#hi sorry for not updating in a long time but here is the second chapter!!

[peachysunrize]

[ TANGERINE DREAMS ]

Summary: Summary: being stood up on his wedding day, Aemond’s life takes a turn for the worse. Heartbroken and humiliated, he finds unexpected help in Helaena’s childhood friend, who helps him move back into his family mansion. Summer cocktail parties and a long stay at the Targaryen residency, Aemond might let the girl who’s always been in his life make a home in his heart.

Tangerines, in general, symbolize prosperity, good luck and happiness. So if these delicious fruits appear in your dreams - whole or in the form of juice - it is usually very positive. A dream with tangerines expresses the desire and the possibility of progress and prosperity

Word count: 4.9k+

Warnings: fluff & Angst! English isn’t my first language<3

A/n: hello beauties!! Here’s the 2nd chap of our summer romance!!! A bit of a build up and messy Aemy because why not? The next chapters will be longer but this one no and I’m so sorry I was dealing with a writer’s block this week but I managed to get this one out!!! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated<3

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Updates: every Saturday!!

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Chapter 2: under the Weirwood tree

“Aemond!��� 

Aegon bangs on the library door like a fucking toddler, making Aemond sigh and groan as he continues to slam his fist on the wooden door.

“What?” He says with a jab in his tone, his fingers toying with the edge of the page he was reading a few seconds ago, “Open the fucking door already, or you’ll break it down, idiot.”

“That’s not a nice way to talk to your older brother,” Aegon kisses his teeth as he pushes the door open, an unbelievably large smile on his face. He strides towards Aemond’s desk with a mug of black coffee in his hand, walking with a skip in his steps, “especially now that you will spend your summer with us! How lovely—“

“Shut up already and give me my coffee,” Aemond grumbles, reaching for the mug but Aegon pulls it back, keeping it out of his reach.

“Tsk, tsk, absolutely not!” Aegon says, faking a frown as he looks at his younger brother, “You’re being so rude for someone who wears glasses with one prosthetic eye—“

“For fuck sake,” Aemond groans, grabbing the glasses before he takes them off, pinching the bridge of his nose, “why must you always be so insufferable?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Aegon shrugs, plopping down on the seat in front of Aemond’s desk, “it’s my responsibility to make sure you are entertained and not bored to death with these—“ he scrunches his face as he fiddles with his younger brother’s book, “what the fuck is this? Are you reading a history book in High Valyrian? You’re insane.”

“When was the last time you read a book?” Aemond looks at his older brother with a smug expression, “At least between the two of us someone is using his brain.”

“No wonder Alys left you—“

They both freeze, not a single sound can be heard in the room as Aegon very very slowly looks at Aemond, gulping when he sees his younger brother’s good eye glaring daggers at him.

“Shit—I’m, fucking shit, I’m so so sorry—“ he tries to get up and hug Aemond but all he receives is being pushed back on his seat with a defeated sigh from the younger Targaryen.

“Don’t talk for a moment, I want to enjoy my coffee in silence,” Aemond shakes his head before he brings the hot mug to his lips, taking a gentle sip from it, “did you make this?” He asks, his good eye wide and surprised as he looks at Aegon.

“No, why?”

“It’s perfect,” he whispers as he takes a huge gulp from the coffee, humming as the hot steaming liquid hits his tongue, “you could never make a cup of coffee like this.”

“You have Hel’s bestie to thank for that,” Aegon shrugs, “besides, I hate coffee, can never understand how you drink this stuff.”

“Of course, only horrible cocktails can keep you on your toes,” Aemond scoffs, finishing his coffee with a hum of pleasure, fighting back a smile when he hears you have made his coffee, “how did she know how I like my coffee?”

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Aegon leans back, his eyes never leaving Aemond, “how are you feeling?”

“Hmm?” Aemond asks, confused and surprised by his brother’s question.

Their relationship is… quite complicated. They love each other, but at the same time, they want to strangle and knock the breath out of the other’s lungs. They wish to be able to have civil conversations, but in Aemond’s head, Aegon always says something that makes him see red.

“We haven’t talked much ever since… you know,” Aegon sighs, running a hand through his tangled hair, “I understand though, not that I understand it as if I have experienced it or ever for that, I’ll probably never do because I mean who would want to leave someone like me—“

“I get it,” Aemond raises his hand to stop his brother, “you try to be sympathetic, I appreciate that, but you suck at it,” he says, standing up to put the book back in its place, waking Vhagar up with a few head scratches before he makes his way toward the door, Aegon following behind.

“Yeah, not my thing,” Aegon shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts, walking side by side with his brother, entering the buzzing kitchen together, “well, good morning ladies and you kid!” Daeron fakes a cry when Aegon pats his back roughly, making him choke on his tea.

“Leave him alone,” Hel announces, walking towards the kitchen island with two big plates filled with waffles and ice cream, “he’s had a rough night.”

“Why?” Aemond asks before spotting you behind Helaena, walking with a plate of fresh fruits, “hi.”

“Good morning, Lil nerd! How did you sleep last night?” You ask him, giving him a quick hug, sitting on your chair next to him, “Hopefully not stuck in the library like the past week?”

“No,” chuckles, taking his seat, “I actually went to bed, I had to put away a few things Alys sent back from the house.”

“Oh, did she contact you?” You ask hesitantly, plopping a small grape into your mouth as Helaena cuts the waffles for everyone, “you don’t have to answer, I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” he shakes his head, reaching to take an apple from your plate, “she didn’t contact me, well, she kind of did but it was just a note in the boxes she sent.”

“She’s such a bitch.”

“Helaena!” You laugh out loud, throwing your head back when Aegon says her name in shock — one thing Hel’s family doesn’t know about her is how fiercely protective she is of her loved ones, even if it’s mostly in secret.

“Sister—“

“Sorry, sorry!” She sits down with a soft laugh, “she gets on my nerves, you know? I can’t control it.��

“We know, babe,” you pass her the fruit plate, bringing a bite of waffle to your mouth after you say, “Don’t think about it anymore, we’re trying to get your brother to move on!”

“Yeah!” Aegon tries to join the conversation but soon gets distracted, “damn girl, how can you eat a whole ass plate of berries and grapes this early in the morning?”

“It’s near noon, dumbass,” Daeron scoffs, leaving the kitchen with a hot cup of tea.

“She loves to have fruit for breakfast, especially sweet oranges and tangerines!” Helaena exclaims.

“Not sure when it started but it’s now a part of my morning routine,” you shrug, handing Aemond a few strawberries to put on his waffles, “and what about you? How do you manage to have Gin Tonic with your breakfast?”

“I haven’t had any since I arrived here!” He whines, pouting as he stands up and steals a few grapes from your hand, “fuck off you know my cocktails are the best.”

“I’m not boosting your ego until you give me a good Sex on the beach.”

“Atta girl!” He high-fives you before making his way towards the refrigerator to grab a snack for himself even though he’s had breakfast with you.

“Morning, darlings,” Alicent walks in, her auburn curls moving with each step as she stands between you and Aemond, reaching to pull Aemond in for a half hug with a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Morning, Mum,” he replies, rubbing her forearm with one hand, giving her a rare smile he only gives her and Helaena occasionally.

“How are you? Are you feeling better?” She asks her son, putting her hand lovingly on your shoulder, “I hope you’re settling in nicely.”

“I am, I have you and others to thank for that,” Aemond answers, glancing at you, giving a quick smile before he looks back at his mother, “Well, no thanks to Aegon who’s been up my ass since I came here—“

“I was nothing but nice to you, little shit—“

“Stop—“ Alicent tries to end their banter, but to no one’s surprise, she is not successful.

“Should I thank you for that?” Aemond cranes his neck to look at his older brother whose jaw is on the floor, the sandwich is frozen mid-air close to his lips, “because that’s the least you have done.”

“As if I didn’t help you carry that huge fucking vanity mirror upstairs—“

“You just held one corner of it, you child—“ 

“Stop, just fucking stop!” Alicent yells, making everyone gasp when she swears, “What now?”

“You swore,” Helaena says, grinning at her mother.

“It’s not my first time, I’m not a kid—“

“But you always tell us to mind our language,” Aegon matches Helaena’s grin, walking to stand beside you, “unless…”

“Leave her alone, please,” Aemond stands up and kisses Alicent’s forehead, “she’s been hanging with Criston for far too long, I’m afraid.”

“Hush you!” Alicent slaps his arm playfully, “How have you been, truly? Is there anything me or all of us can do for you?”

“I’m okay, Mum,” he tries to budge, to not let anyone see through the facade he’s been holding up since Alys sent his things to him, or what in particular has been sent, “don’t worry.”

“How can I not worry, darling? You haven’t talked to anyone about it! You are ignoring your grandfather’s calls—“

“I could care fucking less about what he has to say!” His voice booms through the room, shocking everyone to their core.

You had realized how short his temper had become ever since the incident, but to raise his voice at his mother was not something you would see coming. Maybe he is hurting more than anyone — even himself who says it’s okay, it’s alright, I’m fine — ever imagined. 

“I apologize,” and with that he leaves the kitchen, stealing Helaena’s cup of tea on his way as he enters the TV room, finding Daeron wandering through the channels, stopping only when a headline catches his attention.

Aemond Targaryen’s ex-fiance spotted with a new lover!

Hello and good morning to our lovely audience! I’m Simon Strong and we are here with the newest celebrity gossip of Westeros! It wasn’t long ago when we heard the news of our very infamous couple’s break up, and now, only a month gone, Alys Rivers, Aemond Targaryen’s ex-fiance was spotted being too friendly with a colleague of hers! 

But that is not the only news we have for you!

A few days ago Miss Rivers had done an interview with our reporter, she said and I quote; “Being with a man who can’t stand up against others who hurt you is a bad choice. I waited and watched him treat me as if I meant nothing to him, and it is something Targaryens are most famous for — their money and huge egos!”

The sound of a loud crash makes Daeron jump, and he sees the hot tea run down Aemond’s wounded hand — he breaks the cup in his fist and drops the remaining on the floor.

“Aemond, shit—“ Daeron jumps over the back of the couch, grabbing Aemond’s hand as he examines his bloodied palm. The cuts aren’t deep but many little open and bleeding wounds cover his skin.

Aemond’s head is foggy, he can’t think or function at that. Alys moving on was something he was ready to deal with, he knew she must have been cheating on him during their relationship, but to say such hurtful words to the press made him question everything.

What was the point of their relationship if all Alys wanted to do was ruin him and his reputation? Surely after being dismissed by his father at the council alongside Aegon, his reputation became nonexistent.

Alys was everything to Aemond, she was his light, the only glimmer of hope in his darkest moments. She was the only person who would curse this world with him and keep him safe in their bubble of joy.

Apparently, it was only Aemond who felt that unconditional love.

With a heavy heart, he pulls his hand out of Daeron’s grasp, and with heavy steps, he walks upstairs to his room, ignoring the calls of his name as he did on his wedding day.

No words have been spoken between Alys and him for the past month, absolutely none, except for the note she sent with that cursed box. To see her being so happy and doing interviews about their relationship makes him see red, but somewhere beneath this blinding rage, Alys’ words poke at his open wounds, having him bleeding from the gaping holes worse than before.

He pushes his bedroom door open, standing in the doorway for a second to gather his thoughts; the thoughts he has been burying deep down so he wouldn’t have to deal with them for a long time.

He sits on the edge of his bed, his fingers shaking with an unknowing fear. He knows everyone must have seen the news, his father, his grandfather, his sister, and her children. 

The humiliation is inevitable now, thanks to his ex, even though he tried his best not to get caught in the whirlwind of the questions the media threw at him. Nothing can be changed now, not his public image, not his personal life, and certainly not how his family perceives him.

He runs his hand over his face, exhaling shakily as he repeats the words he heard on the news; being with a man who can’t stand up against those who hurt you is a bad choice. And all his life, through the years he stayed by her side, she did not need to ask him to stand up for her because he was already beating the guys to the pulp, getting into fights for her, but when it came to him she never reciprocated.

He remembers how he caught her texting one of his father’s employers on his twenty-first birthday, and he was so naive and stupid to let go of it when she said she just wanted to apply for a job to get closer to him, to Aemond, and he so easily believed her honey-coated words.

The sound of his phone ringing brings him out of his thoughts, making him sigh in exhaustion as he reaches into his pocket to pull it out, his grip tightening when he sees his grandfather’s name on the screen. He has probably seen the news and is ready to blame Aemond for the mess like he always does.

“Morning—“

“How could you not see this coming?” Otto’s voice is loud enough for him to distance the phone from his ear, closing his eye as he listens to his grandfather’s yells, “We worked so hard to keep your relationship out of the public eye, but now thanks to your idiocy the world knows about how you treated her!”

“No one knows anything about our relationship,” he replies, his tone cool and collected but he knows deep down he is one single moment away from breaking, “her words are nothing but lies—“

“Lies or not, you threw your reputation away because of a woman who was nothing before meeting you! Now it’s not just you who will pay the price, it’s your family, it’s our company!” Otto says, his words cutting Aemond like a knife being twisted in his ribcage, and what hurts the most about it is that Otto is not wrong.

Aemond introduced Alys to their company, and to his friends, got her a job, and made her famous, hell he even paid for the last year of her law school! He was an idiot for believing she was there for him, but what else could he do? 

He was in love.

“I could care less about Viserys’ appearance and company! She left me, I can’t control what she says, I can’t control what she fucking does!” Aemond yells back, his patience finally being ripped away, “My reputation was shattered the moment you let Viserys’ daughter get her hands on our lives. She set the cameras up when Alys left the church because no one knew when the wedding would take place and you turned a fucking blind eye to it!”

“You need to sort out the mess you created by letting that witch take advantage of your generosity,” Otto groans in annoyance, “not generosity, no, your idiocy, your childishness and immaturity. You were a fucking child when you started seeing her! The scandal we had to cover — when the twenty years old younger son of Viserys Targaryen kissed a twenty-eight years old woman in King’s Landing — spread like fucking fire in Westeros and all our stocks’ worth dropped—“

“My fiance left me!” Aemond’s voice finally breaks when he looks up and sees you entering his room with a worried expression, his eye glistening with tears, “She left me on our wedding day! How cruel can you be? I spent days away from the streets to protect your precious status and reputation, I isolated myself for weeks because I didn’t have the strength to stand up and walk outside! Did you even think about how I felt? Did you, Otto, or all you could care about was Rhaenyra’s next move? How will the world see us now?”

You sit next to him on the bed in silence, and for once, he hate your presence, he hates the way you look at him with worried eyes and open ears, ready to take his pain away, trying to be his friend.

“I do not have time to deal with your childish tantrums, either you will accept that you are ruining this family and help me clear up your mess, or we will have a fucking problem—“

“Listen, Otto, I won’t do anything about this. You’re a fucking asshole for kissing Viserys’ ass for so long that you have forgotten how horribly he is treating us. All you care about is to make him look better, so no, I won’t take responsibility for something I haven’t done!” He hangs up, throwing the phone on the bed before he groans in disbelief, hiding his face in his hands, “what do you want?”

You look at him, confusion is evident on your face as he asks you the question in a very serious tone. He knows he shouldn’t be treating you, out of everyone like this, but at this moment he can’t help but let his anger consume him.

“I thought I should check up on you,” you respond quietly, looking at him with a sympathetic smile, “I saw the news.”

“Who hasn’t,” he scoffs, shaking his in annoyance, looking down at his bruised and bloody hand before he meets your gaze, “that’s very sweet of you.”

“Maybe I can be of help somehow if you tell me what you need—“

“I don’t need help,” he glares at you before huffing out his breath, his nails digging into his wounds as he fists his hand.

“Let me see your hand,” you try to reach out and grab his wrist gently but he pulls back harshly, startling you with his attitude, “Aemond, please—“

“What do you gain from this?” He asks suddenly, “What do you achieve by being nice to me? I don’t get it, you have everything you need; money, friends, a good job, I can’t give you anything.”

“You are my friend, I want to help you because you’re going through something so so hurtful and I don’t wish to see you so upset—“

“Pity,” he chuckles sarcastically, standing up to pace his room, “so you pity me! How very generous of you to come here with an excuse to check up on me while all you feel for me is fucking pity!”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head desperately, standing up to reach and take his hand in yours but he puts a good distance between the two of you, his glare never faltering, “I understand your pain and despair! I’ve been through the same situation. I know how much you must be doubting yourself, how you think all of this is your fault—“

“You have no idea what I’m feeling. You, the self-centered childhood friend of my sister who has seen so little of how I’ve been treated, think you know me,” Aemond raises his voice, his tone cuts deep into your bones and he sees it, he sees how your eyes fill with tears and how you shake your head in disbelief.

“I’ve been there with you all of your life, Little nerd. I watched you grow up, and I don’t pity you because I understand you, and because you’re my friend,” you sniff, wiping the single tear that falls on your cheek, “you should be upset about everything, hell you should be so fucking mad, but to say I pity you? I could never even think about upsetting you, let alone showing some fake sympathy to gain what? I want you to be happy—“

Aemond looks at you for a long minute, his hands balled into fists on his side as he tries to keep his breathing under control, his mind reeling with regret and anger; at himself, at Otto, at everyone but you. And yet, he treated you worse than others.

He leaves you alone in his room, marching downstairs to the library without glancing at anyone, especially Alicent who calls his name pleadingly. Aemond locks himself in there with Vhagar who jogged alongside him to the room, huffing and barking happily while he sits on the couch near the window, letting his tears stream down his cheek.

He doesn’t go out of the room for lunch and isolates himself from the outer world, letting himself get distracted by his books and Vhagar who happily cuddles him with her huge body while he reads.

After a few hours near the sunset, he hears a soft voice telling him that everyone’s going outside to the backyard near the Weirwood tree, spending the nice afternoon outdoors.

He doesn't respond, just grunts, and goes back to reading, even though he knows he should stand up and follow you there, beg for forgiveness, and apologize to you, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Not when he feels so ashamed of how horrible he has treated you.

After much thinking, he decides to get up and take a walk with Vhagar towards where you said you’d be. He grabs Vhagar’s favorite ball and claps for her to follow him. The pair walks outside the house, the fresh evening wind blows over their heads, and Aemond feels he can finally breathe.

Vhagar happily wiggles her tail as he spots the group sitting on the grass with Aegon telling a shitty hilarious story while drinking beer together, sharing a laughter or two. Sunfyre and Dreamfyre, Aegon & Helaena’s Golden Retrievers, are playing together, running and jumping on each other under the sunlight.

He spots you lying on the grass, resting your back on Helaena’s chest while the two of you listen to Aegon and Daeron’s bantering, giggling, and sharing a can of beer — you look so happy, and that makes Aemond stop dead in his tracks, having him second guessing whether he should be approaching you and others after how he talked to you.

“Oi, why are you so late?” Aegon asks, bending down to grab and throw a can of beer at him, “You almost missed the sunset.”

“I didn’t know if I wanted to come and tolerate your stupid jokes,” Aemond catches the beer, throwing Vhagar’s ball for her to catch before his good eye finds yours, but he looks away immediately, too ashamed and disgusted by his earlier behavior to even look at you.

“Ignore him,” Helaena says to her older brother then looks at Aemond, patting the place next to her for him to sit, “Come on, join us.”

“Fine,” he whispers, catching you giving him a small encouraging smile. Vhagar runs back with her ball caught between her teeth, dropping it before she makes herself comfortable on top of you, resting her head on your stomach.

“Hello, my old lady,” you coo at her, scratching behind her ears and back, chuckling at how happily she starts waggling her tail, “I’ve missed you so much.”

“So!” Aegon claps his hand to gain everyone’s attention, “I was talking before our gracious pirate interrupted me—“

“I haven’t used my eyepatch since I moved out,” Aemond grunts, thanking you quietly when handed him your beer so he doesn’t need to open his.

“Whatever, it still doesn’t change the fact that you look like a fucking pirate even with your prosthetic eye!”

“Leave him alone!” Daeron whines, “Please just continue whatever you were telling us.”

“Alright, so…”

Aemond doesn’t listen to what Aegon has to say, his eye trails from Vhagar’s sleepy face to yours, smiling and laughing at Aegon’s story. He can’t bring himself to think about how bad his words must have hurt, especially since he made you cry.

You turn around, meeting his gaze, reaching to grab the beer from his hand, giving him a reassuring smile in return, mouthing a silent ‘later’ so he knows you two will talk and you won’t be left in the dark. 

“Shut up now, wanna watch the sunset without your annoying voice,” Daeron pulls his brother down to sit next to him, their backs resting against the Weirwood tree as everyone looks at the orange and pink hue of the sky, the sun slowly hiding behind the mountains.

“Get up kids, dinner’s on me!” Aegon smacks the back of Daeron’s head playfully, making the youngest Targaryen whine in pain before he also gets up and follows his brother inside the house.

“Order something in case he burns the house down,” you and Helaena get up as well, laughing at what Daeron said. 

“You know what,” you say quietly, unlacing your fingers with Hel, making her turn around and look at you, “I think I’m gonna stay a little more.”

Aemond looks at his sister, nodding at her as she leaves the two of you alone. He watches you turn around and step towards him, sitting on the grass next to him just like you did on his wedding day.

“Hey you,”

“Hey,” he laughs softly, resting his head on the tree as he looks at you, matching your smile, “I’m sorry…”

“I know you are,” you take a deep breath, looking up at the sky, “you are under lots of pressure now, Little nerd, I understand that.”

“Do you forgive me?” He asks, his voice so fragile and little as if he were a child, “because I’d hate to ruin your summer just because of my temper. I’m sorry, I’ll get on my knees and beg you too.”

“You are forgiven,” you laugh softly, “but I meant it when I said that I understand. I wholeheartedly understand how you feel, Aemond, it wasn’t out of pity.”

“I know, shit, I know but I was so pissed at Otto I couldn’t get my emotions under control,” he sighs, “not that any of these are good excuses, and I’m really sorry.”

“Do you remember that time when I wouldn’t come over here at family gatherings? Hel must have told you all about my breakup.”

“Yeah, I remember…” he says, nodding as you continue. 

“It was a rough four months of trying to get my shit together after Jason fucking Lannister stood me up,” you smile bitterly at the memory.

“He did what?” The shock on Aemond’s face only makes you laugh harder, “why didn’t we know about this?”

“Because I told Hel not to say anything,” you shrug, “yeah, you’re not the only one who had the pleasure of being stood up by a jerk. Anyway, we were together for a year, and everything was…hmm not too good but not too bad either. I liked him, maybe loved him even I don’t know I think I saw a future with him and I wanted my parents to meet him. I called him one day, took him out, paid for everything so I could tell him about the dinner my parents were planning.”

“All of this just for him to be a douchebag?” He teases you.

“Oh yeah,” you both laugh, “at first he was so open and lovely about this idea, but then… well the date came my parents and I were all looking around the restaurant all dumb and upset… I was the dumb one because I trusted a Lannister of all people but I liked him so much, and when I received a text from him after two hours of waiting for him, I broke down.”

“What was in the text?” Aemond asks, reaching for your hand, “You don’t have to tell—“

“He said he used me, that was it. Just sex and pleasure for over a year…that was all I meant to him,” you tear up a little, squeezing his hand as the two of you look at each other, “I may not understand your feelings completely because your situation is different, but I get it, I know how you feel to some extent.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that…you deserve someone better than Jason Lannister.”

“You too! You deserve someone much much better than Alys Rivers,” you run your thumb over his knuckles, “when you asked me what I would gain from this friendship… happiness, Aemond. You might not be my best friend but, you’ll always have a friend in me, and I like that we have shared interests, and your little jokes and banters with Aegon make me laugh. I like that, and I’m so sorry if you felt I was pitying you.”

“Don’t be sorry, I should be the one apologizing,” he smiles when you rest your head on his shoulder, juts how he did on his wedding day with you, “I like that too.”

[spookyserenades]

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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[itstheghostofmypast]

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.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

[noiriarti]

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

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.

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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.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!):

@skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @johnbassplayercutie @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck @sythethecarrot @lovrsm @ann4zw @gimmefood

[kiwiikato]

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

[jjungkooksthighs]

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.”

[lady-pug]

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!

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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

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@garden-in-the-rain

[xjaylyn]

PART 3 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: It's a really long chapter like 2 chapters long because I will be out of town for a few days and probably wont have time to update. But I will try if I have some free time. Chapter 4 will be shorter.

"This is it,"

Mike pulls into an apartment complex. At a glance, you can tell it's a quiet place, slightly run down; not many people living here. Getting out of the car, the duo follows Armando to his unit. Unlocking the door, Armando steps inside and turns the light on, it flickering slightly for a second before focusing. His place is small, about the size of a hotel suite, with a small kitchen barely able to fit two people. Tight space but enough for someone who doesn't own much but himself anyway.

"I just need to pack some things and we can head out... don't touch nothing," Armando says while walking into his room. Still standing by the front door, Mike and Marcus look around the place.

"Barely looks lived in... well shit, at least he has a TV," Marcus says, walking towards the small couch to take a seat. Mike steps towards the kitchen, opening the small fridge to see barely anything in there: only a couple of water bottles and simple ingredients to make a sandwich, but that was it. Closing the door, he spots something in the corner on the counter: two small cut-out pictures. One of Armando's mother, Isabel, and one of him. Feeling his chest tighten, he gently places the photos back in the corner.

Hearing Armando walk back into the small space, he steps out of the kitchen. "Nephew, what games you play on here?" Marcus asks, pointing at the PlayStation lying next to the small TV.

Armando looks at the man, raises his brow, "why is that important?"

"Because if it's Call of Duty I'll whoop yo ass, what's your tag?" Adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder, Armando turns his body completely towards his uncle, "What's your rank?"

"Diamond 3 rank 2," Marcus says, crossing his arms.

Scoffing with a smirk on his face, Armando just shakes his head. Dropping his arms, Marcus furrows his brows, "what? What's so funny 'bout that?"

"Nothing, but you ain't whooping nobody ass with that weak ass rank," Armando says, walking up to the door.

"Oh, you a lil disrespectful motherfucker, alright, we gon' see 'bout that," Marcus follows behind him, pointing his finger at the young man walking out the door. "Mike, he just don't know how I do."

--------------------------------------------------------

Four hours into the ride, the three of them sat in peaceful silence. Armando looks at the two in the front, Mike focused on driving and Marcus knocked out, snoring a little bit. Looking at his father, he decides to break the silence.

"What's the mission?" he asks.

Mike glances in the rearview mirror, "Apparently the biggest case the government has ever had... was told you might know something about it."

"I don't know why your people think I know it all, I only worked on what my mother told me to do... she's the one with the answers," Armando shrugs.

"Well, that's fine... we have someone that may know something to help us out... we're picking her up when we arrive in Miami."

Nodding his head, he looks down at the back seat noticing a file sitting beside him. "That's the case file, you can look through it and see if you find something you might recognize."

Picking up the file, he skims through everything. Besides the people he has worked with in the past, he's not sure about everything else. Shaking his head, he looks back up at his father, "Nah, I don't know."

Another silence falls upon the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to fill Armando in on the past 2 years. "Things have been normal since the last mission... thank you, by the way, for helping clear Cap's name-"

"I didn't have much of a choice," Armando interrupts, raising a brow.

"Yeah, well, thank you anyway..." Another silence falls between the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to try for a conversation again. "You have a baby sister," Mike mentions, glancing at Armando through the rearview mirror to see his face.

Armando looks up at him, making eye contact but doesn't say a word.

"Yeah, uh, she just turned one yesterday... cutest thing too... she loves anybody that gives her food," Mike laughs. Dropping his hand, he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Opening it up, he reaches back to give it to Armando.

Taking the wallet from him, Armando sees a picture of a baby girl. 'Cute.' Mike notices how Armando's face slightly softens. It wasn't a big facial expression, but you can tell it did something to him. Looking at the picture a little more, his attention looks down to another photo, it was old... one of him as a baby. Closing the wallet, he hands it back to his father.

"Congrats," Armando says, cutting the one-sided conversation to an end and looking out the window watching everything pass by.

--------------------------------------------------------

...MIAMI...

Finally arriving at their destination, Mike pulls into the private base, security guarding every corner. Stopping at the gate, Mike and Marcus show their badges. The guard nods and lets them through. Getting out of the car, the three notice Chief Paul Nicola and a couple of guards walking towards them.

"Glad to see you all are here. This way, please," Paul extends his arm out, leading the small group into the private building. "For the past six months, we have kept our informant in max security... she was found in uniform so she is to be kept chained up as we do not know exactly what she is capable of. She has agreed to only speak to the people working with her to negotiate a deal," Paul says while scanning his ID to enter a private area in the building.

Stopping at a door, Paul turns to the trio. "Please don't fuck this up."

Allowing the men to step into the room, there's only one source of light from a small window making it dim. In the center of the room, they see a table and a person sitting down completely covered head to toe in chains that are bolted into the floor—securely fastened to ensure no way to escape.

The trio takes a seat at the table. A guard standing in the corner walks up to unlock the headlock. The sound of the metal mask dropping to the floor echoes through the room. She has a disheveled look to her: curly hair matted and covering some of her features, faded bruises on her face, and a busted lip. Looking into her eyes, they see she is scared and nervous. She stares at the men in front of her uncertainly.

Marcus clears his throat and softly speaks up, "Okay... I'm Detective Marcus Burnett and this is my partner Detective Mike Lowery and Armando." He points to his left and right where Mike nods at her and Armando just stares. "We know you know something that we need to know to get this shit together. So what is it that you need us to do for us to help each other?" Marcus asks, cutting straight to the chase.

The woman continues to stare at the men in front of her before nodding her head towards the guard behind her. "Get him out first."

Looking up at the guard, Mike waves his hand in a shooing motion. "We'll be good, sir," smiling at the guard who hesitates for a second before stepping out. Hearing the heavy door close, she starts, "I need one thing guaranteed to me."

"Layla Batiste... I need one of you to free her... she should be in the 7th cell on the right. Free her and give her anything she needs to make a living," the woman says, her voice shaking a bit.

"Okay, and who is this Layla? Why do we need to free her?" Mike questions.

"My sister... just agree to do that and we have a deal," she pleads, looking at Mike. "And write it down too so you don't forget... Layla Bat-"

"Batiste, 7th cell on the right. Yeah, I got it," Mike says, leaning back in his chair. "Done. Now, what do you know? Actually, what is your name before anything?"

Taking a breath, the woman sits back in her seat. "My name is Rya," she says.

"Okay, Rya, what do you know?"

"Do we have a deal?" Rya presses.

"Yes, we have a deal. We free Layla and you help us. Done. Sealed," Marcus says, leaning forward on the table. Armando just sits back with his arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal.

"You were captured by our military in a uniform... what were you doing in uniform?" Marcus questions.

Rya looks at Marcus then looks down. "I have been a prisoner since I was 10... a way for my parents to pay their debt... he sends us on missions as decoys... I was sent there as a distraction and ended up being caught."

Armando raises a brow at her wording, leaning forward to make his presence known. "Who's he?" he asks, looking at her with a hard expression.

Looking up, Rya makes eye contact with the brown eyes staring at her. She can tell he is studying her, looking for any reason not to trust her and her words. "A man named Sergio... he's dangerous and powerful. His family for decades has been a part of this big project to take over the world. For reasons I don't know... I just know his kind is powerful... and it's not just him. He has the military, doctors, scientists, judges, governments in different countries working for him. Any influence you can think of, he has someone there working for him. It's a world operation that has been growing nonstop... he's just the center of it."

The three men look at the girl in front of them and then at each other, taking in the information given to them. Mike looks back at the girl. "So why help us... what's in it for you?" he questions. She pauses for a second. "No one wants to be locked up and held captive for the rest of their life... this is my only chance and I can't do it by myself. I need your help." She looks at the men in front of her, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Hey, we are here to help as long as you can help us... you said he has connections everywhere... is there any place that you know that we can look into to gather evidence or something?" Marcus asks. Rya nods her head, closing her eyes to hold the tears back. "He has these liquid drops he's creating that's a mixture of different drugs and chemicals... there's a place on the strip... an abandoned lot that no one looks into, that's where he makes some of it."

"You know the exact place and where these drops would be?" Mike asks. Rya nods her head yes.

Slapping his hands on the table, Mike stands up looking down at the young girl. "Well, let's take a look at his little operation and make some shit happen." The three men make their way out of the room. Paul, standing in the hall on his phone, looks up as he hears the door open. Quickly putting his phone away, he walks towards the trio. "So what do we got?" He asks, putting his hands in his pocket, looking back and forth at them.

"The man we're looking for is Sergio. His family is the center of this operation and has connections everywhere. She said there's a secret lab on the strip. Claims he's making liquid drops laced with different drugs. We're gonna check it out and build up the case," Marcus says.

"Okay, good, we have something... I'm going to release her to you guys. Make sure she is protected at all costs. We can't afford to lose her," Paul tells them before walking off.

"Well... now we're babysitting... great."

--------------------------------------------------------

Walking out of the building, Paul and two guards on each side of Rya, her hands and feet cuffed. She looks up at the sky, squinting her eyes, and takes a deep breath, finally getting fresh air and light after being confined in a tight cell for 6 months. Looking down, she sees the three men from earlier standing by a car, waiting for her. She wasn't lying when she said Sergio is a dangerous man... his nickname to the people was "The Devil". With the type of connections he has, it's considered damn near impossible to take him down. But still, with the right people and enough evidence... there's a chance. She can only hope she made the right choice and that those three are the ones that can help her.

Feeling a slight tug, her body is forced to a stop. The guard on the right unlocks the cuffs on her feet. Leaving the handcuffs on, he hands the keys to Mike. "The hands are to remain locked." Mike nods, opening the back door to the car. Rya gets in, the door closing behind her. Looking out, she can see Paul exchange a few words with the men before the car doors open and they get in.

"We're going to the station to meet with the team. There you can change and we'll run down everything. Okay?" Mike says, looking back at her in the back seat.

Nodding her head, she feels eyes on her and turns her head to the right, seeing Armando staring at her. She looks him up and down, raising her brow when he doesn't look away. She hears Marcus speak from the front. "Don't worry about him," Marcus says, looking at the two in the back. "He's in his moody teenage phase where he hates his life and everyone in it..." He whispers to Rya. Furrowing his brows, Armando breaks their eye contact by slowly turning his head towards Marcus. "He'll get over it... eventually he tolerates you," Marcus winks at Rya and looks at Armando. "You ever eventually shut the hell up?" Armando asks, causing Mike and Marcus to look at him surprised. "Whoooa," Marcus exclaims, looking at his partner. Mike looks at Armando, "Hey, too much."

Armando rolls his eyes and looks at Rya one more time before he looks away and out the window. "You hear how he talks to me, Mike?... Just no respect for his elders!" Marcus whines from the front seat. "Yeah, I heard him..." The two continue to go back and forth. Rya raises a brow at the dynamic between the people she was put with. Glancing over at Armando, seeing him in his own world, she leans over into the corner of her seat, laying her head back. 'What the hell did I get myself into?'

--------------------------------------------------------

...Miami Precinct...

Stepping out of the shower, Rya wraps her towel around her body and walks over to the locker room mirror. She was able to wash her hair and brush it out, leaving it down to air dry. Wiping the mirror, she looks a little more like herself. The scars and light bruises all over her body are still visible, serving as a reminder of what she had to go through. Shaking her head, she looks over at the folded clothes given to her and quickly puts them on. It's a simple Miami PD t-shirt and black cargos along with black socks, comfortable enough to move around in. Slipping on her shoes, she walks out into the foyer where everybody was waiting for her.

Looking up from the computer, Mike claps his hands and points to Rya. "Everyone, this is Rya, our informant. Rya, this is Rita, the boss, and Kelly and Dorn. They are our tech kids, formally known as AMMO," he says, pointing at everyone. They all wave at her with a small smile, causing her to nod her head in acknowledgment.

Marcus walks up to her with her handcuffs. "Sorry, but they said at all times," he looks at her apologetically, putting the cuffs on her.

"Alright, I have the map of the entire strip. I marked up the abandoned buildings. I just need you to point it out for us," Dorn says, walking up to the table in the middle and laying the map flat on it.

Rya skims over the map. "This one," she says, pointing at a building.

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's that one," she says, looking up at the team.

"Alright, here's the plan," Mike starts. "Rya, you are going to go in and grab a sample of the drops. Grab anything you think we might need that can be used as evidence."

Rya looks at Mike, her eyes widened. "By myself?!" she asks.

"No, uh, Armando will go with you to make sure nothing happens to you. The rest of the team will be watching on the drones, so there's no need to worry."

Calming down a little bit, Rya nods her head. "Okay."

"Armando, you good with that?" Mike asks, looking back at his son who was standing in the back of the room. Armando shrugs and walks off.

"Okay. Well, the plan is set. Let's get ready."

--------------------------------------------------------

...3 Hours Later...

"Alright, can you hear me?" Dorn asks, looking at Armando and Rya who both wore protective gear and their earpieces. Both of them nod their heads as they make their way out of the truck.

"Alright, we'll be right behind you guys. Just grab a sample and get out safely," Rita says, looking at the two before closing the truck door.

Armando starts to walk toward the building, not paying Rya any attention. Rolling her eyes, Rya follows behind, picking up her pace to catch up to him. "Alright, we'll enter first to make sure it's clear," she heard Dorn say into the earpieces. Watching the drone fly into the building a couple of minutes later, she hears Dorn clear them to enter.

Walking into the building, there were broken pieces of glass and boarded-up openings. "You know where the stuff is at, right?" Armando questions, looking back at Rya.

"Yeah, it should be a little further down in a locked room," she replies. Making their way around the building, the two end up at a dead end.

"It's a dead end," Armando says, looking at the wall.

"No, it's just made to look that way," Rya corrects him.

Armando looks at Rya for a second before looking back at the wall. Stepping back a little, he kicks at the wall, and it easily crumbles, revealing a laboratory full of different substances. Skimming the room before stepping in, Armando picks up a bag full of white pills. "Opioids?" Armando mumbles, setting the bag back down. Watching Armando look around the place, Rya sneaks her still cuffed hands into her pocket, pulling out a flash drive. Looking around, she sees a desk off in the corner with a computer on it.

"Where are the drops?" Armando asks, looking back at her.

Quickly hiding the flash drive in her palm, she looks back at Armando and clears her throat.

"It should be in a case or one of these tubes," she says, stepping into the room.

Walking around, she makes her way towards the computer, quickly putting the flash drive in and pressing a button to turn on the computer. Looking back up to make sure Armando was still looking around, she presses around until she sees a downloading screen. Quickly walking away from the computer to look around.

"What are you doing?" She hears Armando question, staring at her.

"Looking for the drops, it should be around here somewhere," she replies, glancing around and noticing a small black case sitting on top of a shelf.

Lifting her cuffed hands, she points at the case.

"There, I think that's it."

Walking over, Armando picks up the case and places it on the counter. Unlocking it, he opens it to see a bunch of little tubes full of a liquid labeled 'OPP.M'. Glancing at Rya, who is looking at the tubes, he grabs one of the tubes and puts it in his pocket.

"Alright, let's go."

Suddenly, a beeping sound goes off.

"What is that?" Armando says, and Rya looks over at the computer.

Quickly walking over, she sees an error displayed on the screen.

"Shit," she mumbles, quickly grabbing the flash drive. She feels Armando grab her shoulder roughly, causing her to turn towards him.

"What the fuck is that?" His face hardens.

"Guys, we have people coming in," Kelly speaks into the earpiece.

All of a sudden, a man fully covered in black with a gold star stitched on his vest comes in firing at the two. Armando swiftly dodges, pulling Rya with him. Getting pushed under the counter, Rya watches as Armando grabs the man, making him stumble. Taking his gun away from him, Armando shoots the man.

More men in black come into the room. Armando fights each one coming at him. Watching him get outnumbered, Rya runs out, taking her cuffed hands and grabbing one of the men from behind, choking him with the chain.

Turning around, she takes the man with her, using him as a shield as one of the other men tries to shoot at her. Dropping his body, she drops to her knee, sliding across the floor, picking up a gun and shooting the men coming towards her. Running out of ammo, she runs up to one of the men, dodging the bullets before hitting him with the butt of the gun.

Grabbing one of the glass flasks on the desk, she breaks it and picks up the sharpest piece. A man comes up to her, throwing a punch. She strategically maneuvers, causing him to fall forward and land on the desk. Stabbing the man a few times in the back, she then turns around and slices the neck of another man coming towards her. A few minutes pass of her and Armando fighting, the last body dropping. She looks up at Armando, slightly roughed up and out of breath, already staring at her. Looking down at her bloody cuffed hands, she drops the piece of glass.

"What the fuck?" she hears Mike in her earpiece. Taking a breath, she looks back up at Armando.

"We got what we need, let's go," she says before turning around and walking out of the room, Armando following behind, glaring at her.

Making her way out of the building, she sees the doors of the truck open up, the team looking at her and Armando coming over. Stepping into the truck, she makes her way over to Dorn's computer and screens. "hey thats my seat" Dorn says pointing at her.

"What the fuck was that?" Marcus says, furrowing his brows and looking at Rya with his arms open.

Armando sits on the seat, unstrapping his vest. "Clearly your informant isn't just an informant," he says, glaring at her.

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out the flash drive from her pocket and swiftly inserts it into the computer, a bunch of files popping up. "Hey, who the fuck are you? Because that wasn't the same helpless girl that was crying and shit, pleading for us to help her back at the prison?!" Marcus says, pulling her shoulder back, forcing her to face the team, all looking at her with confusion apparent on their faces.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Staring back at the team, Rya leans back in the chair. 'Well, shit.'

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!):

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [7].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. the usual amount of swearing and ruining the lives of men, jay goes through an crisis, mentions of hairballs, mc is extra menacing this chapter. WORD COUNT. 3.8k.

NOTE. here....it is..... this has been long overdue and i'm so sorry AHAHAH but i did say that i'm gonna update this whenever i want. anyhow, this is the jay chapter! and i hope this makes up for the one month long delay! enjoy, please let me know what you think<3

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 7 — sexy goth jellyfish.

YOU DON’T THINK YOU’LL EVER GET SICK OF WAKING UP AND GETTING LULLED BACK TO SLEEP BY THE MOST COMFORTABLE MATTRESS IN THE WORLD. Seriously. You’re considering hoarding it back to your dorm once you leave at the end of the month. 

It’s the best thing about this house. The second best thing is having your breakfast cereal already laid out for you in the kitchen the moment you step downstairs. This princess treatment is going to get you spoiled. 

The odd thing about today, however, is that your usual bowl of Cheerios is nowhere in sight.

You rub your eyes, proceeding to squint at the counter because maybe you just aren’t awake enough yet. But it’s still not there. You look over to the sink. There is no evidence that someone ate your cereal. What happened? Did your cereal robot sleep in today? Did he die? Are you gonna have to make your own bowl of cereal from now on?

“Good morning.”

Sunghoon greets you upon walking into the living room, cereal-less and still groggy. Beomgyu is also there, cross legged on the couch and playing something on his phone. “Good—” you greet back, scratching your hand underneath your shirt with a big yawn, “—morning.” For some reason, Sunghoon suddenly looks scandalized. You ignore it and stretch out your arms above your head with another yawn.

“Please— oh my god, please don’t do that. I can see your un—underwear.”

You pause mid-stretch, arms up in the air, shirt hiking up a little. “What color?” you ask. 

“Grey! Why would you ask me that?!”

“Ooh, correct.” You drop your arms down. “I thought you were kidding. Sorry, my bad.”

You grin and shoot them a peace sign. “Sunghoon, go get the PD&J,” Beomgyu announces, eyes not leaving his phone. Your expression quickly moltens into a glare and a grimace. Dammit, you’ve been careful all this time. You blame your lack of early cereal nutrients for this carelessness.

“I’ll pay later,” you grunt. “Anway, where’s Jay? He didn’t make my cereal today so I’m assuming the worst.”

“Is he your slave?” you hear Beomgyu retort. You’ll deal with him later.

Thankfully, Sunghoon is normal(?) and answers your question promptly. “Out on the deck,” he tells you, and you look over to the open glass doors past your dining setup leading up to the sunlit deck outside. You squint, unable to spot a life form of any sort at first, but after a moment of letting your eyes wander, you finally see it.

Jay is laying flat on the wooden floor, shades on, facing directly at the sun. “What’s up with him?” you ask Sunghoon. There are pieces of paper with unidentifiable contents scattered around the motionless man. You fear he might be actually dead.

“He’s photosynthesizing,” he replies. You should’ve known better than to expect a correct answer.

“He’s not a plant,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s past nine. He’s not getting any more vitamin D at this hour.”

Sunghoon simply shrugs and Beomgyu is still busy yelling profanities at his phone. You sigh. Time to take care of things yourself, so saunter over to Jay’s tanning bed and crouch down near his head, arms crossed. Is he asleep? you furrow your brows and peer down a little closer. His pitch black sunglasses are making it impossible to tell.

“Wow. This is the first time I’ve seen you upside down.”

And he’s alive.

“Hey,” you call out. “What are you doing?”

Jay has his hands symmetrically placed on his abdomen, and he remains unmoving when he opens his mouth to reply. “Brooding,” he says, and you are granted more questions than answers. 

“Don’t people usually do that in the dark?”

“I don’t conform to society’s standards.” Jay sits up, so you lean back. You watch him as he adjusts the shades on his nose bridge, ruffles his hair as if there’s a camera pointed at him, then says, “I’m absolutely fucked. I don’t know what to do.”

Woah, there. Looks like Mr. Easygoing is going through some troubled waters.

“Alright.” You shuffle out of your crouching position, dropping to paneled wood to cross your legs for a more comfortable position. “Lay it on me,” you announce, ready to sunbathe and hear a very very long story.

Jay stares at you. There’s a wrinkle between his brows. 

“Go ahead.” You nod decidedly. 

After another pause, Jay shrugs and sets his head down on your crossed legs, laying back down but with you as his new pillow. That’s not what you meant, but you roll with it. This is an opportunity to braid knots his hair. “So I took a summer class, right,” he starts, and you dig your fingers into the dark strands. “Women’s wear design. Thought It’d be useful for androgynous clothing ideas, but anyway.”

Wow, it’s so soft, you think, finishing a single braid. “And then?”

“Well. For our final project, we need to have a live model to wear our design prototypes. To test their functionality and all. A friend of mine already agreed a few weeks ago, but she suddenly canceled yesterday, so I’m pretty sure I’m fucked.”

His hair slips out of your fingers. The gears in your brain start to churn. “When’s the presentation?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Have you asked someone else?”

“Yeah. I’ve already tried calling everyone I know.”

“And?”

“I ran out of people,” he says. “I’m screwed, right?”

“I feel like there’s more to this.”

A third voice suddenly pops up and you flinch. “Holy shit,” you turn to see Heeseung sitting next to you. He looks like he’s been there for a while and you make your surprise very evident by how wide your eyes are staring at him. Jay props up, also looking at him. “When did you get here?”

Heeseung ignores you. “Jay,” he starts. You’re gonna get back at him for that. “What did you tell Eunmi when you asked for her help for the project?” 

Eunmi is a familiar name. You’re pretty sure she’s the one that stormed out of the house the other day. “I told her that I had a problem and asked if she could do me a favor.

Your brows knit together. Wait a minute. “And what else did you say?”

“I also asked if she didn’t mind taking her clothes off,” he says. “Why?”

Silence sets in. It simmers for a while. You and Heeseung share a look. “Jay,” you call out. He gets off of your lap and sits up, turning to face you. You press your lips together. How do you break it to him? 

“Dude, I’m pretty sure she thought you were asking to hook up.”

You double over and nearly let out a gasp. So the mysophobe isn’t hasn’t completely eroded his social awareness. You are both horrified and impressed, and he’s looking at you like he can hear your thoughts, visibly offended. 

“Heeseung’s right. Girlie probably thought you’d be using your measuring tape for something else outside of measuring.” They both give you a look. Maybe you gave Heeseung too much credit. “What? After measuring her tits and ass, imagine her disappointment when you went off to measure her ankles next.” 

“Well, I’m a fashion major, what did she expect?” 

“I don’t know, maybe some dressmaker-themed BDSM shit!” you huff. “Don’t you know you know anyone else that can model for you?”

“I’m pretty sure all the girls in his contacts have him blocked,” Heeseung says. 

You grunt and lean back, the deck warm on your palms. “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but—” You sigh. Your shoulders slack, and you run your fingers through your scalp with a deep inhale. Jay and Heeseung nudge themselves closer. You give them three more seconds of suspenseful silence— one…two…three. 

“But we don’t have much of a choice.” 

His dumb sunglasses are still keeping his eyes hidden, but you’re pretty sure Jay is looking at you like you’re the second coming of Christ. On the other hand, Heeseung looks suspicious. You assure them that you’ll take care of, telling Jay to go upstairs and prepare his design prototype in case he needs to make any alterations, and Heeseung follows you to the living room, where Sunghoon and Beomgyu are still lounging around.

They turn their heads the moment you enter. Sunghoon and Heeseung’s eyes are trained on you as you approach Beomgyu, who has now settled down his phone to give you a disgruntled expression— impatient and nervous because, “what the fuck are you up to this time?” he voices out. You spare him an extra second of agony and tell him what you came for.

When the words leave your mouth, Beomgyu nearly chokes on the air.

“I’m sorry, what?” 

His eyes are wide, looking up at you. 

“What did you just say?”

“I asked if you can pretend to be a woman for a day,” you repeat. Beomgyu is looking at you like you’re insane. 

“What the fuck?”

“C’mon!” you exclaim, hopping down on the plush sofa cushion next to him and he jumps and flinches away. There’s a reason why you adore fucking with Beomgyu the most. “It’ll only be for a day! Do it for Jay! Whoa. That rhymes.”

“Why me?!” he shrieks. The reason is he fights back. He makes it all the more satisfying when he inevitably admits defeat. 

“Because you’re arguably the prettiest one of the lot!” You bounce closer, trapping his between the armrest and your enthusiasm to see him in a fucking dress. “Have I ever told you that your eyes are like, really, really pretty? And your facial structure is already so nice and elegant, I really don’t need to do anything with makeup, you’re already perfect!” 

With each word you utter and with each centimeter you lean closer, Beomgyu’s face gets increasingly redder and brighter. “Your— your flattery won’t convince me to fucking cross dress in public, you psychos!” 

Before you can get the chance to say ‘so you don’t mind doing it in private?’ Beomgyu tries pushing you off, but he’s too flustered to put any strength in. The opportunity to grab his wrists and pull him closer simply just presents itself. “C’mon!” you tug him in. “Swallow the toxic masculinity, Beomgyu! I believe in you!”

“No!”

He manages to roll off the sofa and retreat to his room. As Beomgyu’s heavy and hasty footsteps fill the air, the sound growing weaker by the second, you turn over to Sunghoon, who is sitting on the individual seat. He meets your eyes. “No,” he says before you could open your mouth. “Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon doesn’t waste a second to get up and follow Beomgyu’s escape pattern. “Sunghoon! Sunghoon, wait!” you yell after him. When he pads up the stairs, you stop at the bottom of the flight and watch as he scurries up the floor. “Are you upset that you’re the second choice? That doesn’t mean anything! You’re pretty too! I love your nose and your pretty face moles and—”

And he is gone. You turn back. “Well, I tried,” you shrug. Heeseung is wearing an expression you can only describe as severe perturbation. “Soobin and Jake aren’t home. That’s a bummer.” Then again, Jake would probably be down for it, which is no fun. And you can’t risk making Soobin cry again. Your list of crimes is already long enough. Beomgyu has the copy. 

“Of all the solutions you could come up with, I didn't think you’d go for the crossdressing route.”

Heeseung is leaning against the sofa, arms resting on top of its plush back. “Actually, I never even considered it,” he adds. “I thought you’d volunteer to model for him yourself.”

You make your way back to the living area with a yawn. Shrugging, you say, “I am.”

His brows scrunch, eyes narrowed. “Then why did you—” Heeseung stops thinking. He gives you a look of distaste. “You’re pretty evil, you know that?”

A laugh escapes your lips, and you hop on the couch Heeseung is leaning again. He visibly flinches when you do, but he doesn’t move away. So you sit up with your legs still on the sofa, knees sinking into the cushions, and you poke your nose forward so that it nearly bumps into his. 

“What are you—”

You inch your face closer. “It’s not my fault that you guys are easy targets.” You can literally hear his breath getting taken away. You flash him a wide grin. 

“Calm down. I’m moving away, moving away. No need to run.” When you flop back to lie on the sofa, Heeseung’s pink-tinted face is in full view, and he’s trying his best to hide it from you all while still trying to shoot you a glare. At some point he’s going to snap at you, for sure. Until that happens, you’re free to mess with him. “Anyway, I’ll be off to Jay’s secret lair. That is unless you man up and take one for the team, and—”

“Bye.”

Like the other two, Heeseung stomps away. You let out a huff of air. “You’re all weak as shit,” you call out. Maybe one day you’ll get the chance to give one of them a makeover. Maybe one day you can paint their nails and do their eyeliner.

Jay can’t express just how grateful he is for you.

No, really. He can’t. He tried telling you that he owes you his life when you told him not to worry about it and just go upstairs and prepare his things, but all that jumped out of his mouth is a measly, “you’re so cool,” before leaving you with Heeseung. 

That won’t do it. He’s gonna say thank you and a million more once you show up in the storage room-turned-office-slash-workspace next to his bedroom, and you’re going to be so impressed by his thanking skills. But the feeling is all muffled and fuzzy inside his chest— like a way too stubborn hairball he can’t cough out. So when you knock on his door and take a peek inside the extension of his room, all he can say is, “I made the carpet. Pretty cool, right?”

“Oh!”

Jay watches as you crouch down almost immediately upon his mention, feeling the mishmas of fabric texture with your palms. Your hands are running through a patch of faux fur, stitched to some leftover corduroy. You’re stepping on denim, and in between you and him is a large swab of linen. “Holy shit. This is pretty cool.”

There’s a thump in his chest. He’s pretty sure you’re the first person to say that after the other dozen people that have been here before you.

Then again, Jay’s pretty sure you’re the first for him on a lot of things.

He fears the hairball lodged in his throat just multiplied.

“So.” You pull yourself up from the ground. “What are we doing?”

“Oh,” he blinks. “Let me show you the clothes first. It’s a dress. It may not look like one, but trust me it is a dress—” he quickly explains, walking over to the mannequin in the corner of the room, pulling it out from the corner with a bit of a struggle because the wheels get caught in the stringy fabric of his carpet. “You can try it on, but it’s made with Eunmi’s measurements. Tell me if anything doesn’t fit right so I can alter it.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe out. “Hey, I may make fun of you guys a lot, but this time I’m being serious— this is so cool! What the hell, Jay?”

Well, that was a surprise. He didn’t think you’d like wearing something so avant garde. After Eunmi’s reaction to seeing it, he was pretty sure you’d be hesitant. “This will swallow my entire figure! I’d look like a jellyfish! You know what, I was already disappointed when you suddenly started jotting down my arm width. I’m going home. Don’t call me,” was what she said before storming off. But you’re all ooh’s and aah’s as you dig your nose into the thin sheets of intricately sewn on sheer, black fabric. 

“I was also serious about the carpet. Hold on let me try this on—”

You struggle taking the dress off of the mannequin. Jay helps you out. “You can change in my room.”

“Gotchu,” you shoot him a thumbs up, running off to the door with the dress flowing in your hands. “Don’t you dare peek. I don’t have any more spare change to throw into that stupid jar.”

“What if I pay for you?”

“Great. Door’s unlocked. Open if you have the balls.” Then you close the door with a still thinly open gap. It’s really is easy to talk to you. You don’t give him a weird look after he says a few words. He can hear your swearing slipping out of the crack in the door. Maybe he should have left you to fend for yourself against his admittedly unconventionally constructed dress.

“Need any help?” he asks, hesitantly inching towards the door.

“I can handle it— fuck, wait, where is my neck supposed to—”

After hearing a thump from inside the room, Jay believes he might have to intervene, else it’ll end up with either a torn ligament or a torn three month long project. He lands a knock on the door. “I think you need my help.”

“Give me a minute! I got this!” A minute. He starts counting down from sixty. And mentally counting down in nothing but silence and the occasional profanities from the other room is giving him some time to think. To think about how even though he’s gone through numerous dates, talked to numerous women, but for some reason they never last long. Well, all except you. You and his mother.

He’s lost count of the times he’s been ghosted (a ghost dress does sound like a pretty good idea), but the times they do communicate— they all communicate with a very familiar script:

“Maybe we should start seeing other people.”

Maybe his bonfire joke wasn’t as funny as he thought.

“Hey, Jay, is it supposed to look like this?” you call out before his sixty second countdown is over. “I think I’m wearing it wrong.”

When he opens the room to his door with a creak, his breath hitches in his throat. 

And it’s not the metaphorical hairball that’s been annoying him. Shit. Something about seeing you in a design he’s crafted with his own hands, conjured up with his own brain, is tying all sorts of knots in his stomach. Even when you put your arm in the wrong hole.

“You’re wearing it wrong.” Jay walks up to you next to the bed. The clothes you’ve shedded on in lieu of the dress he made is scattered on his mattress. He swallows hard before laying a discreet hand on your shoulder, tugging on a loose part of the clothing to reveal the armhole.

“Oh! That explains a lot,” you say, slotting in your arm into the correct gap this time. The dress still looks a little off. “I haven’t zipped it up yet. Can you help me?”

He lets out a cough. “Sure.”

Ah, what is going on with him? He’s been sleeping in this same room for nearly a year now, but for some reason the air right now is arid and stuffy and it’s making his head spin. Jay turns you around, a hand on your hip, and zips up the dress that suddenly feels like fire. That doesn’t make sense. It’s supposed to mimic water. Why the hell are his palms burning? 

The moment the dress is secured, you quickly look into the mirror. “What...what do you think?” he asks hesitantly. Maybe you don’t like it as much anymore now that it’s on you. Maybe the dress is also burning you. Maybe this design is a failure after all— and he feels that fear being confirmed when your back is turned towards him, and you spend a good minute looking at yourself in the mirror in silence. 

Dammit. The damned hairball is back in his lungs.

“I feel…” you start talking. His heart is pounding. Holy shit, he’s never felt this nervous before. “I feel like a sexy goth jellyfish. This is crazy. I love it.”

And just like that, air starts flowing back into his chest.

“Exactly!” 

He grabs you by the arm, spinning you around so he can look at you, and the dress fabric flitters along in the air. “Whoa!” you squeak out. He steadies you by the arms. You look at him, wide eyed.

Jay breath’s are bated. The sunglasses he’s got perched on his nose this entire time got crooked from the rush, falling down to the tip of his nose, revealing a look on his eyes that he didn’t know he was capable of making. “You get me,” he breathes out. “You totally get me.”

Something swirls inside the confines of his room. It’s dark. The only light coming in is from the crack into his office and the warm bedside lamp you turned on.

The both of you stay like this for a moment. Until there’s a knock on his door and a voice rips through all of the tension.

“Okay, fine!” 

It’s Beomgyu’s voice entering the room along with the sound of the door swinging open. 

Creak!

“Fucking fine, I’m going to do it. I’m going to do it as long as—”

It’s not just him. Heeseung and Sunghoon are also there, squeezed between the frame of his now open door. “Oh,” someone says out loud. He’s unsure who. “Oh.”

Somehow, Jay isn’t feeling your arms anymore. He blinks, and you’re not in front of him anymore. He turns his head and sees you in between him and the three other guys outside. “Are you ready to become a sexy jellyfish, Beomgyu?” you taunt, moving further away from him by the second. 

Beomgyu looks at him. Then you. Then keeps his eyes on you. “I never said anything. I’m gonna go—”

“C’mon! Don’t I look great? You’d look just as— no, maybe even prettier than me if you wear— wait!”

And just like that you and his dress project run away from the room. Sunghoon’s head whips back and forth between him and wherever you’ve run off to before going after you and Beomgyu as well. Heeseung stays, albeit out the door. “So, did it go well?” he asks. Jay is still staring at the spot where you’d left.

“It went well,” he replies. “I think I’m gonna get a good grade.”

Well that’s not the only conclusion he’s come up with after all that. In spite of the loud noises, the yelling outside, and the threat of his dress getting ripped apart in the crossfire, he’s sure of two things. He is not only sure that he’s gonna ace this final summer project— Jay is sure that he might have just half fallen in love with you, too.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[bvidzsoo]

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.

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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

[hwaslayer]

love you in slow motion (psh) | three.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist ♡

—summary: seonghwa will go through hell and back for you, as long as he can continue to see that smile on your face. because to him, that smile feels like a rainbow after the rain, thewarmth of the sun on a winter day. because to him, you’re more than just his bestfriend—you’re love. even though everyone seems to see that except you.

—pairing: park seonghwa x f!reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriends to lovers | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 9.7k

—chapter warning: cussing/mature language, hints of a kiss (in a dream), feeling slightly hot & bothered by said dream lol, lots of overthinking (i mean lots!), some jealousy, san takes oc out to a casual dindin, ppl reallllly pushing for the oc x hwa agenda lol, some more seonghwa x oc x charli time, mixed signals, theyre both just sooooo scared of each other lol, sleepover!, sorry if i missed anything since i quickly edited to get this up 🫶🏼

—a/n: hi! sorry for the late update hehe hope you enjoy! the next updates might be a bit slower than usual (and as you can guess, my posting schedule is all sorts of messed up now 💀) but i promise i'll get them up asap! <33

You don't know where you're at. 

You're standing in the middle of the road, and it's pouring rain. You're drenched, and the only goal you have right now is to get to the house on the opposite end of the street. You start your walk, picking up your pace as much as possible to get out of the rain. However, with every step you take, you find that you aren't actually moving.

Just stuck in place.

You're trying to run now, but the house only seems to be getting further. You're dying to get out of the rain, the wet seeping through your skin; chilling every bone in your body. You feel yourself starting to cry, but nothing is coming out.

Nothing.

You're just stuck.

Suddenly, someone appears out onto the road ahead of you and you stop. You stop in your tracks, but somehow, you aren't afraid. Their figure feels familiar, their aura comforting. He stands tall, his wavy black hair resting beautifully on his head. He sees you and walks over, an umbrella shielding him from the rain.

"Hwa?" You look up when he finally gets in front of you, a small frown forming at the corners of his lips. 

"What's wrong, Y/N?" You shake your head and start crying, while Seonghwa throws his coat over your shoulder and brings you close. "Hey, what's going on?"

"I-I couldn't get to the house—" You point down the street.

"Sh, it's okay. I'm here now. Okay? I'm here." He continues to hold you close, despite your damp clothes against his own. His touch his comforting, his hand pressed at the small of your back. 

"Where were you?"

"I'm right here with you." He pulls back slightly, hand coming to tilt your chin. "I'm always right here." His thumb gently caresses your chin. Before you know it, his lips are inches away from yours, seconds away from crashing into yours. 

And it happens.

Seonghwa presses his lips to yours and you can't describe the feeling running through your body—

This is by far the second, or third dream you've had with Seonghwa recently, and you're not sure what your mind is trying to tell you. But, you're caught off guard when you realize your heart is thumping out of your chest, and there's this weird aching sensation in between your—

"Shit." You gasp, feeling flustered that you're finding your body reacting to Seonghwa in this way. You dig your head into the pillow, groaning at the thought of seeing Seonghwa in a new light.

But, the thought was here. It had made a home in that itty bitty corner of your brain, now on a mission to haunt you forever. 

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to finally face it.

You turn onto your back, staring at the ceiling. It's randomly 3:34am in the morning, and you don't seem to be the least bit sleepy. You let out a heavy sigh and pick up your phone, pulling up your call log and almost pressing Hwa's name by instinct.

Pause.

You've always called Seonghwa when you've had a bad dream, when you simply couldn't sleep, when you just needed company; but tonight, you weren't sure what you were gonna call Seonghwa for.

You just know you're longing for him. Specific reasoning unknown.

"Hwa." You kinda whine into the phone, but Seonghwa is too busy moving around in his bed.

"Mmm? Is everything okay?" He groans even though he picks up like he always does— even if he's half-asleep and on the verge of falling back asleep in 0.2 seconds.

"I can't sleep."

"Bad dream or something? Where's Charli?" You hear him mumble against his pillow, but it's still clear enough for you to hear.

"Yaya wanted her tonight." You turn onto your side, letting the phone sit on the edge of your pillow. "And uh, no. I just woke up randomly."

"So.. try shutting your eyes, Y/N." He sighs a bit.

"I can't. Can you stay on the phone with me for at least 5 minutes?"

"I'm here, aren't I? What's gotten you so shaken up?" He finally hears it in your voice, another small whine and a drip of neediness. And for you, Hwa knows that only means two things:

Something bad happened.

Or, something good that you can't make sense of.

"Nothing."

"Okay." He lets it go. "Maybe you should drink melatonin or tea before bed again." He mumbles again.

"Yeah." You lay on your back again, shutting your eyes as you listen to Seonghwa breathe softly through the phone. It isn't long before you feel your eyes getting heavy, immediately finding comfort in Seonghwa's soft snores. 

The next morning, Seonghwa vaguely remembers the phone call, and for a second, he thinks it's a dream. But, when he turns over and sees his phone still connected to the call, he smiles to himself as it's his turn to listen to your soft snores.

He's glad you were able to fall back asleep. It normally doesn't take much, but he takes some kind of pride knowing he's always the first thing that comes to mind when you need comfort, safety. He feels something swell in his chest, and he's not sure what to make out of it.

What to do with it.

When he feels confident that you'd be okay, he ends the call and gets himself up for the day— barely ready to face another day of work. He doesn't like when his sleep is interrupted, and truthfully, it does fuck up his mood. Kinda throws him off balance.

But if it's you, he'll sacrifice. Because he just wants you to be okay, to be happy. He's seen you cry and hurt more times than he'd like to admit.

More times than he's seen you smile.

That's all he really cares about. 

You.

"Goodmorning grandpa!" Woo smiles at him. "You look tired, what happened?"

"Just had a broken sleep, is all."

"You sure that's it?" 

"Mhm." He looks down at Wooyoung with a brow raised before filling up his water bottle. As expected, Wooyoung doesn't let it down easily and Seonghwa should've been better prepared. "What?" Is all he can respond with this early in the morning, while Wooyoung is beaming with energy and smiling all up in his face.

"Dude, just tell me." Wooyoung smirks at him. "It bothers you, huh? You didn't expect San to actually shoot his shot with Y/N."

"I shouldn't have asked." Seonghwa shakes his head. "Can you just.. get out of my face first?" Wooyoung laughs and sits on the edge of the treatment table, feet dangling back and forth while he waits for Hwa to respond.

"So. Does San shooting his shot with Y/N make you angry?"

"Why would it make me angry? If they're happy, then that's all that matters. I can't control her life, and I'm not gonna get in the way of that."

"But, your feelings." Seonghwa pauses and shrugs, continuing to put a few supplies away.

"I'm not gonna be that person."

"I wish you would just tell her." Wooyoung whines a bit. "I love Sannie, but I think we all know what's truly meant to be."

"We don't." Seonghwa sighs. "Anyway, I want them to figure this out. And if it works, then it does. I'll be happy for them. Point blank period."

"It would hurt though, wouldn't it? Because it's Sannie. Not just some random."

"Course it would." Seonghwa mutters lowly, in hopes of Wooyoung not catching on. But, he does. He sadly catches on. As much as he loves his friends, he truly wishes Seonghwa could just be happy. He knows Hwa could find that in the right places had he just looked. But, he also knows true, genuine happiness would be wherever you are. With you. 

He hopes he'll see it come to fruition one day.

The more Seonghwa talks about it though, the more it does hurt him. Because one day, he was planning out how to say this to you. How to sort out his feelings, how to be honest. Finally face the fact that after all these years, he's really loved you.

Then the next day, he's having to can it and scrape the entire thing. Throw the whole damn thing in the trash. Because if it's one thing he does, it's put his friends before himself. Even if it meant sacrificing and killing himself in the process. That's just who he is and he'll remain true to it no matter how much it hurts.

But damn, does it fucking hurt.

"It doesn't matter cause it'll blow over eventually." Hwa turns over his shoulder, hearing a few athletes stroll into the training unit. "Done with this?" He looks at Wooyoung with a brow cocked up.

"Yeah." Wooyoung hops off the table and gets himself together, Seonghwa already greeting the athletes as they walk into the room for their sessions.

"What're you doing later?" Hongjoong pops a chocolate almond into his mouth as he lazily lies down on San's bedroom floor, tired from the workout session they just came back from.

"I'm going to dinner with Y/N." San gives him a dimpled, toothless smile as he stands in front of his closet, wondering what to wear for later.

"Oh, right." Hongjoong yawns. "Is it like.. a casual thing, or like a date-date?"

"Uh, I guess casual?"

"Then why are you standing in front of your closet like it's supposed to be a date-date?" Hongjoong peeks from over the edge of his phone. "And why do you look so nervous?" Hongjoong furrows his brows at San wiping his grubby hands on his shorts.

"I'm not!"

"Mhm. I'm calling Seonghwa." Hongjoong snorts.

"Why would you say that?" San whines a bit. "Can you be honest with me? Is this wrong?"

"I thought it was a casual thing!" San groans.

"It is! But I swear, no matter what, I always feel a little guilty because of Hwa."

"You know for the most part, everyone's just teasing, right?"

"Right, but..?"

"But you know how those two are." Hongjoong sits up. "I don't even mean to discourage you because I know Seonghwa would tell you to go for it.. but you and I both know he's had it for her for years."

"Yeaaaah." San elongates his response with a sigh mixed in. "I don't know. I thought I'd just try and see where things go. I'm not gonna lie, I'm curious even though I probably will never amount to Hwa."

"Don't say that, dude." Hongjoong lets out a small chuckle. "It's just their dynamic, how they are. But, it seems to be fine for them both? At the end of the day, I know Seonghwa would just want Y/N to be happy and that's all that matters. Whatever that looks like."

"Has she ever talked about it? I haven't been here so I don't really know what's been going on between them."

"Nah. Quite frankly, it's the elephant in the room that no one wants to address."

"So, they've just been like that? Nothing's actually changed?"

"Nope. Same ol' Y/N and Seonghwa you know."

"Has Hwa dated anyone?"

"I mean, he's messed around but he hasn't really seriously dated anyone since Linh."

"Okay, so awhile." San nods to himself. "Damn, I don't know. Should I try asking her about it? We are catching up, that's really the main point of this."

"Sure?" Hongjoong shrugs. "I doubt she'd say anything though. Babygirl hasn't opened up to anyone about that and I don't think she will. Just go and enjoy your dinner with Y/N. Whatever happens, happens. Seonghwa will be Seonghwa, and he'll be supportive no matter what." San shakes his head.

"Yeah, I guess so. I just feel kinda bad for even having the thought."

"Seriously. It'll be fine. He'd tell you the same thing, I promise." San shrugs, pushing the idea to the back of his mind. The whole point was to mainly have time to catch up alone, though San isn't gonna shy away from the fact that he is curious to see if he'd have a chance with you.

He knows Hwa would be supportive, but it doesn't stop him from feeling bad. He doesn't wanna hurt anyone, especially friends he hasn't seen in years.

"Should I just wear this sweater?" San turns to Hongjoong, flashing a black sweater his way. Hongjoong is quick to give him a look, immediately shaking his head before laying back down onto the ground; hand tucked behind his head.

"Ew, no. Just throw on a shirt and wear that jacket or something." Joong points at San's black leather jacket. "Black jeans, boots. Simple, but nice."

"You're good at this."

"I thought you'd learn a few things in Barcelona over the past years." Joong shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh. "Guess not."

"Fuck you, dude." San scoffs, heading to the bathroom to get ready. 

It's another 30 minutes before San is finally satisfied with how he looks, rushing Hongjoong out of the door as he grabs his keys and wallet. He's shooting a text your way to let you know he'll be there in a few minutes, and that he'd like to say hi to Yaya and Charli before taking you away for dinner. You simply chuckle and set your phone aside, walking into a cloud of perfume before dabbing some lip gloss onto your lips.

"Who are you eating with, Titi Y/N?"

"One of my good friends, San. You'll meet him soon. He's going to come say hi."

"San?"

"Mhm."

"Is Uncle Hwa his friend, too?"

"Yes." You look at her and brush her hair back. "They're really good friends."

"Is Uncle Hwa going?"

"No, pea."

"Why not?"

"Uncle Hwa has other things to do, too."

"But, Uncle Hwa is always with you—" At this point, Yaya gently knocks on the door and pokes her head in, calling for Charli to come towards her.

"Chacha, let's go." Yaya takes her hand. "We can watch a movie until Auntie Y/N comes back." Yaya looks at you. "Is Sannie almost here? I want to see him—"

"Well, speaking of him." You look over her shoulder and wave at San, who is shyly smiling and waving back. He digs his hands into his pockets and walks over, a subtle rosy tint settling on the surface of his cheeks. It's been a long time, he feels. He hopes Yaya still remembers him and adores him the same way.

"Oh, my Sannie." She says, cupping his cheeks. "It's been awhile, look at you! Still so, so handsome!" He shyly chuckles.

"Hi Yaya. It's nice to see you, too." She dusts off his jacket and continues to throw small compliments his way.

"Promise me you'll stick around next time. I wanna hear your stories, too. I'm sure it was beautiful in Barcelona."

"Yeah, it was fun! It's a date." He smiles before shifting his attention to you and Charli, who is shyly pressing herself against your legs while quietly observing him. "Is this the cutie I've heard all about? Charli?"

"Sure is." You gently squeeze her shoulders. "Say hi, Chacha. That's Titi Y/N's friend, San."

"Hi." She waves before tucking her face into your legs.

"She's really not that shy once she warms up to you." Yaya laughs. "Come on, pea. I've got our movie and popcorn ready to go." She runs to Yaya and grabs her hand. "You two have a good dinner!"

"Thanks, Yaya." San gives her one last hug before waving at Charli. "Shall we?" You nod, walking alongside of him to the car. As always, San opens your door first before climbing in the driver's seat. It's a little quiet and awkward at first because it has been some years since you two have talked. You're sure things have changed for San and vice versa.

But, when you get to the restaurant, you realize he's still the same San you've known all these years.

He awkwardly swings his arm around you, giving your shoulder a small squeeze as you enter the restaurant. He's stiff, unsure of what to do with himself around you, and it kinda makes you giggle.

He's always been like that.

When the host brings you towards the back to your table, his hand slips into yours and it feels.. unnatural for whatever reason. Everything just seems too forced for two people who probably truly adore each other as friends and nothing more. Which, is fine. There's nothing wrong with it. Reality hits you quick when you sit and smile at San in front of you. You know it's not a serious date, and you feel a tad bit bad feeling relieved that it isn't. Even though San looks incredibly good and so, so handsome, the initial infatuation has slipped away from you because San is one of your bestfriends and that's how you've always cherished him.

"So." You giggle when he flips through the menu and shifts in the seat. "How's everything been, Y/N?"

"I don't know, same old, I guess? Yaya's still healthy and going, Soyeon and Junseo are good. Charli's good. Restaurant is busier than ever."

"That's good. Yoongi's still there?"

"Yeup! Jini is there, too. I don't think you've met her, but she's a college student working part-time. My life saver honestly, she gives me a lot of breaks." San chuckles. "How's your family? I'm sure they're happy to have you back."

"Yeah, they're good. They're the same, too. Not much has changed." Your phone dings and it's Seonghwa sending you a random tweet that only you two would understand. He sends the laughing emoji, followed by another text about it. 

"Sorry." You click your phone on the side to lock it.

"It's all good. But, yeah. They're the same."

"Your parents come to the restaurant from time to time."

"I know, they love it there. They've just been so busy lately with renovating the house that they're barely going out."

"Aw." You chuckle. 

"Are you good to order?" You nod, swiftly apologizing when you accidentally kick San's foot under the table before ordering. The silence between you two isn't entirely unsettling, but it does feel weird after years of being away from each other. Plus, San feels like's trying way too hard to make this go a certain way when he shouldn't. 

He's too fixed on it.

"San." You call for him when you find him glancing out the window nervously. "You okay?" You lean onto the palm of your hand and give him a smile.

"Sorry. I'm just nervous and I don't know why."

"Don't be. We've always been friends. Nothing has changed between us." He looks at you and the statement kinda breaks his heart. Maybe you two were really just meant to be friends. "Tell me! How was the program? Barcelona?"

"Ridiculously hard. I literally had no life, kinda why I fell off the grid and barely posted or anything."

"I'm sure it was worth it, no?"

"Definitely. Everything there is so different there. In a good way, though. It felt like a breath of fresh air for me."

"Did you date anyone?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess I'll tell get into that later." He clears his throat. "What about you, though? Are you into anyone?"

"Uh, no. And, I haven't really been seeing anyone."

"Mingi?"

"It was complicated, but I'm finally done with that." You poke at the appetizer that was brought out.

"I'm glad because he doesn't deserve you."

"Hm." You hum. "But otherwise, not much has changed. I think." San watches how you quickly pick up the phone when it dings again, and although it's not really an issue, he can tell how much your body language shifts from the text alone.

It's probably Hwa.

"Y/N. You're one of my really good friends, right?" You giggle and nod.

"Yeah, Sannie."

"So, can I ask you something? I want you to be completely honest with me."

"Of course."

"Is there anything going on between you and Hwa?" You look at him, down at your phone and then back at him. Because no, you're not really sure how to answer the question. Yes, but no? If this were any other day, you'd probably answer confidently. But today, things felt different. You can't say no without automatically second-guessing yourself.

"N-no? Why would you ask that? We've always been this way."

"I know, but. I just.." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Nevermind. It's probably dumb."

"No, tell me." He looks up at you just as he lets out a small breath, cocking his head to the side.

"Don't call me lame or make fun of me, okay?"

"Sannie." You let out a small, playful but defeated chuckle. "I won't, you know me." You take a bite from your plate.

"I don't know, I'm not going to lie. I've always had a little crush on you since we've known each other, and coming back, I truthfully thought it was a phase that might have gone away. It's not. I still have that crush on you, and I thought I'd see where it goes but—" San is rambling and you can't help but let out a small giggle at how frustrated he's getting. "I— I'm rambling. Sorry."

"No, San. It's okay."

"My point is, I thought there was a chance to explore this.. this time around." He gives you a tiny pursed smile. "But, if I'm being honest. I can see the way Seonghwa looks at you. I think we all can."

"Um. I don't know what to say? I don't think he sees me that way."

"Y/N." He cocks his head to the side, giving you a look as to say 'you know better than that.' 

"Seriously!" 

"What about you, though?"

"He's my bestfriend. Of course I love him and adore him to bits." You avoid eye contact and San isn't sure why that's the telling sign for him. But, you've deflected and didn't really answer the question. So, he's not sure what else to think.

"Are you happy?"

"I am."

"Truly happy? With how everything is?"

"I-I don't know. I think so. I'm.. content." He nods because for whatever reason, that answer tells him a lot more than it probably tells you. 

"The last thing I wanna do is ruin things between my friends."

"I—We're just friends, Sannie." You don't even realize how low and pained your voice sounds when you let the response slip from your lips. "I think this is as good as it gets for us." San just looks at you because he notices how you nervously fiddle with your fork and poke with your food. Avoid eye contact. Respond lowly. Maybe you just hate talking about the topic in general. Maybe you do like Seonghwa and you're in denial. Whatever it is, San doesn't think this is as good as it gets for you two.

Which, truthfully, is a little heartbreaking for him. He kinda saw it coming. Everyone did. He just thought there was a possibility since he came back and you two were still just friends.

San can tell Seonghwa will always be number one for you. And that's okay. He's glad he is. You two work well together, and Seonghwa will put his life down for you over anyone. He's just sad because he believed he had a chance and today confirms he doesn't. He never did and he probably won't in the future. 

This is as good as it gets for you two— you two as in you and San. 

"Y/N." He calls for you once more when he notices your attention drifting off to the food on your plate, avoiding all eye contact. 

"Hm?" You hum with a tiny smile.

"You know it's totally okay if there is, right?" You sigh and shrug. "You should just go for it."

"It's just not that easy."

"Whatever it is, I just want you to be genuinely happy." You pause. "And I truthfully think the answer has been in front of you the entire time."

"Can't get anything past you, can I?" You joke and give him a tiny, toothless smile.

"I'm afraid not." He laughs.

"I missed you." You let out a breath, cocking your head to the side as you observe him. Overall, he seems okay. He seems good. He seems happy. 

You adore this Sannie, and you will always adore and cherish him the same way you always have.

"I missed you, too." 

"So, can we talk a bit more about what else you've been up to over there? Your dating stories?"

"I'd be happy to tell you more." San smiles and continues to tell you about his adventures in Barcelona while the two of you dig into your main courses. Exploring and being on his own for the most part. He finally opens up about dating while he was out there, and how he had a few one night stands. He met a girl he did actually get into a rather serious relationship with, but he ended things since he knew he was coming home and didn't want her to plan her life around him. He wasn't the type to do long-distance relationships simply because he knew he wouldn't be able to pull it off.

The rest of dinner goes by smoothly, the two of you thoroughly enjoying each other just letting things be. Dinner made you realize that you missed having San by your side, and it made you remember all the times in college when you sat up late nights talking about everything and anything while everyone was asleep. You missed having that connection with him, and it feels good to have it back.

Though, you won't lie that San is incredibly attractive and someone you'd definitely fall for in another lifetime; being this way, not forcing things between you two and rebuilding your friendship after years felt the most right.

Your heart was just in another place.

When you get home, San opens your door and gives you a quick hug and a kiss to the temple before bidding you goodnight and sending his love to Yaya and Charli. It's just about Charli's bedtime so you quickly pick her up from the house to let Yaya rest and get her ready for bed with a quick wash up. Just as you respond back to Seonghwa's text, a call comes through on your phone from Soyeon.

"Hey." You press the phone against your shoulder while you continue to brush Charli's hair before bed.

"How's my daughter doing?"

"Good. Having the time of her life without you guys, actually." Soyeon laughs.

"Well, at least she isn't giving you problems."

"How's Japan?"

"Good! Warm. Fun."

"Gonna bless me with another niece or nephew?"

"Can you not?" You laugh.

"Doesn't hurt to ask, jeez." 

"Anyway." She clears her throat. "I meant to call because I wanted to ask you about your dinner with San."

"You remembered?"

"Course I did, the heck? I was hoping to hear some juicy details by now."

"Nothing juicy. He's still the same Choi San." You chuckle.

"So, I'm guessing your little crush was actually just a little crush." 

"Hey, he's attractive." You shrug. "But, I think we're always just going to be friends."

"Hm, cause of Hwa?"

"Now, why would you say that?"

"I digress."

"No please, enlighten me. Because even San had asked me if there was anything going on between us."

"Did he now? What'd you say?"

"Yeah, he did. And I said no, because what would be going on between me and Hwa?"

"Nothing." She sighs. But the silence definitely doesn't last long. "You know what, actually. I do appreciate San asking you that question. I wish you'd stop brushing it off." You sigh.

"What am I possibly brushing off?"

"The fact that you probably have feelings for your bestfriend, too. You're just afraid to admit it because you're afraid of things changing, or that Hwa doesn't actually feel the same. We can all see it, Y/N."

"I highly doubt it, it's just how we've grown to be."

"Girl, that man will lay down his life for you and drop everything just to be there for you in a heartbeat. He's done that for you since ever. You still think he doesn't feel that way for you?" Silence. "I'm just saying. A bestfriend doesn't always have to be at your beck and call because you're two different individuals running two very different lives. But quite frankly, Seonghwa is the one exception to that. He puts you before anything and anyone without question. If that ain't true, genuine love Y/N, I don't know what it is."

"You guys make this hard."

"Do we, or are you making it hard for yourself?" You sit and pause some more, quickly running through all of the moments Seonghwa has come to save you throughout the years. Be there for you. Lend an ear. Hug you and console you. Stay up with you. Find you in the rain when your ex-boyfriend let you leave. Held your hair back during shitty, wasted nights. Catered to you while you were sick. Helped your family; Soyeon, Yaya, Charli.

He was so, so immersed in your life that you didn't even realize how much he was. How deep it had gone for you and Seonghwa. How much Seonghwa had been there for you, more than you for him. There was no comparison.

Yet, he never complained once.

He never complained about putting you first.

"Mm, well. Just putting my two cents out there. You know I love you, right? And I just want you happy. Someone like Mingi doesn't deserve a good, beautiful person like you." Soyeon tries to cushion the blow, lecture, whatever you wanna call it, by reminding you about how much she cares for you.

"I know. I love you, too."

"Well, let me know how the aquarium goes tomorrow. And think about it, okay?"

"Mhm. Be safe with Junseo."

"Will be!" She ends the call, leaving you to sit and ponder on your thoughts longer than you'd like. Soyeon was right. You were just afraid, though. Why would Seonghwa have feelings for you like that when you two have known each other for long? You're convinced he'd always see you as his bestfriend, a pain in the ass, the one that he could never explore those territories with.

Today had you questioning everything. Revisiting everything, wondering what signs you've possibly missed. Your dreams. And now, you can't get it out of your head that maybe, you do love your bestfriend. That maybe, your heart was being saved for him. You can't deny the fact that you're curious.

"What's Uncle Hwa doing?"

"I don't know, pea. Probably busy." You finish brushing her hair and let out a breath, relieved Jini was able to help close up tonight and give you a break tomorrow. You were exhausted and you didn't realize just how much.

"Can you call him?"

"Cha, I'm sure he's busy."

"Call, Auntie Y/N. Please." She whines and you sigh, picking up the phone to Facetime Hwa.

"We're seeing him tomorrow, Charli." 

"Ya, but.." Is all she responds with, eyes glued to the tv screen. "I w-wanna talk to Uncle Hwa." 

"About what?"

"Tomorrow."

"He'll come." When Hwa finally picks up the Facetime call, you're only able to see his forehead and his eyes through the screen.

"What?" You furrow your brows at his incredibly sweet greeting.

"Jeez, hi to you, too."

"What're you calling me for?"

"For the record, it's not me calling you. Chacha wanted to talk to you for whatever reason." You hand her the phone. "Here, talk to your oh so loving Uncle Hwa." He snorts.

"Uncle Hwa!" She holds the phone loosely, also only showing off her tiny forehead and eyes through the camera.

"Yes, baby?"

"Are we still going to the aquarium tomorrow?"

"Yeah, we are. I'll pick you up in the morning, okay?"

"Okay." She giggles. "With Auntie Y/N, right?"

"Only because she asked to come." You glare at him from afar while fixing in your bathroom.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Laying down. Did you eat?"

"Mama made ramen."

"Hm, okay."

"Say goodbye, Cha. We have to go to bed."

"Oh. I have to go, Uncle Hwa." She looks down into the camera, making Seonghwa chuckle at how cute she looks. "Bye bye!"

"Sleep well, pea." Seonghwa says before clearing his throat. "Actually, can you put Auntie Y/N on the phone really quickly, please?"

"Titi Y/N!" Charli yells loudly. "Phone, phone, phone!"

"Okay, thank you!" You grab the phone from her, Charli running to your bed and getting under the blankets. "What is it?"

"What time do you guys wanna head to the aquarium tomorrow? Do you wanna go as soon as it opens in the morning?"

"Why, do you have other plans?"

"No, I'd rather just get in there when there isn't a big crowd yet."

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Breakfast, too?"

"Okay. So, what time should we be ready?"

"9am?"

"Okay."

"Well." Seonghwa shifts in his position. "If you need me again tonight, don't. I'm busy."

"Shut up, doing what?"

"Busy not picking up your calls."

"You idiot." He laughs.

"See you tomorrow. Give Cha a kiss for me." You look into the camera and roll your eyes before shutting off the call and getting into bed with Charli.

"Want some more?" Seonghwa looks at Charli as she eats a tiny cut of his pancake. She happily nods, picking at a blueberry off to the side of her plate. He cuts her a few tiny pieces, setting it onto the top. "What about you?" He looks at you.

"Can I have a little bite?"

"Here." He cuts you a half of his pancake and sets it on your plate.

"Uncle Hwa!"

"Mhm?"

"Do we get to see the penguins? A-and seals? A-and snakes, and jellyfishies, and starfishies!" Seonghwa laughs and nods, setting his empty plate aside.

"Yeah, we'll get to see all of that." Hwa calls the waitress over and immediately hands her his card to pay for the meal.

"Finish your food, pea. We'll see them as soon as you do." 

"I'm done! I'm done!" She giggles.

"One more." Hwa forks the last piece of the pancake slice, popping it into her mouth before wiping away at it. 

"I'm ready!" The waitress hands Seonghwa the receipt, giving him the opportunity to sign off on their receipt copy before tucking his away in his wallet.

"Good, me too!" He smiles at her and carries her out of the restaurant. You trail behind, watching as Seonghwa points at the birds flying around near the beach. The aquarium and restaurant were nestled on a small street right by the beach, gift shops and other cafes sitting alongside of them. It surprisingly isn't too busy yet, though you know the street and the aquarium will become crowded in the next hour or so. Seonghwa pauses in his steps and turns to wait for you while Charli continues to point out the seagulls sitting on the edge of the wooden rail that lines the walkway to the beach. 

"Let me pay for the aquarium tickets."

"Nah, it's good. Don't worry about it."

"Hwa, you paid for our breakfast already."

"It's okay." He looks at you. "I wanted to take Charli out today."

"Oh, not me?"

"Not really." You playfully pinch him, causing Hwa to let out a small groan and a laugh. "I'm kidding. Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"Thank you." You give him a cute, toothless smile. After Charli finishes observing the seagulls around the beach, the three of you continue to walk towards the aquarium. Cars are slowly piling into the free spots on the road, and the street is becoming busier by the minute. The three of you wait at the corner of the street, waiting for the walk sign to come on in order to cross and finally make it to the aquarium. Just as the light turns red and switches the walk sign on, you step forward to make it across. But, you pause in your steps when you realize the oncoming car isn't stopping any time soon and Seonghwa picks up on it quick. He grabs onto your hand tightly and pulls you back, keeping Charli close to his side when the car continues to run the red light— barely slowing its speed.

"Idiot." He mutters to himself before looking at you, the both of your hands clasped together. "Careful." 

"Thanks, pichu." He gives you a tiny smile before leading the way down the crosswalk, still holding onto your hand with Charli on his other. You like the way Seonghwa's hand fits so effortlessly into yours, the way it feels so natural, so meant to be—

"Uncle Hwa! Look!" Charli releases her grip from Seonghwa's hand and runs towards the seal statue near the ticket window. Seonghwa lets go of yours in an effort to run after her and make sure she doesn't wander too far, leaving you behind; suddenly feeling cold, empty. He doesn't spare a look back at you, busy snapping Charli's pictures while she poses next to the statue. You slowly head over, chuckling as Charli directs him on how to shoot the pictures. 

"Look." Seonghwa shows her the pictures. "I'll send it to your mom and dad."

"Aw, Chacha. You look so cute. Who taught you how to pose like that?"

"You. And Mama." You laugh, fixing her piggytails while Seonghwa sends the pictures off and heads over to the window to buy the tickets. You hold onto Charli's hand as you two slowly approach the entrance, Seonghwa waving the tickets in the air to show off to Charli before handing it to the person at the door.

It's a slow start at first, with Charli glued to your hip as she holds your hand— bright eyes full of curiosity as they examine the surroundings. Seonghwa grabs a pamphlet that has the aquarium map included, suggesting to go straight into the marine life and coral reef section. As you walk in, the area is dimly lit, with the only light from the tanks bouncing off of the walls. Charli's eyes glow as she runts to the first tank full of jellyfish swimming around. She squeals when she waddles over to the clownfish touch pool, Seonghwa coming to her side and guiding her little finger across the surface to get a feel for their calcified skin. You giggle when she whines a bit at the feeling, Seonghwa reassuring her that they wouldn't bite or bother her. 

Safe to say she was over it pretty quickly.

Eventually, you reach the coral reefs. Your eyes light up as you scan the entire tank against the wall, a variety of sea life co-existing and swimming through the clean waters. You sit Charli on the edge of the rail while you hold her close, letting her get up close and personal to the variety of fish swimming around the reefs. She looks up in awe, squealing and giggling to her heart's content when they pass her by and go along their merry way. Seonghwa comes from behind, surprising you with how close his chest is to your back.

"Chacha, did you see that?" He points from behind, chest now barely grazing your back. Any other time, you probably wouldn't have cared or looked into it much. But for some reason, today is different. You're not sure if it's because of the dream you had, or Soyeon's phone call— either or, or both. But today is different. You can't help but fix on how close Seonghwa's face would be if you were to turn to your left, on how he could literally engulf you in his arms and hold you close.

And the funny thing is, you don't think you'd push him away or dislike it one bit.

As if the universe was tuning into your thoughts, a fish comes swimming closely near the glass, causing Seonghwa to press up against your back and hold Charli's hand to the surface. He doesn't seem to pay any attention to what he's doing, chuckling with Charli as he continues to tell her what kind of fish it is. This might be a normal thing to him but to you, it's not.

Because now, your heart is beating against your chest [you hope to God he doesn't feel it]. Your palms feel sweaty. You're swallowing the lump in your throat. The room feels a teeny bit hotter.

"Titi Y/N, let's go!" Chacha whines a bit. You snap out of the trance you were just in, even though Seonghwa hasn't done much to create distance behind you. He looks down at you from the side, cocking a brow when he notices your delayed reaction.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, sorry." You put Charli down, following her direction as she leads you into the kelp forest exhibit, pointing at all the different fish she sees. There's a play area off to the side that she instantly finds interest in once she's gotten a good look at the sea life, romping around and digging her hands into the different activities laid out for toddlers. Seonghwa lingers around to supervise, with you trailing slowly after you've gotten to indulge in the exhibit. You loop your arm around Seonghwa's and he lets you, keeping you close to his side as Charli continues to play around in the play area.

"Hey, thanks for taking us today." He looks down at you and lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Wow, a thank you that I didn't have to initiate? That's a first." You gently punch him.

"I'm serious, pichu!"

"It's no biggie. As long as Chacha's happy."

"Yeah, she is."

"So, you never told me."

"What?"

"How was that dinner with Sannie?" Seonghwa asks, avoiding eye contact.

"It was cool. We mainly caught up." You shrug.

"That's all?"

"Why, do you think there's more? Did Sannie say something to you?" You nervously poke at him, but you're not sure if you're helping your case or making it worse.

"What?" Seonghwa looks at you. "I'm asking you. He didn't say anything to me."

"Oh, yeah. We just caught up about life. His program. Family stuff. Things you already know."

"Uh huh." Seonghwa cocks a brow up. "Why are you being so weird then?"

"I'm not!"

"Did he say something to you?"

"Seonghwa, no. I'm not being weird about anything."

"You're also a very bad liar."

"I'm not even lying, though." You sigh and let go of his arm. He won't let up, and it's only because you're so close to cracking. Even though San truthfully didn't mention anything specific about the dinner, you've been acting weird since he picked you up this morning. The way you look at him feels different, and the way you've been latching onto him is different. Not that he's complaining, but something has shifted in the air and he doesn't know what to make of it. But what he does know is you— he knows you, so, so well, and thats one thing he won't lose at. "I just—"

"Auntie! Uncle Hwa! Let's go to the penguins!" Charli yells as she runs towards you and grabs your hand. She begins to drag you over, telling you to hurry. "Uncle Hwa, come on!" You look at him and subconsciously grab for his hand to drag him along at the three year old's speed. Seonghwa follows along, having to pick up Charli in his arms so she's able to see properly. When he lets go of your hand, your heart sinks a bit and it must have registered on your face because Seonghwa has to do a double take. He catches how your smile fades and how you awkwardly fiddle with your fingers while looking out at the penguins. You brush it off pretty quickly though, with the way you giggle with Charli and pinch her cheeks when she happily waves at them. "I wanna go see the big dinos now!" She points to the dinosaur exhibit just down the other end of the room. 

"Okay, let's go!" Seonghwa looks at you and holds out his arm, hoping that's the kind of comfort you were seeking for. Truthfully, he knows what you're asking for but part of him isn't sure why. And to be fair to you, to himself, he'll continue to keep it at bay until he's sure of what you're asking from him.

He doesn't wanna get his hopes up because it'll break him if you don't genuinely feel the same way he does.

And lowkey, he is a bit confused as to why you're acting needy all of a sudden. You've had your moments but Seonghwa knew to play it off because it felt innocent, like a bestfriend-honestly-bothering-her-bestfriend-just-because-he's-there kinda thing. Today, it didn't feel that way, especially when he looks at you and it seems like you wanna say something but you don't. Especially when you tug on his arm ever so subtly, hand teasing his so closely by the wrist.

What is it about today?

Why were you sending him mixed signals?

"What were you gonna say earlier?" Seonghwa asks while you continue to cling onto his arm.

"Oh, nothing." You decide you won't tell him about San's questions, or his sudden deep-dive into your relationship and feelings. You're hoping it stays between you two because lord knows you aren't ready to tackle that subject with Seonghwa right now, nor do you think Seonghwa would actually feel the same. Or, have the patience to deal with all the jumbled thoughts in your head about him. Little do you know. "We just caught up. That's all."

"Are you sure that was it? You know I hate liars, Y/N."

"Well, the subject about dating came up." You run through the sentence so fast that Seonghwa has to look down at you while trying to read into your expression. Whatever it was that was bothering you, he hopes you can talk to him about it. He'd be there to listen and offer his guidance no matter what. 

Always you first.

"What about dating?"

"He asked if I was into anyone." You generally state now that Seonghwa's indulging in the conversation.

"Hope you didn't say Song Mingi." You gently nudge him.

"No, I didn't." You roll your eyes. 

"Did you tell him you had a crush on him?"

"No."

"Hm." Seonghwa hums. "I still don't understand where you're going with this? What happened between you two?"

"Nothing."

"At all?"

"Look. I went to dinner with San and as I sat there, I realized he's still the Sannie I adore from years before. I just couldn't see him any other way."

"Whatever happened to 'he's so cute, Hwa'?" He mocks you. "Sannie is soooo cute, he would never date me." Seonghwa continues. "He'd never give me a chance, would he? Huhuhu—" His bottom lip pokes out.

"Quit, what is wrong with you!"

"I didn't say it, you did."

"I just realized some things, and I think he did, too."

"You're being so fucking cryptic, it's making my head hurt." Seonghwa rolls his eyes before returning his attention to Charli playing around with the dinosaur activities.

"How am I being cryptic?"

"You tell me everything, yet you can't even tell me what happened during your dinner with San without beating around the bush." You look at him with a small pout and he almost feels his knees buckling because god, he is so weak for you sometimes. But, because of that, he finds himself getting easily frustrated when you can't just be straight up with him. "So, where does this leave you two?"

"As friends. Like we always were." You tug on his wrist. "Hypothetically speaking, if we were to date, would that ruin things between us?" Seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat before shaking his head.

"Why would it ruin things between us?"

"I don't know, because we've always known each other like this. As bestfriends. It could be a dangerous thing, right? Cause we'd know too much about each other or whatever." You look up at him, and he locks his eyes with yours. He wishes he could say everything and nothing at once— but he sticks with the latter, his own example of keeping everything at bay. 

"I truthfully don't think it'd ruin anything."

"B-because I feel like it would and that's why I'm just letting things be with San."

"You sure that's it? Cause I feel like you're asking for a different reason, and not for San in particular." He tilts his head to the side, and you're afraid he's reading into your mind. He's good at that shit, and you hate it.  Because no, that's not it. He must know, that's why he's looking into your soul, patiently waiting for the truth to come out. "Y/N, I think—"

Seonghwa is why. He is the reason why you can't find yourself moving anywhere with San.

"I'm done! Let's go!" Charli runs up to Hwa's legs, interrupting the staring contest you two had going on just as he was about to carry on. You clear your throat and step away from him, focusing your attention on Charli.

"Wanna see all the bugs and snakes, pea? They're down there in that small section." You point down the hall and she grabs your hand. 

"Yes! Let's go, let's go!" She repeatedly yells. "Uncle Hwa, come on! Slow poke!" He chuckles to himself, following the both of you into the insects exhibit.

As you, Charli and Seonghwa continue to go through the rest of the aquarium, you find yourself focusing on how well Seonghwa takes care of Charli. He continues to keep her smiling; throwing giggle fits when he swoops her into his arms and blows raspberries against her tummy. He patiently walks through every exhibit with her hand in his, pointing at the animals while giving her a fun fact or two. You rarely have to lift a finger because Seonghwa continues to keep her occupied, while also keeping you happy. 

You don't have to ask for anything, and Seonghwa continues to deliver.

Towards the end, Charli asks for Seonghwa to take her into the gift shop. You find yourself wandering around, eyes fixed on the cute octopus plush they have on display. You set it down, convincing yourself you don't really need the damn thing [but it'd be nice]. By the time you've made your way around the store, you catch Seonghwa and Charli at the register— the same octopus plush in his hands. For a minute, you think it's for Chacha until you realize she already has a turtle plush she's hugging close to her chest. It isn't until Seonghwa turns towards you with a small smile, digging his wallet back into his pocket.

"Here."

"What, this is mine?"

"I wasn't the one looking at it." Seonghwa chuckles a bit. "Take it before I regret it."

"Hwa." You whine a bit, bottom lip poking out into a pout. "You didn't have to."

"You looked like you were having trouble putting it down so yeah, I guess I kinda had to."

"You paid for everything today." He shrugs.

"It's fine. I don't always find myself here, anyway." You hug him tightly, taking everything in while he pretends to be disgusted by the affection. "Please."

"You love me."

"I was forced to." You playfully punch him as you pull away, causing him to let out a small 'ow.'

"By the way, were you gonna say something earlier before Chacha dragged us to the insects?" Seonghwa pauses and he wants to yes. He does want to say something. He knows you weren’t talking about San. He wants you to know you’re all he wants. He wants to say he loves you, and adores you, and wants to take care of you if you'd just let him.

"Nah. It wasn't anything."

"You sure?" 

"Mhm." You look at him and subtly frown at the way he looks conflicted, puzzled. But, he brushes off quick cause he knows you'll read into him, too.

"Mmkay then. Are you going to stay at my place for a bit or just drop us off?"

"I'll hang out for a bit. Ready?" He looks down at Charli, who has been entirely smitten over her turtle plush these past few minutes. She's completely oblivious to you two, barely paying any attention now that she has a new toy in hand.

"Yeah, let's get out of here." He nods in agreement, crouching down to Charli's level. "Ready to go, Chacha?"

"Yes please." She nods, letting Seonghwa hold her hand.

"You tired? Did you have fun at least?"

"I did." Is all Charli says as you make your way out of the now very busy aquarium. She yawns as she holds her turtle plush tight against her chest. Seonghwa pauses in his steps and waits for you to walk alongside of him, never wanting you to get left behind or lose sight of you. Once you finally catch up, you hold onto his arm while navigating through the crowded streets. Eventually, Seonghwa has to carry Charli and hold your hand in order to breeze through the rest of the crowd. 

"Are you guys hungry for anything? Need anything before we go home?" The question slips from Seonghwa's lips so naturally, it almost seems like this is a normal, daily routine for you two. You nod though, remembering you do have a few groceries you'd like to grab. 

Seonghwa doesn't complain. 

He takes you to the market to give you some time to grab your groceries, staying in the car while Charli naps in her carseat. You're in and out, gently setting your bags on the floor in the backseat before settling into the passenger's seat. You and Seonghwa don't talk much on the way back home for the sake of Charli, only chiming in when you or Seonghwa have a pressing question to ask the other.

When you finally touch base at home, Charli wakes up in Seonghwa's arms while he carries her into your suite. You usher her into the bathroom for a quick bath before slipping her into some comfy pajamas. Seonghwa is relaxing on the couch, randomly watching Loki while waiting for you two to be finished.

"What're you gonna cook for dinner later?"

"Not sure. I might see what Yaya has. I'm too lazy." He chuckles.

"Put those groceries to use." He stands and heads to the kitchen. "I can make something, but it'll sit out for awhile until dinner."

"It's fine." You brush Charli's wet hair before sitting her in between your lap to dry her hair. "What're you doing later anyway?"

"Nothing."

"Why don't you just hang out and stay or something?"

"You want me to?"

"Why not?" He shrugs.

"Don't wanna invade your space or whatever you say." You laugh.

"I'm telling you to stay."

"Alright then." 

"Don't sound too excited, jeez." He laughs. 

"What do you want me to say?" Seonghwa smiles and gently tickles at Charli's stomach. "At least I'll be with Chacha!" She giggles as you continue to dry her hair. "Gonna wash up." He heads to your closet to go through the random assortment of bottoms and tops that you've borrowed [kept].

Throughout the rest of the afternoon and early evening, Seonghwa indulges in Charli's antics and plays along with her— giving you some time to clean around the suite and help Yaya with a few things in the house. As night time falls, Seonghwa is quick to make dinner for you and Chacha, putting all of the cooked dishes in front of you on the coffee table while you watch a movie with Charli. Once he's satisfied and cleans up after himself in the kitchen, he settles on the opposite side of Charli and indulges in Encanto playing loudly on the screen.

After dinner, you help Seonghwa clean up before you're getting Charli ready for bed and tucking her in. Seonghwa has made a little bed in your tiny living room area floor— pushing the coffee table up so that you three can lay comfortably. When Monsters University comes on, you find that Seonghwa is invested but.. isn't? He's constantly checking his phone, and you shouldn't be annoyed because it's probably the boys.

But, you are.

It's probably the boys.

Right?

Why does it matter?

"Are you watching?" You squint at him and he quickly finishes his text before he plops the phone down on his chest and looks at you.

"Yeah?"

"No, you're not." You give him a look. "Are you texting the boys?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" He teases and you roll your eyes. "I'm kidding. Yes, and someone I met a couple of days ago."

"What? You never told me about that."

"I didn't tell you because it's just that. We met and we're just casually talking about things."

"A girl?" He nods.

"Uh huh. Her cousin plays for the football team and she was visiting during training."

"Oh, interesting. Are you like.. interested in her?" You divert your attention to the movie.

"Uh." Seonghwa pauses and shrugs, even if you aren't looking at him. "I'm just seeing where things go? Do I need to have a reason right now?"

"No. I'm just wondering." He picks up his phone again when it dings.

"But Uncle Hwa, I thought Titi Y/N was y-your girlfriend." She stutters as she keeps her eyes on the movie.

"Mm, she is my friend who is a girl, Chacha. My bestfriend."

"But, my mommy said—"

"Okay, let's watch the movie, pea." You cut her off and she happily obliges. "You too, Uncle Hwa." You glare at him once more before smacking him on the bicep.

"Ouch, stop. I'm watching." He whispers harshly, yet continues to text.

"Pichu." You whine "You stop." He grabs your hand before you could land your next hit. He chuckles as he holds onto it, not wanting to let go but to also make his point that you aren't winning this fight. "Hwa." You whine even more.

"I win."

"Fine." You pout and he pinches your cheek.

"Loser." He smiles. "I'm watching, okay? I'm done." He sets his phone to the side and gives you a look. "See?"

"Mhm. What else could possibly be more important than us?"

"Drama." He laughs. "Why does it matter anyway, you're gonna fall asleep in two—"

"Uncle Hwa, Titi Y/N. Movie." Charli says looking at the both of you before shifting her attention back to the TV. You pinch Seonghwa on the shoulder, causing him to silently wince in pain before the both of you finally pay attention to the movie.

It's not long before you feel your eyes getting heavy, and you hate to admit that Seonghwa knows you so well. Charli hadn't fallen asleep too long ago, sandwiched in between you and Seonghwa— her hair a mess on the pillow. She's letting out some soft snores, her hand resting lazily on her chest. 

She must've had a long, but good and fun day.

Seeing her this comfortable and content makes you even more sleepy. So much more sleepy that within the next scene, you're fast asleep with your head resting against Chacha's. Seonghwa figures it's a bit too quiet— too quiet especially for someone like you, who is the main yapper between the two of you.

He looks at you and smiles softly to himself.

His heart does a thing; it always does a thing, but in these moments it feels too intense for him to register. He just wants this.

And it's so hard for him to fight it off when there's that glimmer of hope saying you feel the same way.

That you want this, too.

Especially after today. Because he knows you well, so well, and he knows there are things you meant to say but you couldn't. He understands, though. He wants to say a lot, he's just not sure how. But god, does he hope he's right for once. 

He hopes that you are looking at him in a different light, he hopes that you've realized he'd been here all along.

"If only you knew." He whispers. "Night, Y/N." He says softly before pulling the blanket up to cover you perfectly, brushing the hair away from your face before shutting off the TV and laying on his back to stare at the ceiling.

He just hopes for you, and you only.

♡ taglist: @hwasbabygirl @fairyofhueningkai @chngbnwf @tinyteezer @everyonewooeverywhere @pearbunny @mxnsxngie @starhwahwa @woosmaid @yeosangsbbg @jycas @lyracarvahall @huachengsbestie01 @asjkdk @bintificreads @interweab @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap six/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

I Don’t Know You, But I Want To

summary: Sometimes curiosity has consequences.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, mentions of death, hints on how Steve’s wife died, bouts of self consciousnesses.

authors note: sorry guys, you knew this chapter had to happen. i promise i’ll make up for it! enjoy a few more easter eggs from @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky in here. I’ve had so much fun talking about these two old men’s friendship with you!

🌇 <- chapter five -> chapter seven

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

End of June

You didn’t realize when Steve asked you to water his plants, that he meant in just three short days after the almost kiss in his kitchen. The opposite schedules the two of you seem to always work made it so you hardly got a glimpse of him before he and Bandit disappeared to Starved Rock for what you learned was their annual camping trip.

The Good Morning Tough Girl texts started the next day after your number exchange, waking you up with a kaleidoscope of butterflies twisting and turning in your stomach and a smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. It helped you get over only getting to physically see him one time through your living room window before he left. Your phone had vibrated at your feet while you watered your now flourishing Ivy thanks to the new curtains you were proud to say were installed by yourself. You chanced a glance down at your lit up screen, his name flashing with a text that said: How’d I never realize how pretty my view is from the front yard?

The corners of your mouth twitched, flames licking underneath your cheeks when your eyes caught his out your window. The big dopey smile that took over his face made you giggle as he waved eagerly, dressed nice like he had been the morning you ran into him last week. You wiggled your fingers, biting your bottom lip at the way his dark navy button up looked tucked into the waist of his black slacks. The leather belt looked nicer than the last one, the silver of the buckle blinding in the setting sun. His hair was freshly done, free of any signs of those big hands of his. The stubble on his jaw was gone again, but you learned that was never for very long. 

Another buzz: Going to dinner with a client, wish it was fish tacos with you instead.

Steve feels like he won the lottery when he can see the way your face lights up from his spot in his front yard. Eddie’s voice rings loudly inside his head, sticking to every single one of his negative thoughts like glue telling him it’s okay and he finally starts to believe it, especially when he gets a text back from you.

Maybe next time 😉

It’s thunderstorming the day you go over, the key tucked away in a lockbox by his door. He gave you access by texting the code the night before with a promise to take you to dinner as a thank you when he got back. The nerves that dance inside you feel like they did the first time you came here when you stand in front of the stained glass of his front door even though he’s five hours away. 

It’s quiet, the lively energy from a few nights ago gone with the man. The cedar of his candle still lingers thick in the air and you can’t help but inhale deeply. It smells like him. You leave your shoes and umbrella on his front porch, closing the door gently like you were scared to wake someone up. The pattering of the rain on his windows fills the silence, your shoulders dropping in the serenity. Pulling your phone from your back pocket you look through your texts with the list of the rooms the plants were in. 

Only three — his office and living room on the first floor and his bedroom on the second.  

The coffee white oak floors creak under your socked feet as you take your first apprehensive steps past the entryway. He left the watering can on the kitchen island just like he said he would, your skin pebbles when you’re brought back to the last time you were in here. The sun fights to shine through the thick storm clouds outside, making the lighting that bleeds through his windows soften everything up. The water from the sink hits the metal of the can, mixing perfectly with the rain. 

You wish he was here.

The can is heavy in your hands when you stop at the doorway of the living room, the contents inside sloshing around and daring to spill onto his floor. You curse under your breath with a pause to take in the room you only got a glimpse of before. There’s an electric fireplace, tall black steel that takes up most of the wall next to the sliding glass door that leads to his small backyard. 

Two large beige area rugs cover most of the wood floors in here, a cream frayed trim lining them. Bandit’s bed sits big, fluffy and dark brown nestled by the fireplace, giving him a perfect view out the window. Strands of his lighter hairs leave behind evidence that this might be his favorite spot in the house. A woven basket filled with various chew toys that look freshly tossed in isn’t very far from it. The rain comes down harder but you can still see the spots of lime green littering the grass where the rambunctious German shepherd left his tennis balls. Spoiled.

The cognac color of his leather couch set is rich, and it shines even in the dim lighting like it was freshly lotioned. It looks like the kind of comfortable where the cushions mold against the weight of your body - soft, inviting, the one in the middle looking a little more worn in than the rest. This must be Steve’s favorite spot. 

Your eyes meet the 65” TV mounted to the wall in front of it and realize why. The coffee table matches the dark color of the floors. The candle that was the culprit for the smell of his house sitting in the middle next to three remotes lined perfectly next to each other.

There’s a long, taller companion table that sits at the other doorway that leads back out to the landing of his staircase. Framed pictures, bottles of various liquors of all shades and crystal cocktail glasses cover the top of it. 

What does he think of your place?

You try to push the intrusive thought down as you make your way to the lush Monstera plant that sits in a white pot on top of wooden legs next to the sliding glass door. Its leaves hang heavy, clearly taken care of. The deep emerald of it reminds you of what Steve’s eyes look like sometimes. The soil takes what you give it greedily, barely leaving enough for the few smaller plants that rest on shadow shelves along his gray walls. A few of them make you stand on your tiptoes to reach.

Curiosity wins on your way to refill the can, crossing the room to look at the framed pictures. You aren’t surprised when you see one of Eddie and Bandit as a puppy, it looks like the first day they brought him home. Eddie’s dimples show in a bright smile as he looks at the camera with Bandit’s big bubble gum pink tongue pressed sloppily against a clean shaven cheek.

The other is of Steve and a curly haired boy at a college graduation, they both look like they were caught in the middle of laughing at something. You can’t help your own smile when you look at it. Steve looks a little younger, a little less gray in his hair like it had only just started. He’s wearing wire rim glasses, and that crisp white dress shirt you like him in so much. He looks happy.

The last one is of Steve and Bandit. A selfie taken at sunrise, Bandits tongue sticks out and you swear he’s smiling just like his handsome owner that has him pulled against his side. A part of a tent peaks over his shoulder and you wonder if this is where they’re at right now.

You’re hit with the smell of his cologne when you open his office door, your thighs pressing together when you imagine him sitting in the big black leather chair behind an even bigger, matching colored desk. Glass cased baseball memorabilia takes space on one of his walls, along with plaques of achievements from his job. There’s framed pictures of him shaking hands of baseball players you couldn’t name, but you’re sure a normal person who liked sports could. There’s a tall bookshelf on the other side of the room. The spines all glossed, bright bold wording of sports memoir’s, marketing guides, and what looks like college course advertising books.

The floor of this room is carpeted with the same color as the area rugs in his living room. Your footsteps are a little more careful as you try not to spill any water on it as you make your way to the three hanging spider plants in the window that overlooks his front yard. 

Your nose catches a hint of the cigars you know he smokes as you get closer to his desk. He must keep them in here. A silver closed MacBook sits on top of it, another baseball — only this one is signed and kept safe in a glass case. There's a Polaroid of Bandit with a cubs hat on his head with a laughing Peach barely visible behind him. The obvious closeness of the three of them makes you realize how much he let you into his world the other night. 

A world where he wanted to kiss you.

You curse under your breath when you almost spill water on the carpet, too lost in realization of what this could be.

When you reach your final destination on the second floor, you stop at his closed door. Your hand hovers over the knob, heart hammering so hard in your chest like he was waiting for you on the other side. Taking a deep breath through your nose, you exhale through your lips - willing your nerves to give you mercy. There’s a soft click when you turn the knob and the quietest noise from the hinges when you push it open.

The crisp white of his fluffy duvet that covers his king size bed, mutes the gray of his walls. The olive green throw at the end of it that matches the area rug under the bed, the warmth of the color relaxes your senses. Your breathing evens out, your heart rate slows down. 

There’s another dog bed at the foot of his that matches the one downstairs and you wonder how often Bandit really sleeps in this one at night. The lack of hair on it compared to the other one tells you not very often. Your cheeks tingle fiercely when you see the mirror you got a glimpse of his bare chest through, your eyes quickly finding the bathroom he had come out of. 

“Jesus Christ,” you grumble to yourself, trying to push back the memory while standing alone in his bedroom. 

There’s another Monstera by his window that you can see your bedroom out of. The last one on the list. You have to pass by another large dresser on your way, even more pictures sit on top of it, taking up the space that was left next to a cherry wood watch box. Another cedar candle sits behind the framed pictures, the scent lingering in the air despite not being lit.

The plants take what’s left in the watering can, and you peek out the window just to see what he sees. The navy curtains you’d hung up are half open giving you a perfect glimpse into your room, the pile of dirty laundry you plan to do after this perfectly visible. You gulp audibly.

The can swings loosely in your hand when you walk to the dresser, a smirk already forming on your lips at the thought of what these ones will tell you about him. Your eyes land on one of him in between Eddie and Peach on what seems to be their wedding day, both of them placing sloppy kisses on either cheek. The big dopey grin face doesn’t hide the tear stains. The White Chapel sign behind them tells you it’s Vegas, and the way Steve is dressed as a much sexier Elvis only confirms your suspicions. 

Next to that one is a picture of Steve, only he looks really young- fresh out of high school young. Biting your lip into a smile at the volume of his hair, he’s leaning against a maroon BMW with pants so tight you're sure they made all the girls flustered. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes before taking in the brown curly haired girl sticking her head out of the back seat window. Another girl with honey waves pushing her head out in the small space next to her, you swear you can hear the giggles that are so evident on their faces.

Thunder cracks loudly outside, bringing you back with a jump. You’re dreading the short walk home. You glance out the window wearily before bringing your attention back to the little bit of Steve scattered over the top of his dresser. Then you see it. You see her.

The frame that holds the picture is silver, the words ‘always and forever’ etched across the bottom. It’s taken somewhere tropical and Steve looks like he’s your age in it, his jaw somehow sharper, his hair blonder. His smile is so big it shows all of his teeth, a bright yellow short sleeve button up that makes his skin look golden. The top two buttons undone revealing the chest hair you’d gotten a few glimpses of. He’s glowing. 

She’s just as beautiful, big bright green eyes and dark chestnut hair that falls in effortless curls down to her chest. They look natural, like she didn’t have to do it herself. She’s tucked into his side in what looks like seats in the back of a boat, the coral dress that flows over the curves of her body makes your stomach turn. The big rock on her hand rested purposefully on his chest tells you exactly what this picture is.  

Jealousy twists green in a tight knot inside of you, guilt you weren’t expecting makes you feel nauseous when you see what’s hanging off the corner of the frame. A dark teal rubber bracelet with the words Team ALS Chicago 2022 in white font.

Lightning flashes white hot, making something gleam and catch in the corner of your eye from his watch box. Taking a closer look, the tightening of your chest at what you find makes the air leave your lungs all at once when you see their wedding rings tucked in between the soft white cushions inside the box. 

The reality of the situation hits you like a ton of bricks. Steve had a whole life before he met you. A life with someone beautiful, someone he didn’t fall out of love with, someone who didn’t break his heart, someone who, if things were different he’d still be with.

If you moved next door in that reality, you’d just be someone he’d maybe wave to from time to time, not paying any mind to the thirty year old girl already suffering through a midlife crisis next door. The girl who moved to the city with no friends and no plan. The college drop out. The opposite of the well put together woman that belonged hanging off his chest like that, with a ring on her finger that could pay off your credit card debt and then some.

How can you compete with a ghost? The nagging feeling that you’ll always be second best already stings and he hasn’t even picked you yet.

You try to blink away the tears that threaten to spill out, feeling stupid for being this upset over what started off as a silly crush, it really shouldn’t hurt this much. The cedar that comforted you feels like it's suffocating now. Like he’s here. The thought of bringing the watering can down doesn’t even cross your mind when you leave it on the dresser to make your escape.

The breath that comes out through trembling lips is shaky, still, you're proud of the fact that you haven’t cried yet. 

Tough girl. 

When you open the front door, it's windier than when you first got here, the sun starting its disappearing act for the moon. It makes the summer storm match the one brewing inside of you. You shove your feet into your shoes before pulling the door shut behind you. You lock the key back into the box, before grabbing your umbrella. Your vision goes blurry but you don’t give into it, telling yourself it’s stupid to be so upset. The buzz of your phone in your back pocket is what stops you from taking the first step off his porch. 

Steve

Found a spot with some service on our hike, just wanted to check in. Hope you got into the house okay. Bandit says he misses you.

The dam that you’d worked so hard to build breaks, tears falling down your face like the rain falling from the sky. You sniffle, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hand before you reply to him for what you tell yourself is the last time. It’ll hurt less like this, it’s better for both of you this way. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself before you hit send.

Plants are watered 👍

beta’d by: @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

chapter seven

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock - Waste My Time I

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her)Reader  Word Count : 4.6k Warning : Some curses. Fluff. Some cliff hanger, I think? Sets on Matt's uni years. Notes : I will do some updates on the prologue to better fit the plot. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for future chapters. Cheers! x If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

↞ Prologue

The smell of sugar and roasted beans were thick in the air. The establishment was packed with people. It wasn’t the usual cafe Matt and Foggy would go to. No, the cheap coffee truck on the way to the campus or perhaps the vending machine by their Advanced Constitutional Law class would do to grab a cup of americano from, but today isn’t one of those days. 

Today is one of those days when Foggy would drag him to the other side of the city just to pick up some special sandwich that would guarantee a forgiveness pass from Marci. Today is one of those days when Foggy would pay for his americano, only to forget his wallet by the bedside table. Today is one of those days when Foggy would have to make another promise to pay for his meal as the blonde had to bail and run to give Marci her sandwich.

Now Matt, ever the understanding friend, certainly paid no mind with all of the troubles Foggy dragged him into this morning. He figured he could use the long way to his classes this morning. To try and see what exactly is on the other side of the campus when the sun is still out. When he was in his normal clothes and not hunting robbers. When he could actually be Matt Murdock and not the Daredevil.

But now standing by the side aisle to pick up his order, Matt knew that the lady who was too busy arguing on the phone with who seems to be a disastrous ex-husband, accidentally picked up his americano and left him with what smells to be a matcha latte with twice if not thrice the normal sugar level.

Matt’s lips pout a little. He’s certainly not in the mood to jump start his day with a lethal dose of diabetes, but Foggy’s left minutes ago and he couldn’t just call the barista to exchange his order without actually tasting the beverage. What excuse would he give? That he could smell that the drink in his hand isn’t what he ordered?

“Hi, sorry,” A voice of salvation echoes from his right. A woman who’s now approaching him with a gentle voice greets. Matt could taste the uncertainty in her tone, how her heart beats a little awkwardly as if she wasn’t sure if she was doing the right thing yet she does it anyway “I’m really sorry to be coming off as a creep like this, but I don’t think that’s your order.”

“No?” Matt asks with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I think the lady before you mistook your order.” She explained, taking the cup away from his hand “I overheard your order with your friend earlier, I was queueing behind you. You ordered an americano, right? This is a hot matcha.”

“Oh,” Matt says, feigning surprise “I wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah.. Here, you can take my americano.” She offers, pushing her cup to his hand “I haven’t touched it or anything, I promise. It’s clean.”

“No, it’s fine I can just ask the barista—” Matt’s words were interrupted when his phone beeped, followed by the automatic reminder: his Conflict of Laws class starts in five minutes “Shit.”

“Yeah, just take it,” She insists “I’ll ask the barista to redo my order. It’s fine, really.”

“Thank you.” Matt says, accepting the warm cup at last “I appreciate it.”

“It’s no big deal.”

Matt wanted to prolong their conversation. She seems to be a genuinely kind person. Had he not been in a rush for being on the other side of the campus and having to come to class on time as Professor Barton would lock the door a second past nine, he would have stayed and continued talking to this one kind soul. At the very least, he would have asked for her name and asked if he could repay her kindness, perhaps with a slice of pizza and cold beer after class. But today isn’t one of those days.

Today is one of those days when he passed by someone he would wish he had more time to spare with. Today is one of those days when he met someone he would think of longer than the time he spent with said person. Today is one of those days when he hoped that he would meet her again.

—-

Her hair was dishevelled. She dares not to look at the time as it would only fuel her anxiety even worse. She planned to have her essays done before the clock strikes nine, but it has been hours since and she could barely call herself half way there.

The bigger side of the library has now turned dark. Students have retreated back to their bedrooms or have found themselves better things to waste the night with. It was Friday, afterall. Most wouldn’t even think of stepping their foot inside for the night, yet here she is, trying her best to stay afloat on the ocean of assignments that she’s evidently drowning in.

But when she was ready to take the consolation prize for being the most pathetic student of the year, a boy took the seat in front of her. He took out the things from his bag—several heavy textbooks and a laptop—as he tried to find comfort on the table, completely oblivious to her presence.

It was that boy. The boy she helped the other day in the cafe. Well, the word help would certainly be an overstatement as she only pointed out that he was holding the wrong order and offered hers in replacement, but she had a slight nervousness in her bones as she felt it was overstepping of her when she offered the proposal, so thinking that she was helping him feels a little rewarding and helped soothe her nerves a little.

She silently stares at him as he continues his work. His fingers trace the braille on his textbooks, mouth slightly moving as he tries to read the passages. The boy was beautiful to say the least. Like a beautiful painting you wouldn’t grow bored of even after hours of staring. The soft light of the library was hitting his face in all the right directions, enhancing his features that truthfully need no betterment yet it accentuates his beauty nonetheless.

Five if not fifteen minutes after her staring, she realises that she has to make her presence known. She wouldn’t want him to be startled if she makes any noises or movements, or worse makes him feel unsafe by her stealthy actions. The last thing she would want is to make him feel like she was a threat instead of a friend.

She taps on the table lightly, catching his attention, “Uh, I just want to let you know that you’re not alone at this table.”

“Oh, right,” The boy answers “Should I move?”

“No, no! I just wanted to let you know, that’s all. Please don’t move.” She says fast.

The boy’s lips curved into a smile but his brows knitted, “I’m sorry, have we met before? You sound familiar.”

“Uh, yeah, I’m the girl from the cafe,” She says, the same uncertainty lacing her tone “I swear I’m not trying to stalk you or anything. I just happen to be in the same place you are for some reason.”

“I never thought of you as one,” The boy says with a smile “I’m Matt, by the way.”

She tells him her name.

Matt whispers her name, letting it roll on his tongue like it’s going to settle for a long time there, “I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing in a library on a Friday?”

“The same reason as you have, I’m sure.” She says with a sigh, not wanting to elaborate “What major are you taking?”

“Law, you?”

“International Affairs.” She answered, biting on her pencil as she judged him “Law, huh? Well, aren’t you a smarty pants.”

Matt chuckles. 

Her heart skipped a beat.

Stupid heart.

“Listen,” Matt says after a visible nervous lick of his lips “I hope this isn’t too straight forward, but I really appreciate what you did the other day, and I figured I owe you some form of gratitude, so I was wondering if.. You’d be free some time soon? Maybe this weekend? We can grab some food and sit by the park or do whatever it is you find amusing.”

Her smile grows, “Are you asking me for a date?”

“No, I’m showing you my gratitude,” He argues “But masked as a date, yes.”

It was practically impossible for her to bite down her grin by now. Eternally grateful that most of the lights in the library are out and that he couldn’t see the stupid smile on her face. She was sure that her cheeks were red and that her eyes were as big as puppy’s with how charming Matt is. Exactly how more perfect can the man sitting in front of her be? Beautiful face, delightful talking, and certainly a brilliant mind. At this point he could either be her knight in shining armour or a complete psychopath, no in between.

“So.. Would you have any free time?”

“How’s next week? Friday?”

Matt nods, smiling softly, “Friday it is.”

—-

Days leading up to the date passed as slow as it could get, even when they were spent by meeting her at the library before his night patrols. Matt knew that it was practically wrong of him to insert himself in her life. To come uninvited to her table that night, acting as if he didn’t know it was her nor did he not know of her presence, but in his defence, he didn’t deliberately plan to meet her. It only so happened that he finished his nightly patrol quickly that night and that she was in the library when he initially wanted to spend the rest of the night finishing his paperworks.

At that moment, he thought that God was aligning their stars. It wasn’t everyday that he had the urge to finish patrol early. It wasn’t everynight that he wanted to spend the rest of the night in the library. It certainly wasn’t every Friday that he would find her there. In fact, he couldn’t recall if she’s ever been to the library before. He would’ve caught the familiarity of her scent at the cafe if she was a regular there.

Though Matt knew that he couldn’t offer much to her, not his full time nor attention as they’re both reserved to keeping Hell’s Kitchen a little safer each night, Matt was willing to give everything he has left to get to know her better. It wasn’t everyday he could meet someone who would treat her with kindness that is pacifying without any hint of humiliation. She knows just the right amount of care to show without having to walk on eggshells around him and that’s something Matt very much appreciates.

All of it felt like it was meant to be. That he was meant to get that wrong order and that she was to intervene and rescue him from that God awful latte. It felt like he was meant to go to the library that night and meet her once again. And it certainly felt like their date tonight was meant to happen.

“Oh, this is gold,” She moans as she takes another bite of their pizza.

Matt smiles, satisfied to hear her blissful commentary, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“The best,” She says shortly. There was a sudden silence from her and Matt wonders if something had happened but she quickly speaks “Uh, you’ve got.. Um, you’ve got some sauce on your lips.”

“Yeah?” Matt asks, his free hand wiping the sides of his lips.

“It’s still there. I think it’s dried a little,” She says, that hint of uncertainty reappearing in her voice “Can I just?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

And she wipes the corner of his lips gently. The warmth of his skin was in contrast to the cold wind that gushed their way and it only amplified the butterflies in her stomach as their skin made contact. Supposed he felt the unexpected jolt of electricity too because his jaw tenses a little before he lets out a sigh when she finishes wiping his lips.

“Thanks.” Matt whispers with a smile.

She didn’t say a word, only humming a little to show response.

Had Matt not have his heightened senses, he would have thought that something wrong happened but he could hear the not-so-steady beat of her heart and how her body heat rises a little. She was just nervous, just as much, if not less erratic than he is. If only she could feel his heart and hear just how loudly it’s beating right now, acting as if it’s trying to burst forth his ribcage, she would perhaps feel a little less agitated.

It was too soon to say, but Matt couldn’t ignore all the blissful connections they’ve shared. He felt as if he’s finally met his match. The knot to his strings, the solace to his rage. He knew that there’s still so many layers of himself that he’s yet to show her, the sides of Matt Murdock and Daredevil that he’s yet to expose to her, but for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt like he could take his time and savour the moment as it unfolds.

A little egoistic of him, but what exactly can he do at the time?

“This is great,” She says, breaking his train of thought “I very much enjoyed tonight.”

“Oh no, are we reaching the end of the night?”

“No,” She chuckles, shaking her head “I just wanted to say it, just in case I forget to and you wonder if I’m having a great time or not.”

Matt grins, his heart swells in pride and joy, “I’m having a great time, too.”

The night passes far too fast for either of their liking. There seems to be a never ending topic for the both of them to discuss. From the major they’re taking, their roommates, down to how honking your car is illegal here in New York, everything feels like an interesting subject to dissect. Like an overflowing flow of soft ripples that hit your ankles on the beach shore. Soothing and intriguing at the same time.

Both their feet now carry them around the city, directionless yet certainly not lost. She was clutching on his arm, trying to make sure that he wouldn’t trip as they walked through the park and around the neighbourhood. For most it would certainly be the most bland date as neither of them knew where to go nor what to do, but neither of them had any complaints. It was perfect as it is.

Until it wasn’t.

Matt could feel the sudden spike of her heartbeat. Whoever it is that’s standing by the porch, whoever’s house party it is that they stumbled upon, she certainly didn’t have any intention to join nor stopped by at it, yet from the sweat that’s starting to build on her skin, he knew that she has to.

“About time you appear!” Some girl yells, clearly directed at her.

“Shoot,” She mutters, sounding like she was caught red handed over some crime he wasn’t sure about “She’s going to have my head on a spike for this one.”

“Is everything okay?” Matt asks, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s just my friend’s birthday and I— Fuck,” She curses, running a hand through her hair “I completely forgot it’s today.”

Matt forces a smile, “It’s fine, we can call it a night.”

“No, I’ll be right back,” She whispers to him, squeezing his arm a little before she jogs a little to the group of people on the porch.

“Oh, you’re in so much trouble,” One of the girls says as she approaches them “Gaby’s been asking for you for hours! Your phone’s dead, we couldn’t reach you—,”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” She apologises, she was honest with her apology, Matt could hear it in her heartbeat “I completely forgot about her birthday party, and I double booked tonight, and I just—”

“So you chose to bail on your best friend's birthday instead?” Her friend argues.

“I mean, he’s cute, I would totally bail on Gaby’s birthday too,” Her other friend commented, making Matt smile a little “Who’s he? I didn’t know you’re seeing someone.”

“I— It’s a long story, okay? I’ll tell you guys later,” She frantically says, trying to save herself from the wrath of her friends “I’ll call it a night with him. Please don’t tell Gaby that I forgot about her birthday, okay? Just tell her I overslept or something.”

Matt bites the inner of his cheek. One of the downplay of hearing every and each conversation others have is knowing what’s to come before it actually hits you. Sure it might come as useful for certain times, but Matt was reluctant to bid his goodbye just yet. He wanted the night to last just a little bit longer, to feel her presence just a few hours longer and to walk around with her just a few miles further. Now it’s clear that he would have to scrape those desires off of his list.

“I am so so so sorry about this,” She says as she comes close to him, her words dripping with regret and guilt “I completely forgot about her birthday party and I just— God, we should’ve taken a left from that park.”

Matt chuckles, “We should have, yeah.”

“I’m really sorry,” She says once again “I’d invite you in but I don’t know how Gaby would react with me being four hours late to her birthday party and I really don’t want you to be trialled for it with me.”

“I understand, don’t worry about it.”

“God, I’m really the biggest arsehole there is, huh?”

“For now, yes,” Matt jests “But don’t worry about it. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time, too. Do you.. Do you know the way back?”

Matt nods, “I’ll manage.”

“Okay,” She smiles apologetically, clearly not wanting to part either yet her feet are already moving towards the house as her friends continue to call for her “I’m really sorry, Matt. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Once again, Matt nods and smiles.

He turns his body away from the house, retracing his way back to the campus. Sure it wasn’t the most ideal way to end their date, he feels like he could and deserves to yell a bit to her friends for stealing her away from him ever so rudely like that, but he figures that he’s had his fair share of her tonight. He reminds himself that it was a Friday night. It was honestly a little too good to be true for someone as delightful as her to have her night free of dates and appointments, so to find out that she’s actually booked for a party is certainly not much of a surprise. Matt only wished that he didn’t know it the way he did.

They certainly should’ve taken a left from the park and avoided this neighbourhood altogether.

“Wait, Matt!”

Matt’s pace was put to a halt. He turns back to face the direction of her voice. He could hear her slight pants and the slight jog she made toward him. A small smile returned to his face, “Yes?”

“You surely didn’t think I’d let you go without a kiss, did you?” She asks, her breathing fickle from the short exercise “Or did you not want one?”

“I’d love one,” He says fast “Please.”

Matt’s grip on his cane tightened a little as she took a step closer. She places her arms around his shoulders and Matt swore he suddenly forgets what’s to do with his limbs. He wasn’t sure if he should put his hands on her waist or should he keep still. It was very much out of character for him. He’s had kisses before, had dates with plenty of other girls, but how is it that he has no idea how to act when it comes to her?

When their lips met, Matt swears that he could climb the Empire State Building with his bare hands. It was an uneventful kiss, certainly not the most creative that he’s ever had, but the electricity he felt was beyond compare. It was as if the kisses he’s had before were mere teasers to what it truly is. Like he was deprived of something he’s been so hungry from. Like he was deprived of her.

“I had a great time tonight,” She says as they part, sounding as if the kiss didn’t just flip her whole world upside down like it did to him “I’ll see you soon?”

“Tomorrow,” He promises “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” She agrees through her smile “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

She chews on her lower lip as if determined to make them bleed once again. Her eyes were glued to the clock, watching as it ticks with each second instead of averting her focus back to the papers on her table. Finishing her tasks prove to be a more challenging issue to tackle with each passing day.

Before she knew it, it was already Thursday. Matt promised to meet her the next day after their date, yet such a promise was never fulfilled. She figured that he might just have to do a rain check about their meeting, perhaps having some last minute task that he has to finish before the weekend ended, but even when Monday comes, he still was a no show.

Sorry, something happened. Will be in touch once it’s resolved. M

Now what should a girl do with such a short message?

Each day she would wake up early to go to the cafe where they first met and each noon when her classes were finished, she would try to run herself to the library, hoping that he would magically pop up out of nowhere like he did the very first night they met. Those efforts prove to be no avail as the expected man never bothered to make an entrance.

She wonders if their abrupt separation was what caused him to ghost her. She argues, the kiss they shared should’ve been enough to make him overlook the unpleasant farewell. It was much more than enough for her end, but could it be that it wasn’t the same for him? Could it be that he was more baffled about her last minute dick move that he decided to cut it off? Could it be that he’s had enough of her?

“Is this seat reserved?”

Her head perched up, excited to hear the familiar voice that she so missed about, “Unfortunately, yes. It’s been reserved for a week, actually.”

Matt shows an apologetic smile, “Is it still reserved?”

“Depends,” She teases, closing her laptop as she realises that there would be no work done for the rest of the night “If the culprit could explain and give a life-threatening excuse to save himself, I suppose he can still claim his reservation.”

“What if he could only offer an apology and say that he’s desperately sorry for being a douche?”

“No explanation?”

Matt hesitates, “No, none that he could disclose.”

“Not even a little?”

“I—,” Matt licks his bottom lip. It was a habit he does whenever he’s nervous, she notices. He takes the seat and rests his white cane on the side of the table. He looks troubled, like he’s trying to piece words in his mind that he’s not familiar with “Look, I.. I don’t exactly have any explanations to give you. I just.. I have been away. And I fear that I will have to be away for more times than I’d like in the future.”

She remains quiet, listening and watching as he tries to speak.

“I like you, a lot. We had the best date of my life last week, but I don’t think I have what you’re looking for,” He continues, looking conflicted and hurt with his own words “I just— I’m sorry, I really hope I could give more than what I have, but at the same time, I selfishly don’t want to lose you either so if we could just— If we could just be friends, I think I would like that very much.”

Matt could sense the piqued beating of her heart. The news he came to bear was certainly bitter, even more to him than her if he could only be so honest. But what happened earlier this week made him realise that he wasn’t in a position to be in a relationship with anyone. Especially not with someone who looks like she’s willing to go the extra mile for him.

It was supposed to be an easy rescue mission. Some petty robbery that happened on some dingy alley of Hell’s Kitchen that he expected to be settled an hour at most, only to turn out to be a complicated one as he came home with more bruises and wounds than he could count. He had to once again lie to Foggy and say that he was the one being robbed by a group of thugs in order to be able to go to their dorm room and sleep in. But as the lies roll off of his tongue, Matt realises that she would be another person he would have to lie to everytime he comes back bruised from a patrol. She would be another person he would have to deceive with excuses that never truly touch the truth. She would be another tally in his long list of people to ask forgiveness from.

And that’s something he doesn’t think he could live in for long.

So he figured to lock himself inside for a couple of days until his bruises heal. He refuses to meet her when he’s still littered with wounds he couldn’t explain to her about. Even when his finger itches to text her, even when his feet were begging him to let them carry him to the library, even when he was yearning for him more than ever, Matt has to hold himself within the walls of his dorm room that feels like they’re closing in with every passing day.

Now that he finally looks decent enough to go back to his classes, he finally gathered the guts to see and talk to her. There was a mix of bittersweet feelings when he sensed her sitting by their table alone. Relieved to know that she’s waiting, yet sorry that he has to come bearing bad news.

“I.. I don’t know what to say,” She says, blinking rapidly as she tries to digest his words “Are you in some kind of trouble, Matt? You can talk to me if you are. We can try and figure it out.”

“No, no, I’m fine,” He answers “It’s more of a.. Me thing. I just have to deal with some things first.”

She nods, feeling a hint of grief pooling in her heart, “I see.”

There was a pause. Neither have the slightest idea to go forward from this. Both clearly want to continue whatever it is they left off, but they’re truly on a stalemate here, aren’t they? What could she do when he’s asked her to let this go and stay as friends instead? What could he do when he wanted to have her close but only have just started to be the Daredevil? What could they do when they have so much to say yet so little to share?

“I’m really sorry,” Matt says instead.

“No, I understand,” She shakes her head, forcing a smile “Friends it is, then.”

And so it begins. The never ending loop of wasting each other’s time for the sake of wasting time. The never ending cycle of stealing a brush of the other’s hand under the table for the sake of accidental touches. The never ending series of pouring each others’ heart through the stories they share just for the sake of sharing. Always more than what friends do, but never less than what lovers should.

[redrose10]

Yoongi x Female Reader. Soulmate AU

Summary: There’s no one on this planet you hate more than your coworker/secret crush Min Yoongi. He’s an arrogant, rude, womanizer who gets under your skin every single shift and you can’t wait for your day to be over so you can get away from him. Unfortunately when Jimin, your caseworker from The Ministry of Adoration, shows up offering you both a raspberry jam filled cookie, things take a surprising turn for the worst and you can no longer get away.

Warnings: Swearing, hints of smut (nothing graphic or really detailed), a little angst, Yoongi gets around, small hint to homophobia, mentions a guy not taking no for an answer, almost sexual assault. Might get updated later

Tag list: @kam9404 @yoongisducky @farfromsugafanfic @welcometomyworld13 @viankiss @ktownshizzle @bear8585

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Chapter 5- Tacos and Tangerine Juice

Word Count: 3,208

After Jimin had sent over the location you and Yoongi were sitting in his car staring up at the tall skyscraper trying to work up the courage to go in.

“Do you think we can ask for more time? Like 10 seconds?”, you questioned.

Yoongi chuckled next to you, “I really don’t think that’s how this works. And I would need more than 10 seconds to properly kiss you anyways.”

You felt your heart thump extra hard in your chest at his words. He continued, “Let’s just go in there and see what they say.” You nodded exiting the car after him.

The lobby was extravagant with marble pillars and very expensive looking artwork on the wall. An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling and just underneath sat the receptionist. She greeted you both with a smile,”Hello, how can I help you today?”

“Um I’m not really sure. We’re supposed to meet a Jimin Park here?”, Yoongi responded.

“Oh Jimin! Of course! Take the hallway behind me all the way to the end. Then make a left and take the elevator up to the 77th floor.”, she cheerily replied.

Yoongi grabbed your hand and started pulling you down the hall. The elevator slowly started ascending towards the top with your heart beating a little harder with each floor.

The doors opened and you were immediately greeted by a smiling Jimin.

“Hello you two. Ready for this?”

Almost instinctively you ran up to him grabbing onnto his arm and pulling him closer, “Please Jimin, we only need few more seconds. We were just about to kiss right before the time ran out.”

“I know and I’m sorry Y/N. That’s not up to me. You’ll have to talk to the judge about that one.”

You tried to blink away the tears that were already forming as you followed after him with Yoongi close behind.

Jimin walked up to a woman sitting behind a desk handing her a folder of papers, “Park Jimin representing Min Yoongi and L/N Y/N.”

The woman smiled, “Of course. Head to room 707. The judge is already waiting.”

He smiled before motioning for you both to follow.

“Ahh there he is. Jimin, how are you doing? It’s been a while.”, the judge greeted.

“Oh same old same old. How’s the wife?.”

They exchanged pleasantries back and for a little and you hoped you could one day be even half as charismatic as Jimin.

“So I’m guessing this is Yoongi and Y/N you have with you for case number 143?”

He nodded.

The judge continued, “Perfect. Let’s get this started as it shouldn’t take too long.”

The judge continued to flip through the folder that Jimin gave to the secretary earlier. He mumbled a word here or there as he read through everything, but the room was silent other wise. You snuck a glance at Yoongi who had his eye focused on the judge looking completely calm minus the subtle pulling of the hem of his shirt that you knew meant he was nervous.

The judge suddenly cleared his throat, “Well I think I’ve gotten everything I needed from Jimin’s report. Y/N or Yoongi, would either of you like to make a final statement?”

Yoongi quickly shook his head leaving it up to you to step in.

“You’re hon-, Sir, I mean Judge.”

He chuckled, “Mr. Kim is fine.”

You nodded, “Mr. Kim. Yoongi and I were just about to kiss right before time ran out. We realized how much we do love each other after we cleared the air on some things. We just need like 5 more seconds and we can kiss and then everyone can go about their day and this whole mess will be over with.”

The judge quickly put his hand up to stop you and you felt like you were going to cry.

“I understand that may have been the case, but the fact is that time ran out. If I awarded more time to you two then I’d have to do that for everyone. Why did it take so long for you two to realize your love for each other?”

Yoongi shrugged next to making you want to strangle him because once again it was on you, “I-I don’t know Mr. Kim. But I do know that we do love each other and can make this work. If given another chance that is.”

The judge motioned for Jimin to come forward which he quickly did. They whispered back and forth for a little before Jimin returned giving you a sad look.

The judge signed a few papers before reading out his decision, “Okay in the decision of Case 143 featuring Min Yoongi and L/N Y/N I have decided that Yoongi will move to the broken souls department and Y/N will be released.”

“What? Why?”, Yoongi finally spoke after all this time.

“Well based on Jimin’s report and what I have seen so far Y/N appears to be the only one in this partnership willing to put forth the effort into making this work. Therefor I feel that she deserves another chance at finding a new soul mate.”

Yoongi went to protest, but you cut him off, “So what does this all mean exactly.”

The judge continued, “Well Y/N, you will have a brief meeting with Jae in our soul cleanse department. He will help cleanse your soul of any trace of Yoongi which will also reset your memeory. You will have no recollection that any of this happened. Then you will return home and go back to normal while we work behind the scenes to find you a new soulmate. The bond won’t be as strong as the one you had with Yoongi, but it is better than the alternatives.”

Your mouth dropped open as the judge turned his attention to Yoongi, “And as for Yoongi, normally you would get sent down to the broken souls department, but I don’t think you are completely a lost cause just yet. You will also go through a soul cleanse to wipe away any trace of Y/N. Then you will go through an intensive three month course to learn how to properly bond with a soulmate after which we will slowly acclimate you back into society.”

All you could think about was how your memory was going to be wiped clean and you’d never remember Yoongi or anything that the two of you shared. You studied his face hoping that somehow maybe you could remember it you ever saw him again.

“Excuse me, but no fucking way.”, Yoongi shouted next to you breaking you out of your trance.

“Yoongi shut up!”, Jimin hissed.

“No I can’t be stuck here for three months. I have to go to LA to meet with a record label in a couple days. I can’t miss that. That could ruin my whole life.”, he angrily spat.

“And loosing your true soulmate forever doesn’t ruin your life?”, the judge questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“No, I mean yes, I guess, I don’t know! I just know that I need to be in LA. Can I come back in a few weeks and finish up this bullshit then?”

The judge shook his head, “No I’m sorry. I’m already breaking normal protocol by giving you a second chance. I can’t do any more.”

Yoongi appeared to want to argue back. You thought he’d storm off or even worse storm the judges table and punch him. But instead he looked to you and you saw the tears falling down his cheeks.

You thoughts about everything he sacrificed for his music. You thought about how hard he worked. You thought about how talented he was and how much potential he had. You took one more look at him watching as he stared at the floor trying to steady his breathing, his shirt showing the remains of his fallen tears.

“Alright well that is that. Jimin will get all of your paperwork together and go over it with both of you.”

You knew you couldn’t let Yoongi loose his opportunity. Maybe you could switch with him. Take his place. Sure you’d miss your niece being born in a month and you wouldn’t be able to check up on your father for a while. You’d also miss the start of the new semester at college. But hearing Yoongi’s sniffles next to you made up your mind before you could even think more about it.

“Wait!”, you shouted stepping forward. The judged turned to look at you and you took that as a sign to continue, “Let me take his place. Please. I’ll do anything. He needs to get to LA and I don’t want him to miss that opportunity.”

“Y/N what are you doing?”, Yoongi whispered next to you. He reached for you to get your attention, but was stopped by Jimin.

“Well you don’t need the kind of assistance that Yoongi does”, the judge said before turning his lips up into a smirk and continuing, “Buuuuuut I do like a good bargain and we do need a new secretary in the broken souls department. I‘ll make you a deal. If you stay here and take that position then I’ll release Yoongi.”

Jimin pulled closer to him, “Y/N, that’s a permanent position. You’ll be stuck here for ever. They’ll wipe your soul and your memory completely clean of everything you’ve ever known up until this point. Not just the Yoongi stuff. You’ll life will never be the same.”

You looked over at Yoongi who was staring at you with wide eyes. Leftover tears still glistening on his round cheeks.

You nodded, “That’s fine. I don’t want Yoongi to loose his big chance.”

Jimin stared on dumbfounded as you walked a little closer to the judge, “Okay I agree. I’ll take the position as long as Yoongi gets to leave today.”

The judge nodded as he handed over some papers, “Very well. Jimin take Yoongi for his soul cleanse and I’ll have Y/N brought down to her new location.”

Jimin nodded before motioning for Yoongi to follow him. He was hesitant as he looked between you and Jimin.

You hadn’t noticed that the judge had pressed a button calling for two guards to retrieve you. The men held onto your arms and started pulling you towards a set of double doors.

Just before you walked through them you looked back to see Yoongi staring at you somehow crying even harder than before as Jimin tried to console him.

The men pulled you through the door down a hallway and sat you in a brightly lit room that reminded you of your doctors office.

“Come on, the sooner we get you cleaned up the sooner you can be off to LA.”, Jimin smiled heading towards the door. Yoongi felt like he couldn’t move his feet.

“Come on mister big shot rapper.”, he tried again, but Yoongi remained still.

“She doesn’t deserve this. I was just too much of a coward again to stand up for her. I’d give up everything to just stay as her soulmate. It’s all my fault we’re here to begin with.”

Jimin put an arm around Yoongi’s shoulder before gently guiding him over to a window.

“Do you see that taco truck? I’m thinking about getting lunch from there. What do you think?”, Jimin asked pointing towards the truck. Yoongi looked at him confused and a little angry because why is he being asked about tacos right now when his life is falling apart.

“That one. Do you see it? I think it sounds good.”, Jimin said again while pointing and slyly holding up a sheet of paper in his hands. That’s how Yoongi saw the note, “Y/N moved to room 713 for debriefing and paperwork.”

He looked at Jimin with wide eyes and Jimin smiled before leaning over and whispering, “Go through those same double doors. Make a left and go all the way to the end of the hall and then make a right. It’s the third door on the left. Tell her how you really feel. You can thank me later…with tacos.”

Yoongi looked at him in shock as Jimin gave him a nonchalant shoulder shrug. With a sudden burst of energy Yoongi sprinted off following the directions as Jimin looked back giving the judge a smile who was hiding in the corner, “I knew he’d come around.”

When Yoongi finally reached room 713 he slammed the door open making you jump up out of the chair.

“Yoongi what the hell?”, you screamed.

“I’m sor-, I’m so sorr-fuck I need to work on my cardio.”, he said out of breath.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I love you so much and I can’t let you do this to yourself. I wasted so much time already because I couldn’t just tell you how I felt and I’m not going to be a coward again. You don’t deserve this.”

“Yoongi you need to get to LA. This is your big chance. This could be the best thing that ever happened to you.”, you said backing away.

But Yoongi shook his head and grabbed your arm to stop you, “I already have the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Gently he pulled you closer before kissing you so passionately you felt like the world was spinning around you. Grabbing the back of his neck you deepened the kiss and by the time the two of you separated you were both equally out of breath.

“So what happens now?”, you questioned.

“I’m not sure, but I do know that I have to go buy some tacos for Jimin.”, he chuckled.

Before you could ask for clarification a very grumpy looking elderly woman walked through the door, “Alright you two lovebirds. I’ve been told by the judge to release you both. Here are your papers. Now go on and get out of here.”

You looked at Yoongi who just shrugged before taking the papers and leading you back down the hallway his hand never leaving yours.

The rain outside was oddly refreshing, so much so that as everyone else hurried to get to their destinations the the two of you took your time walking to a taco truck down the block since Yoongi suddenly had a major craving for tacos.

You both stood near the street as you waited for your order to be ready. Yoongi behind you with his arms wrapped around you slightly swaying back and forth.

“I love you Y/N.”, he whispered in your ear.

Smiling you turned to return the gesture when a car drove by splashing gallons of water all over soaking you both from head to toe.

When you opened your eyes you weren’t standing on the curb with Yoongi’s arms around you any more. Instead you were laying on your back staring up at the ceiling of the cafe, a concerned Mina and Namjoon looking down at you. Mina holding a now empty cup that you assumed held the water which had splashed you. ���See! I told you it wasn’t just a dumb thing they did in movies”., she exclaimed giving Namjoon side eye, who then put his hands up in defense.

“Uhgh what happened?”, you asked trying to sit up but feeling like the room was spinning.

“You passed out.”, Mina said from above you.

“Fuck…it was all a dream then?”, you whispered.

“Here babe drink this. It’ll help bring your sugar back up. I keep telling you not to skip meals, but you just won’t listen to me.”, a very familiar deep voice spoke. In a flash Yoongi was kneeling down next to you with a concerned look as he handed you a glass of the new tangerine juice the cafe was promoting as part of a new smoothie lineup. As you sipped on the drink you looked him over. “Your hair is mint green?”, you stated in awe. He chuckled, “Uh yeah you helped me dye it two weeks ago. Maybe we should call for help. You might’ve hit your head.”, he said reaching for his phone.

“No no I’m fine. What happened though?”, you questioned m.

“I came here to tell you the good news and then you just passed out. I think you let your blood sugar get too low again.”

You tried to get up, but Yoongi quickly told you to lay back down and rest some more which you happily obliged.

“I’m sorry, but what was your good news again?”, you asked taking another sip of juice.

Shyly he scratched at the back of his neck before flashing you his signature smile, “Well uh I just got a call from LA. I did it babe. I got the record deal.”

Like a rush of fresh air everything came back to you. From Yoongi starting work at the cafe and spilling coffee all over you causing you both to get off on the wrong foot to you having to cancel last minute on your first date and him showing up to the hospital with coffees for you and your mom while he waited with you anyways to him asking you to be his girlfriend on Christmas Eve while driving around looking at the lights and then the two of you moving in together and then Yoongi heading to LA two weeks ago to meet with a major record label.

“Oh my God! Congratulations. I’m so proud of you!”, you exclaimed wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Thank you Y/N.”, he smiled while helping you to your feet.

You felt an immediate sense of embarrassment thanks to the line of customers that were staring at you after your little incident.

“Oh boy, it’s going to be real awkward finishing up this shift.”, you chuckled.

“Uhh I think maybe you should go home. Go

Celebrate or something. We’ve got this.”, Namjoon said coming up behind you, “We’ve had enough excitement around here for one day.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice as you quickly went to hang up your apron and grabbed your bag from the back.

After clocking out you went to round the corner to go meet Yoongi who was waiting for you.

Mina greeted the next customer when you heard a very distinct familiar voice order, “Yes, I’ll have a large iced mocha please.”

Your head turned to side instantly as your mouth dropped open. Jimin, the same man from your dream and still dressed impeccably, was standing at the register ordering his usual drink.

“Come on Y/N. I really think we need to have you looked at. You’re starting to worry me.”, Yoongi said grabbing your hand and pulling you along with him after he’d been repeatedly calling your name. He looked at Jimin and gave a friendly nod, but as more of an acknowledgment and not that he actually knew him.

“Yeah, maybe we should make a stop at the hospital.”, you agreed after realizing that maybe you did hit your head really hard.

As you walked towards the door you took one final look back at Jimin. He looked back at you and winked before turning back to Mina with a smirk, “Oh and let me have one of those new cookies too. A Raspberry Romance, that sounds delightful.”

[narryffdreaming]

A TOAST TO THE FUTURE — FIVE

Summary: Aurora and Harry used to be friends, but life happened and they grew apart. Now, 6 years later, they meet again.

Rating: +18

WARNINGS: The story contains explicit language and mentions a past abusive relationship (mostly the consequences of psychological/emotional abuse). Some chapters also contain explicit sexual content.

PART FIVE: 15,3k words. Author’s note: Hi! I'm so, so sorry it took me this long to update. I rewrote this part so many times it's embarrassing, and now that it's done I'm low-key freaking out that it will end up disappointing after such a long wait lol. Anyway, part 5 is here. I hope you're still around to read it and that you enjoy it :) only 3 more left now!

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR (I) || PART FOUR (II)

When Aurora wakes up, the room is dark, empty and unfamiliar. 

She bends her arms by the elbows and perks herself up, leaning on them to scan the space as best as she can — taking in the small window to her right, the faint reflection on the TV in front of her, and the dim light flickering under the bedroom door. 

Recollecting her memories feels like a process, and it isn’t until she hears the seabirds crying out and the waves crashing nearby that everything comes back to mind. 

She’s on a yacht.

In Italy. 

And all of her friends are there.

A smile grows on her lips as Aurora falls back into her pillow, and she closes her eyes just to recall the last moments of the day before—the way she kissed Harry on that floating mat, the way they walked back inside hand-in-hand, and the way they sneakily kissed again before pulling apart to join their friends. Like two rebellious teenagers who couldn’t get caught whilst living a forbidden love.

Except they weren’t teenagers, of course. Nor rebellious. 

And except what they had wasn’t love, much less forbidden.

And yet… 

Damn. 

Joy rushes through her chest, causing her to bring her hands to her face just so she can giggle to herself. 

Everything feels so silly, but also so exhilarating. The stolen glances during dinner. The unintentional and unstoppable smiles. How she kept listening to her friends even though she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Or how he ran after her when she left the group behind to go to bed, kissing her goodnight and taking her breath away one last time before she officially put an end to that eventful day.

A sigh leaves her mouth, and Aurora drops her arms to her sides. Kissing Harry had never been an option before, nor even a curious thought of her mind. And yet there was a certain level of desperation when it happened. A sense of fucking finally that ran through her veins as soon as their lips met, and that put her skin on fire every time he spread his hand open and squeezed his fingers around her. As if she’d been waiting for it her entire life, and not just less than a day. 

Isn’t that… Weird?

Aurora stares at the ceiling, aware that her emotions are too over the place for her to fall asleep again. 

What time is it, by the way?

And why is she still all by herself? 

Is Maddie still outside? 

Is everyone still outside? 

Is Harry still outside?

Full of energy, Aurora turns on her side and stretches her arm towards the bedside table, reaching for her phone and bringing it closer to her face. When she unlocks the screen, though, brightness strikes directly into her eyes, making her wince and quickly give up. She groans, then, forcing herself to sit on the bed and curling her legs closer while she rubs her eyelids. 

It only takes her a couple of seconds until she tries again, blinking and squinting as she lowers the brightness and Noah’s beaming face takes over the background. 

Aurora bites her lip and stares at the screen, admiring the picture she took just a few weeks ago during one of their walks around the park. A thumbs up on one hand and a pink flower on the other, a huge smile spreading from cheek to cheek and the sun warming up his entire face. 

He looks a lot like his father, there’s no way to deny that, but his kindness and sensitivity sets him far away from him—something she deep down is grateful for. 

It’s hard to believe that something so beautiful and innocent came up from such a complicated and unpredictable relationship. It’s hard to understand that the same man who treated her worse than anyone has ever treated her, is also the same man that gave her the biggest and most honest love she’s ever felt. And it’s hard to comprehend that even though she sometimes wishes she had never met Zack, she would actually never wish she hadn’t married him. Or had a kid with him. 

She brushes her thumb up and down the side of her phone, almost as if she could caress her son. She’s never spent this long without him, and she misses him. She truly does. Even if her latest thoughts have failed to show that. 

Heaviness sets deep into her belly, and her chest tightens up. 

Shit.

What the hell is she doing?

A make-out session with an old friend wasn’t on the schedule. It isn’t even something she ever imagined it would happen. She just… Went with it. She listened to her friends, she had a couple drinks, and she let whatever she was feeling back then take full control of her actions. 

She put a pause on her doubts and, for a moment — for how long that moment lasted — she didn’t think about the consequences. She didn’t think about tomorrow. She didn’t think about next Monday. She didn’t think about her son, who was spending the first weekend away from her. And she didn’t think about her ex-husband, who was taking care of their child while she took a weekend off on a luxury yacht in the Amalfi Coast. 

She didn’t think about anyone, or anything. 

She didn’t question. She didn’t wonder. She didn’t overthink. 

Just like everyone said she should do.

Just like her friends told her she should do.

Friends who don’t have kids yet. Friends who don’t have ex-husbands yet. Friends who haven’t failed in life yet. Friends who don’t wonder who they are, or why everything crumbled down around them. Friends who aren’t worried about how they’re going to make it by themselves from now on, or how they’re going to find new dreams for a future that’s nowhere to be seen. 

A toilet flushes somewhere, and Aurora jolts. She drops her phone on her lap and looks up, listening to the heavy steps that seem to get closer and louder each time, as if crossing the same floor she’s in and walking directly to her room. 

Through the tiny gap under her door, she sees sounds turn into shadows, and then she hears the mumbling. The soft laughing and the shushing, until everything goes quiet and the handle finally moves. 

Light from the hallway cracks in while Maddie walks in, carefully and slowly. It’s only a tiny bit, but it hits directly on Aurora’s face, making her raise one hand and cover her eyes. 

“Oh,” Maddie whispers, stopping on her tracks. “Sorry. Was trying not to wake you.” 

“‘s okay.” 

Aurora clears her throat, getting rid of the sudden dryness and soreness. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes. Why?” 

“I don’t know… Why are you sitting in the dark all by yourself?”

“Oh.” Keeping her chin down and one hand up to block the brightness from her face, Aurora shrugs. “Nothing.” 

“Right…” Maddie says, dragging each letter a little longer than she normally would. 

With a roll of her eyes, Aurora shifts on the bed and drops her body to lay back on the mattress. 

“I just woke up, Maddie. Don’t be annoying.” 

Maddie laughs and steps inside, letting the light from outside guide her whilst she walks towards the wardrobe and rummages through her clothes. 

Aurora takes the opportunity to place her phone back on the nightstand and get comfortable under the covers.

“Have you been awake all this time?” Maddie asks. “We thought you were sleeping.”

“I just said I just woke up.” Aurora turns on her side and smashes her hands between her cheek and the pillow, catching the moment her friend freezes for a second while pulling her dress over her head.

“Okay?” Maddie murmurs, fully removing the item and throwing it into the wardrobe. “My bad. Did we wake you or something?”

Aurora sighs. She watches as Maddie puts a t-shirt and some shorts on, but she’s not really paying any attention to her movements. Her mind is foggy, thinking about how caught up in the whole kissing thing situation she was that she didn’t lose sleep over Zack never returning her texts. Or that her mind wasn’t flooded by Noah’s thoughts until she saw a picture of him. 

“Hey,” Maddie calls, and Aurora blinks. She’s already facing the bed, hands loose by her sides while a frown takes over her expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head and looks away, settling her sight on the darkness out the window. “Sorry. ‘M just tired.”

“You sure?”

No. 

“Mhm.” She closes her eyes and nods. “Just need to fall asleep again.” 

“Okay… Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight, Mads.” 

Aurora hears the soft click when her best friend shuts the door, and also her light steps as she walks around the room. She then feels the moment Maddie pulls the blanket from her side of the bed, and also when she gets under the covers and makes herself comfortable with a sigh. 

There’s a beat of silence, in which Aurora shuffles and turns her body around to face the wall. Maddie moves as well, and it’s easy to tell they’re both laying back to back now. Aurora feels it. 

She also somehow feels the water outside. The darkness. The birds flying above and around. She feels when her best friend drifts into unconsciousness, when her breathing changes, and when her body gets heavier on the mattress. She feels time going by, although she can’t tell if it’s only seconds or also minutes that are flying past her.

“Do you know what you want?” Harry’s voice echoes inside her brain, and images of them laying on that mat take over the darkness in front of her. His pinky around hers, the way he looks at her, his skin underneath her foot when she moves it up and down. “I think about this a lot, y'know? About you.” His confession puts a smile on her face, and it makes her heart skip a couple beats. She wants to kiss him, and she knows he wants to kiss her, too. So she waits for it to happen. And she waits for him to do it. And she waits. And she waits. 

Why isn’t he trying to kiss her? 

What is he waiting for? 

Something is off, and she isn’t so sure anymore. 

Was she wrong all along? 

“I want you to make a move,” her voice pathetically begs while Harry laughs, and Aurora’s body jolts in bed. Eyes flying open while her muscles tense up and relax all at once.

I want you to make a move. 

Is that what she actually said to him?

Her heart beats heavily, and her belly stirs uncomfortably. She wiggles her feet and rearranges her arms and legs, adjusting her sight until the empty wall becomes clear in front of her. 

When she shifts her eyes around, she notices there’s no brightness under the door anymore, meaning all lights are off and everyone finally went to bed. And that she missed when it happened. 

“I want you to make a move,” flashes again inside her mind, and blood rushes through her cheeks. 

Shaking her head, Aurora grinds her teeth and stretches her arm, reaching for her phone one more time. 

The concept of time feels even fuzzier now, so she doesn’t distract herself like she did before — Noah smiles at her, she misses him, and it’s 4:15.

Aurora sighs. Without too much thinking, determination guides her body off from bed, blindly searches for her flip flops, and takes her straight to the door. 

Upstairs, everything’s quiet. 

Quiet, empty, and dull. 

It isn’t pitch black, though, allowing Aurora to confidently move from one common area to the other as she makes her way to the kitchen. 

All she wants is a glass of water, but she knows the galley is considered exclusive for the crew, so a quick apology and explanation rests on the tip of her tongue as she slides the door open as discreetly as she can. Just in case.

Once inside, dim lights cover one side of the ceiling, turning the painfully white kitchen into washed-out yellow. She shuts the brown sliding door again and crosses the small passage-way, walking past the freezers and fridges, then around the island counter. 

She follows her instincts while rummaging for a glass, half-smiling to herself when she finds one and then placing it on the counter so she can look for a bottle of water next. 

Back around the unbelievably clean island, the French door refrigerators are just as fancy as everything else in that yacht. Aurora takes a moment to gawk at the perfectly organized shelves inside, but it only lasts a second or two until coldness crawls through her hands and arms. 

It ends up being an awful reminder of how little she’s wearing right now, and that she should hurry out of there before the crew shows up for breakfast. So she grabs the labeled bottle of water and closes the fridge, then steps towards her glass and watches as she fills it up to the top. 

“I want you to make a move,” her mind repeats for the tenth time, and Aurora sighs. 

It’s hard to tell why those words are bothering so much, or why they’re hunting her in the first place. She was happy when she woke up, so why can’t she get rid of the uneasiness that’s settling in her chest? 

Shaking her head, she places the bottle back on the counter a little harsher than she should, wincing when the sound echoes between the walls. She brings the glass to her lips, then, drinking her water whilst looking out through the window and indulging her messy thoughts.  

Because kissing Harry felt right in the moment, it felt right when he chased her down the stairs for a quick goodbye, and it felt right when she snuggled her cheek against her pillow. And yet, the more she thinks about it now, the more she’s questioning the whole thing. As if there was something off about it. As if her perceptions and memories from that moment weren’t safe enough to trust.

Despite the turmoil inside her brain, the galley is so peaceful that the moment a door slides open everything seems to tremble around her. 

And Aurora jumps.  

And gasps. 

She places the half empty glass on the counter and turns around, one hand on her chest whilst she gapes at the passage-way with widened eyes and parted lips.

Her entire body system stops while she waits, and then Harry walks into view, looks at her, and freezes on the spot.

“Heyyy,” he slowly and huskily drags out, his entire face lighting up as he takes one hand up to rub his eye. “You’re up.”

“Jesus.” Aurora closes her eyes and places one hand spread open on the counter, leaning her weight on it while she exhales heavily through her mouth. Underneath her other palm, the one that’s still on her chest, she feels her heart come back to life. Twice as fast. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Oops.” He laughs, shortly and calmly. “Sorry, love.”

Rough and raspy, the sounds echo from the back of his throat and speak directly to her brain, sending a shiver all the way down her spine and waking up all the butterflies. 

She’s never heard his morning voice before. Not like that, at least. Not when it acts like a magnet and pops her eyes back open, then draws all of her attention straight to him. 

“Damn, I’m knackered,” he says, stretching his arms over his head and then yawning loudly. 

Aurora silently watches him. 

Unlike her, Harry’s clearly barely awake, his puffy cheeks and chaotic hair inevitably giving him away. 

Also unlike her, Harry’s properly covered from neck to toe, a black sweatshirt and some black sweatpants making him look the coziest she’s ever seen. 

The idea of wrapping herself inside his arms isn’t subtle when it crosses her mind, even leaving behind a vivid picture of what the embrace could look like before Aurora kicks it out the door.

“That was probably one of the worst sleeps of my life,” he adds next, dropping his arms down and slightly shaking his head. When he flutters his eyelashes to glance at her, a soft smirk grows on his lips, and he tilts his head to the side. “Auri?” 

“Hm?” 

“You okay?”

She blinks and nods. 

“Yes. Sorry.” Stepping away from the counter, she waves her hands up and down to remove the tension away from her. “You were saying?” 

Harry chuckles and steps forward, then makes his way around the island and closer to her. “What’s on your mind? Why are you looking at me like—” 

He freezes on the spot once again, however now with his eyes wide open and stuck on her silhouette.

Aurora doesn’t need to look down to figure out what he’s staring at. She feels the burn on her chest, and then on her thighs. She also feels his green irises wandering attentively, moving in such a bold and straightforward way that it would be impossible for her to doubt he’s checking her out.

“Harry…” she calls him out, but she also chuckles, sounding just as nervous as she feels. “You were saying what, exactly, about me looking at you?” 

“Uh, sorry.” He shuts his eyes and clears his throat, then firmly shakes his head side to side. As if getting rid of his thoughts. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry. That’s… Yeah. My bad. Sorry.”

Aurora laughs again, turns to her glass of water and shrugs. 

“‘S fine,” she says, bringing the cup to her lips and drinking what’s left in it. To be honest, she knows her navy silk pajamas expose all of her cleavage and just barely cover her legs, so it’s not really a surprise that her tiny outfit didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

Besides, she isn’t exactly bothered by it. It’s nice to see she can still get such a genuine reaction out of someone—it’s been a long time since anyone has made her feel wanted and desired. 

And probably just as long since she’s felt confident enough to believe she could be wanted and desired. 

“Where did you get that glass?” Harry asks, suddenly closer. Too much closer. “Need some water, too.” 

She puts the glass down and turns her head to the side, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Want this one?” 

“Yeah, can be.” He nods. “If you’re done with it.” 

She shrugs one shoulder and focuses back on the bottle of water, refilling the cup for him. 

Their whole interaction it’s too formal. Kind of mechanical. And weird. Aurora can’t decide if there’s too much going on, if there’s absolutely nothing going on, or if what’s going on should be enough. 

“There you go.” She turns slightly to the side and stretches her arm, offering him the cold drink. Before he can grab it, though, she pulls it back to her chest and frowns. “Actually, I put my mouth here, so maybe you just wanted a clean one? In that case they—”

“I’ll take this one, thanks.” Harry laughs, getting close enough to grab the glass from her hand. “You put your mouth on my mouth, too, anyway.”

Aurora gasps, but her lips curve into a smile and laughter quickly buzzes out of her chest. “Harry!” 

Harry laughs, too.

“Just saying! In case you forgot about it.” 

She rolls her eyes, the playful tone in her voice matching her wrinkled eyes and the big smile on her face. “What a smooth way to remind me, then.” 

“Trust me,” he says with a shrug, then looks at the glass in his hand and smirks, almost as if sharing an inside joke with himself, “it could’ve been worse.” 

Out of words, Aurora leans her hip against the counter and crosses her arms, watching him tilt his head back and drink the water down. 

The glass almost disappears behind his fingers, and the scruff on his neck looks just as messy as his curly hair. Underneath, his throat moves heavily, the muscles popping out with each gulp and his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Aurora drifts her eyes to the fridges, noticing a new and erratic beat inside her chest. It’s not like she forgot how attracted to him she felt last night, or even during the day, but she definitely didn’t know this is how she’d feel when she saw him again. How easy it would be for her to want him again. How quickly she would crave for more of what they had. 

I want you to make a move. 

She bites her bottom lip and looks down, closing her hand onto a fist only to entertain her brain with something else. Something that doesn’t involve self embarrassment and silly thoughts. 

“Hey,” Harry calls, followed by the clicking of the glass against the countertop. “Are you going back to bed now?”

Aurora shrugs, then tilts her chin up to meet his stare once again. “I mean, I was planning to, but…” 

He curves his lips up, a genuine smile quickly growing on him. 

“Same,” he says. And then, “Can I show you something, then?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Ok, great. I just need a minute to wash my face and all that, yeah? I’ll be back tho. I promise. Wait for me?”

“Sure.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise,” she chuckles. 

“Ok. Yeah. Thanks. One minute, I swear.”

“Okay,” Aurora laughs. 

And Harry nods. And turns around, and glances at her over his shoulder, and nods again. Ok, he murmurs. One minute.

And then he walks away.

“One minute!” he whisper-yells, right before he disappears through the door. 

It takes him way longer than a minute to come back — of course it does — but Aurora doesn’t mind the wait. She doesn’t want to be caught hanging in the galley by any crew members, though, so she takes it as an opportunity to step into the living-dining room area and snoop around a little. 

There’s not much to do, but at least she distracts her mind with minor thoughts, like the fact that all lights are off and all windows are closed, or that everything’s so quiet that she can hear the waves crashing against the hull. Or Harry’s feet when he climbs up the steps. 

She goes back through the door, then, meeting him halfway and saving him an unneeded walk to the kitchen.

“Hey,” he whispers and smiles. “Thanks for waiting.”

“Of course,” she whispers back.

He’s short-winded, as if he ran to get there, but he also looks refreshed and determined, stretching his arm and offering his hand for her to hold. 

“C’mon then,” he adds in another whisper, “let’s go upstairs.”

As she links fingers with him and follows him outside, she mentally notices a pillow under his armpit and a blanket on his other hand. For some reason, the simple gesture brings a smile to her face, but she’s good at looking the other way and keeping it to herself.  

He guides them kind of calmly, then, but also slightly rushed. He is polite enough to say ladies first and let her walk up the stairs in front of him, but then also cheeky enough to stay behind and unashamedly watch her as she moves all by herself. 

The thing is, though, that Aurora only catches him when she’s already a few steps ahead and absently glances over her shoulder. He’s practically drooling and doesn’t even notice she’s looking at him, which only makes the whole thing worse — or maybe better. 

“Harry!” She mouths with a gasp, mindful of being quiet and not waking anyone up, but also unable to stop her laughter from coming out of her mouth. “Stop staring!” 

He blinks a couple times and shakes his head, then immediately climbs two steps at a time. 

“Oops,” he says under his breath, catching up with her and smirking sheepishly. 

He seems the least regretful or ashamed for his actions, but she’s not exactly bothered by it, so she doesn’t hide the smile from him. Or how amused she is. She simply rolls her eyes and chuckles a bit more, facing forward and going up the rest of the way.

She only stops again when they finally get to the sun deck, knowing it’s the highest part of the yacht and therefore they can’t really go more ‘upstairs’ than that. 

There are no walls or roof shielding them from the weather, so she’s instantly met by a breeze from all sides, causing her body to tense up and forcing her to take her hands up to hold her hair away from her face. Still, Aurora takes a deep breath in and bites her lip, filling her lungs with ocean air and her ears with crashing and loud waves. 

That deck looks just as dark as all the others — if not even more. And yet, somehow, it also feels the brightest she’s seen since she woke up. 

Most lights are completely off, except for the required ones, but half of the moon is up in the sky, casting the way. It allows her to see the shadows of the table and chairs where they spent half of the day before (the only covered area), and far behind, on the opposite side, the barstools with perfect view to the back of the boat.  

“Was talking to Niall about this place last night,” Harry says, stopping so close behind her that she can feel the warmth of his clothes. He keeps his voice as quiet and soft as before, matching the delicacy in which he places his free hand on her bicep as he speaks again. “Told him he should bring Megan up here to watch the stars.” 

Aurora pulls her lips into a thin-smile and nods, still needing another minute to assess the space. 

Harry doesn’t seem to mind her silence, nor her astonishment, simply shortening the distance and pressing his chest to her back while respecting her needed time. 

That is, for a moment or two, until she shivers. 

“Ok,” he chuckles with a squeeze of her arm, then slides his palm down and easily finds his way to her hand, “let’s move now.” 

He walks past her, using their intertwined fingers to guide them as he steps to their right, across from where she’s been staring at. 

Next to the stairs, it’s the jacuzzi — the same one she saw the day before and freaked out about. She remembers seeing it, but she definitely doesn’t remember noticing there was also a large, wide sunbed right behind it.

Which there is, obviously, since it’s the only thing she can see once they walk around the hot tub.

“I brought you a blanket,” Harry says, “but if you want I can get you a jacket. Or you can wear my hoodie… I don’t mind. I mean, I wore this to sleep and I’m not wearing anything underneath, so I don’t know how you’d feel about that.” 

He chuckles, but Aurora is only paying half-attention to what he says. She’s distracted by how huge the white leather cushions are, how they seem to sparkle under the moonlight, and how much space they take. They’re presented as three sets, as if individual loungers were put together, but in reality it ends up being one big and comfortable daybed. 

“We can also go back inside if you want,” Harry speaks again, however this time the louder tone of his voice brings her to look back at him. “I’m not—I don’t want you to feel cold, so that’s totally—”  

“It looks great,” Aurora offers, squeezing her fingers around his hold. “That’s why I’m speechless, actually.” 

Harry brushes his thumb on the back of her hand and smiles, not even once removing the stare from her eyes as he speaks again. “In that case… How do you feel about watching the sunrise from up here?”

Excitement bubbles from her belly to her chest, and to her throat. Suddenly, it’s written all over her face—in her smile, her widened eyes, and her parted lips.

“Oh my God, yes! I’d love that!”

“Yeah?” Harry mimics her reaction, taking their hands to his mouth and kissing her knuckles. “Let’s get you warm then. C’mon.” 

Aurora blinks and nods, murmuring a soft “okay” even though he’s already dropped her hand and turned away from her. She watches him place one knee on the edge of the sunbed, drop the pillow and the blanket, then quickly crawl to the middle cushion and take a seat. 

“Ok,” he murmurs, taking off his worn-out shoes and tossing them next to her. “Almost there…” 

She smiles to herself, entertained by how endearing he looks. By how endearing he is. How he scooches backwards to make sure he’s sitting fully against the backrest, how he coughs into his fist as he puts the pillow behind his shoulders, and how he spreads his legs open and bends them by the knees before finally looking at her again. 

“C’mon now,” he murmurs, patting his hand on the spot between his thighs. “Sit with me.”

For a moment, and for as short as that moment is, Aurora considers playing hard to get. She considers making a joke about his demanding tone, or even about how acquainted with the whole scene he seems to be. 

And yet when she thinks about it again, she can’t find a single reason why she would do that. She’s too tired to pretend she doesn’t care, doesn’t want, or doesn’t mind — if Harry’s offering, and if she’s feeling it, then wouldn’t she? 

So in the end, she simply sits down and takes off her flip flops, then skitters backwards with the help of her own hands. Legs stretched out in front of her while she pushes and pushes herself. 

Harry meets her halfway, his hands finding her waist and guiding her until her back touches his chest. 

“There we go,” he says, pulling the blanket and throwing it over their bodies. 

And just like that, easy like that, they’re molding and curling around each other. 

Harry makes sure their legs are properly covered, then leans on his pillow and waits for her to drop her weight on him. When she does it, and as she crosses her arms on her stomach and waits for Harry to do the same—as she waits for him to hug her and hold her close against him—he busies himself pulling the rest of the fabric up to her shoulders.  And then he sighs, wraps his arms around her midsection, and nuzzles into her neck. Humming while his curls tickle her skin. 

His body relaxes underneath her, and she finds herself mimicking him. Letting all the air out of her body, loosening up all of her muscles, and going numb against his chest.

Comfortable. Warm. Satisfied.

Relieved.

In front of her, under the handrail, the glass is so transparent that it’s almost nonexistent. Darkness is out there, all around them, but not to the point where she can’t distinguish the horizon. The moon, even though distant to her right, works everywhere, highlighting a few clouds and also reflecting its beauty on the water. 

To that same direction, it appears to be nothing but ocean, and as far as she can see the same goes to what’s in front of her. 

On the other hand, above her, wherever she looks, stars are still easy to spot, and to her left the coastline is all lightened up. Blurry, small, and far away, but shining gold still. A reminder of where they are, but also a reminder that, despite how it might feel, they are not alone right now. 

The whole experience brings a weird feeling to her chest. 

The view, Harry’s presence, the sounds coming from the water… 

It is just… Weird. Somehow also scary, but mostly — and oddly — comforting and peaceful. Hopeful. It makes it easy to forget about the world that’s waiting for her, about all the problems and all the pain. It makes it easier to pretend she doesn’t have to go back to London and keep looking for a job, or that she doesn’t need to worry about paying her own bills. 

It makes it easier to pretend she isn’t trying to start a new life. A new life with Noah, but also a new life completely by herself. A life of her own. A life where Zack is only there because he’s the father of her son, and not because she can’t make it without his help. 

In the end, it makes it easier to believe that she’ll get through it. That things will get better. And that she will be okay. 

Which, truth be told, is the scariest feeling she’s ever had in life.

And the hardest to embrace. 

“I wonder which one is Saturn,” Harry murmurs, bringing her out of her inner thoughts. “Or what constellations we’re seeing right now.”

She licks her lips and drifts her eyes above them, then to their sides. 

The way she scans the sky is more attentive this time, not randomly taking in whatever’s out there, but focusing on finding specific information just for him. 

The easiest to spot are always Saturn and Venus, but since only one of those can be found right now, she doesn’t think twice before resting her chin on her own shoulder and pulling one arm out from under the blanket. 

“See the moon?” she asks, raising her finger to the sky and pointing to the three-quarter-white-circle that shines distantly on the horizon. 

Harry turns his head, too, then presses his lips on her hair and murmurs, “Yeah?”

“Well, that brightest spot next to the moon is Saturn.” 

“Shit. Really?”

“Mhmm…” She lowers her arm, but doesn’t bother hiding it under the blanket. “The Aquarius and Capricorn constellations are there, too, but we can’t properly see them right now.”

“That’s so cool…” he mumbles, seemingly too distracted by the new information he received. “What else? Do you know any other?” 

She faces forward, feeling Harry follow her lead and remove his lips from her hair, then rest his cheek on the side of her head. 

“Okay,” she says, once again lifting her arm and pointing it to the sky. “See that red spot around here?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s Mars.”  

“Shut up!” He tightens his arms around her, and a soft chuckle leaves his chest.

Aurora chuckles, too, then moves her arm an inch down and to the side. 

“And see this other star shining next to it?” she asks. 

“The brightest one?”

“Yeah… That’s actually Jupiter.” 

“Damn…” 

“And I know the Pisces constellation is somewhere around there,” she says, pointing up and down next to the two spots she just referred to. “But most of the time I can’t tell exactly where… Then… Hmm… Well, I think that’s it. That’s all I— No! Wait. Actually, lemme just…”

She turns her head from one side to the other, and when she knows she’s looking at the wrong place, she leans forward and twists her upper body, trying to see behind them, too. 

“Nuh-uh,” Harry groans, pulling her back to his chest. “No leaving.”

She crashes against him with a smile, settling into her spot and letting him cover her body again. Including both of her arms.

“But I can’t spot the bears from here… I think they’re back there…” 

“The bears?”

“Yeah, y’know, Ursa Minor and Ursa Major.” 

“I actually don’t know about those.” He chuckles. “And I also had no idea you knew about any of this.” 

Aurora rolls her eyes, but her lips curl into a smile anyway. She cozies up against his chest, settling her arms on top of his and tilting her head slightly to the side. 

“It’s not a big deal.” She shrugs. “I’ve just shown you, like, three planets. That’s nothing.”

“Ok, then show me more.”

“I don’t know any others.” She laughs, and from the corner of her eyes she can tell he’s smiling along with her. “I mean, there are a few that we can only spot during winter, and others that we can’t spot now unless we walk to the other side.”

“Hmmm… Well, I really don’t wanna move from here, so I’m happy with the ones I’ve learned.”

“Okay…”

“Unless you want to move, then we move.”

She wriggles her bum to scooch down a little and sighs, settling even more onto him. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Then we’re good.”

He places his chin on the top of her head, and Aurora faces forward with a smile on her face. Reconnecting with the ocean view and also with the sounds she apparently tunes off whenever they start talking. 

Silence. Quietness. 

Comfort. 

“Y’know,” Harry eventually says, “now I’ll always think of you when I look at the stars.”

A beat of silence goes by, and then…

She laughs.

“Oh my God…” She stretches her spine and throws her head back, landing on his shoulder. “You’re sooo cheesy.”

“I know.” He tightens his arms around her waist, playfully squeezing her while turning his head to press his nose on her neck. “I am. And I don’t care.”

She shakes her head, still smiling and staring at the sky. 

It’s like she can hear the happiness in his voice, and it blows her mind how easy he makes it seem. Or how contagious he is. 

“Wanna know something else?” he asks.

“Hm?” Tilting her chin to the side, she rests the side of her face on his temple and closes her eyes. Focusing on the way he warms her skin as he stays hidden on her neck. 

“I don’t think I’ve smiled this much in a really long time.”

“Really?” She raises her eyebrows, her lips never coming down from the upward curve they previously formed. “Well, a yacht on the Amalfi Coast can do that to you.” 

“Actually… You are doing this to me.” 

Silence settles around them. A heavy silence, but not an uncomfortable one. It gives time for his words to linger between them. Making her stomach flutter and her mouth break into this big and genuine smile. 

“Damn.” She chuckles, closing her eyes and shaking her head. 

“What?” he asks, lifting his face from her neck and kissing her cheek. Quick. Loud. And full of joy. “Gonna make fun of me again?”

She opens her eyes and lifts her head from his shoulder, holding onto his forearms as she turns to look at him.

“No, c’mon… ‘M not making fun of you,” she says, because she feels the need to explain. However… The playful smirk on his face indicates she doesn’t need to. He’s not mad. He’s not disappointed. He’s just teasing her back. Because he knows. He knows her, he gets her. And so, she sighs. “Okay, maybe I am a little…” 

Harry laughs, his lips touching his dimples as he throws his head back and then looks at her again. 

“But only,” she adds, a little bit louder so the smile on her own face doesn’t get in the way of her words, “because I think it’s really sweet and I don’t know how to react.”

“Hmm… C’mere,” he says, pulling her back into his chest and pressing his lips on her bare shoulder. 

It’s a gentle kiss. Sweet, but calculated. Not too long, but also not too short. Just wet enough to linger on her skin when he pulls away, but also quickly to forget when it’s followed by another one, slightly to the side, and another one, even further to his right. 

“You don’t—”

“Do you—”

They both speak at the same time, and they both also freeze at the same time, turning silence into giggles just a moment later. 

“Sorry,” she says. “You were saying?”

“Nothing important. You go.”

“My thing wasn’t important either.”

“Wanna hear it anyway.”

“But—”

“Say it.”

“Ugh.” She rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Fine. I was just about to ask if you want me to show you where Venus is.”

“Venus?”

“Yeah, the planet.”

“Oh, right,” he says, breathing hotly into her skin before he kisses her one last time and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Of course. Show me, please.”

“Okay, so… Remember Jupiter and Mars?” she stretches her arm in front of them, pointing to the sky. “They’re higher now, right? So if you look closer to the horizon,” — she lowers her arm, trying her best to give short and objective explanations — “you can spot another bright star.”

“Mhmm… And that’s Venus?”

“Yep.” She nods, then drops her arm and grabs the blanket, covering herself from the early morning breeze. “That’s Venus.”

“Amazing. And she’s just showing up now? When it’s about to be over?”

“Yeah…” Aurora smiles. “I always associate Venus with the sun, because we can only see it right before sunrise or right after sunset. Never like, in the middle of the night. And in the evening it’s the easiest to spot because it’s usually the first one to show up… Or the brightest.”

“That’s really cool… I had no idea. So we got Venus, Mars and Jupiter right in front of us, and to that side” —he shrugs his right shoulder, indicating what direction he’s talking about— “we got Saturn near the moon. Got that right?”

“Yep. Perfect.”

“Ha!” He smiles, sounding all proud of himself. “Tonight we gotta do this again. Wanna see if I can find them myself.”

Aurora smiles, too. “Okay. I’ll test you.”

“Deal.” 

Her smile turns into a joyful beam, and as their happiness nests in silence, Aurora feels herself somehow melting into him. Maybe not physically, but emotionally. And even maybe mentally, if that’s possible.

She isn’t really sure of what’s going on — and she can’t really explain it when she doesn’t understand it herself. What she knows, though, it’s that it’s nice to share that moment with him. And that she’s happy to be there with him. She knows that it’s nice to be wrapped inside his arms while the sky turns into lighter shades of blue and leaves its heavy darkness fully behind. That it feels good when he places his chin on her shoulder and watches how a new day begins right in front of them—how things change right in front of them.

Because things are always changing and things will always change.  

Although…

Even when constellations officially start to fade off, there’s a reminder of their existence still flickering from time to time. Letting her know they’re still there, and that they can still be found. That just because they’re about to stand behind and let others shine, it doesn’t mean they won’t get another chance to try again. To show up again. To be themselves again. 

And, yeah, maybe she’s taking it too far, maybe she’s reading too much into it. But Harry’s consideration and enthusiasm bring comfort to her heart, and as the horizon burns with flames and is draped with layers of honey, words fly out of her mouth before she can at least think about them first. 

“This is actually something Noah and I do together pretty often… Watching the sky.”

“Yeah? He likes it?”

“He does, yeah… He never showed any interest, but one time he woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and he just wouldn’t stop crying… So I took him to the living room and sat with him next to the window… I mean, I was just trying to distract him, y’know? So I started pointing out the ones I knew and telling stories about them.”

“What kind of stories?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and chuckles, aware of the lies that she would probably have to explain as soon as he got older. “I was just trying to calm him down, so I was improvising… Told him how there are two bears protecting the other constellations, about this dog that’s their best friend and helps them sometimes, and that when we see the brightest stars twinkling it’s because they’re watching out for us, too… I don’t know. Silly things like that. I’m not really creative so…”

“Those are not silly things,” Harry says, and she can feel his jaw move on her shoulder with every word he lets out of his mouth. “I mean, at least I don’t think so. I remember when my grandma died and I was struggling to understand the concept of not seeing her ever again, and then my mum told me Nana had turned into a star, so she would always watch out for me and that I could talk to her every night. And that was nice.”

Aurora feels the way he shrugs behind her, but it feels almost forced. As if he’s just trying to prove he doesn’t think too much of his own vulnerable words. 

And yet, that doesn’t stop him from talking again and sharing even more with her.

“Sometimes I would look at the sky and pretend I was talking to her. Say hello, or goodnight, or things like that. Of course later I figured out it wasn’t real and I stopped, but deep down it kinda stuck with me, y’know? So now when I look up and see the stars, I like to… Y’know. Just think that my mum is up there, too. Y’know. Still around. Watching out for me. Hanging out with Nana. Stuff like that.”

Aurora bites her lip, taking in everything he just said. Aware of how hard it must’ve been for him to say that, and how even his voice and the words he used carried along that uneasiness, sadness and longing that comes with losing someone we love. 

She doesn’t want to make the silence too long or turn it awkward, though, so she doesn’t search for the perfect thing to say, she just slides her hands to his wrists and tries her best to twist her upper body and look at him, then says whatever it’s there for her to say. 

“That’s so beautiful.” 

Harry smiles, and it should seem blurry with how close he is, but he actually looks as clear as ever. As pure and vulnerable as ever. 

“I know,” he says. He turns his hands over and meets her palms, easily linking their fingers together. “And it’s not different from what you did when telling those stories to Noah… He’ll always feel protected now, he’ll have something to hold on to, even if he doesn’t say it out loud… And that’s because of you.”

Aurora bites the flesh inside of her cheek and breathes in, feeling the burning in her throat instantly watering her eyes. 

“Okay,” she blurts out and faces forward. “We should stop now, because I’m about to start crying.”

Harry chuckles, but it’s so soft and tender that it feels like he’s just hugging her. “Sorry, love.”

Shaking her head, she clears her throat and brushes her thumbs up and down the back of his hands. “It means a lot… Everything you said. So thank you.”

“Of course.” He squeezes her. 

“I mean,” she finds herself speaking again, “deep down I know it’s not silly and that he really loved that, because now whenever the sky’s clear he gets all excited for us to find them again.”

“And does he spot them easily?”

“Well…” Aurora smiles. “The bears are supposed to be Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, so sometimes… If they’re hard to spot and he’s really confident he saw them somewhere else, I’ll pretend he’s right. But the others, y’know, like the planets I showed you today, he’s usually pretty good at finding them, yeah.” 

“Hmm… What a smart little guy.”

Her face breaks with happiness and pride, and for once she doesn’t even try to hide it. 

Truth be told, Aurora knows she can’t take credit for Noah’s entire DNA, so there’s no point to deny that when it comes to intelligence, she hopes Zack’s genes will play a bigger role than hers. Which seems to be the case so far, because he’s constantly blowing up her mind with— 

“Only two left now,” Harry murmurs. “Venus and…”

Aurora looks around, taking in how the setting they’re in slowly turns into strawberry ice cream, and how thin gray clouds surf in thin waves made of yellow lemon rinds. It reflects all around them — from the sky to the water, and even the air they’re breathing in. Suddenly lighter. Fresher. Saltier. 

“What’s the other one?”

“Jupiter,” she whispers. 

“Jupiter.” Harry nods. “Right.”

It is so magical that it takes her breath away, and the fact that the last two planets in the sky are barely hanging on a string doesn’t seem so bad. Not if it means it will lead them to witness something so extraordinary like this.

“Can’t believe everyone else’s missing this,” she murmurs.

“I know…” he says. “Hands down the most beautiful sunrise I’ve ever seen.”

Aurora nods, and a moment of silence goes by. 

Then Harry speaks again. 

“I’m happy it’s just the two of us, tho,” he says, his voice so low that Aurora isn’t even sure she is supposed to hear him. 

But she does, of course. 

She hears him, and she understands him. Because had their friends been there with them, things would be different. They probably wouldn’t even be sitting together, so they also wouldn’t be holding each other, or linking fingers, or whispering into each other’s ears. 

In the end, she would’ve shared the moment with everyone, but she wouldn’t have shared it with him. 

Much likely how the entire day is going to go by once they all wake up. 

Which, now that she thinks about it, will slightly suck. 

Before she can put together the words to agree with him, though, the sun finally peeks out, and the horizon turns into lava. 

Dark and intense as a tangerine, it quickly takes over all the other colors—the timid purple here and there, the pink, the yellow. 

It’s just as beautiful as before, albeit a little bit different. Because from now on, she knows it’ll be quick. She knows even blinking could mean missing something, and she knows it won’t take long for everything to go back to normal. For the magic to end. For things to be over. 

And perhaps Harry’s line of thinking is traveling the same route, because he leans in and presses his lips on her shoulder, sighing loudly to her skin before he moves to the side and kisses her again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Aurora bites her lip and breathes in slowly, filling her stomach with air before letting it all empty again. 

He’s good at this. He’s good at teasing her and making it happen, both at the same time. He’s good, and Aurora likes that—she wants that. So she closes her eyes and tilts her head to the side, giving him more access. Giving him more room, and more skin. More to kiss, and more to taste.

Harry curls his lips up as he takes them further up, spreading more distracting kisses all the way through her neck. Following a sweet, gentle path that he makes sure to equally enjoy in every step of the way, up until the corner of her jaw. 

“Is this ok?” he murmurs, low and husky, then takes her earlobe inside his mouth. 

Shit.

Aurora’s body tenses all at once, and then a shiver runs down her spine. 

He doesn’t wait for an answer before kissing her skin again, but it’s obvious that he doesn’t need one—there’s absolutely no reason for him to believe it isn’t okay to make her melt and sigh against him. Just like there’s absolutely no reason for her to do anything that would put a stop to what he’s doing right now.

And yet, it’s like her body reacts on its own, because next thing she knows she’s already turning her head to the side and searching for him.

Harry meets her with his chin at first, bumping it into her cheek before he tilts his head down and slides his nose all the way to her mouth. 

As soon as they’re within reach, their lips act like magnets, immediately curling and molding around each other.

Aurora breathes in, as if she’s been lacking all this time, and Harry breathes out, as if he’s been holding it in all along. 

Slow, but undoubted. 

Wholehearted. 

He lets go of her fingers and brings his hand to her jaw, holding her in place while his other arm remains around her waist. 

The way his forearm rests on her chest, almost sinking between her breasts, fires an alarm inside her brain, and Aurora shuts it down by bringing her own free hand to his wrist and keeping him there.

It’s uncomfortable to kiss him like this—with her head tilted back and to the side. It’s uncomfortable, but it’s also comforting. The best kind of comfort, actually. To have him so close, so awkward, so real. So willing to just be there with her. 

It makes her belly flutter, and her hands itch. 

It makes her crave for more. 

So when he pulls away, and when the sound of their lips parting echoes on the empty highest deck, Aurora drops her hands and shifts between his legs, turning and leaning sideways against him. 

That is all Harry needs to take the hint and move as well—to get rid of the blanket, then find her waist and pull her along as he shuffles to lay down. 

“Here,” he says, rolling on his side and holding the pillow for her to use. 

Smoothly and effortlessly. 

Aurora lifts her head and makes herself comfortable, watching his pretty features as he holds his weight on one elbow and brings his free hand to pull her hair out of her face.

His gaze follows his own movements, keeping track of his hand as he puts her untamed waves behind her ear, and also as he brushes the back of his fingers down her neck and through the curve of her shoulder and extension of her arm. 

He’s respectful, but also straightforward. Brushing her bicep while actually scanning her breasts, then settling his palm on a covered spot on her side while he keeps running his eyes past her tiny silky shorts and all the way through her exposed legs. 

Suddenly, Aurora is very conscious of the way heat spreads through her veins, the way her heartbeat speeds up, and the way her belly quivers. 

She’s nervous, she knows she is. She hasn’t thought about being with anyone other than her husband (well, ex-husband) for almost a decade now, so it’s only natural her instincts are shouting for her to squirm away or hide herself. Even though she more than definitely doesn’t want to squirm away or hide herself. Especially from him. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry murmurs, almost to himself, lost in sight around her ankles. 

Aurora swallows. 

Shadows of orange meet his silhouette, and the light blue behind him contrasts nicely with the green of his eyes. He looks kind of angelic, to be honest, praising her when there’s nothing but affection and admiration on his face. 

“You think so?” she asks, then brings both arms between their chests, her hands nestling around his sweatshirt. 

Harry brushes his thumb up and down her waist and nods. 

“Always thought so,” he says, as if it was the most natural thing to share. And then he wanders his gaze up through her body and settles his attention inside her eyes, and Aurora feels the intensity of his many emotions pouring into her. 

It’s hypnotizing, and it knocks the air out of her lungs. 

“Always the most beautiful girl in the room,” he adds. 

Aurora’s lips curl around a tiny and timid smile, and Harry’s gaze shifts to them. He leans in, then, closing his eyes and sealing his words by softly and simply pressing his mouth to hers. 

Her chest squeezes around her heart, so she closes her eyes and slides one arm up, pressing her palm to the back of his neck and encouraging him to stay there. 

Which he does, at least for another second or two. And even when he pulls away—even when he creates the tiniest distance between their mouths and squeezes her waist so he can shift closer and lay half on top of her—he still remains close enough to let her know it’s not over yet. And he’s not going anywhere.

Aurora keeps her eyes shut and sighs, instinctively puckering when his mouth fully touches hers again. Careful. Polite. As though he’s introducing himself and letting his presence be known before he curls around her bottom lip and sucks her flesh into his mouth. 

The quietest and softest whimper vibrates in Aurora’s throat, and Harry deepens his fingers around her waist. 

With a hum, he tastes her like he’s been craving for it his entire life. Like it’s the most delicious flavor he’s ever found. Or like he’s hoping to take a snippet of her forever with him. 

He takes his time. And enjoys himself. Only letting go of her lip to peck her mouth once and then going for it again. 

Except now he sucks her flesh in and secures it between his teeth, then holds it in as he pulls away. 

For a moment, it’s almost painful. But it also brings a fire to her chest, and then a new whine to the back of her throat. 

And then it’s almost embarrassing, how he leaves her hanging as he groans and suddenly lets her go. 

It takes Aurora a moment to realize nothing else is happening. That she’s just laying there with her eyes closed and mouth parted, and that he isn’t kissing her anymore. 

So she licks her lips and blinks, swallowing as she finds him already staring at her. 

Attentive.

Handsome. 

Preoccupied. 

Affectionate. 

With a racing heart, she spreads one hand open on his chest and takes the other up on the back of his head. Moving as much as she can whilst her arms remain tucked between them. 

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and although she doesn’t mean to whisper, apparently it’s all her voice can come up with right now. 

Harry smiles. 

“Nothing.” He shakes his head twice. “‘M just enjoying the view.” 

Aurora rolls her eyes, but she also mimics his smile and turns her head, avoiding to look at him in case heat spreads through her cheeks. 

“Hey,” he calls with another squeeze to her waist. “C’mere.”

He’s leaning in before she fully tilts her head back, meeting her mouth with a little more intent than he’s shown so far. 

Aurora closes her eyes and feels him smashing their lips together only for a second before he loudly breaks them apart, and then smashes them again, and again, and again. 

And again. 

The cute, little and repetitive mwah, mwah, mwah echo in her mind, causing her to smile and, very quickly, inevitably break into a giggle. 

Harry smiles at her reaction, then moves his playful tenderness to her chin — mwah — her cheek — mwah, mwah, mwah — her nose — mwah — and her other cheek. 

Mwah.

“Harry!” She laughs, bringing both hands back to her chest and squirming away. 

Mwah.

“Stop!”

Mwah, now closer to her beaming mouth, and then mwah, right on top of her parted lips and exposed teeth. Kissing not only her, but also her laughter and her happiness. Sharing it with her. 

The gesture makes her chest feel lighter, and when he pulls away again, it compels her to lift her head and follow him. Stealing a new kiss of her own—one that’s even longer and even louder than all others before. 

Mwahhhhh.

Harry smiles, and as Aurora drops her head back to the pillow and blinks to the bright and clean sky, he brings his hand up to the side of her neck and lowers his face to touch his forehead with hers. 

It’s kind of adorable, really, how cozy and laid-back he looks. His eyelids are shut and his mouth is slightly parted, as if he’s taking a moment to recollect himself, but the emotion behind his actions is still present. Deepening on a dimple and drawing the clearest upward curve on his lips, or even coming out of his chest and warming up her face with short heavy breaths. 

Then it is also kind of impressive, how he mixes all that with confidence and maturity. How manly he presents himself, even though he’s full of cheesy lines and teasing words. How strong and tough he proves to be, even though his behavior is mostly carried by vulnerability and tenderness. Or how deeply he makes her feel, even though he doesn’t seem to be trying so.

Kind of adorable, kind of impressive, but also kind of crazy, isn’t it? Almost kind of scary. How easy it is to be with him like this. How moments around him keep causing this friendly and familiar feeling inside her, and how much playfulness and fun he constantly brings to the table. And at the same time, how quickly he’s sparking so many emotions inside her body. How he’s reminding her about things she didn’t even notice she forgot about, and how he’s leading her to realize how neglected her own desires and needs have been all this time. 

The up and down brush of his thumb on her throat is nothing but soft and innocent, and yet it keeps bringing a new level of heat to the blood rushing through her veins. The way he looks (with his tempting lips and scruffy growing facial hair), the way his body feels (pressing on her side while one of his legs rests placidly on top of hers), and even the way he’s dressed (clothed from up to toe with the most simple and plain set of sweats). 

Everything about him is making her body itch. 

Everything. 

And, to be completely honest, Aurora doesn’t know what to do with that. Or how she’ll go the entire day without going insane because of that. How she’ll watch him laugh without being able to run her fingers through his hair, or how she’ll sit next to him without being able to nuzzle on his chest, or how she’ll talk to him without being able to kiss his mouth. 

She licks her lips, then, running her eyes over his too close and blurry face.

It doesn’t even make sense to feel like this for a person she’s just met again. 

She knows it’s probably because she hasn’t gotten any attention in a really long time and he’s suddenly there, willing to give it to her. Being nice to her. Making her laugh. 

She knows it’s temporary, that as soon as they leave the yacht their paths will part again and she’ll realize how overdramatic she’s being right now. 

Rationally, she knows. 

But still, what is she supposed to do? 

Is she supposed to ignore how she’s feeling? 

Is she supposed to ignore how he is making her feel?

Well… 

Maybe, yes. 

Maybe it’s for the best if she offers they go back inside and meet again when everyone’s around. 

Maybe that’s the smart, mature thing to do.

And yet… 

It is not what she wants. 

Is she supposed to do it anyway?

With a sigh, that’s mostly to shut the voices inside her head, she slides her hand back to his neck, then allows her fingers to get lost in between his curls.

Things are quiet around them — too quiet. Waves crash distantly downstairs, seabirds cry out hazily from time to time, and despite the fact that the sun is fully out and the sky has settled into the most gorgeous blue and the most vivid yellow, other voices apart from theirs have yet to be heard.

It’s encouraging, somehow. To be all alone and under such a paradisiac view. 

Maybe that’s what prompts Aurora to move next, when she tilts her chin up and down and brushes the tip of her nose with his own. Once and twice. 

It’s a silent call for attention, and also a call that he picks up immediately, blinking and holding her stare with a new set of emotions behind them.  

“Can I tell you something?” 

Aurora scratches the back of his head and nods. Their noses brush again. 

“Of course.”

“I can’t feel my arm anymore,” he whispers.

Aurora’s mouth curls up, then soft laughter breaks from her chest. 

Harry smiles as well, then they both shift and shuffle until he’s laying on her other side and holding his weight on his other elbow. 

“Fuuuck,” he breathes out with a chuckle, waving his hand up and down while finding a spot on top of her thighs for his other leg. “Ten minutes and we’ll switch again.”

“Okay.”

Still smiling, Aurora throws one arm around his shoulders and angles her body towards him, albeit a little bit more intentionally than before. Her other hand rests between them, her own elbow tucked between her breasts while her fingers hold onto the neckline of his sweatshirt. 

Nothing else is said between them, no plans or intentions are shared, and yet it’s like they’re perfectly in sync. 

Their eyes meet, then their smiles fade off. A moment goes by, and the ocean fills their silence as Harry shifts his sight to her mouth, then gets interrupted by his own heavy exhale when she drags her tongue to lick her lips. 

“I swear to God…” he murmurs, already lowering his face closer to hers. 

He places his arm across her belly and molds his palm around her side, then she reaches up and kisses him. Or maybe he leans in and kisses her—it’s hard to tell, with both of their mouths already open and their tongues instantly searching for each other.

Eyes closed, Aurora twists her hand around his sweatshirt and hums. And Harry sneaks the arm that’s holding his weight underneath her neck and hums. And just like that, it’s like an unspoken hesitation instantly dissolves, or like their brains finally get rid of the restraints that were pulling the strings up until then, because, very quickly, it becomes very desperate. Very messy. Very needy. And very intense. 

For both of them. 

Their kiss is now a kiss that can be heard, felt, and seen. A kiss that doesn’t stop there. A kiss that crushes her tightly onto the sunbed and pulls urgently down his chest. A kiss that tangles her fingers around his hair. A kiss that tilts their heads to one side, and then to the other one. A kiss that’s loud, and wet, and over the top. And yet never enough.

A kiss that feels right.

Damn it feels right. 

So, so right. 

Like putting together matching pieces of a rare puzzle. 

Maybe not the most gracious kiss she’s shared with someone, nor the most tactful to display in such a clear and open space, but certainly one that consumes her like no other. So much so that it echoes sweetly through a whine in the back of her throat, revealing how gone for it—for him—she already is.

Harry slows down, then. He sucks around her lip and brings his hand to her throat, barely holding there for a second before he slides his palm to her collarbone and then further down, covering where she’s beating fast and out of tempo for him. 

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long,” he says around her lips, digging his nails on her skin and the heel of his palm on the swell of her breast. Almost as if he’s trying to catch her heart inside his very own hand. “About you… About us…” 

He brushes the tip of his nose with hers and, just like that, kisses her once more. Not giving her one second to absorb or question his confession before he’s taking over her mouth all over again.

And Aurora has questions, lots of them, but she’s also distracted. So distracted. Because Harry isn’t holding anything back anymore. He’s hungry, vehement, and demanding. Ardent. He kisses her so loudly that it is all she can hear, and so deeply that it is all she can feel. And she likes it. All of it. 

So, so much.

She likes how he knots the hand that’s underneath her head around her hair and holds her tight, and then how he forcefully presses his other palm to her body when he strokes it down, feeling and squeezing all the curves of her chest, belly, and waist.

She likes how he isn’t embarrassed to use his tongue and teeth, or to show how much of her he seems to want to devour. How he sometimes moves his kisses to her jaw, and to her neck, but then quickly comes back to her mouth. As if he couldn’t stay away. 

She likes how he touches her leg. How he teases with the hem of her shorts. How he always, always goes back to her sides. As if digging his fingers into her flesh is his favorite thing to do. And then how he presses her down and yet pushes her up at the same time, as if he couldn’t decide who should be on top. 

She likes how fast, short-winded, and never-ending it goes. How it feels. How none of them can’t seem to bring themselves to wrap it up. 

It’s like the entire universe stops around her, but also like her very own personal world finally starts spinning again. Like his kiss is the single drop to cure a hundred years of thirst, but also like getting away from his lips would mean going through another hundred years of starvation. 

Everything he does fits perfectly with everything she does. And everything she needs. The way he holds her, the way he licks her, the way he breathes into her—the way he breathes from her. The pace in which he moves, the angle in which he tilts his head, the eagerness in which he pulls apart and moves in again.

Everything — everything — is good. 

And she really, really, really likes it. 

All of it.

So much.

Oh God. 

It’s just… 

It’s been so long since anyone has made her feel like this. 

So long since her body reacted on her own, since she didn’t feel the urge to reprehend her instincts or shut down her needs.

So, so long, that she isn’t even surprised when she snaps out of it. When she brings both arms around his neck and pulls him fully on top of her. Spreading her legs open so he lays in between them, then taking both hands to the back of his head and raking her fingers all over. Twisting them around his curls. Tugging him close. Trying to find a way to get more of it, to get more of him.

She whines, as if frustrated that she can’t merge their bodies together, and Harry hums. Low and husky. Deep in his throat. 

He kisses her fervently, like he means it, like he needs it, meanwhile settling his weight down and adjusting their heights so his hips are pressed against hers.

That’s when his bulge pokes between her legs, and the softest moan escapes from Aurora’s throat. 

The thin and tiny fabric of her shorts does close to nothing to cover her underwear, making it ridiculously easy for her to feel his shape through his sweatpants. 

Full, firm, and hard. 

Heavy between her legs.

It catches her by surprise, to be honest, and she’s got no idea how further she should go —or how further he is willing to go— but she doesn’t even try to fight the feeling that creeps in. Instead, she brings both legs to hook them around his waist and finds the strength to move up and down. Timidly, just barely. Feeling him stroke exactly where she’s also grown warm, wet and needy for him. 

This time, they both moan. 

Harry brings both hands to her waist and squeezes her, holding onto her as he bends his legs by the knees and spreads them open, placing them underneath her thighs. It gives him the freedom to own the task to himself. To kiss her while wandering his palms through her sides, and then through her arms, then finally to meet her hands and link their fingers together. 

It allows him, next, to drop their connected touch onto the pillow, then cage her head between his elbows and rest his forehead on hers. Leaving all kissing behind, because now all of his energy seems to be focused on rolling his hips collectedly. As though he’s desperately trying to keep it together. To slow himself down. To make the feeling last. 

“Damn,” he breathes around her mouth. “Auri…” 

Eyes still closed, she links her ankles even higher around his waist and squeezes her fingers around his knuckles. “Yeah?”

Another roll of his hips, and a deeper groan from his throat. 

“I just…” he tries, but it sounds like coming up with words it’s nothing but a struggle right now. Like he physically can’t. Like he needs a few moments to recollect himself. “‘M… Sorry.”

Aurora blinks. 

Harry is already staring at her. 

He lets go of one of her hands and brings his own to her face, cradling her cheek while catching his breath and trying to speak again. 

“I’m… I’m pretty sure this is about to be the best… And also the most embarrassing thing… That’s ever… Happened to me.”

Aurora breathes in and out. Heavily. 

The fact that he’s stopped moving doesn’t go unnoticed by her, but he’s still pressed between her legs. And she’s still feeling him. And she’s still craving him. 

“Why’s that?” she asks. 

“Because…” He closes his eyes for a moment and sighs, then meets her stare again. 

This time, Aurora finds a different mix of emotions hiding between the green of his irises. He looks softer now, maybe ashamed, and she can swear there’s even pain somewhere in there. 

It causes her to bring her hand to his wrist and brush her thumb up and down. Soothing him. 

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Jesus. Absolutely nothing’s wrong.” He chuckles, nervously. “It’s just… It’s you… And I’m really trying here but… But I think I’ll be done in less than a minute.”

Oh.

Aurora blinks.

And then… 

Oh…

The look on his face makes sense now. 

The furrowed brows. 

The frown around his mouth. 

The struggle. 

The sorrow. 

It’s cute—at least she thinks it is. And even though she doesn’t know what the best way to react is, she figures she probably shouldn’t be curling her mouth up (which she is), nor laughing (which she is about to). 

“Huh.” Harry raises his eyebrows and flinches his head back. “Really? You think that’s funny?”

“No! Of course not.”

“Then why are you laughing?”

“‘M not laughing!”

She totally is. 

Harry snorts. 

“You totally are!” 

Yup.

“I’m sorry!” She lifts her head to kiss him, but Harry dodges her. “C’mon!”  

She tries again, and Harry slides his touch from her cheek to her neck, then pushes her back down onto the pillow.

All at once, Aurora swallows her laughter and gets rid of her smile, feeling his big and strong hand holding around her throat as she gulps down. 

Shit.

At first, her brain recreates the scenario she’s become familiar with, and Aurora freezes. Waiting for the anger to come out. Waiting for the yelling to come out. Waiting for the voice telling her she’s ruined everything —again— and that she’s always finding a way to embarrass him.

But then Harry brushes his thumb up and down and rolls his hips once, and Aurora exhales through her nose. Shoulders dropping while her brain catches new details and reads the new context she’s in—noticing the patience on the slight tilt of his lips, the tenderness in which he holds her stare, and the carefulness in which he lets go of her throat and meets her hand. Then how he intertwines their fingers and drops them back to the pillow, above her head and next to his other hand.

His other hand, that’s still linked to hers. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his head hovering over hers. “Won’t do that again.”

Aurora shakes her head. 

He does that a lot, doesn’t he? Reading her mind and knowing exactly what she wants. What she needs. Constantly embracing her, and constantly encouraging her. And never making her feel bad or guilty for the things she does. Or for the way she is. 

“You didn’t scare me. It’s just… I just…”

He nods. “I know.”

Of course he does. 

In years of knowing him, Harry’s been nothing but sweet, thoughtful, and gentle to her. A great friend, really. There’s just too much kindness inside his soul, and absolutely no reason for her to believe this scenario could ever be remotely similar to the one she’s been trapped in for so long. 

On top of that, there’s also the fact that for the last twenty-four hours or so, Harry’s been also sharing with her a side of him she’d never seen before. Flirting with her. Kissing her. Touching her. Growing bolder and bolder. Making her feel things he hadn’t made her feel before. 

Overwhelming her in a way she’s never experienced before.

Which is why she launches herself forward and kisses him, refusing to let the ghost of her ex-husband’s actions get in their way. 

“I don’t mind if you last less than a minute,” she murmurs, then unhooks and hooks her ankles around him, tightening her legs a little bit more and pressing her heels on his lower back. “Just keep going.”

Harry stares at her for a second or two, then leans in and kisses her. 

“Ok,” he murmurs, too, then squeezes her hands and resumes the rolling of his hips. “But just so y’know, I love when you smile. And when you laugh. And I’m glad my lack of strength to hold myself around you amuses you.”

He kisses her, again, and Aurora’s smile is lost against his mouth. All and any previous thoughts swiped away by his tongue. Or nibbled by his teeth. Or sucked by his lips. 

The way he moves is too intentional now, sinking and rubbing across her center in a very steady and very meaningful way. Back and forth. Back and forth. 

Her entire body grows hot, and the very air around them seems electrified. She can feel how filthier and filthier the situation gets—how the desire pools between her legs, and how easier he slides with each stroke he takes. 

And she’s sure that if she can feel it as he grinds on her, he can feel it, too.

So she removes her hands from his and brings them to the back of his head, tugging his hair to force him to look at her. Hoping to let him know she’s all in right now. That he can do whatever he wants, at any speed he wants. 

Harry holds her gaze, then brings one hand to her face and moves a little bit harsher. A little bit faster. Creating a new pace while they shelter into each other’s eyes and their breathings speed up. 

“Shit,” Harry curses. And then he groans—a sound that is very similar to a moan, and that gets muffled by her own mouth as he kisses her. 

She pushes him closer and kisses him, too. Searches for his tongue and nibbles his lips. Hums inside his mouth. Matches his urgency and encourages his recklessness. 

And then she brings one hand to his shoulder, and sneaks it underneath his armpit, and follows an invisible path from the side of his chest, to his waist, to the waistline of his sweatpants. 

Harry breaks the kiss apart and looks at her with what can only be described as shock in his eyes. 

He says nothing, though, so Aurora shuffles her hips and places her hand between them. Covering him while he gives her room and also rolls his hips again.

Long, full, and thick. 

Against her fingers and palm. 

Harry falters and moans, instantly closing his eyes and thrusting his hips forward.

Aurora wraps her touch around him as best as she can, filling her hand and feeling him up. Wishing she could do way more than that.

Harry moans again, and again. Shortly and breathlessly. He furrows his brows and stops moving, then takes his own hand to cover hers and guide her. 

“I— Shit—I’m gonna cum.”

Aurora nods and kisses him. And touches him. And feels him. And hears him. And absorbs him. 

“Auri,” he suddenly calls, and it’s a little bit heavy, a little bit tense. Different than any other time she’s ever heard him call her name before.  Sounds like a plea, sounds like a warning, sounds like affection and admiration. Sounds like he’s fighting his own release whilst climbing toward a desperate climax at the same time. Like he’s struggling to let go. 

“That’s me,” she whispers, and a low rumble of pleasure bursts from his chest. 

It makes her sweat on the back of her neck and adds a new tingling sensation deep in her belly, one she can only handle by squeezing him tighter and moving even faster. Harsher. 

“C’mon,” she adds. “Do it.” 

Harry closes his eyes and furrows his brows, then parts his lips and crashes onto her chest. Vulnerable and real, moved by involuntary and helpless spasms that have him moaning and making a mess out of his own clothes. 

She feels it through the fabric. The relief. The release. The moment he shatters and shudders. And Aurora stays with him through it, in awe of how beautiful he is. And sounds. And feels. She hugs him with her free arm and kisses his temple, and his forehead. And when Harry tugs her hand and brings it up to his mouth, offering little kisses to her knuckles, she nuzzles her cheek into his curls and allows herself to smile. 

Allows Harry to stay hidden on her neck and catch his breath, whilst holding onto her fingers and crushing her body. 

Allows time to go by. 

And allows her heart to settle into a new beat. 

Blissful. 

Pleased.

Even though she didn’t finish herself.

And it’s just… 

Everything. 

She truly forgot being with someone could feel like this. That it could be more than the absent thrusting from behind, staring at the wall, and waiting for it to be over. That it could have other endings, apart from hiding tears away so she wouldn’t get a roll of eyes or have to hear “here we go again”. 

That it didn’t have to involve emptiness, coldness, or loneliness. 

That it could happen with someone who actually wanted to be with her. 

She forgot, because she had to forget. Because she was forced to. Because she had to let go of the version she was holding onto and move on. Stop hoping things would go back to what they were, accept the reality she was in, and get away from it. 

Which was really hard at first, because their relationship didn’t used to be like that. Of course it didn’t—Aurora used to love Zack. She used to be in love with him. She used to think he was the one. 

If she digs enough, she could probably still find a memory of him dropping his head back while finishing on her mouth, or him kissing her to muffle his crying moan with the last few thrusts. She could, if she tried, remember the way he made her sigh, curl her toes and breathe out his name in the dark. She could also recall moments of them falling asleep wrapped around each other, then waking up and repeating all over again. 

She could. 

But she can’t.

And she shouldn’t. 

So she doesn’t. 

Because those memories aren’t real anymore. None of them bring her happiness anymore, so she doesn’t dwell on them too much. Or at all. They don’t represent the man Zack turned out to be. Neither the kind of love she wished she could have received—or she thought she would receive. 

“You smell so, so nice,” Harry murmurs, brushing his nose up and down her throat. “Like peaches.” 

Aurora smiles and closes her eyes for a moment—a way to focus in the present and once again get rid of her line of thinking. 

“Thanks,” she says. “It’s my body wash.” 

Harry hums, then presses his lips where he’s been breathing from. A long, sweet, innocent kiss. One that lingers on her skin as he shuffles down and rearranges himself to lay his face on her chest, his temple right where her sternum begins, and his chin right where the swell of her breasts meet. 

“I think the crew is up,” he murmurs, and spreads his arms open, resting one hand near her shoulder and bringing the other to fidget with the strap of her top. Right in front of him. “Pretty sure I just heard people talking.”

“Oh…” 

Her chest tightens around her heart, and it’s hard not to pout at the idea of having to let go of him. 

“Yeah…” 

He wanders his hand on her side, down to her hips, then back up to her armpit. Without a word, he runs his fingertip across the hem of her top, scratching his nail on the surface of her breast. 

Aurora breathes in and out, then slides her hands on his head, threading her fingers through his curls and scratching his scalp—if only to enjoy the little time that’s left. 

“Do you wanna go downstairs?” she asks.

Harry shakes his head. 

“We’re not done here yet.” 

“We’re not?”

He shakes his head again, then slides his finger through the silky fabric, moving until he bumps on her nipple. 

“It’s your turn now,” he says, drawing circles and watching the tip grow perky and rigid. 

Aurora’s mouth twitches. 

“That’s a nice offer, but… Would it be weird if I said no?”

Harry tenses—she feels it on top of her—and then he withdraws his hand from her chest. Like her skin is on fire and he just burnt himself. 

“No, of course not. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Oh my God,” Aurora snorts, then finds his hand and places it back on her breast. “Relax. I’m just really happy right now. And I feel good. So I just… I don’t know. I want to enjoy this a little bit longer, like this. With you. That’s all.” 

She spreads his fingers open, encouraging him to fully touch her, then moves her hand back to the back of his hair—where she decided they belong now.  

“Don’t stop touching me, tho. Feels good when you touch me.”

He brushes his thumb up and down, caressing the side of her boob. 

And Aurora feels the way he smiles, the way his cheeks move and the way his body relaxes. The way he feels heavier. The way he melts on top of her.

But then, he says nothing.

And as time goes by, only the birds and the ocean create a soundtrack to cover their silence. Plates click somewhere, and at some point a couple of voices finally make it to her ears. 

Still, none of them move. 

And none of them say a word.

“Are you awake?” Aurora whispers.

Harry nods. Once. 

“Mhm.”

She closes her eyes, and brushes the back of his head. 

Feels his hair between her fingers. 

Feels his breathing on her chest.

Feels the up and down of his stomach matching her own.

“You got so quiet…”

Harry hums.  

“I know.” 

“Why? What’s on your mind?”

“What you said… Felt good to hear. So I’m replaying it over and over again.”

Aurora smiles.

“What, exactly, are you replaying over and over?”

“I’m just really happy right now,” he says. “And, I want to enjoy this a little bit longer with you. Also, feels good when you touch me.”

Heat spreads through her cheeks, and she squeezes her eyes shut even tighter. 

“God… So apparently your cheesiness is contagious, after all.”

Harry chuckles, his body shaking on top of hers.  

“For what it’s worth, I’m really happy, too. Gross. But happy.”

Aurora snorts.

“Seriously, I need a shower.”

“I mean, you just came in your pants so… Yeah. I figure you do.”

He lifts his head, and Aurora tilts her chin down. 

Their eyes meet. 

“I did, huh? Because of you.”

She rolls her eyes.

Harry keeps going. 

“You made me cum in my pants. In thirty seconds. Like a horny teenager.”

At that, she laughs. 

Probably louder than she should, though, so she widens her eyes and brings her hand to cover her mouth.

Harry smirks.

“You made me cum, with that hand.”

“Oh my God,” she breathes out, laughing even more. “Really? This one?”

She takes her hand to his face and slides it from his forehead to his chin. 

Harry holds her wrist, keeping her palm in front of his mouth. 

“Mhm.” He kisses her, then speaks against her skin. “This beautiful, wonderful, ethereal hand.”

Aurora shakes her head, but she also brushes her thumb, caressing the top of his lips.

After a moment, she sighs and says, “I should get dressed. Don’t want people to see me like this.”

Harry furrows his brows. “What’s wrong with this?”

She shrugs, dropping her hand to her chest. 

“Just… Kinda shows off a lot, doesn’t it?” 

He looks down, scanning as much as he can without moving. 

And then he looks up. 

“Not enough, to be honest.” 

She smiles, and rolls her eyes. 

“Well, I won’t feel comfortable if any of the boys see me wearing this, so…”

Harry nods.

“So…” he repeats. 

“We should probably go downstairs.”

“We should, yes.”

“You should take a shower.”

“And you should change your clothes.”

“Exactly.”

“Yep…” 

They hold each other’s stares. 

Firmly. Deeply. 

Unabatingly. 

Wholeheartedly. 

“Just so you know,” he finally says, “this isn’t how I planned things to go between us.”

Aurora raises her brows. 

“Really? You mean you didn’t plan on coming to Italy and convincing me to watch the sunrise, then getting a hand job from me, on a yacht, at six am?” 

Harry’s mouth curls up. “Jesus. Not even in my wildest dreams I thought I would ever be this lucky.”

Aurora snorts, then playfully smacks her hand on his shoulder. 

“Shut up.” 

“No, I mean it, tho. I’m happy, but if we go back downstairs and for any reason this ends up being the last chance I get to be with you, I’ll never forgive myself.” 

She flinches her chin back, eyebrows furrowing. “Why?” 

“You didn’t finish.”

“Oh…” She nods. And then shrugs. “Well, it was my choice, tho. You offered.”

“No, I know, still… Kinda feel like an asshole.”

“Don’t. I really enjoyed it. Everything. I swear.” 

Harry sighs, and a crease appears in the middle of his forehead. Without a word, he wanders his eyes around her face, as if checking for any indication of a different answer—which she knows he won’t find, because she means what she’s saying. 

“Hey,” she says, taking both hands to the back of his neck. “I mean it, okay? Don’t worry about that. Besides, isn’t it more exciting like this? Knowing that you kind of owe me?”

He raises his eyebrows and moves back up, hovering her face with his. 

“I kind of owe you, huh?”

Aurora nods. 

“You do. So, y’know, we kind of have something to look forward to…”

“Right. That being, an orgasm.”

“Exactly.”

Harry smirks, then smiles, then chuckles. 

He leans down and kisses her—one, two, three, four, five times. The same cute, little mwah, mwah, mwah from before echoing loudly inside her. 

“God you’re amazing.” 

Mwah. 

“Can’t wait,” 

—mwah— 

“for the next” 

—mwah— 

“time.” 

Mwah. 

Mwah. 

Mwah.