#come back after chapter 7

[galaxythreads]

I've started IF (chapter 3) and so far I'm in love with Isabella and Hazel ~

They are smol little kitties who need to be adopted and comforted as soon as possible

😭😭😭😭 tysm. Also DO NOT go onto my side blog for this story because is riddled with spoilers and you will regret it. My entire reading group is on book 2, so that's what I talk about. (Of which Im trying to get another chapter out soon, I promise)

Anyway yes. Hazel and Iz are smol. Very smol. And I can't stop beating them up 😭 <- the author is not sad about this

[partystoragechest]

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

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, Trevelyan has someone she'd like to impress.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 3,848. Rating: all audiences, bar a few swears.)

Chapter 42: The Ball

The Great Hall was adorned in its finest, the banners of the Inquisition unfurled. A quartet played upon the dais, the floor before them awaiting its dancers. Attendees of every strata—advisors, digintaries, mages, soldiers—exhibited their most exquisite attire, anticipating the arrival of their guests of honour.

The door thundered open. A herald announced their names:

“Presenting! Lady Erridge of West Coldon, Lady Samient of Samient, Baroness Touledy of Val Misrenne, and Lady Trevelyan, of Ostwick!”

The Ladies strode in, none finer than they. Lady Erridge wore her pinkest, most ruffliest dress yet; Lady Samient wore her tightest, of dark, snakish leather; the Baroness wore her most glamorous, a gown in deep and passionate red—with a mahogany cane to match, of course.

Trevelyan entered last of all. The ballgown she wore? Unrecognisable.

The black brocade was gone, the lace ripped from its seams with wicked delight. All that remained was perfect canvas of purest navy, onto which it could be painted—with shining, silvery thread.

Her mother would’ve fumed at the very idea. But what good was learning embroidery, if one did not use it in defiance? Each Lady had taken up a quadrant of her own, yet the stitches they had sewed were all the same: dozens upon dozens of tiny, shimmering, stars.

Trevelyan sparkled with every step. Diamonds glittered around her neck, lent eagerly by the Baroness. Every candle’s flame glistened upon her. Even the night sky could not compare.

Were it not for the musicians, the room would have been stunned to silence. Whispers of admiration made their circuit. Trevelyan drank in the praise, striding through the parting crowds. They led her to the foot of the dais, where the Ladies had gathered, and where an elegant figure—clothed in blue and gold—stood tall. With little more than a smile and a gesture, Lady Montilyet brought the room to a hush.

“Friends of the Inquisition!” she proclaimed. “Thank you for attending! If I may, I wish to propose a small toast, to some of our departing guests.”

She raised her glass. “A toast to Lady Erridge and Lady Orroat, to the union of your families and of Coldon! A toast to the Baroness Touledy, for victory in Val Misrenne! And a toast to Lady Samient, for her safe journey home!”

Glasses and steins clinked together, accompanied by a hearty cheer.

“But to Lady Trevelyan of Ostwick,” Montilyet continued, “we do not say farewell. Gathered friends, may I please introduce you, to our new Arcanist!”

Applause went up, echoing off the walls, and filling the room with joy. Trevelyan laughed in delight, and caught glimpses of her friends amongst the crowd. Varric clapped, Dorian hollered, and even Sera cheered—though none were as enthusiastic as Dagna herself!

Still, there was one face she could not quite find.

“Tonight, we celebrate!” Montilyet declared. “So please, enjoy!”

The band launched into triumphant fanfare; good humour and good company were the orders of the evening. The Ladies, all aflutter, went about these goals with giddiness and verve.

“Won’t you come dance?” asked Erridge, having already recruited Lady Orroat to her cause.

Trevelyan startled, her attention elsewhere. She stumbled and stammered over her excuses. “Oh! Later, perhaps? There’s something, I, um...”

Lady Samient picked up on her meaning, and picked up her slack. “Come, Lady Erridge! I’ll dance with you.”

Appeased, Lady Erridge escorted her away. Trevelyan withdrew from the dancefloor.

She could dance another time. She did not wish to muss her hair or catch her skirt. Her eyes scanned the party. Her fingers trembled. The moment he saw her had to be perfect.

A hand caught her shoulder. The Baroness, apparently having already procured a drink, leant over, and tilted it forward.

“There,” she whispered.

The crowd parted, as if by her will. True to her word, at the other end of the room, there he stood. The man she’d been searching for.

The Commander.

Maker, he had only become more handsome the longer she had known him. That rough-hewn jaw of his, and the dishevelment of stubble upon it; the subtle waves in his hair, hints of his rebellious curls; those dimples upon his cheeks—the thumb-prints of the divine, left where the Maker’s scultping hand had gone astray.

And his weary eyes, whose gentle gaze found her, and drew her closer.

Trevelyan admired, as she approached, the coincidence of the navy blue doublet that Lady Montilyet had undoubtedly advised him to wear. Hm. She liked him better in red. Suited him more, perhaps—though it mattered little. There was nothing that could dull the shine of him; true gold, after all, did never rust.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, as he straightened to greet her. And he would have done so, perhaps warmly, perhaps sweetly—had a scout, uniformed and on duty, not appeared at his side.

Ah, fuck.

They whispered something to him beneath the hubbub of the ball, which sharpened back into focus. Though Trevelyan heard nothing of the Commander’s reply, when his attention returned to her, his smile was gone.

“Arcanist,” he said, with a bow. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. There is urgent business to which I must attend.”

Bloody typical.

“Of course,” she told him, magnanimously. “Duty calls.”

“At inconvenient times,” he muttered.

“No duty is ever convenient,” she commented. That seemed to amuse him, at least.

“I will return as soon as I am able, I assure you.”

“Yes, Commander.”

She curtsied to him, and allowed him to depart. The scout lingered by the rotunda door; the Commander followed them through.

Gone.

Trevelyan looked down at her pretty, sparkly skirt, and fluffed it up, pointlessly. Not quite the moment she’d been hoping for.

Oh, well. She would have ample opportunity for such moments with him in the coming days. If he didn’t get called away by something or other during those, too.

Stowing her frustration, Trevelyan returned to the party. There was plenty there to distract her, anyway. She watched the Ladies dance together; she enthused with Dagna about their work; she spoke to Lady Montilyet about her new quarters (ready tomorrow!); and she gossiped with Dorian about absolutely nothing of note—though he was, as always, terribly good conversation.

Yet still no Commander.

The noise of the music and the chatter and the stomps of the dancing were beginning to blur in her brain. Dorian noted her change in temperament, as she attempted to peer through the garden door from afar. Too many in attendance; the party had spilled out into it. It was no less busy out there than it was in here.

“Try up there,” Dorian suggested, indicating the mezzanine above. It seemed Sera had been banned from it today, as there was no skulking to be seen. “It has a balcony, if you need some air.”

“Thank you,” said Trevelyan. She’d had little cause to ever stray up there before—but this seemed as good a reason as any. She bid him farewell, and escaped up the stairs.

The moment she reached their peak, her troubled mind calmed. Mere feet above the chaos, the music came quieter, the conversation nothing more than ambience. Thank the Maker.

Besides, this mezzanine was well-furnished for a somewhat hidden space, with a luxurious chaise and portraits of figures Trevelyan did not quite recognise. The candelabrum here were not lit, leaving all illumination to that of the moons, whose glow trickled through a pair of glass doors—beyond which, as promised, was a balcony.

But Trevelyan felt enough at ease to stay inside—and she found the view of the party below to be quite of interest. The dancers weaved such wonderful patterns; outfits, in all colours, were arrayed like a painter’s palette. She could watch, as those she knew flitted from one group, to another. An enjoyable pict—

The rotunda door opened, drawing her eye. The Commander entered the hall. He strode into the party with such determination, it was as if it did not exist around him. Trevelyan traced his path as it led him, direct, to the Baroness.

They huddled against a wall. He whispered something. Urgent business? Oh, no.

But the Baroness smiled. Wider and wider. She asked him a question; he replied with nod. She placed a hand over her heart, and sighed. Trevelyan did the same.

If the news they shared was what she hoped, then she was rather glad she hadn’t kicked up a fuss at the Commander’s departure. Because if it was what she hoped, then he could have left all night, and still she would smile.

Maker, she had to see the Baroness—and she would have, if not for the feet hurrying up the stairs. The Baroness? No cane. Then—!

The Commander sprang onto the landing, startling himself as much as he startled her, determination abandoning him in an instant. “Arcanist!” he stammered, attempting to bow. “Forgive me—Dorian told me you were here.”

That crafty bastard. Trevelyan put his schemes aside, and asked, “Is everything all right, Commander? What was your urgent business?”

Before he’d even said a word, he smiled. That alone brought her relief. “There was a message from the Inquisitor,” he told her. “The battle is won. Val Misrenne is safe.”

Trevelyan could scarcely believe it. She clasped a hand over her mouth, a beaming smile beneath it. She shook her head, out of sheer incredulity. By Andraste. She could not fathom how dear Touledy felt.

“Thank the Maker,” she breathed. “Or, I suppose—thank you, Commander.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I think it is the Inquisitor’s party and the guard of Val Misrenne who ought to have the credit of it.”

“Of course, but you may take a little as well, Commander. Your handling of the situation was… impressive, to say the least.”

Such a compliment did not seem to sit well with him, for he stuttered as if he had not the words to form a reply. Awkwardness prevailed, until his fortunes changed, and his eyes chanced upon the balcony doors.

“Forgive me, I didn’t meant to disturb you. Were you… headed outside?”

Trevelyan smiled. She looked at them, then at him. “Preferably not alone.”

“Oh. I could...”

She backed into the doors, her eyes beckoning him to follow. He trailed after her as if in a trance, stepping through, to the tranquil night beyond.

The stars above shone in greeting, illuminating the finely-carved stone of the balcony balustrade. Trevelyan rested herself upon it, gazing out. The Commander’s presence, a warmth in the absence of the sun, settled beside her.

“It’s... a nice night,” he said.

She quite agreed. The entire courtyard was laid out before them, from the tavern—as lively as the party they’d left behind—to the stables—quiet, at this time of day. Moonlit stone, punctuated by glowing torchlight, encircled the fortress, and banished the darkness from its embrace.

“I, ah, have something for you,” he said, hand fumbling within his jacket. “I believe this is yours.”

He managed to locate this ‘something’, and freed it from its concealment. A white cloth, that flashed in the moonlight, embroidered with leaves Trevelyan recognised. It was far more pristine than the last time she’d seen it.

The napkin slipped pleasantly from the Commander’s fingers into her own. She noted the warmth of his proximity, still lingering within the weave, and the sweet, earthy scent that had been left by his possession.

“Technically,” she teased, “I believe it is Lady Montilyet’s.”

“I hardly think she’ll miss it.”

“I certainly hope so.” She tucked it away—safe. “Thank you, Commander.”

“Thank you for the use of it,” he said. “Though, speaking of Lady Montilyet—you, ah, took the offer. To become Arcanist.”

“I did.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

The Commander stammered, “For you—I mean. I mean, I am glad. That—despite how you came to be here—you have found enough reason to stay.”

Trevelyan shook her head, and smiled. “I know that I ought to have left, and truly have started my life afresh… but that would have been dishonest, to what I truly want.”

“May I ask… what is it?”

“What?”

The Commander met her eye. “That you… want?”

She bit back the smile that threatened to betray her. “Well… I suppose there is one thing—”

Feet clattered up the stairs. Trevelyan stopped herself. As if she were summoned by these precise circumstances, Lady Erridge stumbled out onto the mezzanine.

“Lady Trevelyan!” she called. “Oh, Commander, there you are! Sorry to disrupt, but I came to see if you should like to dance!”

The Commander shook his head. “No, thank you. I don’t dance.”

Erridge giggled. “I know! I wasn’t speaking to you, Commander! Come, Lady Trevelyan! The Commander shall have plenty of time to whisper with you when we are gone!”

Though the interruption was not exactly ideal, Trevelyan could not deny the sentiment. She curtsied to the Commander, somewhat apologetically.

“It seems I am summoned away. Urgent business, I believe they call it.”

His mouth tilted into a smirk; it made her skin tingle. “Another time, then.”

“Of course.”

Raucous music caught their ears, and Erridge perked. “Come along!” she said, snatching up Trevelyan’s hand. She threw a hasty farewell to the Commander over her shoulder, and whisked Trevelyan away. They tumbled down the stairs together, bursting onto the main floor of the hall—as the band cued a jig.

“Over here!” called Samient and Orroat, from the dancefloor. In the absence of Lady Erridge, they had partnered together—but saved a spot beside them, just in case.

Trevelyan and Erridge squeezed past the other dancers, and hurried to take it. They joined hands—properly, this time—and waited for the song to start, giggling all the while.

Strings and wind erupted into a prancing melody of alternating highs and lows, and caught them quite off-guard. But Lady Erridge sprang to action, and Trevelyan followed her lead. They bounced around the floor with zest and zeal, clapping their hands, kicking their legs into the air. Skirts clashed and flew, an explosion of fabric and colour.

It burst apart, into an exchange of dancers. Trevelyan sailed into the arms of Lady Orroat, who cut as fine a form as one could expect.

“So this is what you were all up to yesterday?” she said, of Trevelyan’s dress. “Maker, it’s beautiful!”

Though the compliment was quite routine, a look of panic struck the passing Lady Erridge. “Look, dear Orroat!” she called, loosing a hand from Samient’s, to jab her finger at some collection of stars. “I sewed those ones!”

Dancers parted again, to what must have been Erridge’s utmost relief. Trevelyan swapped Orroat for Samient, the latter of whom smiled as if amused.

“It seems dear Erridge has quite reversed her position on your knowing Lady Orroat,” she whispered.

Trevelyan giggled. “Good, for I could hardly say we should make such a handsome couple as they!”

Nor one so well-suited. It seemed the touch of her dear Orroat’s hand had quelled Lady Erridge’s worry in an instant, and the pair twirled and danced so pleasantly to the eye, it made Trevelyan miss a step. Samient ably accounted for the fumble. It was a wonder how she danced so well, in a dress so constricting. Then again, it was a wonder how this was Trevelyan’s first stumble, in a dress so grand.

Though their jig came to an end, another began—and Lady Erridge would not be satisfied with just the one! Trevelyan was made to dance the next three complete, until—quite exhausted—she formulated an excuse, and made her exit.

The sight of the Baroness at the edge of the dancefloor was quite welcome, as if safety and anchor in a storm. Trevelyan hurried towards her, and greeted her with a smile and an embrace—for which they both knew the reason.

“I’ve heard the news,” she said, as she recovered her breath. “How do you feel?”

The Baroness sighed. “Relieved. When I leave for my home tomorrow, I shall return to find it at peace—but that peace has not come without sacrifice. And yet, I know it could have been so much more. That Val Misrenne and its people still stand is worth celebrating.”

“It is. And I hope that it brings you peace, as well.”

Trevelyan hugged her again—but the music’s sudden and effervescent return caused her to jump. Laughing at herself, Trevelyan glanced back at the dancefloor.

“You know, I am surprised Lady Erridge has not called you up for a jig!”

The Baroness chuckled. “No, no, my leg is far too frail for that.”

“Really?” Trevelyan raised an eyebrow. “I remember you saying that you still dance.”

“I do.” She grinned. “But the leg is an excellent excuse.”

Trevelyan caught her meaning. “Lady Erridge’s enthusiasm is quite difficult to match.”

“Indeed. She has the stamina of a demon. Though I’m sure Lady Orroat could find some use for that.”

Trevelyan laughed. “Your Ladyship! Please, I feel so terrible teasing her!”

“Then you should not like to hear what we say about you and him.”

The Baroness winked, as if to point. Trevelyan, utterly confused by who ‘him’ was, heeded the suggestion. She turned, laid her eyes upon the man in question, and groaned. Weaving past the dancers was—she ought to have guessed it—the Commander.

“Oh, Maker! You all have far too much—” She halted, realising the Baroness’s mouth was half-open, her cane being raised in the air. “No, no—!”

“Commander!”

He heard the call. His head whipped round. No stopping it now—he was coming towards them.

“Baroness!” Trevelyan hissed.

Touledy smiled, gave a suggestive flick of her brow, and said nothing more. Though Trevelyan was almost glad of this—the Commander ought not hear anything she was thinking.

“Ladies,” he greeted, upon arrival. “Is there something you need?”

“Why, yes,” said Touledy, all too confidently. What was she up to? “Lady Trevelyan here wishes another dance, but I am afraid I am unable to”—she flashed her cane—“would you be able to dance with her Ladyship, in my stead?”

“Oh.” The Commander softened. "Are you all right?”

Trevelyan noted, rather indignantly, that the Commander asked this question with the same sort of gentle voice that he often put on for her. This was a concept which, she suddenly discovered, she did not like. Why, oh why, did she have to make him befriend the other Ladies? Fool.

“Yes, thank you,” the Baroness answered, “but her Ladyship must have a dance.”

Trevelyan rolled her eyes. “But Baroness, the Commander does not like to dance, and I—”

“I could try,” he said.

Trevelyan stared at him. She thought of a thousand questions in response to this. But somehow, the only one she could quite manage was:

“What?”

“If you would like to.”

Oh. Well, there was little chance of her saying anything other than, “Yes.”

The Baroness grinned, relishing in her triumph. “Go on, then,” she said, “enjoy.”

Easier said than done. At least Trevelyan had danced enough jigs with Lady Erridge to know what she was to do with them, now. In her mind, as they walked to the floor, she went over the steps. Left, left, kick, clap. Switch. Then to the right? But—

The music grew in volume. Yet it sounded like no jig she’d ever heard. Trevelyan realised that the musicians had betrayed her. Not a jig. Not at all.

Sweet, slow strings floated across the hall. A… romantic melody, that had couples approaching the floor. Dear Maker fucking Andraste shitting Void. People linked hands and put them on waists and Trevelyan realised that she was in the midst of it, surrounded, and there was no escape, and she would have to do those things herself.

She faced the Commander. Maker, why did he have to look so pretty and be so sweet? This sort of thing was far simpler with unimportant suitors that one could so easily discard after, even if one did step on their toes.

He offered a hand. Trevelyan’s shook.

But still, they met.

Her fingers slid into his palm, sensing the warmth that emanated from beneath the leather of his glove. The feeling of his skin, however rugged or tender, was cruelly left to the imagination. She savoured it regardless.

Her other hand gathered up her skirts, like the rest of the dress-wearers were doing. Almost in position. There was simply one last thing to emulate—

The Commander’s hand moved for her waist, hesitant in its approach. The first touches of his fingertips—gentler even than that of cotton or down—caused her body to tense. She did not know how she was to bear his entire hand.

But his hand stopped short. It instead hovered over the fabric of her dress, as if afraid to press any further. Disappointing.

Nevertheless, the gentle strings of anticipation harmonised into a symphony. Dancing commenced, and the Commander’s feet shifted. Trevelyan mirrored his steps. Her nerves hit a peak.

And then, began to fade.

Because dancing with him was unlike dancing with anyone she had danced with before. It felt different. Gentler. Warmer. Safer. No pressure for extravagance, or flourish. It almost did not matter if she was dancing well or not. It was only him that mattered.

“You should dance more often,” she whispered to him. “You do it well.”

He smiled, softly, and said, “All right.”

Her words must have emboldened him, for his grip around her hand firmed and strengthened, and he drew her closer by its pull. His other hand slipped around her back, fitting perfectly into the mold of her body. The gap between them was more indistinct than ever.

Yet in that closeness was comfort. Her head, laid on his shoulder. The warmth of his chest, felt within her own. That gentle, soothing sway they shared. She let her eyes fall shut, the dancers fall away, and listened only to the beat of his heart. Trevelyan could have stayed like that for an eternity.

But the music slowly, gradually, dulled to quiet. The other dancers reappeared around them, the party audible once more. It was over.

They came to a standstill. Trevelyan’s hand reluctantly left his grasp; his trailed away from her waist. Yet still, she smiled, for nothing could take it from her lips.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“I shan’t make you dance another.”

“That’s… all right.” He rubbed his neck. “Will you, ah, be stargazing tonight?”

She played with her dress. “Most likely.”

“Ah. Good.”

She curtsied, he bowed. He left, she stayed. Her feet still wobbled, a little.

But she would have to recover quickly. For she turned to her side, and saw complete what had, until now, been only a disruption in her periphery: the Ladies, huddled together, in keen observance.

Trevelyan shook her head, and, before they could open their mouths, told them firm:

“Not one word.”

[kenzan-kiwami]

to be completely frank i think most of the people i've seen with major complaints regarding RGG 8's story are forgetting that 99% of what they're saying can be applied across the whole series

[slippery-minghus]

System Breach Sundayyy! ⭕

The notebook was surprisingly full. It seemed to be a complete work, as opposed to the encrypted log retrieved from Rupert’s apartment, which Connor suspected to have been an ongoing journal. From the crime scene photos, the notebook had been found in plain sight at that—perhaps even left out intentionally. 

Metaphorical gears spun, tractionless, as Connor attempted to reconcile the possibility that this deviant had wanted to send them a message. Premeditation, planning, arrogance—how could errors and instability in an android’s code produce such sophisticated behavior? Or even a simulacrum of such?

Connor blinked down at the open page, realizing he’d become distracted. For now, his primary focus needed to remain on cataloguing the contents of the notebook. He had just enough bandwidth to run the start of a codification analysis in the background, but nothing more. 

Save for a few dozen interspersed blank pages, the notebook was all but overflowing with writings, drawings, and pasted in cutouts. While Connor could not yet parse the meaning of what he found on each page, the cutouts appeared to be primarily sourced from print books. The writings and drawings were produced with precision only an android could replicate, all in ink from a pen so common that several of the same model could be found strewn across the Lieutenant's desk. Other than those belonging to Detective Collins, there were no fingerprints anywhere within the notebook. 

There were, however, traces of evaporated thirium splattered and smudged across several pages. Primarily those with handwritten—

Connor’s focus broke. Shattered, violently. 

The notebook had been ripped from his grasp.

“—talking to you, dipshit!”

[hauntingblue]

ENIES LOBBY TIME!!!

Sanji's face here.... he Knows he is going to fuck him up

THAT IS SANJI??? 😨

Holding them in my hands again....

Sanji struck a nerve there akdjaoajkq

Increible trio btw.... look at the evidence

............ me next please 🙏🏻

That is love right there I can see it

What if we all killed ourselves (except usopp is telling her the opposite ajahkdhsakjd)

I need sanji to go insane like this more often.... after the timeskip it doesn't happen as much and I love to see him suffering

This is so funny.... there is no denying to her face card

"It's not like she actually wants to die" well yes she does, but no because you know she doesn't really. It is in a quantum state right now

Luffy is such a menace akdhaksjkaak

TELL EM!!!! THAT'S MY GIRL!!!!

Look at franky worrying about robin.... do not fret luffy is coming and he will NOT lose!!!!!

This is zoro remarking how usopps fear of being left behind makes no sense.... this is so good.....

This is so endearing but it also breaks my heart....

Who is that sultry binch... (I don't recall this attack AT ALL and i'm sure we never see it again)

They botched his bbl.... 😔😔😔

Luffy's face here... he was convinced she wanted to go with them but was compelled to do otherwise but no.... he thought wrong and he can't fight to her.... I've just been staring at this page for minutes like damn.

Nevermind.... this is something your mother would say "you want to die??? Just wash the dishes and you can do whatever you want later"

"If you wanna die, or whatever...." this is so good like he knows what he is doing.... he Knows.... look at her face. After knowing how luffy and ace were as kids this just makes more sense (oda didn't think about this i'm sure but damn does it fit) also the slight manipulation.... look at all of us we're already here and look how we all miss you already... you know that post about luffy being selfish but his selfishness is jusg kindness to others... yesh

Thinking about robin's cinderella lifestyle.... why did her mother leave her with that aunt and why didn't some archeologist take her in?? Because she doesn't complain about anything just like she doesn't respond when that mother accused her of hitting her child without reason... that's so fucked

Alright this is funny (and also true)... I'm sorry fellow women....

*Justin Bieber voice* I like your laugh... dereishi shishishi

SHE'S GONNA ASK HER MOM TO TAKE HER TO THE SEA WITH HER??? LIKE SHE DOES AFTER WITH LUFFY??? MY GOD!!! I just bursted into tears like I got punched in the nose I can't keep going ajdhakajk

I lied i can keep going... but head in my hands over this....

Find out how my emotional stability survives this arc in ennies lobby part 2. coming soon

[akkivee]

the arb brand surprise for the 1️⃣🐴💉event was an unexploded bomb going off and helping ichiro’s senpai’s business out in the process, which truly is just ✨arb things✨ lol, but it reinforces the impact the war had on japan, as we see from jakurai’s homecoming conversation in the fpmtr➕ manga

[causenessus]

JUST KNOW APPARENTLY I MISCOUNTED MY TAGS AND I WANTED TO PUT THIS IN MY FAVORITES AND PANTRY STAPLES AND FIRST AID KIT BUT I DIDN'T HAVE ENOUGH ROOM SO I SWITCHED OUT PANTRY STAPLE TAG FOR THE FIRST AID KIT TAG!!! (this makes sense to no one but me BUT EGGY THIS WAS SO GOOD)

THE MANEATER CHAPTER NINE: diet pepsi

masterlist

divider credits to roseraris

"Man, I swear she's the one who asked me."

Iwaizumi believes him. That’s the worst part. Actually, the worst part is this odd pang he gets in his chest. He doesn’t have the right to feel betrayed, and yet, here he is, feeling betrayed and jealous and pushing some random man out the door just because she batted her eyelashes at him.

He’s fucked. Iwaizumi’s totally fucked.

“Don’t care. Club’s closed, go home,” Iwaizumi instructs, tone cold and detached. And before pretty boy can respond, he’s closing the doors in his face and locking them, more than ready for this fucking night to be over with.

She’s in their spot, sitting on a milk crate, cigarette hanging lazily from her lips, in one of her ridiculous outfits. Iwaizumi sighs at the sight of her; her drunkenness is evident in the way her limbs hang from her, sloppily, like they’re hardly connected to her at all. He doesn’t try to convince himself he’s not worried. Iwaizumi’s past that point.

She offers no reaction as he pulls up his milk crate to sit beside her, she just pulls the cigarettes away and breaths out a line of smoke. “Rough night?” Iwaizumi asks.

“Fuck off,” she mumbles, but there’s none of her usual bite to it. “Thanks for getting that guy off me. I changed my mind about thirty seconds in.”

Iwaizumi squirms. “Yeah, I could tell.”

They sit in silence for a moment. Iwaizumi doesn’t move. He’s never quite seen her like this before. Quiet and solemn. Even with a drink thrown in her face she was blubbering and expressive and loud. Now her expression is straight and unwavering, her words a pitch lower than they usually are. He doesn’t know how to deal with her like this.

“I got into an argument with Kiyoko,” she offers suddenly, and Iwaizumi tilts his head to look directly at her. “Was my fault, for sure. But she wants to quit, get her own place. She said she’s tired of this lifestyle.”

Iwaizumi watches her face for any give or any sort of tell. But she doesn’t flinch or twitch and there’s no watering in her eyes and this feels suddenly more severe than any other conversation they’ve had. He shifts and pulls out a cigarette of his own. “And, to you,” Iwaizumi starts, flicking at the end of his lighter, “this lifestyle is sorta synonymous with you, right?”

She turns her head to glare at him. She looks tired, that coating of makeup on her face doing little to conceal the dark bruises under her eyes. “Don’t be a dick about it.”

“I’m not being a dick about it,” he contests gently, exhaling smoke. “I’d be upset too.”

“You would?”

He nods. “Yeah. It fucking sucks when it feels like people are moving on from you.”

Her head drops, and her eyes find the ground. “She’s my best friend. I was mean to her.”

Iwaizumi does something unexpected then. He doesn’t realize he’s doing it until he’s already done it, but he raises his arm and throws it over her shoulder, pulling her and her milk crate closer to him as he does so. His heart hammers in his throat when she lets her head fall against his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you.”

There are goosebumps on the skin of her arm. Iwaizumi can feel them, and he lets himself believe they’re not from the chilled, late summer night. “I wanted to go home with someone so I wouldn’t have to go home to see her. Is that pathetic?”

Iwaizumi swallows a lump in his throat. “You can come back to my place, if you want.”

✧˖*°࿐

She’s standing in Iwaizumi’s bedroom. She cleaned her face off with Oikawa’s micellar water and used his expensive face wash and moisturizer. She pulled off her fake eyelashes and left them on Iwaizumi’s nightstand, next to the glass of water and Advil he left her, and now she’s standing in the middle of his bedroom, wearing a t-shirt he pulled from the bottom of his drawer and a pair of sweatpants she had to roll up not to trip over.

His room is exactly what she would expect. Plain walls and grey sheets. Methodically neat and organized. Black wooden furniture and dumbbells stuffed in the corner. It feels oddly familiar, being in a room that is so him.

There’s a knock on the other side of the door. Polite of him to knock on his own bedroom door. Standing feels awkward, so she sits at the edge of his bed. “Come in,” she says, quieter than she needs to, like she’s afraid of getting caught.

Iwaizumi opens the door, and then hovers there for a moment. He looks like he has something caught in his throat. “Do you need anything else?” he asks.

“Nah. Are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the couch though?” she asks, knotting her hands together on her lap.

“Take the bed,” he insists. He has an expression on that she can’t read. That might be on purpose. “You look different.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Different?”

“Without all the makeup. Less intimidating, I guess.”

“Sorry,” she says with a slight eyeroll. “I’ll put a full face of makeup back on, so you don’t get uncomfortable by what I actually look like.”

“Not uncomfortable,” Iwaizumi is quick to correct, and then he takes a step back, hand reaching for the light. “Goodnight.”

He leaves her in the darkness, and she settles into his sheets. They smell like him. And she’s not sure if she’s still just too drunk, but she sort of hopes the smell lingers on her skin by morning. It’s the last thought she has before she falls asleep.

✧˖*°࿐

She is awoken before she’s ready. The blinds of his bedroom are ripped open, and the morning sunlight invades her rest. She groans, and grabs the closest corner of blanket she can find to pull it over her face. “Go away,” she grumbles.

Iwaizumi chuckles. “Gotta get up, brat. I got you breakfast.”

She groans. “Don’t want breakfast. Wanna sleep.”

She doesn’t know what time it is and it’s hardly even registered where exactly she is. All she can think about is hiding in possibly the warmest and softest place she’s ever been in her life, and sleeping for eight more hours or so.

And then, the blanket is ripped from her, and once exposed to the cold, outside air, she shoots upright. Iwaizumi grins. She glares. “Breakfast, c’mon. Before my roommates wake up.”

That motivates her. With less reluctance now, she rises, and follows Iwaizumi to his kitchen, quietly complaining the entire time, continuing to do so as she devours as a bagel. Whatever last night was, it was just theirs. No roommates need to know.

When she leaves, she leaves in his clothes, her own ones bundled up into tight balls of fabric and shoved to the bottom of her purse. She wears her platform boots under his sweatpants and at least they allow her a few extra inches of height so she’s not dragging them along the pavement as Iwaizumi walks her home.

By the time he leaves her at her front door, they’ve returned to normal, trading insults back and forth like it’s the only language they know how to speak. But when she closes her own bedroom door behind her and falls onto her bed, she’s still wearing his clothes, and it all feels different.

✧˖*°࿐

Iwaizumi was going to wash his sheets. But he lies down on top of his bed, and notices they smell like her perfume. He looks to his nightstand, and sees her fake eyelashes, lying there with bits of glue stuck to them. And he decides to leave the traces of her there, for now.

extras!

yn rode home from the club with iwaizumi on the back of his skateboard

he went slower than usual because he was afraid of her getting hurt

yn and kiyoko has fought before but they always make up in the end ; yn takes it harder when she fights with kiyoko because she hates the feeling of disappointing her

iwaizumi had her ass up and out of bed at 7:30 in the goddamn morning

she was pissed

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[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference]reacting to their s/o calling them husband/wife for the first time

I’ve finished the first chapter of the long fic about Universe 7 (Anytime it rains). As soon as my second beta reader gives me the okay, I’ll post it. While I wait, I’ve written the first headcanon (out of three I’m definitely planning to write and post in the next few days) and picked up the drawing of Steb I’d left unfinished. I’m slow, as usual, but English isn’t my first language, and I’m juggling a lot of things at once. Enjoy!

socials: | INPRNT | | Tip Jar | | X | | BlueSky | | Ao3 | poster: | Jayce poster | | Silco poster | |Silco +self insert poster 1| | Steb poster | if you want to read the fluff longfic with vander and his happy family + Silco x reader you can find it here! ↠ Masterlist

Jayce:

-This man is planning to put a ring on your finger as soon as possible, okay? -Between the academy, public appearances, and both theoretical and practical studies, there isn’t a single moment when he’s really in the right mindset to bring up the topic -The worst part is that, deep down, he’s terrified of putting pressure on you -That’s why, the first time he hears you refer to him as “my husband” during a gala with noble families, he almost chokes -He has to gather all his strength not to grab the interlocutor by the shoulders and ask if they also heard you say that word -He’ll try to keep his composure, maybe responding to your remark with, “Yes, exactly. Her husband really did say/do/design that.”

Viktor:

-It’s not a thought he’s ever really entertained; it never crossed his mind -Part of it is that science is his priority, and part of it is that marriage doesn’t seem like something meant for people like him, -The first time you call him “your husband”, that thought suddenly becomes real in his head, and he can’t help but lean against a wall and wait for the other person to leave -“So, I’m your husband now, huh? Mmm… I don’t mind, a bit pretentious, though…” he jokes, making you roll your eyes -Now, more than ever, he has no idea what to do. He’ll give you a bronze ring from a machine he’s building -“Until I can get one worthy of you.”

Ekko:

-Yes -That’s it -The end -Okay, seriously. The idea of being certain that something will last forever is probably his greatest wish -The first time you call him your husband, he doesn’t see it coming -“Wait, you’re married?” -“I was talking about you, Ekko.” -The moment you say it, he points to his chest, you see his lip tremble slightly, and his eyes grow shinier -He won’t stop talking about it for a week, and at least once a day, he’ll ask if you still want to marry him, if you’re sure, if you love him -No rings before S2; the promise is made by drawing something for each other on your masks and clothes -After S2, he still can’t afford a ring, but now that life is more stable, he can start thinking about a more traditional gift, like a piece of jewelry

Vander:

-This man is ravenous for any family role you might offer him—fiancé, father, husband. Anything goes -The first time you call him “husband”, he plays it cool but will seize the first opportunity to return the favor by telling a customer you’re married -As soon as he can, he’ll squeeze your hand, even under the counter -The idea of being married and having a complete family is everything he’s ever wanted -He won’t stop calling you “my beautiful wife/husband” from that moment on.

-You said it first; you can’t take it back. Now you have to get married

Silco (old man):

-This man’s only sin is loving too much, but I’ll save that reflection for another post -Having no ties other than his illegitimate daughter doesn’t make him someone who’s particularly keen on formalities -The first time you call him “your husband” is in front of Sevika, and he slowly turns to look at you, while she slowly turns to look at him -“Did I... miss something?” Sevika asks, but he doesn’t reply, still perplexed, before glancing at her and saying, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” -He’s relieved but doesn’t show it. He can’t afford to just yet -As soon as he confirms you were serious, your name will be flamboyantly forgotten—he’ll constantly refer to you as “my wife/husband”

Silco (young):

-The man who survives on love -The first time you call him your husband is in front of Vander, and while Vander bursts out laughing, Silco chokes on his drink -“Are you serious?” He’s so happy that his pale iris are completely swallowed by his dilated pupils -He grabs a pen and draws a ring around your finger -To his credit, he works in a mine, so it’s hard to do better than that, but it becomes the goal that keeps him going -Completely focused on family, the future, and anything that sees the two of you together and happy

Steb:

-The first time you call him your husband is at a dinner among enforcer families, and being mute doesn’t stop him from stealing the spotlight -He whips around, blinking slowly with only his third eyelid in a gesture of confusion -When he’s 100% sure he understood what you said, his eyes widen, the small membranes under his eyes flutter madly, and even the barely visible gills near his jaw gasp for a moment -Someone says, “I didn’t know you were married,” and he immediately nods enthusiastically, not giving you time to take it back -Within 48 hours, he’ll have the ring ready

Jinx:

-The first time you call her “your wife”, she freezes -“What did you just call me?” -She’s used to being a little sister, a big sister, a daughter—she’d never thought she could be a wife. Family ties aren’t chosen, but the idea that someone would want her in their life so much they’d marry her feels incredible -“You want to marry me? Really? Why?” -She bursts into tears, and it’ll take at least 24 hours of cuddling in bed to calm her down -After that, she’ll run to her father to announce that she’s now a married woman

Vi:

-She might not be Silco and/or Vander’s blood daughter, but she’s inherited their deep desire for family -From her family’s tragic fate to Vander’s, she’s always seen family as the ultimate aspiration -When you call her “your wife” for the first time, she doesn’t notice right away, but a full minute later, she whirls around to look at you, as if to ask for confirmation -“Say it again.” -“...You need to buy bread?” -“No, all of it.” -“My wife needs to go buy bread.” -“Again.”

-"My... wife?"

-"Again"

Caitlyn:

-Has she thought about it? Yes -Was she planning to act on it? Not exactly -Caitlyn struggles with emotions and feelings, which is why she hesitates and takes her time -But when you first call her “your wife”, her brain completely shuts off—she just stares at you, unable to hear a single word being said -If you or someone else asks her a question, she’ll snap out of it and respond, -“My wife/husband said everything.” Even if it makes no sense as an answer, making you laugh and leaving the other person baffled

Mel:

-Not a single flicker of surprise—the first time you call her “your wife”, she remains completely composed -“So, I’m your wife?” she asks as soon as you’re in private, approaching you like a feline. You can almost hear the purr in her voice -She’s amused but also intrigued by whatever game you’re playing -The idea of marriage is complicated for her—on one hand, it feels like it would limit her freedom to act, while on the other, unresolved family issues seem to devour her at the mere thought of starting a new cycle -She’ll tell you to go ahead, to get married, but she’ll also ask for time -In the meantime, though, she’ll start using the term “husband/wife” with you—she likes the way it rolls off her tongue

Sevika:

-Between the work she does, the environment she lives in, and all the interesting circumstances of her life, marriage has never been on her radar -Not to mention that in Zaun, it’s not exactly a common practice—people just move in together and build families when they can, without much fuss over formalities or bureaucracy -The first time it happens, she’s playing cards with the other goons, and you casually ask if “your wife is winning” -Her first reaction isn’t even hers—it’s the others’. Dustin, the blond goon with the lazy eye, almost starts crying, embarrassing her -Don’t worry, she’ll make you pay for it at home -She won’t ask to formalize anything, but in true Zaunite fashion, she’ll consider you married, plain and simple

[rieamena]

totally (not) beating the allegations

best friend!takuma ino headcanons

contains... best friends to lovers, mutual pining, casual confession of love, kisses (platonic), kisses (romantic), modern au, high school to university au, living together-ish, fem intended reader, pet names (baby, babe, love, sexy, handsome, beautiful, sweetie, the list goes on and on), lots of physical touch, nicknames (you call takuma, kuma.), reader has a mother and a father, y'all are basically dating just without the label...

word count: 2.3k (this wasn't supposed to be long. i told myself 0.8k maximum...)

riea's comments: all sixteen people living in takuma city RISE UP! i miss my husband of 35 years so much, come back to me loml :(( something to munch on while y'all wait for the next full throttle chapter. also not too much on me if this is a drabble and not hcs idk the difference :))

first off... i just wanna say that i KNOW I KNOW that ino is one of the funniest people in the jjk cast idc idc!!! if he had more screentime (and if the situation wasnt dire) my boy would be crackin some jokes!!!!

you've been friends with takuma for around 7 years, your first meeting happening in tenth grade, when your teacher paired you two up for an interview project. when time came to actually record the interviews, it was hard to edit out you two laughing uncontrollably every fifteen seconds or so

i mean, you two just had so much in common!!! same favorite color, same favorite franchise, same favorite tv show, same favorite video game; it was like yall were the same person. there was just one thing you both disagreed on: whether hex code #286061 was blue or green

your argument ended up being the last ten minutes of the final video you submitted...

without a doubt, after that, you two became inseparable. in school, people would take notice of your closeness. when one of you were absent, teachers would jokingly ask "where's the other one?"

there was not a single thing you didn't do together, homework, go to the gym, gossip, eavesdrop, etc etc. so of course, you ended up applying to the same universities and when it came time for college acceptance season...

takuma invited you over, forcing you to bring your mailed letters from the eight universities. sprawling out over his lap, you took in the all too familiar sight of his room. you've been in his room more times than you've been in your own (and vice versa!)

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

jjk taglist

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[soaps-mohawk]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40 - Where Do We Go From Here

Chapter 41 - Revenge

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

[wonustars]

my reaction through out reading the epilogue was like:

went from happy to sad really quick because i realized this was the end and then happy again cuz i was like “she got her happy ending” 🥹😭😭😭😭🤕💕

AQUAMARINE: EPILOGUE

April Showers (M)

Dedication: For my girls, who like like their men secure and obsessed.

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 14k+

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

FLUFF!FLUFF!AND SMUT (I THINK WE HAD ENOUGH ANGST FOR 8 CHAPTERS)

A/N: So, I guess this is it huh? well Happy Reading!!

4 years ago Zurich, Switzerland KIU

Y/N entered the lecture room, a spacious gallery-style classroom with long wooden benches and rows of paintings adorning the walls. The large windows bathed the room in natural light, and it felt more like an art gallery than a typical lecture hall. She quietly pushed the door open and entered, the soft creak of the hinges barely audible over the lecturer's voice.

The professor at the front of the room, Jeonghan, continued with his lecture on the definition of meaning during the Enlightenment era. He stood confidently in front of the class, with a relaxed yet engaging demeanour. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, giving him an air of intelligence.

As Y/N found a seat at the back of the room and settled in, her eyes met Jeonghan's for a brief moment. There was a flash of recognition, but he didn't let it disrupt the flow of his lecture. With a warm smile and a nod, he acknowledged her presence before returning to his discourse.

"During the Enlightenment," he began, his voice both soothing and authoritative, "philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau grappled with the concept of meaning. What does it mean to lead a meaningful life? Is it found in the pursuit of knowledge, happiness, or something more profound?"

The students listened intently as Jeonghan paced gracefully across the front of the room. His words were thought-provoking, encouraging his students to consider the philosophical inquiries of the past and apply them to their own lives.

Y/N couldn't help but be captivated by his lecture, not only because of the subject matter but also because of the way he presented it. She had known Jeonghan for years, and seeing him in his element was both familiar and awe-inspiring.

He continued, "Voltaire famously stated, 'Judge a man by his questions rather than his answers.' This is a profound notion because it encourages us to continuously seek understanding. In an era marked by intellectual growth, philosophers challenged the status quo and sought to unravel the mysteries of existence."

The students absorbed the wisdom he shared, their eyes reflecting the curiosity sparked by his teaching.

Jeonghan, with his usual eloquence, continued his lecture, delving into the void that exists within humanity, a craving for meaning that often goes unnoticed. He cited Nietzsche's concept of this void, the insatiable longing for purpose that some fill immediately with their surroundings and become fervent devotees of a cause, never realizing the hollowness they've concealed. "The process of discovering that void for the first time," he explained, "is a pivotal moment in our lives. It's when we come to the stark realization that something is lacking in that department."

As he spoke, Jeonghan gestured passionately, his words resonating with the students. "Albert Camus presents us with an ultimate example of struggle and suffering, only to have our efforts amount to nothing. This is a metaphor for life, for Camus. We exist in a vast, inconceivably large, and complex universe, and with every step we take, we're battling against a tidal wave of forces that could end our existence at any moment."

He paced back and forth at the front of the class, emphasizing the challenges of human existence. "We live through good times and endure bad ones, all while accepting the reality that the universe, in all its grandeur, couldn't care less about our individual actions. It's true that in a humanistic lens, what we do matters within the microcosm of our lives, but on the universal scale, we're a mere speck on an ordinary galaxy. The sun will eventually explode in 5 billion years, and our existence will come to a definitive end."

Jeonghan's eyes scanned the room, and he implored his students to consider the meaning of all their suffering, effort, and sacrifice. "Where does it all lead? At the end of the day, we're like Sisyphus, condemned to push the rock up the hill only for it to roll back down, forcing us to begin again. But in our condemnation, we should strive not to agonize over the process but to find enjoyment in the act of pushing the boulder as far as we can."

He paused, his gaze intense, and then continued. "The experience and reflection come into play. What we're reflecting upon may appear meaningless to outsiders, but when we are experiencing it, it means the world. Yet, at what point do we realize it's all meaningless? It's the moment we stop being present, take a step back, and question why we're doing this in the first place. We look around and condemn it all as meaningless. This is where the concept of meaning comes into play."

Jeonghan raised a finger, emphasizing the contrast between reflection and lived experience. "When we reflect, we stop doing whatever we're engaged in, and we use our capacity for reason to ask questions. But it's important to recognize how presumptuous this entire process is. We apply this tool of reason to the universe, attempting to derive conclusions, yet what if the reason isn't the right tool for the job?"

He took a deep breath before continuing. "Reflections and reason, as human capacities, may not be the right tools to determine the meaning or meaninglessness of the things we do. What if, instead, we focus on the task at hand, to immerse ourselves fully in what we care about? Reflection is valuable, and a necessary part of life, but it can lead to diminishing returns. If you reflect too much, the only thing it'll do is deteriorate the quality of your lived experience."

As the lecture neared its conclusion, Jeonghan's eyes sparkled with a sense of purpose and resolution. "Embrace the absurdity of the universe, and then immerse yourself fully in the tasks you care about. Just like Sisyphus, who made the rock his own, we should learn to love what we do. Appreciate the grooves in the rock, the hindrances in your path, and the patterns to success. Love what you're doing without constantly pondering if it will have any meaning. After all, if the ultimate doom is inevitable, if everything will cease to exist, why not live and die doing what you love and believe in? Enjoy every moment of pushing your own boulder, and do it with passion and determination."

With a final nod and a warm smile, Jeonghan concluded his lecture on the meaning of life during the Enlightenment era.

As the students packed their bags, Jeonghan left them with a parting comment. "Remember, class, your term papers are due at the end of this week. And my sincere condolences to any grandparents, uncles, and aunts who are going to meet their end at 11:59 on the 29th."

The room filled with a mixture of laughter and groans, the students either appreciating Jeonghan's dark humor or dreading the impending deadline. Y/n gathered her belongings, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and made her way down to Jeonghan's desk.

"That was impressive, Dr. Yoon," she complimented him with a warm smile.

"Thank you, but what brings you here?" Jeonghan inquired.

"Oh, the dean just invited me to give a speech for the department," Y/n explained. "Our company is going to join one of the on-campus recruiting events, so I thought I'd see what you've been up to."

Jeonghan nodded in understanding. "Ah, that sounds interesting. Want to catch up over lunch?"

Y/n's laughter rang through the classroom. "Of course, it's not like we didn't meet for dinner last night." The two of them shared a friendly chuckle before leaving the classroom.

........

........

Present day.

London.

The morning light filtered through the window, casting a soft glow in the hotel suite. Empty bottles still littered the room, and discarded shirts and pants were strewn across the furniture. Wonwoo slept soundly on the bed, his deep slumber undisturbed even by the honking of cars on the street below. The sound was just background noise until it eventually stirred him. His hand reached out, searching for you, but the spot next to him was empty. A sense of panic rushed through him, and he jolted awake.

He looked around the room, his eyes darting from one corner to another. The droplets of tears on his pillows from the night before served as a painful reminder. "No…" he groaned, his heart sinking as he believed that you had left him.

As the ensuite washroom doors opened, you walked out, dressed in the clothes you had worn to Jeonghan's wedding. Your hair was still damp as you towel-dried it. You stood in front of the mirror, unaware of the emotional turmoil Wonwoo had just experienced.

However, his reaction was quite different from what you expected. Wonwoo dashed from the bed, letting the quilt fall to the floor, and enveloped you in a tight hug from behind. "I thought you left," he confessed.

"Shall I pinch you to make sure I'm still here?" you teased, but he remained mostly silent, holding onto you. As you began to apply moisturizers to your arms and neck, you spoke again. "Babe, I appreciate the affection, but can you please shower? We have to pick up Noel and then head to the airport."

You looked up at the mirror to catch his reflection. His hand was nestled against your neck as if he were sleeping while standing. You couldn't help but question the abundance of bottles in the room, asking, "By the way, why are there so many bottles?"

Wonwoo cleared his throat, a bit flustered. "You're right; I should shower."

With that, he planted a kiss on your clothed shoulder and headed to the shower, leaving you to roll your eyes at his antics. As you got ready for the day ahead, you couldn't help but think about the significant conversation you'd had with him the previous night

The previous day, you had called Jeonghan to assure him that you were safe. After shouting and sobbing at you for 15 minutes finally left for his Honeymoon and left Noel with Leila for the night. You and Wonwoo had spent the evening talking, staring from your whole trajectory of Noella and Joshua to Nikolia's death threats.

Now, in the hotel suite, you finished putting on your shoes when Wonwoo emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He began to dress in a black suit, and as you watched him, your eyes couldn't help but linger on the marks your nails had left on his defined back. You quickly looked away, back to the task at hand.

After buttoning and tucking in his shirt, Wonwoo rolled up his sleeves, leaving his veined forearms exposed. You picked up your earrings when he softly called your name, his voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Hmm," you replied, struggling to clasp the earring lock.

Wonwoo walked closer, stopping beside you. Both of your reflections were visible in the full-length mirror. When you finally managed to clasp the lock, you let out a sigh of relief and reached for the other one when he took your left hand in his and turned you to face him. His thumb traced soothing patterns on your knuckles as he began to speak.

"I know our beginning was far from perfect, but even with its imperfections, it has given me something more than I could wish for. Today, as we walk out of this room, I want us to step into a new beginning—a future where there are no more secrets, no more contracts, just us and Noel. I know I don't deserve you, but I'm willing to humble myself before you."

Wonwoo then got down on one knee, and your eyes widened. A soft gasp escaped your lips as he continued, "I will try every day to prove myself worthy of you if you'll have me."

With trembling hands, he unclenched his fingers to reveal your wedding ring. "Wonu…" you whispered, a lump rising in your throat.

His eyes glistened with tears as he spoke from his heart. "I don't know when it happened, y/n. There were times when I even detested people who changed entirely when they entered a relationship. After Eleanor, I didn't bother seeking that kind of connection. But here I am, on my knees, asking my wife to let me love her, to allow me into her heart. Will you, y/n?"

The tears blurred your vision, but you managed to nod vigorously. Wonwoo carefully slid the ring onto your finger, and as he stood up, he immediately pulled you into a tight hug, overwhelmed with emotions.

As you and Wonwoo walked out of the suite and into the parlor, you were slightly surprised to see four tall, equally buff, and slightly intimidating men standing in the middle of the room. You glanced at your husband with a quizzical expression, and he gave your back a gentle push, saying, "Don't worry, they are your and Noel's new bodyguards."

You blinked in astonishment and turned to look at the four men who were still standing in a respectful bow. "Wonu, I don't need bodyguards," you protested.

Wonwoo gestured to the men to rise and wait outside before addressing your concerns. "Y/n, I am well aware that you're capable of protecting yourself, but I'm not taking any risks or having any discussion on this matter. Please, darling, humor me. You won't even notice them. They've been following you and Noel since the day you arrived."

You hesitated, wanting to argue further, but his words made sense. "But it looks awkward to walk around with guards like…"

"Y/n, although I'm gravely grateful to Noel's grandfather, I can't forget or forgive what his son did," Wonwoo declared with determination. "You have to realize that you're not just an L/N anymore; you're a Jeon now. I'll be damned if I even allow a fly to harm my wife."

Before you could say anything in response, Wonwoo sealed his statement with a tender peck on your lips and began walking toward the exit, your hands clasped together as you followed him.

........

.........

Nikolia found himself in a disorienting darkness, tied securely to a cold, unforgiving chair. He struggled to grasp any sense of time, all memory of the past hours and days escaping him. After his arrest, he had been transported to an undisclosed location, but he had no way of knowing for how long he had been in this inky abyss. The van that brought him here had taken a bizarre turn into the unknown, and that's when the men had covered his face, shrouding him in a suffocating blackness.

His desperate cries and frenzied curses echoed in the void, but they were swallowed by the oppressive silence that clung to him like a shroud. The journey had been a nightmare, a cacophony of fear and dread. When the vehicle finally stopped, his captors grabbed him and dragged him into this unseen space.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and he heard footsteps approach. His heart raced as the men, with hands like steel, grabbed him and removed the blindfold that had been his only connection to the world. A rush of blinding light stabbed at his eyes, and he squinted, disoriented, and dazzled.

Nikolia's first instinct was to struggle against the restraints that bound him to the chair. "Let go of me, you bastard! You're messing with the wrong man here, All I need is one phone call and your whole family is done for" he yelled, the defiance in his voice strained with anger and frustration.

Wonwoo, took a languid drag from his cigarette, his eyes hidden beneath a veneer of cold detachment. "Am I?" He arched one meticulously groomed eyebrow as a henchman in the room landed a brutal punch on Nikolia's face, sending shockwaves of pain coursing through his body. Blood sprayed from his mouth as the impact made his jaw rattle.

As the coppery tang of blood mingled with the acrid scent of tobacco, Wonwoo continued, seemingly unperturbed." you know Nikolia, when I first saw you in the court I understood what a weakling you are, tch, such a waste of a pretty face" Wonwoo tilted his head to the side, as though pondering an intriguing conundrum. "You didn't even have the caliber to fight like a man. If you wanted the money all you had to do was come and beg us"

Nonchalantly, Wonwoo discarded his cigarette and crushed it underfoot, further emphasizing his indifference to Nikolia's suffering. "But no," he continued, rising from his seat with calculated elegance, "you had no go and get yourself get fucked over by your own stupidity"

Wonwoo seized Nikolia by the hair, his grip merciless, and forced him to meet his unrelenting gaze." you should've known your enemy before messing with them, if you get the chance from all the bending, ask who Jeon bo Hyuk was" With those ominous words, Wonwoo swung a heavy fist, striking Nikolia squarely across the cheekbones. The sudden, blinding pain sent white spots dancing before Nikolia's eyes. "That's for even thinking about harming my wife" He gasped as the warmth of blood gushed from his nose.

For a brief moment, Wonwoo stood above him, an imposing figure against the harsh light, before he delivered another devastating blow," and that's on behalf of Noel" he declared, his voice laced with cold fury.

The room filled with the dissonant sounds of Nikolia's choking gasps and labored breathing.

The man in the black suit handed Wonwoo a towel, while behind Nikolia, a maniacal laugh and a series of painful coughs echoed. Nikolia's laughter, punctuated by bloodied gums, grated on the nerves of everyone present, "You're gonna regret this bell boy"

Without turning to face him, Wonwoo retorted, "And what are you going to do, tattle to Yunho?"

Nikolia's eyes widened in alarm as Wonwoo turned to the man in the black suit and commanded, "Return him to Richardson, make sure to tell him to treat him with so much care that he regains his faith in god again"

With a murmured "Yes, boss," the men swiftly began the process of transporting Nikolia out of this nightmarish confrontation.

"And to think," Nikolia sneered, even in his bloodied and beaten state, "that bitch has you wrapped around her finger. I guess her pussy has that effect I still rememb--""

Before he could complete his sentence, Wonwoo's fist struck with unrestrained force, and the chair, still bound to Nikolia's body, fell to the ground. The world swirled into a whirlpool of darkness as Nikolia's consciousness slipped away. Wonwoo gazed down at the battered and broken Nikolia, his voice laced with icy authority. "Rule of the thumb, you keep my wife's name out of your mouth," he declared, the weight of his words bearing down upon the man.

(A/N: Dude why didn't I made wonwoo mafia opens another wip )

........

........

One Month later

The evening of the 75th Anniversary gala was marked by an air of anticipation as you sat in a plush chair, the skilled hands of your makeup artist, Ashton, expertly crafting your hair into a glamorous masterpiece. You held a phone call with Racheal, going over the final details for the night.

"Make sure no more than five interviews," you instructed, your voice firm.

"That's done," Racheal confirmed promptly. "Each will get 2 minutes, and no personal questions."

"Good," you replied with a nod. "Are you there yet?"

Racheal's voice sounded through the phone, "No, just about to reach."

"Okay, then drive safe," you told her before ending the call. The preparations were in full swing as you adorned a stunning red-plated off-shoulder cape dress with a high slit. The fabric draped elegantly around your form, exuding an air of regal sophistication.

Just as you were getting ready, there came a discreet knock at the door. Chan, who had once stood as a symbol of discord between you and Wonwoo, now entered the room, holding a blue box in his hands. While things had improved between him and Chan, the tension still lingered his presence often an uncomfortable reminder of past misunderstandings. Wonwoo was prepared to go so far as to fire Chan in his act of contrition. However, you intervened, reminding him, "Why should someone else suffer for something you initiated?"

"Mr. Jeon sent you this," Chan explained, "and expressed his desire to see you wear it tonight."

You excused everyone from the room, leaving only Ashton behind, and Chan proceeded to open the box with a sense of reverence. Revealed within was a necklace that bore a stunning piece of history—an emerald and diamond creation that had once belonged to Catalina the Second of Russia. The gem sparkled with a rare, captivating beauty that made even Ashton gasp in awe.

"This is from the Anakami collection, part of the royal vault of Russia," Chan informed you, his tone respectful and impressed.

You nodded, your knowledge of the piece shining through. "From Catalina the Second."

Chan's understanding smile mirrored his acknowledgment of your profound familiarity with the necklace. Your appreciative smile revealed your thanks, and you gestured for Ashton to place the exquisite piece around your neck.

As the necklace adorned your neckline, he couldn't help but compliment, "Indeed, your husband has an eye for a gem."

Thanking Chan for his delivery, you expected him to take his leave, but he remained in place. After Ashton left the room, Chan went into a polite bow. You looked at him and turning back to your reflection with a more somber expression, you addressed him.

"Get up, Chan," you said gently, "the workers should not apologize for their loyalty to their boss. You did what any subordinate would do. I am not angry with you."

Chan's smile returned, and he bowed once more, an expression of gratitude and humility in his eyes. As he prepared to leave the room, you stopped him with a final piece of advice.

"Chan," you began in a soft but firm tone, "next time, try to keep your experiences and advice to yourself. Hmm?"

"Duly noted, madam," Chan replied with an appreciative nod. The understanding between you felt like a small step toward restoring a sense of normalcy to your relationship.

You were nearly ready, as Ashton entered again to finish the final touches.

The grand gala was a spectacle of opulence and glamour. The chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal facets glistening in the soft, warm light. Servers in impeccable uniforms weaved through the crowd, offering trays of exquisite hors d'oeuvres and champagne flutes. The air was filled with the clicks of cameras and the hum of hushed conversations as guests from various elite circles, including A-listers, entrepreneurs, and influential individuals from both sides of your families, mingled and celebrated.

The event's announcer took center stage, standing beside the grand stairs, and her voice resonated through the room as all eyes turned toward her. "Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you all to the grand celebration of 75 years of L/N Diamonds and Special Stones. We gather here to honor the visionary who started it all 75 years ago with his hard work, dedication, and passion for a woman's best friend. What makes this evening even more special is that it is also a celebration in honor of the newlyweds, the heiress of the L/Ns, and the prince of JJ Group, Jeon Wonwoo."

The crowd erupted into applause, and Wonwoo, surrounded by business partners, raised his glass, receiving smiles and nods from those around him.

The announcer continued, "Now, without further ado, I would like to call upon the stage the star of the evening, the diamond heiress and the CEO of Fareed Switzerland, Y/n L/N."

All eyes turned to the top of the grand stairs, and the clapping of the guests filled the hall. You descended the stairs gracefully, your red cape trailing behind you, giving you the appearance of a character from a classic film. The necklace adorning your neck, a magnificent royal heirloom from Russia, captured everyone's attention.

Everything seemed to slow down for Wonwoo as he watched you descend the stairs. He was struck by the realization of his incredible luck in being married to such a remarkable woman. His chest swelled with pride and second-guessed his luck.

As you reached the stage and adjusted the microphone, you smiled at the host and began your address, "Thank you, Lana, for that lovely introduction. Although the second half was lost to me because I was busy thinking about how not to trip on the stairs."Laughter rippled through the crowd. "Since I'm not a big fan of long speeches, I'll keep this address short and sweet. This evening is not about celebrating L/N Diamonds and Fareed but about those who dare to dream and the realists who support their dreamers, like Mr. Locke, Mr. Kim, and Mr. Jeong, who are present here this evening."

The spotlight fell upon their table, and you acknowledged them with a nod as they raised their glasses. "They started this journey with my grandfather 75 years ago, and, most importantly, to the backbone of this foundation who are present here—from the miners to the designers." You paused a round of applause resonated through the crowds, "When I was young, my grandfather would often be stuck in his office, spending hours analyzing the diamonds. He talked to me passionately about their history."

You continued, "One day, in my naivete, I asked, 'Grandpa, who do you love more, the diamonds or Grandma?' It might seem like a silly question, but he turned to me and said, 'Your grandma.'"

You recalled his words, "How come? You rarely spend time with her." He laughed and replied, "Because when I make a bracelet she likes, the smile on her face and the pride with which she wears that piece make me feel like she's carrying my love with her everywhere she goes. Love is never constant. Some days can be bad, and some good, but we do not live in days; we live in memories. These diamonds remind us of why we choose to wake up every day and be with the person we love."

You expressed your gratitude for the past 75 years, "For the last 75 years, we have not only been making diamonds but tokens of love that eternalize our memories—resilient, forever cherishable, and bound by legacy. So, let's raise our glasses to the 75 years of trust from our customers and the passion of our designers.

To my parents, who taught me love, to my son, who reminds me of how to love."

Your eyes found Noel standing with your father-in-law, holding his hand just a few feet away from the stage. Your eyes find Wonwoo's across the room when you smile as you address your husband, "And to my husband, who has shown me what it feels like to be loved."

The entire room joined in, raising their glasses and echoing your words, "To love."

Wonwoo mouthed the words, "To love," as he emptied his flute, a contented smile on his face.

(the angel on the left "This is getting too fluffy"

angel on the right "It is an epilogue it is supposed to be fluffy")

The music resumed, and you gracefully stepped down from the stage, leaving Rachel to deal with the waiting media. After about 20 minutes of enduring half-baked sexist questions and borderline invasions of privacy regarding your marriage and the recent conflict, you finally returned to the party and began greeting the guests one by one.

On the other side of the party, Rachel had finished her duties and decided to take a break at the bar. She ordered a drink and was savoring the moment when someone approached her. There was a slight hesitation in his demeanor, but he continued, "Shall I give you my card? I think you're going to need an attorney tonight."

Rachel furrowed her brows in confusion, asking, "Why?" Lowering his voice a bit, he replied, "Because you're dressed to kill." She rolled her eyes and smiled behind her glass. "Come on, it wasn't that bad," he defended.

"I didn't say anything," she replied, looking up at him. Their eyes locked, and Rachel felt hers drifting down to his lips. Unconsciously, she bit her lip and shook her head to snap out of her trance. That's when Jungkook cleared his throat and began, "Listen, Rach, about the other day…"

Rachel cut him off, saying, "It's alright. It doesn't matter. It was just a kiss. We met by chance, had an argument about wines, and then one thing led to another. It was a mistake, so let's forget about it, okay?"

Jungkook felt a pang of rejection, something quite unfamiliar to him in his experiences with women. He clenched his hands inside his pockets and wanted to say he didn't want to forget it, but before he could, a server interjected. "Excuse me, Ms. Lee. Madam Y/n is calling for you." Following the server's indication, Rachel spotted you standing in a group and beckoning her over with a subtle gesture as your eyes met. She got down from the stool, took her drink, and told Jungkook, "It was nice meeting you, Jungkook. Take care," before leaving him.

Jungkook, feeling a strange wave of melancholy, needing some air, took a glass of scotch and walked towards the balcony.

As you saw Rachel approaching, you gently pulled her to your side and introduced her, "Nora, Minny, gentlemen, this is Rachel Lee, currently the Managing Director at L/N's. Rach, this is the board of Fareed." They all exchanged greetings and shook hands, sharing a few words and smiles. You continued, "People, I hope you all treat Rachel well. She's my nomination for the COO candidate for Fareed."

Rachel could feel her eyes widen in astonishment, and her mouth slightly opened, but she quickly schooled her features. Bubbles of excitement tingled through her, just like they did when she kissed Jungkook. She stopped herself from following that train of thought and focused on answering Minny's questions.

.......

You were engrossed in a conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Kwon, Joon-hee's in law's, who was complimenting your exquisite necklace Mrs. Kwon, leaning towards you with a sly smile, said, "Thank you, I'm glad you both could make it. I thought you'd be in Japan."

Mr. Kwon nodded in agreement as his wife continued, "We were, but then Sunmi insisted we attend, especially since we didn't get the chance to meet her daughter-in-law due to your wish for a quick and private wedding."

You responded with a thin-lipped smile and a nod, but before you could reply, a familiar arm wrapped around your waist, enveloping you in a comforting scent.“There you are sweetheart, Sorry I am late, I was looking everywhere for you” Wonwoo smiled down at you and planted a soft kiss on the corner of your lips.

"Evening, Mr. and Mrs. Kwon. How have you been?" Wonwoo greeted them.

Mrs. Kwon interjected, "We're fine, as much as age allows us to be. I was just telling your wife that her preference for private meetings can sometimes leave a bad impression regarding close relationships."

You were about to respond, but Wonwoo beat you to it. He explained, "Well, it was my wish to have a private wedding. I didn't want to waste plates, where mouths would be busy chatting instead of chewing food."

Mrs. Kwon's expression soured, and she clicked her tongue against her teeth. On the other hand, Mr. Kwon smiled and reached out to shake hands with Wonwoo. "How are you, young man? Why don't I see you around the club anymore? You know, Y/n, he'd give even Matsuyama a run for his money."

Wonwoo gave a humble shake of his head. "Mr. Kwon is too kind. Well, if it's okay with you, may I steal my wife?"

Mr. Kwon let out a hearty laugh and said, "Sure, young man."

Wonwoo swiftly pulled you away from the couple, and as you walked side by side, he leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You look absolutely gorgeous."

You teased back, "You don't look half bad yourself." The subtle flashes of cameras continued as you asked about his interviews. He gave you a tired look that conveyed his reluctance to discuss it at the moment.

As you both approached your parents, Noel ran to you and hugged your legs. "Baby boy, are you having fun?" You asked, and he nodded, pointing towards Somi. "Can Somi and I go to the chocolate fountain?"

"Sure, why not," you gestured for them to follow Tham, As he waved goodbye to your dad.

With the kids occupied, you talked to your parents, complimenting both your mother and mother-in-law on their incredible planning and coordination. Your parents were going to Italy for a bit of business that your father had, followed by a leisure trip to Sicily.

As you were about to move on to greet other guests, Lana took the microphone and said, "Although the average wedding reception occurs within an hour of the ceremony this one took 3 months" subtle chuckle from the guest "upon the suggestion of Mrs. Sunmi Jeon herself, I would like to request Mr. and Mrs. Jeon to bestow the honor of their first dance."

You looked around, a bit surprised, as all eyes were on you, anticipating your dance. You were about to shake your head in refusal when Wonwoo extended his hand towards you, his eyes locked onto yours. "May I have this dance, Mrs. Jeon?" he asked with a charming smile.

You looked at his outstretched hand and then met his gaze. There was a shared understanding, a connection that ran deeper than words could express. With a nod and a graceful curtsy, you accepted his invitation. You placed your hand in his, feeling his strong, warm grasp, and he pulled you gently towards him.

The crowd hushed in anticipation as the first notes of the waltz enveloped the room. You and Wonwoo moved together as if you were the only two people in the world. The dance floor felt like a world of its own, a place where only the two of you existed.

Your red dress swirled around you, its cape fluttering in harmony with the rhythm of the music. Wonwoo's tuxedo looked impeccable, and the soft colors of your outfits complemented each other perfectly. With each step and twirl, you moved as one, your eyes locked, and smiles shared.

On the balcony, Jungkook stood gazing at the night sky, an air of melancholy surrounding him. The soft glow of the stars above painted a serene backdrop to his contemplation. The world seemed to move on around him as he lost himself in his thoughts.

A voice broke through his reverie as Joonhee opened the door and stepped out onto the balcony. She had a teasing tone in her voice as she asked, "Hey, you aren't planning on jumping, are you?"

Jungkook didn't turn to look at her. He replied with a hint of wry humor, "Not without leaving a testimony that if I'm found dead, the first person to look for is you."

She walked over to him and stood by his side, her back against the railing, and her elbows resting on it. Curiosity laced her words as she asked, "You're wearing the same expression you had when we had to put Dora down."

Jungkook offered a rueful smile, reminded of their first horse, and said, "Not really, just thinking about a few things. Where's your husband?"

She glanced towards the hall where you and Wonwoo were dancing. "He's near the chocolate fountain with the kids."

Jungkook let out a dry chuckle. "Do you ever think that you're raising two kids, not just one?"

Joonhee smiled and nodded. "Every day."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they both leaned against the railing, watching the two of you dancing inside the hall. Eventually, Joonhee began to speak, her words filled with wisdom. "I've learned in life that if something doesn't work out, it means something better is waiting around the corner. You just have to be patient."

Jungkook clicked his tongue and voiced his doubts. "Sometimes certain things don't get better with time. They always take a part of you with them, and you're left incomplete, no matter what you do to fill the void."

Joonhee offered her perspective. "Then maybe you're filling that void with the wrong things." Both of them turned their gaze towards you and Wonwoo, who were concluding your dance.

"Remember when Eleanor left, oppa?" Joonhee hummed, her thoughts drifting back. "He was nothing but an empty shell, always working, never laughing, and not even attending the same places as she did. I hated her for what she did." She turned to Jungkook. "But that didn't stop you, did it?"

Jungkook shrugged, nonchalantly. "I can't be bothered about her. Her husband is an important client of my firm, and you know how it works. We don't really have a choice."

Joonhee nodded thoughtfully. "Look at him now. You know, Jungkook, things do get better with time. But if you find something you really want, then you have to fight for it."

Jungkook questioned with a hint of uncertainty, "What if fighting makes it worse?"

"Then let it go," Joonhee advised. "If it's meant to be, it will be." They watched as you and Wonwoo concluded your dance, finding solace in the knowledge that sometimes, life had its own way of bringing better things when least expected.

As the final notes of the music filled the air, you and Wonwoo came to a graceful stop, and the room erupted in applause.

.......

As the night wore on and the party grew livelier, the atmosphere became even more festive after the dinner. You had just sent Noel home and Wonwoo was engrossed in conversation with some old college friends, their laughter echoing from the other side of the room. you found yourself near the bar, waiting for your drink. From amidst the crowd, you spotted a familiar face approaching, and a smile of recognition crossed your lips as he stood in front of you.

"It's been a while," he said as he slid next to you.

You nodded and replied, "Three years, I suppose. How have you been, Mr. Choi?"

Seungcheol grinned, "Y/n, please. I thought we were friends." He tilted his head, and you nodded in agreement.

"I've been good, just returned from Denmark," you told him.

"I see. And how's Mr. and Mrs. Choi?" he asked.

"Same old, playing the Cupid," you replied, and both of you shared a laugh.

"I would say you could relate, but here you are, married, leaving your comrade all alone," he said with a mock frown.

"Oh, come on. You know there was a limit to how far we could keep up the ruse. My mother caught on before the third date," you reminded him.

Wonwoo couldn't help but smile as he took a sip from his glass, listening to his friend's humorous recollection of their past swimming adventures, including the infamous incident where they had stolen his clothes, leaving him standing naked. However, his laughter concealed as His gaze wandered around the room and eventually landed on you, near the bar, sharing a hearty laugh at something Seungcheol had just said. Wonwoo's eyes were fixed on you, his brow furrowed in thought as he tried to place where he had seen Seungcheol before.

He watched as you laughed freely with someone else, your joy radiating from you like a warm glow. A tinge of unease settled in his chest as he realized that he couldn't easily divert his attention from the sight of you both having such a good time together.

"That's a cute kid," Seungcheol commented as you showed him pictures of Noel from Jeonghan's wedding. "Wow, so that's Jeonghan and Victor you were telling me about?"

You nodded and locked your phone. He raised an eyebrow, seemingly remembering something. "And what about that friend of yours, what's her name?"

"Noella," you assisted.

"Yes, what about her?"

You cleared your throat and informed him with a sad smile, "She and her husband passed away in a car accident two years ago."

A look of remorse flashed in Seungcheol's deep, dark eyes. "My sincere condolences, Y/n. I didn't know."

You smiled, saying, "It's alright, just life, you know."

He nodded in agreement, and a moment of silence passed between the two of you. Seungcheol then picked up his glass and said, "Well, I wasn't going to make it tonight, but I was curious to meet the man who managed to sweep you off your feet. Where is he?"

Before you could answer, Wonwoo's voice sounded from behind. "Why don't you meet him yourself?" You turned, slightly surprised, to find Wonwoo standing beside you, emitting a slightly intimidating vibe while keeping his eyes trained on Seungcheol.

You tried to break the stare-down, saying, "Seungcheol oppa, meet Jeon Wonwoo, my husband." You grabbed Wonwoo's arm and continued, "Wonwoo, this is Choi Seongcheol, you must have heard of him, Choi Motors and Tyres."

Wonwoo frowned and shook his head, saying, "Nah, doesn't ring a bell." You gave him a wide-eyed look, shocked by his response.

Seungcheol just laughed and reassured, "Y/n, maybe we have to work harder to reach the tall towers," extending his hand for Wonwoo to shake.

Wonwoo's hand was still in his pocket, and you dug your nails into his bicep. He reluctantly took his hand out of his pocket and gave a tight grip and shake. Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, saying, "It's a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Jeon."

Wonwoo replied, "Likewise. May I know how you know my wife?"

Seungcheol explained, "Y/n and I go way back. Our mothers are friends, and they decided to set us up together. So, we used to date."

"Fake date," you corrected.

Seungcheol teased, "Really, it was real for me." He felt Wonwoo's grip tighten, but he was enjoying making the man squirm. "Our mothers set us up to save the hassle, so we'd say we were on dates when, in truth, we'd just meet for 4-6 minutes and then part ways."

You chuckled as you continued, "Then, oppa had to leave for Denmark, and that's that."

"Tch, if not, you'd be Mrs. Choi today," he said with feigned remorse, further provoking Wonwoo. Wonwoo's smirk grew as he clenched his jaw.

He took his right hand out of his pocket, which was brushing your side. You released your grip on his arm and rested on your hand side, As he wrapped an arm around your waist, a little lower on the hip. You gave him a quizzical look.

"Then I should treat my mother-in-law better for being so quick-witted," he remarked.

"Wonwoo, did you know—" you began, but he cut you off.

"Y/n, Dad said he was leaving. Do you want to see him off?"

You felt a slight irritation flare within you as he cut you off, but you masked it with a smile, nodded, and turned to Seongcheol.

"It was so nice catching up with you, Oppa. If you're here for a while, why don't you come to our house? I'm sure it would be fun."

"Ah, I wish, but I have to fly back in a few days. But it was nice seeing you again, Mr. Jeon," Seongcheol said.

"Mr. Cho."

"Congratulations on your marriage and 75 years of L/N's."

"Thank you, Oppa."

Seongcheol looked at Wonwoo and advised, "Take care of this one; she can be a little feisty."

Wonwoo responded, "You don't say." With that, Seongcheol turned and left with a smile on his face.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Wonwoo turned to you and said, "Funny man. So, how many more have you fake-dated?"

You gave him a glare. "What was that?"

He looked down at you, confused. "What was what?"

"How many have I fake-dated before Seongcheol oppa?"

"Oh, now he's your oppa," Wonwoo mumbled.

"I can't believe this, Rude bastard" you muttered, shaking your head as you walked away from him. He glanced at your retreating figure and asked Himself, "Was I really that rude?"

.........

It was 2 am by the time you both reached home, your whole body aching from standing all evening. Adding fuel to the fire was Wonwoo, who still lingered around you. You managed to give him a little cold shoulder, still pissed at how he cut you off and treated your guest and asked that question. You never asked him how many women he indulged in, now did you?

As you were about to shut the door, a hand stopped it. "This is my room too," he said matter-of-factly.

"Right," you replied as you picked up the phone you threw on the bed. You were about to leave when he stopped you.

"Y/n, don't be like that. Come on, baby."

"Don't 'baby' me. Why did you have to act like some territorial brute, as if I have—"

"I know, I'm sorry. I just… I don't know, I didn't like seeing you laughing with another man. It pissed me off, okay?"

You raised your brows, pressing your lips into a thin line. "So, can I ask you if I do that as a profession? Fake date people? Do you even know what it feels like to have someone always nagging on top of your head, huh? With another shit-ton of things going on in life?" Your voice fell an octave.

"I know, baby. I'm sorry. It's just… fuck, I was just so pissed that I don't know what got over me, and I said that. I was just jealous."

You turned to him. "Would you forgive me if I admit I was?" He looked like a kicked puppy, and your anger radiated off of you.

You both walked back to your bedroom. Wonwoo's knees hit the edge of the bed as he plopped down, looking up at you. You gave him a knowing look, teasing, "How jealous?"

You placed your knees between his legs, pressing your kneecap against his groin. A soft hiss escaped his lips. He admitted, "So jealous that I wanted to take you right there in front of all those people. The moment you walked down those stairs, I couldn't believe my luck, that I am married to you."

You felt your heart quicken, and the familiar fire ignited within you. Slowly, you reached to remove the pin holding your hair in a half updo, letting your hair cascade down. You were about to take off your earrings when he stopped you, saying, "Leave them on."

He grabbed your hips, making you take a step back with one foot on the bed, causing you to fall back down. He pulled you to straddle his lap. Both of you leaned in, and your lips brushed against each other. You grabbed the back of his head and jerked it back, teasingly saying, "Nuh-uh."

You got off his lap and walked to the dressing table, settling down on the plush chair.

You gestured with your fingers in a "come hither" motion. On your command, Wonwoo discarded his suit jacket, tossing it somewhere in the room. He walked over to where you were sitting. When he was just two steps away, you raised your hand to halt him in his tracks, and he stopped.

"On your knees," you ordered.

"Y/N," he warned.

You raised your brows, taunting him. "So you don't want your forgiveness?"

He hesitated. You repeated your command, "Come here to me on your knees, Wonwoo, or I'll leave the room."

Without missing a beat, he dropped to his knees and took the remaining two steps, bringing him between your parted legs. A glimpse of your panties was visible from the slightly hiked slit in your dress. Wonwoo licked his lips and swallowed as he knelt before you.

Once he was on his knees between your legs, his hands reached to touch your thighs.

"Did I say you can touch me?" you asked.

"You're playing with fire," he threatened.

"Why, are you afraid of being extinguished?"

"Open my shoes," you demanded.

His eyes were burning with desire, but equally aroused and dilated. His hands reached your feet, and you raised your feet as the shoes fell with a thud, the relief of finally removing them washing over you.

Wonwoo brought your ankle near his mouth and bit on the Achilles tendon, making you hiss.

"Show me how sorry you are," you breathed out. His hands gripped your thighs to pull you to the edge of the seat.

"Tch, no hands," you commanded.

"How will I?" he asked.

"That's not my problem," you replied.

He removed his hands from your thighs and gripped the sides of the chair's cushion, his knuckles turning white as he slowly kissed his way up from your calves to your inner thighs, biting, kissing, and licking until he reached your panties. He took a whiff, rubbed his nose, and muffled, "How will I remove them?"

Your excitement was building, evident in your soaked panties. You condescended, leering down at him, "Foolish man can't even do this much alone."

Suddenly, he gave a hot lick and a soft bite on your labia, making you jolt and yelp. You grabbed his hair and pulled him away, a smug smile on his lips. "You think you're funny, huh?" Your chest heaved. "Just couldn't resist," he said with feigned innocence. You clenched your jaw and leaned back.

Your back was against the dressing table, and your feet, previously resting next to his thighs, were now pressing against his bulging, aroused crotch. You pressed your heels into him, making him hiss, and rubbed them up and down with slight pressure. Cocking your head to the side, you asked, "Don't you think you were a little out of line just now?"

His eyes slightly shut, enjoying the sensation, he responded with a low hum. You pressed harder for an answer.

"I'm sorry," he admitted.

"But I don't feel like you're sorry, darling."

You halted your actions and slowly bunched the dress around your waist. "Use your teeth."

On your command, Wonwoo leaned in and bit the side hem of your thong as you raised your hips to slide it down your feet.

"Now, here's your chance for redemption. Make it like you mean it."

Without further ado, Wonwoo gripped the cushion in a vice grip and delved into your bundle of nerves, exploring every nook and corner with his tongue and small bites. Your hands grabbed his hair, and you pushed him further in, your labored breaths and gasps echoing in the room.

One of your legs hiked up on his shoulder. "Fuck… ahhh… Won… Wonuuu…"

He continued with an unforgiving pace, your hips automatically trying to ride his face. The familiar tension started building in your womb, and you threw your head back, jaw slack. Your body and senses succumbed to the pleasure as the orgasm finally consumed you, with chants of his name leaving your lips. You came down from your high, panting.

Wonwoo felt a surge of pride course through him. It was his name on your lips, and your release belonged to him. He had been a fool to let a petty thought ruin the mood, but now he understood the beauty of redemption.

After you finally calmed down, he looked up at you and said, "Am I forgiven, baby?"

You nodded and teased, "Can I touch you now?"

"That's not how you ask for permission, Wonu," you playfully chided, "Do I have to give you a special etiquette class?"

He shook his head in response and corrected himself, "Can I please touch you?"

"Yes, you may," you granted him permission.

Without a second thought, he sprang to his feet, pulling you up from your seat. He captured your lips in a feverish kiss as his hands reached for your zipper. The dress pooled at your feet, and your hands were busy undressing him. You threw his coat and belt aside, opened his shirt, and then dealt with his pants as his hands touched and groped every part of you.

He was throbbing painfully as your hands grabbed him, rubbing along his slit. He sat on the bed and pulled you to straddle his lap, raising your hips as you rubbed his head against your lips. You slowly descended down on his length, both of you moaning together. Your hips matched each other's pace as you rode him, and the pleasure was overwhelming.

Your hair was sticking to your back as you reached to gather it into a makeshift ponytail. The earrings and necklace were the only accessories adorning you. He groped and sucked on your nipples, rolling his tongue around them and grazing with his thumb while the other hand played with the other.

You reached your other hand down and gave his balls a squeeze, eliciting a loud moan from him. "FUCK, Y/N," he exclaimed as he looked up at you, an enticing sight for his eyes.

"Not so soon," you panted. But he was desperate and wanted more. You fiddled with his balls, letting go of your hair, and pushed him back onto the bed. You began to ride him vigorously.

Even in the midst of overwhelming pleasure, he couldn't close his eyes. Your hips picked up the pace, and your chests matched the rhythm. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your neck, which was adorned with the expensive necklace he had gifted you, worth every million.

Your hands gave him another squeeze, and his release shot up. "Will you cut me off again?" you commanded.

Wonwoo shook his head in desperation. "No, no, never, never," he declared, his hips chasing the final ropes of pleasure.

He reached for the back of your head and brought your lips to his, your chests pressed tightly against each other. His thrusts chased the climax. "You fuck me like this and then question why I get jealous when another man tries to come close to you? How would you feel if some other woman tried flirting with me?" He gasped against your lips, and you bit down on his lips, tasting a slight tinge of copper.

"That's just wishful thinking, darling," you retorted, "as if you'd even desire another woman after getting fucked by me." You clenched around him, his now softening dick, making him gasp as your pleasure overtook you.

Wonwoo couldn't help but agree, realizing that you couldn't be more right.

.........

.........

2 Months Later

You were sitting in the living area, waiting anxiously for Noel and Wonwoo to return from their baseball game with your father-in-law. The news you had learned that morning had your heart racing and your palms sweaty. You couldn't help but feel jittery as you waited.

Finally, Noel and Wonwoo walked in, and to your shock, they had a puppy with them. You looked at both of them with a puzzled expression, "What is this?"

Wonwoo appeared confused and asked, "What? This little furball?"

You huffed, "Yes, that golden retriever puppy."

"Oh, come on, Y/N, don't be like that. That's Noel," Wonwoo replied, trying to explain.

A chorus of "hey" came from the boy, who was now playing with the little golden retriever pup. You glared at Wonwoo, crossed your arms, and tilted your head to the side, clearly displeased.

Noel began, "On our way back, we saw a woman putting this puppy litter on the road. She was giving them away because her dog died while giving birth, and she couldn't raise them all alone. So she was giving them to whoever wanted to take them."

You scowled at Wonwoo and retorted, "You could have asked me first, you know."

He defended their decision, "Yeah, that would have ruined the surprise."

Wonwoo then took the pup in his hands and held it up in front of his face, using a fake cute voice, "Don't you think I'm cute?"

You looked down at Noel, who was giving you the same puppy-dog eyes as the actual puppy. He pleaded, "I promise I'll take care of him. I'll take him for walks, feed him on time, and even give him a bath, I promise."

Wonwoo chimed in, "He promised."

You sighed and continued to examine the dog, lowering yourself to its eye level. You extended your hand for it to smell, and it automatically started licking your hand. You looked up and inquired, "Did you at least get him checked by the vet and have him registered for vaccines and stuff?" Your tone was laced with a warning.

Wonwoo hesitated, avoiding eye contact, and a sense of guilt washed over him.

But before you could press further, Noel interjected with enthusiasm, "Of course, we did, Dad and I took him to the vet, and I've even named him."

"So, what did you name him?" You looked at Wonwoo and then at Noel, curiosity in your eyes.

Wonwoo began, "Well, I first suggested Tony, you know, after Tony Stark—"

"But then he kind of reminded me of Baden," Noel interrupted. The pup gave a yelp, as if responding, and Noel continued, "He liked it, see? He even responds to it. So I named him Baden."

You and Wonwoo exchanged a knowing glance. You had informed Noel about Baden's passing in an accident and had made sure his funeral was well taken care of. However, you refrained from attending, choosing instead to pay your respects a week later.

You gave Noel a tight smile and reached to take the dog from your husband's arms, raising him to your eye level. "So you are Baden," you mused. The little puppy wagged his tail and stuck out his tongue, letting out a small bark. "But I'm going to call him Denny," Noel innocently added. You silently approved, knowing that you'd likely be calling the dog's name at some point, and you didn't want to summon the spirit of Baden Bulavia inadvertently.

"Then welcome to the family, Baden. I hope you take good care of my son," you said to the puppy. As if understanding every word, the little dog turned his head to the side, listening intently.

With a nod of satisfaction, you sent Noel off to take a shower and asked Ahjumma to buy some milk and puppy diapers. You couldn't deny the cuteness of the new addition, but you had no intentions of cleaning up after his mess on your new carpets and bedding.

"Wonwoo, we need to talk," you said, your voice carrying the weight of seriousness. Wonwoo, who was in the middle of sharing details about the game, immediately stopped speaking. He could sense the gravity in your tone. Following your lead, he walked to his ground-floor office.

Upon entering, you closed the door behind you. adorned with rich mahogany bookshelves, stuffed with leather-bound books, and filled with the intoxicating scent of Paper and Tobacco. Files were meticulously arranged on the desk, and a sleek laptop sat at its center, the flickering screen casting a bluish glow on the polished wooden surface.

"Y/n, if it's about the dog, then I'm sorry. I know I should have informed you, but I couldn't say no to Noel and -"

Your heart was racing, and his rambling only made it worse. You fiddled with your wedding ring, taking quick breaths.

"…and I know you don't like surprises. If you want, then I guess I'll return it back."

"Wonwoo, I'm pregnant!" you blurted out in a quick breath.

As soon as the words left your mouth, all the rambling died in Wonwoo's throat. His mouth opened and closed like a goldfish, and all the switches in his brain seemed to go off. The world slowed down around him, and anxious anticipation coursed through his veins. In a whispered tone, punctuating each word, he asked, "You are what?" His eyes widened, and his eyebrows almost touched his forehead.

"Well, for the past few days, I was feeling kinda queasy, and my periods were late. I went to the doctor earlier when you both were at the game because I wasn't sure, considering the uterine device…"

Wonwoo took a step towards you, and you continued, "The doctor ran some tests, and… I am four weeks pregnant."

You kept your gaze on your hands as you spoke. When you felt Wonwoo's hand on your shoulder, you raised your head to see him. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, and your eyes welled up as well. "You are pregnant," he said, his voice trembling towards the end. "We are going to have a child, a baby."

A sense of doubt arose in his voice as he asked, "Are you unhappy?"

"Are you kidding me? I am the happiest man on Earth right now," he said and picked you up, spinning you around. You laughed and playfully slapped his shoulder. He halted his spinning to look into your eyes.

"We can't tell anyone, at least for the next two months."

"But—"

"No 'buts.' I just don't want to jinx it."

He looked a bit dejected but understood your point. "But we should at least tell the housekeeper to be extra careful and Noel that he's going to be an elder brother now."

A smile faded from your face, and Wonwoo gently put you down, cupping your face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

"It's just… I don't want other people's malice to affect Noel. You know how they talk behind our backs, and what if Noel feels neglected and hates it."

"My love, Noel is a very wise and smart boy who knows that no matter what, your love for him and his place in your heart will always be irreplaceable, okay?"

Bending down to your eye level, Wonwoo kissed your forehead and then your cheeks. "You have no idea how happy I feel right now. I can't wait to hold her."

You furrowed your brows and looked up at him. "How do you know it's a 'her'?"

"Call it a father's instinct," he said, and you rolled your eyes, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "Load of shit."

"What—" He laughed. "You don't believe me. You'll see. The way she managed to dodge the uterine device with her resilience and stubbornness, there are no other arguments but to think it's a girl. Just like her mother." You pinched his hip. "Ouch! Haha."

He embraced you tightly, taking a step back to hold your chin between his thumb, bending down, and getting lost in a heartfelt kiss.

.......

Later that night, after dinner, Wonwoo went and told the housekeeper and Noel's nanny that you were expecting and to be extra careful with you, not even allowing you to step into the kitchen. And signing off that if this information goes outside he will know who leaked it.

The room was painted in shades of red and gold, resembling an Iron Man theme room. Beddings, action figures, and toy cars lined the shelves, creating an exciting atmosphere. The door was left open, and Wonwoo leaned against it, watching as Noel sat on his bed, ready to sleep. He was reading a book to Denny, the pup, who sat on his stomach with a diaper on, listening attentively.

"Hey, bud, got a minute," Wonwoo called.

"Oh, Dad, come in," Noel responded, looking up from his book.

Wonwoo sat on the side of the bed near the bedside table and wrapped his arms around Noel's shoulder. The pup jumped onto Wonwoo's lap, and his hands instinctively started petting the soft fur.

"What are you reading there?" he asked, pointing to the book.

"The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse."

"Hmm, that's deep stuff," Wonwoo remarked.

"So did you have fun today?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was fun. By the way," Noel turned his body to face his dad, "does Grandpa get that excited about every match like that?"

Wonwoo snorted and said, "Pretty much, yeah. He used to be like that when I played in college."

"You played baseball in college?" Noel looked curious.

Wonwoo nodded. "Do you like any sports?" he asked.

"Well," Noel started, thinking for a moment, "I like horse riding, but baseball is cool too."

"Anything else?" Wonwoo suggested.

"Hmm, football. Uncle JJ told me that he and my father used to play football together sometimes."

"Football, huh? If you want, you can play too. JK is really into football. I'll ask him if he knows any good clubs."

"No, it's okay, my school has a team," Noel added.

"So, I wanted to talk to you about something," he cleared his throat and started. "Tante wants me to return Denny."

"What? No, she doesn't. The thing is, you're going to be an older brother."

"How?"

"Please don't make me give you a birds and bees talk right now; I am not prepared."

"Do you mean Tante is going to have a baby?"

"How do you know this?"

"We were taught in Moral and Physical Ed class about good touch and bad touch. They also told us how babies come in their mom's stomach."

Wonwoo felt it was best that he left this conversation to You. "Right."

"Yeah, when a man and a woman come together, and—"

"Got it, bud. Yes, we made a baby." Wonwoo cleared his throat at the end of the sentence.

"But I just wanted to talk about you being an older brother now. So, you're going to have a lot of responsibility and have to look out for your sibling and grow taller and stronger."

He closed his eyes and started again. "Noel," Wonwoo breathed. "There are going to be times when people's opinions grow a vicious voice in our heads and make you feel bad about yourself and other things. I just want you to know that even though we are not related by blood, you will always be a special part of our hearts. So, no matter what people say, you will always be our son. We will always love you, okay? So whenever you feel like that, you can come and talk to us, hmm?"

Wonwoo gave a reassuring squeeze on Noel's shoulder, and the boy wrapped his small arms around his ribs, hugging him and nodding against his chest. Wonwoo smiled and looked down, caressing his back, then kissed him on the top of his head. They realized they were almost squishing the pup between them when a small bark interrupted their moment. Parting, Wonwoo said, "I still think we should've gone with Noel Jr."

"DADDDD!!" Noel whined, making Wonwoo laugh. "Okay, okay."

........

........

In the cold, sterile jail visitor cell, Nikolia sat on one side of a thick glass partition, separated from his lawyer, who occupied the other side. They conversed through old, scratched telephones affixed to the wall.

Nikolia appeared unkempt and disheveled, with wild, devilish hair, dark eye bags, and an unruly beard. His wrists were encircled by handcuffs, a constant reminder of his current predicament.

“What do you mean my appeal got fucking canceled?” Nikolia growled, his frustration evident in his every word.

His lawyer, a man in his 50s with thinning hair, closed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts before explaining, "It hasn't been canceled, Nikolia. It has been taken for further consideration."

“Then how much time will they need for consideration, huh? What do I feed you for? Fifteen years you've worked for me, and this is the best you could do, you pathetic fat pig.”

The lawyer sighed, realizing he had to tread carefully. “Nikolia, I understand your frustration, but you've been charged with four murders—three of your own family members—and other illegal arms trade activities. This led to the cancellation of our license as well. If that were not enough, you gave death threats to Jeon's daughter-in-law. They have everyone in their pockets.”

“I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK WHO THAT BITCH HAS IN HER POCKETS. I AM NIKOLIA BULAVIA!! WHERE ARE THOSE PIMP-ASS FAMILIAS, HUH? DO THEY WANT ME TO OPEN MY MOUTH?”

The lawyer leaned closer, his voice hushed. “I'd suggest you keep your voice down and mouth shut about the Familia. They are already waiting for you to make a move so they can pull the trigger. If you want to stay alive, then stay put and mind your own business.”

Before Nikolia could unleash another tirade, the line emitted a beep, signaling the end of their call. An officer approached to escort Nikolia back to his cell, but he jerked his hand away defiantly, muttering, “I can walk on my own.”

The lawyer sighed heavily and went to sit in the waiting area. His phone suddenly rang, and his hands trembled as he glanced at the caller ID. Without wasting a second, he brought the phone to his ear.

"Yes, boss."

A deep, gravelly voice came from the other end, inquiring, "How was the meeting? How did that bastard look?"

"Very miserable, sir. He kept whining about how no one would help him, but he threatened to take the Familias down with him."

The man on the other end burst into a hearty laugh. "Let him suffer. That's what he gets when he underestimates the Knoxes. And if he makes even a slight squeak, you know what to do next, don't you?"

"Yes—yes, sir."

As the two men engaged in their conversation, a breaking news story flashed across the television screen.

"ACCORDING TO OUR WITNESSES, DURING THE PRIME MINISTER ELECTION, THE DEVELOPMENT MINISTER AND DAUGHTER-IN-LAW OF CANDIDATE LEE HYUN JOON, WIFE OF CONGRESSMAN LEE JOON SUK'S WIFE, ELEANOR LEE WHO WAS ACCOMPANYING HER FATHER-IN-LAW AND HUSBAND DURING THE RALLY WENT INTO LABOR A MONTH EARLY AND NOW HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH A BABY BOY," the news anchor reported.

The old woman nodded approvingly, her fingers interlaced in her lap. "Aigoo, such a considerate young lady," she mused.

The woman next to her, also engrossed in the broadcast, chimed in, "Their party has always been very family-oriented."

"You're right," the old woman replied, her voice filled with admiration. "They hold these values very dear. I guess he is a very promising candidate to vote for."

The two women continued to watch the news, their discussions about the Lee family, and their commitment to their political party.

.........

.........

3 Months later

The morning sun streamed into the lavish living room of your mansion, casting a warm and inviting glow. The day after Christmas had left remnants of the holiday festivities scattered all around. The majestic Christmas tree stood tall and proud, adorned with twinkling lights and ornaments, while the couch was strewn with colorful gift wrappers that had been torn apart in excitement.

You sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked beneath a cozy blanket, taking in the cheerful chaos of the room. It was around 9 am, and beside you, Noel was still engrossed in unwrapping his birthday and Christmas gifts. This year was extra special as it marked your first Christmas after getting married, and it was also your beloved son's birthday.

You had decided to host a family gathering along with some of Noel's school friends, and the festive spirit lingered. However,. Jeonghan and Victor were celebrating the holidays with Victor's family, and Rachel was settling into her role as the new COO of Fareed in Switzerland.

Surprisingly, Jungkook had also missed the gathering. He had to rush to Zurich due to an emergency meeting with a client, leaving his mother inquisitive.

Noel continued to tear through the gift wrappers with enthusiasm, his excitement evident in the smile on his face. Amidst the chaos of wrapping paper, Denny was indulging in a game of peek-a-boo, occasionally popping out from beneath the torn remnants of gift wrap.

Despite your best efforts to keep your pregnancy a secret from family and friends, your husband Wonwoo seemed to be on high alert at all times. You weren't showing yet, and your choice of loose-fitting clothing helped maintain the illusion. However, subtlety appeared to be a foreign concept to him.

Wonwoo's protective nature was on full display, as he doggedly hovered around you, rarely venturing more than a few meters away. His concern for your well-being was unwavering, and he had a tendency to ask the same questions repeatedly. Whether it was inquiring about your comfort, worrying if someone was pressuring you to do something, or making sure you weren't on your feet too much, Wonwoo's vigilance, love, and care for you were unmistakable, even if his overprotectiveness sometimes bordered on comical.

During a conversation with Sunmi and your mother, Sunmi couldn't resist making a comment. "Have you gained weight?" she inquired, her eyes traveling up and down your figure.

You took a nonchalant sip of your hot chocolate, the smell of meat and eggs making your stomach churn. Even though these foods were essential for the baby's development, they had become almost unbearable. Wonwoo had made it his daily mission to ensure you ate at least one boiled egg before he left for work.

"Maybe I haven't checked," you responded with a hint of indifference.

Sunmi let go of the subject with a simple, "Hmm." However, your mother-in-law continued to eye you for the remainder of the evening, her eyes revealing a knowing glint. It felt like she knew your secret, and you couldn't help but think of her loose-lipped palm tree wannabe son.

"I'm going to tell them next week anyway," you thought, as you and Wonwoo had already confirmed the baby's health, assuring a healthy heartbeat.

Noel was over the moon with excitement ever since you'd shared the news with him. He would often come to the master bedroom to tell stories to the baby and inquire about its current fruit size. Sometimes, he'd fall asleep on your bed while Denny, who had become his inseparable companion, would curl up by your feet.

As Wonwoo entered the living room with two cups in his hands, he handed you the decaffeinated coffee. You offered your gratitude with a mumbled "Thank you, baby," and he leaned down to give you a quick peck on the lips. In a hushed tone, he whispered, "No worries, love," against your lips.

He then picked up Denny and settled down on the couch, the dog hopping from his lap to yours. Your nails naturally scratched the top of Denny's head while Noel nestled comfortably between the two of you.

"Noel, who's this from?" you asked as he was eagerly tearing into another gift.

"Nana and Pop's," he replied, his eyes filled with excitement as he managed the last rip of the wrapping paper. When he finally unveiled the gift, he exclaimed, "Cool, a hoverboard!" You and Wonwoo exchanged smiles. "Your parents will spoil him with gifts like these."

"My parents? Yours gave him a PS5 and a new tablet," you countered and smiled. When Noel asked, "Mom, can I go and try this out?" you felt a sudden shiver down your spine as if someone had paused you in the moment. "What—" you spluttered, "What did you just call me?"

"Mom," Noel looked a bit confused at your reaction. "Did you not like it? But Somi and my other friends said yesterday that since you're my godmother, I can call you 'Mom' too. I already call Dad 'Dad.' Should I not call you that?" His anxiousness peeked through his nonchalant tone.

Your eyes began to water as an overwhelming feeling washed over you. You set the cup aside and enveloped the boy in your arms. "Of course, you can, baby boy," you assured him, kissing the side of his head. "Go try the new gift." Noel eagerly unboxed the hoverboard and ran out, with Denny following closely behind. You shouted after him, "Don't forget to wear the protective gear! Mrs. Tham, please make sure he does that."

Your tearful eyes met Wonwoo's, and he approached, pulling you into his chest. "How are you feeling?" he asked, gently rubbing your arms in light traces.

"Not sure," you replied. "I feel happy as well as guilty. This was the third birthday without his parents. Every day he grows up, I'm grateful to witness it, but I feel bad that Noella and Joshua aren't able to. I hope wherever they are, they're proud of their boy. I still can't believe that he turned 8 yesterday."

Wonwoo didn't say anything, content in simply listening to you speak your heart.

He set his cup down and gently placed his hand on your now slightly protruding stomach. In the past, when you'd sleep together, his hands were wrapped around your waist or ribs. But now, he would sleep with his hand slipped under your t-shirt or nightdress, his palm resting on your stomach.

"I sometimes think about what would've happened if I'd let you walk out of the office that day," he began, his eyes slightly cloudy as he reminisced the moment.

"What do you conclude from it?" you asked.

"That I would curse myself until the day I die," he replied. He nudged you. "What about you?"

You tightened your grip around him and replied, "I don't know. I don't like to think of a future where you're not with me."

"My goodness, Mrs. Jeon, from where do you conjure these lines of flattery?" he teased. You looked up, your eyes finding his.

"A place different from where you get your corny ones," you retorted.

"Come on, they can't be that bad."

"Have you heard yourself when you speak, old man?"

"You make me sound like I'm ancient."

You just laughed and nuzzled your nose into his chest as he traced light circles on your stomach. Then, you mentioned, "Eleanor had a baby boy. People were talking about it yesterday."

"Yes, I heard. Good for her, I suppose," he replied.

"Hmm, maybe we should send them something."

"No need," he replied quickly, and you fell into a few minutes of silence. Then, you thought out loud, "Yesterday, I feel like your mother caught on to the pregnancy."

"How come? I was sure I was discreet about it." You moved out of his arms and looked at him with slightly raised brows. "Were you? Are you sure?"

"Okay, I may or may not have gone a little overboard with the concern," you confessed.

You moved closer and planted a kiss in the corner of his lips. "It's alright. We'll tell them on Saturday either way. I can't wait for the advice and Mama Bear mode overload."

Wonwoo laughed and leaned down to capture your lips in his. The pecks turned into kisses, and the kisses turned into a full-blown makeout session. Suddenly, Wonwoo got up from the couch.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"Too many eyes," he replied, referring to the housekeeper and a staff member moving around in the kitchen, cleaning up the aftermath of yesterday's party. He then carried your bridal style to the master bedroom.

.........

.........

2 years later

Nestled in the outskirts of the city was nothing short of a luxurious paradise. It offered a 5-star experience, with its stunning landscapes that overlooked the entire city. The sprawling pool glistened under the sun, surrounded by lush greenery and pristine gardens, creating an atmosphere of opulence and relaxation.

The gathering was nothing short of grand, with everyone in attendance. The Jeon family, your own family, and all your dear friends had come together to celebrate a special occasion. Jeonghan and Victor joined the festivities, their newly adopted newborn son, Yuri, cradled in their arms.

As you looked at Noel, now a little older, you could see that he was growing more and more into his mother's features and his father's personality. His mischievous grin was reminiscent of the happiness Wonwoo had shown when the doctor revealed that you were expecting a daughter.

Iris, your little girl, was nestled comfortably in Wonwoo's arms. Her bright eyes held a sense of wonder as you held both of the children's hands. Together, you cut the ribbon to Oasis, marking the grand entrance to the celebration. The entrance was a perfect blend of grandeur and hospitality, adorned with an array of paintings representing different cultures.

As the gathering and welcoming ceremony continued inside the grand resort, you decided to take a quiet walk outside. You strolled along a serene pathway near a pond, where you noticed a duck entangled in some branches. Determined to help, you crossed a picturesque bridge and carefully reached out to free the distressed bird.

Lost, you didn't hear Wonwoo approaching. He found you engaged in a scene that felt oddly familiar – much like the first time he saw you. The duck pecked at your hand, and you assured it with a soothing voice, "Just a moment, I'm almost done." With a gentle touch, you managed to free the duck, watching it swim away to safety. As you took a step back, you collided with a sturdy chest, and when you looked up, your eyes met Wonwoo's warm gaze, accompanied by a contented smile.

"When did you get here? I didn't hear any noise," you asked, puzzled by his silent approach.

Wonwoo chuckled softly. "Well, some years ago, a little girl told me I should walk softly or else I might scare them."

Your eyes widened as he continued with a story from your past. "Then I asked her why she was helping them even if they were hurting her."

The girl, it appeared, had a wise reply. "Sometimes people who are hurt say or do harsh things because they don't know how to ask for help."

With realization dawning upon you, you gasped and covered your mouth. "You were that tall boy with the emo fringe haircut."

Wonwoo grinned and admitted, "Ouch, but yes, it was me."

The newfound knowledge left you surprised. "So the first time we met wasn't at my parents' place?"

He shook his head, confirming your suspicions. "And how long have you known this?"

"Since the moment I saw your picture on my desk," he replied, the affection in his eyes evident.

A gentle breeze ruffled your hair, and Wonwoo tucked a loose strand behind your ear. He then looked deep into your eyes and spoke from the heart, "I must have done something good in my life that God blessed me with you."

Moved by his words, you closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his hand on yours, and let out a contented sigh. "You know, Wonwoo, if someone were to ask me today if I would endure everything all over again if it meant it would lead me to you and our kids, I would say yes a thousand times over."

In the grand tapestry of the universe, where the stars align in intricate patterns and destinies are etched before birth, finding meaning in life's every task may indeed seem like an exercise in futility. But perhaps, it is precisely this realization that can bring a sense of contentment and gratitude for where life has led you at this moment.

You and Wonwoo found yourselves leaning in for a passionate kiss. Lost in the tender moment, you were suddenly interrupted by a cheerful voice.

"There they are," Jungkook's fiancee exclaimed as she approached you, cradling a crying Iris in her arms.

The baby girl was frantically looking for her parents, her babbles pleading for "mama, mama."

With a loving smile, you reached out to take Iris into your arms. "What's wrong, my princess?" Your soothing presence seemed to calm her, but she then began reaching for Wonwoo and switching to his arms with a happy cry of "dada."

With a smile on his face, Wonwoo gently took her into his arms, cradling her close. "Yes, my princess, Daddy is here," he whispered as she nuzzled her head into his neck. The tenderness between them was heartwarming, and Iris continued to babble about her brother, "El no playing."

Assuring her, Wonwoo replied, "El is not playing with you." He continued, "What is he doing?"Iris reached for her headband, as if her speech delay was due to it, and took it out, blinking at you. She threw it to the ground and finally said, "El, Denny, Somi."

"Denny, El, and Somi are playing together and not playing with you," Wonwoo telepathically reasoned with his daughter she nodded at energetically at her father’s comprehensive skills. "It's alright; Dada will play with you. Let's go meet Grandpa."

As he started to walk toward the waiting family, Wonwoo turned to you with a warm smile. He extended his hand, inviting you to join him. "Come on," he said. You took his hand, and together, you walked toward the gathering of loved ones.

Jungkook was engaged in a playful game of frisbee with the kids and Denny. He noticed your approach and waved, acknowledging his fiancee before turning his attention to you and Wonwoo. As you settled down with your family, you couldn't help but look around and bask in the contented atmosphere.

Tham took Iris into her care, where Yuri was playing. Your gaze met Jeonghan's across the space, and he raised his glass with a friendly salute, and you nodded in acknowledgment. He resumed his conversation with Joon-hee and her husband, and you turned to Jungkook's fiancee, who was standing next to you.

You struck up a conversation, asking her, "So, Rach, how's life?"

............................The End..................................................

EXTRA

Noella ascended the stairs, her thoughts meandering as Joshua was away at work. Her steps were reflective of her inner contemplation. When Noella was young, she had never understood why her parents, seemingly always fighting, and her mother, who seemed to resent her father's profession, didn't just leave. It wasn't until she reached the age of 27 that it all became clear. Sometimes, when people are in love, they can become incredibly selfish. So selfish, in fact, that they'll go to any lengths to hold onto their last vestige of hope in the harsh, unrelenting reality of life. Despite her physical resemblance to her mother, at the end of the day, she was her father's daughter, through and through.

She was deep in thought, musing over her own obliviousness to your hesitations, your puffy eyes, and your quiet demeanor when she and Joshua first started dating. Did Joshua know about her feelings or the feelings she once had for him?

Noella had been out drinking with some colleagues when she ran into Jeonghan, who had indulged a bit too much in alcohol. In the midst of his inebriation, he confessed that you had been in love with Joshua and proceeded to shed tears for you. It felt like her illusions were crumbling, and her beliefs were disintegrating into the vast expanse of life's infinite possibilities.

She was about to reach her room when a soft, heartwarming "Mama" halted her in her tracks. Warmth enveloped Noella's heart as she bent down and scooped up her 5-year-old son, asking, "What's wrong, honey boo?"

"I can't sleep," he pouted, nuzzling his head in the crook of her neck.

She rubbed his back gently as his small hands clung to his pillow and teddy bear. She asked, "Want to sleep with Mama tonight?" To which he nodded.

Noella entered her and Joshua's bedroom and laid down next to him, "Hey, El."

"Hmm?"

"Do you ever think that if you could have any power in the world, then what would it be?"

"I would love Flash's powers; he can run super fast, you know," Noel replied with a glint of admiration in his eyes.

Noella couldn't help but chuckle at his response. "Flash's powers, huh?"

When Noel turned the question back to her, "What about Mama?"

Noella looked at her son's curious eyes and then up at the ceiling. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, "Time travel."

"Wow, that's so cool, but why that?" Noel inquired.

Noella's thoughts were already racing, formulating an answer when, in the midst of her thoughts, she added with a tinge of melancholy, "There are a lot of regrets to undo."

"But wouldn't that change the future?" Noel asked with innocence.

"Maybe," she shrugged, "maybe that's why we can't travel back in time to fix things."

Noel's eyes were heavy with sleep as slumber finally claimed him. He mumbled, "Tante says that not everything needs fixing. Sometimes time and patience are the best friends, and everything works out for the best."

"My son, when did you become so smart, huh?" Noella whispered, her fingers gently caressing his forehead. She began to sing the lullaby her mother used to sing, a soothing melody that cradled her son into a peaceful slumber.

Que sera, sera

Whatever will be, will be

The future's not ours to see

Que sera, sera

What will be, will be

With Love,

MSH

XXX

[lynxgriffin]

Mightier Than The Sword

Gerson had one regret, but now Alvin has many. A fancomic about my thoughts and theories and who -and what- the Knight is!

While not directly connected, I'd say this one is in the same vein as the Deal With The Devil series! Hope you enjoy!

Alt text for this comic under the read more:

Page 1

Panel 1 - Wide shot of the interior of the Boom household. Several monsters are gathered in a clean-looking hall, dressed in somber clothing and talking quietly in small groups. The monsters include QC, Cat Mom, Toriel, Asgore and Mayor Holiday. Father Alvin stands waiting at a door in the hall as his sister, a red-headed turtle monster in a pink dress, exits through the door and speaks to him. “Alvin…he’s ready for you.”

Panel 2 - Mid shot as Alvin prepares to enter the room. Ms. Boom steps out of the way, and puts a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Both of them look somber. 

Panel 3 - Alvin enters the room, mostly dark and lit by a few candles on a nearby desk. Gerson Boom is lying on a bed ahead of him, watching him enter. Alvin closes the door behind him and says, “Father, I’m here.”

Panel 4 - Alvin approaches his father, lying in bed. The bedroom has a few amenities, including a footstool set off to the side, a large rug bearing the delta rune, and a massive bookcase filling the entire back wall. A few books and papers litter the ground. Alvin bows his head, and says, “The hammer is ready for…for afterwards.”

Gerson just smiles, and responds, “Wa ha, is it? Well, it’ll do fine, I suppose.”

Panel 5 - Closer shot of Gerson extending his right hand towards Alvin. He’s smiling still, content with where he is. “Come here, son.”

Page 2

Panel 1 - Closeup as Alvin takes his father’s hand in his own, and clasps it tight. “Whatever you need…I’m here,” he says from offscreen.

Panel 2 - Alvin kneels by his father’s bedside, still clasping his hands. Gerson says, “Of course you are. Wa ha…you’re such a good and kind man, Alvin.”

Panel 3 - Closeup on Alvin as he just holds on to his father’s hand. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. 

Panel 4 - Focus on Gerson as he holds up a hand to conspiratorially whisper to Alvin. “And I know I can trust you with a secret, right?”

Panel 5 - Closeup on Alvin as he looks back up, face earnest. “...Of course.”

Panel 6 - Gerson holds up one finger as he speaks to Alvin. “I told your sister I had no regrets, but that was a BIT of a fib! I’m afraid I have one regret…”

Panel 7 - Side view of Alvin as he learns closer, his face now worried. “Father?...”

Page 3

Panel 1 - Focus on Gerson as he leans back on his pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “I wish I had started earlier. Writing stories, I mean. Seein’ you an’ your sister’s eyes light up whenever I read you a new chapter…and then seeing all that joy from so many young folks after those stories were published!” he says, looking wistful.

Panel 2 - Alvin watches on sadly as Gerson continues, “It was the greatest feeling in the world, Alvin. It’s what life’s all about, y’know. Helping the young folks grow.”

Panel 3 - Gerson closes his eyes and looks back towards the ceiling again, still wistful. “So, I wish I’d started writing stories sooner.”

Panel 4 - Closeup on Alvin as he bows his head, still holding Gerson’s hand. “I truly do cherish those times you read to us, father…” he says.

Panel 5 - Closeup on Gerson as he closes his mind with happy memories. “Me too, Alvin. It’s a shame…I’ve still got so many tales to tell! But–”

Panel 6 - Gerson is interrupted by a round of hacking coughs. His time is fast approaching.

Panel 7 - Gerson settles back in to his bed and says, “The Angel’s given me SO many good, happy years. Doesn’t seem fair to ask for more.”

Panel 8 - Closeup on Alvin as he continues to hold his father’s hand tight. “This doesn’t seem fair, either…” he says, tears still pricking at his eyes.

Page 4

Panel 1 -  Insert closeup of Gerson as he smiles at his son. “That’s life, Alvin!” He doesn’t seem bothered by his imminent passing.

Panel 2 - Side view as Gerson leans in closer to Alvin again, hand raised, back to sharing his secrets. “But, knowin’ my secret���there’s something I’d like to ask of you.”

Alvin faces his father with seriousness. “Anything,” he replies.

Panel 3 - Closeup on Gerson, as he looks hopefully at Alvin. “You have a good heart, Alvin. I want you to know this joy, too.”

Panel 4 - Gerson continues in the next panel: “Please try writin’ stories of your own, alright?” Closeup on Alvin as he looks shocked and a bit worried by the request.

Panel 5 - Mid shot as Alvin holds up a hand to Gerson in protest. He says, “Father, I…I have no talent for writing fiction. Not like YOU.”

Panel 6 - Closeup on Gerson as he refutes his son: “Hogwash! I know you can.”

Panel 7 - Wide shot as Alvin stands up, and looks around the room. “No, I…”

In the foreground, there’s Gerson’s desk, currently showing some lit candles, some paper, an inkwell, a notebook, and his favorite fountain pen.

Page 5

Panel 1 - Closeup as Alvin grabs two objects off of the desk: the small notebook and the fountain pen. Offscreen, he says, “If you just…”

Panel 2 - Back at Gerson’s bedside, Alvin pulls up the footstool and puts the pen and notebook in front of him, intending to use it. He faces his father, and says, “Tell me your ideas, I could write them down, and–”

Gerson interrupts him: “‘Fraid it doesn’t work that way, Alvin!”

Panel 3 - Gerson holds up both of his hands and smiles as he explains: “My tales are between my soul and the pen. You’ll need to make your own.”

Panel 4 - Gerson watches as Alvin, tears in his eyes, looks down at the notebook and pen in hand. “I–I cannot…” Alvin starts, looking despondent.

Panel 5 - Side view of Alvin as tears continue to stream from his eyes. He says, “Not without you!” In the background, in grayscale, there is a scene from Alvin’s memory: Gerson reading a book to his two children by the fire. Gerson looks happy, and both kids are enraptured, with Alvin clinging to a cat doll that looks like Seam.

Panel 6 - Closeup on Gerson, his face now more worried and pleading towards Alvin. Gerson says, “Y-you can… It’s all I ask…”

Panel 7 - Gerson turns away as he’s again interrupted by a round of terrible sounding coughs. Alvin stands holding the notebook and pen in the foreground.

Page 6

Panel 1 - Horror comes over Alvin’s face as his father continues to cough loudly, clutching his chest. He realizes that his father might be close to death now.

Panel 2 - Wider overhead shot as Alvin turns away from Gerson, looking frantically around the room. “No! Not yet!--” he says desperately. Gerson is still racked with coughs.

Panel 3 - Closeup as Alvin grabs the candles from the desk–

Panel 4 - And then pulls a book from the bookshelf, with the delta rune on the front –

Panel 5 - And then finally pulls out what appears to be a beaded rosary, with the delta rune made of beads at the end of it.

Panel 6 - Wider shot as Alvin places the objects in front of him, candles to the side, holy book in front of him. Gerson can only lay there as he does so, trying to catch his breath.

Panel 7 - Front view of Alvin as he clasps his hands together in front of his face, the rosary threaded between his fingers. He closes his eyes and bows his head in prayer. “Angel…Angel above! Please, heed your servant’s prayer!”

Page 7

Panel 1 - Closeup on Alvin as he continues to pray, the candles glowing around him. He keeps his eyes shut even as tears well in them. “I know you call back my father’s soul, but please! Please refrain!”

Panel 2 - Gerson desperately reaches a hand out towards his son, shaking, but unable to reach him. In the foreground, the fountain pen sits on the footstool between them. “A-Alvin…” Gerson’s voice is shaky now.

Panel 3 - Aerial shot as Alvin prays over the book, and Gerson is still confined to the bed, only able to watch. “This world still NEEDS his gifts!” Alvin says. “I pray to you, don’t take them from us now!” The shadows around Alvin start to grow strange, not matching the candlelight.

Panel 4 - Gerson continues to hold out a hand, now not looking well. “No…”

Panel 5 - Closeup on the candles as they spark to life, now glowing stronger.

Panel 6 - A strange bright glow begins to emanate from Gerson. Behind him, the books in the bookcase all rattle and shift as if in a localized earthquake. The colors of the room grow brighter and stranger.

Panel 7 - Still reaching out a desperate hand, Gerson lets out a soft breath. His soul, an upside-down white heart, comes up from his body. On the footstool in the foreground, the fountain pen also begins to levitate, as if by magic.

Page 8

Panel 1 - Front shot of Alvin as he continues to pray desperately, his head bowed and hands together. “Grant us the love shown between his soul and the pen!” Behind him, the colors have grown stark and bright, and a shadow resembling the angel looms behind Alvin.

Panel 2 - Alvin looks up to discover something amazing and terrible: Gerson’s soul has been drawn to the fountain pen, and begins to flow down into it.

Panel 3 - Closeup as Gerson’s soul is completely absorbed into the pen, hovering high over the bed.

Panel 4 - The candles turn strange blue and pink colors, and the books in the bookcase shake and rattle relentlessly.

Panel 5 - Extreme closeup on Alvin’s eyes as he sees this miracle; the light of his father’s soul reflected in his eyes.

Panel 6 - Closeup as the pen suddenly drops, and clatters back on to the footstool.

Panel 7 - Wide aerial shot as the room very suddenly goes completely dark and silent, the bright colors and lights now gone. Alvin stands up and backs away from the bed, still clutching the rosary, his face filled with horror. Gerson now lies unmoving in his bed, having passed away.

Page 9

Panel 1 - The same shot as the first panel of the first page, with the other monsters waiting in the hallway. No one says anything as Alvin emerges from the bedroom, leaning on the door for support, his head bowed. Everyone in the room knows that Gerson has just passed, although they don’t know the rest.

Panel 2 - An establishing shot of the forest and mountains surrounding Hometown…the skies are a dark, gloomy gray.

Panel 3 - Above shot of Gerson’s newly dug grave. At the bottom of a small pit lies Gerson’s hammer, covered in his dust. Politics Bear stands over the grave, holding a shovel. 

Panel 4 - Closeup as the shovel begins to dump dirt over the fresh grave.

Panel 5 - Another closeup of Gerson’s headstone, with bundles of fresh funerary flowers laid in front of it.

Panel 6 - Wide shot of Gerson’s funeral. Alvin stands over his father’s grave, reading last rites from one of his books. Lots of monsters are in attendance, including Alphys and Undyne, Napstablook, the Holiday and Dreemurr families, and more. A very young Kris, Noelle and Asriel are present, but Dess is not. Everyone is dressed in dark mourning attire.

Panel 7 - After the funeral, Toriel approaches Alvin and puts a hand on his shoulder. She says, “Beautifully said, Alvin. I know your father is watching proudly by the side of the Angel.” Alvin looks distant and mournful.

Panel 8 - A closeup of the fountain pen laying forgotten on the desk in Gerson’s room. Gerson is, perhaps, not actually with the Angel right now.

Panel 9 - Back at the funeral, Alvin bows his head, eyes closed. “You are too kind, Toriel,” he says.

Page 10

Panels 1-3 - We see the seasons pass through the changing of the trees…from the barren white trees of winter, to colorful pink blooms for spring, to the bright oranges and reds of fall.

Panel 4 - Sometime much later, Alvin again enters his father’s old room, alone.

Panel 5 - Much of Gerson’s room has remained untouched. The fountain pen still sits on his old writing desk in the foreground. Alvin steps inside, and carefully turns on the overhead light. “It’s been years,” he says.

Panel 6 - Alvin cautiously approaches the pen, which seems to loom large ahead of him. He hesitantly picks it up.

Panel 7 - Alvin places some blank pages on the writing desk. “Surely…”

Panel 8 - Alvin sits in front of the blank pages, still holding the pen cautiously. “Surely by now, I can do it.” He’s going to try writing.

Panel 9 - Closeup as Alvin dips the pen in the inkwell, and it comes away full of ink.

Panel 10 - Closeup as Alvin holds the pen over the blank page. The pen trembles slightly in his grip.

Panel 11 - Alvin tries to put pen to paper, but he’s still trembling. He looks down with great anxiety. “I…I…”

Panel 12 - Closeup on Alvin’s face as he looks more panicked, shaking and sweating. In the background, his memory of his father’s soul being absorbed into the pen plays back at him. This is still his fault.

Panel 13 - Closeup again as Alvin’s hand shakes uncontrollably, and the pen with it. Ink spots begin to dapple the blank page–

Page 11

Panel 1 - Alvin’s shaking hand accidentally knocks over the inkwell, and it spills black ink all over the blank page.

Panel 2 - Alvin picks up the ruined paper and folds it in half to try and stem the ink spillage. He quietly curses to himself. 

Panel 3 - Closeup as Alvin holds his head in his hand. It’s clear that this isn’t going to work. “I can’t…” 

Panel 4 - Closeup as Alvin puts the ink-stained paper back on the desk, and quickly grabs up the pen and inkwell.

Panel 5 - Taking the pen and inkwell, Alvin exits his father’s room again, head bowed and expression sad.

Panel 6 - Left behind, the folded paper slowly peels apart and unfolds…

Panel 7 - To reveal that the spilled ink has created a rorschach ink blot image of a titan. 

Page 12

Panel 1 - Wide shot as Alvin trudges down the streets of Hometown, alone. His head his bowed, and he’s still clutching the articles he took with him. It’s almost nighttime, and the sky is dark. “I cannot bear this kind of burden,” he says to himself.

Panel 2 - Shot from behind Alvin as he approaches the school building. It’s dark, and no students or teachers should be there. “Maybe you belong where you always have…”

Panel 3 - Now indoors, Alvin continues down the empty hallway towards a particular destination. “With the youth.”

Panel 4 - Alvin opens the door to the storage closet at the end of the hall. It opens with a soft creak. “Teaching. Telling stories,” Alvin continues to say to himself.

Panel 5 - Alvin places the fountain pen and inkwell on a small shelf in the storage closet. The closet is almost completely black. 

Panel 6 - The inkwell and pen are left on the shelf as Alvin closes the door behind him. His expression is mournful as he locks these reminders of his father away. “Inspiring someone better suited,” he says, hoping this is a suitable escape of his responsibility.

Page 13

Panel 1 - But in the storage closet, the objects are subject to something else already there: the grand Dark Fountain. The pen, ink and papers all fall into the darkness of the fountain–

Panel 2 - And start to change, the pen seemingly turning into liquid itself–

Panel 3 - As the pen falls deeper and deeper into the dark, the liquid begins to reshape into something new, something resembling a person–

Panel 4 - Until it lands on empty ground, now a person in knight’s armor, knelt over and holding his head in his hands.

Panel 5 - The Knight comes to, and starts to become more aware. He’s dressed in armor resembling the dark metallic sheen of the fountain pen, his mask resembling the pen tip. A bright deep red cape flows from his shoulders, and a single red-orange feather tops the helmet. “Where…am I?”

Panel 6 - The Knight again touches his helmet with both hands, as if not sure exactly what he is.

Panel 7 - Interior shot of the helmet, which reveals a figure much like Gerson…but much younger, more idealized-looking, with colors not matching his actual self. A Dark World interpretation. “WHY am I…?”

Panel 8 - A closeup of the Knight’s hand, slightly trembling.

Panel 9 - The Knight stares down at his own hands as realization begins to flood him, or at least something that looks like realization. “Wait. I see why. I KNOW.” he says.

 Page 14

Panel 1 - The Knight holds up his hand, and a sword appears in it in a flash of lights. The sword resembles the tip of a fountain pen, almost split neatly in two. “I serve the Lightners! That is my purpose!” Says the Knight. 

Panel 2 - The Knight draws the sword back with great fervor and determination. His thoughts echo around him in strong letters: “A purpose so bright, so clear…”

Panel 3 - In the final panel, the Knight drives the sword into the ground, causing an eruption of black ink-like material to spew from the ground…the creation of a new Dark Fountain. In the fountain itself, words reflect his purpose: “I EXIST TO GIVE THEM STORIES FOREVER.”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 7

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 6.7k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

additional chapter cw! non-descriptive mentions of vomit

A swing and a miss, again.

Rafe’s game was all over the place, he hadn’t been able to focus in batting practice all week, and now it was the bottom of the ninth in Academy’s rivalry match against Kildare County. He was down in the count when he asked the ump for a timeout.

He had resisted the urge to look in the stands the whole game, afraid he knew what he would find, or rather, what he wouldn’t.

You usually sat behind the dugout, wearing his old jersey that he’d given you after his record-breaking freshman season, and his number in black eyeliner on either cheek. Sometimes, it would take a few days for it to wash off, and you’d show up to school with the hint of his number still faded on your skin. 

No one - not his coaches, not his teammates, certainly not his father - could read him like you could. Sometimes he’d pop his head out of the dugout between innings so you could tell him his swing was a few seconds too early for the pitcher’s fastball, or that he needed to stop chasing the backdoor slider. You were never wrong.

They’d tease him in the dugout, tossing sunflower seeds at him and taunting, “what is she, your hitting coach or your wife?” Then he’d ignore you for a few innings, though he almost never got on base without checking in with you first.

Your absence from this game was glaring, one of those same teammates taunting, “can someone please get Cameron’s hitting coach on the phone for fuck’s sake?” after his third strikeout.

He’d brushed it off, but now the game was on the line, and he realized he’d endure any amount of teasing if it meant looking up and seeing you in the stands.

He stepped out of the batter’s box, took a deep breath, and craned his neck to your usual seat, hands gripping the bat tighter when his fear was confirmed - it was empty.

He struck out, and they lost the game.

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It’s actually about to happen, the moment you’d wished for on every star, every eyelash, every birthday candle since you were six years old. The moment you never thought would actually come. You’ve played this scene in your mind a million times, what your first kiss with Rafe would be like. None of the many versions took place in an alley behind a Florida nightclub, but none of them were real either, so now was not the time to be picky. 

Rafe’s thumb was still lingering on your bottom lip, the rest of his long fingers caressing your jaw. 

“Can I? Please?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, dimples creasing his cheeks so handsomely, and leaned in. You realized you were holding your breath as you awaited the first brush of his lips against yours.

It never came. The door to the club slammed open, making you both jump. Your already thumping heart flew to your throat as Kelce stumbled out the large metal door.

“Woah, sorry,” he jumped back, smirking at the sight of you and Rafe pulling away from each other quickly.

“What could you possibly need from me right now?” Rafe said, jaw clenched and eyes narrowed in warning.

“I came out here to find her,” Kelce pointed at you. “So calm your ass down.”

“What is it, Kelce?” You asked gently, hand on Rafe’s arm to hold him back as he started stepping menacingly toward his friend.

“Something’s wrong with Carter,” Kelce said.

“What?!” Your face flooded with concern, you started toward the club, and Rafe didn’t stop you, knowing the sound of your sister’s name dashed any hope he had of keeping you in this alleyway.

“What happened?” You asked Kelce as you brushed past him back into the crowded club, Rafe following behind the two of you.

“I don’t know, she got into an argument with Top and then she stormed off,” Kelce shouted over the thundering music as he struggled to keep up with you.

You scanned the whole club, but couldn’t find her, just Topper ranting emphatically to Tom in the corner, and Sabrina and Maddie on either side of the bathroom door, trying to talk to someone on the other side.

Kelce and Rafe were lost to the crowd as you beelined toward the bathroom, forcefully pushing angry clubbers out of the way to get there. You didn’t care, you were locked-in on finding your sister.

“Is she in there?” You asked as you approached the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Maddie confirmed, looking worried, and a little queasy. “But she won’t let anyone in.”

“She’s so wasted it’s crazy,” Sabrina added with a hiccuping giggle.

You ignored her lack of concern for your sister and banged loudly on the door.

“Car? It’s me,” you shouted, “you gotta let me in, alright? I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

After a moment, and the thought that you’d break this fucking door down if that’s what it took, the handle finally turned. She opened the door just a crack to let you slip through, and closed it back firmly behind you.

Sabrina wasn’t wrong, Carter’s intoxication was written all over her face. Flushed, clammy skin and bloodshot eyes. She threw her arms around you, squeezing tight enough to knock the wind out of you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You asked nervously.

Before you got an answer, she was on her knees in front of the toilet bowl. You rushed to grab her hair and hold it back, getting it all out of the way with just seconds to spare before she got sick.

Thinking through the day's events, you realized no one had eaten much before you left the house, and you knew this group well enough to know it didn’t take much for them to get hammered. What you didn’t know was that while you were distracted with Rafe, the rest of your group was in the club throwing back drinks and racking up tabs like the world was ending.

Rafe was having a similar realization out on the floor, trying to wrangle everyone to the front door where he had a pair of cabs waiting. He physically dragged Topper away from the bar as he demanded another drink, the bartender shouting that he was cutoff. He led Maddie and Sabrina away from some sketchy looking guys who were inviting them back to their house boat, which they proudly advertised held gallons of their homemade moonshine. He stopped Tom from sucker punching a guy who booed when the DJ played a Drake song. He lost Kelce twice.

Once he had finally corralled everyone into the cars, he convinced the drivers to hold up so he could come back and find you. He stood by the bathroom door until you appeared behind it, jumping at the sight of him standing so close.

“I got cabs waiting,” he yelled over the music, eyeing Carter sprawled out on the dirty bathroom floor behind you.

“I can’t get her up,” you told him defeatedly, eyebrows knit together with worry. “She’s not doing good.”

Rafe brushed past you without a word or a second thought, and leaned down to scoop Carter up with ease, fireman carrying her out of the club like your own personal Superman. You followed closely on his heel, feeling guilty that you were thinking about how strong his shoulders looked and not how concerned you were for your sister. 

You opened the door so he could lower her into the first cab, which only had enough seats left for you and her. Once you slid in behind her, leaning her head against Maddie, who was already dozing off with her forehead pressed on the window, Rafe made sure you were settled before closing the door.

He motioned for you to roll down the window, ducking down so he could lean on it.

“Yo Rafe let’s go man!” Topper yelled from the cab behind you before Rafe could speak.

“Give me a fucking second!” He yelled back.

Forearms against the window sill, he leaned in close enough so only you could hear.

“Just, um, don’t stop thinking what you were thinking in the alley.”

Your lips twisted into a smirk, “couldn’t if I tried.”

He gave you a wink before hurrying back to the other cab.

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You didn’t stop thinking about it. You didn’t stop when the cab driver took the wrong turn and made the trip twice as long as it should’ve been. You didn’t stop when Carter asked the driver to pull over every five minutes so she could hurl on the side of the interstate. You didn’t stop when you finally got Carter up to her room, ranting incoherently about her argument with Topper. You didn’t stop as she kneeled in front of the toilet bowl again and you held her hair back, attempting to soothe her with gentle shushes.

You should’ve been focused on your sister and the awful night she was having, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the shape of Rafe’s mouth.

The thing that finally pulled you from your thoughts of him was a sight you hadn’t seen in almost a decade; Carter started to cry. 

Carter never cried, she was your rock, the shoulder for you and all her friends to cry on. She didn’t cry when she fell off the monkey bars in third grade and broke her arm, or when she was rejected from her dream school, or even when your parents got divorced. But here she was, on the cold tile of the Airbnb bathroom floor, bawling.

“Hey, hey, woah,” you said, alarm ringing in your mind as you rushed to sit beside her on the cold tile floor. “What’s going on?”

“I’m such a mess,” she gasped between sobs.

“Well, for starters we need to get you a makeup wipe,” you countered.

“No I mean, like, emotionally,” she wiped her tears with the backs of her hands, only for a new round of drops to fall and further streak her mascara down her skin.

Your sister spent her life running from difficult emotions. It was something you tried to gently point out to her many times, but she’d typically push it away with a sarcastic joke or just ignore you altogether. 

You started therapy about a month after you got to college, taking the university health center up on its free psych eval offerings for freshmen. You’d shown up to your therapist’s office every Wednesday at 2:30 since then, religious about not missing a session. 

You recommended Carter do the same, but she’d just brush you off with a teasing, “nah I don’t need all that, I’m supposed to be the normal one, remember?”

Taking the hint, you stopped bringing it up after a few months. But now, with Carter’s tears pooling on the floor of this Airbnb, you wished more than ever that she’d listened to you.

“Well, that’s okay,” you gently brushed the hair from her shoulder. “It’s okay not to be okay.”

Carter laid her head on your criss-crossed lap and let the tears fall harder. You rubbed her back and continued to reassure her all was going to be okay, waiting until the tears began to slow and her breathing steadied to broach the subject again.

“Do you want to…” you swallowed, preparing for her to brush you off again, “do you want to talk about it?”

She was quiet for a long moment, you sighed in acceptance that she would pick the ignoring you route this time. 

Then, in a small, feeble voice, she whispered, “it’s too scary.”

“What is?” You whispered back, hand resting on her arm for comfort, praying she wouldn’t get spooked and would keep talking. 

“Loving him,” she confessed.

Your heart nearly burst. You didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“Topper, you mean?” you responded.

She nodded slowly, “it was easier when I didn’t love him. I’m supposed to be leaving in a week. I’m supposed to be on to my next big thing, and all I can think about is what the best time to facetime him is if I’m six hours ahead. I should be thinking about me, but all I want is him, and that’s fucking terrifying.”

The thought sent her into another round of sobs, tears soaking the skirt of your dress. 

“I know it feels scary, and new,” you tiptoed to your point, “but…have you ever really not loved him?”

She thought over your words, but the alcohol and drama of the evening was starting to pull her into a restless sleep.

“I’m gonna miss you,” she mumbled, half-asleep already. “So much.”

“Let’s just get you into bed, yeah?” You said, pulling her up off the floor. “We can talk tomorrow.”

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In the darkness of Carter’s room, your phone lit up on the nightstand.

You pulled your arm from under her slowly, praying not to wake her up now that she was finally snoozing peacefully, though her deep snores were occasionally interrupted by shaky breaths, the aftershocks of her sobs. You’d gotten both of you changed and into bed with some difficulty, a strategically placed trash can next to her side of the bed just in case. You reached over to check your phone, turning the brightness down so as not to disturb her.

You had a text from a number that wasn’t saved in your phone, starting with the same 252 area code as yours. You didn’t need to ask “who’s this?” because you’d know that seven digit combination on your deathbed. Deleting his contact from your phone had really been more of a cathartic exercise than anything else.

‘She asleep yet?’ 

‘I think so but it’s been rough, what about Top?’

‘Same, but he’s out like a light now…and snoring like a jet engine.’

You stifled your laugh so Carter wouldn’t hear, keeping your movements slow as you climbed out of her bed and padded towards the door. Wincing at the squeak of the door hinge, you pulled it slowly closed until the handle clicked. 

Down the hall, the same click sounded from Topper’s door. Rafe stood with his hand on the doorknob, listening for any signs that his exit woke the sleeper inside.

His eyes flashed up to meet yours, and you shared a knowing, nervous smile. You each walked a few steps towards the other, Rafe immediately picking up on the water pooling in your eyes. You’d held it together up until now for Carter’s sake, wanting to be strong for her like she’d always been for you, but now the heartbreak of seeing her so upset was finally settling in.

“Hey, hey,” Rafe whispered, lengthening his strides to close the gap between you faster. “What’s wrong?” 

He ducked to search your face for a second, your small sniffles breaking his heart. When a tear slipped from the corner of your eye, he pulled you in by your shoulders, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You let your arms circle his waist, not taking the time to worry if this was strange or if you were okay being this vulnerable with him, just reveling in the comforting smell of him and the rise and fall of his sturdy chest under his t-shirt.

A few more tears slipped out, but with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while you breathed him in, your sadness faded slowly into a calm reassurance.

“You good?” He whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, arms still wrapped around his torso.

“I just didn’t know she was so sad,” you explained, your lip trembling slightly at the thought of your sister, with all her strength and tenacity, slumped over on the bathroom floor. “I should’ve been paying closer attention. I came on this trip for her and all I’ve been doing is thinking about myself. I’m so selfish.”

That thought caused more tears to roll down your cheeks. Rafe placed a palm on either side of your face, his thumbs reaching out to swipe away the salty drops.

“You,” he said firmly, his voice just above a whisper now, more concerned with making sure you heard what he had to say than making sure not to wake anyone, “are not selfish.”

Once your tears were dried, he lifted your face towards him so he could look in your eyes. You ever-so-slightly nuzzled your head into his palm, wondering if he could even feel the gentle way you were surrendering to him. His soft grin told you he could.

“He’s a mess, too,” he nodded back toward Topper’s door.

“I love them, but those two are exhausting,” you chuckled softly. 

Even as the conversation lightened up, his hands didn’t fall from your face, and your arms stayed firmly in place around him, just holding each other as you whisper-laughed about the antics of the whole group this evening.

“Sabrina said you had to chase Kelce half a block,” you giggled, and he’d never felt so relieved to see someone’s tears give way to laughter. “Your dad instincts really kicked in there, huh?”

“I don’t know,” he smiled, his eyes creasing with the upward tick of his lips, “the way you basically parted the crowd to get to Carter? Topper might have competition for house mother. Maybe we’re the real mom and dad.”

You snorted at that.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you blinked back, “just funny that you’re already talking about being parents when you haven’t even kissed me yet.”

Rafe nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lips, feigning seriousness, “you’re so right. We should probably do something about that.”

“You should probably do something about that,” you taunted.

His persona cracked and he laughed, eyebrows raised.

“Oh yeah? Should I?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling at him as he leaned forward, eager to recapture the moment that had been so unceremoniously stolen from you a few hours ago.

Just before your lips touched, a vile retching noise came echoing down the hall from Topper’s room. He was vomiting again, and the romance was zapped from the air.

Your head fell back in frustration, groaning.

“You wanna go for a drive?” Rafe offered, hand sliding down your arm to find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there.

You nodded quickly, a smile replacing your annoyed frown. He led you down the stairs fast and you padded behind excitedly, giggling at his speed and urgency. 

“Shit,” he paused before reaching into the bowl on the kitchen counter where everyone was keeping their keys. “I forgot Sabrina blocked me in.”

“We’ll take Carter’s jeep,” you offered, fishing around the bowl until you found her fuzzy pink keychain. “She parked on the road.”

“She won’t mind?” He asked.

“I have a feeling she’s gonna be out for a long time,” you pointed out. “I’m driving though.”

“Just like old times,” he grinned, your heart doing cartwheels at the memory.

Fingers intertwined, you let him pull you away from the house, and the risk of any more interruptions.

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The sky glowed with that pre-sunrise blue fog, turning the world around you into a collection of navy silhouettes. The only shape you cared about seeing was the faded profile of the man in the passenger seat next to you.

Though the air still held the chilly nip of dawn, it was warm enough to roll the windows down, which was always your preference. Your hair whipped around you in a frenzy of wind. You could feel his eyes on you as you drove, but you didn’t look back, suddenly filled with nerves, butterflies crowding your stomach and doubt flooding your mind. You just kept driving, suddenly terrified of what would happen when you stopped.

After a few minutes of unreturned eye contact, Rafe finally tore his gaze away from you, poking around Carter’s car to have something to do with his hands. He opened the glove box, and the middle console, fidgeting with every little button and knick-knack he could find.

You smirked at his restlessness and kept driving straight, not entirely sure where you were going. Rafe opened the sun visor above him, gasping at what he found.

“No fucking way,” he laughed with a disbelieving shake of his head, “Carter has CDs? Still?”

He pulled the sleeve of CDs from the visor’s clip, inspecting them closer. 

“Wait,” a slow smile bloomed on his face as he observed knowingly, “these are yours.”

“How’d you know?”

“Because they’re the same ones you had in your car in high school.”

“Didn’t think you’d remember,” you scoffed.

“I remember everything about you,” he said, like it was the most obvious and casual admission anyone had ever made.

Even with the cool morning air blowing in through the window, the car suddenly felt too hot. Too hot and too small. Your chest and neck bloomed with a nervous blush as your breath quickened. How were you supposed to respond to that? 

Rafe kept sorting through the CDs, nodding at each one in recognition, leaning back in his seat as if he hadn’t just dropped an atomic bomb into the conversation.

You needed to fill the silence before he noticed the tornado of anxious thoughts tearing through your mind. 

“You gonna pick one?” You urged him, eager for the sound of familiar music to erase his words that hung in the air between you.

He finally made it to the back of the plastic sleeve, to a familiar silver disc decorated in sharpie in your handwriting; your favorite homemade mix that you’d played every single day from ages fifteen to seventeen.

You’d titled it “car mix,” though a more accurate title would be “Rafe’s mix.”

Sometime during your freshman year, you’d spent a whole day sitting in front of your computer, meticulously sorting through songs that made you think of him, or that you wanted him to listen to, hoping he would hear them and finally understand you somehow. It was a love letter without words, and he’d heard it a thousand times, but you doubted he ever really listened. Par for the course.

“I think that one got scratched,” you tried to discourage him from playing it, the flashback to your desperate, lovestruck younger self a little too much to handle at five a.m.

Rafe turned it over in his hands, inspecting it for those so-called scratches, finding nothing satisfying.

“Looks good to me,” he disagreed, popping it into the CD player and beaming bright as the first song began to play through the speakers.

“Oh my god,” he laughed, “it’s like we’re in a time machine.”

You agreed, the familiar opening notes of the first song you’d picked for him sent you flying back in time, to a girl you thought was long dead, and the boy next to her, whom she’d loved to her grave.

Chills shot up your spine, a warning shot before the tears that were beginning to gather on your lash line. You pulled the car quickly to the side of the road, sand flying up with the screech of the tires. You realized then that you’d somehow found your way to the public beach, the parking lot empty and sandy shore free of any sunbathers or surfers.

Rafe turned the music down, looking at you quizzically as your foot slammed on the break. Before he could ask what was going on, you were pulling the keys from the ignition and throwing off your seatbelt, hopping down from the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind you. He scrambled for his door handle as you started walking quickly toward the water and away from him.

The salty air was so thick you could taste droplets of seawater on your lips before you were even halfway to the shore. The waves crashed violently, remnants of the week’s storms throwing the water back and forth until it was foaming and angry.

Angry. You were as angry as the sea, sand kicking up with each stomp of your foot as you hurried as far away from him as you could possibly get. His long legs were already catching him up to you as he chased you down, calling your name.

Despite your efforts to outpace him, you could feel him gaining on you, nearly at your heel by the time your toes touched the water’s edge. Flight would not be an option, it was time for a fight.

“You remember everything?” You whipped toward him, nearly knocking him over with the force of the glare that met him. You stalked toward him, catching the way he backed up just a step before squaring his shoulders and planting himself until you were nearly chest to chest. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, Rafe?”

“What are you talking about?” He asked desperately, scrambling from the whiplash of your sudden outburst. “What the hell just happened?”

He was genuinely so clueless as to the reason for your sudden shift in mood, reeling like he was mentally still back in the car listening to music, eyes scanning your face as he tried desperately to catch up. You almost took pity on him. Almost.

“I can’t,” a lump lodged itself into your throat and you bit your lip for a second to hold it down, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“What? Can’t do what?” He begged for clarity.

You just shook your head, a final plea to your own tears not to fall in front of him, but they betrayed you, one single drop slipping down your face. You turned from him quickly as a final ditch ending to hide them from him, and stepped away further down the beach.

“No, no wait, please wait,” with two easy strides he was close enough to touch you, wrapping his hand around your wrist to turn you toward him. “Don’t do this to me. You said you’d remember the alleyway, we were so close. We are so close.”

“Are we?” You challenged him. “If we’re so close then why can’t I even ride in the car with you without feeling like I can’t breathe? You don’t get it, Rafe. You don’t understand that every memory feels like a fucking sucker punch.”

“Then let’s not focus on the memories,” he suggested, “I just want to be with you right now.”

“Why now?” You burst out, another tear breaking through the barricade and sliding traitorously down your cheek. “Why not then?”

They were the two questions that plagued you since you saw him on the beach. You felt you knew the reason. You looked different, he was attracted to this version of you. Even though it would hurt like a bitch, you really wished he would just admit it, that he only wanted you because of how you look now, so you could finally just hate him and move on.

Instead, he continued his time honored tradition of giving you the exact opposite of what you wanted.

He looked straight at you, no waiver in his voice as he said, “because I wasn’t ready for you. I wasn’t good enough.”

It was the perfect answer, and your worst case scenario. Heartfelt, honest, a hot knife to the wall of ice you’d worked so hard to build between you and him. As he’d done so many times before, Rafe melted you.

Soft eyes, you tilted your head as you studied him, “and you are now?”

“No,” his laugh surprised you, scoffing as if it was the most ridiculous question in the world. “But I’m smarter. Smart enough to know that I’ll never be good enough for you. Who could be?”

The last chips of ice melted away entirely at those words, the image of his sweet smile when he said them etched itself on your heart in a way you knew was completely permanent. 

As so often happened when you were at a crossroads with your own mind, you heard Carter’s voice ringing through your thoughts. Though this time, it wasn’t a quippy comment about Rafe, or a catchy mantra to encourage you to hold your head high. Instead, you heard her weak, cracked voice as she cried on the bathroom floor just hours ago; “it’s too scary.” 

Suddenly, you knew exactly what she meant.

Your every instinct was to pull away from him, hide away the vulnerable thought to avoid any risk of him making it worse. But as he looked down at you, the first traces of sunrise streaking across the horizon, casting a gold-pink glow on his cheekbones, something in the back of your mind was saying you could trust him.

“I’m scared,” you all but whispered.

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, as if you were an elusive, wild thing that would run off at any sudden movement. When you didn’t flee, he took the chance to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, voice dropping low as he said, “I know.”

“How am I supposed to know you won’t hurt me?” 

Your deepest fears continued to flow out of you, into his waiting hands, praying he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers.

“I don’t think you will until you give me a chance to prove it to you,” he countered.

You knew he was right. Holding him at arm’s length would never get you the answers you needed from him. You’d never know if he had really changed unless you got close enough to relearn him, and you’d never know how he really felt about you unless you gave him a second chance to show you. You aren’t generally opposed to second chances, more likely to give them out then, say, your sister is.

“You know what Carter would say?” You chuckled darkly, unable to detangle your sister’s voice from your own conscience even if you wanted to. “That you don’t deserve any more chances.”

“That might be the first thing I’ve ever agreed with her on,” Rafe was quick to acknowledge. “But you know what else she’d say?”

“What?” You asked with raised brows, skeptical that he had any clue what Carter would actually say, and knowing she would hate that he was claiming to.

“That you deserve a chance.”

Funny thing is, that’s exactly what Carter would say. She didn’t really know how badly you wanted him, that you were starting to suspect you might just be happiest when you’re with him, but she always encouraged you to do what made you happy, even when it was something she didn’t understand.

“And if I’m what you want then I just happen to be the luckiest idiot in the world, because I want you too. You have no idea how badly.”

The tide was coming in, the very edge of each wave nipping at your toes before being pulled back out to sea. Rafe’s confession made you feel so unsteady, you wondered if you’d crumble and get pulled out right with it. Your mind reached for anything to ground you before you drowned in him completely.

“Why?” You asked him, needing his answer like a port in the storm.

“Why?” He repeated, either confused by the question or by the need for it. Somehow, both possibilities annoyed you.

“Yeah, tell me why you want me,” you placed your hands on your hips, shoulders squaring up with him in challenge. “And you’re not allowed to use the word beautiful, or cute, or call me baby.”

“This kinda feels like a test,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah? Maybe it is,” you huffed. “And this time there’s no cheating, no open book. And no me to slip you the answers.”

“Can I get a few minutes to review my notes?” His cheeky pout was so cute you worried you were about to fold right there on the spot.

“Fine,” you allowed, “you get one minute to think about it.”

He feigned worry, faked stress, biting his thumbnail and looking out over the waves as if he actually had to think it over.

In reality, he was more prepared for this test than any he’d ever taken in his life. He’d spent years thinking about this moment, about what he would say, what he could say that would possibly be enough. 

While you waited for him to speak, you mirrored his stance, facing the water with your hands wrapped around you.

Rafe turned his head slightly to take in your profile, the sliver of daylight creeping over the horizon making your features glow so romantically.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you tried to focus on the count in your head, dutifully keeping track of the seconds until his allotted prep time was up.

Evidently, he didn’t need a timer, his voice broke the silence before you had even gotten to forty-five.

“Y’know, I got a walk-on tryout invite for baseball at Chapel Hill,” he started. 

You resisted the urge to look at him or respond, despite your mind racing to connect the dots between that statement and the challenge of explaining why he wants you.

“I was…so shitty,” he laughed at the memory, “I mean just awful. Striking out in the cage, my fielding was all over the place, I dropped a fucking pop fly. I’ve made that play a thousand times and the one time it counted, I dropped it. I mean, you wouldn’t have even recognized me out there. And the best part was that my dad came to watch. He bribed an old alum buddy to get him into closed tryouts just to watch me absolutely shit the bed.”

His smile faded.

“It was the worst day of my life. The coaches didn’t even call me themselves, they sent me an automated email to tell me I didn’t make the team. They were nice enough to send me some film from the tryout, though. I must’ve watched it a hundred times. I was spiraling like a bitch, just full on meltdown. I watched that film over and over, like some kind of torture. When I watched it, I just kept wondering how that guy could’ve ever been considered good.”

He turned to you, looking down at you intensely, hesitating for the first time since he started talking.

“I know I fumbled you. I knew it from the second it happened. And,” he swallowed hard, struggling with the next part. “I knew you were in love with me.”

Your head snapped to the side to look at him, face beat red.

“I was an idiot, but I wasn’t blind,” he continued before you could interject a defense. “The problem was never that I didn’t know, it was that I didn’t know why. But the way you looked at me, I don’t know, it made me feel like I must be like, somewhat good. Why else would you care about me if I wasn’t? But then when I was fucking rotting in my dorm watching that film over and over it dawned on me…you didn’t love me because I was good. I was good because you loved me.” 

Breath escaped you, eyes glossy as you let those beautiful words sink in, but he wasn’t done.

“I thought it was just a lucky break that I got you for four years. And of course I fucked it up, I fuck everything up. After those tryouts, I had nothing, no one. I failed my classes, dropped out of rushing a frat, I stopped talking to everyone. Shit, even my sisters were calling me to see if I was okay. I got it together eventually, kind of, but it’s never been the same. I have never been the same…since you. But then I saw you on the beach the other day, and it kind of hit me. The biggest loss wasn’t your love for me, or my fielding skills, or the bullshit frat parties. It was my best friend. You were my best friend. You were - you are - my favorite fucking person. When all that shit happened, you were the only one I wanted to talk to, and I couldn’t, I didn’t deserve to. But god, I’d give anything, anything, to have my best friend back. You don’t have to…be with me. I understand if you don’t want to. But please, can we just be friends again?”

You blinked up at him as he finished his monologue, all his words swirling around your head like cartoon birds, dizzying and all consuming. You wished it really was a test, cause then you’d have a printed copy that you could study and analyze and go over and over with different colored highlighters.

But it wasn’t a test. It wasn’t a metaphor. It was just you and the boy you love standing on the beach at sunrise, looking at each other like you were the only two people on earth.

“No.” You said, shaking your head.

His eyes blinked rapidly, trying and failing to hold back his emotion. Before he could spiral any further, you added,

“I don’t wanna be friends.”

His eyes flicked over yours for just a second, double checking, asking you silently if that meant what he thought it did. You gave him the slightest nod, as if to finally say “yes, Rafe.”

Rafe’s hands landed firm but gentle on either side of your face, pulling you towards him. Your lips met in a symphony of passion and affection and need and a mutual sigh of fucking finally.

He tasted better than you’d ever imagined, a sweet rush to your head as his tongue parted your lips slightly. He pulled back just an inch to let his uncontrollable smile break against yours, laughing into each other’s mouths in disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy. Once he was satisfied that you understood how happy he was, he pulled you back in. 

If the first kiss was a spark, the second kiss was a goddamn explosion. He kissed you like the tide kisses the shore in a hurricane, his tsunami waves crashing into you over and over again. His tongue took over, claiming you, taking up space in your mouth like he never planned to leave. His hands drifted, one to the back of your head, laced in your hair, the other on the small of your back, holding you against himself. Your hands snaked up his arms, savoring every inch of him until you reached his shoulders. You linked your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you as you stood on your tiptoes to meet him, finding middle ground for the first time in your lives.

After a while, your lips parted, both of you desperate for breath, the lack of oxygen dizzying.

“So,” he smiled, hand still cradling your head and his thumb sweeping over your bottom lip, “did I pass?”

“Hmm,” you pretended to consider it, “A minus.”

“What? You must be grading on a curve,” he shook his head.

“Maybe you could do some extra credit,” you flirted.

With a sly smile at that, he returned his lips to yours, and you forgot a time when you didn’t know what it was like to kiss him.

Time passed, the sun rose, night bloomed into morning, and Rafe kissed you for what could’ve been a lifetime. With each minute that passed with his lips on yours, you felt all the bad memories fade to gray, the past washing away with the crash of the waves, leaving only him. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Carter’s Jeep sat parked on the side of the road, the interior dark in the early morning light, except for the phones buzzing uncontrollably on each seat.

On the passenger's side, Rafe’s phone blew up with texts from Topper. The most recent reading ‘dude, we’ve got trouble at the house…’

On the driver’s seat, yours lit up with twelve missed calls and a single text from Carter,

‘Don’t come back.’

(chapter 8: part one)

a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[darkstaria]

Yandere Batfam - Soulmate Soul Animal Au.

Chapter 7:

Summary: Your escape from Joker doesn't go unnoticed, and you bear the consequences of attracting the attention of the bats.

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

----

Burning green blinded him, searing his veins and twisting. His very breath was strained, broken and turning into what he could only describe as boiling rage.

He did the only thing he could do.

Murder the clown.

Strike after strike bore down upon the clown’s heaving body, his guns left behind on the floor, long forgotten. Any little trick up the clown's sleeve was swiftly discarded by Jason’s primal force.

The clown’s leg was held in his gloved hands, he twisted, pulling and pulling until there was an abrupt snap. The other leg was subject to the whims of his iron toe boots, breaking under the pressure.

He itched and burned to do more, fists turning into a flurry of blows upon the now unconscious clown. The clown could still cry out in pain, and that satisfied him.

Jason kept going, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough, not until he wrapped his hands around and squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and the clown finally popped.

Jason let out a breath, hands forming into an instinctive fist and aimed, until hands wrapped around his arms to pull him back.

He struggled, trying to jab out with his elbow to no avail. A voice interrupted the Green, calling out to him.

“Jason! Jason, come on!” The voice called out, demanding and desperate and somehow just enough for him to break through.

“Steph…?” He mumbled, regaining focus of the world around him. There was blood on his gloves.. his boots too. 

The clown as if a train had run him over- several times. Every part of his face was bruised, green, purple and black. His limbs were in no better shape, twisted and broken into pieces that seemed like agony for doctors to put back together.

He didn't envy Joker’s recovery period.

“Shit..” Batgirl muttered, at his side. “Batman won't be happy about this.” 

“Fuck Batman.” Was his instinctive response.

“Indeed..” She replied. “Well… I’ll take him back to Arkham, or actually, to the nearest doctor that won’t try to finish him off. Cass?”

A sudden movement in the shadow (that definitely didn't make Jason jump) revealed Cass, as she walked closer, a golden cage in one of her hands and Jason’s soul form in the other.

“Hurt.” Cass stated, pointing down at his soul form. Jason whistled, looking at the damage. 

His soul form had always been a durable little thing, no doubt a result of his own upbringing, but this amount of damage was definitely rare. The bird’s wings were twisted, a sign that they were broken, and its breaths were slightly ragged, indicating some internal injuries.

It’d be alright, ultimately. Soul animals healed much faster than humans, as a result of them being magic. 

He was mostly just glad he had bond distancing training, feeling those injuries wouldn't be fun at all. There was a dull pain in his back already, no doubt a result of his soul form’s injuries.

He sighed, kicking at the clown a bit as he did so. “Well that’s a problem.” 

“Your soul animal shouldn't be out of the cave Hood, how did it get here?” Batgirl spoke, turning to look at Orphan, as the hero unlocked the cage a bat was glooming in.

“And how did Bats get here either? Out of all of us, he's had the best training, his soul animal should know the most about how important it is to our identities for them to not leave.” Batgirl frowned, confusion painted on her face.

Batman’s soul animal flitted up to rest on Orphan’s shoulder, a vision of silent solitude. Orphan gave it a little scritch on its ears.

Jason paused, considering how to word what he was about to say. The Green had mostly cleared up, but it still fogged him a little, especially as he thought of the scene he witnessed.

“There was a civilian, Joker’s victim. Tied to a chair and about to be smashed on the head by a crowbar. My soul animal appeared and took the hit.” He stuck to the facts, they were wasting too much time as is. Damn, if not for the pit rage he could have found them by now!

Batgirl gasped. Orphan shifted a little. “Wait, do you think..?” Batgirl struggled to voice the question, knowing how much it meant to them all.

“Yes.” Jason answered, blunt. “That was our soulmate.”

Abrupt movement from the window interrupted their shock, as Red Robin swooped in with a brisk move. 

“Hey.” Red Robin called out, taking in their depressed faces. He paused. “What happened?”

—-

You were not having a good night. Your head hurt, your feet ached, and you would basically give anything at this point to get back home and collapse on your bed. Nothing had gone the way you had hoped for. In fact, it was now the absolute worst case scenario, other than being dead.

Now you have been exposed to two of your soulmates, potentially all of them now if they were feeling like sharing that information.

Oh and of course, you couldn't forget the Joker. Your newly acquired head injury certainly wouldn't be forgetting about it anytime soon.

You groaned, the world before you turning into brief spinning fuzz, as you trudged on. 

“Why me…” You muttered, narrowly avoiding stepping in some rain water. You walked through an alleyway, vaguely guessing the direction of your house. In all honesty, you had barely the slightest inkling of where you were at this point, but you had to try.

The shadows behind you stirred, and you whipped around, making eye contact with one of your worst nightmares. Nightwing.

You shifted backwards, aiming to run away, but he caught onto the fleeing posture of your stance.

“Hey! Hey, calm down.” He spoke reassuringly, as if he was talking to a scared citizen. “I'm not going to hurt you. The inmates of Arkham Asylum have broken out, and it's not safe to be roaming the streets right now.”

He smiled, a charming little gesture, and held a hand out to you. “I can take you home, you'll be safer indoors.”

You shook your head, words failing to escape in your fear of this new problem.

He frowned. “I’m sorry but, I'm going to have to insist. It's really not safe. I’d hate for you to get hurt.” He perked up a little as he spoke the next few words. “Are you injured? I know someone who can help, her name is Leslie, she's a very safe doctor. Or if you don't have anywhere to go, I can escort you to a safe place?”

You shook your head desperately. You wanted nothing more than to get away. Your legs were shaking.

Any further time spent in the presence of your soulmates was a risk. At any point one of them could tell him and you'd be doomed. Hell, he might already know!  

“I… I want to leave.” The words tumbled out, clumsy. “But not with you.”

The smile stayed on his face this time, plastered on. “It won’t be an inconvenience-” He tried.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It's really unsaf-”.

“Please leave me alone.”

“It will only take five-”.

“I said LEAVE ME ALONE!” You screamed, frustration and agony eclipsing into a fearful shout. You regretted it immediately, as it echoed through the streets. Tears welled up in your eyes. Your breath ran short.

Nightwing stood there, finally looking unsure. A part of you reveled in it, finally seeing how you always felt around them reflected on their form.

A fluttering sound broke the uncomfortable silence, a little robin flying down onto Nightwing’s shoulder.

“Robin..?” He muttered, more to himself than you. “Why are you here?”.

You meant to take the opportunity for what it was, to turn and run while you had the chance, but beady eyes turned towards you at the first movement you made.

Robin fluttered towards you, landing on your trembling hand. It gave a little coo, tilting its head a bit to stare at you. It seemed like it noticed your anxiety. It was admittedly a very cute gesture, something that acted like a balm to your scratched and raw mental state, but it didn't last for long.

“Wait…”. 

Your blood froze in your veins. Everything stopped.

“Are… are you…?”

You couldn't respond to his question. Your head spun, an undercurrent of anxiety questioning every option you could make. Your shakes increased. It was noticeable.

“Ah, hey!” It seemed he spotted it. “Don’t worry so much, I know you're so terrified because of what's going on, but now I know I can keep you safe.” His hands grabbed yours, a constricting grip. You tried to take a step back, but he kept you there, not budging from his grasp. Robin shifted a little in displeasure.

“We… can keep you safe.” His eyes beamed into yours, trying to convey a feeling of safety, of reassurance.

You were numb to everything but terror.

“I've told you this once.” You muttered. “And I didn't want to say it again.” You ripped his hands from yours, pushing him away. You grabbed Robin.

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE ALREADY!” You screamed, primal agony laced in your tone, your last efforts giving out.

Then, in a moment of desperation, you grabbed Robin, your littlest soul animal. And you threw him at Nightwing’s face.

His startled scream was music to your ears, as you raced out of the alleyway and down the street. If you were lucky, maybe Robin would be startled enough to give him a few scratches.

Things were finally, finally looking up. It had taken a lot. Gosh, it has taken so much from you. You couldn't go home anymore, both vigilante and villain now knew your name, but at the very least…

You could escape.

It was a mantra you chanted to yourself.

“I can escape. I can escape. I can escape.”

It remained in your brain as you ducked under windows and hid behind cars.

I can escape I can escape I can escape.

A slip of blue in the shadows was your only warning, before cruel pain pierced your arm. 

“Ack!” You clutched at it, noticing what could only be a dart now embedded in you. You ripped it out as you ran, hoping that would be it.

IcanescapeIcanescapeIcanescape-

The world started falling to pieces before your very eyes, a black void stealing the places of buildings, cars, wherever you looked.

Your rush turned into a stumble.

Escape-escape-escape-

You were limping through an alleyway when your limbs finally gave up on you. The adrenaline finally losing to the tranquiliser.

“Escape…” You mumbled.

You glanced up.

A dark shadow was the only thing you could see. A giant figure, clad in a long cape.

A resentful part of you thought that the cape would be a rather warm thing to snuggle up to.

A hand reached out from the darkness.

You passed out.

----

Happy Halloween!!

Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Actually, there won't be too many chapters left now, we're coming to the end of Reader's struggle. Ofc, I will be going extra's that aren't actual chapters, and they'll have some extra details that are excluded from Reader's pov.

Also, I definitely have to apologise for how long this one took. I do have my reasons! Had an ear infection, then a holiday (that was pretty neat actually) and currently I have COVID lol. So I was a bit busy there.

But Halloween deserves to be celebrated just as much as everyone deserves another chapter, so here you go!

It is a bit of a shame I won't be able to make an actual Halloween piece. Maybe I'll make something a few days after Halloween? How do people feel about a coraline inspired DC oneshot?

Taglist: @moonchild-artemisdaughter @jjsmeowthie @madine11-blog @xxrougefangxx @hadesnewpersephone @neerathebrightstar @mel-star636 @jaythes1mp @rosecentury @lov3vivian @gaozorous-rex-blog @victoria1676 @vrsin @silverklaus @ryukyuin @kurai-hono-blog @thisisafish123 @isawyourbrowserhistory @ain-t-no-way-bsfr @realifezompire @lunaluz432 @nickey-diano @sukiiluvs @sara0055 @alleakimlala @kdidgg @paperhermits @alishii @emmbny @sirenetheblogger @fantasy-angelo @andrasia @vinnvinnvintage @nyra-42 @armystaysatnct @beyond-your-stars @starsdotalk @adeptusxia0 @jailbimbo @yandereheros @sxftiebee @i-have-three-feelings @toast-on-dandelioms @lyl-3 @sitepathos @pato-spoiler-27 @ghostdoodlen @phoenixgurl030 @problematicreblogger

@sociallyakwardpanda @imaginarydreams @zanzie @yuyuzi-ling @soriansick @f1lover4ever @kiikkey @elizzsush @raincxtter @luoyi85 @yune1337 @erikasurfer @thekingofsimps @chaosbeanuwu @snowy-violet @nommingonfood @yandere-enthusiast @nb-babygirl @demonqueen-1 @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @winter67890-blog

Tumblr just told me I can't tag anyone else, so the list ends here. I'll add the others in a comment!

[weirdkidshere]

Uuh so THIS IS RELEVANT AGAIN. JESUS.

Waiting for my husband (ao3) to came back from war (being down) with our beautiful children (fics i was about to read)

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (Series Masterlist) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels (What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim-inspired); angst, drama, fluff, smut

Series Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Word count: 261.3k

Status: Complete

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You've dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Inspiration: Stay by Mikky Ekko

A/N: Hiii I am BAAACK! 🫡 This story is finally seeing the light of day after 3 years. I feel a little rusty, especially this being my first new JK series in 1.5 years! But it's also been a bit rough getting back into writing (and in Tumblr) after so long and after the year that was, so there won't be a schedule for chapter releases and I'll probably be a lot slower than usual. I wasn't sure if I was gonna go back to writing but I realized that I've missed interacting with you guys and screaming about stories so I do hope you give this some love. Fair warning that it's a really slow burn and some scenes are reminiscent of k-dramas. There are also sensitive and triggering topics so please proceed with caution!

And lastly, my biggest love and deepest gratitude to @wonwoonlight who's been the sweetest and loveliest person to talk to about everything, including this story. 🫶🏼 I give her credit for her amazing photos of Seoul (check moodboard) and for being the playlist manager. Please send her love as well!💕

Season 1 -> Playlist 🎶: on the way home

Episode 1 (wc: 12k)

Episode 2 (wc: 11.9k)

Episode 3 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 4 (wc: 11.4k)

Episode 5 (wc: 14.8k)

Episode 6 (wc: 14.6k)

Episode 7 (wc: 15.4k)

Episode 8 (wc: 17.4k)

Episode 9 (wc: 18.4k)

Episode 10 (wc: 20.6k)

Episode 11 (wc: 23.5k)

Episode 12 (wc: 24.7k)

Episode 13 (wc: 29k)

Episode 14 - End (wc: 32.8k)

Season 2 (??)