#hi sorry for not updating in a long time but here is the second chapter!!
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More Than This 8
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader
Word Count: ~9.5k
Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.
Warnings: Angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, explicit language, fighting, my own rampant abuse of italics and en dashes, the slooowest burn, family drama - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
Series Masterlist
Masterlist
A/N: Ohhhhhhhh boy. Getting this update in right under the six month wire. I'm so sorry this one took so long, you guys. I had to drag this chapter out of me. But uh, it's horrifically long, so that's something?
And, I know I keep saying that we're about to start a happier part of this story and then deliver a bucketful of angst, and yeah, whoops, I've done that again. I should just stop making promises, huh?
Big thanks as always to @paperweight91 who has spent the last almost six months talking this one through with me. And to @bigtreefest who was so great with the encouragement and gut checks and did a quick beta of this chapter! But, of course, all mistakes are my own.
Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too! As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜
The rest of the day was quiet. Calmer, more settled than you were used to. After having gotten everything out into the open, it was so much easier to acknowledge Ransom’s presence, to coexist with him. You hadn’t fully realized how much you’d been holding your breath until you could suddenly breathe freely. It was a wild feeling.
Once you were all cried out, Ransom turned on the TV, turning it to the classic movie channel. That was how you learned he loved old movies. “Grandad and I used to watch them together. When I was a kid,” he said quietly. He didn't volunteer any other information and you didn't ask. But you watched the old noir with him.
One movie turned into two and soon the whole afternoon was gone. It had been… comfortable, in a way you’d never expected to be with him. Neither of you had said much, but the silence hadn’t been stifling in the way it’d been even just the day before. For the first time since you’d gotten here, you felt something a lot like hope.
He made two arrangements while sitting with you on the couch. The first was for movers to come to collect his gym equipment the next day so that your new room would be empty when your things arrived in a couple of days.
You were made aware of the second when you received a text from him. You looked up in confusion. You were sitting right next to each other. He chuckled lightly. “That’s the number to your new car service. Call it, let them know where you’re going, and a car should be here within half an hour.”
You stared at the number. Holy shit, you’d be able to go places. You felt silly for how emotional you suddenly felt, but it was like your entire world was expanding in real time. It felt like fresh oxygen in your lungs. “Thank you,” you said quietly.
He just nodded in response. “After you’ve used that for a while, we can talk about whether a private driver might be more appropriate. If that’s what you need.”
You looked at your phone again. This was proof in your hands that you could tell Ransom what you needed and he would do what he could to help you get it. That he wasn’t the enemy you’d assumed he was. You could feel the tears starting to gather in your eyes and you took a deep breath to try to quell them without calling attention to your state.
Ransom, of course, noticed anyway. “Is that not ok?” he asked quietly.
You shook your head. “No, it’s perfect. Seriously, thank you. I’m sorry, I just–” You had no idea what to say to him, how to explain yourself. As good and necessary as the last several hours had been, he was still a stranger. And as much as he’d demonstrated a willingness to help you, that didn’t mean he wanted you getting your messy emotions all over him. “Sorry,” you said again, “I’m just emotional today. Hormones probably. I’m afraid you’re going to be dealing with this for the next nine months.” You grimaced in what you hoped was a playful manner as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes.
He remained serious, concerned. “I think I can handle it,” he said, his tone still so soft. But if you looked very carefully, you thought that you might be able to see a hint of panic in his eyes. You didn’t know if it was for the havoc that your pregnancy hormones might wreak or everything that would come after. You didn’t ask. You knew you wouldn’t be able to answer the question for yourself either. So you turned back to the movie.
At some point, you both started to get hungry, so Ransom ordered takeout. As you ate, you asked a few questions about the sorts of movies he liked, grateful for a safe topic to fill the silence. You certainly wouldn’t call him verbose, but you learned that he had a soft spot for Billy Wilder movies. You wouldn’t really say the conversation flowed, either, but your questions didn’t seem unwelcome. It was nice. He was starting to feel like a real person.
When you were done, you cleaned up the leftovers together, packing them up and putting them away in the fridge. It was while you were doing that that the doorbell suddenly rang. You both looked up, confused. “If that’s fucking Linda, I swear…” Ransom grumbled.
“She never rings the doorbell when it’s just me here,” you griped. You continued putting things away, sticking your head in the fridge as Ransom went to get the door. Then everything happened so fast.
First, you heard Lola yipping excitedly. As you started to turn around to see what was going on with her, Ransom asked “What are you doing here?!” And then–
And then Ransom was on the ground, clutching his jaw, and Steve was looming over him, his hand still in a fist.
“What the shit?!” Ransom ground out.
Steve’s eyes flitted around wildly until they landed on you. He sighed in relief, clearly doing a quick check as he looked at you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his tone so much gentler than his posture.
“Am I– What– What are you doing here? I don't–” You felt like you couldn’t process anything that was happening. How was he here?? Your gaze caught on your husband, still on the floor. “Oh my god, Ransom!” You dropped to your knees next to him. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I–” he started, then carefully flexed his jaw, “Fucking shit. Yeah, I’m alright.”
Your hand hovered uselessly between you as he slowly stood up. You turned back to Steve, who had stepped fully into the house, closing the door behind him, and now had Lola in his arms, softly greeting her as she snuggled into him adoringly.
“Steve, what are you–” you started but then you saw the suitcase at his feet. “Are you staying here?!”
Steve finally turned his attention away from Lola. “Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously, with a challenging glare to Ransom.
You sighed helplessly. “There’s no guest room…”
“Yeah,” Ransom grumbled as he rifled through the freezer until he pulled out an icepack, “as thrilled as we are to see you, we do have hotels here. You might be more comfortable in one.” The icy coldness that filled the room wasn’t just from the open freezer.
Steve took an aggressive step forward. “And leave you alone with my sister for even one more day? I don’t think so. I’ll be just fine on the couch. I’m easy like that.”
“Steve–” you tried but you were quickly interrupted.
“Really? You’re here for your step-sister? That’s interesting because my understanding is that you haven’t had much time for her lately,” Ransom said snidely.
Steve started to puff up in a way that was much too familiar from the playground fights of your childhood. “Oh my god!” you yelled. “Stop! Both of you!” You briefly put your head in your hands and took a deep breath, then one more. You straightened yourself and tried to deal with one of the fifteen problems at hand. “Ok, I, uh, I guess I’ll see about making up the couch,” you said, then stomped your way upstairs to the linen closet.
Steve followed close behind you, still carrying around Lola. “You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “you haven’t actually said ‘hello’ to me yet.”
“No,” you growled, as you looked through the closet without turning around to look at him, “I guess I haven’t.”
He pulled your arm lightly. “Hey, come on,” he said. “I’ll help pull this stuff together if you tell me where to look. We both know Ransom’s just gonna let you do all the work.”
That earned you finally turning to face him. “Well, he did just get punched in the face, so I think he’s a little more concerned with that than making you feel comfortable right now.”
Steve’s face scrunched up. “Wait. Are you mad at me?”
“Am I mad at you? Well, let's see. You showed up unannounced and punched my husband in the face. Yeah! I'm a little mad at you!”
“He deserved it,” he growled.
“How would you know?!”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
You sighed. You did not have the energy for this. And where were all the blankets? You remembered the pile currently in the corner of the gym. Right. You turned around and walked down the hall to your makeshift bedroom, Steve still on your heels. As soon as you walked in, he stopped, putting Lola down. “The fuck is this?” he asked, harshly, his hands on his hips. You realized your mistake immediately. His eyes scanned the cushions and blankets set up, the exercise equipment still there, your few possessions strewn about. “Is this where you sleep?”
“No! Just last night.”
“Why did you need to sleep here last night?” he asked, his voice dangerously low.
It felt like a trap. If you told him you’d panicked and needed some space, he would ask why. Steve never dropped anything. And you just could not tell him you were pregnant right now. It was the absolute worst time for that. But you didn’t know how else to answer his question. “I just needed a little space.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at you. God, you hated being the focus of that look. It was the look he gave you when you scratched his car when you were 16, or when you were 18 and he had to pick you up from a party at 2 AM and wouldn’t tell him what had happened. It was the look you got when you were little and used to steal his paintbrushes so he couldn’t paint and he’d have to hang out with you. You’d hated that look since you were six years old. “Why are you here, Steve?”
He just shook his head for a moment. “You sounded so sad and tired this morning. And I’m just so sick of not being able to see you, not being able to tell what’s wrong.” He took a deep breath. “Not being able to protect you.”
“Steve,” was all you could say at first. Then you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You launched yourself at him and wrapped him in a big hug. He was a fucking idiot. You couldn’t believe he’d punched Ransom. You were so mad about that. But he was your fucking brother and you’d missed him so much.
He hugged you back tightly. “It’s so fucking good to see you, Chipmunk,” he murmured into your hair.
You stood there, savoring the closeness for as long as you both were able, and then you pulled away and stared down at the mound of blankets and cushions. The big couch downstairs had been pulled apart the night before to give you a place to sleep. That severely limited the options for Steve. You sighed. “I guess it would make the most sense to put you in here.”
“And where would you sleep?” he asked, his tone taking on an aggressive edge, aimed at the man downstairs, you knew.
“I’d go back to the bedroom,” you said, with a put-on casualness like you weren’t aware of the fight that was about to happen.
“Absolutely not,” Steve said firmly.
“Oh my god, Steve! You can’t control where I sleep!” you said, throwing your hands in the air.
“The whole reason I’m here is to make sure you’re ok and that he can’t hurt you! I’m not gonna do something that puts you back in his space!”
“Steve, I don’t need that! He isn’t doing anything!”
“Then why did you text me? Why were you crying?!”
You did not have the energy for the conversation that would answer that question, so all you could do was glare at him, which he answered with a confrontational jut of his chin. The two of you just stood there locked in a staredown until Steve muttered, “What sort of grown man doesn’t have anywhere for guests, anyway?”
“The sort that likes an excuse to stop people from staying at his house,” Ransom said pointedly from the doorway, startling you both. “What exactly do you think I’d do, with you right across the hall? I’ve already gotten a taste of how you solve problems,” he said to Steve, gesturing with the ice pack still held to his face. Then, much softer, to you, he said, “I know you want your own space, but you’re more than welcome to share the bed until your stuff gets here. That’s all I wanted to say.” Then he turned around and walked into his bedroom, Lola scampering behind him, ready for bed.
You stared after him, unable to parse the feelings bubbling up inside you. He’d been so different lately. Or maybe you were just finally looking.
Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve asking “Your stuff?”
You turned your attention back to him. He was watching you too carefully. “Mhmm,” you hummed, trying to feign nonchalance. “I’m having my bedroom furniture shipped here. I’m turning this into my room.” He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to ask too many questions probably so you cut him off. “It’s been a really long couple of days, Steve. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, okay?”
He set his jaw. You could tell he wanted to fight you. Force you to talk to him. But you held your ground, looked him in the eye with a hint of challenge, and eventually he deflated, just a bit. “Yeah, okay,” he relented before he pulled you into another crushing hug. You’d really missed his hugs.
“I am happy to see you,” you whispered.
“Me too, Chip,” he whispered right back.
After making sure he had everything he needed, you left Steve alone with a quiet “goodnight,” and made your way back to Ransom’s bedroom. He and Lola were already snuggled in bed, snoring softly. You quickly went through your bedtime routine and then joined them, very careful not to wake either of them. After how eventful and emotionally wrought the last few days had been, it didn’t take you long at all to drift off into sleep.
You woke up in the morning pressed up against Ransom, face to face, your feet tangled together, Lola on your legs. You carefully pushed yourself away, watching him warily to see if he roused at all. Thankfully he didn't. You were sure he wouldn't be thrilled with how close you'd both gotten in the night.
You quietly got up and let yourself out of the bedroom, a now wide-awake Lola at your heels. The door to the gym was open and the room was empty, Steve’s suitcase wide open on the floor next to the nest of cushions and blankets. You didn’t hear anyone moving around downstairs, so he was out on a run, most likely.
You headed down to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, then started looking through the fridge for the leftovers from the previous morning. As you were doing that, a creak on the stairs let you know Ransom was joining you.
“Morning,” he said, voice scratchy from disuse. He went to the coffee maker and just stood in front of it, waiting for the pot to finish.
“Morning,” you said from inside the fridge. You found the leftovers and closed the appliance, finally turning to him with a gasp. You put the food down on the counter and went to Ransom. “Oh my god, your face!” A large bruise in a deep shade of purple took up most of the left side of his face, centered on his jaw and cheekbone. You rushed to his side and without thinking, extended a hand to touch him before you realized what you were doing and pulled back at the last minute, embarrassed.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he mumbled, his attention still fixed on the coffee slowly dripping into the carafe.
You stared at him for another moment, before you just couldn’t keep your feelings inside anymore. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly.
He finally looked at you at that. “What do you have to be sorry for?” he asked.
So much, you thought to yourself, maybe, probably. But for right now, in this instance, you just shrugged. “He’s my brother,” you said, a little helplessly.
“Did you tell him to punch me?” he asked as he decided he’d waited long enough and filled his mug.
“What? No!”
“Then there’s nothing to apologize for.” He leaned back against the counter as he sipped his coffee. “Where is your brother?”
“On a run, probably,” you said, now helping yourself to a mug and fixing it up how you liked.
Ransom scoffed. “Of course, he is.” He looked at you carefully for a long moment and you struggled not to squirm under his gaze. “You happy he’s here?”
“Of course!” you said, too quickly. He kept looking at you. “I mean, I didn’t invite him here, so… It was just a surprise. I don’t know. He’s very protective, you know?” Ransom raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle. “Right, yeah. He just– Sometimes, he just– he decides what’s right. And then there’s no changing his mind.”
He made a little hum, then nodded and said, “Yeah, I know. I have met him before. But why are you worried about that?”
“Uh, he just, he isn’t always a good listener. And he’s gonna have a lot of questions for me today. I know he will. And I don’t know how I’ll answer any of them without telling him about the– that I’m pregnant.”
“And you don’t want to?” he asked, his voice unexpectedly soft.
“No, that’s not exactly– I just–” you sighed. “This isn’t what he ever wanted for me.”
Ransom made a small noise of understanding. “You think he’ll be disappointed in you.”
There was no judgment in his tone, but it still made you shrink in on yourself a little. You nodded.
“Listen, it’s no secret that I think he’s a sanctimonious asshole.” You opened your mouth to start defending Steve, but Ransom shook his head. “Let me finish. It’s clear that he loves you. I think you’ll be ok. And if he does give you shit, well, it’ll be just one of a few things he’s done to earn himself a punch.”
“Oh god, Ransom no, please don’t do that.”
He grinned at you. “Nah, I won’t. Some of us have self-control. I know him being here is important to you. I’ll try not to do anything to mess that up.”
You wondered if the warm feelings spreading through you would always be such a surprise. If he would always be such a surprise.
“But,” he continued before he paused to drain his mug. “I am going to try to get out of here before he gets back.”
“This is your house. You don’t need to do that.”
“It’s fine,” he said quietly, “you should have a nice day with your brother.” Then he put his mug in the dishwasher and went back upstairs to get dressed, with you staring after him.
Ransom left and, sure enough, Steve got back a few minutes later. He went straight to the shower and you tried to busy yourself and calm your nerves while you waited for the inevitable conversation.
When he came down, his hair was still wet and he was dressed in jeans and a plain white tee. There was nothing casual about his demeanor though.
“So,” he said, sitting down next to you in the kitchen, “you ready to tell me what’s been going on here?”
You started to get up. “Do you want some breakfast first? We have some pastries left over from yesterday.”
He grabbed your arm and pulled you back down into your chair. “No, I want to know why you've sounded so upset every time I’ve talked to you since the wedding.”
You squirmed under his sharp gaze. You knew him. You knew that he wouldn’t give up until you told him everything. But you also knew how awful his reaction would be and you just weren’t ready to give everything up. “It’s just been a lot of change, you know? Of course, it’s been hard. I’m just… adjusting. It’s been an adjustment period.”
“Adjusting to what, exactly?”
“To marriage! To living in a new place! You know, the obvious.”
“The obvious is why you always sound like you’ve been crying?”
You resisted the urge to bury your face in your hands in frustration. “You know me,” you tried. “I’m emotional.”
“You’re emotional?! Is that what he says to you?” Shit, he was already getting angry and you hadn’t even told him anything yet.
“No! God, Steve. That’s not what I’m saying! I’m just trying to say that it’s been a difficult transition, but I’m starting to feel better about it.”
“And I’m asking you to tell me exactly what about it has been difficult.”
You wanted to growl. Once he got an idea in his head, he was so fucking intractable. “What’s been difficult about moving across the country to a brand new city and living with a stranger??”
“Yes. Exactly. In detail please.” And then he just stared at you and you wanted to scream.
“I’ve been a little lonely,” you conceded, hoping a partial truth might satisfy him. “Ransom has to work a lot and it’s been hard to know what to do with my time.” And then, without giving him time to react, you asked. “How about you? How are you? Now that I’m out of the way, is Joseph trying to set up matches for you?” It was a low blow, but you were grasping for any defense you could reach.
“I don't understand why you won't just tell me what's going on.”
“I'm trying! It's just a lot more complicated than you realize and I think that maybe once you're in an arrangement of your own–”
“My marriage won't be anything like this.”
At first, all you could do was gape at him. Then you just sighed. “I don’t think,” you started slowly, “that you can have any idea what a marriage like this is really like until you’re inside of it, Steve.”
He shook his head. “I know what sort of man I am,” he said confidently. “I know how I’ll treat my wife.” And you saw it then, the pity in his eyes, and everything in you bristled.
Sanctimonious. That was the word Ransom had used. You loved your step-brother so much. You’d defend him to the end of the world and back. But he really could be such an asshole sometimes. And seeing him now, like this, you could understand why someone like Ransom might hate him.
“Well,” you said, trying so hard to keep your voice even, “you’ll be lucky then. To have such an easy go of it. I hope you don’t find that it’s harder than it looks. That appearances can be deceiving.”
He narrowed his eyes at you. “That’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I don’t understand why you won’t.”
“Because I know you won’t listen! You’ve already decided what’s going on here!”
“Well, it seems pretty obvious! I know you, and I certainly know him. So yeah, when you’re crying every time I talk to you and you send me cryptic texts wishing I was here, yeah, I think I have a pretty good guess about what’s been going on.”
“You’re so frustrating,” you growled a little. Then you sighed. It was inevitable. You knew it. At this point, you just wanted to get it over with. “Ok. Fine. But you have to actually listen to me, ok? Like, to what I’m actually saying. You can’t just jump to conclusions. Okay? I’m serious.”
“Chip, yes, of course. I’ll always listen to you.”
You took a deep, fortifying breath. “It’s been– It’s been really hard here. I’ve been on my own almost the whole time and it’s just been really lonely. You just– you can’t know what it’s like to be married to a stranger. We haven’t known how to talk to each other and I just– It’s been really hard for both of us.” At that, Steve scoffed, but you couldn’t stop now, you had to get this out. “Anyway, um, a few days ago I learned some news, that was–” You paused to try to find the right word. You had no idea how to classify it. It wasn’t upsetting, per se, but what other word was there? “And then Ransom found out and that’s when I texted you. And slept in the gym.”
“What was the news?” Steve asked, gravely. He was looking at you so intently. You really didn’t want to do this, but you knew you had to.
You looked off into the corner of the room, unable to get this out and meet his eyes at the same time. “I’m pregnant,” you said quietly.
Steve stood up so abruptly that you couldn’t help but jump. “I’m gonna fucking kill him,” he actually snarled. You’d never heard his voice do that before.
“Steve, please,” you started, both hands out in a placating manner. “Please, can you calm down so we can talk about this?”
But, of course, he ignored you. “Where is he?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” you shrugged, helplessly. “He’s out. I don’t, I don’t know where.”
Steve didn’t say anything, just clenched his jaw and stood rigidly, his hands on his hips. You could practically see the untapped adrenaline coursing through him.
“Can you please just sit down?” you pleaded. “Just take a deep breath and sit down and we can–”
“I’m going for a run,” he said, curtly, then turned on his heel and walked towards the door.
“But you just got back from one!” you called after him. He wasn’t even dressed for a run. But that apparently didn’t matter. He was gone.
You just sat there for a moment, completely lost, with no idea what to do. Then you got your phone out and texted Ransom.
He knows
Don’t come back for a few hours, I think. He needs time to calm down. I’m sorry.
The checkmark showing he’d seen your message appeared almost immediately, quickly followed by the three dots that showed he was typing, but then those disappeared. A few moments later they came back but quickly disappeared again. No response ever came.
The men from the storage company came to take Ransom’s gym equipment away. You threw yourself into directing them, happy to have a distraction from worrying about where Steve was, what he was feeling. But then they were done, the room was empty, and Steve was still gone.
Ransom got back first. He found you in the former gym, trying to rearrange the couch cushions in the center of the room into something more comfortable. He paused in the doorway, Lola dancing around at his feet. “Where’s Steve?” he asked, as he bent down to pet her.
“He, uh–” you said without looking up, “he went for another run. He wasn’t very happy.”
“Fucking asshole,” Ransom muttered.
You finally looked at him, shaking your head. “No, he just doesn’t handle it well when he doesn’t know how to fix something.”
Ransom looked at you very seriously. “And if he makes that your problem, he’s a fucking asshole.”
“That's not– That's not what happened. That's not what he's doing.”
He stared at you for a long moment, causing you to look away, uncomfortable with the attention. “Okay,” he finally said with the hint of a sigh. “Well, I’ll be downstairs if you want company or…” He trailed off and shrugged, then left the room.
About an hour later, Steve burst back into the house, yelling into his phone. “Well, where the hell did that money go? There’s no reason for him to be that over-budget. I’ve seen the dailies. –No, you get down there and you get that set back under control. –I can’t, I’m not in LA. There was a family emergency. –Yeah, I know Joseph is still there. He isn’t my only family, is he? Listen, just go do your goddamn job.” With that, he hung up his phone forcefully then stomped upstairs without acknowledging you or Ransom where you were seated on the couch.
You could feel the irritation coming off of Ransom but he didn’t say anything. You were grateful. You had no idea what to make of Steve right now, how to explain him. Or excuse him. The awkward silence was preferable to trying.
Several minutes later, Steve came back down, changed into fresh clothes again. He smiled at you in greeting and if not for the tense set of his shoulders, you would have thought everything was fine. “Hey,” he said, “I just ordered the two of us some food.”
“The two of us?” you asked, looking pointedly at Ransom.
“Oh!” Steve exclaimed and the fucking fake look of surprise on his face made you want to scream. “I didn’t realize he was back. Well, I’m sure it’s fine. It’s his house. He’ll be able to scrounge up something.”
“Steve,” you started. Of all the unbelievably rude–
Your ramp-up to letting your brother have it was cut short by Ransom’s hand on your wrist. “It’s fine,” he said quietly. He looked tired and sad in a way you hated. He looked annoyed too, beyond belief, but underneath all that, you also saw something pleading in his expression. You remembered what he’d said this morning. He wanted you to have a nice day with your brother. So you swallowed down all of your anger and didn’t say anything. But you cataloged everything so you could have a private conversation with Steve later.
“See,” Steve said with a smug grin, “it’s fine. This will be nice. It’s been too long since we’ve gotten to pig out together. I got all your favorites.”
Despite your protests, Ransom made himself scarce. The food arrived shortly after he disappeared and Steve dished it up like nothing was wrong. You sat and ate with him, even though you weren’t much up for conversation, despite his frequent efforts. He never said anything about the news you’d shared that morning. You tried not to be too hurt by that.
As you were finishing up, Ransom quietly reappeared, grabbing something to drink from the fridge. Before he could run back upstairs, you stopped him, feeling awful that he must feel so unwelcome in his own home. “Do you want some food?” you asked, gesturing to the copious leftovers. “I could make you a plate.”
Not waiting for Ransom’s response, Steve cut in. “Is that how it works around here?” he asked, not of you but Ransom. “You’ve got her waiting on you on hand and foot?” his voice teeming with anger.
“Steve,” you hissed, trying to stop him, but he didn’t notice.
“I mean, I get it,” he continued, and there was a sharp edge to his voice that made you very nervous, “you must have thought you hit the jackpot, huh? Some sweet, naive little thing who's too young to really be plugged into the right part of the prep school rumor mill. Hasn't heard about the designer drugs, or the girls, or the parties. All the trouble your family's had to bail you out of. That's why they had to look clear on the other coast for an arrangement for you, huh? They had to go that far to find anyone who didn't already know what a piece of shit you are–”
“STEVEN GRANT ROGERS” you shouted, your stool loudly scraping against the hardwood floor as you stood up. It’d barely been there, you’d barely seen it, the flash of deep hurt on Ransom’s face before he’d covered it up, first with a blank mask, then a sneer that threatened to bring everything down. But you wouldn’t let that happen. You were fucking done. You couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Can you just stop, Steve?! I’m so tired of this shit!” you yelled at him.
“What?” they said in unison, both men facing you now, surprised.
“Lola!” you called out. “Come on! Steve and I are taking you for a walk!” She came racing down the stairs, and you quickly put on her harness and leash. Then you were out the door, trusting that Steve was behind you.
You walked in silence for a few blocks. You could feel him watching you warily, but you didn’t turn around to look at him. You didn’t think you’d ever been so mad at him in your life. It might’ve been the angriest you’d ever been with anyone. Your hands were shaking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you finally seethed, stopping so suddenly that he almost ran into you.
“What?” His obliviousness made you even angrier.
You finally turned on him, your face heating up with rage. “You’re such a fucking asshole! You’re fucking everything up!”
He cowed just a bit at your glare but quickly recovered. “What are you talking about?! I came here to help you!”
“Well, you aren’t! I keep telling you that you aren’t but you never fucking listen to me!”
He recoiled a little, and then his eyes went steely. “Really? I never listen to you? I’m the only one who ever listens to you!”
Even if that were true, there was something about the way he said it that really pissed you off. “Fuck you!” you said and charged forward with Lola running to catch up behind you.
A moment later, Steve was on your heels again. “What is going on with you? You’ve been acting off since I got here.”
You spun on your heels to face him. “I’ve been acting off?! I wonder why! You’ve just barged in here like a bull in a china shop, not caring at all about the damage you’re doing!”
“I’m here to help you. I’ve been defending you!”
“Yeah, now! You’re trying to help me, now!”
“What does that mean?”
“Where have you been, Steve? You’ve been MIA the last three months, and now when things might actually get better, now you’re here to ‘defend’ me.”
“Better? This,” he hissed, flinging an arm towards your stomach, “is better?!”
“We had to do it. There was a clause in the contract. You know that!”
He scoffed. “Yeah, and I'm sure he reminded you of that every chance he got, as he fully took advantage of it.”
If he hadn't already set you off, that would be the thing to do it. “Never! Ok? I was the one who pushed it. I was the one who rushed It. Me. Never him.”
That brought Steve up short. “What? Why would you do that?”
“Because of your aunt!”
For a frustratingly long moment, he just gave you a confused look. Then you finally saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Laura.”
“Yes, Laura! That wasn't going to be me. Not ever.”
“I never would have let that happen!”
The laugh that burst out of you at that was cold, hard. “How?” you asked. “You're always saying shit like that, but what, exactly, would you have done?”
He started to answer, but you cut him off quickly, shaking your head.
“This is my life, Steve. Mine. I’m the one who has to actually live it. I don’t need you judging me for how I choose to survive it.”
“You shouldn't have to just survive it,” he said. His tone had suddenly turned sad. It made you even angrier.
“I'll be lucky to survive it,” you growled. “You get to just waltz around, forgetting how this world works whenever it's convenient for you. Meanwhile, I have to claw and fight for just the possibility that I might not turn into my mom.” You took a deep breath. “Ransom, at least, can fucking see that. He's stuck in this mess with me, and I think he might actually want to try. You’re not going to ruin that for me just because he insulted you once at a cocktail party or whatever.” You turned on your heels. You were exhausted. You didn't have the energy for any more of this. “I'm going back. You can come if you want. But you better fucking apologize. He didn't deserve that. No matter what he’s done, he didn’t deserve to be treated that way by you.”
Steve was a few minutes behind you getting back to the house, and he did apologize, although through gritted teeth. The whole time, Ransom’s eyes were on you.
You declared you were going to bed shortly after. It was too early, but you didn't care. You were done with this day.
As you were changing into your sleep clothes, Ransom quietly let himself into his room. You both looked a little startled by your state of undress. Part of you wanted to cover up. It felt so intimate, changing in front of him. But you knew that was silly. He'd already seen so much more of you.
He just stood there for a long moment before he finally spoke. “You yelled at him for me.”
“Yeah,” you said. “He deserved it.”
“But he's your brother.” He almost seemed confused.
The absolutely absurd thought And you're my husband popped into your head unbidden, but thankfully you didn't vocalize it. “That doesn't change the fact that he was wrong.”
Ransom didn’t say anything. Just stood there with a furrowed brow. After too much silence you asked softly, “Did I do something wrong?”
He jolted a little, like he’d been somewhere else, then shook his head. “No, sorry, I just–” He took a breath. “Thank you. I’m not used to people doing things like that for me.”
“Oh.” You didn’t know what to say. You suddenly felt so sad for him. But honestly, the only person who’d ever done anything like this for you had been Steve. And you’d seen Ransom’s family. You knew he’d never had a Steve.
Sparing you from having to figure out a response, Ransom took a deep breath, “Listen,” he started, “about the things he said, I–”
You cut him off with a shake of your head. “We don’t need to talk about that right now. Sometime, maybe, but not right now.” Nothing about his past would change things for you now. You’d still be married to him either way. It was better to just focus on the man he was showing himself to be now.
Ransom took a long moment and looked at you carefully. Finally, he asked, “Did you yell at him for yourself too?”
You nodded, then added a quiet, “I did.”
“Good,” he said, then started to turn around. “I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Good night.”
“Good night,” you whispered.
Right before he left the room, he turned back to add one more thing. “I’ve never seen you as naive. Not for a moment in this whole thing.” Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.
You just stood there, in the middle of the room, unable to move for a few minutes. Then you took a deep breath and moved into the bathroom. As you finished getting ready for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that maybe you had two people in your corner now.
Your bedroom furniture and other belongings were delivered the next day. The movers set up the heavy furniture and then left everything else to you. As you started to begin unpacking, there was a hesitant knock on the door frame.
Steve stood just outside your now bedroom, looking far less sure than you were used to. “Would you like some help?” he asked softly.
“Sure,” you said, with a little shrug, pushing some boxes in his direction.
The two of you mostly worked in silence, only broken by Steve’s occasional questions of where you wanted your things to go. After a while he finally broke, “Dad’s been piling a ton of new stuff on my plate.” You stopped what you were doing and looked at him, listening. “Responsibilities and projects and– He wants me to take on more of being the face of the studio, too, so lots of parties and dinners and stuff. My schedule has been out of control. I’d think he was getting ready to retire if I didn’t actually know him.” He let out a weak chuckle. When you didn’t react, didn’t join him, he put his hands up in defense. “Not an excuse, just–” he shrugged his shoulders a little helplessly and sighed, “just an explanation, I guess.”
“You told me that I could call you any time of day for any reason. That’s what you said. And then I did, and you were nowhere to be found.”
“I know,” he started, “I–”
You shook your head. It was your turn to talk. “I spent months here feeling more alone than I ever have in my life. I’ve had nothing to do, no one to talk to. I was living with someone I thought I needed to be scared of.” You paused, wondering if that would set Steve off, but he just sat there, waiting for you to continue. Like he was really trying to listen this time. “His family’s been so awful to me, his mom especially. And you know my mom's been no help. She just kept telling me to keep him happy, even though I didn't know how. And I didn't know how to talk to him and he didn't know how to talk to me. But I knew the only way I could even start to feel secure here was if we fulfilled every part of the contract. So,” you put your hand on your stomach self-consciously and shook your head. “And the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you, and you wouldn't pick up your fucking phone. It felt like I was just stuck here while you went back to your life and forgot about me.” Tears spilled past your lashes and you hurried to wipe them away.
Steve’s face, which had grown sadder as you'd been talking, completely crumpled. He crawled from his sitting position across the room to you as fast as he could. “Hey, no,” he said emphatically as soon as he was sitting in front of you. “I think about you all the time. I've missed you so much. I've been so worried about you. I know I haven't done a good job showing it. I'm so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn't care. I–” He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for just a moment. When he opened them, they had the distinct shine of unshed tears. “Talking to you was really hard. I felt like you weren’t actually telling me anything.” Before you even opened your mouth, Steve put up a hand to stop you from saying anything. “I'm not saying any of this was your fault. I know it's all mine. But I just didn’t know how to get you to talk to me. And if you wouldn't tell me what was wrong, then I couldn't fix it. I felt so useless. Every time we talked I felt so fucking useless. And so sometimes,” he paused like he was bracing himself, “sometimes it was kind of a relief to have the excuse of being busy. To have a reason to not call or text you back right away. I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I was always thinking about you. I was always worried about you. But sometimes I just couldn't fucking talk to you.”
It took your breath away, the intense stab of hurt you felt. “I’ve never needed you to be useful,” you gasped out through your tears. “I just need you to be there for me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I just need you to be there for me.”
“Shit,” he choked out, his voice so thick. “I know.” He moved forward, then paused, waiting for you to stop him. When you didn’t, he lunged for you, wrapping you in his arms. “I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.”
You just sat like that, holding each other for several minutes. When you finally pulled apart, Steve blinked his eyes clear and said, “I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know,” you said softly, and took a deep breath, “and I forgive you for doing it anyway.”
You watched some of the rigidness leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he breathed out.
Neither of you said anything, and there was still this tension in the room. You were so tired of it. You just wanted your brother back. You just wanted any normalcy you could possibly get, so you wiped the tears from your eyes and said, “You're right. I wasn't telling you anything. I think because I was afraid that if I did, you wouldn't listen past the first two words and then do something completely wild, like fly all the way across the country to punch Ransom in the face. Ridiculous, right?”
He just stared at you in shock and then clocked the wry smile on your face. He laughed despite himself, then rolled his eyes and groaned. “You're sure he didn’t deserve it?”
You pulled a small pillow from the box beside you and threw it at him, annoyed as he dodged it easily. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole!” You scowled at him, but you couldn’t quite keep the corners of your mouth from ticking up. The whole room felt lighter now, easier to breathe in. It was such a relief.
“I can’t believe you actually like him now,” Steve whined, his whole face scrunched up in disgust.
You shrugged. “I still don’t really know him. But I’m going to try to. We both are, I hope. I don’t know, I think maybe we could be friends, eventually.” You shook your head in disbelief. “That’s a best-case scenario I never really imagined.”
Steve looked at you thoughtfully, and with a hint of playfulness, said, “Well. I’m never going to like him.” His eyes got a little more serious. “But I’m really happy, and so relieved, that things are getting better for you.”
“Yeah, me too,” you said softly. Then you both went back to unpacking, conversation ebbing in and out much easier now.
Eventually, you heard him let out a long sigh. You turned to look at him as he carefully pulled something from a box. Oh. It was Mr. Bun Bun, your favorite stuffed animal as a kid. You remembered crying as you packed it away to put into storage, Steve sitting next to you, gently rubbing your back.
He slowly took a few steps to the head of your bed and then reverently placed it against your pillows. He just stared at it for a moment and then looked around at the rest of the room. “Wow,” he said, and he sounded so sad, “I guess you really live here now.”
“What do you mean?” you asked. “I've been here for months.”
“Yeah, I know. But I guess,” he shrugged, “I guess it still sort of felt like you'd be back any day. But all your stuff's here now. It just– It feels final.”
You looked around the room as well. It wasn't exactly like your old room in your old apartment but this was the closest thing you'd had to feeling home in months. “Yeah,” you said quietly, not quite sure what to do with these feelings. “I guess it does.”
Steve sat down on your bed and you immediately joined him. He knocked his knee against yours. “I know I keep saying this, but I really do miss you. It’s so weird to not have you in LA anymore. To go to all these parties and not be able to talk to you there. Or to be able to just drop by your apartment when I need to see you. Or when you need to see me.”
“Yeah,” you nodded. “That’s why it’s so important for us to actually keep in touch.”
“I know,” he said, seriously. “I’ll be better at it. I promise.”
You hummed in response and grabbed his hand. Now that everything was out in the open, it was such a relief to just be able to enjoy his closeness, without the tension hanging over both of you.
After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and spoke again. “I’m gonna go home tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“You were right. I’m just in the way here. It’s time for me to go.”
“Ok,” you replied, your voice small. You weren’t sure how to feel about that—the last few days had been so hard and so exhausting. But you’d finally gotten your brother back and now he was leaving again? “Are you sure?”
He jostled you with his shoulder. “Hey,” he said gently with a smile. “I’ll be back. And I’ll even let you invite me next time.”
You smiled back. “Advanced notice?” you asked. “How novel!”
Steve grabbed one of your pillows and hit you with it. You collapsed into giggles, feeling lighter than you had for a long time.
You spent the rest of the day with your brother, which warmed your soul even more than you thought you needed.
You took Lola out for a short walk in the evening, while Steve finished gathering his things before the car would come to pick him up. When you came back in, you found Steve and Ransom locked in a serious conversation. They spoke in hushed tones, leaning across the kitchen island to face each other. There was no yelling. No tensing muscles ready for a fight. All the same, it made you very nervous.
They both quieted as they noticed your presence. That didn’t help to quell your worry at all. “What’s going on here?”
Steve gave you his trademarked boyish grin. “Just getting to know my brother-in-law.”
You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously then cast a concerned glance at Ransom, but he waved you off with a reassuring shake of his head. Steve was still grinning at you like everything was fine. He really could be such an asshole. “Sure. OK,” you said, resigned to whatever weird dynamic was happening in front of you. “Are you all ready?”
“Yup,” Steve nodded, gesturing to where his luggage was waiting by the door. “Car should be here any minute.”
You nodded back, trying to ignore the way your chest tightened. He pulled you into a hug quickly. He just held you for a moment before you heard Ransom clear his throat behind you. “I’ll give you two your privacy.”
You pulled away just enough to see Steve look over your shoulder so he could say, “Remember what we talked about.”
You looked over to Ransom who held Steve’s gaze and firmly said, “Yeah, you too,” then went upstairs.
“The fuck was that?” you asked Steve.
“Nothing, just a conversation we needed to have.”
“Steve,” you sighed in exasperation as you separated yourself from him.
He put up his hands in defense. “It’s fine. I’m playing nice. I promise.”
“Sure.”
He took a step back and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s one more thing I need to say to you. I should have done it yesterday when you first–” he shook his head. “My reaction when you told me about the baby was awful, I know that. And I don’t know if ‘congratulations’ is something you want to hear right now, so I just want to say that I’ll be here for you, whatever you need. And I’ll be here for the baby too. OK? I just really needed to say that.”
You searched his face, his eyes for anything that might warn you that his words were empty, but all you found was sincerity. You took a deep breath. “All I need is for you to pick up your phone.”
“I know,” he nodded quickly. “I will.”
You were so torn between the exhaustion and frustration of the last few days and just how much you'd missed your brother. You pulled him into another hug. “You’re such a jerk,” you said with a hint of fondness.
“I know,” he said, wrapping his arms around you.
“And I love you so much.”
You felt him exhale, any remaining uneasiness bleeding out of him. “I know. I love you too.”
His phone buzzed loudly in his pocket. “Your car is here,” you said sadly, pulling away.
“Hey, that’s ok. It’s not like they’ll leave without me.”
“No,” you shook your head, “you should go. You don’t want to get home too late.”
“Oh, chipmunk,” he sighed. “Ok, one more,” then hugged you again. “I’m so proud of you.”
You pulled back to look him in the eye. “What for?”
He took a moment to gather his words. Finally, he said, looking you right in the eye, “For being so much stronger than you should have to be.”
You had no idea what to say to that so you walked over to the door, Steve right behind you.
At the door, he put one hand on his suitcase, and with the other, he grabbed your hand. “I’ll see you again soon. I promise.”
You nodded, searching for something to say. “Uh, thanks for coming.”
That elicited a big hearty laugh from him. “Yeah, sure.” He squeezed your hand. “Take good care of yourself.”
“You too,” you said, opening the door for him.
He gave you a big smile before he walked out the door. You watched the driver take Steve’s suitcase from him and open the back door for Steve to get in. You stayed in the doorway until the car slowly backed down the driveway and turned onto the road. After closing the door, you still stayed where you were, trying to breathe through the flood of emotions overtaking you. You already missed him so much, yet you were so relieved he was gone. What were you supposed to do with that?
You were finally jolted out of your reverie by the sound of Ransom coming down the stairs, the tinkling of Lola’s collar accompanying him. “Steve’s gone?” he asked as he came off the last step.
When you nodded, you saw the way his shoulders slumped in relief. You held back the apology desperate to crawl out of your mouth. Steve’s actions weren’t your responsibility, you tried so hard to remember. But still, Ransom had lost the comfort of his own home for days. The guilt was there.
He got himself a water out of the fridge and then looked at you carefully. “How are you?”
The reflex to tell him you were fine was strong, but you did your best to resist it and answered honestly. “I don’t really know.”
He smiled a little ruefully. “I have no idea what’s normal for siblings.”
You chuckled lightly. “Neither do I.”
He took several steps towards you and you couldn’t help the way your body swayed in his direction, just a little. “But you’re alright?’
You nodded and said softly, “I will be.”
“Good.” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the way the fingers on one of his hands drummed against his thigh. “Well. I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, strangely aware of the space between you. “I appreciate it. It was a weird few days, but I think I’m ok. Or I will be.”
“Yeah. Good,” he said again.
You both just stood there for a moment, the air around you oddly charged, until Lola pawed at your leg. “Right. Well, she needs to go out. So. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he said quietly, then turned toward the sink as you went outside with Lola.
When you got back in, there was no sign of Ransom, so you led Lola upstairs to your new bedroom. She immediately hopped onto your bed, wagging her tail wildly. As you looked around, all of your things almost as they’d been in your apartment in LA, those feelings you felt while unpacking your things with Steve grew in you even more. You smiled at your little dog. “Yeah, feels almost like home, doesn’t it, Lola?”
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#ransom drysdale x reader#ransom drysdale#ransom drysdale x female reader#ransom drysdale x you#steve rogers#knives out#ransom drysdale angst#steve rogers angst#chris evans fanfiction#fanfic#reader insert#arranged marriage au#more than this#kris wrote something
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Awake - (Maknae Line)



separate members Ateez x (F)Reader
Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.
Genre: Hurt + Comfort
Rating: PG-17
Warnings: None
Word Count: 9.5K
Est.Read Time: 47 min
Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet
Banner: @cafekitsune
Hyung Line: Here
A/N: A little update, this took forever- Also I no longer remember how to write a literature review, yet, it is due on Monday (fml) .I'll update my requests soon and upload the next chapter of Meow soon, too! (I AM SORRY SAN'S PART IS EXTREMELY LONG)



Choi San
“I…what?” you paused, looking up from the vacuum-packed pillow in your lap. Sitting at the center of his bed, surrounded by various items, you blinked at the man in the swivel chair.
“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.” The beanie clad man spat back, crossing his arms over his chest, the black shirt clinging onto his form. An eerie silence settled between the two, neither making their next move, nor deciding to back down.
The evening had started extremely well. Tonight she was going to spend the night at his place, for the first time ever, which is why she was extremely excited and nervous. The two had spent a week planning the various activities for Friday night. He had volunteered to arrange the movies and bring the gaming console to his room, thrilled when she told him she'd bring the skincare products, claiming the two could do facials and wear face masks! It got better when he asked if perhaps they could play board games to which she instantly agreed, adding - “Let's bake too! I'll get the ingredients!”
Hence, as soon as you had entered his room, you had dumped the contents of your back on his bed, showing him the numerous facemasks, UNO cards, a board game, some hair accessories, makeup and an unhealthy amount of snack (yes, you were planning on doing cutesy couple things) you had brought, the ingredients for the ‘special Friday night brownie’ on the computer desk beside him. What you did not expect was for it to all go down hill once you took out the pillows.
“What’s that?” he asked, watching you pull a vacuumed white thing out of your bag, one after another. Placing them on his bed, before taking out two pillow covers. You smiled at him, before ripping off the seal of one of the pillows, pulling the plastic off, and watching as it fluffed up. “Pillows!” you smiled, “You only have one, the poor boy is all worn out, lumpy, and old, so I got two more! You can replace it with them!” looking at him, you pressed the cotton pillow, to show him, “They’re super soft and have memory foam, I got them, especially for your neck and shoulders!”
You grabbed the second one and placed it on your lap when he spoke, “No.”
“What?”
“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.”
Blinking at him, you moved the sealed pillow aside and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, trying not to push any of the multiple things you had brought off the bed. Feet pressing against the floor you looked up at him, hands on your knees, leaning closer, “Sannie…it’s just a pillow-”
That was perhaps all it took for the mood to go sour, real quick. He had got up from his seat and marched towards her, causing her eyes to widen in surprise, especially when he had stood right above her, hands on his hips, saying something she’d never even imagined, before reaching beside her - though she had flinched when his hand came closer, something he had noticed but chose to ignore- grabbing his pillow and pulling back. He stared at her, not even sparing her a glance as he walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him as he did so, his words still ringing in her ears as she blinked down at her hands, wondering what she had said, if she had done something to offend him, if she really was inconsiderate.
“I didn’t know you could be so inconsiderate and spoiled- or maybe you’re just selfish.”
Honestly, you had thought of going after him, but you had never seen react like this- this uncharacteristic outburst was extremely new to you, the cold words thrown at you were worse, this wasn’t what you were used to. This wasn’t the same Sannie who would whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you were sad, this wasn’t the same Sannie who once came over when he found out you were sick, only leaving when you were asleep and well fed. This definitely wasn’t the same man who had taken hold of your heart, delicately placing it in his pocket- no, you really didn’t know who that was. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t go after him, at one point, you had thought of packing up and going home, but when you glanced at the clock 01.23 AM was not a very appropriate time to travel back home alone. With that you had neatly packed up everything but the essentials needed for your nightly routine,making sure all you’d have to do was change before leaving as soon as the sun woke up.
You peaked out the door to find complete darkness, sighing in relief as you took your essentials and walked down the hall towards the washroom, passing by Seonghwa’s room, making sure to be quiet when you noticed the light peaking through from under the door. If you focused, you could make out Seonghwa’s muffled voice, though it was like he was talking to himself, or he was on the phone, but he did not sound pleased at all. Due to which you tried to rush through your routine, making sure to be as quiet as before, slowly closing the door, your breath hitching at the soft click, a hand gripping the door handle, while your palm pressed against the wood, trying to listen to any sounds of movements, luckily there was nothing.
With a sigh you walked over to the mirror, grimacing at the sight, your new night suit was but a simple but a cute cotton outfit, a lavender camisole with a patching pair of loose fitted shorts, ensuring maximum comfort and well…it was supposed to ensure his liking as well. The mere thought of him squeezed your heart, wanting to go after him and sort it out- but no, you were a big girl and a smart one, no man could just say something so brash and throw a fit before leaving, not even the man who held your heart in his warm palm.
You had assumed that these thoughts were going to consume and feed off your sleep, but boy, were you wrong, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, off to dreaming about who knows what, but it was a pleasant dream, a very soft, warm and nice dream, maybe it was because of the new pillow, who knows- but it was a very life like dream, where you felt all fuzzy and secure, as if you were in a comforting hug, ones like he’d give you, a bit too…realistic.
Though she only jerked awake at the feeling of something trailing up her spine, a small gasp breaking the silence, as she tried to move away, only to be pulled closer, a groan from above her head vibrating through her whole being. Oh.
Letting out a sigh of relief, you tilted your head up, to the best of your ability, forcing the man’s chin off your head as he blinked down at you with droopy eyes, a sheepish pout, ever so visible even in the dim light. The thing trailing up your spine, was in fact, his fingers, his fingertips tracing your spine, in a soothing manner. Your own hand squeezed in between their bodies, trying to push him away but he didn't budge, only his palm pressed against the small of your back, trying to keep you near him.
“You don’t get to be mean, and assume a little skinship is gonna fix that.”
Your words were harsh, and your tone was even more harsh, but you wanted it to be, you wanted it to sting, enough for him to realise this wasn't a joke, he had ruined the entire night and the mood.
His grip loosened at your words, enough for you to slip away from you to move onto the other pillow, sighing at the cold sensation on your cheek, now at the same eye level as the moron who was on the other pillow- internally you wanted to be petty and snatch it from under his head, he didn't deserve it, but the sight of his mochi cheek smashed against the soft pillow had your inner girl squealing at at the sight.
“I…I've had this same pillow since my trainee days.” he mumbled, reaching behind him to pull out the lumpy, beat up, tired pillow and pulling it to his chest, hugging it closer, “I had it when I got picked…I had it when we went to Gangnam…when grandpa…passed and…well…I- did you think I was gonna...hurt you?” He whispered, referring to the way you had flinched, of course the guilt was eating him up, that's why he had gone to Seonghwa to talk about it- maybe he looked to scary for his own good, but hell, an angry Seonghwa was even more frightening, and that's whom he had to deal with.
With a deep breath you reached over and placed your hand on top of his hand, "It was...reflex...I knew you wouldn't...at least not physically," , noticing how his fingers gripped the pillow harder at contact, “Why…didn't you just…say that before?”
His breath hitched at your question, looking everywhere but at your face, the insecurities brewing inside as he chewed on his lower lip, unsure if he should answer you, what would you think about him if he told you? What if you find it weird, what if his insecurities and his past makes you question the worth of this relationshipz- he's not the boy he used to be, he's not sensitive or weak or-
“Sannie…” she whispered, slowly moving closer to him, her face on the same fluffy pillow he was on, the old pillow now squished between the two as she sighed, “You can tell me…” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the warm skin, trying fo coax whatever it was out of him. She was still upset, but, she'd never seen him this conflicted.
“I just…” with a sigh he closed his eyes, thinking of what to say, only to end up blank. He opened his eyes to meet hers, mumbling, “Seonghwa yelled at me for what I said to you…he's right…I shouldn't have said that…I just…you don't really know…I mean I wasn't always…like this…this big or…manly or strong-” his grip on the pillow loosened, instead his arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him in one go, his lips curled into a small smile at her squeak, his pillow between the two, pressed to the max, “And when…you said its just a pillow I- I kind of…I mean its stupid but it scared me how I… if you were to realise I just grew bigger, I'm not that different, I'm still scared of bugs, I still hate vegetables and -”
“You really are a little dumb.” you cut him off, pressing a finger on his lips, to shush him, “I don't care if you're not all buff and big, I don't care if you were lanky and whiney- I just know you were San then and you are San now- as long as that big ol'heart of yours stays the same, I'm all yours.”
You felt his grip tighten around you, pressing your forehead against him as he relaxed against you, letting out a breath of relief.
“Sure, these big boys add a great amount to your aura points though.” You giggled, patting his muscular arms, “A softie with big guns is all a girl wants~” you smiled at the way his face contorted in confusion, only to quickly press your lips against him, laughing at his surprised squeak.
“I'll make it up to you…” he whispered, finally feeling the exhaustion of the entire confession settling in, moving to remove the pillow from between them but she stopped him, surprising him yet again as she smiled at him, one that had his heart beat so loud that's all he could hear.
“I said don't use it as a pillow because your neck will hurt, but I never said throw away a part of yourself- plus its nice…smells like you.” her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his arm over the pillow and herself, snuggling closer to him, “You're lucky I was staying over for the whole weekend.”
With your head tucked under his chin, arm wrapped around him, smoothly rubbing his back, his wrapped around your waist, he sighed nuzzling into the new pillows, happy that they carried your scent more than his, “Lucky to have you in my life.”



Song Mingi
Of course you were mad at him, how could you not be? He was supposed to come home by 6- he was supposed to spend the evening with you, have dinner with you, watch a movie with you, and spend your anniversary together. Well technically, it was your 6 month anniversary, but hey, half a year meant something to you, and as much as you were mature and ‘a cold-hearted’ b*tch, as claimed by your male coworkers, you were just soft for the giant man child who somehow managed to thaw the glacier you had for a heart.
So, when you had texted him earlier today he had instantly replied with an excited confirmation, what you did not think that after that he wouldn’t respond to you. You tried calling too, but his phone went straight to voicemail, so you waited and waited and waited- until you got a little notification of a certain white haired man doing a live, one that wasn’t scheduled. Were you upset because he was doing his job? No. Were you upset he didn’t tell you? Yes. He should’ve been decent enough to at least text you that he was going to be late, that he had work- you’d never asked him to prioritise you over his work, you knew what you were getting into, and with your workaholic personality, he knew yours, which is why he should have known that you would have understood wherever he was coming from.
Naturally she was furious when he stepped into the apartment, though being Mingi, he had no clue what she was upset about, even after he saw the cold pizza, the melted candles and small gift that lay wrapped in glossy paper. Instead he had walked over to her with a smile, ready to hug her- wrong move.
"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Her voice boomed across the hall, followed by the echo of her slap resonated in the confines of his aching heart, staring down at her with utter shock, a whimper at the tip of his tongue, an apology right after but hey- this was Song Mingi, and using his actual emotional maturity was never his first move.
Hence the platinum blonde gasped, giving her an offended look and mumbling, "Why are you being so pissy? It's literally a pizza, not some homemade meal." He eyed the table before turning to her, though she looked as if she were about to explode- somewhere deep down he was kind of afraid, he’d never seen her this angry, she was often quite calm and composed, extremely reserved. That would explain why her reaction caught him off guard, especially when he tried to talk to her, tried to hold her hand so she’d stop leaving every damn room she walked into.
“Look, I have a job!!” he called out walking after her, into the kitchen, “You of all people should know that, I can’t just leave my fans because you wanna celebrate some made up event!”
“Its not made up Mingi!” you turned around and glared at him, “I- I asked you two days ago about this, I told you it meant something to me and- I just, I can’t believe you didn’t even think of texting me! What’s the difference between you and any other guy from my office if you can’t communicate properly!”
Granted, if he took a minute to process her words, but sometimes she was so complicated. Moreover, he knew what he got into once he began to chase after her for months, he knew what he was getting into when she directly told him about her issues and insecurities, her reserved attitude and persona, one that she often let go off when she was with her giant, lovable dummy. If he kept all those factors in mind, and just took a moment to think, he would have understood the premise of her argument, but he really didn’t want to, or perhaps he just didn’t take it seriously, either way, his next words were the reason for which he was back in his form, wondering why the hell he didn’t think of apologising like a normal person.
“They’re lucky because they don't have a Runik's cube for a girlfriend.”
That was all it took for the bomb to go off;
"GET YOUR FAKE GOJO LOOKIN ASS OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”
“W-what-” his question was cut off when she shoved him away, going to grab the nearest object which happened to be the very present she had spent most of her salary on, swinging it right at his face- screw his job. But the bastard was quick when he ducked and tried to get to her, only to get whacked in the head with a candle, “Babe-”
“I SAID LEAVE!” you yelled, staring at him through bleary eyes, trying to keep the whirlwind of emotions, taking a deep breath as you pointed towards the door, feeling the cold slither up your fingertips, choosing the words that would end it all, whoever said dating was fun, was wrong, you’d rather stay single than feel any similar form of pain, though you did feel like you should have the final say in this. It didnt matter that the tall man in front of you looked like he was fumbling with the pieces of your so called relationship, tripping over his words has he tried to sprout out an apology, “Leave, let me relieve you of this burden.”
For you, the conversation had ended there, especially when he was standing outside, not sparing him a moment as you slammed the door on his face. After that, like any San individual you had cleared up the table, initially thinking of throwing out the pizza, but then it hit you - “I work hard to earn too, its not just him.” So you kept that, threw away the candles and the other decorations (stabbed the balloons-naturally). Honestly, you didn't know where his gift went, probably smashed into pieces after it ‘boinked’ off his stupid, giant head. After that you had washed up (cried in the shower for about an hour or so), stumbled towards your bed and knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow.
The worst kind of ‘black-out’ sleep known to man, is what you endured that night, only to wake up when the fire alarm went off, fighting off the blankets, almost tumbling to your demise several times before entering the kitchen, coughing as the smoke entered your lungs. You opened the nearest window and turned around to bump into a softer form, arms wrapping around your form, before you were dragged out of the apartment and into the balcony, wheezing for your life, taking in as much clean air in one go as possible.
Mingi rubbed her back in a circular motion, a hand holding onto hers, helping her sit down on one of the stools, pulling one closer and sitting right next to her as he held her hand, thinking of going back inside to get her water, though when he felt her squeeze his hand he face turned to meet hers, blinking at her stoic face. Damn, she’s still mad at him.
As soon as clarity hit, she had realised, this moron was back, not only that, it was still night out, so he had graciously trespassed into her apartment, set something on fire, almost killed her and then dragged her out on the balcony, of all the idiots she could’ve picked from to date, she chose the their leader.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was…trying to make you breakfast.”
“I told you its over-the hell? What time is it?”
She got up only to feel him tug her back down, this time onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape, as she glared down at him, “Let go.”
“No…” shaking his head he buried his face in her neck, “ its 5 something, I…I’m sorry.” he whispered, feeling her stiffen in his hold, he knew a mere apology wouldn’t be enough, but he had to start somewhere, especially when he had gone back to the apartment and narrated the entire incident to his two bros- both thus throwing him back out, San adding an, “And don’t come back until you fix your mess, you ungrateful idiot.” Truthfully, he didn’t need to tell him that he had f*cked up, he was well aware of that fact, he just needed a push- that and he was terrified of her, he’d only seen her get angry at her coworkers when they’d mess up work, or that one time she got mad at a couple of highschoolers who thought kicking a puppy was fun, he’d never been the one at the receiving end of her wrath, until today. Perhaps that’s why he had assumed he was all forgiven, all safe, he had some form of immunity, thus, giving him the privilege of being mean to her- well, that theory was stupid. Wat made him assume he could just be mean to her because he felt like it? Since when was he, someone who knows what it felt like to be neglected, begin to neglect his own loved ones? She never fell in love with a man who was like this- what was he doing?
She was about to push him off, especially after he didn’t bother adding anything after his sorry, no explanation, nothing, only to stop when she felt something damp on her skin, realising that he in fact was not rocking them back and forth, but the man child was crying.
“Dude…are you…crying?” she asked, gripping her shoulders as she pushed him away, earning a whine, as the bigger man tried to cover his face with his hands, “Song Mingi, what is wrong with you-”
“I’m sorry, okay!” his whimper had her freezing, eying his face, “I- I didn’t mean it! I don’t know why I said it, okay? It wasn’t cool and I-I know tha- I just- you’ve never, I mean- angry- upset because of me-” his words when she squeezed his cheeks, cupping his warm face, glaring down at him, frowning at the wetness.
“The Song Mingi I fell in love with was a softie- not a red flag like Gojo.”
He could only nod at her statement, fingers gripping onto her harder, cherishing the lack of past tense in her statement.
“Am I going to get him back, or is this the new you?”
She moved her hands to let him speak, only he pulled her flush against him, instinctively her arms wrapped around his shoulders, sighing when she felt his hold tighten. Her small squeak echoed in the quiet of the early morning, blending in with the soft symphony of the birds that had woken up before the sun, as he stood up, slowly walking back inside the apartment. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she blinked up at him, catching his little pout, only to sigh, as he carried her to her bedroom, only stopping at the edge of his bed.
“Can I…sleep with you?”
She hummed for a moment, biting her lip to hide her smile, when she noticed him frown at the time she was taking to answer his question, “What if I say no-SONG MINGI!”
He rolled his eyes at your little scream, he didn’t put his entire body weight on you, though, he did roll around until both of you were wrapped in a soft cocoon, with your back pressed against his warm, broad chest, his arm wrapped around you, as he shamelessly draped a heavy leg over yours. For a while, the two of you lay there silently, watching as the golden beams of the warm morning sun, sifted through the slits of the curtains, creating an luminous mosaic across the opposite wall, the song of the world waking up around you was slowly lulling you to sleep, and just when it became just right, he instantly broke the peaceful atmosphere, “Thank you for the ring.”
“Oh.” so it didnt vanish, he had taken it,
“Most welcome…”you whispered, trying to cling onto the strings of tranquility that were wrapped around you, “Did you take it before I threw you out?”
“Mhmm…is it…a couple ring?” he asked, though a moment later he got no response, causing him to peer down at her, and let out a chuckle, she had fallen asleep- she must’ve been tired, especially after all the stupid things he did yesterday, though his smile widened after his hand trailed down her arm, hand clasping hers, almost shivering with joy at the feeling of the cold metal on her finger.



Jung Wooyoung
Wooyoung had a sharp tongue, he knew that, the guys knew that, hell, you knew that too, but did that mean you were prepared for it? No, of course not, you were his little, itty-bitty, cute pookie- don't hate the name, hate the man who had bestowed it upon you.
He gave you the name when you called him to your apartment for the first time, mind you, it wasn't what Wooyoung was expecting. The first time you had invited him over for the night had him rolling on the ground like a dog, his shy and quiet little girlfriend was willingly fueling his weird side, he couldn't wait to barge into her private space, ask her all sort of questions, learn more about her, tease her, test her limits, take in her reactions, in every sense; physical and psychological.
The moment she had opened the door and his eyes landed on her cotton baby pink shorts, he felt himself shiver with excitement, trying not to howl like a mad dog, scaring her away- though that entire fantasy was short lived when he realised by ‘sleep over’ she literally meant ‘sleep over’, like a …slumber party. So yes, that night they didn't do what he thought they would, but they did; give each other facials, watch a movie while wearing her newly bought sheet masks, paint each other’s nails (well he just made a mess of hers) and do each other's hair, honestly the night ended with him going straight to dreamland once she began to brush his hair, only waking up in the morning to find her snuggled with him, clinging onto him. He liked it, never thought he would, but the moment his eyes noticed the way she was gripping onto his shirt, his heart leaped with joy- it felt nice being loved like this, being needed. Hence, sleepovers like these had become a norm, so much so that sometimes she'd go over to his place unannounced, and surprise him with her little surprise sleepover, one he'd often love it. Instantly attacking her with unlimited smooches, hugging and squeezing her till the air in her lungs would run out.
Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights, in fact, when he had walked into his room, the sight of you actually irked him- unsure of why, but your shy smile and gentle eyes just had just made his blood boil. Perhaps it was the stress of the entire day, or the argument he had with San over something stupid, or how Mingi ate his chicken piece, or because Jongho kept on humming a silly tune even on the ride back home. The point is, he was not pleased, and like the love-struck puppy you were, you didn’t register his loud sigh or the way he dropped his bag on the floor, instead, you chose to slide his swivel chair to him, smiling up at him and reaching for his hand, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he said before slipping his hand out of yours and going to his cupboard, all the while struggling to take off his sweatshirt and tossing it somewhere once he was done. He could hear the squeak of the wheel as he turned around and looked at you, taking in the way you were pouting at him, somewhere deep down he found you adorable, but on the surface, he really couldn’t deal with you right now- he just wanted to be alone. Moving around you, he went back out of the room, leaving you confused and a bit hurt. It wasn’t like Wooyoung to react like this, to completely leave you hanging. Sure, he had moments where his social battery would run out, when he’d just come to her apartment and lay on her bed, idly scrolling on his phone, just making enough space for her, when she’d come and lay with him, letting her snuggle into his while he continued doing what he was quietly, neither saying a word- but he had never ignored her.
He looked tired…like he was tired of her? Shaking your head at the thought, you instantly thought of ways to make him feel better, considering his flatmates were outside and he was still in the shower (probably), you looked around his room, you could tidy it up, and you did, and once you were done, you picked up his jacket to hang it in his cupboard only to frown at the mess inside; hang clothes, fold them neatly, align the shoes- as long as Youngie Is less stressed and feels better, that was your goal.
By the time you were done, it had already been an hour. You were hanging the last jacket when the man walked back in, staring at you with the same unreadable expression, completely ignoring your cute smile, watching as you closed the cupboard. You were about to ask him what was bothering him when he tossed the wet towel on the chair and walked out of the room again, but this time you trailed after him, asking him all sorts of questions, just to get him to finally say something.
“How was your day?”
“Fine.”
He walked into the kitchen, you just followed.
“Did you take a rest between practice?”
“Yeah.”
He opened the fridge to take out last night’s pizza, well, this was it then, he turned around and almost cursed, she was standing there with a plate for him. He took it, mumbling a thanks, before putting it in the microwave. Standing there, arms crossed as he glared at the device to bloody hurry up.
“How was the photoshoot?”
“Fine. Nothing new.”
“I brought face masks, wanna wear one later?”
“No.”
“Oh,okay …I got my bonus today.”
“Great.”
“Wanna spend it with me on cute things?”
“No.” he mumbled, “Invest it.” he sighed, before opening the microwave, taking the plate and turning around, only to sigh when he saw her holding a chair out for him, pouting when he frowned at her. Truth be told, he’d never reacted like this, she wasn’t sure what to do? He’d often match her energy- or ‘her freak’, as he’d say. Maybe being nice to him would make him feel better? She sat down on the chair beside him, facing him, though he just started to eat quietly, not really saying anything.
“You want some tea?”
“No.”
“Oh…” you mumbled, looking at your lap, taking a moment to think, before looking up at him, again, watching him take a bite, he was chewing quietly when you gently reached over to tuck some of the stray wet strands behind his ear- though he didn’t seem pleased, in fact, he just let out an irritated huff and turned his head to look at you. You quickly recoiled, mumbling an apology, new tactic, stay quiet, maybe just staying by him would make him feel better. Therefore, you watched him go about his business, watching him wash the plate and put it on the rack before going out of the kitchen.
He finally sat down in front of the TV, rubbing his aching neck, waiting for the damn thing to turn on when he felt the sofa dip, feeling her sitting close to him. He side eyed her before putting on a game, whatever, he’d watch the match on repeat. Hunched forward, elbows on his knees, frowning as he stared at the screen. Okay, so she said she wouldn’t touch him, but if he was in pain, maybe she could help out, massage his shoulders or neck? She moved closer to him, enough for her fingers to graze his arm, “Youngie… you need me to massage it?”
“What I need is for you to not act like an attention deprived clingy girlfriend for a while.”
She froze at his words, slowly watching him get up and walk away mumbling something else about wanting to be left alone, or how he never had a moment of peace- honestly it didn’t matter anymore, his previous sentence had done enough damage. If he wanted to be left alone so be it, she was going to give him exactly what he wanted. Once she heard the door slam shut she sniffled, finally letting the fat tears roll down her flushed cheeks, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, his words kept repeating in her mind, over and over again. Without glancing at the time, she decided to go to the only place she'd be able to cry in peace, without giving him the satisfaction of the hurt of his words- that and she wanted to fulfil his wish, she was going to give him some peace and quiet.
Slamming the door shut behind him he mumbled something about being smothered by her as he flopped down on the bed, turning to the side to face the wall as he huffed, closing his eyes. Moments passed but sleep was not something he was blessed with, instead he kept on tossing and turning, finally turning to other side, often her side, of the bed, glaring at it. Why wasn't she here? she’s the one who wanted to spend time with him, rudely showing up here unannounced, interrupting his normal routine, talking away when he was eating, even offering to massage his neck. Was she a masseuse!?
With a huff he sat up and glared around the room, spotting her pink small suitcase, neatly placed at the corner of the room. His eyes flickered to the desk, organised and clean. On it where a variety of neatly stacked face masks, some nail polishes and her makeup pouch. Sliding off the bed, he walked out of the room, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he continued grumbling. Granted he was still annoyed but he did need her to sleep and- where was she?
Confused, he looked around the living room, then walked into the kitchen, wondering if she was making tea. She was nowhere in sight. He made his was down the hall to look for her in the washroom, knocking when the door wouldn't open, “You in there?”
“Yes, now scram.”
Ignoring Jongho he walked back into his room, perhaps she had gone back into the room- the panic was beginning to settle in as he slammed open the door to be met with a clean room. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Where did she go?! His panic began to morph into guilt once the memories of his behaviour with her began to play at the back of his mind.
“Cupcake!?”
Grabbing his phone he went through his contact, tapping on her contact ID 🧚♀Bby Gurl🧚♀️. He pressed the phone against his ear, chewing on his lower lip as he waited for her to pick up, but when he heard the muffled sound of her ringer coming from her PURSE!? Cue Wooyoung going into full panic mode as he ran to her purse, flipping it over on his desk, staring at the phone. Shit. Where did she go?! It was- oh hell no, it was 2 am. He wracked his brain for what could he have said, it was something mean, but truth be told he didn't remember- a toxic trait, he knows, and he's not proud of it, especially since he used it to hurt her.
Deciding it was time to find her, he opened his cupboard to take out a jacket, only to feel his gut clench…she had organised his cupboard too. What the hell Wooyoung? She wasn't your maid, she was only being nice to you! The image of her small frown flashed before his eyes as he zipped up his jacket. He grimaced at the thought of tone he had used with her, how he had ignored her when she tried to touch him, since when he was against skinship? Pulling the door open he came face to face with none other than-
“Mind telling me why I found her crying in the parking lot?”
“Hongjoong move I- What?” his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw his girl standing there behind Hongjoong, staring at the ground with bloodshot eyes.
“I- HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?”
You flinched at his tone, whining and hiding behind the man who had spent almost an hour trying to convince you to come back to the apartment. Hongjoong was parking his car when he saw someone sitting there on the concrete ground, next to a very familiar car. You hadn’t said much to him, only that you left your keys upstairs and if he could be kind enough to get them- he wasn’t an idiot, one look at your pink nose and puffy eyes, he knew this had Wooyoung written all over it. Hence, he had to spend an hour trying to convince you to at least come upstairs, it was already too late to go back home.
“Wooyoung.” the older one warned, eying his bandmate who could only sigh and nod, letting him know that his defences were down and he was no longer in the mood for hurting her in any manner, in fact, he wanted nothing more to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Though, perhaps that’s not how Hongjoong saw it, for he let the girl go into her boyfriend’s room before closing the door so he could have a heart-to-heart talk with this moron.
Once the door closed you walked over to your makeup pouch, taking out your wet wipes and removing the mascara and makeup that had smeared because of all the crying. You quickly changed your clothes, glancing at the door every five seconds in case he was coming in, you were in no mood to talk to him. As soon as you were done you turned off the lights- yeah, you wanted him to trip and land on his stupidly handsome face- and jumped onto the bed, cocooning yourself in his blanket. No, you did not plan on sharing it, though the fact that you were now surrounded by him had a very paradoxical effect; on one hand, you were extremely furious at the man, wanting nothing more than to avoid him for the rest of your life, on the other hand, being surrounded by his being, in his sheets, made you feel safer, made you feel warmer, you liked it- you hated it- you liked it- you hated it- you loved him.
Yet, for some unforsaken reason, he thought shaking you awake from a blissful slumber would be a wonderful idea. As soon as Hongjoong was done with his lecture, he slipped back into the room to talk to her but found her asleep. A part of him wanted her to rest, especially when he removed the blanket from her face, sighing in guilt as he noticed how tired she looked, her brows furrowed even in her sleep- no, he wasn't going be one of those couples that went to bed after a fight.
Her world shook as she gasped, hand grabbing whatever was shaking her, until she flung the hand off her shoulder and turned to the other side mumbling, “Stop it…I'm tired.”
“And I'm sorry.”
You had heard him loud and clear, you even her the guilt in his tone, but did you care? No. you weren't going to be a clingy deprived girlfriend, so you did what he wanted, and ignored him as you closed your eyes again. Trying to ignore him when he apologised again, this type pressing his cheek against yours, rubbing it against yours, and throwing his leg over yours, basically laying half on top of you, “I really am sorry.”
With a huff you shoved him off and sat up, back against the headrest as you glared at him with your arms crossed, cheeks puffed out and-
Oh my god, Wooyoung, she’s pouting. He internally screamed, taking in your droopy eyes, your puffed out rosy cheeks and the way you were pouting- his cutie really was something. He tried to reach for your cheek but you slapped his hand away, causing him to yelp and frown, “I am apologising here.”
“Don’t talk to me, you’re horrible and mean! I just wanna go to sleep, stop pretending you like me!”
Horrible and mean…well, he’s heard worse, so he’d take it. He was mean to you, incredibly mean, and his attitude towards you was horrible. You were right about that, but you were terribly wrong about the last part. Extremely wrong, if he says so himself.
He looked at her intently, almost too intently, and he figured out he’d been giving her the ‘I’m a bastard’ stare when her form, faltered, her eyes began to water, as she bit her lip and broke the stare off, instead, dipping her head in shame like she was the one who was at fault here. Man, what was wrong with him today?
Her grip tightened on the cotton, pulling the blanket closer as if it were to bring her some form of comfort, if he wanted to break up with her that was fine, she just never thought her first break-up would be this nasty. She had mentioned a few times to him how this was her first relationship and although he seemed a bit hesitant, he had explained to her how his job made certain normal couple activities difficult for him sometimes, and if she’d want their relationship to flourish, she’d have to accept this fact. And she did, everything was fine, it was all going well, then what could she have possibly done for him to lash out at her like that? Maybe she was never cut out for this-
“That’s not true…” he whispered, placing his hands on hers, slowly unclenching her fists, his grip tightening on her hands when he heard her whimper, frowning at the way she hiccupped an apology again, looking up at him this time, as if she were trying to cling onto something that had slipped through her fingers. “That’s not true…and that’s not right,” with a heavy sigh he pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, manoeuvring them, till he was in her position, and now she was on his lap, arms around his neck, clinging onto him, dampening his shirt as loud sobs wracked through her petite frame, mumbling nonsense that he couldn’t interpret, “And…I’m sorry I made you think like that today.” Gently, he pressed his lips against her head, rubbing her back in a soothing motion, slowly giving her a squeeze every so often, pulling her closer, if possible. By the time she had calmed down, a bit, he slowly pushed her off his chest so he could look at her, but she never met his gaze, causing him to gently grip her chin, making her look up at him, “Hey…don’t look away,” he smiled at her, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” His smile faltered when he noticed her lower lip tremble, sighing as he cupped her face with both hands, “I am truly, extremely sorry for what I did and said today,” leaning closer he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Nothing I said or did today was triggered because of you being here- there is no explanation for my behaviour other than the fact that I handled my emotions poorly, and took it all out on that one person,” he paused to give her a smile, especially when he felt her grip tighten on his shirt, “the only person, who is concerned about my wellbeing and livelihood, and wants nothing but my love in return.”
“Woo…” she sniffed, pouting at him as she tugged on his shirt, “What made you so upset today?”
He could chuckle at the way she was still worried about him, of course, leave it to his little love bug to be more concerned about ‘why’ he did what he did, just as soon as he apologises. Shaking his head in disbelief he booped her nose, shrugging, “Never mind that, do you want something to eat? I’ll whip up something real good, an apology feast for my lovely pookie.” His laugh bounced off the walls of his room once he noticed her visibly cringing at the nickname, “No? Well, how about I make sweet love to you, enough to have you screaming for more-” her hands clasped over his mouth, muffling his stupidity as she sighed in relief, resting her forehead against and closing her eyes to recover from the blush.
When she felt him tap her waist she moved her hands and sighed, “Just hold me close.”
“Well, don’t need to ask me twice.” Wooyoung declared before pushing her off him cackling when he heard her squeak, wiggling her eyebrows at her, admiring how she almost bounced on his bed, before laying down, pulling her closer. His smile widened when she snuggled into him, gripping onto the back of his shirt, before her lips gently pressed against his skin, admiring the warmth, basking in his presence. He pulled up the blanket, covering them both, before placing his chin on top of her head, sighing in relief, trying to rid of the bad memories of the day. Letting the tranquil love envelope the two, enjoying just being there…that is until a soft whisper broke the silence, followed by another;
“Make it up to me tomorrow.”
“I’ll make it up to you for the rest of your life”



Choi Jongho
Okay, yes, he was a bastard, he was well aware of that, but right now, the charming man had something else on his mind. What you ask, oh its simple, it was the same question almost every guy in the world had, the same dilemma every man in the world suffers through, an event every man self-induces; the, ‘How do I make my girlfriend feel better after I brought up her insecurities’. Now, one may wonder, what did this sweet little lad do? How could he possibly manage to upset his girl, his daisy, his lover, his sweety- well, it all started when he came down with a little cold, and the dictator Kim Hongjoong banned him from the studio and the dorm, which meant there would be no one acting at his every whim, hence, the little lad had to go to the next best thing, go to the only person who made his heart flutter like he just devoured some mentos after chugging a cola- his girlfriend.
It all started fine, with you opening the door, ready to go for a nightly jog when you saw your cute boy standing at the door, with his nose all pink and stuffy and his pout making your heart clench. Next thing he knew he was pulled inside and tucked into your fluffy, soft bed, being taken care of like there was no tomorrow. You were kind and sweet and ever caring, you’d always been like that, even before the two had started dating.
You were so kind to him that you actually had the poor boy chasing you for almost a year. Now why is that one may wonder, simple, you were older than him- two years to be precise. The two of you had met by complete accident, you were out for your nightly jog and you had somehow managed to trip on the cracked footpath. Honestly you had thought no one was around so you hobbled to the nearest bench, trying to untie your shoe, when you heard someone clear their throat, causing you to freeze. He was big, you could tell and it wasn't just because of that hoodie and cap or mask- no, he looked borderline threatening. With an audible gulp you whispered, “Y-yes?”
“Do you need help with that?” He asked, lowering his mask a bit and standing up before crouching next to your foot, causing you to flinch and shake your head but he was already slipping it off your foot, trying to not react to your bright yellow, Pikachu themed sock.
“You should be careful” he mumbled, inspecting the damage, “I think you just sprained it, if you want I could take you to an ER near by-”
“No thank you!” You cut him off, he was cute, there was no doubt in that, he looked sweet but hey, he was a guy and he was a guy who looked big enough to kill yo-
“My name's Jongho.” He sighed, and looked around, before sitting next to her, “And you are, strange nighters jogger?”
You blinked at him and sighed out your name, before mumbling, “What's an Ateez member doing out here in the middle of the night?”
His blood ran cold at the mention of his band, causing him to slowly side eye her, though she looked as composed as ever, like she had just talked about the weather.
“I…uh-”
“Don't worry,” she mumbled, before sitting straight and stretching her, “Okay, I'm gonna go now.”
“Let me help you out.”
Honestly, the words had left him sooner than he could process them, his body had moved on its own, and in a matter of minutes she found herself sitting in an apartment she had never dreamt of before too, pressing an ice pack on her ankle, listening to Jongho and another man, Hongjoong battle it out.
“I’m sorry, but a random stranger?”
“Technically I see her jogging every day- or well at night.”
“So??”
“Technically she’s hurt.”
“Technically, Choi Jongho this isn’t a hospital.”
“Technically, it's rude to discuss someone in front of them, pretending they can’t hear you.”
That had led the older man to apologise and leave them alone. That very statement had led Jongho to believe that he had found someone who could ‘match his freak’. So, after a year of jogging with her, he had finally managed to woo her. He liked their dynamic, he was the eldest in his home, he was bossy and of course mature, hence, he had assumed he’d prefer someone younger than him, someone more timid and shy, someone who’d be impressed by him- though the only thing she was severely impressed with was his potential to snap several apples in half, which was great, because she loved eating apples and he loved snapping them in half- he loved you.
Then, how come, you were now sitting on the same bench, where you had met the moron, questioning your entire relationship- oh yeah, because when you forced him to drink his soup so he’d get better quicker, he decided to be a brat and snap at her;
“If I wanted to be coddled, I would’ve gone to my mom, you’re older, but not that old.”
Sure, leave it to Choi Jongho to bring up your insecurities because- well, not really, Jongho was often very sweet and considerate, he was attentive and mindful of both his actions, and his words, so if he had decided to let out something so bitter and rude, it really did mean he was sick. But did that make it any better? Did that mean he could just bring up something they’d discuss in the late hours of the night, alone with one another, surrounded by one another, vulnerable to one another. It was during these hours he had confessed how he was afraid she’d leave him for someone older, smarter, more mature, only for his whispers to turn into a snort when she told him how she was afraid that he’d leave her for someone younger than him, someone sweeter, and cuter, more shy and more timid. The two had slept better that night, snuggled up against each other, she loved how he had held her tighter than night, he had loved how she had let them sleep in the next morning, only to spend a few more minutes together.
So, no, he could not just say whatever he wanted because he was sick-
“You wanna get sick too?”
She flinched at the question, before letting out a small sigh at the familiarity of the voice, though she never turned to look at him, instead decided to leave.
He turned to glance at you when you had ignored him, only for him to panic when you stood up to leave, instinctively reaching over and gripping your wrist he met your cold glare. For once he felt as if being cute was not going to make the cut, that you were not going to ‘act mature’ or ‘overtly understanding’, for once, he was scared. Though his grip never faltered, instead, you heard a meek, “Please,” so soft that if the world around the two of you was not deathly silent, you would’ve missed it. With a sigh you sat back down, but kept your distance, choosing to stare at the empty park, rather than looking at your lover, who was scooting closer to you. You let him, you let him, till his arm brushed against yours, the two of you staring at the empty park together, both waiting for the other to speak- technically you were waiting for an apology, while he was waiting for you to give him the signal to speak, he was too afraid to say anything else which could be more stupid than his last statement.
So, like a pair of fools, the two of you sat there, out in the cold, silently, for god knows how long. Honestly, you were surprised with his patience sometimes, you were also a bit disappointed he chose not to speak, but then again since when was speaking about your feelings his or your strongest trait- oh shit.You gasped when you felt his head drop on your shoulder, suddenly turning to the man, cupping his cold cheeks, as you shook him, “Jongho? Jong? Jongho wake up, come on, this isn’t funny- shit.”
.
With a groan he turned to his side, snuggling closer to the source of the warmth- oh he was back in his bed. HE WAS BACK IN HIS BED?? Sitting up he looked around in the dimly lit room, noting how the door was slightly open, deciding to go outside to look for her when she walked in holding a tray, eying him before mumbling something about laying back down. Honestly, it was difficult for him to process whatever she was saying next…he remembered fainting, well, actually he felt sleepy so he had just closed his eyes for a moment, and right now, he was more amazed by the sheer physical strength this woman possessed. Lord forgive if she were to smack him, he would’ve needed facial reconstructive surgery.
You placed the tray on the nightstand, and turned to him, helping him sit up against the headboard, before checking his temperature with the back of your hand, “You fainted…I called Hongjoong, who then called San…apparently you’re very difficult to carry.” You mumbled, moving to grab the tray, placing it on his lap, “Chicken soup, will help with the congestion and-”
“I’m sorry.”
“You better be.”
He blinked at her and nodded slowly before looking at the soup and staring at it, a moment had slipped before he chuckled, turning to look at her, admiring how she was now sitting on her side of the bed, facing him, “I thought you carried me here- was so scared if you were actually to smack me, I’d pass away.”
“Is this your way of apologising to me? Maybe I should be looking for guys my age or older” you frowned, only to end up snorting when you saw his eyes widen in fear, taking in the way he had stopped eating, staring at you like he was about to explode. Honestly, you wanted to let it simmer for a while, but when he whispered out your name, the way his voice cracked had you sighing in defeat, moving the tray off him and placing it at a safe distance, before you were tackled by him. His arms tightened around you, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something, which you couldn’t make out, but you presumed it was an apology, considering how your neck felt wet- oh no he was crying- well, didn’t mean to take it that far. Gently patting his head you slid down into the sheets, taking him with you, though he didn’t really do anything but hold you closer, his little sniffles making your heart ache.
“It was a joke…” sighing you kissed the top of his head, “I didn’t mean it…but at least now you know how I felt.”
He pulled back a little to glare at you, “It’s not funny, you can pull anyone you want, I only managed to date you because you tripped.”
“That’s because I fell for you, baby bear-hey!”
“And the moment is gone.” he mumbled, pushing her away and laying on his back, clearing his throat, “Got more sick after that pick up line,” he felt her snuggle next to him as he smiled with his eyes closed, “Even more gross how I like it.”
“You like being sick?”
“Only if it means spending time with you.”
“Oh good, because my head hurts and I can feel the flu comin’ up.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to treat my lady right.”
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I'll Remember, for Us. | csc



ONESHOT!
Pairing: sad! seungcheol x sad! oc Warnings: heartbreak, angst, shit ton of grief, mention of deaths, accidents, loss of memory. Word count: 6.1k words. Synopsis: He was the peace you found while losing everything else. Author's Note: A little (big) drabble I wrote in between drafting my newest no saints here chapter! that's why it took me double the time to update that LOL. But, till the story builds in NSH, I need to feed the people the angst. Honestly, this one was a little hard to write because no matter the amount of media one can consume regarding the emotions of grief, it can never, ever be put down in mere words. So if in anyway, this might seem underwhelming to you, I understand.
The wall behind his head was cold.
Seungcheol didn’t notice it at first—just felt the pressure where his skull met the plaster, the steady thud of his pulse echoing behind his eyelids.
He wasn’t asleep. He hadn’t slept.
Not since the night of the crash.
The hallway reeked of bleach and despair. The kind that clings to your clothes no matter how many showers you take. He didn’t remember the last time he left the hospital. Just that he couldn’t. Not yet.
Not while she was still inside that room, wires in her skin, machines breathing for her.
The silence around him wasn’t peaceful. It was loud.
The clock ticked. Someone coughed. A nurse laughed too brightly somewhere down the corridor.
And then— A shift. A quiet one.
Someone sat beside him.
The air changed. Just slightly. Like it exhaled.
He opened his eyes.
You are staring straight ahead, as if looking at the same nothing he was. No makeup. Tired eyes. Vending machine coffee clutched between both hands like you were afraid it might disappear.
You didn’t say anything. Neither did he.
But your presence didn’t feel like an intrusion. It felt like… company.
The kind you don’t realize you need until it’s there.
Seconds passed. Then minutes. He wondered what brought you here. Wondered if it was worse than what brought him.
“Long night?” you asked, voice soft, almost hesitant.
He blinked. Nodded.
“Yeah.” A pause. “You too?”
You gave a breath of a laugh, humorless and low. “Been a long week.”
Your fingers tapped against the cup, rhythm like a heartbeat. He noticed the way your knuckles were red, raw in some places. You hadn’t been sleeping either.
“Family?” he asked.
“Grandmother,” you said. “Yours?”
He swallowed. “Girlfriend. Car accident. Three days ago. They’re still not sure if she’ll—”
He didn’t finish. He couldn’t.
You didn’t push. Just nodded like you understood. Like you didn’t need the end of the sentence to feel the weight of it.
And they sat there again. In silence. In something heavy and unsaid.
---
You didn't cry.
That was the first thing he noticed.
There was a glassiness in your eyes, sure. A kind of far-off fog that only people in hospitals seemed to wear. But no tears. Just a tightly held composure, like if you let go even a little, you might unravel.
“She was diagnosed last year,” you said after a while, still looking ahead, not at him. “Stage four. It came fast.”
Seungcheol didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to.
“She raised me,” you added, like that explained everything. And maybe it did.
He shifted slightly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. The vinyl of the hospital bench creaked under him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And he meant it.
You nodded, like you'd heard that a hundred times already. “It’s okay. Or it’s not. I don’t know anymore.”
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a heart monitor beeped steadily.
Neither of them looked at the other. But neither moved away, either.
It was you who broke the quiet again.
“You’d think after three nights of this, I’d learn not to buy the coffee,” you said, wrinkling your nose as you sipped. “But here I am. Still pretending it helps.”
A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips. It was the first one in days.
“Try the tea,” he said. “Tastes like cardboard. But at least it smells like something real.”
That got a soft huff from you. Almost a laugh. Almost.
They fell back into silence again, the kind that started to feel less like strangers and more like a truce.
And then—
“I’m Seungcheol,” he said, quietly.
You turned to look at him for the first time. Her eyes were a soft brown, tired but warm. Your lips twitched into something like a smile.
“Nice to meet you, Seungcheol.”
But you didn’t offer your name.
---
The second night, you brought the coffee.
Seungcheol was in the same spot. Same posture. Same wall holding him up. Eyes closed, head tilted back, pretending for a moment that if he stayed still enough, time might stop moving without him.
Then the scent hit him.
Not bleach. Not hospital.
Coffee. Cinnamon. And… something soft. Vanilla, maybe.
He opened his eyes.
You were there again. Sitting beside him. This time, you were the one holding two cups.
“I upgraded us,” you said, offering him one. “The café on the second floor has actual espresso. A miracle in this place.”
He took it with a quiet thanks, fingers brushing yours. Warm skin. Cold fingertips.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he said, voice still rough from disuse.
“Me neither,” you replied honestly. “But here we are.”
He took a sip. It was actually good. Strong, a little bitter, the kind of taste that settled in your chest like something solid.
They sat in the same silence, but this one felt different. Familiar. Comfortable, almost.
“I found her talking to the air yesterday,” you said softly. “My grandmother. She thought I was my mom.”
Seungcheol turned to you. Your jaw was clenched, throat tight with the weight of the memory.
“She kept calling me by her name. Begging me not to leave again.”
He didn’t speak. Just listened. Really listened.
“I never met my mom. She left when I was a baby. Gran raised me alone. She’s… the only real family I have.”
Your voice broke on the word only. You blinked quickly, but didn’t wipe the tear that finally escaped.
Seungcheol shifted closer. Not touching you, just… near.
“I haven’t gone home in three days,” he said after a moment. “I sleep in the waiting room. My parents keep telling me to rest, but how do you rest when you don’t know if she’ll ever open her eyes again?”
Your head tilted slightly. “You love her a lot.”
“I do.” He stared at the floor. “But I don’t know if she knows it. Not the way I should’ve shown her.”
And just like that, the air between them cracked open. Two strangers, stitched together by grief, regret, and stale hospital air.
You held out your hand—not for a handshake, but just to hold.
No name. No promise.
Just presence.
And this time, Seungcheol took it.
---
The room was too quiet.
Not the kind of silence that brought peace—but the kind that screamed in his ears.
Machines beeped in a steady rhythm, too steady. A reminder that the only thing keeping her breathing wasn’t her.
Seungcheol sat beside the hospital bed, fingers curled into a loose fist on his lap. He’d been sitting there for an hour. Maybe more.
She looked the same. Pale. Still. Like a painting that hadn’t been finished. Like if he blinked too fast, she might disappear altogether.
His throat ached with all the words he hadn’t said.
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed.
“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s me.”
He let the silence answer. Let the emptiness respond.
“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say anymore,” he admitted, voice cracking. “They tell me to talk to you, that maybe you’ll hear me, but I…”
He trailed off. Swallowed hard.
“I miss you,” he said finally. “I miss your laugh. The way you’d tease me when I left dishes in the sink. I even miss your bad singing.”
His eyes burned. He looked away.
“I wish I’d held you longer that morning. I wish I’d told you not to rush out. I wish I—”
He stopped. Breathed.
And then, like a thread pulled loose, something surfaced. Your voice. Not his girlfriend’s—
Yours.
The girl from the hallway. “You’ll break if you keep holding everything in.” “You don’t have to be strong every second. You’re allowed to fall apart.” “Let her feel your love, not just your guilt.”
Seungcheol closed his eyes.
And when he spoke again, it wasn’t guilt that guided him.
“I love you,” he said softly, reaching for her hand. “I’ve always loved you. I just… didn’t say it enough.”
A tear slipped down his cheek.
“I’m saying it now. I’m here. And I’ll keep being here. Just… if you’re somewhere in there, please… come back to me.”
The machines kept beeping. Steady. Relentless.
But for the first time, his heart felt a little lighter. Not because things were better— But because he wasn’t holding it all alone anymore.
---
The hallway smelled like antiseptic and wilted flowers.
It was the kind of day where time felt sticky—too slow to bear, but too fast when you blinked.
Seungcheol sat outside Room 203, the plastic cup of coffee cooling in his hand, untouched. He hadn’t gone in yet. He didn’t know if he had the strength.
Then he heard it.
A voice.
Soft. Steady. Familiar.
He turned slightly, just enough to peek through the glass panel in the door across the hall.
You were in there—curled in a chair beside your grandmother’s bed, knees tucked to your chest, a worn book in your lap. The afternoon light spilled through the window, gold and forgiving, catching in the strands of your hair.
You were reading aloud.
Not loudly. Not for anyone but the two of you—yourself, and the woman who couldn’t speak anymore.
“‘And even in the darkest parts of the woods,’” you read, your voice barely above a whisper, “‘the girl remembered the sound of home. Not a place. A person. The way they said her name, the way their hand lingered on her back before a goodbye.’”
Your voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t stop.
Seungcheol didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He just… couldn’t walk away.
It was like her words reached through the walls and found something buried inside him—something aching and wordless.
He closed his eyes and listened.
“‘She missed them every day, even when she swore she’d stopped. Even when the world told her to move on. But grief doesn’t work that way. It’s not a thing you carry. It’s a thing that lives with you.’”
You stopped. He could hear the turn of a page. Your breath shaking. Your grandmother didn’t move, didn’t respond. But the you smiled anyway, like maybe that silence still meant something.
After a while, you spoke—not from the book, just from your heart.
“You’d hate this hospital, Gran. The tea tastes like sadness and cardboard, and they keep the lights on too bright.”
A pause. A sniffle.
“But I found someone,” you said, her voice suddenly gentler. “Not in that way. I mean… maybe. I don’t know. He’s hurting, too. Quietly. Like you used to say I did when I was little. Like he's trying to keep everyone else from seeing him bleed.”
Your fingers curled around the edge of the book, knuckles white.
“I think I want to be around him. Is that wrong? I feel guilty for looking forward to anything when you’re…” You stopped again. Swallowed. “When you’re going.”
You laughed suddenly. Broken. Real. “God, I sound like a cliché. Falling for someone in a hospital hallway while my world’s falling apart.”
And still, Seungcheol listened. Still frozen. Still holding onto a breath he hadn’t meant to take.
Your voice dropped lower, softer.
“I don’t want to forget how your voice sounded when you laughed. Or the way you made pancakes shaped like dinosaurs even when I was fifteen. Or how you braided my hair when I was too tired to get out of bed.”
A beat of silence.
“I’m scared,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”
Something shattered quietly inside him.
Before he knew it, his legs moved. His hand touched the door frame.
You looked up. Startled. Eyes wide and glassy.
“I—” he said, throat thick. “I wasn’t trying to… listen. I’m sorry.”
You wiped your cheek, fast. “No, it’s okay. You’ve probably heard worse here.”
Seungcheol stepped into the room slowly. His voice barely carried. “Your voice... it’s steady. Like a melody.”
You gave him a small, sad smile. “It’s how I learned to survive.”
He looked at the book in your lap. “Would you… mind reading in her room too? For my girlfriend?”
You blinked. “Me?”
He nodded. “Your voice feels like… home. And I think she’d like that.”
Your eyes searched his for a long moment. Then you nodded.
“Okay,” you said, standing, holding the book close to your chest. “I’ll read for both of them.”
---
It’s late.
That kind of late where the vending machines hum too loudly and the only light in the hallway flickers like it’s tired too. Seungcheol stands near the window down the corridor, one hand braced against the glass, the other holding his phone like it weighs more than it should.
He should be sleeping.
Instead, he dials.
Again.
The phone rings twice, and then—
“Hi! You’ve reached Haeun. I’m probably dancing somewhere or stealing Seungcheol’s fries, so leave a message after the beep and I promise I’ll get back to you… eventually!”
Beep.
He doesn’t speak.
He just closes his eyes and breathes. Listens to that sliver of her voice that still exists, somewhere safe, somewhere untouched by tubes and machines and the cruel silence that’s overtaken Room 203.
Call ended.
He dials again.
Same ring. Same smile in her voice. Same beep.
Still no words.
He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for. Maybe for her to pick up. Maybe for the universe to reset.
By the fourth call, his hands are shaking.
By the fifth, he finally speaks.
“Hey.”
It’s hoarse. Barely there.
“I don’t even know why I’m doing this. I just… I miss you.”
His voice breaks on the last word. He coughs, wipes at his face like it’ll make a difference. The hallway is empty. He’s glad. No one should see this.
“I brought the stupid green grapes today. The ones you hate but pretend to like because they’re healthy. I even peeled them. Like you always wanted me to. They’re still in the fridge.” A bitter laugh. “I don’t know why I did that.”
He hangs up.
Redials.
Sixth call.
“Hi! You’ve reached Haeun—”
He doesn’t wait for the beep this time.
“I had a dream last night. You were wearing that yellow dress you said made you look like a banana, and we were dancing in our kitchen. No music. Just your laugh.”
He pauses.
“God, I’d kill to hear you laugh right now.”
He ends the call.
But he dials again.
Seventh.
Eighth.
By the ninth call, he’s on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, phone pressed against his ear like it’s all that’s keeping him together.
Beep.
His voice is quieter now. Smaller.
“Please.”
Just that.
Just please.
Please come back. Please wake up. Please tell me how to keep going.
He doesn’t say it all. He doesn’t have to.
The phone slips from his fingers. His eyes are red. There’s no sound in the corridor except for the faint buzz of electricity and the way he breathes like the air hurts going in.
And then a whisper, almost like a prayer.
“She’s not dead. She’s not dead. She’s not dead.”
He repeats it like maybe if he says it enough, the universe will make it true forever.
But the truth is— She’s not alive either. Not in the way he needs her to be.
And maybe the worst part of it all isn’t that she’s gone.
It’s that he’s still here, and he doesn’t know what to do with that.
---
It was late again.
The hospital lights were dimmed to a muted hum, the world outside the windows blurred into inky blue. Seungcheol had just returned from Room 203, hands shaking, heart heavier than his footsteps. He turned the corner toward the waiting room, expecting silence.
But there you were.
Curled in on yourself on the narrow couch, knees pulled tight to your chest, arms hugging them like you were trying to hold yourself together. Your face was buried, but the tremor in your shoulders gave you away.
You were crying.
No—you were breaking.
He froze in the doorway.
"Hey..." he said softly, unsure if he should come closer. "Are you okay?"
A stupid question. You didn't look up.
So he sat down beside you, far enough not to touch, close enough to offer warmth.
You wiped at your eyes, but the tears just kept coming.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “God, I’m sorry, I just— I didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“You’ve seen me like this,” he murmured.
That got a small, bitter laugh from you. But it faded fast.
Then you said, quieter than before, “I left her.”
He turned, brows furrowed.
“My grandmother,” you clarified, breath catching. “Before all this… before the cancer... I stopped coming around.”
He waited. Didn’t push. Just listened.
“I was busy. I moved to another city. Work was stressful, and I kept saying I’d visit next weekend, next month, next—” You swallowed hard. “But she always called. Always left voicemails. She'd tell me she made pancakes, the ones with blueberries, the kind I used to beg for as a kid. And she'd say she was waiting. Just... waiting for me to come home.”
Your voice cracked.
“I didn’t come.”
His chest ached.
“I told myself she was fine. Independent. Strong. I told myself I was allowed to live my life.” Your eyes welled again. “And now I come every single day. Now I sit next to her bed like if I do it long enough, she’ll forgive me. But she can’t even say my name anymore.”
Seungcheol reached out then—tentatively—placing a hand over yours. You didn’t pull away.
“She used to sit by the door,” you whispered. “Like clockwork. Every Sunday morning. Dressed in the sweater I bought her three Christmases ago. Just waiting. Because she thought... maybe today I’d come.”
The tears wouldn’t stop.
��I was dancing at some bar. Laughing. Kissing someone I don’t even remember. While she sat by the door making pancakes for no one.”
Your voice broke open then, sobs slipping through like glass cracking beneath pressure. Ugly and honest and full of a grief that had nowhere to go.
Seungcheol turned toward you fully, pulling you into his arms. You fought it at first—because that’s what guilt does—but he held on.
“You came back,” he murmured. “You’re here now.”
“But what if it’s too late?” you sobbed into his chest. “What if she never knew how sorry I am?”
He rested his chin against your head, eyes burning.
“She knew,” he said. “She knows.”
They stayed like that. In the stillness. In the mess. In the pain.
Two people broken in different ways, holding each other like they could keep the world from falling apart again. No promises. No solutions.
Just presence.
And sometimes—that was everything.
---
The hospital room was too white. Too quiet. Even the ticking of the clock felt like an accusation—steady and cruel. A reminder of every second you had not been there.
You sat beside the bed, your hands wringing the hem of your sweater. The chair creaked beneath you, but your grandmother didn’t look.
She was staring out the window. Blank. Soft. Eyes that used to twinkle with laughter now just... drifted.
“Hi, Grandma,” you said, voice barely a whisper.
No response.
You leaned in, trying again with a gentle smile. “It’s me. I brought your favorite. Blueberry pancakes. From that little diner you like.”
Still nothing.
You swallowed down the lump rising in your throat and set the small to-go container on the bedside table. The smell of syrup and warm sugar floated through the air, but your grandmother didn’t even flinch.
Silence. Thicker now.
“I remember when you used to wake me up with the smell of these,” you tried, eyes burning. “Every Sunday. You’d hum while you cooked. Said blueberries were brain food.” A sad laugh slipped out. “Guess they weren’t enough, huh?”
The silence felt like punishment.
You reached out slowly, brushing a strand of silver hair from her grandmother’s forehead. She used to braid that hair. Used to play salon with it as a child, while her grandmother pretended she was being pampered in a palace.
“You used to wait for me,” you whispered. “Every week. In that old cardigan I bought you. Remember that one? With the missing button?”
Nothing.
And then—finally—your grandmother blinked, slowly turning toward her. Her eyes focused on your face.
Hope rose, sudden and aching. “Grandma?”
The old woman tilted her head. Confused.
Then, softly: “Are you... the nurse?”
It felt like being stabbed.
You forced a smile to your lips, even as your heart shattered. “No... I’m—”
Your grandmother smiled faintly, distant and kind. “You’re very sweet, dear. Just like my granddaughter. Beautiful girl. Works too hard. Never comes home, though.”
The breath caught in your throat. Your vision blurred instantly.
“She... she sounds great,” you managed, voice trembling.
“She is.” Your grandmother looked out the window again, a ghost of a smile on her face. “She used to sit on the porch and sing while I made breakfast. Blueberry pancakes. Said they were her favorite.”
You clutched the side of the bed, your knuckles white. “Do you remember her name?”
“No,” your grandmother said, softly. “But I know I love her. That’s enough, isn’t it?”
A sob escaped before you could stop it. You covered your mouth with your hand, shoulders shaking.
Your grandmother turned again, blinking slowly. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. You’ll make me sad.”
You shook your head, biting down on your lip. “I’m okay,” you choked.
And in that moment, you didn’t care that your grandmother didn’t know who you were. Didn’t care that your name was gone, that their memories were tangled and buried.
Because the love—that was still here.
Even if it was misdirected. Even if it was broken.
You leaned forward and wrapped your arms around the frail woman, holding her tightly, burying your face into her shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I’m so, so sorry I left.”
Your grandmother patted your back, gentle and absent-minded. “There, there. You’re a good girl. I can tell.”
You cried harder.
And outside, the day went on like nothing had changed.
But inside that room, everything had.
---
It was late. Past visiting hours.
But the little courtyard garden behind the hospital didn’t care about time. It was overgrown in places, the stone bench cracked, the flowerbeds mostly dirt now—but there was a kind of comfort in its forgotten state. Like it belonged to the night. Like it understood people who didn’t fit in the daylight anymore.
You sat on the bench, your knees tucked under your chin, a paper cup of hospital coffee cradled in your hands. Seungcheol joined you without a word, sitting close enough to feel the same night breeze, but not enough to crowd you.
For a while, they just sat. Listening to the wind brushing through brittle branches. The distant siren of an ambulance arriving. The faint hum of machines behind walls.
Then, quietly, you asked, “What was she like?”
He looked down at the cup between his hands. “You mean... before?”
You nodded.
He took a breath. “Loud. In the best way. She used to sing to the radio even if she didn’t know the lyrics. And she’d burn toast every morning because she always forgot it was in. Once, she put our house key in the freezer because she thought it was her phone.”
You smiled faintly. “Sounds chaotic.”
“She was.” He laughed a little, and then the sound faded. “But she made everything feel... alive. Like the world was just a little brighter because she was in it.”
The silence settled again, heavier now.
“She sounds like someone I would’ve liked,” you said, softly.
He nodded.
“What about you?” he asked. “What were you like before all this?”
You let out a slow breath, eyes fixed on the cracks in the stone path.
“Busy,” she said. “Too busy. I thought I had time. That I could always go visit later. I kept putting it off. ”
Seungcheol didn’t speak, but she felt him listening.
Your voice broke, raw and exposed.
“And now she doesn’t even know my name.”
You turned your head, wiping your cheek roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie. “I was so selfish.”
“No,” Seungcheol said immediately, turning toward you. “You were living. That’s not a crime.”
“But I left her behind.”
He looked at you then, really looked. “You came back.”
You didn’t reply.
He reached over slowly, fingers brushing your. Not holding. Not pushing. Just offering.
And you let him.
Their hands stayed there, barely touching, as if the warmth between them could rewrite time. Could pull them out of the past and plant them firmly in the now.
After a moment, you murmured, “I used to love dancing.”
He blinked. “What?”
You smiled, sad and sweet. “Just... before all this. I’d dance in my kitchen. In my socks. Spill coffee, stub my toes. I haven’t done that in forever.”
He let out a breathy laugh. “You should. You should do that again.”
You looked up at him, eyes glassy.
“What about you?” you asked. “What’s the one thing you miss most about yourself?”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear:
“I used to dream.”
The words hung between them like fog.
You turned your hand, finally holding his.
And under the pale light of the moon, with bruised hearts and paper coffee cups, two people who had lost everything began to find something again—
Not peace. Not yet.
But maybe the possibility of it.
---
It was just after midnight when the nurse called him.
"Mr. Choi? She's... she's showing signs. You should come."
Seungcheol had stared at his phone for a full minute before he moved. Then he ran. Down the silent corridors. Past the quiet night-shift desk. Past the vending machine and the courtyard and everything that had held him up for weeks.
Room 203.
His hands shook as he pushed the door open.
She was there. As always. Pale. Fragile. But her fingers were twitching. Her lips parted slightly, a rasping breath falling from her throat that sounded like a word caught halfway to being born.
He stepped in slowly, as if afraid the moment might vanish if he moved too fast.
“…Seung…cheol?”
He froze.
Her voice.
So faint. So broken. But there.
“Yeah,” he choked out, stumbling forward and falling to his knees beside her bed. “Yeah, I’m here.”
She blinked slowly. Her eyes were heavy with confusion, still swimming in a haze, but they found him. Like she was clawing her way back to the surface and he was her anchor.
His hand found hers, trembling. “You’re… you’re awake.”
She gave the smallest nod. Barely there. But it was everything.
And he wept.
Outside the room, you sat on the hallway floor with two cups of coffee—yours long cold. Your legs were cramping, your back sore, but you didn’t move. You had watched him go in and hadn’t followed.
He needed this moment.
And even though your heart ached—throbbed, even—as the sounds of his voice broke through the crack in the door, you stayed. Because you knew what it meant to finally get a piece of someone you thought you’d already lost.
You lowered your head, pressing your forehead to your knees.
And when he came out an hour later, his eyes swollen, cheeks streaked with tears—but smiling for the first time since you met him—you looked up and gave him one back.
It was small. Wobbly. But real.
“She said my name,” he whispered.
You stood slowly, offering the cup to him.
“I’m so happy for you, Cheol.”
He took it, their fingers brushing, his smile faltering just a bit.
“And your grandma?”
“She’s…” Your voice caught. You cleared your throat. “She’s getting worse.”
The silence held everything that couldn’t be said. A strange mirror. One of them rising. One of them falling.
Seungcheol reached out and touched your wrist. Gently. “You’ve been so strong.”
You looked down at the floor, then back up, your eyes shimmering. “I’m trying. It’s like... I don’t want her to go, but I also don’t want her to keep hurting. And I don’t know how to exist when she’s not in the world. So I stay. And I hope she sees me, even for a second.”
He nodded, his heart splitting open at the seams.
You looked at him, then—really looked. At the hope blooming behind his tears.
You smiled through your grief. “I think she would’ve liked your girl. The way you love her. It’s rare.”
Seungcheol's lips parted, a thousand emotions crashing into each other. “You helped me hold on. Even when I didn’t want to anymore.”
Your breath hitched.
“You held me, Cheol,” you whispered. “When I needed it most.”
He stepped closer.
The air between them was thick with everything they hadn’t said. And everything they couldn’t say.
Because this wasn’t a fairytale. It wasn’t about choosing. It wasn’t about perfect timing.
It was about love in its rawest form—grief, joy, loss, connection—all tangled together in this broken little hallway.
“I don’t want you to disappear now,” you whispered.
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
You took his hand, resting your forehead against his shoulder.
And in the silence, there was music. No instruments. Just hearts— Beating beside each other. Still aching. Still healing. Still hoping.
---
Seungcheol stood in the stairwell.
It was quiet there. Sterile concrete, humming fluorescent lights, the faint clinking of a janitor’s cart on a lower level. The kind of place where you could fall apart and no one would notice. Maybe not even yourself.
He ran a hand down his face, the skin beneath his eyes raw from crying, not just today but for weeks. And now—she was waking up. His girlfriend. The love of his life. The person he had sat beside, begged, bargained for.
And he felt like a fucking traitor.
Because all he could think about… was her.
Not the girl in the bed, trying to find her voice again. But the one who sat beside him at 3AM with vending machine coffee and bruises beneath her eyes. The one who whispered broken memories about pancakes and absence and a grandmother who forgot everything except love. The one who never asked anything from him except presence. And somehow that made him want to give her everything.
He pressed the heel of his palm to his chest. Right over the place it hurt most.
What if she knew?
What if the woman inside that hospital room opened her eyes fully, smiled at him with her old self again, and realized—
That while her world had been on pause, his had kept moving.
And somewhere along the way…
He’d started to fall.
The guilt came in like waves. Sharp. Unrelenting.
He thought of your laugh—that small, sad, brave thing you'd let slip in front of him that day in the courtyard.
He thought of you telling him, “You held me.”
He thought of how you never reached for him first, never asked for comfort, never once tried to cross the invisible line between grief and want. And yet he was the one who blurred it, every time he caught himself staring too long, hoping too hard, wishing things were different.
A voice broke into his thoughts.
“Cheol?”
He turned.
You stood there in the stairwell doorway, hoodie sleeves pulled over your palms, hair a little messy, eyes a lot sad.
You.
Of course it was you.
He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
You stepped in slowly, not expecting anything. Not demanding anything. Just there.
Like always.
“I’m happy for you,” you said softly.
“I know.”
A beat.
“You don’t look happy.”
He let out a hollow laugh. “I should be. Right? This is what I prayed for.”
You didn’t say anything. Just waited.
“I feel like I’m… cheating on her,” he finally admitted, voice cracking. “Even just standing here with you. Even thinking about you when I’m with her.”
Your gaze fell to the floor.
“I never meant to,” he said. “It just… it happened.”
You nodded. “I get it.”
“No, you don’t—”
“I do, Seungcheol,” you said, meeting his eyes. “You don’t owe me anything. I knew this wasn’t real. I knew I was just… the wrong place, the wrong time.”
He stepped forward, something desperate in his expression. “You were the only thing that felt right.”
Your breath caught.
“I just don’t know how to live in both,” he whispered. “The before and the after.”
Silence settled between them.
“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he said. “I don’t want to lose her. But losing you—”
He broke off, choking on the words.
You blinked back tears, chest rising and falling with the weight of every unspoken thing.
“I won’t ask you to choose,” you said gently. “But I won’t lie either. You matter to me. And if this is all it is—a hallway, a few coffees, a handful of broken nights—then I’ll take it. And I’ll let go.”
Your voice cracked like glass.
“Just don’t pretend it meant nothing.”
Seungcheol stepped closer, eyes shining. “I could never.”
And then—
A breath.
A heartbeat.
His forehead dropped to yours, just barely, as if touch alone might anchor him to something real.
Neither of them kissed.
But something inside them did.
And it broke. Quietly. Beautifully.
Right there on the stairwell steps of a hospital neither of them wanted to be in.
---
The hospital smelled the same as always—like antiseptic, old coffee, and waiting.
Seungcheol moved slowly down the corridor, step by step, clutching the small plastic bag of belongings the nurses had packed for his girlfriend. Discharge papers tucked beneath his arm. A bouquet of tulips from her mother poking out the side.
She was getting better.
She was going home.
And still… he felt like he was leaving something behind. No—someone.
He paused at the end of the hallway, where two paths met. One to the exit. One to the oncology wing.
The bag crinkled in his grip as he stood there, torn in a silence that pressed into his ribs.
He hadn't seen you since that night on the stairwell.
You.
The one who’d cracked his chest open and shown him he still had a heart, even while it bled.
The one who sat beside him when his world was ending, and gave him pieces of her own shattered one just so he wouldn't drown alone.
He’d meant to go back.
He wanted to go back.
But life has a way of moving without asking if you're ready.
The next morning, the room was empty. Your name scratched off the whiteboard. No answers. No goodbye.
He’d asked a nurse. She looked away. "I'm sorry. The patient in Room 204 passed away in the night. Family discharged shortly after."
And that was it.
Just like that, you were gone.
And he never got to say goodbye.
Now, days later, as he stood there at the fork in the hallway, everything in him screamed to turn around. To check. To hope that maybe somehow, somehow, you'd still be there.
But you weren't.
You had left.
And so had your grandmother.
All that remained was the memory of that last vending machine smile—the one with the tears hiding just beneath.
The sound of your voice when you said, “Just don’t pretend it meant nothing.”
God, if you only knew. If you knew what you meant. If you knew what you took with you.
“Seungcheol?” his girlfriend called softly from behind, her voice weaker than he remembered but full of cautious hope.
He turned slowly.
She was standing just outside her room, hair brushed back, wearing the soft hoodie he used to sleep in when she first went under.
Her eyes searched his face. “Are you ready?”
He looked at her.
This girl he’d loved. Still loved, maybe. But not in the same way.
Not in the way that twisted and broke and healed. Not in the way that made him want to live again.
He offered a small nod and walked toward her.
They exited the hospital slowly, carefully, like the world was something they weren’t sure how to re-enter.
Outside, the sky was a dull gray.
A car waited at the curb.
He placed her bag in the trunk, then helped her into the passenger seat.
But before he closed the door, he glanced back.
One last time.
Toward the entrance. Toward the hallway. Toward a girl who wasn’t there.
And in that one look… everything ached.
You would never know how often he still looked for you in crowds. How sometimes he woke up wanting to tell you something, only to remember he couldn’t. How even in someone else’s recovery, he felt like he lost something irreplaceable.
He closed the door gently.
And with it, their story.
Not with fire. Not with fanfare. But with a quiet kind of sorrow. The kind that lingers.
The kind that asks, What if?
And never gets an answer.
---
#kpop ff#kpop fanfic#seventeen ff#seventeen angst#scoups ff#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#wonwoo angst#scoups angst#seungcheol angst
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stars blind [ they fall and leave the sky ] [ f.a.+ r ] [ pt.2 ]

Authors Note: I’m so incredibly glad everyone seemed to enjoy the first part of this series! If anyone has requested to be put onto a tag list for this series, I’ll try to remember to add it in. Also to add: apologies for the shorter update -- this is meant to be a bridge between One and Three, so it fills in some gaps.
Masterlist
PART ONE | PART THREE
Pairing: Feyre Archeron x fem!reader x Rhysand / Platonic!Inner Circle x fem!reader
Summary: Feyre and Rhysand find their mating marks that are duplicates to your own — perfect matches — and have a discussion what that means. Amren and Mor make a decision together. Windweaver hides.
Content Warnings: Mating bonds + discussion thereof [ reminder: this is canon in nature, but i take liberties and play around with mating bonds thus deepening the meaning of this AU ], Court politics, mentions of Windweaver’s past trauma that is not directly gone into this chapter, cliffhanger [ sorry ]
Word Count: ~3.7k
You wait in the spacious entry way of the home of Iris — a chirpy blonde High Fae who was incredibly well known for watching children for a fair price while parents worked or tended to other matters.
Mor had been the one to give her a place for you — it was increasingly difficult to get into the daycare and the fact that Mor put in a word for you was a kindness you could never pay back.
You were the last to arrive as you usually were — but Iris never seemed to mind. She understood your position in this new world and was accommodating and it was once more a kindness that you couldn’t afford.
You refused to look at yourself in the large mirror hanging above the entrance to the side. Now that you knew what was engraved into your skin, you would never be able fully hide it. Or escape whatever bond thrummed on the other side.
And yet you felt nothing. Nothing but empty black loneliness when you reached out to where your mother told you mating bonds usually rested in that part of the soul, in that part of the heart, in that part of the mind.
Nothing was there, and that was perhaps the best part of it even when it stung like nettle. It meant that whoever the Cauldron found you worthy to mate with was unaware and uninterested in a bond.
Until they found their own marks, you supposed.
“Here she is!” Iris sang, walking out with Astraea sleeping soundly, drooling on her shoulder.
“Oh, she’s knocked out,” you said with a smile, heart warming soundly at the sight of your daughter. Black hair and pale skin — features of your mother, her eyes belonging to a man long since gone.
“We painted today,” Iris told you as she made the exchange, sliding Astra into your hold. The tiny little thing wrapped arms around your shoulders, snuggling in close and sighing but not waking a second. “Next time you come in I’ll give it to you. Our High Lady will be coming in soon to teach a class.”
“The High Lady?” You didn’t hide your surprise. She hadn’t been seen out since the birth of her son — unless it was to walk through the Rainbow. You knew little around the events of the little one’s birth, other than rumors about wings and pain.
“Oh yes. She decided she’s going to come help out with the children — and bring Nyx, too. He needs socialization with other children his age. But it seems Astra is the closest to it right now.”
You chewed the inside of your cheek, a nervous tick unsettling the heart within your chest.
"Oh, that will be wonderful," you say out loud instead of voicing your fears. You had yet to be approached by the High Lord or his Lady about your heritage and Mor and Amren had both been as welcoming as members of the Inner Circle can afford to be to newcomers.
You exchanged a few more pleasantries, your payment is given to Iris, and you are quick to whisk your sleepy daughter off. You are greeted by the chilly air and your scarf does little to keep the bite from your cheeks that comes with the breeze.
The walk to your rented apartment is five minutes from Iris' home and it was nice. You felt like you could easily get everywhere within easy walking distance and not have to use your magic to speed your walking along.
Not that you would have used your magic at all.
You walk up the side stairs on the building, climbing up and up and up until you reach the third floor. Your door was the first on the right and the bulky key was heavy and cold in your jacket's pocket when you pulled it free and pushed it into the key hole, twisting, unlocking, opening.
The apartment was nearly bare. It was furnished with the help of Mor -- thanks to her kindness to you. But it was basic and non-matching. You weren't here all the time -- either you spent time here with your daughter or slept. You preferred to take Astra out to explore the world and enjoy her surroundings while simultaneously exposing her to new things.
Astra's room was the most decorated, the most furnished, and the most cared for. You laid her down in her bed and got her dressed in her pajamas, all the while she hardly woke. She stuffed her thumb in her mouth and sighed as you pulled the covers over her.
You started toward the bathroom, removing earrings and clothes as you went.
That's the mating mark of a High Lord.
You find yourself standing in front of the dingy mirror in the bathroom — which was otherwise beautifully designed. Clean. Better than what you were once used to after Armantha’s takeover.
But when had it appeared? Mating marks were incredibly rare -- to the point that they were often forgotten about in history. They were connected to the more biological parts of Fae -- back when mating was more led by survival and the need to breed. Only those with very old bloodlines had mating marks anymore; bloodlines that predate much of even Old Prythian.
You pushed yourself off the sink, still tracing the outline you found yourself memorizing as you leaned over the tub to get the water started. It felt no different on your skin, had no way of showing itself other than its appearance.
You waited for the water to fill all the way to the top with near boiling heat. You never wanted to touch cold water again — even to drink. You drank it warm or you drank tea. You sank into the tub and shivered as the heat encased your skin and filled all the chilly, empty parts of you.
To have a mark that now only really ran through the lines of High Lords . . . that did not bode well on your end. Mostly because you've seen how angry High Fae males get when females have already been mated once before, but because it would force you to reveal your location to the very people you've been ensuring never find you.
Rhysand was frowning at her, and Feyre did not particularly enjoy it. She was rubbing some cream into her hands and trying to ignore him altogether.
He was all in a fuss lately and as much as she wanted to know what was getting to him this time, she figured he'd tell her if he really wanted to.
She settled under the covers with her book half-opened, getting comfortable against her lower back. After Nyx even with Nesta's wish, she still retained an ache from her pregnancy. It was manageable but not entirely easy to get rid of.
"Feyre, darling," her husband starts, "when did you get that?"
Feyre turns the page of her book before she humors him, tilting her face up. He's sat on the edge of the bed eyeing her, purple eyes twinkling with shock.
"The book?" she asked slyly, shutting it. "Nesta lent it to me. She said--"
Rhysand rolled his eyes. "I do not need to know what sort of filth your sister has you read when I'm not there to chaperone. I can't begin to think."
"It's a female on female romance, with sex."
Rhysand paused, blinked as if shocked, then rubbed his face with his hand. "We will address that at a later time. I have questions I think I will want answers too." He then pointed slightly to her left. "I meant that, just under your ear, of course."
Feyre reached her fingers up to trace under her ear as Rhysand had pointed out to her. She felt nothing but her studded earrings, done sometime after Nyx’s birth. “I don’t feel anything,” she said slowly, raising one of her brows at her mate.
He got to his feet and walked around the side of the bed and held out his palm. “Come with me, darling.”
Feyre hated to get out of bed now that she had gotten comfortable, but she put her book aside anyway and took his hand. He gently tugged her to the mirror on the far corner of the room, twirling her in a circle.
Feyre laughed at him, a bright smile lighting up hear features as he swung her to his front, arms wrapped around her just under her chest. He pressed a warm kiss to her cheek as they locked eyes in the mirror.
“My beautiful Feyre darling,” he said. His gaze was so soft, a rare sight that not many in the lands got to see. He reached up and began moving her hair away from the side of her head he had previously pointed out to her.
“Mm.” She watched him lazily, fingers tracing designs into his arm. She stopped her playing when she noticed what he had initially wanted her to see.
“That’s new,” she said, pulling herself out of his arms so she could lean forward and peer at the twirls and markings that cornered themselves behind her pointed ear. “I don’t think I’ve had that before. Did I?”
He shook his head, rubbing his jawline. “It’s . . . No. It’s an old magic, attached usually to a Fae with an old bloodline when they become mated.”
Feyre stared at him. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t get it when we first mated.”
“You wouldn’t have, no,” Rhysand agreed, staring at the mark nervously. “I think . . . Well, I have an idea already on what it could mean and why you have it.”
Feyre turned around and bit her lip, peering at him with just as much nervousness. “I’d love to hear your idea, because if it’s connected to bloodlines that means it’s connected to yours somehow.”
“It connects very old bloodlines, I should say,” he told her, scratching his head as he thought over his words, “From a very old time when we still ran on pure instinct rather than reason. A time where magic was more alive, and it helped us. It would connect bloodlines that were stronger, more resilient.”
Feyre blinked at him. “Are you saying that you’re from one of those lines?”
“All High Lord families are. Many high society families are, actually. It’s how we got as far as we did. The marking wouldn’t have appeared on you initially because you were a human, once, and the old magic that runs in bloodlines like mine is thought by scholars to be being bred out over time.”
Feyre crosses her arms, resisting the urge to reach up and scratch the skin there. It suddenly itched now that she knew she had a shiny new marking there. “That makes sense. So it’s genetic. But it still makes no sense why I have it now.”
“Because I do believe there’s another factor at play.” He folded his hands, rubbing them together and not meeting her eyes.
“Rhys.” She reached her own hand out, hoping her touch soothed him. “Together. We can face whatever this is together — and you can tell me anything.”
“I think we have a third mate out there, somewhere,” he admitted quietly. “This is not a desire I have but a theory. If this potential mate has come into close contact at some point, their scent would have activated the other’s genetic magic in their bloodstream.”
Feyre breathed out through her nostrils, taking in this information carefully. “Old magic that has a play in with genetics. I’m your true mate, but there’s also another one out there for us that shares a bond? Wouldn’t we have known?”
“It’s . . . different with the old magic. It lies dormant,” Rhysand explained as he led his wife back to bed and sat next to her on the mattress. “It only activates when a suitable mate has been scented. Like I said, it ties back to when we were living on baser instincts and our mating bonds were less decided by fate and the Cauldron.”
“So my mating bond to you is different than the mating bond we have with this person?” Feyre clarified, not angry, simply confused.
“In how it is formed carnally only, it will never change my bond with you nor will it make me desire you any less,” Rhysand assured her firmly, cupping her cheek and rubbing the jutted bone, beautiful and perfect in his eyes. “All I know is that we have a third, but because we’ve been out of the public for months . . .”
“It could have been anyone our friends’ scents dragged in,” Feyre finished, understanding. She felt comforted by Rhysand’s words but . . . But now that she allowed the words to fixate in her mind, she couldn’t help but lack anxiety in regard to her stability with Rhysand, only . . . Curiosity. Perhaps a need to understand.
Rhysand smiled sadly. “Yes. And whoever lies on the other end of the bond won’t be able to form a connection to us like we have to one another until we can . . . Consummate the bond, not unless we want to use our Daementi powers on them.”
“Is that more old magic at work?”
Rhysand nodded at her, and Feyre bit her lip. She thought over the entire binder of information Rhysand just threw on top of her. But honestly — thinking it over, it didn’t create an ugly animal of jealousy to think of their unnamed mate with Rhys. Or with her. Or with her and Rhys.
It was a lot, and maybe they needed to sleep a bit over it. To digest what this will mean for them as a couple, and for their dynamic, and for their family.
But Feyre’s gut told her nothing terrible could come from this — not if her mating with Rhysand was anything to go on.
Amren and Mor stared at each other three hours after Windweaver had made a hasty escape from the tavern, leaving them in her dust.
Rita had pretty much closed up around the two of them. She lived upstairs and Mor was someone who was trusted with a key if they stayed longer than Rita stayed open.
It was just them at their table, still sitting in complete silence as though afraid to speak aloud what they had experienced hours ago. What Windweaver had experienced.
“We should tell them,” Amren said for the fifth time as Mor brought the entire bottle of wine to her lips and drank.
“Why? I mean, I agree. Nothing comes from keeping information from our High Lord and Lady,” Mor said, head tilting back over the chair, “But do we want to put this stress on them? They were just discussing coming back out in the world. Feyre wants to take Nyx to meet other kids.”
“She has a mating mark of status. Old status, but status,” Amren ground out, and Mor could almost hear her canines gnashing against her other teeth.
“Yes, this is true.” Mor takes her feet off the table and leans close to Amren. “But do you know what bringing attention to this might mean? What it could do to her?”
Amren spun a ring — one of many and of little value to her, likely from Rhysand back when she was still a darker force much more dangerous than this one — on her index finger, long nail unbreaking against the metal.
“There are consequences to whatever actions we plan to take,” the darker haired female acknowledged begrudgingly. “But I dislike the ones that come with keeping this from Rhysand and Feyre.”
Mor hated to agree, but she couldn’t find it in her to disagree. She wanted Windweaver’s safety put at the top of their to-do list, but they’ll have to find a way to ensure that without keeping their High Lord and Lady in the dark about this.
“Fine,” Mor said, “we’ll bring it up. Tonight?”
Amren stole the bottle from her blonde friend, taking a swig from it. “If the girl’s still awake. She seems to go to bed early these days after the prince was born.”
Mor tapped her fingers along the tabletop. “Fine, tomorrow then.”
“Tomorrow,” Amren agreed.
They stayed to finish the bottle, falling into a silence of two respected comrades and friends.
You wake with a gasp as sweat soaked your forehead and dripped down your temples like raindrops.
You clutched your chest where the weight you felt in your nightmare had struck you and glanced around you rapidly as the heartbeat in your ears timed with the feeling in your chest.
Enclosed walls, four. A wood flooring with a soft rug in the middle of the room. A soft thick quilt, patched, that you gave birth in and carried your daughter around in for two long years before carting her here in it.
Not in the Spring Court. Away from the sickly smell of fresh flowers in bloom all year around and constant lukewarm weather that was too little for you to feel alive.
It was still dark outside, but you could see the hints of dawn beginning to reveal itself over the horizon. No sun.
Your favorite time of day.
You pushed the sheets and quilt off, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and sighing shakily as you gazed out the window for a moment to just take in the view.
You eventually got out of bed entirely; if you didn't you were at risk for not getting out at all for the rest of the day. That was not a type of day you could afford to have.
You went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast for Astra, and while the eggs cooked you got her up. "S'ello Mama," she garbled.
"Hi, baby," you greeted, kissing her forehead and smiling warmly as she stretched her little arms out. She blinked sleepily at you. "Eggs?"
"Eggs," you agreed, holding out your hand in offer. She looked at it with hesitation as she normally did when it came to touch; she was not a child who welcomed it on a normal scale and the first two and a half years of her life play a large role in that.
She finally deemed it acceptable to place her tiny hand in yours and you smile at her, guiding her into the kitchen where smoke was now rising in the pan. "Oh no," Astra dolled.
"Shit." You set her in her chair and race toward the burnt crisps that were once eggs sizzling in the pan. You looked forlornly at the charred bits and dumped them in the sink, and instead turned to your daughter.
"Do you want to go to Caspian's for breakfast, Astra?"
Immediately the little girl's eyes lit up and she attempted to stand in her chair, "Cassie! Cassie," she garbled as you quickly went over to grab her and set her down like she wanted.
"Okay," you laughed quietly. "Lets' get you and myself dressed and we'll go see Cassie."
One hour, a toddler trying not to crawl away from every outfit you picked out, and a faceful of makeup later, you found yourself walking down the street with a babbling Astra in your arms. She was fired up now that you were well and truly on your way to her favorite place to eat.
"Oh, really?" you asked her as you passed the glass displays in the large windows. She then stuck her finger at the particular pastry that was always displayed and remained her tried and true favorite.
You opened the door and pushed your way in, causing the bell above the entrance to ring out your arrival. It was a busier morning than usual -- you tend to come before the rush so that Astra doesn't get overwhelmed, but for some reason today you weren't able to beat such a rush.
You were behind two people; both of them were huddled together and had a small babe between them. A male and female, whispering to the giggling, pudgy faced youngling.
"Windweaver!" Cassie called as she came at a brisk drift out of the kitchen, covered in sugar and flour, "Welcome! And little Astra, too!"
Just as you made to greet her back, you were cut short by the couple turning around and looking you in the eyes.
"Windweaver?" The High Lord of the Night Court repeated softly, tilting his head in interest while his wife narrowed her gaze at you.
TAG LIST: @motorsp0rt , @lifetobeareader , @hjgdhghoe , @mystirica-blog , @skyler129
PART THREE
#acotar#feyre acotar x reader#feyre archeron x reader#rhysand x reader#feysand x reader#fanfiction#inner circle
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RIDDLE DREAM SPOILER‼️‼️‼️
Lmao, why is his dream just...
"Quit your job"
"Why?"
"Join my emo band!"
(No but honestly, its a bit cute that, Riddle, in all his seriousness and rules sticking, still seemed to choose a more alt way to dress in his dream, like he still wants to rebel in some way. It was a plot twist in a way since many may have thought that Riddle would have cranked up on his authoritarian ways all the way to eleven, and yet his dream is silly, like all the other house warden's dreams seemed to be more serious in a way and showed off one aspect that we knew off, Leona's low self esteem and Azul wanting to completly overwrite his past, but Riddle wasn't quite that, we knew of his want for rebelion, but his dream wasn't full anarchy, it was just... rebelling in the small ways)
(Sorry for any misspelling, english isn't my native lenguage)
[You can read my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 3 update here!]
I just saw that meme on Twitter with Riddle and Cater 😭
I was shocked by Riddle’s new look in the dream… It’s close to alt fashion in the west, but I believe it is supposed to be Japanese visual kei. All that black… I don’t know, I don’t think dark eye and lip makeup suits him?? But that’s just me, what do I know about style www

I’m surprised Riddle even knows what that kind of clothing is…? You’d think his mom would not allow him to be exposed to this kind of fashion. I was half expecting Cater to mention he had shared it with Riddle at NRC on a slow day and Riddle expressing a little curiosity about it but ultimately holding himself back from dressing adventurously. That never ended up happening…
I do think that an authoritarian dream has its representation in the second and third layers of Riddle’s mind. The darker implication is certainly there. However, I think it makes the most sense for his surface level dream to be about his childish desires and experiences he never had. As much as Riddle might claim to be mature and to know it all, some part of him desperately misses out on happy childhood memories. He shares this sentiment after recovering from his overblot (“And after a meal, I want to be the one sitting around talking with everyone... And I really wanted to play with you and Chenya more, Trey.”). In events like Endless Halloween Night, Riddle tells his peers that he isn’t familiar with traditional entertainment media like movies or video games; he did crosswords and read textbooks as a child. Various voice lines, like his Suitor Suit, where he wishes his parents’ marriage was happy, or his Beachwear, where he complains about how he is not used to this kind of scandalous clothing, also express this.
I wouldn’t describe Riddle’s dream as an expression of him wanting to rebel or to have anarchy, per se. Wanting more freedom and a longing for a chance to express one’s inner child isn’t necessarily equal to being rebellious. Many of the things he desires are very childish: not wanting to go to school or to study, eating desserts multiple times a week, drinking tea sweet, being able to play all day, always having emotionally available parents, not having to follow rules, having many friends and a happy family… These are not all tied to being rebellious, these are things most children want. It speaks to Riddle wanting to have those childhood experiences he missed out on and having more independence… Being allowed to be his own person rather than a puppet on strings his mother controls and makes all the decisions for.
#twisted wonderland#twst#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#Riddle Rosehearts#Cater Diamond#notes from the writing raven#jp spoilers#book 7 chapter 12 part 3 spoilers#book 1 spoilers
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Change My Mind [6]
Pairing: BTS x reader
SUMMARY: As a make-up artist, you were expected to glamorize your clients with brushes and products that cost a week-worth of food, not to befriend them outside of work, let alone have them save you from dates yet here you are five years later as one of their closest confidants.
Being a stylist of the world's biggest boyband is no easy feat, someone is doing flips, someone can't stay still and one's asleep but its fine, you can work around their chaos but then one day, you find out they're all your soulmates, a whole different can of chaos you don't think you can handle.
Tags: Soulmates AU, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Not Beta Read, Slow Build, Polyamory, Attempts at Humor
Words: 6.9k
If you weren't able to catch the author's note, update will be very slow due to my campus enrolling us to a government extracurricular that spans for three months so updates with be VERY slow until then. Sorry this one took long, had to remove one chunk out of this chapter so I could have it posted as soon as I could. Also ik the last chapter's ending was so rushed, I'll try to fix it once I get the time so for now, ignore that mess ;-;
EDIT: edited out the beginning scene, changed it kekeke
Please vote Jimin in Visa Choice in MAMA voting and push Namseok to the top 10 for Fan's Choice award! STREAM I'LL BE THERE
<<Prev || MASTERLIST || Next>>
________
You wouldn’t say it outloud but you quickly got used to the feeling of waking up next to Jimin.
The first day was jarring. Eyes opening to tufts of hair tickling your face and body waking up to the feeling of your arms thrown around his body flushed to your front, his hand holding yours from where it hangs. There’s a rumbling warmth pulsing through your body in intervals starting from your fingertips and down to your toes.
You remembered waking up feeling new and rejuvenated, as if your body had been dismantled down to its atoms with all its flaws and aches only to be reformed into a new, better form.
Waking up next to Jimin is the closest thing to experiencing heaven on earth. It was quiet and euphoric, comfortably warm, and you loved every second of it. Dare say, its quickly becoming one of your favorite things in the world.
Soulbond strain, that’s what the doctor had said. That's what caused the constant fatigue you and Jimin were feeling yesterday which eventually caused you both to pass out from exhaustion. Due to how ill-informed they are of both your marks, they weren't aware of how fragile your new bond was and how much touching should be involved for the first few days.
So now, you are bound to Jimin for a long while. The doctors had hypothesized that you both will be able to withstand not holding for an hour soon when he had accidentally let go of your hands in favor of taking food from Taehyung’s hands.
You hope it goes past an hour when the week finally ends, a day if you’re both fortunate enough. Being forced to rest while everyone around you moved and worked is frustrating, even Jimin was growing antsy from all the sleeping, eating and sitting you both were doing.
Today marks the last day you both will be confined to the hospital as they've finally cleaned up one of the spare rooms in the dorm so you could move in.
You were so glad you could finally eat something more nutritious than bland soup. It would be a talent to be able to cook a soup so tasteless it would even make a white person frown despite the numerous vegetables and meat on them.
Since Jungkook's Birthday, you found yourself more often than not staring at the ceiling after eating, dreaming about eating other food so intensely it's like you could taste them in your buds. Jimin teased, saying you were growing insane from the lack of flavor.
A few days have passed since you found out you were soulmates with your best friends but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it.
The thought that these five—possibly seven depending on Seokjin and Hoseok’s test results later today—down to earth, aphrodite-blessed men with even more beautiful traits were tethered to you is bizarre. The idea never fails to short-circuit your brain every time you think about it.
And it's hard not to, not when you wake up sleeping next to the peaceful face of South Korea’s IT boy—with his arms wrapped around you and his head nuzzled under your chin.
It's something you’re still trying to get used to as you’ve never dared to sleep while cuddling with your friends, no matter how tired you might be. It was far too intimate of an act, reserved for those who are romantically involved and for someone with feelings as fickle as yours back then, it was inappropriate.
Not that it mattered much now but it's still difficult to be comfortable with the domesticity of it all.
What was once perceived as platonic now felt anything but.
Save for Taehyung and Seokjin, everyone else has continued working, although you had advised a weary looking Hoseok to take a break, he insisted that he's fine whilst practically dragging himself out of the room. Namjoon had assured you that he'll watch over his hyung but you had threatened Yoongi for extra measures.
Speaking of work, your friends have been blowing up your phone since Jungkook's birthday, asking why they were required to sign a whole different NDA and you told them about your soulmates.
All of them reacted positively, Minhyuk had even pleaded to hear about how you discovered and had asked to be informed of all the latest happenings, from the courting, dates, and even the bedroom—something you had promised to hit him for once you're back to work.
But for now, you were stuck with a foot out of the bathroom and body turned to the opposite with an arm stretched far out to hold Jimin's hand as he finished his business.
So far, there's been no accidental flashing, to which you've been thankful for. The whole ordeal is already awkward as it is with only having to hear each other pee.
Jimin couldn’t even jokingly flirt with you the whole time, far too mortified with the idea of both parties being able to hear the stream of piss to even bother coming up with jokes to lighten up the situation, nor could you dare look into his eyes after the first few times you both had to go through this. You had refrained from eating too much in fear of having to shit during the week but you knew it would eventually happen.
Especially since you both have been greenlit to eat take outs and Seokjin had generously offered to buy you both food—bless that wonderful, handsome man—and dragged Taehyung out with him.
You had been hesitant to make a few demands at first because do you even deserve the kindness Seokjin is showing you after hurting him for years? But the man proved himself devoted once more when he listed down the food you’ve been craving desperately for without hearing it from your lips.
(Tae had joked that maybe it's the soulmate mark manifesting a little late and Jimin elbowed him for that.)
You didn’t even get to tell him not to bother when he began to loudly chant gibberish as he pulled Taehyung out of the room with him.
After all the babying and princess treatment you've been receiving in the short time of knowing you were soulmates, it's hard not to feel frustrated having your best friends become your beck and call when they—save for Yoongi, bless that man for keeping his distance—hadn't been doing so for the past few years.
It was somewhat pressuring that you could ask Jungkook to brush his teeth and immediately drink orange juice and he'd do it without question, if not gargling the juice for a little while longer just because you asked him to do it.
From living alone and getting used to doing things by yourself, to suddenly having five people who'd follow your whims almost blindly, was overwhelming and slowly becoming more annoying than it is helpful.
If it wasn't for the guilt from getting irritated, you would've blown up on the first day when most of your soulmates had refused to let you stand up and walk around the room in fear of having you collapse.
Sure you had passed out from the soulbond strain but that same bond rendered you invulnerable to most things, I’m not about to die walking around the room with Jimin, Yoongs.
You couldn't fault Jungkook and Tae for wanting to baby you. Jungkook never had someone to pamper and spoil, and Taehyung only had Jungkook; Even then, it wasn't in a romantic way and Jungkook was also being taken care of by the others so he didn't need to do much. His ex and him didn't last long enough for when BTS’ fame had skyrocketed and he had more money than he could ever spend in his life and is quickly running out of things to spend it on.
Still, it was hard to take all the coddling. It was better when they treated you with the distance platonic relationships had granted you.
Today, you’re huddled next to Jimin as you both scrolled on social media with both your bare legs thrown over his.
There's been comments left on your instagram page asking for Jimin's health and you decided to reply to one comment to say that he's fine and recovering. You and him had been pardoned from work for a week, Taehyung had been granted some leniency and he used it to visit you both in the hospital once it was revealed that his soulmark had been affected by Jimins.
Silencing the app, you move to twitter when the door suddenly opens and in comes Seokjin holding up two plastic bags of takeout, flexing them as if they were golden medals and you sit up.
“Your handsome savior has arrived with fries and actually good food!”
“Hi noona!” Taehyung greets as he steps out of Jin's shadow.
���Jin you're actually the most good looking man I've ever seen in this forsaken planet, did you get me cheese and sour cream flav—”
“Of course I did,” He scoffed, putting down two paper bags and one drink carrier on your bedside table before placing the rest on the table near the bathroom door. “Who do you think I am?!”
“He almost ordered it all in cheese until I reminded him that you wanted sour cream too, noona.” Taehyung chimes in with a grin as he closes the door, a hand hidden behind his back while he holds a covered cup in the other.
Seokjin snapped his head towards him with an indignant ‘Ya!’, to which Tae only giggled at.
“You bought that heinous, god awful sweet tea with my money! How could you do this to me?!”
“I offered to pay but you—”
“WITH MY MONEY!”
Everyone only laughed and Jin trudged over with Jimin’s lunch in hand, offering it with an outreached arm and he took it. At least, he tried to. Jin suddenly raised his hand over his head. You watched as Jin continuously teased Jimin whose reach is limited due to the need to be holding your hand.
Jimin then finally got a grip on the plastic bag’s bottom and suddenly, their fishing game became a tug of war.
“Wait wait wait! You're going to tear it! It's going to spill!”
“Just fucking give it to me, hyung!” Jimin grunt, tugging one last time and the side of the bag rips, immediately Jin lets go.
“Why would you pull that hard?!”
Jimin ignored him in favor of pulling out his container, which he realized is overwhelmingly little compared to your three packages.
“Hyung!” He screams with his bottom lip jut out, dragging out the word. “How come I only have one food package? I'm also a patient, you know?!”
“You didn't request anything.” Jin says nonchalantly, shrugging.
“We've been together for years hyung! You should've known what I wanted like you did noona! This is blatant favoritism hyung!”
Seokjin ignored him, handing you a large bowl of mixed flavored fries, a large boba tea, and a plastic container where an aroma of caramelized fried chicken is leaking out of it the moment it leaves the paper bag. Next to you, Jimin scoffed, incredulous as he crossed his arms.
“She gets fried chicken, fries and boba but I only get Jajangmyeon?!”
Once again, he ignored the younger man, rolling his eyes as Taehyung bounds up to his disgruntled best friend to reveal the half occupied half empty paper beverage carrier hidden behind his back, grinning widely as Jimin’s face morphs into disbelieving betrayal.
“Wow, so this is how we do things now, huh? I can’t believe you’d do this to me when I’m a patient!”
“I’m so sorry, you poor poor thing.” Taehyung pouts as he offers out the food and Jimin spared no time in swiping the bag from him.
With their bicker finally coming to an end and Taehyung comfortably sitting crossed legs at the foot of you and Jimin’s bed, you turned to your food.
After eating nothing but bland, runny soup since the night at Jungkook’s birthday, tasting the cheddar almost made you tear up. You had taken advantage of the privilege of tasting far too long, being able to finally ingest something else felt euphoric, as if you were given the chance to walk through the garden of eden.
Exaggerated much but it's the only way you could explain the feeling.
Wasting no more time, you dug into the french fries bowl.
You hear Seokjin whisper something underneath his breath, sounding incredulous. You watched as he crossed over to Taehyung and snatched his cup, ignoring the younger man’s indignant yelp and took a sip.
Instantly, the mixed taste of cheddar and sour cream was washed away by the familiar taste of Taehyung’s heinous tea preference of illegal amounts of tea and milk. The harsh difference of the three flavors along with the texture of fries gliding on your tongue makes you gag. Your soulmates react, Jimin placing his food down to place his cupped hands under you as if trying to catch your puke while Tae flinches, about to reach over until he sees his brother already positioned to help you and turns to fetch you a glass of water instead.
“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.”
“You ate too fast noona, try to chew it first.” You mimic in a tone far too high to be his and Jimin rolled his eyes.
“Why are you being so annoying today?”
“I’m sorry I’m getting cranky after someone disrupted me eating—” Your words abruptly end as Jin suddenly surged in to hug you.
You look at Taehyung who’s staring longingly at his tea still in Jin’s grasp behind you before turning to a similarly perplexed Jimin mid-bite of his tteokbokki. Raising an eyebrow at him, he responds with a shrug before continuing to stuff food into his mouth.
But as you rested both hands on his shoulders, Jin suddenly sniffled.
“Jin?”
Alert, you gently push him off and your eyes meet with his misty pairs, matched with a teary smile stretching plush red lips. Your heart leapt to your throat as both his hands cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead in under a second. But instead of getting a seizure or being struck with an overwhelming amount of pain, nothing happened.
Instead a warm feeling, akin to what the rest of your soulmates caused you, wrapped around you like a thick blanket and you froze.
Then, Jin stands with an excited yip and excused himself out of the room, leaving you and the others confused.
What?
You didn't need to look at Jimin or Tae to know they all had huge question marks hanging over their heads as they stared at where they last saw their hyung disappear out of the room.
Why didn't your body react from having someone kiss your forehead while your bonds were still unsettled? From what you've read, there's always a chance of it happening, yet even if your relationship with him stretched over years, there shouldn't be any reason why he's not causing you and Jimin pain.
Unless he's also a soulmate.
Immediately you were reminded of the time he had carried you and wondered why no one ever questioned why nothing fatal had happened when he had done that in the DFA. Even if it had everyone in a flurry of panic, someone should've noticed and questioned it right? Yoongi should have at least.
There was also that one time Hoseok had held your hand in the car, it was brief but it should've done something still with a Nexus bond as complicated and huge as yours. Yet like with Seokjin, nothing happened.
“What did I just watch?” Taehyung began and you wish you had the answer. “Did I just witness my soulmate get stolen by Seokjin hyung?”
“No,” Jimin says, eyes thoughtful as he looks at you before turning to the bathroom door. “I think we just discovered that hyung is also tethered to her.”
Both your head snapped to the man next to you.
In the small amount of time you stared at your soulmate, the pieces began to click as the cogs in your mind whirs with all the possibilities before it took you back to the moment the horrendous taste of Taehyung's tea violated your tongue. Your mouth falls into an ‘o’.
“Shared Tastebuds.” You mutter.
Jimin opens his mouth to ask you to elaborate when Seokjin reenters with a doctor following behind him, red faced but the blinding wide smile he wore was enough to make you forget he was crying not a second before. The doctor next to him looked ecstatic, eyes a little crazy at the newfound discovery.
“Congratulations, it seems that also Mr. Kim here is a part of your Nexus bond!” He says a little cheerily as he hugs the clipboard close to his chest. “It would do you all well to inform the rest of the group of this finding. From a professional standpoint, I do think that Mr. Jung has a huge chance of also being a part of your Nexus.”
To say you never had doubts that the other two members were a part of your nexus would be a lie, you had hoped they were but the absence of mark manifestation symptoms made it hard to believe they’ll be one of your soulmates.
Who knew all it took to find out if you and Jin were connected was eating while in the presence of each other? If you hadn’t fainted from the lack of food and the Soulbond strain, would you have found out about it earlier?
Was he the reason you’d taste the savory taste of a well-seasoned grilled meat or the sweet fizzling taste of a soda late at night yesterday?
Or is the bond you both have will allow for long distance sense sharing? There are two types of Shared Tastebuds after all.
“The results are due today right?” Jimin asks and the doctor turns to his watch.
“This afternoon I'm sure just before you both are discharged. But,” He turns to Jin. “For now I'll be taking Mr. Kim with me to register his soulbond and involvement in your Nexus.”
When they left again, the three of you remained unmoving, stunned.
It must be Jimin’s touch that had kept you calm throughout the revelation because you didn’t know how to react. There’s no doubt joy in the hurricane of emotions swirling in your chest, as well as the pacifying effect from both your and Jimin’s touch overwhelming the rising stress and conflict at the back of your head, forcing and pushing them back into the shadows.
You knew you should be stressing over the possibilities of having seven soulmates and how you’d divide your time to be able to equally spend time with everyone, it was already difficult having five these past few days. More often than not, you found yourself suffering a headache caused by the constant noise and overwhelming sensations each individual soulmarks gave you.
From the constant sounds of Namjoon’s heartbeat at the back of your head, and Jimin’s touch making your skin thrum, even the Amoneuron in your blood is having a hard time keeping you away from soulbond hyperactivity.
Someone’s phone erupted into a shrill scream, it was Taehyung’s. Picking it up, he automatically puts it on speaker and holds the end of the phone close to his mouth.
“Is it true? Please tell me it’s not true! I’m already competing with most of my hyungs for noona’s time!”
“This isn’t a competition, gguk.” Yoongi drawled in the background. “Didn’t we already establish that? No fighting for her hear—”
“What soulmark do they have?!”
“Manager Sejin is already on the way with a lawyer to handle the legal side of things, how are you guys doing right now? Is noona good?” Namjoon asks, sounding closer to the mic.
“She didn't faint if that's what you're asking about. If anything,” Taehyung turns to you. “She looks a little out of it.”
“How did it happen? Is it the test? Is it out already?” Hoseok's voice came through, nervous.
“Yeah we'll deliver it to you later also, remember hyung complaining about tasting something weird? Apparently he was tasting the hospital special soup—”
_______
On your dismissal, the doctor had handed the eldest their test results. Seokjin had thrown him out since he already knew what it'll entail but held on protectively on Hoseok's envelope.
Jimin had proposed a small celebration for the mark's manifestation for everyone, nothing too grand, just a few take outs appropriate for tomorrow’s dinner—because Jungkook and Tae had requested pancakes and waffles for whatever reason—and a small cake.
With five—not counting Jimin as he insisted that you both sit the activity out and Hoseok who visited his sister but promised to return the next day to read his result at dinner—men at your disposal, boxing up and moving your items into their dorm was easy, even if Yoongi has noticeably slowed down the stairs carrying the same one box he’s picked up since earlier; not that you’d call him out on it but you knew Seokjin and Jimin would to do it instead.
If it wasn't for Jungkook's eagerness to have you move in, it would have taken you all longer than you had today.
It was surreal seeing the items in your home slowly decrease, the mass on your shelves and all the personality of every room disappear with every box filled. You had been staying in the same apartment since you were 21, to have its familiar sights and spots be slowly stripped off of its glow felt sadder than you thought it would be.
BigHit had requested your company friends do all the packing while you were at the hospital, it wasn't forced but they acted like it was anyway. They (read: Minhyuk and Nabi) had jokingly complained about being tasked with doing things your soulmates should’ve been doing, Minhyuk going as far as threatening to sneak off something into one of the boxes and you feared for your life for what that something might entail.
You offered to buy them anything they want the next time you all visit the mall in exchange for their full cooperation and Minhyuk had vowed to run your bank dry with a sly grin.
“It's not like you’d even need them anymore when you’ve got the world’s biggest boyband as your soulmates, might as well spend your hard earned money on important things; friends, especially me though.”
You wouldn't deny the fact that you tried dating Guwon with the hopes of living lavishly without lifting a finger but the world would have to bathe in fire and water before you'd let them buy you expensive things outside of food; that you accept because you'd be able to taste and experience delicious dishes. Not to mention, it's practical.
Having your furniture moved out as well was out of the question after an hour of argument with Jimin and Jin who insisted on having you buy new decorations, except for the books, trinkets, and plethora of BTS collection you were given by the members themselves every comeback.
You argued that you didn’t need them to buy new furniture when you already have working ones.
But that argument was easily disproved when the maknaes (plus Namjoon because, hyung you’re big, we need to weight test it!) had jumped into your bed and the frames creaked and trembled.
He was right, as much as it pains you to accept it.
But just because he's right doesn't mean you agree with him.
In the end, with one against eventually all of them, you were due for furniture shopping with Jimin, Yoongi and Namjoon the next day. Today though, you were bunking with Jimin due to the need for constant skinship and the lack of bed in your new room.
You spent the better half of the afternoon unboxing and filling your closet with your items which barely filled two shelves out of six that were bolted onto the wall of the small well-lit room.
“Noona, your closet is a bit… barren.”
“The closets are just huge, I have plenty.”
“I’m concerned that you think this is plenty.” He says, thumbing the material of your cream cardigan as a grin grows on his lips. “I think I saw a few cute clothes online that would fit you.”
“Don’t.”
“Can’t do much about it now, they’re already in transit.”
After finding out your and Jin’s soulmark, you had thought deciding what you ate for dinner until the bond settled would be a hassle or until you both learn how to disable it. But Jin had simply agreed on your choices that night with a shrug of his shoulder with that soft smile on his lips.
And that amount of trust in whatever you’ll pick scares you in ways you never thought it would.
It's just a simple decision, one would say, but the ugly voices at the back of your head wondered if you even deserve this amount of consideration from him when you hadn’t noticed his lingering feelings for you for years.
But it seems like that fact has long been swept under the rug when the maknaes bounded up to you with mischief in their eyes.
Upon the realization that their Jin hyung would agree to almost anything you’d eat for a while, Jungkook and Taehyung wasted no second running up to you to propose the idea of ordering you a strawberry ice cream for dessert, claiming it was the only way to test their hyung’s love for her.
“You see noona, if hyung really loves you like he said he does, he would suck it up like the man he is.” Jungkook had reasoned to you with Taehyung nodding behind him and Jimin grinning mischievously next to you.
Fortunately for Jin, you don’t think forcing him to taste strawberry flavored things on the day he found out he wasn’t untethered would be a good decision despite the loud voice at the back of your head goading you to follow through their plan for fun.
But you promised the maknaes that you’ll do it someday.
Dinner was surprisingly uneventful with a few talks about the schedule changes and the rumors Jungkook had read and heard from his small friend group outside his brothers. If it wasn’t for the soft glow of gold at the edge of your vision from where your foot is resting on top of Jimin’s under the table and the faint outline of the red string of fate stretching across to Yoongi’s right pinkie, you would’ve tricked your brain into thinking it was a normal dinner with your friends.
With the words streaming out of Jungkook’s mouth, Tae and Jimin’s additional information and the scandalous gasp and widened eyes around the table once the pieces began to form a picture, you almost thought it was an average weekly dinner with your bosses.
But soon enough, plates are taken into the kitchen and Jimin is already pulling you up to your room, saying how he wants to take a shower and that you should take your toiletries.
Something you had dreaded since you heard the doctor had sentenced you to be in constant skinship with Jimin.
Why are you even nervous?! You had seen him and his brothers in their boxers from being one of their make up artists yet your heart had been thudding loudly in your ears the moment you had entered his room with your travel bag in hand.
Turns out, there was a truth in the saying “Ignorance is bliss” in the fact that knowing something could alter the way you think and perceive even the smallest of actions. In your case, knowing Jimin's your soulmate while facing the dilemma of showering together had you completely fucked up.
On the verge of a breakdown, half a foot on the ledge and the other hanging over the fall.
You had swam in public pools with him before but it was always with the presence of others, to be alone in a small room in nothing but your undies while maintaining skinship with your soulmate—
Isn't that a bit too intimate?
Will you even survive?
To stand half naked in a minimal space alone with Jimin, your heart might just collapse.
Seeing him in his underwear shouldn't faze you as much as it should. He and the others has stripped in front of you in a haste of changing into the next costume for the next performance but in the minimal space of his bathroom where you both are secluded away from the other dwellers of the building and he's already topless and is now unbuttoning and sliding the zippers of his jorts, the mass in your throat kept on thickening with the tension in the air.
Your eyes roamed the soft, flatness of his stomach; from up his lightly freckled bare chest and down to the thin trail of hair down his abdomen. The prominent bones of his adonis belt had your throat drying up.
Seeing him topless shouldn't affect you the way it should yet you found yourself heating up at the sight of them.
When he begins to remove his pants, you force yourself to look away, cheeks burning hot as you thumb the top buttons of your—Taehyung’s—polo before beginning to undo them all with your heart thudding loudly in your ears.
The string tied to your finger lights up in a rhythmic beat, persistent and hurried. Wrapping your fingers around it, Yoongi's loud concern immediately washes over your body. You respond to him by pushing down reassurance down the lane and the thread dulls from one side.
“Did hyung contact you?”
You turn to Jimin, already stripped down to his boxers.
God is really testing you today, putting a handsome man in his underwear in front of you and tempting you to let your gaze fall down for a glimpse of his thick muscled thighs you always saw through the fabric of his skinny jeans.
“Ye-yeah, nothing to worry about though. Give me your foot, I need to remove my shirt.”
Obediently, he puts his foot forward and you step on it before making quick work of your shirt. You feel his burning gaze roam your skin and you shiver from its intensity.
By the time you had your pants pooling on the floor alongside his, your heart is thudding uncontrollably in a way that might concern Namjoon at how fast it's going.
Why is the calming effect of Jimin's touch absent when you need it?
“Ready to go?”
You almost jumped at how hoarse his voice had gotten but recovered quickly and nodded, stepping first into the shower and twisting the valve towards the hotter temperature. Jimin hissed the moment the water touched his skin, breaking the stifling tension for a moment.
“How are your skin not burning off?! It's so hot!”
You rolled your eyes. “You're being dramatic, it's not that hot.”
“It is! The mirror is literally steaming!” He exclaimed, pointing at the long horizontal mirror above the sink which is indeed, fogging up.
Jimin then leaned over, his naked chest touching your back. Goosebumps prickled your skin and you barely stopped the urge to shiver as he manipulated the valve until he was satisfied with the temperature. When he steps back, you finally let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding.
Hearing your exhale, he laughed lightheartedly. The fucker did it on purpose.
Trying to ignore the thumps of your racing heart, you busied yourself with the task of washing your hair. You reached for the shampoo bottle and popped open the cap, body still facing the wall.
“Noona.”
You looked over your shoulder and Jimin was scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
“Can I wash your hair for you?” He shyly asks, his sly attitude from earlier nonexistent. “I've never done that with someone else before. I-I’ve always wanted to do that now and now that we're soulmates, I was–I was wondering if maybe I–we could—”
“Not even with that girl you’ve dated before?”
He shook his head. “We were too busy to do something like that, noona. Idol lives and all that. It's one of the reasons why we broke up.”
“She was pretty nice though.”
His lips quirks up. “Don’t get jealous noona, you’re my soulmate after all.”
You hit his shoulder and he brought his arms up to shield himself, giggling. “Do you want to wash each other’s hair or not?!”
Despite your agreement, you were beyond nervous as you handed him the shampoo and turned around to shut the shower off. The string on your finger thrummed once more, still concerned as your heart leapt up to your throat when Jimin's fingers began to thread and scrape his nails against your scalp.
A thrill of pleasure shoots down your spine and you hold back the urge to mewl as he begins to put more pressure on his motions.
It stayed like that for a while and you reveled in the pure domesticity of it all.
When Jimin retracts his hands, you reach for his shampoo and order him to turn around.
“What if I don't want to?” He challenges with a mischievous smirk.
“If it gets in your eyes, it's your fault.”
He giggled and shrunk down to your height, to which you hit his shoulder for and he laughed, standing back up.
“Can you even reach the top of my head like this?”
“Fine but don't complain about your knees hurting, you wanted this.” You jokingly say as he bends his knees once more, a playful lilt in his eyes.
Once you lathered the shampoo enough, you began.
You’ve seen multiple couples on screen shower together and had once wondered how it’d felt having someone to help reach the spots you couldn’t as well as do those domestic things such as brushing your teeth together and just washing each other in general. The actors always made them natural and romantic, with the soft lighting bouncing off their skin and their laughter ringing in the small space.
But showering with Jimin is anything you’ve ever thought of.
Against the other members, Jimin is easily dwarfed by them, matched with the constant jokes about his height, it's easy to forget that the man is still taller than the average man. He towered over you, his eyes intense and lit with a playful sultriness. His lips twisted into a mischievous smirk as he bent his knees low enough where you could touch the top of his head without risking a stiff neck or standing on your tiptoes.
He’s peering up at you yet you feel smaller under his gaze.
He had always done this, getting into your face while you retouched his makeup. In a way, it was nice that you’re slowly regaining the normalcy
But it's not appreciated when he’s doing it when you’re already fighting demons trying so hard not to ogle at his body and explode from how flustered you are.
“Are you seriously getting flushed now noona? We’ve done this plenty of times already, why now?”
Is he seriously asking you that?
He laughed. Your thoughts must’ve reflected on your face.
“Didn’t know you’d be affected by something as normal as this. Don’t you see us naked at least every other day?” He asks with a quirk to his eyebrow and you narrowed your eyes further at him.
“You know damn well why,” You say, slapping his shoulder before turning to open the shower once more. Laughing when the water burst open above him, cutting him off from replying.
With the tension dissolving with the shampoo on his hair, a playful grin replaced the coy smirk and with his newly washed hair, he grabbed your arms in an iron grip and began to shake his head at you, flicking water from his hair and onto you.
When he was done, he then pulled you into the stream with a bubbling laugh as he watched the shampoo suds dissolve with the water. But with both your arms pinned in place, you weren't able to wipe your eyes and had them closed the moment he had you under the shower head.
“I'm—I’m going to put chili in your fucking water, I can't see!”
With sorrys in between fits of giggles, Jimin reached up to wipe your face for you when he realized this.
Shower with Jimin sailed smoothly from that point on. After his teasing, he made no more attempts to fluster you, even when he was scrubbing your back a little longer than it should've taken.
He had, however, made comments on how many steps there are for you to shower.
“Why do you need to shampoo twice, use soap AND body wash? It’s not like you’d ever get sick anymore when I’m here.”
You just rolled your eyes and told him to leave if he’s going to complain about your routine. Eventually though, you speed through your routine due to him whining about how he’s starting to feel cold, lightheaded—to which he dramatized by leaning his hurting head on your shoulder—, and is suddenly sleepy.
Changing into your pajamas was a little hard as you attempted to do it all under the safety of a towel while also maintaining skinship with Jimin every other ten seconds who's also doing the same.
You managed somehow and soon enough, you both situated yourselves into the bed, with your legs thrown over his and backreading the bangtan gc that had awakened the moment Jimin had his phone.
Surprisingly, even Jungkook was active.
[21:24] Mimi: It's so weird tae [21:24] Mimi: I’ve never seen someone use soap AND body wash THEN washes their hair t w i c e [21:24] Hoba: I do that… [21:25] Mimi: That’s expected hyung, you’re a neat freak. [21:25] You: Why are you so weird about me being clean?! [21:25] You: IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU BEING AN IDOL I BET YOU'D USE THOSE 11-IN-1 SHAMPOOS [21:26] Mimi: ITS PSYCHOPATH BEHAVIOR [21:26] Mimi: also EXCUSE YOU??? [21:26] Jinnie: hoba I think he just called you a psychopath [21:26] Hoba: 🙁 [21:27] Ggukie: NOW YOU MADE HYUNG SAD [21:27] Hoba: 🙁 [21:27] Hoba: you think im weird jimin-ah?🥺 [21:27] Yoongs: why is this even a conversation [21:27] Joonie: Jimin just because you don’t do it, doesn’t mean it's unorthodox. [21:28] Minnie: you’re one of them, are you hyung?! [21:28] Tete: I still cant believe Jimin just showered with noona… [21:28] Tete: why are we breezing through that information? [21:28] Jinnie: ok so lets not talk about that [21:29] Jinnie: this pretty prince is going to cook tomorrow's breakfast, what does the group's prettiest want?
Reading his message felt like cold water dousing you awake and you’re suddenly attacked by a wave of guilt.
Is it okay for you to even make demands like this? Do you even deserve being Seokjin’s dearest?
“Ask him for waffles, I'm craving for them.” Jimin says, his voice slicing through your thoughts and you turn back to your phone.
[21:29] Ggukie: ask me too hyung! [21:29] Jinnie: fine I’ll bite [21:29] Jinnie: what do you want brat? [21:30] Ggukie: noona’s love :DD
You watched as Jin’s profile pic popped up and came down multiple times, and each time they do, your and Jimin’s giggles multiply.
[21:32] Jinnie: I’m blocking you [21:32] Joonie: I should have you kicked out for that stupid, corny ass joke oh my god [21:32] Yoongs: that activated my fight or flight [21:32] Yoongs: don’t do that again [21:32] Ggukie: hyung ask me again [21:32] Ggukie: promise I’ll respond properly this time :] [21:33] Jinnie: Y/N? [21:33] Ggukie: HYUNG [21:33] Minnie: she says she wants waffles :> [21:33] Jinnie: I don’t believe anything that comes out of your mouth, Park Jimin [21:34] Minnie: D: [21:34] You: I want scrambled eggs and pancakes :D
“Get out of my room if you're going to betray me like this.”
“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then.”
“You shouldn’t have played around earlier then. Give me that!” You stretch your arm away from him but Jimin was faster, managing to pluck your phone from your grasp and moving to place it on his side of the floor.
Without hesitation, you launched yourself at his hand making him yelp before it dissolved into giggles when you managed to catch him and had curled up around his arm, fingers attempting to pry him away from your phone.
It was how Tae had found you both in and immediately lept in, taking your side the moment he had seen you and Jimin tussled for your phone.
With Tae’s help, you were able to take back your phone only to see that it had locked itself from the many times the screen had picked up on both you and Jimin’s palms and had typed in the wrong combination after the other. For that, you slapped his arm.
“What did I do wrong?! It’s not my fault the stupid phone couldn’t differentiate between palm and fingers!”
“If I wasn’t required to touch you, I’d have you kicked out of this room.”
Jimin pushed himself up, face incredulous. “This is literally my room.”
“Next week you should sleep in my room instead, noona. I’d love to have you there.” Taehyung says, pulling you to his chest and side-eyeing his friend. “I wouldn’t be as mean as Jiminie.”
“Why am I getting disrespected in my own room? Is it gang up on Jimin day?!”
“When is it not gang up on Jimin day?”
“Why you—GET OUT OF MY ROOM.”
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Trouvaille - Chapter Seventeen (M)
Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader
Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance
Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.
Word Count; 25.k (👹)
Trouvaille Masterlist
Trouvaille playlist
Updates on the 7th of each month
My laptop is going to burst in flames after this LMAO. HIII besties! Welcome to the angst train of Chapter Seventeen! Hold onto your hats because there are a lot of emotions going on in this update. Along with angst, we have fluff to balance it out, of course! Expect spooky/scary paranormal happenings, and dirty disgusting smut I have to stop writing when I ovulate BUT I sincerely hope you all love this extra long, on time (for once!) chapter! Love from Dana and can't wait to hear what you all think 💕
As an additional warning/reminder, for the smut: the scene is explicit, and is only intended to be read by those over the age of 18. Please practice safe sex, and readers please have discretion!
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
Blinking, not sure if she heard correctly, Y/N sat unceremoniously on Namjoon’s arm rest, nudging his hand off the laptop keyboard. Pressing the back button and slamming down on the space bar, she moved before Namjoon could stop her.
“Y/N–”
“To kill you, whorish witch.” Came from the speakers again, making Namjoon flinch and grunt, like the statement was disgusting in his ears. She played it a third time, then a forth, Namjoon uncomfortably squirming beside her. About to listen a fifth, Namjoon swore, placing a hand over hers and pulling it away from the laptop.
“That’s enough,” the wolf hybrid said gently, eyes scanning her face, searching Y/N’s blank expression thoroughly. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, I really didn’t want to show you.”
“Jeongguk was right to tell you to. Now I know that I’m going to have to bulk up on my protection magic,” Y/N responded distantly, honestly still shocked by what the entity said to her. It was something her brain didn’t necessarily know how to process– that an unseen force had a murderous intent towards her. Namjoon, making a feral noise in the back of his throat, narrowed his eyes.
“Y/N, I’m not saying I doubt your abilities, but this feels wrong. I don’t think you should go back to that house. If you write up a ritual for us to do, we can execute it together and you’ll be here, safe,” Namjoon shook his head as he spoke, ears flat against his skull. Y/N’s eyes went wide, caught between swooning and stiffening.
“You want to kick me off the case? No way, absolutely not, especially after hearing that recording. I’d walk into traffic before letting you two go there alone,” Y/N watched a muscle in Namjoon’s jaw tick, sucking his cheeks in and leveling her a challenging look. “I’m going. This changes nothing but how urgently we need to cleanse the property.”
“Y/N, it’s a bad idea. Jeongguk is experienced with shit like this,” Namjoon pressed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “We both want to do another investigation before we decide how to tackle getting rid of the infestation.”
“I don’t care, Namjoon, I’m going to be with you every step in this case. You can’t get rid of me,” Y/N stood, annoyed, and feeling undermined, she walked over to the bookcase in his room.
Sliding a finger along the spines of his and her combined book collection, searching for one in particular about protection magic, Y/N ignored the rumbles coming from Namjoon’s chest. When she turned, his head was in his hands, elbows leaning on the desk, dismayed. “Joon Bug, I know you’re worried, but it’ll be okay. I promise.”
“If anything happens to you, how will I reconcile that with myself? Knowing I just let you walk into a situation like that,” Namjoon muttered, seemingly to himself, making Y/N’s heart stop dead in her ribcage for a second.
“Namjoon,” Y/N sighed, returning to his side with the book she needed, hooking her chin over his shoulder from behind, some of the tension dissolving from his tense upper back. “I’ll be safe. I have you.”
She wound her arms around his shoulders for a hug, Namjoon still pressing his face into his hands. Clearly, he was more concerned for her well-being than she ever could have imagined, Y/N squeezing him tightly to comfort him. Truthfully, she was frightened of whatever threatened her in Julie’s room, hearing its voice out loud bone-chilling, but she had promised that family that the three of them would help them. Besides, she had banished something malevolent before with success, and she was fairly confident she could do it again– as long as Namjoon and Jeongguk were by her side, working as a team.
“Bug, why don’t you help me gather up some materials and maybe start brainstorming how we should clear the spirits from the house, hmm? I could use your help,” Y/N attempted to perk him up, his gloom filling the room, Namjoon making a noncommittal noise in response. “Please?”
Finally, Namjoon lifted his face from his palms, turning his face sideways to glance at her behind him, corners of his lips turned downwards.
“In the van?” Namjoon relented, contrary to his clear disapproval, letting her hold him for the longest time he ever had, and his musky honey scent made her mouth water, shamefully.
“Uh-huh! It’s our headquarters, after all,” Y/N giggled, lightening the mood even more, before she grew serious. “Thank you for worrying about me.”
With that, Y/N leaned forward, testing the waters and pecking his cheek lightly, Namjoon going rigid in her embrace with the press of her lips, nuzzling into him in hopes that she hadn’t crossed a line and he’d relax. Brain catching up with reality, Namjoon cleared his throat, blood rushing to the tips of his ears, melting backwards into her. And to her astonishment, the wolf hybrid turned his face even more, burying the tip of his nose into the crook of Y/N’s neck, breathing in deeply.
“I said it at the club, Y/N,” Namjoon’s voice took on a mellifluous quality, his breath against her throat causing the hairs on her nape to stand on end. “You’re a handful, you’re lucky I’m with you.”
“That’s right,” Y/N’s voice came out like silk, letting him nudge the tip of his nose against her collarbone, feeling a little light-headed. “I thank the stars.”
Chuckling at the corny reply and drawing away from her, Namjoon made a motion to get to his feet, twirling the keys to his van around a long fingertip. Finally, he was smiling, his perfect teeth and dimples on display, Y/N completely dazzled. With a twitch to his bitten ear, he nodded towards his bedroom door so they could exit together. To surprise her even further, Namjoon grabbed his denim and sherpa jacket from his bed, offering it to Y/N without hesitation and without looking at her, Y/N woodenly taking it from him.
“Since you seem to like wearing this so much, bundle up,” Namjoon commented, Y/N realizing that her scent was probably all over the garment from when she wore it to confront Yoongi many moons ago. “Let’s go.”
Namjoon left the room before she could shrug on the jacket, the wolf hybrid foregoing any sort of coat himself and simply pushing down the rolled-up sleeves of his cable knit sweater, expecting Y/N to follow. Blindly, she did, pulling his cozy jacket tight across her body with her heart racing in her chest.
Taking a deep, calming breath, Y/N rang the doorbell to her parent’s house, preparing herself for what might come out of her mother’s mouth. She had told her mother about the investigations her, Jeongguk, and Namjoon were starting to take control over, but there was no doubt that Judy– one of her mother’s very good friends, not just Y/N’s boss– had dished out dirty details. Behind the great oak door, she heard someone shuffling towards her in slippers, Y/N grateful she didn’t bring any of her hybrids with her for once.
“Hi honey, come on in while the tea’s hot,” her father, in a bright tracksuit and his house slippers, answered the door, Y/N giggling at his appearance. Gone were the days of her sharply dressed father, the doctor. Now he dressed like an extra on the set of Seinfeld. “You look well!”
Despite the fact that Y/N had a murderous demon after her blood, Y/N was in good spirits. She was always well fed thanks to Seokjin and Yoongi, there was never a day Hoseok didn’t brighten it with his humor, and she was finally doing something with her life that had her excited to jump out of bed in the morning. Giving her father a squeeze, she mumbled a thank you into his tracksuit, following him into the kitchen where her mother was audibly tinkering away on the stove.
“Your grandparents are napping, I’m not sure if you’ll get to see them before you leave today,” her father informed her, returning to where he was sitting at the kitchen table prior to Y/N’s arrival. “Hopefully whatever you wanted to discuss doesn’t involve getting your grandmother’s advice.”
“Oh, no. Just stuff you guys can handle,” Y/N waved a hand, plopping down next to him and eyeing the Italian cookies on the table. She never had a taste for them, but her father loved them to bits. “Okay. So first order of business that I’m hoping you can help me out with, dad! I need to get my boys a doctor and schedule yearly physicals. A dentist, too.”
“Yep, I can handle that,” her father accepted a cup of a strongly scented herbal tea without question, draining it in one go and handing it back to her mother.
Her mother, dressed in her typical drapey dresses and “shawl of the day”, distractedly squeezed Y/N’s shoulder in hello as she read the tea leaves at the bottom of her father’s teacup. Humming in satisfaction, she placed the cup in the sink, dialing into the conversation.
“Your luck is good today, dear,” her mother told her father, Y/N stifling a chuckle by biting down on the inside of her cheek. “How about David? Y/N, our dear friend is a general practitioner, a hybrid doctor. Dr. Rocha is his name!”
“I can make a call,” her father fumbled for his phone on the table, holding it far from his face so he could read the screen while he went through his contacts. “You can just bring your hybrids to your dentist, she takes on hybrid clients. I can schedule all of the appointments for you, honey, I know how busy you are.”
“Thanks, dad,” Y/N leaned her cheek into her father’s shoulder, relieved that something was being taken off of her plate for her. “How’s the book club going mom?”
“Same as always! We’re reading Kafka these next few weeks. Your boys have been such a wonderful addition to the club, Namjoon has always been the leader type. Seokjin has really been opening up lately!”
“Mm, has he?” The mention of Seokjin had heat pooling in her cheeks– Y/N hadn’t disclosed to her parents that she was romantically involved with both Seokjin and Yoongi, and she dreaded the day, to be honest. “That’s good! He’s come a long way with getting out of his shell.”
“So, what is it that you need to ask me, dear,” her mother saw through the small talk, and likely had some kind of premonition about what Y/N was needing her counsel on.
“We have to go back to the house we’re trying to cleanse and do a secondary investigation before we can tackle the actual cleansing. The spirits are… aggressive. I wanted to know if you had any ideas on how to up the protection for the three of us.”
Y/N, much like she wasn’t disclosing that she was dating two out of seven of her hybrids, wasn’t about to share that an entity was targeting her specifically as well. Not wanting to concern her father, and knowing that if her mother found out what the spirit actually said to her, she’d agree with Namjoon and want her to stay home.
“Have you tried the tourmaline necklaces?” her mother stirred sugar into her tea, humming when Y/N nodded in response. “I’ll give you some dragon’s blood incense, burn that while you’re in the house. Teach Namjoon and Jeongguk how to put up spiritual shields– they’re both smart boys so they’ll get it quick. Also, carry some selenite and citrine on you in addition to the tourmaline. Selenite will allow your spirit guides to better protect you and citrine combats negative energy.”
“That will be pretty bulletproof, right?” Y/N asked, grateful her parents were humans and couldn’t sense her nerves rising.
“Should be, my dear! Unless you’re dealing with something extremely powerful, doing all that should keep you safe,” her mother smiled, reaching across the table to grasp onto Y/N’s hand. “I’m so glad we can talk about things like this together again. I can’t tell you how excited I am for you and your two young boys.”
“Oh,” Y/N squeaked, taken aback, emotions welling up in her as her mother’s smile grew wider, squeezing her hand once before she stood from the table. “I love you, mom.”
“Love you too, honey. I’ll gather up the incense and the crystals, okay? I think I have some hematite rings somewhere in my storage too…” distractedly, Y/N’s mother ambled away further into the recesses of the home, her father chuckling with her disappearance.
“I booked the doctor’s visits for you, Dr. Rocha suggested doing two appointments per day so you’re not in the office for seven hours all at once. They’re in mid-March,” her father announced, ruffling Y/N’s hair. “Still waiting to hear from the dentist, but I think there’s enough techs to get all seven of them done in an afternoon. Sounds good?”
“Sounds perfect, thank you so much, dad,” Y/N checked her watch, noting that it was time for her to scramble home and pick up Jimin for an errand they had to run. “Shoot, I have to go.”
“Here you are, honey!” Y/N’s mother reappeared as her father walked her to the front door, a gift bag filled with the protection items in hand. “Oh, before you go, have you heard the whispers?”
“Whispers?” Y/N repeated, confused.
“There’s rumors about some new laws being passed, regarding hybrids,” she informed her, excitement clear as day on her face, so Y/N assumed they were good laws. “Adopted hybrids might be able to seek legal employment soon. I’ve heard that universities, too, are going to start offering classes for hybrid students. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Y/N paused, not expecting such a bombshell. If the rumors were true, her boys would be one step closer to living a more normal, human life, they wouldn’t have to stay at home all day, and they could make their own money to buy whatever they pleased. Additionally, if her mother was right, apparently the wheel of progress was speeding up. All Y/N could think about, though, is how the government should be thinking about banning hybrid sport hunting before all of that, but progress was progress and she didn’t want to rain on her mother’s parade.
“That would be amazing if that actually happens,” Y/N breathed, her mother handing over the gift bag with a grin. “I do want to hold off on mentioning it to the boys for now, though. I don’t want to get their hopes up if that’s just a rumor.”
“Of course,” her mother made a zipping motion over her lips, meaning she wouldn’t spill the beans to Namjoon or Seokjin at the book club. “I’ve been lighting candles for a week to try and move things along.”
“Hmm, influencing government affairs now, mom?” Y/N snorted, hugging her before she reached for the door. “Maybe I’ll light one too.”
“Bring the boys here Friday night for dinner! We’re going to make a big feast to celebrate Ostara coming up!”
“Ostara isn’t for another couple weeks!” Y/N replied, eyebrows furrowed. “You just want to see everyone, don’t you?”
“Bring them around 7, alright? Tell Yoongi to make those delicious mashed potatoes,” her mother ignored her accusation, waving at her from the front door as Y/N started down the street to her own house.
Back at the house, shivering, she found Jimin in the sunroom, where he had begun to nurse seedlings for their garden in the spring. She dropped off the bag of items her mother gave her in Namjoon’s room before she searched for the coyote hybrid, the wolf hybrid’s bedroom empty and telling her that he was probably holed up in the van. Jimin was in his trademark blue jeans and a cozy-looking beige sweater, using a little mister to dampen the trays of seedlings. The room smelled earthy-sweet and was bathed with early afternoon sunlight, most of the brick floors completely covered with all of the seedlings she and Jimin planted days prior.
“Hey, anything sprouting yet?” Y/N tiptoed around a pile of carefully swept soil, squinting at the trays.
“Not quite. We’re going to have to be patient,” Jimin sent a gorgeous smile her way in greeting, peeling off his gardening gloves and setting them aside. In the corner of the room was a small stack of books pertaining to plants and growing produce that Namjoon dug out of the oven in his van for her, a couple of old tin watering cans, and Jimin’s phone on top of the books, playing soft rock in the background. “I labeled everything with tape and markers. Looks okay?”
“Looks awesome. Meticulous as always, Jimin!” Y/N made a motion to water some of the other house plants around the room, but apparently the coyote hybrid had beaten her to the punch judging by the damp soil. “I’m so excited for spring. It’s been such a gross winter.”
“It’ll be here before you know it,” Jimin reminded her, looking down at his clothing to make sure soil wasn’t clinging to the fabrics. “We’re still heading out today, right?”
“How could I forget? I already put the third row in the Land Cruiser down so we can jam everything we buy in the trunk,” Y/N teased, dangling her hand in front of his face to help him up. His palm was rough from years of manual labor, but gentle and sure. With a swish of his tail, he rose to his feet, still smiling like an angel. “I’m ready when you are. Maybe we can get some lunch on the way back, if you’re up for it!”
“Okay, let me just get my jacket,” Jimin let go of her hand, which she didn’t even realize he was still holding, Y/N casting one more look at the perfectly labeled trays of seedlings, smiling at his neat handwriting. “Want me to drive?”
“Sure!” Y/N followed Jimin to the car once he slipped on his jacket and boots, calling out to the others in various areas of the house to let them know where they were heading.
“I saw that you updated the list of things we’re looking for,” Jimin commented after a few moments of comfortable silence in the car, Y/N scrolling through said list on her phone.
“I want to have the nicest backyard on the block! It’s been looking like a mess up until you started clearing things up,” Y/N replied enthusiastically. “Want to find a cute bird bath and a bunch of feeders, those ceramic outdoor lights you stick in the dirt and look like mushrooms… comfortable cushions for us to sit on, a fun sprinkler to run through when it’s hot.”
Jimin, as always, listened intently and quietly, Y/N watching the corners of his mouth curl upwards as she spoke.
“You sound like the woman talking about her dream house in The Notebook,” Jimin commented, Y/N blinking before she remembered she had made all of the boys watch the film during the afternoon on Valentine’s day. She could still hear Jeongguk’s gagging from the leather recliner– although, he did end up watching the entire thing without her having to strap him down. “Allie, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right! I believe you were the only one who ended up liking that movie,” Y/N giggled, though the comment had butterflies soaring in her stomach. “Now that I think about it, you’re like Noah. Doing all the hard work to make the house pretty!”
The words fell out of her mouth before she could stop them, and immediately, mortification washed over her. With her being Allie and him being Noah, she was pretty much implying that they were star-crossed lovers– since he was helping her fix up the house in the way she wanted precisely. Considering using her window breaker and climbing out onto the freeway, Y/N tried to come up with a way to stuff the words back down her throat. All she managed to come up with was staring at Jimin with obvious alarm, his ears twitching.
Sensing her panic, Jimin surprised her by clearing his throat and chuckling, Y/N realizing his ears were twitching out of amusement. Still gaping at him, Jimin’s eyes turned into crescents while he laughed, shaking his head.
“I guess that is true,” Jimin coughed once he recovered from laughter, Y/N hiding her embarrassment by returning to the list on her phone. “You do your fair share of the hard work too, Y/N.”
She could have kissed Jimin for not teasing her. If it had been any of the others she had said that to besides he or Namjoon, she’d never hear the end of it. Once she finally regained mental facilities, she continued to talk about her plans for the backyard as if she hadn’t said anything.
“We can get some wind chimes, new umbrellas, Oh! I saw this thing online that looks like a mini picnic table, you use it as a squirrel feeder. If we find that at the store, we’re so getting it!”
“Whatever you want, Y/N. If there are things you want to get that don’t fit in the car, we’ll have it shipped,” Jimin pulled into the strip mall where The Home Depot was, pushing a hand through his blonde hair and still wearing an expression of merriment.
The coyote hybrid refused to let her push the flatbed cart around the store, which left Y/N to pick out everything she had on her list and more. Halfway through the trip, she had to abandon Jimin and get a normal cart for smaller items, Jimin laughing at her when she stacked boxes of the light-up mushrooms into the basket.
“I think that’s plenty of bird seed,” Jimin was leaning on his elbows on the cart, eyebrows raised and ears perky and alert, watching Y/N haul a bag of seed off of a shelf.
“This isn’t bird seed, it’s for critters. Squirrels and rabbits!” Y/N defended herself, tossing the bag into the cart and ignoring Jimin’s snickers. “Okay… I think we just need to get the fertilizer now, and it’s at the opposite side of the store.”
Y/N eyed the houseplant section as they passed by it, Jimin giving her a knowing but warning look, yellow eyes narrowing playfully. Huffing, she pushed ahead, and while she was pretending to be annoyed, she was really enjoying her one-on-one time with Jimin. The domestic activity had thoroughly distracted her from the Sanders’ case that was weighing heavily on her mind. While Jimin was hefting a bag of fertilizer onto his flatbed, Y/N gawked at the corded muscles of his back beneath his sweater, the coyote hybrid oblivious as his tail swished contentedly. Before she could get too carried away with checking him out, Jimin somehow read her deeper thoughts, appearing to brace himself.
“Y/N, can I ask you something?” Jimin licked his lips, growing serious.
“Of course,” Y/N replied, suddenly nervous and on guard.
“The past few days I’ve noticed a change in Namjoon’s behavior. He seems really worried about you. Does it have anything to do with that case you’re working on with him and Jeongguk?”
Mouth opening and closing, she wasn’t sure how to respond. As per usual, it wasn’t like she could lie to Jimin and pretend everything was rainbows and butterflies. So, Y/N did what she always tried to do with her hybrids– be honest, but try to prevent them from being overly concerned about her.
“Yeah, the spirits are very nasty. He’s worried I’ll get hurt, but I swung by my mom’s earlier today for extra protection items. I keep telling him I’ll be fine, but you know how he is,” Y/N answered nonchalantly, Jimin frowning.
“He told me you guys captured audio that specifically threatened you,” Jimin said flatly, his ears turning downwards. Damn Namjoon, and damn she wasn’t getting out of that by being a slippery truth-bender. “What did the audio say?”
Y/N cringed, not wanting to repeat the disgusting statement at all, but Jimin was staring at her so intensely she knew they weren’t budging from that home improvement store until she told him.
“The thing in one of the children’s bedrooms threatened to kill me,” Y/N answered simply, shrugging. “I guess we’ll just have to exorcize the house before it gets the chance.”
Y/N resumed perusing the fertilizer in order to break the intense eye-contact Jimin was giving her, one of the first times he genuinely made her skin break out into goosebumps. Unfortunately, she was peering back up into those hardened butterscotch eyes when a roughened hand grabbed onto her wrist.
“Y/N, don’t just shrug that off like it’s nothing. You have to tell everyone else,” Jimin’s voice was gruff, firm, and Y/N was blinking at him stupidly.
“Why? Jimin, I don’t want you all fussing over me. Namjoon is already enough to deal with, he doesn’t even want me to go back to the house,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, picturing a range of reactions from the other hybrids in response to the audio.
“Why? Y/N, don’t you realize if something happens to you, it will seriously affect us all?” Jimin gaped, as if she was being totally ridiculous. Suddenly, she felt immensely guilty, and justifiably so. “Think about Yoongi and Seokjin, at least. They would be devastated.”
Y/N’s throat was closing up, now imagining Seokjin’s tears and heartbreak, Yoongi’s misery– it was absolutely unbearable. Swallowing, she nodded at Jimin, who softened when he scented the emotions that came from her.
“I’m sorry, Jimin. I should have considered that, keeping it from you all would be so selfish of me. I’ll… have Namjoon show you guys the audio tonight,” Y/N apologized, a tad watery, all of the reproach on Jimin’s face disappearing.
“It’s alright, Y/N. I know you’re just trying to put on a brave face, but you can lean on us a little, you know? We’re supposed to worry about each other,” Jimin let go of her wrist, patting her shoulder gently.
“You’re right,” Y/N looked at the floor, glum. Jimin, humming, kept patting her shoulder until she looked at him again. “Again, I’m sorry…”
Jimin shook his head, his normally easy-going air returning, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“All good, Y/N. We can talk about it more, later. I think you should hear everyone out before you decide whether or not to go back to that house,” Jimin returned to the flatbed he was pushing, Y/N not looking forward to that conversation at all. “We have everything, right? Want to head to the registers? I can bring the car around while you check out so we can load everything up, then we can get some lunch.”
Y/N followed her coyote hybrid to the register, still dwelling over Seokjin and Yoongi. She wondered, if she was seriously hurt or even killed, how they would process that. Hannah mentioned that if Seokjin’s heart was broken one more time, he might not survive it. Would Yoongi survive her disappearing from his world again? Guilt festered away her very being, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t even considered confiding in either both of them. Nauseous, she started robotically placing items on the conveyor belt, Jimin leaving her there to get the car.
Waiting by the door, she painted a smile on her face when she watched him pull up, helping him place everything into the trunk. With her stomach still turning and a half-hour ride back to the house, Y/N poked Jimin in the back.
“I’m going to run back in to use the bathroom, okay? I’ll meet you back out here in a few,” Y/N announced, Jimin waving her away as he slid yet another box of light-up mushrooms into the stuffed-full trunk.
Chewing her lip, Y/N searched for the sign for the restrooms, trying her best to hurry and not keep Jimin waiting. However, as she passed by the houseplant section again, she paused– before grabbing another cart and selecting seven different plants.
“Holy shit, do you think you bought enough crap?” Jeongguk grunted as he collapsed into the breakfast nook, wiping sweat from his brow. Y/N enlisted his help in getting everything out of the car along with Jimin, and he had carried the stone birdbath she picked out about halfway across the yard while muttering expletives the whole time.
“It’s your fault for being the first one I spotted when we pulled in. Blame your smoke breaks, not me,” Y/N flicked his sweaty forehead, his dark eyes flashing. She had yet to discuss the audio with him specifically, and she had the feeling he was avoiding the subject entirely– besides, he had been holed up in his room for days, fiddling with his cameras. “Need help with dinner, angel?”
Y/N spun on her heel, spotting Yoongi by the fridge, putting a tub of ricotta cheese away. His hair, longer than ever, was tied up, and he was dressed in a slouchy hoodie, one that she wanted to get inside with him. Approaching, she looked around the island, and it appeared that he didn’t really need help with anything at all; a large garden salad sitting in a wooden bowl tossed and ready to go, a covered casserole dish with spicy spaghetti, and when she looked at the stove, there were several skillets going with pork chops searing away.
“Wow, chef, it’s like you don’t even need your sous anymore,” Y/N pouted, wiggling her fingers against his ribs and reaching up to give his ears a scratch. Yoongi had gotten used to her stroking through the glossy fur, so he only jolted about a centimeter.
“My sous is Seokjin now. You’re like chef de partie,” Yoongi teased, and to both her delight and slight embarrassment, turned his head and ducked it, capturing her lips in a sweet, simple kiss hello.
Eyes fluttering shut, she let herself melt into his taste, completely ignoring Jeongguk’s gagging behind them. Squeezing the side of his waist, she made a small noise of disappointment when his lips slid from hers, opting to plant one more kiss on her forehead before returning to his pork chops.
“Get a room,” Jeongguk muttered, scrolling through his phone with his nose wrinkled.
“Get a life,” Yoongi replied blandly, using tongs to turn over one of the pork chops. Offering the leopard hybrid a kiss of her own with a quiet snicker, one on the tip of his nose, she concluded that Yoongi was perfectly fine on his own. Which meant she had no excuse to avoid finding Namjoon and telling him to get the audio ready to play after dinner.
Trudging into the hall, she heard Jimin’s shower turn on, the pipes in the walls clanging. Despite the fact that Jimin had that stern talking-to with her in the store, lunch at a diner and the ride back home was pleasant, even though she had returned from the “bathroom” with seven additional purchases. She followed her ears, the tinny sounds of folk tapes playing from Namjoon’s room. Knocking twice on his ajar bedroom door, the wolf hybrid was reading on his window seat, chewing on the end of a pen with a sharpened incisor.
“Hey,” Y/N began, glancing at her laptop sitting on his desk, scribbled notes and crumpled paper littered around the device. “I need a favor.”
Namjoon looked up from his book, the crease that had been between his eyebrows since he analyzed the audio deepening when he saw her leaning against his doorframe. The wolf hybrid slid a bookmark in place, squaring his shoulders so he could face her.
“A favor,” Namjoon repeated, eyes skimming her from head to toe as if to search for anything awry. “What do you need?”
“I’m going to play that audio for everyone after dinner. It’s only fair, Jimin pointed that out to me. I agree with him,” Y/N said, the fur on Namjoon’s tail standing on end and his normally sharp eyes going round.
“Do you really think that’s wise?” Namjoon exclaimed, getting to his feet and knocking his book off of the window seat.
“Yeah, I do. If something happens and they didn’t know about it…”
“Nothing is going to happen,” Namjoon cut her off sternly, his gaze becoming analytical again. “If you want to show them, go ahead. But nothing is going to happen to you.”
Y/N swallowed at the resolution in his tone, still not quite used to how protective Namjoon had become of her. Nodding meekly, she gestured towards the laptop.
“I’ll play it for them after dinner. I don’t think a demon calling me a whore is a very good appetizer,” Y/N whispered, hoping that Namjoon was the only one who could hear her at that moment. Namjoon flinched, hissing, his face becoming stormy.
“You shouldn’t joke about it, Y/N.”
“Humor is how I cope. Ask Hoseok, he does the same thing,” Y/N grouched, and she could tell Namjoon was getting even more pissed with that comment, so she changed the subject. “Did you look through that bag I left you? My mom gave me a bunch of good tips and materials for added layers of protection.”
“Yeah, I looked through it,” Namjoon was definitely still irritated, his tail swishing back and forth angrily, though he paused when his phone chimed in his pocket. “Dinner’s ready.”
Namjoon brushed by her, not sparing her one last glance, Y/N sighing and mouthing ‘sorry’ to his retreating form. Starting to follow after him, she went rigid when she felt a pair of arms wrap snugly around her waist, squeezing tightly until she wheezed. It was only when she felt kisses showering over the side of her face that she knew who it was, going limp in his strong arms.
“Hi, Jin,” Y/N giggled, the heaviness of her interaction with Namjoon dissolving with the tenderness Seokjin showered upon her. “How was your day, honey?”
“Severely lacking without you,” Seokjin admitted, an almost whine to his voice. “I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too,” Y/ N hummed, relaxing backwards into his chest and placing her hands over his, resting on her stomach. “It’s your turn to pick a movie or show tonight!”
“Mm-hmm,” Seokjin returned, though she had a feeling he wasn’t listening as he tucked his face in her neck from behind, planting tiny kisses on the exposed skin and his tail winding around her leg.
“Come on, you. Let’s eat,” Y/N tried to untangle herself from Seokjin’s ironclad grip around her middle, but he wouldn’t ease up his hold until she murmured ‘I love you’ into his wavy hair. “Big kitty.”
Seokjin walked beside her, asking about her day as they returned to the kitchen. In her absence, Hoseok had bounced into the room, skin dewy from his evening run and positively glowing with endorphins. Shoving aside what they were having for dessert– demonic threats– she began making herself a plate, Taehyung entering the room with his eyes glued to his phone. Y/N wasn’t sure if he had downloaded a new interesting game over the past week, but he was thoroughly invested in whatever he was doing on the device. Shrugging, watching the Kodiak hybrid absently take a plate, she loaded up her own with salad and pasta.
Dinner passed by perfectly normally, other than the fact that Namjoon still wasn’t very pleased with her and judging by the way Jeongguk was eyeing her carefully, the wolf hybrid had updated him on what was to come after they finished eating. While Taehyung helped her wash dishes, Namjoon disappeared. The kitchen was clean and everyone was still hanging out, digesting, before they inevitably moved to the parlor for a movie. Y/N’s palms began to sweat when Namjoon returned with the laptop, Jimin making eye contact with her from across the room, nodding once with encouragement. Jeongguk was by the slider door to the backyard, the glass cracked open as he lit up a cigarette to smoke out of it.
Namjoon setting the laptop on the island somehow commanded attention, or perhaps it was the way he was carrying himself in that moment, grave and full of authority. Even Yoongi paused his wipe-down of the stove, his spotted ears perking up.
“House meeting,” Jeongguk announced dryly, staring out the window and flicking ash outside.
“Huh? New chore chart or something?” Hoseok was holding a popsicle, watching Namjoon set up the laptop, Y/N gritting her teeth, joining the wolf hybrid at the island, glancing up at the tall hybrid and searching for any kind of comfort. All he offered were drooped ears and his mouth set in a grim line.
“Uh, no. It’s about… you know the thing Namjoon, Jeongguk and I have been investigating for my job? The consults we do for haunted locations,” Y/N began, beating around the bush and feeling Namjoon trudge off to the corner of the room, at Jeongguk’s side. “This first case, we captured some audio in one of the bedrooms. And… I think you guys should hear it, because it was about me.”
The room was completely quiet, Taehyung turning off the faucet and setting down the pan he was scrubbing, and Seokjin materializing beside her in half a heartbeat, worry all over his angelic face. No one said a word, Y/N’s hands shaking as they hovered over the keyboard, and without further ado, she hammered down on the space bar to play the recording.
“What is your name?”
Static, and Seokjin holding his breath beside her.
“How old are you?”
More static, Yoongi flanking her other side.
“Why are you here?”
“Watching.”
“How many spirits are on this property? Are you alone?”
“Many are here.”
Y/N didn’t dare look up from the laptop as the audio crackled, the highlighted section labeled “Julie’s room” fast approaching, and she braced herself, eyes squeezing shut.
“Why are you here?”
“To kill you, whorish witch.”
Y/N expected an outcry of rage, but when the audio ended, the room was deathly quiet, the reedy, disturbing voice of the entity ringing out in the large kitchen eerily. She shut the laptop quickly, feeling her blood pressure rise at the lack of response. Then, all at once, chaos.
“There’s no fucking way you’re going back, are you–” Yoongi started, gripping the granite counter top like he was going to pass out, Seokjin’s voice tangling with his–
“Kill? Can a ghost actually do that? Jeongguk–” Seokjin was desperately holding on to Y/N’s shoulders like she was about to be taken from him and ritually sacrificed, his expression more panicked than she had ever seen it.
Head spinning, she felt Seokjin shaking her shoulders, beside himself, Yoongi still cursing and telling Y/N she shouldn’t go back, she can’t go back. The beginnings of an anxiety attack clutched at her oxygen-starved lungs, Yoongi and Seokjin so distraught she hardly noticed how everyone else was faring.
“Please, please, Y/N. You can’t get hurt,” Seokjin begged, and she swore she saw tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Truly, the image she had conjured up in her head earlier at the home improvement store paled in comparison to reality; reality was absolutely hellish.
“Calm down, you two,” Jeongguk called from the slider, tossing his half-smoked cigarette into the outdoor ashtray. “Give her a few inches of space.”
Seokjin did not obey, but he loosened his hold on her shoulders, lips slamming shut. Yoongi stopped swearing, but his knuckles were white with how tightly he was holding onto the island. She tore her eyes from Seokjin’s watery ones, whipping her head towards the elk hybrid, who seemed determined and confident. Y/N supposed it wasn��t exactly a shock to him, as he heard the audio before, and had probably dealt with entities like that in his past. Namjoon was standing beside him like a club bouncer, stony and aloof.
The others, however, were watching Yoongi and Seokjin with great surprise. Those two were usually the more calm and collected of the bunch, so to see them become slightly hysterical was definitely a shock. Jimin, at the breakfast nook, was white as a sheet– Y/N hadn’t disclosed the entity’s exact wording, and he looked like he was going to be sick. Hoseok, a statue by the refrigerator, had wide eyes and mango juice running down his wrist as his forgotten popsicle melted all over him.
“Y/N, listen to me. Tell me you’re not planning on going back to that house,” Yoongi tried to compose himself, head down as he stared at her, Y/N’s lower lip wobbling at the look on his face.
“I–”
“She is,” Namjoon answered for her, bluntly and with deep resentment. “Don’t even bother trying to talk her out of it.”
Yoongi sagged, head in hands, apparently the words striking home. Yoongi was well aware of Y/N’s stubbornness, and that if she set her mind to accomplish something, nothing would tear her away from trying. Finally, Seokjin’s hands slid from her shoulders, turning his head sideways and using the back of his hand to swipe under his eyes, defeated.
“Wait. This is fucking nuts. You’re telling me you recorded a ghost saying that to you?” Hoseok dumped his half-melted popsicle in the sink, regaining motor function and scoffing, however, the green tint to his skin gave away the fact that the resident skeptic was starting to believe, at least a little.
“No, it was the sound of the wind, dipshit,” Jeongguk rolled his eyes, but he crossed his arms over his chest and focused on Y/N. “Y/N is a big girl. She’s stronger than you think. Let her make her own decisions.”
“You didn’t answer me. Can it actually kill her?” Seokjin’s tone was darker than ever, and he left her side to stalk over to Jeongguk. Growls came from the back of his throat, towering over Jeongguk at that moment, though the elk hybrid simply assessed Seokjin lazily.
“Short answer, yes,” Jeongguk answered honestly, Y/N’s stomach dropping as she attempted to soothe Yoongi with a hand on his back– only to find it shaking. “But it’s rare. Usually happens during a demonic possession, and a possession takes weeks, sometimes months, to happen. Relax, jaguar, get out of my face. We’ve been monitoring her all week, the spirit didn’t follow us home. It was probably threatening her because it knows she has the ability to banish it.”
Seokjin, again, did not listen to Jeongguk, baring his teeth at the elk hybrid with his tail violently thrashing behind him.
“I don’t want her there, either. But like Jeongguk said, you have to let her make her own choices,” Namjoon cut in, putting a broad palm between Jeongguk and Seokjin’s chests. Sick of them talking about her like she wasn’t in the room, Y/N removed her hand from Yoongi’s back, spinning around to glare at the three in the corner of the kitchen.
“I don’t want this turning into a fight. Can we just talk like adults? I know it’s… startling to hear. But you all have to give me some credit, can’t you? I mean, I was able to banish the demon from this house. I lived with the attachment for years prior to even knowing any of you, and was never physically harmed.”
“But Y/N–” Hoseok began, however, Y/N held her hand out to stop him.
“I promised the Sanders family I would help them. To back out on that promise out of fear is cowardly bullshit. There are children in that house, living with that thing. If that’s how it threatened me, someone who had only been in the building twice, what is it saying about the kids?”
The room fell into silence again. Realizing she hadn’t heard a peep from Taehyung, she looked around the room, each of her hybrids in various states of discomfort, anger, and distress– the latter of which affecting Yoongi the most.
“I think– I think I need some air,” Seokjin broke the silence, cracking open the slider even further and slipping outside, Y/N’s heart breaking.
“Y/N? Are you alright?” Y/N froze, Taehyung’s soulful, resonant voice came from behind her, making her flinch in surprise. Those days, he really didn’t talk to her unless he had to, considering he was so glued to his phone or his camera it was nearly impossible to get his attention, so hearing him address her specifically had tingles shooting down her spine.
“I’m okay, Tae,” Y/N softened, his usual kind, trusting face appearing in front of her, reaching out to take her trembling hands. “Are you?”
“I believe in you,” he responded quietly, tugging her forward slightly to give her a brief hug, something she didn’t realize she needed so bad. “If you go, promise you’ll come back.”
“Oh, I promise,” Y/N mumbled into his shoulder, her hands fisting in the fabric of his sweater over his lower back. It was the most physical contact she had from Taehyung in a long while, and the fact that he offered her comfort while the others dissolved into pieces had her heart galloping in her chest. “Everything is going to be okay. I’ll come back to you all in one piece, I swear.”
Taehyung let her go, nodding once, taking her promise as an oath. Y/N bristled when Namjoon approached, swiping up the laptop, his iciness slightly dissipating when he noticed how much it affected her. Placing a palm on top of her head, somewhat awkwardly, Namjoon left the room with his bitten ear flickering and Jeongguk close behind. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she worried for Seokjin, outside in the cold without a coat, she worried for Yoongi, pale and hunched over beside her, and Hoseok and Jimin looked like neither of them could wrap their heads around the entire situation.
“Um… I’m gonna try and get Jin to come back inside,” Hoseok cleared his throat after rinsing the melted mango popsicle off of his forearm and wrist, not bouncing back as quickly as he usually did after an uncomfortable situation. “Jimin, set up the TV.”
Although the fox hybrid wasn’t totally bouncing back just yet, Y/N suspected he was trying to grasp onto normalcy by not abandoning their nightly routine. Taehyung, sparing her one last meaningful look, whisked himself away to the parlor, and Y/N heard him shoving more logs into the fireplace distantly. Jimin, slowly, got up from his seat, heeding Hoseok’s suggestion and bringing his glass of whiskey along with him, leaving her and Yoongi alone. She had an inkling that they all left the room on purpose, for Y/N to attempt to soothe Yoongi, but she didn’t know where to start. “Yoongi, baby,” Y/N murmured, the leopard hybrid still leaning over the counter with his head in his hands. “Look at me.”
Yoongi didn’t budge, but he began muttering to himself, far too quietly for Y/N to hear what he was saying. His tail was completely still, limp, ears drooped, and Y/N felt terrible for being responsible for his misery.
“Please, look at me? Yoongi?” Y/N tried again, hesitantly placing a hand on his bicep, yelping when he straightened, immediately yanking Y/N into his chest, shoving his face into her neck and clawing at her back through her blouse. “O-oof. Angel…”
At least he stopped shaking, hugging her so tight the breath was stolen from her lungs, the leopard hybrid manipulating her head so it similarly rested in the crook of his neck. She stopped speaking, letting him hold her silently, stroking her hands through his hair– somehow, in all of the chaos, his elastic band came loose, his inky hair falling messily around his face.
“I can’t lose you again,” Yoongi finally spoke, voice scratchy with emotion. “I can’t.”
“You won’t,” Y/N answered immediately, clutching him close, not even caring that his fingernails were scraping up the skin of her back. “Never again.”
“Baby,” Yoongi moved, cradling the back of her head so she was pressed against his chest– and for once, he wasn’t purring. “I won’t try to convince you not to go anymore, but…”
“You don’t want me to,” Y/N finished for the leopard hybrid when he trailed off, pressing a kiss to his chest through his hoodie.
“Goes without saying,” Yoongi held her so tight, she thought he would never let go. “But I know you. I need you to be careful, Y/N.”
Y/N had no response. She simply held onto Yoongi, smoothing her hands up and down his back, blinking away tears. While everyone’s reactions had her worried, if anything, it made her even more determined to not only banish the spirits in the Sanders’ home, but also come back perfectly whole and triumphant.
“I love you, Y/N. Please be careful,” Yoongi whispered after a few moments, kissing the top of her head, easing up on his hold on her. She returned the sentiment, a palm on one of his cheeks, pressing her forehead to his. “Come back to me.”
Y/N shushed him, a tear tracking down her cheek, by kissing him gently, his lower lip between hers as they held onto each other like lifelines. She didn’t deepen the kiss any further, the chaste lock of their lips more like a promise than anything else, and when Yoongi pulled away, he released her from his embrace. He wiped the tear running down her cheek with a thumb, a crooked smile on his face, despite the heavy mood.
“Only you can bring Seokjin inside, go rescue Foxy,” Yoongi grunted, nodding towards the door. Moving towards the glass, she paused, looking over her shoulder.
“I love you, Yoongi.”
It had taken her thirty whole minutes to get Seokjin back inside. Hoseok had scrambled away as soon as she was out on the patio with them, Seokjin sitting on a lawn chair staring despondently into the distance. In the end, it was her thorough explanation of all of the protective tools she’d be using, how she’d leave the house at the first sign of danger, and pinky-swearing that she’d call him as soon as they concluded the second investigation that got him to budge. That night, Seokjin insisted on sleeping with her, tucking her under his chin and clinging to her like glue.
In the days that followed, Y/N started to get a little annoyed by how everyone was tip-toeing around her, as if she was going to burst into flames at any moment. She put her focus on Namjoon and Jeongguk, teaching them how to create an energy shield for themselves, which as her mother predicted, was incredibly easy for them to pick up. Jeongguk– and Taehyung, when he was around– seemed like the only two who weren’t staring at her with puppy dog eyes, pleading for her to reconsider following through on the investigation. No matter how cute Jimin was, Y/N wasn’t budging.
It was the day before the second investigation, a Tuesday and the last day of February, and Y/N was packing her overnight bag in her room. Tucking a first-aid kit into the pocket of the bag, Y/N hoped she wouldn’t have to use it. Yoongi and Seokjin had been up her ass the entire day, and she finally caught a break when Yoongi took one of the cars to Ben’s for Daisy’s piano lesson, and Seokjin had managed to peel himself from her long enough to help Jimin drag the completed garden beds out of the stable.
Pushing a hand through her hair, she packed an extra sweatshirt– one of Yoongi’s, just in case she got cold or needed the comfort of his scent, and Seokjin gave her his stuffed alpaca to bring as a companion, a “protector”, as he worded it. She was about ready to take her evening shower and nod off, considering she’d be up the entire night the next day, when a knock came to her bedroom door. Thinking it was Seokjin, she pressed a palm to her forehead and prayed for patience.
“Coming,” she called, hastily zipping her bag and tossing it by the foot of her bed. However, when she swung the door open, the hybrid standing there wasn’t Seokjin, it was Hoseok, his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweats and his ears drooping to either side of his head.
“Hey, Hoseok, how was practice?” Y/N asked, eyes on his semi-damp wavy locks from his post-practice shower. “Beat any records today?”
Hoseok shook his head, the crewneck sweatshirt he was wearing hugging his lean frame just so. Hoseok wasn’t one to typically drop by her room, if he needed her, he’d usually text or video call and she’d join him in the basement to hang out. Stepping aside wordlessly, Y/N motioned for him to come in, noticing how quiet he was.
“What’s up? Want to do some yoga with me or something? I could use some meditation before tomorrow,” Y/N flopped down onto her bed, Hoseok imperceptibly flinching at the mention of the following day.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about your plans for tomorrow,” Hoseok scratched his chin, slowly lowering himself beside her on the bed and resting his palms on his knees.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I wondered if I could be the one to talk you out of it, if anybody,” Hoseok confessed, a reluctant look on his face.
Puzzled, Y/N stared at him, waiting for him to continue, but all he did was seemingly collect his thoughts, twiddling his thumbs together. Opening her mouth, she was about to repeat the speech she had given each of them at least a half dozen times already, but Hoseok cleared his throat and stalled her.
“Hear me out darling?” Hoseok grimaced, his jaw tensing. “Just for a minute.”
“I’m listening,” Y/N conceded, knowing that when Hoseok was that serious and the golden light left his eyes, he had something important to say.
“You know I don’t really believe in that hocus-pocus crap you, the wolf, and Jeongguk do. Even back in August… I played along when they did that weird ritual on you, but honestly I thought you just had a little bit too much to drink and fell in the hallway,” he began, glancing at Y/N’s vanity, which now held various materials for her practice such as dried herbs and bells. “I don’t like things I can’t explain. I can’t explain what I heard on that recording, and Y/N… I have a bad feeling.”
Y/N didn’t take the first half of Hoseok’s statement offensively. She was familiar enough with Hoseok to know that while he wasn’t exactly a believer in the supernatural, he respected her practice and humored her whenever she offered him cleansing bath salts or asked to waft rosemary smoke around his bedroom. She wasn’t the kind of person to force her beliefs on anyone else, so she was totally fine with the fact that Hoseok didn’t believe in what went bump in the night.
“A bad feeling, just like everyone else?” Y/N half-smiled, nudging Hoseok in the ribs. Unlike Namjoon or Jimin, Hoseok didn’t mind her trying to find a semblance of humor in the situation– if she didn’t, she’d crumble into a nervous wreck.
“I get it, you’re probably sick to the back teeth of hearing everyone telling you that you should stay here. For once, I agree with them,” Hoseok nudged her back, mirroring her half-smile. “If what you recorded really was… something paranormal or whatever, I don’t like that it’s targeting you.”
“Well, remember what Jeongguk said? It probably only said that to me because I was the one conducting the EVP session, and it could sense that I know how to banish evil spirits. Sure, it’s a scary thing to hear about oneself, though.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t really care what the elk has to say. He’s self-serving,” Hoseok hissed, the mood shifting suddenly, Y/N surprised that Hoseok sounded so aggravated.
“That’s not fair, Hoseok,” Y/N scolded gently, the fox hybrid standing from her bed and staring out of the window into the back yard. “Jeongguk cares. He’s experienced, too. With him there, you should feel better, not worse.”
“He’s self-serving,” Hoseok repeated, making Y/N roll her eyes. Hoseok was like her twin; stubborn, and once he formulated an opinion, it was hard for him to let it go or see it change. “What are the chances I can convince you to stay?”
“Slim-to-none,” Y/N got up as well, joining the fox hybrid by her window, peering up at him curiously. His expression was stormy, his lips pressed into a thin line, and it made Y/N shiver.
“Fantastic,” Hoseok replied flatly, narrowing his eyes at Y/N. The humor had evaporated the room at that point, Y/N’s half-smile disappearing.
“Hoseok,” Y/N groaned, tired of having the same conversation over and over again. “You don’t even believe in this stuff. I’ll be perfectly fine, okay?”
“Okay? And what if you’re wrong?” Hoseok shot back, hands on hips and cornering her against a wall, staring down at her beneath his nose. “What then?”
“Well, I guess you’ll have a new reason to believe, then,” Y/N grit her teeth, entirely over the whole debate. She didn’t know how many times she would have to repeat that she’s fine, she’ll be fine, and that they’re all suffocating her with worry. However, her usually well-received sarcasm, at least by Hoseok, did not land gracefully that time.
“Don’t say that,” Hoseok’s voice was all gravel and menace, anger flashing in his eyes, turning the irises from caramel to mocha.
“Sorry,” Y/N immediately apologized, her spine now flush with the wall beside her bed, Hoseok trapping her there. “It was just a joke, I didn’t mean it seriously.”
“I’m aware that we have the kind of relationship where we can joke around, but not about your safety, Y/N,” Hoseok’s tone softened, but there was a dangerous edge to it, his eyes skimming her from head to toe as she cowered in front of him, chastised. “On my birthday. The only reason why I agreed to go to a club was because I knew all seven pairs of our eyes would be on you. You only have Namjoon and Jeongguk this time.”
“Hoseok…” Y/N sobered, the fox hybrid so close to her, she was drowning in his fresh, woodsy cologne. “I promised I’d come back in one piece. For you, for all of you. I take my promises seriously.”
Hoseok paused, considering, using a forefinger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath, one that had his rib cage expanding quite a bit, Y/N chewing on her lip and placing a hand on the side of his neck tenderly, feeling his erratic pulse under her thumb.
“Fighting with you…” Hoseok’s throat bobbed, his shoulders sagging. “Sucks. It really fuckin’ sucks.”
“Then let’s not fight. Trust me Hoseok, hmm? We still have so many places to go, you and I. Our road trip this spring to New York, going to Disney World eventually, remember? I’m not about to let a skanky ghost prevent us from traveling the world together,” Y/N attempted to brighten the mood, stroking through the silky short-cropped hair on the nape of his neck.
“No matter what, you’re always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you, darling,” Hoseok chuckled, making Y/N sigh with relief, reaching up to pinch Hoseok’s cheek.
“No, that’s you,” Y/N tugged the flesh of his cheek back and forth, making him shake his head, his whole body shuddering with her touch. To her surprise, Hoseok removed her hand from his face, holding onto her wrist, his eyes skimming over the veins that mapped through the skin. “What’s the matter?”
Hoseok said nothing, his thumb brushing over the sensitive area, ears fluttering when Y/N’s heart stuttered in her chest. Not realizing how close they had gotten, Hoseok essentially caging her in, Y/N murmured his name considering he was basically stuck in a trance holding her wrist.
“Can I?” Hoseok’s ears turned back, eyes flicking to hers, pressing his thumb firmly into her delicate wrist. “Please. It’ll make me feel better.”
“Uh-huh,” Y/N watched Hoseok’s free hand press against the wall beside her face, crowding her against the surface, leveling her a meaningful look.
“I won’t be so rough this time,” Hoseok remarked, absently, Y/N ashamed that she was somewhat disappointed by that statement. “Hold onto me if you want…”
Y/N had no qualms doing so. She snaked her free arm around Hoseok’s trim waist, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt, watching him turn her wrist in his palm carefully. Her breath caught when he brought it to his lips, his eyes never breaking from hers when he laid a gentle kiss on her palm, Y/N’s stomach doing somersaults. Ears twitching, catching the intake of breath she made, the corner of his mouth curled up, littering a few more kisses along the length of her wrist. Hoseok paused when goosebumps rose on her forearm when his lips brushed against a particular stretch of skin.
With one last butterfly wing kiss, Hoseok sunk his incisors into her wrist, Y/N wincing at the razor-sharp sensation, though she was instantly soothed when Hoseok’s free hand moved to curl around her hip, squeezing comfortingly. The sting was gone as swift as it came, Hoseok’s eyes fluttering shut as his teeth pierced her flesh, and the mind-numbing euphoria that came when her hybrids scented her had Y/N’s head nodding into Hoseok’s toned chest. Humming from the back of his throat, he let her lean on him while he bit her, tongue peaking out to catch a droplet of blood leaking from the mark.
Y/N wasn’t sure whether or not she was murmuring Hoseok’s name deliriously into his chest, eyes rolling to the back of her head when she felt his teeth pull out of her skin, tongue laving over the bleeding wounds methodically. Hoseok was effectively holding her up now, his arm supporting her lower back while he cleaned up his mess, cauterizing the wound as gently as he could. In stark contrast to how aggressively he scented her many months ago, this time around, he was calm, tender, and almost loving, Y/N let herself believe.
Before her knees could buckle and she dropped to the floor, Hoseok let go of her wrist, using two hands on her hips to hoist her up, Y/N not even making a noise of surprise as he carried her to her bed and set her down gingerly.
“How’s your head? Fuzzy?” Hoseok questioned, Y/N’s eyes heavy and lidded as she admired the new mark he gave her, already bruising but entirely painless– and when she prodded at it, the site tingled strangely.
“Huh?” Y/N didn’t actually hear Hoseok, too doped up, considering postponing her shower in favor of just crawling into bed and passing out after all of that. “My what?”
“Nevermind, darling. That answers that,” Hoseok snickered, and he seemed way less jittery than he had when he first came into her bedroom, so Y/N counted that as a bonus. “Want me to have Yoongi bring your dinner in here? You look like you’re about to knock off.”
“Ooh. Will you?” Y/N perked up, the fog in her brain clearing slowly, kicking off her slippers and wiggling beneath her quilt, Hoseok’s radiant smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Foxy.”
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Hoseok muttered to himself, and Y/N was still too fuzzy-brained to hear it. He started towards the door, knowing that Y/N would probably be asleep when Yoongi brought dinner around, her eyes almost shut completely, but something about her angelic expression had him stopping by the door and speaking up more loudly. “Y/N.”
“Yeah, honey?” Y/N peered at him from under her eyelashes, the fox hybrid turning a bit sly.
“You owe me that trip to EPCOT, don’t forget. I’m not ‘drinking around the world’ without you, so you better come back.”
Y/N’s eyes went wide out of pure shock, Hoseok back to his wiseass self, before she dissolved into a fit of giggles.
“I’m taking that as a threat. Don’t come crying to me when we’re four drinks in and you’re all sunburnt.”
“I look forward to it, darling.”
Y/N pulled Yoongi’s hoodie over her head shortly after she, Jeongguk, and Namjoon entered the deserted Sanders’ home. The family themselves had been living in a hotel for the past few weeks as per Y/N’s advice, the current state of the building uninhabitable with all of the spirits infesting it. The worn fabric, infused with Yoongi’s vanilla-and-cloves body wash, offered her somewhat of a lifeline, the home absolutely frigid and charged with thick, uncomfortable energy. Namjoon stuck close to her like an overzealous watchdog, Y/N feeling his sharp gaze on her near constantly as the two of them helped Jeongguk set up cameras. None of them spoke apart from the occasional direction from Jeongguk on where to place a piece of equipment.
Part of the “agreement” Y/N had begrudgingly accepted was Namjoon taking over the EVP sessions and asking the spirits questions. Really, she was only there as some kind of equipment mule, which she supposed was more than she could ask for, at that point. At least Namjoon had taken her list of follow-up questions to use, while she monitored the computer as he asked them.
Burying her nose into the collar of Yoongi’s hoodie, letting his scent bathe her in comfort, she sat on one of the living room couches, in pitch-black darkness, waiting for the other two hybrids to finish setting up. The only sources of light, it being quarter past two in the morning, were the tiny lights on the cameras and the odd flash of eyeshine from one of the hybrids milling about with purpose.
“Everything’s set. This was the last static night vision camera to go up,” Jeongguk broke the silence gruffly, Y/N hearing his combat boots clomping along the hardwood just a few feet away from her. “Let’s do some EVP. I don’t want to be here longer than we have to; we already have plenty of evidence.”
Y/N flinched when she felt Namjoon collapse down beside her on the couch, the EVP device clutched in his hand, Y/N only able to make out the faintest shadow of his side profile. Clearing her throat, she booted up the digital audio workstation in preparation for recording, Jeongguk standing by the living room window where what the three of them called “The Watcher” lingered.
“Got the list? You two have your shields up, right?” Y/N mumbled to Namjoon, the room dropping a couple of degrees in temperature, as well as the wolf hybrid now staring daggers into the side of her face. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to talk, but she wasn’t about to be mute the entire time.
“Start up the recording, kiddo,” Jeongguk ignored her questions, his silhouette visible by the window– his antlers making him look like a supernatural creature, himself.
Sighing, shoving her face further into Yoongi’s hoodie, she did as she was told. The nickname Jeongguk used on her didn’t have its usual affect, considering the elk hybrid explicitly told her and Namjoon not to use their names while in the house, for whatever reason. With a quiet grunt leaving her lips, indicating they were ready to go, Y/N clung to Namjoon’s side as close as she could as he began prattling off inquiries.
“Who are you watching?” After a series of unanswered questions, Namjoon’s tone was growing frustrated, his tail occasionally batting against Y/N’s behind. Nothing was showing up on her digital audio workstation, either. Finally, however, there was a blip appearing on her computer, Y/N tensing as she actually heard the gritty response amongst the static the EVP detector was putting out.
“Family.”
“Why are you watching this family?” Namjoon brightened, shushing Jeongguk from across the room, who was tapping his foot impatiently. “How did you get here?”
“Portal. Bedroom.”
Y/N was positive she was grinding her teeth into dust. She was dreading the EVP sessions in the bedrooms, and based on The Watcher’s response, the three of them would be heading up there sooner than she thought.
Namjoon asked a few more questions, but received no further responses. Sucking his teeth, Namjoon made a motion for Y/N to stop recording, switching off the device he was holding. The room was still heavy with icky energy, but quiet once Namjoon turned off the detector, Y/N expelling the breath she was holding.
“A portal. I should have known,” Jeongguk remarked, already dismantling a night vision camera to haul upstairs. “That’s why there’s so many entities here. There’s a portal that allows them to freely come and go, and my guess is it’s in one of the bedrooms.”
“Oh! That means that I have a way–” Y/N immediately clammed up when Namjoon pinched her thigh, whimpering at the sharpness of his fingernails. However, he was right to snap her out of it– it wouldn’t have been wise to announce that she had a way to close the portal while they were in the house.
With that, she silently helped the hybrids bring equipment up to the second floor, following Jeongguk’s direction to begin in Tommy’s bedroom, all while clutching onto the burning dragon’s blood incense like it was a flaming sword. Y/N had a sneaking suspicion that the portal was located in that specific bedroom due to the suffocating sensation she had in there weeks ago, one that had her head swimming and breath coming out shallowly. It was a great effort to keep her energetic shield up while in that room, imagining an impenetrable bright golden light surrounding her, and she could feel it taking a good chunk of her lucidity.
Stiffly, she stood by the door of the room, letting the hybrids take the lead, Jeongguk muttering something in Latin– she assumed it was an expletive due to the acidic way he uttered it. Because she and Namjoon hadn’t captured any audio in that room the last time, they focused on taking video, breaking out the thermometers, and sweeping the area for electromagnetic readings. To no one’s surprise, the electromagnetic detector was going absolutely berserk in that room, specifically in the young boy’s closet. Jeongguk used his teeth to rip a piece of electrical tape to mark the area.
“I think it’s there,” he announced quietly, Namjoon taking pictures of the closet with flash, lighting up the dark room and making Y/N gnaw on her lip as she saw shadows all around her wolf hybrid. She prayed he was maintaining his shield, but she had spoken one too many times, so she couldn’t mention the shadows curling around the room threateningly. “Let’s get through the girl’s room quickly and get out of here.”
Stomach turning sour, she curled her hands into fists, trying her best not to light her clothes on fire with the burning incense she was religiously replacing as soon as one stick got too low. Namjoon was too busy to hold her hand this time, so she trailed after him closely, feeling utterly sick when they entered Julie’s dark room. Y/N swore she heard growling coming from all angles, low and menacing, but if either of her hybrids noticed, they didn’t say anything about it. Wafting the incense smoke around the space, Y/N concentrated on her shield, waiting for Jeongguk to prop up a single camera and Namjoon to begin the EVP session.
Turning, she could see outlines of her two hybrids working quickly, but what concerned her the most were the dark shadows now surrounding Jeongguk, too, not just Namjoon, and the density of the shadows were growing by the second. Perhaps Y/N didn’t spend enough time teaching them how to maintain their defenses, or they had forgotten to tend to their shields in the urgency of it all. Before she could say anything, her hackles rising and sensing danger all of a sudden, Namjoon started recording audio and switched on the EVP.
“Who are you?” Namjoon’s first question rang out loudly, firmly, with an edge of anger to it. “What are you doing here?”
The shadows thickened even more, and it was getting even harder to see either of her hybrids from where she was standing, mere feet away. It was odd that something could be darker than night, like a void, but those shadows were proof in front of her. Queasy, she took a step forward, following the sound of the static coming from the EVP. She hadn’t noticed that her stick of incense had gone out.
“Did you come from a portal within this home?” Namjoon pressed, clearly pissed he wasn’t getting any answers.
Jeongguk was scribbling in his notebook furiously, a ballpoint pen scratching against the linen pages when the knocking on the walls started up. Icy fright washed over Y/N, but she tried to keep it together by clutching the selenite in her pocket. Just a few more minutes, a few more questions, and they could leave. And when they would return, it would be in the daylight…
“Give me that shit,” Jeongguk suddenly cursed, snatching the EVP from the wolf hybrid. “Answer us. You can threaten young girls without a problem, but you’re too much of a pussy to show yourself to us?”
Y/N stifled a gasp, definitely not prepared for Jeongguk to antagonize the entity, the shadows pressing down on him immediately in response. He didn’t seem to realize that, though Namjoon certainly did, moving closer to Y/N and his eyes flashing in the darkness when the knocking on the wall turned to pounding.
“Hybrid scum.” Came through the device Jeongguk was holding, a dry chuckle leaving Jeongguk’s lips.
“Real original. I’ve had old ladies at convenience stores call me worse,” Jeongguk taunted, Y/N dropping her stick of stubbed-out incense in shock. “Give me something to work with. Prove you’re here.”
The pounding on the walls cut off suddenly. All Y/N could hear besides radio static was the blood rushing in her ears. Shadows still curling around her two hybrids, Y/N really thought something was beginning to go wrong, especially with everything going quiet. Desperate to do anything of use, she squeezed her eyes shut, and with great effort, extended her mental energetic shield around not only herself, but her two hybrids as well. Picturing them in her mind, she felt something warm coasting down her face, ignoring it entirely while she focused on cloaking them all with protection.
“Judas,” Jeongguk barked, the camera he had set on the tripod knocked off its perch and launching clear across the room, smacking to the floor when the pounding on the walls started up again. Namjoon fumbled with a flashlight to illuminate the room.
“Elk–” Namjoon sounded panicked, though distant, as Y/N was in a meditative trance focusing on the shield.
“Shut up,” Jeongguk hissed, continuing with his questions. “Who the fuck are you? Tell us your name.”
Y/N had expended too much energy. It was too much; between attempting to shield three people at once, what felt like spiders crawling up her legs, and all of the noise around her– her eyes snapped open and the shield was broken. At that same moment, two things happened.
“Fuck!” Jeongguk shouted, pained, hunching over and dropping the EVP device. As the elk hybrid cried out, Y/N’s knees failed her, and she collapsed to the ground in a heap, shakily and blindly trying to reach out for Jeongguk. “Get her out of here. Now.”
Y/N had tears gushing from her waterline, screaming when Namjoon sprung into action, scooping her up around the middle and hauling her over his shoulder.
“Nooo! Jeongguk!” Y/N wailed, smacking Namjoon’s back desperately as he thundered down the stairs, through the living room, and outside into the night. “Namjoon put me DOWN! We can’t leave him!”
Namjoon didn’t say a word, taking her beating as she struck and pummeled his back, the wolf hybrid hastily yanking open the door to his van and carrying her inside. Fully sobbing by now, the strength she used to try and get herself out of Namjoon’s arms completely zapped, Namjoon quickly started the van to both heat and light it up. Crying brokenly, she went limp, the wolf hybrid moving to the booth in the back of the vehicle, manipulating her limbs so she sat securely on his lap, a forearm braced across her stomach to keep her in place.
“J-Joon… Jeongguk’s hurt, why did we leave him?” Y/N whimpered, weakly trying to pry his arm off of her midsection. She might as well have been trying to pry off a metal bar on a roller coaster that was across her lap.
“He’s just getting the equipment. He’ll be out in a minute,” Namjoon murmured in her ear, his free hand searching for something on the booth’s table.
“But–”
“Hush,” Namjoon interrupted, using his thumb on her chin to tilt her head back, his eyebrows scrunched up in concern, something feathery and soft clutched in the remainder of his long fingers. “Your nose is bleeding.”
Hand trembling, Y/N touched her lips, her fingertips coming away wet and soaked with blood. Namjoon’s ears were flat when he began dabbing away at her face with the tissue, mopping up the blood first and having Y/N hold the tissue to her nose. Tears still streaming down her face, Namjoon’s chest rumbled, reaching across the table for another tissue before he began blotting those away as well.
“You shouldn’t have extended your shield to us like that. You’re going to need a few days to recover,” Namjoon commented when Y/N’s sobs slightly mellowed into pathetic blubbering. She was going to reply when a loud scrape against the van door had her shrieking.
“Just me, kiddo,” Jeongguk hauled himself into the van, his camera and the equipment bag in one hand, his complexion pale and sweaty as he dumped everything on the ground. “Camera’s fuckin’ toast. Demon prick.”
Turning into a puddle of relief against Namjoon’s chest, her eyes were watering again, thanking the moon and the stars that he made it back to the van. Somehow, the sight of the elk hybrid gave her a spark of revival, patting the back of Namjoon’s hand so he’d let her up. He did so, reluctantly, one hand on her waist as she stood.
“Are you okay?” Y/N’s voice was scratchy and raw due to the screaming and crying, but Jeongguk simply nodded and looked behind her, right at Namjoon.
“Step on it, wolf. We need to leave, now,” Jeongguk ordered, Namjoon growling at the command but making his way to the driver’s seat anyways, releasing Y/N’s waist in the process. “Call Seokjin, Y/N.”
“W-what?”
“The investigation is over. He told me he expects a call, so call him,” Jeongguk collapsed into the booth, wincing when his back hit the seat.
It dawned on her, turning her head to the kitchenette, where she left both her phone and Seokjin’s stuffed alpaca on the countertop to remind her whenever they finished. Grasping for both items, she sunk into the booth across from Jeongguk before Namjoon threw the van in drive and sped off down the street. Clutching the plushie to her chest, Seokjin picked up on the first ring.
“Pretty girl? Is it over? What happened?” Seokjin blurted in quick succession.
“On our way home,” Y/N sniffed, hugging the stuffed alpaca even closer to her chest, Seokjin releasing a shuddering exhale through the receiver.
“Were you crying? Love, are you hurt?” Seokjin continued, Y/N picturing his worried expression.
“No, I’m not hurt. Just shaken up, is all. But… We’ll be home in half an hour, so I’ll see you then and tell you all about it, honey?”
There was a beat of silence on the other end of the call, Y/N feeling bad that she wasn’t exactly Chatty Cathy, but Seokjin had always been understanding.
“I’ll be waiting. I’ll make some tea, okay? I love you,” Seokjin’s smooth voice soothed her, wrapped her in warmth, and sooner than she thought she could, she smiled.
“Thank you, I love you too, honey. And thank you for loaning me your plushie.”
She hung up from Seokjin, shooting a quick text to all of the others to give them her ETA, her fingers pausing over the keyboard when Jeongguk made an audible wince, shifting in his seat.
“Sweets, are you…?”
“Y/N, get the camera, the one that has the flash,” Jeongguk was still pale, wiping sweat from his brow despite how cold it still was outside.
Eyebrow raised, she obeyed, fishing around for it in the hastily-packed equipment bag. When she turned, she squeaked; Jeongguk was in the middle of stripping his black turtleneck off, crumpling it into a ball once he untangled it from his antlers and holding it to cover his chest. Y/N stood there, stunned, both of his sleeves on display, his toned abs caved in as he slouched, biting down harshly on his lip ring.
“There’s something on my back, take a picture of it,” Jeongguk, rigidly, turned in the booth, revealing the expanse of his bare back to Y/N frozen there like a garden gnome. “Evidence.”
Y/N, this time, could not stifle her gasp. It was the first time she saw the great black-and-white tattoo covering most of his back, but horrifyingly, the excitement of that was squashed by the three long, bleeding scratches across the flesh. The scratches appeared like they were made by an animal with talons, starting at one of his shoulders and ending at his opposite hip, red and inflamed, marring the elegant lines of the tattoo. Y/N couldn’t even process what the tattoo depicted, her heart in her throat when she saw the scratches.
“Holy fuck, Jeongguk,” Y/N exclaimed, rooted to her spot behind him with the camera in one of her hands, forgotten.
“What? What’s wrong?” Namjoon called from the driver’s seat, trying to see what was going on by peering into the rearview mirror.
“Jeongguk got scratched,” Y/N reported, her cadence wobbly from trying to swallow down more tears.
“Take the picture, Y/N,” Jeongguk spoke through his teeth, bracing his forearms on the booth’s table.
“Jeongguk, watch your goddamn tone,” Namjoon warned, speeding onto the highway in the direction of their home. “Stop ordering her around like a spoiled prince.”
For once, Jeongguk didn’t have a snide remark, a bead of sweat rolling down his spine and mingling with the blood, the sting of it making him hiss and groan. Frantically, Y/N snapped several pictures from different angles, her heart clenching as she watched blood ooze from one of the deeper gashes.
“Good? You got them?”
“Uh-huh,” Y/N said gravely, setting down the camera and reaching for her overnight bag. “Now it’s my turn to call the shots, you two. Jeongguk, you’re gonna sit still and let me bandage you, and Joon, you’re gonna slow down at least 15 miles per hour.”
She could have bet a fair sum that Namjoon chuckled from the front seat, but he heeded her request, lightly pressing the breaks and merging into the slowest lane on the highway. Jeongguk was still slouched, though uncharacteristically free of protests when Y/N sat directly behind him, setting her first-aid kit on the table with a solemn thunk.
“You know, I hoped I wouldn’t have to use this…” Y/N sighed, opening up the kit and rummaging through it for some alcohol wipes. Due to how long the three scratches were, she’d probably need all of the wipes she had in the plastic box. “Jeongguk, we promised Julie we wouldn’t instigate the spirits. Why did you do that?”
“We weren’t going to get anywhere unless I did,” Jeongguk grunted while Y/N used her teeth to tear a wipe packet open, swiping it along his left shoulder where the scratches began.
“I… hmm. How do I put this,” Y/N methodically cleaned up Jeongguk’s wounds, starting to make out the image his tattoo depicted– some kind of winged, cloaked figure. “I know you have lots of experience, Jeongguk. But I think, had I known that was where your thought process was leading, things could have gone a lot better. The element of surprise when it comes to these investigations, between teammates, is so, so, stupid and reckless.”
From the front seat, Namjoon hummed loudly in agreement. Jeongguk simply kept his mouth shut, Y/N not knowing whether or not he was giving her the silent treatment, jolting in his seat when she passed an alcohol wipe over a particularly deep scratch.
“So next time, if you want to go Zak Bagans on the spirits, just run it by me first. Alright?”
Jeongguk grumbled in offense, Y/N too tired to scold him any further. Happy with how she cleaned the scratches, she tossed the last slightly-bloodied alcohol wipe on the table, pulling soothing and antibacterial ointment out of her kit. The cab of the van was quiet except for the folk tape Namjoon switched on, which was turned down low for ambience. Y/N had a suspicion he put it on for some comfort.
She had never been able to touch so much of Jeongguk’s skin. Of course, he ran hot like all of the other hybrids, Y/N’s fingertips gingerly applying ointment to his scratches. Trying to be gentle, she cooed when Jeongguk flinched again as her fingers passed over his mid-back. As she worked, she admired not only the tattoo covering his back, but the ones wrapping around his triceps and elbows. Attempting to distract him from the pain, Y/N dared to ask him a question.
“Sweets? What’s this tattoo on your back? Is it a fallen angel or something?”
“Saw it on the wall in the shop and liked it. I don’t know, it’s some kind of winged grim reaper,” Jeongguk’s shoulders shrugged indifferently, Y/N taking a moment to sit back and really get a good look at it.
Indeed, the figure resembled a skeleton, cloaked in black, holding a scythe. Its large wings extended over Jeongguk’s shoulder blades, the tips of the wings nearly meeting at the nape of his neck, where Y/N had seen the tattoo peeking out from the backs of his shirts on one or two occasions. The tattoo was expertly done, the linework precise and bold, Y/N running a finger over one of the wings, Jeongguk’s muscles tensing.
“How did you afford all of those tattoos and holes in your face and ears while on the run?” Namjoon asked, in a way that told Y/N that he had been holding onto that question for quite some time.
“I exorcized a tattoo shop in L.A. before I got out of that cesspool,” Jeongguk explained, Y/N resuming her task by cutting strips of gauze for his bandages. “It was like one of my first ‘gigs’ or whatever. Anyways, the owner was so grateful, she pretty much gave me unlimited tattoos and piercings free of charge. And with the prices of these fucking things–” Jeongguk gestured to some of the ink on his biceps, “I took advantage of that free ticket.”
“That’s a cool story,” Y/N remarked, realizing she didn’t have a lot of information on Jeongguk’s past, other than how he came to Gerry’s shelter all those months ago. “This one on your back is beautiful. She did such a nice job.”
“Thanks,” Jeongguk began rubbing at his bicep, Y/N surprised he thanked her at all as she began taping gauze to his back.
“What’s this one?” Y/N poked his deltoid, unable to make it out, letting her eyes roam all over his arms indulgently. It was the first time she had an excuse to gawk at them.
“That’s the moon, kiddo. What are you blind?” Jeongguk turned his face slightly, staring down at the tattoo on his shoulder, Y/N glancing at his side profile; the sharpness of his nose, the labret threaded through his eyebrow, the angle of his jaw.
“How many do you think you have? Oh, it must be hard to count, considering they’re sleeves. Do you have any on your legs? What was your most painful piercing?” Y/N rapid-fired, both unable to help herself and loving that the conversation was distracting her from the fact that her elk hybrid had gotten hurt under her watch.
“Whoa, slow down. What is this, twenty questions?”
“You could at least do me the courtesy of answering one,” Y/N muttered resentfully, smoothing the last pieces of tape in place.
“I’m not going to tell you which piercing was the most painful, it depends on the person,” Jeongguk replied, an odd tone taking over his voice– awkwardness? “So fine. No tattoos on my legs. Happy?”
“Satisfied,” Y/N confirmed, smirking. “Alright, you’re patched up. You should probably skip the salt bath until they’re more healed. I’ll just waft some palo santo over you or something when we get home.”
Jeongguk shifted, sitting correctly in the booth now, this time not grimacing when his back hit the fabric of the booth. Y/N’s eyes went to his black turtleneck, forgotten beside him, and before she could stop herself, her greedy gaze was on his chest– and she was not prepared for what she saw.
Besides the fact that Jeongguk was well-muscled, almost like a dancer, his chest was free of any ink, but there was something that had her mouth dropping open when her eyes trailed upwards. Jeongguk had his nipples pierced, silver barbells threaded through them, which had Y/N positively reeling. She supposed she shouldn’t have been so surprised, he had countless piercings in his ears and the two in his face, but the sight of the nipple piercings had her mouth watering and heat flooding her cheeks.
“What?” Jeongguk lifted his eyebrow, noticing her gaping fish mouth.
“Nothing! I’m gonna go sit up front!” Y/N blurted, stuffing the first-aid kit into her overnight bag and scrambling to the front of the vehicle, scooping up Seokjin’s plushie as she went.
Jeongguk snorted as she hobbled away, struggling back into his turtleneck– even though Y/N ordered special ones that had stretchy necks to cater to hybrids with antlers, it was still a sort of gymnastics routine for him.
“How are you doing?” Namjoon inquired once she buckled in beside him, never taking his eyes off the road.
“I’m better, but exhausted. Sorry for going postal on you. Is your back bruised?”
“Please,” Namjoon scoffed, sucking his teeth. “It was like someone throwing pebbles at me.”
“Way to stroke my ego, Joon Bug,” Y/N grouched, sinking into the oversized fabric of Yoongi’s sweatshirt with an exaggerated offended expression.
“We’re almost back,” Namjoon commented, sneaking a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. “You definitely need at least 10 hours of sleep. Doing what you did with the shield–”
“Was idiotic?” Jeongguk offered from the back of the van, Y/N giving him the finger over the back of her headrest.
“No, jackass. Unwise, I would say,” Namjoon bared his teeth at Jeongguk through the rearview mirror.
“I saw shadows around you two. I didn’t know whether or not you guys were maintaining your own shields, that’s why I did it. I only wanted to protect you,” Y/N defended her actions, pouting and cradling the alpaca plushie in her arms.
With that, the two hybrids stopped chiding her, the weight of her words having the both of them regretting saying anything at all. Namjoon cleared his throat, turning the volume up on his tape, Y/N giggling when she heard Jeongguk complain noisily.
“I get scratched by a fuckin’ demon, now I have to listen to some asshole play the spoons on a tape from 1955,” he groaned, Namjoon shaking his head while he pulled off of the highway, into their town. “I need a cigarette.”
“Are you bleeding? I can smell your blood,” Seokjin tackled her as soon as she stepped a singular toe into the foyer, a note of panic in his tone as he gathered her in his arms, frantically tracking his eyes all over her body for any sign of injury.
“I had a nosebleed on the way home. I’m okay, honey,” Y/N sunk into Seokjin’s embrace, winding her arms around his neck. She was wilting with exhaustion, at that point, but she knew she’d have to make the rounds to assure everyone she was unharmed. “I missed you bunches.”
Seokjin didn’t respond with words, instead his chest vibrated with elated purrs that she was home, in his arms, safe and sound. Placing a gentle kiss between her eyebrows, Seokjin released her so she could greet everyone else lingering in the foyer, though he remained by her side. Y/N knew it would take a crowbar forged from diamonds to get the jaguar hybrid to remove himself from her proximity, at that point.
Jeongguk shouldered by her with the equipment bag, bidding her a goodnight, immediately blasting up the stairs to his room. Y/N’s gaze followed him, and in consequence she caught sight of Taehyung, who was sitting on the landing with his palms on his knees. Blinking at her, she offered him a wave, one he returned timidly.
“Catch any ghosts?” Hoseok was leaning against the door to the basement, dark circles under his eyes from staying up so late. It was well past four in the morning, Y/N a little sheepish knowing everyone stayed awake waiting for her return.
“Caught more than ghosts,” Namjoon muttered from behind Y/N, rifling through her overnight bag to look for the bundles of rosemary to burn.
“Yeah, not my department,” Hoseok shook his head, Y/N weakly snorting at the joke. “Welcome home, darling. I’m gonna hit the hay, I can barely see you standing there.”
Jimin returned from behind the stairs where he was hanging up Y/N’s coat in the closet, relief all over his face, seeing her very much intact and in front of him. All who was missing was Yoongi, who Y/N suspected was in the kitchen. Jimin bade her goodnight, as did Namjoon, who reminded her to cleanse herself with the rosemary before going to bed, and under her nose, Taehyung slipped away silently into his bedroom upstairs.
“Let’s get you some tea,” Seokjin grabbed her hand and herded her to the kitchen, Y/N wobbly on her feet as she clutched Seokjin’s plushie under her free arm. “Then you’re going to bed.”
“Yes, sir,” Y/N chuckled tiredly, squeezing his palm as they entered the lowly-lit kitchen, Y/N finding her suspicion to be correct– Yoongi was by the stove, using a pot holder to take the kettle off of the flame. “I’m back…”
Yoongi turned, sparkles in his eyes as he took her in, a look of significance blossoming over his face. That time, she did come back to him.
“You look like you got sucker punched,” Yoongi said, contrary to the meaningful telepathic interaction the two of them had. “Was it bad?”
“It was pretty bad,” Y/N admitted, Seokjin humming sadly and sliding his hand down her back. “Jeongguk got scratched.”
“No shit,” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline, pouring her a cup of chamomile tea. “But you weren’t harmed, right?”
“Nope, I just gave myself a nosebleed. Exerted too much energy,” Y/N replied, accepting the steamy mug of tea. Perhaps she should have found it odd, standing in the kitchen between two hybrids she was romantically involved with, but she found it natural instead. “I think I know how to get rid of the infestation now, though. That second investigation was necessary.”
She didn’t expect Seokjin or Yoongi to reply, as the two of them weren’t really into the paranormal, so she sipped her tea with a hum, watching Yoongi wash the kettle.
“Well, make a plan of attack later. You need to sleep,” Yoongi pointed out, his own face puffy with exhaustion. Seokjin agreed with him, already trying to drag her to her bedroom, Yoongi following close behind with some water and a packet of ibuprofen.
In her room, Seokjin started turning her bed down for her while Yoongi placed the water on her nightstand, Y/N shrugging and deciding to change into pajamas. Too drained to give a shit, she stripped down to her bra and panties, fishing around in her dresser for a suitable giant tee shirt to sleep in. A sharp gasp filled the room, Y/N lifting a brow and looking over her shoulder. Both of them were gawking at her state of undress, Seokjin with his hand clasped over his mouth– probably the one that gasped, and Yoongi was frozen solid by her bed, staring at her ass. Perv.
“What? Nothing you two haven’t seen,” Y/N muttered, cheeks ablaze when she shoved a shirt over her head, the material skimming the tops of her thighs.
Seokjin’s neck was red, averting his eyes from her scantily clothed figure in favor of straightening out her quilt. Yoongi’s ears fluttered playfully, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips, Y/N shaking her head at him.
“Gonna brush my teeth. Want to chat for a little bit before I go to sleep?” Y/N changed the subject, addressing both of the hybrids, a small amount of shaky hope in her voice. She didn’t really want to be left alone yet, truthfully. Seokjin picked up on the unsaid, nodding, and Yoongi simply collapsed heavily on her vanity chair.
After her teeth were brushed, she climbed into bed, Seokjin more than used to climbing in beside her, happily chattering away about his evening without her. Apparently, he and Yoongi made a new recipe for dinner, they watched a French movie Hoseok picked out, and polished off all of the ice cream. Yoongi remained seated at her vanity, occasionally joining the conversation, but Y/N could tell he was ready to pass out. She was just as ready, suddenly, Seokjin’s voice luring her into sleep, nuzzling her cheek into his shoulder.
“Alright, I need to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning, or afternoon, whenever you wake up,” Yoongi stood, running a hand through his mussed hair. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, still tucked into Seokjin’s side, frowning deeply.
“Just stay here,” Y/N whined, Yoongi pausing in the doorway, looking from her to Seokjin. “There’s room on my other side. Don’t leave me.”
Yoongi appeared conflicted, weighing his options, but Y/N’s pathetic pout is what won him over. Sighing, he rounded the bed, Seokjin helpfully scooching over, and after a few seconds, Y/N was happily sandwiched between her two feline hybrids.
“Hope you don’t talk in your sleep,” Seokjin possessively wound an arm around Y/N’s middle while addressing Yoongi, turning on his side and pressing his chest to her back. “Like she does.”
“What?! I talk in my sleep?” Y/N squawked, scowling at Yoongi’s face scrunched up in laughter.
“You do,” Yoongi admitted, brushing hair out of her face, his tail winding around one of her legs. She was surrounded on all sides, hiding her face in Yoongi’s neck out of embarrassment– and all she could think about was how much better Yoongi’s scent was straight from the source, rather than on the fabric of a hoodie. “Last time I heard you talk in your sleep, you were saying something about wanting a piña colada.”
“Actually, you know what? You two can leave now,” Y/N grumbled into Yoongi’s skin, both of them snickering. Seokjin simply tightened his hold on her, planting a kiss on her nape, Yoongi tracing patterns over her arm as she clutched the front of his shirt. “Goodnight.”
Y/N closed her eyes, Yoongi’s and Seokjin’s purrs mingling together and comforting her immensely. Warm, protected, and safe, she drifted off to sleep at lightning speed, her two lovers holding her close.
“Do you wanna finish learning ‘Bella’s Lullaby’ or not?” Yoongi threatened, his toes curling as Y/N peppered the side of his face with tiny kisses. She was feeling particularly clingy that Friday, after all, she had spent several days after the investigation mostly laying on the couch like a limp tube sock, eating TV dinners and watching trash reality.
“No, I wanna eat you whole,” Y/N teased, lightly nipping the apple of his cheek, Yoongi rolling his eyes and removing the arm he had around her. “Ugh. Can you teach me something else? Something you composed, I wanna learn something written by the great Mr. Min.”
“Aren’t I Mr. Y/L/N now? As of August of last year?” Yoongi shot back dryly, Y/N staring at him like he grew a second head. “You didn’t know that? We all have your last name now. They’re printed on our IDs and credit cards for Christ’s sake, silly girl!”
“I never noticed,” Y/N squeaked, fanning herself. For some reason, finding that out had her heart growing three sizes. “Don’t change the subject, angel. Teach me something of yours, please?”
She drew out the syllables of please, knowing that Yoongi had a weakness for her brand of begging. It had the effect she wanted, rosiness coloring his cheeks, rolling his wrists in preparation to play.
“Well, you already know how to play your song,” Yoongi mumbled, flipping through his book of sheet music contemplatively. He stilled when he got to a particular page, Y/N skimming over the hand-written score with a lip tucked in between her teeth. “This one…”
“One of yours, right?” Y/N confirmed, squinting at the sheet music, noticing tiny lyrics written on the measures in tight, unreadable cursive.
“One of my firsts,” Yoongi replied. Sighing, he began to play a few bars, the melody simple but slow and jazzy, very different from the song he composed for Y/N. “I think you’ll be able to play it.”
“I love it. Teach me,” Y/N bouncing on the bench beside him, enthused. Yoongi glanced at her side profile, something unreadable in his eyes, though he indulged her anyways and helped her through the first few verses.
“I wish I could read the lyrics, did you write those too?”
“No, baby,” Yoongi cleared his throat, twitching uncomfortably. Frowning, Y/N nudged him with her shoulder. “My mom did.”
“Oh,” Y/N stopped fiddling with the piano keys, recalling Yoongi’s profile from the hybrid database– Yoongi was born naturally, unlike most hybrids who were created from labs, and Y/N remembered that on the profile, it mentioned that his mother had passed away. “She’s musical like you?”
“She was,” Yoongi’s mouth flattened into a line, a pit forming in Y/N’s stomach. “She was a singer. We used to perform together at The Black Lodge before she died.”
“I’m sorry, Yoongi…” Y/N whispered, covering the back of his hand with hers. “You wrote this with her?”
“Yeah, it’s called ‘Moonlight Lovers’. She would only want to perform it on nights with a full moon,” Yoongi half-smiled, his eyes going far away as he relived the memory. “I haven’t played it in years…”
“When… When did she pass away?” Y/N asked gently, tangling one of her hands with his, wanting to know a little bit more about the hybrid she loved, his history before she came to know him.
“A little bit over three years ago. She was in a bad car accident,” Yoongi screwed up his mouth, thumb brushing over the back of Y/N’s hand. “Drunk driver hit her while she was in a cab. The cab driver didn’t make it either– the entire cab burst into flames because the drunk slammed into the engine just so.”
“Oh my god,” blood was draining from Y/N’s face, horrified, watching Yoongi bitterly grimace with his ears drooping. “What about the drunk driver?”
“Also dead at the scene. Thankfully, or I would have fucking killed him myself,” Yoongi wrapped an arm around Y/N’s lower waist, kissing her temple when he could scent heavy sadness coming from her. “Don’t be sad. My mom… she lived a full life, but wild. She knew, and deep down so did I, that it would end in smoke and flames.”
“What do you mean, angel?” Y/N frowned, unsure what he meant by that, Yoongi using his free hand to play an absent melody on the piano.
“Well, she had a taste for scum-of-the-earth men that would come into the bar. She’d leave for days on end, and I wouldn’t see her until she had to sing on the weekends. More often than not, she’d come back drunk and high on some sort of pharmaceutical cocktail,” Yoongi continued to play the melody as he spoke, holding Y/N close and soaking in her warmth. “Don’t get me wrong. She was a great mom, I adored her. But her priorities were always messed up… I mean, I have no idea who my father was, and I don’t think she did, either. The only time she really seemed grounded was when we’d perform the songs we composed together.”
It was a lot for Y/N to process at once. Yoongi simply hummed, tracing circles with his thumb on Y/N’s waist under her shirt, letting all of that information sink in for her. Yoongi wasn’t fond of sharing personal details of his past or himself in general. But sharing it with the woman he loved turned out to not be so bad, and if anything, a great weight was lifted off his chest. The hollow misery that would fill him whenever he thought of his mother turned into bittersweet nostalgia.
“She raised you, so she must have been an amazing person.”
Y/N’s simple response stunned Yoongi completely. Out of all of the things she could have chosen to say, it was something that not only praised his mother, but complimented Yoongi’s very character. Purring, he was entirely out of a reply, watching Y/N in a daze work her way through the first measure of ‘Moonlight Lovers’, his heart racing.
“Yeah, she was,” Yoongi mumbled, pulling her closer to his side. “You play it well. When I was a kid, I begged my mom to play this song for me on my birthday.”
“And would she?”
“Mm-hmm. Every year.”
“Even if there wasn’t a full moon on your birthday?”
“Even then.”
Y/N paused her playing, expression becoming thoughtful as she scanned Yoongi’s face. He smiled at her tenderly, leaning into her touch when she tucked some inky hair behind his ear.
“Your birthday is in a couple of weeks,” Y/N pointed out, cupping the side of his face with care. “I think I’ll have to practice this piece extra hard so I can play it for you then.”
Stunned again, Yoongi’s hazel eyes glittered, turning his head slightly to brush his lips against Y/N’s palm.
“Okay, then you better get started, sweetheart,” Yoongi tapped the sheet music, even though he wanted to melt into a puddle. Y/N saluted him, launching into the piece straight away with a concentrated pout to her lips.
Y/N tried, as hard as she could, not to let the tempo falter when Yoongi began to sing, softly and quietly as she played. His deep, raspy voice was surprisingly melodic and velvety at the same time, and Y/N pictured the day of his birthday coming up. The two of them ‘performing’ that piece, with him singing and her accompanying him– the first time he would get to hear the song on his birthday in three years. Y/N couldn’t really think of a better gift for Yoongi. Leaning into his shoulder, Yoongi launched into the chorus.
“And we met under the moonlit sky…”
Saturday morning, dreary and rainy, had Y/N leisurely stirring cream into her second cup of coffee while her and the hybrids clumped around the TV in the parlor to catch a bit of morning news. Y/N tried her best to keep herself updated, but usually could only stomach about fifteen minutes of the news before one of the hybrids changed the station to something else. Hoseok, at her feet in front of the couch, was letting her absently twist and braid his wavy auburn hair while he snacked on a breakfast sausage.
Not having any plans for the day, Y/N resolved to do a whole lot of nothing by having an indulgent bath with oils and ordering her favorite Thai food for dinner. She knew that Sunday she’d be cornered by Jeongguk and Namjoon, when they’d try to figure out how to best close the portal in the Sanders’ house. But mercifully, the two of them allowed her a lazy Saturday before diving back into the unknown.
“Oh great. More shitty weather next week,” Hoseok complained, because even though it was the very beginning of March, winter in Massachusetts was bitterer than ever. “This is the longest winter of my life.”
“Alright, alright. You’ll be upset about the pollen count soon enough. You can change it now,” Y/N felt around her vicinity for the remote, her hand brushing up against Taehyung’s jean-clad thigh beside her.
Y/N was surprised that the Kodiak hybrid even sat next to her, he had been so absent lately that she had to constantly check he was even home. Granted, many times he wasn’t– he had been taking one of the cars out quite often to apparently snap pictures of the Boston Common or pick up more film, but Y/N felt the distance between them the most when he had his eyes glued to the screen of his phone.
“Seen the remote, Tae?” Y/N asked, Jimin coming up empty on her other side, Taehyung evidently not hearing her as he scratched one of his rounded, fuzzy brown ears. “Taehyung.”
Repeating his name more loudly, Taehyung’s thumbs flying over his phone screen stilled abruptly, snapping his head towards her with alarm all over his face. Y/N lifted a brow, thinking there was no way that it was a phone game capturing his attention so thoroughly, Y/N had acid roiling in her gut.
“What–?”
Taehyung, however, was interrupted by the loud ringing and bright flashes from the TV, indicating important breaking news, which had Seokjin flinching in the leather recliner and Y/N swearing colorfully.
“Good morning, America. Breaking news from Congress after lengthy discussions over the past several weeks. The rumors are confirmed; a major law surrounding the hybrid species has been passed. As of today, March 4th, 2023, legally adopted hybrids may be permitted to seek legal part-time employment and various establishments. This newly-passed law indeed includes another hot-button issue: many state universities will now begin the early stages of developing academic courses for adopted hybrids. Please bear with us as we continue to collect information from Congress, and stay tuned for an in-depth debriefing from The White House later this evening.”
“Huh?!” Hoseok shot up from Y/N’s feet like a rocket, shouting and pointing at the woman reporting the news on their flatscreen. “What the fuck?!”
“Oh my god,” Y/N slapped a hand over her mouth, unable to believe her mother was right about the rumors floating around.
“Wait, we can get jobs now? Legally?” Jeongguk’s voice was behind Y/N, hiking the volume up on the TV– apparently, he was the one who was hoarding it the entire time.
Namjoon, who was shuffling his deck of Tarot cards on the table where he and Y/N usually played chess in front of the fireplace, was still as could be. The day Y/N adopted Namjoon in August, he had lamented the fact that he could never have legal employment, so the news came out of left field for him.
“Did she say universities are going to take hybrid students now, too?” Jimin piped up, that look of conflicting emotions he often had written all over his handsome face.
“The lady said universities are coming up with programs for hybrids, coyote. Do you need to clean out your ears?” Jeongguk crossed his arms, standing beside the couch and staring at the television. “Does this mean you want us filling out applications for McDonald’s, Y/N?”
Y/N extended her leg, colliding her foot against his ass to shove Jeongguk away from her line of vision with great annoyance. She groaned when the elk hybrid didn’t budge an inch.
“No, you can do whatever you want. They just announced this, so we don’t have all the details yet. But, if one of you wants to apply for some kind of part-time work or take a university course, it’s entirely up to you,” Y/N replied when she felt several of them waiting for her to agree with Jeongguk. “Unless you actually want to work at McDonald’s, Jeongguk, then be my guest. Just make sure you bring me some nuggets home when you clock out.”
Jimin was snickering beside her, while Taehyung was gawking at the TV, his phone forgotten in his lap for the first time in a couple of weeks. Hoseok was amped, his tail wagging as he made laps around the room, Y/N able to see the gears turning in his head. Yoongi, who wasn’t in the room when the announcement came on the screen, appeared from the kitchen, shooting Y/N a very specific look– one that read ‘I’m not leaving this house more than I already have to’.
“Jinnie, maybe you could get a job at a restaurant! You’d make a good host with that pretty, pretty face,” Hoseok teased on his fourth lap of the room, poking the jaguar hybrid in the shoulder. However, Seokjin didn’t seem interested, much like Yoongi, rolling his eyes into the back of his head.
Y/N was about to persuade Hoseok to sit back down before she got dizzy watching him pace before her phone chimed, Y/N figuring it was her mother gloating that she was right all along.
Judy: I’m assuming you heard the news? Tell Namjoon and Jeongguk they are now officially employed by me, that is, if they’re up for it 💫
Blinking at the message, she tucked it away for later, considering the room was full of overlapping conversations and excitement. It was good to know that Namjoon and Jeongguk would get paid for their hard working efforts after all, and considering Jeongguk got scratched on the job, a paycheck was the least he was due.
With that, Y/N spent much of the day clinging to the news station with the hybrids, contrary to her usual 15 minute limit. Between that, peering over Jimin’s shoulder to read the articles about hybrid academic courses he really seemed to be interested in, and finally managing to get Hoseok to sit and calm down, Y/N was dreaming of her end-of-day hot bath every time she shut her eyes to blink.
“Of course I heard the news, Al,” Y/N had her best friend on speaker, pouring various scented oils into her bathtub before running the tap. “Hoseok already has an offer from the rec center, they want him to coach the junior track team. They contacted Yoongi, too, but I don’t think he’ll take them up on it.”
“Oh my god. They’re gonna be coaching hybrid kids? That’s so adorable,” Alice squealed, Y/N agreeing with her.
“I think Taehyung got a call, too. Not overseeing the children’s classes, but to stay behind after his meetings and help develop pictures and organize. At least, that’s what I could squeeze from him before he went out with Yoongi and Hoseok to get more information at the rec center.”
“Still being weird?” Alice’s voice turned sympathetic, up-to-date on Taehyung’s strange behavior ever since they all went to the club for Hoseok’s birthday.
“Yeah. I don’t know what’s going on with him. After Namjoon, Jeongguk and I wrap up the Sanders’ case, I’m going to try and corner him for another chat. Even though the two of us royally suck at communication. I just wanna clear the air if he’s still annoyed with me or whatever.”
“Or find out what’s keeping him so occupied on his phone,” Alice pointed out, making Y/N grunt.
“I guess I’ll find out soon enough. I’m not gonna pry into his business, but I want to know why he’s been so here-but-not-there.”
“So, where are your other boys?” Alice changed the subject, not wanting to upset her friend after such a long, crazy day.
“Oh, uh… Jimin went with the other three. He seems to be more interested in the academia aspect of the newly passed law. The rec center has a bunch of pamphlets on what the universities are beginning to plan for hybrid students. Namjoon and Jeongguk went out, too. They need to replace a camera that broke during our second investigation.”
“And your newest beau?” Alice referred to Seokjin, since Y/N had told her about the shift in their relationship shortly after Valentine’s Day.
“Making me dinner,” Y/N giggled– Seokjin had been elated that everyone else had cleared out of the house, claiming that they could have their ‘second date’. “I was gonna order Thai, but he wanted to try and make it himself.”
“God, is he romantic,” Alice swooned, happy for her best friend. “Oh my god. I forgot to mention. I have a date tonight, too!”
“What?! Al, you didn’t say you were talking to anyone! Spill!”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I was talking to him. Remember me telling you about Jeremy, the guy who works at the newspaper with me? He asked me out last week. I almost died.”
Y/N cheered, considering Alice had finally scored a date with her longtime workplace crush, a young man with a preference for funky sweater vests and the tendency to show Alice videos of his cat at home. He was literally perfect for Alice.
“Of course I remember him! Oh my god, imagine you two fall in love? Heathcliff will have a new sibling!” Y/N thought of Alice’s grouchy Maine Coon, snorting at the thought of having another cat in his household.
“No, I know. I’m so excited. I have to start getting ready, though, he’s picking me up at 7 and we’re going to dinner and a used bookstore.”
“So he’s your soulmate,” Y/N gushed, ecstatic. Alice hadn’t been in a relationship in years, so it was nice for her to seem so interested in pursuing one with Jeremy. “Call me tomorrow and tell me all about it, please.”
“Only if you tell me about your stay-at-home date with Seokjin,” Alice replied, and with that, Y/N tossed her phone onto her bed with a grin.
Seokjin told her to take her time with her bath while he made dinner, so she did. Going all out, she lit candles, had Sade playing from the portable speaker, and relaxed in the silky hot water until it became lukewarm. Muscles loose and pliable, she sighed in bliss as she massaged lotion into her skin. Sniffing the air, the scent of lemongrass and savory sauce filling the room made her stomach growl. Y/N simply pulled on comfortable undergarments, tied the sash of her robe tightly around her waist, and slid on her slippers before she was shuffling out into the hall.
Both following her nose and her ears, hearing Seokjin’s voice sing along to a pop song playing on his phone, Y/N caught him sprinkling crushed peanuts over a couple of plates of homemade Pad Thai. So wrapped up in what he was doing, a satisfied smile on his face, he didn’t realize Y/N was leaning against the coffee bar watching and listening.
“You have such a pretty voice, Seokjinnie,” Y/N announced her arrival, Seokjin squeaking in surprise and turning on his heel to face her, sleek black tail going ramrod straight. Immediately, his neck colored red at the compliment, his eyes dropping to her bare legs, exposed by her short robe.
“T-thanks,” Seokjin managed, embarrassed. He promptly turned his music off, Y/N smirking wryly, approaching the breakfast nook where he set up their dinner for two. “Um, everything’s ready. Are you hungry? How was your bath?”
“I’m starving! It was amazing, too. I needed some relaxation,” Y/N admitted, sliding into the booth, admiring the candle he lit, the perfectly set table, and the way he laid a napkin across her lap. “Look at this! Did you follow a recipe?”
Seokjin shook his head, rolling up the sleeves of his loose button down and sitting across from her, still looking bashful.
“No, pretty girl, I just tried to recreate the one you always order. I kept tasting the sauce until it was right,” Seokjin smiled at her, Y/N unable to believe how romantic Seokjin truly was– it grew by the day. “I hope you like it.”
Instead of responding, Y/N picked up her chopsticks and dove in, not caring that Seokjin was studying her reaction carefully as she brought the noodles to her lips. Y/N was shocked– not only had Seokjin completely nailed the sauce on the noodles, but something about it tasted even better than her tried and true order from her favorite restaurant in the center of town.
“How is it?” Seokjin asked eagerly, picking up his own chopsticks and nervously prodding at a sprig of cilantro.
“Um, perfect. Better than the takeout I get,” Y/N could hardly answer him, stuffing more food into her mouth, so beyond caring whether or not she looked like a goober with noodles packed in her cheeks. “Seriously, it’s delicious! Try it!”
Seokjin brightened significantly, digging into his own plate, immensely pleased by Y/N’s approval. The jaguar hybrid was the type to fully focus on the meal when he ate, so there was comfortable silence for a bit, Y/N trying her hardest not to moan and groan while tasting the delicious dish Seokjin cooked specifically for her. She felt spoiled beyond repair.
“So, I take it you’re not interested in a part-time job?” Y/N broke the silence midway through the meal, taking a break from inhaling her food by taking a sip of chilled white wine Seokjin poured for her.
“Not particularly,” Seokjin answered after setting his own wine glass down, pursing his voluminous lips. “I like being here most of the time. The book club every week is enough for me… maybe if there’s some sort of volunteer work this summer, I’ll look into that.”
Y/N was thrilled by that answer. Seokjin had made great progress with being more sure of himself, making his own decisions without Y/N’s prompting.
“There’s a farmer’s market that happens every weekend during the summer in the town square. They’re always looking for extra hands, maybe that would interest you?”
“Would you do it with me?”
“Absolutely. I usually volunteer anyways, but it’ll be even better if I can do it with you.”
Seokjin nodded happily, returning to his dinner, Y/N more than okay with lapsing back into silence so he could focus on eating. Y/N finished her meal sooner than she thought, wanting to lick the plate, truthfully. When Seokjin was done, she whisked away the dirty plates, feeling Seokjin close behind her as she loaded up the dishwasher.
“Here you go,” the sound of a bottle cap being twisted off filled her ears, Y/N’s empty wine glass appearing before her and Seokjin filling it, standing directly behind her. Humming, she wondered if Seokjin could feel the charged energy of the room, how enamored she was with him. “Oh! I almost forgot!”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, taking a swig of her wine, Seokjin suddenly digging through the freezer for a tupperware she had never seen before. Fiddling with the sash of her robe, she took the opportunity to check him out; the billowy white button-down he was wearing hid his figure but still made him look like an off-duty model, tucked into a pair of dark jeans. Swallowing thickly, she composed herself when he turned again, presenting the tupperware proudly.
“What’s that, honey?” Y/N cocked her head, Seokjin prying the lid open and fumbling for the utensil drawer to pull out a couple of spoons.
“Remember that ice cream maker we found in the back of the pantry? I got it to work! I made some coconut ice cream this morning.”
Y/N stared, dumbfounded, at the ice cream. The buttery, rich scent of coconut and vanilla coming from the soft serve and making her mouth water, even if she did just gorge herself on a mountain of Pad Thai. She was gawking at the tupperware stupidly when Seokjin tapped her cheek with two fingers, Y/N finding his vibrant orange eyes focusing on her mouth.
“Open up,” Seokjin’s tone turned playful, a spoonful of ice cream poised before her lips, Y/N automatically heeding his request. Mood shifting, the jaguar hybrid fed her the ice cream, the treat melting over her taste buds and cooling her rising temperature. Of course, it was luscious. “Good? I added some lime zest, and–”
Seokjin promptly shut up when Y/N was hoisting herself up onto the island, now eye-level with him, tongue passing over her lips. Gently, she took the spoon from Seokjin, scooping up some more ice cream and popping it into her mouth. Seokjin simply watched, overwhelmed; not able to decide where to look. The spoon in her mouth and the mischief in her eyes, the robe that was slipping over her shoulder, or her bare parted legs.
“Wanna try some, Jin?” Her voice was soft, lilting, and Seokjin was melting like the ice cream. All he could do was nod.
Y/N took matters into her own hands, reaching out and grasping the loose collar of his shirt, yanking him forward and in between her legs. Startled, Seokjin’s pupils dilated, his hands finding purchase on the granite on either side of her thighs. Nonchalantly, Y/N scooped up another spoonful of ice cream, using her free hand to poise under Seokjin’s chin, mirroring his movements just moments ago.
“Open up,” she repeated, quietly, Seokjin’s eyes flashing. Despite the strike of dominance that rocked through him, wanting to refuse to give into her demand, Seokjin found his lips parting, Y/N cooing and placing the spoon in his mouth.
There was a moment, brief, electric, and heavy, where all they did was stare at each other. The spell was broken when Y/N teasingly tugged at his shirt collar again, Seokjin tearing the spoon from his mouth and carelessly tossing it into the sink.
The jaguar hybrid crushed his lips to Y/N’s, one hand gripping her jaw and the other resting heavily on the top of her thigh, a feral growl coming from his throat when he tasted sweet coconut on her tongue. Y/N reacted instantly, wrapping both her arms and legs around Seokjin, pulling him in close and pressing her body to his. Completely lax both from her hot bath and the delicious meal she was fed, Y/N could think of no better way to end her night– tangled up with Seokjin.
Seokjin was an amazing kisser. He tilted his head, allowing his lips to slot expertly against hers with just the right amount of pressure. Y/N released a guttural groan when his tongue was rolling into her mouth, exploring eagerly, the hand on her thigh squeezing. She tried to keep up, one hand clutching the back of his head, the other tangled in his shirt collar, wanting to close every single centimeter between the two of them.
Much to her displeasure, though, Seokjin released her lips with a pop, danger in his eyes. Transfixed, she observed him swipe an index finger through the container of ice cream, and holding onto her jaw again, he painted the melting dessert over her lower lip, pulling down on the flesh so he could slide the digit into the cavern of her mouth.
Dazzled and trapped beneath his turbulent gaze, Y/N tasted the ice cream clinging to his finger, using the tip of her tongue to clean it, a muscle in Seokjin’s jaw ticking when she hollowed out her cheeks, really laying it on thick. Some of the ice cream slipped down his wrist, Y/N whimpering when the cold droplets landed on her clavicle, a devilish grin appearing on his face when he pulled his finger from her mouth.
“Aw, but you just got out of the bath,” Seokjin tutted, pushing the material of her robe off of her shoulders so it gathered around her biceps, assessing the mess.
“Jin–”
The words were stolen from her when Seokjin ducked his head, tongue hot and heavy on her collarbone, collecting the cream that he spilled. Not expecting such a lewd, forward action, Y/N’s head dropped back, a breathy whine leaving her throat, Seokjin’s hold on her waist tight. Squirming on the granite countertop, her eyes rolled back when Seokjin sucked a bruise into her skin, pressing harsh kisses to her throat while she let him have his way with her.
“Seokjin, oh,” Y/N clasped her ankles around his lower back, trying to press her hips into his. “That feels so good…”
Seokjin preened at the praise, rewarding her with a nip to her earlobe, trailing his kisses along the length of her delicate jaw and back to her swollen lips. This time, she urgently met him halfway, flicking her tongue over his teeth and wanting to eat him alive. Lust was coursing through her veins with a vengeance, and she didn’t care if he took her right there on the counter, at that point.
“You’re too sweet,” Seokjin mumbled into her mouth, his voice strained, hands trailing to her lower back, making her spine arch into him. “I can’t help myself.”
Shivering in his arms, Y/N thought she whimpered out a ‘please’, but she yelped when she felt his large hands gather her ass in his palms, hauling her weight onto his chest and effectively picking her up.
“But S-seokjin, the ice cream!” Y/N cried when he started carrying her out of the kitchen, heat pooling in her core with the strength he demonstrated.
“Fuck the ice cream,” Seokjin simply grunted, Y/N chuckling despite the heated mood. Busying herself while he transported her elsewhere, she pulled a few of Seokjin’s buttons loose to expose more of his chest.
Taking it upon herself to give Seokjin a few bites of her own, she hardly noticed him kicking her bedroom door shut and sitting on the bed with her straddling his lap. Fisting the material of his button down in her hands, she found a spot tucked beneath the curve of Seokjin’s jaw that had him tensing beneath her, Y/N grinning to herself and sucking the skin into her mouth harshly enough to bruise. Seokjin made a dark noise of pleasure, palms still resting on her ass, letting her mark him up as much as she pleased.
Y/N cried out when Seokjin forcibly pulled her hips down, her core meeting the hardness under his jeans. Purring, he tugged at the loose knot of her robe, which was hardly covering her up anymore, pulling the material off of her body and tossing it aside. Y/N wondered if Seokjin had some kind of thing for her being nearly naked while he was still fully clothed, but she could not deny that something about that was driving her crazy. Rocking her hips against him, Seokjin moaned, fingernails digging into the meat of her ass.
“What do you want?” Seokjin ground out, Y/N dragging her tongue underneath his jaw. Instead of answering, Y/N straightened up, biting his lower lip, relishing in the feral hiss he offered in response. “Pretty girl.”
“Mmm… what do I want?” Y/N feigned indecisiveness, trying not to tremble when Seokjin’s hands began to roam all over her exposed skin, fiddling with the straps of her bra. Staring at her gorgeous jaguar hybrid, his cheeks flushed and lips swollen, his obvious hardness pressing against her sodden underwear, she knew. “I really wanna suck you off.”
Seokjin paused, astounded by the forward response she offered, his cock throbbing beneath the rough material of his jeans. Smirking, Y/N yanked a few more buttons free on Seokjin’s shirt while he processed that, before his large hands grasped her wrists harshly.
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm. Please? Can I?” Y/N nearly clawed his button down off of his broad shoulders, crumpling it into a ball and sending it sailing across the room. Lazily, she dragged her palms down the ripped expanse of his chest, the muscles tensing under her touch.
“You can have anything you want, kitten,” Seokjin’s chest was heaving, unbearably turned on, hooking his hands under Y/N’s arms so he could pull her backwards, the two of them now laying flat on her bed, Y/N on top of him. “Go ahead, take what you want.”
Nearly vibrating, Y/N leaned down for one last kiss, distractedly fumbling for the clasp of her bra. Once the pesky scrap of material was divested from her, she focused on trailing her lips down Seokjin’s body. She paid particular attention to the odd faint scar that was littered across his body, her kisses extra tender and sweet, Seokjin sighing gently and petting the top of her head.
“I love you,” Y/N murmured, lips skimming over the light trail of hair on his navel that led to the waistband of his jeans. Seokjin’s ears fluttered shyly, especially when she began to rid him of the denim pants, Y/N never breaking eye-contact.
Positioning herself between his legs, Y/N’s gaze dropped to the intimidating bulge beneath his briefs. Surprisingly, there was a small wet patch darkening the gray fabric, something that went straight to her ego. Seokjin was patient with her, waiting for her to make the first move, no matter how badly he needed to be in her mouth. Tentatively, she cupped what she could over the fabric of his underwear, Seokjin unable to prevent his hips from jerking up to the touch with a sharp hiss.
“Shit.”
“Feels good?” Y/N cocked her head, running her fingers over the length of him teasingly.
“Don’t tease me,” Seokjin warned, lower lip caught between his teeth. Heeding his warning, Y/N lowered her head, mouthing over him indulgently. “F-fuck–”
There were two reasons Y/N didn’t wait any longer; she was too eager, and Seokjin was pretty much bucking his hips into her face with a hard look in his eyes. Carelessly, she pulled his briefs off of his body, transfixed by the sight before her. Seokjin was achingly hard after just a bit of kissing and teasing, Y/N nearly going cross-eyed at the sheer size of him– not that she had forgotten how blessed he was in that area.
“Come on, baby,” Seokjin urged her, diving his fingertips into her tresses, one hand gripping the base of his cock. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Whimpering at the tone of dominance he was taking on, Y/N let him tap the tip of his cock against her lips, her tongue flicking out to taste the skin, making Seokjin shudder underneath her. With the size of him, her jaw would definitely be aching, but she didn’t care– only opening her mouth slowly, using a free hand to wrap around his girth, Seokjin’s touch returning to her hair.
Seokjin groaned when her lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, Y/N’s mouth already feeling stuffed full, hollowing out her cheeks experimentally and watching Seokjin’s abs clench. So far gone, wanting to reduce him to a mess, Y/N let herself drool over him for more moisture, taking him deeper into her mouth and tracing a prominent vein with her tongue.
“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around me,” Seokjin commented offhand, a handful of her hair in his fist. “Oh–”
Y/N was only egged on by his praise, twisting her wrist and jerking what she couldn’t fit in her mouth, Seokjin beginning to whimper under her ministrations, his hips occasionally bucking up to meet her movements.
“F-fuck, kitten, you’re doing so well,” he gasped, Y/N taking a moment to come up for air, still steadily stroking him and kissing along his hip bones.
Once her lungs were filled with enough oxygen, she licked a stripe along the underside of his cock, fitting him back inside her mouth, ignoring the ache in her jaw. Whining at the taste of him, the sight of him, sweaty and flushed, eyes glassy, Y/N felt her panties sticking to her soaked folds and was itching to sneak a hand between her legs. Relaxing her throat, wanting Seokjin in her guts but wanting to pleasure him even more, Seokjin swore when she swallowed around him, yanking her hair and moaning brokenly.
“O-oh, just like that,” Seokjin encouraged, shallowly bucking his hips up into her, lodging his cock further down her throat and making her gag, the wet sound having his cock twitching. The scent of her arousal was thick in the room, heightening the speed at which he was hurtling towards his release, the tears streaming down her face as she stared up at him glittering in the low lamplight. “Filthy little mouth… fuck, I’m gonna cum, kitten–”
Those words only determined Y/N further, momentarily pulling him from her mouth to speak, her throat raw and scraped up.
“Cum, wanna taste you,” was all she said, and when she resumed her actions with renewed vigor, a free hand coming up to tweak one of her nipples, Seokjin was hurtling off the edge unexpectedly.
Y/N whimpered at his taste, Seokjin making similar noises as he came down her throat. Y/N tried her best not to choke at the volume of his release filling her mouth, slowing her movements when his hips began to jerk. Releasing him when he whined with oversensitivity, she licked her lips, satisfied she had effectively reduced him into a boneless puddle, kissing below his navel tenderly.
Before she could get her bearings, or perhaps massage her sore jaw, the world was turned upside-down, and suddenly her head was resting on her soft pillows and she was flat on her back, Seokjin above her. His lips were on her straight away, tongue in her mouth like he was trying to taste himself, Y/N’s drenched panties dampening even further at that thought. His hands were all over her, heated, Y/N surprised that he was still so turned on after his release, arching into his touch with a whine.
“You’re such a good girl,” Seokjin murmured into her ear, scraping his teeth over the bite he left on her collarbone before. “Love you…”
Y/N was writhing under him, crying out when he littered kisses across her chest, his kiss-bitten lips closing around one of her erect nipples. Grappling for a hold on his biceps as he stroked patterns all over her body, Y/N pushed her chest into his face, Seokjin breathily chuckling through his nose as he laved his tongue over her sensitive nipple.
Wanting to worship her, but scenting her desperation for his touch and attention, Seokjin shushed her when she whined pathetically, rubbing her thighs together. Sponging kisses all over her torso, paying attention to every freckle, mole, and scar, Seokjin hooked a finger into the waistband of her panties, lovingly removing them from her body and kissing either of her hipbones.
“Seokjin… please, do something,” Y/N was melting into her mattress, between his hands roaming all over her skin and the hungry look in his eyes.
“So polite,” Seokjin remarked, parting her thighs, lowly growling at the wetness that was clinging to the inside of them. “This wet, just from sucking me off?”
“Hnngh,” Y/N covered her face, embarrassed, Seokjin tapping on her thigh until she looked at him again. When she did, he was settled between her legs, Y/N reaching for one of his hands, interlocking their fingers desperately. “Please!”
This time, Seokjin would let her order him around. Stamping a kiss over her pubic bone, he got comfortable, gliding his tongue through her slick folds and relishing in the strained moan she offered in return. Seokjin wasted no time, mouth watering at the taste of her pussy, collecting her essence on his tongue and holding her down by her hips when his lips brushed over her clit.
“O-oh my god,” Y/N could hardly bear it, Seokjin just as good at eating pussy as he was kissing, tears running down her face again when he used the flat of his tongue to level a harsh stripe against her clit. “Jin–”
Humming, bringing a thumb to rub figure-eights on her sweet spot, his tongue dipped down to the fluttering entrance of her cunt, and when he plunged the appendage inside of her, it had her wailing, destroyed. Continuing to work her over, her juices steadily spilling into his mouth, Seokjin peered up at his lover, and surprisingly, he felt himself grow hard again at what he saw.
Y/N, her hair plastered over the pillows, was canting her hips into his face, and with the hand that wasn’t captured by Seokjin, she was cradling one of her breasts, pulling on her sensitive bud, lips parted in bliss.
She felt herself humiliatingly close already, though it was hard not to be with the way Seokjin was fucking her with his tongue, relentlessly rubbing circles over her clit, and staring up at her with predatory eyes. Releasing her chest, she buried her hand in Seokjin’s hair, digging her fingertips into the base of one of his silky black ears, Seokjin groaning and grinding his hips against her mattress for friction. It was filthy, hedonistic, what they were caught in the middle of– neither of them could get enough.
“I-I’m, ah! Gonna–” spine contorting off of the mattress when Seokjin moaned against her cunt, she came with a wail, her legs shaking violently as stars formed in her eyes, heat reaching a boiling point in her lower abdomen.
Y/N’s release didn’t stop Seokjin, even when she was whining thinly from overstimulation. Instead, he switched things up, sliding two deft fingers into her spasming cunt, curling the digits up expertly and staring directly into Y/N’s misty eyes.
“Come on, pretty girl, again. Cum again,” Seokjin cooed, Y/N shaking her head back and forth, saying something like she couldn’t– but Seokjin knew she could. “One more for me, alright, kitten?”
Dipping his head back down, Seokjin wrapped his lips around her overstimulated clit, and with a sharp suck and a well-timed curl of his fingers pistoning inside of her drenched pussy, Y/N was coming again– this time with a silent scream. Seokjin swore, rising to his knees, gripping his cock in his fist as he continued to finger fuck Y/N through her high. Y/N’s watery eyes went wide at the sight of him pleasuring himself, even as she continued to ride her high, gushing all over his fingers, and with a deep, feral groan, Seokjin came, hot ropes of his cum painting her lower stomach.
Y/N was out of body. She had never experienced something so goddamn sexy in all of her life, Seokjin’s chest heaving as he came down from his orgasm, Y/N gasping when he pulled his fingers from her cunt, spreading his cum over her skin with deep, predatory purrs. Twitching, overstimulated and reduced to a complete pile of mush, all she could do was attempt to catch her breath, Seokjin still admiring the mess he made on her stomach.
“Pretty girl, fuck, you’re so sexy like this,” Seokjin heaved, sweat dripping down his temples, utterly spent. It was all he could do, reluctantly, to reach for a tissue on her nightstand, mopping up his cum on her abdomen. “So perfect. I love you.”
Y/N hardly had the words to express what she was thinking. All she could do was limply lift her arms, inviting him into her embrace, Seokjin taking her up on that offer by landing heavily beside her, taking the quilt from the foot of her bed with him. She bonelessly let him manipulate her into his arms and tuck the quilt over her naked body, peppering kisses all over her sweaty, tear-stained face.
“You’re gonna need another bath,” Seokjin commented, tracing her ribcage beneath the blanket, Y/N tucked under his chin.
“That’s a tomorrow problem,” Y/N mumbled, knowing she wouldn’t be able to move for at least a couple of hours. “I can’t feel my legs.”
“Neither can I,” Seokjin snorted, shivering at the feeling of Y/N’s eyelashes brushing against his sensitive, marked-up neck.
“Another perfect date,” Y/N sighed happily, palm resting over Seokjin’s heart. “Hot bath, a delicious dinner cooked by my perfect boyfriend, and two orgasms. What more can a girl ask for?”
Seokjin paused the tender tracing of her waist, registering that statement, before his chest had delirious laughter bubbling in it, shaking his head and nuzzling his nose into her hair.
“I think I’ve developed a thing for spoiling you,” Seokjin admitted, squeezing her waist.
“Don’t stop anytime soon. I’ve grown accustomed to it,” Y/N shot back playfully, her words slightly warbled as she yawned. “I love you, Seokjinnie.”
Seokjin returned the sentiment quietly, seriously, pulling her even closer into his embrace if that was even possible, his tail winding around her thigh.
“Tired? Let’s get some rest,” Seokjin’s siren-like voice always lulled her to sleep, so she was nodding sleepily against his chest like a three week old kitten.
“You’re gonna take that bath with me in the morning,” Y/N slurred, Seokjin humming contentedly in response.
“Anything you want.”
Sunday had Y/N loading half of her witchy tools into Namjoon’s van, making trips back and forth with baskets of various herbs, incense, crystals, and whatnot. Namjoon and Jeongguk had already packed up all of the tapes and photographs the three of them collected during their two investigations, so they let Y/N select her own materials she’d need to close the portal in the Sanders’ home. It was a sunny day, finally a bit warmer than it had been, spring definitely on the way. Songbirds began to make nests in the eaves of the roof of the house, and Yoongi had dragged the basketball hoop back outside for the nicer weather.
Singing a tune, Y/N organized the last bin of spell candles within Namjoon’s van, and when she was satisfied with how everything looked– she had brought in a few more pillows and blankets for their comfort– Y/N hopped out of the vehicle and locked it up. Thinking of checking on Jimin in the stable, she was rounding the van in the driveway when she heard gravel crunching, the sound of a car pulling in. Turning, she saw her Land Cruiser being parked in its usual spot, Y/N unable to see who had taken it out that afternoon. Deciding to wait and greet whoever it was, she leaned against the dusty side of the van, tapping her foot.
The first thing she saw was a curly head of black hair as the driver’s door opened, Y/N smiling as she recognized the blue plaid flannel the hybrid was wearing. Taehyung must have gone out for more film or to shoot pictures in the park, Y/N watching as he slid his phone into his back pocket, still turned away from him.
“Hey Tae! You’re home!” Y/N called, the Kodiak hybrid flinching an inch into the air, her voice surprising him. He spun around, looking alarmed and like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be.
Y/N waved him over, only able to see his head over the SUV, and Taehyung pushed a hand through his hair, squaring his shoulders. Lifting an eyebrow, about to ask what was wrong, she felt she was plunged into an icy lake when he stepped towards her.
Taehyung, his camera bag in his hand and eyes laser-sharp, had his clothes in disarray, and purple, splotchy love bites all over his neck.
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#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts ot7 x reader#hybrid au#bts ot7 x y/n#bts hybrid au#bts fic#bts au#bts hybrid x reader#bts hybrid fanfic#namjoon fanfic#seokjin fanfic#yoongi fanfic#hoseok fanfic#jimin fanfic#taehyung fanfic#jungkook fanfic#bts smut#seokjin x reader#seokjin smut#jin smut
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Artist Note:
Hey guys! It's been a minute, hasn't it? I’m so SO sorry for taking so long on this page, ALOT has happened in the last month and I’ve been very busy, but things seem to be balancing out so I’m back! As you can probably tell, the second page was VERY detailed and needed ALOT more time in the oven than the others previously, and from now on I will give a heads up when this is the case on my future pages! I loved drawing these two though and hope to do more in the future!
The next chapter of Absolutely is coming, as well as the Pilot for the YouTube show is coming along nicely! The next page of Totality should be coming next Sunday back on schedule! I’m glad to be back guys! Just be patient alittle longer! Now time to update my The Darkness You Hold comic! 🤭
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N doesn’t seem to be doing too well right now…is there anything left that can snap him out of his blinding rage and loneliness? Let’s hope so…or Copper 9 might be in a bit of trouble…
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Here’s the synopsis!:
Barely escaping the mass destruction of Copper 9, as well as losing Uzi to the Absolute Solver, N, V, J, Khan, Lizzy and Thad find their way through the galaxy to the Earth-like planet “Jericho”; where they look for refuge and plan to fight back. Their new goal, stop the solver from destroying the last remaining human colonized planet by any means necessary, find JCJENSON and report their findings. It shouldn’t be THAT hard…right?
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The idea is to have pages coming out every Sunday @ around 7 pm US EST or every 2 Sundays (if life gets busy or a page takes longer than expected, I will let you guys know!)
I hope you guys really enjoy this comic, as well as the character development I have planned for it! Enjoy! <3
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< COMIC CONTENTS >
COMIC COVER < Get Comic Synopsis HERE!
The ASTRA Family INFO
SNEAK PEAK #1
ASTRA REFERENCES #1
Visit the —> #md:totality tag for more!!!
(MORE COMING SOON!)
#murder drones#murder drones n#murder drones uzi#murder drones v#murder drones cyn#absolute solver#md cyn#md v#md uzi#md uzi doorman#md fanart#md comic#md au#murder drones au#serial designation n#md:totality#mdtotalitycomic#eyes tw
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storm and solace - chapter 1
pre-outbreak!joel miller x oc



series masterlist | chapter 2
series summary: When Elle moves into her late grandfather’s house, she doesn’t expect to develop a slow, aching crush on the quiet man living across the street. Joel Miller is older, rough around the edges, and carrying more weight than he lets on—but there's something about him that feels safe. What starts as passing glances and awkward hellos slowly becomes the one thing she didn’t realize she was searching for: a place to belong, a family.
wc: 1.2k
description: pre-outbreak!joel miller, there's a chance that i also write the outbreak in this series and it will cover some game/tv show events ... will update as needed. eventual smut. joel is 36, tommy is 32, sarah is 14, and elle is 26.
pairing: joel miller x original female character (elle)
chapter warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, age gap, references to parental issues, implied mental health struggles, and the miller bros being sexy.
a/n: i am SO excited to share this with you all!! it's been sitting in the drafts for a while ... but this story starts off in spring time so i decided that it's time. I normally write joel x reader fics, so writing about an original charater was new. Elle is a sweetheart, and i hope you love her as much as I do. Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapters! i'll also be doing a masterlist for this series soon
Texas is not usually this warm around spring time, but today, the sun felt unbearable. Elle is standing outside what used to be her grandfather's home, sweat dripping down her neck, as she takes in the little cul-de-sac neighbourhood. Everything is so still and so quiet. “can’t believe it," she muttered, smiling to herself, trying to imagine herself fitting in this place. It was a fresh start - Elle lived in the city all her life.
A few months ago, her grandfather passed away and long story short, this 1 bedroom, 1 story house was all hers. She didn’t have a great relationship with her parents, so moving away to the city for college was good for her mental wellbeing. But college is over, and she couldn’t bare staying with her parents anymore. It was funny, how this happened so fast, it was like the Universe said “i’m hearing you girl!”. As she was driving here, Elle blasted Lana Del Rey’s Honeymoon album, and she couldn’t help but feel like those main characters in movies. The truck she rented for the drive was nearly falling apart, and she struggled to lift the boxes filled with her belongings in front of her house, she wondered if she’d fit in. Elle always felt like an outsider - no matter where she went. Her melancholic thoughts came to a halt when an unfamiliar voice broke through the silence.
"Sorry, ma'am - hi. need a hand with those?" a guy in a worn-out shirt was walking towards her slowly, a smile already on his face. Elle froze for a second, contemplating if she should tell him everything was fine or accept his help. The boxes were heavy, and the heat was leaving her exhausted. She wasn’t very keen on asking for help. She’s quite the avoidant type - never had anybody to lean on, just herself. But she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to make a friend, especially when he looked as good as he did.
His hair was a little curly, and a little damp. His forehead glistened with sweat, and he wore a worn white T-shirt with a faded print she couldn’t quite make out - some old band maybe, and jeans that clung to his legs just right, tucked into scuffed-up boots that looked like they’d been through a couple lifetimes.
He had freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, sun-kissed and easy to look at. But what caught her more were the faint crow’s feet by his eyes - lines carved from years of laughing too hard or squinting into the sun. Something about them made him feel familiar, even before he opened his mouth. She was staring. ”Oh ... hi. I'm Tommy, Tommy Miller, I live-" he paused, glancing back over his shoulder to gesture towards the house across the street. His eyes caught on an older, broad-shouldered man striding toward them, his expression almost frustrated. "Ah shit, here he comes-" he clears his throat. "Well, my brother, Joel, actually lives there." he pointed to the beautiful house across the street with a sheepish grin, nodding towards the man approaching.
Elle blinked, trying to keep up with what was happening. Her gaze averted to Joel, he said?
Broad shoulders, worn flannel sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms. His hair was messy, curling just slightly at the ends, with one stray curl falling over his brow like it refused to be tamed. There was a quiet intensity to him … something in the way he stood, like he wasn’t used to relaxing, even in a neighborhood this quiet. His hands were large, rough like he’s the type of man who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it meant taking care of something.
She couldn't help but stare for a few seconds longer than she should have. Are the men in Texas this attractive? ”Sorry about him. I'm Joel. Do you need any help?" Joel's voice was low, steady and somehow polite despite the slightly cold expression on his face. Tommy turned, throwing his brother an exaggerated look. "Dude."
Elle smiled shyly. "Yeah. Hi, it's nice to meet you both. I’m Elle. Elle Barnes.” She took a deep breath. “Um… that would be great, I just need to put these inside. They're a bit heavy." Her voice came out steady, and she quickly glanced away hoping none of them noticed the slight flush on her cheeks.
Elle took a deep breath, trying to take it all in. This was new. She thought it would take her days to build up the courage to make a friend in this neighborhood. She shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling the weight of everything she left behind. She thought about home, if she could even call it that anymore. How she walked away from a life that had unraveled her completely.
"Jesus girl, what'd ya pack in here?" Tommy's voice cut through her thoughts, snapping her back to reality. Seriously, she needed to stop being in her own little bubble. Elle smiled. "My painting supplies are in that box. Be careful, please." Tommy smiled, feeling a rush creep up to his neck.
He hadn't expected to be this close to her. She was beautiful. Slim, with long legs that seemed to go on forever. Her collarbones were defined, peeking out from the red top she wore - one that just barely hinted at the curves beneath. His eyes drifted down without meaning to, catching the subtle way the top accentuated her figure.
Tommy’s gaze lingered on her worn-in cowboy boots, the scuffed dark brown leather hinting at their age, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d worn them hoping they’d make her blend in a little better here.
Tommy wiped his hands on his jeans as he set the last box down in the corner of the little kitchen, while Joel was looking around, making sure nothing was broken. “Well, that’s the last of it,” Tommy said, glancing around the space. It was ... cozy. The open layout was inviting. In the kitchen, there was a large window overlooking the back porch - her easel could fit perfectly there.
Elle stood by the doorway, feeling a little breathless. “Thank you so much, both of you.” she said sincerely, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I owe you one.”
Tommy stepped closer, a lopsided grin on his face. “It’s nothin’. Glad I was there to help. If you need anything, you know where to find us” He gestured toward the door where Joel had completely disappeared a few seconds earlier. "We should uh.... exchange numbers, maybe? You can give me a call if you need me with anything?"
Elle smiled softly. Friendship. It felt nice. "Yeah! yeah sure." She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and handed it to him, her cheeks slightly red.
“Got it. Don't hesitate to call, alright?" he said, stepping back toward the door.
With that, he gave her a quick nod and disappeared out the door, leaving Elle standing alone in the quiet, box-filled space. She let out a deep breath and looked around. For the first time in a long time, she felt a flicker of hope - like maybe, just maybe, this place could be a fresh start.
thankyou so much for reading and i hope you enjoyed the first chapter. i'll try to post chapters weekly (gonna do a masterlist now) 💋💋💋
divider from @fawnlisbon
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#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller angst#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller fanfic#dbf!joel#joel miller fluff#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x oc#joel miller x original character
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Written Between the Lines
Chapter VI - One Flesh, One Heart, One Soul
Summary: After marrying in the Faith of the Seven, you and Aemond are ready to consummate your marriage. But something has been troubling him about it and you are determined to get to the bottom of this before finally giving in to your desires.
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader
Word count: 10k (on the dot!)
Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece); smut, so minors DNI; oral sex (female receiving); p in v sex; hand job; fingering; switch!Aemond (leaning more towards sub!Aemond); jealousy; referenced past SA (Aemond talks about the time Aegon took him to the Street of Silk) and it's consequences to oneself (please please read carefully)
Notes: Hello everyone! You thought this story was over, didn’t you? Well, it is not. I just took a really long time writing this chapter. Because of this, the first thing I’d like to do is apologize. I’m sorry for taking so long, I got caught up in some college work and this huge event I help organize, and it took me quite a while to finish that (and not only that, as you can see by the word count, this chapter is one chonky boi, for the more I wrote the more I wanted to write and I just couldn’t stop.) Anyway, here it is and I’m sorry once again.
TW: Please please read the warnings, this one does talk about SA and it’s repercussions and consequences to oneself, (it doesn’t happen during the story, it’s only mentions of past events). If this is something you are uncomfortable with feel free to skip this one, put yourself and your own comfort first, only read it if it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Stay safe!
This story will have more parts to it, but like I said, I’ve been having a lot of work to do (a shame I can’t just write all day, but meh, c'est la vie) so I won’t be able to update weekly like with the previous chapters and updates will take a little while longer.
Also, I used an online translator (I don’t know if it’s grammatically correct, I’ll just roll with it, if someone spots any mistakes please let me know and I’ll correct it right away), translations are in the end notes.
I am really proud of how this one turned out, really, I’d even dare say (throwing modesty out the window entirely) it’s one of my favorite works of mine so far. So I really hope you enjoy this one as much as I did! Thank you so so much for reading!
Next chapter | Previous chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3
Your feet were killing you. There was no other way to describe it. You yearned to finally retire to your marital chambers and take off these dreaded shoes, but alas you had to entertain the guests for a little while longer at least.
“What troubles you, ābrazȳrys?” your husband asked from beside you.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, valzȳrys.” you smiled softly at him, your heart clenching at his concern.
Husband.
After four whole moons you could finally call Aemond your husband. Twice over in fact. Not only were you married in the Faith of the Seven, as per his mother’s and grandsire’s wishes, but Daemon and your mother had organized a ceremony for you to be wed in the ways of Old Valyria (after which your step-father had jested, asking if you were to consummate the marriage already or wait until after the second ceremony at the sept, earning a slap on the shoulder from Rhaenyra and a chuckle from Laenor. Aemond had in turn blushed profusely, and you thought the pink hue that dusted his cheeks suited him, wanting to see it more often).
Laenor had stayed with you in your chambers, running his fingers through your hair until you fell asleep. He had woken you by dawn, reluctantly saying he had to go, for Daemon had arranged a ship to take him back, but he needed to leave as early as possible as to not risk being seen by anyone. You said your goodbyes with tears rolling down your cheeks, for you felt this was the last time you’d ever see him again, though he did tell you to pay him a visit in Qarth should you ever find your way to Essos before disappearing through the secret tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast.
You barely managed to fall back asleep after that, too eager to start the day already. Both Rhaenyra and Alicent insisted on helping you get ready, you and your mother sharing complicit smiles every time your good mother referred to her son as your ‘soon to be’ husband. The ceremony itself went by without a hitch, with Aemond placing his cloak, in a mixture of both green and black colors, over your shoulders and kissing you tenderly afterwards.
The feast was grand, with almost every major house having been invited. You had saved your first dance for Aemond, but quickly switched partners and danced with Helaena, then with Baela, Jace, Luke and even with Aegon, though the last one was short lived for Aemond, not at all enjoying the sight of his brother’s grubby hands all over you, not so gently pushed him aside and resumed as your partner once more. You felt happy, happier than you had been in several years. Your family, or most of it, was reunited again, celebrating love and not fighting a senseless war like you feared they would.
And now, even though you were having a splendid time, you were counting the minutes until you could finally retire and spend some time alone with your husband.
“I cannot believe you are going to forego the bedding.” Aegon groaned from next to you “It is tradition.” to which you had to hold Aemond back from reaching across from you and strangling his brother as the latter cackled.
In the moons that followed your betrothal you had noticed that, whenever someone who wasn’t you made any reference to anything involving your marital bed or your marital duties, Aemond would tense up. Anyone else would think the way his shoulders straightened was a demonstration of pride, a man who couldn’t wait to bed his future wife, but you had come to know him better than that. While you had no doubt he was eager to lay with you, you knew his stiffness stemmed from somewhere else, somewhere he had yet to disclose. Where most saw him preening with pride you noticed him shrinking back in on himself.
So you requested, more, begged your mother to forbid the bedding ceremony, much to Aegon’s dismay, claiming you weren’t comfortable with the situation and you were the one who wanted privacy. It wasn’t technically a lie, for you truly wanted to share this moment with your husband only, but you wanted to get to the bottom of the issue first. She was quick to agree, and anyone who complained that it entailed breaking tradition got a scorn filled glare from her and a reminder that, as Queen, her word was final. The only condition, set by some of the men in the Small Council, was that you deliver the linens to one of the maesters in the morrow as proof of your virtue.
Aemond must have noticed you slumping in your chair, tiredness seeping into your bones from hours upon hours of celebration, for he stood from his seat and extended a hand to you.
“Shall we retire for the evening, my love?”
My love.
The moniker set your cheeks aflame as you smiled softly at him, glancing briefly at your mother, seeking her permission to be excused. She nodded softly, mentioning something about retiring as well to check on Visenya. You accepted his hand and both of you left the great hall amidst praises and cheers from the guests.
As you approached his, now yours as well, chambers you could see him getting progressively more fidgety. If it was due to nerves or anticipation you could not tell. He opened the door for you, allowing you to step inside and take in the room, the things you had requested the servants to move from your previous quarters already in place.
“I have something for you.” he spoke hurriedly, almost as soon as the door was closed “A wedding gift, if you will.”
“What is it?” you watched him cross the space towards a chest nestled against the wall, rummaging inside. When he turned back to you in his hands laid a sheathed sword, a large sapphire resting on the top of the handle, almost where it met the blade, catching your eye.
“I had a little help from my uncle to get the measurements correct for you.” he extended the sword to you which you took from him almost reverently, running your fingers delicately over the intricate golden designs of the sheath.
Your eyes were filled with wonder as you pulled the blade out of the sheath, noticing how smooth and shiny the metal was. There was something different about the steel, it was more vibrant than what you were used to seeing, softer, yet somehow almost… sharper.
Aemond must have seen your questioning gaze aimed at the sword for he smiled, an almost proud smirk adorning his features as he explained.
“Valyrian steel.” you whipped your head to stare at him, astonished “Jewelry from all over the realm made of valyrian steel was melted and added to the steel alloy.”
This was a lot. It was such a thoughtful gift, made just for you by your husband that it almost brought tears to your eyes.
“I know it is not the same as an actual valyrian steel sword, like Dark Sister, but those are even harder to come by.” he started rambling, taking your silence as a sign you didn’t enjoy the gift “And it is not made with the same technique, as it was lost after the Doom-”
“It is perfect.” you cut him off, gazing at him with eyes full of emotion “It is absolutely perfect, valzȳrys, thank you. How did you manage to find the jewelry?”
“I have my ways.” he shrugged, as if unbothered.
He hummed in contentment, his face softening as he took a step closer to you.
“I also had a belt made just for you.” he stepped even closer, his gaze turning slightly darker, as if he was a predator stalking its prey “So you can wear your sword around court. All day, every day.” his finger stroked the sapphire on the handle as his lips grazed your ear “I want all to know how fierce of a woman my lady wife is.”
He closed the gap between your mouths, claiming your lips in a soft yet passionate kiss. It was over all too soon as he pulled away from you, but thankfully he didn’t go far. He took the sword from your hands, resheathing it and placing the gift on a nearby table, before kissing you again.
His arms circled around your waist and clung to your back as he kissed you hungrily, like if he didn’t get a taste of your lips he would die of starvation. His kisses left you burning from the inside, wishing, craving more.
Yet, as you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself you noticed how tense he was. You couldn’t help but take in the way his hands trembled as he started unlacing the back of your gown.
“Aemond.” you tried pulling away, to look at him properly, but he chased after you, not wanting to be parted from your lips. He only stopped when you gently grabbed his cheeks and had to physically pry himself from you “Husband, I think we ought to talk.”
He recoiled and was out of your arms and across the room in an instant, moving so fast you barely had any time to react.
“Do you not wish to consummate our marriage?” he looked so heartbreakingly hurt for only a moment but then he steeled himself and you could sense the mask of indifference he often wore around court starting to slip back on.
“No, my love, of course not.” you rushed to his side, once again cupping his jaw urging him to look at you “I am just worried for you, is all.”
“Why should you be worried about me, ābrazȳrys?” he spoke, his tone clipped and cold, more so than it had been in a really long time. If he noticed how much his question offended you he didn’t let it show.
“Why should I not worry about you, husband?” you emphasized the last word, taking a long deep breath to steady yourself and let go of your exasperation “I just wish to know why the thought of consummating our marriage worries you so.”
It was Aemond’s turn to stare at you in confusion.
“I believe I have made it quite clear the depths of my desire for you.”
“I know, I know. And I desire you greatly as well, never doubt that even for a moment.” you sighed, worried he’d shut you out or push you away if you prodded any further, but decided to push forward regardless “It is just that, in the past few moons, whenever anyone else mentioned or even hinted at our marital duties to one another you became tense, withdrawn even.”
He looked taken aback at your words, as if he hadn’t even realized he was doing such a thing in the first place.
“I just wish to understand what ails you, my love.”
My love.
Those two words once again seemed to be what chirped at his resolve. He averted his eye, almost in shame, and turned his back to you. For a moment you feared he was going to walk out the door and leave your shared chambers altogether but he did no such thing. Instead he walked to the bed and sat down on the edge. You wondered if you should approach him or give him space, worried he’d flinch from your touch like a frightened animal, but even if he didn’t meet your gaze his body was turned towards you, open and inviting. So you took slow and deliberate steps towards him, taking your place besides him.
He stayed silent for a moment, clenching his fists as they rested on his thighs. You took one of his hands in yours, intertwining your fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze in hopes of calming his nerves. You raised your free hand towards the side of his face but stopped before you could touch him.
“May I?” you asked, and you didn’t need to say the words for him to know what you meant. Only after he nodded almost imperceptibly did you remove his eyepatch, revealing the alluring sapphire that matched the one placed on the gift he had given you.
“Aemond.” he glanced at you, something akin to guilt clear upon his features “Remember what we told each other earlier? I am yours and you are mine. Whatever it is, your burdens are now mine to carry as well.”
You placed your hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his scarred flesh.
“Let me help you relieve some of that burden, please.” you practically whispered, almost begging.
For a moment he said nothing. Then he turned his head slightly, placing a kiss upon your palm.
“I have something I need to tell you.” he spoke, fear clinging to his voice.
“What is it?”
A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, wondering what could possibly be afflicting him so badly as to react like this, but nothing came to mind. So you settled on waiting for him to speak, not wanting to rush to conclusions.
“I have laid with a woman before.”
That… is not what you were expecting.
“When?” you did not know what else to say, so you settled for asking that.
“Years ago.” he shook his head, as if trying to forget “You were in Dragonstone at the time.”
You didn’t know how to react to that. You didn’t wish to dismiss his feelings, but you couldn’t seem to understand what the big deal was.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he pulled back, almost offended
“Yeah.” you shrugged “I fail to see what the problem is.”
“How could you say that?” he stood up, pacing back and forth in front of you in frustration.
“We were not yet involved with one another, so you were not technically bound to anyone.”
“You waited around for me-”
“I did not remain a maiden specifically for you.” you reminded him “If I were a man I, too, would probably have indulged in the pleasures of the flesh.”
“Still. I should not have sullied myself like that, it was unbecoming of someone of my position and a disrespect to you, to my future wife.”
You wanted to argue further, to make him see reason, but the disproportionate reaction to something that, to you, seemed so trivial clued you in that his troubles ran deeper than you first thought. So you stopped talking, choosing to just annalyse his mannerisms. His movements were erratic, his fingers clawing at its nail beds almost to the point of breaking the skin, a habit inherited from his mother which he almost never indulged in.
He halted when he felt your hand wrapping around his arm, the leather of the doublet cold against your skin.
“You do not have to explain yourself to me. But I feel like there is something you are not telling me.” you grabbed both of his hands in your own, kissing his knuckles tenderly “I completely understand if you do not wish to share it. We can just forget this conversation ever happened and I shall not press any further, but, husband, please, I only wish to help ease your troubles.”
Aemond paused, exhaling shakily, before averting his eyes once more. Shame and guilt emanated from him in waves as he sat back down on top of the linens. You waited for his next move, smiling softly when his arms circled around your waist and brought you closer to him, standing between his parted legs.
“On my thirteenth name day,” he shuddered softly when he felt your fingers running through his scalp, his cheek resting in your stomach as he spoke “Aegon took me to the Street of Silk, as his gift to me. I did not know where we were going, ‘a surprise’ he said.”
It was your turn to shudder, your stomach churning as you felt where his tale was headed.
“He said… he said it was time for me to become a man. To become as well versed as he was, ‘a scholar in the ways of life’. I did not understand what he meant at first, but it was clear to me soon enough.”
He turned his head, hiding his face in your stomach as his hold on you tightened. The scene reminded you so much of the last time you saw him before your years-long distance, on that fateful night on Driftmark. Looking at him now you realized that, deep down, he was still that scared little boy, hiding behind the image of the fierce, impassive warrior he had created for himself over the years.
“Aemond, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whispered “I get it. You do not need to continue if you wish to stop.”
He shook his head in response, desperate to get it all out now that he had already started. You supposed this was the first time he was speaking these words out loud, never having dared to utter it to a single soul before. So you tried to soothe him as best as you could, pulling the band that held his hair up in its usual half updo and letting it down, giving you more room to run your fingers through his locks, untangling the silver strands. This seemed to give him enough strength to continue, shifting his head so only his forehead was in contact with you and his words were directed to the ground below him, as if he couldn’t dare to look up at you.
“He arranged for a… a w-whore” he spit the word out like it was poison on his tongue “to take care of me in exchange for a bag of gold, and when the woman tried to give him back the excess amount, claiming it was too much, he told her to keep it. ‘For your trouble’ he told her.”
Your heart twisted painfully in your chest at his words. You were never too fond of Aegon, especially for the way he treated both Aemond and Helaena, but this… this was vile even for him.
“He wanted to watch.” he propped his chin on your stomach, peering up at you with a round, frightened eye that was steadily brimming with tears “I did not want him to watch. The madam tried to send him away, but he insisted, saying that he was the prince and he commanded it. Thankfully he got distracted by some other woman there and left.”
“A-and how did-” you swallowed thickly, trying to stay strong for him even though your own heart shattered for the boy he once was, the boy who shaped the man he was now “how did that make you feel?”
He shook his head once more, his gaze becoming distant, as if he was now looking through you rather than at you.
“I do not remember much.” he whispered “I just remember the stench. The whole place stunk. It reeked of sweat and wine and something… something so sickeningly sweet it was foul. Once I left I could still feel the smell clinging to me.”
One lone tear rolled down his cheek, followed by another, and then another. You cupped his cheek, your thumb catching the tears that refused to stop as he hiccuped.
“I tried washing it off. Scrubbed at my skin until it was raw and tender, but it would not go away.” his voice started to get tight “After a few days and several baths later it was still there, still lingering. I tried asking mother and even Helaena if they could feel it in me but they lied. They lied and said I smelled fine but I could feel it.” he choked back on a sob “I could feel it in me still, like it had seeped into my very bones. Sometimes when I think too hard about that night I can still feel it in my skin, like it never even left.”
His arms brought you even closer to him, almost to the point of pain, as if he was trying to completely merge his very being into you.
“I know I shouldn’t have.” his gaze focused on you once more, eye pleading for you, his tone bordering on desperation “Forgive me, please, mandianna! I shouldn’t have gone there in the first place, I shouldn’t have-”
“Qȳbor, stop.” you whispered softly, not wanting to aggravate him when he was this vulnerable “You have nothing to apologize for. You were only a child.”
“Still, I should have known better than-” he started shaking his head again, the look in his eye almost crazed, like he wanted so desperately for you to see him the way he saw himself.
“Aemond.” you spoke firmly, gripping his chin to force him to look at you “You were a child.”
A moment of silence passed, only his heavy breathing to be heard. Then something dawned on him, for he pressed his face against your stomach once more and started sobbing uncontrollably. His shoulders shook with the intensity of his wails, your arms coming around his frame to hold him against you, one hand gripping the back of his head and the other stroking his back. He cried and cried and cried. It seemed like he finally understood, after all these years, what truly happened that night. He realized his own brother sold his innocence, something that was his to freely give to whomever he chose, for some coin. His brother and, by extension, the madam forcefully took from him something that was inherently his, that should have remained his, something he would never get back and would never not miss. It was his, it should have been him to choose what to do with it, and they took it from him.
His loathing shifted then. What was once aimed at himself, the hatred he felt for the stench that never truly went away, shifted in turn to Aegon. He slowly, very slowly, started to forgive that thirteen year old boy, the one that never left either, for the things that happened to him that night. He now realized you could not forgive him for what he had done, for the one whose forgiveness he really needed was himself. It would take him a long time, he knew, to accept his own absolution, and perhaps he never would, not fully anyway, but he could certainly try.
Once he calmed down enough, his sobs turning to mere sniffles, he raised his head to glance at you once more. You were smiling softly at him, eyes so filled with love and compassion he felt almost undeserving of it. Your fingers in his hair helped to ground him, to bring him back to this moment in your arms. Realizing what had just transpired he tried to turn his head away in embarrassment but you wouldn’t let him.
“I am glad I have earned your trust enough for you to share this with me.” you spoke with reverence, earning a shy smile in return.
He then dried the remaining tears from his face and tried to stand up, but you were quicker, pressing onto his shoulders so he would remain seated.
“We do not have to do anything tonight.” you brushed a strand of hair away from his face and tucked it behind his ear “I can just prick a finger and smear some blood on the linens.”
“But I want to.” he almost whined, not wishing for you to part from him “I want to do this with you. With you I do not feel that stench, I-” he took a steadying breath before whispering “I just feel you.”
In that very moment you felt like your heart would burst from how much love you held for this man.
“Okay.”
He smiled brightly then, nuzzling his nose against you.
“But…” you pulled back from him, commanding his full attention “we will do only what you wish, nothing more. Whatever you want, tell me and it is yours. And if you wish to stop, at any moment, you tell me, alright?”
“Alright.” he nodded, quite enthusiastic.
“You have to promise me you will tell me if you want to stop.” you reiterated “Promise me.”
He stared up at you with so much adoration you felt like the Mother brought to land.
“I promise.”
You smiled, satisfied that he would follow through should he need to.
“Well, how do you want to start then?”
His gaze turned to one of confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we cannot just jump right into it.” you jested.
“We can’t?” he looked so preoccupied at that, and your heart broke all over again. By the Gods, what had they done to this boy in that brothel?
You crouched down so your face was level with his, your noses almost touching as you whispered into his lips.
“Tell me what you want, valzȳrys.”
Aemond was at a loss for words, a world of endless possibilities presented itself to him and he didn’t know where to begin. But he supposed there was one thing he knew could be a good place to start.
“Can you kiss me?” he pleaded.
You sat down next to him on the bed, your body turned towards him, your knees bumping against his.
“You want me to kiss you?” you spoke softly, deciding to tease him for a bit by pulling one of his hands to your lips and kissing his knuckles “Is this where you want me to kiss you?”
“No,” he shook his head “not there.”
You hummed as if confused and let your lips graze his cheek.
“What about here?”
“No.”
Your lips traveled lower, placing a gentle kiss against his jaw.
“Here?” to which he shook his head.
Going lower, your lips traced the column of his throat, earning a soft gasp from him.
“N-not there either.” he whimpered as your teeth nipped against his skin gently.
“Then where do you want me to kiss you?” you pulled back, staring at his eye “I need you to tell me.”
His cheeks lit up bright pink, embarrassment coursing through him at the thought of speaking his thoughts out loud. But he had come to learn that if there was one person in his life that he could trust, that person was you.
“On the lips.”
You relented then, chasing his lips with your own. They were soft, only a trace of salt left behind by his tears previously shed. You kissed him gently, hands cupping his jaw as his own settled on your waist. It was tender, almost chaste, and you tried pouring all the love you felt for him into the kiss.
“I like it when you kiss me.” he whispered when you pulled back “No one else has ever done that for me.”
It was your turn to look confused, staring at him wide eyed.
“You have never been kissed before?” you questioned “By anyone other than me?”
He shook his head. That explained why he seemed so inexperienced the first few times around, because he truly was inexperienced.
“Not even…?” you didn’t want to say it, but he understood what you meant.
“No.” he denied again “It felt too intimate.”
More intimate than sex? you thought.
“After that night in the tub, before Driftmark,” you recalled that night, the night you shared your very first kiss. It was a peck more than anything, a childish attempt mostly, but it had meant the world to you “whenever I thought about doing it with someone else it did not feel right. Yours were the only lips I ever wanted to taste.”
You couldn’t help yourself, surging forward to capture his lips with your own in a heated kiss. The quiet whimper that escaped his mouth only spurred you on, seeking his touch. Your tongue eagerly tangled with his, tasting the sweet Dornish Red he had been sipping on before and something that was so inherently him.
He pulled back then, breathing heavily against your lips, a sheen line of saliva connecting both your mouths before dissipating.
“What about you?” he questioned, still trying to regain his breath.
“What about me?”
“Have you ever done this before?” he asked, averting his gaze shyly “Before me, I mean? You are quite good at it, I believe.”
“Well, I have had some practice.” it was your turn to feel embarrassed, quickly glancing away from him “For a while Jace and I believed mother would eventually marry us to one another after we left for Dragonstone. We decided to get used to each other before the inevitable happened.”
Something twisted painfully in Aemond’s chest at the thought of you, a younger you, locking lips with his damned nephew. It was almost primal, this rage he felt. You were his and his alone. You have always been his from the very moment you had come into this world, and you’d continue to be his until the Stranger came to collect your soul.
“It was gross, really. Happened only a handful of times before we gave up trying to pretend we were not disgusted by the idea.”
Your words did little to quell his unsettling feelings. Was this what jealousy felt like? Not envy, actual jealousy? Envy was something he was familiar with, for he had felt it pretty much all his life. He envied Aegon the most, but he also envied Rhaenyra a lot as well, your brothers and hells, even Helaena sometimes even though he loathed it. This was different.
“And I may or may not have gotten a bit too tipsy while staying on Winterfell during my travels and shared a kiss or two with the Warden of the North.”
“Cregan Stark?” he scoffed. While the thought of you swapping spit with a boresome and self-righteous northerner was a little less rage inducing in comparison to Jacaerys, that simmering jealousy was still present.
That all dissipated though at the feeling of your fingers gently brushing his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.
“But none of them hold a candle to you.” his heart skipped a beat at your words, your hand reaching to do the same to the other side of his hair “Especially when you blush so prettily.”
Heat spread all over his face, as he stammered.
“I-I do no such thing!” he tried sounding offended, but all he did was make you giggle, as he proved your words right.
“Yes, you do.” you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing him to keep his gaze on you “You turn all red at a mere brush of my fingers, at the slightest of compliments. Like a maiden.”
He felt the warmth spreading to the tip of his ears, the back of his neck and even down his chest.
“How red do you think you would blush if I touched you some more, hm?”
Your fingers gently traced down his throat, feeling when he gulped harshly.
“Would you like that, husband?” you trailed down his soft skin, reaching the spot where his collarbone met the leather coat he still wore “For me to touch you?”
He nodded, somewhat shyly, but very much eager for you to make due on your word.
“Can I take this off?” you tugged at his doublet, almost startling at the speed at which he stood up and took it off for you. The linen chemise he wore underneath it quickly followed and he was left shirtless in front of you. You’d never get tired of looking at him, bare or otherwise. He was beautiful, all valyrian and almost none of the Hightower blood from his mother. You believed if the god Balerion ever had a physical body it would definitely look like Aemond.
You stood up as well, facing him as your fingers traced his features. You started by tracing his nose, following the curve of it down to his mouth, his lips twitching upon your touch as he puckered them, placing a soft kiss on the pads of your fingers. You traced along the column of his throat, your fingers tangling softly on the strands at the nape of his neck and tugging gently, earning a whimper from him. Then you kept going, fingers sliding against the planes of his chest and tracing the taunt lines of muscle in his abdomen. As you reached the hem of his breeches you snaked your arm around his slim waist, sprawling your hand against the slope of his lower back and pushing him towards you. The little ‘hmph’ sound that escaped him at the impact of your bodies was quickly drowned by your lips as they claimed his own in another fierce kiss.
Your fingers started their exploration all over again, starting once more at the back of his neck and slowly following down the length of his spine, feeling each and every ridge and bump under his skin, as he shuddered with every brush of your digits.
“P-Please,” Aemond mumbled as you nipped at his bottom lip “ābrazȳrys, please.”
“Please what?” you kissed his jaw, then down his neck, then at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder.
“Please, touch me.”
“I am touching you, valzȳrys.” you smirked against him, your teeth nibbling gently on his skin.
“J-just please…” he moaned softly as your tongue soothed the spot you had bitten “touch me, please.”
You decided to have mercy on him, moving your hand to the front of his trousers, stopping short at the laces.
“May I?” he nodded his head desperately.
Untying his breeches you let them slide down his body, pooling at his feet, as he finally revealed himself to you. He was already hard, almost painfully so, weeping at the tip and awaiting your touch.
And then… you hesitated, unsure how to proceed. While you felt satisfaction at teasing him, you were the maiden in this situation. No amount of hushed, almost shameful lessons from your septa, no amount of embarrassing tips and advice from your mother could prepare you for the actual thing. You may have practiced your kissing skills with Jace and, briefly, with Cregan, but you had never gone any further, knowing what the realm regretfully thought of women of your station indulging before being wed and refusing to let your virtue be made a spectacle of. So while you may have talked a big game before, as if you held all the knowledge, it was all purely theoretical.
Aemond, sensing your apprehension, searched your gaze with his.
“What is it?” he asked, voice laced with quiet concern.
“Nothing much.” you chuckled, although it sounded mirthless to your ears, conveying your embarrassment “I am merely assessing the best way to approach the situation at hand.”
While you had chosen not to be direct about your troubles, opting instead to jest about it, he had understood you clearly, for you had become so intune with one another the past few moons. With deliberate movements he delicately held your wrist, never breaking eye contact, as he brought your hand over to him slowly, very slowly, giving you ample opportunity to stop him if you wished. But you didn’t want to. You let him guide you, his large hand settling over yours as you gathered some of the pearlescent wetness dripping from his tip in your palm before guiding you to encircle his cock, his fingers around yours as he shuddered at the first contact of your skin against his.
He was hot and heavy in your hand as he directed your movements with precision, stroking his cock up and down, pumping him, slowing or speeding up your motions to his liking. Slowly but surely you started to take control, following his lead and mimicking his actions. He groaned encouragingly, letting go of your fingers, his hands settling on your waist as you continued to stroke him up and down and up and down, speeding up or slowing down, gathering some more wetness under your thumb and stroking his cock with it. His groans and grunts emboldened you, trying to gauge his reactions.
And then you tightened your hold on him, squeezing his cock just a bit tighter under your grip, and he almost tumbled to the ground, his knees nearly buckling in reaction. His own grip on you grew tighter, as if supporting his weight on you, head tilted forward and face hiding in the crook of your neck as he moaned.
He was loud.
Even muffled against your skin, his moans and whines resonated throughout the bedchambers as you continued your ministrations, increasing in pitch with each tilt or flick of your wrist, with each squeeze and stroke of your hand. You were tugging him faster now, your grip firm and deliberate as his cock twitched in your hold and his whole body trembled against you.
“Wait.” he mumbled, his voice strained “P-please, just wait.”
You ripped yourself away from him then, a sudden surge of guilt blooming in your chest.
“Forgive me.” you glanced at him, averting your gaze in shame as you wondered if you had made him too uncomfortable “I got carried away. I apologize.”
“You misunderstand me, wife.” he tried to slow his erratic breathing “I do not wish for you to stop. But if you continued as you were I would surely spill my seed against your hand. We should not let any of my spend go to waste on a night as important as this one.”
What?
Your confusion must have been reflected on your features for he continued his explanation, his voice carrying a teasing tone to it.
“It is expected of us to produce an heir tonight. We wouldn’t want to fail our duties now, would we?” he gripped your chin, placing a chaste kiss against your lips “The first time I spill my seed I want it to be inside your cunt.”
Had it been anyone else, had you been married to anyone else, you would have assumed they meant it as a command, solely means to an end, as producing heirs was indeed part of your duty. But this, you noticed in his eye, was his way of showcasing his true intentions without actually saying it, hiding behind some mere jesting: he wanted this. He wanted to give you an heir, for his seed to take root in your womb and for you to carry his child. The thought elicited warmth in your chest, feeling giddy at the idea.
“Can I touch you now?” he asked, his plea bordering on desperation as he gave a quick peck to your lips.
You pulled back then, staring deeply at him.
“Do you believe you deserve to touch me?” you whispered against his lips.
He faltered then, unsure what you wanted from him. A shake of his head had you scoffing softly.
“Try again.” you nuzzled your nose against his, trying to coax him out of his self made shell “Do you deserve this?”
The glint he noticed in your eyes gave away what you wanted from him, so he nodded, his movement curt and shaky.
“I want to hear you say it.” your voice made it sound like a request, but he knew it was anything but.
“Yes.” he whispered back, his breath fanning your lips.
“Yes what?”
“I deserve it.” as the words left his lips, for the first time in a long time, he started to actually believe them.
You nodded, satisfied with him.
“Yes, you do.” you cooed, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging “You do deserve this.”
As your lips settled on his jaw, he caught onto every hidden meaning of your words, affection swarming in his chest.
You deserve to be loved.
He claimed your lips in a soft kiss once more, his fingers resuming their task of untying the laces in your beautiful wedding gown, letting it slip down your arms and pool in a heap on the floor. He made quick work of your smallclothes as well, leaving you bare before him. He hurriedly stepped out of his discarded breeches, carefully helping out of your dress and closer towards the bed.
Aemond’s fingers danced across your skin, caressing you with such reverence it almost brought tears to your eyes again. His fingers crawled down your spine, sliding between your shoulder blades, like you had done for him, his lips trailing down your neck with soft kisses. Goosebumps formed on your skin as his fingers traced your ribcage, his touch so close yet not close enough to your breasts. He nipped at your collarbone, his hand finally closing around one of your breasts, gentle, like he was weighing it in his hand, his lips following down and nibbling at the skin of the other breast. A loud, strangled whine left escaped you as he pinched your nipple, rolling the bud between two fingers, growing louder as his lips closed around the other nipple.
You could feel the walls of your cunt pulsing as his tongue worked your breasts, your heartbeat increasing as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. The noise that left your lips seemed to spur him on even further, as he sucked with more intensity and he groped your other breast more firmly, his entire hand surrounding the skin.
His fingers trailed even further down, passing your navel and slipping between your folds. His touch was featherlight against your dripping cunt, gathering some wetness and circling your entrance, without ever dipping inside
“P-please, husband.” you whined, your back arching in pleasure at his teasing, pushing your breast even more into his face.
He relented then, pushing his finger inside your cunt, slipping in easily with how soaked you already were. His moan echoed your own as your walls fluttered around his digit. He let you get used to the intrusion for a moment before starting to move his finger inside you, his movements tentative as he explored your walls, almost like he was searching for something, for what you didn’t know.
Though you’d never admit this to anyone, you were acutely aware of his fingers, having paid close attention to them when you watched him train. They were long and slender as they gripped the handle of his sword, but at the same time they were strong and thick and, as he added a second one, you could feel how perfectly well he filled you. As he explored your cunt, you could feel every movement of his fingers brushing against your walls, that familiar coil of pleasure slowly but steadily building in your core. It only intensified as the heel of his hand pressed against your clit as he tried to reach even further inside you, the molten heat pooling in your core and starting to spread through your whole body, so much so you barely noticed when his mouth had moved to your other breast.
Then his fingertips brushed against one spot inside your cunt that almost made you see stars, your legs wobbling as pleasure shot up your spine and assaulted all your senses. You could feel him smirk against your skin as you moaned loudly, brushing against the same spot again as you mewled and whined, trying to move away from him but the arm snaked around your back prevented you from doing so. His fingers seemed to reach places inside you didn’t know existed as he clawed and scissored inside your cunt, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It was almost too much and barely enough at the same time; you wanted him like you had never wanted anything else in your entire life.
He let go of your nipple with a wet smack of his lips, his mouth settling on that spot behind your ear and pressing soft kisses against your skin. It was such a contrast from the way his fingers were working inside your cunt, his words gentle and sweet, mumbling caring words in high valyrian as he mouthed and nibbled on your skin, but the pleasure was clouding your thoughts, the words getting fogged up in your mind. But something caught your attention, and as you tuned into the words, they were your undoing.
“Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos.” he whispered against the shell of your ear, laying a soft kiss on the skin “Va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa.”
With a stutter of your heart the coil in your core snapped, hot, molten pleasure washing over you and spreading throughout your whole body, tingling with dozens of goosebumps that formed on your skin. It left you breathless, sluggish and warm as you tried to regain your bearings.
“Aem…-” you tried calling out to him, voice hoarse from the intensity of your moans, but you couldn’t seem to find your voice just yet.
But he heard you. And something in him snapped.
In an instant you were lying on your back against the soft linens, barely having time to react as he pushed you down on the bed and crawled on top of you. His lips claimed yours in a hungry, almost desperate kiss, you were sure your mouth would be sporting bruises on the morrow such was its intensity. He settled in between your spread thighs, his hard length nestling between your folds as he nipped on your jaw, kissing a line down your neck.
“Say it again, please.” he begged “Say my name again.”
“A-Aemond?”
“No, no, not that.” he admonished softly, kissing your mouth once again.
You searched your mind for what he could possibly be referring to. That was his name, was it not? What you’d always referred to him as, if you weren’t calling him by his familial ties to you, in common tongue or high valyrian alike?
Except it wasn’t.
It had been years, well over a decade even since you referred to him as something else entirely. Barely a toddler, Jace only a babe and Luke still in your mother’s womb, you followed Aemond around the Keep like a lost puppy all day, for he seemed to be the only one willing to entertain you. It was only natural then for you to worship the ground he walked on, basking in his attention for as long as he was willing to give it to you. But as such a young child you couldn’t properly speak such a complicated name in conversation, settling on calling him for a shortened sobriquet. You didn’t think much of it, and he never opposed such a nickname, until Aegon caught you calling him by the moniker and instantly started teasing the both of you relentlessly because of it. It earned him a swift kick to the shin and three days without speaking to either of them, but as it often is with small children, your grudge was quickly forgotten, going back to trailing after Aemond. However, to save both him and yourself from further humiliation, you settled for referring to him only as ‘uncle’ until you could utter his full name, never again daring to use the nickname.
It was so meaningless to you, back then. And you were both so young, he couldn’t possibly remember that, could he?
“Aem?” you spoke tentatively, not sure if this is what he wished for.
The loud whine that escaped his lips, breathed against your cheek, and the way his cock twitched were all the answer you needed.
“Please, little niece, byka mandianna,” he rasped, desperation dripping from his tone as he started gently rocking his hips against yours “Please say that again.”
“Aem…” you said with more confidence, breaking off into a moan at the end as the head of his cock brushed against your clit.
He shifted his body on top of you, lining his cock up with your entrance.
“Again, please.”
“A-Aem?” even though you wanted this, truly and wholeheartedly, now that you were about to consummate your marriage for real you were suddenly filled with a twinge of apprehension. While you were certain Aemond wasn’t like most men, you had heard stories from women at court about how their husbands treated them in the throes of passion.
Sensing your quiet distress, Aemond lifted his head to stare at you, sapphire eye glinting under the soft glow of the candles and silver strands cascading around you.
“We can stop if you wish.” he spoke quietly.
“No, no please, I want to. I am just…”
Even if you couldn’t quite explain it he seemed to understand, for he placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“I promise to be gentle.”
In his eye you saw nothing but truth, the sincerity of his words easing your nerves.
“I trust you.”
He nodded and started ever so slowly pushing inside you, inch by inch, pulling back and thrusting inside again, a little deeper than before. It was a lot for the both of you, your combined moans echoing through the chambers; even though he wanted to look upon your eyes as you shared this moment he couldn’t, his head falling against your shoulder as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. His cock was met with little resistance, your cunt still soaked. The pain you were previously expecting came in the form of an acute pinch as your cunt stretched to accommodate him, your breath hitching and a whimper passing through your lips. Aemond shushed and cooed against your ear, little whispers of ‘I’ve got you’ spoken against your ear as he stalled his movements, only resuming them when he felt you relax in his arms once more.
When he finally settled, his hips flush against yours and his cock inside your cunt to the hilt, you released your breath, not even realizing you had been holding it. You felt like you were burning from within where your bodies were connected, yet it was a comforting kind of heat, not at all like dragonfire. At least not yet. You could feel every ridge of his cock, every twitch that made the walls of your cunt clench in response. It was so intimate, you had never been closer to a person in your life, and you felt like the longer you stayed like this you were being perfectly molded to one another, as if you weren’t already a permanent fixture in each other’s hearts. You felt complete.
As your discomfort subsided, the pain slowly turning to a sense of fullness, you tangled your fingers in his hair, turning your head to the side to breathe upon his ear.
“I am alright now, husband. You can move.”
Regardless of your request he stood still for a moment longer, breathing heavily and erratically against your skin.
“Aem?” you spoke softly, worried it might be too much for him.
That seemed to do the trick, as Aemond slowly started to roll his hips against yours, pulling his cock almost all the way out and thrusting back in, filling you to the brim once more. Every time he would thrust back in the head of his cock would brush against that spot inside your cunt that had your eyes rolling back, shooting little bolts of pleasure up your spine and filling your core with fire once more.
His hips picked up pace, then, his thrusts far faster and more powerful than before. He let go, fully dropping his weight on top of you, pressing you against the mattress as your legs framed his hips, your hands gripping at his shoulder blades.
It was intense and blazing and comforting and overwhelming and caring and sultry and loving and oh, so good, all at the same time this push and pull and shove and tug and you couldn’t think straight yet your focus was sharp and you could feel everything and it was absolutely, downright perfect.
The stretch of your cunt wrapped tightly around his cock was no longer painful, giving away to unimaginable pleasure like you had never felt before. You were acutely aware of the way Aemond mouthed at your shoulder, mumbling barely coherent words against your skin.
“Ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria.” he grunted against your skin, groaning as the words made you clench tightly around him “Dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys.”
He was rambling, almost irrationally, too far gone in his own pleasure. That and the way his thrusts were becoming sloppy, now more of a rut of his hips against yours, indicated that he was close.
Enamored with the way he moaned your name and your title and your future title and sweet monikers, in high valyrian mostly, you couldn’t help but want to see how far he would go.
“Husband, valzȳrys,” you tangled your fingers in his hair once more, giving the locks a gentle tug, earning a whine in response “Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes. Avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar, Aem.”
It was enough to send him off the edge, his hips stuttering and cock twitching violently, painting your walls with warm ropes of his seed. He practically sobbed in your arms between clenched teeth, his arms squeezing you tightly against him as he gave a few more weak thrusts, his breath fanning the skin of your neck still. The scorching pressure that had been building in your stomach seemed to fade slightly as Aemond slowed to a stop, his softening cock still nestled inside you as he stilled completely on top of you, trembling in your arms. His hair was sticking to his head, damp with sweat, the rest of his body also drenched and clammy from the exertion, much like your own. He stood still for a moment, trying to catch his breath and recover.
“F-Forgive me, ābrazȳrys.” he raised his head and it was then you could see the remnant of tears in his eyes, from your words or the intensity of his peak, you couldn’t tell.
“What for?” you smiled brightly at him, pushing a strand of silvery hair behind his ear, making him shiver as your fingers brushed against his cheek.
“Y-you did-” he finally seemed to recollect his thoughts as he pushed himself on his forearms above you “You did not peak.”
“That is quite alright.” you shrugged, not at all bothered by that “I did so earlier, from your fingers.”
He shook his head, a determined look in his face as if to say that that wouldn’t do.
“No wife of mine will be left unsatisfied.” he was already pulling out of you with a soft hiss and maneuvering on the bed despite your protests, coming to settle on his stomach at the edge of the mattress.
“Aemond what are you-” you yelped as he grabbed both your legs and yanked you towards himself, his face level with your cunt. He placed your thighs over his shoulders and placed one arm over your stomach “Aemond, you do not have to.” you tried once more.
“I want to.” he said, his eyes never straying from where his spend started leaking from your cunt “Can a man not enjoy the taste of his wife on their wedding night?”
“Of course you can, it is just that-” he didn’t let you finish, pulling another broken, choked moan from you as he licked a broad stripe over your folds.
Aemond feasted upon your cunt like a man starved, drinking down your juices mixed with his own spend, but that didn’t seem to deter him, oh no, if anything the salty taste of himself against your own tangy one only seemed to spur him on.
It didn’t take long to get you back to where you were moments before, that burning pressure still lingering in the back of your mind. You knew Aemond was talented with his tongue, hells, he was known for his silver tongue that could cut down even the most fearless in court. Moreover, he was fluent in the language of your ancestors, his tongue rolling around the letters as he almost purred the words into the world, a language just for your own. And yet, he never ceased to surprise you with how good he could make you feel with his tongue alone.
Clenching the sheets under your palms, you almost sobbed as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He rolled it around his lips, his tongue peaking out to give your clit a few small licks as he extended one of his arms to, prying your fingers from the linens and threading them with his own, giving your hand a gentle squeeze, his other arm draped across your stomach, holding your hips down as you started canting them against his face.
You weakly raised yourself on your forearms to be able to look at him properly, peering at him through heavy lidded eyes, and were surprised to notice him already looking at you, gazing at you with so much adoration in his eye as his hips rutted against the bed. You realized, not for the first time, that bringing you pleasure brought him pleasure in return. He hummed as he noticed you staring at him, the vibrations sending jolts of unbridled pleasure up your spine and down again. His eyes twinkled and curled up, little crinkled lines adorning the corners, and you recognized that the smug bastard was smirking, self-satisfied at having you reduced to such a moaning mess before him.
The coil of pleasure in the form of a pool of liquid heat was steadily building up again with each stroke of his tongue over your folds, each flick of his lips over your clit stoking that fire growing and expanding inside you. His grip on your hips tightened as his other hand moved down to your cunt and shoved two fingers inside you, pulling back a bit to address you quietly.
“Let go, wife. I know you want to. You can let go for me.”
And then his fingers curled upwards, brushing against that spongy spot once more and you were done for. The bliss that washed over you, tangling with the burning love you held for this man, was so intense it sent waves through your whole body. Stars danced behind your eyelids, your eyes having closed on their own accord some time before, as the pleasure rolled and stretched to all of your extremities, making your fingertips tingle and your toes curl, knocking the breath from your lungs. Although you knew your jaw was hanging open you couldn’t hear yourself, but you couldn’t discern if it was due to the ringing in your ears or if you had already screamed yourself hoarse.
As your perception of the world around you slowly returned once you came down from your high, the pleasure subsiding and leaving a warm, fuzzy feeling in its wake, you felt Aemond’s thumb gently stroking your knuckles, having removed his hand from inside you, his other palm spread over your stomach as he helped you coax you back down and when you gazed at him you were met with his gentle smile
“T-thank you, husband.” you said a few moments later after catching your breath, exhaustion starting to settle in your bones as you relaxed over the linens, your head falling back on the bed.
“Oh, you thought I was done with you?” he asked, almost mockingly. Raising your head again you noticed his prior smile had given way to a menacing smirk as he started crawling over you slowly, looking predatory. He covered your body with his once more, and you felt his hardened cock against your thigh, having stimulated himself back to full hardness.
“I don’t intend on letting you leave this bed until I have filled you with my seed over and over and over,” he punctuated each pause with a kiss to your lips as he whispered “that I have made sure it has taken root inside you. We need to produce an heir after all, dear wife.”
High Valyrian translations: - ābrazȳrys - wife - valzȳrys - husband - mandianna - niece (older sister’s son or daughter) - qȳbor - uncle (mother’s younger brother) - ñuha jorrāelagon - my love or my dear - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrītsos - I love you, my little dragon - va moriot emagon se va moriot kessa - always have and always will - byka mandianna - little niece - ñuha ābrazȳrys, ñuha dāria - my wife, my queen - dōna zaldrītsos, jorrāelagon ābrazȳrys - sweet little dragon, dear wife - avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes - I love you, my dragon - avy jorrāelan tolī hae olvie hae konīr issi qēlossās isse se jēdar - I love you as much as there are stars in the sky
Tag List:
@callsignwidow
@sleephereicome
@bitchassgoose
@voguiing
@dibutw
@fruityvampslayer
@garden-in-the-rain
#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x f!reader#aemond targaryen x fem!reader#aemond targaryen fic#aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader#aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader#aemond targaryen x niece!reader#house of the dragon#hotd fanfic
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The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 6

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: a lot of jerking off WC: 8.4k AN: thank you all for your patience!! i started grad school so i got a bit busy, but now i will update about once a week! thank you all for the love :) also i am so sorry about all the angst
Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, [Ch. 6], Ch. 7, Ch. 8
Chapter 6: Tearing
The afternoon sun filtered through his window shade and cast his room in its warm glow, but Anakin was too busy with his notes on his desk to notice. He needed something to do with his hands, just to keep himself focused, to keep his thoughts from wandering to you. To answer a practice problem, he was trying to find a specific case of heat diffusion the class had discussed--somewhere in October, he thought, but he wasn't quite sure. His desk was already messy before he began studying, but he was making it even worse with a paper thrown here, a staple there.
His eyes scanned the paper this way and that, trying to absorb any iota of information, but the words were slippery, wily things that wriggled out of his grasp. In the end, it turned out he had flipped past the page several times without seeing what he needed, and he finally found it on his fifth pass. Subconsciously, he dug his nails into his palms in frustration. Why couldn't he work? Why were you doing this to him?
His phone chimed, a text from his mom. Hey, how are finals? Doing okay?
For a few days, he'd been ducking questions about whether he was sleeping or eating enough, because he knew she'd be disappointed with his answers. He was running out of ways to change the subject in phone calls, and he knew she was catching on. Anakin decided he should probably respond.
yeah, really stressed about one of them, rest are fine. thesis going ok.
A second later, his phone lit up again.
Good luck. I'm so proud of you, Anakin, no matter what. As soon as he read it, he dropped his head into his hands. His forehead was clammy under his fingers. Of course she was proud of him unconditionally. He knew that. But he knew that he would be even prouder if he won. If he got a 4.0 this semester. Once, after he said something like that to Ahsoka, she looked at him with that knowing expression only she could produce, and asked him if his mom had ever said anything like that. Technically, no, he conceded, but he couldn't let her down.
He just felt so stupid right now, looking at the pages blanketing his desk. He'd been sitting over them for too long, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and stretch or take a break. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, really, let alone focus. So he was trapped. All he could do was just sit there, drink his Red Bull, and kind of review until he could destroy this exam next week.
Anakin decided to try another practice problem. Maybe that would make it click.
The surface tension of liquid argon is given by--
His phone buzzed against the desk. Putting it on loud was a bad idea, and he knew it. Maybe he was just looking for an excuse. It was probably his mom, saying something else. Or, he hoped as his heart jumped, maybe you were coming from the lab early and wanted to meet and study. Or hook up. Or just talk. Whatever, as long as it didn't involve his textbook. His phone buzzed again. And again.
He gave in and opened it. It was you, he found, and he grinned like a lunatic, but caught himself. Then again, he was alone, so it didn't matter, really.
But then he read your texts.
Where are you We need to talk Now
He typed back immediately, his fingers flying faster than he thought they could.
in my room is everything ok?
He looked at the screen, saw the bubbles pop up that meant you were typing, then watched as they disappeared. Anakin was frozen, his phone in his hand. We need to talk could just have been a poor phrasing on your part, right? It didn't mean what he thought it did, right? He could deny it only for about five more seconds, when the little bubbles didn't return.
Fuck. Anakin let loose a string of curses and dropped his phone on his desk. He couldn't think of a single thing that would warrant ending… whatever the two of you had. But maybe you'd realized that he was doing a lot more than what fuckbuddies (fuckenemies?) should do, that he was an absolute wreck for you, and had been for a long time.
The caffeine was getting to him, and his leg was bouncing so quickly that he swore his downstairs neighbor would submit a noise complaint. His mind started racing with all the things he never would have told you, the things that would go unsaid if you ended what the two of you were doing. He'd never tell you that he had two dogs growing up, strays, or that his least favorite flavor of Skittles was orange. He'd never tell you that he was pretty sure that he hadn't felt this way about anyone, ever, and that he had laid awake for the past two nights thinking about how, if at all, he would tell you.
Ahsoka's voice echoed in his ears, wisps of sound urging him to just say something. His mind was racing, a million trains of thought all colliding at once. He should just tell you. He'd never learn your favorite kind of cereal. He hadn't responded to his mom, fuck. He regretted having that Red Bull. He'd never tell you that he called you baby during sex because he wanted to say it other times, too. The answer to that thermo question was probably 36 Joules. He'd never tell you that if you called him a pet name he'd melt and let you win any competition because nothing would matter anymore.
But that was precisely why he hadn't told you how he felt. Because if you felt the same way about him, that would be so much better than any amount of money or award. And that wasn't the kind of person he could be.
He'd spent so long training to control that wild hurricane of emotions that pulled him through everyday life. Anakin channeled it into perfectly neat parallelized circuits and technically exquisite poomsae, but around you it all let loose, angry and passionate and just so much.
It was terrifying. You were terrifying. And there was a selfish part of him that said that he deserved to let all those feelings loose for once. To feel as much as he wanted to feel because, goddammit, he was so tired of control.
But Anakin was a lot. A handful, his teachers always said. It was what ended his previous relationship, what drove Padme away. Would it drive you away, too?
If you walked up to him in two minutes and asked him what the two of you were, if it was just casual or something more, would he have the self-control not to blurt out exactly what he was thinking? His stomach flipped at the idea of you leaving the room, leaving his life, without knowing how he felt.
You walking away from him and disappearing into another part of the country after graduation would kill him. He was pretty sure that seeing you at a reunion in five years with someone on your arm, some beautiful person who you had never hated, would smite him on the spot.
He imagined himself six months from now, when the thesis was over. What would that Anakin want for himself? Would he let himself say something? Fuck it all, he would say. And he was right.
If you were going to end things, he was going to get this off his chest. He had to. He wasn't sure he could live with himself if he didn't.
The sound of knuckles on wood cut through the silent room like a dagger through his heart. One, two, three seconds passed as he sat in his desk chair, mind totally blank. He tried to produce a coherent feeling or, if he was lucky, an entire thought, but he came up empty.
Before, it was all something nebulous, something he could just worry about. Something he could stress about. Now, it was real. You were behind that door, and you needed to talk. And there was no escaping that. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to the door.
Anakin pretended not to notice that his hand was shaking when he wrapped it around the doorknob.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
The bus ride back to your dorm had been uneventful, other than the way you were staring daggers into the skull of some poor guy in front of you. He had the good sense to not turn around.
Anakin Skywalker is a thief. You clenched your fists, and you could barely feel the sting of your nails in your palms. Barriss wasn't one to lie, based on the past three years you'd spent with her. She told you the facts right after: she overheard one of the graduate students--probably Obi-Wan, but she didn't know who, just some vaguely hot older guy, she said--telling Anakin his idea for a thesis. And then Anakin ran with it.
If she was right, that changed everything. If Anakin really didn't come up with his own idea, that meant he had rigged the competition. He had a leg up this whole time. He really was exactly what you had thought for years. The golden boy of the department who had everything handed to him. And while you'd labored over choosing the perfect, most viable but impressive idea, he had just skipped right over that step. You'd cried over how hard it was to find a good idea, struggled for weeks on end last year, just trying to make something good, let alone great. And he was already weeks ahead of you in the competition.
All of his sweet gestures--staying with you in bed, holding hands in the library, getting you drinks--were suddenly less sweet. Last year, he was in the thesis lab with you, when he was working on his proposal, watching you go through ideas and get upset when they didn't work, and he knew that. And he never told you about where his idea came from, even when you were getting closer. He probably knew it would piss you off, and he still didn't tell you. He'd hidden it from you.
You didn't know if that hurt more or less than the unfairness of his advantage.
The bus slowed to a stop in front of your dorm, and you hopped off, then dashed to the elevator.
You just wanted him to tell you that Barriss was crazy, or misheard. Or anything. Anything to make it not true.
The elevator ride was agony as it whizzed up to his floor.
At his door, you hesitated. If you entered and fought, that made this real. So, so real. The second you walked through that door, everything between the two of you might change.
But you were too furious not to knock. Silence hung for a few seconds before you could hear the door unlock.
Anakin opened it to you, looking unfairly hot. Rage ripped through you as he looked at you with open affection, gesturing to enter his room, like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't lying to you all this time. You stormed in quickly.
"Anakin, I need you to be honest with me." Your voice came out tighter than you wanted as you searched his face for a reaction. He closed the door, then came to stand in front of you.
"I'm always honest with you," Anakin replied earnestly, keeping his gaze locked on yours as he forced a small smile.
You didn't smile back. "How did you come up with the idea for your project?"
"What?" Anakin blinked, caught off guard. He let out a breathy chuckle. "That--that's what you wanted to talk about?"
"Well?" You pressed, crossing your arms. The edge in your voice was obvious, cutting. You could see Anakin go through the stages of realizing what you might mean, and your stomach started to sink even deeper.
Anakin sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. "I--Really? Okay, fine. There aren't currently any microsurgery tools that mimic human hands. They're all pincers. So I wanted to make one." Your gaze narrowed.
"And you're saying Obi-Wan had nothing to do with it?"
"What are you talking about?" It was probably supposed to sound confused, but it came out more scared. You knew him well enough to tell. God, he was infuriating.
"Did you or did you not get your idea from Obi-Wan?" The words came out like tiny daggers, sharpened steel that you spat at him. His face fell, and you could see the moment that he knew you knew.
"Look, it's not like that," Anakin said, his arms falling to his sides. His eyes were suddenly avoiding yours, like his desk suddenly contained some information he desperately needed, or, preferably an escape hatch.
"Then what is it like?" You shot back, your heart racing. You stepped closer, trying to find an answer in his furrowed eyebrows. "Why can't you just say no?"
Anakin's jaw clenched, and he was obviously searching for the right words. Words that wouldn't piss you off, probably. "Because Obi-Wan helped, I guess."
"You guess?!" Your voice cracked, incredulous.
"I mean--look." Anakin raised his hands defensively. "Sure, Obi-Wan put me on the path to it. But every second in the lab since then has been me. My design, my coding."
"What do you mean put you on the path? You mean he gave you the idea, don't you?" Your frustration with him was boiling over. Even now, he was defending himself, trying to evade this. Justifying. It drove you crazy.
Anakin hesitated, his words faltering. "I--It's not--"
"Are you seriously about to say that it's not that simple or something?" You interrupted, your voice shaking. You threw your hands up, your fury finally reaching its peak. "Because, from here, it looks simple. Like you stole your whole fucking thesis idea!"
"That's not true!" Anakin snapped, his voice louder now. It wasn't the same kind of anger you were used to seeing from him, it was defensive, almost panicked. "Obi-Wan, he just, he suggested I look at applying an old project of mine to microsurgery. And he was right. So, I guess, technically, if you're looking at it like that--sure. He gave me the idea."
You stared at him, his words sinking in. His admission hung between you like a guillotine, its rope finally snapped. The air felt tight, like you were ten thousand miles above sea level and there wasn't enough oxygen to keep you afloat.
Anakin shifted again, his anger gone, his voice softer, pleading. "It's like… I don't know. I guess I feel guilty about it. But I really needed to submit something that day, or I couldn't enter into the competition at all. It was the rules. If I don't do a thesis… I--I don't know. I just had to. And I figured I'd just use that temporarily, and pivot as soon as it was approved, It was in the end of junior spring, and I just couldn't find a topic that worked. That idea I had about hand prosthetics didn't pan out, and I was telling Obi-Wan about it in the lab, and he told me I should look at microsurgery, 'cause they have a lot of the same issues--calibrating movement to user input, holding up to wear and tear, dealing with friction and joint movement--and that I should do my thesis on it."
His eyes finally met yours again, so deep and blue that it almost made you reconsider. Almost. He was pleading, begging you to understand. "So, yeah, I submitted an early version of the idea Obi-Wan gave me. But every second of design, build, everything was me. It's my work."
You stood frozen, silent. After a few long beats, Anakin started to fidget, his hands wringing so hard that his knuckles turned white.
"If I could go back, I'd do something else. Anything else." Anakin's voice wavered, and his shoulders slumped under the weight of his guilt. "I just--I didn't know what else to do. I needed to submit something, anything. I need to win this," he finished, his voice trailing off.
The anguish over being proven right was something you didn't expect. You should have felt vindicated, that you were actually right all along about him. You should have hated him. But instead, you could feel your heart breaking, like a marionette with its strings cut, slumped over and lifeless. If he had just admitted it to you himself, maybe you could get over this. Maybe. But the fact that he hid it from you cut like a knife. Tears welled in your eyes, and your throat was drier than you'd ever felt it. The words fell from your lips softly, like you could barely get them out.
"How could you?" You felt like you'd never known him, like the person in front of you was a stranger. How could he be both this person, and the one who would keep you warm at night?
Anakin noticed the coldness of your gaze, and it gutted him. Anakin's breath caught, and you could see him shatter in real time. His cheek twitched, right under his scar, and you could swear you saw his eyes start to fill with tears. His hands were shaking where they were clasped together, and you were sure he was leaving indents with his nails. His shoulders shook under his panicked breaths.
He didn't speak for several long seconds, his mouth tugging this way and that as he tried to think of something, anything, to say.
"Do you think I'm a bad person?" He asked as he stepped toward you, trying to seek reassurance to keep him from falling apart. But you couldn't give it. You didn't even know him anymore.
"I--" you opened your mouth, hesitating, before you restarted, "I don't know." Your voice cracked, but you hardened it. "I didn't before, but now I'm not so sure."
Anakin took another step closer, reaching out with his shaking hands as if to touch you, but you backed away. His face flushed even more, hurt and frustration jumping across his features. It made you even more angry. "This is so fucking unfair, and you just--you just let it happen."
He said your name, trying to jump in, but your anger surged, and it drowned him out.
"I spent weeks getting my idea just right." Each words was more brutal than the last. "Weeks. And you got everything spoon-fed to you. Everything I worked for--and you just took it from someone."
Anakin flinched like you had struck him, but you were far from done.
"I thought I knew you, I thought I was wrong about you this whole time," you spat, your fists clenching at your sides, "But I was right all along. You're just a fucking cheater."
A tear slipped down the side of his cheek as you continued. Your voice shook as you admitted to him, and to yourself, what the worst part really was. "And you didn't even have the decency to tell me. And that makes you a fucking asshole."
He shook his head, his eyes stinging as he started to speak. "No, please, it's not--"
"Stop it!" You shouted, your voice cracking with emotion. Anakin stood frozen, his outstretched hand falling limply to his side. Your breath rushed through your nose and your pulse beat in your ears. You couldn't even see him anymore through the tears, but you refused to let them fall. To let him see you cry.
He said your name one more time, begging, pleading. For a moment, you were tempted, but the hurt was too big to ignore.
Your voice was cold, distant. "Get away from me," you ordered. Your back was rigid with anger and hurt. "And leave me the fuck alone."
Without waiting for him to respond, you stormed out of the room and slammed the door behind you.
You stalked down the hall as quickly as you could, ignoring the buzzing in your pocket as the tears you were holding back finally poured down your cheeks. You didn't even have the energy to wipe them away, you just let them fall while you punched the button for the elevator.
Only when the door closed, and you pulled out your phone to call Ahsoka, did you see his messages.
please come back we can talk this out please give me another chance
They were all sent minutes apart. You could hear his voice reading them, desperate and thick with tears. Even though you were angry, angrier than you had ever been at him, the idea of him crying still made your chest ache. And then it made you feel vindicated. But then it made you feel horrible again.
You arrived back to the lobby, then crossed the building to the other elevator bank, trying to avoid the awkward gazes the students passing by gave you. You sniffled wetly, wiping away your tears, as you ran up the two flights of steps that brought you to your room. You unlocked the door as quickly as you could, then hid inside.
Your phone buzzed again.
i understand that you don't want to talk, but the second you're ready, i'll be here. i'll always be here.
The words made you sob loudly, and you were thankful for a moment that Ahsoka wasn't home. Until you saw the text, it hadn't hit you that this was the last time you'd talk for a while. You couldn't even remember the last kiss you two had shared. The library? Was that the kiss you wanted this to end on? You'd never see his half-lidded eyes as he worshipped you, never hear him call you baby again.
Why did he have to go and fuck it all up? You asked yourself, sobs wracking your body as you slid down the door. You couldn't tell if you were more sad or angry, but you were definitely heartbroken. Lately, his casual touches, his affection, the way you slept together every night, it was starting to feel like more. But it was all gone now.
You had been numbed with caffeine and stress, but the past week, you felt like you were soaring every time he touched you. Every time he gave you that intense look he always did.
But the two of you were just hooking up. It wasn't supposed to be anything more, and you never thought you'd feel the pull to be with him when you weren't fucking, but it was like gravity. Even now, you wanted him to comfort you. Not someone, but him.
The realization that you had feelings for him hit you like a truck. All the breath was gone from your lungs, gone to some other dimension.
You liked Anakin Skywalker. Even though he was an asshole. Even though he'd hurt you. But those feelings didn't end just because whatever you were had ended, they didn't leave you alone.
You could have been his girlfriend if he hadn't hidden this from you. And that was the last nail in the coffin that made you break down fully.
You sat there, crying, sobbing, wailing, for at least another half hour before you dragged yourself to the shower. It made you feel the tiniest bit better to have your hair clean, your tears scrubbed off your face until the skin went sensitive and ruddy. When the water turned off, it was cold, and you relished the shock to your system.
And then, you started the process of getting over him. You knew you had to do it eventually, and you only had to get through finals before you could go home and forget all about him. Come January, when you next saw him in the lab, it'd be like seeing any other classmate.
That thought was enough to make you start crying again while you stood in the towel you stole from your house. Your tears mingled with the water from the shower, and it was enough to let you pretend that you weren't crying, that becoming strangers with Anakin didn't kill you inside.
You promised yourself that this would be the last time you cried this semester. That night, if you felt the threat of tears, you just threw yourself harder into whatever you were studying. There was nothing else you could do.
At the thermo exam two days later, you walked in later than you usually would for a final that was this important. When you slipped into the class, two minutes before they started passing out test papers, you spotted Anakin in the corner. Because of course you did. Your eyes hadn't stopped finding him in every photo, in every room. He had always been magnetic, and, just because you weren't together anymore didn't mean that stopped. And he was looking right at you.
His gaze ripped through you with some mix of desperation, affection, and sorrow. Anakin looked, in one word, horrible. His eyes were sunken in, red and swollen from crying. Most people would not have noticed, but you knew him too well. His dark circles had come back with a vengeance, like fresh bruises on his otherwise smooth and clear skin. His mouth twitched when he looked at you, like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent as his eyes followed your path.
Throughout the exam, you could feel his eyes on you a couple of times, but you didn't allow yourself to turn around and look. You let the calm of equations and math wash over you, and soon there was nothing but the test. The questions and the precise way you wrote Greek letters in the blue book lulled you into a state of calm you desperately needed.
When you handed in your exam, you allowed yourself another look at Anakin, and then you left the building. You didn't see him before you went on break two days later.
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Two days before break, he saw you again. He hadn't changed his habits, still studied in the dining hall and had meals there, sometimes went to the library, and he secretly hoped, thrummed with anticipation, that maybe, just maybe, you'd be there too. That maybe you'd see him and realize you wanted to talk it out. That, obviously, did not happen. He spent an embarrassing amount of time awake, because you haunted his dreams whenever they came. The disgusted look on your face and the words I was right all along, you're a fucking asshole echoed in the back of his eyelids and his mind's eye whenever he laid down. So, he stayed up. More time to study, right?
He spent most of those 48 hours trying not to cry and failing miserably. Even when he broke up with Padme, it wasn't like this. He was angry, indignant, and, of course, sad, but it was the kind of sadness that settled deep on his shoulders and dulled the world around him. It wasn't the kind of sadness that wrenched sobs from his chest whenever he wasn't careful. It wasn't the kind of sadness that made him regret ever going to this college, ever meeting you.
Ahsoka cast him a funny look at him one night, when he fell asleep in a common room. She gently shook him awake, and noticed the redness rimming his eyes, and the way his hands shook from too much caffeine. She gave him a hug and made him promise to sleep tonight.
He did, and that was the night before the test. Every muscle and joint screamed in protest as he dragged himself from his bed. He arrived fifteen minutes early, just to make sure he got a good seat, and then his head kept swiveling like an owl. Every time the click of the doors opening echoed through the nearly empty lecture hall, he locked onto the person entering. He was pretty sure he'd accidentally given glares to at least four poor souls before you finally entered.
He resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably failed the exam right then.
You were even prettier than he remembered, and the depth of your eyes when you stared at him was enough to make him shudder. Even now, he'd give anything to be with you again. When you sat down and didn't look at him again for the next three hours, he felt bits of his heart break off and get trampled under equations about heat diffusion and air pressure. You turned in your test, and then left, and he looked after you longingly. His eyes snapped back to his paper when he got a weird look from the TA.
He turned in his exam paper, rushed home, and promptly passed out on his bed. You came to him in his dreams, of course. Naked in his arms, lips pliant and wanting under him. The way your tongue peeked out when you were too hard at work, or the shimmer of your eyes when he made you laugh. The betrayal on your face. Get away from me.
He spent the rest of finals in a fugue state, doing tasks and exams because he was supposed to. Then, finally, the last one passed, and he was finally released to go home. He hadn't seen you since the exam, and that was probably better for him, he reasoned.
On day 1 of break, Anakin drove the whole day and listened to absolutely depressing music the whole time. He pulled over once and, in a fit of rage, smacked the steering wheel a few times. How could he be so stupid? How was he this much of an idiot? He sat at the rest stop for another fifteen minutes, his sweaty forehead on the steering wheel. Five hours later, when he arrived home late in the evening, he hugged his mom. Everything felt a little bit better after that. He had dinner with Shmi and Cliegg, even though all he wanted to do was lay in bed and sulk. He fell asleep quickly--he was too exhausted to stay up torturing himself with what could have been.
On day 2 of break, he lay in bed and just generally moped around. He could never be still for long, so that meant getting up to eat snacks, flicking through TV shows listlessly, and trying not to look at the texts you two had exchanged. He only cried twice, once at the thought that you'd never meet his mom, and the other at the memory of your body in his arms as he fell asleep. Both reduced him to hot, silent tears.
On day 3 of break, he did yard work and drove by his old dojang to say hi to his high school coach. He ended up agreeing to teach some lessons over break to avoid having to sit at home alone with his thoughts for three entire weeks. Plus, the money was good. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be getting that thesis prize at all, at this rate. He only cried once, at night, when he thought about having to watch you work in the thesis lab without speaking to you. He wouldn't cross that boundary. You already knew he wanted to talk, and you hadn't texted him back.
On days 4-9, he taught three hours of lessons a day. It was calming, familiar. He only had to splash cold water in his face to avoid getting too upset two or three times per day, but the undercurrent of wondering what you were doing never stopped torturing him. He hadn't touched himself in at least two weeks, and he regularly had to stop his thoughts from drifting away to the last time he was inside you. Every time it happened at home, in bed, he got up and took a cold shower. It served him right. At the end of the week, he went to the mall and bought his mom a Christmas present with the money he earned. Just because he knew his mom wanted to blend their family better, he picked out something small he could afford for Cliegg, Owen, and Beru, too.
On day 10, it was Christmas Eve, so everything was closed. There was nothing to do, so he answered a few emails from Professor Jinn, cleaned the oven, and helped his mom prepare for Christmas dinner. There were files on his device he had prepared specifically to work on his thesis over break, but his project made him nauseous. He'd give it all back for a chance to start over. He'd get a B on his thesis if it would make this pain stop. He didn't touch the files, and, that night, when he finally gave in to the temptation to see if you'd posted anything on social media, he didn't touch his cock, either, even though just an image of you was enough to drive him wild at that point.
On day 11, it was Christmas, and he woke up at 4am in his bed, as hard as a rock. Anakin spent an hour tossing and turning and begging his body to just let him sleep, but, eventually he gave in. It was Christmas, right? He deserved a present. When he closed his eyes, he didn't even try to think of someone else. It was you. It had been for a while. Your little noises as he kissed up your neck, the scrunch of your eyebrows right as you came, and the tight grip of your pussy around him when he buried himself to the hilt inside you were enough to make him cum all over his hand within a minute. He found it embarrassing, honestly, that you had this effect on him. Anakin fell asleep quickly and tried not to feel too gross about what he'd done.
On day 11, attempt 2, he woke up around 11, right before lunch, and came down to wish his mother and Cliegg a merry Christmas. Beru and Owen were supposed to come for dinner, but, this morning, it was just the three of them. Anakin had no particular yearning for Cliegg to be a father figure, he just wanted his mom to be happy. If Cliegg did that, then he'd watch endless movies with the two of them, or get Cliegg a present. But if she didn't want to be with him anymore, Anakin wasn't sure he'd miss him. Their second anniversary was in three weeks, and it was a shock that it had been that much time already. When dinner rolled around, and he greeted Owen and Beru awkwardly, not sure what a person is supposed to say to a newly-acquired sibling. He'd seen them a sum total of maybe ten times, almost all of which had to do with the wedding, so they were in how-was-school and how's-the-new-job and gosh-the-winter-has-been-brutal territory. When Anakin gave them their presents, they seemed overjoyed. He'd gotten them matching scarves, each with their first initial embroidered onto it. It was a miracle they had them in stock at the mall, he thought, but the present seemed to hit the right spot. Cliegg got the aforementioned fishing pole, something his mom had told him he was prattling on about, and he got his mom a beautiful new winter coat. She had been mending hers for years, and water and snow would soak right through it, but when he saw the beautiful down puffer coat in the store window, he knew she'd love it. He was right.
Cliegg got him a Laser Distance Measure, which must have cost a pretty penny, and Owen and Beru got him various engineering gadgets (a nice mechanical pencil for technical drawings and a cable carrying case, respectively). His mother's gift, though, was something he'd never be able to forgive. She had bought him a beautiful, fresh Raspberry Pi set, with 8 GB of RAM. It wasn't the most expensive thing in the world, but the $150 or $200 that it did cost her was enough to make him tear up. He'd mentioned months ago that he was thinking of getting one for some personal projects, something for his portfolio, and she bought it. He had the good sense not to say anything like You aren't supposed to get me presents for Christmas and crushed her in a hug, the kind that whispered I know how much this is worth, and I'm so lucky you're my mom. For a second, he was worried he would cry when he saw the crow's feet appear by her eyes, and he felt how thin the skin on her hands had gotten. When had she gotten so much older? For a terrifying moment, he realized he'd have to live without her one day, but then Cliegg made some comment about how he'd made hot cocoa, and they all gathered around the living room to chat. As the last tendrils of sunlight fell beneath the swath of trees in their backyard, he laughed at something Owen had said, and he felt the tiniest bit less alone. Like maybe it didn't matter if he got an A in thermo or had the best thesis in his year. The notion left him quickly.
On days 12-17, the warm feeling had subsided, and all he could think about was what you were doing. Whether you were moving on, or if you still felt the same way he did. If you wanted him again. The fantasy of you seeing him again and realizing that, oh, actually, you wanted to work it out, and also kiss him, inevitably ended with his hand on his cock and cum on his stomach, then regret and shame for about an hour afterward. Once the studio had reopened, he kept teaching there, but with more hours this time. Also, Anakin could finally open the folder on his computer named Thesis without cringing at it, but barely. His heart still skipped about four beats when he thought about how he'd have to see you practically every day. He pushed thoughts like that from his mind as much as he could. No point in torturing himself more than the actual semester would.
Day 18 was New Year's Eve. He went to a party hosted by some of his high school friends, some rager at a frat house. He just wanted to get drunk, honestly, and this seemed like a great excuse. It was sticky and hot even right outside the door, but the sweaty blast of steam that hit him when someone opened it turned his stomach. But the beer was free, so he wouldn't complain too much. A couple of times, he noticed a girl checking him out over the bone-shaking bass. He might have made a move, if he were a different person. If any one of them was you, or had your smile, or your eyes. As soon as he noticed something that was too different from you, he averted his gaze. They were all cute, he supposed, but that didn't matter. They weren't you. When the countdown started, Anakin retreated, not interested in being pulled into some kiss that stunk of beer. Instead, despite knowing he'd regret it, he sent you a text. happy new year, it read. He blamed the tequila, and went back into the fray of cheering people.
From days 19-24, Anakin kept on keeping. Dishes, teaching, occasional progress on his thesis. He submitted over 20 job applications. Sometime in the week, in his daily rehashing of all your messages, he noticed the read receipt had popped up on his text from New Year's Eve, and he cursed himself. He was cursing himself a lot lately. Especially when he promised he wouldn't jerk off over you, but it always ended up happening. The subtle rock of his hips against the mattress when he thought of you, grinding the hard flesh against the soft material, then the sticky warmth of release and the rush of regret that always came with it. The heat of the shower made him hard when he thought about how he'd always wanted to try fucking in the shower, more specifically, fucking you in the shower. He really shouldn't, he reasoned while his hand pumped his dick.
Day 25 was spent driving again, after he gave his mom a big hug and threw his suitcase in the car. Despite himself, he realized that he was no more over you than he had been on his drive to his house. The fact that he would see you tomorrow still made him perk up and wilt at the same time. In a short twenty-four hours, you'd be real, three-dimensional in front of him again. He wasn't sure what would happen--would you kiss him? Slap him? Combust? He could never tell with you. He wondered if you'd cut your hair over break, or if you'd talked to Ahsoka about him. Whatever fantasies he'd been nursing, they were all going to be proven or disproven tomorrow. So he had to use the hour before he arrived on campus to imagine, as hard as he could, that you were in the passenger seat. That you were his girlfriend. That you had just come from meeting his mom, who had shown you a bunch of truly humiliating baby pictures and had whispered to him that she liked you when you had gone to the bathroom. For the rest of the night, that was the reality he lived in.
You had compared schedules last semester, before things got weird, and you shared only two classes, both of which were on Mondays and Wednesdays. At 10:30, you'd both be in Unsupervised Learning, then at 2:30, you'd both take Dynamic Systems and Controls. When he woke up at 8:30, he showered, then tried to wipe the tiredness from his eyes. He put on a shirt he knew you loved (you'd remarked on how well it fit him, and he didn't see it, but you did, and that was all that mattered) and his most comfortable jeans and hoodie. He secretly hoped you were doing the same kind of preening at home, trying to look good for him, but he didn't let the thought take up too much room in his mind.
At 10:25, when he walked into the lecture hall, he saw you instantly. Time stopped as he felt like someone had just gotten a particularly good hit to his solar plexus, and his whole body was responding, out of breath and weak and dizzy all at the same time. You were in the third row, to the left-hand side of the seats, and you looked more gorgeous than he remembered. How didn't he spend the whole break fantasizing about the way your hair shone or the curve of your neck? Seconds started ticking by again when he realized he was blocking the path to the seats, much to the anger of the group of people behind him. He walked down the steps to the second row like everything was normal, then positioned himself on the other side of the lecture hall. He kept his eyes firmly not trained on you for as long as he could, and, when the professor started droning, he turned to look at you, really look at you.
You had put on just a touch of makeup, something he'd noticed years ago that you always did on the first day of class. It suited you, and you looked well-rested and happy. Like you didn't miss him at all. It gutted him like a fish on the chopping block. What was wrong with him? How could he let you get away?
He turned back to the professor, pretending to be interested in the syllabus. When class ended, by the time he packed up his things, you had gone.
The second class was a repeat of the first, only in a smaller lecture hall. He tried to keep his cool, he really did, but he snuck glances. He was only human.
He didn't go into the lab for the week, mainly because he was almost done with build and was spending most of his time on securing materials for testing. They had their first practice that Monday, so he got dressed and headed over to the Athletic Center, where he grounded himself in the ritual, the calming power of it all. It was amazing to see Rex and Ahsoka again. They always made him smile, something he'd been missing over the break.
Later that week, Ahsoka invited him to your room to talk about that semester's competitions. He hesitated the appropriate amount of time before he accepted. The hallway to your room was achingly familiar, just like he'd seen it in his dreams. Only Ahsoka was home, so she wasted no time before interrogating him about what happened with the two of you.
When he told her the general gist, she had the good decency to be honest and tell him that he was kind of being an asshole by not mentioning it, but that it was normal to get advice from professors and other students. It wasn't ideal for it to be as explicitly grabbed, sure, but the point still stood.
By the time the door opened and you came in (his mind raced--from a date? from class? from some other part of your life that he would never come to know?), Anakin and Ahsoka were discussing taekwondo logistics. You looked gorgeous in the cozy cable-knit sweater you had on, and he hoped against all hope that he wasn't staring the way he thought he was.
You looked shocked for a good second before smiling awkwardly with a little "hey." You retreated to your room almost instantly, and Anakin felt a pit open up, wondering if he'd made you uncomfortable. It wasn't his fault, honestly, but he still felt guilty. He left an hour afterward.
Was this his fate? To watch you from a middle distance as you lived your life? He was trapped, pinned down like a bug, reading into everything he saw. If you were in a four-block radius, his eyes would find you. They always would. In class, he had to stop himself from turning toward you, from studying your features and trying to read anything from them. He never could.
Anakin was still fucking haunted by you, especially now that he was on campus. Everything reminded him of you. The boba place, every inch of your dorm, the emptiness in his mattress. He knew he was hallucinating when he thought he spied you at practice one day, just a wisp of hair in the corner of the room, but, by the time he did a double take, there was only empty floor there.
On Thursday, he got a text from Ahsoka.
Party tomorrow at Cody's. You should come, she had written. He didn't really, actually feel like partying. But he went anyway. Maybe he could spend enough time with his friends to forget about you.
He threw on a nice shirt, some kind of button-up his mom had gotten him, cuffed the sleeves, and set off.
It was a standard-issue party. He'd been to plenty of them, so he figured was ready and prepared for what he'd see and feel. Bass in his eardrums so loud it shook the blood in his veins. Having to scream basic conversation over music. Cheap beer and a sticky floor. Enough heat that his hair would start curling more.
It felt like home. He entered, found Cody and Ahsoka quickly, promising to return after he grabbed a drink. Anakin made his way to the folding table crammed full of bottles, as well as some kind of vile jungle juice, and took two shots. Just enough to stop thinking about you, he hoped.
By the time he fought his way back to Cody and Ahsoka, he was feeling it. Rex had joined them in the meantime, and Anakin joined the little huddle. They were talking (read: yelling "what did you say?" over the music) about one of Cody's dates that week, and Anakin let himself slip into the familiar rhythm of his friends. It was nice, honestly. He only thought of you five or six times, which was a record low.
Then Ahsoka suggested they go get another drink, and, as the four of them pushed back toward the drinks station, he saw you.
You were fucking radiant, and the breath stalled in his chest. You had always been the only thing he ever wanted to look at in a room, even from sophomore year, when you began to piss him off more than anything, but right now, you were a supernova. And he was a moth. He felt his wings get burned off as he traced the curve of your jaw and acknowledged to himself that, yeah, he probably wasn't going to get over you until you were across state lines.
You were wearing some sinfully short, tight dress, which crept higher and higher up your thighs. He could tell you weren't wearing a bra, and something stirred inside of him.
But then he saw the guy standing next to you, leaning in to tell something to your ear. Anakin hated himself for the thought, but he instantly started comparing himself to the guy. What was Mr. Boat Shoes saying to you that made you tip your head back and laugh like that? He remembered when he used to do that, when he would make you throw your head back to do more than just laugh.
Anakin felt his jaw clench and his body start to shake with the same energy that he always had before competitions, coiled like a snake about to strike.
He knew it was a bad idea, he really did. But he was never one to resist bad ideas. He blamed the alcohol. It wasn't that you were his, or some misguided attempt at owning you, but he just couldn't watch this. He couldn't let this feeling tear him apart anymore. When you swatted the guy's chest playfully, Anakin felt his eye twitch, right under his scar. Oh hell no. But he shouldn't. It was your business.
Fuck it.
Anakin started pushing through the crowd, and then he saw the guy lean in, and he saw red.
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#anakin skywalker#star wars anakin#anakin x reader#anakin smut#anakin x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker/you#anakin/you#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker x you#star wars prequels#hayden christensen x reader#hayden christensen imagine
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mommy’s here // ken sato x reader
Chapter Eleven
masterlist
note! hi everyone, im really sorry for the long, and i mean, LONG waiting time. motivation comes and goes for me and i'm really sorry you were all at the end of that stick. this chapters not that long but i hope you guys can forgive the wait. thank you to all the comments who waited and send me good wishes. i'll try to update soon again ♡
"come on, stand up, we have to measure you." a soft voice spoke out, their words gentle as they ushered the giant baby kaiju to stand up fully. "and analyze, your entire genetic makeup." mina added, trying to explain the situation as best as she could to the scared kaiju.
the baby kaiju whined, scared still of professor sato, seeing him as a stranger. you turned to see that ken had finally woken up, taking a small nap on the couch earlier from the emotional stress.
even though he wasn't the baby kaiju's biological father, it was clear as night and day that he had found himself growing closer to the baby, emotionally claiming it as his own. the same in fact could be said for you.
"what are you doing?" ken let out a yawn as he spoke, rubbing his eyes as he went to stand to the right of you. his dad turned around, quickly but softly responding. "we need to examine her so that we can plan a training regimen to protect emi from predators."
your eyes widened a bit hearing the name, not being able to hold back a smile at the love story professor sato had told you countless times. you heard kenji stutter, his words almost caught in the back of his throat. "emi? what? huh? you named her after mom?" he asked, his tone confused but slightly affectionate hearing his mothers name.
"i think she would approve." professor sato spoke, his voice holding a sweetness to it, almost like a smile was behind it. he looked down, reaching into his bag on the side and pulled out the same colorful bunny that helped the baby kaiju, now known as emi, stay calm when fixing her dislocated arm.
"okay emi, stand up nice and tall!" he happily spoke as he raised the toy up. you watched as kenji's face dropped, almost in a slight shock. "oh my god, my dad is a kaiju whisperer." you turned to see emi get up with ease, her red scales shining against the laugh of the underground lair as she chirped excitedly.
"yeah but you're a kaiju dad, that's even more shocking." you joke with him, instinctively moving to the sides and hitting your hips with his own, making him chuckle. "well that makes you a kaiju mother." you smiled at his response. "i know, i know." your voice holding a vulnerable emotion at the sentiments you had found yourself growing for emi.
you turned to your left, watching mr. sato's voice turning serious for a second. "mina, please prepare to insert the micro tracking device." he said as mina floated closer to emi. in an instant, his voice changed back to being soft. "emi, can you do like bunny?"
he held the bunny up again, stretching out their plush right arm to be up. emi chirped as she adorably held out her hand, her beady eyes full of curiosity. mina watched as she pulled out an injector, naturally floating to emi, who looked a little fearful.
mina injected her quickly, offering her words of reassurance. "good girl!" it was always sweet to see the twos interactions. emi looked up, enjoying the lack of pain from the tracking injection.
you and kenji watched in awe, taking in how mina listened to professor sato with ease. the urge to snap a photo gnawing at you, but you resisted. "mina, treat, please." mr. sato asked politely as mina gave him a pink donut.
emi saw it, walking closer in joy at the sweet treat. "and before we eat, we always say, 'itadakimasu!'"he says excitedly. emi walked closer, until she suddenly stopped. her cheeks puffed up, making you and kenji back away instinctively.
"professor sato, i believe that emi is experiencing a bit of nausea from the medicine." mina said, as she floated away too. the sight would have made you laugh if it wasn't for your concentration on not being barfed on.
"uh, dad, step away. seriously." kenji said as he grabbed your hand, pulling you with him. "professor, i really think you should step away." you said concerned at his stubbornness.
"oh she's fine! itadaki—" professor sato was cut off as emi's nausea finally caught up to her, she vomited, sending mr. sato flying as his back hit the wall. "—masu." he said in shock.
you watched as his glasses slid from his face, his body completely soaked. your mouth gaped open at shock at how far he flew. it was quiet for a second till you heard emi slightly giggle, he chirps ringing through the room. you couldn't help but to snort and laugh with her, trying to stop yourself from laughing at kenji's dad who laid there helpless.
▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄ (each paragraph is a compilation scene in the movie)
"get back here right now, missy!" kenji yelled out in his ultra form as you fought to pick her up with your ultra form. your hands scrambled around, making the both of you spin. emi ran away from the both of you, making you both lunge at her, only to trip in unison and give up as you both laid there.
you now suddenly sat on the couch, watching the tv. kenji hands fumbled the ball, making it slip out of his hands as he struggled to pick it up. "that's another loss for the giants, making it six in a row." the commentator said as the giants coach watched with a straight face.
kenji sat on the toilet reading the newspaper, jumping slightly at the door slamming open. emi peered inside, chirping for him but was quickly pulled away by your ultra form as kenji slammed the door shut. his one second of peace was quickly ended when mr. sato walked in without a shirt a towel around his waist, slamming the door open. he casually walked in like he owned the place as kenji yelled into the newspaper in annoyance.
you stood in your ultra form as you grabbed emi, helping her put on her arm floaties. professor sato stood pointing at a chalkboard, showing three steps. "1) swim. 2) catch. 3) eat." each one with an adorable drawing of emi doing those steps.
you watched in fear as you watched emi sink down in the water from the lair. your hands pulling at your hair as you moved to go into the ocean. only stopping when you saw kenji in his ultra form diving down and quickly swimming to get her.
you ran on a giant treadmill of sorts, with emi behind you. a blue holographic image in front of you of three cute fishies to entice emi's motivation to catch the fishes.
kenji sat hunched over on the table, his head on the palm of his hands. he looked up to see his dad come to him, holding a cooked container of noodles. he set it down gently, making sure he ate. he left as you came in holding a blanket. you gently placed it over his body, making sure he was warm. you smiled, placing a kiss on his lips before walking away with kenji smiling.
emi held the familiar giant blue baseball bat as she copied kenji's swings. she swung, practicing her form to hit baseballs much better than the last. now kenji stood, helping one of his teams members. he fixed their hand placement on the ball and then did a swinging motion once again. the member copied him, smiling at his hit.
professor happily read an book to emi, kenji, and you and he copied the ultraman poses. he made laser sounds, jumping up in joy. it now showed ami reading a cartoon ultraman picture book as her daughter peered over, excitedly beaming at the photos.
kenji stood focused as he hit the baseball with a loud slam. the crowed cheered for him, jumping with excitement as the roared in excitement. emi cutely posed as she put on her water floaties, quickly cutting to her being held in ultramans arms as he guided her swimming, while chasing fishes. he pushed her forward, emi swimming in small pushes as she caught a fish in her mouth.
a holographic city showed as KDF jets chased after the four of you. emi ran following you as you ran by her side. kenji ran with professor sato on his back, making you laugh at the strained emotion kenji had.
the games commentator spoke up. "climbing back into contention, the giants are just one game out of first place!" kenji bat swung forward hitting the ball that came flying at him. his teammates cheered out as they jumped from the benches.
ami's voice spoke. "the giants are really coming together, thanks to a more mature ken sato." she said as they showed ken talking with his teammates, everyone focusing on him, showing respect to one another.
emi jumped up from the holographic training, a laser beam shooting out of her mouth, hitting the fake jets and making them explode. you jumped up in your ultra form, picking her up and hugging her for the progress she's made.
"we're going to the playoffs! sato's home run clinches a playoff spot for the giants!" the commentator yelled as ken gave his teammates high fives and smiles, making his way down to the locker rooms.
"i don't know what's happening with sato, but something has changed for the better. not only is he shining on the field, but he had brought this team together." ami spoke as it showed sato laying down hugging you in his ultra form. you held emi in your arms, as professor sato laid on emi's head, the four of you lulling to sleep.
TAGLIST - CLOSED
@ilovemyhusbandaaravos @miffysoo @ldykir4 @chaoticotaku @channit @shingsoluvely @m00nd0v3 @mixvchelle @ifharbingerbad--whyhot @dreamayy @justanotherkpopstanlol @bat1212 @angelitadiaz @snowbusiness @witcwitchy @mizzowizzo @buggs-1 @mmeerraa @everywonuu @nevermorekisses @f1uveryysblog @t4naiis @stxrrielle @ixqiix @arrozyfrijoles23 @sincerest-one @imsimping4life @sassy-cat-in-town @jack-of-all-trades-696 @flutterfly365 @eternalgoddessofart @hulyenl @leabrainrot @sunmigs @m3q3kic @lynbubble @leviannx @call-me-nyxx @gurofushi @ya-boi-v @im-sidney @haitani-zoe @mtheooo @chreiiii @secretlyapartofthisfandom @greenmanshoe @badbishsblog @reallysparklychaos @deimmortales99 @ashsallyblue2 @matchalatte06 @random-3455 @reivelmin @jennyfernan @solatiiium @liliabrary @maxi-ride @22carolina08 @coffetears @vyxnn-xage
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Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 52
LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter
Word Count: 2,160ish
Summary: Logan and Wade save your timeline. But where does that leave you and Laura?
Notes: Second update today! Please share reactions! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.
Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!
As soon as the portal closed and Alioth disappeared, you spun around to face Cassandra.
“What did you mean when you said you could fix my fire problem?” You asked.
Cassandra smirked. “Yes, your phoenix abilities are supposed to kill your powers off over time, but it’s too soon,” she explained. “Something—or someone, played with your mind and is blocking your full ability.”
Your mind searched for what could have possibly happened that messed with your brain. You gasped as you came to the only possible solution. “Charles. His seizures.”
“Bingo.”
“Help me. Reverse it.”
Cassandra laughed. “Now, why would I do that? I don’t owe you anything.”
“How about just being a nice person?”
“Ah! Not a chance. Sorry, Ember, hate to see you go like this. Ember’s are rare to begin with but you are one of the more unique ones. Not all of them have your phoenix ability. Too bad it’s been wasted.”
You shouted, your fists forming into flames. You went to punch Cassandra when a wave of pain suddenly hit you. Collapsing to the ground, you were gasping for air as the pain took over your whole being.
“Poor, poor, Ember…” Cassandra tsked. She waltzed over and crouched down next to you. “I’ve been masking a majority of your pain since you arrived today. I’ve just let it all free.”
“Mom!” Laura exclaimed, rushing towards you as she finally was able to get to you. She knelt beside you and pulled you into her. “I’m here. I’m here.”
“May want to get her out of here, X-23. She’s going to be feeling that pain for a long time. She’s going to need her rest.”
~~~
Logan and Wade arrived in Wade’s world, only to quickly having to deal with Paradox and, once again, Cassandra. Plus Cassandra’s army of Deadpools from The Void. After Wade’s Peter showed up and distracted the army of Deadpools, Wade and Logan found themselves threatening Paradox and then down below the substation to the chamber that the Time Ripper’s energy was coming from. Wade and Logan worked together to destroy the Time Ripper, surprising Paradox when they survived. One of the heads of the TVA, B-15, was there, confronting Paradox.
“He has risen, baby girl!” Wade announced as he and Logan, who had lost the upper part of his suit, maybe their reappearance. “Found your new anchor being.”
Logan pulled his mask off. “And we’re doing just fine, you piece of shit,” he stated.
“Fine indeed,” a woman TVA agent commented.
“Alright,” Wade sighed. “Put your greasy tits away, you preening slut.” He grabbed a nearby jacket and handed it to Logan. “Y/N’s not even here.”
“I don’t understand,” Paradox shook his head. “How are you two still alive?”
“You were right. One of us would have been killed.” Logan handed off his mask to a nearby agent as he slipped the jacket on and Wade spoke. “But you put a Deadpool and a Wolverine together, make ‘em hold hands while listening to Madonna… indestructible, motherfucker.”
“Let’s get this Deadpool Variant back to The Void,” B-15 directed.
“Wait, hold on. What?”
“Nope!” Peter yelled, hurrying inside the sub station. “Actually, this one’s homegrown, like me. He belongs here.”
“And you are?” B-15 questioned.
“Peterpool. But you can call me Peter… And I hope that you do.” The tension grew in the air as the two stared at each other, clearly making a connection.
“What the fuck is happening here?!” Paradox exclaimed.
“You are under judgment,” B-15 said, turning to face Paradox, “for operating an unsanctioned Time Ripper. Time him.”
“I was just doing what you don’t have the guts to do!” Agents grabbed Paradox and dragged him to the open Time Door. “Get your insolent hands off me!” Wade blew him a kiss. “Get off!” Then he went through the door.
“I’m grateful, gentlemen,” B-15 told Wade and Logan. Wade bowed. “Let’s hold the bows. You led an Omega-level mutant to this timeline.”
“You’re welcome,” Wade said.
“And you,” B-15 focused on Logan, “shouldn’t even be near this timeline.”
“He’s welcome.”
B-15 turned back to Peterpool. “And you look damn good in that suit.”
“I’m so sorry,” Peter responded.
The device B-15 was holding began beeping. She brought it up and looked at it in surprise. “I wanna show you something. Something huge.”
“That’s what scoutmaster Kevin used to say,” Wade whispered.
“Do you see that?” B-15 lifted the device, showing a moving line. “Your universe is regenerating. Whatever you did here, you not only saved your world. You spared your timeline from extinction. I’d rest up. I have a feeling your work is only just getting started.”
“Til you’re 90,” Wade whispered close to Logan’s face. “Wait! Um… We couldn’t have made it out of The Void without some help from some people that the world kind of… kind of forgot. Is there any way that you could maybe find a way to bring them home?”
“Two of them belong in this timeline,” Logan added. “Y/N and Laura. They should be allowed to go home.”
B-15 nodded. “I’ll see what I can do,” she said.
“And, um,” Wade continued, “I promised my friend here that the TVA could undo some pretty awful shit in his timeline. What would you say to that?”
“Change the past?”
“Well, he did help me save the world.”
“And his past made him the man who did it. There’s nothing to fix, Mr. Wilson. Logan. But, we can see what we can do about keeping Logan here and bringing back Y/N and Laura.”
~~~
Laura was able to find a nearby building to get you to. The pain had you crying and your mind was fuzzy. Laura was on the verge of tears as she tried to do anything that could take your pain away. She knew that you shouldn’t have fought, but she had thought you were okay. She hated that she hadn’t realized sooner and that Cassandra had been messing with your mind.
A swish sounded nearby and an orange Time Door opened up. Laura stood over you, with her claws out, ready to attack whoever was coming. She relaxed slightly when she saw that it was Logan and Wade, but tensed when a TVA member, B-15, followed them.
“You’re welcome, little wolf!” Wade exclaimed. “We’re bringing you and Buttercup home!”
You cried out in pain, not knowing what was going on around you. Everyone’s eyes snapped to you.
“What’s going on?” Logan asked, stepping forward to see you better from around Laura.
“Her powers,” Laura said, “they’ve begun to cause her pain. She hasn’t used them like that in years and apparently Cassandra was dulling the pain. Now, she’s feeling it all.”
“Bring her,” B-15 ordered. “We can help at the TVA and then talk about next steps.”
Logan didn’t even think twice before he was at your side, scooping you up in his arms.
“James?” You breathed out, your mind planning tricks on you.
Logan tripped over his feet as his unused name fell from your lips. He looked at Laura with wide eyes.
“She called my dad that often,” the young woman explained.
Logan nodded, readjusting you carefully in his grip before walking through the Time Door. Wade looked over at Laura.
“I have a feeling that this is going to be a great partnership,” he told her. She growled, shoving her claws into his side as she walked past. “Ow! Hey! Okay!”
“Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you did to my dad’s body,” Laura said lowly.
“Yeah, can’t wait until you and Buttercup team-up against me. Seriously, I’ll be thinking about it all the time now.”
The Time Door took you all to a conference room in the TVA. Logan placed you on the large table and stepped back. Laura took her place in a chair at your side. A TVA agent in a lab coat entered the room.
“What are you going to give her?” Logan asked, eyeing the syringe.
“It’s something that will ease the pain,” B-15 explained. “It won’t fix anything, but it will help.”
Everyone watched as the agent inserted the needle into your arm and you almost immediately relaxed. Your brain cleared up, allowing you to see that you were no longer in The Void.
“Laura?” You rasped.
“I’m here, mom,” she said, grabbing your hand and moving so that you could see her better.
“Where are we?”
“The TVA!” Wade exclaimed. “Like from the Loki series!”
“These two saved your timeline,” B-15 explained. “They wanted to give you the opportunity to go back to your timeline.”
“Okay…” You breathed out. “Why do I feel like that’s not the end of it?”
“You and Laura have a choice to make. The two of you can go back to 2034, when you were pruned, or you both can go to 2024 with this Logan and Wade with heavy stipulations.”
“And what would those be?”
“Both you and Laura exist already in 2024, just younger versions of you, and the timeline’s original Logan is also still alive. The three of you would not be allowed to get close to the other versions of you. Not even one warning. You will be pruned and sent back to The Void immediately.”
“Come on, guys!” Wade exclaimed. “We could all live in my apartment with my roommate, Al! It would be one large sleepover!”
You looked over at Laura. “What do you want to do, kiddo?” You asked. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
She looked around at Logan and Wade before focusing back on you. “Well… we don’t have anyone back in 2034. It’s just us… This could give us another chance. If you’re okay with that, mom. I know that it will be hard knowing that dad—“
“Sweetie, if this is what you want, I’ll do it. You’re my priority.”
Laura nodded. “I want to go back to 2024.”
“Then we’re going back.”
“Yay!” Wade exclaimed. “We’re going to have to throw a party!” Logan rolled his eyes. “Now, who is hungry?”
Logan chuckled. “I could eat.”
~~~
The street had been destroyed, but the shawarma place hadn’t. Wade, Logan, you, and Laura were all stuffed onto a bench in front of the place, eating your shawarma.
“You know, the Avengers discovered shawarma,” Wade commented.
“They’d be lucky to have you,” Logan said.
A dog barking in the distance caught all of your attentions. You looked over to see a small dog dressed in a Deadpool suit with its tongue hanging out to the side. It wasn’t a very cute dog at all.
“Oh!” Wade exclaimed, throwing his shawarma down.
“Oh, come on,” Logan grumbled. “Fuck off!”
Wade excitedly clapped. “Come here, my little cunchkin.” The dog ran right up to Wade, who quickly picked it up. “You’re a survivor. Mwah.” He kissed the top of the dogs head. “Oh, all is right in the world. Between Mary Puppins and eating shawarma with my favorite hero, Ember.”
“Wade,” you scoffed. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask, I knew a Wade Wilson, years ago.”
“Oh, that dumb fucker! Yeah, wannabe Deadpool doppelgänger slipped into this timeline somehow. But, trust me, he’s dead.”
“Good to know,” you nodded. You glanced at Logan, whose eyes were on you already. He quickly looked away, taking another bite of his shawarma. “So, Logan,” you fidgeted nervously beside him, “what are you going to do next?”
“I’ll figure it out,” he responded, briefly meeting your gaze. “I always do.”
“So, we’ll see you around?” Wade wondered.
“Probably not.” He reached over and scratched the top of Mary Puppins head. “See you, bub.” He gathered his things and stood up, heading down the street.
You couldn’t help but watch him walk away and think back to the moment Cassandra had you in his mind. He said that he always walked away, but you had yet to see that from him. This Logan had always shown up, just like your Logan. He just needed people who had faith in him.
“Wait,” you called out, standing up. “Logan!”
Logan froze upon hearing your voice call out for him. It wasn’t the first time it had as he walked away, but this time he allowed himself to look back. You were standing there, a slightly hopeful look in your eyes. Would he seriously turn his back on you again? He knew that you knew some of what he had done, Cassandra had forced that upon you. But he didn’t see any pity or hatred in your eyes.
You could feel your fingers tingling with your power as you held your breath, waiting to see what Logan would do. You watched as he fully turned around and slowly walked back, eyes locked on you. He stopped in front of you.
“You didn’t walk away,” you breathed out, feeling relieved. Despite you barely knowing this Logan, you couldn’t bare to see him alone.
“I didn’t walk away.”
next chapter >
#james logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett imagine#logan x reader#logan howlett#james logan howlett#logan howlet x reader#logan howlett x y/n#logan howlett x female!reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett x mutant reader#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x fem!reader#wolverine fanfiction#the wolverine#wolverine#wolverine x reader#x men x reader#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#marvel x reader#old man!logan x reader#worst!logan x reader
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Claws of Carnality | jjk (m) (16)
Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader
Genre: (fluff, angst, and smut) abo/werewolf, fantasy
Rating: 18+/nsfw
Word Count: 14.3k (We really said it's been almost a year so we're going to write thirty plus pages)
Summary:
At the bathhouse, you discover your alpha is much worse is off than you originally anticipated. You tend to him, but some scars never fade.
Warnings: MAJOR CHARACTER INJURY, LOTS OF BLOOD MENTIONS, GORE, MENTIONS OF BROKEN BONES, MENTIONS OF LOSS OF BODY PARTS, dom!jungkook, alpha!jungkook, sub!reader, omega!reader, cursing, praising, possessive!jungkook, teasing, marking, manhandling
Author's Note:
It's been awhile since I updated. Honestly, the grown-up life is rough. That's all I really have to say to answer for the extended hiatus with this story and my other one. Mental health has been going up and down periodically and it really was so hard to write through it all. I spent about two weeks going back and forth with the chapter. I wondered if it would ever make it to a post several times because things kept getting deleted. I finally decided to just sit down and write and not stop. This is the final result. Thirty-one pages. I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry that this isn't the long-awaited mating chapter that I know you guys all really want to see, but it is important to me that the characters are nuanced and that their connection is not one built purely on the basis of desire. Sure, that is part of it, but there's much more to it. So much more depth and meaning when we build relationships with people. Especially romantic ones. Enjoy!
To read more, click here for the masterlist.
“O-over there, alpha,” you quietly suggest, “It would be easier for me to-“ you flounder in flusterment when the strong arm circled around your front curls possessively around you- “I-It would be easier for m-me to tend to you if you sat down on the bench.”
The male makes a deep, rumbling sound as he draws in another heavy breath of your intoxicating pheromones, “As you wish. But it will cost you for being so irresistible.”
The sound goes straight to your cunt, and you have to bite into your cheek to keep from making the sound of need that your wolf begs you to release. You shift where you stand, hoping that the quaint press of your thighs together will somehow trap the slick from where it is secreted from your sex.
“What…what is the price I must pay for my transgression?” You ask, hoping that balms, ointments, and medicinal solutions splayed on the tray you hold in your hands don’t fall from how much your heart pounds in your chest.
It’s hard enough as it is not to look down, for he is completely, utterly, and mouth-wateringly naked.
“Two things,” his uninjured arm tightens even more around your front, his hand bunching itself in your skirt as he groans at the fresh scent of desire that drifts from you. “The first is you will not leave my sight. I want you as near to me as you can be.” He noses at the side of your throat, your lashes fluttering in the warm sensation of his breath as he utters, “It was a second hell to leave you after that duel and be without you, but I wanted to respect the tradition–and your decision– had you chosen to prepare yourself for me.”
His words have affection swirling in your chest.
This male really was something special. Even after battling three other wolves and being severely injured on your behalf, he still put your needs before his own.
And really, how could you deny him his request when that was all that you wanted, deep down? To just be by his side. Forever his loyal, loving, doting mate.
“You needn’t ask me that, alpha, for it was already in my mind.” You faintly confess.
He likes that answer.
You know based on the way he presses his mouth to the oily gland along your throat. It is gentle and soft, and it is so different from what you’d seen on the glen not too long ago during his duel.
So much violence and so much pain he was capable of bringing, but with you, he would never harm a hair on your head. So great was his love for you that he would protect you from that even if it meant taking those scars onto his body.
He’d given his oath to you that he would do exactly that, and gods, he had kept to it.
It is why you let him maneuver you forward away from the watery basin you’d found him in and toward the long ebony wood bench that almost stretches from one end of the chamber to the other. A tall pillar of white wax holds a flickering wick that is set in brass lanterns hanging from the ceiling on each side of the bench, and in front of its legs are caged candles guarded by glass that have high, bright flames.
“How agreeable you are being. If you can so easily agree to that, then the second of my terms is this.” He turns you both before the front of your knee can make contact with the wood, the arm he has encircled around your waist spinning you so that you face him.
His hand never leaves your side, his fingers remaining entrenched in the sea of your skirts. Somehow, none of the vials fall from the tray you clutch onto.
Golden irises that burn with more intensity than the fire beside him have you utterly struck by their luminousness as he demands, “You will promise me that if this,” he jerks his chin toward his mangled form, “is too much for you, you will tell me. I said before that I only wanted you to tend to me, and I meant it. But if you are uncomfortable, you must say so.”
Again, he was putting you first. Despite the fact that he was hurting, he was still choosing your comfort over his own.
Just how much more could your heart swell for this male?
You shake your head, finding your voice full of doubtlessness and confidence that surge into you as you say, “I want to do this, alpha. I spent years studying the art of medicine and herbal treatments so that I could one day use it to help others.” You rise on your tiptoes to osculate your lips against his. “I would be lying if I told you I hadn’t secretly wanted to learn it mostly for situations like this.”
He smirks against you, his mouth lingering near yours as he teasingly prods, “Situations like this? Are you saying that you thought about getting me shirtless and all alone so you could touch me under the guise of that excuse?”
Heat races to your cheeks and that confidence you’d had before vanishes with it. Soon, you’re blushing as you blurt, “No! I mean, yes! I mean….alpha!”
Years ago, you had never entertained the idea that this male before you would ever become yours. That you would ever be able to have a moment like this with him. He had been a constant thought in your mind from the moment you’d first laid eyes on him when you’d been but children, and as you both grew older, his presence in your mind and thoughts had only grown stronger.
But apart from your dreams and musings, he’d been so far for you to reach with all the duties and responsibilities that had been thrust on you from such a young age. So many other omegas had vied for his attentions, and with all of them clamoring for one look in their direction whenever he had returned to the compound from his exploits deep in the forest or in the forge where he had been stationed, you had never been able to get close enough with a constant herd of wolves –female and male alike– around him.
His rank had drawn many to him, each of them hoping that the next in line to be the ruler of the pack would select them to be part of his inner circle. Any selected by him would instantly rise in rank upon his ascendance to becoming Pack Alpha, and so naturally he had had to be guarded in his interactions and limited in his contact with others beyond his work in the forge as the pack’s only blacksmith beside his father.
Rumors had spread fast in his unannounced absences that he would take with his father for increasing increments of time the older he became, because when he returned to work at the forge, there were bags under his eyes that had become more mature, had become hardened with the calluses on his hands as he worked them day after day.
Sometimes he would return with a new wound on his body that he tried to hide under the various furs he draped over his body. You knew because of the chitter of the omegas that would inevitably gossip about in front of the fire in the omegean den on your way back to your chambers after a long night in the archives that you went to after you left the schoolhouse for the day.
Those were the nights that you found your paws bearing down on the grassy ground as you ran through the hills deep in the woodland in your journey toward your favorite creek that was tucked away behind a wall of vines, deep into the forest, that no one but you knew about.
Or so you had thought.
He’d been there, too. From a distance, of course. From the moment you stepped out of your chambers, he’d been able to smell you. The wind had a cunning way of carrying that to him no matter where he was, and he was helpless to the wolf in him he had been learning to control that bayed and bayed until he listened and tracked that captivating scent that made everything else in the world fade away.
You wonder, as he urges you between his legs that he opens for you in invitation to stand between, just how much he had to sacrifice to be sitting before you now.
Your alpha observes your expressions change from embarrassment to concentrated concern, and he tugs on the invisible cord tying you both together that is the bond you now share. You let him in without hesitation, your thoughts becoming known to him as he draws on the connection.
He can hear your thoughts, can feel your emotions, can see your memories if he taps into it. In the developing stage of the bond, you wish you knew how to show him all of your dreams of him, all of your memories of him, and all your thoughts that you’ve ever had of him.
There’s something that you want him to see, but gods, your voice just won’t work the way you want it to under the emotion that cracks and breaks it. So, you let him see a memory you’d kept buried deep in the trenches of your mind for many, many moons. One that no one but he would ever carry.
It had been a rainy, stormy night. So heavy was the rain that it pelted your skin even through the thick coat of your white fur as you’d torn through the earth with paws too eager to rush you away from the center of your stresses and away to the woodland where it all melted away with the streaks of color that passed by you in your inhuman speed as you ran, ran, and then ran some more.
Thunder had rumbled through the sky on this particular night so loud that even your eardrums rang after the deafening strikes of sound that cut through the sky as lightning flashed before your eyes from under the canopy of trees.
The forest was vast, but that night, it had seemed all too small for you.
You hadn’t stopped until your lungs screamed for air, your haunches burning from how hard you’d pushed them, the bolt of white light in the sky similar to the color of the flame that had burned in the stone fireplace set in the middle of the wall on one end of your chambers while you’d carefully, attentively read the letter left to you on your windowsill.
Such a beautiful poem about a boy who had come to love the girl he admired from afar. And so meticulous had each letter been etched onto the parchment. You knew whoever had written it had taken much time to compose it with each swirl and curve of each syllable.
You had left it on your bed while you had gone to find another book to hide yet another letter from your secret admirer with no name, but had not noticed the shadow that had swept under your door to reveal your father, who had taken one look at the letter on your duvet before anger had turned him cruel at the prospect of his perfect little girl being corrupted by some hormonal male.
He'd cast the parchment into the fire despite your ardent pleas not to, the tears falling quickly when he’d let that fury burn you with pokers of curses and chastisements for your lack of purity.
He had always been adamant that you were to study the ways of the pack and devote yourself to teach its art to the youth. Those letters, to him, were nothing but distractions. Distractions that made you no better than the common whore in the fantasies they would ineluctably fill your head with.
Or so he had said.
That was why you had found yourself bounding through the forest that night with tears in your eyes not even the rain could wash away. But that night, fate had had other ideas.
You’d intended to go to the cave by the creek. You had never made it inside.
You’d stopped behind one of the oak trees on the edge of the forest floor before the soil turned to rock by the stream, the wide-mouthed cave beyond occupied by two figures.
Just by the smell of them, you knew they were of the same blood. One was older with their more muted, aged smell and one was younger.
You knew the scent of the younger one. That scent of blooming gardenia, pear and black vanilla. The same one that lingered on the letters left to you on your windowsill.
Each time the lightning pierced the black sky, their figures flashed. And each time, the two were locked in combat. Each held only a small iron dagger, their fighting leathers more than enough protection for them both lest either were struck by the other.
Unable to look away, you found yourself moving closer until you hid safely behind a thick, bountiful bush and could discern voices. Their voices. Only bits and pieces could be made out through the rainstorm, but it was enough.
“…too slow, son….can’t keep putting your arm up like that…too open and easy for me to…”
The next split of white light through the black sky illuminated them both, and the slightly shorter male with hair the color of ebony had a knife at his throat. It was held there by his father, who shook his head in disapproval as he gripped the younger male’s forearm in a vice-like hold.
“…cannot protect her if you cannot protect yourself. You are not ready.” The older male had decided. “Until you are, you will not see her. Even from afar.”
Another lightning bolt ruptures the clouds covering the moon, and a younger Jungkook had let his dogma guide his blade as he had voiced:
“Eventually I will be. And when I am, she’ll be mine. Not even her father will stand in my way.”
The next time the streak of lightning found its way through the atmosphere, the older male had been twisted around, his arm held behind his back while the younger alpha had pressed his blade to his father’s throat.
A self-satisfied grin with pointed canines protruding from under his upper lip had made your beating muscle in your chest stutter as he had released his father from the binding hold he’d had on him.
You could have sworn he looked right at you from behind the mess of leaves and brambles.
When the white fulmination cleaved through the clouds once more, your heart stopped when his father had quickly captured his son’s wrist to the hand that held the dagger by his neck only to bend forward and rotate forward, effectively flipping Jungkook onto his back. Jungkook, who had been unprepared for such a technique, had been brought to the craggy ground with a grunt, his other hand shooting out to grab for something, anything, to find purchase in as his knife fell from his fingers. Jungkook was fast, but his father had simply been faster.
The older male had easily used the momentum of move to step around and over Jungkook’s now prone form. Jungkook, who had been propped up on one elbow with a sharp looking rock held in his now bleeding hand from the blade of the dagger that had cut into his palm in the fall. It laid too far for him to reach, the essence of his defeat staining it.
White electricity strikes yet again, the deep rumble of thunder loud under the pounding of blood in your ears.
“Distracted. She occupies your mind even now. That…is dangerous, son.” The older male with gray streaking the black hairs stuck over his eyes had said. “Too dangerous for you to be allowed near her until….oncoming rut is over...”
That was the last thing you heard before there had been a flare of heat on your right, the rift of lightning arcing along the old oak’s stump beside you as the clouds clashed and loud sound pierced the earth.
You hadn’t even flinched. That didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the alpha on the ground who’s scent clung to the parchments that made you blush, smile, and kick your feet while you coveted them close to your chest as you wished to the gods that whatever force was keeping him from your side would release him.
The fascination that had turned every letter of his had tilled the very hard edge with which he spoke as he growled, “No. I cannot go through that again. You cannot make me.”
“Won’t I?” His father flipped the dagger in hand. “You’re on the ground right now because you cannot keep your mind off her. What is to stop you from venturing into her chambers tonight when you inevitably begin thinking of how good she smells? Of how pretty she looks when-“
Jungkook had pushed up on his hand, the other holding the rock slicing the air close to his father’s thigh. Each side of the older male’s mouth pulled downward, the metal of his dagger gleaming as sparks had flown upon impact of the pointed edge of the rock hitting the blade with such force.
“Don’t.” Jungkook’s jaw tensed. “Do not dare to say the things I mutter in my sleep when you have me chained to the fucking trees.”
His father had shrugged. “Then become stronger for her. Until you can, you’ll stay here, deep in the woods. Far away from her.”
The cords in the younger alpha’s neck went rigid as he scowled. “I will find my way to her. One way or another.”
With that, he’d pulled his knees toward his chest before punting his father in the chest with his feet. Such energy he’d used to push himself back from the older male as he’d used the force of the action to drive his feet over his head in a backward roll, his bleeding hand reaching around the hilt of the curved dagger on the ground. When he’d gotten to his feet once more, he had bared his teeth with determination set into those expressive features of his.
His father had nodded in approval, “That’s the spirit, son. Never accept defeat. That’s how you win.”
The clash of metal had soon become drowned out by the outpour of rain, but not even the water could snuff out the iotas of light that came at each powerful strike of their blades against each other.
Hours must have passed, but you swore it felt like it had only been minutes as your eyes followed the younger male everywhere he went, his wild dark locks sticking to his forehead and sides of his face as he moved with purpose and confidence.
There was an art to his movements as he continuously, mercilessly brought down his blade on his father’s. Time and time again.
Whether he held a quill or a blade in his hand, he was filled with purpose. Purpose that was entirely carved by you.
It had taken his father being backed into the stream for you to realize that you were too close. And that the air had become too thick to push air through your lungs as the organs in your chest contracted too deeply?
Why had it suddenly become so difficult to breathe?
Jungkook wades into the stream up to his calves, not willing to let up on his father despite the water urging him with its flow against him.
The closer he got, the more labored your breaths became.
You needed to shift. You needed to shed your heavy furs that had been drenched by the rain.
But to do that, you had to leave him.
So, you did. Quietly, you slipped into the night, careful not to make any sound lest you drew any attention to yourself. You hadn’t known you’d been holding your breath until you found your way back to your chambers, your footfalls light as your furs had begun to fall away from you. After you’d collected the rainwater you’d left in a barrel outside your window in several smaller bowls and emptied them into the cauldron hung over the metal hook above your fireplace to heat what would be your bathwater, your hands had sought the comfort of the thickest bound book that you kept on your bookshelf.
You had been too hasty to get to the dog-eared page you’d marked in the book, accidentally tearing the page before finding what you’d come to your book for. Inside it was tucked your favorite letter left to you on your windowsill. One that you found yourself rereading night after night.
It read:
The moon pales in comparison to the light that twinkles in your eyes,
The stars tremble in awe of your brilliance,
The night must blanket them and still, you offer more warmth,
Warmth that not even the sun can make as pleasant,
Warmth that the clouds could not even shade,
Warmth that no rain could fall with,
The flowers around us bloom, but none blossom with the beauty and grace of you,
The seedlings take root, but gods, none do so like the one you’ve planted in me,
The water they draw into themselves is life-giving, but yours is so much nourishing,
Still I sit here, hoping that you will allow me to bask in your radiance,
Still I sit here, promising that I will grow stronger in body, soul, and mind to be at your side,
Still I sit here, thinking of you when I cannot see, hear, or touch you as I do in my dreams.
Wait for me, my beautiful flower who only becomes more alluring under each moon.
Wait for me, and I will be your loving attendant,
Wait for me, and I will be yours.
You are forbidden to me now, but soon, you will not be. Soon, I will make you mine.
You will never have to look longingly at the wolves who hold and dote on each other while your only partner is the books you keep in your library. I will be everything you want me to be if that is what pleases you.
You will always have a shoulder to lean on, an ear that will listen, a hand that will caress you.
You will always have me.
You will never have to spend your nights crying into your pillow alone because of your father. I will be there to hold you close. I will be the fists that pummel him to the ground for daring to hurt you. Or anyone else that meddles your happiness.
All I can do for you now is watch over you from afar. Guard and protect you from the males I know you do not desire. From the females that have become venomous in jealousy of your unmatched intelligence, spirit, and beauty. From the threats that loom deep in the forest.
I hope you can forgive me for keeping my name and a face a secret from you. I suspect by now you have figured out who I am. And if you have, you will then understand why I commune with you this way.
The elders, nor your father, would allow it since you have not yet presented. Besides…it looks like I have some developments myself that I need to make. You have so consumed my mind and body that I can no longer make sense of certain things.
You are everywhere and yet, you elude me. It is the most tragic of ironies.
Until we meet again, my fair flower. I will see you long before you see me, but you can always find me in our dreams.
Always.
-Your Alpha
The air here had been clammy, too, so when you had let your thumb brush at the corner, the oils from it smudged the ink. Panic stole your breath and you not wanting to blemish the beautiful lettering, you’d slipped the parchment under your pillow and gone to the window to open it in hopes of letting some crisp, fresh air in.
Even here, you could still hear the clang of metal from the forest under lightly falling raindrops. You had let your body move on its own when you’d leaned out from the ledge of your windowsill that was only a few feet from the ground, the baser part of you subconsciously trying to be near to him despite the space between you.
That muggy draft that had clung to your ribs still did not dispel as the cold drops trickled down your body, the tears of the sky slow in their consolation as they dribbled along your arm as you lifted it up and stuck it out of the window.
It still wasn’t enough.
You needed to be able to breathe. And thankfully, you knew just what to do from all the books you read.
Hot water could provide relief to respiratory issues.
Your eyes landed on the largest of the wooden bowls you’d used to collect water from the barrel of rainwater outside, each of your hands holding it as you’d dipped it into the cauldron over boiling water, careful not to let it burn your fingers as you brought it to the tub, the sloshing of it causing you to stare down at it to see your reflection.
Your mouth was ajar with partially sharpened teeth that had not fully shifted back yet, your face flushed with redness and your eyes… your dilated pupils, now the color of the sun where they were usually silver like the moon, glowed back at you.
You blinked rapidly, surprise lighting up your face as you gaped.
Your wolf had been scratching at your psyche to do something about the irremovable weight that felt like it was pushing against your organs.
Another bout of thunder rolled through the sky from outside the semi-circular opening in the wall along the far end of the small, square room. The accompanying flash of lightning brought with it the deadly gleam of daggers behind your eyes, the image of Jungkook’s blood staining it in your mind’s eye as the suffocating pressure in your chest worsened.
You’d had to sit on the edge of the tub, unable to get air between your lips and before you could think, you raised the steaming bowl over your head and let it pour over you.
Its cascade down your flesh had immediately silenced your wolf, who preened at the hot sensation of the liquid all over your flesh. Everywhere the water touched, it washed away the uncomfortable weight that had smothered you so.
When you looked into the mirror across the room, the gold in your irises had been swept away with the last drop of water to leave only silver.
Your surprise had been doused until its remnants became distress as you looked up at the moon, your hands coming together before your bosom as you bowed your head in deference to ask, “Please, gods, do not let him suffer for me. Wherever he is, please, protect him from harm. Keep him safe.”
You’d gone to bed that night without bothering to dry off, the lightest of layers heavy on your skin as hushed prayers and pleas for his safety left your lips while you held the letter he’d left you against your thudding heart.
Words have a way of failing you when he’s around, but that? It was so much easier. So much better when you couldn’t find language sufficient to let him know what you wanted to say.
He seems to understand, because then he’s releasing your skirts and grabbing the wooden tray of salves, gauze, and other medicinal solutions with his uninjured hand and, lost in his eyes, you don’t even realize he’s put it beside him until his voice finds you through it all.
You need not worry for me, my love. I have everything I need right here. I may have had to grow up faster than everyone else around us, but I would do it all over again if it meant that you would be mine.
You only notice your hands are empty when you go to brush your forehead against his, your unoccupied hands lifting to cradle each side of his face as your eyes burn with the tears that threaten to fall.
“You are too good to me, alpha. I promise you that you will never have to be alone again. Not now, and not ever.” You pledge as you kneel between his legs, reaching for the thick roll of white translucent fabric with a loose, open weave. You take it between both hands, your mouth setting in a thin line as you rip it so that you have two moderately sized pieces while your alpha takes in the image of you on your knees before him.
“Nor do you, my love. I am officially yours now, just as you are entirely mine. No one can deny us from each other anymore.” He professes, lifting his unharmed arm so he can sweep your hair out of your face while you work.
It was no small thing to allow an omega to do this. The action was something of a rite that went back to the earliest of their ancestors. When an alpha was harmed in battle or in the hunt for prey, the omega that he let dress his wounds, by doing so, accepted the bond between them. To allow an omega to see an alpha at their most vulnerable…it was a very special, intimate moment.
And you knew of that. He knows because the thought surfaces in your mind the moment you daub the dry fabric against the top of each pectoral where four dark and furiously red lines curve diagonally downward and end on each side of his pelvis. Blood beads the incisions that Yoongi’s serrated claws had left, and the tears that had threatened to fall before fight against the entrapment of your eyelids as you try to blink them away.
“It hurts, doesn’t it, alpha?” You ask with the guilt weighing at your words as you uncork one of the small ovular vials containing a yellow liquid, the woody-sweet scent pungent in your nostrils as you use the oil left by crushed eucalyptus to clean your hands before you pour it onto the strips of fabric you’d just torn and after, you push the cork into the vial and set it down before you.
You let guilt drag each of your hands containing the gauze downward very lightly as you follow the large virgules of red. Where you normally would admire the strong, defined contours of his chest, now, the sight of it has woe whispering in your ear.
His skin is hot to the touch. As if fire burns under his flesh. So fuming and inflamed in the redness that surrounds the gaping, curling lacerations. Both sides of his sternum have been raked– no, ripped–through by sharp claws. Yoongi had cut into your mate’s skin eight blood red half-moons; four on either side of his chest that were turned away from each other, their ends incurving from the base of his neck all the way down his torso and even along his hip bones. Layers of crimson ooze and leak down his body like water, and the sight has something in your bosom tightening in on itself as your vision becomes cloudy.
Somewhere down between the middle of his pectorals, the cloths become too saturated and heavy with blood to soak up any more.
Perhaps the tangibility of his suffering is what finally has the tears falling down your cheeks, the burning in your eyes unavoidable no matter how many times you try to blink it away.
Despite that it feels as if fire sears him everywhere Yoongi’s claws had been, there is worse pain to be felt. Like the gut-wrenching punch that is delivered to his belly when he sees the first of your tears slide down your face.
With the hand he has on your chin, he tilts your chin up as he answers honestly, “Nothing harms me more than watching the light of my life weep for me.”
“I…I can’t help it, alpha.” You respond dolefully, your own stomach dropping to the bowels of your body at the high volume of blood he’s losing so quickly. He’d already turned the entire tub of water he’d been in red, and still he bled. If this kept on…
You don’t let that thought continue. You can’t.
You drop the sopping cloths into an empty glass container you’d put next to the roll of gauze only to take the roll between your hands once again. This time, you do not stop unraveling it until you have much thicker stretches of cloth folded into squares. You do not forget to grab the vial of yellow fluid once more, the viscous oil slow to make its journey to the cloths. You lightly press them against the spots you had had the other ones placed against. The second you put them to his mutilated flesh, they slowly turn crimson. The more they are stained with his lifeblood, the more you are soused with leaden compunction.
It burns, yes, but your sadness smolders him more.
“You are blaming yourself for this.”
It is not a question. It’s a statement.
You draggle each of the gauzes down along the underside of his pectorals, letting them rest there as you watch them turn completely red with his blood.
Momentarily, you wonder if the silvers he’d put on you before would be able to numb the contrition that pulls your spirits away from you.
Your mate will not have any of that.
He runs the pad of his thumb along your chin as he coaxes, “Peer into my eyes, Y/N.”
Unquestioningly, you do. He’s more than earned your obedience. What you see in the depths of those orbs is unending and bottomless in the plunge to the part of him that he would never show anyone else. The part of him that he had kept buried and sunken in wait for the right creature to unearth it. So many masks he had had to wear when so many had ulterior motives and designs around him, but this creature before him? He would break them all to pieces so she could see him for what he really was.
Once, he had asked his father how he would really know if anyone wanted him for him and not his power or his rank. His father had simply laughed and told him: You won’t. All you can do is watch and wait to see someone’s true colors when they think no one else is watching.
This creature before him who cried in the face of his pain and suffering did so out of pure, genuine sorrow. He could feel it sinking your spirits, your very thoughts through the bond. He could see it deep in the valley of your eyes that are, even in the guilt that tries to make them cloudy, drizzling with love for him.
There was no doubt in his mind that you were true and that you were absolutely, unequivocally his. That is why he allows the walls of his reservedness to crumble as he confides:
“Hear my words, my love. This is a result of my own weakness. I teased you before about you wanting to do this. But know that you are only in this situation because I wasn’t strong enough to do what I needed to do.” He doesn’t let go of your chin. With his other hand, he places it between your breasts. The action has him sucking his lip between his teeth as excruciating pain shoots through his upper bicep where the flesh has been torn from limb. A river of red gushes from the open wound, but it matters little to him when pangs of your heart are slower even than his as if it, too, was sulking itself in blame. Despite the way his split blood vessels cry more tears of blood in the movement, he goes on with a grimace, “I know what you’re thinking, my sweet, beautiful girl. You are not to blame for this. Do not pity me. Do not feel guilty for me. If anything, I should be the one pitying you for having to tend to me for such serious injuries.” He leans forward, his lips meeting the flesh between your brows, “I’m sorry you had to see that. And I’m sorry I didn’t come back to you with only a scratch. But I meant every word of what I said when I made that oath to you that I would protect you with my body. My body can be mended. My soul, if it lost you, could not.”
The male before you shouldn’t even be able to move in his condition.
And yet, he does.
For you.
Your own emotions crack and fracture under the seriousness of his words and unhesitant ministrations. Each is packed with the mass of his candor and you can’t stop yourself from pouring your heart out to him.
“You ask me to simply accept this…this agony that you must be feeling, alpha, and I,” you cry out,” I cannot! I care too much for you to simply turn off my emotions. I cannot do it!”
You lift the strips of soddened fabric away from his chest through eyes full of tears, your sight descending to where you hold them in your now shaking hands as you place those, too, in the same glass bowl as the others. “You ask me not to blame myself, but your wounds…they are there because of me. And they are serious. Serious enough that if this keeps on, you-“ Your sniffle, shaking your head in unwillingness to finish the unbearable thought. You take the gauzy roll in your hands once more and unwind it, you have to rely on muscle memory because at this point, the constant slew of tears is too much for you to see through.
Your alpha’s eyes soften as you try to rub at your own, your tear-streaked cheeks sullied by the tracks the salty water had left, the fresh blood that now covers your hands a stark contrast to the darker, dried blood he’d painted on you earlier during the Smearing.
Why did that make you look even more beautiful to him?
“I’m not asking you to simply turn a blind eye to your feelings, sweetheart. Such a task would be difficult for anyone with a heart to attain.” He brings his lips under one of your eyes, the tang of salt and iron left on his lips as he does. “What I ask is that you try not to blame yourself for my errors. It is my misjudgment that earned me more scars. These are not the first, and they likely will not be the last.” He turns his head so he can leave a soft, featherlight kiss under your other eye. “These scars shall be proof of the trial I had to face to earn you. And I would take hundreds of thousands more of these for you. If I had lost an arm or leg tonight, I would have been alright with it. Your smile and your happiness are worth that much to me.”
The sound of the white fabric shredding between your fingers is muffled under his voice. It’s as if your senses have been dulled to all but him. Even the firelight fails to crackle in your ears amidst the steady beat of his own heart while you tremblingly let the lip of the vial teem with the oil that smells of honey, mint, and citrus.
“My happiness should never come at the expense of pain or suffering, alpha,” you murmur mournfully as you eye the bawling gashes of scarlet.
You crimp the gauze into two thick squares once they have been wetted with the oil before holding them down over the underside of each of his pectorals. You wait until the part in contact with his frayed skin is steeped in scarlet before you flip each of them over and depress them along the arched curvatures going in opposite directions toward each side of his pelvis.
His lips tighten, wrinkles forming where none existed before when you tenderly wipe away at the jagged ends of each of the four lines on either hemisphere of his torso where Yoongi’s claw had pierced the deepest, not bothering to hide his expression from you now at his most vulnerable. There was nothing to hide now. No reason to keep his pain from you when he knew that doing so would just upset you more.
It pains you to see him like this. You wish there was a way for you to make it all disappear, but unfortunately, there were no medicinal or herbal remedies that had the power to do that.
“Such is our way, omega. It is my duty to protect you. I will never neglect that obligation if it ensures your safety." He hisses when you gingerly drag the gauze along the same path upward to collect the stray rivulets of crimson that had dripped from the top of his wounds.
The incinerating flare of flames feels like it is scorching him from the inside out under each slash and tear in his flesh left by Yoongi’s claws, and each time you attempt wiping away the bloody tears his body weeps, more of his life essence is there to replace it.
The oil offers a mild cooling sensation, but it is similar to throwing a block of frozen ice into a roaring bonfire.
You note the lack of stoppage of blood flow from those wounds, concern turning your lips down even more. What you had been reluctant to think about before was becoming all the more possible now. Even if you did keep trying to refuse it.
Worry soon lugs you asunder with the guilt that swims densely about you, and your brows furrow as you instruct, “Alpha, I need you to lie down now. You aren’t having any changes in the blood loss and I fear that something bad may happen if you lose too much more.”
He nods, but the action has a dot spotting his vision and no matter how many times he blinks, it remains. Soon, there are more. And as he holds your watery gaze, more tears trek down the contours of your cheeks.
Something in his chest twinges that has nothing to do with the wounds Yoongi had left.
“As you say, my love.” He brings one knee carefully up toward his chest, his foot resting on the edge of the wood as he asks “What will you have me to do with this arm of mine? It’s in bad shape.”
You grab the now near-empty vial of eucalyptus oil that you’d set on the ground between your knees and return it to its place on the tray, your mind easily supplying you with the answer to his question after having spent so many nights hunched over tomes about medicinal treatments and herbal remedies as you rise, one of your hands wrapping around his nape and the other laying itself over the palm he has pressed between your breasts. The arm that palm is connected to is the one that Yoongi had mangled such that you can see bone between the split mess of muscles bordering it.
You can only imagine how much agony he must be in. If you could take it into yourself, you would.
Not that he would let you, though.
His promise to you had been made not only out of love for you, but out of pride as an alpha. An alpha that could not protect their mate was not deserving or worthy of her. It was an alpha’s responsibility by right to be the source of security and protection for his omega. An alpha who could not guarantee that for his omega had failed her.
Or so the tradition had held.
“You need to relax this arm and let me maneuver it so that it rests by your side. What I’m about to do will require a certain position,” you urge him down by the back of his neck, and while you know your measly strength could never compete against his, the fact that he allows you to move him so readily is an obvious display of trust. His back is laid atop the bench first, and you are delicate in the way you guide his head down until it, too, comes to a rest on the wood. “And it…it will hurt. I’m going to have to move your arm so we do not risk further injuring it. After that, I will need to clean it before applying pressure where the worst of the damage is.”
With conviction clearer than any concoction you could give him, he asserts, “Do what you have to do. You know what needs to be done. You have trained and studied well. It goes without saying that you have my trust. All of it.” He adds.
Gods, you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect mate.
“Let me be the voice of reassurance this time, alpha,” you express while you curl your fingers around the hand of his that is placed along your sternum. Your other cups the underside of his forearm and, scrupulously, you usher it to his side before slowly and surely straightening it. He grimaces, and to distract him, you assure, “I’ll do everything I can to fix you. I promise, alpha.”
You monitor the bone in his arm that shifts in the movement, the middle of his humerus exposed and clearly fractured. From the dark line running perpendicular to the bone along the end closest to his elbow, you know instantly that he’s suffered from a transverse fracture to the bone. Honestly, you had expected worse with the way Yoongi had thrashed his head with Jungkook’s poor arm trapped between his teeth. Those teeth had managed to pierce halfway through the vessels and muscles lining his upper arm, the punctures still gushing blood.
It should have been impossible for him to have moved it. And yet…
“How did you move this arm when your bone has been broken, alpha?” You ask, swallowing the emotion that wants to be let out as you assess him.
His brows scrunch together and he answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “The pain was inconsequential next to the sadness that pooled in those pretty eyes.”
You fight the burning at the edges of your vision as you silently take your skirt between your fingers, the soft material pliable under your fingers. You don’t say anything. All you can do is let your hands work as you find the slit cut into it and tear along the line.
“What are you doing, my love?”
It is a question not asked out of doubt, but genuine curiosity.
The sound of ripping fabric ceases as you pull a sizable amount of the organza away from you and turn it inside out before placing it onto the tray beside his head and grabbing for the rectangular glass canister next to the eucalyptus oil.
I have to clean it. It’s infected already, and if I don’t get the bacteria out, your condition will worsen. Once I clean it, I will have to mobilize and brace it. A piece of my skirt should be the outer layer so as not to discomfort you.
You don’t trust your voice not to rupture, so you gently push the words to him through the bond as you grab the roll of cotton wool beside the gauze and unwind it before pressing it to your lips, closing your eyes, and silently begging for the mercy of the gods to take pity on him. To save him.
You knew what to do, but there was only so much that herbs and medicinal solutions could do.
You discard the thought like one of the blood-stained gauzes before you. You couldn’t afford to think like that. Especially not when you’d promised to put him at ease as he had always done for you.
When you bring the wool away from your mouth, you lift the lid from the container and the musky, earthy smell of the ginger poultice you’d prepared weeks ago joins the scent of muted iron in the air as you dip the wool into it several times to ensure its transfer onto the material.
The ginger will not hurt you, alpha. The pressure I will have to put on you will, however.
“I meant what I said, omega. Do what you need to do. I can take it.” He confides, opening his mouth so he can bite onto it.
I know, alpha. I know. More than anyone.
You pick up the considerably long, thick strip of wool from where you’d left it in a heap atop of the open poultice, bending over him before straightening it out so that it ran the length of his upper arm. Thankfully, it was just wide and long enough to completely cover his arm.
With one hand holding one end and your other hand on the other, you bring it down over the split skin from just under his shoulder to just above his elbow.
Just as you’d told him, there is no burning sensation as the gelatinous, thick solution is applied and spread across his sheared muscles, blood vessels, and bone. The blood spurting from the ruptures in his flesh is quick to permeate into the cotton, but you’d expected as much.
The ginger and eucalyptus have antioxidants, antibacterial, antiseptic, and disinfecting properties good for fighting infections. That’s why I chose to have Namjoon collect them from my personal store that I made.
Have I ever told you how attractive I find your intelligence?
Yes, alpha. You have.
You smile through the tears as you untwist more cotton wool from its spool, careful to lay it flat over the existing layer you’d just put over him. It, too, becomes saturated with his life’s essence within seconds.
He needed something else. Something to help boost the efficacy of the poultice. And you knew just the thing.
You scan the tray, evaluating the vials and containers left on it as you note the last addition you had yet to make. There, in the middle, was the small wooden box no longer than your hand and no taller than your pinky. You flip open the latch, the powder inside a brilliant yellow with the hint of orange tang under your nose.
His irises follow your every movement as you peel the layers of cotton wool up and off of him, disposing of them both in the same bowl as the other discolored fabrics.
When you unravel the dressings this time and steep them in the poultice, your other grabs a considerably sized clump of the crushed turmeric powder and sprinkles it all over his slashed open arm.
Three handfuls of that later, you are satisfied with the way the powder has been packed over the gash and surround it with several strips of the material lathered in the ginger solution.
The turmeric has curcumin in it, which can enhance granulation tissue formation and wound contraction. It also decreases inflammation and oxidation and can increase antioxidant capacity of the body, which means it helps fight compounds that could damage you.
The words are recited just as you had written them in one of your journals, and you busy yourself remembering that in lieu of your mind wandering to darker, scarier thoughts as his life’s essence clings to your hands while you rip apart more strips of cotton and run them all through the container of poultice.
Keep going, my love. Tell me more.
He feels the quiver of your hands as you lay each rectangular cloth down over his raw, chafed abrasions lining his chest, his uninjured arm wrapping around your thigh to steady you as his temples begin to ache.
The ginger root that this poultice was made from speeds along the healing process for cuts and abrasions among the other qualities it possesses. You won’t have to worry about these dressings falling off.
Underneath each dressing you affix to his front, his very cells feel as if they are being engulfed in an inferno. One that only blazes hotter every second that passes.
The gingerols and shogaols are compounds in it that will work as a natural adhesive to the cotton and to your skin without sticking or gluing it to you.
His second lack of response has you tilting your head in confusion.
You had said before that the poultice was not meant to feel like that, so whatever was happening, he was certain that you were not the cause. Perhaps it was just some strange side effect of blood loss? How odd that this sensation did not spread to his arm. He really should have studied more.
I’m fine, love. I think. My chest… it feels like I’m burning up from the inside. Have you any idea what that could be?
You’d read many books on herbology and medicine practices. None had ever described that as a symptom of blood loss.
With worry making your mouth go drier than cotton, you examine the way he blinks rapidly as if trying to get something out of his eyes.
W-what else ails you, alpha?
More dots have begun to occupy his sight, and no matter how many times he tries to close and open his eyes, they will not dissipate.
I cannot see properly. It is like there are dark circles blotting parts of my vision.
˙
That was definitely a symptom of blood loss. But the burning sensations? That wasn’t characteristic of the lesions that had been cut into his skin. Nor was the ceaseless gush of scarlet from his chest injuries.
You recall the events that had brought you both here, identifying that it had only been Yoongi that had managed to harm your alpha. He’d been bitten on his arm and struck by claws on his chest. Two different points of contact with two different mediums.
You compare the two areas where he’d been mutilated, spotting the angered, puffed up flesh just that became more raised the closer it got to his now covered traumatisms on his torso. Like something was agitating it from the inside. His arm, however, mangled as it is, is not as badly puckered up around the gash despite the blood he’s losing. Which brings you to your next observation: His blood drips slowly and languidly from his chest wounds where it wells and spurts from his arm. With as deeply as Yoongi had pierced through him, he should have been losing more.
What is going on in that pretty head of yours, my love? Have you…have you discovered something?
There’s a slight pause between each of his unhurried words through your bond. As if it took effort to pull them forth.
You push through the distress that wants to drag you down, forcing yourself to focus and do everything that you could to aid him as you turn your attention to his arm now that you had taken care of his chest wounds.
You needed to stop the river of red that streamed down his arm. Without removing the cloth you’d set over it, you use your teeth to shear the white open-weaved fabric from the now nearly depleted roll it had once been spun around.
I will have to apply pressure as I said before to make sure the medicines set on the punctures in your arm. It…it’s going to hurt, alpha. If you want, you can bite onto my skirts. I don’t mind.
The offer earns you a nod, and so you rise to stand by his side and a wad of your skirt in your hands, hoping that he doesn’t mention the way that they shake as you do.
Forgive me, alpha.
It’s all the warning he gets before you place the dressings over the first layer covering his arm and push into the afflicted area, mindful of where his bone has been broken and avoiding that as you squeeze. Unlike the ruptures along his chest, this area does not nearly scald you.
He curses, his teeth grating into the fabric of your skirt as you apologize over and over again, guilt leaving tangible evidence of itself on your face while you cry for him.
Anyone else would have flinched, but not your alpha. No, he simply screws his eyes shut as he hisses through the material between his lips.
I’m sorry, alpha. I’m so, so sorry. But you have to stay like this for five minutes. I have to try to make the bleeding stop.
The dots that had been impairing his vision increase and the ache in his temples he’d felt before turns into a fierce throbbing as the world begins to dim around him while the claw marks along his chest ripple forth with black blood.
You perceive the way his eyes begin to flutter closed, the arm he’s wrapped around your thigh beginning to loosen. A tremble overcomes his body in the way that it suddenly is as if it’s gone down many degrees, and at that, a lump of dread drops into your stomach.
Not wanting him to slip into unconsciousness, you squeal. “N-no! Stay with me, a-alpha!”
Your voice cleaves through the barren desert that has set upon your throat.
I’m sorry, my love…I’m trying, but…it’s cold, yet my body feels like it’s on fire.
There are longer standstills between his words now. Like each one has to be dug up from the recesses of his mind.
Why has it suddenly become a….a blizzard in here? Why does…does my head feel…feel like someone is…is pounding… into it?
The dread in your belly is joined by another chunked mass of fear as his responsiveness slows with the unseen ice that encases and numbs him. When his good arm falls limply to his side from where it had been encircled around your thigh, you snivel, shaking your head vigorously back and forth as you whisper through a cracked voice, “No, no, no, no, no. This can’t be.”
As his eyelids tiredly droop, that’s when the panic grips your organs and wrings them out.
You had to stay strong. And you could not panic. Doing so would only stress him further.
But that thought is difficult to keep under the fleeting consciousness of your mate before you, who squeezes his eyes shut before opening them wide in effort to keep awake as you had instructed as he shivers.
You swallow around a brittle, sandy throat, wiping your hands on your bodice before your attention sifts around the room in search of something, anything, to help you. You start with the tray. The bowl of blood-soaked, soiled gauze and wrappings sits on its edge, the rolls of gauze and cotton wool in front of it. Next to them, the rectangular wooden box of turmeric powder remains beside the canister of ginger extract. Around them, the vial of eucalyptus lays on its side where the other glass containers of assorted colors and contents are placed. Three had been unused.
The first was a smaller brown bottle of oil secreted from crushed neem kernels you’d plucked from the seeds yourself. The second was a moderately sized canister of milk-colored paste you’d boiled and ground from coconuts. The last was a large flask of honey.
All would work to stop the bleeding. Five minutes had felt an eternity with his continually shallow breaths in your ear, his heart rate weakening under the lack of blood to push through his body. You hadn’t understood why your vocal cords felt so sore, but when you release him and the mewling coming from your mouth dies out, that answers the question.
You waste no time emptying the bottle of neem oil over each of his wounds as you sniffle, “Keep looking at me, alpha. Don’t go to sleep. I-I need you awake for me.”
Despite the gnawing pain in his temples and the ever increasing temperature that boils the parts of him under the skin of his thorax, he battles the darkness that wants to swallow him as he tries to stay in the light of your eyes that shine glassily down on him while you pour the honey, with unsteady hands, along each striation channeling his chest and arm before adding another lining of gauze over his crimson turned bandages.
“One more, alpha. One more, and then I can make a splint for your arm.” You don’t care anymore about the snot that runs down your nose with the tears trailing it as his skin begins to lose its color.
He nictates through bleary, dimmed orbs, and the sight twists your heartstrings.
You keep your hands busy, because you know the moment you stop is the moment he could slip through your fingers.
You cover both hands in the creamy mixture and with the first pass of your fingers against his sternum, you wrench your hand back in the overwhelming heat that scorches you like a blazing sun.
“You’re burning up, alpha.” The words are choked out. “It’s gotten worse.”
He says nothing. Doing so would cause it to sear him even more.
His pained expression is answer enough. And the discomfort of the sensation it had brought was nothing compared to what you knew he faced. For him, you would cross any sea of fire. For him, you would do this. No matter the cost.
So, you gently trail your fingers around the reddened, plowed planes of his chest to surround all sides of the new contours there in the substance.
You shake the canister over his arm so that thick dollops land over the flesh there so you can spread them around, too.
Once you’re certain no part of him is bereft of your attention, you straighten and scour the room for anything you could use as a splint. There alone atop the cabinet by the door, was a clipboard with paper. No doubt a visitor’s log.
It was the perfect length for his arm.
Before you leave his side, you check his vitals for any unseen changes. Still he attempts to combat the throes of sleep that wish to pull him asunder, but the most serious of his wounds have now been disinfected and dressed.
“Alpha,” you prod, “I’ll be right back, okay? I need to get something to stabilize your arm.”
You wait for him to give a slow incline of his head, the action causing him to wince as explosive pain fires through his temples.
You turn, but the watchful glance you keep on him remains as you make your way across the room. You do not miss the way his fingers along his good arm twitch as if searching for you.
Your fingers close around the edge of the board of wood, your own chest splintering at the sight.
You return to him within seconds, but gods, it had felt like hours.
This time, you walk over to the side of him where his bad arm now rests, one of your hands wrapping around the underside of his arm to coax it only an inch upward. He lets you so you can slip the board underneath it as you observe him for any fluctuations in symptoms. His pupils are stagnant and idle, but they do not stray from you even as his breathing begins to slow and his heart beats become fainter and fainter.
Worry sets in your veins as you take the piece of your skirts that you’d torn earlier and tie it around the board of wood and the bandages you’d put there.
When you press your index and middle finger to the pulsating vein along his neck, it beats feebly.
He needed to replenish the blood he’d lost before it was too late. And you knew, right then, exactly what you needed to do to fix that.
However, no matter how much you flipped through the pages of the books you’d read in your mind, the answer to his inquiries and asymptomatic conditions he’d alerted you to did not match what you knew of blood loss. Whatever he had described was clearly something else. Something that Yoongi must have done since he’d been the only one to successfully injure your mate.
Yoongi, who had bitten him on the arm and his claws on Jungkook’s torso where, surprisingly, Jungkook had explained the worst of his pain to be. Where you yourself had felt it to be in the irate ire of the wounds there so hot to the touch.
It is with that identification that you scrap the books you’d read about common ailments in lieu of one you’d been hunched over for many weeks trying to memorize in its abundance of knowledge. One that had detailed poisons and toxins. There was one that matched what you had seen and heard from him. One that, if introduced into the body, was capable of corrosive necrosis in cells and had sensations and symptoms that matched what he’d described. One that was odorless, colorless, and impossible to cure.
It must have been dappled on Yoongi’s claws. He must have known about the deadly poison carried by a large fungus that even necromancers hesitated to harvest. It was capable of causing the entire bodily organs and tissues to break down and feel as if they were burning in their degradation when the toxins turned the cells against each other.
Jungkook’s eyes close, and horror clods your ribs and bowels of your body.
You had to keep him awake. For fear of losing his life, you had to keep him from sinking into the darkness.
Stay with me, my mate. My alpha. My love. Please, don’t leave me.
The words course like a ravine through the bond, the waters of your affections evident in the tracks they leave down your cheeks as you lift your leg up and over so you can sit astride him, desperation making you move before your mind can. The raindrops of your sadness fall over him like a fall downpour, and soon, his entire chest is wet with the salve of your handmade solutions and sadness.
The longer his eyes stay shut, the closer he dangles to that dangerous idea you’d kept rejecting and denying. That idea became more real by the moment.
You promised me, alpha. You promised me that you wouldn’t leave me! I can’t do this without you!
Distress takes control as the rush of thoughts spill from you and you bring your hand to your teeth that you had subconsciously sharpened in the iron that now falls across your tongue.
I can’t do this without you, alpha. Life without you was life without meaning. Life without you was like having silver thrust on me every day from the moment I woke to the moment I fell asleep: gray, senseless and deadening.
Something warm trickles from the sides of your lips when all of your now edged, serrated upper teeth easily prick and slice through your palm and you suck a mouthful between your lips.
The taughtened muscles around his eyes and mouth slacken, the movement of his irises behind his lids moving this way and that. As if he was still trying to search for you in the darkness. The gentle thud of his heart is all that you hear in your ears anymore. No other sounds matter.
You speak to him through it, hoping with everything in you that doing so will give him something to hold onto.
I love you, alpha. I love you more than anything in this world. So please, come back to me. Come back to me so I can express it to you, show it to you, and make more wonderful, beautiful, colorful memories with you.
You take his chin between the fingers of your other hand, lifting it before using your thumb to part his lips.
With the hand you’d just bitten, you hold it over his mouth only to turn your palm to the side before curling your digits in, your nails sinking into the fragile flesh to cut into it so that more streaks of crimson dribble down, the dark drops of your blood falling between his lips.
Adam's apple bobs as he tries to swallow it, but it’s not enough.
As you watch your blood spread across his tongue, you can’t help but notice how his skin has gone whiter than sleet, his usual golden glow drained with his life’s essence as he continues to shudder beneath you.
The faint presence of him dwindles in the bond like candlelight that the cold darkness schemes to snuff out, but still he is kindled in yours as you lean forward, your mouth seeking him.
Take my blood, alpha. Drink and replenish what you have lost. It is the only way.
The last sound of you is tucked in his mind just as your mouth slots itself over his, the mouthful of your blood that you had drawn forth from your hand soon emptied into his as he swallows it weakly. You mindfully set your bleeding hand between the middle of his sternum, the thick redness sobbing for him, too, as it spreads down his torso and seeps into the coverings draped across his chest.
With the first swill of you down his throat, the throbbing in his temples begins to dull and the air around him starts to warm.
It’s as if your blood had passed life into him, for his tongue eventually sweeps at the excesses of your mouth for the remnants that percolate from the small scrapes your teeth had left in your cheeks. You let him lick it, and with each pass of his tongue over each one, the muscle beating under your hand on his chest beats steadier. Stronger. Louder.
He required more. Way more after all that he had lost. And you? You intended to give it to him.
When he’s lapped all of your quintessence up, you pull away only to bring the hand you’d bitten to his lips in offering.
With his eyes still closed, he can’t see it, but he can smell it.
The tang of iron is powerful enough to summon his mouth to it, his baser being taking over as he closes his mouth around your open palm.
His teeth pierce through you easily and when your blood bursts forth from the punctures and he sups it without hesitation.
The violent, searing pain stemming from the claw marks along his torso where your blood had permeated through his bandages starts to lessen amid the ache that is dispelled in his skull. The quavering of his body soon ceases in the absence of the chill he’d felt before.
He wraps his lips tighter around you, and when he extracts your essence this time, it is with more urgency.
You run your other hand through his dark, ebony hair, the color slowly returning to his cheeks as he drinks from you.
“Take as much as you need, my love. You will require quite a few mouthfuls to, ah-“
You pause when he detaches from your hand, licking at the stray droplets of your blood before gripping your forearm to bring your wrist to his nose so he can inhale and run his lips longingly along it. His head falls back as he does, the pink muscle slipping between his lips to taste the remnants of you there, too.
“Want to…bite you…right here. Can I?” He asks hoarsely yet huskily.
You’re already answering before he’s even finished. “I’m all yours, alpha.”
The implications of this are not lost on you. By puncturing your scent glands where they produce the oils and scent of you the most–seconded only by your neck–his bite will forever leave his trace where he’d enter you. No other wolf would be able to take in your succulent smell without his lingering odor behind it.
From where you are seated on his lap, you swear you see his eyes roll back behind his lids.
When his canines elongate such that they protrude from his upper lip and he penetrates your flesh along the middle of your wrist, your blood eagerly teems into his mouth. Just like the first time he’d bitten you, there is no pain in the sharpness of those teeth. What was urgency before becomes hunger now as he feeds on you, his cheeks hollowing as he quaffs the life-giving nectar you have produced just for him.
You shudder as he draws deep, gulping mouthful after mouthful and all the worry you’d had before is sapped away as he does.
Your flavor is so fucking saccharine on his tongue, and each time your essence washes down his throat, his body surges with vitality and energy.
He can’t get enough of it. It’s too good. You’re too good.
More he takes and more he swallows like a crazed male, and you allow it as your own lids lower while you ogle him as the released endorphins stored in the glands along your wrist flood you in pleasure as you mindlessly–instinctively– rut your hips into his.
“Do I taste good, alpha?” You moan softly, your body growing limp as the fingers you’d twisted and twined around his locks loosen.
You taste sweeter than sweet.
His good arm shoots out so his fingers can splay around your hip to steady you as he indulges in the pulses and pangs of strength that return to him with each consuming swig of your lifeblood, your hips helped back and forth by the hand he has on one of them as your moans turn to whimpers.
You taste something like pineapple, grapes, strawberries, and everything good in this world.
When his eyes open, he looks at you like you’re a fucking goddess. Like you’re some kind of deity, and he is some servant beneath you.
He revels in the revelation that graces him as he takes in the sight of you atop him.
Your crimson-stained lips have slightly fallen ajar to reveal still jagged, pointed canines, remnants of red still flecking the sides of your mouth. Your silver irises have been glazed by desire, the daubing of crimson along your lids creating a deprived picture.
The dried, dark paint of his own blood that he’d smeared all over you was still there, but the new addition of his scarlet handprint between your breasts and streaks the same color all along your skirt and bodice are all the more depicting of a debased creature.
You straddle him, your gown ripped unevenly along one of your legs to reveal one bare calf and thigh.
How he had fucking ruined you.
His once pure, innocent goddess that must have been a fallen, divine being sent to him to save him.
“J-Jungkook,” you whine when your vision begins to darken at the edges as his teeth bury themselves deeper into your flesh so he can cravingly command more of you down, “I…I-“
The strong hand on waist pulls you down over his hardening member, your breath hitching when you remember he’s entirely naked beneath you.
“Even goddesses have their limit. I can see it,” he groans around your wrist as he savors the way you sag forward, your thighs loosening from where you’d been squeezing him between them. “I can feel it.”
He takes one more mouthful of your rich, piquant ichor, your front slumping forward until your head rests in the crook of his neck.
With your jugular vein so close to his ears, the rhythm set by the tune of your heart beats far too slow. The sound snaps him out of his craze instantly as the hand on your waist clutches you tighter as if you might slip away if he doesn’t hold you close enough.
“Goddess? Do you mean…me?” You drawl out the words through the tingling sensation in your head.
Despite the loss of your blood, affection courses through you when he attentively dislodges his teeth from you and makes sure to catch the bright red drops that run forth from the two new dark blots along the underside of your smaller wrist. As he does, he affirms, “You saved me.”
The hand at your waist gives you another comforting squeeze before it journeys up along your side, your shoulder, and then down your arm until his digits close around your wrist so he can rub soothing circles into it. “I was so lost in the darkness, omega, but your voice…I followed it back to you.”
“Me?” It’s all you can say. The rush of endorphins fades with the extraction of his teeth, and your hips slow to still as his words sober you.
One side of his lips turn up at that. “Yes, my love. You.” He coaxes your wrist upwards so he can kiss you where his teeth and yours had been. “You, the light of my life. The reason for my being, The purpose of my existence.” His head falls to the side as he shepherds your hand toward the palpitating muscle along his chest. “I once thought of you as my queen, but I see now that you’re so much more than that.” He places your hand right above his heart, and you’re so mesmerized by those beaming irises of gold that you don’t even realize what he’s done when those warm, calloused fingers brush along the side of your cheek until they rest in your hair and his palm holds the edge of your jaw to coax it upward as he brings his mouth near to yours. “Your voice is a song that even the muses envy. Your body is the drink of the gods that even they would fight wars for. Your mind and soul are so perfect and good that even demons would wish they could bottle them.”
His eyes twinkle with sincerity as he goes on, both fondness and affection for him taking turns to cleanse you of the desire you’d felt before so that something much deeper can fill your entire being.
“Shhh, alpha… you need to rest now. This can all wait until later.” Your words are throaty and full, for your heart has somehow found its way there, too. “You lost a lot of blood and-“
He seals your mouth with his, and like wax under a newborn wick, you melt into it. He’s warm and gentle in the warmness that he emanates that no candle ever could. The quiet intimacy of it has your lids falling to a close, the air around you making way for you both as you share each other’s breath.
There was nothing quite like this. Nothing like the way that your fingers sought any part of him that they could as they both encircled his uninjured wrist, unwilling to let him go. Nothing like the way your body was perfectly molded against his, the kiss akin to a butterfly’s wing in its softness that could take your breath away. It was the water that quenched after a drought. It was the furs that gave such comfort on a winter’s night. It was the rain and a flame all at once.
And gods, he couldn’t bear even a second’s separation from her. Truly, he’d never been so blessed with the gift of life until now. Until you. Hell would surely have frozen over before he would relinquish this: your mesmerizing, mellow eyes; your pliant, pretty lips; your stuttered, stammered breaths whenever he looked at you; your smaller, tinier hands that loosed and tightened around his wrist as he held you.
But his damned lungs just had to get some air, and so he had been forced into breaking the kiss.
When his mouth parts from yours, he breathes heavily. “I do not need rest when I have you. Imaginings and visions leave little to be desired when their source is on top of me like this. And,” the other side of his lips lift up and you’re sure that thudding in your ears gets louder as he does, “It would be rather impolite not to pay my respects to you, my divine little deity. You were–are–magnificent.”
You try to hide your face in his neck, your cheeks heating up at his praise. He won’t have any of that, and so he urges it back up.
Looking into those eyes is like looking into two orbs spun by the sun. That warmth that emanates over your skin like warm rays makes everything else lackluster, and even his voice carries that vivid color of emotion as he voices, “Do not hide from the truth, my love.”
You make a sound of questioning, not understanding what he’s just said. It’s as if there’s a fuzzy blanket around your body and mind, your disoriented thoughts too sluggish to formulate for you to say much more.
He chuckles lightly, his chest moving up and down gentle enough to not jostle you.
“You do not know it, but I shall help you see.” He offers, nosing at your jawline as he does. “Allow me to show you what you did to me, my love. I think you’ll find the evidence of your miracles when you do.”
He releases you, a quiet whine leaving your lips at the absence of his touch. Soft lips are there to soothe you when his mouth brushes where his hand had been at the edge of your jaw. There he presses his lips as he tells you, “Look down, my love.”
You’d been expecting to see more blood spilling from the open wounds arcing down both sides of his chest, his bandages completely soaked through with his life’s essence.
You did not expect to see one of the lines of gauze you’d laid down over the lacerations lifted in the air by your alpha to reveal a deep gash completely closed, the angry red slash now only a faint line of pink.
As if it were nothing but an old war scar.
At first, you think you might be seeing things.
You blink owlishly at him, and he grins only to pull back another strip of fabric that you’d used to pack another wound.
It, too, is only a faded, paled remnant of what it had been minutes ago.
Your fingers lethargically draw down his torso where the flesh that had been raised and furious is now smooth and normal.
There is no pain that festers there with the poison that had been set upon him by Yoongi’s claw. Its dissipation had had nothing to do with your medicines. He knows that now. It had been you.
Your lids have begun to grow heavy as sleep begins to beckon, and all you can do through the drowsiness that has set as you rest one of your temples against his shoulder so you can still stare at him as you manage the only word you can summon in your dumbfounded state. “How?”
“My mother used to tell me stories about our ancestors. It was said that the first rulers of our kind, who were chosen by the gods, were given abilities no others possessed.” Your mate tosses the soiled dressings into the bowl before he reaches for his splinted arm wrapped in bandages. “Abilities that made the rest of our kind lower their heads in awe.” He unties the knot you’d made out of the ripped fragment of your gown you’d affixed the wooden board to, and while he does, he tells you, “She told me that the king and queen of our kind were fated by their souls. That the first omega’s songs of mourning had so moved the gods when he’d been killed trying to protect her that they gave her the power to heal him through her kiss.”
Slumber drags you away from him, his voice fading the more it tugs and tugs you as he goes on. “So powerful was she that the other wolves revered her as a goddess in her capacity to mend and restore not only the physical body, but the soul and mind as well. And her king? He was vested by the gods who took pity on him with strength, speed, size, and stamina that no other could match.”
Distantly, you think you see a glimpse of the linens you’d put around his arm being peeled back to uncover what you had thought had been a mangled mess of bone and flesh. But no longer. Now, just like his chest, there are only small grazes and punctures that have since been pulled together with slightly darker cicatrix marring him.
When your lids fall closed and sleep takes you from him, he uses that arm to secure you close as he attentively watches over you. In your ear, he confides, “Rest up now, beautiful deity. You shall need it for what is to come, my love.”
#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts writing#bts x reader#jungkook fanfic#bts scenarios#bts#jungkook bts#bts smut#jungkook smut#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#alpha!jungkook#alpha!jungkook x reader#dom!jungkook#sub!reader
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Whispers Woven in Shadow. (7/?)

𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙞𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙝 𝘼𝙧𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧? 𝙃𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙣𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚? 𝙒𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙙𝙚𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚? 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮.
𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 ; 𝖠𝗓𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗅 𝗑 𝖥𝖾𝗆!𝖮𝖢 (𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅).
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 ; HELLO I AM ALIVE!!!! 🙌🏼 I am so sorry (again) about this taking me so long to update! I hit a whole ass brick wall with this chapter for a hot minute, but then I was like ???? why, just WRITE it girl!! So this is the result and I hope you all like it. 🥺 I will also, hopefully, get on a somewhat decent posting schedule and have a masterlist coming! ENJOY!! 🩵
𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 ; 𝗡𝗼𝗻𝗲, 𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸??? 𝗠𝗮𝘆𝗯𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗲𝗿-𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗺𝗼𝗶𝗹???? 𝗩𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁, 𝗶𝗳 𝘀𝗼.
𝗪𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 ; 4799.
The end of the week was finally here.
Ariadne could hardly contain herself, far too antsy to keep focus on anything for too long, which put a damper on her Daemati practice and she felt a split second of guilt before realizing that she had every right to be excited about this. There was little to nothing to do in the House of Wind and whatever there was to do, she’d done it already. Mostly.
And there was no denying that what she looked forward to above all else was the fact that no matter the result, she was getting out. It was a constant that replayed in her mind over and over since the terms had been set. How could she not be eager? The anticipation made her buzz, nearly leaping out of her skin at the mere thought of seeing so many new things.
She remembered that Feyre had written ‘City of Starlight’ back at Archeron Estate and she wanted to know if it was like what she envisioned in her head. It’s probably better, her lips twitch. You’ll find out soon, don’t worry. Patience is a virtue, right?
Although, it was apparent that playing the waiting game was a lot harder than she assumed it’d be. She should’ve known better, considering the fixation she had on it.
“Ariadne,” it flowed in like a cool breeze, spreading to every corner in her mind, consuming yet emanating a softness that was somehow silken and rich; goosebumps rose on the surface of her skin, a small breath catching in her throat, and she slowly turns to look over her shoulder. Golden hazel is the only thing she sees and there was a realization at how devastatingly gorgeous the Shadowsinger was. It was strange to her because she had been around him plenty of times by now and all of a sudden it was as if she hadn’t really looked before.
“Azriel,” she watches as his shadows curl around his ears, trailing down his neck. They reminded her of rolling waves, the gentle kind, right as the sun rises and everything begins to wake up. She was utterly fascinated by them and if the blasted male would stay put, she would already be touching to find out if they all felt the same. “You’re up early.”
He was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed lazily, with a rather hushed expression, eyes never straying. “I like to watch when the moon and the sun are visible at the same time. I’ve only ever seen it here in Night Court,” his wings shift, shadows coiled to his shoulders. “Rhys’ mom always told us it was their time to talk since they were in love with each other and were forced to be separated. I thought it was unfair and it’s stuck with me all these years, so I’m usually the first one awake.”
It was a beautiful tragic thing to think about and Ariadne found herself curious, not to mention - secretly - thrilled that he was initiating the conversation instead of her. She turns to face him fully, head tilted. “Why’d you think it was unfair?”
“I didn’t like that they were only allowed to be together once a day. If they were supposed lovers, I think they should have as much time as they want,” his tone was almost wistful, a gentle caress, and she wondered if this was part of the real him, seeping through and giving her a taste of what was underneath. “Having that level of control over someone isn’t okay with me.”
It didn’t sit well with her either.
For an entirely different reason that tugged at her heart.
“They’re together twice,” she resists the urge to rub away the ache, wishing to know why it bothered her so badly. “At dusk before sunset. The moon appears and gets to watch the sun when it’s most beautiful. All those colors,” a soft hum vibrates in her throat as the throbbing dulls. “The sun would see the moon start to gleam just before disappearing behind the horizon and when they meet again, the moon would know exactly what the sun thought about its light.”
Ariadne’s lips curve, honey swirling and warm, the steady beat nearly unnoticeable and Azriel was frozen, enraptured by the whisper of her words and the small crinkle in her left eye, subtle but there. His shadows drift towards her and he doesn’t have the mind to draw them back, which seems to further encourage them to move closer, and he takes a breath. He was amazed at her mind already, but this was something else.
“I like that,” she blinks and he watches blush tint her cheeks, making a light batch of freckles appear, sprinkled across like stardust. He exhales. “You’re so…” the word stalls on his tongue, brow twitching. It was what he had said to himself a thousand times and for some reason, he wasn’t sure if he could say it to her.
“So… what?”
He wanted to. It was hovering over his head like an omnipresent cloud and the want turned to need, arms flexing as he struggled to remain still under her doe-eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of playfulness, rimmed with wispy lashes. His jaw tics.
“Different.”
“Different,” she parrots, a single brow raising before her tone lilts. “In a good way or a bad way?”
“A good way,” Azriel was studying her so closely that he noticed the mixture of relief and something tender settle into the delicate planes of her face. Had she been… worried? No. That was Rhys and Cass getting to him. Wasn’t it?
Ariadne hums. “You’re different in a good way too,” she glances down at the ground as a couple of the shadows tickle her toes. “Same as them,” his posture relaxes and she chooses not to comment. Some things were better left alone. For now. “Did you have breakfast yet?”
“No.”
“Do you like french toast?”
“Yes.”
“Then come eat with me.”
₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:・
A whole training ring? This is impressive, Ariadne stands on the outer edge with her notebook, quill, and inkpot held in her hands. I bet they spend more time up here than they do anywhere else, her lips twitch in amusement, neck craning to look at the sky. If I find the right spot, I’ll be able to see everything. The only question is where?
The ground shakes beneath her feet, eliciting a surprised squeal from her throat and putting her off balance, weight teetering on her toes. She quickly searches for stability and tries to plant her feet firmly when large hands settle on her hips, warm and steady.
Her head angles back further to find Cassian, who was grinning. He was always grinning.
“I know you don’t have far to fall, but you should really be more careful.”
She releases a frustrated sound. “Says the one who causes an earthquake when he lands!”
“It’s all this muscle, what can I say?” Cassian flexes his arms and Ariadne snorts, turning around to give him a light shove. Well, it was more like her pushing against a brick wall, but it was the thought that counted. “You should get rid of some to make room for your brain.”
There was silence and then he roars with laughter, the sheer volume of it making her ears buzz. “You’re funny. Anyone ever told you that?”
“Not recently,” she taps her finger against the edge of the notebook. “It’s good to know, though. At least I’m not boring.”
He pats her on the shoulder. “Definitely not,” his spine straightens and mischief glimmers in his gaze as the air around them shifts, tickling the surface of her skin and raising goosebumps; a silken touch attracts her attention and she looks down to find one shadow around her wrist, another curled around her elbow. She brightens, already enthralled, and misses the blatant surprise displayed on Cassian’s face. “That’s new.”
Ariadne hums, wiggling her fingers as it weaves through the spaces between. “Let me guess,” she raises a brow. “You get on their nerves too.”
Cassian narrows his eyes. “Do not.”
“Yes you do.”
Azriel.
She turned around and sure enough, the Shadowsinger stood a few feet away in his usual pose - arms crossed - and she wished he would loosen up, the tension obvious in the tightness in his shoulders and the reservation in his eyes. Why is he like this? He changes more quickly than I can think and I can’t keep up. How come I can’t figure him out?
The tendrils tremble as her fingers brush over the surface, marveling at how responsive they were; it seemed they were more sensitive than what was considered ‘normal’ and it was an enigma that she couldn’t figure out, but enjoyed all the same.
“See? We’re all in agreement,” she notes the flash of amusement in golden hazel followed by the slight shift in his chest, lips parting to release a breath, and the hard line of his jaw softening; they were near imperceptible changes and yet, she didn’t miss a single one. Well, you wanted to get a read on him, didn’t you?
Watching him would be the best way, Ariadne tilts her head. He’s struggling with something. It comes and goes and it’s heavy, her eyes observing the shadows swirling more languidly than before. They mimic his emotions, even though I’m positive they have their own too, which makes it harder.
I have to figure out the differences. How are you going to do that? This wasn’t helping. How long had it been since she’d spoken? Her nose twitches. “I made the scorecards and there’s two categories, so I was th-“
“I thought there were four.”
She glares at him, mouth tight. “Don’t do that. It’s rude and I don’t care for it. I wouldn’t do it to you and you shouldn’t do it to me. As I was saying,” She blinks. Wait, what did he say? She replays it over. How did he-? Realization slaps her right across the face. The shadow! Oh, damn the Cauldron! So much for secrecy! Her eyes narrow.
“I changed my mind. Two of them didn’t make sense after I thought it over.”
“What were they?” Cassian questions, causing Ariadne to jump and quickly step to the side, grateful she hadn’t dropped anything in the process and that no one would know it was because she forgot he was even there; her eyes focus on him, deciding a break was needed from the Spymaster - and his shadows - anyway.
“Agility and endurance,” she sighs. “I wanted to have more to look for, but it doesn’t make sense when you’ll be flying from one spot to another and I won’t be able to really judge them that well,” her shoulder lifts in a half-shrug. “Speed, self-explanatory, and form, how you takeoff and land.”
Azriel abruptly turns and starts walking away, causing Ariadne and Cassian to display varying levels of confusion on their faces, though the latter seemed to know something she didn’t, which was strange. What was she missing? Her brow furrows and instead of standing around like an idiot, she hurriedly follows after him, making sure to keep her grip on everything in her hands, and glances back to see that his brother in everything but blood was coming along too.
“Where are we going?” Ariadne huffs and pushes her legs to move faster to keep up, silently cursing the world that she was so short. What an inconvenience.
Neither of them answer and irritation prickles on her skin, mouth setting into a thin line. “By all means, keep ignoring me. That isn’t rude or anything.”
More silence.
Her eyes narrow. Asses.
Cassian laughs to himself from behind the small Fae as they leave the training ring behind, beginning to climb up the small slope of the mountain and into the thicket of the trees. “She has a point… Where are we going? What did you do, Az?”
The Shadowsinger veers to the left, a clear destination in mind, and ponders for a moment whether or not he should respond. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll see in a minute.”
“Ah, so you’re being mysterious now? Is that for your benefit or hers?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats, wings pulled tightly to his body to avoid scraping against the branches. “We’re almost there.”
Cassian rolls his eyes in amusement, but remains silent. He had a feeling the end result of this was going to be more entertaining than anything he could say and he’d be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued and didn’t want to see how it all played out; this Azriel was exciting and new, something he never thought would be possible. Might as well take advantage of it.
“You aren’t leading us all the way out here to kill me or something, right?” Ariadne breaks into a small jog to catch up to Azriel, mindful of the roots above ground - the last thing she needed was to almost fall, again - and nearly grabbing onto his arm to keep herself in time with his lengthy gait. She doesn’t though. He’d probably disappear like the last time if I did.
Azriel looks over his shoulder, lips curved up into a surprisingly soft smile. “No. I’m capable of a lot of things, but harming you isn’t one of them.”
Oh.
She certainly hadn’t expected that.
“Well, that’s a relief then!” Her tone was breathier and there was a silent chiding to herself that she needed to stay composed. No need to lose her head now. “Are we almost there? Or are we going to have to stop for food and water?”
Cassian snorts, earning a sharp glare from Azriel, and he slides up next to Ariadne, reaching over to pat the top of her head. She immediately swats him away. “Patience, little Archeron.”
“My name is Ariadne.”
He chuckles. “I’m aware.”
She makes a move to retort when she bumps into Azriel, who had come to stand still, a squeak emitting from her lips. He was as solid as a damn rock and it wouldn’t be a shock if she found she was bruised from the impact. “You could warn me next time you kn-!”
The words get caught and come to a halt as she finally registers why he had stopped.
Her eyes widen a fraction and she steps around the Shadowsinger to be able to see better, everything else lost to her for the time being; they were in a large clearing laden with posts buried in the forest floor, artfully arranged from one side to the other, and there was hoops on top of a few, wide enough for a person - an Illyrian, more than likely - to fit through. Is this what I think it is?
Moving forward, Ariadne tilts her head back and breathes out slowly, finding what she was looking at hard to believe. “An obstacle course?”
“So this is what you’ve been doing for the past few nights! Who knew you would add carpentry to your list of skills,” Cassian stood beside Azriel now, a hand lifting to clap him on the shoulder. “And you say you aren’t creative!”
Azriel ignores him, golden gaze fixated on the youngest sister, surveying every bit of reaction elicited from her. “It is. You can judge more than speed and form with this, yes?”
She turns around, eyes brighter than he had seen so far and he was positive he’d do anything to keep it that way. “Uh, yeah! This is amazing! How long has this been here? Do you train here a lot?”
“You want to tell her or should I?” Cassian wiggles his eyebrows, ducking out of the way of one of the shadows and laughing raucously.
“Not long,” he inclines his head slightly, continuing to pay his brother no mind. “You can watch from over there.”
Ariadne bounces on the balls of her feet, practically buzzing with unrestrained energy, and wastes no time in going over, eager to witness exactly how flying really was. The only thing that would top it would be having one of them carry her along for the ride, but it was quickly dismissed. She was brave, sure, just not enough for that. Yet.
“Okay, I’m ready when you are,” she had her notebook open, along with the inkpot, and the feathered quill poised between her fingers. “Get in position and I’ll count it off.”
The two Illyrians do exactly that, standing a few feet apart at what was the designated starting line and stretching their wings, feet planted firmly and determination set into their expressions. Wow, they’re really taking this seriously. I guess it makes sense. Males are usually more competitive, she resists the urge to giggle. This is gonna be fun.
She goes over the scorecard for the millionth time and nods, completely focused and excited. There was no denying it.
“On your mark… Get set… GO!”
Cassian is airborne first, closely followed by Azriel, and she watches with a combination of calculation and awe. There was something to be said about the beauty of wings - one in particular - and watching them move with such power, such precision, was truly magnificent. She couldn’t tear her eyes away, not that she wanted to, taking note that while both were clearly talented, there was a drastic difference. To her at least.
Azriel flew with a deadly grace, maneuvering through the posts as if it were second nature, so fast that he was a blur of bronze and sapphire; she found herself mesmerized, the delicate features of her face showcasing wonder and not bothering to hide it, far too caught up in the art of it.
She paid attention to Cassian too, though it was difficult to share, and could tell that he was much more aggressive with his movements, all strength and speed, even a bit cocky. How was she to fairly judge this?
Cassian was cackling gleefully, tucking his wings in to shoot through one of the hoops as he pulled ahead before dipping into a low dive to bob and weave with ease. “Come on, brother! You’ve gotten slow!”
The Shadowsinger’s jaw tightens and he banks to the left, avoiding a post and ascending steeply, using the height to his advantage and propelling forward until he hears an indignant cry from below. A smirk forms on his lips. “I don’t think so.”
Ariadne was enthralled, memorizing every little thing that she could, refusing to miss any of it. If she wasn’t thrilled before, she certainly was now, and she knew that it was only going to go up - literally - from here. The finish line was right there and the sudden realization hit that she wanted Azriel to win.
Her cheeks heat at the mere thought and she swallows, that same energy buzzing beneath the surface of her skin. Don’t let me down. I’m rooting for you. Come on.
Almost as if he had heard her, Azriel flies through the last hoop and to the end, Cassian seconds behind, and she struggles to hold the grin at bay. She looks down at the scorecard and immediately begins tallying the scores, knowing that she couldn’t choose a winner based on who got there first; there were four categories for a reason after all.
“I let you win,” Cassian gives a pointed look. “I didn’t want to take away your prize and have you moping around. It’s seriously depressing.”
Azriel rolls his eyes. “You didn’t let me do anything.”
“Sure, sure.”
“Come back over here!” Ariadne double-checks each column, feeling satisfied with her judgment and her decision. It was close. Very close. She waits until they’re standing in front of her before handing them their scorecards, having returned to bouncing up and down with no restraint, excitement bubbling out from every inch of her. “Azriel wins!”
Cassian narrows his eyes at the paper he held as he goes over the numbers and soon his expression forms into mock horror. “The only one I beat him in was form?! Are you sure you aren’t biased, little Archeron?”
She scoffs. “No! I said that it was based on how you takeoff and land! You were off the ground first, so you edged him out there.”
“He’s a sore loser,” Azriel chuckles. “He’ll get over it.”
“You wound me, brother.”
Ariadne tilts her head. “I think you’ll survive, Lord of Illyrians.”
“Lord of Illyrians?” Cassian perks up at that. “Hear that, Az? I’m your Lord.”
“In your dreams.”
₊˚✧𑁍.ೃ࿔*:・
She was having a crisis.
A wardrobe crisis.
Normally, she wasn’t one to really give a damn about fashion, but this was the first time she’d be out and in public. Around people. With eyes. She wanted to look nice, or at the very least, presentable. The main issue being that she didn’t know what that entailed. A dress? Pants? Boots or heels? Maybe the silk ballet slippers? And what about a jacket? Leather? A cardigan? Was it too warm for a sweater? She had no idea. It was all guesswork at this point.
A noise of exasperation leaves her, hands on her hips, and she glares at the pile of clothes on the bed as if they had personally offended her. This is ridiculous! There is no reason why this should be so hard! Just pick something. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Is anyone going to truly care what I’m wearing anyway or am I just thinking too much into this? She groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. I wish Elain was here. Or even Nesta. They’re much better at this than I am, damn it all!
Ariadne drops her hand, looking over the garments before snatching a pair of satin pants off the top and slipping them on. They were a deep plum color and seemed to pop against her skin, accentuating the subtle curve of her hips and hugging her thighs just right. See? You got this. Look for a shirt that matches and you’re golden.
She begins to sort through until she finds a blouse with flowing sleeves in a shade of cream and pulls that on too. Good enough, I suppose. At least it matches. I think.
With a sigh, she finds a pair of ballet slippers with a hard bottom and quickly decides that it was probably the best she would find. Heels weren’t her thing anyway; she still hadn’t figured out how anyone could properly walk in them. She smooths her hands down her front and takes a breath, glancing over at the door and gnawing on the inside of her lower lip. Azriel said they would spend the day in Velaris and it was a few hours after sunrise, which made her feel… silly. Surely he meant the afternoon? It didn’t make sense to leave now. He was the Spymaster and certainly had better things to do.
Oh, to hell with it! Ariadne faces the mirror of the vanity, checking over her appearance - more thoroughly than necessary - and finding that she actually looked pretty. She had gotten some sun from spending time on the private balcony she had nearly fallen off of and the plum and cream looked nicer than she had anticipated. Not so bad after all.
She gives a final nod and hurriedly leaves her room before she can change her mind, making her way to the kitchen for a much needed cup of tea. The doors to her sister’s rooms were shut and as she passed by, there’s a sudden urge to see them, to make sure they were alright, but she didn’t know how to approach them. Especially after Nesta’s reaction the last time. How long has it been? She wasn’t sure.
A frown mars her features and she hesitates briefly, falling into a battle in her own mind of the two options; she wanted to be close with them and share her experiences, but she didn’t know how to reveal the fact that she was able to communicate now. Would they accept her? Would they understand? She desperately wished she had the answers, though she kept coming up short and it frustrated her to no end.
Maybe I could ease them into it? So much has happened since Hybern and I don’t want to freak them out, Ariadne’s frown deepens. How would I even go about it? Write it down first? Would they even be willing? I wish Feyre was here.
That familiar sharp pain stabs into her chest and she winces, reaching up to rub the spot. She’ll be back and then everything will be okay. Deep breaths. You miss her and that’s normal.
She sucks in a breath and forces her legs to move until she’s standing at the bottom of the steps that lead to the kitchen. Tea, right, she exhales and looks up at the ceiling. You know how I like it.
A steaming cup appears on the counter and Ariadne immediately takes a sip, allowing the heat to coat her throat, warming her from the inside out. Her finger taps mindlessly against the rim, completely lost in thought; so much so that she barely notices the shift in the air and cool silk brushing over her shoulder, strands of caramel tickling her neck and the scent of cedarwood and bergamot - along with something slightly sweet, a little smoky - invading her senses.
She inhales deeply, lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Goodmorning.”
“Goodmorning.”
The smallest of sighs passes through her lips and her eyes reopen, head turning and tilting back to meet golden hazel. Cauldron, he’s so beautiful. It’s truly unfair. Oh, hush, Ari! Stop it. He doesn’t need you fawning over him.
Ariadne looks him over quickly - sort of, not really - and notes he wasn’t wearing the fighting leathers he favored. Instead, he had on black slacks and a black shirt, fitted to the musculature of his chest and making everything very much defined, along with a leather jacket. His hair was artfully messy and she wanted to run her fingers through it. STOP IT.
She drinks the tea.
“You look nice. I never thought I would see you without that sword. Truth-Teller, isn’t it?”
His mouth curves. “Yes. You remembered.”
Her eyes roll, a playful glint in honey. “Of course I did. I remember everything you tell me.”
“Do you now?” Azriel raises a single brow, his hip resting against the edge of the counter. His gaze was intense and Ariadne shifts her weight from one foot to the other, heart beating a bit faster than she was used to. “Yes,” there goes that breathy tone again. What was the deal? “You’re… interesting.”
Cauldron boil me! Interesting!? That’s what you decided to go with?
That was the worst thing she could’ve possibly said.
But it seemed the Shadowsinger felt otherwise.
“Interesting?” Azriel’s lips form into a smile.
“Mhm,” she felt her cheeks flush, spreading down the length of her neck and she was certain a black hole was going to swallow her up. How embarrassing. What the hell was happening? She didn’t act like this!
Something brushes across her jaw, causing her breath to hitch, and she blinks, eyes finding the Illyrian to see.. Oh. Why is he looking at me like that? Wait, is he actually touching me?
Ariadne doesn’t move as his thumb swipes back and forth, ending in a soothing circle that makes her heart stutter in her chest. She felt hot all over, even with the shadow twined into her hair, and the stark contrast in temperature was sending her mind into a spiral with fuzzy edges that she couldn’t smooth out.
“Beautiful,” his voice caressed her, echoing in her head and she suddenly felt dizzy. “I like this color on you.”
What?
She wanted to touch him too. Badly.
And she wanted him to keep touching her.
“Thank you,” she swallows, subtly leaning further into it, and Azriel hums low in his throat, the sound reverberating down his arm and to his fingers. She shivers.
“Are you ready to go?”
“Go?”
That soft smile he had given her right before the race returns, the gold in his eyes shimmering and holding something that she wasn’t sure of. “To Velaris.”
She could’ve smacked herself. How did she forget already? Was he still touching her?
“Yeah, I’m… I’m ready.”
Azriel lowers his hand and she notices that the warmth he brought left with him, leaving her wanting for more without any semblance of how to ask. He offers his arm to her, head tilted, and she takes it, fingers digging into the leather sleeve.
“Hold on.”
Her brow furrows, confusion evident, and then the shadows shroud them, the kitchen warping around them before everything goes dark.
𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ; @ashblooddragons , @rcarbo1 , @waytoomanyteenagefeels , @prettylittlewrites , @tele86 , @missxmarvelous , @herondale-lightworm , @kabekusa , @fr0stf4ll .
#themoonlitquill#whispers woven in shadow#acotar fanfiction#acotar#azriel shadowsinger#fanfic#writing#original archeron sister#original female character#feyre archeron#rhysand#elain archeron#nesta archeron#cassian#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel x original character#azriel x original female character#a court of thorns and roses fic#a court of thorns and roses#fantasy#fae#self insert#archeron sisters
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Love Me Like A Rockstar (10)
ー☆ Chapter 10: Sugar

Author: bvidzsoo
Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader
ー☆ Warning: cursing, usage of the word bitch ー☆ Word count: 13.7k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?
A/N: Hello, my lovelies! I am so-so sorry for making you wait for so long for chapter 10, but I am finally DONE with university and have been heavily focusing on my works since, so hopefully I'll get to update this series a lot more often! ^^ This part is the longest so far, and I think you all deserve it after the long wait. I feel like it isn't the best I have written for this series so far, but I'll let you be the judge of it. I can't wait to hear your thoughts about chapter 10 and please leave feedback, you always make my day when you do so! <3 Listen to Sugar before or while reading this chapter, it's actually really important as it's the song they are performing hehet. The outfit Mingi wears is the one in the moodboard, with a little change to his hair color mhmm. I hope you enjoy this, and happy reading! ^^
Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi
⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩
♫Playlist♫
The doors of the cab slammed shut behind us, the voice of the driver wishing us a good time cut short as I grimaced, looking up at the sign of Outlaw. Well, here I was again, under much different circumstance than the first time. Now, I was here willingly, having agreed to come myself, unlike the last time, when I tagged along with Seulgi just because I felt bad for her having to come on her own to woo her crush—turned boyfriend now, thankfully. Seulgi’s heels clicked loudly against the pavement as she came to stand next to me, the cab finally driving off, and when I threw her a quick glance, I caught her smirking at me again. I groaned and crossed my arms in front of my chest, the leather jacket crippling under the action, making a quiet sound that was drowned out as a few guys exited the pub, laughing loudly about something.
“Stop giving me that look, Seulgi.” I groaned as she just chuckled, pursing her lips.
“I didn’t think you owned clothes like that,” Seulgi’s teasing was relentless, she’s been at my throat the second she stopped by my house so that we’d ride to Outlaw together, “Who was your inspiration for tonight? Letty from Fast and Furious?”
“I swear to God, Seulgi, shut up!” I exclaimed, pushing her shoulder playfully as she stuck her tongue out at me before she grabbed my arm to drag me towards the pub’s entrance, “You don’t hear me making fun of your outfit for looking like you’ve come straight out of Scooby-Doo or something!”
“Scooby-Doo?!” Seulgi exclaimed, throwing me an offended look, “You’re being foul now, Y/N, my mother bought this dress for me and I think the colors are lovely!”
“They are, I’m just playing with you because you deserve it.” I chuckled, opening the door for her as she shook her head at me, adjusting the hem of her short dress. Seulgi looked like a character straight out of the seventies with her orange and brown patterned dress, the sleeves loose at the end and the skirt a little ruffled as it reached just below her thighs. She matched some white high heeled boots with it that reached up to her knees, and her small shoulder bag was white as well to match her boots. She ruffled up her black hair even more, the curs tighter as she pulled half of it up in a ponytail, and I gave her some white winged-eyeliner, blushing up her cheeks and painting her lips a pretty coral color. She looked absolutely lovely and she was very excited to see Wooyoung, who apparently, wore similar colors. They have agreed to match their outfits for tonight, and as much as I hated admitting it, I thought it was rather adorable, and found myself pondering whether I’d do it too if I had a boyfriend.
As for myself, not wanting to feel like the last time I was here, out of place and as if everyone was ogling me, I wore something that I deemed rather fit for a rock show, something more from the twenties. My jeans were a dark grey color, low rise and flared out below the knees. I wore black boots with it that didn’t have too high of a heel as I knew my feet would hurt quite fast because of them. It took some time until I finally settled on the simple white tank top that I wore now, just about reaching my belly button as I wasn’t keen of showing too much skin. And the dark leather bomber jacket that I wore to keep me warm from the cold night is actually my mother’s, and I totally stole it from her closet without her noticing—hopefully. Accessories had always been an important part of my outfits; therefore I threw on a thick dark brown belt, which perhaps drew the attention onto my exposed lower belly, but I didn’t ponder enough on the thought in order to prevent feeling uncomfortable about it, and as my black nails were painted in a haste, they definitely didn’t look as neat as I would have preferred them to be. My fingers, per usual, weren’t left bare as I wore my favorite rings, only my left pinky and right ring-finger missing the jewelry. Not wanting to leave my neck bare either, I threw on a black choker that had a moonstone pendant, and two more silver necklaces that hung at different lengths around my neck, and some smaller silver hoop earrings that completed the look altogether. I left my hair alone mostly, gave it a few large curls as I didn’t like the way it looked straight with the outfit, and for once, I didn’t feel the need to do any strong makeup. Similar to Seulgi, I rosed up my cheeks a little bit and applied a dark red lip-gloss that would certainly come off the second my lips touch a glass to drink water. I would like to think I totally slayed this outfit, and ignore Seulgi’s incessant teasing that I was all dolled up because of someone. But she’s wrong—like she is almost always—because I did not have Mingi in mind when putting together this outfit, I merely didn’t want to look out of place again.
The air was rather warm inside the pub as Seulgi and I walked inside, then down a flight of stairs as today’s performance would be on the lower part, an after party following it. Different smells mixed in the air, mostly those sweet elf bars everyone seemed to be smoking, and the not so pleasant smell of cigarettes, the two smells mixing with the perfume and cologne of the people down there. I wondered when it became alright to smoke indoors, especially in a confined space underground, but before I could say anything about it to Seulgi, we were greeted by a familiar face. We have barely walked inside the room, Seulgi’s boyfriend was stood in front of us, grinning from ear to ear. I stepped aside as Seulgi released my hand and I watched as the two grinned at each other widely, going in for a tight hug as Wooyoung buried his head in Seulgi’s neck. And they certainly didn’t joke about matching their outfits tonight, Wooyoung wore brown jeans that were ripped at his knees, showing off a tattoo that I didn’t know he had, and his top was an orange mesh fabric with white streaks, leaving little to imagination, and I was taken aback upon seeing it. But Seulgi seemed to be enjoying it `as she fiddled with the fabric at his arms and even leaned down to whisper something in his ear, something I certainly didn’t want to hear as Wooyoung’s cheeks instantly tinged red. I snorted and stepped up to them, raising one eyebrow.
“If you’re done devouring each other, love birds, should we go sit down somewhere upstairs until you are next to perform?” I spoke up, Wooyoung’s eyes falling on me as he grinned widely, Seulgi sticking to his side as her arm went around his shoulders.
“Hi, Y/N!” Wooyoung greeted enthusiastically, blinking his eyes innocently at me, “I didn’t see you there.”
“Of course,” I snorted, smirking at him, “you were too busy checking my bestie out, which is cool since you’re her boyfriend, but I certainly would’ve broken your nose if you weren’t…”
“She’s only joking!” Seulgi exclaimed, a nervous laugh bubbling up her throat as she pressed her cheek against Wooyoung’s, “Well…mostly, she did punch a guy once because he was bothering us…”
I grinned, placing my hands deep in my jacket’s pocket, Wooyoung’s expression falling as he took me in, “Don’t worry, I was only joking, Wooyoung. With you…not with that other guy.”
“Yeah, cool.” Wooyoung laughed, but it sounded rather fake and I grinned satisfied, making Seulgi narrow her eyes at me. Wooyoung had to know I liked him as long as Seulgi did and as long as he treated her right. If he breaks her heart, I break his nose…simple as that, “Uh, if Mingi finally decides to stop fixing his hair in the bathroom and joins us, we could go upstairs, although I don’t know when it’s our turn to perform.”
Mingi, right. It seemed like after hanging out things were back to normal between us, no more ignored messages and awkward tension that drove me up the wall. He was back to his old and annoying self, texting me—more like spamming me—about anything and everything that came to mind, and I finally felt relaxed around him again. Well, as relaxed as I could be given the fact that my whole body jumped whenever I got a text from him and my heart would pick up its rhythm and make me blush like a stupid schoolgirl. I hated it, this feeling where I knew something was brewing deep inside, but I opted to ignore it. I wanted to ignore it. I was scared that if I stopped ignoring it, then it would become very real, and for that to happen, something even very small could trigger it. I desperately wished nothing more would put our friendship to test and that we just continue blissfully ignoring the lingering stares and the accidental touches that somehow have stopped feeling so accidental or uncomfortable lately.
“Ah, there he is!” Wooyoung exclaimed loudly, snickering at someone behind me, “The princess himself, is your highness ready at last? Or should I go with you and help you fix your boxers too or something?”
Wooyoung’s loud cackle didn’t manage to mask the low giggle behind me, and upon hearing the familiar sound, all particles of my body decided to heat up at once, making me whirl around almost frantically, blood freezing and body going cold at the approaching sight. Whoever that man was…it looked like Mingi, but at the same time it felt like a different person. A much hotter and sexier Mingi than the one I have known for a little over a month now, and I gulped, feeling my jaw about to drop open at any moment. I didn’t know at what to look first, his face, his body—outfit—or his hair? The sight of Song Mingi suddenly was too much to take in at once and I gulped, eyes settling on his outfit that was…revealing? Vulgar, perhaps? But it concealed everything in the perfect percentage, as if he purposefully wanted to tease the audience—me?
But at the same time, due to the innocent look on his face, he made it seem like he had absolutely no fucking idea of how hot and ravishing he looked, and suddenly, I couldn’t recognize my own feelings as my stomach coiled upon seeing Mingi’s sexy, all denim outfit. His jeans were a light colour and looked almost washed out with darker coloured patches strewn around the fabric, tightly ripped starting from his thighs, stopping just barely above his knees. But the fabric was long and loose, and it pooled around his ankles, this boots thick and tall, helping Mingi out from having to step on the ends of his jeans. Its waist was high and he wore no belt with the jeans, but a chain hung around his right pocket, concealed by the very similar denim jacket that he wore on top of his low-cut black tank top, positioned perfectly over his pecs, barely hiding his nipples. And perhaps the outfit wouldn’t have looked that crazy or provocative if it weren’t for the jacket, which was made out of the same material as his jeans, the front parts of its sleeves entirely ripped up, exposing his toned arms, teasing at what he’d usually hide with long sleeves as it was cold outside now. Mingi wore a beige fingerless glove on his left hand, and his right hand was adorned by the rings he liked most, all his fingernails now completely black with a hint of silver on a few of them. The long silver pendant sitting against the dip between his pecs definitely drew attention to the exposed skin, and two heavier looking silver chains clung snugly around his neck. And as he came closer, almost having reached us, I noticed the same little black scribble that I have called dirt the first time seeing it, was high on his right cheekbone again. It was his signature, apparently.
“Stop being an ass, Woo,” Mingi spoke up as he reached us at last, having stopped right in front of me—as I was still stupidly gaping at him—but he only looked past me, “my hair wouldn’t stay in place and I asked Hongjoong to help me fix it.”
“So that’s where he disappeared to,” Wooyoung chuckled, and I caught my jaw drop more open, so I quickly coughed and closed it as Mingi’s eyes briefly fell on me, “Seonghwa’s been looking for him desperately.”
“Those two need to learn how to live without each other, I swear to God, they are worse than you and Seulgi—”
“Hey!” Wooyoung scoffed and threw his best friend a glare as Seulgi chuckled, meanwhile me…yeah, I was malfunctioning. Completely and most certainly struggling to accept that the Mingi that stood in front of me wasn’t just simply conjured up by my mind, but was real, “Seulgi and I are lovely, thank you very much. But Seonghwa and Hongjoong are downright disgustingly in love with each other, even I can’t handle them anymore, and that’s a lot coming from me.”
Mingi chuckled and nodded in agreement, his eyes falling on me again, but this time they stayed on me. My muscles tensed and I gulped—my throat having gone too dry—trying to formulate one coherent thought. Mingi’s hair…it was still long, but it wasn’t black anymore. It was—this platinum blonde that sharpened his features so much more than they already were, and the way the front strands were jelled back highlighted his cheekbones, eyes, and even his tall nose.
“Hi, Y/N—”
“You’re blonde.” My mouth, once again, worked before my brain could agree to what was being said, “Like…platinum blonde.”
“Yeah, I’m blonde.” Mingi grinned, touching the back of his hair gently, eyes widening curiously, “What do you think…do you still hate blondes?”
Stupid mouth and stupid brain for not being able to synchronise when I most need them to, “No, not this blonde, not you.”
Silence settled around us and my cheeks flamed up, and I knew Seulgi was on the verge of bursting out laughing, and I wished for the Earth to swallow me up completely, but I refused to show any of those emotions as I forced my expression to become blank, and then cursed at my heart as it was hammering against my ribcage, my eyes fixated on Mingi’s flushed cheeks.
“Thanks,” Mingi cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he looked down, “I went ahead and took your advice, Seonghwa was eager to help me out.”
“Good, cool.” Tonight wasn’t my best night when it came to communicating, and I sighed loudly, much to Mingi’s amusement as he grinned then stepped even closer, throwing his arm around my shoulders and making me jump in the process. He veered us around to face Seulgi and Wooyoung, and I knew my whole face was red as I tried to keep my eyes ahead and not on Mingi’s exposed chest or arms, while also trying not to take a deep breath and inhale his scent—which was intoxicatingly sweet, yet somehow spicy at the same time. Good Lord, if I was a smoker, I’d definitely excuse myself and probably finish the whole package at this point.
“We’ll grab some drinks; do you want anything?” Mingi asked Wooyoung and Seulgi, who were both giving us looks that I rather ignored as Seulgi’s stare became insistent as she searched for eye contact.
“Nah, we’re good, right, baby?” Wooyoung kissed Seulgi’s cheek and she giggled nodding, shooing us away with her hand. What a traitor, I knew she wanted something to drink, but she thought she was playing matchmaker if she left me alone with Mingi.
Mingi shrugged and looked down at me, “Let’s go then.”
And before I could tell him that I wasn’t drinking tonight, he was veering us towards the bar, smiling from ear to ear. I rarely saw him so enthusiastic and smiley—happy—and I found myself unable to resist the need to ogle his profile as we arrived to the bar, finally releasing his hold on me. He pursed his lips as he held onto the surface of the bar, leaning a little over it. From this angle, and because I stood close to him, I could finally read what was written on his cheekbone, fix on. Well…that was peculiar, but at this point nothing really surprised me about him, not with a band name like Noir Zenith. Was it fair that Mingi looked handsome even from the side?
I realized his lips were moving, but I wasn’t focusing on what he was saying, and so, when he turned his head and smiled at me a little unsure, my eyes widened.
“Huh?” I found myself dumbly asking and Mingi giggled, the sound deep and making my palms ball up into fists because of how cute he sounded.
“I was saying that I hope you like sweet things.” He clarified as he leaned against the bar, tilting his head with a devilish glint in his dark brown eyes. I gulped and ran my hand through my hair, looking anywhere but at him. The shoes he wore made him tower over me, and I didn’t know how to feel about that. I should have worn higher heels to minimalize the sudden height difference between us.
“As long as they aren’t too sweet, I can handle them.” I muttered, and Mingi grinned as the bartender pushed a tall glass with something pinkish inside it towards me. I raised my eyebrows as the bartender went to take an order from someone else, pointing at my drink, “Is this for me?”
“Sure is.” Mingi smiled, and my eyebrows furrowed.
“Where’s yours? And why did he leave if we didn’t pay for it?” I mused as I grabbed the glass rather reluctantly.
“I don’t like to drink before the performance, and I already paid for it—”
“Mingi.” I deadpanned, cutting him off as my eyes narrowed at him, “This is the second time you pay for something that is mine. I don’t like it when guys do that—”
“But I’m not just any guy,” He leaned down, a little too close to my face, making my breathing halt in my throat, “I’m your bestie and if I want to spoil you, I certainly can and will do so.”
“That’s not how—” I took a deep breath and gave in at last when he started bating his eyebrows at me, making me huff, “Fine, thank you, Mingi.”
“You’re very welcome,” He grinned and poked my cheek, making me yank my head away as I threw a glare at him, “Now taste it so that I know you like it.”
“And if I don’t?” I teased as I took the straw between my lips and took a tentative sip.
“I’ll order something else, then.” Mingi pouted, watching me closely as I took a longer sip, humming at the strawberry-like taste of the drink. It wasn’t bad, and I couldn’t exactly taste the alcohol in it, so that was good.
“It’s tasty, so you don’t have to order anything else for me.” I tried to hide my smile as I took another sip, and Mingi looked pleased with himself as his hand glided across the bar slowly as he bit his lower lip and looked down. It was a rather unusual reaction from him, and as he cleared his throat, he suddenly touched the sleeve of my jacket, making my grip tighten around the glass.
“You look really good tonight.” His voice was low, and thus deeper, and I felt my breath get stuck in my throat for a second before I took a sip way too big of my drink, nodding at Mingi, and averting my eyes.
“Thank you,” My voice sounded a little raspy, and I quickly cleared my throat, “You—you look good too. Like…way too good.”
Mingi bit his bottom lip as his eyes bore into mine, almost making me choke on my sweet drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulped rather loudly. He opened his mouth to say something, but someone appeared to our left, thankfully saving us from saying anything else that would make everything even more awkward than it already was.
“Mingi,” The tall man touched Mingi’s shoulder while offering me a soft smile, it was Seonghwa, “five minutes and we’re starting. Let’s go, and hi, Y/N, lovely seeing you again!”
I forcibly gulped down the drink and nodded at Seonghwa, albeit with my cheeks still tinged red, “Hello, good to see you too.”
Seonghwa grinned, looking rather happy, and then he turned around and waved someone over. I watched curiously as a man shorter than both Mingi and Seonghwa—even myself—walked over, looking rather expensive and high-class for a place like Outlaw, “Hongjoong, dear, mind staying with Y/N? I don’t want you to stand to the side alone, again.”
“Whatever you wish for, my love.” My eyebrows rose unintentionally as I looked at Mingi, trying to gulp down the laughter that threatened to bubble up, the exchange between the two lovers cute, but a little too much for my liking. Mingi looked almost sick as he rolled his eyes, and then grabbed Seonghwa’s arm and waved at Hongjoong.
“We are going.” He stated, and then sent a wink at me, “See you later, doll.”
And the way my cheeks started burning again wasn’t just a trick of the dimming lights as Hongjoong looked curiously my way, coming to stand next to me as he leaned up against the bar. His hair seemed to be a mixture of a light brown and deep purple, quite the hair colour, but it looked exceptionally good on him. He wore light coloured jeans and vinyl boots with small heels, his nails painted different promiscuous colours. The black shirt underneath his very expensive looking black blazer, decorated with silver dragons, had an intricate design on its right side, the fabric coming around his neck as a thin strap, probably sleeveless too on his right side. I knew an artist when I saw one, and I smiled at him widely as I extended my hand for him to shake.
“My name is Y/N.” I said, and despite the intimidating expression on his face, he smiled at me.
“I’m Hongjoong, Seonghwa’s boyfriend.” My smile turned into a grin and I hummed as I finally spotted Seulgi running over to us, her eyes lighting up when she noticed I was standing with Hongjoong.
“Oh, Hongie!” She exclaimed and I almost choked on my drink as Hongjoong’s face fell, “Haven’t seen you in so long! Everything okay? You and Seonghwa haven’t fought again, right?!”
Seulgi sounded like a scrutinizing mother as she narrowed her eyes at Hongjoong, coming to a stop in front of him with her hands on her hips, “No! We’re fine, I’ve been busy with the company and couldn’t come, is all.”
“That better be true,” Seulgi huffed and leaned closer to the man, “I’ll be quizzing Seonghwa later too, and if your stories don’t match up…you’re in for an earful.”
“I feel like I missed out on a few chapters or something.” I butted in with a chuckle, and Hongjoong heaved a long sigh as Seulgi giggled.
“You should ask Seonghwa to tell you their little love story.” Seulgi suggested, and then raised her finger when Hongjoong went to interject, “It’s actually really cute and romantic, shut up, Hongie.”
“Stop calling me Hongie, Seulgi. I could be your father.” I coughed as I choked on the drink, which I have almost finished by now, and my eyes bulged as I stared at Hongjoong. How old was he?!
“He’s just joking, Y/N, don’t worry,” Seulgi rolled her eyes, “He could be our older brother or something, definitely not our father. Seonghwa wouldn’t date a wrinkly ass grumpy dwarf—”
“Oh, that’s rich coming from a dwarf herself.” I said underneath my breath, but both heard me, and I jumped when Hongjoong burst out laughing, flipping Seulgi off as she gaped at me with betrayal written all over her face.
“Suddenly, I understand why you and Wooyoung are together,” Hongjoong said once he had calmed down, “You’re even worse than him.”
“She really is a handful once she gets going.” I threw back the rest of the drink as Seulgi slapped my shoulder, making me sway. The lights suddenly started to further dim and Seulgi gasped, whirling around with excitement dancing all around her face.
“We have to go to the front!” She exclaimed as I placed my empty glass on the bar, and offered my arm to hook with hers as she looked back at Hongjoong and me with a wide grin, “Let’s go!”
As she started pulling me after herself, I felt a warm hand gently latch onto mine, and I looked back to see Hongjoong giving me a sheepish look, almost as if he was asking for permission. I grinned and held his hand back firmly, the three of us making it to the front, but not to the first row as it was already occupied by quite a handful of people. That wasn’t a problem, I feared I would’ve passed out if I had to stand right underneath Mingi and stare up at him as he sings his heart out.
“Thanks,” Hongjoong muttered once we let go of each other’s hands, “I know Seonghwa would’ve been disappointed if I didn’t tag along with you two.”
“You seem like a really lovely couple.” I didn’t feel like myself when I said such things, but it was the truth, they did look lovely.
“Thank you.” Hongjoong’s cat-like features softened, and I grinned back at him, “We met when he was interning for my company…”
“Oh,” I hummed, and then my eyes widened as it finally clicked why he looked slightly familiar, “Wait, you’re Kim Hongjoong?”
“Yeah, of Kim Enterprise.” He clarified, and my jaw hung open just slightly for the nth time tonight.
“Oh, my God, that’s—so cool?!” I tried to find the right words, but suddenly I realized that the sweet drink was stronger than it seemed so at first, “You’re an icon in the fashion industry, Mr. Kim, I’m an arts major myself and I have nothing to do with fashion, but I do look up to your work.”
“Call me Hongjoong, please, or else you make it sound like I’m a grandpa or something—”
“A father, really, you said it yourself.” Seulgi chimed in with a shit eating grin on her face as she crossed her arms over herself, looking up at the dark stage as movement was hearable. Hongjoong groaned and threw a glare at the side of Seulgi’s head, making me snort in amusement.
“Maybe I’ll stop giving Wooyoung cool clothes to perform in,” Hongjoong narrowed his eyes at Seulgi, who swiftly turned back, gaping at the older guy, “He can thank his lovely girlfriend for it then.”
“You wouldn’t dare—”
Trying to deescalate an unnecessary argument, I turned to give Hongjoong an amazed look, “You design the clothes they perform in?”
“Well, not really,” Suddenly, he looked quite proud of himself, “It’s mostly Seonghwa, I only give him advice here and there and supply him with the fabrics and whatnot that he needs for production.”
Oh, that was…quite the thing to do. Suddenly, I felt myself yearning for a relationship where both parties raise the other one up, teach each other how to get better, and support each other’s dreams. It was healthy, mature, comforting. A secure place, a safety net. Something I never had with Yunho, albeit understandably so as we were both teenagers while we dated, but it would’ve been nice if he didn’t almost completely break me while making me mistrust everyone and question their motives towards me, side effects that lingered even after all those years.
“You’re a good man, Hongjoong.” I found myself muttering as there were faint voices coming from up the stage, making me look over. Hongjoong hummed next to me, and then I felt him bump his shoulder against mine.
“Did Mingi finally ask you out?” Something in my system halted hearing Hongjoong’s question, brain short circuiting. Where did that question come from?
“I, uh, he—we’re just friends.” I tried to look nonchalant as I turned to face Hongjoong again, forcing a smile on my face. Yeah, we were good friends at that, besties as Mingi likes to call it. But…ignoring the fact that I’d be dating my ex’s best friend, would it really be so bad to give in to my curiosity? Lately, I failed to see the negative qualities I have first judged Mingi for, and I have realized I didn’t even hate him anymore. I don’t think I have ever actually hated him, I was blinded by my prejudice and held onto it for as long as I could. But the walls were rapidly crumbling, even more so after the day we spent at the café and at the Citadel, where Mingi—once again—proved to be a nice, understanding, funny, and yet calm guy, full of life. We were friends, but was that all that I wanted from him at this point?
Were these thoughts actually mine or had the pink drink finally gotten to me? I didn’t feel tipsy, albeit a little jittery, but for my peace of mind, I blamed it on the sweet drink. It made you think about things you have pushed to the very back of your mind, buried so deep nobody should know about them—myself included.
“Mingi is a good person, I don’t think you’ll find someone like him again.” The smile on Hongjoong’s lips was almost brotherly before it stretched wider, cat-like eyes warm and comforting. I took a deep breath and nodded my head at him in thanks wordlessly, not very keen of speaking up as I thought my voice would sound shaky. I had to divert the subject, all this Mingi talk was sending my mind into an overthinking frenzy, however, before any of us could speak up again, the lights went completely out, and the spotlights turned on at once, coating the stage in white light.
The crowd cheered loudly for Noir Zenith, especially the girls in the front row, and I found myself clapping along encouragingly with the people surrounding me. The stage was higher up than us, but you could easily step up on it if you wanted to, and the spotlights switched from a bright white to a dimmer orangey hue. Seonghwa sat at the drums to the left of the scene, Wooyoung more towards the front on the right, guitar around his shoulders and a microphone placed in front of him. Mingi stood in the middle, close to the edge of the stage, a huge smirk on his lips, sharp eyes narrowed and skimming over the crowd. Suddenly, he didn’t look like the Mingi I knew, he looked like someone else…like a rockstar ready to sing his lungs out and wove anyone that watched their performance.
“Good evening, Outlaw!” Mingi’s raspy voice resounded in the underground room, and everyone cheered loudly again. Seulgi was jumping up and down, grinning from ear to ear as she waved at Wooyoung, who had a faint blush on his cheeks. Hongjoong, who was a lot calmer than my best friend, stood smiling with his hands in his pockets, no doubt watching Seonghwa as the drummer sat back and winked our way. And I, well, I had my arms crossed over my chest, trying not to hyperventilate when Mingi’s eyes searched the crowd, and ultimately settled on my form, “We’ve prepared quite a few songs for you tonight.”
The crowd cheered again, less wildly than before, and you could hear more people coming down the stairs to watch them perform as silence settled around us for a second. I gulped and looked away when Mingi’s intense gaze became too much, the smirk seemingly etched onto his lips for now, “Some older ones and some newer ones as we work on more songs to play for you in the future. I know these days it’s getting even colder, but I thought we could warm ourselves up ith a song we haven’t performed in quite a while. Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and I thought that perhaps we could charm the newcomers with the song that wooed some of our oldest fans, how do you feel about that, Outlaw?!”
The girls in the front row went crazy, their shrills piercing our ears, and I felt my eyes narrow as I looked towards them, a lump forming in my throat when I noticed they were Mingi’s fanclub from our university. The blonde girl stood out like a sore thumb, some banner in her hands, impatiently waiting for Mingi to look at her for her to show it off. I gulped as my eyes snapped back to Mingi, who licked his lips slowly, biting his lower lip and prolonging the charged silence, “Have you ever found a person so sweet you became addicted to them and never wanted to let them go? So sugary that you didn’t care if you got sick, because you’d still continue wanting them?”
The lights suddenly went out and everyone cheered, my heart beating so fast and loud in my ears, it made me fear that both Hongjoong and Seulgi would hear it. At last, the darkness remained as the soft tunes of a melody started playing, starting out quietly, almost as a whisper of a promise that your lover would tell you late at night in the confines of your bed. I could feel my heartbeat quicken from anticipation, and I couldn’t help but shuffle a little from left to right.
『You play a twisted little game
But I know in a way
You need to complicate』
The soft yellowy hue spotlight turned on just as the soft, siren-like voice flooded our ears, Seonghwa’s eyes closed as his lips were close to the microphone, drumsticks gathered in his hands as he sat on his stool, leaning forward to better access his microphone. His slightly raspy voice was pleasant to the ears, making it feel like a dream like flow. He was the only one you could see on the otherwise dark stage.
『Believe that though we never eat
We still know how to feed
We still know how to bleed, oh』
He articulated the words clearly, captivating the crowds attention immediately as his eyelashes slowly fluttered open, quickly finding Hongjoong as his lips twitched into a small smirk, his white teeth sharp as they peeked through his parted lips as he exhaled the end note, blending it into an airy whine that had Hongjoong gulping next to me as he was seemingly transfixed by his lover, unable to take his eyes off him.
『Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now』
The spotlights around Seonghwa went out as the chorus came, suddenly now on Wooyoung as the instrumental became louder, Wooyoung’s voice a lot sharper and stronger than Seonghwa’s sultry and enchanting one. Wooyoung’s nose was scrunched up as he held onto the microphone stand with both hands, his sharp jaw working hard as his lines were a perfect mixture of breathy and sharp sounds.
『My arms keep you in the room
Barely let you move
Show me what you do, oh』
Similar to Seonghwa’s style, Wooyoung’s voice remained soft too, but higher in pitch and breathier than Seonghwa’s has been, veins protruding in his neck as he gave his all. Seulgi had her hands clutched together in front of herself, hanging onto every single note her boyfriend sang, and I felt myself tap my feet along to the beat and melody, softly nodding my head as Wooyoung’s eyes snapped open and swept over the crowd.
『Tonight we're second-guessed again
Let me wrap the chains
Addicted to the pain, oh』
Seulgi quietly clapped next to me as Wooyoung gazed at her almost longingly, grabbing his microphone off the stand to walk closer to the edge of the stage, the spotlight following him as Seulgi quietly gasped next to me, mouthing the words back to Wooyoung, probably knowing each of their songs by heart.
『Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now』
The spotlight around Wooyoung went out again just as he leaned forward and over the of the stage, making Seulgi gasp loudly next to me as her hand shoot out to hold onto my arm. I gulped down the chuckle that threatened to escape as Seonghwa’s siren-like voice was back, wispy as he looked over the crowd with his big eyes, smirking much like Mingi had, making the chorus sound like it had been written for him, and him only.
『Do you wanna see how far it goes?
Do you wanna test me now, my love?
You must be crazy if you think that I will give in so easily』
The soft sound of the music now became rougher as the spotlight on Seonghwa went out, and instead, Mingi, in the centre of the stage was illuminated, his outfit and hair making the girls cry out in the first row as the air caught in my throat, taken aback as his eyes were set already on me, drinking me up, taking in my reaction. His raspy voice was perfect as it matched the intensity of the song, picking up in harshness slightly at the ends, his eyebrows furrowing as I gulped, feeling as if I was on fire and unable to look away, almost as if Mingi’s voice and eyes had me frozen to my spot. Suddenly, I understood why Hongjoong and Seulgi were so taken by their partners.
『Things we buried low
Coming to the surface now, my love
You must be crazy if you think that I will give up the game, oh』
Suddenly the yellowy hue light was back on the stage, illuminating all three as Seonghwa and Wooyoung joined Mingi, their unique voices creating a harmony that had my arms covered in goosebumps as Seulgi whispered out a woah next to me, having me agree with her as I found their voices combined together even more powerful. Wooyoung’s higher tone carried the melodic line well, Seonghwa’s harmony with both Wooyoung and Mingi’s voice having you in awe of how well they worked together, and Mingi’s deep and raspy voice had a power that didn’t overshadow his bandmates’ voices, yet was distinct enough to hear it. Suddenly, as they got to the end of the line, the lights flickered for a second and the background melody was cut, their voices echoing in the underground room and having everyone on their toes.
『Sugar, I've got a taste for you now
Sugar, I've got a taste for you now
Sugar, I've got a taste for you now
Sugar, I've got a taste for you now』
And then at last, the lights flashed as the melody picked up, its build-up worth it every second as Seonghwa’s hands flew around fast as he played the drums, banging his head along to the beat, Wooyoung’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he played the guitar with a passion that matched his personality, and I found myself holding my breath as Mingi’s harsh and deep voice matched the instrumental perfectly, carrying every single emotion he felt. His nose was scrunched up and his eyebrows strewn together as he held the microphone tightly in his hand, leaning over as he sang his lungs out, gesticulating with his hands, having the crowd go wild for him and the boys. Without realizing, I was cheering along with everyone else, my veins burning with excitement as Mingi stood up tall, throwing his head back as his gloved hand was fisted, his sharp eyes closing and feeling the music like only he could when singing, his voice strong and defined when he needed it to be. And then, I felt myself grin from ear to ear as he faced the crowd again, looking straight ahead, our gazes meeting as I mouthed back the words without even realizing I was doing so.
『Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now
Sugar, I've developed a taste for you now』
Wooyoung joined Mingi again, his voice slightly more prominent as Mingi eased up his vocal chords, becoming less harsh and tense, carrying quietly alongside Wooyoung’s as Seonghwa continued passionately playing the drums, bottom lip between his teeth as he looked up and at his bandmates, a grin appearing on his lips as he watched them sing together. Mingi placed his microphone back onto the stand, cradling it in his hands still as he leaned close to it, barely whispering the words Wooyoung sang clearly, his volatile timbre offering a culminating end to the song as suddenly their voices cut out and the harsh instruments came to an abrupt stop, melody the same as at the beginning of the song. The lights flickered once again and as I gazed up at Mingi, a small smile formed on his lips, and the Mingi I know slipped through for a second, looking happier than a child on Christmas day. I chuckled and cheered along loudly with the crowd as the song came to a calming end, only now aware of how fast my heart was beating. Hongjoong and Seulgi joined in on the clapping, and I heard Seulgi chuckle next to me as Mingi thanked the crowd, the lights changing to a soft blue hue as Seonghwa set the rhythm for their next song.
“What?” I asked as I turned my head to look at an amused looking Seulgi.
“You keep lying to yourself about Mingi, bitch.” I gave Seulgi a look that very much so told her to shut up, and as I wanted to verbalize the same thought, she didn’t give me the chance as her body jolted along to the new song, “Oh, my God, this is my favourite song!”
As Noir Zenith continued to perform, I felt myself get thirstier and thirstier, throat burning and forcing me to excuse myself and head to the bar to drink some water, however, Hongjoong said he’d follow after me as he was getting tired of standing in the crowd and getting pushed around. Seulgi told us to go on as she’d stay there, wanting to stay close by as the performance was close to coming to its end as it’s been twenty-five minutes since they started playing. Much like when going inside the crowd, I allowed Hongjoong to hold my hand as we made our way over to the bar, apologising if we stepped on anyone’s foot, and I giggled when Hongjoong ran fully into a girl that seemed to be in a hurry to get to the front of the stage. Hongjoong shook his head and we let go of each other’s hands as we finally made it to the bar, him taking a seat on a stool as he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
“These fangirls are crazy; I can’t wear any fancy shoes to these performances because they keep stepping on me.” I chuckled as I leaned against the bar, waving at the bartender to come over when he was free.
“I know, you should see them at university.” I huffed as the bartender started walking over, “those crazy baboons swarm Mingi like he’s a God or something, it’s embarrassing.”
“Hi, what can I get for you two?” The bartender grinned happily at us; voice raised high to talk over Mingi’s deep voice reverberating in the speakers.
“Uh,” I looked at Hongjoong, not knowing what the pink drink was called, “I don’t know if you remember what Mingi ordered for me, but it was some pink drink and it was really sweet?”
“Sure, got it, Hongjoong?” I was rather surprised that the bartender knew Hongjoong’s name, “The usual?”
“Sure, throw in more ice cubes though, it’s sweltering hot in here.” The bartender chuckled as Hongjoong fanned himself with his hand, and I had to agree as I finally could take my jacket off. The relief was instant, and I sighed as I placed it around the back of the stool Hongjoong sat on, turning around as I leaned back against the bar to watch Mingi from back here. The lights were a soft pink up on the stage and Wooyoung was jumping up and down as he played his guitar, Mingi’s fingers playing fast as he played the bass, while Seonghwa’s voice was light but piercing as he finished up the song, standing up and raising his drumsticks in the air once it came to an end. The crowd cheered and I clapped from the bar as the bartender served us our drinks, and as I reached for my pocket to take out some money, Hongjoong beat me to it and paid for our drinks.
“Hongjoong.” I gave him a stare, but he quickly brushed me off and took a contemplative sip of his, probably, pricey whiskey, “You shouldn’t have.”
“Honey, if a man wants to spoil you, let him, you’re not losing any rights to your feminism.” My jaw dropped a little bit before laughter bubbled through my lips, and Hongjoong grinned as he turned halfway around to watch the band perform as I leaned against the bar again.
“I can’t believe you just said that.” I muttered as Mingi huffed into the microphone loudly, hyping up the crowd even more. His eyes searched the crowd for a second, and I raised my sweet pink drink in a cheers motion for him to spot me. He smirked and then he was focused back on singing, crouching down and letting the front row girls touch him. I snickered and took a long sip of the tasty drink, watching his every move as Hongjoong rhythmically tapped his foot against the ground.
“You are an open book, honey, it’s rather easy to read you.” Hongjoong said, sounding amused, and he snickered when I looked at him wide eyed. That’s certainly not something I hear often as people frequently call me unapproachable and off-putting, rather intimidating and irritating. To be fair, I do it on purpose so that idiots will leave me alone.
“You’re like…only the second person to say that, Hongie.” Hongjoong groaned, and I grinned as I looked back at the stage, watching as Mingi leaned a little more forward, reaching out and tilting the blonde girl’s chin up as he whispered the lyrics sensually, making my eyebrows furrow. If my grip tightened around my glass, nobody had to know.
“You can call me anything else but Hongie, please, that girl-friend of yours gives me nightmares, I swear.” I was too focused on Mingi and that blonde girl to react in any way to what Hongjoong said. Mingi was smirking triumphantly as the blonde girl screamed out his name, jumping up and down as she held the banner up for Mingi. I wished to see what was written on it, but at the same time I didn’t.
“Seulgi is the kindest and nicest person I know,” I said at last as I cleared my throat, trying to gulp down the sudden ball that seemed to clog it, “She likes you a lot and this is her way of showing it. If you let her know you don’t like it, she’ll never stop calling you Hongie, I fear.”
Hongjoong groaned and took a large gulp of his whiskey, prompting me to do so with my drink as well, jaw clenching when that blonde chick wouldn’t stop screaming. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, licking my dry lips to remind myself that Mingi has his baboons that would literally do anything he asked them to do, and that means nothing. Maybe he likes the attention and compliments, but I’ve never actually seen him give them more attention than was necessary. Perhaps he wasn’t even too keen of them, but I figured it must feel nice when someone supports your performances so ardently. I cleared my throat and pursed my lips, leaning back on my elbows as I rested them against the bar. Hongjoong raised an eyebrow at me curiously, but I ignored his eyes on me as my eyes bore into Mingi’s, who was suddenly looking over. I tried to control my expression as the lights were fully turned back on, their performance coming to an end for tonight.
“Outlaw, you were the best!” Mingi called out, grinning from ear to ear as he did a little jump, almost as if he was celebrating a win, “Your energy is always the craziest, thank you for your continuous support and I can’t wait to see you all here again! Tell your friends and cousins, bring them over next time! I was Fix On for the night.”
Seonghwa and Wooyoung also joined Mingi at the front, Seonghwa’s arm going around Mingi’s shoulders as Wooyoung grinned and grabbed Mingi’s microphone out of his hand after he stuck his tongue out at him, “And this was your little Woo for the night, and don’t forget, only hot people listen to Noir Zenith!”
The whole room erupted into cheers and I snorted as Hongjoong groaned, holding his head in his hands as we both took sips of our drinks at the same time, “That guy is so embarrassing.”
“Yeah, I think he’s worse than Mingi.” Hongjoong and I burst into giggles as the microphone was handed to Seonghwa, who had a wide smile on his lips, his temples visible sweaty despite the off-shoulder blouse he was wearing.
“Thank you for your continuous support, we are forever grateful. I hope you enjoyed our performance tonight, and I hope to see your familiar faces at our next performance too, at which we transpire to do even better. I was Hwa for the night.” And then, he bowed deeply, prompting his two bandmates to follow suit. I hummed and looked over to Hongjoong, who was smiling proudly.
“You’re so into him, dude.” I chuckled, nudging him with my elbow, “But I get it why, he’s impossibly polite. You seem like a dude who likes order and whatnot”
“And he’s easily flustered too.” Hongjoong muttered under his breath as the crowd clapped and cheered for them one last time before they got off the stage, soft music playing in the background as other people went up on the stage to take off their instruments and to bring in the DJ’s table and mixers. I watched as the fangirls swarmed them at the foot of the stairs leading down the stage, and despite not being too many, they certainly made it seem so with how in the boys faces they got, giggling and squealing at everything they could. I watched as the boys signed whatever they were handed, and then I spotted Seulgi’s colourful retro dress as she sat down on the edge of the stage, close to Wooyoung, watching him converse with the girls with a smile on her face. Seonghwa, however, was the quickest to dip out and after swiftly engaging with the girls, he was already speed-walking off towards us, great relief visible on his face. Seonghwa wore a denim skirt tonight which reached just below his knees, cowboy boots covering his shins, a denim choker around his neck bringing the attention onto his long limb. He easily turned heads, both female and male. He was simply gorgeous with his long hair swept back by a black hair band.
“Thirsty, my love?” Hongjoong asked with a smile as Seonghwa reached us and waved at the bartender, who was quick to hand Seonghwa a bottle of water. He took it without a word and downed it quickly, groaning loudly as he patted his temples dry. I smiled and made space for him as I took another sip of my drink, eyes settling back on Mingi, who was the one swarmed most by the fangirls. The blonde was right by his arm, talking overly fast and gesticulating to him with her hands as Mingi nodded along and signed a few more things the other girls were handing him.
“I thought they’d never let me go.” Seonghwa’s voice sounded a little raw as he sighed long, looking towards the fangirls, “They are more tiring than the performances. I am grateful to them, of course, but I wish they knew how to keep their distance. I don’t know how Mingi keeps up with them without feeling bothered by them.”
“He thrives under attention.” My tone sounded bitter, and I quickly took a large gulp of my sweet drink and tried not to blush when I felt the eyes of both Hongjoong and Seonghwa on myself, looking curious but also amused, “I mean, he probably appreciates his fans—a lot.”
I knew my voice sounded strained as the blonde girl threw her head back and laughed loudly at whatever the hell Mingi was saying, and I couldn’t have felt more thankful for Seulgi and Wooyoung finally walking our way. I needed her by my side as I felt the alcohol slowly hit me, that pink thing stronger than a full-on Vodka shot. Realizing that I didn’t want to see Mingi and that blonde chick anymore, I turned my body sideways to face Hongjoong and Seonghwa instead, and was taken aback when I felt something bitter spring through my body. They had their faces leaned close together as Hongjoong had a protective arm around Seonghwa’s waist, fingers very apparently digging into his skin through the thin fabric of his off-shoulder blouse, and Seonghwa’s bottom lip was between his teeth as they seemed to be having a staring contest. I took the straw between my teeth and then gulped down almost the whole drink in one go, grinning fakely when Seulgi and Wooyoung finally reached us.
“Ey, hands off you horn dogs!” Wooyoung slapped Hongjoong’s thigh rather loudly, making my eyes widen and almost choke on my drink as Hongjoong’s head snapped in Wooyoung’s direction, glaring harshly at him. If I were Wooyoung…I probably would’ve dropped dead, but it seemed so he was fearless as he only grinned back challengingly at Hongjoong.
“Babe,” Seulgi chastised and gripped Wooyoung’s arm, yanking him a little backwards, “sorry, he’s still full of adrenaline, don’t mind him.”
Seonghwa chuckled and then turned towards the bartender as he held up two fingers at him. Seeing what I could only assume was him was asking for drinks, I quickly emptied my glass and motioned towards my glass with a wide grin. The bartender nodded in my direction, and then his back was turned to us as he started preparing our drinks. I placed the empty glass on the bar and faced the others again, plastering a smile on my face.
“You say that because you haven’t walked in on them when Seonghwa was getting—”
“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa screeched, eyes bulging out as he sprung forward, muffling Wooyoung’s mouth with his palm, “Shut up!”
Wooyoung was still going off despite his mouth being muffled, and Seulgi looked mortified as she apologized quickly, punching Wooyoung’s arm.
“I’m going to break you in half one day, Wooyoung.” Hongjoong held a menacing finger out towards Wooyoung, eyes narrowed as our drinks were served. Seonghwa took one and handed it to Wooyoung, then gave me mine, and took the other one for himself.
“Like you broke Seonghwa—”
“Enough!” Seonghwa cried out again, cheeks flushing a deep red, making me and Seulgi chuckle as I handed her my drink to take a sip. She scrunched her nose as she took a sniff and then ultimately gagged upon taking a sip.
“What is this atrocity?!” She exclaimed, grabbing Wooyoung’s drink to flush mine down with, traitor.
“It’s good!” I exclaimed, defending my sugary drink, “You just hate sweet drinks, idiot.”
“You could’ve warned me.” She mumbled, nuzzling up against Wooyoung as Seonghwa allowed Hongjoong to pull him in between his legs. I sighed and looked down as I took another sip of my drink, accidentally looking Mingi’s way. I gulped down the sweet liquid a little harsher then intended as I was greeted by the image of Mingi being alone with the blonde girl, the two of them giggling about something. The girl was twirling her atrocious hair around her fingers, batting her eyelashes at Mingi as she reached up with her other hand to touch Mingi’s platinum blonde hair. I scoffed under my breath and felt my blood boil as Mingi reached out too, touching her hair in a similar way, making the girl blush and push at his exposed chest in a flirty way.
“You think the DJ will play good music?” I heard Seulgi ask the others as my eyes remained on the two blondes, definitely trying to ignore the way my nose flared at each exhale of mine. I didn’t intend on finishing my third drink so fast, and the way my head started pulsating was a sign to slow down, but I couldn’t care less right now. The girl suddenly leaned into Mingi’s side and I placed my empty glass a little bit too harshly down onto the bar—okay, I slammed it down. If the others glanced at me curiously, neither said anything.
“Yeah, he’s an uprising DJ, he’s pretty talented.” Wooyoung said and offered Seulgi his drink again. I took a deep breath to try and level my voice because I knew otherwise everyone could hear I was pissed off.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I spoke up, voice still harsh and cold. Everyone froze for a second, Seulgi’s eyes looking at me with confusion written all over it.
“Right behind the stage.” Seonghwa explained with a soft smile, and pointed right past Mingi and the blonde chick. Great. Now I had to walk past them, what a fucking amazing thing to do. But I needed to go to the bathroom to get away from everyone and everything for a second. My cheeks had started burning from the alcohol and my jaw was tense as I tried to avoid looking at anyone for too long.
“Thanks, can you look over my jacket while I’m gone?” I asked Hongjoong and he nodded with a hum. I muttered another thanks and then squared my shoulders, willing my face to convey zero expression as I started walking towards the bathroom. The stage had been changed and set up for the DJ by now, the lights getting adjusted as more people gathered down in this smaller room, and I watched as Mingi and the girl got ushered a little more to the side of the stage. Yeah, that was completely fine, I had no issues walking past them. Why was I even reacting like this?
Mingi was just talking to his fan—flirting and flattering her, no doubt—and I was completely fine with that as his bestie. I was completely fine with the blonde bitch brushing up against him, or laughing loudly at whatever he was saying, or touching Mingi every other second, or throwing her hair back and pushing her breasts out for him to see better—yes, because I was his bestie, his friend, I was completely unbothered by it all and even managed to plaster a smile on my face as I walked past them, greeting them with a small nod and chuckle—yeah, no, perhaps I did that in a parallel universe, but in this one, I kept looking straight ahead as Mingi spotted me walking towards them. He very insistently kept looking at me despite me ignoring his and the blonde one’s existence as I stormed past them, feeling like I couldn’t breathe until I was inside the small bathroom.
I hurried over to the sink and turned it on, washing my hands with soap and then rinsing them off with cold water, then I pated my cheeks wet, hoping that the cold water would cool them off. I kept my head down and took deep breaths, finally aware of the way my body felt hot due to the alcohol that I have downed way too fast, and how my head was spinning a little bit now. The drinks were getting to me and they were making me act up—act out of character. This was certainly not me, at least not a very rational me. Mingi could talk to whomever he wanted to and he can do whatever he wants to. I gripped the edge of the sink and looked up in the mirror, finding my cheeks flushed and my lips now a darker red from the lip-gloss that had long come off, but its tint remained. I sighed loudly, shaking my head at myself as my heart kept beating fast.
“You can’t be serious right now, bitch.” I hissed at myself, frowning, “You must get your shit together and stop acting like…whichever way I’m reacting. This isn’t cool, I’m a grown-ass woman, and he’s my friend. God, I’m so pathetic, I can’t even. Get it together, woman!”
I huffed and pointed a finger at myself threateningly, realizing I haven’t checked if anyone was inside the stools. Oh well, what I did wasn’t so unusual or disturbing to happen in the girl’s bathroom. I jumped up and down for a few seconds, wriggling out my arms and patting my cheeks one last time as I readjusted my tank top as it had ridden up and I took off towards the door. However, upon opening it and stepping outside, I was greeted by Mingi leaning against the wall. I froze as the door closed behind myself, pushing me a little forward and I grunted, standing up tall as Mingi’s sharp eyes fell on me. Somehow, I got déjà vu due to our current predicament. Mingi’s face was unreadable and I took my bottom lip between my teeth before I decided to just walk off, unable to say anything to him. But, adding to the déjà vu feeling, he stopped me from leaving as he reached out, gently holding me back by my exposed bicep. I shivered at the contact, his hand oddly cool against my warm flesh, ring decorated fingers pressing into my skin.
“Doll, is everything alright?” His voice was soft and his unreadable mask slipped as his eyebrows furrowed in worry, and I gulped, trying to bite back the reproach sitting on my tongue, but the alcohol made that impossible.
“Do you call her doll too?” My tone was cold as I turned my head to look back up at Mingi, and he looked visibly confused as he came even closer, forcing me to turn around and face him. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I bit the inside of my cheek, waiting for his answer.
“Call who doll?” Mingi asked, sounding clueless, pissing me off even more as I rolled my eyes.
“The blonde girl, who else, Mingi.” I snapped and yanked my bicep out of his hold, Mingi’s visible confusion turning into befuddlement.
“She’s just a fan, I don’t call her anything—”
“Yeah,” I grinned fakely, cutting him off, “I know. She’s one of your baboons, the one who absolutely loves throwing herself at you. Really sweet, lovely.”
“Y/N,” Mingi lowered his voice, stepping so close our hands brushed together, and I gulped as I averted my eyes from his, not used to the platinum blonde sharpening his features so much just yet, “have I angered you?”
“Yes, you have.” I huffed out before I could stop myself, crossing my arms in front of my chest in a defensive way as I looked up in his eyes, “Because you ask me to come watch your performance and I come, and I even enjoy it. And you buy me a drink and then you sing all those songs like they were meant for me, written about me or whatever, but then—then you’re out there trying to—I don’t know where you’re trying to get at with that girl, but I—I—”
There was a lump in my throat and something tight squeezing around my lungs as I started breathing heavier, cheeks burning as Mingi’s face suddenly went blank. I hated it when he did that, when he didn’t let me read his emotions. I needed to know what he was thinking right now, and as I opened my mouth to call him out, he spoke up gently, “Doll, are you jealous?”
I huffed and stepped back, annoyed by his stupid assumptions of what I was feeling like. What did he know? And since when did he fathom, I’d be jealous because of him? Feeling jealous over such thing implied that I had feeling that were more than friendly, and I—was I jealous?
“No, I’m—why would I be?” I closed my eyes and shook my head, worsening the thumping of my head by doing that, “I don’t know.”
Mingi’s lips slowly slipped into an understanding smile, “It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not!” I snapped and ran my fingers through my hair as I turned my back to him, “I shouldn’t be jealous and I don’t even know if that’s what I’m feeling, I—Mingi, I always fuck up everything.”
“No, you don’t.” Mingi scoffed as his eyebrows furrowed and he didn’t approach me, but he reluctantly reached out and held my hand, intertwining our fingers as my heart started beating even wilder than before, “I won’t talk to her anymore tonight, and whatever you felt, you can take your time tomorrow and think it through, but right now, we’re here to have fun, okay?”
“Fuck, okay.” I groaned and squeezed Mingi’s hand before I released it, pulling the hem of my tank top down again, out of habit, and then I walked back to our friends with Mingi following closely after me, the first beats of the DJ’s mix dropping.
Somewhere along the night, the shots had gotten to a number I couldn’t care to count anymore and as it had passed midnight, I was positively on the fine line between tipsiness and drunkenness. The DJ played good music, a mixture of retro and newer music, playing hits loved by everyone and I found myself in the middle of the crowd, surrounded by mostly Seulgi and Wooyoung as Hongjoong and Seonghwa often came and went, excusing themselves to fresh air a little bit too often. Wooyoung would mouth a few times that they are definitely going for a quickie, but one sharp look from Hongjoong managed to scare the goofball into silence and Seulgi made sure to keep him busy whenever Seonghwa would grin shyly and motion towards the exit. And despite being invited by Mingi, the man in question was nowhere to be seen.
It bothered me—of course it did—but the buzzing underneath my skin and the swirling lights of the disco ball managed to preoccupy me as my head seemed to swirl similarly to the disco ball each time I looked up. I knew if Mingi said he wouldn’t talk to the blondie again he probably meant it, but I still couldn’t bring myself to fully believe it as I couldn’t catch a glimpse of neither whenever I squinted my eyes to look at the blurry faces in the crowd surrounding me. And Mingi stood out like a sore thumb with his platinum blonde hair now, so if I couldn’t see him, he probably wasn’t here. Which was fucking annoying and I didn’t want to party anymore, but this Chan guy that approached me probably an hour ago did a good job at keeping me put and entertained. He was slightly shorter than me, but I couldn’t find myself to care as he was funny and actually sweet, looking out for me and sending guys away if they knocked into me or tried to dance with me. At first, we bonded over our love for colour theory and I was quick to find out he was an arts major, a freshman, quite full with life and eager to experience everything our university had to offer. I didn’t want to crush his dreams, so I stayed silent about how shitty our professors could be or about the overflowing assignments and projects they’d regularly hand out to us. But sure, university is fucking cool!
Perhaps half an hour ago, or maybe twenty minutes ago or maybe only ten? —who know, my fuzzy brain couldn’t tell at that point—the goofy dance Chan and I were at had turned into rather…well, serious. The genre of music had drastically changed and the Latino beats allowed for us to put in our sexy moves, and all of a sudden, I found his arms around my middle and mine around his shoulders as we swayed our hips in sync, giggling and laughing whenever I managed to step on his toes. He was respectful and didn’t attempt to get closer than it was necessary, nor had his hands travelled lower than it was acceptable, and I was surprised to find myself comfortable in his embrace. Seulgi and Wooyoung had disappeared not long ago, apparently needing a breather and at the same time looking for Hongjoong and Seonghwa too—no word about Mingi, maybe he had gone home already. Who the fuck cares?!
“Have I told you your outfit looks good or am I drunk enough that I have forgotten all about it?!” Chan shouted over the music, lips close to my ear as I swayed my hips a little slower, a giggle bubbling past my lips.
“You have! Like—five times already!” I answered back, laughing louder when Chan’s cheeks flushed redder.
“I am officially drunk then!” He said back, looking really embarrassed, and I pinched his cute cheek without much thought.
“You’ve said that too before!” I said and Chan chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “You’re cute!”
“Really?!” His eyes lit up and I nodded with a wide grin, pinching his cheek again as the beat became slower, our hips swaying together, matching the rhythm.
“Really!” Before I could say anything else to him, a figured towered over us from behind Chan, and suddenly, his body was pulled away from mine, making my eyebrows furrow. And when I looked up, I became even more confused as I stopped dancing and stared up at an unimpressed looking Mingi.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Mingi’s deep voice vibrated over the loud music as his grip tightened into Chan’s black shirt, and the poor guy looked quite alarmed.
“I was just dancing with Y/N!” He exclaimed, sounding rather small compared to Mingi’s booming tone.
His eyes suddenly snapped onto me and I raised an eyebrow in annoyance, “What are you doing, doll?!”
Chan seemed to freeze up, very clearly misreading the situation due to Mingi’s use of the nickname. This guy couldn’t real, he can’t be doing this! As Mingi’s eyes bore into mine, I glared up at him defiantly, crossing my arms in front of my chest as somebody from behind pushed me slightly forward.
“You can go on your merry way, buddy.” Mingi was suddenly looking down at Chan, releasing his t-shirt and tapping his shoulder way too harshly. My eyes widened as poor Chan looked embarrassed, and that was all I needed to step closer to Mingi and jab his exposed chest with my finger.
“What is your problem?!” I shouted over the music, my glare deepening when the usual blank expression slipped onto Mingi’s face, “You leave me on my own the whole night after you invited me here to come. You don’t even tell me where you are going so that maybe I don’t wonder the whole night whether you have left or not, and then you come over and try to send away the guy I’ve been quite enjoying myself with?!”
Mingi’s jaw clenched as he grabbed my finger and lowered it down from his chest, stepping closer to me before his sharp eyes were directed onto Chan, narrowing into warning slits. Chan gulped and scratched the back of his head, throwing me a glance that was apologetic before he stepped back, getting swept up by the crowd as Mingi turned to face me, still looking as menacing and intimidating as he had been when he looked at Chan. I rolled my eyes and stepped back, shaking my head as I had enough of the crowd and needed fresh air too. I wanted to find Seulgi and tell her what’s happened, and maybe grab another drink which would tip me over the edge of tipsiness, and then I could say I was officially drunk like Chan has been saying. Thinking of Chan made me only angrier, and I wasn’t too nice as I pushed my way through the crowd, oblivious to Mingi following after me swiftly. When I finally made it to the edge of the dance floor, out of the pushy crowd, I felt fingers wrap around my bicep—again—and hold me back from walking off. I huffed loudly and whirled around, glaring up at Mingi as he opened his mouth to speak—and positively piss me off more.
“You’re drunk, Y/N,” He started, his eyebrows furrowed and looking less irritated and more worried now, “You should probably go home—”
“I don’t want to go home!” I tried to yank my arm free but Mingi’s grip tightened around my bicep more, and I huffed, “And I don’t want you to tell me what to do after you left me on my own the whole night, asshole!”
“Then what do you want to do?!” Mingi exclaimed, eyebrows furrowing more as he leaned down to be eye level with me. I clenched my jaw and raised my eyebrows at him.
“I want to dance.”
“Then dance.”
“You made Chan go away and I don’t want to dance on my own.”
“Then I’ll dance with you.”
I opened my mouth to tell him off again for being an asshole, but paused as his words registered in my brain at the speed of a snail. Did he just propose to dance with me?
“Bet.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes, yanking my bicep free as I stepped back and crossed my arms in front of my chest.
“Bet.” Mingi echoed and then suddenly, he was dancing to the Latino songs that were still being played, swaying his hips in a way Chan definitely couldn’t. I gulped and felt a little disheartened as I needed a second to start dancing, glaring at Mingi as I narrowed my eyes at him, unimpressed by his stupid behaviour. But since he’s an asshole, he ignored me and ran his fingers through his hair and twirled around, extending his hand for me to take. I rolled my eyes and turned around, throwing my arms up in the air as I let the music consume me, only to feel movement around me as Mingi magically appeared in front of me, hand extended again.
I groaned but gave in, placing my hand in his and was instantly yanked closer to his body, a ravishing grin on his lips, crooked front teeth peeking through as suddenly he was making us dance a lot more animatedly to the song, in a way Chan certainly couldn’t. Since we were by the edge of the dance floor, we had plenty of space to twirl around as we wished to, and Mingi definitely took advantage of that as he led the dance, mixing in moves that had me tightly holding onto his shoulders as I didn’t know the steps. It was hilarious and entertaining, and I soon found myself relaxed again and laughing as Mingi was grinning from ear to ear, holding me firmly and twirling me around every now and then.
But the moves started getting repetitive and I was losing the rhythm as my feet got tired, and without much thinking, I took my hand out of Mingi’s and instead flushed myself against him as I threw both my arms around his neck, smiling up at him as he froze. After hesitating for a second, he smiled back and I felt his big hands rest on my hips as I nodded in content and started swaying my hips to the rhythm. Mingi didn’t move much at the beginning, almost as if he was afraid of doing something or grinding up accidentally on me—not that I would have minded—but then the music changed and his eyes lit up, and I figured it was a song he liked, because suddenly his grip tightened on my waist and his hips were moving expertly, not so shy to grind up against me anymore. I chuckled and threw my head back as Mingi finally reciprocated my fun, not really having to watch each other to anticipate the next move. Somehow, it just came naturally, and as I looked up in his eyes, I felt drawn in by them, arms tightening around his neck as his own ones slipped around my lower back into a tight embrace, our bodies moving like that without neither of us wanting to pull away. And as the lights flashed against Mingi’s platinum hair, my eyes ran over his features again, completely taken by how gorgeous this man was. Involuntarily, my eyes stopped on his plump lips and my eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lower lip, suddenly reminded of that near kiss in my room, in my bed.
What would it have felt like? What does he taste like? Are his lips as soft as they seem to be? The breath I inhaled got stuck in my throat as suddenly Mingi was leaning down, his lips closer and closer to mine as I continued looking at him, throat dry from both the anticipation and the lack of water my body was crying out for. Out of pure instinct, my fingers had a mind of their own as they travelled up and tangled into the strands on the back of his head, pulling his head down and closer, our lips hovering close, but not quite touching yet. I gulped and swiftly looked up into Mingi’s eyes, which have significantly darkened and were focused onto my own lips. But as I raised my head, silently asking him to just finally kiss me, he did the same thing he did when we were watching Ten Things I Hate About You. Instead of his plush lips pressing against mine fully, they pressed against the corner of my mouth, making me shakily exhale as he pulled back, gazing into my eyes deeply. My fingers tightened in his hair and Mingi winced for a second before he exhaled too, clearing his throat.
“You’re drunk, I’m taking you home.” He said, and suddenly I felt really disappointed. I don’t know what I wanted to hear, but those words certainly weren’t it. It didn’t take much for me to understand why I was feeling suddenly so bitter.
“I don’t want to go home!” I told him and released him, detaching myself from his warm and comforting body.
“Doll, it’s late—”
“I’m not going home, Mingi.” I snapped and went to walk to the bar, but Mingi caught my wrist.
“Y/N, I only want what’s good for you, please.” He pleaded, eyes softening as I shook my head stubbornly, trying to pry my wrist out of his firm grip.
“No, Mingi.” I raised my eyebrows at him and groaned when he wouldn’t release me.
“Okay, I won’t take you home,” I narrowed my eyes, waiting for the catch, “Do you trust me?”
“I do.” And yes, I did, very much so.
“Then let’s go.” Mingi was suddenly grinning, and I felt giddy as he veered us towards the bar so that I could take my jacket from the bartender, Minseok, who promised to keep it safe and dry behind the bar. Mingi waved at Minseok and he grinned upon understanding what we needed from him, and then disappeared as he crouched, my jacket in his hands once he stood tall again. Mingi took my jacket from him and thanked him, then gave it to me as we started walking towards the stairs that led upstairs.
“I’ll text Seulgi that we’re leaving!” I told him as I wore my jacket, fishing my phone out of my jean’s pocket. Mingi walked behind me and steadied me when I almost missed a step up the stairs, and as we made it to the top, I unlocked my phone and clicked on the chat with Seulgi and I raised my phone with the intention of sending her a photo. Mingi noticed and quickly grinned as I puckered my lips at Seulgi, and then I took the photo and sent it to her, saying that we were leaving, and for her and Wooyoung to look out for each other.
The night air was chilly as we somehow wrestled our way out of the pub, and I swung our intertwined hands between each other as Mingi led the way down the lit-up street.
“Where are we going?” I asked curiously as I realized he was holding his car keys. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him drink tonight anything besides water and some blue coloured juice. Green apple, probably.
“It’s a surprise.” Mingi winked and unlocked his old Honda, opening the door for me as I giggled and quickly hopped inside, curious as to where we were going.
At least we weren’t going home just yet, the night is still young! And the moon is beautiful.
❱❱ Next chapter
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A/N: A quick last note to show you y/n, Seulgi, and Hongjoong's outfits I have used for inspo as Seonghwa and Wooyoung's were improvised by moi lol. Also, before I do that...by the time Mingi went blonde in this story, the real Mingi went back to having black hair and I'm SO tempted to let him dye it back in this story too, BUT it's already become part of our upcoming plot so I can't lol cries but it's fine! My bestie was sick of me yapping her ears off about me wanting Mingi to go back to his natural color lol, I just don't like blonde dudes no matter how good it looked on him, I missed my black haired Mingi<3, okkk bye



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