded understandably. Still, Jungkook found his cheeks warming slightly at them being surprised of Jungkook knowing a sleeping habit of yours.

Your loud snores shifted into soft purrs. “Let’s wake her up after the movie ends. There’s a few minutes left.” Jimin suggested. Jungkook kept glancing back at Yeri's text. It was just there staring back at him, taunting for a response. He didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to go but he hardly knew Yeri at all. All they did was hookup once and now she’s asking to go out on a date. Okay, so maybe Jungkook wasn’t cool with the idea: He’s a practical guy. He sees himself going out on dates with women he’s physically, emotionally and sexually attracted to. He has to like her looks, like her personality, and see himself sleeping with her at some point. He’s not into wasting his time on just any girl.

Suddenly, Jungkook remembered his conversation with you on the bus earlier. You apologized to him for liking him. Apologized. As if you liking him was some kind of crime.

You apologized for not liking the real Jungkook, just the version you liked in your head. It was at that moment that Jungkook thought to himself that your mentality was more mature than it seemed. You gave up on your longtime crush on him and accepted to be friendly with him, even after the messy hookup the two of you shared on Halloween. He thought to himself that if you can give Jungkook another chance of being “friendly roommates” then he can give Yeri a chance of possibly showing a different impression of herself. Jungkook was ready to reply back to Yeri’s proposal.

jungkook: Okay. When and where?

When he locked his phone after replying, his breath halted at a weird sight in front of him.

Taehyung wasn’t watching the film on the tv screen anymore. He was watching you sleep. He was watching the way your chest heaved up and down. Taehyung was absorbing the view of you sleeping because it was such a precious sight to him. Seeing you so quiet and away from the world was like a new kryptonite unlocked.

Jungkook immediately caught on that the way Taehyung was staring wasn’t like his usual self. He knew that this was different. It was as if he didn’t want to believe the sight that was in front of him was real and happening.

Jimin stood up from his chair and stretched big. “Movie’s over, guys. I’m gonna do my skincare routine and then knock.” Jimin’s voice woke you up. “Damn, I was trying hard not to sleep.” You yawned. Taehyung smirked at you. “You were snoring, by the way.” Your eyes widened and you threw your head back out of embarrassment. “Fuck, you guys should’ve woken me up as soon as you heard me snoring. You know snoring is bad, right? I’m basically choking on my spit.” Taehyung chuckled at your dramatic response and reached out his hand for you to grab, to get you up from the chair.

“Okay, drama queen. Go to your bed. I got to work in a few hours, I need to sleep badly.” Taehyung pulled you up from your chair. You pouted at the nickname he called you. “Fine. Goodnight, boys.” You waved at Jungkook and Taehyung before walking slowly towards your bedroom. It was just the two brothers left.

Jungkook felt uneasy at the moment. He witnessed Taehyung giving you a longing glare as you slept. Taehyung began cleaning up the dishes that were scattered throughout the living room, humming a little song to himself. Jungkook found himself thinking about the way Taehyung looked at you. He can’t seem to think that the way he looked at you was actually sincere; as if it held a meaning to it. With the way Jungkook had studied Taehyung's past history with women, he was feeling a mixture of being bitter and confused. What is it about you that has Taehyung acting not like himself?

. . .

It was around 5 o’clock in the evening when Jungkook entered the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water. He was dressed and ready to head out to his movie date with Yeri. He wasn’t looking forward to it, as expected, but he didn’t want to flake on Yeri.

You were completing an assignment on your laptop at the kitchen table as he was getting his water glass.

“Heading out for the night?” You asked him without looking up from your laptop screen. Jungkook took a large gulp and nodded. “Mhm.”

“Lucky you.” You chuckled. “Are you studying for once?” Jungkook asked. He walked over to take a glance over your screen. You were writing an essay and he saw that you were about 10 pages in. “Wow, ten pages?”

You nodded and sighed in exhaustion. “Yeah, it’s some dumb critical analysis essay I have to write for my women and gender studies class. It has to be at least 15 pages.”

Jungkook's eyes widened. “I don’t think I’ve ever written that much before.”

“Yeah well that’s because you’re a dumb little STEM major. You have to code an entire website and create a whole new periodic element for homework, right?” You joked. Jungkook grabbed your earlobes and lightly pinched it, earning a loud yelp from you. “Shut up, undecided major.”

You rolled your eyes as a response and reverted back to writing your essay. “So where are you going?” You asked. Jungkook hesitated and thought if it was a good idea to tell you about the date. Not because he thought that you would be sad or anything because according to you, you are “over him”, but because he didn’t want you running off to tell Taehyung and Jimin about the date. Knowing them, they would persuade Jungkook to keep seeing Yeri.

However, he couldn’t come up with an excuse. “I’m hanging out with some friends from my internship.” He lied. You snorted. “Friends? Since when did you have other friends aside from Yoongi?” You laughed. “You don’t know my personal life.” He defended. “You’re right, I don’t but I know for sure that you’re too much of an antisocial asshole to tolerate having more than one friend. You can barely stand Taehyung and Jimin.”

Jungkook hated knowing that you were right. Maybe you knew him better than he thought. “Are you lying about your whereabouts, Jeon Jungkook?” You turned to face him. With the direct eye contact, Jungkook found himself stuttering and trembling on what to say. He’s a terrible liar.

“N-No, I’m not. You’re being nosy.” He groaned, chugging down the rest of his water. This caused you to stand up from your chair and you began to face Jungkook directly. “Tell me the truth! Are you going to sell some drugs?”

I wish I was, he thought to himself. “___.” He warned. “Are you going to meet up with someone?”

Before Jungkook could reply, you noticed something sticking out of the pockets of the puffer jacket he was wearing. Immediately, you snatched the mysterious items out of his pockets and inspected it.

“___, give me that!” Jungkook snapped, trying to reach over your shoulder to grab them out of your hands but you were able to run away from his reach.

You glanced over at the two movie tickets in your hands. “You’re going to the movies?” You giggled.

Jungkook pursed his lips together in annoyance and snatched the tickets out of your hands. “You make it hard for me to be nice to you.” He sighs in frustration. “You have two tickets too, so you’re going to see it with someone.” You teased. “Is it with Yoongi? Does Hoseok know? Hoseok will get sad knowing him. He gets FOMO so easily.”

Jungkook decided to tell the truth since he doesn't know what other lies to say since he knows for sure that you would most likely blab to Hoseok about the movie. “No…I’m going to see it with just a girl I met.”

Your eyes widened at hearing that. “A-A girl?” You stuttered. “Like a…date?”

Jungkook nodded. He examined the look on your face however you had an unreadable expression. “Oh geez, sorry about keeping you here then. You should probably head out now, right? Wouldn’t want to keep your date waiting!” You forced a smile on your face and shuffled your way back to your laptop to continue writing your essay.

Jungkook stood where he was, not knowing what to say or what to do next. Jungkook found himself wanting to stay home and preferring to spend his night sleeping in bed, reading his manga or even continuing to stay in the kitchen with you to bug you some more and chat. However, he knew that you were right. He had to leave soon or else Yeri would be waiting for him for too long.

“Just don’t tell my brother or Jimin, please. I don’t want them to bug me about it.” Jungkook pleaded. You nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

Jungkook shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Okay, well I’m leaving now.”

Jungkook was about to leave until he heard you calling his name. “Jungkook!” He slowly reentered the room.

“Good luck on your date.” You gave him a soft smile.

Jungkook simply nodded back and left.

. . .

Jungkook had been gone for over two hours now and you were still stuck on page 10 of your essay. You couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of Jungkook going on a date with someone. It was even harder to swallow the fact that that someone isn’t you.

You hated to admit it but getting over Jungkook wasn’t going as easy as you thought it would’ve been. Of course you are aware of the fact that Jungkook would never like you back and that you only liked an idealized version of Jungkook, however you still held strong romantic feelings for Jungkook either way.

The past two hours, you kept comparing yourself to the girl that he went on the date with. Was she prettier? Was she smarter than you? Did they meet through his engineering classes? What does Jungkook like about her? Was he having a good time right now?

Your heart clenched at the possibilities.

“Hey.” You heard a voice coming from behind. You jumped and turned your head to see Taehyung smiling at you.

Immediately, you returned a genuine smile back at him. “Hi Tae!”

“What are you doing?”

You sighed. “I’m just struggling on this essay. I haven’t written anything.” Taehyung snaked an arm around your shoulder. “Well, when exactly is this essay due?”

“Tomorrow, I think? I was on a roll but now I’ve lost all my concentration.” You pout. “Hm. Maybe some fresh air will do you some good?” Taehyung suggested. He began to snake both of his arms around you, constricting you in a tight embrace.

“If I were to agree to go outside, where would I go?” Your voice cracked from Taehyung’s tight hug. “Maybe to walk to that new sushi restaurant that just opened up by our place? With your favorite roommate?” You snorted at him and pushed his arms off of you. “

I guess my mind would appreciate a nice dinner break.” You hummed in pleasure. “Let’s go, then! I’ve been dying to take you ever since they opened last week!”

You were shocked to hear that. “You were waiting to take me?” Taehyung affirmed by nodding his head. “Oh!” You laughed nervously. “Well, let me go ahead and quickly change into something suitable for our sushi adventure!”

You ran off to your room and changed out of your comfortable hoodie and sweats and transformed into a nice jean mini skirt, oversized sweater vest and into a pair of black loafers.

“Honestly, you mentioning sushi has my stomach already growling like crazy.” Taehyung chuckled at you. “Come on, let’s go.”

As you both walked down the street together, you began to observe the beautiful city that engulfs you. The high-rise apartments, the hustle and bustle of the college town you grew to love living in. Being outside was enough to reduce the inner stress you had going on; the essay, the upcoming exams, and…the unfortunate heartache of Jungkook being on a date with someone. You’ve realized that the feelings you harbor for him were a lot harder to let go than you thought it would’ve. At first when it was just a little highschool crush, you were able to like him from afar. It was more of a physical, vain crush. However, you live with him. You have gotten closer to him in a more intimate way compared to the high school crush. Yes, he’s still an asshole to you. Yes, he’s closed off and doesn’t seem interested in getting to know you past as being his roommate. It hurts. And you’re trying to let go, you really are. What else can you do to help yourself get over him quickly?

“We’re here.” Taehyung brought you out of your endless thoughts. He held the door open for you as you entered the sushi restaurant. The scent of the raw fish, ramen broth, and cooked rice infiltrate your nostrils. “God, it smells amazing here.” Taehyung chuckled at you admiring the restaurant. “Hopefully the food is just as good.”

“Hello, for many?” The hostess asked. “For two, please.” Taehyung answered. “Follow me.”

As the hostess led you and Taehyung to your tables, you hesitantly stared at Taehyung as discreetly as you could. Suddenly, you could hear Hoseok’s voice in your head, remembering all the nonsense he would say to you about Taehyung.

“How haven’t you hooked up with him yet? He’s so good looking!”

“Taehyung seems to care about you a lot”

“You guys are practically Han and Anna from Frozen; always finishing each other’s sentences and getting excited over the littlest things and you both enjoy each other’s company like crazy.”

And then you remembered what Chaeyoung said from a previous phone call,

“___, you’re telling me that you’re just friends with a beautiful man like that?”

Some of your closest friends kept pushing you to get with Taehyung and you just never saw him that way. But why? They were right; Taehyung is good looking, he does care about you, and you guys get along extremely well together. Did you just not allow yourself to see Taehyung past friends for the sake of your feelings for Jungkook? Admittedly, if you had met Taehyung first, he would be the one high school-you would’ve been crushing over. Taehyung is kind hearted, mature, he is beyond artistically intelligent, he cares for others and financially provides for Jungkook. You looked up to him in so many ways, he inspires you to be a better version of yourself. So, why didn’t you find yourself romantically attracted to Taehyung?

Taehyung pulled the chair out for you. “Why thank you.” You giggled. “Absolutely.”

The hostess leaves you both with the silverware and menus. “What sounds good to you?” Taehyung asked as he scanned the menu.

“You.” You smile.

Taehyung chokes on air. You slightly chuckle at his cute reaction and hide yourself in the menu. “How unexpected of you to say, y/n.” He blushes. “I don’t know where that came from, honestly.”

“Neither do I.” Taehyung blushes as well. You could feel your chest tighten at the adorable sight of Taehyung looking shy and awkward. “You look cute when you blush.” You admit. You wanted to see him blush harder and so he did. Taehyung bursted out a nervous laugh and pressed his palms against his cheeks. “You’re making my cheeks burn, y/n.” His box-like smile appears.

“Okay, I’m done..for now.” You give him a reassuring smile and look down at your lap. You honestly don’t know where the sudden flirting came from. You meant in a playful friendly way however you didn’t seem to mind if Taehyung was to take your flirting seriously. Which he didn’t really seem to since he was laughing and smiling along with you.

The thing with Taehyung was that he had an incredibly comfortable aura to him. You felt safe with him, you felt at ease. Maybe that was something you were looking for in an amicable way? You had your two childhood best friends abroad, living their own lives. Sure, you had Hoseok, however he is a busy individual and is often spending his free time with his boyfriend, as he should. You felt lonely and your heart was yearning for someone to confide in, hang with, be yourself with. Taehyung simply checked all those boxes. For now, you had settled with the fact that Taehyung was who you needed for amicable and sanity reasons. Any other feelings would come naturally if it was meant to be for.

Your server approached you and Taehyung and offered you both water and if you guys were ready to order. After ordering your choice of dishes, you were back in a comfortable silence. “Tell me how your week has been going.” Taehyung asks, taking a sip of his water right after. “Mm…not much honestly. Just been going to classes, studying. Nothing interesting.”

“What do you mean ‘nothing interesting’, didn’t you have a date earlier this week with that guy from the party?” Taehyung brought up Namjoon. Your face dropped in annoyance at the memory of him ghosting you so suddenly. Especially when he seemed so interested in you from that night. “Let’s just say that the date didn’t happen. He kind of…ghosted me.” You admit, biting your lip from remembering how embarrassing it was. Taehyung’s eyes widened. “He what?” You nodded, validating his disbelief.

“Yeah, believe me I was in shock too. I have no idea what I did.” Taehyung scoffed at you. “I could bet you a million dollars that it wasn’t anything that you did; it was just Namjoon being the typical frat boy slash fuck boy that he is. He’s a dickhead and I don’t know why I encouraged him to ask you out.” Taehyung spat. “You encouraged it?” You asked in shock. “Yeah, he kept asking Jimin and I if you were single and if it was alright for him to ask you out, since he knew you were our friend.” Taehyung could feel the warmth of anger in his chest as he spilled out what had happened at the party.

You responded with silence. Namjoon’s sudden rejection hurts less now however Taehyung’s anger made you feel slightly guilty. Not because you thought you did anything wrong but because you didn’t want to be a reason as to why Taehyung would hold anger against a good friend of his. Taehyung tried to read your expression. He could tell you had some guilt mixed with embarrassment. “Are you okay?” He asked. He leaned and tried to attempt to reach for your hand but he went against doing so.

You nodded and tried to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay. I was able to get over it well.” Taehyung let out a sigh of relief. “It’s his loss.”

You chuckled softly at that. “His loss, indeed.” Taehyung leaned back against his chair and was trying to read your expression again. He could tell you didn’t want to continue talking about this and so he changed topics. “Well, are you interested in anyone else?” You choked on a little water and gently coughed.

“Geez, Tae. Nice change of topics.” You laughed awkwardly. Taehyung shrugged it off and smirked at you. “I’m just in my gossip era.” You rolled your eyes at him and dabbed some water from the corner of your lips with a napkin. “Uh, no. I’m not interested in anyone. I’m trying to enjoy my single life.” You answered. Taehyung could only nod at that. Of course he wasn’t expecting much of an answer from you. He knows you’ve been through a lot with Jungkook and now with Namjoon. He just wanted reassurance that there wasn’t any…competition in his way.

Actually, he wanted to double check if Jungkook was no longer an option for you. “So…anything going on with you and Jungkook?” He asked again. Your eyes widened at his abrupt question. You didn’t expect him to suddenly mention his brother out of nowhere. “Taehyung..” You started off. He locked his dark brown eyes with yours, not afraid of how intrusive his question was. He was set on trying to get you to see how he feels for you one way or another.

“Uhm..” You hesitated. “I mean there was always nothing going on between us. However, if you meant to ask about my previous feelings for him then…I don’t think I like him that way anymore. I see him as just an acquaintance and roommate. I’m sure the same goes for him. And…yeah.” You finished. Again, Taehyung was trying to read your expression, your tone, your body language. From the way you didn’t look directly into his eyes when you answered, the way you fiddled with your fingers, the way you chewed on your bottom lip when you were thinking of your response, and the way your voice sounded defeated, as if you had lost something you didn’t want to lose, was enough for Taehyung to know the true answer lying underneath your surface.

You were lying.

You still harbored feelings for his brother. You don’t see him as just an acquaintance and roommate. He doesn’t know what you see Jungkook as but it is certainly not as platonic as you’re making it seem. He could feel his chest throb in pain slightly at the realization. Taehyung had no idea if Jungkook’s feelings towards you were mutual or not because he never seemed to care to notice or study the way Jungkook was around you. He was certain that Jungkook most likely saw you in a platonic way. From what he knows of, the two of you don’t spend a lot of time together. Nor do you both talk to each other one-on-one a lot. Taehyung thinks that the kind of relationship you and Jungkook have is currently a contractual mutualistic relationship: you guys are supposed to just put up with each other’s antics and that was that.

“I see.” He forced a smile onto his face. “Are you comfortable living with us three guys still?” You laughed at his question and nodded. “Of course. I love you guys.”

Taehyung leaned forward to you again and this time, he actually reached his hand out to yours. You gladly gave your hand to him to hold. “I couldn’t have chosen a better roommate to deal with our bullshit. We love you too, y/n.” Your heart glowed at Taehyung’s sentimental confession. “Awe, Tae..” You cooed softly.

“Okay, I have one family-sized sushi boat and your sides for the lovely couple here.” Your server interrupted and placed a large wooden boat of the gorgeous raw fish onto your table. You and Taehyung gave each other a look and snorted at the ‘couple’ remark. However, you indirectly agreed to go along with it. You figured that couples usually receive free dessert at the end of the dinner either way. “Let’s dig in, shall we?” You eagerly smiled at Taehyung. He returned the gleeful expression and the two of you pigged out together.

. . .

How can a 115-minute movie suddenly feel like an eight hour shift?

Jungkook was feeling incredibly bored out of his mind as he watched the sci-fi movie that Yeri had picked out for them. He looked over at you and could tell that she was very into the movie. Her eyes were locked onto the film and was mindlessly chomping down the bucket of popcorn she was hoarding. Jungkook wanted to melt like the butter on the popcorn and slither his ass out of the theater.

He would rather spend 115 minutes walking barefoot on the asphalt in the middle of the summer than be here on this date he didn’t want to go on. Jungkook had tried to give Yeri a chance to redeem herself but she just wasn’t…interesting. Nothing about her was intriguing to Jungkook. He asked her questions to attempt to get to know her. She’s in college studying to be an actress, she’s a part time pilates instructor at a nearby gym, she’s also a full-time content creator on YouTube and likes to make makeup tutorials and skincare videos. She likes horror and sci-fi movies but Jungkook prefers rom-coms. She likes to spend her free time outside in the city and bar hopping with friends, meanwhile Jungkook prefers staying in and isolating himself in his room. She doesn’t like to fraternize with anyone that isn’t wealthy, socially popular, good-looking, or just anyone that isn’t similar to her lifestyle and interests. She’s shallow and vain and Jungkook wasn’t vibing with that.

When Yeri told him about her close friend circle, it raised a huge red flag for Jungkook. He was familiar with her groupie. They were all influencers that posted beauty and fashion content, only dating within their wealth level and socialite class. They would still talk bad about other students on campus as if they were still stuck in their high school bully era. After getting to know all this about Yeri, Jungkook was quite ready to ghost her as soon as the movie ended.

All of a sudden, a jumpscare happened on the screen, causing half of the theater to scream and throw their popcorn in the air. Yeri was one of the few who screamed and instinctually clenched her arms around Jungkook’s.

“That was so scary, Jungkook.” Yeri pouted and buried her head into his arms. Jungkook responded by rolling his eyes but didn’t mind letting Yeri borrow his arms for a bit. He looked around the theater to see what appeared to be other dates, and the women were grabbing onto their dates like Yeri was. He grew to be even more annoyed with Yeri. He didn’t like how typical she was. She was like every other girl. Nothing special about her. It’s harsh but true, according to Jungkook.

He suddenly found himself comparing Yeri to you. Would you react the same way Yeri did? Would you hold onto him during a scary scene? Jungkook can confidently say that the answer was no.

You wouldn’t react the same way. You wouldn’t hold onto him. No, you would be asleep halfway through the movie and the jumpscare would awaken you from your slumber, and you would jump and scream obnoxiously. You would spill whatever food was on your lap and you would most likely run away from the room. Had you been watching the movie in the comfort of your apartment, instead of running away from the room you would just turn the movie off and change the mood by making an unfunny joke to ease up the tension. That’s what you would do. And for some reason, Jungkook found himself smiling and quietly laughing at the imagination he created in his head.

Yeri could hear Jungkook chuckling to himself and gave him a concerned look. “Jungkook? Why are you laughing? The main character’s best friend just died?”

Jungkook immediately shut up and cleared his throat. “I just thought of something funny.” He answered. Yeri curled an eyebrow up. “What were you thinking about?�� She whispered. Jungkook shook his head. “It’s nothing. It’s just that this scene reminded me of an inside joke between me and a friend.” He lied. Yeri just nodded understandably and refocused her attention back to the movie.

Jungkook allowed another smile and a snort to escape from his lips before making himself regain his attention back to the “heartbreaking” scene of the death of the best friend.

. . .

“I had fun tonight, Jungkook.” Yeri shyly smiles at him. Jungkook forced a smile onto his face. “I’m glad. I had fun too.” He lies. “Thank you for walking me home.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Not a problem.” He replies dryly. Yeri stops at a large modern looking building. “This is my dorm building.” Jungkook nods in response. “Goodnight, Kook.” Jungkook tried his hardest not to physically cringe at the nickname she decided to give him. He managed to wave at her. “Goodnight, Yeri.” He began to turn around to walk to his apartment but Yeri called out to him and ran to grab his jacket. “Wait,”

“Hm?”

“Do you want to do this again sometime soon? Maybe next week?” She bit her lower lip in anticipation. Jungkook could see a shimmer of hope and a dash of nervousness in her eyes. He genuinely did not know what Yeri saw him and why she still wanted to continue seeing him. He tried his hardest to remain stoic and dry with her to show his lack of interest but she wasn’t getting the hint. He tried to think of a good response that will give a hint of rejection without straight up saying so.

“I’ll see. I have a lot of exams coming up so I’ll let you know when is a good time to meet up again.” Jungkook answered. Yeri remained quiet for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Okay, sure! Text me when you make it home safely!” She waved at him. Jungkook smirked. “I only live about five minutes walking distance from here. I’ll be okay.”

Yeri chuckled, “Alright, fine. But let me know when you’re free again!” She reminded him. Jungkook simply nodded and began to trail away from Yeri. “Bye Jungkook!” She unnecessarily yelled out. He was only a few feet away. He gave an awkward smile and waved back at her, and began to speed walk.

His speed walking shortened the walking distance by half and he was able to make it home comfortably. He entered the apartment and was met with the sound of laughter and the smell of alcohol. He took off his shoes, slid his feet into his house slippers and headed into the living room. He saw you, Taehyung, and Jimin sitting in a circle. It seemed as if the three of you were just talking and spending time together. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of FOMO. He would much rather have spent his night like this than be out on a date with a random girl.

“Hey, Kook is home! Where were you tonight, young man?” Taehyung slurred. “Uh, I was just out with Yoongi.” He chuckled nervously. He shared a quick glance with you, and you gave him a reassured look; a look that said he was okay and that no one knew of the date.

“You need to stop hanging out with Yoongi and hang out more with your brothers and y/n.” Jimin slurred out, taking a quick swig of soju. Jungkook shared another glance with you. He looked confused. “Why are they drinking?” He asked. “Jimin begged Taehyung to share a drink with him and well…one drink turned into many. I’ve just been here giving them company.”

“Jungkook! Come have a shot of soju with us!” Jimin patted on the ground for him to sit. “Uh, I think I’m just going to call it a night. I’ve had a long da-,” Jungkook got interrupted by Taehyung’s loud groan. “Oh my god, we don’t care, come over and sit with us now.”

Jungkook squinted his eyes at his brother in annoyance. You stifled back a laugh at this interaction. “You’re taking a shot with us too, miss y/n.” Taehyung targeted you. You gave him the exact same annoyed look that Jungkook had given him. Regardless, Jungkook listened to his two seniors and sat where Jimin had patted him to sit in. He sat between you and Jimin.

You scooted your body away from Jungkook little by little. “Now, take a shot.” Jimin slammed the shot glass onto the coffee table. “Here’s your shot glass too, y/n.” Jimin handed yours. Taehyung administered the pouring of the shots to you and Jungkook. You both turned to each other hesitantly. “I just wanted to give them company.” you whispered to Jungkook. “And I just wanted to go to bed.” He whispered back. “I’ll take my shot if you take yours.” You suggested. Jungkook just sighed in response. “There’s no such thing as saying no to these two.” He groaned. You both tapped your shot glasses onto the table and then threw the alcohol down your throats, earning a loud sound of approval from the two best friends.

“Let’s go! All of the roomies are getting fucked up tonight!” Jimin yelled. “Uh, I’m just going to take this one shot with you guys. I still have that paper to write and I have class tomorrow morning.” You halted the two boys from encouraging drunkenness from you.

“Me too. I have an eight AM class.” Jungkook added. Jimin rolled his eyes at you both and some fingers through his dark locks. “You goddamn scholars.” He cursed under his breath. “Do you work tomorrow?” You asked Taehyung. “Nope. I’m off from work and I have a late afternoon class so I get to sleep in!” He and Jimin dapped each other up, earning a scoff from Jungkook.

“Hey, by the way, where were you guys earlier today? I came home and the apartment was silent.” Jimin asked you and Taehyung. “Oh, Tae took me out to try the new sushi place that opened up in town! You guys seriously should go sometime soon, it was so delicious.” You were bouncing in excitement as you bragged about the restaurant. “Oh, and if you want free dessert, you should go with a girl. Our server thought that ___ and I were a couple and they gave us a slice of tiramisu cake.” Taehyung looked over at you and you both laughed at the memory.

Jungkook darted his eyes between you and his brother. “He thought that you both were a couple?” Jimin repeated back, laughing along. “I know right.” You cackled. Jungkook remained silent as three of you guys laughed. He began to glance at the way Taehyung looked at you. Lately, he has been picking up way too many weird signs from Taehyung when it comes to you.

Logically, if Jungkook could sense that his brother was acting differently around a certain girl then he would conclude that he is interested in her but Jungkook couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Taehyung being interested in you. Not that there was anything wrong with you, it was just that he didn’t think of you being the type to sway Taehyung. Jungkook simply thought you two were not romantically compatible. Jungkook may not know you that well but he certainly knows his brother.

“Taehyung, let’s go take a smoke outside real quick.” Jimin stands up from the floor and massages his butt. “Fuck, my ass is so sore.” He mumbled. Taehyung got up and was beginning to follow Jimin from behind until he took a quick glance at you and Jungkook sitting together. He felt a small ache in his chest from the thought of leaving you two alone. Especially with him knowing that you very much still had some feelings left for Jungkook. They’ll be alright.

Taehyung and Jimin go out to the balcony and shut the door behind them. “Since when did Taehyung smoke?” You ask Jungkook. “He occasionally smokes whenever he’s drunk. But I’ve seen him smoke out of stress too. He just does it when he feels like it.”

“Ah, I see. I’m kinda like that too.” You chuckle. Jungkook snapped his head towards you and gaped his mouth open in surprise. “I wouldn’t take you as the type to smoke.” He curled his lips up at your confession. “It’s my little personal secret. I’ve been smoking since I was 16.”

Intrigued by this, Jungkook leans his body back, using his wrists to hold him up. “Now what caused 16-year old you to pick up cigarettes?”

You smirked at him. “My parents were going through a rough patch together. They were literally on the brink of divorce and kept dragging me into their problems. It was way too much stress for me to harbor as a high schooler that was also dealing with pounds of homework and exams every week. Luckily, they were able to work things out because they went to counseling but as of today, I like to puff puff a little bit sometimes to relieve some stress.”

Jungkook nodded understandably. He had no idea that you had gone through some family hardships as well. “I see,”

“So I’m the only one that knows this secret of yours?” You nodded. A part of him was a little pleased that he was the only one who knew.

“I’ve never tried it before.” He says out of the blue. The two of you shared eye contact at that. You were quizzically checking him out, wondering if he was hinting something. “Well, I suggest you not to do it. Once you try it a few times, there’s no going back.”

Jungkook had an idea but it was an extremely bizarre one. He didn’t know where the idea came from or why it was created. But he was amused at the thought of it and didn’t mind encouraging the idea to blossom. “You could do it with me. Just once wouldn’t hurt.” He suggested but it came out more as a question.

Your eyes popped open. “What?”

Bashfully, Jungkook looked away. “Nevermind.”

“Wait, no! I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just surprised that you would consider doing it with me. I mean…”

Jungkook made eye contact with you again. “If I was to try a cigarette for the first time, you’re one of the people I’d be okay with trying it with. I’d be okay if I was to do it with Jimin or Taehyung too. You’re my roommate, so I kind of trust you too.”

You nervously looked away and had to release an exhale that was being clogged inside of you. “Oh, sure! Of course, I get it. I trust you three as well.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. By Jungkook admitting that he would want to experience something, anything with you meant that he was admitting that he felt comfortable with you. That he trusted you. Despite your history together, you didn’t think that Jungkook would carry intimate feelings of trust and comfort around you. Was it because he sees you as more than “just a roommate”? He sees you as something more? Like a friend?

“Let me know when you would want to do so.” You said. Jungkook nodded. “Sure.” A slight comfortable silence fell upon you two. “Do you want to take another shot?” You asked. Jungkook thought about it before he agreed. “It’s not like they’ll know we took another one.”

“But this is actually my last one. After four or five shots, I’m done.” You warned. “Four or five? You’re such a lightweight.” Jungkook teased. “How many shots does it take for you to get wasted?”

Jungkook calculated in his head for a moment. Taehyung used to throw parties whenever their parents were out of town back when he was in eighth grade so they’ve both had a bit of experience with alcohol. “I’d say around ten is when I’m beginning to feel a buzz.” Your mouth dropped. “Ten? For a buzz? That’s borderline alcoholic.” Jungkook smirked at that. “Yeah, well when you’ve been drinking for as long as Taehyung and I have then you’d know.” “Well then tell me how long you’ve both been drinking for.”

“Since I was thirteen. For Taehyung, since he was fifteen.”

“Thirteen? Fifteen? That’s insane.”

He shrugged. “Well, our parents were barely around to notice. If they were around, I doubt that they’d care.” You gave him a sympathetic smile. “Also, we went to a rich private school so a bunch of kids like us began drinking at an early age. It was the privilege and the fact that almost all of our parents were wealthy assholes that didn’t give a fuck about us.” You groaned at Jungkook. “You’re being such a downer. You’re making me sad.” You whined. Jungkook let out a chuckle and ran fingers through his hair. “Alright, I’ll stop ambushing you with my depressive lore.” You both laughed together.

You liked this. You liked being able to be civil with Jungkook and laugh about things together. You liked whatever kind of moment was happening between you both.

You hesitated on whether or not you should bring up his date. You didn’t want him seeing that you cared to know about every single detail that happened tonight and you didn’t want him seeing that you were a little bit jealous too.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s phone buzzed. He reached his hand into his pockets and brought the phone out. It was an Instagram notification from Yeri’s account. He clicked on the notification and saw that she had tagged Jungkook onto her story and posted a picture of their two drinks and the singular bucket of popcorn and she had captioned it with a heart.

Jungkook let out the most irritated groan of his life. How did she even find his Instagram account? He never followed her and she never followed him? His username was very discreet, it did not explicitly say his name. It was actually an extremely long username: @abcdefghi__lmnopqrstuvwxyz.

“What’s wrong?” You asked as you finally took your second shot. “Nothing.” He mumbled. “What? Tell me.” You edged.

Jungkook debated on telling you. He didn’t know if you would be a good confidante for this certain situation for many obvious reasons. However, you both agreed to remain just friends right? A civil relationship with each other? Once he had decided on telling you, the patio door opened and Jimin and Taehyung stumbled back inside the living room.

He gave you an apologetic look. Maybe you didn’t need to know and it was the universe telling him so.

Taehyung took a quick glance at you. You looked annoyed. Not at Jungkook, not at Jimin, and not at himself. It seemed as if you were annoyed with yourself. You were looking down at the ground and picking at the rug on the floor. “Are you okay?” Taehyung asked, placing a hand on your knee.

Jungkook and Jimin peer over at this, with Jimin smirking to himself and Jungkook keeping his eyes glued to his brother’s hand. You fixed Taehyung with a brief smile and nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just going to call it a night, I’m getting tired.” You fake-yawn. Taehyung nodded understandably and withdrew his hand from your knee. You get up and stretch. “Goodnight guys.” You wave to the three roommates and begin to drag yourself to your bedroom.

Jungkook watches you as you disappear into the doors of your room. He could tell that you weren’t being truthful with the way you quickly came up with an excuse. You didn’t appear to be sleepy a minute ago. He didn’t want to stay and hang out with Jimin and Taehyung alone for the rest of the night. He knew that they would pressure him to drink more and he would eventually oversleep his classes, his job, and it was also a weekday. There was no need to be drunk this early into the week. “Be right back.” He muttered to Jimin and Taehyung. Jimin watched Jungkook leaving. He didn’t think too much into it. He turned his attention to Taehyung.

“I saw you placing your hand on ___’s knee earlier.” He cheesed. Taehyung groaned a jumble of words that Jimin couldn’t comprehend for the life of him. “I didn’t understand a single word you just said.” Jimin laughed. “Sorry, it’s just all those shots we took back to back that are catching up to me now. Everything’s spinning. All I can think about is ___. Where is she? Is she here? Does she know?” Taehyung rubbed his hands all over his face as an attempt to get himself together.

Jimin laughed even harder. “You’re a mess. She’s not here, it’s just you and me. Keep your voice down.” He chuckled. “Since when did your tolerance get better than mines? Fuck, I’m so out of it.” Taehyung groaned even louder. “Where did Jungkook go?” Taehyung asked. Jimin looked towards his bedroom door, which was where he assumed Jungkook went. “Probably went to bed. He said he’d be right back but you know he didn’t want to hang. He’s spiritually an old man.”

“Does ___ know?” Taehyung mumbles again. “Know about what?” Jimin scooted closer to him.

Jungkook opened the door of his bedroom and was heading towards the bathroom until he heard Taehyung’s constant repetition of “does ___ know?”. He stopped in his tracks, and stood right outside of the bathroom door. There was a wall blocking and separating the living room from the hallway that contains the bathroom and the bedrooms, therefore Jungkook couldn’t be seen from where he was.

“Just say yes or no, Jimin.” “Taehyung, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Be specific.”

Taehyung let out an irritated groan. “About you-know-what. About me. About me and her.”

Jimin shushed him, in case either Jungkook or you could hear. “No, man. No one knows except me. I’m the only one. No one will ever know between us two.”

Taehyung’s drunken eyes looked up to meet with Jimin’s exasperated expression. “You promise?” He slurred. “I promise.” Taehyung smiled in satisfaction. “I’m sorry for being a mess right now.”

Jimin snorted. “You’re always a mess.” “Says the one who is a college dropout and is crashing at their best friend’s place.” The two of them laughed together. Jungkook remained where he was, in confusion. What was Taehyung talking about? What was going on between you and him that you didn’t know about? That he didn't know about?

“Should we go to bed?” Jungkook heard Jimin asking Taehyung. Without hesitation or thinking, Jungkook ran back to his bedroom, no longer needing to urinate. He heard the shuffling of their feets dragging on the floor. Jimin put Taehyung to sleep and walked back to the living room.

. . .

It was a week into Christmas break when Taehyung had the idea for the group to go ice skating. “The place is open until 10. We can get food from the convenience store afterwards. Come on, it’s only 6:30, we have time to get ready!” He eagerly said. You sipped your peppermint tea and thought about it. “I mean, I haven’t properly enjoyed myself ever since the semester ended. I’ve been rotting in bed ever since I submitted my last final. I’m down!” You agreed.

Taehyung smiled at you and then turned his head towards Jimin and Jungkook. “I’m down too. I have nothing better to do tonight.” Jimin said. “Why is it that it’s down to you for the last vote? Why do you always have to be such a grandpa?” Taehyung pestered his brother. Jungkook couldn’t hide the smile that crept to his face. “This grandpa was planning to go on a jog before dinner and bed.” He ran a finger through his now silky dark brown hair. He dyed it dark brown last week after feeling like he needed a change with his appearance.

“Well now you can spend it with ice skating instead. Come on, you can even bring Yeri with you! You two have been inseparable ever since she came over for our Thanksgiving dinner.”

You couldn’t help but to shudder at the mention of her name. You didn’t expect for Jungkook to continue dating her after the movie date but he is. She’s been coming over to the apartment almost every single day. Your bedroom was right next door to Jungkook’s and you could hear her giggles, their conversations, their snores when they slept. It was as if you were given a sneak peek as to what hell must feel like.

Jungkook looked down at his phone and opened his text messages with Yeri. She had been begging to hangout today and do something. She was texting him nonstop and kept mentioning how bored she was and how she missed him as if they didn’t see each other less than 24 hours ago. Having a girl like Yeri by his side was tiresome. He knew that he'd rather go ice-skating and bring Yeri than have to hear her blowing up his phone with whines and complaints of wanting to do something throughout his peaceful jog, his peaceful dinner, and his peaceful bedtime.

“Sure.” He said. Taehyung smiled, in shock seeing that he actually agreed. He thought that having Yeri in his life was causing him to become more social. “Let’s leave around 7.”

Jimin immediately got up to get ready with you following behind. Taehyung looked at Jungkook and smirked. “I see Yeri has your shell opening up. I like that.” Jungkook rolled his eyes. “She isn’t opening my shell. I just feel like ice-skating.” Taehyung shrugged. “You’re still going out more ever since you started dating her.”

Jungkook didn’t care to explain anything to him. He doesn’t know what goes on in his mind and what goes on between him and Yeri. He doesn’t need to know that they only have a sexual relationship and that Jungkook doesn’t harbor an ounce of romantic feelings towards her. He doesn’t need to know that Yeri is in a one-sided situationship with him. Taehyung doesn’t need to know anything.

“If you think so.” He bites the inside of his cheek and stands up. “I’m gonna get ready.” He walks past Taehyung and texts Yeri to get ready.

Why do I feel like I will never be able to understand him, Taehyung thinks.

. . .

You fell on your ass for what felt like the fiftieth time. “I can’t fucking skate!” You cried out, holding back a laugh. Jimin skated towards you and reached his hands out to pick you up. “Why do you keep falling? Stop embarrassing us.” Jimin teased, causing your laugh to burst out of you. “I’m trying!”

You were having a great time. Seeing families, friends, couples being together made you sonder with happiness. Something about being able to be silly and kid-like without embarrassment made yourself feel as if you were on cloud nine.

You attempted to continue skating after Jimin had helped you get up. Each time you attempted, it got easier for you. You didn’t mind falling, you liked the “trial and error”-ness. You looked ahead and saw Jimin and Taehyung holding hands and skating together. You giggled at them. Seeing the two having fun together made you miss Jihyo and Chaeyoung. Every winter break, the three of you would ice skate, sled, drink hot chocolates, bake cookies together, and rewatch all your favorite holiday movies. You spent more than half of your life with them and this was the longest you have been apart and with minimal contact too with the time difference and busyness.

You knew that Chaeyoung was coming home in less than two days and Jihyo would arrive the day after to spend Christmas with their families. No plans were fully confirmed since they would also be busy during their holiday break with their family. Your prior blissful mood transitioned into disappointment.

You decided to attempt to catch up with Jimin and Taehyung to get your mind off of your dear friends. You attempted to skate faster and successfully did so.

Taehyung felt you bump against his back. “___!” He reached an arm backward to pull you from his behind and place you next to him. “You got better at skating.” He complimented. “I think I got the hang of it this time. I always remember during the season but then once winter is over, it’s like I get rusty for a bit.” Taehyung nodded understandably.

You heard a loud giggle coming from behind you. You turned to check quickly but was met with the sight of Yeri and Jungkook skating together. He was holding her hand to keep her steady but her legs were wobbling like crazy. “I can’t do it, Kookie!” She yelped out. You internally cringed at the nickname she gave him. You also internally winced at the inevitable heartache seeing him like that. Seemingly happy with the small smile that curled up on his usual inexpressible face.

He looked happy. He looked like he was enjoying himself for once. You studied his smile to question whether it was genuine or not. You felt terrible wishing for the latter. He deserved happiness. He deserved to be with someone that made him feel out of the world. He deserved good things and good people in his life, despite all the shit he emotionally burdened you with.

You hoped that his relationship with Yeri would eventually cure you with the hopeless crush you still held onto him. You forced yourself to look away after what felt like an eternity watching them.

What you didn’t notice was that Taehyung was watching you watching them. He noticed the hurt that was gleaming in your eyes. The yearning, the pain was written all over you. He was so pleased with Jungkook putting himself out there that he forgot to take account of your feelings towards them. He didn’t want your mood to be sour for the rest of the night, he wanted you to have fun. He wanted to see you happy.

“Hey you.” Taehyung nudged. You looked up to meet his eyes. “Wanna race?” He suggested, raising his brows. You smiled and nodded. “From where to where?”

Taehyung hummed, calculating where to end. “Let’s stop at the exit door. Loser buys the winner hot chocolate.” He pointed at the hot chocolate stand that was just outside of the rink. “On the count of three.” You say.

“One,” You start

“Two,” Taehyung continues

“Three” You shout. Taehyung is already speeding ahead of you, causing you to shout curse words at him. He laughed and looked behind to see you failing to catch up.

“Is that Taehyung and your roommate racing each other?” Yeri asked Jungkook. Jungkook turned his head to where he could hear the commotion going on between you two. You had a beaming grin on your face and was attempting to pull Taehyung backwards to make him lose the race. Taehyung’s box-shaped grin was plastered onto his face and he was giggling non-stop. “___, you’re cheating!” He laughed hard.

Jungkook couldn’t look away. He didn’t know why or what was making him not want to look away but he felt as if his eyes were glued onto you and Taehyung. He felt that same uncomfortable feeling washing through him. He felt a knot forming in his stomach and a sense of unease at the same time. Jungkook couldn’t comprehend for the life of him as to why he couldn't shake the unexpected pang of–whatever it was that he was feeling– away.

Yeri eyed Jungkook as he watched you and Taehyung racing. She noticed the way his jaw was slightly clenched and the way his hand that was gripping onto her arm to help her skate was tightening around her. “Jungkook?” She nudged him. His attention resumed back to her. He tried his best to give her a smile. “Hm?” He said.

“You okay?” She asked. “Yeah, I was just looking at them racing. Seems silly to race on ice. They could get hurt.” He lied. She only nodded, not knowing what else to say. She looked over at you and Taehyung again and caught sight of you both already off the rink, and were removing your skates.

Taehyung reached for your hand and dragged you to the hot chocolate and pastry stand that was outside of the rink.

“Don’t you think they could be cute together?” Yeri asked Jungkook with a playful smile on her face. Jungkook couldn’t help but to scoff out loud at that. “She’s not Taehyung’s type.” He clarified. Yeri gave him a confused glare. “What do you mean? She’s pretty. And they seem to get along well.” Yeri explained. She studied his face again but she couldn’t make anything out of it. It seemed as if he was in deep thought yet at the same time it looked like he didn’t care about the topic. His stare was completely blank yet it could be interpreted in many different ways.

“You don’t know Taehyung like I do.” He defended. Yeri decided to leave the conversation at that. “Wanna get hot chocolate too?” She asked, looking at him with pleading eyes. Jungkook shook his head. “Not in the mood.” He said dryly.

He felt bad being suddenly passive-aggressive towards her. He didn’t understand why he was being like this either. “Let’s sit for a bit.” He began to hold Yeri’s hand and pulled her to the benches.

Yeri begins to scroll on her phone meanwhile Jungkook’s eyes automatically drag itself to observe you and Taehyung again. The two of you were sitting on a bench across from them. You were showing him something on your phone. Whatever it was that you were showing, he was laughing at it. His laugh was contagious and it made you laugh harder. “I was dying at that video for a good hour yesterday.” You breathed out, trying to catch your breath. “Send that to me, send that to me.” Taehyung said.

Jungkook didn’t miss that Taehyung was slowly attempting to scoot closer to you, to the point where your left knee and his right knee were practically touching and your shoulders were a good millimeter apart. “Oo, let’s take a picture to post on my story!” You squealed. You hold your phone out and Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to close the minimal space that was between. He presses his cheek against yours and poses with his eyes squeezed shut and a peace sign held next to the other cheek.

You beam at him and post the story. “You look so cute!” You squeal again. Jungkook couldn't help but to laugh to himself at the sight that was in front of him. He was in denial for the longest but he admits now that Taehyung was indeed attempting to flirt with you. He knows his flirtatious tricks and anyone with a human brain can comprehend that he is blatantly flirting with you. He knows you’re too oblivious to this because you are an oblivious person in general. Jungkook knows you’re too naive to understand that Taehyung was being a little too touchy for someone he considers to be “just a friend”.

Just because Taehyung was flirting with you doesn’t confirm that he’s doing it out of a genuine romantic interest, Jungkook thinks. It could be because he is simply in a flirty mood or maybe he just wants to see if you would fold for him like how other girls do. That's what the old player Taehyung would do.

Jimin interrupts Jungkook’s thoughts and plops down next to him. “Are you ready to go? I’m starving.” Jimin sighed out. He reeked of cigarettes. “You’re smoking too often.” Jungkook lectured him. “I got nothing better to do with myself. I’m in my flop era or whatever the kids say these days.” He runs a finger through his hair. Jungkook chuckled at him. “I think you’re doing whatever you can to cope.” Jungkook comforts. “I’m ready if they’re ready.” Jungkook nudges his chin toward you and Taehyung that were still in the middle of a deep conversation, probably not even noticing Jimin and Jungkook right in front of them.

Jimin chuckles and sighs in amusement. “They’re so silly together.” Jimin mumbles under his breath but Jungkook picks it up. Jimin searches for a piece of gum in his pockets. He shoves a piece into his mouth and throws the wrapper to Taehyung’s head, getting your attention. “Let’s go eat.” Jimin shouts. Taehyung looks at you, inverbally asking if you are good to go. You nod in agreement. “Convenience store right?” Taehyung confirms.

“Yes!” Jimin jumps. Yeri checks out Jimin walking towards you and starts to poke your body, just to tease you. Taehyung joins along and starts to pull onto some strands of your hair. You attempt to shove the boys off and fall into a fit of laughter. Yeri couldn’t help but feel jealous seeing how well you got along with them. Yeri was aware that Jimin and Taehyung were extremely close to Jungkook and desperately wanted to get close with them, as a way to make herself feel accepted into his circle.

The three of you were already walking ahead, leaving you and Jungkook behind. Jungkook was just staring at the bench where you and Taehyung were sitting a second ago. “Let’s go, Kookie.” Yeri nudges him. He simply nods and stands up. “Sure.” He walks ahead, leaving Yeri alone.

She grew irritated with Jungkook. A while ago, Jungkook was being gentlemanly with her and was seemingly having a good time with her. She doesn’t understand what suddenly went wrong with him for him to be so cold and distant now.

Jungkook stops in his tracks and turns behind to see why Yeri wasn’t following him yet. “What’s wrong?” He asked. She shakes her head, not wanting to bring it up. “Nothing.” She gets up from the bench and catches up with him.

The rest of the night was spent with a brief convenience store run, a brief ‘dinner’ together inside of the apartment, and a brief conversation before everyone went to bed for the night.

. . .

“Are you sure you don’t wanna spend Christmas and New Year’ with us, ___?” Taehyung asked for the millionth time. You nodded. “I’m very sure, Tae. I’ll be okay. I’ll make sure to enjoy my week alone.” You reassured. Taehyung clenched his jaw, feeling hurt that you were going to spend the holidays alone. Your parents went on vacation in Bali, wanting to spend the holidays with just them two.

You and your parents were never that close when it came to quality time. They were supportive, attentive and loving parents but when it came to family-bonding quality time, it was practically nonexistent. It was what you grew up with. This was the norm for you. It was disappointing, of course, but that’s how it was.

Jihyo suddenly came down with a terrible cold and was unable to come down and spend the week with you and Chaeyoung’s family dragged her down to Busan to spend the holidays with her grandparents. To be honest, you were kind of expecting her to offer you to spend the week with her and her family since they know you well and love you but she didn’t. Maybe it wasn’t on her mind and you didn’t want to burden her to make her feel as if she had to ask and invite you.

It was Christmas Eve and Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin were on the way back home to Busan to spend their holidays with their family–Jimin spending it with the brothers’ family. Although Jungkook didn’t verbally express it, he too felt bad leaving you alone for the holidays. He didn’t know much about how your family functioned but he was curious as to why you weren’t going to be spending it with them.

Jimin gave you a pitiful look and hugged you. “Okay, well we should be leaving now. Our bus departs in 30 minutes.” Jimin said. You hugged him and chuckled. “Go on then! Let me know when you guys make it safely! I’ll be sure to update you guys on what I’ll be up to so you guys won’t be too worried.” You pulled away and nodded. Taehyung didn’t say anything but gave you a forced tight-lipped smile. “Alright. Merry Christmas, ___.” Taehyung walked over and hugged you tightly. You returned the tightness. “Merry Christmas.” You whispered.

After Taehyung finally pulled away, you glanced over to Jungkook. He was glaring at you back. You weren’t able to understand the look on his face but you could swear it seemed as if he too had a look of pity. “Merry Christmas, Jungkook.” You said. You didn’t know if Jungkook wanted a hug from you as well so you decided to just wave.

“Merry Christmas.” He replied, holding a hand up. After a slightly uncomfortable silence, Jimin goes ahead to open the front door and heads out first. Taehyung gives you a final smile before he follows behind. Jungkooks remains where he was for a little bit.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He gives an actual wave and exits. He closes the door slowly and softly.

You were now finally left alone for the entire week and you had no idea what to do now. The void of being alone hasn’t hit you yet and you hope it doesn’t ever or else you would end up crying yourself to sleep.

. . .

“Boys, over here!” Jungkook heard his mother calling out to him. His mother and Taehyung’s father were standing next to their large black SUV, waving at them. “We’re home, Kook.” Taehyung mumbled sarcastically to him. Jungkook smirked, shaking his head at him. “So glad.” He replied back.

Jimin ran up to their parents and hugged them. “It’s been so long, Mom and Dad!” Jimin cheered. He liked to call their parents mother and father since they practically raised Jimin along with Jungkook and Taehyung.

“Oh, Jimin! You get so handsome every time I see you!” Jungkook’s mom pinches his cheeks.

Taehyung’s father pulls Taehyung in for a hug and pats his back. “My son, welcome home.” He smiles. Taehyung fakes a smile back. “Missed you, dad.”

After greeting Jimin, Jungkook’s mom pulls him in for a hug and kisses his forehead. “How have you been, my son?” She grins at him. Jungkook thinks to himself that being away from college has made his mother and Taehyung’s father extra affectionate with them. “I’ve been good. How have you been taking care of yourself?” He asks. She shrugs. “I’ve been picking up on yoga and pilates. It’s been relaxing me from my usual heavy workload.” She smiles.

Jungkook noticed that there wasn’t a driver to pick them up like usual. Everyday, on his commute to school or anywhere else, he would have a driver to drop him off and pick him up. “No driver today?” Jungkook asked his parents. Taehyung’s father shook his head. “We both had the afternoon off and decided to get you guys ourselves.” He smiled.

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other in surprise. “I see.” Taehyung said. “Come, let’s go have lunch.” Jungkook’s mother held onto him and pulled him to the car. Jungkook certainly wasn’t used to the sudden physical touch his mother was giving him and the sudden quality time as well.

. . .

It was now dinnertime and Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and their parents were all sitting at the table together.

“Tell me about your living situation. Are you guys enjoying living together?” Jungkook’s mom asked Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung nodded. “Yea, I’ve trained Jungkook well. He cleans up after himself, he’s a great cook, and he likes to hang out with me and Jimin whenever he isn’t busy.”

Jungkook’s mom darts her eyes between the three. “Jimin?” She asks. “Mhm. Jimin is living with us for the time being.” Taehyung clarifies. Jungkook’s mom mouth gapes open and turns her attention to Jimin. “Oh really? Jimin, what happened to your schooling? Are you not going anymore?” She asks.

Jimin debates whether or not he should be honest with them. Taehyung and Jungkook’s parents were a lot like his parents in the sense of needing their children to attend prestigious universities, getting good grades, and getting a good job after graduation.

“I’m taking a short break from school. I was feeling a little overwhelmed with the strict academic regulations that came with being a pre-med student. I feel like I need to be mentally prepared and confident with my decision to study medicine and I was not.”

Taehyung’s father nodded understandably. “Of course, studying medicine is a serious decision. You’re going to be saving lives. You made the right decision, son.” He boasted. Taehyung gave a quick glance to Jungkook. He was already returning the same look he had: shock. What was going on with their parents? Had Taehyung or Jungkook told their parents that they wanted to take a break from school, they would most likely faint or die from a heart attack.

“Do you like living with our sons?” Jungkook’s mother asked, giving Jimin an amused smile. Jimin chuckled, looking at the two. “Yeah, they’re the best. They and ___ made me feel very welcomed into their humble abode.” He smiled.

Their parents gave him a perplexed look. “Who’s ___?” Taehyung’s father asked. Jungkook stopped chewing his food and only stared ahead at his mother who was giving him a confused look. Taehyung turned his head to Jimin and silently cursed him out. He explicitly told him during the busride to not bring you up to them. He knew that his parents wouldn’t be okay with a woman living with him and on top of that, they would know that Taehyung was struggling to make ends meet when it came to rent. It was their decision to cut them off financially, therefore they had no need to know what was going on in his life financially-wise.

“Uh-,” Jimin stuttered. One thing about Jimin was that he was a terrible liar. He couldn’t lie for the life of him. “____ is Taehyung and Jungkook’s next door neighbor! She comes over often and hangs out with us. She’s very nice.” He spat out. Jungkook let his silverware clang onto his bowl of soup and groaned out loud. Taehyung blinked and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

“What? Are we not allowed to know about the kind of new friends you’ve made in Seoul?” Taehyung’s father protruded. “Yeah, tell us about ___. We would love to get to know your new female friend that is very close with you guys.” Jungkook’s mother chimed in. Taehyung chuckled nervously. “No, of course we can talk about ___. Like Jimin said, she is very nice. She’s a good friend of ours. She goes to Konkuk with us.” He explained.

Jungkook’s mother nodded. “What is she studying?” His father asked. “She’s studying to be a doctor.” He lied. If he was to expose that you were an undecided student, their parents would immediately disapprove of you. It would be worse than being a gap student, like Jimin.

Taehyung’s father nodded in approval. “Smart girl.” He smiled. “Yes, very smart indeed. Is she originally from Seoul?” Jungkook’s mom leaned close to the table, seemingly very interested in learning more about you.

“She’s from Busan like us. She actually went to the same school as Jungkook.” Taehyung nudged him. Jungkook choked on the soup he was trying to swallow. “What?” He muffled. “No way! What a funny coincidence! Jungkook, is she a good friend of yours too?” His mom grinned.

He tried to swallow the rest of the liquid and pondered on the question. “Uh, I guess, yes.” He answered. “That’s so nice. We probably know her parents well.” Taehyung’s father nodded. “Oh, I don’t think so. She doesn’t come from an affluent family. She’s kind of…regular.” Taehyung said.

He winced at the usage of “regular” to describe you but it was the only word he could think of for his parents to understand you and your background. It was the only word they’d understand.

“Oh, I see.” She nodded. “She must be pretty, right?” This caused Jungkook and Taehyung to both choke on their food and Jimin to snort out a laugh.

“What did I say?” she asked, worried as hell.

Taehyung’s father chuckled at his sons. “They’re blushing, love. She must be very pretty indeed.” He teased. Taehyung dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin and cleared his throat. “Why do you guys care?” He said with a muffled voice.

“We’re just curious.” She edged.

Taehyung tried to brush off the question but Jungkook’s mother kept pestering. “She’s as pretty as every other girl in the world.” He tried to play it off. His father chuckled at his choice of wording. “To me, that translates to she’s pretty to you. Do any of you boys like her?”

Jimin laughed harder. “Dad, stop.” Taehyung hissed. “Is she in Busan for the holidays? We would love to meet her, you should invite her to spend New Year’s with us!”

Jimin answered for them. “She stayed home for the break. Her parents are out of town.”

“Jimin-,” Taehyung warned. “So you mean to tell me that she’s alone for the holidays? Why?” Taehyung’s father asked, with concern. “No idea. We had asked her to spend the holidays with us too but she insisted against it. The three of us didn’t want to leave her behind too.” Jimin continued to yap on. Taehyung pinched his leg and he yelped from pain.

“Taehyung, Jungkook? Do invite her to come down and spend the week with us. We would love to have her here.” Jungkook’s mother suggested. “I-I think she will be okay. She might have other plans made and we shouldn’t disrupt that.” Taehyung said.

“But-,”

“Mom, just drop it. She’s busy with another family that lives in Seoul. She told me herself. Don’t get worked up over it.” Jungkook chimed in. His mother remained silent but nodded. “I just think that no one should be spending the holidays alone. I recommend you guys text her and make sure she has company of some sort. Especially since she’s a woman living alone. Who knows what could happen to her.”

That was probably the last thing the three of them wanted to hear. Although they felt reassured enough by you that you were going to be okay alone, they should’ve considered the fact that you were still a woman residing alone for a week and any weirdo could possibly hurt you and if not that, you were going to feel lonely regardless. Why would they just be okay with leaving you alone?

The three of them remained silent for the rest of the conversation. Taehyung’s father got the hint that they were now preoccupied with the thought of you being alone and decided to change the topic for the rest of dinner.

“Are any of you boys seeing someone?”

Jimin turned to look at Jungkook. “Jungkook, are you seeing someone?” His mother gasped. Jungkook kept his head down at his soup and remained silent some more. “You are?”

“I’m not seeing anyone.” He lied. “Who is she? Who are her parents? Where is she from?”

Taehyung chuckled at him. “Her name is Yeri. They’ve been seeing each other for over a month now. She’s nice.” He answered for him. Jungkook kicked his legs under the table and Taehyung let out an abrupt chuckle.

“I can’t believe how grown our son has gotten. He has his first girlfriend.” His mother cooes to her husband. “We would love to meet her whenever you’re ready to introduce us to her. I know it won’t be for a little while longer since it is still so new and fresh.”

Jungkook suddenly felt hot with irritation. Where was all this coming from? His parents suddenly showing an interest in his life? To Taehyung’s life? Why are they abnormally understanding of Jimin's drop out situation? Why now? Why now after he’s been gone for months that they suddenly want to act attentive and caring?

“What’s going with you both?” He asks. They give each other a perplexed look. “What are you talking about, son?” His mom asks innocently. “You know exactly what I mean. Why are you guys being like this? What did we do? What do you want from us?” He hissed.

Taehyung wanted to attempt to control him but to be honest, he was quite relieved that he took the initiative to say something. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic with his parent’s sudden switch up.

His parents remained quiet and uncomfortably looked at each other. Jungkook and Taehyung could sense tension oozing off of their silence. They knew that something was actually going on.

The father cleared his throat and dabbed the corner of his lips with a napkin. “I think it’s time we tell them.” He said sternly. Jungkook’s mother didn’t react. She instead responded by taking a long chug of her red wine.

Her sweet mother demeanor switched into a cold yet seemingly anxious attitude. “Tell us what?” Taehyung asked.

“I’ll say it.” Jungkook’s mom spoke up. Her voice was deep. She darted her eyes between her son, Taehyung and Jimin. Her eyes softened as she glanced between the three boys she deeply cared for and loved.

“Two months ago..,” She started off.

“Two months ago…I got diagnosed with stage two cancer. Breast cancer.” She stated.

All of a sudden, Jungkook felt as if his chair was sunken into a black void that was hungry to capture him. He felt as if he was disassociated from where he was. Is this a dream? Is it reality? Is he somewhere in between? Did he hear her correctly?

Is this actually real life?

With the silence in the room, you could hear a pin drop. You could hear thoughts.

“Your mother has her first chemotherapy session scheduled about two weeks from now. Doctors say that it is still possible they can remove the tumor inside.” He spoke up.

Taehyung slightly turned his head to Jungkook, if he could figure out whatever was going through his head. If he even had anything going through his head at all.

His face was as white as the wall, lips as white as him. His doe eyes were a combination of grief, anger, shock, and nothing at the same time. Jungkook could throw up at this very moment.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this sooner?” He whispered to her. She looked at him with regret and with pain. Pain for her only child having the bear this kind of news.

“I figured it could wait. I didn’t want this to distract you from your studies.” She said matter-of-factly. Jungkook slammed his silverware to the table.

“It took for you to get cancer to suddenly care about me? Care about my feelings? Consider me into your life for once?” He spat out. She jumped from the sudden harsh words he said to her.

“Now that you’re sick, you want to suddenly act like you have a son to talk to?” He continued. He tried to fight the tears that were threatening to spill but he couldn’t bear it anymore. He was destroyed. He was furious. He couldn’t even look at her without wanting to say bad words.

“Jungkook-,” Taehyung’s father tried to get him to stop but Jungkook seriously could not manage to stay in the same room as her. He stands up from his seat and storms upstairs to his bedroom.

“Jungkook, come back please.” His father yelled out for him. Taehyung watched him as he left. He understood where this was coming from. It was a mixture of grief of the devastating news and it was a mixture of him genuinely being furious at how his mother was acting like everything was fine between them when it just wasn’t.

Jungkook slammed his door and sat onto the side of his bed. He expected the rest of the tears to fall out but it felt as if he finally became mentally strong enough to block it. He was struggling to catch his breath, to catch a single ounce of a breath to exhale. His chest felt as if he swallowed a flame, growing hotter and painful to withstand.

He didn’t have the capacity to think rationally, act logically, and be stable. He was dealing with a surge of insanely different emotions and didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to see his mother, he didn’t want to see his step-father, he didn’t want to see Taehyung or Jimin or have either of the two come to his bedroom to confront him. He didn’t want to be here. Not at this home, not in Busan, all he knew was that he wanted to be as far away from here as possible.

Without thinking, he grabbed his duffel bag,–which luckily hasn’t been unpacked yet–his phone, keys, and wallet and immediately left his childhood bedroom. He stomped down the stairs, not caring if they could hear him coming down, and headed straight towards the front door.

The nearest bus station was a 30 minute drive, about a two hour walk from his house, but he didn’t care. He stormed outside of the house, ignoring the calls from his mother and father.

Taehyung remained where he sat, knowing that Jungkook would be too stubborn to listen to him. He knew that Jungkook was just in shock and just wasn’t handling the news in the best and mature way.

“Where could he possibly be going at this time?” Jungkook’s mother breathed out heavily. “Relax, he probably went on a walk to clear his mind. Give him some time to breathe.” His father soothed.

“Taehyung,” His mother called out. He managed to look up from his plate and made eye contact with her. “Please call Jungkook if he doesn’t return within an hour.” She pleaded. Taehyung nodded in response.

“Promise me? It is almost sunset, he shouldn’t be walking in the dark all alone.”

“I promise.” He croaked out. Jungkook’s mother places her head into her palms and lets out an exasperated sigh. The table was filled with a painfully awkward silence. Jimin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was suddenly missing his own home—the home where he is disowned from.

“I’m going to get Mirae to clear our plates if we are all done eating now.” Taehyung’s father spoke up. Mirae was the housekeeper.

“Mirae, come please. We’re all done here.” He called out, after using the silence as a collective response.

. . .

After an hour and a half of speed walking, Jungkook finally made it to the bus station. His shoulders were aching, his legs were throbbing, and he was sweating like crazy. He felt pity for the people around him that could smell his sweat from walking over 20,000 steps across town.

He approached the guest service desk. “Good evening, do you have an available ticket for a bus to Seoul? Soonest one, preferably.”

As he was walking to the station, he decided he would head straight home to the apartment. He didn’t want to spend an entire week with his mother and pretend that everything was fine when it wasn’t. He didn’t want to spend Christmas and the New Year’s and pretend that he was having a good time when he wouldn’t.

“The next bus to Seoul is arriving in twenty minutes. You’re lucky, there was one available seat left. Would you like to purchase it?” The attendant asked. He immediately reached for his wallet and handed his credit card, not caring about the price of the ticket.

After purchasing his ticket, he sat at the nearest bench and closed his eyes.

All he could replay in the back of his mind was the sight of his mother at the dinner table. He didn’t realize how frail she appeared, how deepened her wrinkles grew to be, and how pale her skin was. Her hair was thinner and grayer. She barely touched her dinner as well. How could he have not noticed how sick his own mother looked? His own mother was sick with cancer and he didn’t even notice it.

His guilt shifted to resentment; how could she suddenly want to repair their damaged relationship now? Why now? Why after being diagnosed with a sickness does she suddenly want to make things better between them? Why didn’t she care prior? Would she have still reached out if she was never sick? Would she still care about him?

He refused to let the tears that were pooling fall. He didn’t want to care about this. He didn’t want to admit that he is still a hurting child inside. He is still a young boy that misses and needs his mom. He didn’t want to be that boy anymore. He wanted to be the 20-year old man that was a college student, living on his own, and heading off into the real world.

Jungkook suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his hands. Taehyung was calling him.

After letting the phone ring for several moments, he decided to pick up.

“What?” He said.

“Where are you?” Taehyung asked. He sounded as if he was keeping his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want anyone to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Jungkook debated for a moment if he should just straight up tell him. He decided to lie. “I’m going to Yeri’s.”

“Yeri’s? What, why?” He stuttered. “I, uh, don’t think I can handle being around my mom right now. Yeri’s with her family in Seoul for the holidays, so I’m just going to spend the week with her.”

Taehyung sighed against the speaker. “Kook, your mom is sick. She…she needs you right now? Don’t do this.” He said quietly. Jungkook assumes that his mother is nearby and Taehyung didn’t want her to listen to the phone call.

“She’s got you, your dad, and Jimin. She’ll be fine. She didn’t need me before and she certainly doesn’t need me now.” He spat out.

Taehyung remained silent on the line, not knowing what to say to convince Jungkook to come back. He didn’t know what to say in general.

“Alright. Do what you want. Should I tell our parents you’re with Yeri?” He asked.

“I don’t care. Tell them whatever you want, I couldn’t give a single shit.” Jungkook hangs up without letting Taehyung say anything back. He swallowed the guilt he felt after talking to Taehyung so harshly. He knew that he shouldn’t take his anger out on him. Jungkook didn’t know how to handle this situation at all. He just wanted to leave Busan. He wanted to be home.

. . .

It was 11 o’clock at night and you were awake, with a sheet mask on, painting your toenails, and were on your third glass of red wine. Faye Webster was playing on your speakers in the background and you were humming along to the lyrics as you lightly brushed your pinky toe white.

You were in a blissful mood; tipsy with wine, good music and good wine. Your chicken you ordered for delivery was on the way. Maybe this week alone wouldn’t be so awful after all. Maybe a week to yourself was what your soul was craving.

Your phone was on DND, the LED living room lamp was cozy and warmly yellow. You were in paradise. Although at the same time you did miss the boys. You missed the chaotic energy they brought. You missed the Friday night movie watches, the constant bickering, the smell of Taehyung cooking dinner, the gossip you shared with Jimin, and the rare presence of Jungkook.

You could only hope that they were enjoying their time at home. You missed Busan like crazy and wish that you could be back in your hometown too.

You chugged down the rest of your wine and immediately began pouring yourself another glass. Being wine drunk was the move for tonight’s solemn mood.

Your last toenail was painted and you placed the toe dividers in between. You sighed in delight and sipped your wine gracefully, still humming along to the song playing.

Your relaxed mood was paused after hearing the sound of someone knocking on the door. You perked up, knowing that your fried chicken had arrived. You waddled over to the door, and eagerly opened the door.

Your breath was caught in your throat as you were not met with the sight of the delivery man. You were met with the sight of Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” You gasped, still in disbelief that he was here right in front of you.

“Hey.” He said.

You couldn’t manage to say anything else. You could only just stare at him. He looked physically exhausted. His hair was disheveled and looked greasy. His lips were cracked and dry and his eyes had dark bags hanging underneath.

“Come in.” You said but it managed to come out as a question. He entered the apartment and removed his shoes. He walked straight to the kitchen right after and grabbed a glass cup. He poured himself water from the sink and chugged it down in one second. You were still staring at him in disbelief.

“Um…can I ask why you’re home so soon?” You asked. He observed your shock-ridden face that was being covered by the sheet mask you had on your face. Your hair was tied up into a low bun and was pulled back by a plush headwrap with kitten ears attached to it. You had on your pink gingham patterned matching pajamas and he looked down to your freshly painted toenails and the toes being separated by the divider. He let out a chuckle at your relaxed appearance.

“Sorry for interrupting your self care night.” He smirked at you. You embarrassingly walked away and headed back to the living room. Jungkook followed you. “Whatever.” You mumbled to yourself. Your solo night was now ruined by Jungkook’s random return.

You reached for your wine glass and took a large gulp. Your palms were suddenly sweaty and your heart was beating fast. You were nervous. You were now no longer alone in the apartment. It was just you and Jungkook.

“Why are you home?” You asked again. Jungkook shrugged. “I didn’t want to be there anymore. I felt like coming back.”

You stared at him down, still extremely confused. All you could think to yourself was why. Why, why, why? What happened?

“Does Taehyung know you’re here?” You asked. Jungkook shook his head no. “He doesn’t. And I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him I am. He thinks I’m somewhere else.” He shoved his pants into his pockets and kept strong eye contact with you. He knows you’re confused and that you must have thousands of questions running through your mind right now.

You nodded in agreement. “Are you going to stay? The entire holiday break?”

Jungkook nodded. “Oh.” You manage to say. You couldn’t hide the disappointment laced in your voice. “Again, sorry for interrupting you. I should’ve told you I was coming.” He ran his fingers through his greasy hair.

“Don’t apologize. This is your home too. You can come and go as you please.” You chuckle nervously. You were extremely nervous to be alone with Jungkook for an entire week. This reminded you of the time when Taehyung was gone for a weekend to go interview for his candidacy as a recipient of the ‘best film’ award. You and Jungkook were in a heated argument, like usual, and you remember how awkward it was to be alone for a weekend. Now, it was for a whole week. Seven days.

“You want to join me? I’m just drinking wine and listening to music.” You offered, trying to break the awkward tension that was brewing. Jungkook debated for a moment. He didn’t know if he was in the mood to socialize anymore for the day. He was on a crowded 4-hour bus ride, and desperately craved to be back in his bed after a long day of commuting.

Despite that, he felt bad to decline your offer. “Sure. Do you mind if I shower first? I’m pretty gross and greasy right now.”

You immediately reassured him. “A-Absolutely, go ahead and shower and do whatever you need to do. No rush!” You blabbered. Jungkook gave you a curt nod and dragged his duffel bag and himself ahead to his bedroom.

You breathed out a long stressed out sigh. You reached for your phone and tracked your chicken which was beginning to take too long to arrive. The driver was five minutes away.

You groaned into a pillow, not caring that you were staining it with your sheet mask serums.

. . .

After forty-five minutes passed by, you were gnawing on your third chicken leg with Jungkook devouring the food as well. He didn’t realize how hungry he had been. He barely ate the entire day.

“This is some of the best chicken I’ve ever had in my entire life.” Jungkook said with his mouth full. You chuckled as you were chewing. “This is my go-to chicken restaurant. They never miss.” You dabbed the corner of your cheeks with a napkin and rinsed the chicken down your throat with a nice cold beer.

You shouldn’t be mixing alcohol right now but you forgot that you had ordered beer with the order and didn’t want to mix fried chicken with wine; it wasn’t a good match. You were slightly past tipsy and entering drunk territory.

Jungkook was also drinking his beer of the night. A fresh hot shower, fresh pair of pajamas, a cold beer, and crispy Korean fried chicken was the perfect way to end his shitty long day.

The two of you were devouring the chicken in a comfortable silence. Faye Webster was still playing quietly in the background. “I like Faye Webster too.” Jungkook said.

Your eyes widened. “You listen to her too?” He nodded. “I like to play her music whenever I study or read. Keeps me focused.” He said. You couldn’t help but to smile at that. “That’s so cool. I haven’t met anyone that also listened to her. She makes great music.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement. “Same here. Sucks that she probably might not ever tour in Korea.” He sighed, tossing a chicken bone into the box.

“Never say never.” You wagged a finger at him.

The two of you were sitting quite far apart; both sitting on each end of the couch. He was freshly showered and the entire living room was filled with the scent of his shampoo. He smelled like fresh and clean laundry. You admired the way his damp wet hair stuck to his forehead and how his ends sprung and curled outwards.

Another comfortable silence fell upon.

“So, how was your short time with your family?” You asked, trying to make some conversation. After all, you did invite him to hang with you.

Jungkook took a gulp of beer and pondered on how to respond to your question.

How straight forward should he be? He has come to the conclusion awhile ago that you are someone who is trustworthy and someone easy to confide problems with. You are good at comforting others. However, he constantly mentally struggles whether the two of you are considered to be ‘friends’ enough to discuss any dilemmas with. The two of you have a weird so-called friendship.

However, despite all the complications, he’d rather communicate honestly to someone who wasn’t biased to his family for once.

“If I had to describe it in one word, it would be: weird. It was weird.”

“How come?” You pestered.

He sighed. “They were being abnormally…nice for once. Like they were trying to act like actual parents and wanted to know what we were up to since we last chatted. Immediately, that was a huge red flag for me because since when did they care about that, right? What other way was there to describe that other than weird? It was so weird.”

You cocked your head to the side. “I see.” You nodded. Jungkook continued on.

“It was such bullshit. They picked us up from the bus stop themselves and actually sat down to eat dinner with us.”

You were in shock hearing at how distant and fucked up Jungkook’s relationship with his parents was. The fact that he was shocked that they ate dinner with them said a lot.

“Eventually, I made them stop the bullshit. I asked them why they were acting so differently and comes to turn out that my mother has fucking cancer.” He said nonchalantly.

Without hesitation, you immediately got up from your spot and sat right in front of Jungkook. “I’m sorry, what? Your mom has cancer?” Your eyes were wide open, with your heart thumping against your chest from the shock.

“Yeah, stage two breast cancer. She’s known for two months and broke the news over dinner.” He chugged another gulp of beer. He could feel his chest burning from the emotions arising again and his eyes stinging from the tears threatening to form.

“Oh, Jungkook…” You cooed. You hesitantly placed your hand above his hand, debating whether you should touch it out of comfort. You decided to just place your hand over his forearm.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, I’m truly so sorry.” Your eyes met with his and Jungkook could easily read the immense sympathy you had for him. Your eyes looked glassy, as if you were going to cry.

He shook his head and let out a cold laugh. “Is it bad that I’m so fucking pissed at her, ____? I’m genuinely so furious with her. Why is it that now after finding out she’s sick, she wants to become more present in my life and start wanting to know how I’ve been? She has never cared before so why should she switch up and care now?”

You allowed Jungkook to continue venting. You knew he had more to let out of his system.

“Am I a bad son for storming out after she broke the news? Was I supposed to get over it and stay for the rest of the break and be there for her? Am I in the wrong for being upset?” He was fuming. His nose was turning pink from his arising emotions and he continued to withhold the tears. He refused to cry. He refused to cave in.

“You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel. I think you have every right to feel this way,” You started off, beginning to rubbing circles on his forearm with your fingertips. Jungkook looked up to make eye contact with you.

“I also think you’re in shock and this is you reacting out of shock and the lifelong resentment you hold against your mom. The shock is coming out of worry and fear. And you carry worry and fear over your mom’s news because you love her despite the resentment. You love your mother and you’re scared to lose her. You also have so much reason to be furious at her as a secondary emotion.”

“I don’t want to worry about her, she’s never worried about me. She practically let me raise myself. Taehyung was more of a mother to me than she was.”

You stopped rubbing circles and removed your hands from his space.

“Do you want to hear advice or do you just want a friend to listen to you? I can do whatever you need.” You asked. Jungkook could only stare into your soft and kind eyes. He didn’t know how to answer that. He’s never been asked that before.

The fact that you called yourself his friend comforted him slightly. He needed a friend by his side.

“I don’t want to talk about her anymore.” He firmly stated. Jungkook’s an avoidant person. When he struggles with an issue, he pretends it doesn’t exist.

You could tell Jungkook was truly hurting from this. You could see the pain tattooed in his eyes. You also didn’t want to force him to talk about something that was distressing him and that he was clearly still in the process of accepting to believe.

“Let’s finish this bottle of wine together, yeah?” You smiled at him. He tried to suppress the smile that was trying to respond to yours but he couldn’t. It’s something about the way you always manage to get his soft emotions out of him that he can’t hide well.

. . .

Throughout the week, you and Jungkook were co-existing well. The two of you would accompany each other during breakfast and dinner, and occasionally grab iced Americanos for lunch.

There was a holiday market on campus and you invited him to tag along. The two of you spent a good hour at the market and checked out everything together; even playing the Christmas-themed arcade games provided.

You continued your Christmas tradition of watching classic holiday movies in your coziest pajamas while eating fresh baked cookies and hot chocolate. Normally, you would do this with Jihyo and Chaeyoung and had assumed you would continue the tradition alone this year but Jungkook surprisingly joined you.

Jungkook was beginning to grow comfortable with considering you as an actual friend and not just someone whom he likes to bicker with. He liked your company. He liked how you used him as Jimin’s replacement to discuss any gossip and how you used him as Taehyung’s replacement to become the chef of the household. He cooked everything for you; breakfast and dinner. He realized while he was cooking breakfast one morning that one his love languages for his friends was doing acts of service. He liked cooking for you, he liked helping Yoongi out with any assignments he had trouble with, he liked doing extra household chores to make Taehyung’s day easier whenever he had a busy day of working and going to school, and he liked tagging along with Jimin to the gym to spot him during their weight lifting sessions, even tags along without Jimin asking.

He didn’t regret leaving Busan. He knew he needed time away to process and needed time apart from his mom to understand her and her reasoning on why she did what she did. After all, she can’t just ignore the emotional negligence she’s done to him since he was a child. He was enjoying his break back at home.

It was New Year’s Eve morning when you and Jungkook were sitting at the table and enjoying each other’s company as per usual.

“I forgot, will Tae and Jimin come back tonight or tomorrow morning?” You asked Jungkook. “I think tomorrow morning. My parent’s usually like to throw New Year’s parties and probably want the two to celebrate with them and their asshole friends.” Jungkook sipped his tea.

You chuckled at how nonchalantly he insults people. “Do you want to come with me to Hoseok’s New Year’s party? He texted me about it last night. It was a last minute he and Yoongi made.”

Jungkook immediately nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been missing Yoongi like crazy.” You gaped your mouth open. “Are you actually missing someone? That’s crazy.”

Jungkook tossed a raspberry at you. “I’m not an emotionless psychopath, ___.” He rolled his eyes. You groaned in annoyance. “I don’t know why you can’t admit that you indeed are an emotionless psychopath.”

“Just because I’m not nice to everyone doesn’t mean I don’t have a heart.” He argued. “I think it means you have unsolved trauma you need to get through.” You argued back, causing Jungkook to snort at you.

“Therapy is expensive, being an asshole is free.”

You laughed at him, shaking your head in amusement. “Let’s leave at around 10:30.” You suggested. He nodded in agreement and went back to reading the news on his phone.

You suddenly got a Facetime call from Taehyung. Excitedly, you answered quickly.

“Good morning, ___!” Taehyung beamed at you. This was the first time you were seeing his face after he left to go home. The two of you continued to text everyday but this was the first time he called to Facetime after being gone throughout the week.

“Tae! What’s up! I’ve missed you a lot.” You smiled at him. Jimin popped his head into the screen and waved at you. “Jimin! Hi, I’ve missed you too!” You grinned at the two.

“We just wanted to say hi on the last day of the year. We miss you too. Wish you were spending the New Year’s with us but we’ll be back tomorrow morning. We were supposed to be back today but my parents want Jimin and I to stay and hang with them and their asshole friends.” Taehyung said. You choke out a giggle, remembering how Jungkook said the exact same thing a minute ago. A reminder of how closely similar they can be.

A text from Jungkook slides to the top of your screen:

jungkook: Remember, they don’t know I’m here.

You quickly text back a thumbs up emoji and return back to the video call.

“So, where’s Jungkook? Is he still asleep?” You asked. “Oh, he’s not here in Busan. He went to spend the holidays with Yeri and her family. I have no idea where in Korea he’s at.”

Your face fell at what Taehyung said. You peered over to look at Jungkook and he was still just reading the news on his phone, as if he didn’t hear Taehyung.

You felt so stupid to remember that Jungkook had a whole girlfriend. He’s barely mentioned her the entire time he’s been home.

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll probably text him to wish a happy new year’s after midnight. How have you guys been, what were you guys up to all week?” You quickly dismissed the Jungkook topic.

Jimin groaned. “Tae’s dad asks us to play golf and tennis with him every morning at the country club he goes to everyday. Then, in the evening, Jungkook’s mom asks us to go to her pilates and yoga classes with her. We’ve literally been exercising every single day. Three entirely different sports and exercises everyday. At night, Tae and I try to sneak out and get drinks and go to clubs to let loose.” Jimin whined. You giggled at them.

“That actually sounds like a lot of fun, I wish I could attend pilates classes for free. It’s such an expensive hobby.” You chuckle. “At least we burn so many calories a day that we have extra space to drink our sorrows away.” Jimin groaned again. Taehyung chuckled and nodded in agreement.

“Wish you were here, ___. How have you been spending your break? Enjoying the silence in the apartment? Do you keep the door locked every night?” Taehyung pestered you.

“I’ve been having a great time alone. I spent Christmas with Hoseok and plan to spend tonight with him again. He and Yoongi are throwing a party.” You lied. You didn’t want Taehyung to have the idea that you spent Christmas alone like a lonely loser.

“Ah, I’m so glad he’s giving you company. Let me know if you need anything, okay? I’m always here for you.” Taehyung urged. Jungkook tried to hold back a scoff at his obvious desperate attempts to woo you over.

“I promise, Tae. See you tomorrow, okay? Thanks for calling to check in.” You smiled and waved.

“Taehyung and I are gonna head out to the club with his dad now. Wish us luck. See ya, ___.” Jimin hung up on the call before you had a chance to say something back.

You sighed in happiness, realizing that you truly missed the two and enjoyed seeing their faces and hearing their voices after so long.

“Why do you look so happy? You missed Tae-Tae?” Jungkook mocked you. You rolled your eyes at him, already annoyed. “I miss both of them, not just Tae. What’s with everyone thinking I like Taehyung or something?” You groaned.

Jungkook snapped his head up at that. “Who thinks that?” He asked. “Literally, everyone. Hoseok and my friends Jihyo and Chaeyoung, too. Hoseok even has the audacity to think that Taehyung has some kind of crush on me. Ridiculous, right?”

Jungkook kept quiet for a second but laughed it off. “Extremely ridiculous.”

For some reason, this annoyed you. “‘Extremely’? Is it that weird if someone like Tae was to like me? As if I’m so unlikable or something?” You spat. Jungkook laughed again, not expecting you to get so heated at that.

“Did I say that? Tell me what exactly I said that hinted at that?” He snickered. You scoff at him. “You said ‘extremely’ really honestly. I could tell by the way you dragged out the word. You said ‘extreeemeleey’.” You mocked.

Jungkook was growing to be more amused with you. He didn’t know you had a dramatic side to you. “As if you are such a catch yourself! I’m surprised you even have a girlfriend that can handle you.” You pick on him.

It took Jungkook a second to remember who you were even talking about. He hasn’t thought about Yeri since the ice-skating date. He doesn’t even remember if he’s replied to the last text she sent.

Admittedly, Jungkook felt bad that he cared little about Yeri. He knows that she’s a nice girl and genuinely deserved better than the treatment he’s giving her. It’s clear she wants more than sex from him. He made a mental note to have a chat with Yeri about their relationship after the New Year’s. He knows that he can’t be the one to give her the kind of relationship she’s seeking for and that it was shitty of him to lead her on like this for so long. Maybe he really can be an emotionless psychopath.

“Didn’t highschool you harbor a big ass crush on me? Clearly, I must be a catch.” He teased. Everytime Jungkook mentions your stupid crush on him, you mentally kill yourself. What in the world made you think it was a good idea to confess to him on the last day of school? Why were you so confident that you wouldn’t run into him again after graduation? You should’ve known that you were going to lose your freshman dorm and end up living in an apartment with him and his brother somehow.

“Why don’t you go tease your girlfriend instead of teasing me all the time. Do you even know what she’s up to lately? You’ve barely even talked about her and haven’t heard you talk to her on the phone or anything.” The bickering continued.

“Why do you care though?” Jungkook’s smile grew bigger. You couldn’t help but laugh along with him. The lover girl in you couldn’t help but get butterflies at the grin he’s giving you. It’s rare to see Jungkook smile but it’s even rarer to make him smile. You forget how pretty his teeth are and how gorgeous he looks when he’s smiling.

“Stop smiling at me, you look like a creep.” You lied. Jungkook snorts at you and goes back to reading the news on his phone. You take the opportunity to secretly admire him and his beauty. God, you hated how he still makes you feel like that giddy high schooler all over again. It wasn’t fair.

What will it take and how long will it take for you to get over that stupid feeling he makes you feel? When will it hit you that Jungkook is into someone else, someone that isn’t you? Your heart panged at the constant reminder that Jungkook once had your heart and stomped all over it til it was no longer existent and relevant in his eyes.

. . .

“___! You’re here! And…Jungkook too?” Hoseok gave you a confused glance.

“He had nothing better to do and he said he missed Yoongi so I had no choice but to drag him.” You whispered through your teeth. Hoseok nodded understandably.

Hoseok’s apartment was surprisingly packed. You didn’t realize how many friends he and Yoongi collectively shared. It was around 30 people together inside their large studio apartment.

You and Jungkook had pregamed together before heading out to Hoseok’s. You both took three shots of soju together and made small conversation before leaving. You were feeling happily buzzed right now.

“Let’s take a shot together, my love.” Hoseok handed you a small plastic shot glass of a mysteriously pungent clear liquid. “What is this? It smells so strong.” You scrunched your nose. “Tequila. Don Julio Blanco.” He smiled at you mischievously.

“Oh, you want me fucked up tonight.” You chuckled at him. You both clinked your cups together and tossed the hot liquor down your poor throats and poor liver.

“I’m thankful for our friendship, ___. We only met a few months ago but you’re already one of the most important people in my life. I love you.” Hoseok pulled you into a tight embrace. “I love you too, Hobi. Thank you for being my friend. To another year of friendship.”

Hoseok kissed your temple and leaned down to whisper against your ear. “I have something to tell you but I’m afraid you’re going to kill me.”

You chuckled and leaned into his ears. “Nothing you can do could possibly make me hate you.” You began to mentally prepare yourself for whatever he was going to tell you.

“Promise?”

“Depends on what it is.” You smirked. “Namjoon is here.”

Your smile dropped instantly. How the fuck is he here? “How the fuck is he-”

“Some of Yoongi’s friends spread the word to him and next thing I know, he’s here with them.”

You groaned out of annoyance and stress. “Fuck me.” You sighed.

“I just wanted to let you know in case you run into him.” Hoseok gave you a sympathetic glare. “Thanks, I guess. I mean, I wasn’t really into him like that either way, it’s just going to be so awkward if I was to run into him after he just randomly ghosted me. I don’t know what I’d even say to him.”

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He does. So, don’t feel obliged to make conversation if you do happen to run into him. Just stick by me and Yoongi’s side the entire night, we’ll look out for you.” Hoseok reassures you.

You nod in agreement. “I’m gonna go greet my friends that just walked in, give me a second, okay?” Hoseok patted reassuringly on your shoulder and walked past to greet his newly arrived guests.

You sighed in annoyance to yourself, not knowing what to do as you were left alone. Jungkook went off to find Yoongi. You looked around the room to see if you could spot Namjoon.

Luckily, you couldn’t see him anywhere. Hopefully, he left for the night?

It was creeping to a quarter past 11. You caught sight of Jungkook and Yoongi in the middle of a conversation. You didn’t know how to distract yourself by looking all lonely so you reached your phone and randomly scrolled through different apps.

After a few minutes of doing so, you decided to go to the cooler and search for a drink to emotionally rely on for the time being. As you were searching, you reached for a Wild Basin Mango Mai Tai seltzer. Your hands were grabbing to the can until another hand suddenly reached over the same seltzer can.

You looked up and were unfortunately met with the sight of Namjoon.

“Great.” You mumble to yourself.

“Hey, ___! Nice seeing you here.” Namjoon chuckled nervously. You flashed him a fake smile and instantly stopped reaching for the drink. “H-How have you been?” Namjoon attempted to make conversation with you. You couldn’t help but to scoff and roll your eyes at him. You tried to walk away from him but he chased after you.

“___, wait please. I can explain, okay?”

Namjoon led you to a quiet corner and placed your back against the wall. “Seriously, I can explain.” He pleaded.

“I don’t think I want to hear your excuses tonight, Namjoon.” You tried to walk away but Namjoon gently stopped you. “Seriously, give me just a minute of your time to explain. I promise to leave you alone after.” You held his right hand up, as if he was genuinely swearing to do so.

“You have five minutes.” You crossed your arms.

He breathed out and scratched his neck. “Well, I don’t really know how else to explain it but…I swear I was serious when I asked you out on that date. I had true genuine intentions. I was really into you that night we met but…I was sort of blackmailed to not go on that date with you?” He admitted.

Your heart sunk at that. “I’m sorry?” You asked in disbelief. Namjoon nodded understandably. “I know how crazy that fucking sounds but I swear, I was told to not go on that date with you from a friend of mine. He said he would make the date wouldn’t happen under any circumstance. And he’s a pretty scary guy so I just did what he told me. I know I should’ve told you this as soon as he threatened me but he said not to tell you and … now here we are.”

Namjoon looked genuinely sincere. He had a worried expression mirroring his eyes. He wasn’t avoiding eye contact with you or anything that expressed that he could be possibly lying. You could sense in your gut that he was telling the truth.

“Who told you not to go on that date with me?” You asked.

“___, I wish I could tell you but I can-”

“If you want me to forgive you, tell me who told you, please. Please Namjoon.” You begged.

He remained silent for a moment, obviously mentally debating whether he should confess or not.

“Promise you won’t confront him about it? I feel like he had good intentions with the blackmailing, I genuinely trust that he must’ve had a good reason to do so. Don’t confront him, please.” He pleaded.

You nodded in agreement. “I promise.”

Namjoon sighed, to prepare himself. “It was Jimin.”

You gape your mouth wide open. “J-Jimin? Are you serious?”

Namjoon reached his hands into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. He went into his text messages and shoved his phone in front of your face. “Read the texts.”

Jimin: Joon, you busy?

Namjoon: Nah, not really. What’s up?

Jimin: Meet me in front of your apartment in ten minutes. got a huge favor to ask you

“He came over to ask me to not show up to our date. He said it was important and didn’t give a clear enough reason as to why. He just kept emphasizing how important it was and that he would eventually explain why but he never did. I swear to you, ___. I seriously didn’t mean to ghost you like that.” Namjoon explained.

You took a moment to absorb everything. As expected, you had thousands of questions running through your mind: Why would Jimin want your date with Namjoon to not happen? Why would he set you two up together to only make him ghost on you like that? Why would he comfort you as if he wasn’t the reason as to why the date never happened. Why would Jimin do that?

You grew to be extremely irritated. You didn’t want to bring this negative energy into the new year. This was a problem for next year you to handle. Tonight, you wanted to just enjoy yourself.

“Thank you for telling me this, Namjoon. Seriously.” You smiled. He returned the grin at you. “You don’t hate me, right?”

You chuckle at him. “Not anymore.” The two of you chuckle together. “Let’s go back to where everyone is.” You suggested. You pulled on his arm, making him be dragged from behind.

Jungkook caught sight of you pulling Namjoon back to the crowd and immediately felt himself grow to be confused. “Is that Namjoon?” Jungkook asked Yoongi. Yoongi swiveled his head to check out the direction Jungkook was facing. He saw you and Namjoon in the middle of the conversation, drinking seltzers together.

“Yeah, some of my friends brought him along. I guess the frat king had nothing better to do tonight.” Yoongi turned his attention back to Jungkook. He was still eyeing you and Namjoon down. Yoongi knew that Namjoon had randomly ghosted you the day of the date and knew that Jungkook would naturally be feeling slightly overprotective over you. Yoongi knew that despite Jungkook’s cold exterior towards you, you held a soft spot in him. He could tell by the Jungkook’s eyes softened whenever he was around you, the way his defensive avoidant traits have diminished and how he’s become more open and welcoming to allow you in his trusted circle.

“You’re not going to get drunk and shit on her again, right?” Yoongi teased. Jungkook chuckled and swirled his tongue around his inner cheek. “Nah, not anymore. We’re…she’s a friend to me now. I don’t do that to my friends.” Jungkook said, shyly.

Yoongi felt proud of Jungkook. He can see how Jungkook is shifting away from his angsty teenage self and is trying to transition into an emotionally composed man.

It was now five minutes until the New Year countdown. Hoseok had passed out hats, glasses, and glasses of champagne to everyone. After passing everything, he walked over to you and Namjoon. “Nice to meet you again.” Hoseok flashed him his best fake-smile.

Namjoon obliviously smiled at him back and waved at him. “You too! Thanks for hosting this party.” He gave him a curt nod. Hoseok smiled again and nodded. “Of course, thank you for coming! Make sure you get your New Year’s kiss for good luck!” Unbeknownst to Namjoon, Hoseok lightly pinched your elbow, causing you to yelp. You gave him a death glare but he didn’t bother to give you a glance. “I’m going to look for my New Year's kiss partner. See you next year!” He joked, giving you a quick wink before disappearing into the crowd.

You glanced at Namjoon and nervously chuckled. “That’s Hoseok, by the way, if you didn’t know. He’s one of my best friends.” Namjoon nodded. “Of course, I remember him from the Halloween party. He’s Yoongi’s boyfriend or something like that, right?”

“Yeah, he is.”

There was a slight uncomfortable silence between the two of you. All of a sudden, the room was filled with countdown chants.

“Ten, nine, eight, seven…,”

“___?” Namjoon faced you. You looked up at him. “Yes?”

“Five, four, three, two, one! Happy New Year’s!”

He looked down to your lips and his eyes were asking for permission to kiss you. You didn’t know if it was the alcohol hitting your system all at once or if it was the fact that you had forgiven him for what he did but you decided to not give a fuck and not make the kiss a big deal.

You gave him a single nod and he immediately bent down to plant a gentle and soft kiss on your lips.

It was a sweet kiss. He didn’t try to barge his tongue down your throat nor did he try to slobber your face full of his saliva.

You hummed in pleasure and kissed him back, cupping one of your hands onto his face. Namjoon breaks the kiss after a few moments and flashes a soft smile at you. “That was nice.” His eyes turned into crescents.

You giggled and nodded in agreement. “It was. Happy New Year’s, Namjoon.” You held your champagne glass up to clink with his. “Happy New Year’s, ___.” You felt the need to clarify your intention of the kiss. “That was just a friendly kiss, right? Just so that you could get good luck this year?”

Namjoon’s grin grew wider and nodded. “Yeah, just a friendly kiss.” He understood why you asked the question and felt the same way about you; just friends.

. . .

It was the next morning. The first morning of the new year. You were awake at 7 in the morning with Jungkook. You were slightly hungover but luckily you had remembered to take Tylenol and drink water when you had arrived home at two in the morning.

Taehyung and Jimin would be arriving home in an hour and Jungkook had asked you to help freshen up the apartment with him. Strangely, Jungkook had barely said a word to you all morning. Just a gruff “good morning”.

“What’s gonna be your excuse when they see you home already? You gonna say you came home last night or something?” You asked, as you were fluffing the couch pillows. Jungkook shrugged. “I guess so. I got nothing else to come up with. I’ll say I came home right before midnight.”

“Yeah, that’s smart.” You nodded.

Jungkook continued to sweep the floor in silence. You could sense that something was up with him. He was avoiding eye-contact with you and you felt as if he was purposely physically distancing himself from you. “You okay? Hungover or something?” You asked.

Jungkook snorted at that. “You forget that I have a way higher tolerance than you, ___.” “Right, I completely forgot you’re the king of alcohol, my bad.” You rolled your eyes.

Jungkook was starting to feel bad that he was being moody with his hot and cold emotions towards you. He didn’t want to continue his toxic habit of giving you the cold shoulder and taking his feelings out on you. He wanted to try and actually treat you like the friend you are to him.

“Are you back together with Namjoon?” He finally decides to ask. You swivel your head to his direction and feel yourself become speechless.

“I saw you with him last night. You guys seemed friendly.” He continued to say, without looking at you as he swept the floor.

You mentally debated with yourself. Did he deserve to know or care? He wasn’t even that close with Namjoon. Did he see you two share the kiss?

“He found me at the party and asked me to hear his explanation as to why he ghosted me. I decided to forgive him.”

Jungkook nodded, still feeling unsure. He wasn’t sure if he was okay with you surrounding yourself with people like Namjoon, from the perspective of a friend and the perspective of a man who knows how other men operate.

“Well, what was the reason?” He asked. You instantly got reminded of the fact that Jimin was behind the reason as to why he flaked on the date.

You felt your face turn pale and cold from the anxiety and confusion. You still can’t pinpoint on why Jimin would go out of his way to sabotage a situation that he encouraged to start in the first place? Did Jimin have bad intentions against you? You didn’t know if you should confess to Jungkook and if you did, would he even believe you? Would he gaslight you and claim that Namjoon was making it up and that you were being too gullible? However, you felt that if anyone would truly understand where Jimin was coming from, it would be either Jungkook or Taehyung.

“It’s gonna sound crazy…like really fucking crazy. But he explained to me that he was told by Jimin to not go on that date with me.”

Jungkook shared a similar wave of confusion wash over his face. His eyebrows furrowed furiously with his pink and plush lips gaped open slightly. “Yeah, weird right? I can’t pinpoint a single fucking reason as to why Jimin would go out of his way to do that. I can’t think of anything that's valid enough to hijack a date that he knew I was looking forward to. Especially since he was the one who got us to get to know each other at the Halloween party.”

Jungkook agreed with you. He couldn’t think of anything as well. “Just ignore it, ___. I’m sure Jimin did it for an urgent reason. Forget I even asked about it.” He tried to reassure you. His eyes darted over the clock that was placed on the wall, hinting that Jimin and Taehyung’s arrival is coming near; about less than thirty minutes from now.

“But–,”

“If I hear anything from Jimin’s perspective, I’ll be sure to let you know, okay? I think the place looks clean enough. Thanks for helping.” He gives you a forced smile and nods curtly.

You decide to go along with Jungkook’s suggestion for the time being. You could tell that Jungkook is trying to avoid the topic. He had a cloud of tense aura surrounding him. After being acquainted with Jungkook for some time now, you knew when and when not to press his buttons.

“Alright…just text me when the boy’s arrive. I’m gonna go shower real quick.” You leave before he could respond.

Jungkook sits on one of the reclining chairs and simply stares at the wall. He gets lost into his thoughts about possible reasons as to why Jimin would sabotage your date. He has this uncomfortable feeling brewing in his gut. It was as if Jungkook’s gut knew the answer but he mentally could not pinpoint it for the life of him. He didn’t like how much he was bothered by this new information.

Jungkook let out a heavy breath and felt conflicted with himself. He knew that he wanted to intervene but also he knew that he shouldn’t. Nothing in this situation required his immediate attention at all. But something in him compelled his need for action. He needed to know and he needed to know now. He needed to help you get closure for this. Thirty minutes suddenly felt like thirty hours. The seconds were going agonizingly slow.

“What’s up, Kook?” He heard his brother’s voice through the speaker of his phone. “Huh?” He said.

“You…you just called me?” Taehyung said, with confusion laced in his tone. Jungkook was in his head about this that he didn’t realize he had unconsciously called Taehyng just to see how far away he was from home.

“Right, s-sorry. I must’ve butt-dialed you.” Jungkook hung up immediately. He felt pathetic. He felt as if he was beginning to go crazy with the way he was so pressed about this. Jungkook decided to go and cook a quick breakfast to welcome Jimin and Taehyung in order to distract himself and to make time go by faster.

During the cook prep and the actual cooking time, thoughts and possible explanations as to why Jimin would force Namjoon to ditch the date plagued his mind: Did Jimin suddenly find out something was wrong with Namjoon? Was he toxic? Did he have an infamous cheating history? Was he protecting you from something? Something so serious that he had to stop the date from happening?

His blabbering thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. He was welcomed to the sight of Jimin and Taehyung stumbling inside the apartment with their heavy luggages.

“Kook?” Jimin grinned. He jumped into his arms and embraced him tightly. “Kook, what are you doing here!” Jimin placed his hands onto his shoulder and pulled him back into another embrace.

“We thought you weren’t gonna be back until tomorrow?” Taehyung didn’t look as shocked as Jimin. He appeared to be genuinely confused and in utter shock.

“Well, I-”

The sound of your squeal interrupted Jungkook’s explanation. “You guys are back!” You jumped into Taehyung’s arms, launching him enough for him to almost fall backwards. “What a nice welcome.” Taehyung chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist. He felt his heart soaring at the fact that you immediately ran to him first and welcomed him in such a wholesome way.

Jimin chuckled to himself at the sight and shook his head. “Where’s my hug?” He fake-pouted. You pulled yourself away from Taehyung’s embrace and pulled into Jimin’s arms, a bit hesitant. Jimin didn’t sense your reluctant energy that was obviously oozing out—at least in Jungkook’s perspective.

“I’ve missed you too, Jimin!” You smiled at him. Jimin ruffled your semi-wet hair and pulled you back into a side hug. “Tell me everything. Tell me how your entire week has been without us three.”

You nervously darted your eyes towards Jungkook for a second before clearing your throat. “It was great, y’know? Got some real needed alone time and spent Christmas and New Year’s with Hoseok, as you already know. Other than that, I had a good time. I’ve missed you guys like crazy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from your so-called “alone time”.

Jimin turned his attention back to Jungkook. “Right, we completely forgot to continue our conversation. When did you come home? Like Tae said, we thought you weren’t gonna be back til at least tomorrow?” Jungkook wasn’t nervous nor was he scared to lie to them.

“I came home last night around 9-ish. Yeri’s family went to celebrate the New Year’s with family in the area so I decided to come home that same night.” Jungkook said. He darted his eyes between Jimin and Taehyung to see if they believed a single thing he said. Jimin was nodding his head, as if he didn't doubt him.

When Jungkook moved his eyes to Taehyung, he seemed bothered. His lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes were a chilling almost-black color. “So did you spend New Year’s with Yeri’s other family as well?” Taehyung asked.

Jungkook paused. He didn’t bother to look at you because he knew that you were already looking at him, eagerly seeing what he would say. Would he tell the truth or would he lie again?

“No, I spent New Year’s with ___.” He said.

There was a brief silence between the brothers. It was a silence that only the two of them could feel. As if they were the only ones who could feel the sudden tension brewing between them.

Jimin could tell that Taehyung was bothered at the fact that you and Jungkook spent the night together unknowingly. He didn’t really get why Taehyung would feel bothered at that since everyone knows that you and Jungkook would never get along no matter what, right? Assumingly, the night was spent with unstoppable bickering and negative tension.

“You didn’t spend it with Yeri?” Taehyung asked again. Jungkook shook his head. “She wanted to spend it with family and well, I…wanted to accompany ____.” He said. Taehyung’s Adam-apple bobbed up and down.

“Right,” He started off. “I’m glad you kept each other company.” Taehyung looked between you and Jungkook and reached for his luggage. “Breakfast smells amazing, Kook. I’m gonna go settle my things in my room and come back out to eat.” Taehyung rolled his luggage away from the kitchen and headed towards his bedroom.

You could tell that something was off with Taehyung. His entire mood did a whole 180. “Let’s eat, guys.” You suggested, to ease the tension that was beginning to affect you and Jimin as well.

The breakfast between the four quickly aided to resume the usual comfortable vibe with everyone. Jimin and Taehyung filled you and Jungkook in on how their week went in more detail. Their Christmas and New Year’s went by smoothly, they talked about the horrendous bruise that Taehyung got from straining his calves during a pilates session with Jungkook’s mother, how Jimin got along surprisingly well with Taehyung’s father’s golfing buddies, and all the girl’s numbers that Jimin and Taehyung received from their secret nights out clubbing. You shared in every detail how you spent your week except you left out the minor fact that Jungkook had been with you throughout all of those events: the wine nights, the holiday market stroll, watching Christmas movies till you knocked out, et cetera. Jungkook was with you throughout all of that.

The recollection of all those memories as you were sharing them made you unconsciously smile from ear to ear as you blabbered on. You didn’t realize how nice it was to have had Jungkook’s presence with you the entire time. In fact, it made you feel as if you got to know him better in a more intimate and vulnerable way. You were able to fully get along and connect as people, as roommates, as friends. You no longer view Jungkook as the handsome stranger that you just randomly harbored a crush on for years. You knew him as your anti-social yet dorky and nerdy roommate who lived in the bedroom next to yours that had a great taste in music, is a phenomenal cook, a person who loves to provide acts of service for those he cares about, is a genuinely intelligent person when it comes to the books but not so smart when it comes to real-life and its complex problems and people. All of that and more made you start to love Jungkook not in a romantic way but as a person. As a friend.

Breakfast wrapped up nicely, with Taehyung claiming that he needed to take a nap or else “he would die”. You decided to go back into your bedroom and catch up on your current read of the month. “Do you guys need help cleaning?” You asked Jimin and Jungkook. “We’re all good here, ___. Thanks for asking.” Jimin smiled softly at you. You returned the smile, ignoring the slight discomfort as you made eye-contact with him.

After breakfast, Jungkook had volunteered to help Jimin clean up. He decided that this would be the best way to corner Jimin and get him to spill the truth as to why he sabotaged your date with Namjoon. He tried his best to just not give a single fuck about this but he truly couldn’t. Something was gnawing at his gut to fulfill the need to know what happened.

The two were at the sink; Jimin was washing and Jungkook was drying.

“So, did you enjoy your stay with Yeri and her family?” Jimin asked. Jungkook nodded. “It was alright.” He said.

“Do you see yourself getting serious with her? Like full commitment?” Jimin looked at him, giving him a cheeky grin. Jungkook snorted at that. “Slow down there. I don’t even take myself seriously, what makes you think I’ll take someone else seriously?” Jimin chuckled at him. “It wouldn’t kill you if you actually had feelings for someone, Kook. It’s okay to allow yourself to feel sometimes.”

Jungkook ignored him. “How are things going with you?” Jungkook changed the subject. Jimin chuckled again, aware that Jungkook was purposely avoiding the topic. “I’ve been okay. Going back to Busan made me realize how confident I am in my decision to drop school and move in with you guys for the time being. Busan is not for me right now.” Jungkook nodded understandably. “I know we’ve said this a million times but you can stay for as long as you’d like. We love having you here.” Jungkook said. Jimin smiled at that.

Jungkook was having trouble coming up with a way to nonchalantly bring up the topic. “How was the New Year’s party? Did you hang with Yoongi the entire night?” Jimin asked. Jungkook mentally thanked Jimin for bringing up the party as it can lead to the perfect segway to mention Namjoon’s appearance at the party.

“I did, actually. You know me too well. Yoongi’s my only friend.” Jungkook fake-chuckled. “Did ___ have a good time? At least from what you saw?” Jungkook’s immediate thought was the memory of you and Namjoon in conversation.

“I think so. She was with Hoseok and his friends the whole night,” He started off. He decided it was a good time to mention Namjoon now. “I saw her with Kim Namjoon too.” He finally said.

Jimin stopped washing a cup that was in his hand. He paused for a second but remained avoiding eye-contact with Jungkook. “Namjoon was there?” He asked.

“Yeah, I guess word spread real fast about Yoongi’s and Hoseok’s party.”

Jimin nodded slowly. He didn’t know what to say. “___ and Namjoon were talking?” He asked again.

“Yes. It was an odd sight to see. From what I remember, Namjoon ghosted her after a planned date, right? At least that’s what Taehyung told me. He told me not to mention Namjoon in front of ____ anymore out of concern that it would bother her.” Jungkook continued.

Jimin managed to look at Jungkook. “Uh, yeah, he did ghost her.”

Jungkook was debating whether or not to bite the bullet. “Huh,” He said.

“Do you happen to know why he would do such a thing?” He finally asked. Jimin’s face turned slightly pale. If there was one thing Jungkook knew about Jimin after a decade of friendship, it was that Jimin was a terrible liar, especially under pressure. He breaks easily.

“I have no idea. That’s something Tae and I have been wondering too.” He stuttered slightly. Jimin’s sudden change in demeanor confirmed to Jungkook that Jimin for sure had something to do with the sudden ghosting of Namjoon. Namjoon wasn’t lying to you after all.

Jungkook suddenly felt confident enough to continue pressuring Jimin into telling him the truth now that Jimin was vulnerable enough to crack.

“Huh. That’s weird.” Jungkook was fake-pondering. Jimin shared a confused glare. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook shrugged. “I mean, I heard something weird from ___, that’s all.” Jimin turned even paler. The water from the faucet was still running and Jimin was holding the same mug from earlier in his hands.

“What did she say?” Jimin asked, with his voice getting low. Jungkook confidently gave Jimin a firm stare. His eyes darkening and his amused mood from earlier was dispersing into a somber glare.

“That you told Namjoon not to go on the date.”

Jimin remained silent. His silence confirmed it all.

He remained speechless for another moment before suddenly turning off the sink. His wet hands gripped onto Jungkook’s wrist and he pulled him to the front door. “Let’s take this outside.” He muttered under his breath.

He dragged him outside of the apartment before softly shutting the door. Jungkook wasn’t scared nor confused. He was eager to hear what Jimin had to say.

“Explain exactly what she said.” Jimin looked afraid and helpless. His eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were gleaming with fear and anxiety.

Jungkook sighed. “According to ___, Namjoon approached her at the party and apologized for not going on the date. He blamed it on you. ___ told me that Namjoon told her it was your doing as to why she got ghosted.” Jungkook explained.

Jimin ran his sweaty fingers through his hair. “Listen, Kook. I have a good reason as to why I did that. I didn’t do it out of malicious intent towards ____ whatsoever. But I can’t tell you nor can ___ know too. I really can’t.” Jimin pleaded.

Jungkook shook his head. “Look, I know ___ and I aren’t the bestest of friends but I can feel how confused, shocked, and hurt she is. Imagine finding out that one of her good friends was behind the reason as to why her date got ruined. Especially by the same friend that set her up with the guy in the first place.” Jungkook reasoned. “I don’t know if you noticed but ____ has been a bit distant from you ever since you came back home. I don’t want either of us to live in this kind of uncomfortable environment.” Jungkook continued.

Jimin took a moment to absorb everything Jungkook said. He felt extremely conflicted between doing what he should or shouldn’t do.

“Do you know if Namjoon told her anything else?” Jimin asked. Jungkook scoffed. “Is that all you care about?”

“Just tell me, Jungkook.” Jimin snapped.

After a moment, Jungkook shook his head. “That’s all she and I know.”

Jimin placed his hands onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Listen to me Kook. What I’m about to tell you, you have to swear and promise me that you are not going to tell a single soul about this, okay?”

Jungkook was suddenly nervous. He didn’t know exactly how to prepare himself for the information he was about to receive.

“I want to promise that but it really depends on what it is, Jimin. If I think it’s something ___ should know about then I’ll tell her.”

Jimin shook his head. “I swear to you that this is something that ___ shouldn’t know about. At least for now.”

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, out of confusion. “What is it, Jimin?”

Jimin continued to mentally debate with himself for another minute or so. He kept running his fingers through his hair and letting out exasperated sighs over and over again.

“No one else knows this, okay? Not even Namjoon,” He starts off. Jungkook was listening patiently.

“I…I told him not to go on that date because of Taehyung.” Jimin says. Jungkook’s entire stomach dropped. “What do you mea-”

“Because… of Taehyung.” He repeats. “Because Taehyung likes ___.”

Jungkook felt as if he had dissociated from reality for a second. Was this real? Was what Jimin said real? Was he in a dream? “What?” Was all he could bring himself to say.

“Taehyung is in love with ___.”

553 notes · View notes

jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 11 months ago

Note

I read your post on the insanely pretty cadet joining the training corps and I was wondering if you could do the boys’ reaction to her getting hit on or talking to someone they don’t want her talking to.

Love your work a lot and I’m sorry if I disturbed you! Have a good day :D

🇳🇬➕🌲🟰🇳🇫

a/n: thank you, you didn’t disturb me!

eren jaeger isn’t afraid to fight what he wants. so conveniently, every time you talk to somebody else, he allows randomly appears. the guy that’s hitting on you gets sick and tired of him always showing up when he’s making a move. he gives eren some snide comment and it’s over. eren beats the shit out of him in the dining hall.

armin arlert’s pretty confident in his chances with you. sure, he gets a little annoyed when he sees some meathead trying to compare hand sizes with you but he’s not so insecure to keep you away from him. with words of encouragement from mikasa, he musters up the nerve to make his move directly in front of the other guy. of course, he stuttered a bit.

jean kirstein’s quick to tell you that you shouldn’t waste your time talking to that other guy. he gives you about ten over-confidently reasons on why he’s no good for you. he says something like, “i just don’t think he’s your type, that’s all.”

connie springer flirts shamelessly with you all the time but it never stops any of the other cadets from approaching you. realizing most people don’t see him as a threat, he just decides to weird them out in any way he can to get them to stay away from you two.

reiner braun is pretty good at scaring unwanted men off. the people who aren’t his friends are terrified of him, mainly because of how tall and strong he is. he’s like your personal body guard. but really, he’s all bark and no bite. he pouts after he scares them away from you.

bertholdt hoover watches silently when all the guys swoon over you. he’s so jealous but he’ll never admit it. his friends tease him about not doing anything about it but he’s never been the violent type. he doesn’t want to control you. but he replays beating them up over and over again in his head.

levi ackerman totally makes whoever hits you on run until sunset or takes away meal privileges. he’s abusing his power when it comes to you but he doesn’t bat an eye. you’re too important to him. he can’t stand those other lowlifes trying to taint you.

erwin smith always calls you into his office after he sees you getting too close with another comrade. he questions about the nature of your interactions and reminds you that you shouldn’t be focusing on romance, instead the world at hand. he knows you can’t help how good you look but damn, it pisses him off.

this is the link for my slowburn enemies-friends-lovers jean fic

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achilles-rage · 6 months ago

Text

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 3

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: a couple weeks go by and you’ve been hanging out with evan daily. you’re starting to let your guard down when a guy in one of your classes approaches and asks for help in class. evan sees this, and can’t help the jealousy that builds inside of him.

word count: 2.8k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: this chapter got away from me, this was so fun to write and i really love how it turned out! from this chapter on there’s a lot of them running into each other on campus which i know is unrealistic but just ignore it! enjoy<3

warnings: lack of experience!reader, slowburn?? slight enemies to lovers???, jealous!buck, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You hang out with Evan everyday for the next two weeks in the library, trying to get the assignment mostly done before either of your classes pile up too much. Each time you spend time with him, you can’t help but open up a little bit more. You can’t help it; he’s just so easy to talk to. You almost begin to think of him as a friend.

This isn’t lost on him either. He’s noticed how your attitude is slowly beginning to slip, and the way you give him that sweet little smile when he says something funny. It makes his insides turn in a way he hasn’t felt before, and everytime he sees your eyes crinkle paired with hearing your soft laugh, he’s sure he’d do just about anything to experience it again.

You’re sitting in the library yet again, at the same table that you sat at the first time you hung out with him. It’s become your unofficial meeting table, as the first person who arrives, mostly Evan, always saves it for the other.

You both have your laptops open, but your assignment is long forgotten. He’s in the middle of telling you a story of when his parents forced him to sign up for baseball at 8 years old, even after he had begged to be put in football instead. He tells you how he refused to participate, and his coach had to call his parents to pick him up in the middle of practice because not only was he refusing to play, he was also sitting in the middle of the field so no one else could play either. You’re laughing softly at his words, your brows raised in disbelief, when you feel a presence beside you. You notice Evan’s eyes trail up as he stops talking, and a frown makes its way onto his face. You turn in your seat and look up at the person beside you, smiling when you realize it’s a guy from your English class. Elijah, you think.

“Hey. Were you in class on Monday?” Elijah asks you as he stands a little too close for Evan’s liking. Elijah’s smile widens when he sees you nod, and continues. “Awesome. Could I get your notes? I have no idea what Professor Curran is talking about most of the time.” he tells you, pulling out the chair on the other side of you and sitting down, his body angled at you.

“Yeah, he can be a little hard to follow along with, but I’ve had him a few times, so I’ve learned to keep up with him most of the time.” you say, chuckling softly. You turn to your laptop and pull up your notes for that class as Evan rolls his eyes, very clearly annoyed that this guy is taking all your attention away from him. You don’t even notice, your focus now completely on helping Elijah out.

“Wait, really? Can you explain the Great Exhibition to me? I don’t get it.” Evan can’t help but scoff quietly and roll his eyes at this guy. He doesn’t understand the Great Exhibition? It was a big building of stuff, what’s so hard to understand? His eyes narrow as he notices the way the guy is looking at you, eyes trailing down your body as you look at your laptop screen, starting to explain the Great Exhibition happily. He’s clearly only over here because he thinks you’re attractive, and this doesn’t sit right with Evan.

“Could we maybe do this another time?” he asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice, despite his best efforts to hide the jealousy bubbling inside of him. He has a fake smile plastered on his face as he looks at you. He knows he really can’t do much about this guy, it’s not like you’re his, but he’s still gonna try.

“It’ll only take a second. I’m sure you can sit quietly for a few minutes.” you tease him softly, barely looking at him before your eyes move from your screen to Elijah, giving him an apologetic smile.

“I don’t know about that, princess. You’ve met me, haven’t you?” This earns a small laugh from you as you finally look over at him, giving him a sweet smile.

“Please?” you say, just above a whisper, your eyes silently pleading with him. You really are interested in the Great Exhibition, so you’re happy to take a break on your assignment and talk about it. He huffs, sinking into his chair, mumbling a defeated “fine” as he crosses his arms over his chest. You give him a wide smile before turning back to Elijah, continuing to talk about your class.

Evan sits quietly for a minute or two, shooting daggers at Elijah as he leans closer to you, taking the chance to look down at the cleavage you have peeking out of your top when your eyes are focused on the screen. God, you seem so oblivious to the way he’s looking at you, Evan thinks. It almost makes him sick to his stomach to think about you hanging out with this guy without him here.

It pushes Evan over the edge when you laugh at something stupid Elijah says and lean closer to him instinctively as you do so. Evan sits up straight, eyes narrowing even further at the man before leaning over to you and draping an arm around the back of your chair as he looks at your screen.

“You’re a good teacher, princess. Maybe you can teach me a few things too.” he says softly, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice. You finally look over at him, fighting back a smile as you catch his tone, momentarily forgetting about Elijah. This makes Evan smirk, his eyes glancing at the man as if to say “I win.”

“Are you really that interested in the Great Exhibition?” you tease softly, not believing for a second that he really cares about what you’re saying. Surely he’s just bored.

“Yeah, I love the Great Exhibition. The Crystal Palace, and all that. Fascinating.” he trails off, which makes you laugh softly. He notices the guy smirk as your chest moves when you laugh, and his eyes narrow for a moment before he continues, really wanting to show the man that you’re off limits. Even if you’re technically not his. He leans closer to you again, putting his other arm in front of you on the table, almost as if he’s trapping you between this arm and the one on the back of your chair, marking his territory. You bite the inside of your cheek softly as he moves, breath catching in your throat as you feel the heat radiating off of him.

He sees Elijah’s stare move between him and you for a moment before he clears his throat awkwardly, as if finally understanding that flirting with you so clearly around Evan may not be a good idea, and knowing that he has lost your attention.

“Well, I don’t wanna take up all your time. Maybe we could, uh, hang out after class next week? You could catch me up?” he tells you, which pulls you out of your thoughts of Evan. You let out a shaky breath and turn to Elijah, giving him a nod as you try to slow your racing heart at Evan’s closeness. Evan rolls his eyes at Elijah’s words, leaning back and squaring his shoulders, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he stares at the smaller man.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Or, there’s no lecture in our room before class, so we can just go a little early instead?” you say after a moment, smiling softly.

“I have a class right before ours. Maybe we could walk to the coffee shop off campus together after class instead?” Elijah asks you, licking his lips as his eyes glance down to your chest yet again. This man doesn’t know when to give up, Evan thinks, his mind clouded with jealousy.

“Yeah, that works.” you tell him, bringing your hands together on the table and fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“Awesome. See you then.” he replies smoothly, giving you a smirk as he gets up and walks away. You turn back to Evan after a second, being met with a twisted look on his face and his brows raised.

“What?” you ask, laughing softly at this look on his face. Your face grows hot as you turn to look back at your laptop, thinking about hanging out with Elijah next week.

“What? Is that guy serious?” he asks, annoyance laced in his voice. You turn back to Evan, raising a brow. Why does he seem so upset by this? You’re just helping him catch up on class.

“What do you mean?” you ask, tilting your head to the side slightly.

“He doesn’t understand the Great Exhibition? It’s not that hard to understand.” You sigh, shaking your head. He had a point, sure, but why else would he ask you to explain it to him?

“Well, not everyone’s as smart as you are.” you say, a hint of teasing in your voice as you give him a small smile, hoping to change the subject. He doesn’t look amused, though.

“I’m serious. He just wants to get you alone. How much do you wanna bet he’s not even busy before your class.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes. You scoff, shaking your head.

“I’m not talking to you about this. Let’s just work on our assignment.” There’s no way what Evan’s saying is true. And you really don’t want to talk to him about going out with another guy if it is. You turn back to your laptop, pulling back up your assignment document, getting ready to add to it.

“Would you go out with him if he asked?” he asks after a moment, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like the way you’re brushing him off. Jealousy builds inside of him as he imagines you going out with anyone other than him. You sigh, shutting your laptop, knowing he won’t drop it. After hanging out with him for two weeks straight, you know how stubborn he is.

“I don’t know, Evan. Why?” you say, defeated, straightening your back as you meet his eyes. You’re not really sure what else to say. It’s so out of the realm of possibility, you think, that you don’t even want to think about it.

“Just curious.” He shrugs slightly, pursing his lips. He knows he can’t do much because you’re not his, and he doesn’t wanna be that guy. But God, he doesn’t want you going out with that douchebag.

You duck your head slightly, trying to meet his eyes as you see his eyes look away, but you feel like he’s shutting down. You sigh softly and turn back to your laptop, opening it yet again to continue working. Is he jealous? You can’t tell. This is so far out of your expertise that you’re really not sure what to do other than ignore it.

You hang out for a few more hours and he seems to lighten up as you joke with him, and he feels himself forgetting about Elijah more and more each time you give him that sweet little smile. You close your laptop once you realize it’s almost time for your class, and he does the same, packing his bag up.

“Can I walk you to class?” he asks as he stands up and puts his bag over his shoulder. You nod, zipping up your bag. He picks up your bag once you're done and you furrow your brows, looking at the bag outstretched in front of him. Your eyes soften as he holds your backpack straps up, waiting for you to put your arms through, and you look down, fighting back a smile as you turn and put your arms through the straps. You feel his fingers touching you as he slides the straps up your arms, shivering softly as you feel his breath hitting your exposed skin. You take a step forward once your bag is in place, clearing your throat as you turn your head to look over your shoulder at him and thank him softly.

You walk side by side out of the library and across campus to your next lecture. As you’re walking, he finally speaks again in a soft voice.

“Would you really go out with him if he asked?” You look down, biting your lip softly, too nervous to look at him.

“I don’t know.” you answer honestly. You know he doesn’t make your stomach flip as much as Evan, but you’re also not sure how Evan feels about you. You don’t know if you’d necessarily turn him down, but if both Evan and Elijah somehow wanted you, you know who the clear winner is.

“I don’t want you to.” he tells you after a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t want to say too much; he doesn’t want to hold you back if you really want to go out with him, but he knows it’ll hurt him too much to see you with him, especially if he knows he could’ve said something and didn’t.

“Why?” you ask, your voice just above a whisper, keeping your eyes straight ahead. You’re too afraid to look. You’re scared he’ll be able to see the feelings you have for him if he looks into your eyes.

“I don’t know. I just don’t trust him. He was looking at you like a piece of meat.” You can’t help the smile that breaks onto your face as he says this. He may not necessarily be jealous, but you can’t help but pretend for a moment. You’re so caught up in your own thoughts that you don’t see the look on Evan’s face. If you were to look over at him, you’d see the clear jealousy across his face, and the way his eyes are silently praying that you don’t go out with him as he stares straight ahead of you two.

“Okay.” you whisper after a moment. Once you make it to the building your class is in, he holds the door open for you. You bite you lip as you duck in, thanking him quietly.

“Okay, what?” His voice is full of hope as he watches you walk into the building, trying to keep his eyes off your ass as you pass him.

“I won’t go out with him. If he asks.” you say softly, licking your lips as you turn to look up at him walking through the door. A large smile breaks onto his face for a second, but it’s gone as soon as it appears, trying to act cool. He nods once, shoving his hands back into his pockets, but there’s still an excited look in his eyes.

“Good.” he finishes. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so big before, not that he gives you long to study it. You smile to yourself as you turn back forward, walking the rest of the way to your lecture hall. You’re not exactly sure what this means, but you think he might actually feel the same way about you as you feel about him.

You turn to him once you get to the door, smiling up at him, your face still hot.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” you ask, and he nods, smirking down at you as he holds the lecture hall door open for you.

“Yeah, princess. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says smugly before nodding his head towards the door. “Go to class.” You nod, looking down as you walk under the arm that's holding the door and into the room. Once you’re a safe enough distance from the door you let out a long sigh, laughing softly to yourself.

Okay, maybe you will tell your roommate about him.

After your dreadfully long class, you finally make your way home, still trying to fight the way your stomach is twisting from your encounter with Evan.

You decide on the walk home that you’re going to make cookies. Ever since high school, when you feel any sort of strong emotions, you bake. You need something to put your energy into, and your roommate knows that. So, when she walks into your apartment later and sees you aggressively stirring cookie dough, she drops her bag and walks into the kitchen carefully, eyes glued to your back.

“What’s up?” she asks slowly, trying not to disturb you too much. Usually when you bake, you’re sad, so she’s careful in the way she speaks to you. She lets out a breath as you turn to her with a smile on your face, jumping slightly as your oven beeps, signalling that it’s at 350°.

“Nothing.” you trail off, and you can’t help the way your smile grows as she narrows her eyes, confusion on her face.

“So why are we baking?” she asks, the smile growing on her face as she takes in your expression. She can almost feel the excitement radiating off of you, and she can’t wait to hear what you have to say.

“There may be a, um, guy.” you start, waiting to see her reaction. She’s known you for a long time. She knows your lack of experience when it comes to guys, so she can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips and the wide grin that erupts on her face.

“Who?” she squeals, sitting down at the island stool, holding her head up in her hand as she watches you go back to stirring the cookie dough.

“His name’s Evan.” you start, beginning to explain how you met and how you’ve been hanging out every day for the last two weeks, working on an assignment. She squeals again, and seems to have an endless amount of questions, which you answer happily. It’s nice to finally talk about him, and most of the rest of the night is spent telling her everything about him. God, you’re screwed, you think. You’ve known this guy for two weeks and he has you acting like you’re 15.

next chapter

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vesperaink · 6 months ago

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Friends, my necromancer!Tango/grimreaper!Jimmy, Team Rancher modern with magic apocalypse AU, Graveyard Shift, for @mcytblraufest's Reverse Big Bang is here!

But wait there's more--go read chasing crimson written by @aliferous-ly, beta'd by @dibs2win, my fantastic team for aufest. If you love enemies to lovers, unlikely partnerships, and the power of soul-bound magic weapon contracts, this hilarious + dramatic 22.9k fic kicks off from this comic!

chasing crimson

Jimmy Solidarity works for the esteemed god of Death, reaping lost souls and taking care of unsavory characters. He's recently finished his training, and is determined to do well on his first solo mission. Perhaps this "Tango" would be a good start. Only, the god of Death disappeared years ago, and Necromancer Tango Tek's long since discovered a way around dying. He can't say he enjoys Jimmy swinging through and killing him where he stands, though.

Thank you to my team for being as feral about this AU as I am, and kicking everything about it up to 110. I had so much developing this world with them!

Thanks to @onawhimsicot for helping me with the comic's dialogue, fixing my composition woes with "just add more smoke," and encouraging me to complete it in full color! Check out Cadence's aufest fic, I take it back (ill follow till I fly or till im dead), a Cult of the Lamb AU about follower!Tango and Lamb!Zedaph, the meaning of devotion, silly experiments, eldritch transformations, and...the most platonic slowburn ever?

Lastly, thank you to the aufest team for another wonderful event! I had a blast again, and was giggling kicking my feet at everyone's reactions during claims, I loved every single one of them. Graveyard Shift is definitely an AU I'm coming back to. As always, my askbox is open if you'd like to chat, and I'd love to be tagged if anyone makes anything <3

Timelapse / AU art chatter under the cut!

While Graveyard Shift is the amalgamation of many of my interests, the main premise for this AU is loosely inspired by the webcomic, I'm the Grim Reaper, in both its apocalypse themes and its aesthetics! Not a required read, but highly recommend if you enjoy this au, as well as the anime and manga, Soul Eater!

I came up with a lot of AUs for this event but necromancer!Tango and reaper!Jimmy have been rattling around in my brain in separate AUs since before I started brainstorming for aufest. So I smashed them together, naturally.

(Unfortunately I didn't record all of my process, but most of it is here! CW for flashing; song is Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier)

youtube

I could go on forever about concept art and character design if anyone's curious but here's some fun bonus details about this comic:

Originally, Tango's outfit was going to be more like his Dungeon Master outfit but I wanted the setting to be more modern and Jimmy stole the fantasy cloak vibe from him already lol

Jimmy's entrance of lightning is my nod to the Life Series final death sound

The scarf Jimmy's wearing is designed to be a boneyard shawl

The panel of strange text reads "Protection Three" in Galactic :)

+ The name "Graveyard Shift" was thrown at me by Cadence in like 3 seconds flat after i spent 2 days agonizing over a name for this au LOL

#mcytblraufest2024 #team rancher #solidaritek #trafficshipping #graveyard shift au #gsau #<- if you'd like to keep up with this au if we make more #cw eyestrain #cw bright colors #YIPPEEE RELEASED FROM MY NDA!!!!!! yall have no idea how much ive wanted to talk about this au since may #solidaritygaming #tangotek #life series au #hermitcraft au #vesperinks #my art

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ts19009 · 1 year ago

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Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 2

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: February 3rd, 2024)

Kim Mingyu

Urban Hearts, Rural Souls (farmer mingyu) @hoshifighting

oh no, he's in love? (k.m.g) (dilf!mingyu x afab reader | chan x afab reader) @ncteez

Need A Hand? (farmhand!mingyu x farmer's daughter!reader) @everyonewooeverywhere

✧ back to december (smut (18+ / mdni), fluff, angst (resolved!), best friends to strangers to lovers) @toruro

Between the heavens and the earth (Royal!AU, smut so MDNI!, angst, pining) @gyuldaengi

New Rules (basketballplayer!mingyu, collegestudent!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, s2l, smut) @leejihoonownsmyheart

BLOOM FOR ME (college au, slice of life, strangers to fwb to lovers, angst, fem!reader, slowburn-ish, rollercoaster of somewhat unrealistic events, minor use of the fake dating trope, not proofread, explicit sexual content, inexpressive!reader, fear of intimacy, once again a fic that seemed better in my head than the finished product but idc!) @sanakiras

Honeyboy (SLOWBURN, back and forth PINING, angst, summer romance, spice/nsfw mentions and smut, eventual friends to lovers, brief high school!au, fluff, slight love triangle, lots of teasing/flirting.) @chocosvt

Lilac Lace (roomates au, fluff, pwp, humour, roomates to lovers.) @starlightxsvt

How to Win Hearts for Dummies (the answer is lattes and banana bread) (Idol!mingyu x makeup-artist!reader) @gyuswhore

xu minghao

now or never (when you make a chance encounter with your ex, you end up saying that you’re engaged to your estranged neighbor xu minghao. when you find out your ex is coming to your friend’s wedding, you’ve only got a month to become a convincing couple.) @heartkyeom

to love easily (non-idol!minghao x fem!reader) @minghaoyoudoin

rush hour (enemies to lovers, dancer au? unresolved sexual tension, smut) @lovelyhan

terrified (idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis,) @lovelyhan

Remembrance of Ice (ice king!xu minghao x fem spy!reader) @gyuswhore

Apple of My Eye — xmh (fluff, descendants au, child of snow white reader, reader is shorter than minghao) @rubyreduji

Jeon WonWoo

new beginnings (: in which a certain someone starts getting extra clingy to you, leading you to find out you're pregnant.) @etherealyoungk

the bore next door (j.ww) @ncteez

Patterns (fuckboy(ish) wonwoo, friends(?) with benefits) @highvern

under wisteria blossoms (town doctor!wonwoo x reader) @lovequartz

Before the Day Begins (an interesting way to start an early sunday morning with your boyfriend wonwoo) @kyeomofhearts

wedding weekends with wonwoo (fake dating, non-idol au, photographer!wonwoo, florist! + gn!reader, fluff, angst if you looked hard enough (honestly, it’s kinda cheesy lol) @suhnshinehaos

OVERSET (ai!wonwoo x R&D!reader) @drunk-on-dk

Say Yes to Me (1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader) @ssinboo

roommates with benefits (smut, fluff, humor, college au, roommate au, frat au) @shuaflix

Hong Jisoo

Cockroach (Joshua hates cockroaches. Never in a million years would he ever be able to kill one, but thank goodness he has you to take care of that.) @beomboomboom

fine line (figure skater!joshua, writer/fangirl!reader, best friend!jeonghan, dad!seungcheol, smut, fluff, angst, some occasional skating jargon, this is a lot about the Olympics) @heartkyeom

leaning on the everlasting arms (childhood best friend! pastor's son!joshua x f reader) @onlyhuis

golden hour (fluff, slice of life, best friends to lovers, summer vacation au ━ best friend!joshua) @dkfile

wildest dreams | joshua hong (best friends to lovers!au, fake dating!au (kinda), fluff, humor) @viastro

yoon jeonghan

𝘋𝘰 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘙𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦 ? (enemies to roommates to lovers, angst, fluff, smut (mdni 18+) @wonustars

lens of ice | yjh | one (figure skater jeonghan, light angst, a little fluff) @wongyuuu

January 9th | Prologue (Actor!Y. Jeonghan x Single mom!reader) @sunnylovespickles

The Christmas Boyfriend — yjh (fluff, smut (minors dni), fwb, fake dating, college!au) @rubyredujibyredujii

I THINK WE MARRIED IN VEGAS (comedy (?), angst, smut (minors don't interact)) @ressonancee

Kwon Soon-young

hoshi; vowels and veracity (m) (teacher!soonyoung x single mother!reader) @hansolmates

Deserted (Sci-Fi AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot, Hookup/One-Night-Stand/Strangers) @ihavethedreamies

Edible Arrangements (college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader) @bitchlessdino

highrise (ceo!au… ish) walking around your apartment naked has never been a problem, since you live in a high-rise and no one can see in, at least that’s what you thought…) @sluttywonwoo

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary: Eddie's guard is back up after overhearing people gossiping about a secret that only you would know about. When he lets his animosity take over, the damage may be too great to repair.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 3.7k

Chapter 4/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie is still fuming when he pulls into the music store’s parking lot. He’s opening today, and his hands tremble as he fumbles with the keys. All of those parents are going to know that he’s a failure of a father. The Munson reputation clung to him like a bloodsucking leech, regardless of his numerous attempts to shed it. He’s destined to be an outcast at best and a monster at worst.

Finally managing to unlock the door, Eddie flicks on the lights, blanketing the shop in a hazy glow. The silence is deafening, and he swears that his brain will implode if he doesn’t get some background noise. He walks to the section labeled ‘METAL’ as if on autopilot, grabbing Metallica’s Master of Puppets and shoving the cassette into the player. Ash insists that they play classic rock over the crummy little sound system; something about it being ‘palatable’ for the customers, but she’s not here to scold him.

He thinks back to when this album was released, towards the end of his third senior year. The good ol’ days, when I only worried about passing O’Donnell’s class and planning Hellfire campaigns, he thinks wryly. But, no; that isn’t quite true. He’d had to worry about the trailer getting repo’d, or whether he and Wayne could stretch their food stamp budget enough to feed two grown men. Concerns that his uncle had tried to hide from him until he no longer could.

“Ed, you’re eighteen now,” Wayne had said, just one month after Eddie’s birthday, “and I’m gonna need you to start payin’ some bills around here.”

At the time, Eddie thought he was just being a bastard. It wasn’t until a few days later when he’d spotted the envelope marked PAST DUE in bold, red letters that he realized it wasn’t a punishment, but a necessity.

He’d been selling for Rick ever since. Well, until now.

“Battery” fades out to “Master of Puppets,” and Eddie flips the CLOSED sign to read OPEN. He glances at the calluses on his hands and smiles sadly, thinking of all the hours he spent learning the chords in his room. After weeks of non-stop practicing—Hetfield’s solo was a bitch—he’d raced down to Gareth’s garage and played all eight minutes straight through. Watched as his friends’ jaws dropped in awe. Gave him a standing ovation. Told him he was a fucking rockstar.

“You’re a rockstar, all right,” Eddie sarcastically grumbles now, clanging a roll of pennies against the counter before dumping them into the till. “Getting ready to drop your new hit single: Do you want a receipt with that?”

His morning has been nothing short of monotonous: help the customer find what they want, ring them up and make small talk, and then organize (or, in his case, pretend to organize) the store when it’s not busy.

There’s too much down time for him to be left alone with his thoughts. As soon as he has a moment to himself, he’s ruminating on his regrets of the past. He turns up the music volume in a half-hearted attempt to drown them out, but they manage to worm their way into every nook and cranny of his brain.

Eight years ago, a twenty-two year old Eddie Munson left his podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana to pursue rock stardom. He’d driven to Chicago with only the pocket change he’d saved up and his guitar on his back. A big city for a man with even bigger dreams.

It didn’t take him long to realize that being Eddie Munson meant next to nothing in a place that was bursting with musicians desperate for the chance to become famous. He appreciated the anonymity at first; he could blend in without being chased by taunts of Freak or Loser. But after nearly a full year of auditions where he was just another guitarist who could carry a tune, he’d started to lose hope. Prepared to return to Hawkins with his tail between his legs, he’d stopped at the nearby bar for one last drink.

“We can’t go on without a lead singer and guitarist!”

A frantic voice captured his attention, drawing his gaze from the pint of beer in front of him.

“Well, Sam bailed. Again,” another man points out, tone heavy with irritation. “So either we go on without him, or we don’t go on at all.”

Eddie finds himself standing up and walking into a conversation where he was never invited. “I, um, play guitar. And sing?” He winces as it comes out like a question. “I can show you, if you want.” What was he doing? He couldn’t line up a gig to save his life, and now he’s offering to play for some band he doesn’t even know?

The two guys, both about his age, exchange a dubious look. “All right,” says one with shaggy dark hair. “Let’s hear what you got, Guitar Boy.” He hands him his own guitar, and Eddie adjusts the strap before diving headfirst into the chorus of the first song that comes to mind:

If you think I'll sit around as the world goes by You're thinkin' like a fool 'cause it's a case of do or die Out there is a fortune waitin' to be had You think I'll let it go you're mad You've got another thing comin'

The other guy cocks his head, a delighted smirk spreading across his face. “Judas Priest. Solid choice.” He paces a bit, twirling a drumstick between his fingers. You got a name, Guitar Boy?” he asks.

Eddie nods. “Eddie Munson.” He sticks out his hand, silently willing it to stop trembling, and shakes theirs.

“I’m Marcus,” the shaggy-haired man says. “This is Bryan. I play backup guitar; he’s on drums. Our bassist should be here soon; his name’s Pete.”

“And Sam was our lead guitarist and singer, but he’s a fucking asshole,” Bryan quips, and Eddie chortles at his brazen attitude. “Anyway, we mostly do covers…check out the setlist and see what you know.” He hands Eddie a crumpled piece of paper, filled with familiar songs and artists.

“I can do any of these,” Eddie says, a satisfied warmth filling his chest as he watches the guys grin even wider.

“Tell ya what,” Bryan says, plopping behind a drum set plastered with a logo reading Hard Knox. “If you don’t suck tonight, you can play with us permanently.”

“Yeah,” Marcus agrees. “We’re gonna be big, man. We just need someone to help us get there.”

“Let me run back to my place and grab my ax,” Eddie tells them, adrenaline propelling him to his apartment. This was it. This was the break he needed. Just as he was about to give up, God or fate or destiny or whoever was finally giving him a chance to prove himself.

The show went off without a hitch; Eddie’s guitar skills bringing a normally quiet audience to their feet. Bryan clapped him on the back as he looked at Pete and Marcus; the three nodding at each other. “Welcome to Hard Knox!” he announced.

“Sam leaving was the best thing to happen to us,” Pete laughs in agreement. A bartender in a tight skirt and fishnet stockings brings over a round of shots, and the four men clink glasses.

“Fuck Sam!” Eddie shouts before taking the drink. The tequila burns as it coats his throat, but he doesn’t dare reach for the lime. No, he has something to prove.

“Fuck Sam!” the rest of the band echoes enthusiastically. Their choral response reminds Eddie of the way Corroded Coffin used to be before he’d left: when he’d say something, Jeff, Gareth, and Danny would listen. He was born to be a leader.

Things started to fall into place. His one night endeavor with Hard Knox turned into a biweekly gig at the bar, which eventually turned into shows almost every night at various venues across the city. He’d even convinced the guys to play some original work of his, reminding them that cover bands don’t get record deals.

He had a steady income. A group of friends who appreciated him and his music. Beautiful women who eagerly threw themselves at him at the end of the show. And then it would repeat the following night in a new place. Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Last night’s chaos has you all disheveled; it wasn’t until you got to work this morning that you realized you hadn’t even packed your lunch. You try to convince yourself that you can wait until you get home to eat, but about fifteen minutes before your break, your stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud growl.

“I’m gonna run to the deli and grab something,” you tell Will, throwing your jacket over your shoulders and digging out your car keys. “Want me to pick up anything for you?”

“Uh, Tylenol?” he grimaces, rubbing his temples. The kids had music class today, and the sounds of ten preschoolers singing off-key combined with their clashing tambourines served as a recipe for a pounding headache. “And maybe a bag of sour cream and onion chips?”

“You got it.” You shoot him a thumbs-up as you make your way to the parking lot as quickly as possible, determined to get your food before the lunch rush starts.

You manage to just beat out the crowd of hungry nine-to-fivers, grabbing a veggie wrap to-go. Crunching on a cucumber slice as you take a big bite, you start back towards your car, but the music store next door catches your eye.

A check of your watch confirms that you have a few minutes to peruse, maybe grab a copy of the new Toni Braxton cassette you’d been wanting. If there was ever a day to treat yourself to a little gift, it’s today. Your mind is foggy and your body feels like it’s dragging sandbags as you make your way over. You knew that taking care of an ailing relative would be physically demanding, but you weren’t prepared for the emotional toll it would take. Seeing your grandma helplessly laying on the bathroom floor scared drew all of the oxygen from your lungs, filling your body with worry. And just a few hours later, she was furiously swearing at you, claiming to hate you. She’s an ever-swinging pendulum, and you’re downright exhausted.

A small glob of hummus lands on your lower lip, and your tongue licks it off haphazardly as you push open the door to the music store. The jingle of the bell is meant to alert the employees that a customer has entered, but when you look around, there’s no one there to help you.

You walk towards the aisle labeled R&B, starting by thumbing through the “B” section–nothing. Perplexed, you make your way to the “T” section, still with no luck. Was Toni Braxton so popular amongst Hawkins residents that they’d bought out every copy of Secrets?

“You can’t eat in here,” a terse voice calls out. You’re so startled, you nearly drop your sandwich. A piece of tomato flies out of the tortilla when you jump, hitting the linoleum flooring, and the irritated person sighs. “Aaand this is why.”

You pick up the fallen vegetable and turn around to see Eddie Munson standing before you. “You scared me!” you say, but your body visibly relaxes. Twenty-four hours ago, you never would have guessed that he would have a calming effect on you. How quickly things can change, you muse silently. “Can you help me find the new Toni Braxton? The Secrets cassette?”

Eddie scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can you follow simple instructions? No. Eating. In. The. Store.” He rolls his eyes. “Just because you teach preschoolers doesn’t mean you get to act like one.”

The smile that briefly danced across your lips slips into a frown. What the hell happened in the few hours since he’d dropped Harris off at school? Did you imagine that you two had gotten along?

“Are you okay?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I-I can put the wrap in my car, just give me a sec…”

He shakes his head. “No, actually, I’m not okay,” he sneers. “But I bet you knew that already.” He shifts his posture so he’s standing a bit taller. “Y’know, you have some fuckin’ nerve, coming in here after what you did.”

“Did I miss something?” Your voice gets smaller with the gnawing feeling of brewing confrontation acting as a brick on your chest. “I thought–”

“Tell me what you thought,” he interrupts, leaning on a box of tapes. “Wait, no; let me guess. You thought that because I rejected you, you could go around blabbing my personal business around the school.” He scrunches up his face, biting his lip as he looks at you. “Did I get it right?”

“Your personal business?”

“Mhm,” he answers pointedly, spinning a skull ring around his finger. “Is that not it? Was it because you were embarrassed that I heard your grandma say that she hates you? I don’t blame her, by the way.”

Your force your gaze to remain trained on him, staring into his brown eyes that have hardened with fury. “She doesn’t hate me,” you breathe out, “she just can’t remember me anymore. When she knew who I was, she loved me. A lot.”

“Yeah, whatever you say,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t take away from the fact that everyone and their goddamn dog knows about the CPS report.”

“What CPS report?” you ask, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach. “Is Harris okay?”

He takes one look at your puzzled expression and barks out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “Seriously? You can drop the innocent act.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about!” you snap, frustrated at his unwillingness to hear you out and your own lack of understanding. “All I know is that this morning, you didn’t hate me–or maybe just hated me a little less–and now you’re back to being the worst human being I’ve ever met.”

Eddie scratches at the shadow of a beard that’s formed on his jawline; an itchy reminder that he didn’t get to shave last night. “You should consider yourself lucky if I’m the worst person you’ve ever met. Tell me, what have I done? Thrown some insults your way?” He claps his palm to his chest exaggeratedly. “How ever did you survive?”

“Mock me and my teaching skills, pretend like you’re going to call when you knew damn well that you weren’t, call me a bitch, and your latest and greatest,” you counter, ticking off the instances on your fingers, “accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

He considers this for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “So you’re trying to tell me,” he starts, gritting his teeth, “that we were in the same wing of the same hospital at the same time, but you weren’t the one who told people about the CPS case they opened on me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” you hiss.

“Then how the fuck did Carol Perkins find out about it?!” His volume raises to a roar, and you wince at the sting it leaves echoing in your eardrums. “Because I fucking heard her talking about it with Steve Harrington! So if you, the person who was there, didn’t open your mouth and tell her, who did? The CPS fairy?”

“I don’t fucking know!” you shout, swallowing thickly in a meager attempt to bide time before the tears inevitably leak from your eyes. “I don’t know, but it wasn’t me.”

Eddie rakes a hand through his frizzy curls, smacking the other on top of the nearby box. “Just…just get out,” he mutters. “I can’t listen to any more of your bullshit.” He starts back towards a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY before turning back around, eyes narrowed.

“Y’know, I wouldn’t have hooked up with you that night if I knew that this is how you handle a one-night stand,” he says, pursing his lips as he steps closer to you. “And I never should’ve let Harris step foot in your classroom. I would drive him to a school in goddamn Timbuktu if it meant having you out of my life.” He pauses, scraping his teeth across his lower lip and exhaling a terse laugh. “It’s too bad I can’t forget about you like your grandma did.”

The words knock the wind out of your lungs. Your knees buckle slightly, and you have to steady yourself on the closest shelf. Tears blur your vision as your legs carry you out of the store; you feel yourself walking, but it’s like an external force has control of your body. The words fuck you sit on the tip of your tongue, or maybe you say them—it’s too hazy to tell. The world is covered in a shiny layer of cellophane; you can see everything, but you can’t touch.

You’re crying too hard to drive, so you sit behind the wheel, seatbelt clicked in place, letting out sobs that leave your whole body shuddering. It’s all too much, and though you logically know that Grandma didn’t want to forget you, his comment hit a raw nerve.

It wasn’t a straight path; Alzheimer’s never is. A few months ago, she could remember you in the morning but forgot you by the afternoon. She would call you by name at 9 AM but ask who you were at 2 PM. One day you were her granddaughter; the next, you were a total stranger. You thought it couldn’t hurt more than it already did, but the repeated reminders that she no longer recognizes you at all is a constant knife through the heart.

You’ll be late if you don’t start driving back to work now, so you turn the key in the ignition and adjust the gear shift to reverse. As you look up to glance in the rearview mirror, you catch sight of him. He’s dumbfounded, and you could laugh at how ridiculous it is that it took him seeing you bawling in your car to realize that he went too far this time.

Unable to stomach the thought of further confrontation, you take a deep breath and drive away, leaving him to mull over what just happened.

He’d assumed you’d left already when he’d walked outside for a smoke break, placing a cigarette between trembling fingers before he’d even left the store. He almost drops the lighter on his scuffed sneaker when he sees you hunched over, resting your arms on the wheel as your body heaves. He’s not sure how long he’s been staring when you lift your head, exposing tear-streaked cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your gazes lock for just a millisecond, but it tells him everything he needs to know.

It wasn’t you.

When Eddie arrives at the school for pick-up, he scours the crowd of impatient parents for Carol. He finds her talking with another mom; no doubt spreading more gossip about him. Maybe he shouldn’t have pretended that their Satanic cult rumors didn’t bother him when they were back in high school. Maybe if they knew, they would understand that he’s just a goddamn person trying his best, just like everyone else.

“Hey,” he starts, pushing the fear from his voice and willing his strength to remain unwavering. “Who told you about the CPS stuff?”

Carol plasters an obviously fake smile on her face as she responds. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says simply. Her carefree tone pushes Eddie to his limit.

“Cut the bullshit,” Eddie growls, quickly losing his temper. “I heard you talking to Steve Harrington about it. So either you tell me now, or I’ll make sure your husband knows about that guy I saw you with at the Hideout a couple of months ago.”

Her face blanches, color draining from her cheeks. “It was Jason Carver,” she mumbles, biting her thumbnail. “His wife, Chrissy, is a nurse at the hospital and saw the report. She told him, and he’s been telling, well, everyone else.”

Eddie swears that steam is billowing out of his ears. Everything is coated in a red haze, and he finds himself unconsciously clenching and unclenching his fists. “Where is that sonofabitch? I’m gonna punch him in his smug little–”

“Mr. Munson?” you cut through his rant. His head snaps in your direction. You’ve fixed your makeup; if Eddie hadn’t seen you crying earlier, he would’ve been none the wiser. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Y-Yeah,” he stammers, shifting his weight to the balls of his feet. “Actually, I needed to tell you someth–”

“I think you’ve said enough today,” you say, voice calm but firm. “I just wanted to give this to you before Harris comes out.” You hand him a pink piece of paper. “It’s a transfer slip. Starting next week, Harris will be in Ms. Marion’s class. I didn’t tell him anything about it, so you can say whatever you want. I don’t care anymore.” That’s not quite true; the idea of Eddie feeding Harris lies about you makes your stomach curdle, but there’s only so much you can control.

Eddie’s, usually quick with a retort, is uncharacteristically quiet. “I, um, I thought…the secretary told me that all of the classes were full.” It’s a cop-out, but he can’t push himself to tell you what he knows now. Not when you’re already bruised.

“They made an exception because I was the one who requested it this time,” you explain, clenching your jaw. “Looks like you got your wish. You can forget about me now.”

He takes the paper and shoves it in his back pocket. The confession is on the tip of his tongue, an apology not far behind. Say it, he berates himself. Just fucking say it. You might be able to fix this if you just—

“I’ll go get Harris,” you tell him, breaking into his thoughts. “Good-bye, Mr. Munson.”

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scariusaquarius · 6 days ago

Text

rehab. 12.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

A/n: So, we got to see a bit into the world of (Y/n) (L/n), and now we get to see how the Avengers are dealing with the information that they have recovered. Also, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes!!! 25 doesn't feel any different RIP ;asldfja;sdflk Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

Author: ScariusAquarius

rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11

When Steve and Clint arrived back in Wakanda, they were eager to tell the Avengers what they had found. However, when they arrived back at Shuri's lab, Tony looked as though he had seen a ghost. Steve frowned, and Natasha whispered to him.

"It's not looking too good right now. Shuri and Tony found the calling card for the creator behind the chip. Turns out that Tony's got a bit of history with the creator."

Steve and Clint walked into the lab where Tony was watching over the soldier with a hand to his chin in thought. Despite Steve greeting the man, Tony didn't seem to hear him. After a moment, Tony stated.

"You ever get this feeling that you're being haunted by something? No matter how much you try to get rid of it, it just keeps following you? Somehow, someway?"

Steve couldn't help but to think of Peggy, nodding solemnly before he turned to look at (Y/n) (L/n).

"Some things haunt me, some things just follow. I don't think they're entirely the same."

Tony scoffed, shaking his head as he quipped.

"Yeah, well it is in this case. You see, I just took apart that little chip that made MC 2 go haywire, and you know what I found? The calling card to a scientist that used to work closely with my father...someone that my father used to recall as a very good friend."

Steve was confused for a moment before connecting the dots, and he asked.

"Was his name Robert (L/n)?"

Tony nodded, and Steve couldn't help but to shake his head.

"Well, that explains a lot, actually."

"Why do you say that?"

Steve wordlessly handed Tony the file, and Bucky's eyes shot wide open.

"Wait, is that her file? You found her?"

Steve nodded, but his jaw was clenched so hard that Bucky was afraid to ask about it. Tony slapped the paper down onto the table roughly after a few moments of reading and walked out of the room wordlessly, and Bucky snatched the paper up.

(Y/n) (L/n).

The last name sparked a bit of recognition in Bucky, but he couldn't place the familiarity of the name just yet. Bucky was perturbed about the way Tony had reacted, and he asked.

"What's his deal?"

Shuri sighed and revealed gently, pulling up some documents of Robert (L/n).

"Robert (L/n) was a close friend of Howard Stark's up until Project Rebirth. After Erskine was assassinated and Heinz Kruger attempted to steal the serum, Robert continued HYDRA's work under the guise of a fellow scientist that wanted to defeat HYDRA."

"A double agent? How do we know all of this about him?"

Natasha raised a hand, stating.

"I found some files about him on the databanks that you and Bucky downloaded from the facility that the soldier was found in. I didn't think it was relevant at the time cause the files didn't include pictures, and we didn't know the name of the soldier yet."

Shuri nodded and she brought up a few pictures and files, the pictures of Robert and his unfriendly sneer. The man was overwhelmingly tall and quite lean, hair greased and combed while a mustache adorned his top lip. There was a woman next to him, looking happy as she held a hand to her pregnant belly; seemingly naive to the sinister gaze within Robert's eyes.

"This here is his wife, Doris (Y/n). We don't think she knew anything about Robert's double life with HYDRA...but she was also good friends with Maria Stark before Maria married Howard. She helped to deliver Tony when he was born."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, and Clint groaned gently, rubbing his head.

"Man, this is starting to hurt my head. So, Robert was with HYDRA, befriended and used Howard's trust to gain information on the serum...yet some other guy tried to snatch it? Why do that?"

Natasha replied, pointing out.

"If the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done."

Clint's expression changed to one of understanding, and Shuri nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Though, with Heinz being unsuccessful, Robert attempted to copy Howard's serum to the best of his ability. Robert was unsuccessful. In reports that he had made, almost all of the subjects that he experimented on did not survive any trial serums he made."

"So, how was he able to make (Y/n) into a super soldier?"

Shuri pursed her lips and brought up a newspaper article that went into detail about (Y/n)'s supposed death.

"While (Y/n) was on the way to Baltimore with her mother, they crashed into another vehicle after hitting ice. Their car caught fire, and both Doris and (Y/n) were announced dead at the scene."

"I'm guessing (Y/n) wasn't actually dead, and Robert or HYDRA picked her up."

Clint scratched his head, asking.

"Why go after her though? What made (Y/n) special?"

Natasha shrugged before offering with a slight wave of her hand.

"Robert must have used blood samples to specifically cater the serum to the subject, and (Y/n) was the only one that was successful."

Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Hello, super soldier."

Steve nodded, and he turned to Shuri, asking her.

"Is Robert still alive?"

"No. Robert passed away from natural causes in 2008. I assume that this is when Rollins took over as her Handler, but we won't know for sure until (Y/n) wakes up."

Bucky suddenly felt bad, wondering if there was anybody else that might have been family for (Y/n), and Steve sat down next to Bucky, stating quietly as Shuri began to work on deprogramming the soldier.

"We found her, Bucky."

"We haven't found her yet. She's still trapped beneath that rubble somewhere...we just know her name now...know that she had a family...a career...a mom and dad..."

Steve pursed his lips, and Bucky revealed to the captain, giving him an intrigued expression.

"She somehow knows Meltzer Woods, and it's bothering me that I don't know why. You remember me telling you about how my folks and I would go on walks there often?"

Steve nodded, chuckling.

"Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me about how you terrorized Rebecca to the point your mom was livid with you one time while your dad was at the camp."

"Not my fault she had a fear of bugs and agreed to go into the woods."

The two men chuckled, and Bucky sighed, shaking his head. Steve muttered gently, patting Bucky on the back.

"It could just also be nothing...a huge coincidence."

Bucky shook his head, muttering.

"There are no such thing as coincidences when it comes to HYDRA."

Steve gazed long and hard at Bucky before looking back at the woman, watching as a machine carefully and slowly reconstructed the bone and tissue of her skull before it seemed as though she had never been operated.

"Am I interrupting?"

Tony walked in, hands in his pockets, and his cheeks and eyes were slightly red. It seemed as though the man had been crying, but neither of the super soldiers commented about it.

Tony stood at the end of the bed and stared at the woman, a neutral expression on his face before his shoulders fell slightly. Steve asked the man gently, sparing a look at Bucky before looking back at Tony.

"Do you want us to give you some space?"

Tony looked perplexed then, as if the question was one that he had never heard before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond. While Tony preferred to be on his own and do things on his own (minus Pepper, but she was a different case), Tony knew that there had to come a point when he stopped ostracizing those around him.

'Solitude and isolation are two completely different things, Tony, and I know that you struggle a lot with that because of your childhood with your dad,' his therapist had said.

'Why don't you try to reach out and be a little bit more open? You don't have to reveal everything at once, but take it a step at a time. Choose what you want them to listen to or help you with. With what you've told me, I think the Avengers just really want to be your friend, and that's okay.'

"One step at a time," Tony muttered to himself before he huffed, glancing down at the ground. Tapping his foot with anxiety, Tony crossed his arms and began to speak.

"There's this feeling that nags at me every time I look at your stupid perfect faces...this feeling of just...trying to understand why my dad was apart of something as big as this."

Steve and Bucky both sat back in their seats, almost at attention as Tony began to open up to them.

"It's because of my dad's work that led to you being Captain America, that led to your torture and time as Winter Soldier, and now...now he's directly linked to her. Granted, it wasn't really him directly...but he sure did have a big hand."

Erskine's face crossed into Steve's mind, and Steve looked away, replying.

"Howard wanted to ensure a way that we could fight against HYDRA and the Nazis so that the Allied forces could win the war. I don't think he meant for things to turn out like they did."

"Sometimes I wish I could go back into time and just choke the bastard. All that goddamn intellect and look where it got us."

Bucky was quiet, glancing down at his metal arm before he looked at Tony. He wasn't really sure what to say; if anything at all. How could you comfort the man whose parents you killed? That wasn't exactly a can of worms that Bucky wanted to open. Instead, he stated.

"I think what is important now is that we give this woman a life and finally eradicate HYDRA once and for all. If not for her, then...for you and Howard."

He gave Tony a gentle but shy look; hoping that the man wouldn't lash out at him, and Tony looked as though he wasn't sure what to say. Placing a hand over his chest and the other onto his chin, Tony hummed.

"If Rollins already knew that she had been awakened and thought that she would be a liability, then that means there has to be a main line to the chip. If we can trace that, then we should be able to find Rollins."

Natasha suddenly plopped down beside the soldier, throwing a thumb drive onto the table with a haughty smirk as she kicked her feet up.

"Did I really outsmart Iron Man? I think I should add that to my resume."

"You don't have a resume. You legally can't."

Tony quipped back with a roll of his eyes and he snatched the thumb drive as Natasha just grinned wider.

"Listen, miracles happen all of the time, but that doesn't mean they happen again in the same lifetime. Don't get your hopes up, spider-granny."

"Did you just call me old?"

Tony shrugged before uploading the files that were onto the drive into his computer, and he brought up a hologram of the earth, a beacon of light shooting up from the main source of the signal. Tony sighed gently, tilting his head.

"You know, I was dreaming about Morocco last night."

"Fez, Morocco?"

Steve questioned, looking a bit confused before he turned to Natasha.

"What's there?"

"If I had to guess: another secret base for HYDRA?"

Steve pursed his lips as Natasha just shrugged, and Bucky crossed his arms as he stood tall.

"We should get there as soon as possible. The faster that we catch Rollins, the better off we'll be."

"Slow your horses, MC 1, we need to be smart about this."

Tony gave Bucky a firm look, and Bucky just squinted his eyes as Tony began to explain.

"It's possible that Rollins knows that we know about the chip. We want to stay ahead of the game here. Luckily, we have the answers right here."

Tony brought up another hologram that pictured a document with a list of names.

"FRIDAY, you wanna read this out?"

The AI immediately answered, zooming in on each city she named out.

"Of course, Mr. Stark. After scanning through all of the documents that were recovered from liberated and abandoned HYDRA bases, as well as scans through the black book and red book, I have compiled a complete list of all mentioned HYDRA bases, as well as a list of possible locations as well. Here are the locations."

Isle Trinidad, South America. (Liberated, NLA.)

The Shelf, Antarctica. (Location Unspecified. Possible operation.)

Himalayas (Location unspecified. Possible operation.)

The Red Room, Russia. (Destroyed. NLA.)

Swiss Alps, Switzerland. (Directly mentioned. Possible operation.)

"There were many more locations mentioned, but since they have been destroyed and are no longer active, I have elected to leave those out. There has been no indication of a base in Fez, Morocco. It is possible that Mr. Rollins has planted the main communicator in order to escape."

Natasha hummed, nodding.

"That's the smart move. Rollins seems to already know that we're after him. The best thing that he can do is plant the communication device then get the hell out of dodge while we're on a wild goose chase."

Steve shook his head, huffing deeply.

"We can't investigate a possibility without having concrete evidence of his presence. If we go in somewhere blind, we're not only giving Rollins the upper hand, but we open ourselves up to risk as well."

Bucky added while glancing back at (Y/n).

"There's a possibility that Rollins knows that we're here. If we're all busy with a mission trying to find him, he could come here to retrieve her."

Tony shrugged, offering.

"Okay, then let's wake her up. See how bad her brain is scrambled and see if she knows where Rollins could be."

Steve became stern, shaking his head.

"Tony, that's not possible. (Y/n) needs time to recover and heal. If we overwhelm her, we're only going to hurt her."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, and Steve said carefully.

"We're going to bring Rollins to justice and we're going to eradicate HYDRA once and for all. I promise you that."

"Oh, don't you go all patriotic on me. It's not even the fourth of July yet."

Bucky pursed his lips to keep from chuckling as Steve glared at Tony, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"So, why don't we compromise? We have a whole team of people back at the compound that we can send out to each location to cut any and all possibilities. I can already think of some teams to get together."

Tony's eyebrows raised, a skeptical look on his face as he asked.

"Yeah? What you got, Romanoff?"

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"FRIDAY gave us three locations, Wakanda being a possible fourth because of the soldier being here. King T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky can stay here to watch over her since they're already here. Since you and Pete have heated suits, I think you two and maybe Banner could go to the Shelf. Clint, Wanda, and I can go to the Swiss Alps. Steve, Thor, and Sam Wilson can go to the Himalayas."

Steve made an expression of approval, but Tony shook his head, stating.

"I really don't want to involve the kid in this."

"Tony, he's an Avenger too."

Tony snapped, standing up straight as he glared at Steve.

"Yeah, and he's still a goddamn kid, Cap. I'm not involving him. End of discussion. I'll have Vision go instead."

Bucky offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, so what if he came here? He'd still be safe, and we could benefit from his webs in case something happens or (Y/n) freaks out. He's not in as much danger as he would be out in the Shelf."

Natasha muttered, looking off to the side.

"Or you could stop babying and let the kid be a hero. He's got the neighborhood under control, I hear."

Tony whipped his gaze towards Natasha, a look of betrayal on his face, and Natasha stared right back. Tony huffed and gave Bucky a harsh look.

"Fine. I'll have Underoos come here, but you're responsible if something happens. Do you understand?"

Bucky nodded, and Tony muttered to himself.

"I'm going to regret this somehow. I know it. Let's just get everyone suited up."

Tony stalked off, and Natasha patted Bucky's arm, making him slightly recoil and give her an unamused look as she walked by.

"Nice thinking on your end."

Bucky grumbled to himself, and Steve asked Bucky with a gentle voice and kind expression.

"You gonna be okay?"

"As much as I wanna kick Rollins' face in, I wouldn't be any help to the team. I'll lose control if I see him...so it's best that I stay here."

Steve nodded before he embraced the man, Bucky tensing slightly before awkwardly hugging the man back.

"I'll keep you updated and let you know if I find anything. First thing."

Bucky nodded, and Steve saluted Bucky with a shit-eating grin before walking off. When Bucky was finally alone, his shoulders dropped, an exhausted look coming across his face before he sat down next to the soldier.

(Y/n) (L/n) looked peaceful. There was no pain, no indication of dreams or nightmares, and she looked even younger without the fear and anger on her face. Despite the horrific scars that lined the bottom half of her face and the grease within her hair and the oil on her skin, Bucky had to think that she was pretty.

'You were right...she is pretty.'

STORY NOTES: Steve and Clint have arrived back in Wakanda. Despite the success of their mission, they come back to Natasha warning them that Tony is not in a very good mood after he and Shuri successfully took the chip apart and identified the creator, who is revealed to be Robert (L/n). Tony asks Steve if he ever feels as though he is being haunted, which Steve replies accordingly.

Steve then gives the file containing information about the soldier and her father, and Tony becomes upset and walks out of the lab. Bucky is elated that Steve was able to find out who the soldier was, and when Bucky is finally able to know her name, he is perturbed by a feeling of familiarity from it. He asks what was wrong with Tony, and Shuri goes into depth about the history Robert and Howard Stark had together, as well as (Y/n)'s mother and Maria Stark.

Clint is confused by Robert playing a double agent while another HYDRA agent attempted to steal the serum, which Natasha explains that 'if the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done,' implying that Heinz was just a useful distraction. Steve asks how (Y/n) was able to be turned into a super soldier, and Natasha theorizes that Robert had used blood samples to test the serum with, and (Y/n) was the only match out of all his experiments.

After a few more minutes of discussion and Bucky is left alone with Steve, Shuri, and (Y/n). Steve attempts to comfort Bucky, reassuring him that they had been able to find her, but Bucky does not agree that she is completely saved yet. He reveals that he is still bothered by the soldier knowing about Meltzer Woods, and Steve suggests that it is a coincidence.

Tony enters the lab, and though he is uncomfortable, he reflects on the advice his therapist has given him about being more open to vulnerability and depending on others. He begins to reveal the way he is feeling to Steve and Bucky and how he is angry at his father for being apart of Project Rebirth while knowing how dangerous the work he was doing was. While Steve comforts Tony, Tony is too upset to understand what Steve is saying. Bucky offers comforting words as well, and Tony is unable to reply.

Instead, Tony begins to talk about Rollins and the main signal for the chip. The signal is traced to Fez, Morocco, and Bucky jumps the gun, wanting to leave. However, Tony refutes Bucky's thinking, stating that the Avengers need to be smart about this mission. Tony theorizes that Jack Rollins might already know that the Avengers know about the chip. Instead, he has FRIDAY bring up a list of known HYDRA bases that were mentioned or alluded to in the data they had recovered.

FRIDAY indicates that Rollins could have planted the main communicator since there is no known HYDRA activity at all within Fez, and Natasha agrees that it was a smart move. Natasha then suggests that the Avengers split into teams to go to or stay in each respective location (Swiss Alps, Himalayas, Antarctica, and Wakanda). She suggests that T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky stay in Wakanda; Tony, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner go to Antarctica; Clint, Wanda Maximoff, and Her go to the Swiss Alps; Steve, Thor Odinson, and Sam Wilson go to the Himalayas.

Tony immediately refutes involving Peter Parker because he is just a kid, but Steve and Natasha both tell him to stop 'babying' him and let him be an Avenger. Bucky decides to alleviate the issue by suggesting letting Peter come to Wakanda since he could be a big help, and Tony relents, making sure to tell Bucky that if something happens to Peter, he would be responsible. After a bit of conversation with Steve, everyone begins to gear up, and Bucky is left alone with the soldier. He begins to think that despite the scars and unwashed hair and skin, the soldier was right that the woman she had seen, (Y/n) (L/n), was pretty. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10

#bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #the winter soldier #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #captain america #captain america x reader

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queenpiranhadon · 10 months ago

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A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll and after a LOT of voting (((again) again) again), we have this :) I’ll be honest though, I have mixed thoughts about this. Nova, I owe you my life for beta reading this ily girl (@that-multi-fandom-hijabi) Go follow her writing acc! (@novaaaaaa-writes) Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Enemies to lovers trope, mentions of blood, reader's a baddie, reader used to work for Azula, bad depictions of firebending, maybe some inaccuracies idk man, some people might be ooc idk 😅, thoughts about death (like once), lots of buildup, reader is a good cook, reader owns a restaurant, reader sets a table on fire, both of them are very attracted to each other lmao, reader refuses to fire bend, I kinda head cannoned, basically if a firebender doesn't firebend of a certain amount of time, the fire inside them builds up and can damage the wielder, like clogged pipe in a way, love at first sight (?), slowburn kinda, reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind.

Pairing: Sokka x Firebender!Reader

•─────•°•❀•°•──── ᴇᴇʟ ʀᴏʟʟꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•────•

It was safe to say, you were screwed. Traitor to the Fire Nation and all.

“Ugh…” you grit out, patting your side in discomfort, pulling your hand away to find sticky blood.

It was safe to say that Princess Azula wasn’t too happy to find out you didn’t approve of the current ideals of the Fire Nation. Alas, you were too far deep into her scheme to leave then, and you were now- but this time, you ran away.

You weren’t going to find the Avatar- joining him would only make things harder on yourself- especially since he and his friends most definitely hated you for all the stunts you pulled alongside the son and daughter of Firelord Ozai.

So you were left with two options. Sit in the dark and disgusting alleyway you were hiding in and bleed to death, or find somewhere to stay, patch yourself up, and bunker down with a new identity.

If there’s one thing the Fire Nation would underestimate about you- it was your will to live.

The journey to the Earth Kingdom was torturous, your aching feet would be screaming in overexertion, yet you pushed on. Solitude was your only solace, though the lack of social interaction guaranteed nothing would stop the onslaught of dark thoughts entering your mind, it was comforting to you that you were finally free to make your own decisions without anyone else influencing them.

You reached the gates of the Earth Kingdom battered and bruised- the month of so that you traveled for changed your appearance quite a bit- your hair slightly longer and the numerous different climates you had suffered through allowed your hair to settle into gentle waves. You got thinner, lack of food turning you into a near skeleton, but the muscles you had trained your whole life remained, and you were stronger than ever. Obviously, the guards didn’t recognize you, letting you pass without a hitch under a fake name.

You found a kind older woman in the outer ring of Ba Sing Se, who offered you take you in for the night.

There, you enjoyed a soothing bath and a good meal, and she was pleasant company. You slept on the couch that night, and left early the next morning, leaving a few gold coins as a subpar payment for her hospitality.

And then you were on your own again.

Days passed, and then months, you worked almost every job under the sun as you finally scrounged up enough money to open your own store.

It was a nice and quaint restaurant, and you worked your blood, sweat, and tears into it- and that was a statement, you rarely cried. Not anymore anyways- experiencing so much loss does that to people.

You called it the Unagi- your restaurant known for its excellent soups and eel rolls, both of which were comfort foods growing up. Even though you vowed to start a new life, and throw your old one behind, you kept this part of your old life with you. You stopped bending, not a single spark or flame left your fingertips after the day you left the Fire Nation.

Months passed, 7 to be exact, and you had built quite the reputation in Ba Sing Se- travelers from all over had some solely to try your food, and they were not disappointed. Your cooking prowess as a force to be reckoned with- and you enjoyed in immensely. For the first time in years, you were happy.

Of course, rush hour was the most overwhelming experience you had ever had to experience- as you refused to hire anyone to assist you run your shop- your trust had run thin, and you weren’t going to risk the product of your hard work to anyone. Eventually, you learned to keep all your ingredients preprepared- and then cook them in your soups and put them in your rolls the morning of each day, so that they were all fresh and it was less work for you. All your customers were understanding, and respected you for your time and work. People loved your story- a stranger and a traveler with basically next to nothing, and then turned your life around in just a few months.

After a few months, you practically knew all the gossip in the city- always overhearing the snippets of murmurs from your customers. Usually, you paid no mind to them, but today, what you heard stopped you in your tracks.

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah! The Avatar and his crew were spotted at the gates this morning!”

“Do you think Ba Sing Se is in trouble?!”

“I hope not, after what happened in the Northern Wa-”

You stopped listening after that, going back to the kitchen with the blood roaring in your ears. You stirred the soup you were making with a new intensity, as it your life depended on it. Dread pooled in your stomach- if the Avatar and his friends came around the Unagi, you were done for. The Avatar would recognize you, the only one to have seen you without the normal mask you wore- and the only one out of the group you had met.

You sighed, deciding to ignore the fear you felt. Months of peace wore down your guard a little bit, and you were used to forcing your body into a state of ease after the first few weeks you had stayed in the city- nightmares plaguing you day and night. They were gone now, thankfully, but if the Avatar and his friends destroyed everything you worked so hard to maintain, you might break.

Fortunately, weeks went by without a hitch, no sign of the Avatar, and no sign of the Unagi being burnt down.

One day, on a relatively quiet day, you hear a few voices outside.

“Here Sokka, Toph, take some gold and treat yourself to some food, I hear this place is really good.” A female voice says, she sounded around 14-15 years old. “We’ll meet you back in the square- bring some for the rest of us.”

You don’t hear much of what the girl says afterwards, opting to resume taking orders. That’s when you lay your eyes on the boy in front of you. He had a wolf’s knot, something you knew to be common in the water tribe. He had the build of a warrior, toned muscles littered with scars that you knew weren't achieved easily. And his eyes, a brilliant shade of blue you thought you could get lost in, a pleasant contrast to the red of the Fire Nation you would be tied to for the rest of your life.

It takes you a few minutes to realize you were staring, and a few more to realize that he was too. You cough into your fist awkwardly and look away, realizing you had company.

The young girl next to him slams a few pieces of gold onto the counter, but you, unlike the boy across from you, didn’t flinch – you were used to it. “Whaddya got for us, lady?” she asks in a brash tone, but you weren’t intimidated, nor were you offended, but the boy you were staring at earlier still apologizes on her behalf.

You chuckle lightly, it amused you to see the energy in the two of them as you respond to the girl’s question. “The gold can get you some soup with some salmon, along with eel rolls, on the house.” you say, smiling lightly.

The boy’s eyes light up in excitement, though he seemed a little older than you, there was no mistaking that childish enthusiasm for a nice homecooked meal.

“Can I get your name?” You ask, grabbing your notepad and quill to write down the order.

“Sokka” he says, with a teasing sparkle in his eyes, and you can’t help but grin at his antics. It’s been a while since you felt like this. You, giddy over a crush? The feeling was a little foreign to you, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

“And you?” he asks, leaning slightly over the counter. You reciprocate his movements, telling him your name and telling him and his friend to take a seat.

Sokka and his friend, Toph, left shortly after, taking their soup to go and devouring their eel rolls. It was late now, you were sweeping up the floors, planning to leave and close the Unagi in an hour or so, before something unexpected happened.

You feel a sharp pain in your chest collapsing to the ground, your insides felt like they were burning, invisible flames eating away and you. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, mind raging and all you could see what red.

Why was this happening to you?

You felt your body flare up in pain, and all you wanted was for it to stop for it to go away.

“You will always be a part of the Fire Nation. “Azula had told you, with a manic look in her eye. “No matter how long you try to suppress it, your inner fire will never be satisfied. One day, your fire will turn against you, your body won’t be able to handle it anymore, no matter how strong you think you are. Let’s face it, you’re a monster, just like me.”

You didn’t hear the jingle of the door opening.

Letting out an anguished cry, you thrust out your arms, cerulean flames setting one of your tables on fire.

And staring at you, through the blue flames, were those sparkling eyes you loved so much. Staring at you with disgust and horror.

“Sokka, oh my god-” you say, in shock.

“Who are you.” he cuts in, his eyes sharp and cold.

“I-I swear, I’m not with the Fire Nation anymore, I-” You stutter, your throat closing in. You stumble back, staring at the flaming table with a horrified look in your eyes.

Sokka looks at you, unsure of what to do. You were the enemy, you were a firebender, one who could wield blue flames. Yet... he knew you were telling the truth. You were the same person who kindly gave them free food and didn’t turn them away even with Toph’s brashness.

He sighs, and looks around, before turning back to you. “C’mon, let’s go find my friends. My sister’s a waterbender, she’ll put out the fire for you.

You just stand there numb, your body still reeling from the aftershocks of feeling so much pain. You didn’t realize you were crying until Sokka walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, letting your tears soak into the fabric of his shirt. He strokes your hair lightly and holds you close. He smelled earthy, a musk that reminded you of the scent you smelled after it rained, all natural and grounding, soothing your worries.

“I’m here.” is all he says, and you stand like that, Sokka’s frame blocking the blue flames from your sight- a barrier between the life you live now, and the one you left behind.

BONUS:

After Sokka and you find Katara and the others, you put out the fire- Aang recognized you immediately, but Sokka vouched for you, saying that you didn’t ally with the Fire Nation anymore, and that you were trustworthy. And then, once you guide them to the back of the store, where your living quarters were, you and Sokka were alone again.

“Hey Sokka?” you ask, the boy in question looking at you with his full attention. “Why were you at my shop in the middle of the night?”

Sokka chuckles sheepishly and looks at you with that sparkle in his eyes. “I may or may not have been craving those eel rolls of yours.”

You snort, and you look at him with a teasing smile on your face. “You still hungry?”

It was safe to say neither of you got much sleep that night, up laughing and throwing rice grains at each other.

#sokka atla #sokka x reader #atla sokka #sokka avatar the last airbender #sokka #the gaang #gaang #avatar the last airbender #atla #sokka x y/n #sokka x you #⋆｡‧˚ʚ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖑𝖔𝖚𝖉 𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖍𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖘 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

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yongility · 10 months ago

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NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 3/?

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff. slowburn, series.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: +10k?

a/n: I’m sorry this took too long to post!! 😭😭 but I been so busy with college rn, I’m going to graduate this year so I’m like having a lot of work lately, and I wasn’t satisfied with what I was writing so that was the reason it took longer than expected, sorry!

I'm a sucker for cliche stuff so as soon as this fic popped in my mind l had to write it down, english isn't my first language tho.

I'm sorry if this is too long TT, but this is kinda a slowburn? it might contain a lot of parts so wait for part 3! One of the reasons this is long af it's because I would like to show you how Jaehyun and (Y/N's life is before they get together! So pls pls don't skip anything I hope you like it!

if you want to be in the taglist, just lemme know;) enjoy!

The third day of the week arrived promptly, where (Y/N) found herself comfortably seated in one of the library chairs, with her chemistry books scattered on the table in front of her as she studied for the exams she had coming up, with Jungwoo beside her.

It was becoming her routine for the week; after last Friday's party, what she most desired was to avoid being at home, especially after having an argument with her mother when she returned from the party.

She didn't want to deal with her in a good time.

Annoyed that her mother had thought it was a great idea to take away her right to use her own car as punishment for disobeying her that night and leaving the house... staying in the library seemed the most pleasant option; with silence, able to listen to music through her AirPods, without her mother bothering her every five minutes and being able to review what she had learned in her last classes: it was something she could take advantage of. She took a sip of her vanilla latte, which had been sponsored by Jungwoo, who, in an attempt to apologize for abandoning her in that way during last Friday's party, promised to pay for each of her daily drinks for a week and a half, no matter the cost.

And even though (Y/N) could afford that or even triple, she was still happy about it. Gifted things tasted even better anyway.

Of course, she first gave Jungwoo a -no- beating after telling him everything that had happened during his absence, but still, she appreciated that her friend was okay even though she hadn't heard anything from him until Saturday night.

During these last few days, with a new routine, (Y/N) was almost always in the same places, at the same times, and if she was honest, she was surprised not to have bumped into Jung Jaehyun at any moment.

It was weird; she would normally see him somewhere around the school, either accompanied by Lucas or just sitting on one of the benches while smoking his 'n' cigarette of the day. But simply, since Friday, she hadn't heard anything from him... she hadn't even bumped into Lucas, which increased the level of strangeness, considering he was a social butterfly, he was always around. (Y/N) had been aware of her words after Jaehyun had taken her home: she could no longer continue with whatever deal they had, with all the stress of her own tasks and knowing that no matter what she did, her cousin wouldn't give up his addictions, it was best to give up.

Although it would hurt her soul to know that there was no way to help Daeho.

But thinking about it, she didn't know if she had really been sincere about each going their own way... apparently Jaehyun had taken it very seriously to not show up anywhere, and although (Y/N) knew very well that being close to him didn't bring her anything good... his presence hadn't been so bothersome in the last few days. Really, after sharing a few words and spending more time with him, she couldn't say that she disliked his existence. It was funny if you asked the (Y/N) from a month ago, there would be no way she could have imagined that, somehow, she would be related to none other than Jung Jaehyun, who, on the outside, just seemed to be one more problem.

She tried to stop thinking about it and tried to focus her gaze on the book in front of her, but after a few minutes... it was difficult for her. There was something inside her that made her feel uneasy but she couldn't think what it was.

"There’s a race in Kosmo today" her best friend's voice brought her out of her thoughts.

Kosmo was the neighborhood that was right in the middle of the city, dividing Kwangya and Neo Zone. (Y/N) knew that there were usually illegal races in that area because it was when the rich kids from Kwangya usually dared to compete against Neo Zone.

"And why should I care...?"

"Your cousin will go to bet," Jungwoo replied, interrupting her study session.

The girl opened her eyes in surprise and asked, "How do you know?"

"Daeho told Mingi, and Mingi told me," he replied simply, shrugging his shoulders. The boy fell silent for a moment and cleared his throat. "Don’t you want to go?" He asked curiously.

(Y/N) looked up from her books and observed her friend incredulously. "Why would I want to go?"

"To keep an eye on Daeho," he answered.

"I'm still mad with him, I've decided not to help him anymore. I really tried, I've been trying for the past few years, but he doesn't want help and now I understand," the girl confessed, closing her book and letting out a sigh.

"Still... don't you think it would be fun? Getting out of our comfort zone a bit... seeing what all this racing stuff is about. I've heard they're amazing," Jungwoo insisted.

"Jungwoo, my mom will kill me if she finds out I went to an illegal race," the girl continued, taking a sip of her coffee.

"She won't find out."

"Jungwoo..."

"Come on, (Y/N), we won't even be in Neo Zone, it'll be in Kwangya only. We'll go, watch the race, and leave. We won't even make contact with anyone. We'll go on our own," the boy assured her, moving closer to her. "Please, I think it would be interesting to break out of our routine, just for one night, what could go wrong?"

"Many things could go wrong, Woo," she replied.

"We won't know unless we try," he pouted, clasping his hands together. "Please."

She hated how persuasive her best friend was.

She sighed and shook her head. "Fine, but at the first sign of trouble, we're leaving without a second thought."

"I love you so much," Jungwoo replied, hugging her shoulders.

"And I really hate you."

______________________________________________

The night fell faster than she expected, and among the roar of engines and the intense music that could be heard on the outskirts of Kosmo, (Y/N) felt something cold run through her body.

She could see familiar faces here and there, some of her classmates from Kwangya were in the place, and from the opposite side, the cars and familiar faces of Neo Zone were present.

It was a strange atmosphere for her; she had always played it safe, and now she didn't even know what to think. She felt herself getting closer to Jungwoo to not lose him, the last thing she needed was for them to separate like they did at the party.

She didn't think she could survive alone.

And it's not that she was dumb to think otherwise, but her parents raised her in an environment where they made her believe that she shouldn't do things outside her daily life. (Y/N) was afraid of adventures. Her life was governed by being obedient and doing the right thing; she didn't know when the moment of rebellion she had a few days ago when she left home the night of the party had been wise.

And now finding herself in Kosmo secretly from her mother at an illegal race? She must have gone crazy.

She believed even more so that she had gone crazy when something inside her hoped to run into none other than Jung Jaehyun.

She didn't understand why the urgency of what was happening, and even less why she expected to run into Jaehyun before running into Daeho.

Maybe it was because she found it strange not to have seen him since last Friday's party.

But she knew that if there was one place Jaehyun wouldn't miss... it would be the race tonight.

"Are you looking for Daeho?" Jungwoo asked when he saw her looking around. "He's probably with Mingi."

How could she explain to her friend that the person she was looking for was none other than Jung Jaehyun?

She nodded without saying more, and they both continued on their way while cautiously observing their surroundings. The smell of marijuana and car engines was embedded in the place, the music made their ears ring, and the night breeze made their bodies tremble.

(Y/N)'s eyes drifted away when she noticed Lucas in the distance, having a conversation with another guy. Lucas felt her gaze on him and looked at the girl with confusion before approaching her after apologizing to his companion.

"Hey, Kwangya kiddos, what brings you here on this magnificent night?" Lucas asked enthusiastically.

"We wanted to know what these races are about," Jungwoo replied simply.

"Hmm, interesting," the tall guy nodded. "Well, you're in luck, Jaehyun will race today, are you sure you want to see the show? The best of the area against someone from Yellow Wood," Lucas explained while cracking his fingers slightly.

Upon hearing the guy's name, (Y/N) looked up and paid attention to Lucas's words.

"If you're interested in betting, come to me," Lucas advised.

"I think we're fine like this," said (Y/N).

"Alright, take care. I'll go look for my guy to get him ready for the race," Lucas announced as he patted Jungwoo on the back.

The guy walked away from them with a smile, and Jungwoo responded with one of his own, then he looked at his friend and frowned, "relax, you're anxious."

How could she not be?

But before she could even answer anything, a few meters away, she saw the familiar face she had been looking for. In the distance, the silhouette of Jung Jaehyun was leaning against his car while talking to a few guys from Neo Zone, his neck tattoos weren't very visible due to the darkness of the night but she could distinguish them a bit, then... as if he had called him, Jaehyun's gaze moved to connect with hers, making her freeze in place.

Jaehyun frowned when he saw her standing just a few steps away from him, looking like a lost puppy as she stood beside Jungwoo.

The sight reminded him of a month ago when Daeho had clumsily brought (Y/N) to Neo Zone. Although this time she was accompanied by her best friend, another rich and spoiled kid from Kwangya. He observed the outfit she had decided to wear, once again, just like that time, it wasn't extravagant, no famous brand could be seen in her attire, and the only piece of jewelry she wore was a pair of earrings that definitely looked like gold...

He hoped she wouldn't lose them tonight.

Because they made her look good.

The surprise was evident on the girl's face when she took a better look at the brunet's body, who was now walking towards her, wearing a hoodie with its hood over his head and as he got closer, the darkness of the night was no longer so intrusive. It hadn't been enough to hide the bruises that were scattered across his body.

There was one under his cheek, just below his left eye, and it was reddish, as if it were flushed. Then, looking at the ones between his jaw and his neck, she noticed how they subtly mixed with the ink of the tattoo he had on his neck. That one was difficult to distinguish thanks to the dark lines that adorned that part of his body, but if you paid enough attention, it was alarming.

When she lowered her gaze over his torso and then looked at his hands, she could see the intense shades of red that his knuckles contained, as if ground blood had accumulated on each of them.

It wasn't the first time she had seen Jaehyun or Lucas with a bruise or two on a school day, but it was the first time she had seen it up close.

Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. Why was it suddenly doing this?

"Did you lost your way home?" Jaehyun asked when he was in front of her.

"Jaehyun," she muttered quietly, "... are you okay?"

The girl didn't need much to realize that was the stupidest question she could ask right now, of course he wasn't okay. And although she knew this happened regularly in Jaehyun's life, she couldn't help but fill her head with doubts; what had to happen for him to end up like this?

... was that the reason he hadn't gone to school?

A small smile appeared on the boy's face, and even with the different colors decorating his face, she could still notice the dimples that formed in it.

Why did he still look good?

"I don't think you came here to ask that, Angel," Jaehyun replied mockingly. "I really believed in your whole story about us going on our ways, so what are you doing at a race where most of the spectators are from Neo Zone?"

The girl was left speechless. "Jungwoo brought me here."

"Well, if that's the case, enjoy the races, I think it'll be fun for you to spice up your Wednesday nights a bit," he continued with a sarcastic smile.

"What happened to you?" She asked again.

Jaehyun didn't answer.

He had gotten himself into big trouble... all thanks to Jeno.

He had trusted that all his merchandise would be sold by the time Monday came around, but after being at Johnny Suh's party, where other dealers were also present, he didn't manage to sell what he needed.

He had a little less than half left in his pockets and in Lucas's.

Luck had not been on his side this time, and when he had to be accountable to Lee Sooman, he had to take responsibility for his brother's actions. And despite telling him that he would not take care of him like he used to after the argument they had... he'd much rather take the beatings he had received than see Jeno the way he did in the mirror.

That time, it really felt eternal. He still remembers the angry (but also mocking) look Sooman had on his face when Jaehyun and Lucas brought the money to his office and after asking Lucas none too kindly to leave, that was when Jaehyun knew what was coming.

With Cheol Uk by his side, leading him out of the office to the vacant lot not far from the warehouse, Jaehyun could do nothing but accept what was coming.

It was one blow after another, and he knew well that at that moment, defending himself was not something he should do or he would end up worse.

He remembers feeling every punch with tremendous pain, and all he could think about was Jeno and how he would have felt if it had been him getting beaten up.

At least Jaehyun was used to the beatings and had no choice; he already knew that all of this was part of being someone from Neo Zone, so he simply had to continue to comply with what Sooman demanded to the letter unless he wanted to end up again in the position he was in.

What felt like hours was really just a few minutes; Cheol Uk stopped hitting him after a while and without saying more, he left. Leaving Jaehyun in the middle of the vacant lot with a broken lip and eyebrow as he spat blood and reached for his abdomen for some support to get up and walk to where he knew Lucas was waiting for him.

How much more? How much longer would he have to keep with all of this?

But, right now, it wasn't something he should talk about.

"It's really not something you need to know," he replied with a smirk. "You came to enjoy the race, right? Then do it, I'll be running in a few minutes, if you don't get scared by the atmosphere here before that, I'm sure you'll want to see me," Jaehyun continued, winking at her.

"I think it'll be fun to see you in second place," the girl teased.

"Baby... I always win," Jaehyun bragged, looking her directly in the eyes.

It was then that the girl didn't say anything else, she just kept her gaze on his. She hated feeling intrigued by Jaehyun himself. Because right now she didn't even feel like she was in Kosmo, with Jaehyun in front of her looking directly at her, she didn't even feel real. She was getting into fire and she knew it.

And she didn't know if she could escape from it.

For a moment she felt a heaviness on her shoulders and warmth surrounded her, causing her to snap out of her thoughts and notice that the jacket that Jaehyun was wearing over his hoodie was now over her body.

"You were trembling like a chihuahua," Jaehyun explained. "Don't consider it an act of kindness, I'm just returning the favor after having done my jobs those two weeks... at least now they won't kick me out of school this evaluation period," he continued.

"I'm not sure if I should feel good knowing that I'm indirectly helping an illegal business," she replied, adjusting the jacket.

"No one needs to know," he replied. "Good luck tonight, don't get lost too much because things get interesting," he said, and without further ado, he turned around to go back to his friends.

(Y/N) stood perplexed in her place, and it was then that she felt Jungwoo's presence next to her.

"What was that?"

"I have no idea."

_______________________________________________

The next morning, after putting her books back in her backpack, (Y/N) looked at the jacket folded inside her bag, feeling a heaviness and remembering the events of the previous night.

The rumors were true... Jung Jaehyun was the best street racer in the area, because he not only competed once the day before, but two more times, winning 3 victories in a short time, and to be honest, it had been impressive.

She hadn't run into him again after the brief conversation they had, and even though she had been waiting for it... she and Jungwoo bolted from the place when they heard the police sirens approaching Kosmo.

The last thing she needed was for her parents to find out about her escapade.

She didn't hear anything from Daeho the night before, she even doubted if he had really gone to the race.

She didn't want to give too much importance to the situation, which is why she chose to continue her path through the school hallways, hoping to return the jacket that was at the bottom of her bag and trying to divert her thoughts to something other than Jaehyun.

And as if she had summoned him, she saw him under the entrance roof as he leaned against the wall and took a drag from the cigarette in his hands. (Y/N) checked the day's weather and cursed when she noticed the raindrops falling lightly. She had forgotten about today's forecast.

Jaehyun was lost in his thoughts as he watched the rain and let out the smoke in his chest.

The bruises were still visible.

She stopped abruptly to take the jacket out of her bag and, without saying anything, approached him and handed it back to him.

Jaehyun looked at her with a raised eyebrow and blew out the smoke from his lungs.

"You're welcome," Jaehyun said as he took the jacket in his hands.

"Yes, thank you," she said, feeling her cheeks flush.

"Where did you park your car?" Jaehyun asked out of nowhere.

"I didn't bring it with me, my mom confiscated it," she blurted out without thinking, and when she turned to look at Jaehyun, she noticed a mocking smile on his face.

"Oh, mom took away your Porsche," he pouted mockingly and shook his head. "Come on, I'll take you home."

"I'm fine, Jaehyun. Thanks," she said as she looked at the rain.

"Come on, it wouldn't be the first time I've taken you. Plus, the school won't be closing anytime soon."

She thought about all the possibilities that crossed her mind, but something about her was excited to think about the ride home.

"Where's your car?"

______________________________________________

It was fortunate that his car was nearby.

Jaehyun turned on the heater as soon as they got into the car, and without further ado, the journey began.

It was just like the first time they had been together in the same car. Without saying anything, both with their eyes focused on the road, and it was then that they both realized that they didn't have a topic of conversation. The few times they had interacted had been about their interests and what they needed from each other at the moment. However, Jaehyun didn't know anything about (Y/N) that he hadn't heard at school, and (Y/N) didn't know anything about Jaehyun that she hadn't heard in the hallways or from her parents about the people from Neo Zone.

At this point, they weren't even acquaintances.

They had just coincided in something and that was it.

(Y/N) took the opportunity to send a text message to Jungwoo and tell him that he no longer needed to pick her up, without explaining more, she sent the text and subsequently, Jaehyun's phone rang.

The boy sighed and cautiously looked for a quick place to park even with the sound of the mobile phone ringing filling the car. He took the device and (Y/N) could notice the slight tension that seized Jaehyun's body as he read the caller ID, without thinking twice he answered the call.

The brunette felt weird being able to hear Jaehyun's conversation, so she tried to distract herself with something else. First with her phone, then looking out the window where she could see the rain beginning to dissipate, and then she could hear a "I'll be there in a moment" that made her react and turn to see him end the call.

The boy scratched his neck and then brought his hands to his face to rub it, let out a deep sigh, and looked at (Y/N).

“Uh, I need to do something quickly and your house is still a bit far... Do you mind if we stop by that place first? It's on the way” he asked with no other option.

“Does this has to do with your job?” She asked.

It took him a moment to respond: — No, it's not about my job. You can stay in the car, it's just that, I really need to get there.

After seeing Jaehyun's face and not being able to decipher what he was trying to say, (Y/N) nodded, not very sure, and that was enough for Jaehyun to quickly start the car.

Thousands of thoughts ran through (Y/N)'s mind. Eager to know where they were headed; she didn't know if she should believe Jaehyun that this wasn't about picking up or delivering goods or meeting someone who worked on the same thing he did.

She was only sure they wouldn't go to Neo Zone because they were far from there.

She could see how impatient Jaehyun seemed while driving, and that only made her even more nervous. What exactly did they tell him in that call to make him like this? She wanted to ask, but she knew she wouldn't get an answer.

She didn't know how many minutes had passed, she only knew that the rain stopped just before the car parked and she finally noticed where they were. A gray building was a few meters away from them, and it wasn't hard to recognize it.

It was the National Rehabilitation Center.

A long and large building, which was accompanied by an extensive garden, and from the outside, you could see that there were a huge number of rooms inside it.

Her head was flooded with even more questions knowing that this was the place where Jaehyun was needed.

“You can stay in the car if you want. I'll be back in a moment” Jaehyun said as he opened the car door and got out.

Curiosity got the better of her.

And that's why she got out of the car and followed Jaehyun. Without saying anything, they entered the building where they were immediately greeted by a nurse who seemed to know the boy well.

“Jaehyun, I'm glad you were able to answer the call” said the woman as she greeted them. “We need to talk to you”.

The boy nodded and turned to (Y/N), who just nodded and said, “I’ll wait for you.”

He smiled slightly and walked with the person until they reached the reception where she was able to pull out a few papers.

It had been, perhaps, about two weeks since the last time he had been there. A place he was very familiar with and where he regularly went; he had become good friends with the friendly nurses who apparently didn't care where he came from.

He was grateful that the nurse didn't say anything when his bruises and wounds were clearly visible.

“Has something happened?” he asked after a few seconds.

“ He's fine” the nurse said with a smile “but we need to talk to you about his stay here” she continued.

That's when the small smile on his face disappeared. Jaehyun knew what she was referring to. He swallowed hard before the nurse could speak.

“The payment is overdue, Jaehyun," the nurse confirmed what he already knew. "We care about Sicheng's health, but this is not my concern. You know that the center relies on patients' monthly payments, and the administrators in charge of them request them punctually," she commented as she handed Jaehyun one of the papers. "I understand your situation and Sicheng's, but there's nothing more I can do even if I wanted to; I've tried to delay the payment as much as I could, but unfortunately, it can't be delayed any longer. The administrators expect the payment soon, or we'll have to discharge Sicheng and send him home," she concluded.

It was difficult at first for Jaehyun to process everything the nurse had said, as more than ten things ran through his mind at once; one of them being his good friend Winwin, then, thinking about how he could quickly get the money he knew he owed to the clinic, considering the beating he had just received for not being able to complete a sale. So, what would he do? He still needed half the money for that monthly payment, and between the clinic's expenses and those of his own house for his family, he couldn't see a way to get the money on time.

He would have to ask for more stash to sell if he wanted to do it.

He couldn't let them discharge Sicheng.

Not while he hasn't made progress.

"I'm sorry," Jaehyun said. "I... I still have a little left to complete the payment. It's just that lately, it's been harder, and... how much time do I have to pay it?" the breathless boy asked.

"Considering that it's only the first few days of the month, and the payment is already two weeks late... I can't give you more than three days," lamented the nurse, making a grimace.

"I'll try the impossible to bring you that money on Saturday. Sicheng still can't be discharged; he hasn't progressed the way he was supposed to," he affirmed, a slight pout evident in his mouth.

What a contrast there was between his expression and the bruises, accompanied by the tattoos on his body.

Being in the Rehabilitation Center was the place where he could be most vulnerable.

"How is he?" he asked, lowering his gaze.

"Same as the last time you came to visit him," commented the nurse. "We're doing what we can, Jaehyun, but as long as he stays the way he is, we can't move forward. We need his will to help him."

When no words came out of his mouth, the nurse continued: "Jaehyun, you know you can go see him."

For Jaehyun, each visit was just as difficult as the day he decided to admit Sicheng to that clinic, and each one left him more tormented than the previous.

He would give everything if that means that Sicheng would go back to be himself.

He nodded after a few seconds and cautiously glanced back, where, not far away, (Y/N) was reading some brochures and observing the facilities around them; when she noticed the boy's gaze on her body, she walked toward him carefully.

The brunette didn't really know what came to his mind or what caused those words to come out of his mouth, but when he wanted to back off, it was too late, because they had already been expressed.

"Are you coming with me?"

And although (Y/N) had no idea why they were there or where they were going, she accepted anyway. So they found themselves walking down the long whitewashed hallway until they reached an elevator, and then they went up about three floors.

The atmosphere was cold, the hallways and rooms were well-lit, and they could see a few nurses and what she assumed were doctors walking around in their lab coats.

Jaehyun didn't know why he was allowing himself to show her that part of his life, especially when it was such a fragile part for him. He had tried to protect it cautiously for the past few months, and now he was there, accompanied by Hwang (Y/N), with the person he never thought he would meet at that moment.

He hadn't really thought of her when he asked if they could go there before going home; his head was only thinking about the clinic and Sicheng when the call had ended, and it was too late to change his mind when they had set off.

He just hoped the girl would be discreet enough.

They reached room 119, where Jaehyun pushed the door open and where in a wheelchair, they both could see Winwin, who was facing the large window of his room, looking outside.

(Y/N)'s surprised face did not go unnoticed; she was confused in a thousand ways. She knew who Dong Sicheng was; everyone in her school knew him, however... she thought he had simply left the city. She had no idea he was in that place. So in her head, thousands of questions arose about him, why he was there, and why he was in a wheelchair.

She could only react when she heard Jaehyun's voice: "Hey, buddy. How are you today?"

Nothing.

That's what he received.

Jaehyun walked over to him, and when he stood next to him, he crouched down enough to be able to observe him better. Winwin had his gaze fixed forward, his cheeks were a little rosy, his hair fell over his forehead, and his hands were resting on his legs.

Jaehyun sighed.

"Oh, I see you've taken a shower today," the boy mentioned with a smile, and again, there was not a single response.

When he noticed the presence of the girl, who had remained in her place throughout the visit and hesitated to approach them, he spoke: "Today I'm not alone; I brought company. Maybe you'll find it helpful to hear another voice that isn't mine or Lucas's... or the nurses'," the boy teased and gestured to the brunette to come closer, who obeyed. "Do you remember (Y/N)? She was in our class; we've coincided a couple of times, that's why she's here."

"Hello, Winwin," she greeted softly. Jaehyun made a grimace and stood up from his place to be at the girl's height.

"Don't expect an answer," Jaehyun commented. "There won't be one."

"I thought... I thought Winwin had moved to China," (Y/N) confessed.

Jaehyun snorted: "Yes, that's what everyone thinks."

Those words took her by surprise, and it was when she decided to remain silent, watching from a distance the little interaction between the boys: it was just Jaehyun saying a few words while adjusting Sicheng's hair without expecting any response.

Dong Sicheng and Jung Jaehyun had been friends since birth, being two little boys who grew up on the streets of Neo Zone, it was easy to click with each other. Winwin's parents had decided to move to the infamous area after his father had met Lee Sooman in some low neighborhood in Wenzhou, China, and he had offered him a job where he could have his family at least a little better off than in his country.

Winwin had not joined the gang since it had not been of great urgency to him; his father was the active member needed by the family, and if he were honest... the farthest he could be from the Neo Zone gang... the better. He was always Jaehyun's companion at all times. Best friends who shared every detail of their lives for years, Jaehyun took care of Sicheng, and he provided the most sincere friendship he had ever had... then, a while later, Lucas Wong and Mark Lee joined their adventures.

Four boys from Neo Zone with the desire to conquer the world, but unable to leave their sad reality behind.

Jaehyun still remembers that fateful day a year ago, and he still feels like it happened yesterday.

The guilt gnawed at him every passing day, terrorizing each of his nights as he wondered: Why?

Why did something like that have to happen to someone as good as Dong Sicheng was?

A year ago, when Jaehyun had chosen to go deliver a package of stash after Winwin had asked him to stay and keep him company, and he had denied that request... that decision still drilled into his head.

Winwin's family and he had been robbed in their own home. Knowing who had done it, the reasons for the event, and who had ordered such inhumanity, were still a mystery. When Winwin's parents along with him tried to flee the place by leaving in a car; it had not been the wisest decision they had made at the moment... because not long after, outside of Neo Zone, after the group of people who had robbed their home managed to shoot a clean shot in one of the tires of the rear part of the car, causing Winwin's father to lose control of his own vehicle and not a few meters later it would impact hard enough for the car to be shot in another direction, causing immediate damage.

Jaehyun only remembers receiving a call from Lucas and minutes later finding himself at the entrance to the Emergency Room of the General Hospital, where a stretcher with Winwin's body was being transported.

He remembers seeing the blood. He remembers hearing Lucas and Mark's screams asking to see their friend. He remembers standing still at the entrance to the Emergency Room.

But above all, he remembers thinking, what would have happened if instead of deciding to go sell that stupid package of stash, what if he had stayed at home with his mother and Sicheng?

A week in a coma and a diagnosis of paraplegia was what made Jaehyun lose his mind.

It had been a year since the accident, and Winwin had not even progressed a bit. After being diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, it had been difficult to help the injury in the dorsal spine that he had suffered; the damage had been partial, Winwin could handle his movements and his sensitivity to walk again... if only he would come out of the state of shock he was still in.

There were too many things he experienced in so few minutes, so much physical and mental pain for what happened, that now, Sicheng couldn't react.

It had been a year since Sicheng hasn’t spoken.

The doctors assured that he could hear and understand everything, but he was simply mentally tired to process the words and make them come out of his mouth.

His body didn't react as it should either.

And until Winwin had the strength of his own will to do it, the only thing they could do at that clinic was to keep him on medication so that the pains would not persist.

But Jaehyun couldn't take it anymore.

What he would give for Sicheng to be able to enjoy life again.

Unfortunately, the visits he made to the hospital... didn't last more than half an hour since that was the place's regulation. So, his farewell was as quick as his arrival.

"See you on Saturday, Win," he put his hand on his shoulder. "Don't give the nurses too much trouble."

He could swear he heard Winwin laugh and say goodbye.

Even though that really didn't happen.

(Y/N), who throughout the visit remained silent observing both boys, could feel her heart in her hand. She had never believed she would see that vulnerability on Jaehyun's part, and knowing what it was about because of the importance his best friend had in his life, made her heart ache with sadness even more.

"Now I'll take you home," murmured Jaehyun when he passed by her without saying anything else.

The girl glanced back, looking for the last time at Sicheng's silhouette, who hadn't moved from the same place since they had both arrived in the room. She took a deep breath and left the room when Jaehyun was already far enough away.

She didn't know what to say. There were no words of comfort for the situation, and she knew it, that's why they both silently said goodbye to the nurse who had received them and continued like that until they entered the car, which was not parked far away.

Jaehyun allowed himself to lean back on the driver's seat as he closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

"I guess you have many questions," Jaehyun said without opening his eyes.

She had.

"I don't know if I really should ask them," (Y/N) confessed as she looked at him.

The boy remained silent for a few seconds.

"Sicheng and his parents had an accident a year ago," Jaehyun said, opening his eyes to look at her. "An accident that was caused."

"By whom?"

"No one knows," he replied, taking his hands to the steering wheel of the car and squeezing it tightly. "His parents died instantly... Winwin arrived at the hospital in critical condition; it was a miracle that he came out alive."

"Why...?"

"Why is he in this clinic?" he interrupted, and she nodded with a knot in her stomach. "The accident had a great impact and damaged on his dorsal spine; the doctors diagnosed partial paraplegia; his sensitivity in his legs was minimal, and he couldn't make any extensive movements with his legs that didn't make him cry from the pain. After seven days, he woke up from the coma and realized everything that had happened, including my uncle's death... he hasn't said a single word since then... the doctors said it would take time for him to recover, and that eventually, he would speak, but Winwin doesn't have the will to do it; he's still in a kind of state of shock, and that has delayed his recovery," he explained, unable to see her in the eyes.

"Who... who pays for all this if Sicheng's parents aren't here?" she asked curiously.

Jaehyun sighed; "For the first few months, my boss covered part of the monthly fee, until suddenly he stopped doing it. Since then, I've been taking care of it."

The girl's expression was one of surprise.

"How do you do it?"

"That’s the reason I'm in the business that I'm in," he replied, changing his gaze to her, being able to see directly into her eyes and causing her to feel a shiver run through her body.

There was something about those bruised eyes that had done something to her.

"It must be hard," the girl said in a murmur.

Jaehyun snorted and nodded slowly. He hated being seen in his less tough character. The only person he allowed himself to be like that with was Lucas... or Winwin. And for a stranger to see him like that... made his blood boil.

"You know? Winwin loved dancing," Jaehyun said, smiling sideways as the memory came to his mind.

That fact wasn't strange for (Y/N), she remembers seeing Winwin at the school theater... the only boy from Neo Zone who was part of the dance team. She didn't even know how he had managed that, but he must have been good if the Kwangya students allowed him to be in the group.

"Now nobody knows if he'll be able to do it again," Jaehyun continued. "Winwin was the only one of all of us who really had a future, he wasn't even a gang member... he hadn't even gone through his initiation, and look how he ended up."

(Y/N) swallowed.

"Mark Lee is no longer friends with you, right?" The girl asked curiously.

"Things got complicated with him after the accident."

The brunette fell silent for a moment and then shifted her body to face him.

“Haven't you thought about looking for another alternative?” she questioned again “You know? If you let me help you, maybe I could get you a position at my father's company and...”

“Shh. I think I've told you it's not that easy.”

“ But it could be” she insisted.

Jaehyun scoffed and shook his head as he looked away from her.

“I not only have to cover this quota, I also have to bring money home, for my mom and for Jeno. It's the easiest way to get what I need” he confessed “besides, I told you once... in Neo Zone there's no way out, once you're in, you're in forever.”

The tattoos on his neck were what sentenced him to a miserable life forever.

But as long as that miserable life helped to ease the pain and managed to make Sicheng return to who he was, it would be worth it.

“It doesn't have to be like this” she murmured, focusing on her own hands.

"You don't know what it's like to be part of this," he countered in a low voice.

How had they opened up to have such a conversation so suddenly?

The girl felt her lip tremble as she remembered the scene she had witnessed minutes earlier in that room, and she couldn't help but think about how it would feel to lose a loved one in such a way... knowing that physically they were present, but mentally they weren't there.

(Y/N) had always had a heart easy to move, but she really never believed that Jung Jaehyun would be able to achieve that.

"Is that why you insist on continuing school?" she asked, looking at him again.

"Students are my best clients," he replied with a half smile.

(Y/N) didn't know how to take that.

She closed her eyes for a moment and then said, "I can help you with a few more assignments," she assured. "But only for a while and in my own way. But, I don't want you to involve me in any of the problems you're in, it will only be school matters. I don't want to be associated with anything you do, if anything you do is enough to help Sicheng, I'll try not to question it."

Jaehyun couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"If that helps you help me and me stay in school..." he paused "...I might be willing."

"What's the reason for your change of heart?"

"Because if I were in the same situation as you, I would also want someone to somehow help me," she replied, hugging herself.

The boy nodded with a half-smile, and without further ado, he started the car.

"Only school matters," Jaehyun confirmed.

She definitely didn't know what he had just gotten himself into.

______________________________________________

The day after the visit to the National Rehabilitation Center, something happened that made (Y/N) unable to concentrate enough during class hours. Her mind kept going back to the place over and over again, but how horrible was the situation the boy was in. One day you're capable, and the next... not even being able to move. How could anyone endure that?

At some point in the morning, during the physics period, her mind was spinning, her leg moving anxiously, and she bit her lips. She tried to erase the conversation she and Jaehyun had had the day before a thousand times and tried to erase the image of Winwin in that room.

But it was impossible.

Just when she thought she had succeeded, the image returned immediately.

She hated being someone who cared too much about things.

Because she knew something wasn't right with her when she found herself in front of the doors of the Rehabilitation Center.

Her coat shielded her from the cold breeze on that day, and as she clutched her bag to her, she didn't think anymore and entered the place.

She felt a little out of place when she entered the center, but after a few minutes, a presence came in front of her.

"Hello, good morning," the nurse greeted her. "Oh, you're the girl who accompanied Jaehyun yesterday, right?" She asked in confusion.

The girl smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'm Hwang (Y/N). I'm Jaehyun's classmate... and Winwin's."

"How nice of you to visit us... are you here to see Winwin? It's rare to see someone come for him other than Lucas or Jaehyun," confessed the nurse.

"Um, yes... I could say I'm here for a visit," the girl smiled. "But, to be honest... yesterday I overheard a bit of his conversation with Jaehyun... I know Winwin's payment is delayed this month."

"Yes, usually Jaehyun finds a way to pay on time," she sighed. "But this month it's been delayed for a few weeks, and if I'm honest, I've been doing everything I can to keep Winwin from being discharged."

The girl nodded and asked, "Do you think Winwin's treatment will still take time?"

"I can't answer that accurately," admitted the nurse. "It's all a matter of Winwin's will, but to be honest, right now he has no will at all, so far as we're concerned, and if the payment continues to be monthly... he could spend another half a year here."

The girl understood the situation, and although she would like to think more about it... she didn't, so she didn't even know when she blurted out those words: "Is there any way I can pay for the next six months?"

The nurse's eyes widened with surprise, and she looked at the girl with enthusiasm. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," she replied. "I would like to help one of my classmates as long as I can. Money is not a problem," she confessed.

"Wow... thank you, i really appreciate that. Winwin is a boy with a lot of potential from what we know, and although we're sad that we haven't made the progress we want, we know that someday he will leave through that door better," (Y/N) smiled nostalgically.

"I just need to ask you something," the brunette confessed. "Could you not tell Jaehyun that I've paid?" she questioned.

"I don't know if it's easy to lie to someone like Jaehyun," the nurse laughed. "But since it's something good you've done... I'll try," the nurse walked to the desk with (Y/N) behind her. "(Y/N)?" She called and paid attention. "I know there may be many things about Jaehyun... but he's a good guy... beneath all that facade; he really has something good."

Those words hammered in her head. "Thank you."

_____________________________________________

(Y/N) reviewed the same line of text she had read five times now on some molasses topic. Trying to understand the topic deeply.

The air coming lightly through one of the library windows was enough for her to try to hug herself to take warmth, read a bit from the physics books on the table, and impatiently move her leg.

She didn't know at what exact moment a tall figure stood in front of her, but what she did know was that that person didn't seem very happy.

"Why did you do it?" Jaehyun let out while looking directly at her.

"I don't know what you're talking about," (Y/N) replied while looking at her book attentively.

"I know you know. I thought I told you I don't need your money," Jaehyun repeated with annoyance.

"I still don't know what you're talking about," the girl stopped seeing her book and changed her gaze to the boy.

"Don't play with me," the boy exclaimed exasperatedly. "Why did I went to the center today and they told me Winwin's treatment has been paid for the next six months?"

The girl shrugged. "It could have been your boss."

"My boss doesn't give a shit about Winwin!" Exclaimed the boy. "I told you I didn't need your money, I was clear, I don't want to owe anything to anyone from Kwangya."

"You don't need to pay me back," the girl assured, standing up in front of Jaehyun. "With the money you'll save from that, you'll be able to sell less."

"It seems you don't understand a fucking thing!" Jaehyun raised your arms with annoyance. "Paying or not paying for Sicheng's treatment, it doesn't change the fact that I sell drugs!" The boy explained regardless of where they were; they were lucky the library wasn't being occupied by other people.

"Everyone starts somewhere!" the girl attacked. "I just wanted to take a weight off your shoulders."

Jaehyun scoffed and looked at her with a sarcastic smile.

"Why? I don't need your pity! If you hadn't accompanied me yesterday, you'd still be thinking Winwin had moved to China! You didn't give a fucking damn even when he was your classmate!"

(Y/N) started gathering her things and putting them in her backpack.

"Saying thank you would have been enough, Jaehyun!" the girl remarked. "I know you can do better with your life," she murmured as she turned to look at him.

Jaehyun's blood was boiling; he hated when people interfered in his life, as if he didn't already have enough to deal with.

"You don't know anything about me! You said it yourself; we're not even friends," he retorted.

"And what if I want to get to know you better?" the girl exclaimed without thinking. They both fell silent, staring into each other's eyes. (Y/N) didn't even want to say those words, but she did.

She couldn't deny that Jung Jaehyun was intriguing. She didn't know why. She didn't know why she had been avoiding him for weeks, but since that night at Neo Zone, when they had talked about the deal, she knew it would be difficult to shake him off, and when she had... something inside her wanted them to meet again. Why are things so difficult? They are two different people from different backgrounds; why would she suddenly be interested in him? Was it because she saw him vulnerable the day before? Or was it because she believed there was something good in him, just like the nurse had said?

She must be crazy to think like that.

"You really don't want to do it," Jaehyun said with a bit more calmness.

"I know you can get out out of that hole, Jaehyun."

"Winwin's parents tried, and look how that ended up!" he exclaimed. "There's no way out in Neo Zone, get that through your head," he explained. "There's nothing good about me. I don't even know why you think so, just because yesterday you saw something different or because I drove you home a couple of times, doesn't mean you know everything about me!"

"Stop acting like a fucking jerk."

"Like a jerk? This is reality! Your act of charity isn't going to change my life. I was born a dealer, and that's how my life will end!"

"I really believe there's something good in you."

"Well, keep believing it."

"If you ever feel grateful, you know where to find me," the girl said, gathering her things and walking out of the library.

Jaehyun cursed under his breath and shook his hands in frustration. In just a few days, the girl had managed to push his buttons faster than anyone else from Neo Zone.

But when he saw her walk out the door, why did he feel regret for lashing out at her?

_______________________________________________

The week had been slow this time. (Y/N) and Jaehyun had been avoiding each other like the plague, not even looking at each other when they crossed paths in the hallway. For the girl, it seemed like childish behavior, especially coming from Jaehyun and his usual façade; now he seemed nothing more than someone throwing a tantrum after she only wanted to help him.

But she still thought she really wanted to get to know him better.

What was behind his façade? What was it that made him who he was? Not the boy from Neo Zone, not the dealer everyone knew... who was Jeong Jaehyun really?

That question had been on her mind for weeks, and it disappointed her a bit to know that she might never know the answers to those doubts she had about the boy.

Today was warm compared to the weather last week. The sun was shining brightly, and luckily for (Y/N), her mother had decided to return her car. So her day had started off on the right foot, and hoping for a good day, she took the opportunity to stop by her favorite coffee shop in Kwangya. Ordering her usual vanilla latte and just before it was time to pay, a thought invaded her mind, and after debating it internally, she decided to follow her thoughts.

An hour and a half later, when she was the last one to leave her physics class, someone blocked her path at the classroom door. Holding her book to her chest, after the unexpected startle, she looked ahead to find no one but Jaehyun. Who stood silently in front of her, with the same leather jacket he used to wear, the same combination of marijuana and vanilla scent, and with the same enchanting eyes, that she had just noticed.

She was in dangerous territory.

And she knew it.

"I need to go to my next class, Jaehyun," the girl said shortly.

For a few seconds, the boy in front of her didn't say anything, he just watched her, until he sighed and slowly said, "Thank you."

Short and to the point, he didn't say anything else, and that was enough to make (Y/N)'s heart flutter in a thousand ways.

"For the coffee," the boy finished. "And for the notes."

"I did my part, I told you I would help you," said (Y/N) as she fiddled with her fingers.

"I thought you wouldn't after the last time we met," Jaehyun confessed.

"I'm sticking to that."

A small silence ensued. Two people face to face. With thousands of doubts between them and things to resolve. What had drawn them together? How was it that the universe managed to put two completely different people in the same place?

"Did you mean it?" Jaehyun asked, and when he noticed that (Y/N) didn't understand what he meant, he continued. "About wanting to get to know me more."

(Y/N) swallowed hard and looking him in the eyes, nodded.

"I still believe there's something good in you."

"Why?"

"I don't know yet," she replied honestly. "And it's killing me. A while ago, I wouldn't have wanted anything to do with you, not even to cross paths, but now, I don't know what's changed, but every time I try to stay away, it's like something brings me back here," she confessed, leaving Jaehyun speechless, who just watched her, trying to decipher everything she was saying.

It was killing him too.

"Let's go to my car," he said.

"Huh?" she asked, confused.

"You want to know more about me, then get in my car," he said again, this time making his way to the parking lot, with (Y/N) behind him, who didn't say a single word, just followed his lead.

What was he doing?

When they reached the car, Jaehyun opened the passenger door, causing (Y/N) to get in without protesting. Then Jaehyun got into the driver's seat and without further ado, started the engine. She didn't know what was happening or what would happen next, but right now she could only trust Jaehyun.

Even though she didn't know how bad an idea that might be.

A few minutes later, as they had traveled a long distance, (Y/N) noticed they were approaching Neo Zone, and with her eyes wide open, she panicked.

"This is me," Jaehyun said out of nowhere, catching the girl's attention. "See all these streets? This is where I belong. This is what I am," he explained carefully.

(Y/N) looked out the window, a couple of people smoking on the sidewalk, others passing joints, and other silent streets. The houses weren't that big... rather, they looked cramped. Unlike what she was used to, to her lifestyle, this didn't seem like it would be enough for a family.

But what did she know with the privilege she had?

"I grew up here, this is what I know," he commented. "Most people are born and die here, it's something that seems to be already written," he continued as his car slowed down. "Those of us from here have a different perspective on life... people from Kwangya lives for the money... we live to survive, and although it's getting harder and harder, we manage to do it," the car finally stopped, and still looking out the window, (Y/N) saw a small house in front of them. One story, not much to describe or point out, it was small but for some reason, it looked cozy.

(Y/N) changed her gaze to Jaehyun, who was still looking ahead and spoke.

"Is this your house?"

Jaehyun nodded.

(Y/N) smiled softly.

"Would you invite me in?"

______________________________________________

He doesn't know how (Y/N) managed to have an effect on him, but now they were there, inside his little house, (Y/N) carefully examining the walls around them and analyzing every aspect of the small space.

He was grateful there were no one at home.

"It looks cozy," (Y/N) said as she looked at one of the frames hanging on the wall.

"I guess it's not even a third of your house," Jaehyun assured to (Y/N).

“And no matter how many people are there, it always feels lonely," she confessed. "It's like no one leaves anything there, like it's something unimportant. As if it's not a home," she finished.

Jaehyun looked at her gently, and as she looked around, thousands of things went through his mind.

"To be honest with you," the girl spoke. "I see more vibes from Jeno in this house than yours," she said. "Many things here seem related to Jeno... but I don't see many things related to you..." she continued. "It's like you don't even think about staying here for long."

"I don't plan on leaving Neo Zone," Jaehyun asserted, crossing his arms.

"Don't you want a different future?"

"There's no future for me," Jaehyun pointed out. "And if there were, I'd prefer to give it to Jeno. He has much more to live for than I do."

"You also have a life to live. A future to write, you can change what is today, for something better," (Y/N) turned around to face the boy.

"I have no way out," the boy replied. "Do you think this is easy? After seeing my dad die and doing everything my bosses ask me to do no matter what. Taking care of my mom, Jeno, and now Winwin? Huh? Making sure Winwin becomes who he was again and that my brother doesn't end up being a fucking addict are enough reasons for me not to leave here," Jaehyun concluded, getting dangerously close to her, with a few centimeters separating them.

The words echoed in her head strongly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't pity me," Jaehyun said under his breath.

"It's not that. It's just that every time I think about all this and now that I see your place and I don't see anything that seems to belong to you, it makes me think that's what you're looking for, to belong to something and leave here as soon as there's an opportunity,"

Jaehyun looked directly at her, not knowing what to say. And afraid to think that maybe she was right.

Because yes, maybe he wanted to get out of there, along with his mom, Jeno, and Winwin; maybe he wanted to do something with his life that wasn't illegal, but what was the point of thinking about it when he knew he wouldn't make it? He was afraid to admit that he wanted to be able to change things, to be able to make his family okay, that no shadow from the past would follow them, that they would have a place where they could forge a clean and safe future.

"This has never been about what I want," Jaehyun commented with a future. "Since I was born, everything around me was the gang. After my father's death, I knew what was coming, and I knew I would never be able to get out of it. It doesn’t matter what I want. It matter what my boss wants, he has that kind of power, no one below him has their own decision. The whole life of Neo Zone is ruled by him," he concluded, even closer to her.

(Y/N) looked him in the eyes, her breath uncontrolled. Her chest heaved, and her hands were sweating.

"What do you want, Jaehyun?" she whispered.

The boy paused for a moment and looked at her lips.

"Now?" he asked, and she nodded. "Would it be unrealistic to say that I want to kiss you?"

"How realistic would it be to say that I want you to do it?

She didn't even finish the question because Jaehyun's lips collided firmly with hers. The boy's long hands slid through (Y/N)'s soft hair, her hair smelling of lavender shampoo. He gently covered her cheek with one of his rough hands, and she melted into the touch.

It wasn't a hurried kiss, as (Y/N) thought it would be; actually, Jaehyun was taking the time to savor every passing second. As if this moment would disappear at any minute and he wanted to hold onto it.

Was he looking for something to belong to?

His hand moved from her cheek to her waist, and she took the opportunity to press her body against his and release a moan of pleasure. As if she felt complete leaning against Jaehyun's warmth.

As if it was something they both longed for for a long time.

And even though she wanted to continue with the act, they were severely interrupted when a car horn sounded incessantly outside the house, causing them to separate with tremendous confusion. (Y/N)'s red cheeks were enough to make Jaehyun's heart race, but when he heard another horn, he took her hand and they walked outside in hurry.

And then, there was Jeno, being thrown out of the back of a car, blood streaming from a cut on his eyebrow, bruises scattered all over his body, and falling firmly to the ground after being thrown.

"I want this to be the last time your brother sets foot in our zone. Next time it won't be him we throw," the familiar voice of a boy from the opposing gang spoke up. Chris. Who was with the window down and smiling maliciously. "Neither will it be you, Jung. It will be the girl who will end up like this,"

Jaehyun moved abruptly from his place to try to reach the car, but it left as fast as it could, (Y/N) shocked to hear those words, didn't do anything more than approach Jeno to help him up. Then Jaehyun cursed under his breath and looked into the distance at the girl and her brother together.

And his chest tightened as he realized that now, she too had been involved.

And he believed there was no turning back, because she was right... Jaehyun wanted to belong to something.

But how selfish would it be to belong to (Y/N)?

a/n: well now you know what happened to Winwin TT. Once again I’m sorry if this took too long I promise I’ll try to update sooner this time!

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

taglist: @spicyryujin @kriizztin @daegalismybiasinnct @peachfulnight @gojoscumslut @bluedbliss @dear-97 @girlwholoveslpreppyattire @hana-off-icial @cigarettesafterjae

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