#he doesn’t notice she’s right behind him

[pucksandpower]

Nothing to Prove

Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader

Summary: it’s a tale as old as time — every female sports fan has been told to “prove” her fandom at least once in her life — but the man quizzing you quickly learns the error of his ways

The Miami sun beats down relentlessly as you make your way through the bustling paddock, your destination the familiar red and white of the Ferrari motorhome. The air buzzes with pre-race excitement, mechanics and team personnel darting about like worker bees in a particularly colorful hive.

You’re so focused on navigating the crowd that you almost don’t notice the young man who steps directly into your path, phone held aloft. His grin is a touch too smug for comfort.

“Excuse me, miss,” he says, voice dripping with false politeness. “Mind if I ask you a few questions for my TikTok?”

You hesitate, torn between ingrained courtesy and a gnawing sense of unease. “I’m actually in a bit of a hurry-”

“It’ll only take a minute,” he insists, already hitting record. “So, tell me, what’s your favorite thing about Formula 1?”

The question seems innocent enough, but there’s something in his tone that sets your teeth on edge. Still, you decide to play along for now. “Well, I love the strategy, the technology, the way the whole sport pushes the boundaries of what’s possible-”

He cuts you off with a laugh. “Come on, be honest. It’s the hot drivers, right? That’s why most girls watch.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his blatant misogyny. “Excuse me?”

“No judgment!” He says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I get it, they’re all rich and fit. But let’s see how much you really know. Who won the 1976 World Championship?”

You open your mouth to answer, but he barrels on.

“What’s the difference between understeer and oversteer? How many points do you get for fastest lap? Come on, if you’re a real fan, this should be easy!”

Your initial discomfort has morphed into full-blown anger. “Look, I don’t have to prove anything to you. My knowledge of the sport isn’t-”

“Ah, so you can’t answer,” he says, triumphant. “Just as I thought. Another pretty face here for the-”

“Is there a problem here?”

The smooth voice comes from just behind you, followed by the warmth of a familiar body pressing against your back. Strong arms wrap around your waist, and you instinctively lean into the embrace.

The TikToker’s eyes go wide as saucers as he takes in the newcomer. “You’re ... you’re ...”

“Charles Leclerc,” your boyfriend finishes for him, voice deceptively mild. “And you are ...”

The young man sputters, clearly thrown off his game. “I’m ... I mean... I was just asking your girl here some questions about F1.”

Charles’ arms tighten fractionally around you. “Is that so? Because from where I was standing, it sounded more like an interrogation.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting Charles’ gaze. His green eyes are blazing with a protective fury that makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s fine,” you murmur. “He was just leaving.”

Charles raises an eyebrow at the TikToker, who’s looking increasingly desperate to be anywhere else. “You heard the lady.”

But the young man, perhaps realizing his video is about to become internet gold, rallies. “Wait! I mean, no offense, but how do we know she’s not just with you for the fame? Can she even name your teammate?”

You feel Charles tense behind you, but before he can speak, you’ve had enough. You step out of his embrace, squaring up to the TikToker.

“Carlos Sainz Jr.,” you say, voice hard. “Currently P4 in the championship. And since you’re so keen on quizzing people, James Hunt won in ‘76, understeer is when the front of the car doesn’t turn enough while oversteer is when the rear steps out too much, and you get one point for fastest lap if you finish in the top ten. Any other burning questions?”

The TikToker gapes at you, clearly unprepared for this turn of events. Charles, for his part, looks like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“I ... but ...” the young man stammers.

You press on, building up a head of steam. “Oh, and fun fact — my brother has four World Championships. But I’m sure you knew that, being such an expert and all.”

The TikToker’s face drains of color as realization dawns. “Your brother? You’re Sebastian Vettel’s sister?”

Charles can’t contain his amusement any longer. He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “I tried to warn you. You’ve awakened the beast.”

You shoot him a mock glare. “You’re not helping.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. “Far be it from me to interfere with your righteous fury. Please, continue.”

The TikToker looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “I ... I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize-”

“That women can be genuine fans?” You interrupt. “That we might actually understand and love the sport for its own sake? Or just that you shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on their gender?”

He winces. “All of the above?”

Charles steps forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, but there’s steel in his voice when he speaks. “I think it’s time for you to go. And delete that video while you’re at it.”

The young man nods frantically, fumbling with his phone. In his haste to retreat, he trips over his own feet, sprawling ungracefully on the ground. Charles moves to help him up, ever the gentleman, but you put a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let him sort himself out,” you mutter. “A little humiliation might do him some good.”

Charles chuckles, pulling you close. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

As the TikToker scrambles away, face burning with embarrassment, you allow yourself to relax into Charles’ embrace. The adrenaline of the confrontation leaves you feeling a bit shaky.

“You okay?” Charles asks softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You nod, letting out a long breath. “Yeah. Just ... frustrated. Why do people still think like that?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I knew. It’s not fair, the assumptions people make.”

“It’s not just about me,” you say, turning to face him fully. “It’s about all the female fans out there who get treated like this. Who get quizzed and belittled and have their passion questioned at every turn.”

Charles nods, his expression serious. “You’re right. It’s a bigger problem than just one idiot with a TikTok account.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it will ever change,” you admit, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

Charles cups your face in his hands, his touch impossibly gentle. “It will,” he says with conviction. “Because of people like you who stand up and call it out. Who refuse to let ignorance go unchallenged.”

You lean into his touch, allowing yourself a small smile. “When did you get so wise?”

He grins, some of his usual playfulness returning. “I have my moments. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”

You laugh, the tension finally starting to dissipate. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Charles leans in, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m proud of you, you know,” he murmurs. “The way you handled that ... it was impressive.”

“Yeah?” You ask, a hint of vulnerability creeping into your voice.

“Absolutely,” he says firmly. “You were brilliant. Fierce. Passionate.” His voice drops lower, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Incredibly sexy.”

You swat his arm playfully. “Behave yourself, Leclerc. We’re in public.”

He affects an innocent expression that doesn’t fool you for a second. “I’m always on my best behavior.”

You snort. “That’s what worries me.”

Charles laughs, the sound bright and carefree. It never fails to make your heart soar. He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. “Come on, let’s get to the motorhome. I think we both could use a moment of peace before the craziness really begins.”

As you walk hand in hand through the paddock, you can’t help but reflect on the incident. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but there’s also a spark of hope. Because for every misogynistic TikToker, there are countless fans — of all backgrounds — who love the sport for what it is. Who appreciate the skill, the strategy, the sheer spectacle of it all.

And maybe, just maybe, standing up to ignorance one interaction at a time is how change really happens.

Charles squeezes your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. “What’s going on in that beautiful mind of yours?”

You smile, leaning into him slightly as you walk. “Just thinking about how lucky I am. To be here, doing what I love. To have people in my life who support me and believe in me.”

He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “The luck goes both ways, mon cœur. You make me better, on and off the track.”

As you approach the Ferrari motorhome, its bright red a beacon in the sea of team colors, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. There will always be challenges, always be those who try to tear others down. But with love, determination, and a refusal to back down from what’s right, anything is possible.

Even changing the world of Formula 1, one small interaction at a time.

[airaatsu]

Hiii, I really loved your first fic!!! I was wondering if you could do another threesome request with se-mi again and dae-ho this time 🙈. my absolute faves

Could be with se-mi and reader already being a thing but her gf has a crush on cute little dae-ho. Flirting and teasing him throughout the games while se-mi watches her gf get what she wants.

Dae ho finally gets the pretty girl but doesn’t realize he has to share until he hears her whimper for her pretty gf to join them ;)

«—Se-mi x F!Reader x Dae-ho—»

⁍Sharing is Caring⁌

Summary: Se-mi notices how her girlfriend currently has a crush on Dae-ho. Instead of getting mad and jealous as you suspected she would, she encourages you to hang out with him. Things take a turn and the two of them end up sharing you. Dae-ho and Se-mi reaches an agreement. Se-mi loves seeing her girlfriend get everything she wants, after all, it's what you deserve;)

A/N: This request was in my inbox for like, 2 days? 😭 I'm sorry this took so long😭😭🏃‍♀️💨 Anyway, hope you guys would enjoy this‼️ I'll be working on another fic later, pray I won't get writer's block🥲 (I SUCK AT SUMMARIES🤕)

Warnings: NSFW, p in v, creampie, fingerfucking, handjob, SMUTTTTT

Se-mi leaned against one of the metal beds. Her gaze lingering on you a bit longer, watching you stare at someone from that man, Gi-hun's group. She continued to stare at you before she let out a sigh, when you didn't seem to notice, she sat down next to you and let out another louder sigh.

"What is it?" You murmured, sitting up straight as you faced her. "What do you mean." Se-mi looked away, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "You've been sighing since earlier. What is it?"

"I don't know. Why were you staring so much at that guy." She questioned, glancing at the group you were staring at earlier. A small pout forming on her lips. You peeked at them over your shoulder before looking back Se-mi, raising a questioning brow at her. "Are you jealous?" You teased, smirking as you poked at her sides.

"No I'm not." She shot you a glare before her gaze softened, grabbing your hands to stop them from poking her. "Why don't you just talk to him? That guy- Dae-ho or whatever his name is." She stood. "Se-mi.. you're not mad?" You asked, stuffing your hands in your pockets. She scoffed,"Mad? Why would I be." She replied, flicking her finger on your nose. You giggled, playfully pushing her. "Maybe because we're in a relationship? And I'm having a crush on someone?" You stood up. Wrapping your arm around hers.

"I'm not mad at you, babe.. besides, I'm quite good at sharing." Se-mi leaned closer, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips before pulling back. "If you really want him, go for it. I don't mind sharing my princess, and it's better with him than those.." She glanced at the purple haired man across the room from them, with that friend of his that was also a drug addict. "Assholes.."

"What do you think, babe?" Se-mi smirked, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, shaking your head. "Of course! Thank you!" You pulled her in a hug, peppering kisses on her face. Causing her to laugh at your sudden display of affection. "Alright, alright. Now go get pretty boy." She sighs, nudging you back into the direction of the group Dae-ho is in.

You and Dae-ho hit it off quite well. Perfect, really. He was such a cutie, a gentleman too. The way he blushed when you would tease and flirt with him even during the games was simply too adorable for you. The way he would look away and pull up the zipper of his jacket, causing the fabric to ride up and hide the lower half of his face whenever you teased him made you giggle. Right now, you were sitting beside him wuth his teammates. You listened to them talk and plan for the next game, but you couldn't help your attention being drawn to someone from across the room. Turning your head, you lock eyes with your girlfriend. Se-mi has been keeping her eyes on you ever since you approached Dae-ho. Watching the both of you converse, how your hand would linger on his arm a bit too long for it to be friendly. But she wasn't jealous, no, Se-mi could never be jealous because of that. Instead, she was enjoying the scene. It filled her with pride seeing how her princess could literally pull anyone without even trying much. The way Dae-ho looked at you was already a clear sign that you've already won his heart over with just a few touch and your sweet words. Whenever you giggled or laugh, Se-mi could see Dae-ho's eyes soften and a smile forming on his lips. Who could help it though? You're beautiful, she could see that, anyone and everyone could see that.

You didn't even know how you got here. Well, maybe you did.. making up an excuse to the guard and managing to sneak into the bathroom with Dae-ho in tow was something you thought would never happen. You were just going to tease him more, flirt with him, some subtle touches here and there. You never thought things would get too heated. But then it did. So here you are now, bent over one of the sinks. You're arms could barely hold yourself together, head dangling between your shoulders as Dae-ho's hips snapped against your own. The sound of skin slapping skin echoed in the empty bathroom save for you two. His left hand snaked from your hips to your neck, his hand wrapped around it, but he made sure it didn't hurt nor suffocate you. He pulled your head back gently, making you look at yourself in the mirror. Making you looked at your fucked out face, remnants of tear stains could be seen on your cheeks. You whimpered out his name, feeling his cock throb and twitch inside you. Dae-ho groaned into the nape of your neck, biting down on the sensitive skin, hard enough to leave a mark, but not enough to break skin. He gave your warm, gushing cunt one last sloppy thrust before you felt hot, thick liquid filling you up. Moaning out his name as you came around his cock, a white ring forming on the base of his dick while he continued to thrust in and out of you slowly, helping you come down from your high. He didn't even seem to notice the bathroom door open and close, not until you whimpered out a name.

"..Se-mi..!" You whimpered, your legs trembled, you would've collapsed on the floor if it wasn't for Dae-ho holding you by your hips. Keeping you steady. "Se-mi? Who.. why is she here?" Dae-ho whispered, glancing between you and at the newcomer. Confusion written all over his face. "Hm, you seem to be enjoying yourself, baby." Se-mi smiled, walking over to the two of you. She raised her hand, taking ahold of your chin, tilting it up a bit so you could look at her properly. "You can't even look at me properly, did pretty boy here fuck you that good?" She teased, using her thumb to wipe away the remnants of your tears on your cheeks. "What's happening here?" Dae-ho sounded super confused. His hips still connected to yours.

"Oh, did princess here not tell you?" Se-mi tore her eyes away from you and lands it on the man. "Tell me what?" Dae-ho questioned.

"That you're gonna have to share her." She replied, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips. "Like I shared her to you."

All three of your jackets were now laid on the floor. With you laying on your back on the fabrics. You moaned into Se-mi's mouth, legs wrapped around her hips, her fingers stuffed inside your cunt, Dae-ho's cum oozing out of your tight heat while she pumped her fingers in snd out of you, her thumb flicking over your oversensitive clit. Making your melt under her touch. Meanwhile, Dae-ho was thrusting into your fist. The two of them seemed to have reached an agreement, that the two of them shared you.

"Come on, baby, you can give me one more, hm?" Se-mi whispered so sweetly into your ear,"Pretty boy here looks close too, seems like your hand just feels that good." She smirked, burying her face into the crook of your neck. Nibbling and kissing your neck, leaving subtle marks on the sensitive skin. You didn't last much longer, not with how Dae-ho fucked you earlier, and now with Se-mi.. you were just too sensitive. You came around Se-mi's fingers, making a mess on her hand. Dae-hi didn't last much longer as well, that much you can tell, his cock twitched, spurting out ropes of warm cum on your face.

Now you were an absolute mess.. but you know you love it.

[rainyreading]

Can you please write a mattheo x theodore x mc smut pleasee if possible.Thank you!

what are best friends for

mattheo riddle x theodore nott x reader

wc: 1.3k

requests open

Theo was your boyfriend. You both loved each other very much. You both were good friends with Mattheo. The three of you had a lot of fun together. There was never a dull moment between you three. Right now you were all in the common room chatting away. You were on Theo’s lap sitting happily.

Mattheo sat across from the two of you in a chair. Theo noticed the way Mattheo was eyeing you. You were wearing a top that accentuated your tits. Mattheo was looking at you with lust in his eyes. Theo was thinking about it and he thought maybe he was willing to share.

“Would you let Mattheo fuck you?” Theo whispered.

“Wh-what?” You questioned shocked.

“Would you let my best friend hook up with you? It’s okay with me, I’d let him just this once.” Theo explained.

“Theo, I love you not him. Why should i?”

“I don’t know the experience, to feel good?”

“I don’t want to pressure you but I think it would be fun for you.” Theo gently explained.

“Mm okay,” you said softly.

“Okay?”

You nodded. Theo wanted to make sure you were comfortable with this. He didn’t want to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable. He just thought it would be beneficial for both parties.

Now Theo could tell Mattheo. Theo took your hand in his and sauntered over to Mattheo. “Come with me,” Theo tapped him on his shoulder.

Theo led the two of you to his dorm. When you got there Mattheo spoke, “What’s this about?”

“Do you want to have sex with Y/N?” Theo asked bluntly.

“What?”

“Do you want to fuck her?”

“Theo.”

“No i’m being serious,” Theo stated.

“She’s yours man, I couldn’t just take her,” Mattheo responded.

“Well I’m giving you an opportunity here,” Theo explained.

“What’s the catch?” Mattheo asked.

“There are some rules, for one no coming inside her.”

“Obviously, but she’s okay with it?” Mattheo asked.

“Yeah.”

“Come here sweet thing,” Mattheo beckoned you.

You were a little shy but you trusted Theo. You made you way over to Mattheo. Mattheo grabbed the back of your thigh and guided you onto his lap.

“It’s okay bella,” Theo encouraged you.

Mattheo gave you a smile and brushed some hair out of your face, “I’m gonna kiss you now okay?”

You nodded your head which gave Mattheo the green light. Mattheo tasted like cigarette smoke and whisky. You weren’t gonna lie it was different and it felt weird kissing someone else. Mattheo crushed his lips against yours in a messy kiss.

Theo came up behind you and started to kiss your neck. “We just want to make you feel good,” Theo whispered. “Mhmm.” Theo skillfully sucked deep purple marks on your neck and chest.

Then Theo grabbed your chin and kissed you roughly. “We’re gonna share you tonight, aren’t we Theo,” Mattheo announced leaning back on his hands. “Yes we are,” Theo responded.

“Can I take your top off?” Mattheo asked.

“Yes.”

Mattheo lifted your top off and slid it up over your head and off your body, revealing you in a black lace bra. Mattheo’s gaze was hungry. He looked at you like you were a piece of meat. Theo came up behind you and unclipped your bra revealing your bare breasts.

“Fuck, you’re exquisite,” Mattheo complimented.

Mattheo had you lie down on your back. Theo sat on one side and Mattheo sat on the other. Theo was kissing your neck and then Mattheo started to kiss your chest. The sensation of their kisses were making you wetter and wetter.

“You have such perfect tits,” Mattheo commented.

“She does doesn’t she,” Theo boasted.

Mattheo sucked on your nipple and groped the other. He licked and sucked and then gave the same attention to the other breast. Theo was making dark purple marks on your neck still. Mattheo kissed down your stomach and then stoped at the waistband of your skirt.

“Please tell me I can taste you,” Mattheo begged.

You looked at Theo to see what he would say and he seemed fine with it so you nodded your head. Mattheo was quick. He discarded your skirt and panties in one swift motion. Then he settled between your legs.

Mattheo licked a strip from your core to your clit and you moaned at the sensation. Mattheo feasted on your cunt like it was his only purpose on earth. You felt euphoric. The pleasure was overwhelming.

Theo sat behind you as you leaned on his chest. The only thing he was wearing was his underwear. Mattheo was shirtless. Mattheo skillfully ate you out. He sucked on your clit making you see stars.

Theo watched the interaction. You had your back up against his chest. He soothed you and made you feel safe because he was close to you. You were arching your back and trying to back away from Mattheo because the pleasure was getting to be too much.

Mattheo fucked you with his tongue. “Fuck you taste divine,” Mattheo panted over your cunt.

“Mmm,” you moaned.

Mattheo could feel that you were getting close. “Come on let go f’me,” he told you.

Your orgasm washed over you sending sparks through you. You came all over Mattheo’s face

“Good girl,” Theo whispered huskily in your ear.

“I get to be inside you now right?” Mattheo asked.

“Yeah mate she has the best pussy I’ve ever had, enjoy it,” Theo responded.

Mattheo rolled on a condom. You opened your legs and waited. You were a little nervous because it wasn’t Theo. You were mentally preparing yourself for this. “It’s okay principessa, I’m right here,” Theo soothed and started rubbing your shoulders.

“Are you ready?” Mattheo hesitated.

“Yes.”

Mattheo slid in with ease. Mattheo groaned loudly as he entered you. “Fuck you feel amazing,” Mattheo panted.

Mattheo pulled out just to slam back in. He set a brutal pace. The feeling was weird because you were used to Theo’s size and Mattheo was different. You had some drool that leaked out of your mouth and Theo kissed it away.

Mattheo’s cock massaged your walls in a whole new way. He pounded into you at a relentless pace. You took it like a champ. Theo reached around and played with your clit.

“Gonna fucking cum,” Mattheo hissed.

Mattheo pulled out and spilled into the condom. He jerked his cock with his hand. He then collapsed next to you on the bed totally spent.

“My turn cara mia,” Theo announced.

Theo lined himself up at your entrance. He pushed in with little force. You moaned at the feeling of your lover entering you. It felt right. Theo was super gentle and took care of you the whole time.

Theo kissed you while he was drilling into you. “Fuck you’re taking me so well, good job baby,” Theo panted.

You were getting a little overstimulated so you let out a whine. Theo shushed you. Theo pulled out just to slam back in at a bruising pace. The way he gripped your hips was sure to leave a mark. “Theo,” you cried. You dragged your nails down his back.

“I know baby I know,” he replied.

Theo started to play with your clit and you moaned again. “You’re almost there aren’t you?” Mattheo asked.

You nodded your head. You were clamping down on Theo’s cock and he knew he wasn’t gonna last much longer. After a few sloppy thrusts, you came undone hard. Theo followed right after spilling his seed into you. “Ah Fuck,” Theo growled.

Theo pulled out and then went to go clean you up. The three of you laid there catching your breaths. You were completely spent and so tired you fell asleep cuddled into Theo’s side. You were practically on top of him.

“Ya know it was everything i dreamed of,” Mattheo said.

“Good.”

[kjhmyg]

rough edges pt. 19 (m) pairing: jungkook | reader genre: college!au, fluff, slight angst word count: 34k warnings: mentions of death, drug use, unprotected sex. 

summary: when you uncover your boyfriend's private life, a deep dive into it sucks you in as you try to help save him from himself.

a/n: i love you all, an epilogue will come after this, and then we're officially done. i hope you've enjoyed this long ride with me <3

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 6.5 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / part 19 / masterlist

RE asks tag / pinterest board

The revelation took a while to digest.

An hour later, and you’re still reeling from the surprise. After dinner, Namjoon retreated back to his apartment next door, one that had been vacant since the night of the raid. Your head continues to buzz. Everything had come to a standstill when the words spilled from Namjoon’s mouth. You were stunned into silence, eyes searching for any hint that he may be joking. But there was none of that, rather, a look of pride blooming on his face as he turned to your boyfriend. Jeon Jungkook, your boyfriend, was his informant. 

⎼

By Jungkook’s request, you’re staying over, but it wasn’t like you were planning on leaving anyway. You’d gotten Namjoon to speak with Hana so she wouldn’t worry when you told her you’d be away for the night. She thinks you’re staying over his place to get some space, which isn’t entirely a lie. But you left out a crucial aspect. Your desire to be proven right about Jungkook flew out the window hours ago. It doesn’t matter that she or anyone else doesn’t know he’s alive. They don’t need to know (and not until Namjoon clears it anyway). The calm night sky rests in contrast to the bright, bubbling city underneath. A collection of lives unfold before you in countless small frames. Each window gives you a glimpse into a stranger’s world, and you realise the beauty of humans living alongside each other, fighting their own battles and hiding behind a mask of smiles and superficial posts. Yellow and red lights line the road below, heavy traffic continuing even at this time of the night. If you listen closely, you can even hear the rumbling of a motorcycle engine and the honks of tired drivers. Safe in your boyfriend’s room, away from the madness, a feeling of content washes over you. The cool wind from the AC leaves goosebumps over your exposed skin, clothed only in one of Jungkook’s shirts. Jungkook steps out of the bathroom after a shower, and catches your eye from across the room. Tossing his towel aside, he walks over and lets you snuggle up to him, practically melting into you himself. “So nice and warm.” you mumble against his shoulder. He chuckles, then brings his finger to your chin, lifting you up so he can land a soft, innocent kiss. Sighing right after, he mumbles. “I’ve missed this.” The light shining through the windows land perfectly on his face, accentuating his features. You brush his hair back to take a good look. There’s a subtle difference about him, a shift in his aura. The smile he now wears is innocent and childlike, as if the part of him that held up a tough front has completely melted away. Your hand comes up to his cheek and he lets his head sink into your palm affectionately. He flashes a smile and you feel yourself getting lifted off the floor, hooking your arms around him in surprise. The couch in the living area has been unfolded into a huge bed, covered in a large blanket, bordered with pillows. Jungkook lets you down gently before turning down the lights. You slide your feet under the covers, taking refuge from the cold, and he joins you soon after, walking back with drinks and snacks from the kitchen. “I bought a bunch of stuff and put it on Namjoon’s tab.” He giggles, leaving them on the coffee table at the side. You can’t stop staring at the way he’s visibly at ease now more than ever before, and at the same time in disbelief that he’s right in front of you. Noticing this as he makes himself comfortable, he pulls you in closer and tucks stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Did you like the flowers?” “I knew that was you!” The sudden outburst has him laughing. “The note at the cafe too?” You huff when he confirms your theory. “I wasn’t allowed to make direct contact, so I did it discreetly. But then my handler found out I’d gone to the cafe, and Namjoon lectured me about it. So I had to stop.” “And then the playlist?” He nods. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it earlier.” He confesses. Recalling the events of the night, Jungkook can’t help but to smile to himself. “I didn’t know Namjoon was gonna reveal everything tonight.” “It’s crazy,” you say, “I haven’t seen him in weeks. And suddenly he shows up and tells me he needs to talk about the case.” Jungkook scoffs at the thought. “He’s so dramatic.” “You’re pretty close now, huh?” You ask, tilting your head as you think of how much he had hated Namjoon initially. “Yes and no.” Jungkook shrugs when you hit him with a confused look. “It’s complicated.” 

⎼

Jungkook struts down the street, eyeing every alley he walks past. He’d been getting updates from their runners about a man asking questions for the last month or so. Two weeks ago, Jungkook decided to check it out, only watching from afar. He sees the suspect walking with his hands in his pocket, hat covering his eyes, surveying and talking to people in the area. There’s a chance it’s nothing, sometimes people are just curious. But one too many complaints, and it would reach Kyun, which would escalate quickly. So Jungkook takes it upon himself to sort it out. “Hey!” Jungkook calls out, walking up to two figures talking in the dark of an alley a block away from the boss’ club. One of them he recognises, running off with a nod from Jungkook. Jungkook gives the suspect a once over. A mask covers his face, and the hat pulled down over his eyes, but it’s clear to Jungkook he’s not a customer. “Can I help you?” The guy shrugs, shaking his head. “Was just looking for some supplies.” Jungkook nods slowly. “I can get you that. You selling or just personal use?” “Personal.” He says. He nods in the direction where the previous runner had left. “What was wrong with that guy?” “Oh nothing.” Jungkook says. “Just that I could probably get you a better rate. He gets his supplies from me, so either way, it’s the same thing.” “I see.” Jungkook searches his jacket, hands going in and out of pockets only to come up empty. He looks at the man before him, “Shit, sorry man, seems I don’t have any on me right now. Why don’t you come over to our club, I have some there.” The man clicks his tongue, waving his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll just come back another time.” If someone were really desperate for a hookup, they would've taken the bait. The man’s aversion to his offer made him all the more suspicious to Jungkook. As he attempts to walk past, Jungkook’s hand lands firmly on his shoulder. The man is slightly taller, but he can clearly feel Jungkook’s strength. And though Jungkook hasn’t said a word, he knows he’s been made. He takes a step back, eyeing Jungkook. “It’s risky stuff. You might not want to pull on this thread.” “Get your hand off me, kid.” “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I suggest you stay away if you’re not here for supplies.” Jungkook warns him. His body language remains unchanged, and Jungkook’s positive now that he has an ulterior motive. “I’ll let you off tonight. But maybe next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Jungkook turns, and walks off, pausing only a couple of steps ahead. “But if you really do need some, come and find me.” He turns back only a fraction of the way, nodding his head, before speeding off. Once he’s sure Jungkook’s gone, Namjoon lets out the breath he’s been holding.

⎼

As Jungkook predicted, this guy doesn’t spook easily. Anyone who’s ever heard of their crew would suffice with a single warning. But not Namjoon. Two days later when Jungkook patrols down the same route, things looked ordinary enough. He goes on for a while without finding anything suspicious, and figures maybe that his warning did work after all. Lucky for Jungkook, because now he can get back to work. But as he does, he comes across a commotion along the way to the club. It’s not unusual in these areas. One two many drinks, or a line of coke later, and people lose all sense of sanity. Many times, he’s had to step in before someone gets hurt or calls the police. It’s only when he gets nearer to the source that he recognises the woman yelling as one of their own, fighting off three men who can’t seem to take the hint. Instinctively, he runs towards them but pauses just before he crosses the road. Something’s caught his attention. He sees someone else making a beeline towards the fuss, bulldozing his way into the men, and knocking them down like bowling pins. Even from across the street, Jungkook finds him familiar. The hat and the drabby navy blue jacket, it’s him. He’s strong, but he doesn’t fight from experience. He’s too strategic with his moves, clearly trained. It doesn’t take long before the three men give up, stumbling over as they attempt to run off. Jungkook watches his attention shift to the woman after. From a safe distance, Jungkook trails after them as he walks her to the club, stopping at a distance away and waving her off. She turns to give him a kiss on the cheek before rushing inside. Jungkook scoffs, “What a weasel.”

⎼

“This isn’t the first time a cop is sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.” Jungkook circles Namjoon, eyeing him down in a parking lot of a grocery. “You’re lucky I’m the one standing here.” “Oh yeah?” Namjoon pops open a bottle and chugs some of it down. “Why is that?” “If it was anyone else, you’d already be lying in a pool of your own blood.” Now that Jungkook has seen his face, and right through his cover, infiltrating the gang would be foolish at this point. He never thought his cover would be blown so quickly, before it even started. But his anonymity wasn't the only edge he had. Namjoon had done in depth research about the members, he knows what to expect from each one, and here standing in front of him is one he knows all too well. “I don’t want any trouble.” Namjoon raises his palms. “Can we talk?” “You’re risking your life just for a conversation?” “You look like you’re just a kid,” Namjoon’s comment confuses Jungkook, “do they usually start as young as you do?” “This isn’t an interview.” Jungkook’s walls come up. Something’s off about this guy, and he doesn’t like being around him. “You need to stop, I’m not kidding. These guys, they don’t play, they’re not the usual bad guys you⎼” “So I’ve heard.” “Then you know it’s in your best interest if I never see you around again.” Jungkook leaves it at that, walking away, hoping he’d take the warning seriously. “Hey kid.” Namjoon calls out. “You go to Inha University, right?” Jungkook’s steps slow down, contemplating on turning back, but that would just give him the satisfaction. Knowing that much about him, means he’s an actual threat. At this point, Jungkook knows he’s trouble. But escalating this would mean he’d be dead by tomorrow. Namjoon patiently waits for a response. Jungkook turns back to him, a serious look on his face. “I’m gonna do you a favour and forget what just happened. Leave. I’m serious. If I get word about you snooping around again, I might actually have to kill you.” Namjoon backs off, but not out of defeat. Jungkook couldn’t have given him a better response; he could have killed him right there, but he didn’t. Namjoon even gave him a second chance to do it, and again, he held back. “I guess I can’t give up just yet.” Namjoon mutters to himself. 

⎼

1 week later

The only thing Jungkook hates more than a meddler, is a persistent one. The moment his eyes land on a certain man he remembers telling to stay away, Jungkook knows this guy is going to make life difficult for him. Right after training, as he’s about to mount his bike, Namjoon walks over. The school compound is quiet at this time of evening. With no one around, Jungkook grabs him by the collar as soon as he’s within reach. “What the fuck are you doing here?” “I need to talk to you.” “Do you have a death wish? If anyone catches⎼” “No one else knows how I look like.” Namjoon shrugs, “Unless…”Jungkook averts his gaze at the insinuation. He hadn’t, in fact, told anyone about this guy, or the truth about what happened in that alley. When reporting back, he lied and said the man ran off before he could do anything. The lack of response gives Namjoon a further boost of hope. “As far as anyone can see, you’re just talking to a guy.” Jungkook looks around cautiously. “We can talk in my car?” Namjoon proposes.

“No.” Jungkook’s brows knit together in disgust at the friendliness in his tone. He mounts his bike and slips a helmet on. “Look, Jungkook⎼” “How the fuck do you know my name?” Jungkook pauses before kicking his bike stand up. “Who are you, really? What do you want?” Namjoon sighs. “I know a lot. I know the little blond guy who’s always schmoozing with the VIPs at the clubs is your partner. I know where you go to school, I know your friends. I know you stay at a greek house with⎼” “Enough.” Jungkook’s eyes pierce through Namjoon’s, his mind calculating the chances of this man pulling him into a trap. "Fine.” Jungkook decides, kicking the bike stand and his engine roars to life. “There’s a gym I go to just a little out of the district. Meet me there at midnight in two days.” Namjoon’s smile showcases his dimples, and he steps aside to give Jungkook way. 

⎼

Jungkook exits the gym five minutes after midnight, scanning the area outside to find Namjoon waiting by his car. Heavy steps take him there, scowling at the smile on the man’s face. “Alright, what do you want?” Namjoon chuckles, “Slow down, kid.” “Don’t call me that.” “Fine,” he extends his hand, “I’m⎼” “I don’t really care.” Jungkook cuts him off. “Just tell me what this is about.” Taking a breath, Namjoon goes over his proposal in his head. Knowing Jungkook’s position in Kim’s hierarchy, as one of those at the top at such a young age, he knows it won’t be easy trying to convince him. “You were right about me.” He says, “I’m not looking to buy.” Jungkook shuffles a tiny step back, straightening up, arms folding over his chest. “Thought so. Let me guess, they’re launching another investigation on Kim.” Namjoon nods, but the smile on his face just moments ago no longer there. “You’re a detective aren’t you? You’ve done your research. I’m sure you know people have tried. Time and again Kim has gotten away. What makes you think this time will be different?”

⎼

A movie plays softly in the background while Jungkook retells the story. As he talks, your interest grows, now sat up and facing him with your back to the television and the covers wrapped around your body. He laughs at you. “Look at you,” he taps your nose. “What happened next!” You whine, begging him to go on. Jungkook leans back against the couch and sighs. “I thought about it for a long while. Of course, I was mad about Hoseok but I was actually considering the offer, which was crazy. I thought about what it would mean to not be part of Kim’s gang, to not do things I used to do. But I just couldn’t see myself beyond any of that. It was just who I was. So why would I help him destroy the only place I ever belonged to?” There was sadness etched over his face and the tone of his voice. Stories of his past come back to you and you recall why Kim and everyone in that gang were so important to him. They were his entire life. “What changed?” You ask, fully invested in his story. “You.” Jungkook smiles fondly. “I met you.” “Me?” “I’d already turned Namjoon down by the time we first met,” he explains, looking a little shy, “but after we started seeing each other…I started seriously falling for you, and I thought maybe, maybe I could live a normal life. Like everyone else. I wanted that life. With you.” “Jungkook…” “So I called Namjoon and told him I’d take him up on his offer.” He says. “I’d get him info and in return they’d work out some form of immunity. I missed days of work because I was having meetings with him here, giving him a rundown of how things worked. Suga was livid ‘cause he thought I blew him off to hang out with you.” “You were having your meetings here? Oh⎼ so that’s⎼ oh.” It finally makes sense. The address he’d written down in his notebook wasn’t work-related, it was Namjoon’s address all along. Jungkook tilts his head. “What?” “Nevermind, please continue.” You say and he shakes his head. “No no no, I’m not letting you off. Tell me, what were you saying?” He tugs on the blanket, threatening to expose you to the cool air. “I just⎼ it’s kind of embarrassing.” Jungkook raises his brow, and you know he won’t let this go till you tell him. “You know how you didn’t like talking about work when we first started dating? But I got really curious and everyone kept hinting at it. So I kinda snooped around and looked through a little notebook you had in your room. And I came across an address…this address. I thought it would lead me to where you worked and what you were keeping from me.” His brows crease together, “You looked through my stuff?” “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have.” Your bottom lip juts out and he pretends to be mad, trying his best to hold back a smile because you look too cute. “You are so…nosey.” He laughs when you simply raise your eyebrows. “You’re not mad at me?” “I guess I would’ve been back then. But now, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” “Guess not,” you say, looking down, “all this while…you were just meeting up with Namjoon.”

He nods, “Yeah. Once his team had a solid plan, it was initiated. I didn’t even know what most of it consisted of. He said it needed to be as natural as possible, so it wasn’t until he was assigned to our team that I saw him again. I didn’t even know he’d take up a job at school.” “Is that why you were so against me being friends with him at the start?” You ask. “Sort of.” Jungkook remembers the exact day he’d seen you talking to Namjoon. “I wanted to keep you away from all of this." “I thought it was because you hated him and you were jealous.” “Oh I did hate him.” He says casually. “What? Just because I agreed to work with him doesn’t mean I need to like him. And please, you would never date a fart like him.” You hit him with a look and he shrugs, reaching out to unroll the sheets you’ve made yourself comfortable in. He grabs you by the thigh and pulls you closer. Then drops his head on your lap and closes his eyes. “So yeah, that’s about it basically.” He mumbles. When your fingers rake through his hair, he hums an exhale. Almost melting into the bed if he could, his body visibly relaxes with your touch. “You haven’t been sleeping well, huh?” His cheek rubs against you when he nods, and goosebumps appear on his skin as you trace your nails on his scalp. You focus on the movie while Jungkook remains in your lap, staying that way for a while. You expected him to doze off like he usually does. But his eyes glazed over, staring into the distance. The smile he had earlier is gone. “What’s on your mind?” Your tender voice soothes him out of his daze. “Just thinking…” his voice is hoarse, “that it’s finally over.” He’s still trying to come to terms with what’s happened, and you can’t imagine what the last month or so has been for him, having to watch his entire world crumble. It’s a complicated web of emotions that he’s trying to untangle. On one hand, he’s free, but on the other, what did it take for him to get here? Even while he spoke earlier, you sensed confliction. “How are you feeling?” You ask, treading carefully. “When you were talking about Kim earlier, I saw that look on your face. And now that he’s…” You swear you see his face muscles twitch at the question, and perhaps his eyes get a little glossier than before. But he blinks the urge to cry away, and knits his brows together. “I don’t want to talk about that.” “Okay,” you trace a finger over his features again, forcing them to relax. You wipe away the tiny puddle formed in the corner of his eyes. “I’ll be here when you’re ready. You can tell me anything, remember?” Opening his eyes, he’s greeted by your own, and he sits up to face you. “Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Warmth spreads to your cheeks. Maybe it’s the weeks of separation that’s got you blushing at his words but the way he’s staring does you no favours. Your breath hitches when he gets close, face inches away and breath hot against your face. He’s greeted with a satisfied hum from you when your lips touch. Fingers cup your jaw to hold you steady. Somehow your hands find their way to his body now that he’s leaning, practically hovering, over you. He all but devours your mouth, tongue fighting for dominance and a soft whimper leaves you when his teeth grazes your bottom lip.

Pulling away, your half-lidded eyes reflect your desire. And it all but fuels his own. Skin burning under your touch, you revel in the way his breath gets caught as your hands slide down his abs, fingers dangerously dancing by the hem of his pants. He’s quick to react, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him, arms resting over his shoulders while his hands roam over your thighs. Jungkook’s body relaxes with a sigh, pulling you taut against him, face buried between your clothed chest. Your head rests against his, and he feels your heart thumping against your body. “Y/N,” his words come out as a whisper, “I would never forgive myself if anything happened to you that night.” His grip only tightens when you try to look at him. “I know, baby. I feel the same way.” You kiss the side of his head. “You’re everything to me.” He says, this time looking up at you. “I’d die if I ever lose you.” “I’m not going anywhere.” You say, lips ghosting over his. “I’m all yours.” Your lips find each other again, and the kiss burns with his ache for you. It’s a feeling he’s still getting used to, one he’s only ever experienced with you. He never thought he had the capacity to love someone this much. Your hips move against him ever so gently, yet it gets you a delicious hum of approval. Abandoning your mouth, he plants soft kisses on your neck, focusing his attention on that sweet spot that has you sighing. The growing tent in his pants starts to bother him and he shifts uncomfortably, only to buck into your instead. You palm his hardness and he breaks contact, letting out a groan and throwing his head back. His growing impatience stops the attention you’re giving him and switches up your positions, leaving you on your back against the cool blankets and him kneeling between your legs. The shirt you’re wearing hovers dangerously just below your hips, but with your legs spread, he gets a good view of your sex, mouth salivating. Jungkook peppers kisses along your inner thigh. Your insides throb with anticipation when you feel his hot breath on your cunt, teasing you with the softness of his lips, till you feel his tongue brushing against your clit teasingly. You grip the sheets at the contact, already feeling the adrenaline rush. Jungkook thinks you’re cute, he’s barely done anything and you’re already holding on for your life. He gets back on his knees, much to your disappointment. This time, he lifts your shirt up and you arch your back to help him, leaving it just above your chest. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He mutters, eyes staring down your naked form. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, feeling the heat rush to your face. It occurs to you how long it’s been since the last time you were together, for you to be embarrassed in front of him. Deprived of his touch in months, that even a simple compliment has you blushing. Rough hands roam your body, starting from your thighs, all the way up to your breasts. Soon his lips join them, leaving the softest kisses all over. You sigh as he captures your right nipple in his mouth, thighs closing on him in response. You can feel the upturn of his lips, smirking his way across to your left. The jerk your body does as his tongue grazes the tip of your nipple has his hands sinking into your flesh. His right hand slides down your body, finding its way to your growing wetness. He plays with your folds and teasingly around your entrance. You spread your legs wider, gripping onto his arm as he easily slips in two fingers. You’re embarrassed of the sounds you’re making, but it’s music to his ears. His fingers move at a good pace, but it’s not enough. “More please⎼ “

“More?” He asks against your skin. You nod. He obliges, letting in two more fingers as he studies your face, eyes falling shut, trying to reach your high. Your hands grip roughly around his arm. “F-faster⎼” He has half a mind to stop, just to tease you a little. But you look too good when you’re chasing your high. So pretty and whiny. Mesmerised by the way your mouth drops open, he quickens the pace, feeling the burn on his arm. Your voice gets caught in your throat when he curves his fingers to hit that spot, and Jungkook feels the warmth coating his fingers as you reach your high, continuing to milk every last drop out of you. You take a while to recover, reeling from the first orgasm in months. Part of you embarrassed it took so little to get you there. When you finally get your sanity back, you open your eyes to Jungkook watching you as he sucks your fluid off his fingers. He momentarily gets off the couch and slips his pants off. You reach out to him, wanting to feel him close to you. He climbs over, letting his weight rest on you. “Feel good?” You nod, “But I want you.” Something dark flickers in his eyes as he gazes into yours. His cock twitches between your bodies and you start to throb again. “Where do you want me?” “I want you inside me,” your hands slip around his cock and he lifts his hips up to make room, “I want you to fuck me.” He makes a slow exhale. Your hand rubs over his tip as the words slip out of your mouth. His eyes shut as he grinds into your hand. Then he pushes himself off, and positions himself between your legs. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyes roaming over you, chest heaving at the sight, “all mine.” It makes your heart skip, and cunt throb with anticipation. His cock rubs against your folds, coating him with your wetness, before aligning with your entrance, carefully watching your face as he lets himself in. A gasp leaves you and your back arches slightly. He goes tauntingly slow just to savour the look you have. “Jungkook,” you mutter his name in a whisper as he fits all of him inside you. He can barely control himself right then, hips bucking against you. He goes slow, allowing you to get used to him before increasing the pace. Your gasps turn to soft mewls, and he keeps a steady pace only to keep hearing the sweet sounds you’re making. 

Jungkook looks divine, even with the scars on his body. Your eyes drop to the one on his thigh, the one he’d gotten the night you were kidnapped. Then to his lower abdomen where Hongjun had shot him. He’d taken a bullet for you, not once but twice. He decided to change his life because he wanted to have one with you.

You love him. You love him. You love him. The change in your demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed . Jungkook slows down, studying you carefully. He meets you face to face, pressing his body gently against yours, slowly pumping himself into you. His arms cage you in on both sides of your head and your legs wrap around him. A gasp escapes you as he rolls his hips into you. “Is this okay?” He asks. When you don’t respond, he breaks his rhythm, worried that he may be pushing you too hard. After all, you’re still recovering. The consideration he shows you further intensifies the feeling bubbling inside of you. “I love you.” The whisper of your words surprises him, and with his body against yours, you feel the rise of his heart rate. If possible, it’s as if the burning in his chest is seeping into yours. He kisses you, warm and gentle against your lips. “I love you too.” Jungkook gets back his rhythm, driven by the pool of emotions in his chest. Your words echo in his mind and a tight knot forms inside him, filled to the brim with his feelings for you. With eyes piercing into yours, it’s impossible to look away. He wants to fuck you senseless, but already he’s feeling the heat in his core. It’s the way your body moves in sync with his. Each thrust meets with the gentle rise of your hips, allowing him to fill you up. He pauses for a beat each time, savouring the warmth of your walls around his cock. And with the lustful way you’re looking at him, he could come undone anytime. Only you could have this effect on him. Jungkook maintains control, grunting each time he looks down to where you become one, pleased at how well you take him. Your hand guides him back to you. Jungkook loses his breath when you force him to meet your gaze. You’re so beautiful. For a moment he falters, thrusts becoming sloppy, and you wrap your arms around him to have him close. He swallows up your moans, your tongue losing in a battle of dominance as he devours you. Your nails dig into the flesh of his back, when you feel that familiar knot in your core. Jungkook keeps his pace steady, hitting that sweet spot over and over again, addicted to the way you write under him, arching your back in anticipation. “I’m gonna cum⎼” you whisper, eyes closed. “Yeah? Cum for me baby,” Jungkook says, against your lips, giving you gentle kisses. His voice reverberates against your neck as he speaks. You open your eyes again, and they’re met with his awe-struck gaze. “Want you⎼ cum with me⎼” You feel it coming, the pressure inside you on the brink of explosion. Your hips buck up to meet his as he continues to slam into you, his hot breath against your ear. Getting sloppy himself, moans leave Jungkook’s mouth as he goes. He wipes the hair out of your face, grabbing your attention so your eyes can meet again. Your gazes lock on to each other and neither can tear away. He wants this moment to last forever. Intertwined with you, making love to you. Jungkook feels himself reaching his high, but something else creeps up his chest, and waters his eyes. “I’m⎼c⎼” 

You lose all senses as the pressure in your core snaps, and your legs tremble against him, fingers scraping his back. Jungkook’s thrusts get sloppy, but he carries on, determined to let you ride out your orgasm. Jungkook curses at the lewd expression on your face and the moans you gift him with. Your walls squeeze around his cock and his own resolve breaks as he cums inside you with a heavy load, moaning right in your ear. His weight rests completely on top of you as he buries his face next to yours, and you let him milk every last drop inside of you. You rub his back soothingly, kissing the side of his head. When he can finally bring himself to face you, you’re greeted with his glossy eyes. “I love you so much.”

⎼

It’s the middle of the night when you roll over, throwing your arm to the other side of the couch bed. But you don’t find what you’re reaching for, Jungkook’s side now empty. The digital clock on the console reads 3am. You usually stir from your sleep at this time anyway. His voice comes from the other side of the room, behind the couch where the dining table is. Jungkook’s talking to someone. But at this time? Sleep still masking your attention, you only manage to pick out a couple of words he’s whispering. “No, I don’t know how to tell her…” Tell you what? It sobers you slightly and you feel a pang to your chest, with a familiar anxiety building inside of you. You sit up on the edge of the bed and  the movement gets Jungkook’s attention. He ends the call right then, and you walk over, tripping over your own feet in the dark. Rubbing your eyes, you reach out to him and he pulls you in. You find the space between his legs and sit on his lap, leaning your body against his. “Baby, why are you up?” He asks quietly. “I couldn’t find you.” You say sleepily and he resists the urge to squish your face. “Why are you up?” “I can’t sleep.” He says, slipping his arm under your knees and lifting you back to where you came from. He climbs over you and to the other side, pulling the covers over both of you. You look at his face, illuminated by the lights from the window. The redness in his eyes, bags under them. “You look so tired.” “I am.” He admits, “But I just can’t sleep. It takes a while.” “What do you do when you can’t sleep?” “Think of you,” he says sweetly, running his thumb over your cheek, “all of you.” “Shut up.” You giggle, getting comfy under the covers. “Something bothering you?” “I just keep getting nightmares from that night.” You let him snuggle comfortably with his head against the crook of your neck, deep breaths taking in your scent. “Tell me.” “The moment I doze off, I’m just back to that night…the chaos…the panic,” he sucks in a breath, “it all comes back to me.” “Did something happen that night? Something you want to talk about?” You can’t understand what’s going on in his mind. A part of him must be relieved to know that the entire operation was a success despite the lives lost. But something tells you there’s something else that’s bothering him. Jungkook shakes his head. “No. Nevermind.” “Jungkook,” you sigh, “maybe talking about it will help.” He presses himself deeper into you if that’s even possible. It’s obvious now that there’s more he needs to unpack before he’ll feel okay. “Whatever it is, we’ll go through it together.” You say. The arm around your body gets heavier and his breaths get even. You continue to rub a soothing hand down his back. “I’ll always be here for you.”

⎼

Namjoon sits at the table with Jungkook, in discussion over something important. So important that you aren’t allowed to be part of it. In the last two days you’ve been here, Jungkook would go over to Namjoon’s apartment to have these talks, but today, he’s decided to have it here instead. You occasionally sneak peeks from Jungkook’s room, looking through a gap in the door. Jungkook picks up the movement from his peripheral and sends you a wink. You smile, then close the door again. One last look in the mirror, and you’re slinging your bag over your shoulder, carefully opening the door so as to not interrupt them, but also making your presence known. The talking stops once you’re within hearing range. “I’ll be back.” You go up to Jungkook and give him a kiss. “Bye Namjoon.” “The car’s waiting for you downstairs.” He says, nodding, then points his pen at you. “And remember, not a word.” “Got it.” You pretend you zip your lips. Having to keep this on the low unfortunately means you’ve got to keep lying to everyone. When you arrive at the apartment, Hana rushes out of her room with a huge smile on her face. “Hey.” She says apprehensively. You almost forget you’d left things a little weird that day. “Hi.” You hug her first, and she sighs in relief, hugging you back. “Everything okay?” “I should be asking you that.” “I’m good.” You nod, and she relaxes, relieved to see you in good spirits. “I needed the space. I feel better now.” “Okay,” she holds your hand, “sorry about the other day. I was insensitive.” “No no, it’s alright. I mean,” you scoff, “I wasn’t in the right state of mind anyway.” “I know but⎼” “Don’t worry about it.” You assure her firmly, wanting to move on from the subject. The flowers Jungkook got you were starting to wilt, looking lonely and sad on your table, so you gave it a water change. After which you start packing a load of clothes, enough to last you a week, into a duffel bag. Wafting through the apartment, the smell of good homemade cooking distracts you, and you leave the packing aside to hop outside. “What’s this?” You ask, smirking as you walk to the kitchen where Hana has made herself busy. “I’m making your favourites; chicken soup and butter prawns!” Her voice goes up an octave, proudly showing off her cooking. She’d always been the better cook anyway, so you don’t doubt its taste. In fact, you’re salivating just thinking about the gorgeous prawns she made last time, and the chicken soup she’s working on now bubbling on the stove, with the rice cooker steaming on the counter behind her. Her face drops when you don’t react the way she expected you to. You don’t even realise you’d been standing there with a blank look. “What’s wrong?” You force a smile. “It sounds amazing Hana. You know I love your cooking.” “But?” But you weren’t exactly planning on staying till dinner. You were so focused on getting back to Jungkook that you’d completely forgotten to tell her that. “I just thought…I’d go back⎼” “Go back?” “To Namjoon’s apartment?” You say carefully. “It’s just that he has an empty place and I think being on my own is actually good for me right now so…” “Oh.” You can almost hear the sound of her heart breaking. The more you speak, the worse her expression gets and you hate yourself for it. Jungkook can wait. You’ll see him again tonight anyways. “But you know what, I can stay for dinner. Not like I have anything else to do.” You chuckle.

Hana perks up just a little. “I didn’t realise you were going back. And so soon.” “Well yeah I just⎼ it’s a nice place and⎼ it’s just good for me⎼ like maybe right now I need⎼” Curses float through your mind as you struggle to find the right excuse without hurting her. But now she’s looking at you confused by your stammering. She knows you too well to know you’re hiding something. “Fuck it.” You groan, running your hand over your face. “Jungkook’s alive. He’s at Namjoon’s place. I’ve been with him for the last few days.” It was certainly not what Hana was expecting, mouth parting in surprise, struggling to process what you just said. 

⎼

“Are you sure?” Namjoon’s eyes pierce Jungkook’s. “You have no idea where Suga is?” “I’m telling you the truth. That night was the last time I saw him. I don’t know where he is now.” It hurts Jungkook to think about it. That the last night he’d seen Suga was the same night he’d betrayed Kim in that alley. Namjoon observes Jungkook for a minute. In his experience, there’s always a chance of a cover up. They’d been going through the names of those arrested, Jungkook helping Namjoon pair their real names with their aliases and identifying those who managed to escape and their threat level. Suga being one of them. “Fine. I believe you.” So he says. “But if we do find him, he is going to prison.” “I know that.” “And if we find out that you’ve been in contact with him, then your immunity is revoked.” Jungkook nods curtly. Turning back to his notes, Namjoon goes over a couple more things before their meeting is done. He piles the papers into a stack and slots them into a confidential file. He glances at the younger man, now zoned out, staring at the centrepiece of the table. “It’s almost confirmed. You have to tell her soon.” “I know, I just can’t find it in me.” Jungkook leans back. “I’ve been agonising over the last two days. How can I burst her bubble like that? She’s gone through so much, and finally we get to be together again. How do I…” Jungkook trails off, as if speaking about it would make reality come quicker. “How do I break it to her that I’m gonna be sent away?” 

⎼

You proudly show off your old phone to Hana. “See? I got it back.” “That’s great.” She smiles, still trying to process the sudden flood of information. You’ve spent the last half an hour breaking your promise to Namjoon. But that doesn’t matter, you’ll deal with him when the time comes. Or maybe he just doesn’t have to know. “But I’m still…are you sure that person is really Jungkook? Not an imposter? Is this all a dream? Am I part of your dream?” Hana yelps when you pinch the flesh of her arm. “Does that hurt?” “Yes?!” “So this isn’t a dream.” Hana looks at you unbelievably. “Okay, you’re back to normal. So this is all real.” “It took me a while too.” You say, sporting a silly smile that she hasn’t seen in a while. “But it’s real. He’s alive. And safe. He’s just been laying low at Namjoon’s place the whole time.” “And all along he’s been…” “Namjoon’s informant.” “That’s crazy.” Hana laughs. “That’s the craziest thing yet. I mean, besides you getting held hostage of course.” “I know.” You stop chewing and cross your arms on the table. “Now, I’m not supposed to tell you any of this so please.” “I won’t tell anyone.” She nods. “Not even Hoseok.” “I promise.” Hana holds out her pinky and you hook yours around it. She looks more relieved to have you back than anything else. “I’m glad he’s safe. I know you’ve been worried sick the last couple of weeks. I love that I can finally see you smile like this again.” A pang of guilt hits you hard. Hana had been with you throughout your recovery and it hasn’t been easy for her, but she tried her best. That was never in doubt. On the other hand, you were less than pleasant to deal with. Even if you weren’t yourself, she didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of your outbursts. “Hana, I’ve been awful to you. I’m so sorry.” You reach over to grab her hand. “I couldn’t control myself. I felt like everyone was too careful around me…but at the same time I hated it when you guys were honest with me.” “I get it,” she exhales. “You were just trying to stay optimistic but we kept shutting you down. I think anyone would’ve been annoyed.”  “Still, I shouldn’t have lashed out like that.” “I felt so bad after.” Hana admits. “I thought you didn’t want to come back because you were still mad at me.” “I was kinda upset but,” you shake your head, “I would never just leave you, Hana. You’re my best friend.” She smiles. “You were right in the end though. About Jungkook.” “I told you so.” Laughter fills the room, washing away any tension that has plagued the house in the last month.

⎼

The cool night air bites at your skin. Jungkook swims laps in the pool, while you sit on the edge, splashing your feet in the water. Past midnight, no one else comes up here, leaving you with the perfect space to get some fresh air. Jungkook appears between your legs, brushing his hair back and wiping the water off his face. He shows off his charming smile when you raise your brows. “You just brought me here to seduce me.” “It’s working though, right?” He chuckles. Jungkook carries you into the warm water, and you let your legs hook around him. With his arm firmly around your waist, you lean back, gazing up at the night sky. “I can’t believe rich people have rooftop pools. This is amazing.” “Wait till you see the sauna.” You gasp dramatically and his nose scrunches up. He floats about with you in his arms and your head rested on his shoulder. A sigh of content leaves your lips. “I’m so happy.” His arms seem to tighten around you just then, and after a while he moves towards the steps where the both of you rest with half your bodies in the water. Expression unreadable, he watches you fix your hair and scoots closer when you smile at him. His hand comes up to your thigh and it seems as though he’s building to say something. “What?” You ask, tilting your head to look at him when he looks away. Jungkook shakes his head. “I um…” Seconds go by as he contemplates, then finally faces you again. “Let’s get out of here.” “Oh okay,” you shrug, “we can watch that new netflix release⎼” “No,” Jungkook’s eyes go wide just like it used to when he’s up to something, “not back to the apartment. Out of here, like, out of here.” “You wanna leave? Are you allowed to do that?” “We can go watch a movie at the theatre.” “You’re definitely not allowed to do that.” “Come on!” Jungkook gets out first, water gushing down as he does, and extends his hand out to you. Staring up at him, the consequences line up in your head. There are limitations he has to abide by, and he’d already been caught once. His eyes shine with a glimmer of hope, wiggling his fingers in encouragement. His smile only gets bigger when you grab his hand and trail along after him. A man appeared at the front door upon Jungkook’s call; his handler, apparently. This is the first time you’re meeting the man who’s been assigned to make sure Jungkook’s well taken care of. And that includes ensuring he doesn’t leave the premises unless…

“That’s not an emergency.” He says. From the looks of it, he’s young. Possibly younger or even the same age as you are. He dresses casually, coming up from the floor just below. “No.” You hear him say immediately after Jungkook opens his mouth. Jungkook pulls him inside. “Please. Just this once.” He maintains his resolve but his hands ball up into fists by his side. Standing just a little shorter than Jungkook, it’s comical to see him frowning up at him as if Jungkook’s the one in charge. “Just this once? Are you forgetting what you did last time?” You assume he’s referring to the time Jungkook broke the agreement just to see you. “And I could’ve just left without a word again this time, but here I am, informing you, like a nice person.” “Please.” The young man scoffs and folds his arms. “It’s because my boss changed the security settings, and your biometrics don’t work anymore. That’s why you need me.” “Well yeah, basically.” “Eugh,” he balls his fist up again, “you are so annoying. Why can’t you just stay here like you were ordered to and not get me into any more trouble?” You go over to Jungkook’s side, hugging his arm. “He’s right. Let’s just stay in.” The boy’s eyes slide over to you for a second. But Jungkook doesn’t agree, speaking softly over his shoulder. “No, we’ve been here for ages.” “But I don’t want him to get in trouble. Or you.” Jungkook loses tension as you speak. You’re always so considerate. “But⎼” “Sorry to disturb you so late. We’ll stay in.” You cut him off and the look on his handler’s face softens, though still guarded. Jungkook pulls you aside, speaking in a whisper. “I thought you wanted to get out of here? And watch a movie?” “Not if we have to force our way out.” You reason. “We’ll be able to do all of that after you’re done here. We don’t have to rush things, we have so much time.” The corners of Jungkook’s lips twitch, holding back frustration. “It’s fine.” You say, getting him to look at you again. Behind him, the man clears his throat to get your attention. “I uh⎼ there is one way I can let you go.” He shares a sympathetic smile when you make eye contact, though he stares down Jungkook’s back right after. “I can go with you. I’ll have to drive you to where you wanna go. And I’ll stay with you throughout. When you’re done, I’ll drive us back. That way I have eyes on you at all times.” You look at Jungkook, raising your brows. He’s clear considering the idea, though he doesn’t want to show how moved he is that this young man is actually trying to help him out. 

⎼

“Here.” Jungkook holds the ice-cream an inch away from your face. Each time you lean forward, he pulls it back, till you move too quickly and eventually have ice-cream on your nose. He giggles, wiping the dessert off your face when you glare at him. In his peripheral he catches sight of an unwanted presence nearby, and his attention separates from you momentarily. “Stop.” You shove him lightly. “Look at him, lurking.” “It’s his job.” You remind him and he rolls his eyes. “You should be grateful. He could’ve just ignored us and went back to bed but he wanted to⎼” “Okay.” Jungkook’s lower lip juts out. He continues eating his ice cream while sulking. Jaemin ⎼ you found out his name ⎼ had helped you out of the building and drove you to a nearby drive-through for ice-cream. Though you felt weird about it, Jungkook asked if there was a secluded place he could drive to. And now you’re at a peaceful picnic spot atop a hill, overlooking the entire city with no one else in sight. “You have to admit, it’s a great view.” Jungkook rolls his eyes once more and you tug on his ear. “Ow⎼ yes okay⎼ yes!” He rubs his ear when you let go, “Stop being a baby.” Jungkook glances at Jaemin, then leans in. “I have an idea. If we start having sex right now, I bet he’ll⎼” His laughter fills the night when you shove him once again, keeping himself steady with his other hand. You rest against him, hooking your arm under his and closing the gap between you. Your eyes settle on a tall building in the distance, a string of bright lights shining along the edges. It overshadows Namjoon’s apartment out of sight just behind it. “That’s a pretty one.” “That one’s prettier.” He points to a lavish mansion sitting elegantly atop one of the adjacent hills. “Okay fancy pants. A month at Namjoon’s apartment and you’re already acting like a spoiled rich kid.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I’m just saying, I’ve been saving up all these years. Better be nice to me or you’re not invited.” You scoff. “Oh you’re too good for me now huh?” You pinch his side and he flinches, dropping whatever’s left of his cone, watching as it rolls down into the darkness. He glares at you and you press your finger to your lips to hide a smile before breaking out into laughter, Jungkook joining you. “Sorry.” You say between giggles. 

He dusts his hands off before putting his arm around you. “You’re definitely not invited.” Your cheeks burn from smiling too wide, a feeling you’ve missed. Comfortably resting on him, your hands find warmth under his jacket. “Can’t wait for you to be free. Where are you gonna stay?” Jungkook swallows the lump in his throat. “I don’t know yet.” “You haven’t thought about it?” You ask mindlessly, playing with his fingers. “What’s the point of having a girlfriend if I can’t crash at her place?” It makes you giggle and he kisses the top of your head. “You’re welcome anytime. But on a serious note, it might not be cool if you stay with us long term.” “Kicking me out already…” You punch him in the chest and he jokingly whines about how violent you’re getting. An idea brews in your mind and you chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe…we could get a place together?” Maybe you were just imagining it, but you felt him stiffen up. Looking up, you see him staring at the view with a complex look, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “Mm.” The indifference in his reply stings. It was a suggestion you thought he’d be on board with when you’ve basically been living together the last few days. “You can say no if you don’t want to.” “It’s not that,” he sighs, “there’s a lot of things that…” “What?” The next few seconds of silence stretches out into what feels like forever. Leaving you with the same nervousness bubbling inside the pit of your stomach you used to feel; he’s keeping something from you. Jungkook’s internal frenzy is cut short ⎼ and saved ⎼ by Jaemin, who calls out to the both of you. “Let’s head back. We’ve been out long enough.” Your bodies slip away from each other and Jungkook nods at him before turning to you, looking up at him with a vague expression on your face. He smiles to ease the tension and leans forward, lips pacifying your worries for a moment. “Let’s talk about this next time, okay?” He whispers. You push the negative thoughts far back, not wanting to ruin the night.

⎼

Over the next two days, Jungkook had been adamant about getting his way with Jaemin. Even when you insist on staying home, he shakes his head, bothering the poor handler every few hours about the next time he can leave the apartment. You sit by the kitchen island, staring at the glorious view of his back while he cooks a nice meal for the two of you. The only thing that had stopped him from bothering Jaemin was putting your foot down and threatening to leave. Reluctantly, he finally left the boy alone. Jungkook places a steak on your plate, lips slightly jutted as he continues sulking. “Thank you baby.” He sighs, placing the pan back on the stove and getting his own plate. “We could’ve had steak at a proper restaurant.” He mutters, taking the seat across. “But I like your cooking better.” The corners of his lips twitch a little. His cooking has always been good, so you don’t expect anything less. You hum at every bite, placing your hand to your chest with gratitude, and he watches you fondly, smiling wider at every little expression you make. That night, he tucks some stray hair behind your ear while you’re asleep. The covers are pulled all the way up to keep you from the cold. His fingers graze over the skin of your cheek and you stir, smacking your lips together, then breaking into a light snore. The front door plays a jingle as it unlocks. He turns his head in the direction of the hallway which reflects a soft glow from outside. He’s careful not to wake you as he slides off the bed and shuts the door safely and silently. In the dark, he trots over to the long dining table where Namjoon sets his coat over one of the chairs, undoing his tie. “What’s up? Why do you look like that?” He asks when he turns to a dishevelled Jungkook. “I haven’t told her.” Jungkook stands in front of the window, right next to Namjoon, who’s looking at him from the side. “You’re gonna have to soon. I just submitted the paperwork.” “It’s not that easy.” Jungkook says softly. “You want me to do it?” Jungkook had considered it. Maybe hearing it from Namjoon would make it seem more necessary, and that would hurt less. But that would be cowardly of him. “No. I think that might be worse.” “Just lay out the facts.” Namjoon says. “And tell her now before it’s too late. At least she’ll get time to process everything.” “I know. I’ll tell her tomorrow.” “Alright.” Namjoon slaps him on the shoulder. “Let’s go over the details.”

⎼

“What⎼ how?!” “I’m sorry!” Jungkook whines, and you snatch the knitting from his hands. The tangled yarn sticks to the needle, with the remaining yarn unravelled all over the floor. “I’ve never done this before!” “But how did it get to this?” Jungkook drops himself on the couch, “You said this would be relaxing.” “Yeah if you do it right.” You mutter as you try to free the needle. “This is literally impossible. You weren’t listening to my instructions were you?” “No, every time you talk all I hear is the melodious sound of your voice luring me into your world.” Your palm lands harshly on his thigh and a high-pitched yelp escapes him. The amusement on your end fades away when instead of retaliating, Jungkook folds over, clutching his thigh while letting out a guttural groan. Panic sets in when you realise where your palm had landed ⎼ right on his wound. Your hands slap over your mouth with a gasp, dropping the tangled web of yarn to the floor. “I’m so sorry!” You continue to watch with horror as he buries his head into his leg. The amount of guilt you feel is indescribable, you couldn’t imagine how much it hurt. But the guilt slowly dissipates when seconds later, he breaks character, raising his head and ending the dramatics with his bunny teeth making an appearance. “Just kidding.” For a moment he regrets his decision, the dead stare you’re giving him making his stomach drop. “You. Asshole.” Picking up a cushion, he shields himself from your attacks, and you hear his laughter coming from the other side of the cushion. You manage to pry it away and his eyes widen though his grin remains, and he blocks your next attempt, grabbing your wrists in time. Leaning in, your face hangs just inches away from his bunny smile. “You’re surprisingly strong.” He comments. “I’m angry.” “Cute and angry.” You growl for effect and he chuckles. Though he’s holding on tight, you’re no match for him. He easily lowers your wrists and pulls you in closer, but you resist. “Listen,” he laughs, “I have something to tell you.” At first you think he could just be messing with you to get you to stop, but playfulness switches into a genuine smile as he speaks. Your body relaxes out of interest and you fall back to the couch, letting your legs drape over his. He laughs at the speed of your transition, now looking at him with curious eyes. “I spoke to Namjoon,” he starts and you nod, “he says we can tell the others now. So if you want to, we’ll have them over for dinner or something.” “Oh my god, yes!” You burst to your knees, arms folding around his neck. “Let’s do it! When?” “Whenever you like.”

“Okay, we need to prepare though. Should we surprise them?” You muse over the thought. “Your choice.” Jungkook shrugs, picking up the knitting materials off the floor and throwing them into its original box. “Oh come on,” you grab his hands, palm to his cheek, “they’re your friends too. They’ve been worried about you. And I know you’ve missed them.” Jungkook smiles, “Yeah, I guess I have.” “They’ll be ecstatic!” You clap your hands. “So how do you wanna do it?” “Honestly…I think I’d just like a nice dinner with everyone.” His eyes glaze over. “I feel like we’ve never done that before. We’re always doing our own things. Either that or, we’re fighting. Dinner would be good.” “Aw.” You press your lips to his cheek. “That’s so sweet Jungkook.” “Also, I can’t wait to kick Hoseok off his high horse.” “And there it is.” You roll your eyes and shove him. “Well what about you?” He scoffs, “Didn’t you say no one believed you a week ago, and that you can’t wait to rub it in their faces.” You smile sheepishly. “Fine, so we’ll both rub it in everyone’s faces.” “Sounds good.” Jungkook leans in till his lips find yours. “Let’s go do some grocery shopping.” You tilt your head. “Did you run this by Jaemin?” “Ugh, I hate that you know his name.” Jungkook winces. “No. But I talked Namjoon into giving me some freedom befor⎼” “Before?” You watch him freeze for a moment, then shake it off. “Before I go crazy here.” You nod slowly, a little suspicious over his fumbling of words. But he carries on normally, shoving the box of knitting materials aside so he can go get ready, motioning for you to do the same. 

⎼

Covered in black from head to toe with a hat pulled all the way down, covering his eyes, Jungkook drapes his arm around you as you walk around a lesser known part of the city. Every time you glance at him, or see his reflection on the window of the shops you pass by, you snicker. Only the bottom half of his face is visible, almost like you’re walking with a celebrity. A large supermarket comes into view and you go over the list of things to buy in your head. But as you walk by, his arm stops you from turning into it. Instead, the two of you walk on by. “Wasn’t that the…” “Yeah we can order online and put it on Namjoon’s tab like I always do.” He waves it off. “So then why did you⎼” “So we can go on a proper date. Ours got cut short last time.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone. “Shall we go to a museum? Bookstore?” “I thought you hated museums.” “You love them though?” He asks lifting his chin so he can see you better.  He slows down when he notices you do the same, face twisted with concern. “What if you get in trouble? We’re not supposed to be out and about.” Jungkook sighs. The arm around your shoulders drops down your back and you feel his fingers snaking between yours. “Didn’t I say I got Namjoon to ease up on the restrictions?” If you were being honest, a teeny tiny part of you doesn’t believe him. He tilts his head to meet your gaze and you see the wrinkles forming around his eyes as he smiles. “You can call him and check if you want to.” Then again, Namjoon had given him an access card which allowed him out of the building, one which he passed on to you to keep. Jungkook is sneaky but there’s no way he would’ve gotten a card without Namjoon knowing. “You can stand there all day thinking about it,” Jungkook shrugs, leaving you behind. He turns as he walks and you can only see his smile as he goes, “meanwhile, I’m gonna check out the new historial arts exhibition⎼” He breaks into laughter when you charge at him head on, pressing your head against his side and squeezing his arm against your body, sparkling eyes begging him to take you there. 

 ⎼

“You always choose the worst ones.” Your brows crease together just as you bring the spoon to your mouth. “You’re literally eating cotton candy flavoured ice cream.” Jungkook rolled his eyes and complained when you dragged him to yet another ice-cream place on the way back, but easily gave in when you mentioned getting ice-cream on dates is our thing. He never realised it but it’s true. And he finds it absolutely adorable. A couple of bars stay open down the street and the clinking of glasses, live music, and mindless chatter echo into the night. The faint sounds of their liveliness continue in the distance as you and Jungkook chose a calmer spot further down. “Yours is called Love Potion.” He makes a point. “What the hell is that?” “This is what keeps you wrapped around my finger.” “Oh-ho, is that right?” You both laugh and he moves in to press his lips against yours, tasting the sweet white chocolate mixed with the tart raspberry flavour lining your lips. He hovers close by after. “Mm you’re right, that is good.”  The mischievous glimmer in his eyes heats up your face. You never get tired of this feeling ⎼ of wanting to be with him, even when he’s this close to you. You wonder if this is what having a soulmate feels like. Is he your soulmate? It’s the first time anyone has ever made you question that. And it’s amusing to you how the thought pops up on a random Thursday night, sitting on a random bench by the road. Jungkook’s elbow nudges you gently, “What’s wrong?” Shaking your head, you break into a sheepish smile and feign interest in your ice-cream, swirling the melted parts around in the cup. Jungkook hasn’t seen that smile since the early days of your relationship. “Nothing.” He brings a napkin to your mouth, wiping off residual ice cream. And again, you feel that warmth, wishing he would stop staring already. But at the same time, wanting him to always look at you this way. It’s an hour after the time Jungkook had promised Jaemin to be back. Hand in hand, you walk back to the apartment building, and your smile lights up the night as you go on and on about something he’s only half paying attention to. The longer he looks at you, the heavier his heart gets. The guilt eating away his insides feels like it's about to let everything spew out of him. You’ve been the happiest he’s seen you in forever, and he knows what he’s about to tell you will erase it all away. Your hair dances in the wind and Jungkook watches your back while you look out at the view from a rooftop garden of a nearby subway station, taking yet another detour, and causing an influx of texts from Jaemin who’s tracking his location. Jungkook ignores them. “You really like it up here, huh?” He asks, and you turn with a smile. “It’s nice.” You say, turning back, admiring the pretty infrastructure. “Crazy to think living like this is normal for some people.” “Yeah.” His voice, suddenly appearing much closer, followed by his presence right by your side. Jungkook tries to focus on the lights, how the traffic almost looks like it moves in a rhythm. But his attention drifts back to you. Your chin rests on the back of your palm as you lean against the railing, eyes sparkling as you take it all in. “I’m gonna miss this when we finally get out of this city.” You chuckle, expecting him to join in and make a joke about living here forever under Namjoon’s tab. But it’s quiet on his end. His eyes seem to convey an emotion you don’t think you want to pull the thread on. “You look like you have a lot on your mind.” Jungkook smiles briefly, his light dimming almost as quickly as it appeared. “We have to talk.”

A loaded darkness wraps around his words, and it causes your heart to flip in your chest. It’s an odd feeling you thought you’d forgotten, but with it follows memories of the last year. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” You watch him swallow the lump in his throat. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I couldn’t find the right time.” “Does this have anything to do with your meetings with Namjoon?” Jungkook nods. “It’s about the case.” “Still? I thought it’s all over.” His fingers dance around yours, as if afraid to make contact. “It is. But…” Your eyes float between his, trying to decipher what’s going on. Inside, you’re bracing yourself for bad news; were they wrong about Kim? Hongjun? Were they alive after all? Has someone escaped from custody? Would someone try to kill you again? Mirroring his nervousness, you wrap your hand around his fingers, “Tell me.” “I’m leaving.” He spits those two words out like it pains him, shutting his eyes right after as he reads the confusion on your face. Your mouth parts as you try to filter out the million questions racing through your mind. “You’re leaving?” You shake your head and a nervous chuckle leaves your chest. “What does that mean? Like…you’re leaving me? Or? You’re leaving the city?” Eyes fluttering open, the distress is evident in his eyes now more than ever. He clears his throat. “I’m leaving the country. Till the case is settled.” “What? The case is settled.” You feel the rush of the blood through your veins. “Right? It’s settled. People were arrested, Kim is dead, Hongjun is dead, they’re all gone so, so, so why⎼” He squeezes your hand and you take a breath. “Not everyone was caught, that would be impossible with how big the organisation was. But yes, our biggest threats are gone for good. But it doesn’t mean I’m totally safe. They’re relocating me till the trial, which could take months at minimum, even years⎼” “Years?” Your voice cracks. “What are you saying? You’re gonna be away…for years?” Jungkook’s face twists in pain. Perhaps he had gone about this the wrong way, he should’ve brought it up gradually, gently. It would’ve been too much for anyone to handle. “You’re not serious.” You say, stilling the air around you. “Wait, is this why you’ve been meeting up with Namjoon so much?” Many different emotions course through your body, your mind finding it difficult to pinpoint what exactly you’re feeling. But it’s right there in the pit of your stomach, bubbling its way up to your chest. First it’s distraught, heart breaking into pieces at the thought of him having to leave, but then it morphs into something else entirely. Why had he kept this from you for so long? There were so many chances he had to break it to you. Your breathing gets erratic with anger. “When did you find out?”

“A couple of weeks ago…” His voice is soft, but you can’t tell if it’s because he’s lost his confidence or if it’s your hearing being overshadowed by the thumping of your heart. “And you kept this from me all this while?” You step back, slipping your hand away. “I didn’t know how to break it to you. I didn’t want to hurt you after everything that’s happened.” “And how do you think I feel now?” The words feel like a gigantic slap against his cheek, and Jungkook stands there out of words, feet frozen to his spot. As if watching his entire world crashing down in front of him, he stands there while you inch away, anguish swallowing you whole. “Wait,” he voice comes out hoarse, “please.” “No, I…” You flinch to stop the tears from dropping, and the sight kills him. You hold on to the railing as your world starts to spin. Looking at Jungkook only made it worse. “I need to go.” Despite your vision blurring from the tears, you don’t stop, even when you hear him call out to you. Only with your back turned to him do they wet your cheeks, and you wipe them away hastily, trying to get as far away as possible. The shrubs surrounding the dimly lit pathway feel like they’re closing in on you and you pick up speed, eventually running out of there towards the exit. 

 ⎼

The resentment on your face was something he hadn’t expected. He knew you’d be devastated ⎼ he was prepared for that ⎼ but he hadn’t anticipated that you’d be mad at him. Enough to leave him there to bask in his own guilt. It takes a minute to process before he comes to his senses. The fog clouding his mind clears up, his hearing comes back and his feet finally move. What the fuck am I doing? He blasts himself, questioning why he didn’t start running the moment you turned your back to him. You’re no longer in sight, disappearing in the direction of the exit towards the subway. He runs as fast as he can, bursting through the doors and down the steps. “Y/N!” Only the empty stairwell hears his desperation. Please. Three floors down, he finds the exit to the subway, opening up to a long corridor, an exit to the road on the right and subway on the left. A handful of people walking by stare at him as he runs out the door. He pulls his hat down and sprints towards the station platform. A high-pitched sound comes from the platform as the train pulls in and comes to a stop. Jungkook jumps over the gantry, and scans the area, looking past several others there to catch the last train. He walks down the length of the train, occasionally bumping into alighting passengers. The lights on the doors light up, signalling it’s ready to shut, and Jungkook runs down the platform, zooming past the cabins while his eyes continue to survey inside. The closer he gets to the end, the harder despair sinks into his chest. Slowing down, a jingle plays as the doors finally shut and seconds later the train picks up speed, metal rattling against the tracks as it leaves the station. Jungkook pants, resting his arms on his head as he takes one last look around. No one. He leaves the empty station and stands by the roadside, taking a deep breath to calm his still racing heart. The silence of the night bothers him, a reminder of the fact that you’re gone. He let you go, heartbroken and hurt. And he’s alone again. 

⎼

Sunlight peeks through the curtains, piercing your dull room with its bright orange glow. Outside, the hum of cars driving past and the chatter of kids walking to school can be heard. You barely slept a wink, and the pillow beneath you lies damp with fallen tears. Pushing yourself up, you trot outside to make yourself a cup of tea. The ruckus brings Hana out of her room, face easing into a smile when she sees you. “Oh hey,” she says, “what are you doing here?” Messy hair, crumpled clothing, and the moment your red, tired eyes meet hers, it was evident something’s wrong. Her face falls, and she’s over by your side within seconds. As her hand touches your arm, you break down, finding comfort in her arms. She runs her hand over your head as your tears wet the fabric on her shoulders. “What’s wrong?” “Jungkook…” you mutter between sobs. 

⎼

“What the hell.” Namjoon barges through the door and sees a deflated Jungkook with his head down on the dining table, Jaemin sitting next to him. “What happened?” “Everything’s fine, sir.” Jaemin stands, holding his palm out. “I got a ping alerting me that you almost left the city.” Namjoon directs his frustration to Jungkook who still hasn’t graced him with so much as a look. “We had a deal, Jungkook. You said you wanted some freedom while you still have time here. And I agreed on the condition that you wouldn’t cause a ruckus or try to take off without telling anyone.” No response. Jaemin glances at Jungkook, then turns back to Namjoon. “I’ve checked cctv footage from last night, he wasn’t exposed, nothing putting him at risk of identification.” “We need to get hold of the footage.” Namjoon presses his lips together and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Already put in a request for that.” Jaemin says. “I’ll get to it now.” He grabs his coat and walks up to Namjoon, pausing to whisper, “He’s had a rough night. Go easy on him⎼” “Thank you, agent. You may go.” Once they’re alone, Namjoon pulls up a chair and looks at the miserable boy before him. Dead eyes, red nose, slightly swollen face. “You look terrible.” Jungkook blinks, finally showing signs of life. He lifts his heavy head and rubs his eyes. “I fucked up.” “I take it she didn’t take the news well?” Namjoon asks, knowing the only reason he would end up in this state is if it was anything related to you. “She was…angry.” He says, bewildered. Namjoon tilts his head from side to side, “I would be too if I were her.” “Then she took off, and I stood there like a coward.” He shakes his head. “She couldn’t even look at me…I’m so pathetic.” “Well.” “If you say I told you so I swear to god I’m gonna punch you in the face.” Namjoon presses his lips into a line. Then his features soften, “Give her time. Think about how shocked she must’ve been.” “But I don’t have time.” Jungkook folds his arms and looks off to the side, voice cracking. “In a week, I’ll be gone. This is all I have left with her.” “Do you want me to speak to her?” Jungkook wipes his eyes before turning back to Namjoon. “Do you think that’ll help?” He shrugs. “I could say it was my idea to keep it from her. Protocol or whatever.” “I don’t care what you say, just please bring her back here.” Jungkook says, head dropping to the table once again. Namjoon sighs, “Why didn’t you go after her?” “I did! But she was gone by then.” Jungkook says. “She must’ve got on the train and went back to her place.” “Is that why I got the location warning?” Namjoon checks the notification on his phone, confirming he was at the station. “I’m surprised you didn’t just hop on the train yourself.” “Yeah well, we had an agreement. And I knew I’d be out of chances if I had gotten on. Didn’t even have a ticket or anything, I jumped over the gantry.” “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.” Namjoon looks up at him. “But thanks for honouring our agreement. Once Jaemin gets the footage, I’ll deal with it. And I’ll speak to y/n.” “Thanks.” Jungkook cracks a smile, though he doesn’t look any better than before. “Now go wash up or something.” He shoves Jungkook’s head lightly. “You’re so pathetic you got Jaemin feeling bad for you…”

⎼

After a cold shower, you sink into your bed, trying to find some comfort in the cool sheets. But turning on your side, your eyes make contact with the framed photo of the two of you on your bedside table. You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut. Hana pads into the room, stopping by your bed and offering you a cup of hot cocoa. Eventually you sit up, accepting the drink and taking small sips. “What’s gonna happen now?” She asks, tilting her head. She’d spent an hour sitting with you on the couch, allowing you to let it all out. The news had come to a shock to her as well, and she’d spent the first ten minutes silently holding you while you sob. “He’s gonna leave.” You shrug, stating it like you’re trying to convince yourself more than her. “There’s nothing I can do.” Hana nods, oddly silent. She sits on your bed in thought, pursing her lips with her arms folded, “So…what are you doing?” “Nothing?” You repeat yourself. “I mean, what are you doing here?” She asks, chuckling like it’s amusing. You’ve yet to realise what’s so funny. “You’re telling me that your boyfriend ⎼ the one you spent the last month grieving so hard for because you didn’t want to believe he was gone  ⎼ has to leave the country soon, and you’re here and not spending whatever time left you have with him?” Her question knocks you so hard off your balance that you sober up. “I⎼ I’m just…he should’ve told me sooner. He knew about it and he hid it from me.” “And that’s important right now?” You felt more judged than you’ve ever felt. “Seriously? Who cares? You want to waste time sulking? Have you thought about how he feels? Having to leave everything behind including his girlfriend, who he loves so much he almost took a bullet for?” “He did take a bullet for me.” You counter, as if that’s the pressing issue here. She raises her brows and tilts her head, the sassiest she’s ever been. “Really.” You take a deep breath. Why are you here? Like you said, there’s nothing you can do about it, so why harp on the fact that he kept this from you? You’re wasting precious time right now. When your eyes dart back to Hana, she smiles, knowing you’ve come to your senses. Getting up to your feet and scrambling for your belongings, you mutter, “You’ve always liked him better, haven’t you?” Her smug look waves you goodbye as you rush out, calling the first person that comes to mind to help you get back to Namjoon’s apartment. 

⎼

Jungkook stares up at the ceiling, not having moved from the couch since noon. When Namjoon comes back after a meeting, he shakes his head at the disinterested Jungkook, who only spares him a single glance before going back to zoning out. “Did you call her yet?” He asks. Namjoon huffs. “I’m sorry, I had work to attend to. Your problems aren’t exactly at the top of my list right now.” “Okay.” Jungkook blinks, turning over to face the inside of the couch. Namjoon runs his hand over his face. To not have a comeback for his sarcasm tells him how bad things are. “Look I know you’re upset but you can’t⎼” His sentence stops halfway when the front door opens, followed by the tune it makes. It gets Jungkook curious and he turns to Namjoon who has his eyes set on the door. He gets up, and eyes go wide when he sees you standing there, smiling sheepishly with Jaemin right behind you. “Y/N?” Jungkook perks up. He gets on his feet with a sudden burst of energy and you run into his open arms, pressing yourself against his chest. “Jungkook. I’m sorry.” You say, tears rolling down despite your eyes squeezed tight. He doesn’t hear a word you say, feeling only the tightness in his chest at the relief that you came back. Namjoon nods to Jaemin and you hear the door close. “Sit down Y/N, I’ll explain everything.” 

⎼

It’s been hours since you returned, and Namjoon and Jaemin have since retreated back to their apartments, giving you some privacy. Namjoon had spent some time explaining the move, but much of the details were redacted, not leaving you with a lot. Mostly because the information was classified. “Is this really necessary?” You ask. “Yes.” Namjoon says firmly. “In exchange for his cooperation, we’re offering him protection. Right now, as far as anyone knows, Jungkook or “Ace”, is being held at an out-of-state institution. That’s why we’ve had to keep him here since. If anyone knew he was somehow involved in the whole operation, he’d have a target on his back.” “Kim and Hongjun are dead, aren’t they?” “But there are others. And these people may have connections on the outside that we don’t know about.” You look at Jungkook, sitting idly beside you. “Sort of like witness protection.” “Something like that, yeah.” Namjoon agrees. “But we have enough evidence to tie them to the crimes. We don’t need him as an actual witness. But, we still need to play it safe till the trial.” Jungkook squeezes your hand, “It’ll only be a few years.” “Yeah,” you nod, smiling weakly, “I’ll call you every day.” “No.” Namjoon interrupts almost immediately, eyes wide in alarm. “No calls. We’re going no contact.” Your heart sinks even more, mouth agape. “What? But⎼” “That’s how it works; he’ll have a new identity, new job, new background in a new country.” He says, “He’s not going to be Jungkook anymore ⎼ and for security purposes we can’t disclose to you his new identity or where he’s going. As far as you know, Jungkook’s gone. The last time you saw him was the night of the raid.” You take a deep breath, frustration mingling with the grief in your chest. “And when he comes back in a few years? Won’t that be suspicious?” “In a few years selling the idea that he was held in a different state wouldn’t be a problem. He could say he got out early for good behaviour or something.” Namjoon waves his hand vaguely. “We’ll talk about that when the time comes.” In a different country, living under a fake name with little to no contact with anyone he knows here. You lie next to Jungkook, listening to him talk about the move. You keep your feelings in check, knowing how much more anxious he must be. You go quiet and he glances at you, zoned out. Nudging you, he gets on his side and places his palm to your cheek. “Hey. You okay?” “Oh yeah, sorry.” You smile, grabbing his hand. “I just got distracted.” You hate to make him worry, especially now. The one thing you can do for him is to make sure he knows you’ll be okay. “Is it about me leaving?” He asks. You shake your head and he gives you a look. “Liar.” You chuckle, sliding up and leaning against the headboard. “Five more days, right?” He looks at you with a blank stare, hating how casual you are about it. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay with this.” “I’m not.” You shrug, lacing your fingers with his as he slides up and joins you, “But Hana’s right ⎼ there’s no time to mull over how much this sucks.” Jungkook tightens his grip. “I should’ve told you sooner.” “Yeah,” your voice cracks a smidge and you clear your throat, “you’re a dick.” “Sorry.” He kisses the side of your head. “It’s fine,” you say, more so convincing yourself than him, “let’s make the best of the next few days, okay?” Jungkook nods, pressing his head against yours. The air feels heavy with your worries, wearing you down. His arm lays heavy over you as you lay there silently, looking out the window. Behind you, the absence of his snoring tells you he lies awake behind you as well. It’s evident that neither of you are okay with this, but the only thing that you need right now is to sit with those feelings. As uncomfortable as they may be. 

⎼

The next morning, the news plays on the television, reporting on details of the case. Namjoon sits on the couch, paying close attention while Jungkook stays close by as he tidies the house, glancing at the screen every now and then. You tune it out, feeling all sorts of ways every time they bring up a trial. “How’s the media so fast with the info…” Namjoon mutters to himself, turning the volume down. “You’re probably not the only one with an informant,” Jungkook says mindlessly and he scoffs. “So, you ready?” Jungkook stops wiping the table down and stares at him. Namjoon goes back and forth between you two, picking up on the awkwardness. “No?” “Does it matter?” Jungkook shrugs. Namjoon’s shoulders drop slightly. “I know this is hard on you, but it’s the best case scenario.” “I get that.” Jungkook says, going back to cleaning. Avoiding further eye contact with Namjoon, the older man looks to you, and you shake your head, signalling him to leave it be. “Alright, I’m gonna go. And I’ll be back in the evening with your guests.” He says, nodding to you with a smile. You bid him goodbye as he leaves. Minutes later, Jungkook abandoned his chore, choosing to sit on the high stool of the counter, watching as you work on a batch of brownie batter. You smile up at him when you notice how intensely he’s staring. He then moves from his seat, coming up behind you, resting his head on your head and arms around your waist. “Chill, I’m not running away again anytime soon.” You joke, and he smiles. The two of you found the whole thing rather amusing after talking it out. But at the back of your minds, the pressing reality haunts the both of you. Your laughters drown out the anxiety of what’s to come. “Sure you’re not mad at me still?” He asks, peeking down. “Folding that batter rather harshly.” “Positive.” You say firmly. “Maybe a little…” He peppers kisses on your cheeks, squishing your face between his fingers and forcing you to drop the spatula into the bowl. “Better?” Your cheeks hurt from smiling wide. He traps you between his body and the counter, and you look up at him smiling down. “I love you.” You blurt out, and his smile drops for a moment. “I love you too.” He whispers, looking down. “I’m sorry. I wish…it could be different…” “Hey,” you stop him, bringing his eyes back to you, “we said we wouldn’t do that…” A solemn smile appears on his face. He nods at your words. “Yeah, you’re right.” It hurts to see him so miserable, perhaps even more miserable than you are on the inside. But harping on what can’t be changed is fruitless. The time you have left can be spent cherishing whatever you have now. “Now, why don’t you start preparing what we need for tonight?” You change the subject and bring him back to the present. It works in the moment, when you notice his face eases up, and he gets to work, opening up the cabinets to fish out the dinnerware. While he gets to work, you glance at him occasionally, wondering how he managed to keep up a front the last week you’ve been together, knowing he’d eventually have to leave. He looks up and smiles at you, and you feel a tug at your heartstrings, knowing you won’t be seeing that for a long time.

⎼

The mirror has seen Jungkook more than you have the entire afternoon. He puts on a simple blue sweater you picked and paired it with black jeans, getting a weird feeling in his tummy when he thinks about the dinner. Even though he denies it, you know he’s excited, jittery even, to see his friends again. While he waits, Jungkook practises his smile, then physically cringes at how ridiculous he’s being. Luckily you’re not here to laugh at him. You’d left a while ago, waiting for Namjoon and the others at the basement carpark. Jungkook flops down on the bed, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast. Meanwhile, downstairs, you stand near the entrance of the basement ready to greet the two black SUVs as they arrive. The first one opens up to a beaming Hana, excitement showing in her demeanour. If Namjoon had been in the car, he definitely would’ve figured out that she knows. Ten minutes later, Hoseok and Jimin’s car arrive and you see Jimin immediately darting towards you, going in for a hug. “Where’ve you been, stranger?” He asks, squeezing you. “Here and there.” You say, leaning into him. Catching up behind him, Hoseok offers you a warm smile, relieved to see you in good spirits. Once you pull away from Jimin, he steps forward. “First of all, I’m sorry about last time. We were jerks. I was a jerk.” You wave it off. “Don’t worry about that. I’m good now.” “Really?” He raises a brow, casting a doubtful look at your switch up. He finds it strange when you extend your arm to give him a hug as well, but doesn’t oppose. Namjoon shows up from behind, ushering everyone to the lift lobby. Everyone is quiet, paying close attention as he scans his biometrics, waiting for a green flash to appear before pressing the button to his floor. You giggle at their awed expressions. “I’ve missed you,” Jimin nudges you, “you’re okay?” “Of course she is,” Hana chimes in just as the elevator stops, opening up to the corridor. Namjoon leads the way, once again using his biometrics to unlock the door. “Look at this place. I bet it has a great⎼” “The view…” Jimin continues, pushing past you and Hana and going straight for the high windows. The other two join him and they gawk at the skyline, completely ignoring the nice table set up you and Jungkook had worked on. Hoseok shakes his head. “I always knew you were rich but you’re actually rich rich.” “Oh come on,” Namjoon scoffs, “this place technically belongs to my company.” “Still,” Hana shrugs, “no wonder y/n wouldn’t go back home.” She winks your way and you widen your eyes, trying to control the huge grin. Namjoon then takes it upon himself to hand out champagne glasses, “Here you go guys…thanks for coming over tonight. I really wanted everyone to be able to come together after…all that’s happened.” Everyone stands to face Namjoon as he speaks. Without realising, their glasses start to fill, starting with Hana. She turns to the server, about to relay her thanks, not thinking much about the fact that maybe Namjoon had a butler whose presence she had missed. But she goes for a double take, before words can even be said, and the man shoots her a charming wink before moving ahead. Hoseok’s glass is next.

“Congrats on the successful case.” Hoseok says, angling his glass to allow for a better flow. But he’s much too focused on Namjoon to notice anything. “I can finally stop pretending not to know you.” “Yeah, you killed it.” Jimin chimes in. “You don’t even know who he is.” Hana raises a brow at him. “I’ve seen him around okay?” Jimin mutters, watching the liquid fill his glass. He glances at the server and smiles, raising his glass. “Cheers. Thanks Jungkook.” Your smile grows wider as you watch Jimin freeze just an inch away from the glass touching his lips. Hoseok snaps his head to the man behind him, mouth parting and unable to tear his eyes away from the sight that he doesn’t even think is real. Jimin spins around, carefully studying the person standing an arm’s length away from him. Jungkook notices the twist of his face, one he always makes when he’s emotional. “Jungkook!” In his excitement, red wine spills all over the floor as he jumps towards Jungkook, holding him tight. Welcoming the embrace, Jungkook’s smile reaches his eyes and he lets his head drop to Jimin’s shoulder. “Hey, Jimin. Long time no see.” “Jeon Jungook, what the hell.” Hoseok mutters unbelievably. He turns to Namjoon for confirmation, as if the person he’s looking at might just be a figment of his imagination. Even as Jimin pulls away, collecting himself, Hoseok finds it hard to believe that it’s the same Jungkook he’d spent weeks checking hospitals for, the Jungkook he thought had fled somewhere far away. He’d gone through many different scenarios in his head, of when he would somehow see Jungkook again, but he didn’t think it would be so soon. Staring at him wide-eyed, almost as nervous as he is, Jungkook clears his throat. “Hi, hyung.”

⎼

Under the table, Jungkook’s hand finds solace in yours, squeezing every time the nerves get to him. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, but as soon as he sees your reassuring smile, he relaxes. You turn your palm over, letting your fingers lace together with his. Everyone’s impatience forced Namjoon to retell the story over dinner; how the plan came about and where Jungkook fit into all of it. As absorbed as you were the first time, everyone eats silently while Namjoon goes on. Seeing how Jungkook has barely touched his food, you lean in to whisper, “You okay?” Jungkook sneaks a glance at the others, all focused on Namjoon, “I feel weird.” He admits. His sweaty palms are a testament to that, as well as eyes that shy away from the others. “You’re doing fine. Just be yourself.” Jungkook nods, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tries to figure out how to do that. What does being himself mean? He’d always been himself around them, but that was his old self. Just as he’s getting lost in his thoughts, he feels the weight of three pairs of eyes turn to him. “I can’t believe you were his informant the entire time,” Hana says, “You played the role so well, I thought ya’ll couldn’t stand each other.” “Oh that wasn’t acting.” Jungkook shakes his head, “I actually can’t stand him.” Already anticipating such a response, Namjoon’s eyes roll as far back as they can go. Heart thumping at his first comment out loud, Jungkook sucks in a breath to calm himself. You give him a squeeze of his hand to let him know he did good. “And you never figured it out?” Jimin asks, side eyeing you. You punch him lightly and he pouts. “Hey, no one knew. You’re his best friend and you didn’t figure it out either.” “How did you do it?” Hoseok asks, and there’s a moment of awkwardness as everyone waits for Jungkook’s reply. “Must’ve been lonely…not having anyone to talk to about it with.” He takes a while to think, huffing a small laugh as he plays with the cut up meat on his plate. “It wasn’t easy…I had to keep lying to people. Which made things a lot more complicated because the lies kept coming back to bite me.” Everyone takes a moment, realising it’s the first time they’ve ever heard Jungkook speak so vulnerably. It’s new to him too, only ever being comfortable to open up around you. And Suga. “Probably didn’t help that someone kept meddling,” Namjoon says, breaking the tension. His eyes hook right on to yours, “Even after getting a warning. Multiple warnings in fact.” “I’m very passionate about my loved ones.” You stick your nose proudly in the air, earning a scowl from Namjoon. “Did you know?” Hana asks, avoiding your stare. “We went through such lengths to keep things from you.” Jungkook glances at you, smiling. “I had no idea. I just thought she was obsessed.” Your jaw drops as a round of laughs make its way through the table and Jungkook grins. He pulls you close to his side, squishing your cheeks. “I’m kidding.” He says. “I knew you were a meddler but I didn’t think it went that far.” “Yeah, you were basically running your own operation while we ran ours.” Namjoon shakes his head and you throw a broccoli his way, hitting him right on the forehead. He sits back in his chair, jutting his chin out with restrained annoyance as Jimin and Hana snicker across from him. Next to Namjoon, Hoseok watches on with a smile while you go back and forth, still finding it odd to be sitting on the same table as his friend and everyone else, especially Jungook. He sneaks a glance in Jungkook’s direction, only to find him already staring. Taken by surprise at the sudden eye contact, Jungkook blinks rapidly before finding interest in his food. You manage to catch the tiniest look of endearment on Hoseok’s face as he’s looking at Jungkook. His eyes then drift over to yours, eyes crinkling into a smile, which you return. Hoseok’s heart thumps in his chest, seeing the most genuine smile he’s ever seen from you. 

⎼

After some persuading, Namjoon agreed to bring everyone up to the rooftop, where Jungkook and you often frequent. You were too excited to be able to share the view with your friends, hooking your arm around theirs, immediately dragging them past the pool towards the rooftop garden. Strolling behind, Namjoon, Hoseok and Jungkook walk at a steady pace. Jungkook walks a couple of steps behind the other two, snorting when he hears your voice in the distance, blabbering about something. Namjoon glances back, then bumps his elbow against his friend. Hoseok looks at him curiously, and Namjoon nods towards the back, and as Hoseok’s eyes dart to Jungkook, awkwardness wraps around his entire being. With a curt nod, Namjoon gets ahead, catching up with everyone else, leaving Hoseok and Jungkook alone for the first time tonight. In an effort to be the bigger person, Hoseok slows down to match his steps with Jungkook. They make eye contact the moment they walk side by side, and both huff out an awkward chuckle. “Sorry I’m just feeling a little…” “Awkward?” Jungkook finishes his sentence and they both laugh, then fall quiet again. “Feels weird when we’re not arguing over something.” Hoseok huffs, smiling as he nods in agreement. “How’ve you been?” “Okay I guess.” Jungkook shrugs. “You?” “Good.” Hoseok takes a breath. “It’s good to see you again.” Jungkook gets a weird feeling in his chest, something he hasn’t felt since he was a child. Faint memories of his family come back to him for some reason. “I thought you escaped somehow.” Hoseok says as they settle on the daybeds by the pool. He sits facing Jungkook, noticing his eyes drifting off to where you are, standing by the railing overlooking the view with the others. “She had a feeling you were still around though. We didn’t believe her.” “She’s always right.” Jungkook chuckles and so does Hoseok. “But I don’t blame you. Classic me move, right? Running away every time there’s a problem.” Hoseok’s smile drops. Seemingly unbothered by his own comment, Jungkook stretches his leg out in front of him, patting his palms on his thighs. All the times he’s criticised Jungkook comes to mind, wondering how much Jungkook must have internalised for him to be okay saying such things about himself. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” Unsure if he had heard right, Jungkook’s stares at him wide-eyed. “What did you say?” “I’m really sorry,” Hoseok repeats, shaking his guilt-ridden head. “I’ve spent many nights thinking about how badly I treated you. It was horrible…” Jungkook smiles. “It’s okay.” “No, don’t say that.” Hoseok sighs. “Don’t let me off the hook so easily. I was always criticising you and telling you what to do, judging you when I didn’t even know you at all. You were right when you said I had a saviour complex. I kept saying that I was doing all that because I cared ⎼ and I did, I still do ⎼ but I went about it the wrong way.” “I should’ve sat down with you and tried to understand you. Then maybe I could’ve given you real advice. But instead I just ordered you around.” “I mean, I wasn’t the easiest to talk to.” Jungkook rubs the back of his head with a sheepish smile. “And a lot of what you said was true, I just didn’t want to hear it.” “It's hard to hear over someone constantly berating you.” Hoseok says. “At some point I even turned on you and let my feelings for y/n get in the way. Wasn’t till she told me off one day that it really hit me…you should’ve just socked me in the face.” “Trust me, I thought about that a lot.” Jungkook admits, laughing. “I’m kidding. Not gonna lie, you were annoying. But now that I can think clearly, looking back, I can see you meant well. Back then I had so many things on my mind, and your constant lectures were just something I couldn’t deal with. Which is why I was so defensive.” “You did have a lot going on…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” Hoseok offers an apologetic smile. “All that time you were actually in on the case with Namjoon.” “To be fair, before that I was just a menace.” Jungkook chuckles, and Hoseok realises he’s never been able to sit with Jungkook like this, hearing him laugh about silly things. “When I got involved, I had to bite my tongue from letting it slip every time we fought. I wanted so badly to tell you I’m trying, I’m trying to change.” It makes Hoseok emotional hearing that; it was all he ever wanted, for Jungkook to be a better person. Yet when it was happening, he didn’t even realise it. Regret seeps through his entire being. “I’m sorry I made you feel that way.” It’s something Jungkook can smile about now, though he remembers the frustration at the time. “It’s all good now. Water under the bridge.” Almost as if he doesn’t recognise the person in front of him, Hoseok tilts his head slightly, admiring Jungkook. The rude, indifferent boy no longer present, replaced with a level-headed version of him; mature yet surrounded by a youthful aura. “In the end, you did the right thing though. And all on your own.” Hoseok grins, “I’m proud of you.” The four words echo through Jungkook’s head and he looks away, feeling that ache in his chest again. What follows is an odd sensation of relief washing over him. The mix of emotions confuse him, and perhaps it’s because he never truly allowed himself to have such moments; the only ever person he would let himself be open with was with you. And now, he sits here, blinking away tears. Jungkook clears his throat. “I um…I wanted to thank you.” “For what?” “Just…” Jungkook shrugs, “I know that it was you who got Namjoon involved in the first place⎼” “I’m sorry for that too,” Hoseok buries his head in his hands, “I didn’t think things would get so serious. I thought it would be a simple crackdown and you’d be free. But this⎼ I didn’t⎼” “I know,” Jungkook says gently, “Namjoon told me everything. But also…for always being there for y/n. You care a lot about her and I appreciate it, you’ve always looked out for her. And I hope you can continue to do that.” Something about the way Jungkook said it made Hoseok feel uneasy. His tone had been ominous and loaded, there was definitely more to it. But before Hoseok has a chance to question it, Jungkook’s attention rips away from him and he straightens up happily, eyes hooked on to your approaching figure.

“Hey.” You plop down right next to him, “What are you two talking about?” “Stuff.” Jungkook says, stretching his arm out over your shoulders. Hoseok nods, “Stuff.” “Fascinating.” You say bluntly, then turn to Hoseok. “Have you seen the view? It’s ⎼” “We were actually just talking about how stubborn you are.” Jungkook cuts you off, winking at the man across from him. “Yeah,” Hoseok huffs out, puffing his cheeks and his head sways side to side, “remember when she made a deal with Hongjun and got herself in trouble?” “Oh yeah, how could I forget.” Jungkook sighs. “Can you imagine? Putting herself at risk like that.” Their heads spin to you, gauging your reaction. Just as they thought, you sit there with your arms folded, forehead creased with annoyance. You go back and forth between the two of them. “I don’t like this new dynamic.”

⎼

Jungkook tries to recall the last time his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Or if he’s ever laughed as much as he has tonight. He’d sink into pockets of awkwardness at times, but it wasn’t hard to get back into the rhythm and pick himself out of that hole. It makes him think about the last few years, and how different life could’ve been and how much he might’ve missed out on. Across the room, you take turns to play a video game Namjoon put on, the four of you screaming every time a character is annihilated. Jungkook opens the fridge and stares mindlessly at the inside for a minute. Namjoon then comes up behind him, shuffling around the kitchen for some snacks. He finds a packet of chips and tears the bag open while his back leans against the counter. Feeling a pair of eyes trained on him, Jungkook looks over his shoulder. “What?” “Ready?” Jungkook turns back around. “For what?” He mumbles as he bends down to grab a can. “To break the news to them.” He says quietly, “Or are you not doing that tonight?” The fridge door shuts a little too hard and Jungkook winces. In front of the television, the other four remain unbothered, eyes glued to the screen. “I don’t want to ruin the night.” Namjoon shrugs. “Although I’m sure they’d want to know sooner than later.” “Weren’t you the one who suggested I tell them on the day I’m leaving?” “Yes,” Namjoon drags the word out, “that is usually how we do it. But I’m willing to close one eye and let you have a choice.” “I don’t even think I can do it.” Jungkook says, looking over at them again. How can he drop the news so casually after tonight? It’s taken months to reveal himself to them, and for them to find out that he was working with Namjoon the whole time, only to then break the news that he has to leave in a matter of days? His shoulder drops when Namjoon places his hand on it. “I could make the announcement for you?” Jungkook gives it a thought. The joy on your face is something he doesn’t want to see gone. If you can put up a brave front despite already knowing, then he can too. Thinking back to the promise he’s made to you, to enjoy the last few days you have with each other, Jungkook makes up his mind. He shakes his head, and Namjoon nods with a smile. Everyone will just have to forgive him once more in the future. 

⎼

Jungkook fluffs the last pillow and sets it back neatly on the couch. Looking around, he exhales in triumph at how he’s managed to tidy up the place back to its original state. The quiet feels strangely odd, now that’s everyone’s gone home, even though it’s all he’s known in the last month. He grabs the trash bags you’d left by the kitchen, and steps outside to dump the last of them down the chute. Just before he makes his way back inside, Jungkook lingers by the doorframe, staring at the elevator where everyone said their goodbyes. “See you soon!” Hoseok said. And Jimin goes on about how he can’t wait for Jungkook to return to the house, thankful that they hadn’t cleared out his room. Jungkook could only smile, knowing he in fact won’t be back. After washing up, you enter the room to find Jungkook on the bed, looking through your phone with a towel around his damp hair. You climb on his back, taking a whiff of his body wash and sighing immediately. Jungkook’s smile stretches wider as he scrolls through the pictures you took tonight. Your chin finds a spot on his shoulder and you let your weight rest on him. “That was a nice night, right?” “Mhm.” He nods and you kiss the side of his face. “I was awkward though.” “But you did so well.” You reassure him, rolling off his back and joining him on your front, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Everyone was so happy to see you.” Jungkook’s heart swells, something he’s still trying to get used to. He passes the phone back to you and gets on his back, staring up at the ceiling. He still thinks about the conversation he had with Hoseok, how for the first time ever, they’ve spoken without getting into a huge fight. “It was so crazy. Hoseok apologised to me, you know?” “Did he?” You lie on your side, head resting on your palm. “Yeah.” Jungkook smiles as he recalls. “It’s weird I got kind of nervous…but also happy.” “That’s cute!” You chuckle. “Deep down you actually do like him, don’t you?” “I guess I do now.” Jungkook thinks back to the old days, when he would roll his eyes at the sight of Hoseok or the whiff of his cologne. “Back then he was insufferable. But tonight…he was kinda cool. Apologising and shit.” “Did you apologise?” Jungkook turns to you confused. “What? Was I supposed to?” “I mean you were pretty mean to him back then.” You say and he frowns deeper. “Remember when you almost got us into a crash?” Jungkook’s face softens when you remind him of that. “Hey…” You laugh at his disappointment in you bringing it up again, though you never actually got to speaking about it since that night. “What? It’s true!” “But you slapped me after.” He says, as a matter-of-factly. “Cause you almost killed us…” You say slowly and, “and then you almost beat him up.” “Well if you hadn’t ran off with him…” You gasp dramatically, getting on your knees to twist his ear. He cries out in pain, but a smile still lingers on his lips. Strong arms hold you in place as you climb on top of him. “I didn’t run off with him! I was running away from you! Because you⎼” He easily plucks your hand away from his ear with the way you back down, slowly remembering the events of the night that led up to his car chase. The image of him holding Hongjun in a headlock appears in your mind.

His playful gaze softens, thumb caressing the back of your palm reassuringly. “That was when you asked me to run off with you, wasn’t it? You were warning me about the operation.” Nodding, it feels silly now knowing he was involved all along. It’s no wonder he was so reluctant to leave. “That was when things started to make sense; your behaviour, the break-up, why you were so adamant on running away with me.” Jungkook chuckles, sitting up to get closer to you. His arms keep you in place on his lap. “Could you tell I was panicking?” “I didn’t realise,” you admit, “I thought you wanted to stay loyal to your friends…it was so frustrating.” He laughs but it’s cut short when he doesn’t see you joining him. Instead, your eyes glaze over, and he loses you in that moment. Only when the back of his fingers gently graze against your cheek do you return, eyes going back and forth between his. 

“You had that same look,” he whispers. You swallow, trying to focus on what he’s saying. “Hm?” “That night, you had the same look on your face.” He repeats, tilting his head when you avert your gaze, “Right before you ran off.” You slide off of him, grabbing a pillow to hug. Jungkook mirrors your movements, crossing his legs and letting your knees touch. When the distress on your face doesn’t go away, he gets nervous, frowning when he realises whatever it is, is bothering you that much. “Is it Hongjun?” He asks carefully, reminded of how anxious you got previously. You wet your dry lips, suddenly feeling warm under his stare. The thought of Hongjun still brings back bad feelings sometimes, but it’s not what Jungkook thinks it is. “Not exactly…” you mutter, stopping before you say more. With all that’s happened, you can’t even remember if you’d asked him about the video. “It’s…you see before that…” you swallow your nerves, “I was⎼ ugh fuck.” “Hey, it’s alright.” Jungkook places his hand over yours. “I don’t want you to get upset…” You say quietly. He reaches under your chin to lift your gaze, gentle eyes greeting you. He smiles. “Tell me.” You take another deep breath, squeezing his hand. “Back then, Hongjun was still contacting me.” Jungkook nods curtly, paying close attention. “Well...he…” His body visibly tenses from the suspense. “Did he do anything to you?” “No,” you shake your head and let your fingers intertwine with his, watching his shoulders relax, “I don’t know where to start…” Jungkook tucks stray hairs away from your face and runs his thumb over your cheek. “From the beginning?” Recalling your contact with Hongjun felt odd, now that he’s gone, and the usual uneasiness in Jungkook’s expression which normally surfaced, no longer an issue. He seems to have internalised that Hongjun would never come back to haunt him. From the first time he’d sourced you out at the cafe, right down to the time he waited for you on campus, Jungkook listens attentively as you explain how Hongjun had wanted you to help him. None of it came as a surprise to Jungkook, it was exactly the kind of person Hongjun was; devious and manipulative. If he had known all this was happening, it would have been over for him. But now that he’s dead, Jungkook finds it regretful only because it caused you so much stress. “He said some things about you and some of the things you did for Kim.” You say. Jungkook nods. “He was manipulating you. He knew you were his best bet in getting me out of the picture.” “The thing is, I knew deep down that’s what it was. But I was also scared…” Your words trail off and he lowers his head to match yours, “Scared of…me?” “Of the things he said you did.” You squeeze your eyes shut but he cups your face and brings it up to his. “I’ve said it before, haven't I? None of it’s true.” “I know that, I believe you.” Jungkook searches your eyes. “But?...” “There was a video. Of you.” He shifts uncomfortably, eyes locked on to yours. “You were in a fight. And it looked like you won, but the other guy…”

Jungkook seems to catch on to what you’re referring to. There’s been many fights he’s been over the years but only a few come to mind at once. And he can’t think of many that anyone would have a video of. If he wasn’t nervous before, now he is. “Wait,” his forehead creases, “he sent you a video of me in this fight?” “Yes.” You breath out shakily. “I didn’t want to believe him when he said you were doing all sorts of terrible things to people because of Kim. He kept trying to convince me that you needed me to save you. So he sent me that video as proof that if I don't help you, it’ll only get worse and worse.” “What did you see?” Staring at him, you hesitate to carry on, but he raises his brows, urging you with a silent promise that it’ll be okay. “There were people cheering and screaming. It was really loud. And I saw you somewhere in the middle of all that, tangled up with someone. He was in a chokehold, in your arms…and then I think he…” Shaking your head, you refuse to go on, averting your eyes to where your hands have balled up the blankets in your fists. “And I know you said you don’t⎼ you’ve never⎼ killed anyone but⎼” “Calm down⎼” “I don’t know what went down that night but I know you would never I know they made you do it, and⎼” “Stop.” “And I’m willing to move past that, I still love you.” Jungkook shuts his eyes and heaves out, dropping his head. For a moment you think he might lose it, or breakdown, something. But the corners of his lips curve up and now he’s looking at you with a tender look in his glossy eyes. “Who are you kidding my love? You’d have sleepless nights if the love of your life killed someone.” “But I’m⎼” “Thankfully he’s not.” The amusement all over his face doesn’t help to convince you. You can’t tell if he’s already accepted a man’s death by his hands or if he’s pushed the memory so far back into his mind, he’s convinced himself it never happened. Both possibilities don’t sound so good. “It’s not funny.” “I know, sorry.” He smiles, taking your hands in his. “I didn’t kill anyone.” “I saw the video, Jungkook. It was a fight to the death, people placed bets on you. You won, he died.” Jungkook nods, “That’s what I thought happened too. I was chosen to fight but he volunteered, I didn’t know the guy, hadn’t seen him before that night. I thought he was one of Barome’s men. Trust me…you have no idea how I felt after the fight, thinking I’d killed him.” “Wait, so…” “He’s not dead.”

As simple as they are, the words would not process in your head. It just made no sense. “Wha⎼ How? Are you sure?” “Namjoon said so.” Jungkook says. “That guy might have been undercover too. He didn’t go into too much detail but I’m guessing they figured out a way to make it look like he was dead for real. Wouldn’t be too hard considering everyone was pretty much high or wasted that night. I wish he’d told me cause I was inconsolable after.” “I don’t even remember the fight or what led up to it. Someone must’ve slipped me something. But I would never kill anyone, only knock them out cold. I don’t even know how to kill someone like that. So when I found out what happened…it was like a nightmare.” “Oh gosh…” your stomach twists, “I shouldn’t have believed Hongjun…” “I don’t blame you.” Jungkook smiles reassuringly. “I believed it myself. He really wanted you to get me out of the picture huh?” “Yeah, and it worked.” You smile sheepishly. “That’s why I was so flustered that night. I made excuses for it…like maybe you were forced to do it or something. But then when Hongjun showed up and I saw you hold him in a chokehold till he passed out…” “It reminded you of the video.” Nodding as your heart starts to fill with relief, pushing away any thoughts you had before, you crawl into his arms and he hugs you tight. “That’s why I wanted us to run away together. I thought I was saving you. Sorry.” “Don’t be. I know Hongjun and this is exactly the type of shit he’d pull.” Jungkook sighs. “I was stupid to even take up his offer.” You say, pulling away and rolling off face down into a pillow. Jungkook’s palm lands on your ass, and you let out a yelp, turning to scowl at him. Chuckling, he rolls you back to your front, sliding on his side to rest next to you. “You literally never listen.” With a roll of your eyes, you playfully slap him. He cups the side of his affected cheek and gasps. “Another slap.” “A loving one.” Jungkook leans in to capture your lips in a tender kiss, one that has your body melting into the mattress. Pulling away far too quickly, he chuckles at your half-lidded eyes, feeling the exhaustion catching up to himself after all the excitement of the day. You get comfy under the covers as he turns the lights off and pulls the curtains back, allowing the brightness of the city to illuminate the room instead. Ignoring the space you made next to you, he climbs on top and rests his weight on you, melting your bodies together. You hum out a sigh. “Heavy.” 

His body shakes with giggles, head nestled nicely between your bosoms. “But comfy.” Your body eventually adjusts to it, muscles relaxing beneath him, and fatigue slowly creeping over you. Fingers trace his scalp, easing him to closed eyes. “Thanks for coming back.” His voice fills the silence of the night. With no response, he thinks maybe you’ve fallen asleep, hands no longer stroking his head. But then they slide lower, rubbing his back soothingly. “Sorry for getting mad.” “Sorry for keeping it a secret.” “Sorry for conspiring with Hongjun.” Jungkook laughs, lifting his head. “Okay how far back are we gonna take this?” “I don’t know,” you grin and even in the dark he can’t stop staring, “but I am sorry.” “It’s not your fault.” He says, “Hongjun’s a master manipulator. He was just using you. Which is why I said not to engage with him.” “Like you said, it’s not my fault.” You shrug and he laughs unbelievably. Sliding up to meet his face with yours, the tip of his nose gently grazes yours. “I adore you, you know that?” His hot breath tickles, and a finger grazes over your face. “I know,” his head drops to your shoulder and you slap his back, “Jaemin told me you cried all night.” “I’m literally gonna wring his neck the next time I see him.” “Don’t be mean!” You say, “I like him. He’s nice.” Jungkook leans in closer, moving in to kiss you fervently. 

⎼

In the middle of the night, your eyes peel open after drifting out of a blank dream, leaving you dissatisfied and tossing over to find a more comfortable position. Turning to the other side, your arm stretches out to reach for something to cling to. But it falls to the bed much to your disappointment. In place of Jungkook, his lived-in spot and a tossed over blanket remain. No sounds appear to come from the bathroom, so you slip out the door which was left slightly ajar. And standing in front of the windows, you see his lonesome figure, staring outside. Sleep hasn’t been an issue ever since you came, but you know some nights still give him trouble. “Jungkook?” Trotting over to where he is, you drag your slippers against the floor. He must have heard you, but he remains still as a statue. “Nightmares again?” Only a soft sniffle can be heard in the silence. And as you come up to his side, illuminated by the city lights, you see tears streaming down his face, tired and strained eyes avoiding you. A wave of panic rushes through your body and you cup his face, feeling its warmth spreading to your hands. “What’s wrong?” Jungkook shakes his head, turning away. But you persist, pulling him back to face you. Words struggle to leave him and you can only wrap around him, holding him tight as whispering soft words of comfort. His head slowly drops, tears dampening the clothes on your shoulder. As if scared to make a sound, Jungkook continues to cry silently, sniffing every now and then. His arms hold on to you so tight you can feel the beating of his heart against your body. Wishing you knew what’s going on in that head of his, you run a soothing hand down his back, waiting for him to calm down before trying to pull away. A while passes and you almost doze off yourself, resting against the couch. At some point, he had let up enough for you to tug him there, where he found comfort in your lap. The sobbing slows down, and you take a peek, finding him still awake and staring at the blank screen ahead. “You okay?”

He nods, cheek brushing against your thigh. “Talk to me.” You say gently, giving him time to gather himself. “It keeps coming back to me,” he says, shifting his body so that he lays on his back, looking up at you, “every time I close my eyes I see him, lying there on the ground…” “Who?” “Kim.” It comes out in a whisper, and he shuts his eyes like it pains him. After all this time, you still don’t know what happened that night. The news had reported a cardiac arrest at the time of confrontation, but you know it’s not the full story, because they weren’t there either. Only Jungkook, Namjoon, Seokjin and Kim would know what actually happened then. 

You rub a thumb over his damp and sore cheek. He sniffles. “I close my eyes and I see him,” he repeats, struggling to continue, “I had to choose…between him…and…”With a hand over his chest, you feel the shakiness in his breath. He winces at the pain he feels inside. “Take your time.” You say softly. “I pointed the gun at him.” Jungkook continues with a strained voice. He sits up, feeling suffocated. “And the look on his face…I⎼ He was so disappointed, I know he was.” “Even after what happened at the club…he still trusted me y/n…” Jungkook says, “And I let him down. I betrayed him after everything he’s done for me. The moment he knew I wasn’t on his side, he⎼” Warm tears stream down his face faster than you can wipe them away. “His heart just stopped,” Jungkook says, with an empty look in his eyes. “It just stopped. Because of me. I killed him. He’s dead because of me.” Tears well up in your own eyes, a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach at the sight of Jungkook so broken. Devastated by how he’s blaming himself for Kim’s death, you hush him. “Don’t say that.” “His last words to me were that he trusted me.” Jungkook whispers, hanging his head low. Embracing him, he’s much gentler this time, letting his chin rest on your shoulder. For so long, this has been bothering him with no one to talk to. So much so that it ended up eating him alive. Every night since Kim died, Jungkook has had the same recurring nightmare, one where he’s forced to remember Kim’s last moments, on the ground in that alley where he had revealed his alliance with Namjoon. Even if he did manage to get through the night, he would never feel fully rested. Kim’s death weighs heavy in his chest. He considers himself to blame, and no one can convince him otherwise. He was there that night, and nothing can change how it all happened, even if he so desperately wishes for things to have ended differently. “I’m so sorry.” You whisper, wishing you could absorb all the pain and let it consume you instead. “I didn’t know.” “That was the last time I saw him.” Jungkook says. “I still remember how cold his hand was against mine. He smiled at me, told me he trusted me. He left the company to me. To Suga.” Suga. Somehow you had forgotten about him. But you were also conscious of how Jungkook hadn’t uttered his name since, and figured it isn’t something he wants to talk about especially after the revelation of Jungkook as Namjoon’s informant. “And Suga…I let him down.” Jungkook sniffs. “I let him down. He saw the whole thing. The betrayal, Kim falling after.” Your heart beats wildly in your chest. What Mia told you before suddenly comes to mind; someone spotting Suga in this exact part of the city. It might be a coincidence, and it might not even be him, but you decide not to tell Jungkook yet. Knowing there’s nothing much you can say to snap him out of it, you comfort him in the only way you know how. Your presence keeps him grounded, and a tiny piece of the burden he’s been carrying lifts off his shoulders. Weariness overcomes Jungkook and his eyelids fight a losing battle. Not wanting to ruin his chances of getting some rest, you continue to rub his back, whispering words of comfort, and the two of you stay on the couch for the rest of the night with Jungkook snoring lightly next to you. His arm lies limp over your middle and you lay awake, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts cloud your mind. 

⎼

“What about winter coats?” You flash your screen to show him one you found online. His nose scrunches up. “Don’t know if I’ll need it there.” “Which is where…” You zip your lip when he raises a brow at you, shaking his head. “You know I can’t tell you.” He stops, eyes darting around. “Wait, I don’t even know where I’m going.” Jungkook looks down at the open luggage by his feet, going over a list in his head. It’s filled with the necessities; basic clothing, toiletries, and some snacks stashed under everything. You lie on your front, chin resting on your folded arms on the edge of the bed. “Thinking so hard as if you have that much stuff to begin with…” He looks at you amused. Every time he starts packing, you get huffy and sulky, a habit of yours whenever he tries to leave after staying over. “I would stash you in here if I could but explosives are prohibited.” Rolling your eyes, you ignore the comment and hop off the bed. In front of the mirror, you fix your hair and check yourself out from each angle. He watches your strange behaviour from where he’s standing, “What are you doing?” “Trying to see if I still got it.” You look at him from the reflection. “After all, I’m about to live life as a single woman again in a matter of days.” Jungkook almost chokes on his own saliva, swiftly turning away from the wardrobe to see if he heard you right. “Excuse me what.” “Oh, Jungkook and I broke up. He got a scholarship overseas and it was too good an offer to turn down. We decided it’s best we focus on our own things for now.” It was the cover you both decided on if ever someone asks about him, but he hates hearing you actually saying it like it’s true. “That’s what I’m supposed to say, right?” “Only if someone asks.” He frowns. “And they will. You were insanely popular, Jungkook.” You say, “I’m just practising.” “For what.” “For when I go to the club,” you sing-song, “when I party at the Omega’s, or maybe one of the hot teaching assistants will hit on me.” You prance around as you list down the places you’d go as a free woman, Jungkook’s sharp eyes locked on you as you move. “No.” He says and you turn to see him already stomping towards you. You back off but he’s too quick and his long legs make for big steps that has you within reach in seconds, and suddenly you find yourself being thrown over his shoulder, a harsh slap landing on your ass. “I don’t like this.” He grunts. With one swoop, he shifts you into his arms and your vision spins from the sudden movement. The next moment, he’s placing you in his luggage, trying his best to fold your body in half just to fit you in whatever space he has left. You laugh as he tickles your sides to stop you from resisting, and the mischievous grin on his face grows larger as he zips up the portion where half your body’s managed to squeeze into. “Let me go!” You yell in a fit of laughter, one of his hands holding on to your wrists and the other aiming for your ticklish spots. “No. I’m taking you with me.” He giggles when you actually stop resisting and try to squeeze the top half of your body and head into whatever space is left. Your silliness clouds the sounds coming from outside, where Jaemin had allowed himself in, initially concerned at the sounds of your screaming. Praying that the two of you weren’t in the middle of some weird and violent foreplay session, he struts towards the room and stands at the door frame, wondering if he should even make himself known. 

Jaemin sighs. “Should I be worried?” The unfamiliar voice startles you, and you let out a shriek that has Jungkook falling backwards. Jaemin shuts his eyes, regretting his decision to stop by. Hand over your chest as you catch your breath, you burst into laughter when you catch Jungkook’s eye. “Why would you do that?” Jungkook asks, unzipping the compartment where half your body rests. “I did nothing.” Jaemin says, eyes full of judgement as you struggle to get yourself off the luggage, managing to do so only with Jungkook’s help. “I came to check if you needed anything. Did you read through the list I handed you?” “Yes,” Jungkook pats the pile of clothes, “only packed the essentials like you noted.” “Good.” He smiles a little, the first time you’ve seen him do that. “Don’t worry about packing too little, we’ll provide you with new clothes and other stuff once we’re there. I just got off a video call with our point person too, the house looks good, everything’s sorted.” “That’s great.” Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale. “Just great.” The shift in Jungkook’s demeanour doesn’t go unnoticed. Jaemin glances at you for a second, “I’m nervous too. It’s my first time in charge of such a big task.” His confession was unexpected but strangely comforting. At least you know Jungkook won’t be alone. You are interested in how these two are going to get along, knowing how hard-headed Jungkook can be. “It’ll be fine.” Jaemin’s confidence lightens Jungkook's mood slightly, a tiny smile creeping its way onto his face. 

⎼

“I’m not getting kidnapped, am I?” You watch the tall buildings slowly disappear, eventually leaving you with the view of clear skies, long roads and lines of cars as you get onto the highway. “Maybe you are.” His fingers squeeze through your fist and interlace with yours. “You’re coming with me.” “As hostage?” You scoff. “This isn’t my first rodeo you know?” Jungkook laughs. “Like I’d ever bring the snitch with me if I were running.” He braces for the punch that lands, though he knows it won’t hurt. Laughing adorably, he stretches his arm over your shoulder to pull you in closer just so he can wipe the pout away with his palm brushing over your face. “Stop it!” “I’m kidding,” he kisses the side of your head, “I’m taking you to meet someone special.” “Someone special?” On his face is a look you’ve never seen before; a mixture of anticipation and delight. Rarely does he ever get excited about anything enough to show it, and being this vulnerable is still something new. When he told you about a short trip, you expected one to the nearest department store to get essentials he might need. But the car gets further and further away from the city, and Jaemin continues on the route, the farthest he’s ever brought you both. After leaving in the morning, breakfast was from a drive-through and the car stopped by the side of a road near a park, allowing you, and Jaemin, to people watch as you eat peacefully. Then it’s off, without so much as a word from the younger man. He seems to know where he’s going though you assume it was entirely Jungkook’s idea based on how excited he is. You’re surprised Namjoon even approved this trip given how there's only two days left till his departure ⎼ something that’s been eating away at you silently. Two hours later, the roads begin to get narrower, and traffic gets slower. More greenery and houses come into view as you see a simple welcome sign by the side of the road as you enter a quaint and pretty town. Going past schools, apartments and houses, Jaemin stops the car at the basement level carpark of a mall. Scanning the surroundings, he stops only when he notices something, before the engine goes off. Turning in his seat, he hands Jungkook what looks like a burner phone. “Call if there’s an emergency. I’m on speed dial.” “You’re not coming with us?” You ask, genuinely surprised that he’s letting you off on your own in a random town.

He eyes Jungkook who beams from ear to ear. “It is a small town. And the threat is low here, so I can let you go for a while.” Apart from the phone, Jungkook is also handed two transport cards and a tracker, much smaller than an electronic tracker you’d see on offenders, just in the form of a sleek black band which he reluctantly hooks above his ankle. “Plus a black SUV driving around would probably stick out more than a couple taking a walk down the street.” Jaemin says, then stretches his neck out to search outside, pointing to an old blue and white Volvo parked on the opposite lot behind the SUV. You notice two figures sitting in the driver and passenger’s seat. “See that? That’s ours. They’ll be driving around town just in case. If there is an emergency and I can’t get there in time, I’ll activate them.” “Alright.” Jungkook says and you nod. “I’d still avoid contact unless absolutely necessary. Y/N, I’m gonna have to ask you to take the lead if need be.” “Sure,” you agree, watching Jungkook put on a mask and a cap. “And Jungkook, remember, this is your home⎼” “I know.” He cuts the man off eagerly and Jaemin takes the hint. “Send me a text when you’re done. I’ll give you instructions on where to go next.” “Got it.” Jungkook says, hand on the handle of the door. His enthusiasm is contagious, like a child on an excursion. Still, he waits for Jaemin to give the okay before practically prancing out, motioning for you to do the same. Hand in hand, you make it up the lift to the first floor of the mall, noticing how much slower and calm everything is. It’s unlike the usual chaos you’d find back in the city, with kids running around, talking loudly over the phone, and the less than friendly looks everyone gives each other. After a short walk, Jungkook stops by a flower shop. He spends a good five minutes looking through the fresh flowers in the fridge, contemplating on the perfect ones while you stroll around. Just as a bunch of tulips catch your eye, Jungkook comes up to you with fresh daisies in hand. “Who are these for?” You ask, complimenting his choice. “For the special person we’re going to see today.” “You still haven’t told me who it is.” He walks ahead towards the cashier and you tag along behind him, pausing as he does, and watching him reach over to grab a single rose stalk. Doe eyes smiling from under the cap, he offers the rose to you. Sheepishly, he turns as you accept it, heading straight for the counter where a young lady waits, having seen the whole interaction. She smiles knowingly, grabbing the flowers and skillfully wrapping them with brown paper. As she sticks the last tape over the bouquet and covers it with a sticker, she glances up curiously. “Are you two new here?” Jungkook’s elbow gently nudges yours. “Oh, no. We’re visiting a friend.” “Oh, how nice.” She says, eyeing Jungkook, who pays the amount in cash. “Well I hope they like the flowers!” “Thanks.” Jungkook says out of courtesy, then sneaking a glance at you when he remembers he’s not supposed to speak to anyone. Thankfully it didn’t matter to the cashier, who goes back to what she was doing prior after wishing you a lovely day. 

Flowers were the only thing on Jungkook’s list, and the two of you then got on a bus just five minutes away from the mall. He only briefly checks the route information before confirming which bus to take. Still having no idea where you’re going, you follow him blindly, trusting that he’ll figure it out. Only two others get on the bus at the same time, a woman in scrubs who takes the seat at the back, resting her head against the window as soon as she gets comfortable, and a young man with headphones on, eyes glued to a game he plays on his phone. Throughout the ride, Jungkook is quiet, completely absorbed into taking in the scenes out the window. The flowers lay in his lap, held so carefully to make sure they don’t get crushed. You watch the way his eyes sometimes fall to the bouquet, and realise how special this person is to him. Who could it be? You wonder. Maybe Suga? But flowers are an odd choice. Unless he’s recovering from something. And why at this random town two hours away? Fifteen minutes later, you reach the stop. Jungkook presses the bell and taps your thigh to signal you to get off. As the bus drives off, it leaves the two of you standing amidst a gust of smoke from the exhaust. Awaiting his next direction, Jungkook slips his hand in yours. Without saying much, he crosses to the other side of the road and takes you on a stroll down the street. At three in the afternoon, the clear, blue sky puts you in a cheerful mood. You don’t even mind the long walk with how picturesque everything looks here. Brown leaves have fallen on the ground lining the pathway, a cool breeze picking up every now and then and the smell of bread being blown in your direction from a nearby bakery. Everyone walks without rushing, and cars drive by without revving their engines or honking. Your arms linked together swing in between your bodies. “It’s just up ahead.” Jungkook informs you. Though you’ve had plenty of time to spend with Jungkook back at the apartment, the change of pace and environment makes everything a hundred times better. What more, Jungkook seems to be in the best mood you’ve seen him since. “Jungkook.” “Hm?” He turns to look at you. “Is this your hometown?” You get your answer when his steps slow down for a second and his interest moves to the cracks in the pavement as you continue to walk. “How’d you know?” “I figured,” you shrug, “Jaemin said something in the car earlier, and you just seem so comfortable here.” He nods, squeezing your hand. “This is where I’m from. Things have changed much but…some things are still the same.” You’re dying to ask more, but his eyes glaze over as he sinks into his own memories of the place, and you can feel the homesickness practically oozing out of his bones. A part of him still feels connected to this place after all this time, even when it’s where he experienced his first and gut-wrenching heartbreak of his life. And ten minutes later, you realise why. It clicks the moment you walk up a small hill with a narrow pathway, lined with shrubbery. Upon reaching the top of the hill, it expands into a gated area where hundreds of graves lie. “Are we…” You trail off as he carries on walking, not letting go of the grip on your hand behind him. The one he’s looking for is further back, passing by rows and rows of others who have left, and a handful of other people who are here to visit. Jungkook eventually comes to a stop and you watch his back as he takes another deep breath. From up the hill, though it’s not much higher than the roads, a nice view of the town greets you, just enough to see the roofs of nearby houses. 

Turning back, you see Jungkook take the first step towards one of the headstones. He stops right by the foot of it, and takes a moment to himself while you stay in your spot. Jungkook takes his cap off and pulls down his mask before kneeling on the ground to lay the flowers. He calls you over with a nod and there’s a tremble in your steps, feeling the jitters in your tummy. The headstone is a little darker than the others around it, but the lack of weeds growing around it tells you it’s cared for in some way. You kneel by Jungkook’s side, reading the carving on the headstone. Jeon Jung-Ah. “This is…” “My sister.” He smiles, teary eyed. While you make yourself comfortable, Jungkook brushes dirt off the stone and picks any stray growth around the area. He spends a long time caring for his sister in the only way he can, while whispering updates about his life to her. He fills her in on what’s happened, about you, and how he has to leave and won’t be able to see her for some time. “It’ll be years before I can come visit you again.” He sighs after, touching the headstone. You watch him from the side with admiration in your eyes, how he’s so soft and gentle while speaking. Jungkook looks at you. “Do you come back often?” You ask. “Only in the last couple of years.” Jungkook admits, knowing it took him far too long to build up the courage to come back. “For so long I’d left this part of me behind. I wanted to forget everything and everyone. But it always made me feel guilty, like I left her behind too.” “One night when I was sick of work, I decided to drive back here. I felt ill stepping back into town, bombarded with all the bad memories of this place, but I just missed her so much. It was right when I was starting to get disconnected with things at work, and Kim and Suga…I needed someone to talk to and she was the only person I wanted to talk to.” “So you ended up here.” He nods, scooting closer so your legs touch. “I can’t remember well but before I ran off I think I only ever visited her once. So I spent all night trying to find her. After all these years, being right here feels like home more than anything else. Even if she is…” The gleam in his eyes disappears, struggling to keep his emotions at bay. Your warm hand reaches for his on his lap, squeezing tight. “She’ll always be with you. In here.” You point to his heart and he chuckles. “Hey. That’s my line.” He blinks the tears away and leans in to plant a kiss on your forehead. He looks at you like he has a lot to say. “You know, back then I asked if she could send me a sign, anything, to nudge me in the right direction. And then shortly after, Namjoon appeared. I came back again and asked for another sign…just to be sure. And then I met you.” Hair blowing in the gentle breeze, Jungkook’s gaze on you is tender. He’s never shared this with you before, and the sheepish look on his face before turning away chuckling tells you he wasn’t planning to. “How lucky,” you say and he looks at you confused, “to have someone so special watching over you.” Jungkook smiles, never having thought of it that way. “Yeah, I guess I am lucky.”

“She’d be proud of you.” You nod. “Of the person you’ve become.” The lump in his throat grows larger but he swallows it down. His eyes start stinging and he curses himself for not being able to stop a tear from falling off the side of his face, quickly wiping it away with the back of his hand. “I don’t know.” He laughs. “She probably would’ve smacked me in the head if she knew what I got into.” “But it all led up to the you that’s here right now.” You say. “A smart, sensible, responsible and brave man.” “And handsome?” You roll your eyes, but feel relieved knowing he can joke at a time like this. “Yes. Handsome too.” Jungkook laughs, pulling you into his arms. Blue skies eventually turn orange as the sun starts to set, and the winds get stronger, blowing leaves across the plot of land. You say your goodbye to Jung-Ah and wait by the side to let Jungkook have some privacy. His fingers never leave her headstone as he speaks, and you know it pains him to have to leave her again. While you can’t hear exactly what he’s saying, his form is clearly more relaxed than before. You take a moment to look at the view, the orange hue resting over the town, birds flying overhead and the sound of kids laughing as they ride their bicycles home after a day at the park. You wonder which one of these roofs used to house Jungkook as a child, if his family were still there, and what would they say if they saw him now. Jungkook’s hand slips into yours and pushes the thoughts out of you. “Ready?” He asks, shoulders feeling lighter than before. You nod. “Are you?” Taken aback by your question, he stares out at the view. This place that used to be all he knew, then all he wanted to forget, is now a place he can no longer call home. Only bits and pieces of the memories he shares with his sister keep him tied here. There may be a lot to unpack, and while he’s settled one part of his troubled life, he doesn’t think he can handle thinking about the past again. “Let’s go.” He says, kissing your temple. The two of you head towards the location Jaemin had given, taking your time. Jaemin was already waiting at the spot, but says nothing when you climb back inside the car, only nodding in the rear view mirror before driving off. Jungkook looks out the window as he does, taking in every little detail. Who knows when he’ll be back, and if things might even be as they are now. Questions about his family still plague your mind, but it’s not something you want him to be burdened with right now. So you let him relive his memories with his sister; smiling at the streets they used to ride down, the school gate she used to wait for him by, the candy shop she’d share half her allowance money on to splurge on sweets with him, and the hill she now lay to rest on, awaiting his return.

⎼

The incessant stinging in your chest won’t go away. Neither will the lump in your throat, and your face muscles are tired from tensing up every time you feel a pinch in the bridge of your nose. Across the room, you watch Jungkook hand over his luggage to Jaemin, accompanied by two other agents. As the door shuts, his eyes search for yours and you don’t turn away in time to hide the pain. Before he can utter a word, you rush in the direction of the room. Standing at the doorway, he laughs when he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed with a pillow pressed against your face, sniffling into it. “I’m not crying.” You say, muffled. Footsteps approach and next thing you know the pillow gets pried away from your fingers. Jungkook caresses your frowning face, cheeks streamed with tears and eyes fresh with new ones about to fall. “It’s just that there’s something in my eyes.” Jungkook laughs again, and lowers himself to press his lips against yours. “It’s okay to be sad.” Grabbing his hands, you shake your head in disagreement. “I don’t want to ruin our last day together.” He hates that those words came out of your mouth, that there is even something as a last day together. “Crying won’t ruin it.” He states, “Actually, not crying would be worse. What? Can’t wait for me to leave?” Laughter leaves your lips, calming his own strained heart while the sleeves of your shirt soak up lingering tears. “You’re an idiot.” You say lovingly, landing your head against his chest. The last week of pretending everything is fine has come to an end. Pushing this move to the back of your minds was the only way either of you could fully live in the moment. But now, reality’s bursting through the doors, claiming its right to your happiness. Every night, you secretly wished for Namjoon to barge through the front door just to announce that Jungkook wouldn’t need to leave after all, the case is settled, Jungkook’s safety not compromised. But that never happened. “One last day.” The words sting. Even more for him, you think, though he does a good job of masking it. It didn’t take a lot to convince Jaemin this time, though you think he might’ve developed a soft spot for Jungkook now, or maybe it was out of pity that he’s allowed one last outing. Your apartment welcomes Jungkook with a familiar scent of lavender mixed with a pot of hot cocoa steaming on the stove. After a brief greeting with Hana who then left for class, he climbs into the comfort of your soft, squeaky bed. While you drop your bag of clothes in the corner, Jungkook’s eyes find the now wilted flowers on your table by the window. Rolling to his feet, he gently touches one of the wilted petals with the pads of his fingers. But his attention quickly shifts to a framed couple photo, next to one of your friend group. Thumb grazing tenderly over your face, he feels like a rope’s tightened around his chest. At your touch, his shoulders drop, your arms snaking over his waist, pressing your body against him. “You can have it if you want.” He arranges it back in place, shaking his head. “I have plenty.” “Good,” his hands cup your face as he turns, “you won’t forget me then.” “Never.” He kisses you. “I’ll die before that happens.” You giggle, getting on your toes for another kiss. “Same.” 

⎼

“I can’t let you out.” The car slows down and comes to a stop by the street across campus. Jaemin looks apologetic. “I know.” Jungkook’s back faces you as his eyes stay locked on the scenes outside. Rolling the window down slightly, the hustle and bustle of the student body takes him back to boring lectures, laughing with friends, training sessions, lunch by the water fountain, the track field, walking to class with you. Leaving the first time was painful enough, but there was always a chance to return. This time, the future’s unpredictable enough to keep his expectations to a minimum. Getting into college was always something he yearned for, one of the only things he had spent years getting Kim to agree to. On the condition he would supply drugs from inside, Kim paid for his tuition, and that was one of the first times Jungkook felt he truly had a hold of his life. Now, it’s only something he can reminisce about. When your fingers slip between his, he squeezes tight. And as the car picks up speed, Jungkook bids a silent goodbye to his unfulfilled college dream. Eventually the building disappears in the rear view mirror, and he heaves out a loaded sigh. The frat house remains as Jungkook remembers it to be, just a little cleaner. Stepping into his room feels like nostalgia, like going back to his childhood room. An orange glow streams in from the window, specs of dust floating in the air. Most of his stuff now packed in boxes, thanks to you, leaves the room the neatest it’s ever been since he claimed it on day one, having fought Taehyung for it. Standing in the middle, slow steps as he takes it all in, Jungkook feels something tugging at his heartstrings. “Why is this so difficult…” He murmurs and you wipe the single tear that escaped. Sucking in a breath, he throws his head back to pull himself together. “This has been your place for the last few years, of course it’s going to be tough to let go.” You say gently, and he nods, running his palm over his cheek. Jungkook flips through a stack of notes on his desk, smiling as he recalls the late nights, stressing over assignments and other stuff that he didn’t bother with until he wanted to impress you with good grades. Organised by colour, his clothes hang neatly, just the way he likes them. Taking on a new identity also meant he’d have to dress completely differently, leaving him no choice but to let them go. Perhaps the other guys would want them. His attention shifts suddenly to the emptiness outside. “It’s so quiet.” Jaemin had contacted Hoseok prior, ensuring that none of the other guys would be around. Jungkook knew that, but it feels weird anyway; no clunking from the kitchen from someone messing up dinner, no screaming at the television over a game, no mindless chatter filling up the house. Things he didn’t think much of before, now he’s going to miss. Sitting quietly on his bed, you smile cautiously. You realise it’s best to let him feel what he needs to feel, to be able to come to terms with what’s happening. “What?” He asks, smile tugging on one side. 

“Nothing.” You shrug, clocking the wicked smile he has on. “You’re cute when you’re serious. Like a rabbit sensing danger.” Finger under your chin to guide you towards him, he leans in and speaks in the teasing way he does. “Who’s the rabbit and who’s the danger here?” “You’re the ra⎼” Trailing off, your voice was barely a whisper as he brings himself closer, pressing his lips into yours in a gentle kiss. One that causes butterflies in your tummy and has you gasping for more. “Cute.” He mocks you. Jungkook’s mischievous grin is one you’ve missed, bringing you back to the early days of your relationship. Not that there’s anything wrong with sweet boyfriend Jungkook, but his assertive self always kept you wanting more. “Remember the first time we⎼” “Yeah.” Amused at how quickly you respond, his knee finds a place between your thighs, forcing you to scoot back. “Wanna re-enact?” “Like…like roleplay?” His brows raise. “Didn’t know you were into that.” “You never asked.” You simply say, earning a huff of annoyance from him. Hands grip your thighs on each side. “So you casually bring it up the day before I leave. So mean.” You giggle as he lifts your bottom half to shift you in the right position. Losing your balance from the sudden movement, your elbows give in, head thumping against the lone pillow, causing a blast of dust flying everywhere. Coughing uncontrollably, he pushes the window open, waving his hands around. Your laughter fills the room, clutching your middle as he struggles to catch his breath. “Oops,” you say between giggles. Furrowed brows turn into a big grin as he breaks into laughter himself. “Well that ruined the mood.” “Did it?” Your pursed lips keep his attention, until your finger hooks over your collar, tugging the material down to expose your cleavage. “How about now?” “Oh⎼ oh yeah, it’s back⎼” He dives straight for the exposed skin, peppering kisses as you laugh, ringing melodiously in his ear. The sound is something he never wants to forget; his insides feel mushy, and tingly, and exhilarated. The feeling intensifies with the charming grin on your face. Your laughter slows down, nodding to question his change in demeanour. The air between you feels light, and the world around you disappears in that moment you let yourself sink into his tender gaze. “What?” You ask shyly. “Nothing.” He says in a whisper, like he’s in a daze. “Good to know some things don’t change.” 

Heads snapping to the side, Jungkook stiffens at the intruder only to sigh in exasperation. Shifting upright, he fixes his hair, directing his gaze to the carpet instead. “Do you ever mind your own business⎼” “Woah,” Jimin blinks, “deja vu.” “What are you even doing here?” “I live here.” At that moment, the old Jungkook comes back, clicking his tongue at the older one’s response. It only excites Jimin, having missed their constant back and forth. It’s just not the same annoying the others. “Feels like it was just yesterday when I walked in on you two lovebirds, and⎼” “And you still don’t have any boundaries.” Jungkook’s head tilt and raised brow doesn’t faze him, simply patting the younger one’s face, then pulling him in for a forced hug. “I’ve missed this!” “He misses it too, just too stubborn to show it.” He glares at you for the remark and you stick your tongue out at him. Jimin exhales obnoxiously, stepping back with hands on his hips. “Can’t wait for you to move back. Then it’ll be just like old times.” Jungkook stares back blankly, and Jimin doesn’t notice the lack of response, already looking through the packed boxes, planning to put things back to where they’re supposed to go. A couple of times, his mouth opens to say something, but he can’t utter a word. They would only be told tonight, Jungkook decided, despite Namjoon offering to do it early. The problem was that he didn’t know how to break the news. Hand on his shoulder to get his attention, you lean in to whisper, “Do you want to tell him?” Jimin continues to rummage through the boxes, taking it upon himself to remove some of the clothes you packed away. He rambles on about something neither of you are paying attention to. “I’ll do it with you.” You lace your fingers with his. Diverting his gaze to the carpet to think about it for a while, Jungkook then presses his lips into a line and nods in agreement. You nod encouragingly. “Jimin, there’s something you should know.”

⎼

The gentle breeze grazes over your skin, causing goosebumps to appear. It smells of fresh grass and earth, and a little hint of Jungkook’s cologne, with his jacket wrapped comfortably around your shoulders. Right by the river, a path stretches along its length, buzzing with cyclists, runners, and the public. Near the edge of the water, crowds of people sit on the steps, waiting for the light show display along a bridge which travels across the river. Higher up on a hill, far away from the masses, your thigh brushes against Jungkook’s, arm hooked around his and your head on his shoulder. Churro in hand, he brings the snack to you, humming as you take a bite. “That’s good, actually.” He agrees, taking a bite himself. “7 out of 10.” “Seven?” You tilt your head up. “This is an 8.5 at least.” “Still, it’s better than the ones you tried to make.” Licking sugar off his fingers, he ignores the way your jaw drops till you land a smack to his chest. You recall the time you decided to try making churros of your own, only end up charring most of them, and getting multiple burn marks from splattering oil. He, of course, had been there to treat your wounds while snickering at the fail. “You’re so mean.” Offering a kiss to your cheek as an apology, he reaches over the spread of food laid out before you on a picnic mat, grabbing your favourite mango pudding. Despite the pout, you welcome a spoonful of it and break into a shy smile as he looks on with a tender smile. “You know I love your terrible cooking.” He braces as your fist makes contact with his arm. “It’s not my fault you have expensive taste.” “I’m not sure wanting food to be edible is having expensive taste, but okay.” You can’t even fight the laughter that spills out, knowing exactly how terrible some of the things you make turn out. “When you get back, I’ll cook the best meal you’ve ever had, you’ll see!” Jungkook chuckles, a hopeful look in his eyes. “Can’t wait.” You lock eyes for a little longer, till the sounds of amazement and cheering float through the crowd below as the light show begins. Streaks of rainbow coloured lights shine up into the night, as water jets activate at the same time, with music playing in sync. It’s a show you’ve seen many times before, and every single time it amazes you. But this time, your attention towards Jungkook remains undivided. You tuck the stray hairs behind his ear. “It’s getting long.” He smiles at your comment while you continue to fix his hair. “Maybe I’ll grow it out.” “Long hair?” Your nose scrunches up. “I don’t see it.” “You might not even recognise me when I come back.” You tilt your head in the way he finds adorable. “I’ll more likely forget how to make ramyeon before I forget how you look like.” His brows furrow. “Odd thing to say considering you can’t even make instant noodles without drying out the soup too much.” You huff. “That was one time and I was distracted because you were parading around the house naked.” “Yeah, you like that huh?” “Oh shut up.” 

Jungkook’s laughter feels like a snug embrace, keeping you safe from the chaos of the world around you. His head drops to your lap and he welcomes your touch, tracing figures over his skin. “You’re so mean tonight. Giving my cooking so much flak.” “Oh baby, I love your cooking.” He sighs. “It reminds me that no matter how perfect someone is, they have to suck at one thing.” Yelping at the onslaught of pinches on his side, Jungkook flails about, reaching for your hand. Leaving the comfort of your thigh, he gets to his knees, now gripping both your wrists and sending a kiss to your scowl as he gets behind you, crossing your arms over your body. Back resting against him now, legs clipping you tight between him, he forcefully keeps you pressed against him, keeping your arms down. “You’re strong.”

“You’re annoying.” 

His cheek rests against your head, ignoring the squirming till you give up. “You laugh, but you’re gonna miss it.” “Yeah.” He says, a little calmer. “I will, actually.” With your back against his chest, you feel the thumping of his heart, comforting and calming. There’s a comfortable silence that falls around the two of you. “How…how long do you think it’ll take?” You ask the uncertain. “I don’t know.” He says, loosening his grip when you shift to get comfortable. “Trials usually take years to even proceed with.” “Years.” You echo it to yourself. You straighten up, so you can shift between his feet to face him slightly. He doesn’t let go of the chance to press his lips to your cheek. “Isn’t it unfair? We’ve only just got the chance to be together again…like normal people.” “I’ve never done long distance before.” You say, and you feel the shift of his head as he smiles. “What?” “Long distance.” You repeat. “That’s what we’re gonna be till you’re back.” Jungkook swells with confidence at this new way of putting it. “I like that.” You smile shyly. “Did you know that 60% of long distance relationships work out? The key is communication.” “Someone’s done their research.” Jungkook’s tickled by your sudden announcement. “You’re cute. Communication’s gonna be a little hard though.” “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” “Of course.” 

Sighing, you recall the rules Namjoon had gone through with you about communication. Strictly none allowed. But, he’s willing to allow letters. They’d have to go through them though, and will be read through before handing over to each of you. “I’ll write to you every month.” Jungkook says. “It’ll probably take weeks for it to reach you anyway, and to wait for you to respond.” “I’ll keep you updated on what’s going on here.” “There is a problem though.” “What?” You turn to him with his brows furrowed and deep in thought. He blinks. “How will you send nudes?” You shove his face, enough you send him flying back and he laughs, falling to the grass. “Irritating.” He jolts himself back up, peppering you with apology kisses and you accept them willingly, tilting your head enough for him to sneak down your neck as he sways your bodies side to side. “But you know I was thinking,” he kisses, “if you do want to press pause⎼” You freeze, wondering if you heard that right. “I’m just saying, we don’t know when I’ll be back. And I wouldn’t want to hold you back if you end up meeting someone that you think you’d hit it off with.” Jungkook looks at the back of your head, unmoving, and wonders if you were considering it. “Of course, I don’t want that. I love you but I also want you to be happy and if that means⎼” Your palm comes into contact with his cheek. It was a slap, but so gentle and soft that he wonders if it even happened. You do it again, more like a tap this time. “How could you say that? You think I could ever be happy with someone else?” “I don’t want to hold you back.” “Then you should’ve let me go before we got serious.” A little hurt flashes across his face. “After everything, you still think I’d rather be with someone else?” You say softly, caressing his cheeks, eyes softening with concern. “You’re my boyfriend. I love you. Only you.” He smiles just a little. “Sorry. It was just a suggestion.” “A terrible one.” You throw yourself into him, wrapping around his neck. “I can never be happy with anyone else but you.” “Really?” “You silly goose.” Jungkook visibly relaxes in your arms, feeling idiotic to have even brought that up. The night goes on as you lay there in each other’s arms, looking up at the night sky as opposed to the light show. Grey clouds inch towards where you are, slowly hiding the moon away from you. Jungkook stares at your side, taking in this view of you. When you do the same, Jungkook moves in to plant a kiss, savouring it till thunder starts to rumble above you. Just as you make it back to the car where Jaemin rests, it starts to drizzle. Jaemin turns in his seat, frowning when Jungkook pauses by the open door. He turns his back to the car and sees you standing a foot behind him with your palm up to the sky, letting the raindrops touch your skin. Stepping away from the car, standing before you, wet strands of hair sticks to his face. And as the rain gets heavier, the two of you seem to share the same thought. His hand clutches yours, giggling as the two of you make a run for it, ignoring the yells coming from the car. Back up the hill, in the open space, Jungkook and you dance and frolic around in the rain, laughing your hearts out gleefully. He lifts you in his arms, spinning you in circles as you extend your arms out, welcoming the rain as it washes all your sorrows away. He sets you down gently, and you brush the hair away from his face. “You make me so happy.” You say over the rain. “I love you more than anything.” “I love you too baby. You're my whole world.” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand in his. “I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes.” Jungkook kisses you fervently in the rain, drenched and shivering, with nothing left to lose. 

⎼

Trees sway in the wind, and lighting flashes occasionally followed by the rumbling of thunder in the distance as the storm continues to pour down. The heavy rain caused a massive traffic jam below, but thankfully you managed to return before getting caught in it. In the comfort of the apartment, warm and dry, the lamp in the corner casts a dim orange hue perfect for a cozy night. Jungkook’s lips move gently against yours, knuckles grazing your cheek tenderly as his arm keeps you steady around the waist. Your hips sway against his, fueling the tent growing under his sweats. Lips slightly sore and swollen, his doe eyes stare into yours when you break the kiss, resting his head against the headboard behind. The bittersweet feeling of having to part from you, something he’d been suppressing, starts creeping into his heart, Finger tracing over his lips, his eyes fall shut as you go over his features; his eyes, nose, cheekbones, jaw. Your touch always does something to him, something so calming and natural about the way you move against him, even if it’s just the touch of a finger. The arm around you instinctively pulls you closer, just so your bodies meet, making it easier to capture you in another kiss, one much hungrier than before. Out of breath from his intensity, you pull away to calm yourself. But Jungkook doesn’t stop, pushing off from the headboard, leaning forward to press kisses to your cheek, trailing over your jaw and down to your neck. The moment he finds your sweet spot, your thighs squeeze around him in response and he hums against your skin when you start to rock your hips against him. His hands slide up your sides, tugging your camisole along with them up and over your head, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air. Rough hands cup them in his palm, thumb grazing over your erect nipples, and your body twitches at the sensation. You bite your bottom lip as he takes one of your tits in his mouth while kneading the other. When he takes a nipple between his teeth, your hip bucks in response, and he groans at the friction. Flips your positions, he now hovers above you, fitting nicely between your legs. His shirt comes off easily much to your delight, hands grazing over his chest. The dim light casts shadows over his body, giving him an ethereal glow. Jungkook grins at the obvious excitement in your expression, finding it absolutely adorable how you can’t hide the rise of your cheekbones, choosing to hide behind a tight-lipped smile. “You like that, huh?” His mouth hovers over yours, whispering against your lips while his hands snake down your body, and under your shorts.

You hum when his fingers fondle over your folds, and you return the favour, hand slipping past the hem of his sweats, exhaling at the sudden contact of your palm to his cock. Foreheads sticking to each other, Jungkook sucks in a breath as you rub against him. Two fingers slip inside you, and you lose all focus, gripping his cock, unmoving. Fingers slipping in and out of you keeps you distracted as you try to chase that high. The curve of his fingers hit the right spot each time, having memorised you well. Delighted at your response but protesting your lack of movement, he takes it upon himself and bucks his hips, fucking into your grip. Jungkook pauses, and your heart sinks at the loss. As he peels your hand off him, Jungkook tugs down your shorts, sucking in a breath at the glistening sight before him. Legs now spread before him, Jungkook slips four fingers into your dripping hole, cock twitching at the way you writhe. Sheets balled up in your fists, your chest heaves as you feel the rush of adrenaline flowing through you, and it only takes the thrilling sensation of Jungkook’s warm breath on your cunt, sucking on your clit, to have you seeing stars. Your sweet moans fill the room as you ride his face, bucking your hips wildly. Jungkook licks every last bit of your cum, giving your cunt a kiss before sliding up to let you taste yourself. Jungkook gets on his knees and you watch as he removes his sweats, cock springing up proudly against his abs. Finding the strength to sit up, crawling towards him, your doe eyes look up at him for permission. “Fuck.” He can never say no. Not when you look so pretty. Just at the sight of you, his cock starts to throb. It twitches the moment you start with a kiss to the base of his shaft. Taking your time, you plant sloppy kisses along his length till you get to the top. And the moment your mouth wraps around his tip, Jungkook’s body melts into the mattress, heat rushing through him, rewarding you with his sensual moans. He watches how his cock disappears into your mouth as you take in his entire length. Fingers wrap around your hair as he gently rocks his hips against you. He watches how his cock disappears into your mouth as you take the entirety of his length. His fingers wrap around your hair, as he gently moves his hips against you. “Oh baby⎼” A rush flows through his veins when you look up at him. Both hands now covering his length, twisting your wrists as you pump, your mouth pays special attention to his tip. His hips buck up in reflex, and you almost gag from the sudden movement, but recover quickly. A guttural sound escapes him and he pulls your head back, slowly removing himself from you, then tapping his cock against your tongue as his pre-cum leaks all over it. “Good girl.” He purrs, and his cock glistens as you lick every last bit of him. Sitting back, Jungkook lets you climb on top, positioning your entrance with his dick. With his hands on your hips, easing you down, your thighs tremble as his tip enters, letting out a sweet moan as you lower yourself down all the way. Jungkook doesn’t realise how he holds his breath as he watches you take all of him, and he lets you have a moment, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips when he sees the pure look of ecstasy on your face. As you start to move, he’s hypnotised by the sway of your hips, the bounce of your tits and the blissed out expression on your face. A goddess in his eyes, it forces him to sit up, sucking the skin against your collarbone. Palms on the bed to keep him steady, Jungkook leans back to watch the way you move, and you heat up under his gaze. 

He can’t keep his hands off you, running them across your soft skin, wanting to touch every inch of you and claim your body as his alone. Thrusting his hips up while you grind, reaching deeper each time, you gasp at every time he manages to hit the spot. A loud smack echoes as his palms land against your ass, and you yelp out in pain and pleasure, disrupting your flow as your hips twitch, and he growls at the feeling of your walls clenching around him. You giggle as you fall forward, struggling to stay up, using his chest to support you. He glows at the sound of your laughter, watching you hover over him with your faces barely touching. “Do it again.” As you say it with such innocence, yet sensual tone, Jungkook thinks he might go crazy. His arm wraps around your waist as he lands another smack, and you jump, bouncing down onto his cock, nails digging into his shoulders. “Like that?” You nod, embarrassed at the request and your body’s reaction. But Jungkook can’t get enough of it, the strangled whimpers you make as his palm meets the skin of your ass again, and again and again⎼ till you cry out, shaking as you cum, convulsing around his cock and he rolls his hips to let you ride it out, tenderly rubbing the sore spot on your ass. Warm, sticky liquid flows down his hard cock and you bite your lip bashfully. But it turns him on even more. Your back drops to the mattress, and the two of you are separated momentarily, till you feel him prodding against your entrance once again. Jungkook’s heart races when you smile at him, suddenly reminded of that ache in his chest. You gasp when he slides in, easily this time. Hands caging you in on each side, Jungkook brushes away the hairs sticking to your face as he starts with long and slow strokes, fully absorbed in the erotic sounds you make, with sensual eyes staring up at him. His pretty eyes sparkle above you, staring deep into yours, memorising every bit of detail. His gaze drops down to where your bodies connect, the gentle thrusts of his hips against yours, your hips rolling up in sync, where you become one with each other. The ache in his chest grows, threatening to spill out, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then you pull him in for a kiss, slow and intimate, lips melting with each other, and the ache manifests into something more familiar, the intense adoration he holds for you, wanting to worship your very being. You taste a hint of saltiness in the kiss, and then realise the stray tear fallen down his face. Your thumb caresses his cheek with concern, and he leans into your touch, whispering, “I love you.” It pierces deep into your soul, intoxicating you with thoughts of him and only him. A garden blooms in your chest, fueled by your feelings for him. Time seems to stop in that moment, and you drown in his eyes, choking on your love, heart pounding in your ears. Only you and Jungkook exist in this moment, souls tied together by an invisible string. He is yours. And you are his. Forever. Jungkook picks up the pace in his thrusts, and your legs wrap around him, allowing him to hit deeper. Skin sticking to each other, with your arms around his shoulders to keep him close, your bodies heat up, hearts beating against the other. Jungkook peppers kisses on your chest, mouthing against your nipples while you moan at every thrust. He starts to feel the clenching of your walls, groaning at the way it sucks his cock in every time. “Baby…” you whisper, hands on his chest. “Yeah?” He kisses the crook of your neck. “What is it, my love?” Overwhelmed by a wave of emotions, they rush through your body, tears forming in your eyes. Memories of your time with him come to mind. From the very first time you saw him at the cafe, your first kiss, to the time he took a bullet for you, and everything in between.

Jungkook captures your lips in a kiss, in an effort to soothe you, but it only adds fuel to the fire burning in the pit of your core. He picks up on it, pushing himself up to grab your hips, angling it in the way he knows would hit the spot that has your eyes rolling back. Pounding into you harder, a string of moans from you makes his dick twitch inside. The tension in his core tells him he’s close, and he digs into the flesh of your hips. You reach for him, and Jungkook presses your bodies together once again, maintaining his pace as he rolls his hips with yours. “Jungkook,” you murmur, breath hitching. Your mouth parts, and chest starts heaving, and he knows you’re close. You force your eyes open as you feel it coming, cupping the side of his face as tears stream down yours. “I love you too.” You gasp as the tension snaps, legs shaking around him and body shivering as you dig your nails into his shoulders, orgasm spilling out of you in waves. As you convulse around him, mixed with the lewd sounds coming out of you, you feel the throbbing of Jungkook’s cock, and seconds later with a strangled moan against your ear, Jungkook spurts warm liquid inside of you, mixing with your own cum. The sound of his breathing is all you can hear apart from the throbbing of your head, as he rests his head next to yours, body warm and heavy on top of you. Arms around his middle, you kiss his shoulders where you’d left marks from before. Jungkook’s disheveled hair, half-lidded eyes and silly smile greets you when he finally gets the energy to lift his head. Your body shivers as he removes himself, still sensitive to the touch. He lies down on his side, next to you, wiping the tear stains off your cheeks. Neither of you say a word, knowing all there is to say has been said. You press your head to his chest, listening to the sound of his heart, beating in rhythm with yours.

⎼

The storm carried on till morning, now simmered down to a drizzle, and the skies remain cloudy and gloomy. In the car, next to Jungkook, your head rests on his shoulder, hugging his arm with your fingers interlaced. Every now and then his hand would squeeze yours, grounding him in the moment. It’s a long drive, though you were thankful for the morning traffic, giving you a little extra time with him. Neither of you barely got any rest last night, just laying in each other’s arms, eventually dozing off close to sunrise. The car drives out of the city, onto a long stretch of a highway. It finally turns down an exit with minimal other cars going in the same direction, driving ahead where greenery slowly turns into open land, dry and deserted. The other cars drive past as the car slows down nearing a rest stop, pulling up into the parking lot, void of others. It’s the only building for miles and miles, a diner in the middle of nowhere. Jaemin lowers his window slightly, awaiting a thumbs up from the waitress through the side window of the diner, before pulling up into a slot. It must be their own people. While the rain had stopped as you left the city, the clouds seemed to have followed you here, gathering above and announcing their presence with the rumble of thunder. Droplets of water begin to race down the windows as it starts to rain again. “The others should be here soon.” Jaemin says, checking his phone. You look at Jungkook, smiling at him as you contemplate on saying your goodbye right here. He pulls you in a hug, nestling his head on your shoulder and memorising your scent. The act alone brings tears to your eyes, knowing it’ll be one of the last times you’ll be in his arms for a while. But you pull yourself together, “It’ll be okay.” You whisper, and he nods. Soon, two other cars enter the lot, five minutes apart. The door slides open and Namjoon steps out, nodding to the driver and Jaemin before sliding the door to your car. “Good morning.” He exhales, extending a hand out to Jungkook, helping him out. Two other agents stand beside them, holding up big black umbrellas, sheltering them from the rain. From the other car, Namjoon gestures towards the rest, and Jungkook sees the familiar faces of his friends, each happy to see him. Bracing himself, he swallows the lump in his throat, glancing back momentarily when he feels your touch on his back, encouraging him. 

“I’m kinda nervous but here goes,” he heaves out, looking around at the three of them. “Thanks for coming down to see me, I know this was super last minute, and I don't have much time, but I just wanted to say thank you for sticking around, and for being my friends, back then and now.” “Things have been crazy the last few months; I got shot, almost died, my girlfriend got kidnapped,” he shakes his head and the others chuckle, “it’s just been a lot, and I’m sorry for getting you guys involved in any way.” “As you’ve all heard, I'm gonna be away for some time.” He pauses when you sniff, sneaking a glance at you. “For how long, I don’t know. And unfortunately, it’ll be off the grid, so you won’t be able to reach me until I eventually come back. If I come back. We don’t know what the future will hold so⎼” Jungkook falters backwards when Hana rushes in for a hug, a tissue crumpled in her fist. “We’ll be waiting.” He wraps his arms around her shoulder, and she pulls away, dabbing the tissue against her eyes. “Take care, okay? Come back safe.” “Of course. Thanks Hana.” Jungkook sighs as he turns to you, tearing up after seeing her do the same. “I know she’s really stubborn and all, sorry I won’t be there to keep her in check, you’re just gonna have to deal with it I guess.” You land a punch on his back and they laugh. “Look after her for me?” “I definitely will.” There’s a sad smile on her face as she shakes his hand, before stepping to your side, rubbing a hand on your back. Jimin steps forward, lips quivering, the area around his eyes slightly red from crying. “My baby boy.” He says, cupping the side of Jungkook’s face. This time, Jungkook doesn’t even mind, smiling in response. “I’m gonna miss you so much.” His voice goes up an octave as he pulls Jungkook in for a hug, patting Jungkook’s head like he’s the one crying. “Me too, hyung.” Jungkook grins. “Gonna miss your constant barging into my personal space.” “I know you will.” He nods, making Jungkook laugh. “You take care. Eat well. Watch all those shows I’ve been asking you to.” “Sure.” “Don’t roll your eyes at me.” “I didn’t⎼” “You’re doing it right now.” Jungkook sucks in a breath, a familiar irritation brewing, something Jimin is an expert at bringing out. Jimin laughs at the glare he receives, messing up Jungkook’s hair. “Sorry. I just had to one last time before you go.” Jungkook visibly relaxes, laughing along with him, and extending his arms for another hug. Hoseok smiles where he stands watching them. When Jungkook turns to him next, he walks up to the younger boy and they face each other for a beat, neither knowing how to navigate this awkward situation. “Come on guys,” Namjoon motions for the rest to get inside, “let’s give them a moment.” When the door slides shut behind him, Hoseok shakes his head, “You idiot.” Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise, till he sees the smile growing  on Hoseok’s face. “You should’ve told us sooner.” “I didn’t know how to…” Jungkook shrugs, “It’s like I keep bringing everyone bad news.” “We care about you, you know that right?” Jungkook swallows a lump in his throat. Hearing that from Hoseok is something else. “I⎼” “Even if it is bad news, we’d want to know. So we can help you.” He smiles. “You’re not alone in this life, Jungkook. You have us.” Hands trembling, and failing to stop the tears from racing down his cheeks, Jungkook sniffs, wiping his face with his sleeve. Hoseok extends his hand and Jungkook takes it only to be pulled into a hug. It’s unnatural at first, until Hoseok pats his head. He gets the same feeling he got when they were talking on the roof; a hint of nostalgia, the same feeling he used to have as a child when he spent time with his sister. His body eases into Hoseok’s hold. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

“Stop that.” Hoseok orders, though he’s breaking out into tears as well. “I mean it. I caused a lot of trouble.” Jungkook sniffs. “Thanks for always looking out for me, and thinking of me. You’re…you’re the big brother I never had.” Hoseok’s grip tightens as the words come out of his mouth. He wishes there was more he could do, part of him still feeling guilty over how things went down between them. “Stupid Jungkook.” He giggles when he pulls away. Jungkook’s glossy eyes and red nose, and Hoseok’s tear stained face makes the other laugh. They wipe their faces bashfully. “You come back soon, okay?” Jungkook nods. “I have to ask you a favour.” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “While I’m gone, please look after her.” Jungkook glances back, though he can’t see you through the tinted windows. “She has a knack for getting into trouble. And if anyone, I think you’ll be able to keep her out of it. I trust you.” “Of course.” Hoseok grins. “But only while you’re away. After that, I’m gonna have to start charging for babysitting services.” Jungkook nods, chuckling. “But if you so much as try to make another move on her, just know that I’m gonna beat you up.” Hoseok laughs, and it’s the first time Jungkook thinks he’s ever heard his laugh, now realising how warm it makes him feel. “Don’t worry.” He takes a more serious tone. “Everything will be fine here, just know that we’ll all be waiting for your return.” “Thank you.” The rain starts to get heavier, and Jungkook gestures towards the car as he slides the door open. “You should get inside. It’s starting to really pour.” Namjoon and you exit the car as Hoseok slips inside. You grab hold of his hand as another car enters the lot, Namjoon with a knowing smile directed at you. “There’s someone else who needs to say goodbye.” Jungkook tilts his head adorably, rubbing his red nose. He eyes the car, which stops next to the ones you’re standing in between. Namjoon gets the door, bringing the umbrella along. Jungkook watches as he comes back around, with someone else walking closely next to him. His eyes go wide. Disregarding the rain, she runs right into Jungkook’s arms, hugging him tight. Still processing it, he tilts his head to make sure he’s seeing this right, before wrapping around her shoulders. “Mia! How’d you⎼” “I called her.” You say. “Told her everything.” “What the hell.” She slams her fist onto his chest, while still resting her head on him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” Jungkook chuckles. “About which part?” “Everything.” She says, pulling away, wiping her eyes. “Why did you carry that burden all by yourself? You should’ve told me. I could’ve helped you.” “I couldn’t put you at risk like that.” “Of course you couldn’t.” Jungkook touches the part of her head where a bandage is. He sighs. “I’m fine now.” “Of course you are.” He chuckles, an adoring look on his face. “I’m glad you’re okay. Now that we’re free, promise me you’ll get into college, and find a good, safe job.” Mia smiles though she struggles to keep her lips upturned. “I’ll try my best. When will you be back?” “Not sure. It’ll be a while.” Her shoulders slump in resignation. “Do you really have to go?” She turns to Namjoon who presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs. “I have to.” Jungkook sighs. “But don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” “I know.” Mia nods. “I’m gonna miss you, boss.” “I’m not your boss now,” he raises his palms, “you’re on your own kid.” She giggles. “I’m gonna miss you. Thanks for always looking out for me. I owe you.” “No you don’t. Go live your life.” Jungkook pulls her in for another hug. “I’ll miss you too.”

As another car pulls up, the agents start moving around you. As Mia joins the others in the car, Namjoon gestures towards Jungkook, making your heart race, hands slipping into his, squeezing tight. “We’re ready.” He says, speaking to the both of you. “I’ll go with you about halfway. You’ll be handed over to Jaemin and the local handler after.” Jungkook nods, turning towards his friends. It feels surreal, looking at the four pairs of eyes watching him with a mixture of fondness, despair and solemness. “It’s time. I have to go now. I um, really enjoyed the dinner we had, and when I come back, I really hope we can do that again, if you guys like.” “We’ll hold you to that.” Hoseok says. Everyone wishes him their last goodbyes and hugs, and he looks at you, nodding. Hand in hand, you walk with him towards the car parked on the opposite side of the lot. While you have made peace with it, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face. Jungkook’s cold hands come up to the side of your face. “I’m sorry.” Shaking your head, your hands fix his jacket, pulling it tighter around him and placing your hands on his chest. “Is it too late to request for me to come with you?” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “I told you to get in my suitcase.” You laugh, and he gently grabs on to your hands, holding them up between you. Your finger brushes against the metal around one of his, a familiar ring which catches your attention. “Do you want your ring back?” “No,” you suck in a breath, pulling out the necklace with the ring he gave you, clutching it in your fist. “You said we’d exchange this when we’re free to be with each other.” “We are free to be together.” He grins, “Just very very far apart.” You shove him playfully. “Keep that. It’ll keep you safe. A piece of me to have with you.” “Baby, you’re always with me. In here.” He points to his heart and smile widens at the way your nose scrunches up. “Silly.” His laugh dies down eventually, and you can hear the time ticking, counting down to the exact moment you’d have to part. “You know how much you mean to me right?” Jungkook says, running his tongue over his lips that have suddenly gone dry. “As much as you mean to me.” You nod. His lips quiver, and you see that little boy from a small town, losing his sister, having to leave his family in pursuit of somewhere to call home. The scared little boy who only wanted somewhere he belonged. “I love you so much Jungkook.” You say, clutching his hands. “I love you too, Y/N.” With your arms wrapped around each other, you let the warm tears stream down your face. He tilts his head to kiss you, soft and gentle, melting his lips into yours. With one last look at you, he breaks away, leaving only your intertwined hands. Behind him, Namjoon stands with his back towards you, sheltering the two of you with an umbrella. He slides the door open, a cheerless smile on his face as he turns to you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, soothing the ache in your heart, and his, Jungkook’s hand slowly slips away from yours. The emptiness you already feel, physically and emotionally, takes the breath out of your lungs. Hana hugs you tight in the car, wiping the tear stains off your face. As you’re about to leave, your cars stop right next to each other just before exiting the rest stop, about to head in opposite directions. The windows roll down, both yours and his. Hair blowing in the wind, he flashes his charming smile, one that you've ingrained into your memory. I love you. He mouths. As the cars inch forward, turning into opposite directions, Jungkook blows you a kiss, and you to him.

From the rear window, his car carries on down the long road ahead, eventually disappearing from sight, dragging your heart along with it.

⎼

Hi my love, I hope you’re well! I’ve settled in nicely here. I wish I could tell you more but you-know-who’s looking over my shoulder right now, reminding me about the million things I should be careful about while writing this, and is annoying me to death. Other than that, it’s not too bad. Although I’m already missing you terribly. They say I’m gonna have to look for a job and I’m kinda nervous. I’ve never been to a job interview before. And I’d have to wear a tie! I think it’s ridiculous but you’d like that though, wouldn’t you? Miss you. Hope you’re eating well, staying warm and out of trouble. I hope everyone else is okay too. Please give them my regards, will you? I’ll talk to you soon. Love, J.K. P.S. send nudes.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

compos mentis 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, chronic health issues, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a long court case, your mother stays attached to her lawyer, bringing even more contention into your life.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: hello again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Andy comes up the stairs and you back up. Your adrenaline continues to pound in your skull. You inhale sharply and cough. He slows as he gets to the top. 

“How are you doing?” He asks cautiously. 

You nod and gulp, “fine. I’m... fine.” 

He closes his eyes and nods. When he opens them again, the intensity behind his blue irises makes you wince. “I’m sorry if I scared you.” 

“It’s okay,” you grasp the handle of the oxygen tank with both hands, keeping it in front of you like a shield. 

“It’s not okay. Your mom is wrong, you know that, right?” 

Your eyes dart back and forth, “she’s--” 

“I know she’s your mom and you love her, because you’re a good girl, but I don’t want to hear excuses for her.” 

You frown and flicks away a shell of tears with your lashes. “Sorry, Andy.” 

“Don’t apologise to me, okay?” He sighs and pushes his head back as he grips his hips. “Look,” he looks down the hallway. “We’re gonna figure this out, together. Alright, sweetheart?” 

You lower your gaze. You still can’t accept that your mom is just gone. That you’re here with just Andy. 

“She won’t stay mad--” 

“You can’t be serious? You can’t go back to her. Sweetheart, you’re sick and she’s not making it any better.” 

“It wasn’t that hard,” you murmur. 

His face flashes with concern and hurt, “that doesn’t matter.” His jaw ticks, “let me see your arm.” 

“What?” 

“Where she hit you, let me see it.” 

You pull your arm back and put it behind you, “it’s not--” 

He shakes his head, “I know it hurts. Even if you don’t show me, it doesn’t undo what she did or what I saw.” He sniffs and rubs his nose, “besides, I’m a lawyer, I kind of have to report that sort of thing.” 

“Report? Oh,” you whimper. “Please, don’t.” 

“Sweetheart,” he exhales. 

“Please, Andy. I won’t go back but I don’t her to be in trouble.” 

You look at him, the irritation stitched into his forehead. He purses his lips and drops his hand form his hip. He lets out a resigned breath. 

“Alright, for now. We’ll just do one thing at a time,” he girds. “Let’s go pick up that mess.” 

He steps past you and heads down the hall. You follow him, the wheels on the tank squeaking. He enters the guest room and kneels to gather the mess spilled from the belt bag. You near and bend to help. He glances up. 

“Sweetie, please, you should sit down,” he says. 

“I can help,” you insist as you grab your lip balm. At the same time, he reaches for it and clutches your hand by accident. You flinch away and recoil.  

He doesn’t say a word as he continues to gather everything. He checks a pill bottle before he tucks it away. You peek at his face and notice the red blemish deepening on his cheekbone. The slap was loud, it sounded painful. 

“Are you okay?” You ask. 

“I’m not mad at you,” he assures as he keeps his head down. 

“No, uh, that,” you point at his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

He stops, cradling the belt bag in one hand as he touches his cheek with the other. “Not really,” he says. 

You reach out, “here, I’ll take it.” 

He hands over the bag and you snap it around your waist, careful to keep it from tangling with your oxygen tube. He stands and clears his throat. 

“This room works for you?” He asks. 

You peer around then back at him. 

“You’ll be here for a while so... I could grab you more blankets. A fan?” 

You shake your head, “this is fine.” 

He clicks his tongue and looks past you to the window, “I’m going to make some calls.” 

“To the police? You said--” 

“Not right now,” he shows his palms. “I’m just... I got work, still, and a few other things. Sweetheart,” he steps closer, “you just relax, okay? It’s been a long morning. And if you need anything, my office door will be open, alright?” 

You scrunch up your lips and nod. It’s all you can do. You teeter around and sit on the side of the bed. You brace the oxygen tank to keep yourself upright. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

“This is... normal for me,” you croak. “My mom’s right. I’m a burden. I’m too sick...” 

“She’s not right,” he insists. “Lay down, sweetheart. Take it easy. I’ll be about an hour and then we can chat a bit more. There’s a lot to go through.” 

You stay as you are. You wait. He lingers before he finally strides out of the room. He leaves the door open as you sniffle at your lap. What does he mean? A lot to go through? 

Oh, this is bad. You’re so lost. What do you do? You’re not Andy’s responsibility. If you do go back to your mom, she’s going to be so mad. Oh no, oh no, oh no. You wipe your nose and gulp. Why do you have to be so worthless? 

🩶

You can’t remember when you slumped onto your side. It doesn’t really matter. Most days you spend like that; dizzy, tired, and sick to your stomach. That day is worse.  

You want to be home. Not with your mother, just in your room, with your figurines and your books. With the familiar. You stare at the wall as you listen to the airiness of the strange house. Cars pass with soft swishing noises and a few voices come from the suburban scene outside. 

Andy’s footsteps precede him up the stairs. You see his shadow as he approaches the guest room and you make yourself sit up. What you don’t expect, is the other set of steps or another figure. You bounce slightly, expecting your mother, but finding only a stranger. A man. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Andy asks. 

You stare at the man then grimace at Andy. He stands just inside the door as the other man lingers at his shoulder. 

“You said you wouldn’t call the cops,” you squeak. 

“Oh,” Andy looks at the other man who gives a grin. “He’s not--” 

“Hi,” the man says your name. “I’m Dr. Kemp. A friend of Andy’s.” 

Your eyes flick between them. “It’s just a bruise.” You cover your forearm where the tenderness thrums. 

“A bruise?” He repeats. “I can look at that too, but I’m just here for a check-up.” 

“A check-up? I have a doctor. I have doctors,” you argue. 

“He’s just making sure everything is normal, sweetheart,” Andy says. 

“I could’ve called Dr. Hawes.” 

“You could but I don’t think he’d be able to see you at short notice, this is just a precaution.” Andy explains. 

“I’ll be quick, okay?” Dr. Kemp says as he nears and puts his leather bag next to you. “We’ll do the standard run through, alright?” 

You pout and shrug, “okay. I’m sorry, sir.” 

“It’s okay.” He assures you, “now, I don’t have your records so just a few questions.” 

You nod and your eyes drift to the wall. Questions. There's always questions. You answer the same ones over and over. It’s just like when you had to sit in court. 

“So, I see you’re on oxygen,” he begins, “is that something you need all the time or is it just now and then?” 

“Always,” you answer. 

“Alright, and have you been diagnosed with a specific condition that requires it?” 

“Several. Cystic fibrosis, asthma, other things...” 

“Hm, okay, you’re doing good. I know the questions can get annoying,” he says. “Do you have dizziness?” You nod. “Nausea?” Another nod. “Muscle spasms? Chest pains?” Yes and yes. 

“Even with the tank?” He prompts. 

“Yes, sir,” you reply bluntly. 

“Right, let’s listen to your heart.” 

He unzips the bag and takes out a stethoscope. You stand up stiffly as he comes closer. He points to the bottom of your shirt. “You mind?” You shake your head and he tugs it up, slipping his arm beneath. You blanch as your eyes meet Andy. You almost forgot about him. 

Kemp puts the cold stethoscope on your chest. He moves it around. Across the top, then beneath, closer to your lungs. He listens intently. He hums and removes it, fixing your shirt for you. 

He then starts with the other tests; temperature, blood pressure, eye response. He gives a thoughtful look then crosses his arms. He considers you for a moment. 

“I want you to try something for me, okay?” 

You nod once more. 

“I need you to take off your oxygen.” 

“What?” You yelp. 

“Just for a few minutes, alright? I’m a doctor, right? You’ll be okay.” 

You bat your lashes and glance at Andy again. He dips his chin. He watches intently. You look at the floor and unhook the tub from around your ears. You drag it off your nose and let it hang. 

“Alright, how are you feeling?” Kemp asks. 

You shrug. He just stands there. You do too. You sway slightly, confused. 

“You having any issues?” He intones. 

You shake your head. 

“Alright, just a small test. Hold your breath for me,” he bends his arm and looks at his wrist watch, “we’re going to see how long you can do it. Tell me when you stop.” He pinches the small golden face, “three, two, one.” 

You hold your breath as your eyes widen. Your lungs are full but not horribly so. You search the room in a panic. What if you pass out? Your panic rises and makes you itch but you keep your breath in. He waits and waits and waits. 

You let it out suddenly, “I can’t--” you gasp. “See, I can’t.” 

“A minute forty-seven,” he taps his watch, “pretty standard. Definitely pretty good for someone with bad lungs.” 

“A minute... no, it wasn’t that long. Was it?” 

Andy shifts as his jaw squares. His brows furrow. He looks angry. Kemp peeks back at him and turns back to you. 

“I’m going to review your records. I’ll put a call in to Hawes.” 

“Why?” You ask. 

“Just to make sure I’m getting a full picture. Right now, you’re doing just fine. I’d say you’re doing rather well,” he squeezes your shoulder. “What I want you to do is to take it easy on this.” He touches the oxygen tube. “If you feel out of breath, by all means, put it on, five to ten minutes, but not 24/7.” 

“But I need it,” you whimper. 

“I know you feel like you do, but I’m the doctor, right? I understand you have a lot going on but your lungs aren’t bad enough to warrant constant oxygen. I’ll be back tomorrow once I get the chart,” he says. “Andy has my number.” 

Your lip quivers. You don’t understand. You need the air. That’s what mom says. And when you forget to put it back on, she gets so mad. 

“You having trouble right now?” He asks. 

You stare at him and take a breath, and another, and another. “No,” you answer. 

“There ya go. You got Andy. He'll keep an eye on you,” he packs away his bag. 

“Thanks, Steve,” Andy says as he holds out his hand. 

“We’re even,” Kemp shakes his hand then looks back at you, “see ya tomorrow.” 

“Oh, okay, sir,” you eke out. 

He leaves and Andy gives you a nod before he follows. You listen as they go downstairs. You sit on the bed and clasp your oxygen tube in your hands. You look at the tank and frown. 

It doesn’t make sense. You don’t feel like you’re struggling. You feel like you’re breathing better, actually. It’s strange. Maybe it’s the adrenaline. 

Andy returns and you push your shoulders back. He enters tentatively, “well?” 

“I won’t...” you reach over and turn the dial to cut the supply. “It’s off.” 

“Maybe he can help. More than the other doctors,” Andy says. “Er, you know, you don’t have to hide up here. I’m done for the day so I’m free and uh, if you’re hungry, we can order?” 

“Not right now,” you say and hang your head. 

“Yeah, I know. It’s a lot,” he says. “You got time, sweetheart. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here, okay?” 

[lunebulous]

How would Xavier react to seeing you dressed as a bride? Ch 2.

C.w: fluff, non-established relationship, xavier x reader, sfw, corpse bride mentions, not proofread.

Xavier walks confidently to the end of the hallway, paper bag in hands containing your favourite sandwich and a small bottle of orange juice. He also made sure to buy a little chocolate for you, he is sure you'll love it because it's bunny shaped.

He knocks, and after some time a familiar voice tells him to come in. It’s one of your friends, Lexy. He remembers her from a day where you all went to get some hotpot together.

He didn’t expect her to be here, so he thought that maybe this is a girls day. With this in mind, he turns the doorknob slowly, covering his eyes with one hand and looking down to his feet. You never know, he doesn’t want to interrupt anything.

He closes the door behind him, and Lexy tells him it’s okay, he can look.

“Hi.” he says softly, before letting his hand down and analyzing the scenario he encounters: The room is big, enough to echo a bit when you speak loudly. There’s too much photography equipment to get around, and he can’t see all of it. There are big windows, but all of them have blinds; only some of them are open to let some light in. His eyes now focus on Lexy, crouched in front of Sam, putting on heels on her. His eyebrows furrow, clearly confused. She’s dressed as… goth..?

“Hi Xavier. I’m Morticia Addams.” Sam smiles. “What are you doing here? Did she call you?”

“Oh. Nice to meet you Morticia.” He steps closer to her, showing the paper bag again. “No, I.. She forgot to have breakfast today.. So.. I brought her something. Where is..” he looks around a bit.

“Xavier?” You didn’t see him come in, but recognized his voice now. His head immediately turns to face the origin of your voice, but he only sees a big reflector. He nods to both girls before walking towards you, searching for your face as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes make him look like a lost puppy, trying not to step on anything.

He gets around the reflector, looking at his feet so as to not step on any cable, and as soon as he lifts his head, his heart drops.

Oh my. God. Oh my God, you’re beautiful.

He stops in his tracks as you smile at him with squinted eyes, his eyes scanning over your body, your.. dress. Your dress, white as snow, gradiently turning into blue like his eyes.

His lips part and his hands get weak - he’s putting in so much effort so his knees don’t give out -, feeling a warm feeling creeping up on his neck, something indescribable getting stuck on his throat as his eyes get warm and wet.

You’re. A Bride.

And you are the most beautiful one he has ever seen.

The light hits your face just right, and he’s hypnotized by your glowing chest, your plump rosy lips, the way your makeup is light, magnifying your natural and beautiful features.

He discreetly licks his lips looking at the nape of your neck, exposed because of your tied hair and oh-so delicate it looks like it might break if he dares to touch. Your hair..

You are so.. The love of his life.

“Xavier?” You call again, tilting your head. And as you do, he notices the blue hair pin, it’s a flower. His flower. It’s a forget me not. His feet are glued to the ground as he tries to breathe in, but his throat is now dry and feeling too tight to function. God. You were beautiful. He’d never get tired of telling you that.

Did you.. Did you do it on purpose…? Is he supposed to…? Should he..

His mind is trying to think of what this could mean, but he just can’t do it if you’re looking at him like that. Looking like this. He feels like his chest is going to implode, something warm and tight spreading over his whole torso, making his throat clench.

“You’re.. a bride?” His voice comes out too soft, almost a whisper, and you can only tell what he said because you were looking at his lips the whole time.

“Yes. I am. But I’m not ready yet! Do you know the Corpse bride?” You smile, feeling your cheeks hot from how he was staring you down. “I’ll be her today. I'll be painting myself blue for it.” You look down, facing the dress you just put on before he came in.

“Y-yes. I know. her..” He quickly looks away as he feels like his eyes are getting dangerously wet and a tear might fall at any moment. In reality, he has no idea who is the corpse bride. Isn’t a corpse supposed to be scary? How can you look so ethereal in front of him like that?

He looks down to see a small stool, and he figures he needs to get out of here as soon as possible. He’s not going to be able to hold back any longer. So he places the paper bag on it.

“I.. brought you food..” he touches the back of his neck, swallowing hard. “Please eat. I’m leaving now.” He takes one more glance at you, trying to commit to memory every single detail about you.

Everything around you is blurred like a halo, and it makes him feel so small - he's convinced the world could swallow him while right now.

He'd do anything for you. He'd be anything for you. And he wants to marry you. Now.

“Oh my.. thank you, Xavier!” You get up, walking towards him. His heart skips a beat as you place a hand on his bicep. “You saved me. Thank you.”

Saving you?! This is saving you?! You’re telling him that bringing you breakfast is saving you, when he’d burn the seven seas dry for you?!

He gulps down. You’re so close. He needs to leave, or else he might just propose right now. His hands itch, craving to hold you close and kiss you until you're out of breath and full of him. In all senses of the word.

“No problem.. I’ll get going.” He stares at your lips, walking backwards towards the door. “Have fun.” His voice falters but he can’t get himself to care as he grabs the doorknob like it’s his lifeline, walking out.

You're left confused, but all of your worries are lifted when you shift your attention to the paperbag in front of you.

—

Anne comes back, and as soon as she gets out of the elevator she sees Xavier as he is letting out a loud sigh and sliding down against the wall, hugging his knees. She rushes to him, worried.

“Uhm-” She doesn’t know his name. “Are you.. okay?” She asks, bending down a little to talk to him.

He looks up, eyes puffy and lips red. “I am. I’m sorry. I’ll be leaving soon. Don’t worry about me.” he starts masking his emotions again, feeling embarrassed of being caught like this.

But she can see how his chin imperceptibly quivers and how he’s breathing unsteadily.

“What happened? That is not the face of someone who is ‘okay’.”

She wonders if you broke up with him just now.

“I am.” He stands, now taller than her, patting his knees to see if they can hold him up again. He takes a deep breath in and out, and she looks up at him, confused.

“My girlfriend is beautiful isn’t she.” He smiles a little, convincing himself for a moment that you are, in fact, his girlfriend. He can't take it anymore, he searched high and low for you, he's never been so sure of something. Never desired something more than he does you. But for you... It's too soon. He'll wait.

He looks at Anne, waiting for an answer.

“Yes, she is…?” Anne answers after a moment, and analyzes his whole face, scanning for a reason for him to be like this. “Is that why.. you’re..?” She asks, placing a hand on the doorknob.

“Yes.” He dries up his eyes with his sleeves. “I’m leaving now. Please don’t mention it to her.” He bows softly, starting to walk away.

Anne is left in a mix of confusion with awe. Is this the real reason? How can someone cry so much over a lover’s appearance? She opens the door.

And as soon as she does, you’re eating a sandwich in your unfinished costume bride dress, laughing.

“Oh, I get it now.” She mutters to herself, shaking her head, smiling. "She is his bride."

Chapter 1 here | Bonus chapter soon.

[nahoney22]

Congratulations on the followers! Please can I request some angsty fluff with Fox and a female reader with this prompt - 24: “Who hurt you?”

Maybe reader got attacked and he found her and tends to her wounds which leads to some feelings being shared? Thanks if you do 😊 I love your work

Medical Feelings

🫧 Pairings: Commander Fox X Female!Reader

word count: 1.8k

prompts:

• “Who hurt you?”

Plot: After a risky mission that left you injured, Commander Fox helps nurse you back to health.

Warnings: Safe for work, hurt whump, idiots in love, Reader scared of droids momentarily, needle mention, slightly injured reader, minor blood mention.

Authors note: Sorry for the wait 🩵

“How are you holding up?”

You blink, trying to focus as the voice cuts through the haze in your head. But your vision blurs and swims, the light above stabbing behind your eyes like a viroblade.

“Like someone who’s been hit in the head,” you groan, wincing as you sit up on the medbay cot. The room tilts for a moment and you feel like you may be sick but luckily it settles, and your eyes finally set on the figure perched nearby. Thire.

The mission hadn’t gone as planned. What should have been a straightforward retrieval of intel left you caught in the crossfire. You weren’t a soldier so when the fighting started, you’d been forced to rely on pure luck and very minimal training. Clearly, neither had been enough.

Your memory of the incident was weak as all you could recall was a sharp pain to your head followed by the sight of clankers looming over you before everything went dark.

“You took quite a hit,” Thire says, his voice lighter than the situation warrants as he pulls up a stool to sit beside you.

“I noticed,” you mutter, rubbing gingerly at your temple that felt sticky and as you pull your hand back, a splodge of blood painted your fingertips. A dull ache radiates from where the blow landed, and your entire body feels stiff and battered.

Recovery is going to take a while.

“You know the Commander’s going to want to see you.”

The comment makes you freeze for a beat before you force a painful shrug, hoping to look unaffected. “He’s busy. I doubt he even noticed.”

Thire snickers. “Not too busy for his favourite girl.”

You roll your eyes, already regretting letting him sit down. “Oh don’t start with all that.”

But Thire doesn’t let up, grinning like a loth-cat who’s cornered its prey. “Come on. You’ve seen the way he looks at you. If Fox stares any harder, his visor’s going to fog up.”

“Shut up, Thire,” you grumble, though a reluctant chuckle escapes before you can stop it. The movement makes your ribs ache, and you hiss softly in pain. “And no, I haven’t seen the way he looks at me. It's you lot putting that notion in my head.”

Instantly, Thire’s grin fades, replaced by concern as he notices your pain. “Should I call a med droid?”

“No!” you blurt, a little too quickly. Thire raises a brow, clearly catching on.

“Not a fan of droids, huh?”

You cross your arms, or at least try to; the motion is stiff and awkward. “I’m fine. Really. I don’t need—”

“Who hurt you?”

The sudden voice freezes you mid-sentence. Both you and Thire turn toward the door at the same time, and your heart stops.

Commander Fox. The visor of his helmet glints under the overhead lights as he strides toward you, exuding that no-nonsense authority he’s known for.

Thire shoots you a smug, told-you-so glance before rising to his feet. “This one took a blow to the head, sir. She has a possible concussion.”

Fox’s attention shifts to the datapad in Thire’s hand. “Why wasn’t this reported to me immediately?”

“I figured you had more pressing matters,” Thire replies smoothly, clearly unfazed by the irritation in Fox’s tone.

Fox huffs, the sound sharp and metallic through his helmet’s vocoder. His gaze snaps back to the datapad, scanning the details. “And why hasn’t a med droid been dispatched?”

You groan, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “I’m right here, you know. Maybe someone could ask me what I want instead of talking like I’m invisible.”

Both men turn toward you at the same time. Thire’s expression is sheepish, though it doesn’t quite mask the amusement in his eyes. Fox, however, is unreadable as always, his emotions hidden behind the stoic facade of his helmet.

Thire clears his throat, stepping back. “I’ll, uh, leave you with the Commander.” He’s gone before you can protest, disappearing through the door with a suspiciously quick pace.

The silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a vibroblade. Fox stands rigidly near the cot, his arms folded across his chest. You can hear the faint tap of his boot against the durasteel floor as he shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “How are you feeling?”

You shrug, regretting it immediately when the movement sends another sharp ache down your spine. “I’ve been better.”

His head tilts slightly, a gesture that might be concern. “You should’ve reported your injuries sooner.”

“You think I wanted to end up in here?” you counter, the bite in your voice softened by exhaustion.

Fox doesn’t reply immediately. Instead, he steps closer, his broad frame almost casting a shadow over you. For a moment, you think he might argue. But his next words surprise you.

“You’re lucky,” he says almost quietly. “It could’ve been worse.”

There’s something in his tone—a rare softness that catches you off guard, even if it is for a moment. You both seem to snap out of whatever the hold that ensnared you both and you close your eyes, leaning back with a soft agreement of his words.

Fox pauses for a moment, then steps away. You crack one eye open, expecting him to be halfway out the door, but to your surprise, he returns moments later with a medical droid trailing behind.

You suddenly sit up straighter, tension rippling through you as the AZI droid glides closer, a stim injector held in one of its arms.

“I’m fine. I don’t need a droid to see me,” you declare quickly, glancing between the droid and Fox with what you hope is a convincing look of confidence. But Fox is already standing there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilts slightly in a way that screams ‘you’re not fine’.

“The patient requires an injection to reduce inflammation and prevent complications,” the droid announces, already grating on your nerves.

Your heart skips as the droid raises the injector, the gleam of the stim making your stomach twist. You instinctively lean back, trying to put more space between you and the advancing machine.

“No. I don’t want it,” you snap, panic slipping into your voice despite your best efforts.

Fox’s gaze shifts to you, then to the droid. He holds up a hand, “Stop.”

The droid halts mid-motion. “Commander, the patient requires—”

“I’ll handle it,” Fox says firmly.

Before you can process what’s happening, he steps forward and plucks the stim from the droid’s arm.

“What are you doing?” you ask apprehensively.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead inspecting the stim injector with almost practiced ease. “You need this,” he says finally, his tone calm but resolute under the modulator. “If you don’t want the droid to do it, I will.”

Your mouth opens, then closes, words failing you as he pulls a stool closer and sits beside the cot. He’s quiet, efficient, and unbothered by your flustered state as he rolls up the sleeve of your tunic. His gloved fingers brush against your skin, sending a jolt through you that has nothing to do with the injection.

“This will only take a second,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost soothing. “Just relax.”

You nod stiffly, your pulse racing as he steadies your arm. The sharp pinch of the needle is over in a heartbeat, but the warmth of his proximity lingers far longer.

“There. All done.”

You exhale, tension slowly bleeding out of your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

But Fox doesn’t get up. Instead, his gaze shifts to your temple, where the bruising from the blow to your head.

“Let me take a look at that,” he says, leaving no room for argument.

You look at him, eyes wide. “It’s fine—”

“Sit up,” he interrupts, standing and motioning for you to move to the edge of the cot.

Reluctantly, you scoot forward, your legs dangling over the side as he steps closer.

Much closer.

He stands between your knees, his hands are surprisingly gentle as they cradle your face, tilting it slightly so he can get a better look at your wound.

The proximity makes your breath hitch, your heart pounding so loudly you’re begging he can’t hear it. His touch is careful, his thumbs brushing along your jaw as he examines the cut near your temple.

“This should’ve been cleaned properly,” he mutters under his breath “You clones are always too stubborn for your own good.”

“But i’m not a clone,” you mumble, your voice embarrassingly shaky even though his comment amused you.

“No,” he replies, glancing down at you for a moment. “But you’re just as stubborn.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die in your throat when he dips his head slightly, focusing on your injury with laser precision behind his visor. His presence is overwhelming, the sharp, clean scent of his armour mixing with something distinctly him.

“This might sting,” he warns, holding up a sterilising wipe.

You barely register the faint sting as he cleans the wound, too distracted by the way his hands move so deliberately, so gently. His thumbs brush against your skin again, steadying your head as he works, and you find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to.

“There,” he says after a moment, stepping back just enough to toss the used wipe onto the nearby tray. His hands linger on your jaw for a second longer before he finally lets go. “That should help.”

You glance up at him, your cheeks warm, and manage a small, “Thanks.”

He straightens, his imposing frame still far too close. “You need rest,” he says firmly, though his voice is softer than before. “No arguments.”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Got it. Rest. Sure.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the charged silence stretching between you.

For a moment, you don’t think about your actions. Perhaps it was the blow to your head that made you act in a certain way. As he was about to turn and leave, you reach out and grasp his wrist.

He looks back, his helmet adorably titling to the side as you gesture him to come back by pulling his arm. And he does.

“Thank you, Commander. You’ve… you have always been kind to me.”

Then, you lean up and rest your forehead to his, eyes closed. His visor made it a little difficult but you heard his shallow gasp pop through his modulator.

But, he doesn’t move back. He lets it happen and only moves when you finally break away, a soft and nervous smile on your lips.

“Thank you.”

“G-Get some rest.” Then, with a curt nod, Fox finally steps back, his presence still lingering long after he’s gone.

And as you lie back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, you can’t decide what’s more distracting: the ache in your head or the memory of his hands on your skin.

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[its-avalon-08]

the paths we didn't take (cl16)

part7!

multipart story! part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

Summary : Years ago, Charles Leclerc and Y/N promised to let each other go—for his dreams, for her freedom. No calls, no texts, just memories they buried deep. But when fate reunites them in Monaco, old scars and unresolved feelings resurface. Some loves are unforgettable, but can they find their way back, or is it too late?

✦ pairing - charles leclerc x female reader

Chapter 7: "Unraveled"

Y/N stood by the curb, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, the cool night air doing little to calm the storm inside her. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, replaying the brief, heart-stopping moment she had locked eyes with Charles. The years apart had done nothing to prepare her for the rush of emotions she felt seeing him again. She blinked back the tears threatening to spill, silently willing her cab to hurry up.

“Y/N!” Lando’s voice called out behind her, his footsteps quick as he caught up. “Hey, where are you going?”

She turned slightly, her composure faltering when she saw the genuine concern etched on his face. “I just... I needed some air,” she muttered, trying to keep her voice steady.

Lando frowned, noticing the glistening tears in her eyes. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her as if shielding her from the world. “Hey, hey, what happened? Are you okay?”

Y/N clung to him for a moment, the warmth of his embrace grounding her. She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just... I saw him after all these years, and I don’t know how to react.”

Lando pulled back slightly, his hands resting on her shoulders as he studied her face. “You mean Charles?”

She nodded, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. “Yeah. I thought I was over it, you know? But seeing him... it just brought everything back.”

Lando gave her a small, understanding smile, his eyes filled with empathy. “It’s okay. It’s a lot to process. You don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “I thought I moved on, Lando. I really did. But tonight... it was just so unexpected.”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to feel confused.”

As they stood there, Charles leaned against the balcony railing above, watching the scene unfold below. His heart sank as he saw Y/N in Lando’s arms, the way she leaned into him, the way Lando held her with such care. The sight of her tears stirred something deep inside him, but the rational part of his mind told him to let it go.

“She’s moved on,” Charles whispered to himself, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “She doesn’t care anymore.”

With a deep breath, he turned away from the balcony, shaking his head to clear the lingering confusion. The weight of their history still pressed on him, but he forced himself to focus on the present. If she was fine, if she had someone like Lando by her side, then he had no reason to dwell on the past.

“Time to let it go,” he muttered, heading back into the club, the loud music and flashing lights quickly enveloping him once more.

Outside, Y/N pulled back from Lando, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for being here.”

“Always,” Lando replied, his voice gentle. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I will be,” she said, nodding. “I just need to get home and clear my head.”

“Alright,” Lando said, giving her one last reassuring squeeze. “Text me when you’re home, okay?”

“I will,” she promised, her voice steadier now. As her cab finally pulled up, she gave him a small wave before slipping inside, leaving the night—and all its unexpected emotions—behind her.

As the cab drove away, Y/N leaned her head against the window, letting out a long sigh. She had seen him, faced the past she thought she had left behind. But now, more than ever, she realized the journey to truly moving on was far from over.

----

A loud knock echoed through Y/N’s apartment, pulling her from the depths of a pounding headache. She groaned, burying her face deeper into her pillow, trying to escape the bright morning light streaming through the window. Another knock, more insistent this time, made her reluctantly sit up.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming!” she muttered, throwing on a hoodie as she stumbled towards the door. As she swung it open, the sight before her made her blink twice.

“Good morning, sunshine!” Lando beamed, holding two steaming cups of coffee, his grin as bright as the sunlight she was trying to avoid. “Figured you could use some caffeine.”

Y/N squinted at him, rubbing her temples. “Lando, it’s barely morning. What are you doing here so early?”

He waltzed in without waiting for an invitation, setting the coffee on the table. “It’s almost noon, you lazy bum. Besides, I thought you’d need this after last night’s little adventure.”

Y/N groaned, flopping onto the couch and pulling a blanket over her head. “I’m officially never drinking again.”

Lando chuckled, sitting on the edge of the couch and nudging her with his elbow. “Oh, come on. You were the life of the party until, well... you know.”

She peeked out from under the blanket, giving him a mock glare. “Don’t remind me.”

“Fair enough,” he said, handing her a cup of coffee. “Here, drink this. It’ll help.”

She took it gratefully, sipping the warm liquid. “Thanks. You’re not so bad for a nosy friend.”

“I aim to please,” he quipped, leaning back with a satisfied smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Lando’s expression turned serious. “Actually, I came by for a reason.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s up?”

“Well,” he began, dragging out the suspense with a mischievous grin, “it seems McLaren is interested in working with your business.”

Y/N nearly choked on her coffee. “What? Are you serious?”

Lando laughed at her reaction, nodding. “Completely serious. They want a meeting with you to discuss potential collaborations.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Lando, this is huge! How did this happen?”

He shrugged, trying to downplay his role. “I might have mentioned your work to a few people. They were really impressed.”

Without thinking, Y/N launched herself at him, pulling him into a bear hug. “You’re amazing! Thank you so much!”

Lando laughed, wrapping his arms around her in return. “Hey, hey, easy! You’re going to crush me!”

She pulled back, her face glowing with excitement. “I can’t believe this. I owe you big time.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, brushing it off with a wave of his hand. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything,” she replied eagerly.

“Don’t forget about me when you’re swimming in all that McLaren money,” he teased, winking.

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. “I could never forget you, Lando.”

He grinned, standing up and stretching. “Alright, I should get going. But seriously, congrats. You deserve this.”

“Thanks,” she said, her smile softening. “For everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied, heading towards the door. “Now, go get ready. You’ve got a big meeting to prepare for.”

As he left, Y/N sat back down, her mind racing with excitement and possibilities. The hangover was now the least of her worries, replaced by the thrill of a new opportunity—one that she wouldn’t have imagined even in her wildest dreams.

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@janeh22 @tobucina @ihtscuddlesbeeetchx3 @weekendlusting

@wisestarfishbouquet @ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins

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@ricciardosheart @leclercdream @sltwins @vyctorya @f1fantasys

[hvnlygrl]

Hiiii! Ok I want to start off by saying I love love love your work! Can you write a blurb about reader flirting with JJ to make bf!Rafe mad bc she wants his attention and wants him to take her home and give it to her rough

flirt.

pairing — rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count — 0.6k

warning — smut! minors dni

synopsis — when rafe isn’t giving you enough attention at a party, you find a way to get it yourself, even if that means going to jj maybank for it…

notes — yes absolutely yall know i love a good spicy!rafe fic hehe :) thank u smm omg ur too kind and thank u a million for the request 💌you can read a similar one-shot that i’ve written here!

join my follower celebration — until feb. 3rd!

you and rafe had gotten into a brief, meaningless argument on the way to the party, and he was making it his mission to ignore you until you learned your lesson.

you recognized his petty plan and immediately began devising your own plan, one that was sure to get you the attention you craved from the cameron boy.

the two of you walked in together, however you each went in separate directions with him heading toward kelce and topper and you going straight for the booze. you poured yourself two shots, making sure to hold direct eye contact with rafe as you downed them both. then you smiled, winked and walked over to your favorite group of pogues.

rafe listened to kelce drone on and on about his new girlfriend, eyes watching you curiously to see what type of shenanigans you were about to get yourself into. he couldn’t help the fire that began bubbling in his chest when he watched you walk up to jj maybank.

you struck a conversation with the blonde immediately upon arriving at the group.

“hey, jj!” you made sure to be animated enough that rafe would notice, but not so animated that jj would be put off or turned on.

“what’s up, y/n?” he raises a curious brow at you as he notices the lack of a certain kook by your side. “where’s rafe?”

“talking with kelce and topper,” you shrug innocently, “i need a favor…”

jj immediately picks up on the situation, “you want me to fake flirt with you to piss rafe off, right?”

“oh my god, how’d you know?”

he winks at you before moving a little closer, leaning down to whisper into your ear, “because he’s already staring at me like he wants to kill me.”

you laugh, making sure to throw your head back, letting your hand go up to very lightly touch his forearm. you’re sure not to look back at rafe, needing the situation to look as legit as possible.

rafe doesn’t bother to excuse himself from the conversation, simply just walking away from topper and kelce and heads straight to you.

jj sees him b-lining to you, deciding to give you a heads up. “bogey, twelve-o’clock.”

you nod, “thanks, jj, i owe you one!”

“anytime,” he huffs out a laugh, “good luck, y/n.”

rafe grabs the top of your bicep without saying a word, simply dragging you up to the bathroom and locking the door behind you.

“what’s up, rafey?” you ask innocently.

he pins you up against the wall, “you think you’re cute?”

“i think i’m adorable,” you wink at him, “you think i’m cute?”

he rolls his eyes at you, “you are so in for it when we get home.”

“aw,” you frown before leaning up to whisper in his ear, “i was hoping i was in for it now, baby.”

he feels himself growing hard in his shorts, his breathing growing shorter and shorter. “oh yea? you sure you can stay quiet for me?”

you nod quickly, biting at your lip, “i’m sure you can keep me quiet.”

rafe eyes you up and down, contemplating for just a second. you opted to wear a cute (and very short) dress to the party.

“take your panties off and bend over the counter,” he commands as he unbuckles his belt and drops his shorts, his hand gripping his hard cock.

you follow the instructions, one hand holding the panties out for him to do whatever he wants with them. he grabs them from your hand and shoves them in your mouth, “tap the counter twice if you want me to stop.”

you nod, heart beating loudly as you feel his hands make their way up the insides of your thighs.

you’re in for a long night.

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[not-neverland06]

𝚂𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙳𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚝

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

Summary: Tensions rise as you continue to pull against Dutch's taut leash. You seem to be the only one who sees him for the trickster he is. Infuriatingly, that means you and Arthur butting heads about the man. But you don't expect your latest fight to end with him coming back to you nearly dead.

As much as you’d love to bask in the newness of whatever this is that you have with Arthur, the law has other plans. While the gang has grown comfortable, fat in their complacency, the Pinkertons have gotten closer. You are beginning to realize just how rare these moments of peace are in the life of an outlaw.

“I’m gonna sell her, I swear,” you tell Arthur angrily as you try and get a stubborn Lady to obey your commands. You finally feel comfortable enough to head back into Valentine, you know the woman he’d been with is gone, Arthur told you as much. You doubt he’d have any reason to lie about something as silly as that.  

Arthur laughs and leans down, smoothing over Diablo’s mane. “No, you ain’t, you like her too damn much.”

“You’re right,” you acquiesce. “I’ll sell her to a glue factory, instead,” Lady lets out a stubborn noise, flicking her head back and forth. “Unless you start to listen, you insolent little bastard.” Arthur brings Diablo to a slow trot while you relentlessly tug on Lady’s reins to no effect.

He watches you struggle, laughing as he hitches up Diablo. When Lady comes to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, he lets out an amused sigh and comes forward to take her reins from you. You hand them over easily, nudging the horse with your spur in retaliation.

He hitches her next to Diablo and rounds her to stand at your side, holding his hand out for you. You take it in your own, relishing his touch as he helps you down from your saddle. Your movements are still clumsy but you’re starting to get a little bit better at riding her. Even if she still refuses to listen to you. 

“If you stopped insultin’ her, I’m sure you’d get along better.” Arthur leads you towards the general store and you glare up at him. 

“Whose side are you on, Mr. Morgan?” He chuckles and leans down, pressing a brief kiss to your cheek. It’s chaste and near prudish, but you still find yourself flushing. 

“Not on anyone’s side, sweetheart. But if you want to start getting along with her, you’ll just have to learn to trust her.” You nod, not listening to anything he’s saying, too busy admiring how handsome he looks. 

He seems to realize what you’re doing, rolling his eyes and pushing you forward. A man’s voice booms through the air, interrupting the both of you. “Well, isn’t this a pretty picture?” You pause, turning to face the man watching you from the porch of the hotel. Men with large guns move around the side of the store and come to stand in front of him.

Your brows furrow, eyes roving across the street, suddenly noticing the stark lack of people out and about. You’d been so distracted by Lady that you hadn’t realized just how dead Valentine was. Something glints in the sunlight on the roof beside the hotel. You narrow your eyes, peering through the glare and seeing a man with his rifle pointed at you and Arthur. 

“I’m sorry,” the man calls out, sounding wholly unapologetic. Arthur’s hand tightens around yours and he drags you slightly behind himself. “I should introduce myself,” the man drawls. 

You take note of his finely tailored clothes, and the way he’s not fully leaning against the wall because he doesn’t want to dirty his suit. The pocket watch attached to his vest is real gold, something you haven’t seen a whole lot of in Valentine. He’s too prim and proper for a low-down town like this. He could easily have been one of the men from the city you grew up in, upper-class and elite. He’s not from around here and he seems to, at least, vaguely recognize Arthur. You don’t see this going any way but bad. 

“Leviticus Cornwall, I believe you’ve heard my name before.”

“God dammit,” Arthur curses under his breath, he nudges you further back in the direction of the horses. Your foot freezes in the air as you hear the familiar click of a rifle being loaded right by your ear. Swallowing hard, you risk the slightest glance back and see another black-suited man with the tip of his rifle pointed squarely between your eyes. 

Arthur sees him in his peripheral, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Cornwall. “I know what you want,” Arthur calls out, one hand raised in surrender, the other still holding yours. “But leave her out of it, she’s got nothin’ to do with any of this.” 

Leviticus laughs and tilts his head patronizingly. “If she’s with your ridiculous little gang, then she’s got something to do with what happened to my train.” Your eyes flutter shut, dread filling every crevice of your body as the realization finally sinks in. In your last days in the mountains, the men had gone off to rob a train. 

They’d mentioned the same name a few times but you’d never cared to pay attention to it. It comes back to you now. Leviticus Cornwall. He was here to collect what they’d stolen.  

“I know you are your master’s favorite little lapdog, so why don’t you go fetch Dutch for me and I won’t have my men splatter your lady’s brains against your boots.” Your nails dig into Arthur’s palms, body tensing with fear as you lean further into him. 

Arthur gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, keeping you firmly tucked into him. “I’m afraid neither of those things is gonna happen, Mr. Cornwall,” Arthur calls out to him. He leans slightly towards you, voice lowered so even the man behind you can’t hear, “When I tell you, make a run for the horses.” 

You so desperately want to look towards where you know Lady and Diablo are hitched by the saloon, but it would only give your plan away. Instead, you force yourself to focus on the man with the rifle pointed at you. You maintain eye contact with the barrel of his gun, refusing to look away. 

You try and force your heart to be silent and still, hoping you’ll be able to hear Arthur’s order over the rushing force of your blood. Arthur keeps a tight grip on your hand as the men begin to close in. 

“I’ll only say this once, Mr. Morgan. This will be your only chance to escape my wrath, alive.”

“Right,” Arthur moves you in front of him and you suck in a shuddering breath when you see just how many men surround you now. They’re everywhere, on the roofs of buildings, on horseback pacing the streets, and the worst of them have their guns trained right on you. “Well, I’ll say this,” he rips his hands out of yours and practically tosses you to the side. “Run!”

You don’t think, just blindly follow his orders and take off towards the horses. The shots start going off instantly, mud flying up around you as bullets narrowly miss you. You run in a wild pattern, trying not to be such an easy target. 

“The times of outlaws is over, Mr. Morgan!” Leviticus calls from behind you, voice tainted with wrath as it penetrates the air. “There’s no place for you anymore!”

You’re running with the instinct of a prey trying to outwit a predator who's actively snapping their maw. It feels futile, though, when you’re so wholly surrounded. Arthur comes up behind you, hand snatching up the back of your shirt and dragging you faster behind him. 

Your feet scramble to keep up with his pace as you make for the horses. The men seem to catch onto your plan faster than you’d hoped. One of them jumps in front of you but his body topples to the ground before he can say a word. When you turn, Arthur’s got his revolver out and the end of it is smoking. 

You’d barely even had time to process the threat before Arthur had shot him. You’d never seen what a quick draw he was in person before. If you weren’t feeling the breeze of bullets whistling past you, you’d have time to be impressed. 

You reach Lady and she’s already stomping and kicking her legs out, terrified by all the noise. You grab her reins, hands shaking as you try and keep yourself steady. You don’t have time to let Arthur help you up. You place your foot in the stirrup and jump, you’re barely seated before she goes flying. 

You lean forward, holding on tight as she moves like fire’s licking at her heels. “Come on, Lady!” You shout, not once looking back to see how many of them are after you. The sounds are getting closer and you swallow bile down as you risk a look over your shoulder. 

Arthur’s just behind you, turned in his saddle, and shooting at as many of them as he can. Lady lets out an odd squeal and your brows furrow, glancing back at her. You see a streak of red across her side and feel your blood rush to your head. 

They’d shot her. They’d shot your damn horse. You don’t even like her all that much, but right now she’s the only thing between you and a bullet through your head. Forcing yourself up, you slip the revolver out of your holster and turn like you watched Arthur do. It’s disorienting, feeling your hips rocking forward while you try and keep a steady aim behind yourself. 

There’s no way for you to know which of them actually managed to knick her. But if they can hit your horse, they’re not far off from hitting you. You don’t have time to take in deep breaths and settle yourself, you can only start wildly shooting and hope you hit one of them. You don’t care to spare your bullets, firing off without any real aim and spotting a few drop from their saddles. You don’t know if it's you or Arthur that claims the kills but they eventually start to slow down and the space between you all grows wider. 

Arthur tucks his gun away and rides up closer. “We need to get back to camp,” he shouts. You nod your head and follow along the path behind him. Your gaze drifts towards the wound across Lady’s side and you run your fingers through her mane as she races back home. 

You brush out Lady’s coat as you wait for Arthur to finish up with Dutch. Hosea had promised that Lady would be fine, horses were sturdy but she’d have to make it through a lot worse if she wanted to stay with the gang. You understood what he meant but you didn’t appreciate it. 

It’s only as you finish up with her that you realize what happened on the way back. You’d seen and, possibly, contributed to more killing and you hadn’t felt a thing about it. Not only that, Arthur had seen you shooting at men with no remorse. 

Your heart flips itself into a knot in your chest as you look over to where he’s speaking with Dutch. He was quiet on the ride back and you’d assumed it was because he was worried more people would show up. What if it was because you ruined your image for him? The only former lover of his you know about was a lady like you. But, now, he sees you as someone who’s perfectly fine riding around and shooting at men without question. What if he doesn’t want you now?

You swallow down the lump in your throat and try to get your fingers to still. You’d been shaking from the adrenaline for the last few minutes. Your blood is still rushing so fast you’re getting dizzy standing still. You try to convince yourself that it’s just the nerves of the day getting to you, but you’re not so sure. 

Arthur finally turns away from Dutch and heads back towards you. You give him a shaky smile but he doesn’t return it. Instead, his brows are set with anger and he’s glowering at you. 

You feel your stomach drop as you scramble for a way to explain why shooting at those men was so easy for you. “Arthur, I’m sorry-”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He demands. Your face falls flat and you feel like you might throw up. Has he somehow found out about your husband? “I didn’t realize they’d hit you,” he reaches forward and you frown with confusion. His thumb brushes against your upper arm and you hiss. 

Off instinct, you swat his hand away, fingers stinging at the force. You glance down and notice blood soaking the sleeve of your shirt. One of the bullets had done a little bit more than graze you, leaving a deep gouge in your arm. “So you touch it?” You ask him, only now starting to feel the pain of the wound. 

He stutters over a defense before rolling his eyes. “Come on,” he sighs and places a light hand over your back. He presses you forward, herding you towards his tent. “Let’s clean it up.” He sets you down on his cot and begins rummaging through the chest he keeps next to it with all his supplies. Glancing up at you, he asks “What were you apologisin’ for?” 

“Oh, um,” you feel a bit silly now. You almost don’t want to say it but that doesn’t feel fair to lie straight to his face. “I feel sick that you saw me shoot at those men.”

His brows furrow and he pauses his rummaging. He glances around like he’s waiting for you to finish but you just shrug. “Oh,” realization dawns on his face and he looks a little stunned. “That’s it?”

“Well,” you stutter and stumble over your words as he walks over to you with a cloth and some alcohol. “Yes,” you finally land on.

He tips the bottle over, soaking the cloth in the liquor. “Darlin’, I’ve seen death more times than I can count to. I don’t care about a little shoot-out. I only care about you bein’ alive.”

He presses the cloth to your wound and you jerk back, hissing in pain. He mutters small reassurances to you, soothing you like a bucking horse. “You mean that?” You ask through gritted teeth. 

He laughs a little, kneeling and smiling at you. “Kill as many men as you like, sweetheart, just don’t point that gun at me.” Despite the aching pain in your arm, you find yourself smiling back at him. 

The new spot for camp isn’t awful. The town nearby isn’t much to write home about. Two families have been feuding here since before the war. They haven’t seemed to fully accept this new society you live in. And you’re sure that their crops thrive on Braithwaite and Gray blood rather than water.

You weren’t allowed to go into town with Arthur and the others. None of the ladies were. Dutch had said that the people here wouldn’t react well to so many unmarried women. Especially not women like Karen. She hadn’t appreciated the dig, but she hadn’t argued with him. 

You found it difficult to follow along blindly to Dutch’s whims. Sometimes it feels like you just traded one master for another. Your father, then your husband, and now you can’t do anything without Arthur constantly running to Dutch to get his approval. As much as you’d like to pretend you have a newfound freedom, you know that Arthur will never leave the gang behind. Dutch has practically brainwashed him into a loyal soldier. So long as you love Arthur, you’re stuck under Dutch’s thumb- and he knows it. 

“I said go and get another slab. How hard is that?” Pearson’s voice carries through camp, his tone tight and irritated. Your brows furrow and you turn in your seat to see what he’s fussing about now. 

“It would be a lot easier if I wasn’t havin’ to fight with a goddamn fool the whole time!” Sadie picks up a slab of deer meat and hurls it at the man. He throws his hands up, just barely managing to catch it in time. 

You stifle a laugh, figuring you should have known what was causing him so much grief. Sadie’s been having to follow his every order ever since Dutch changed her over from Mrs. Grimshaw to Pearson. You know it’s driving her mad, same as you, to do nothing but cook and clean all day. 

Even when she was married she had gone out hunting and fishing with Jake. They’d always taken care of your land, they were never house servants. She only knows how to cook because she’d had a husband to take care of, not an entire camp. 

You place your book down on the table before you and get to your feet. You figure you should step in before this gets nasty. Again. You’re worried Sadie might actually stab the man. You can see them both considering it as you approach. Neither of them are happy with the arrangement. Pearson thought he was getting a quiet assistant and Sadie just plain hates him. 

“Mr. Pearson!” You call out before they can say anything else. You lift your hand in greeting and he grunts noncommittally. “If you wouldn’t mind, I need Sadie’s help with a task.”

Sadie’s lip curls up at him and he crosses his arms, leaning back like he has any power to hold over you. “Oh, yeah? What would that be?”

You glance away, eyes down like you’re flustered. Your hand hovers over your stomach and you grimace, “I’m afraid it may be more feminine in nature.” His face blanches and he turns back to the slab of meat before him. 

“Get.” He waves Sadie away and refuses to look at either of you. 

You grin at her, holding your arm out and nodding towards the trees around camp. She chuckles slightly, looping her arm through your own and following alongside you. With Dutch and most other men out of camp today, you can afford to explore a little further than you might normally be allowed. 

“Has he been giving you much grief?”

Sadie rolls her eyes with a scoff and sets you with a deadpan look. “What the hell do you think?” She doesn’t actually give you a chance to answer and continues with an angered tone. “He seems to be of the belief that women are of better use quiet and obedient.”

“Well,” you tilt your head in consideration and nod. “Most men think that. We haven’t yet reached a point in society where women hold much power, Sadie. Do you expect a group of outlaws to be fighting for our rights?”

“I don’t want none of them fightin’ for me. I just want to be able to take a ride, go huntin’,” she throws her hands up and sighs, “somethin’.”

You realize you do have a slight bit more freedom than she does. Arthur often takes you into towns with him or, at the very least, on some rides for space away from everyone. She’s been holed up with all these strange people since they first rescued you. You purse your lips and give her a sympathetic look. 

You lead her further towards the grove of trees and hope some new scenery will help her calm down. 

Arthur’s white button-down shirt lay across your lap. Needle in hand, you check it over to make sure you didn't miss any holes or tears. Satisfied with your efforts, you get to your feet and walk towards Arthur’s tent. 

You don’t sew or fix anything up for the others unless they’re willing to pay. You find yourself doing this naturally for Arthur, without telling him. You're not sure if it’s because your finishing school teacher had ingrained into you the good qualities of a wife, or it’s simply because you want to. 

Part of you will always resent the fact that you can’t recognize your own actions versus your training. You try to keep those thoughts at bay most days, but sometimes, when you do something like this, it’s a little more difficult. 

Orange light glares into your eyes and you lift a hand to block it. Peering through one eye, you watch as the sinking sun sets against the horizon. Orange, red, and pink swirl and dance around each other to create a scene so perfect it almost doesn’t feel real. 

It makes you think of Arthur, of how he would draw it. He’s incredibly gifted with art, even if he won’t admit it. Even with a piece of charcoal, he manages to capture the life of the animals he sees or the people around him. 

After working a few odd jobs in camp, writing a letter for someone or doing some tailoring, you have some meager savings. You’ve been considering buying Arthur a proper drawing kit. You’re sure it would be foolish to spend it all on him, but you’d think he’d like it. 

The people in camp only think he’s good for shooting and providing muscle. As much as they care about him, they don’t see the value in some of his finer skills. And you know it affects him. Anytime you catch a glimpse of one of his drawings he immediately starts tearing his work apart, always calling it trash and a waste of time. You wish that he could see the beauty of his creativity like you do. But a skill like that isn’t rewarded around here and you know he’ll never truly understand just how much more he’s capable of than what he’s been told. 

Your gaze moves from the setting sun to the table in his tent. His journal rests on the edge and you frown. He doesn’t normally leave it behind. Reaching forward, you snag it off the edge and tuck it under his pillow. There are a lot of nosy people in camp, you doubt he’d want anyone getting their hands on it. While you fuss with that, you notice the picture on his table. Or lack thereof. 

It’s been a while since you’ve paid attention to the interior of his tent. Most of the time you’re here, you’re focused on him. But you can’t help and snoop, just a little. The picture of his mother is still there, along with a folded-up one of the gang. But the picture he used to keep of his former lover is gone. 

Curious, you take the shirt and turn towards the chest at the end of his cot. You bend over slightly, undoing the buckles and propping the edge up. 

You lay the shirt flat, straightening out any wrinkles, and your hand accidentally slips toward the turned-over picture frames beside his clothes. You lift the first one and find another one of his mother. Pursing your lips, you debate if you should dig any further. Glancing over your shoulder, you don’t notice anyone watching you or coming close. You bend over a little more and rifle through another frame. 

There it is- the picture of the woman buried beneath the rest. You don’t blame him for keeping it. You know how much she meant to him. You’re just curious as to why he went so far as to bury it below the rest. 

Someone clears their throat behind you and you let out a squeak, slamming the lid of the chest shut. You whip around and find Arthur leaning against the post of his tent. “Arthur,” you're breathless as you clutch at your chest, not having even expected him back in camp yet. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“No,” he lets out an amused huff, “I don’t imagine you did.” He nods towards his chest and you flush with guilt. “What’re you doin’ in there?”

You tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear and shrug innocently. “Just putting away a shirt I fixed up for you.” He moves away from the post and takes a slow step towards you. 

“And that’s all?” He looks completely serious, as though he’s about to start interrogating you, but you can hear the slight tease lingering at the end of his words. 

“Yes,” you lie, “that’s all.”

“Alright,” he stops in front of you and chuckles a little. “I’ll pretend to believe that. How ‘bout next time you want somethin’, you just come to me?” You nod your head and he steps around you. He takes his hat off and places it on the table, running his hands through his hair. 

“Actually,” you grin at him as he turns around, “there is somethin- wait, what is that?” You demand, pointing to the deputy’s badge on his shirt. 

He glances down with a sigh and rolls his eyes. “Bill went and got us deputized. Don’t know how, but Dutch seems to think it’s best if we want to stay here.” You try not to sigh at the mention of Dutch. He’s been getting stricter ever since the incident in Valentine and Arthur’s obeying him like a leashed dog. It’s beyond frustrating. 

“I can’t believe they gave you all badges,” you can’t help but laugh. The sheriff has got to be touched in the head to have looked at those men and thought they were anything but outlaws. 

“Buncha fools,” Arthur grumbles. He sees the look on your face, the way you bite your lip to keep any more laughter from escaping, and sighs. “Quit laughin’ at me, woman. What was I supposed to do? Say no?” You shake your head mutely and he rolls his eyes. “What did you want?”

“Right,” you clear your throat and let out one last huff of laughter before straightening up. “I need you to do a favor for me. Sadie’s been itching to get away from camp, especially from that old bastard Pearson. Could you take her out for me, tomorrow, or sometime soon? I’m worried she’s going to drive a knife through his skull if we don’t deal with this.

Arthur doesn’t look convinced, eyes narrowed and head tilted in a way that makes you think he’s going to say no. You risk a step forward, taking his hand in your own and pulling him close. “Oh, please, Arthur. It would mean the world to me.”

His eyes meet yours, and you widen them, giving him your best pleading look. He holds out for a minute longer than you thought he would before letting out a rough sigh. “Alright, alright, fine. But she better not cause any damn trouble, she’s got a worse temper than Bill.”

You can’t promise she won’t, so you just lean up and press a kiss to his cheek in thanks. He rolls his eyes and takes your chin between his fingers. He tilts your face up towards his, narrowing his eyes at you, “Come on, give me a real kiss,” you smile slightly and wind your arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet you halfway. You suppose there are worse ways to have to pay him back. 

Arthur and Sadie were both out on a supply run before you even woke up. By the time you’re properly dressed and cleaned, you can see the wagon cresting over the hill. Your eyes widen with alarm when you see Sadie with the reins, driving the horses even worse than you do. 

You know she’s driven a wagon before. You think she might just be trying to give Arthur a heart attack. You can hear them shouting at each other from where you stand and you snicker. You wonder if those two were separated at birth or something, they get along about as bad as most siblings you know. 

You go over to Arthur’s tent and rifle through his bullets until you find a few extra for the revolver in your holster. Eventually, you’ll have to start buying your own supplies. But he doesn’t seem to mind much. Either that or he hasn’t caught on yet.

You load the bandolier on your hip and walk out to meet them as they return. Sadie doesn’t quite park the wagon in time, nearly taking out Bill’s tent as she drives them back into camp. “Enough!” Arthur barks, ripping the reins out of her hands. “I am never lettin’ you drive again.”

“Didn’t know you were such a coward, Arthur,” she taunts, hopping out of the wagon. You find yourself grinning when you see the clothes she’s sporting. Pants, a new hat, and some fresh boots. You’re sure Dutch won’t appreciate her use of camp funds but you applaud her latest show of rebellion. 

You round the horses to greet Arthur as he gives Sadie a bewildered look. She hauls a sack of flour out of the back and tosses it at Pearson’s feet. “Have fun?” You ask airily as you greet him. 

He whirls around on you and points an accusing finger towards you. “I said no trouble.”

“She couldn’t have been that bad,” you admonish, swatting his hand away. 

He purses his lips in irritation and crosses his arms. “She nearly killed me drivin’ back. Women can’t drive!” You gape at him as he hops out of the wagon and begins storming towards his tent. “They can’t!” He shouts and you gasp, face twisted in a bewildered smile. 

“Arthur!” You admonish, chasing after him. He shakes his head, not looking at you. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, looking for all the world like a madman. “Think I don’t remember how you drove when we came down from the mountains?”

“You broke the wheel,” you throw back at him. With his shoulders nearly up to his ears, he continues his stubborn march towards his tent. “Oh, Arthur, come on.” You catch up with him and dart in front of him so he can’t get around you.  

“How about a ride to calm you down?” He looks to Sadie and then back at the wagon with a sickened look and you laugh. “On the horses,” you laugh and grab his arm, dragging him to Diablo and Lady. “Sadie ain’t the only one feeling cooped up,” you tell him. 

His low sigh sounds a little apologetic but you hadn’t meant anything against him. It was Dutch keeping you under lock and key. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. But we can’t risk too many of us bein’ seen.”

“Dutch can’t risk it, you mean,” you grab onto the saddle’s horn and swing up, glancing down at him. 

He frowns, mounting Diablo with more grace than you can manage. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You bat your lashes and shrug, leading Lady towards the edge of camp. “Nothing really, just that it seems to be Dutch forcing us all to lay low.” You take the lead through the trees, ducking underneath a few low-hanging branches. “No one else seems to be as worried, or even know what’s going on out here.”

Arthur slows down and you’re forced to match his gait if you want to hear what he says. You turn back in your saddle and give him a questioning look. He’s looking at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It’s distant like he’s gazing at someone closer to a stranger than a lover. 

“You’re doubtin’ Dutch?” His voice is low, tone giving nothing away to you. 

“Well,” Lady shifts restlessly underneath you, seemingly sensing the change in your mood. “Not doubting per se. I just don’t think things are as dangerous as he makes them out to be. It just seems to be-”

“Do I need to remind you how you got that scar on your arm?” Arthur snaps, pointing towards the slight bullet wound left behind by Cornwall’s men. You blanch as he nudges Diablo forward, quickly surpassing you. 

“No Arthur, I think I remember getting shot at pretty damn well.” You’re getting angry now too, you really hadn’t meant much by the comment. But he had to realize how out of proportion Dutch was making everything feel. The “threats” surrounding you, the grand plan of escape, it was all too magnificent. 

“Look, you can’t be questionin’ Dutch like that. If we stop trustin’ each other or start turnin’ on each other, it’s all gonna fall apart faster than you can blink.” He slows slightly so you can catch up with him but it doesn’t seem as natural as it normally does. 

“That’s not what I was trying to imply Arthur. I’ve been in camp for too long. The world outside seems so distant to me. It’s just hard to believe we’re in any real danger.” You try to downplay what you said. Pretend you hadn't been suggesting exactly what he’s accusing you of. Playing the ditzy little lady used to get you out of trouble in the past, but now, he sees right through you. 

“Well, we are,” he snaps, “and you’d do your best to remember that. Just because you can’t see it, don’t mean it’s not real.” There’s a sense of finality to his words that tells you the conversation’s over. Whatever hope you’d had of a peaceful ride is gone. 

It’s a difficult pill to swallow, knowing no matter how much you care for Arthur, he’ll always pick Dutch over you. And worse, he’ll pick Dutch over saving himself. He’ll never understand just how much he’s worth, or how much he means to everyone around him. He’s a martyr through and through. Always prepared to make a sacrifice, even when it’s not needed.  

You tighten your grip around Lady’s reigns, eyes cast down as you follow along silently beside him. He leads you onto the path towards town and you wonder if you should just head back. You could lie, say you’re feeling sick, and be done with him for now. 

You’re already upset by how the day’s turned, no point in prolonging either of your misery. “Arthur,” you call out. He hums, turning slightly, just barely facing you. “I’m going to go back to camp.” 

He pulls on Diablo’s reins, turning him around so he can properly face you. “I thought you wanted to get out?” He asks, sounding on edge and a little snappy. 

You shrug dismissively, not bothering with an excuse. “Changed my mind-”

“Told you it’d be worth a pretty penny,” your brows furrow as a strong Irish accent starts talking a little further up the path. It sounds startlingly familiar.

“Those wagons are always worth the trouble,” Arthur’s quick to ride up beside you. He doesn’t hesitate as he takes Lady’s reins out of your hand and leads you both off the path. You’re silent as you follow him off the safety of the trail. He tucks you both behind some trees. You have just enough coverage that they can’t see you but you can still see them. 

There’s a sharp pain slicing up and down your back the closer the Irishmen get. You hiss through your teeth, shifting uncomfortably as they continue to talk. Arthur keeps his head low, hat tilted down and you follow suit. They pass by without much fuss and Arthur picks his head back up to watch them go. 

“O’Driscolls,” he curses and the painful familiarity suddenly makes sense. “We need to tell Dutch,” he says, already making his way back to camp. You follow him without much argument, as eager to get back as he is. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, toiling in hurt the whole way. You know Dutch has instilled a paternal familiarity into Arthur but it hurts knowing the man you chose will always choose someone else. 

Pearson’s ambling back into camp just as you and Arthur arrive. You’re tempted to just go back to your tent but you follow Arthur, knowing he’ll probably need someone else to back up what he saw. “Dutch!” He calls out, interrupting whatever scheming conversation he’d been having with Micah. 

Dutch walks towards you both, Micah following slightly behind, coughing into the crook of his elbow. You grimace at the wet, choking noise. He’s been looking worse and worse everyday. The circles under his eyes are so dark he looks like he’s been knocked across the face.

“Something the matter, Arthur?” Dutch asks, eyes briefly darting to you before looking back at Arthur. 

“Saw somethin’ out on the road.” You cross your arms, mind drifting as you wait to be called into the conversation. You’re roughly jarred out of your reverie as a strong, clammy hand lands on your shoulder so suddenly you’re nearly dragged to the ground. 

The smell of sweat and moonshine sours your nose and nearly makes you gag as Pearson leans against you. “Gost ‘ome news,” he slurs, eyes barely open as he gestures vaguely towards Dutch. 

You struggle under his weight, doing your damndest not to fall into the mud. Arthur frowns and knocks Pearson’s arm off your shoulder. “Get off ‘er, you damn fool,” he grabs him by the bicep, roughly jerking him straight and relying on his strength to keep them both upright. 

“Now, Mr. Pearson, Mr. Morgan, I believe you both have news to share. Seeing as Mr. Pearson is close to toppling over into the mud, he can go first.” Arthur’s lips purse in irritation but he says nothing, only shakes Pearson to wake him back up. 

“Met ‘ome fine mens in the bar. O’durshels, wanna purl.” You narrow your eyes at him and your face twists with confusion. You’re not the only one, the other men around you already look tired of having to deal with Pearson’s inebriated state. 

Sadly, years spent married to a drunkard means you’ve learned the language of liquor quite well. “He met some O’Driscolls in a bar, they want to parley,” you translate, looking to Dutch. 

His brows set with something you don’t recognize and Arthur scoffs. “It’s a damn trap.”

“‘Course it is,” Micah snaps. “Don’t mean we can’t use it to our advantage.”

Arthur drops Pearson’s arm and the man goes tumbling face-first into the mud. He takes a menacing step towards Micah who only grins up at him. “We’d be a bunch of fools to go anywhere near this.”

“Arthur,” Dutch barks his name out like an order and Arthur pauses, still leering over Micah. “I believe Mr. Bell might be right.”

“Oh,” you glare at him, smiling with disbelief. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? Those men are bastards,” you spit the word out with venom you didn’t know you possessed and step towards Dutch. Micah darts forward, protecting him like you’d actually try something. 

“Arthur,” Dutch warns lowly, intense stare set on you. Your skin crawls with the weight of his gaze. You feel like he’s pulling you to pieces, digging around to see which parts of you are weakest. He doesn’t have to say anything more, Arthur walks forward. He’s gentle as he grabs your arm, but he leaves no room for argument as he leads you away from Dutch. 

“Arthur,” you admonish. “You can’t be thinking about this.”

“I’m not,” he mutters, glancing over his shoulder at Dutch. “But I ain’t got a choice.”

You laugh in disbelief and shake your head at him as he parks you beside his tent. “Of course you do. You’ve got the same choice as any of us. Just say no.” You’re praying that he sees sense, that he doesn’t go along with what is a clear trap. 

He only shakes his head and turns back towards Dutch. You should have known. Even if he knows there’s danger, he’ll ride in headfirst so long as someone else doesn’t get hurt. You feel something like disgust twisting you up and irritating the anger already present. 

You look towards Dutch and he’s already got his eyes on you. He doesn’t wear it plainly, but you see the satisfaction on his face as Arthur comes to stand beside him and leaves you. As if you were ever a threat to his authority. 

You turn away from them all, unwilling to watch them ride off as you storm back toward your tent. If they want to go be a bunch of fools, so be it. It’s not your business what mistakes men make with their freedom. 

It’s Sadie that wakes you, her hand on your shoulder, shoving you insistently. Your eyes are slow to flutter open, your mind racing to remember where you are and who you’re with. “What?” You slur, one eye open as you try to orient yourself. 

“They’re back,” she hisses, tossing away the blanket and getting to her feet. You sit up slowly, hands landing in your lap as you let your head sink between your shoulders. You listen to Sadie’s rushed footsteps as she runs away from the tent. 

You’re moving slowly as you rub your eyes, trying to force yourself awake. Whose back?

You try to remember the events of the day and then the realization hits you like ice. Your heart palpitates as you scramble to get up. You chase after Sadie, feet bare in the mud as you run to the entrance of the camp. You’re not looking to give Arthur a happy welcome back, you just want to make sure he’s okay. 

You see The Count’s white head parting through the trees first, then Baylock. You come up behind Sadie, peering around her to see if you can spot Diablo through the trees. You know it’ll be hard with his striking black coat, but you figure you’ll manage some hint of him, even through the dark. 

Dutch and Micah are slow as they amble up to you. Your brows furrow and there’s an intuitive gnawing feeling in the back of your mind. John comes out of his tent at the sound of hooves, moving to stand beside you. A few others join the welcoming party but you’re not paying any attention to them.

You move away from Sadie and take a step closer to the men now broaching the perimeter of camp. Your hand balls into the fabric of your night dress and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize they’re riding back alone. 

Red-hot anger hits you like a hammer knocking a blade into place. You run towards Dutch, not even waiting for him to be fully off his saddle before you start hollering at him. “Where is he? Did he have to stay behind? What’s going on?” 

Dutch holds his hands up, lips curled back in irritation as he skirts around you. “There were some complications,” Micah snipes as he jumps down from his horse. His lips are twisted up, humor coating his rotten voice. 

Your chest heaves with panic, heart tapping an odd pitter-patter as you try and process what the hell that means. 

“Complications!” You shout, uncaring for the way the others are staring at you. “Where the hell is Arthur?” Dutch tries to walk away from you, giving you a bewildered sort of look. He’s looking at you like you’re some sort of ranting madman wandering in from the woods. You may be ankle-deep in mud, wearing nothing but a nightgown, but you are not crazy. And you will not let him treat you like you are. 

You shoot forward and shove at the back of his shoulder. You catch him off guard and he stumbles slightly. You reach for him but Micah rushes forward, snatching up your left wrist before you can try again. You don’t see anything but red as you whip around and snap your hand as hard as you can against his cheek. 

You hear the sound your skin makes against his, see the bright burning mark on his face, but you feel no sting. You rip your wrist out of his hold and turn back towards Dutch. “You wicked little-”

“You left him, didn’t you?” You interrupt Micah’s low-brow insult and wait for Dutch to answer. He’s got a surprised look on his face as he takes you in. As if he hadn’t expected you to do anything but sit back and obey. 

His silence is the only answer you need as he tries to turn away from you again. “After everything he’s done for you! You just leave him!” You sound more heartbroken than he looks and it’s devastating. He left him to the mercies of O’Driscolls and he doesn’t seem to care at all. 

“We didn’t leave him!” Dutch shouts, voice cracking slightly. He snatches up your arm, dragging you away from Micah and trying to isolate you from the others. He’s pulling you to his tent, trying to keep you silent so you don’t cause a big scene in front of the rest of camp. You won’t let him do this, you refuse to let him keep his perfect mask of the unfaltering leader. 

You dig your feet into the ground and feel the cold wet rush of mud filtering around your legs as he tries to drag you forward. “This is childish,” he snaps, glaring at you and letting your arm go. You know there’ll be a nasty purple bruise where he’d held you but you could care less right now. 

“You didn’t leave him? What the hell do you call this?” You gesture around wildly, not fully comprehending that this isn’t just one bad dream. “You don’t understand the cruelty of those men. What you just left him to-”

“Excuse me?” Dutch’s voice is low now, no longer is he shouting. Instead, he stalks towards you in two easy steps. 

“Easy,” John warns, coming up behind you both. 

Neither of you pay him any mind. You take a step closer, nearly nose to nose with Dutch, refusing to be intimidated by him. “This isn’t your fight, Mrs. Rowe. These aren’t your people, how dare you-”

“Arthur is my people,” you interrupt, voice a deadly whisper. “How dare you leave him. Fearsome Dutch Van der Linde,” you taunt and his nostrils flair at your impudence, “can’t even keep his people safe. Tell me, if you’re such a great leader, a man who’s always got a plan- what is it? What is your great plan? How are you going to get my Arthur back from this?”

Dutch’s face blanches and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen anything genuine appear. He almost looks concerned. And not for himself or his image, but for Arthur. It makes you hesitate for a moment, startling a step back from him with a furrow between your brows. 

“I’ve got a plan,” he whispers, eyes wide like he’s trying to convince himself. He turns and looks at the rest of the gang, most of them having woken up while you’d been shouting. “I have got a plan!” He yells, turning back towards his tent and storming off. 

Micah follows behind him, shoulder slamming into yours as he passes. You grunt, tripping forward and glaring at his back. You wouldn’t mind putting a bullet between that bastard’s eyes. 

Your mind races with everything the O’Drsicolls had put you and Sadie through. Your skin crawls with the way their hands and weapons had felt against you. You swallow the bile in your throat and turn towards the horses. 

John is right behind you, having been lurking at the edges of your and Dutch’s fight. “Where’re you goin’?” He asks with a tired sigh. 

“Where do you think?” You snap, reaching for Lady. 

Charles calls out your name and you turn to see him standing behind John with Hosea. Out of everyone in camp, you’d think these would be the three men joining you, not trying to stop you like they clearly are. 

You scoff in disbelief, a sardonic smile on your face. “That's it?” you demand, a disgusted glare directed at each of them. “You’re just going to abandon him too?”

“We’re not abandoning him,” Hosea objects, taking a step closer. You flinch away from him and he frowns. “You don’t know these men-”

“The hell I don’t! I’ve got the scars from what they did to me. I barely survived it.” Hosea winces away from your words. 

“Dutch has a plan,” he tells you, but it doesn’t even sound like he believes himself. “We just need to wait.”

“What’re you going to do?” Charles adds, and it feels remarkably like they’re circling you, herding you away from your horse. “You don’t even have a gun and you’re just going to ride into an O’Driscoll camp.”

“I will,” you tell him, all the sincerity in the world backing you up. 

“And you’ll get yourself killed,” John snaps. “I want them dead just as bad, but you are only going to get yourself hurt or caught. We only need some time, we’re not abandoning him. But we can’t just go in guns blazin’.”

“When has that ever stopped any of you?” You snap. You feel all your anger, all your determination, slip right out through the bottom of your bare feet. You know from their faces there’s going to be no arguing with them. They’re just as bad as Arthur, just as blind. 

They truly believe that Dutch has any clue what he’s doing. How could you possibly be the only one to see the truth of what he is? He’s a conman, decorated as a friend, father, brother, leader. He takes whatever form he wants and he knows how to use it against those around him. There’s no plan, there’s no grand escape to some tropical paradise. 

“You’re not leaving tonight,” Charles tells you and you wish you had the energy to cry. You want to weep for Arthur. Here stood the people he would sacrifice himself for, and they aren’t going to kill a few O’Driscolls to save him. 

You let them lead you back to your tent and look toward the horizon. You’re not going to be allowed to leave this camp. And even if there was a plan to rescue Arthur, you’d never be told of it. All you can do is wait. 

You stay up all night, sitting by the fire and forcing yourself to tolerate the feeling of Charles watching you the whole time. You don’t know what it is that makes you look away from the flames and towards the trees, but something pulls at you. 

As the sun crests the horizon, you place your cup of coffee down and turn. Over your shoulder, barely visible, a horse struggles along the path. You squint, head tilting this way and that so you might be able to better make out what it is. You get to your feet and hear Charles follow you. 

“Oh, god,” you gasp, making a run for the horse just as the rising sun illuminates it. Arthur is slumped over Diablo’s head, blood soaked through his shirt. You don’t make it to him before he slips off the saddle and lands in the mud. Diablo stands over him, nosing at his neck and cheek. 

Charles races behind you as you slide into the mud, hands roving over Arthur’s chest until you find the burned-over wound on his shoulder. You press your fingers to his throat, holding your breath while you pray to feel the beat of life within him still. 

“Oh, thank god,” you whisper when you feel the faintest thud against the tip of your fingers. Charles kneels beside you and you both throw an arm over your shoulders, lifting Arthur to his feet. “Susan!” You scream the old lady's name until you see her stumble out of her tent. 

A few of the other’s still awake all stand, Dutch included. “He needs help!” You shout, Charles helping you drag him towards her. 

“Bring him over here!” She shouts, clearing off Arthur’s cot and motioning for you to lay him down. You stumble under Arthur’s weight, ankle rolling the wrong way as you struggle to keep up his limp body. Charles helps as much as he can but you can barely stay standing. Dutch runs over to you, you share a brief look before he slips Arthur’s arm off your shoulder and carries him the rest of the way to Mrs. Grimshaw. 

You turn towards the tent of women and by now they’re all up, watching everything with wide horrified eyes. “Tilly, help me,” you demand, rushing towards the water boiling for Pearson’s stew. She snaps into action, racing behind you and passing you a cloth to lift the scalding pot off the fire. You both carry it over to Mrs. Grimshaw and she barely spares you a glance, too focused on Arthur. 

You can’t look at him for too long, can’t bear to face the way his eyes stare up at nothing. He looks too much like the corpses you’ve seen. But you know you felt life inside him. You couldn’t have made something like that up. 

Mrs. Grimshaw slices through his shirt and hisses at what she sees. You move past Dutch and peer over her shoulder with Tilly. “Oh, you fool,” she mutters. You shake your head when you see what he’s done to his shoulder. You know he did the best with what he had, but gunpowder is a risky move to close up a bullet hole. 

If you’re not careful with how you treat his wound, it’s more than likely to get infected. Besides the gunshot, judging from the bruises on his body, you can tell he was beaten to within an inch of his life. He’d barely been there a day and they’d nearly killed him. If what they’d done to you wasn’t reason enough to want the O’Drsicolls dead, this was. 

“Susan,” Dutch whispers and he sounds so disappointed, “sit by him. Take care of him. Keep him alive.” You refuse to look at Dutch, dipping a cloth into the purified water and wringing it out. You pass it to Susan who only nods her head. 

Tilly draws the tent flaps closed, pushing Dutch the rest of the way out. Susan presses the cloth gently to the area around Arthur’s wound and his shoulder jerks slightly. “He’s burned himself up,” Tilly mutters, rooting through his supply trunk and ripping up some of his clean shirts for extra cloth. 

“Closed up the wound,” Susan mutters, “but we’ll need to watch for infection.” Her hand drifts down his chest, pressing down on one of the purple and yellow splotches along his ribs. His eyes shoot open for a moment, a pained groan coming from his cracked lips. 

“Broken rib?” You ask, rooting around in his table for some of the ointment Hosea had made for him. She hums an affirmative and you hear Tilly rip up some more cloth for binding. 

“It’s gonna be a long night, you best listen to every damn thing I tell you,” Susan snaps, not taking her eyes off of Arthur. You nod your head silently, pulling out the tin of salve and presenting it to her. Your eyes drift towards Arthur and you let out a shuddering breath, not willing to look at his broken form for more than a few moments. 

Susan helped the most the first night Arthur was back. It was because of her that he made it. Tilly and you assisted her the best you could. But she had the knowledge only a doctor should as she staved the infection away from his wound. 

She wasn’t capable of a miracle, but this seemed damn close. Still, even with all the work you’d put in, someone had to stay by his side at night, make sure he didn’t slip away quietly. You volunteered yourself, opting to let them watch him during the day while you slept. 

His recovery was a slow one. You have to make sure his ribs are wrapped tight enough to encourage them to heal again. You need to ensure he doesn’t flip around in his sleep and do any more damage to himself. More importantly, you have to do everything you can to keep his fever down. 

Despite the heat of the day, it seems worse at night. Sweat soaks through his clothes and blankets, he’s constantly twitching with shivers. You try and make sure the cloth along his brow stays cool, but he seems to heat them up like a fire. 

There’s no puckering green skin around his wound, none of you can figure out where the infection is stemming from. You don’t have the medicine he needs to fight it, only sheer will and prayer. 

You lean forward in your chair, pressing the back of your chilled fingers to his cheek. Same as the night before, it’s hot to the touch. You’re surprised your skin doesn’t sizzle as it touches his. His breaths come in short pants as you slip the cloth off his head and dip it into the bucket of water beside you. You wring it out and place it gently along his brow again. 

Standing, you perch yourself on the edge of his cot and peel back the bandages on his shoulder. It sticks slightly to the skin, yellowed and bloody as the skin works to heal itself. He’d done the best he could with the gunpowder, but all it had done was stop you from getting below the surface and healing what needed it. 

Your eyes are fighting to stay open after being awake all night. You know the sun will rise soon, that you’ll have an opportunity for rest. But you haven’t been able to sleep well, not since he was brought back. You nearly drift off and then you think of him dying while you’re dozing away. 

He might have made it through the first night, but there are no promises with things like this. Your hand slips into his and you let out a heavy sigh. You take in his sallow face, the gauntness of his cheeks, the circles under his eyes. His beard has grown longer than you’ve ever seen it, his hair nearly reaches his shoulders. You don’t recognize this beaten man below you. This isn’t the Arthur you know. 

You squeeze his rough hand in yours, “You better not stop fighting, you stubborn bastard.”  You feel a familiar burn in the back of your throat and look away from him, choking down your tears. You can’t cry over him again. You’ve done it so often your eyes have run dry. 

Just as you’re about to get up to leave, his hand twitches ever so slightly in yours. Your brows furrow and you glance down at his hold on you. It was nearly imperceptible, a barely there movement. You watch his arm carefully, seeing if anything else happens. When he doesn’t move again you dismiss it as your mind playing tricks on you. 

Again, almost as if he knows you’re going to leave him, his hand twitches. This time, you can’t dismiss it as a reflex or simply something your addled brain has conjured up. The movement is deliberate, purposeful, as if he’s trying to hold on to you in every way he can. His fingers squeeze your palm weakly, and a sharp gasp escapes your lips.

“Arthur?” you breathe, voice trembling as your heart skips a beat. You turn back to his face, ragged and pale, the shadow of the man he once was. But there’s something in the faint wrinkle of his brow and the uneven parting of his lips. It’s the most life you’ve seen in him in days.

You’re practically shaking as you move further up the cot. You stick yourself as close to his side as you can. “Oh, Arthur?” you plead, leaning closer, searching desperately for any sign that he’s still fighting. A low mutter slips from his cracked lips, the sound so faint it’s almost lost in the silence. You freeze, straining to hear, your breath caught in your throat.

You’re so close you can feel the shallow rise and fall of his chest against yours. His lips move again, his ribs quaking with effort. It’s a whisper, barely audible, but you hear a cracked version of your name slip through his lips. 

This is the most you’ve gotten from him in days. There had been moments where, as hard as it was to accept, you’d begun to realize he could be dying. His lips move again and if you weren’t watching him so intently, you might have missed it.

Your heart shatters and mends all at once. “Arthur,” you choke, nearly crying with relief. Your body slumps over his with the relief that he’s not been lost to you yet. You clutch your hand in his as though sheer will can keep him with you. For a moment, the unbearable weight of your fear is lifted.

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, as you press your forehead against his. “You’re still here,” you whisper, more to yourself than to him. “Just keep fighting for me.”

He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t have the strength, but his fingers twitch again, his grip just a little firmer. It’s enough for you. You hold on to him like he’s your lifeline, and in a way, he is. You can’t let him go, not now. “I’m here, Arthur,” you promise, voice shaking but just steady enough for him to understand you. “I’m not going anywhere. Just, don’t leave me. Please.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a flicker of hope in the darkness. It’s fragile, so fragile, but it’s there.

It doesn’t take long for Arthur to start coming back around. Most nights, he’s still groggy and spends more time asleep than awake, but the fever has broken, and that’s enough for you.

You no longer go to sleep every night worrying he won’t be there in the morning. Now, when you check on his tent, you find him waiting for you, even if it’s with little more than a tired glance and a hoarse word or two. Tonight is one of those nights. He doesn’t have much energy for anything beyond picking at some stew and lying down, but you don’t mind.

You stay by his side, fussing over him as you fluff the pillows behind his head. He’d teased you the other day, comparing your fretting to Mrs. Grimshaw. You’d laughed, too relieved he felt well enough to joke to take offense. The memory makes you smile as you smooth the blankets over him.

“Quit,” he mutters weakly, swatting at your hands.

“Oh, hush,” you retort, tone light as you sit back down in the chair by his cot.

His hand catches your wrist before you can settle. When you glance down, you find him peeking up at you through one half-lidded eye, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“Come on,” he mumbles, tugging gently.

“Arthur, I’m fine right here,” you reply, hesitating. His cot isn’t exactly spacious, and you’re worried about jostling him or hurting his still-healing ribs.

He doesn’t answer, just tugs again with what little strength he has.

“Oh, alright.” You laugh slightly and shake your head. “You’re so stubborn,” you grumble, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. Carefully, you climb onto the cot, curling into the space he makes for you on his good side. His head tucks into the crook of your neck, his arm settling around your waist like it belongs there.

You comb your fingers through his hair absentmindedly, thinking that maybe you’ll cut it for him when he’s stronger. His breathing slows against you, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s nearly asleep when he rasps out a question, voice muffled against your shoulder.

“Why didn’t they come?” He rasps against your shoulder, nearly asleep as he asks.

Your hands still in his hair, and the quiet around you feels suddenly heavy. His arm tightens around your waist, as though he senses your hesitation. You close your eyes and draw in a shaky breath.

How are you supposed to answer that?

You could tell him the same tired promises Dutch fed you, that there was a plan, that he was never really abandoned. But you’ve been here, tending to him alone for days. You’ve watched Dutch only appear when Arthur’s too far gone to notice, his visits perfunctory and brief. And you know, deep down, what Arthur would never admit, if he keeps believing Dutch’s lies, it’ll kill him.

You swallow hard and take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “Arthur,” you whisper, voice trembling but firm enough to hold his attention. “You’ve given Dutch everything, and he left you there. He left you to die.”

You hear him exhale, a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. His grip on your hand loosens just slightly, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” you continue, leaning closer so your words sink in. “I just- I need you to know the truth. He’s not the man you think he is. He never was. Please, Arthur, when you’re strong enough, tell me we’ll get away. We’ll leave this all behind before it’s too late.”

You fall silent, letting your words settle in the quiet. He doesn’t respond, his breaths deepening as sleep overtakes him again.

You tighten your hold on his hand and rest your forehead against his temple. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, your voice breaking. “You deserve better.”

You doubt he’ll remember this when he wakes, and maybe that’s best. But you had to say something, you had to try. It feels wrong, though, to try and twist Arthur’s loyalty. You’ve barely had a chance to know either of them the way they know each other. 

Still, you can’t shake what you’ve seen. Dutch’s words, his cleverly painted lies, they turn into nooses, and he’s got a rope around everyone in camp. You know his kind, once he sinks his claws into someone, there’s no letting go. 

You glance down at Arthur’s face, softened and unguarded in sleep, and your chest tightens. He deserves to be free of Dutch. At the very least, he deserves to see the truth and to live for himself instead of chasing someone else’s dreams. 

Doubt still creeps alongside you. Did you have a place to say anything at all? 

You brush a hand through Arthur’s hair one more time, listening to his breaths as they even out. Curling closer around him, you drift to sleep with your heart heavy, praying he sees the truth when he wakes. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

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bruised, but not broken

Sawyer Henrick x reader (peach!) words: 2.0k 🏷: pt5 for sawyer and peach, very mild iron flame spoilers, mild descriptions of injury, soft sleepy sawyer <3 (he's concussed and needs to be held, okay), second squad makes another appearance, peach has a mouth on her, peach getting distracted by his muscles, more will-they-won't-they (they will eventually, I promise), two updates in two days! that's a record for me. ok byeee

Tomorrow comes and goes with no sight of Sawyer or his friends. 

He wouldn’t have forgotten about you, especially not after all that ordeal yesterday with that piece of parchment that’s still burning a hole in your bookbag. Maybe they’re just busy training.

Yeah. Extra flight time, or something. Or they’re out in the woods again. But wouldn’t they have a healer with them, then? None of the third years are unaccounted for. Maybe the second time they send them without a healer, to make it more difficult — not that you really did anything for them when you were there, besides figure out that the two maps were different. 

You probably weren’t supposed to do that, but after passing by the same tree four times, it became abundantly clear to you that most of these city kids had never spent any time in the woods, and you just couldn’t help yourself.

You bring a hand up to hold the little flower charm between your fingers, taking a breath. He’s fine. He has to be fine. Just crack your knuckles and say a prayer, and he’ll be fine. 

The infirmary being full really isn’t helping you relax right now, either. Not when half of the patients are infantry cadets who have just returned from four days of camping in the woods, and James and his twin idiots could walk in at any time. You’ve had it up to here with one of them in particular, who has been mouthing off about how long he’s been waiting to be checked out for a tiny cut on his arm that would need one stitch, if any.

“They’ll get to you when they get to you, but keep whining like that and I will personally make sure you’re the last one to be seen today.” He starts to protest, but you cut him off. “Do I make myself clear?” you ask more firmly. He nods, looking sufficiently embarrassed. “Good. Now sit your ass down, and treat me and my classmates with some respect.”

The squad exchanges a look. “Has she always been like that?” Ridoc asks in a whisper.

“Only when I did something really stupid,” Sawyer replies, his eyes not leaving you. “I haven't seen her that mad since I pretended to drown in the river when we were sixteen.”

“That wasn’t funny then and it still isn’t now,” you chide, turning to face them. Your jaw drops at the sight of the two boys — and Rhiannon, too — all looking battered and bruised. 

“It’s worse than it looks,” Ridoc reassures, giving you a smile that stretches the purpling bruise on his left cheek.

“He means that it looks worse than it is,” Violet corrects from his side. She appears unscathed, but looks exhausted to the bone.

“Isn’t that what I said?”

You point down the hallway. “All of you, exam room, now.” The infantry cadet opens his mouth, but you silence him with your stare. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word out of you, kid.”

You exhale deeply as soon as the door is closed behind the five of you. “Sorry. It’s been a day.”

“All good,” Ridoc supplies. 

“Her first,” both of the boys say in unison, looking at Rhiannon. She doesn’t protest, sitting down in front of you and stripping off her flight jacket so you can take a proper look. 

The first thing you notice is that both of her wrists are circled with patches of raw, irritated skin. “What did they do to you, tie you up?” you ask, incredulous.

“Yeah,” she answers. “Handcuffs.”

“For what purpose?”

“Top secret rider stuff,” Ridoc answers around a yawn, and you see an identical mark on him as he lifts his hand to cover his mouth. “Torture training. But we broke ourselves out, ‘cause we’re the best.”

“Gods above,” you swear. “I don’t know how half of what they do to you guys is legal.”

“It really isn’t,” Violet answers tiredly, “but we signed up for it.”

It still doesn’t sit right with you, but you can’t do anything to change it. All you can do is keep patching them up the best you can.

“Ridoc, can you…”

“Gotcha.” He takes the small bowl from you, holding it under the tap, and the flow of water turns into several small chunks of ice.

“Thanks.”

He hums in response, taking one for himself and holding it to the split on his cheekbone.

“What’s your date of birth?” Violet asks quietly, pen in hand. She’d managed to swipe a handful of intake sheets off the counter without you noticing, and is sitting in the corner, dutifully filling them in for you. Scribe habits die hard, you suppose. Nobody will care as long as it’s your signature at the bottom certifying everything, especially when you’re so short-handed and the leadership has a dozen more important things to do than check it.

Ridoc looks deeply offended. “Ow, dude. You don’t know my birthday?” 

“April 23rd,” Sawyer answers for him, not looking up. He’s definitely got some sort of concussion — the unfocused look in his eyes and his unusually quiet, slow-blinking demeanor give it away.

“See? Somebody knows.”

“Only because you made a ginormous deal about it.”

“Excuse me for wanting to celebrate still being alive!”

The room falls silent. You’ve only heard a few things about their squadmates that had passed, but it’s obvious that they were all deeply affected by the losses.

“I didn't mean…” 

“We know,” Violet says gently, laying a hand on his arm. “It’s okay.”

There’s another moment of quiet before you pull back, assessing your work. “I think that’s about all I can do.”

“Thank you. It feels a lot better already.”

The squad sits quietly, not saying anything as you patch up Ridoc, then turn to Sawyer. “You guys can head back without me,” he says quietly. There’s a moment of hesitation from the others, but they exchange a look and silently decide it’s okay. 

“For the road,” you say, handing them each a tin of bruise salve and a small bottle of pain tonic — and some more stretchy bandages for Violet. “Get some rest if you can.”

They take their leave quietly, thanking you, and shut the door behind them, leaving just you, Sawyer, half a bowl of ice, and the pile of neatly written paperwork. He slowly gets up, moving to sit on the edge of the table — almost at eye level with you now. “Hi,” you say softly.

“Hi.” He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, blinking at you slowly.

You cradle his jaw in one hand, tilting his head up so you can look at his pupils — they’re equal and reactive, with no signs of permanent damage. The few days worth of stubble covering his jaw tickles your palm as he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. “M’ sorry for bailing on you,” he murmurs. “I really was going to come get you, I promise.”

“I know, sweet boy,” you soothe. “Don’t worry about it.”

He reaches out, pulling you closer and resting his head over your heart — and whining like a sad puppy when you don’t return the hug.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” you say gently. 

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbles. “C’mere.”

You wrap your arms around him loosely, resting a hand on his back and stroking up and down gently while you work the other into the hair at the back of his neck, gently massaging away some of the tension. He hums in contentment, settling against you and closing his eyes.

You’ve only seen him like this once, this clingy and sleepy, when he’d caught the world’s worst cold during harvest season and you were tasked with taking care of him while everyone else was out working. Of course you’d gotten the same cold from him, and then the roles were reversed. He would actually have made a decent healer. If only he were safe here with you all the time instead of risking his life every day doing gods-know-what in the name of preparing for war. 

“I worry about you, y’know. All of you,” you admit. 

“Don’t. We managed to escape a literal dungeon together.”

“I wish you hadn’t been there in the first place.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Me too.”

You feel your stress slowly start to drain away, replaced with the reassuring steadiness of his breathing and the soft tick of the clock. You can finally stop worrying about his name being on the death roll tomorrow.

He pulls back, looking up at you. “Can you check if one of my ribs is broken?”

Your eyes widen. “You really just let me — asked me to hug you, when you thought you had a broken rib?” He winces at your volume, and you apologize immediately. “Sorry, sorry. Take your jacket off?”

He complies, setting it on the table, then tugs his shirt over his head, and your jaw drops — both at the yellow-purple bruises across his chest and ribs, and the definition there. He’s always been lean, but the last year has really toned him. All the muscles you had to memorize the names of are on clear display. You pick them out one by one as your eyes rake over the exposed skin.

“Is it that bad?” he asks after a moment.

Busted. “No,” you stammer. “It’s not the worst I’ve seen. Can I…?”

“Go ahead.”

You lay your palm against his side, feeling for an obvious point of discomfort. His skin is warm to the touch, and the muscle has just the right amount of give to it. He’d be nice to cuddle with, among other things.

He inhales sharply, distracting you from your thoughts. “There?” you ask, prodding gently. “I think it’s just bruised. There’s no swelling or evidence of displacement.”

“Ah. And the other side?” he asks hoarsely, his cheeks flushed pink.

There’s no bruises or cuts on his other side, but you humor him anyway, moving your hand down his ribs. Five… six, seven, eight… nine, ten… “Turn a bit?” you prompt. 

You’re very grateful that he can’t see your face right now. You’d admired his chest, but his back… the expanse of his shoulders and the relic stretched across them, the thick lines of muscle there… Focus. Stop being a creep. He’s injured, for Amari's sake.

You smooth your hand over his side, finding the floating ribs… there. Eleven, twelve. “Nothing broken,” you manage. “Anything else to report?”

He shakes his head no. “Just sore.” He pulls his shirt back on, and it takes you every ounce of self control not to look disappointed as his skin is covered in the tattered black fabric. He looks you over like he’s assessing you for injury. “How are you doing? Any creepiness I missed out on when I was chained up?”

You wince at the mental image, but shake your head no. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. Are you going to be okay to get back on your own?”

“I thought I told you to stop worrying about me.”

“You did,” you answer. “But I’m not going to stop.”

He sighs. “You’ve always been stubborn like that.”

“I should probably get back out there, but if you want to lay down for a while, I can keep the door locked.”

He shakes his head, standing. “I’m gonna go shower, n’ probably sleep for the rest of the day.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Why are goodbyes with him always so awkward? You never know what to do, where you stand. You definitely aren’t in kiss territory. Maybe a cheek kiss, but that’s pushing it. You’ve settled for long hugs a few times, never knowing if it would be the last one you ever get.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “For patching me up.”

“Always,” you answer softly, looking up at him. “I’ll always be here for you. Just keep coming back to me, okay?”

“Always.”

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 18

MASTERLIST

Delilah leaned against the locker room bench, utterly drained. Her body ached in places she didn’t even know could hurt, and the weight of exhaustion pressed on her chest like a boulder. Last night had been… intense, to say the least. Between the altercation with Yandi, the stress of competition, and her “training” session in her room with Josh, she’d barely managed to scrape together two hours of sleep. Now, the morning tournament loomed over her like a cruel taskmaster, demanding strength she wasn’t sure she had left.

The locker room buzzed with quiet conversation as a few girls chatted in the corner. Their laughter felt distant and foreign, like it came from another world where people weren’t suffocating under the weight of expectations. Delilah couldn’t bring herself to join in—or even to care. If she could just survive this day without anyone bothering her, she’d consider it a victory.

She had just finished lacing up her boots when a voice cut through her solitude.

“You hear that Yandi got kicked out of the tournament?”

Delilah glanced up to see a young, dark-skinned woman, bright-eyed and confident, plop down beside her. The girl grinned, clearly expecting some kind of response, but Delilah’s exhaustion wouldn’t let her muster more than a faint shrug.

“Thanks, by the way,” the girl continued, undeterred. “That’s one less bitch to worry about.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Right,” she replied coolly, returning to her bag for a roll of tape. The news should have brought her some relief—Yandi had been an absolute menace to her—but right now, even relief felt like too much effort.

“I’m Temi,” the girl introduced herself, extending a hand into Delilah’s line of sight. When Delilah didn’t reciprocate, Temi simply cracked her knuckles and leaned back against the lockers. “Brrr, cold. Everyone knows she started the fight, so you can chill. You don’t gotta worry about that bitch no more.”

Before Delilah could respond, Temi stood and gave her a friendly pat on the back. “She was just jealous. She’s about the only girl in this locker room that hasn’t fucked a famous wrestler at some point.”

Delilah froze mid-wrap, her head snapping up to meet Temi’s smirking gaze. “Excuse me?”

Temi shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret, is it? You’ve been hanging out with Jey, right? People talk.”

Delilah’s stomach churned. “How do they even know that?”

Temi chuckled as two other girls sauntered over, joining the conversation. “You train with, what? Five, six other girls?” she asked. Delilah held up five fingers, her expression guarded. “And you’re the only one with a WWE contract? Bitches talk, babe, mostly out of jealousy. Then Jey shows up at your gym a couple of times? Somebody sees him around town? They've probably seen y'all together, too. People notice things.”

“And they connect the dots,” one of the other girls chimed in. “Or, you know, they make up their own dots. Doesn’t matter. Somebody’s always watching you now.”

That realization hit Delilah like a freight train. She’d known the spotlight would come with scrutiny, but this was different. It wasn’t just trainers and scouts evaluating her potential; it was everyone. Every move she made, every interaction, every whisper—it was all under a microscope.

“How long you been doing this?” Delilah asked, trying to steady her voice.

Temi smirked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Six years. And yeah, I’ve been through it. We all have.” She gestured to the girls behind her. “Cassie over there? She’s been hooking up with Damian Priest.”

Cassie beamed. “He’s flying me to New York after the tournament. We’re spending the week together.”

“Lauryn?” Temi nodded at the other girl. “She had a thing with Montez and Bianca. At the same time.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Lauryn shrugged. “It was fun. They’re premiere athletes for a good reason.”

It was getting more and more difficult to keep her jaw from dropping. “And you?” Delilah pressed, crossing her arms. “What’s your story?” When the girls behind her giggled, Delilah's eyebrow shot up. "Who?"

Lauryn put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Temi here has seduced no less than three world champions," she winked, counting off on her fingers. "Rollins, Punk, and Drew. She was all their first dark meat." 

Shaking her head, Delilah’s mouth finally fell open. "Bullshit," she spat. "There is no fucking way."

Temi just nodded confidently. "Oh, there's a way," she assured. "Actually, with Rollins, there's a lotta ways," she smirked, reaching out to pat Delilah's shoulder in reassurance. "Listen, Yandi's a bitch. Nobody likes her, and now she's gone. Let that shit go," she advised with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do your thing. Go as far as you can in this tournament. Boost your profile. You’ll need it when you start training properly at the Performance Center."

As the girls filed out, Delilah couldn’t shake the conversation. Their blasé attitudes, their stories, their warnings—it was all too much. She turned to the mirror, adjusting her gear when another voice, low and cool, cut through her thoughts again.

“So you’re the one he left me for.”

Delilah spun around, her eyes narrowing at the woman who stepped out of the shadows, immediately put Delilah on edge. She’d seen her wrestle several times through this tournament. Chloe. A striking presence both in and out of the ring, her athletic build and confident demeanor commanding attention wherever she went. With a rich brown complexion that seemed to glow under the spotlight and expressive hazel eyes, her curls, often styled in bold, intricate looks, were as dynamic as her wrestling persona—a combination of grace and grit that made her memorable. Offstage, she didn’t interact much with the others, a guarded side to her, shaped by the challenges she had faced in a male-dominated industry.

“I come in peace,” Chloe said with a faint smirk. “I was listening in on all the bragging. Quite the stellar lineup of superstars, huh? If only most of them weren’t recycled. Like yours, sorry to say.”

“What are you talking about?” Delilah asked, her voice sharp.

She extended a hand. “I’m Chloe.” When Delilah didn’t shake it, Chloe shrugged. “You’re not the only one Josh has had a fling with.”

Delilah frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Chloe smirked as she leaned against the lockers, her tone casual but tinged with a deliberate edge. “It was about two years ago, back in Atlanta. I was out with some girlfriends celebrating a birthday—looking fine, if I do say so myself—when Josh and his crew strolled into the club after SmackDown. His presence was impossible to ignore; he had that swagger, you know? I caught him looking at me from across the room, and let’s just say, he wasn’t subtle. He sent over a drink, then another, and before I knew it, I was in the VIP section with him. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only woman in the room. Smooth, charming, with that cocky little smirk that told you he thought he had you wrapped around his finger. And yeah, I guess he did—at least for a while.”

Delilah was speechless. Sounds about right.

She paused, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve, as if the memory wasn’t worth more than a moment’s thought. “But, you know, it fizzled out. He wasn’t exactly available, if you catch my drift.” Her eyes flick to Delilah meaningfully. “Married men have a way of forgetting their wedding rings when they’re on the road. And sure, it was fun at first, but it got old fast. Sneaking around, his half-assed excuses, him dodging my calls when he was in town sometimes? Not my style. I don’t chase nobody, so I ended it. Of course, he didn’t take it too hard—men like Josh always find someone else to keep them entertained.” She flashed a smug smile. “Looks like you’re the lucky rebound.”

Delilah’s stomach churned as the words sank in. For nearly a year she’d been seeing Josh, and not once had he mentioned anything like this. The idea that she could be just another notch on his belt—the way Chloe clearly saw her—made her heart twist. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, but she forced her face to remain neutral, unwilling to give Chloe the satisfaction of seeing her rattle. Still, the revelation gnawed at her, a sour taste rising in her throat as she wondered if everything she thought she had with Josh was just another game to him.

But just as she feared, Chloe could see right through her thoughts. She flashed Delilah a kind smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie, that’s all said and done. It’s all in the past. Besides, I think I’ve more than upgraded.”

Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Chloe leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. “I woulda said his name out loud, but the NDA I signed means I can’t say much.” Her smirk widened. “I could show you though, if you’d like.”

Delilah couldn’t help but nod, curiosity getting the best of her. She watched as Chloe pulled out her phone. She handed Delilah an AirPod. “You’re the only one I’m showing this to, so if this gets out, it's you, and I'll fuck you up.”

Delilah hesitated, but eventually placed the AirPod in her ear. The video on Chloe’s phone played, showing a man with long, dark hair between Chloe’s legs, his hands gripping her thighs as her moans rang through Delilah’s ears. Her breath hitched as the man lifted his head, revealing Roman Reigns’ unmistakable face. He licked his lips, smirked at the camera, and growled, “Turn that shit off.”

The video cut, and Delilah stared at Chloe in complete shock.

“Hot, right?” Chloe teased, fanning herself dramatically. “That family’s got top-tier pussy eaters.” She shrugged. “But here’s the thing: to them, we’re not special. Just another warm body. Don’t take it personal. Use them for what they’re worth—get your rent paid, get a contract, whatever. But don’t give them your heart. That’s the game, sweetheart. If you wanna survive this business, you need to learn how to play it.”

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

Thankfully, the remainder of the tournament unfolded without a hitch. Delilah advanced to the semi-finals, where her journey came to an end. Though she didn’t take home the win, she left with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude for the experience. By the time she was heading back to Pensacola, she was content with how far she had come. True to his word, Josh had upgraded her seat to first class so they could sit together on the flight back. It wasn’t just a plane ride; it felt like their own private six-hour date in the sky.

They made the most of every moment. Between sharing a few tequila shots, stealing sweet kisses, and watching movies, they fell into an easy rhythm that felt both playful and intimate. As the hours passed, they curled up together, their seats reclined into makeshift beds. Delilah found comfort in the warmth of Josh’s embrace, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep with his arm draped protectively around her. For those fleeting hours, it was as if the outside world didn’t exist—just the two of them savoring what little time they had left.

But as the plane began its descent into Pensacola, reality crept back in. Delilah’s chest tightened with the weight of what was coming next. When the wheels touched down, she felt a sharp pang in her heart, knowing this was the moment they’d part ways for good. The knowledge made her throat ache, and she wished, just for a second, that they had a little more time.

The private wing of the airport felt colder than it should have, the early morning silence pressing heavily on Delilah’s chest. Josh stood in front of her, his duffel slung casually over his shoulder, but his eyes told a different story—there was a heaviness in them that mirrored the ache in her heart. They had shared so many moments, stolen kisses, and whispered secrets over the past year, but this felt like the end of something neither of them was truly ready to let go of.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of their unspoken goodbye. “So this is it, huh,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though speaking louder would shatter the fragile connection still lingering between them.

Delilah bit her lip, willing herself not to cry, but it was a losing battle. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “This is it.” Her words trembled under the weight of her emotions. She knew this was the right decision—for her career, for her sanity—but it didn’t make it any easier to let go of someone who had become so much a part of her world.

Josh stepped closer, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip, a touch so gentle it made her knees weak. “You gon’ miss me?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with an undeniable sadness.

Delilah’s lip trembled despite her best efforts, and her eyes filled with tears. “More than you’ll ever know,” she admitted, her voice cracking. The truth of it burned in her throat. She would miss the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the room, the way he always knew just what to say to calm her nerves. She would miss everything about him, and the thought of not having him in her life felt unbearable.

Josh didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear the moment she let go, her tears soaking into his shirt. 

“I don’t wanna let you go,” she whispered, her voice breaking with raw emotion.

He pressed his lips to her hair, his own voice thick with longing. “Then don’t.” The words hung in the air between them—a plea, a promise, and a goodbye all at once.

Delilah pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hand resting on his cheek. “We have to,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears clogging it. “I can’t do this right now, Josh. I need to focus on my career, and you—” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You need to figure out what you want.”

Josh’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue, might ask her to stay, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to ignite a fire; it was the kind meant to say everything he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “Take care, Delilah,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

“You too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She forced a weak smile, though her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. “And thank you… for everything.”

Josh just nodded, his dark eyes searching hers for a moment longer before he stepped back, creating a distance that felt insurmountable. For a split second, Delilah considered running after him, begging him to stay, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. She had to let him go.

As she watched him walk away, her chest tightened, the reality of their parting sinking in. Tank, standing a few feet away, awkwardly cleared his throat and gestured toward the waiting car. Delilah wiped at her tears, slipping on her sunglasses to hide the evidence of her heartbreak. Tank nudged her shoulder gently as they walked to the car. “You did the right thing, kid,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “He gets that.”

Delilah nodded, but the words offered little comfort. As the car pulled away, she stared out the window, replaying every moment with Josh in her mind—the laughter, the fights, the stolen moments that had made the past several months unforgettable. She knew she’d made the right choice, but the ache in her chest told her it was going to be a long time before she stopped missing him.

She was pulling up to her sister Simone’s front door when her phone rang. The area code wasn’t from here, and she didn't recognize the number. Still, something pushed at her to answer the call. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Delilah Parrish, please?" the sweet voice on the other end asked.

Delilah leaned her hip against her suitcase. "Yes, this is Delilah," she responded, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Hi Delilah, my name is Emilia, and I'm with Dr. Gonzalez's office in Orlando," she said, "You came in for a physical last week?" she questioned.

Nodding and exhaling a sigh of relief, Delilah cleared her throat. "Yes, I did," she assured the nurse. As part of the recruitment process, WWE had requested she take a physical with their recommended medical facility. Delilah had done it with zero issues. She was determined that nothing was going to hinder her commencing training at the PC, and though she knew she was in good health, she would jump through any other hoop they asked to prove it.

"Well," Emilia spoke with a cheerful smile that for some reason was grating Delilah's nerves in her current state of mind. "Everything looks great. You're healthy as a horse, and we just sent the results to you via email," she said. "However, there’s just one thing that we want to make sure you are aware of, considering the degree of physicality you regularly engage in." Emilia cleared her throat. "You’re pregnant, Miss Parrish. Congratulations."

—————–

😬😬😬😬

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[cotl-eyesofdeath]

What went wrong the first time around with the kids? What was narilamb's fatal flaw as parents?

Short answer:

Lambie’s manipulative with a need for control even when it comes to their loved ones, and while Narinder tries his best he’s still kind of a mediocre dad that let Lambie do whatever they wanted to their kids as long as it wasn’t physically traumatizing

Long answer:

After like a thousand years of being a cult leader Lambie starts thinking that they want a break from all their responsibilities, and so they decide to try having a child with Narinder to see if they can keep the cult leading in the family. On account of their… eldritch-ness, Lambie’s unable to have children the regular way, so they needed to use a ritual that would actually make it possible. Use your imagination for that part.

They didn’t expect it to work since they kinda just bullshitted it, but somehow it did work and so Narinder ends up carrying their firstborn, which they name Yarna. From her birth Lambie has groomed Yarna into becoming the perfect cult leader, just like Narinder did with them, but there were still a few doubts in their mind. They decide to have another child, Chanto(Narinder carried a him too), and raise him as a sort of back-up plan. They also decide to raise backups to the backup but with children of their followers instead of having another of their own, starting a sort of cult leader/disciple school. This along with Lambie’s selective shows of affection breed jealousy and rivalry between the two siblings- Yarna believing that being the next cult leader is her rightful place as the firstborn and afraid of losing her position, and Chanto just wanting to prove himself to Lambie and get the same treatment that Yarna gets.

Narinder notices the growing tension between the siblings and does his best to teach them to cooperate with eachother and keep a healthy relationship, but his idea of a “healthy sibling relationship” isn’t the best to begin with… still, he warns his kids of what happened with his own family with stories of the past, but that’s pretty much all he does. Aside from keeping them apart so they don’t fight, he doesn’t do anything else, and the kids have heard his stories so many times that they start to tune them out and forget- retreating into their own world of spite and jealousy. This is all made worse by Lambie deliberately stirring up trouble between them, seeing them as in competition with eachother and their schoolmates and making no effort to hide it, believing that if they’re in competition with eachother then they’ll strive to be better and pick off the weaker ones.

Jealousy runs amok between them. Yarna has always had an advantage with being the firstborn and first student, giving her more time than all the other kids to learn and hone her skills as a cult leader. This obviously makes her the biggest source of jealousy for everyone else since they’re basically playing catch-up and hoping that she’ll get behind somehow to actually give them a chance. Though this also means that there’s extremely high expectations put on her to be the most model student of the entire cult, causing her punishments to be even more extreme when she does make a mistake, and Lambie’s punishments for her are the worst of all. Since she’s the most promising student, she’s the one that Lambie pays the most attention to and that’s an extremely sharp double-edged sword- not just for her but for everyone else too. Lambie pays the most attention to Yarna, so she gets most of their affections, leaving everyone else basically in the dust. Nobody else gets as much of their attention and praise as Yarna, but this also means they’re allowed much more freedom and their punishments for mistakes aren’t as severe.

Chanto as the second born is at a disadvantage with their studies that they try their hardest to overcome, and though the hard work does pay up and they inch ever closer to Yarna, in the end they feel like they could never reach her- not only in their studies but also personally. Both of them want affection from Lambie, their parent and beloved god, but Chanto also wants Yarna’s affections too, at least at first. They believed that if they caught up to Yarna then they could both have fun as siblings while also getting Lambie’s attention. Yarna, of course, only sees him as a rival. What he gets praised for is something she’s expected to do without it, and when he does something bad he’s punished with a lot less severity than a small mistake that she would make. Not only that, but he has a freedom that she craves. Yarna is constantly on edge and acting perfect all the time, studying 24/7 and doing it all with a forced smile she’s perfected to look natural all while her own brother is allowed to play around outside in the trees and with the other kids. She believes this is an injustice, and so every chance she gets she “disciplines” Chanto herself, using his naivety and craving for affection against him, becoming his biggest bully. She would berate him, steal his food, destroy his things, and spread rumors about him all around the cult in hopes of getting his reputation so low that Lambie will finally discipline him the same way they discipline her.

Years of bitterness, jealousy, anger, hate, and routine neglect pass by and Yarna is still the first in line for cult leader status. Lambie’s attention has turned solely to Yarna after a while, practically ignoring all the other students in favor of constant monitoring of her to make sure she doesn’t mess anything up. They’ve gone from grooming her into the perfect cult leader to instead turning her into a mini version of them, feeling that they could only leave the cult in her hands if she did everything as they would. This has led to them ignoring even Chanto, their other child, who has started defecting against their leadership due to this neglect without them even noticing. Their plans of pitting their kids against each other in order to make them better leaders has failed, turning one into a constantly stressed internal mess and the other into a secret dissenter that slowly blooms a rebellion in the dark of night, growing it steadily for years. Chanto has realized that Lambie has been abusing him, his classmates, and most of all: Yarna. He tries to help her out of the situation several times but she never lets him- she’s too deeply brainwashed and still resents him for what she couldn’t have. She’s going to follow the path that’s been laid out for her like the obedient half-sheep she is or die trying- and, well… Chanto will free them both from their lifelong misery, by any means necessary.

A few more years pass and Yarna has finally taken her place as the new cult leader while Chanto and half of the original cult have dissented and split off to live somewhere else. This, in theory, should make everyone happy, but… neither Yarna nor Chanto are at ease with the other group’s existence, and so there’s still friction between the two, but a war wouldn’t benefit anybody as of now and so they’re just keeping their distances for now. At least, that is until the dissenting group settles into a place with an abundance of a specific resource, causing them to thrive more than the original cult.

I’m gonna speed this up because I’ve been writing this over the course of several weeks and I’m tired but basically:

Trade negotiations are started but eventually fail so bad that it snowballs into a war, Yarna and Chanto leading their own respective armies

Lambie leaves the two groups to fight amongst themselves believing that it’s just another one of their kids’ sibling fights while Narinder is freaking out knowing that this will kill both of his kids. He attempts to convince Lambie to join the fight only to protect the kids and make sure that they don’t fucking die even if it means killing everyone else because he doesn’t have any power in this situation. It works but way too late

Lambie goes to the war site and finds their kids. Dead. They stabbed each other in the heart and died at the same time, the consequences of Lambie’s actions being this. They kill every single cult member- old, new, dissenting and loyal, deciding that starting from complete scratch with only Narinder is the best course of action.

This isn’t the first time they’ve had to start over with only Narinder, but while the first time was accidental this one was on purpose, and it hurts a lot more. Lambie truly is devastated at the loss of their kids but it’s Narinder who took this the hardest. He will always love the lamb and how ruthless they can be, but this… this made him realize how much more evil they could be. However, what hurts the most is just how complicit he realizes he had been.

The whole situation changes them both but mostly Narinder, leaving him in a state of shock for so long before he finally starts to grieve.

5 stages of grief and all that, shit gets really weird between the two of them for a long time before they finally start to mend their relationship again because they’re bound to each other no matter what so they might as well keep their relationship amicable at least. After like a thousand years of self reflection and improvement(mainly Narinder but he has the lamb change a bit too) they decide to have another kid, but just one this time, and they name her Mary(the little lamb). Narinder is more present and active and the lamb isn’t trying to mold and manipulate her into the perfect cult leader so she grows up into a pretty decent and happy person, even though she can see the dead and is haunted by her parents’ past mistakes in the form of her dead siblings trying to steal her life. She has a bee boyfriend and likes poetry.

[allaboutstarkycameron]

For the First Time

gbsf!reader x bbsf!rafe

warning:language,drinking, drugs, etc.

a/n:its kinda interesting to me but probably bad, if it is tell me for the love of god.

……<<<<<loading>>>>>…..

The sun peeking through your windows and the smell of breakfast lingers through the house as your alarm goes off, you rub your eyes and turn it off as you get out of bed grabbing your phone on your way to your bathroom brushing your teeth, took a shower and doing your hair that never corporates when it needs to, after that you went to your messy closet to pick a random outfit and headed downstairs.

As you walk down stairs you heard a familiar voice talking to your dad and of course when you walked in the kitchen it was rafe cameron “morning peanut” he smiles at you “morning dimples” you say as you flash him a smile as open the fridge “sweetheart what time will you be tonight or….tomorrow” you looked at him “daddy it’s daddy daughter night i have to be here tonight or mom is gonna actually take away my allowance” rafe chuckles at your comment, you flash him a look “you ready kid?” rafe ask “mhm” you mumble as you grab your phone and purse “oh rafe no drinking for her this summer” you looked away remembering the memories from last summer “will do sir” rafe says as you two walk out the door shutting it behind him.

When you two make it in the car your phone vibrates which catches rafes attention; it was jj you smile that he had gave you a morning text message

iMessage

Jay💍: morning cupcake 😍

You: morning

Jay💍: can we see each other td???

You: …probably, i’m hanging out with rafe

Jay💍:wtf y/n…you really gonna pick him over me rn?

You: jay, i promise i will try to make it up to you today

Jay💍: kay…ttyl

You turn your phone off and you look up and realize hat the car still hasn’t moved, you look at rafe “uhh come on now grandpa drive” he looks at you, he really looks at you “why are even with him?” he says as he starts the car pulling out the driveway “because he loves me, i love him and we really care about each other” he sighs and stops at the light, when you and rafe were 12 or 14 he had asked you out and ever since then he has been really nosy about who you date when it wasn’t him, rafe has always had this crush on you and didn’t want to get rejected again so he just kept it to himself, admiring you from afar.

You guys make it to the mall and he gets out the car and comes around and opens the door for you, you get out and held out your hand and he took it as you guys walk to the entrance “oh that things i want to buy right now…” he pulls out his wallet pulling out his black card and looking at you “here, baby” he hands you his card but you look at wallet a little photograph picture of your ass when you guys fucked once “rafe-“ he cuts you off leaning over the wallet to you “like it” he grins “it’s pretty fucking sexy if you ask me” he tells you, who is looking at him snatching it away “is there more photos and you can’t just open that in the public” rafe chuckles at her comment “m’kay, baby..i’m sorry.” you look at him and slightly smiles.

Then once they made it inside she dragged him to Victoria's Secret first; when they made it in the store she went straight to bras and panties and he followed as always “Omg Rafe look.” she showed him the bra she held up with little butterflies on it with teal and pink and white colors “looks good y/n…” she looks at him and notices that he was staring at a girl nothing new “never mind..” she puts the bra down and walks over to the other things. Still, he doesn’t follow, he was asking a girl out and you don’t know know why but damn it hurt and you didn’t know why because you were with jj and you loved him you then saw him walk over to you “Alright whatcha got?” Rafe says you don’t look at him; just look through the clothes. he sighs “What I do now, hm?” you look at him “You left me to go and a girl out rafe what else would I be mad at, like for fucking girl” he frowns a bit “You seem jealous, sweetheart..” you pick something up “I’m not” he nods not believing you and humming it off.

Later that day at the Cameron’s household.*.•.•*.

In Rafe's room you were on the bed scrolling through Pinterest and Rafe was texting someone probably the girl from the mall “Who ya texting?” Rafe looks up at you as you ask the question “Uhh..a friend.” she smiles and holds her hand out “Can I see, Mr.just friends?” he smiles at her and shoves his phone in his pocket "no." you look at him with curiosity "so...we're keeping secrets now?...bet" he looks at you and pulls his phone "alright here." you look at him and smiles; that's how you do it.

But anyway, he shows you his phone and it is a text message from a girl, she looks at him "This the girl from the mall??" you look at him without an expression and of course, he notices "Yeah, is that a problem and it's not like you want to volunteer, right?" you look at him "yeah it is a problem and I have a boyfriend if this is about when I rejected you when we were younger get over it, dude." he looks at you and he's doesn't even know why you brought that up "y/n...what the fuck actually.." you look at him and realize that he really hates talking about that so you were about to apologize "I'm dropping you off." he said as he got up leaving you in a little shock "Rafe, I'm sorry okay I didn't mean to.." he looks at you with anger and hurt in his eyes "save it. imma drop you off to your little boyfriends, yeah?" and that's when you knew you had really fucked up this time...

A/N: Thanks for reading my first story. It was pretty short, but of course, I will make a part two if you want it. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry if it was bad.

[coastershells]

D I V I N E . .ᐟ

IN WHICH — dallas has been obsessed with you for months.

⚠️ : uh , smut.. again… and i guess this is similar to the one i posted the other day? but like , this was an ask thrown out to the dallas x reader tag so i’m gonna try to give it justice.

ʚ ɞ / wc : 5.3k

you silently walk down the dark street , and the only possible light is from the moon and the streetlights. And honestly? you’re stupid. well , not really , but you’re walking alone as a greaser. and that’s the number one thing you shouldn’t do.

socs get so bored they would beat up even a girl , it doesn’t matter to them. meaning you’re no different.

it sucks , but you need to see dallas.

recently , your ex boyfriend has been giving you things you don’t even want. flowers , chocolate , anything you could name , he would have it at your doorstep or stashed into your locker. you don’t wanna talk about the amount of times you’ve gotten jealous stares from people around you. but there was nothing to be jealous about.

if you could get rid of him , you would. in a heartbeat. you just want to be left alone.

it’s him who cheated anyway ; he hooked up with another girl , sylvia , you think her name was? though you don’t really care for her. apparently , she was just like that.

you snapped yourself out of your deep thought when you saw a light flicker , and you being paranoid about being out here in the first place , started to pick up your pace.

eventually , you made it to the all familiar building , buck merrill’s place. while you recall dallas working here , whenever he isn’t getting himself into illegal activities , he’s crashing here , or responsibly ( like he promised ) , hanging out with you to keep your ex away at times.

a few weeks ago , you had asked dallas to fake date you so your ex could back off. it worked for the most part , but that didn’t stop your ex from giving you gifts and asking to ‘ just be friends ‘.

even though everyone knows where that goes.

you sigh as you walk up the steps , hand sliding across the rails as you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. you hope it’s heard with how the music is booming , enough to shake the house like you’re in a cartoon of some sort.

the door swings open , you notice it was a girl , but she paid no attention to you , quickly going back to dancing with her friends. you shyly step into the house and close the door behind you. trying your best to ignore the music and the smell of cigarettes in the air , you make your way to the only place dallas would be at this hour.

his room. either sleeping , or smoking.

you don’t knock first , or made any sort of sound to be let in , you just do it.

and of course , you were right. dallas was at his window smoking. the window was slightly open. his back was facing you until you opened the door.

“ hey dallas. “

“ hey. why’re you here? checkin’ up on me? you’re so kind. “ he teases and you roll your eyes.

“ actually , i’ve gotta complaint. “

dallas raises a brow , and makes a weird sound. “ mmh? do tell. “

you sigh and close the door , trying to ignore the way the house is shaking. the ashtray on the edge of the window is slightly shaking as the music downstairs booms. “ you are horrible at fake dating. “ you deadpan and he laughs.

“ sorry , but can i let you know that i’ve never done this before? usually if i’m with a girl , i’m with her. this is different. “

“ exactly my point , dallas. why not just treat me like you would treat your girlfriend? “

he blinks and stares at you blankly. “ well , you aren’t my girlfriend. that’s the thing , now listen , [name] — “

“ dude , fake dating is everything couples do just without the love. think of it like that , would you? “ you groan. it’s one of those nights he’s trying to be smart and make you look dumb.

“ i mean , “ he takes a drag from his cigarette. “ sure. i guess. you complain a whole lot about us not giving off an actual dating vibe. you like me or somethin’? “

you gag. he’s right , but he’s wrong. you would try dating him , but you honestly just wouldn’t be able to bring yourself to give it your all , and knowing dallas , he wouldn’t give anywhere close to anything.

“ no. ew , not in a million years you fucking — you fucking freak! “ you point at him with a scowl , and he smiles , putting his cigarette out and onto the ashtray , he walks over to his bed and kicks his shoes off.

“ mhm. got it. just for your ex. right. okay. “

you nod in agreement , and you begin to head for the door.

“ wait , where are you goin’? downstairs? i didn’t take you for the party type. “ he chuckled at his own joke , and the look on your face was just about the opposite.

“ i’m going home. “

“ at this hour? “

“ i walked here at this hour , for your information. “

“ dangerous girl. come on , lay down. “

“ like.. “ you turn around and point at him in disgust. “ with you? “ he nods and your face does nothing but twist more. “ no. that’s disgusting. id rather walk home. “

dallas sighs. “ you’re crazy , man. you want us to act like we’re dating , then you don’t. could you pick a side? “

“ there’s no one around so we don’t have to act dallas. please. use your head. “

“ alright , if you wanna walk home then go ahead. “ he urges you out , and you do exactly that. he looks pissed that you don’t wanna stay.

such an asshole.

the next day at school went rather smooth , you went to your same classes , annoyed the teachers , hung out with your friends at lunch , and made it to the end of the day.

“ i’ll see you tomorrow , right? “ your friend lorelai asks.

“ yup , i promise. love ya , bye! “ you wave frantically as she walks away , and another voice rings from behind you.

“ hey babe. “ an all too familiar voice speaks out. and you can already feel yourself getting irritated. “ don’t call me that , it’s over between us. cant you just — “

“ got somethin’ for you. “ he says , shoving flowers in your face and you fight the urge to sneeze , or yell. you close your eyes and with an irritated sigh , you push it away from your face. “ i don’t want your shit , please go away. “ you say as you turn and walk away from him. “ ah — wait! “ he calls out and you make an annoyed sound , with a groan , you keep walking.

“ i don’t wanna hear it , fuck off. i’m being nice. “ you roll your eyes as he stutters over his words.

“ your boyfriend is cheating on you. “

“ what? “

you don’t know what to say to that. dallas isn’t your boyfriend , but he’s covering for you. so stuff like this won’t happen.

“ what do you mean? “ you turn around and he sighs in relief when he has your attention.

“ at buck’s last night , i saw you walk in but was too out to say anything. after you left dallas was downstairs and had a girl pinned to the wall. the rest you should know. “

you ball your fist , and you don’t know who to be angry at.

you settle on both.

how could he be so damn reckless?

as soon as you get your ex off your trail , you storm to your house. you look at your calendar and you’re actually quite happy that it’s friday for once. you can sleep all day , maybe hang out with johnny and pony later , get into some trouble with them , or try your best to stay out of it.

though , a part of you just wants to rest for the whole weekend.

you know on monday your ex is going to spread the word , and then he’ll be hot back on your tail again. you wish he would just.. forget about you.

it’s totally not like he’s the one who said you guys should break up after he cheated on you. why doesn’t he go back to the girl he oh so loves more than you?

you get annoyed at the thoughts , and kick your feet on your bed , rambling on to yourself.

until those kicks and your voice came to a stop as you heard 8 knocks in a rhythm on your window.

it better not be dallas — too childish. two-bit , maybe?

you pray that it’s not dallas , or your ex. anyone but those two , fucking anyone.

instead of having to shoo said people away , you figure out it was johnny and ponyboy.

you smile.

“ hey , [name]. “ johnny says in that same voice he always uses. it’s soft , and you can barley hear it while you open the window. ponyboy shoves his hands in his pockets.

“ hey guys , what’s the matter? “ you ask , and johnny shakes his head while ponyboy speaks up.

“ nothin’. just wanted to tell you that we are going to the drive in and wanted to ask you to tag along. “

you hum in response , giving it deep thought. you figured ; you don’t have anything else to do anyway , so you’ll just go.

“ sure , when? “ you glance between the two boys.

“ well , we are just walking around right now , doing random things. if you wanna join that — “

“ don’t make it seem like we are doing bad things , ponyboy. just walkin’ around. “ johnny says scoldingly , and you stifle a laugh.

“ sure , i’ll tag along. just let me put something random on. give me a second! “ you answer and you disappear into your house as the boys wait outside of your window.

you decide on something random , baggy jeans , a shirt that fits nicely on you , and beaten up converse that johnny somehow got for you.

you fix your hair slightly , though nothing big has to be done to it because you had done it in the morning for school.

with that , you grab your wallet , and return to the window.

“ hold this , pony , “ you toss your wallet to him and slowly make your way out of the window. johnny gets close to make sure you don’t fall. you reach up behind you to close the window just slightly , you have to make sure you’re able to get back in without getting yelled at by your parents.

once your out and you fix your shirt , pony gives you your wallet back , and you guys begin to walk away from your house.

“ so where we headed? “ johnny asked seemingly the both of you.

“ i wanna see a fight. “ you say and ponyboy hesitated before nodding , johnny shrugs and agrees.

“ just gotta be out of there before the fuzz pull up. “ johnny says and you genuinely laugh.

you all indeed kept to your word , fights are easy to find around your parts , and it’s like a free movie before you even go to the drive in. in some fights , knives are pulled , guns that aren’t loaded yet scare everyone away , and some used objects nearby. you usually don’t stay for those fights incase it gets too bloody.

night begins to fall , and all three of you began to make your way over to the drive in.

“ you guys know what movie we are watching? “

“ nah man , most of the times i don’t even understand the movies we watch. “ johnny comments as he hops the gate , pony does it flawlessly , and you , lastly , slightly struggle to jump over the fence. they seemed to exchange a glance and stifle a laugh , but you try to pay no attention to it.

as you go to sit down , johnny and pony tell you to find seats and they’ll go and get popcorn , while you don’t want to alone , you shrug and do so anyways.

the movie seems to be some sort of beach movie , telling from the surfing and the screams of the girls. it’s trash , but it’s also the 60s. some said the 2000s are promised to be better. so you’ll go off of that.

you see four open seats in the near front. obviously , there’s only two of you , but the thought of two-bit coming along with the chance is high. so you take a seat in the middle. you sit down and take a view of everyone around you , you see some socs , but for the most part they seem to be behaving slightly well. so you turn from their direction. another group of people you see are greaser girls.

sylvia is one of them.

you scoff and hold your head in your palm , you were getting bored without johnny and pony. how long was the line? you had to have spent atleast 4 minutes looking for seats and sitting there.

“ hey , this seat taken? “

before you register the familiar voice , you speak up. “ uh — yeah , my friends are — “ you look up to the person when something just small clicks and tells you to look.

and you’re not very happy that you did.

“ dallas? “

“ the only one round here , thank you. “ he says , completely ignoring what you had said earlier and taking a seat next to you , wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “ thank god for that. “ you sigh and he seems to just get a little pissed off about it.

“ your ex is here , over there. “ he nods his head in the direction and you dare only look for a second. yup. that’s him. but you still aren’t very happy with what dallas did.

“ oh. “ you shift uncomfortably and slowly nudge his arm off , to which he puts it on again , and this time you actually push his arm away. “ move , please. “

“ what’s with ya? is it over me askin’ you to stay that night? c’mon. bring it in — “

“ get the hell off me , dallas. “

“ so that’s not the problem. what is it , then? “

you shrug and cross your arms. “ nothing. “

“ you actin’ like a bitch ain’t nothin.’ “

“ what did you just call me ? “

before dallas can respond , ponyboy and johnny arrive at the seats.

“ man , we were looking all over for you. “ ponyboy says and johnny heads to the seat on the other side of you.

“ hey dal. “ johnny speaks out and dallas puts up a hand. “ ey’ johnnycakes. “ dallas says as he stiffens up. dallas gives you a look , but you don’t share it , nor do you speak.

you don’t say anything at all for the whole movie.

when the movies are done and over with , bottles tossed onto the ground , and the laughing and crowds die down and leave , all four of you are left walking down the street.

“ you better hurry home , ponyboy , or darry won’t let you hear the end of it. “ johnny says , more than teasing , he seems serious.

“ i know , i know , i’m goin’. “ he waves you all off and you all say your byes.

even though you knew it , johnny was the next to go. he claimed that he didn’t want to head home and made his way to the lot. you offered him to sleep at your house but he nicely declined. and from the looks of it , dallas didn’t seem to like the idea of it either. johnny didn’t notice , somehow.

once johnny was out of earshot , dallas spoke up. and he sounded more than mad.

“ what the fuck is your problem tonight? “

“ what’s my problem? what is your problem , dallas ?! “ you whisper shout.

“ you’ve been acting like an ass , what happened to fake dating? “

you groan and mentally face palm , sighing.

“ my ex said he saw you cheating on me at the party the other night. “

“ what? “ he laughs dryly , amused. “ and you’re gonna believe him over me? what the fuck , [name]? are you fuckin’ — insane? “

you push him away and he frowns. “ maybe i am! now he’ll think we’ve broken up , and i bet he’ll tell the whole school! then it’ll go to flames! “ you sigh. “ honestly , you were no damn help anyways. “ you wave dismissively and turn the other way.

“ alright then , fuck you! you’ll believe your ex over your own friend? maybe you deserve to be humiliated at school. “ he spits , and even though it’s a dagger in your heart , you don’t turn around. your heartbeat is way too fast to that. and there’s no way you can give in.

you try to keep yourself together as you walk home ; you really do. but you can’t. your silent sobs turn into cries , and you just pray nobody can hear you. if they did , you think you would just pass away then and there.

you make it home , and slide open your window , crawling in and collapsing on the floor , and only then do you silent your cries to avoid waking up your parents.

did dallas really mean what he said?

the following day was saturday , but to you it felt like a monday. like you had to get up for something , though you didn’t , you just had an itch you couldn’t quite get to.

you decided that you wouldn’t go out that day , your parents wouldn’t be back til evening , you had just went to the movies , and you felt like absolute shit knowing what was going to go down on monday.

and the fact you had just lost a friend.

maybe you overreacted , sure. but he promised to fake date you and make sure

and to be honest , you loved dallas. you really did.

it started when you first asked him , it could’ve been anyone you could ask , it could’ve been sodapop to make it more believable , or johnny because of how two-bit claimed you both act the same , but you didn’t.

it started when you first asked him , it could’ve been anyone you could ask , it could’ve been sodapop to make it more believable , or johnny because of how two-bit claimed you both act the same , but you didn’t.

you picked the worst boy in the group , you picked dallas winston. and you believe your so , so stupid —

an object was thrown at your window.

you crack your eye open and hiss when the sunlight invades it. it’s too blurry for you to see anything , so you weakly swat at air.

“ go away.. “ you manage to mutter , but it obviously wasn’t even close to being heard when another series of objects that you make out to be pebbles come in contact with your window.

you sluggishly get up , and stumble over to the window , when you open it , you dodge a pebble without even trying to. you stare blankly behind you , mostly ignoring the person who was throwing things at your window. you hoped it was just a kid , or something , if they left you could go right back to sleep.

you almost didn’t register dallas hopping into your room without a word.

you wanna yell at him , scream , tell him to get out of your house , but you don’t.

instead you silently walk back over to your bed , lift the blanket , and flop onto your bed. you hear dallas light a cigarette , but you tune it out.

you try to tune him out in general , but it obviously doesn’t work when he speaks out to you.

“ hey. could you get up? “

“ that’s a bunch of work , man. “ you grumble.

“ alright , get up. i needa explain myself before you get all grumpy at me again. “

you already are , but without a word , you get up and sit on your bed. you push dallas away so he doesn’t sit next to you.

with a annoyed sigh , dallas begins to speak again. “ look , i don’t know why you would believe that shithead , but i ain’t cheat on you. “ you nod , not really believing him. “ you realize what he’s doin’ , right? he’s trying to ‘break’ us up so he has a better chance again. i was in my room all night. “

when you nod your head again , dallas can tell that you’re blankly not listening , he walks towards you and grabs your shoulders. and at this rate , you being fully awake , find the energy to tell him off.

“ get out of my house. “

“ you aren’t listening to me. “

“ because you’re a liar. i know you. “

dallas scoffs. “ you don’t know shit , clearly. “

“ what do i not know about you , dallas? “

“ hmm , i don’t fucking know , maybe that i’m not lyin’ and you’re believing your stupid ex over me , and the fact that i like you — “

“ what? “

“ wasn’t it obvious , [name]? “ he leans in close. too close.

and you realized all too late , it was obvious.

the way he accepted to fake date you so quick and was so happy about it , the pet names he slipped in every so often , the physical touch , the way he acted around you.

but you had to make sure.

“ like , you uh , love me? “

“ yes , you fucking idiot. i’ve loved you for a long time by now. why would i ruin my only chance to be with you? “ he says , he almost seems annoyed with the way he shakes you.

“ so.. what? “

“ what do you mean so what , you gon believe me or believe your ex? “

you both still in silence , dallas raises an eyebrow when you both make eye contact. you mumble something he doesn’t quite get , and he cocks his head closer to your ear. “ what? speak up. “

“ i said i believe you — i believe you dallas. “

“ it’s dal for you. “

you sigh. “ i’m sorry , dal. i’m sorry for not believin’ you and being an ass. “

“ it’s fine. i’m gonna beat that little shits ass when i see em’ though. “ he says as he backs away from you , and sits on your bed.

“ where’s your parents? “

“ work. wont be back til evening. “

“ evening , huh? “ dallas repeats what you said. “ it’s barley 6am , y’know , that could leave us time to.. “ dallas trails off , and it only takes a second to click what he wants.

“ wha — dallas — already? i mean , are we even — “

“ what we are is up to you , sweetheart. i personally have my own opinions , but your the boss. just make sure you aren’t flirtin’ with any guys , yeah? “ dallas teases and tangles his hand in your hair , you smile nervously , and fidget with your hands.

the action is slowly stopped as he took one of your hands and held it with his other , you jolted a bit when he pushed your head in for a kiss , you could barley catch your breath and the fact that this was the dallas winston giving you a kiss didn’t help with your breathing. when he pulled away , he couldn’t help but laugh at you trying to catch your breath.

“ s’pretty. can’t believe this is all mine now. “ he whispers to nobody in particular and gently pushes you farther onto the bed , and you feel yourself heating up already.

“ is this okay , doll? can i do this? “ he releases your hair and places a hand on your stomach , slowly trailing it up , you get goosebumps but you don’t comment.

“ y — yeah.. please.. “ your plead falls silent as he finds his way to your chest , and massages your breast.

“ tell me if i’m too rough. i don’t mean to be. “ and that’s something you didn’t expect from dallas , you expected him to maybe be rough , and just apologize after.

and that gets you thinking.

does he even know what aftercare is?

it’s honestly harder than you expected to focus on thinking and what he’s doing to you as of now. you thought it was a joke of how hard it is to concentrate in situations like this , but it indeed isn’t. not when he’s still apologizing for the things he said to you , which is surprisingly in itself to get an apology from the dallas winston , but he’s also telling you how great you’re doing and being ever so gentle.

“ dallas — “ he makes a sound of disapproval and you weakly clear your throat. “ dals , can you — can i — have a , uh - like , y’know.. a — “ before you can form the word , dallas’ lips are already crushed on yours , and you can’t bring yourself to pull away again , you just sink into the bed.

dallas removes his hand from under your shirt and he slowly travels his hand lower and lower , eventually finding a grip on your pants and panties at once , and you can’t say that you were ever ready for the way he pulled them both off and discarded them off your bed. in a desperate attempt of covering yourself , you stretch your shirt.

“ don’t gotta hide from me. god , so beautiful , doll. so beautiful. “ he grins as he pulls your shirt out of your hands , you look to the side in embarrassment , and instead cover your face. this time , dallas doesn’t move your hands away.

“ my face not.. “ you trail off as you watch him messily unbutton his jeans through a crack in between your hands , and you shiver as he drops them and you realize that he’s basically already made a wet spot in his trousers. “ wait — holy shit , dal , no warm up? come on — i don’t even know your size! “

you stabled yourself on his arms and he laughs , mixed with an inhale. “ mhm? you still need that even with how your dripping? i’ve barley touched you yet , man. “

you remove your hands from your face , and run one through dallas’ hair , and he removes his trousers. you don’t look down at all , you’re scared to. even as he leans down and goes for your neck , going way too high for any of your shirts to cover.

and you still don’t look. even as he whispers sweet nothing into your ears and slowly slides into you , telling you you’re going to be just fine when your breath hitches and you whine at the stretch.

you feel like your insides are being ripped , in a good way but at the same time , goddamn.

“ y’fine.. just fine.. gonna be alright , gonna be still f’me , yeah? “

you let out a choked moan as he goes for your neck again , except on the other side and lower than the last. when he pulls away , you nod. a very late answer but when he’s inside you and sucking on your neck it’s just ever so slightly hard to talk.

even though you knew he was gonna move eventually , you weren’t ready for it. he pulls out slowly , and like he promised , he’s gentle. a slow pull and a slow push.

“ bet your ex couldn’t do this. “ he groans , lightly picking up the pace as your sounds , aswell as skin going against skin grows with it. “ couldn’t fuck you like i will. “ he laughs dryly , grabbing your waist. you let out a whine mixed with a moan , and you render your hands utterly useless to save you.

it’s not like anyone is home anyway.

“ he couldn’t , could he? hmm ? “ he leans in close to your ear face , and you shake your head , in response , he makes a face of disapproval. “ words , doll , words. “ he urges you , and you have to actually think in order to say your answer.

“ n… fuck — no , he — he couldn’t. “ you gasp out most of the words , and that must’ve riled him up because his pace picked up even more , and at this point , words weren’t even possible. just gasps and moans , and whatever other sounds you could make out.

so much for gentle.

you get a tingling feeling in your stomach , and you notice at some points dallas sometimes gets sloppy and off pace , yet his grunts stay low.

you reach for the back of his head , and try to push it down , which he smiles at and leans down into yet another kiss , though this one is filled with messiness and saliva.

this time you don’t have to struggle for air , the amount of gasps you gave out were probably more than enough.

you whine into the kiss as that feeling in your stomach swirls , and suddenly you aren’t doing such a great job at that ‘ staying still. ‘

the kiss is broken with pants from both of you , what mostly disgusts you are the spit trail that falls right on your chest , even as heated as you are , it still feels cold.

“ e — ew.. dal.. t — that’s.. that’s fuckin’.. “ you try to manage , but you also can’t find it in you to actually complain correctly.

you sigh , and finally relax your shoulders. the pain on your neck doesn’t exactly go away.

you look up at dallas , and he looks absolutely beautiful. the morning sun coming in from your window makes him look like some sort of greek god , except for the fact he sure doesn’t act like one.

“ so.. “ he chuckles. “ how about a blowjob? “

“ dal , i’ll fucking kill you. let me recover. “

what ? uh. i’m not late you’re late hahahahahaha

aaaaaah… this is ass i’m sorry

in all seriousness , sorry for being late !! i fell sick and decided to rot and play roblox instead. yes i still play roblox. fight me if you disagree.

taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @every1hatesmayaa !!

[saioratral]

so there's this professor... - 05 the price of my smile (a.l spin off) masterlist

what if we could turn back time? back to alvin's childhood?

“my childhood...?” alvin repeats your question, his voice tinged with annoyance. “why do you want to know, busybody?”

after a brief, heated exchange with you, he storms out of your room, clearly upset. he slams the door behind him, a loud reminder of his frustration. who gave you the right to ask such personal questions? who do you think you are? 

with a heavy sigh, he somehow finds himself in the garden behind his mother’s flower shop. wait, how did he get here from your house? he doesn’t know, and at this moment, he doesn't care. he settles into his usual spot by the pond, watching the ducks quack in what seems like a greeting. he gazes at the water, his mother’s eyes, those same eyes he inherited, staring back at him

why is he crying now? his chest feels tight with emotions he knows but refuses to accept. he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his nearly empty cigarette pack. he places one between his lips and lights it, inhaling deeply. the warmth spreads through him, momentarily soothing the emptiness inside. he knows you hate it when he smoked, but for once- he breaks the so called ‘rule’ 

“clara,” he whispers softly, as if she’s right there beside him. “i think i’m in love, my angel”

…

…

…

12 years old alvin, walking with his mother and father into the hospital. they were going to see his younger brother, a daily routine he developed because his other half was sleeping every time he went. he never was awake to play and just seems be in a bubble he couldn’t reach 

his parents allow him to roam around the hospital, promising to stay on the same floor. alvin stumbles upon the last room of the hall, a girl? a girl was sitting on her bed with a book in her hand. she looks up, noticing him standing in the doorway

“do you want to come in?” she asks. “i’m clara”

“... i’m alvin,” he replies softly, stepping into the room

he gets a better look at her. like his brother, she’s hooked up to several machines, but unlike him, clara is awake. alvin pulls a chair closer to her bed and sits down, his gaze drifting to the book in her hands

“what brings you here? no one visits this side of the ward,” clara asks 

“my brother’s here. i come after school to visit him, but he’s never really awake,” alvin explains, his voice growing more comfortable. “i just want to play with him, but... he’s always asleep”

“well, you can hang out with me!” clara offers with a bright smile

and so, each day became an adventure, clara always played with him until he had to go home. it was his new routine, he would invite him to his brother’s room so they could all play. today was no different, they were sitting on the swings of the hospital garden 

“when i get out, i want to marry you,” clara says, glancing over at alvin

“m-me?” alvin stutters, shocked

clara giggles and looks down at her hospital gown. “i like you... i love you, al. don’t you love me?”

“of course, i do!” alvin exclaims, his face turning bright red

“then we should get married!” clara declares, raising her fist to the sky

“wouldn’t that be too quick? and where would we even get the rings?” alvin asks, confused

clara freezes, her plan crumbling. she stares at him for a moment, then bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach. she hadn’t thought through the important details. alvin, hearing her laugh, can’t help but laugh along. they agree to make paper rings, promising to get real ones when they grow up

“i have to go, clara,” alvin sighs, standing up from the swing

“i’ll be waiting!” 

clara gets off, rushing over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before dashing back into the hospital. alvin stands frozen, his hand on his cheek, blushing furiously. the girl he liked... kissed him? how would he ever sleep now?

he didn't sleep at all that night. instead, he spends hours attempting to make paper rings, determined to impress clara, even if it means sacrificing sleep. the rings.. they don’t exactly look like it but he hoped that his dedication would make her happy.  morning finally comes. alvin, bed hair looked more like a bird’s nest from the restless night, stands in the doorway of his room, not quite ready to leave

why is he still standing there? he can hear voices from the living room. it’s normal for his parents to talk before his father leaves for work, but there’s another voice- a man’s voice. alvin grips his favorite blanket tighter and peeks around the corner

“al, why are you standing there?” his father asks, noticing him. “did you sleep well?”

alvin drops his blanket and raises his arms, silently asking to be picked up. his father lifts him, and alvin wraps his arms around his neck for comfort. something feels off, though. his father is wearing a smile, but it wasn’t the same smile he grew up to see 

“this is my first son, alvin,” his father says, introducing him to the man sitting at the table with a cup of tea

“it’s a pleasure to meet you,” the man says, smiling at alvin. “i am albert james moriarty, first son of the moriarty family”

it clicks. this is the man clara mentioned- the one funding her treatment. it wasn’t out of kindness; her procedure was backed by a wealthy moriarty family who were doing it because it was an attempt to please the lord’s mistress. alvin’s parents, servants in the moriarty household, had to rely on their charity to afford the treatment for his brother. this was the man everyone spoke so highly of, but alvin couldn’t help feeling a strange sense of admiration for albert

“i must take my leave,” albert says, standing. “i apologize for not bringing the news you expected, mr. leroy”

alvin gives him a small wave, and albert returns the gesture, his servant escorting him out of the house. as the door closes, alvin notices the tension in his mother’s face. she looks... worried? sad? he couldn’t think of a proper word to describe her reaction

“he’s so different from his father,” alvin’s father remarks, looking at his wife

“aren’t they all the same...?” she replies quietly, sharing a sad smile with him

alvin, still in his father’s arms, doesn’t understand the sadness in their eyes. all he knows is that he’s going to the hospital again- another chance to spend time with his brother and, especially, clara. he can’t wait to give her his paper rings! 

© saioratral 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images used are from pinterest

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