#however very funny thing to happen on a day where i thought my curse was ending. no! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bbangtans · 9 months ago

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daybreak | jjk | oneshot

Summary: One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

pairing: rockstar!ex!jk x f!reader genre/tropes: angst, fluff, exes to ???, right person wrong time/second chances, jungkook is so romance film lead coded – charismatic and well-spoken and genuine and ughhhhh i be fawning frrrr, this takes place where both jk and reader are 28ish, jk is a lead singer in a band with tae-jimin-yoongi, and y/n is a working professional rating/warnings: M | alcohol consumption, lots of swearing, semi-public sex, unprotected sex (don’t be all willy nilly with this tho!!!), dig bick jk lmfao, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, multiple orgasms. a/n: inspired by my faaaaaave movie before sunrise bc if there’s anything namjoon and i have in common, it’s that we are yearners 🤝 and SURPRISE! she's here a lil earlier than promised <3 word count: ~10.1k

The longest string of curses you ever muttered in your life escaped your lips as your tense eyes focused on the words CANCELED obnoxiously displayed on the monitor indicating the status of your flight, which was supposed to take you back to the comfort of your home in Seoul. This is ignoring the fact that you also had a big presentation to prepare for a client but you got pulled into this conference last minute by your boss – lucky you.

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry. Unfortunately, all flights have been temporarily suspended due to emergency maintenance as a result of the aircraft recall. The most I can offer is to book you on the next available flight scheduled…” The poor airline employee offered with an apologetic smile. You stepped back as you realized this very employee had to face the brunt of the crowd who also suffered the same fate as you.

You swallowed your anger, empathetic to this person who was merely a messenger. “Okay, when is the next flight?”

“It will be tomorrow at 10:15AM. That’s the earliest we can do, unfortunately. I can have you booked on that flight and you’ll have the details emailed to you shortly.”

Sighing, you nodded your head. “Cool, thank you… but will the airline be able to provide a place to stay since –”

You were cut off by an angry – and entitled – middle-aged woman. “Excuse me but what is the airline going to do about this? I’m supposed to be in Seoul by 10PM on the 24th. How is this airline going to ensure that? Do you know how much I paid for this?”

You were at your wits end as you watched other passengers try to come down on the woman as you walked away. At least you were in “The City that Never Sleeps” so finding something to do won’t be that difficult. You jerked your carry-on bag along as you tried to exit from the commotion of your gate however you did not get far as you were stopped by someone who stood before you amongst another fleet of passengers dealing with the same issue as your flight. You recognized that signature, worn leather jacket and stickered guitar case from miles away.

“Jungkook?”

The call of his name pulled him back into reality as it appeared as though he himself was checking if this was actually happening. Your mind started racing as you couldn’t help the shock that washed over you. So many questions flashed by as his surprised gaze met yours.

“Hey…” He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “...Having flight issues too?”

Sitting at a coffee shop in the terminal across from each other, it was… awkward, you both could not deny.

Jungkook cradled his iced americano while your now empty vanilla latte cup rested there. A funny representation of both of your approaches to life. It was also a point of teasing that Jungkook previously used to his advantage during the days of shared kisses and intimate dates. Times when you and Jungkook would lie shoulder to shoulder on a bed of grass in open fields and wish upon shooting stars.

“This sucks, doesn’t it?” You tried to break the ice, seeing Jungkook’s uncharacteristic silence. Perhaps these years have changed you both.

“The flight thing or us sitting across from each other like this?” Jungkook cracked and you let out a breath of laugh.

Toying with your empty cup, you nodded at nothing in particular. “Definitely the flight thing, and regarding right now… not sure. But I can’t lie that it’s nice to see a familiar face amid this chaos.”

His shoulders slacked as if tension melted away and Jungkook sat up more confidently in his seat. “Yeah, I bet. And wait…” He paused before leaning towards you in surprise. “Are you here in NYC alone? What brings you here?”

You waved off his worry, knowing exactly what he was referring to. “I came here for a 2-day work conference so I was strictly here on business.” Funny to think that reaction was almost impulse despite the passage of time between you both.

“Have you been to New York before? Did you at least get a chance to explore the city after your conference?”

“No, and no, honestly. It took a lot out of me and the company is pinching pennies by only giving me a short window here outside of the conference. What about you, what brings you here? Is this your first time stuck here?” You rested your head on your hand that was propped up on the table.

Jungkook’s unforgettable grin made its appearance as he noticed your growing ease at the situation. “The band’s here on tour. We’re about to start our Europe leg but of course… shit had to hit the fan with the airplane scandals. And nope, this is our third time in New York. We were first here on tour a couple of years ago.”

You smiled at this. “That’s right. I’m sure you’re a seasoned professional being on the road and all with the SNAFUs that come up… Congrats though, I hear the band has really taken off. You guys deserve all the success.”

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” Jungkook started, grinning wide as ever. “No seriously, it means a lot coming from you.”

“You’re messing with me.” You frowned in jest.

“No, not at all. You were that push to get my head on straight, y’know? Even before we … ended things… you were one of the few people who genuinely believed in us. And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

Feeling your face get warm, you shook your head in a humble gesture. “I only saw and believed in the obvious. I mean look at you guys now, touring the US and now even Europe? This success was all in the making.”

“But enough about the band! How’re you? Being all professional going abroad on conferences and stuff. What are you up to?” Jungkook took a sip from his Americano where the ice had become significantly smaller.

“I’m a product manager, and so that keeps me busy 9-5 on the weekdays.” You joked. “But other than that, just floating along. Hanging out with friends, taking life a day at a time, y’know? I’m nowhere as interesting as you, Mr. Rock Star… Living in LA and all.”

Jungkook laughed as he slipped off his leather jacket and revealed an entire sleeve of tattoos on his right arm. You eyed them curiously as he had always talked about wanting tattoos in your younger days. It was good to see that he was able to have that aspiration come to fruition. Another reminder of the passage of time between you both.

“Don’t say that, I think you’re one of the coolest people ever. No one approaches life the way you do, Taehyung-hyung might be a close second… but he doesn’t have the flare that you do.” He started then his smile turned slightly void as he followed up. “Would it be awkward to ask how things are with…”

“...Who? Oh, Seokjin?” You casually asked, truthfully you had not said that name since your eventual breakup almost a year ago. TL;DR you both weren’t compatible because you weren’t ready to settle down for whatever reason despite him being ready to take you both to city hall at the drop of a hat. “Uh… we ended things a while ago actually.”

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook responded vaguely. “Sorry if that was weird, it’s just that he and Yoongi-hyung are friends and you haven’t come up in a while whenever Hyung mentions him but sorry if I’m prying and sorry if I am especially making this awkward but –” He was rambling. Cute.

“Jungkook,” You rested a hand on his forearm, ignoring the surge of electricity that unknowingly jolted you both. “I get it, no worries.”

You both couldn’t help the smile that broke out on your faces.

“So what about you? Seeing anyone?”

He looked almost offended by the question but brushed it off. “Me? Nope, life’s been too hectic with the band these past two years to be seriously involved with someone.”

“Uh huh,” you mused before Jungkook cocked his brow in confusion at your response.

“What?”

“‘Seriously involved’? So you have been dabbling in some rockstar tendencies.” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly. The 21-year-old in you aches, but today you are 28 and not exactly that same old person as before.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “Shut up. I don’t want to discuss that with you of all people. And besides, we haven’t made it to the big leagues yet. We’re just tadpoles in a lake, we still gotta work our way to bigger waters.”

You only laughed, and Jungkook let you with his arms folded over his chest – basking in this moment he never thought would happen.

However, it was interrupted as an aproned barista approached you both, being the only patrons left as the coffee shop was getting ready to close for the day. The freckled teen awkwardly cleared his throat with a broom in hand. You then observed the fact that the chairs were already perched upon tables – a clear sign that the establishment was closed for business. You both hadn’t realized how much time had passed in chatting. “Hello, I’m sorry but we’re closing for the day. You are welcome to take your drinks with you to the gates though.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No worries, my bad.”

You and Jungkook apologized at the same time while hurriedly gathering your belongings.

Walking out, Jungkook sighed as he held the handle of his guitar case in his tattooed hand. “I can’t believe a place in the airport closes at fucking 5PM.”

“Jungkook, it’s a coffee shop. Closing at 5PM is considered late for that industry already and besides, this isn’t Seoul.” You laughed.

“True… but…” Jungkook cast you a sideways glance. “What are you going to do until your flight tomorrow morning?”

You could only shrug. “Not sure, I was just going to camp out here at JFK.”

A moment of silence passed as you both walked on in no particular direction, only the sound of the wheels of your carry-on suitcase and the heavy footsteps from Jungkook’s combat boots. Despite the 7 years that passed, you could still tell Jungkook was mulling over something. This fact honestly surprised you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You offered gingerly.

“Now, this is going to sound crazy,” he spoke, his mind clearly running miles a minute and barely able to keep his once stable walking pace. “Hear me out all the way through, okay?”

“Sure.” You shrugged.

“So, my manager got each of us a hotel room not too far from the airport –”

“Jungkook.” You interrupted him incredulously, on the verge of seeing red. Offense, disrespect, anger… it all pulsed through you at once. By this point, you both had stopped in the middle of the wide airport corridor between gates. “Are you fucking serious –”

He held his hands up in defense. “You said you would hear me out!”

“...fine.” Arms crossed over your chest defensively, and you took a step back.

“Like I said, I have this hotel room so what if we kept our stuff there and we explore NYC tonight? Then when morning comes, you could grab your things and head back to Seoul and get back to your routine.” Jungkook now positioned himself where he stood directly before you, eyes connected to yours. “You said it yourself you didn’t get to see NYC. And I’ve been here before, so it all works out.”

You obviously still looked unconvinced with arms crossed over your chest defensively.

“Okay, how about this: there’s a Smart Carte baggage drop-off in Terminal 4 of JFK. Forget stopping by my hotel room, you can drop off your things here so by morning we can both be here for our flights. I’ll be on my way to Vienna and you’ll be headed back to Seoul. How does that sound?” Jungkook negotiated. “Listen, Y/N. It’s just been so nice to hang out with you and I don’t know but there’s something in me that can’t pass up this opportunity to at least help you see the magic of NYC… and to spend a few more hours with you.”

“I…”

Jungkook stepped forward with a pleading stare. “Please, I promise it’ll be worth your while. I feel like you would regret this not happening as much as I would. And if it convinces you, I promise that we can forget that this night ever happened after the fact. I swear…”

A smirk broke out on your face after a tense beat of silence and mulling over his words. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jungkook could not fight the smile that reached his eyes as he breathed a sigh of relief and then turned, gesturing for you to start off what would be your journey of the evening together.

By the time you both made it into Manhattan proper, it was prime dinner time. You felt the grumble of your stomach as you and Jungkook sat in the back seat of an iconic yellow taxi. Embarrassedly, you put your hand over your stomach in a feeble attempt to keep it quiet.

“So, y’all are headed to Katz’s?” The taxi driver asked as he glanced at the two of you through the rearview mirror. He was an elderly man wearing a newsboy cap and the taxi itself smelled of the endless cups of coffee he consumed during his day on the clock.

“Yup, we’re hoping the dinner rush isn’t as bad,” Jungkook responded in a friendly manner. “It may be a Tuesday but it’s Katz’s after all.”

The driver chuckled as the traffic was beginning to chip away and the taxi started to speed up on the Robert F. Kennedy Bridge. You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped you as you watched the city sky begin its transition into an orangey-pink sunset. “I’m assuming this fella over here has been to the City before, but is this your first time, Miss?”

You nodded your head. “Yes, actually I came for a conference but have limited time here.”

“Oh? When do you head back to…” he trailed off, not sure how to continue the sentence.

Jungkook took the chance to chime in. “Seoul… in Korea. She heads back tomorrow actually.”

The driver let out a low whistle. “That’s a crazy turnaround time. But listen, New York is a magical place – despite whatever those bozos not even from the city have to say. It has character, and so much can happen in the City that Never Sleeps. It is a land of possibility. And here, thirty years ago, is actually where I met the woman who became my wife. It’s a special place, for sure.”

“I bet.” Jungkook grinned as he looked out the drawn window, taking in the newly warm springtime breeze.

Jungkook let you take the ride in silence, unsure of what was going through your head about this whole situation and in all honestly cursing himself for possibly pressuring you into doing something you weren't comfortable with in the first place. He kept casting cautious glances your way when you weren’t looking.

Eventually, the taxi came to a halt.

“Alrighty, here we are!” The driver pulled up on the busy intersection and you were in awe by the throngs of people despite it being one of the earlier weekdays and the very end of rush hour. Jungkook paid for the ride and ushered you both out of the taxi respectfully.

“Thank you for the ride!” You called out as you exited the vehicle.

“Enjoy New York and all she has to offer!” the driver bid you two before driving off to find his next patron of the evening.

Jungkook almost choked mid-bite of the huge signature pastrami sandwich you both decided to split as you continued to share about that one time your mutual friend back in Seoul, Hoseok, had accidentally cussed out an innocent employee at a haunted house.

“No way.” He barely managed to get out between his mix of coughs and laughs, grabbing the attention of worried customers inside the establishment. He grabbed his cup of water to ease his throat.

“Yes, way! Afterward, he kept bowing in apology. I felt so bad but Namjoon and I were too busy laughing to step in to help.” You put your spoon down, making a good decision to not have a bite of the shared chicken noodle soup as you giggled at the memory.

Once Jungkook calmed down and took a sip of his water, he looked at you in amusement. “Classic Hobi.”

“I know right? But regardless, he’ll always be an angel. Despite that, he doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body.”

Jungkook nodded in agreement. “I miss that guy a lot, man.”

You smiled up at him. “He misses you, too – I’m sure.”

He rested his sandwich on the plate. “Let me know if I’m being weird… but I missed this.”

Your smile faltered as it grew slightly wary. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, genuine. “I just feel like you’ve always been someone I easily get along with and y’know… considering our past and how things aren’t super awkward now. In all honestly, I thought you were just going to ignore me and keep walking away at the airport due to the possibility that you might’ve hated me… I wouldn’t have blamed you, though. I was a bit of an asshole when we ended things. And I am sorry about that. Genuinely.”

You could easily recall that night.

You looked at him, confused. “What?”

“I said I don’t think we should continue seeing each other.” Jungkook stood his ground despite the internal turmoil. “I… just feel like I’m holding you back.”

“You can’t be the only one to decide that, Jungkook.” His words finally started to settle in your bones and it felt like a thousand cuts.

“Listen, you deserve a lot more… and we both know that.”

“Jungkook, you aren’t listening. You can’t just pre-emptively end things like this over something like that – not without discussing it with me too.”

You tried to reason with him by resting a hand on his arm. He finally looked at you with tears in his eyes. You knew at that point, there was no talking him out of it. He firmly believed this was the right choice for you, no matter how inherently selfish he didn’t realize he was being. Being kind to a fault in true Jeon Jungkook fashion.

He was breaking up with you.

You smiled bittersweetly at the memory. “Yeah… that is a fair thought. But you know, we were young. Barely 21 years old. And while that was only 7 years ago, we were different people. I can’t imagine making the same decisions we did back then now.”

“I guess we were.” Jungkook offered, understanding that this was your way of accepting his apology.

“And!” You picked up your spoon again to scoop yourself a spoonful of some chicken noodle soup. “That was before we had developed prefrontal cortexes. And besides, I could never hate you now… I finished with that when I turned 23.” You joked but he froze slightly at your words.

Jungkook made sure to make direct eye contact with you filled with something that could move mountains. “I never intended to hurt you, I really didn’t.”

Your tone also went serious yet understanding. “I know, I know now. And I appreciate you for telling me.”

Despite the bustle of that tiny deli in the middle of the dinner rush, all you could see was Jungkook and all he could see was you. The understanding weighing upon you both now.

“Thank you for also trusting me with taking you out tonight, that means a lot to me.”

“Me too.” You nodded up at him. “I doubt there’s anyone else who would be able to get me out here like this either. I can’t even remember the last time I pulled an all-nighter… it was probably when we were still in undergrad.” The two of you shared a laugh that was abruptly interrupted.

“FINAL CALL! Final call for order number 72!” The person working the counter exclaimed with the order bill in his hands. No one went up to the counter so the employee shook his head to himself in disapproval before proceeding to keep it pushing.

The scene had finally calmed so you turned to Jungkook expectantly. “Alright, we had dinner. So where are we headed now?”

Jungkook wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin as he said, “One of my favorite bars in the city! The vibes are so nice and they often have open mic nights so you get to see some local talent”

“Sounds amazing.”

“Oh, it will be,” Jungkook promised.

“I have to go to the bathroom real quick before we head out, though.” You said as you got up.

He nodded his head as he motioned for you to go. “Do what you gotta do.”

Inside, you looked at yourself in the mirror in the bathroom, unable to grasp how this whole thing could have happened. One second you are about to cry from how cruel the universe was to sitting at a historic deli with Jeon-freaking-Jungkook.

Once you returned, you saw him writing on a napkin which he then folded up and placed in the pocket of his jeans at the sight of you approaching.

“What’s that?”

“Just some thoughts for a possible song that came to me.” Jungkook got up and left some cash for the tip on the table. “C’mon. Let’s head to our next destination!”

Sitting on the subway, thigh to thigh with Jungkook taking the aisle seat and you on the window seat, he told you that he doesn’t remember the name of this favorite bar but just how to get there. He said that, apparently, was all that mattered as you sat on the A Line train. Trying your best to ignore the close proximity due to the seat and Jungkook’s broad frame, you both took turns taking shy stolen glances at each other – hoping each other would notice just as much as you both wish you wouldn’t. The warm and slightly stagnant air made you both run a little hot, your cardigan resting in your lap and Jungkook’s leather jacket in his.

However, the car of the train started to get packed to the point where people had to step into the aisle right next to Jungkook. The sudden stops causing people to bump into the shaggy-haired singer. You scooted to be more flush against the wall of the car, motioning for Jungkook to get closer to avoid more hits from the rough ride and sudden backpack attack. He looked at you sheepishly as he accepted the invitation, where his arm went around the top of your seat and shoulders to make room for his wide build.

“I hope this is okay.” He gave as he rested against you.

“Yeah, no worries.” You had a smile of reassurance that he mirrored.

It was hard to avoid each other eyes at this point.

You wondered how long it had been since you were last nested against him and why you didn’t feel as uncomfortable as you thought you’d be despite all those years. However, this was no surprise as Jungkook always had that weird effect on you.

“Pardon me, is it cool if I stand here next to you?” A tall, handsome figure appeared from your left side. You peered over your shoulder at the sudden question. It was about an hour before Epik High was supposed to be on stage but you entered the venue early since you wanted a good place to stand on the floor. There were pockets of people but surely not enough where someone had to approach you and ask like that.

Promptly, you had to bring yourself back to reality as you cleared your throat. “Yeah, sure… no worries.”

A bunny-toothed dazzling smile appeared and you watched as his eyes curiously traveled down to the long-sleeved tour shirt you held. A purchase to remember this concert. “Thanks. And oh! I was tempted to get that shirt too. It’s pretty sick.”

Feeling a little self-conscious you avoided his fixed gaze, “Yeah. Their designer for this tour’s merch did an awesome job…”

Jungkook nodded mostly to himself, believing that he was making you uncomfortable. “Listen, sorry if I’m making this awkward but my name’s Jungkook, and I think you seem really cool. But if I’m bothering you, totally let me know and I can give you your space! No hard feelings or anything.”

You smiled at his frankness and shook your head at this. “No, no. Sorry, I think you seem cool too, and I don’t mind at all.” You said before giving your name as well.

“That’s a pretty name,” he responded. “It suits you.”

You politely laughed off the subtle compliment. “Thank you, and I hope so.”

Steadily, you and Jungkook became deeply immersed in conversation – talking about how long you both had been fans of the artist, why you both ended up attending this concert alone, and getting to know each other generally. Most significantly, you found out that you both attended the same university and were the same age among the many things discussed. The conversation flowed comfortably after that initial interaction. That hour before showtime had passed so quickly that you hadn’t noticed how much the venue had filled up and gradually forced you and Jungkook to be shoulder to shoulder from how packed it had become. By the time the venue fell dark and signaling that Epik High was about to set foot on stage, the crowd had slightly pushed forward, forcing you to be closer than ever to Jungkook.

“Sorry, I hope this is okay.” He spoke sheepishly at the proximity.

“No worries.” You smiled at him and at that moment the pyrotechnics of the stage went off, as the concert began – strangely calm despite having only met the man not too long before and cheers erupting from the crowd that surrounded you. There was just something about him.

There was always something so human (as cliche as it was) about open mic nights. People stand on stage and recite poems where they bare their souls or sing original songs written about the throes of life. A little appreciation for the small things that you and Jungkook shared. You both enjoyed the local buskers back in Seoul during undergrad, especially around springtime when things overall seemed brighter and full of life.

You sat with your pineapple tequila as Jungkook went for his whiskey on the rocks, occasionally shaking the ice cubes around in the glass between sips. You both sat at a booth off to the side of the stage where you could get a decent view of the performers.

“So…” Jungkook started.

You tore your gaze away from the current performer, a girl singing a cover of a Laufey song, to find Jungkook staring at you with a glint in his eye. “...So?”

“I’m honestly surprised you took my offer to spend time with me tonight – with some negotiating, of course but surprised nevertheless.” Jungkook chuckled as he took another sip of his drink. “What was it that convinced you?”

You toyed with a loose strand of hair in contemplation of his words.

What did convince you? Was it the frustration from the flight fiasco? The fact that you were in New York for the first time? This was a question you only recently started to ponder because saying yes felt so right but you couldn’t explain why.

“I just trust you. And it’s been so long since we’ve been in the same place at the same time.” You began, noting how his eyes have softened at your words. “I honestly didn’t know what to think when you first stood there in front of me, y’know? I kind of thought I was hallucinating. I thought that maybe the stress from all the flight mess was getting to me.

“I honestly never thought I would cross paths with you ever again, considering how the trajectory of our lives headed. You live in LA, working full-time on your music and touring. I live back in Seoul, where there’s always a deadline looming over me and I have to set off to meet some client. And besides…” You held his stare where there was a gentle smile on his face. “I knew I wanted to spend more time to catch up with you the second we sat back in that coffee shop at the airport.”

Relief and something else that you couldn’t place washed over his face. Was it regret? Was it longing? You didn’t know exactly but you felt his free hand reach for yours from across the booth. The calloused fingers of his hand from hours of playing guitar caressed yours as he stared at the way they connected. Still a perfect fit. Your first real bit of physical connection since that fateful day when you were both 21 and young and dumb and lost.

“Yeah, me too.” Jungkook started. “But for me, it was the moment before you even saw me. When my eyes found you at the gate, I seriously couldn’t believe it.”

You laughed at this. “Well, I hope that time has done me well since you last saw me.”

Jungkook chuckled as well as he cocked his head to the side. “Are you kidding? You look phenomenal. I’m convinced you always will.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re trying to butter me up.” You joked but deep down, the intensity of the intimacy scared you. It was like a fireplace left dormant for so long had finally lit up. It surged through your whole body and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. You withdrew your hand back slowly and instantly regretted the coldness from the loss of contact. However, it frightened you with all things considered. “You’ve always been such a charmer.”

Jungkook’s expression faltered when you fully pulled back your hand but he tried his best to hide it. Holding your hand just felt so right, like it was the divine providence of the universe – written in the stars and made to fit. No other body could bring the warmth he felt from when he was around you. He was convinced that with your every step, flowers bloomed and skies cleared. He was always a goner for you, and that still stands true to this day.

How funny the universe was, Jungkook thought to himself, that it could create someone so wonderful but have them exist on a different path from his.

“Alright, alright! That was a fantastic cover from Gina. Let’s give her a round of applause, everyone!” The MC and presumed owner of the bar stepped on stage and spoke into the mic, grabbing everyone’s attention. “Now, we have a guest singer that I saw sign up, his name is JK Jeon. Let’s give him a warm welcome!”

You whipped your head to face a sheepish Jungkook finishing the last bits of his whiskey before he patted you on the head and headed towards the stage. “When did he…”

The leather-jacketed, confident lead singer Jeon Jungkook of Bring the Soul appeared before you as he adjusted the mic stand and introduced himself in perfect, unaccented English. “Hi everyone, my name is JK. I signed up because this is one of my favorite places in New York so I thought I’d sing something for you, especially because there’s also someone important here with me today.”

His eyes locked with yours in that moment and you forgot to breathe for a second. He looked so otherworldly in that bar, he had the aura to make the dingiest stage look like some elaborate arena. He was born to perform.

Your second pineapple tequila arrived and it was a much heavier pour from the bartender. However, you were grateful as the surge of emotions overcame you. Everything was feeling surreal again and you definitely needed this drink despite being a little bit of a lightweight.

“So, this song is titled ‘seasons’ by a band called wave to earth. Hope you enjoy it.”

With that, he signaled for the song to start and the first keys of a piano filled the dim bar. Not once did Jungkook’s eyes leave yours as he sang. You were absolutely bewitched as the song progressed, and so was the rest of the bar. A couple across the room embraced each other, two friends shared a toast of their drinks with a lively clank, and the bartender even paused to take in Jungkook’s singing… all these people were brought together by his undeniable talent. Your heart was so full and you were so proud, and distracted until you really started to listen to the lyrics of the song.

But I'll pray for you all the time

If I could be by your side

I'll give you all my life, my seasons

By your side, I'll be your seasons

My love

A thunderous applause surged through the bar as Jungkook thanked the audience and stepped off the stage fluidly before heading straight for the booth where you still sat. However, instead of sitting across from you, he slid into the bench where you were and settled right next to you.

“How was that?” Jungkook’s arm naturally went around your shoulders and you swore you were soaring.

You rested your head on his bicep as you gazed up at him, and Jungkook was swooning at how adorable you looked then. The dim, soft lights make you look ethereal to him. “It was amazing, as always.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” Jungkook stroked your hair as you continued to rest your head on his arm. He could tell you were beginning to feel your drinks in your system since you had long finished your two pineapple tequilas and were now babysitting a pint of beer.

“Hey, Jungkook.” He barely caught it as you basically whispered it out. “Y’know, I’m going to be really sad about everything once morning comes.”

His eyes widened as he shared the same sentiments. “Yeah… me, too.”

“But!” You suddenly shot upright in posture and surprised him as you grabbed your drink by its handle. “None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out at the sudden shift in mood. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning time?”

“What people always say at that time – ‘good morning’ and not goodbye. Let’s make it a nice ending for us, I feel like that would do us both justice.” Your gaze was too hazy to see the seriousness that lined his face but he shook it off and plastered his signature smile despite the storm in his heart. “I know it’s a little cheesy, but I don’t want to be sad in those last minutes with you.”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.” You missed how tight-lipped his grin was.

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Alright, follow me!” Jungkook called from over his shoulder as he jogged to catch the door to the rooftop of some swanky highrise apartment complex that you two managed to sneak into.

He held the door open for you, with his free hand exaggeratedly ushering you to go first like a medieval knight. “After you, m’lady.”

By this time, the alcohol had flushed out of your system on the twenty-minute walk Jungkook had brought you on after hearing about how much you wanted to see the skyline but didn’t want to pay a ridiculous amount for a view. And this is where it led you: on the lounge rooftop of a luxury apartment building. The twinkling lights of the city sparked beneath you. The haphazard spacing of the lights from nearby buildings were windows into the lives of the people who occupied the space. Then, you had the great Empire State Building literally blocks away, its spire brightly illuminating the night. To your right, there was a patch of darkness that was Central Park.

You were breathless at the sight before you. Suddenly, you felt connected with every fiber of your being. The light midnight breeze that swam between your loose strands of hair felt like a glass of fresh water as it revitalized you. There you were, in New York City – looking at it from a bird’s eye point of view. Nothing could have ever prepared you for this.

You then felt Jungkook stand close next to you as he bumped his shoulder with yours playfully. “How is it?”

“It’s so beautiful.” It took everything in you to tear your gaze away from the view to look at Jungkook. “How did you know about this place?”

He snickered mischievously. “One of the label’s former execs used to live in this building. He used to talk about it all the time and I couldn’t help but remember it. Glad it lived up to all the talk though, it is gorgeous up here.”

And with that, he began to walk over to the outdoor couch hidden behind the privacy of a cabana in front of a fire pit. He turned it on effortlessly before plopping down on the couch right beside the glass-protected edge of the building for what you assumed to be a maximum viewing experience. You followed and sat down, his arm naturally finding its way wrapped behind your shoulders.

“I never thought I would be able to experience something like this,” you marveled at the night skyline with an at-ease smile on your face, letting your body fit into a nook created by Jungkook’s. “Never would I think feeling so small like this would be so comforting. I don’t regret this at all.”

Absentmindedly, Jungkook’s hand began to play with one of the strands of your hair. “Yeah, same. I regret a lot of things, but this definitely wouldn’t be one – not by a long shot.”

“Oh? Like what kind of regrets?” You asked him, scared to look into his eyes at that moment.

“Letting my insecurities and tendencies for perfectionism get the best of me. There were so many times when it got in the way of being present. Whether it be with the band, my life… and you.” His hand froze as he cleared his throat. “I regret letting you go. And I feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the earth, y’know? I thought that I had to be successful to be worthy of your love. To be worthy of someone so utterly beautiful inside and out. You were truly my morning light. And I hurt you. I hurt you because I was insecure and so lost in my head.” He blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “And Y/N, I can’t even begin to explain how much it kills me to sit here with you knowing I did that. And I think that’s because my heart will always be yours, y’know. And I know I’m rambling but I’ve been meditating on this for the past few years because it always bothered me to hear how great and peachy things were for you with that Seokjin guy from Yoongi-hyung, I… don’t know…”

You sat up and finally made eye contact with Jungkook at his confession, resting a comforting hand on his chest. “Jungkook, can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” You whispered as Seokjin stood before you under a streetlight at the park not too far from his apartment.

“My love, I just can’t do this anymore. I love you so much but it’s time we both be honest.” Seokjin reached for your gloved hand. It was the tail end of autumn and the first signs of winter were beginning to make its appearance. “I don’t think we should meet anymore.”

Tears lined your eyes but the rush of the emotion present was so foreign to you. You knew you should have been sadder and while you were sad... However, at that point, you realized that you were more sorrowful about losing Seokjin as a person in your life than your actual romantic relationship ending. That’s when it hit you, the tears falling. “How did you…”

“My love, you're one of the most intelligent people I know but I don’t think you even realized it yourself. But your heart isn’t in it with me. And that’s okay, I’ll always have a soft spot for you and I’m sure you know that.” Seokjin sighed as he respectfully let go of your hand and took a definitive step back, still handsome and composed. “I’m afraid I just can’t keep fighting like this for a love that was never meant to be mine in the first place.”

“I think that it will always be you.” You whispered, at this point your lips just mere centimeters from Jungkook’s.

“It’ll always be you, too,” Jungkook responded, too drunk in your perfume and the feeling of your being so close to his. “Y/N, can I tell you something now?”

“Of course.”

“Would it be okay if I kissed you right now?”

Wordlessly, you closed the gap between you two. The second your lips connected, it felt a lot like a warm summer day. Electricity turned static force kept you connected like that. Soon, lips moved in sync like rolling ocean waves during low tide. Hands lost in hair and tracing all the valleys of each other’s bodies, leaving goosebumps at they traversed every familiar inch. Jungkook’s plush lips felt so homey and so right. Your hand went right back to resting on his chest, feeling the intense beating of his heart. A pace set for you only.

It hurt so much to have to disconnect so you both could catch your breath.

“Wow…” Jungkook licked the last taste of you off his lips, savoring the moment with his eyes closed and forehead rested upon yours. “I missed this so fucking much. I missed you so much.”

“Please kiss me again...” Your eyes gazed into his and he obliged happily.

And your lips found each other again just like that.

Hands grew more adventurous as the kiss grew more heated. Jungkook’s calloused and cold hands made their way under your shirt, cupping your tender breasts through your bra. At this, you gently pushed him to sit back further on the couch so you could climb on top. The second you straddled his hips, you began to grind down onto his clothed dick, earning you a grunt of satisfaction. His hands grew impatient as he then pushed your shirt and bra up to reveal perky nipples, the chill of the night making them more erect.

“You look a little cold, baby. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He said before taking one nipple into his mouth and his free hand making sure the other wasn’t left unattended. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as he was living up to his words.

You reached down between your bodies and slipped them into his denim jeans, feeling his hot and heavy dick in the palm of your hands. This got you another grunt from Jungkook, suddenly you were on your back lying down on the couch and Jungkook flashed you his charismatic smile. “Getting a little handsy, I see.” He leaned down and began kissing your neck, remembering your sweet spot despite your time apart. It was his turn for his hand to slip into your pants, gathering your slick between his fingers to play with your clit. “Baby, let me eat you out, okay?”

You could have easily come right then and there.

You barely managed a nod as you felt him pull down your jeans and panties in tow after kicking off your sneakers. Once off, Jungkook sat back as he in the sight of your sprawled like that before him. Snapping out of his daze, he crouched down and just lost all sense of shame the second his mouth tasted you. Sucking rhythmically on your clit, rubbing circles on your inner thigh, it was all too much. The sloppy sounds of his saliva mixing in with your wetness were all you could focus on as you felt your walls tighten on nothing.

“Jungkook, baby, your fingers…”

He didn’t need to be told twice as he continued his string of slurps on your pussy and inserted one finger, beginning to stretch you out. The loudest moan escaped you embarrassingly considering you both were in a public place. However Jungkook didn’t care, he was making up for lost time after all. And then another long digit went inside you, pumping wildly and that was it.

The threads of the rope in your stomach were wound so tight that the fine fibers were beginning to give. Jungkook knew your undoing was near so he continued his onslaught of your pussy with his mouth and fingers. Soon enough, the rope snapped, your eyes sealed shut as you saw white and your jaw went slack while you continued to leak out. Your body felt utterly buoyant, among the clouds, and your mind far ahead of your physical being. How long had it been since you came like that?

Jungkook happily lapped up your cum like a man who had gone without water. “You look so fucking beautiful, so beautiful.”

“Need you… inside…” You finally said as you came to and began to remove Jungkook’s leather jacket and his white tee. “More, I want more of you…”

His smile shined as the bottom half of his face was proudly covered in your slick. That dazed smile stayed plastered as he undid the bucket of his belt, the jingle of his pants and boxers hitting his ankles had you in anticipation.

“Your wish is my command, baby. All yours… I’m all yours” He continued to toy with your already sensitive clit as he began to gently push himself inside your tight core. Both your eyes went wide with how good the tight fit was. It took everything in Jungkook to not come at that moment. His eyes only got a glimpse of the delectable scene of where he entered you before he had to screw them shut in concentration. “You feel so good as always, could die like this.”

You began to move around him, wanting friction and he took that as his sign to start moving as well. What started as slow and steady, became desperate and erratic. He hovered over you, his lips on the valley of your neck and hand gripping onto your breast as you felt every single velvet inch of him fuck you. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him closer if that was even possible. It was all-consuming, it was otherworldly. He hit you in all the right places and it was so good that you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“Jungkook, just like that, baby. Let’s come together, okay?” You spoke into his ears which kicked him into overdrive. You were so full of him. His hand fondling your painfully erect nipple, his mouth right on the spot he knew would have you, and Jungkook groaned as you clenched him so tight, having him reach his own undoing. A sheen of sweat lined Jungkook’s forehead as he cocked a focused brow. He drank in the fucked out image of you, encouraging him to thrust into you even more sporadically despite how sensitive you both were.

It felt so right to be filled up with his cum, with his dick, with him.

The two of you sat there in that fucked out state for a couple more minutes to catch your breath again.

Eventually, Jungkook got up with that dopey smile still on his face as he began to dress you despite still lying on the couch and straighten your clothes. He punctuated each movement with a peck on your swollen lips. His movements were more delicate and tender compared to the heated desperation from moments ago. Once he was dressed as well, he collapsed with you on the couch with his arm slung around you.

“You’re so beautiful.” He made eye contact again, however his airy smile faltered at seeing your bittersweet expression make another appearance. “Hey, baby… what’s wrong?”

“Where do we go from here, Jungkook?” You asked as you reached for his face, caressing a cheek with your thumb. “Because now I’m going to be even more sad when morning comes…”

Fuck. Jungkook had been so caught up in that moment that he didn’t realize what the consequences would be after the fact. While he sure as hell didn’t regret what happened, he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he already has.

“It doesn’t have to be like that… we can work something out. I can figure something out. I just – I just don’t want you to regret this, regret us… Just give me some time to think and I can –”

You quietly stopped him with a shake of your head, letting him know that it was okay. “It’s okay, you belong in LA, where your life is now. And I belong in Seoul, where my life is now – I know that much. I can’t ask you to uproot your life and give up the band, nor could I leave Seoul given everything happening at home. Just know that I don’t regret this, not at all. However, it’ll be quite sad when morning comes.”

Jungkook could only nod at the heaviness of your words. While they were a hard pill to swallow, they were correct. Both those things rang true in his head. He ached for you so much now he had another taste of life with you, but you both knew there was nowhere to go from here. By late noon, you’ll already be on a flight back to Seoul and he’ll be headed to Vienna to start the European leg of Bring the Soul’s tour.

“I’ll be sad when morning comes, too. Irrevocably sad.” Jungkook knew that would be the extent of all he could say then.

Silently, he sat upright where he led you to rest your head in his lap. He looked down at you fondly, a matching bittersweet expression on his face as he began to stroke your hair. A quiet promise was exchanged between you both to enjoy these last moments of intimacy before the sun rose.

You both had fallen asleep on that rooftop lounge. Then you woke up around 6AM to Jungkook trying to get you up, talking about taking you to one more place before the night was officially over. Eventually, you both were jogging out of the luxury apartment building, hand in hand, as the two of you entered the subway station to head southwest to the piers to catch the sunrise.

It was a solemn train ride, to say the least. Both of you avoided each other’s eyes on the ride, like anxious teenage lovers who experienced their first quarrel. It was hell, and the time when you both got off at your correct stop couldn’t have come sooner. His hands still intertwined with yours as you walked off into the morning world, the sun beginning to make its appearance known. The morning’s dew still coated the patches of grass as you both traveled to the edge of the pier which overlooked the water.

At this point, the blue hour had long passed as the bright star that is our sun began to peek through the horizon. The sky turned from midnight blue to a vibrant yellow with hints of orange. That’s it. This is it…

The morning had officially come.

You cursed every cliched metaphor referencing the elusiveness of time… the grains of sand slipping through fingertips, the ticking of clock hands that echo in the back of your head, the passage of breezes, and the eventual rising of the morning sun.

Jungkook smiled gently, wiping away a tear with his thumb which you didn’t even feel form as it fell down your cheek. “Don’t worry.”

“I just want you to know that I loved being in this moment. Sharing this night with you, that tonight it felt like New York was all ours. I could have never seen its beauty and experienced its magic the way I did with you.” Barely managing through your cries, you gasped for a breath as you tried to make out the next words. “But why did things have to turn out this way?”

The loud caws of the seagulls as they flew over the pier and the cold morning air fell onto forgotten senses as the only thing you could feel was the intensity of Jungkook’s stare on you. From your forehead that he placed a tender kiss upon, to your eyes that mirrored that silent longing his contained, the nose that he nuzzled against his, and chin that he held softly in his rough hand… It was like he was taking a picture of you at that moment. A moment where he was not rockstar Jeon Jungkook, but the Jungkook who always found a way to make you laugh and the Jungkook you dreamed of sharing matching rings with. And you were not the person living too fast for anyone to keep up with, but a person who could find the beauty in anything and the person that Jungkook could write a million and one songs about.

“Shh,” he comforted you as his arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. “I really can’t thank you enough for tonight… I’ve never hated to see morning as much as I do now.” He chuckled dryly at the irony of all.

You pulled back, surprising the man who towered over you. You held his confused face in your hands and smiled. “Me, too. I hope you know that.”

“I do now…” He whispered as though louder words could break the moment before placing a chaste kiss on one of the hands that cupped his face.

“Now what?” Your hands fell from his face and rested on his chest.

Jungkook sighed in contemplation as he peered past you into the blossoming orange horizon before recentering his eyes on you and grin losing its warmth, being replaced with sadness. “Good morning, I guess.”

The gravity of the situation settled upon you both silently.

“None of that dramatic ‘goodbye’ shit in the morning!” You tipsily pointed at Jungkook with your beer who only laughed at your theatrics as some foam spilled.

Between chuckles, Jungkook was barely able to let out. “Okay, then what do we say at the end? When it’s morning?”

“Okay, we’ll bid each other ‘good morning’ when dawn comes then we go on with the rest of our lives. No sad stuff.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, I promise.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.” No matter how dazzling your smile was, Jungkook could never be distracted from the tears that lined your gorgeous eyes.

No physical closeness could ever combat the weight of what daybreak meant for you both.

“For JK?” The driver of the Uber called out of the window as he pulled up.

You and Jungkook stood before each other again, hand in hand for the final time. You squeezed his rough hand, a wordless command of it’s time to let go. And just like that, his hand – despite its hesitation – followed and released its grip on yours. No matter how disheveled you both may have looked from the sleepless night of journeying, it all felt surreal.

“Good morning, Y/N.”

“Good morning, Jungkook.”

Then one more quick kiss before you had gotten into the car he ordered for you and began the journey back to your life. A life without Jeon Jungkook. You rode with the window down, taking the sight of New York in a new day’s light. It felt so foreign and so different from the New York you experienced in the last fifteen hours with Jungkook. That taxi driver was right, you were convinced, that New York was a magical place and had so much more to offer.

You abruptly felt something wrinkle in the pocket of your jeans as you adjusted yourself in the backseat of the car. Reaching in, you fished out a Katz’s Deli napkin and remembered how Jungkook was writing on it when you had excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You carefully unfolded the napkin and read what was written on it: I’m sure by the time you’ll see this, you would’ve given me the most memorable night I could never forget even if someone were to beat it out of me. I’m dreading sunrise as I write this right now. Though, I’ll hold close what tonight has in store for us. I don’t know if our paths will ever cross again, but I’m sure that this was the most beautiful sunrise I could ever experience because it was with you.

You pondered the possibilities as the heartache fully set in from reading his note. What if you told this Uber to turn around right now? What if you stayed longer? What if you took Jungkook’s offer to figure something out? What if you didn’t have to say goodbye on that forsakenly beautiful pier? What if?

However, it no longer mattered.

This was the reality you both lived in.

You had the connection, felt it again, and let it take its course.

That was what mattered. No what ifs, maybes, or perhapses. What matters is only what happened and that it, in fact, did happen.

Jungkook watched your car disappear into the morning traffic commute, gone was the warmth that you both shared on that chilly spring morning. He began to laugh at himself, at how cruel the universe was. It could have been perfect. It could have been the ultimate love story. It all could’ve.

Jungkook kicked a random pebble in his path as he finally looked at his phone log after putting his phone on Do Not Disturb for the whole duration with you.

Min Yoongi | 2 Missed Calls

FROM: Min Yoongi | Where the fuck did you run off to?

Park Jimin | 6 Missed Calls

FROM: Park Jimin | Yah, where’d you go??

FROM: Park Jimin | Please tell me you didn’t do anything stupid I swear to god Jeon Jungkook

Kim Taehyung | 5 Missed Calls

FROM: Kim Taehyung | You bastard, don’t tell me you went off to explore New York on your own

FROM: Kim Taehyung | Broooo, you didn’t even check in to your hotel room? You should’ve told meeeeeee

FROM: Kim Taehyung | You’re so foul for leaving me just to be bored while you went on a night adventure of the city that never sleeps smfh

Manager Sejin | 13 Missed calls

FROM: Manager Sejin | Kid, where the HELL did you go? Call me back asap

FROM: Manager Sejin | Jungkook this isn’t funny

Jungkook laughed at the missed notifications from the group and his manager before giving Yoongi a call back, reasoning that he would be the most level-headed given all the missed notifications after sending a quick message.

TO GROUP: Bring the Soul | Hey, I’m ok lol. I’m at the pier

The caller's ring sounded twice before Yoongi picked up groggily, but still picked up nonetheless. “Where the hell did you go last night?”

“Just hanging around. New York is a magical place, hyung.” Jungkook responded vaguely but Yoongi caught the hint of bittersweetness in the younger’s tone.

“Alright… We’re about to get breakfast at a restaurant close to you. I’ll text you the address. Meet us there by 9AM.”

“Sounds good, hyung.”

“Okay. And uh… are you alright?”

Damn Yoongi’s intuition, Jungkook thought to himself and sighed into the receiver of his cell phone.

“Yeah… it’s a damn good morning after all.”

#bbangtans ff #jungkook #bts fanfic #bbangtans jk ff #bts #jungkook x y/n #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook bts #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook x you #jungkook fic

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celestialalpacaron · 4 months ago

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Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

#celestial’s life lessons #be kind or else 🔪#anyways I gotta go back to work #I also need to draw gay demons kissing byEEEE #ask

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blossom-hwa · 3 months ago

Text

a very fine line, indeed [8] | c.bg

pairing: Beomgyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to lovers, regency era!au, nobility!au warnings: mentions of assault, abuse, cursing, period typical misogyny word count: 11.2k notes: — updates every M/W/F at 8pm EST until the series finishes — assault/abuse scenes are not graphic, but please heed the warnings and let me know if any of it is romanticized or just written in poor taste--I assure you I did not mean it, and I will fix anything needed. — inspiration taken from an amalgamation of different bridgerton stories - let me know what easter eggs you find! — story takes place in the same universe as my duke!yeonjun and earl!taehyun fics - check out the link to the series below for some more easter eggs :) In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true. Part 7 >> Part 8

Series Masterlist | TXT Masterlist

It’s been a week since you took unwilling part in the biggest scandal to overtake the ton this entire season, and you’re feeling more and more certain with each passing day that your reputation will never recover.

You thought the same thing at the beginning of the season, just a few months ago. At the time, you thought it couldn’t get any worse. Funny how time ends up proving you wrong.

Of course, you have no idea how the ton is receiving any of the gossip. You know the facts, as does everyone else who was in the room when it all happened, but that doesn’t matter. Someone will undoubtedly distort them for the sake of a good story. Your stepmother has been refusing all calls on your behalf, though, so you have no clue what the ton is saying. It’s not like she would tell you, anyway. The morning after the Jung ball she slapped you across the face so hard you saw stars, and you had to listen to her scream at you for an hour after that. When you tried to ask her what people were saying about you a few days ago, she gave you another mark to match the first one.

The bruises still hurt to the touch.

Maybe it’s just as well. You’re not sure you want to know what anyone is saying. The gossip about you and Beomgyu had hardly abated before the Jung ball, and with all the speculation then about you being sort of shameless whore able to seduce men into offering you marriage proposals, you can only imagine what they’re saying about you now. They probably think you seduced Lord Cho, too.

They probably think you deserved whatever he intended to do to you.

Which isn’t true. You never asked for any sort of physical relationship with him, never even considered it. You said no when he offered it—if the word offered could even describe the situation. Stupid as it is, you really did believe he wanted to marry you, and his words cut you deep when you learned of his true intentions. But the cynical part of you can’t help but feel like you got what was coming to you. You should have known better—known that no one would truly ever want to marry you, because you have nothing to offer. Maybe it’s true that you aren’t fit for anything more than a mistress.

If you didn’t have so much damn pride, maybe you’d have been able to accept that by now.

You can forget any delusions of being married, now. If you weren’t already ruined by Beomgyu leaving you after the waltz, surely this incident has marked you as a fallen woman—or at least as close to it as you can get without having actually been deflowered. Never mind that you never asked for it. Never mind that you had to beat him off with a damn candlestick. No one wants a woman who’s been sullied by another man’s touch, no matter how unwarranted.

Maybe it’s really time for you to start making plans to run away.

Even as the thought crosses your mind, though, you have to stifle a snort. Pausing in the middle of scrubbing out a large pot, you close your eyes for just a moment, hoping to clear out all of your remaining stupid thoughts. Run away, yes? With what money? You have nothing. This family has nothing. There’s nothing useful you can even steal from the house, and your father isn’t coming back with any money. This, you know now.

You can still hear the terrible silence that accompanied the opening of that letter. Your stepmother’s simmering rage as her eyes scanned every carefully penned line that told of the passing of your father, and the loss of any remnants of the family fortune at the hands of his gambling addiction. You had no idea he had such an addiction. The few times you saw him over the past decade, he always seemed so stoic, so upright. You never thought he could have been hiding something so terrible behind that façade.

But he was. And now he is dead, and he has passed nothing onto you except a mountain of terrible fortune.

There’s really no end to it. You sigh, returning to the pot still half covered in suds in the sink. Maybe this is for the better. You’ll grow into a spinster, hide yourself from society with your position as a servant in this household, and fade away from public attention. In a few years, people will forget about everything. Maybe. Hopefully. And then you’ll have some peace of mind.

…There’s no real hope of that, though. You’ll never have peace as long as you live with your stepmother. Maybe that’s your eternal punishment for all the stupid choices you made this season—having to live with her until she dies, or you do.

At least she’s gone now. She left a while ago to make some morning calls, you think. You tried to ask who she was going to meet and she just snapped that she was trying to clean up the mess you had made of yourself and your family this season.

Very useful information, that was. You didn’t press though. You didn’t want to add on to the collection of bruises already beginning to bloom across your cheek.

She’s gone now, though, and you haven’t heard her return, so you have some time to breathe without her sneering down her nose at you every minute of the day. The silence is nice even if you know it’ll be short lived.

Something sounds in the hall as you’re scrubbing the last pot clean. You stiffen, thinking it might be your stepmother, but it still feels like it hasn’t been long since she left—surely she wouldn’t be back so soon? You look over at Soyoung, who’s helping you scrub away. Her raised eyebrow indicates she’s as confused as you are.

Footsteps sound down the hallway, and then you hear Brighton speaking. Your confusion increases by the second—surely no one has any reason to call, not when your stepmother has been chasing away callers almost every day. You wonder if Brighton will have them leave too, whoever they are, but he likely won’t. Without your stepmother here, he would probably defer to you, unless she left him with explicit instructions not to. Though he might disobey them anyway. The staff here don’t take very kindly to your stepmother.

The thought makes you smile, but that smile quickly begins to drop as Brighton’s characteristic light footsteps sound closer and closer to the kitchen. You finish rinsing off the last pot just as he enters the kitchen, standing primly in the doorway.

“Miss L/N.”

You turn around, wiping your hands on your apron. “Yes, Brighton?”

A hint of distaste edges his words. “Mr. Choi has come to call.”

Despite the situation, you almost smile. You can’t say you don’t appreciate the staff’s quiet support at your situation. No doubt they’ve heard all manner of gossip from the other servants around town, but you told Soyoung what truly happened so your staff has been very kind to you since everything started going downhill. Brighton in particular has taken to speaking the Choi name with a subtle, almost undetectable annoyance that only butlers can emulate, and you won’t deny that it makes you feel a little better, sometimes. Not because you hate Beomgyu—you wish you could hate him, it would make everything so much easier—but because it’s nice to know that someone has your back.

The almost smile slips off your face almost as easily as it came, though. Because you really don’t know if you want to see him. He was right about Lord Cho, right from the start—and all you and everyone else did was just brush his concern off as jealousy. You don’t want to face him. You don’t want to know what he has to say. And truth be told, you’re still not entirely sure you forgive him for what he did at the Haynesworth ball. He tried to explain when he called the last time. You didn’t let him. You’re still not sure if you want to let him. Anger is the only shield you have now against your pain and you’re not ready to give up its embrace so soon, even if its warmth is more suffocating than nourishing.

There is another warmth that is nourishing, though. A warmth you’ve only ever felt with those you loved. Delia, Henry, Soyoung…

And Beomgyu, too.

All of the residual anger drains out of your body, leaving you cold and a little empty. You look down at yourself, at your dirty servant’s garb splashed with water and soap, at your tender hands still holding a sponge covered in suds. You should hear him out, let him speak, but you’re just…so tired. You want this all to be over. And anyway, even if you knew you wanted to speak with him, you don’t know when your stepmother will return from her own morning calls—calls meant to repair your reputation, whatever the hell that means. She might come back in the middle of a conversation and you really don’t want to know what would happen then.

That’s just an excuse, though. You know that just the thought of your stepmother wouldn’t be able to stop you from doing anything you really wanted to. The question is, then, do you really want to see Beomgyu? Do you really?

“For what it is worth,” Brighton says, interrupting your thoughts, “he has tried to call every morning since the Jung ball, Miss L/N.” He twists his hands together in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “Your stepmother turned him away each time, but…perhaps he truly does have something to say.”

Every morning since the Jung ball. You blink. That’s…dedication. It reminds you an awful lot of how he tried to see you almost every day for a week after the Haynesworth ball, which in turn reminds you of that terrible last conversation you shared with him. He had wanted to explain himself. You hadn’t let him. Instead, you’d told him never to come back and he had heeded your words then, but now he’s returned.

Part of you still hurts at what he did to you—or rather, what he didn’t do. Even now you can still call up some of that anger and you try to wrap it around you like a cloak, but it isn’t doesn’t work anymore. There isn’t enough anger left to shield you, which just leaves you open. Raw. Vulnerable to your emotions.

The emotions telling you to listen to him this time, instead of just sending him away.

You stare at your hands. You know that Beomgyu wouldn’t hold it against you if you told him to leave. He wouldn’t argue. He would give you space. And you really, really hate that. If he wasn’t so honorable, it would be so much easier to hate him. You would never have fallen in love with him in the first place.

Life would be so much easier, then.

But he is honorable. You may still be angry at what he did at the Haynesworth ball, but you also have the grudging grace (or maybe the idiocy) to understand that one mistake does not dictate a person’s entire character. You remember Beomgyu holding you as you shook so badly in his arms just moments after Lord Cho had tried to lay his hands on you, and you can’t help but recall how safe you felt in his hold. Not completely so—Lord Cho was right there, obviously you wouldn’t feel completely fine—but Beomgyu lent a steadiness to the moment that you needed, desperately. You trusted him without thinking. Without even feeling.

Maybe that says something. Maybe that says a lot of things.

You swallow hard. He’s already in your house. He’s come by every day, even though he’s been turned away each time—not by your choice, but by your stepmother’s. This might be the only chance you get to hear him out.

You’d be a fool not to take it.

“Do you know when my stepmother will be back?” you ask quietly.

“She left not long ago,” Brighton replies. “I do not know for certain, but I would estimate you have at least two hours before she returns.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. Two hours is likely enough time to talk. Sabine is taking care of the children in the nursery, which leaves Soyoung or Brighton to chaperone. You don’t have time to change or to cover up the marks on your cheek, but you don’t really want to. Part of you wants to approach Beomgyu with this part of yourself on display. To let him see you as you are.

You stand up and take a deep breath. “Then bring him in.”

. . . . .

When your butler bids him to come inside, Beomgyu has to bite his tongue to stifle his shock. It’s been a week since the Jung ball and though he’s called every morning since then, the response has always been the same—that you aren’t taking visitors, and won’t be for the near future. The setup feels eerily familiar to when he tried to see you after the Haynesworth ball, though he supposes that is just what comes with scandal. The ton’s memory is like that of a goldfish. Once something else happens, they move on quickly.

In theory, at least. In practice, the memories stick around for a bit longer than gossip suggests.

Today, though, the butler—Brighton, he thinks—allows him inside. Before shutting the door, Beomgyu sees him cast a furtive glance towards the street, which leads Beomgyu to believe he might not actually be allowed to be here. Still, he appreciates being let in so he doesn’t comment as the butler leads him through the short hallway and into the drawing room. He then disappears to find you.

It seems to take forever for the butler to return, or at least for Beomgyu to hear any sounds indicating you might actually see him. He half expects to be told to leave and honestly, he wouldn’t blame you for it. He can’t really think of a reason why you would want to see him in the first place, but he just wants to make sure you are all right. Or as all right you can be after what happened.

God, he really wishes he had done Lord Cho’s face in. The man would have deserved it—just one quick punch to break his nose. But then Beomgyu wouldn’t have been there to catch you when the shock set in and you nearly fell, your entire body trembling as you sank into his arms. Anyway, you already hit Lord Cho over the head with that silver candlestick, and that gave Beomgyu more than enough satisfaction to witness.

Footsteps sound down the hall—more than one pair, it seems. Beomgyu straightens where he stands and his heart begins to race as you step into the room.

He almost gasps but bites his tongue just in time. In all the times he’s seen you, you’ve never not been dressed for society—fine gowns, light jewelry, pretty smiles. Now, though, Beomgyu almost doesn’t recognize you.

Dressed in a plain servant’s garb, apron still damp and slightly stained, you stare back at him, expressionless. Your hands are bare, cracked and raw, and a bruise swells dark on your cheek. Anger twists in Beomgyu’s stomach when he realizes it looks very much like the mark left if someone had hit you. There’s no doubt it was your stepmother.

You seem to track his gaze, unsurprised at whatever you find in his expression. Something hard glints in your eyes and Beomgyu recognizes it as a test. You could have made him wait for you to change, to get ready for a typical call, but you didn’t. You chose to show yourself like this, rags and calluses and all, for a reason.

Well, if this is a test, then he will do all he can to pass it. Beomgyu holds himself tall and bows just as he always has even though the bruise on your cheek makes him want to throttle something. “Miss L/N,” he says in greeting.

You look back at him steadily for a moment. Then suddenly your shoulders slump, as though you can’t hold yourself up anymore. “Mr. Choi,” you say wearily. “Why are you here?”

Your refusal to call him by his given name hurts more than it should, but Beomgyu forces the pain to pass. It’s no less than he deserves. “I wanted to see if you were all right,” he replies quietly.

As the words come out of his mouth, he realizes how stupid they are. Obviously you aren’t fine. After what happened, no one in your situation would have been fine. The evidence is staring him right in the face—even if it weren’t for the bruise, the weariness on your face speaks volumes.

“Well, you have seen me.” The corners of your lips lift slightly, though there is no mirth in the movement. “If that is all, I will be going now.” You turn around as though to leave.

Beomgyu moves before he even realizes it. You flinch when he catches your wrist, but to his surprise, you don’t pull away. Not immediately. “Y/N,” he says, and you seem to shudder in his hold like when he held you that night. “Please.”

You remain silent for a moment. “Please, what, Mr. Choi?” you ask harshly. “You got what you wanted. You saw me. What else could you need?” You laugh. The sound scratches at Beomgyu’s ears. “Do you want to gloat? Over the fact that you were right about Lord Cho, and I wasn’t? Because that’s low, low even for you—”

Beomgyu takes a small step forward and you cut yourself off. He lets your words pass over him—you’re angry. Maybe even frightened. You’ve spat insults at him before that you actually meant, so Beomgyu knows the difference between that and you simply lashing out from your pain. “I didn’t come to gloat,” he says quietly.

Your expression crumples. “Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to apologize.” His next words come unbidden. “And I wanted to ask if you would marry me.”

A long pause follows his unplanned declaration. Beomgyu doesn’t panic, though. Because even though he hadn’t intended to give his proposal right then and there, he still meant the words. They just came out a little early.

“Why?” you finally ask.

Beomgyu’s heart nearly breaks at your shattered expression, the obvious exhaustion written all over your face. You didn’t deserve this—none of it. If only he hadn’t been such an idiot, if only he hadn’t run away instead of facing his feelings earlier… “Because I love you,” he says, voice trembling. “And if you will allow me, I should like to explain.”

He watches you swallow, throat bobbing as you look down at where his hand still clasps your wrist. You keep looking there for a very long time. “Then explain,” you finally allow, but you don’t look back up at him.

Beomgyu tries to hide how much that hurts him. It isn’t as though he has a right to feel hurt, anyway. “I am…incredibly sorry for what I did. Or what I didn’t do, I suppose.” He swallows. “I am well aware that no verbal apology of mine could ever make up for leaving you at the Haynesworth ball and I do not intend to make excuses.”

Your eyes finally shift up to his. There’s nothing in your gaze, nothing to give any indication that what he’s saying is right, but Beomgyu has been a coward long enough and he won’t continue that streak now. “I should not have asked you to waltz.”

Your gaze shutters immediately and you go to pull away. Beomgyu almost panics and tugs your wrist back. “I did not mean it that way,” he says quickly. “I only meant…I was not proper. I should have asked if you had permission first. I should have asked if you were fine with it. I should have remembered the social repercussions of asking you to share such a dance.”

You jerk your wrist out of his hand, but you don’t leave. “Then why didn’t you?” you ask sharply.

Beomgyu winces. There’s really no way to make “Lord Cho smirked at me which made me extremely upset” sound any better than that, but he has to try. “I was already upset that Lord Cho had been keeping your attentions the entire evening,” he says. Embarrassment creeps its way up his neck. “I was jealous. And at some point, when I was about to just leave the whole affair all together, he…gave me a look, that made me believe he was doing this on purpose. That he had been keeping you engaged the entire evening to avoid me.” The words, once they leave his lips, sound entirely self-serving and rather egotistic. But he swore to himself he would honest and, well, this is what he felt. “I probably sound rather self-centered,” he admits. “But it seemed that way to me.”

You don’t say anything. You hardly react, even. Beomgyu supposes this is at least better than if you were to scoff at him immediately. “I wanted to dance with you,” he says quietly. “I had waited several hours that night just for the hope of speaking to you. I did not realize it was a waltz before we took to the ballroom floor, but even then, at first, I truly did not care. In fact, I was enjoying it. You…you were so beautiful. You always have been.” He swallows. “But there was a moment where we met eyes and I…it hit me then. That I was in love with you.”

You’ve gone as still as a statue. Only your eyes move, warily tracking his every movement.

“I was scared. Terrified.” Beomgyu clenches his hands at his sides and feels his nails biting sharply into his palms. “I suppose I had some inkling of it before, but I refused to think of it. I was too scared to—I had hated you for so long and we’d only been civil for a few months. I thought, surely, it could not be so. I could not love you in such a short time. But as we were dancing, and as I held you so…” Against his will, his eyes drift to your lips. “I remembered our kiss,” he says quietly. “And I knew, then, that I loved you.”

This time, you do scoff. “You have a funny way of showing it,” you say, bitterness coating every word.

Beomgyu flinches, but it isn’t as if your words aren’t deserved. “I was a coward,” he admits. “An incredible coward. I realized it then and I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t think with everyone around us and I was so confused and terrified by the prospect of loving you that I just…ran.” He drops his head, finally.

“You were so scared of loving me.” You snort. “Me. Yes. Because I’m just another one of the dowry-less crowd, full of scandal and Lady Whistledown mentions. Who in their right mind would ever fall in love with me?”

“It wasn’t because of that!” Beomgyu looks up at you, stricken. “Y/N—Miss L/N—do you have any idea how impressive you are?”

For the first time today, you look shocked into speechlessness. Beomgyu’s own face is starting to redden but he forges on. “You—I was terrified of how quickly I had fallen in love with you,” he gets out. “For weeks after we kissed, I couldn’t stop dreaming of it. I wanted to kiss you again. So badly. And it was—terrible. I wanted to be around you and only you. I was jealous of Lord Cho and anyone who seemed to be interested in asking for your hand. But I just could not believe I was in love with you, because you are…well, you.” He gestures vaguely. “Sweet, kind, intelligent, witty…”

God, the more he talks, the stupider he feels for not having realized his feelings sooner.

“You are you, Miss L/N,” Beomgyu says. “Incredibly lovely and impressive, extraordinarily strong and brave.” A wave of shame washes over him at the truth of his words. You apologized first. You asked to be friends first. Every step of your relationship beyond the first fake deal was initiated by you, and the moment he realized his feelings, all he did was run. “I was terrified of how deeply I had fallen for you,” he says quietly. “Terrified of how much I felt for you in such a short time. It was cowardly of me to run. I should have stayed with you, and I will forever regret that. In the moment, though…it was too much for me to process all at once” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t expect you to forgive me for it. But that is my explanation, in the end. As idiotic as it sounds.”

You look away for a moment. Your cheek turns to him, and again Beomgyu sees the bruise your stepmother left on your skin. The momentary anger bolsters him enough to meet your gaze when you turn back to him. “I trusted you, you know.” More than your words, the exhaustion in your voice strikes Beomgyu to the core. “I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.” You laugh slightly, but there is no humor in the sound. “I thought you might propose to me then.”

Beomgyu bows his head. “I am incredibly sorry,” he says quietly. “Nothing can excuse what I did.”

“It can’t,” you agree. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. It has already happened, and anyway, it’s not the worst thing a man has done to me this season.”

He stares at you. Did you just joke about Lord Cho’s assault?

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, hunching into yourself. “It’s true.”

Beomgyu swallows. “I…suppose it is,” he mumbles.

For a long moment, you two remain silent. “Nothing may excuse what you did,” you finally say, “but at least I can understand it.” And as Beomgyu is reeling from your response, trying to make sense of it, you step back. “I accept your apology,” you say. “And I appreciate it. But I think it is best that you go now, Mr. Choi.” You start to walk away. “Brighton will see you out.”

Beomgyu gapes, even as the butler comes back into the room. You said you understood. Understood feeling so strongly that it terrified you, understood the urge to run away that he gave in to—

Brighton steps toward him but Beomgyu ignores him, catching your wrist again. “Y/N!”

You stop, but you don’t look back. “What?”

Beomgyu senses that he only has one chance for this. Just one chance to say the right thing, or you’ll walk away and leave him forever. “What did you mean,” he asks, voice ragged, “when you said you understood?”

You turn to him, derision scrawled across your face. “You are a true idiot,” you snap, “if you believe you were the only one who dreamed of the kiss for days afterward.” Then you turn again and try to walk away, but Beomgyu keeps his grip on your wrist. “What is it now?” you snarl, whirling back around.

Everything is hitting him too hard, too fast, but this time, instead of running, Beomgyu stays put. You dreamed of the kiss. You thought of it for days on end just as he did, your eyes drifting to his lips the way his drifted to yours. Suddenly Beomgyu remembers moments when he saw your gaze fixated on his mouth for mere fractions of a second before you returned to the conversation, moments when you smiled at him and there was a shyness in your expression that he had never seen before…

He remembers the waltz and how you settled so comfortably into his hold, eyes sparkling, lips parted as he lowered you into the crook of his arm. You were so warm. So trusting. So full of a joy and hope that made his heart race.

“I trusted you to know the dance, and what it would mean to the ton. What it would mean to me.”

What it would mean to me.

Beomgyu is an idiot. An absolute idiot. “Miss L/N,” he says slowly, “do you love me?”

Your eyes shutter. “It doesn’t matter.”

He holds your gaze. “Yes, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you grit out. You try to tug yourself away but he won’t let go. “Let go of me!”

He releases you immediately, memories of your cries a week ago forcing his hand open as soon as the words leave your mouth. But he doesn’t let you run away. “Answer my question,” he says.

“It doesn’t matter,” you hiss. Beomgyu hears panic rising in your voice, some sort of fear pushing anger into your tone that he knows isn’t real. “What about that doesn’t make sense to you?”

“It does matter,” he says, cutting through your panic. “Because I asked you a question before that you still haven’t answered.”

You fall silent.

“I asked you to marry me,” he says quietly, each word like a gunshot in the silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Brighton slip out of the room again.

You say nothing. You don’t even look at him. It should discourage Beomgyu, but strangely, in the face of your silence, he feels more hopeful. “So I ask you again, Miss L/N,” he murmurs, stepping closer, “do you love me?”

“Why do you need to know?” you ask, voice less sharp, more pleading. “It doesn’t matter, Beomgyu!”

“If you can say no, then I’ll leave.” He puts his hands up in surrender, but privately he feels even more hope with the sound of his name from your lips. “I swear it. But you must answer me.” His voice lowers, almost to a whisper. “Do you love me?”

Your silence is more telling than anything you said before.

Beomgyu takes a leap of faith. “If you do…” He swallows. “Then marry me, Y/N.”

You stay quiet for a long time. A clock ticks nearby, slowly marking every second that passes. Beomgyu feels as wound up as a spring, his muscles so tense it almost hurts, but he doesn’t move. He won’t move. Not until you speak.

And eventually, you do.

“My father is dead.”

Beomgyu’s eyes widen. Your lips curve a little, but the movement holds no humor. “We received the letter a few days ago.”

“…I am incredibly sorry.”

“I’m not.” Your words are callous but you shrug like they mean nothing—and perhaps, after all these years, they don’t. “I hardly knew him and he hardly knew any of us. All these years, we thought he was trying to make money overseas, but he had actually gambled it all away.” You shrug again. “He died over a year ago. It took that long for anyone to try and track us down. The country home will need to be sold to pay off his debts. This house is all we really have left and we might be on the verge of losing that too, so I don’t care for him at all.”

Beomgyu stays silent against the rolling tide of your fury. He has no right to judge the situation, and nothing he could say would soothe your anger anyway. He had two loving parents, a rarity in this ton—he can hardly imagine how you feel now, both biological parents dead, one having betrayed you without your knowing for years on end.

“I didn’t tell you this for pity.” You take a deep breath, and some of the anger dissipates, replaced by your previous weariness. “But, Beomgyu…you won’t gain anything from marrying me. Nothing at all. I’m just another girl with nothing to my name except a heap of scandal. I don’t have a title. I don’t have money. I do chores in the household where I am supposed to be a lady and while I don’t care, if this were to spread to the rest of the ton, you would be ruined, too.” Beomgyu follows your gaze down to your bare hands, your palms rough and weathered, your fingertips raw and pricked. “There’s nothing for you to gain from this,” you say quietly. “Nothing at all.”

Beomgyu reaches out. When you don’t flinch away, he takes your hand. He rubs his thumb over the skin of your palm, skimming over the lines, the cracks, the scars. “I notice,” he says slowly, “that you have still not said no.”

You scoff. “Retract your proposal, and I won’t have to.”

“What if I don’t retract it?” he challenges. “Will you say no, then?”

“You’re an idiot not to!” you snap. You try to pull your hand away but this time Beomgyu doesn’t let go. You glare at him. “Did you not hear a single thing I just said? I can’t bring you anything but burden!”

“I love you.”

With those three words, the fight drains out of you almost immediately. Your head slumps over your joined hands and when you finally look back at him, tears sparkle, unshed, in your eyes. “I love you,” Beomgyu says again and even though it feels like his heart is about to leap out of his chest, the words still feel so right, leaving his lips. “I love you, and I want to be with you. To be with you could never be a burden to me because I love you and everything that comes with you.” You open your mouth to say something but he barrels on. “I don’t care if you have no dowry. I’ve already told you it’s an outdated notion and I care nothing for it, and besides, my family has more than enough money. I don’t need more.” He takes a breath. “I don’t care that your hands will never be smooth. Your scars carry the weight of the care you have for those you love, and they have no bearing on the goodness of your heart. And as for your scandals…” Beomgyu smiles a little, surprised to find some genuine humor in what he is about to say. “I will not have you bear all the burden when the fault is also mine. I am at least half as responsible for all of those scandals as you are.”

You stay quiet. Beomgyu gives up tracing your palm, instead clasping both of his hands over yours. “I love you, Y/N,” he says softly. “None of these things change that, and they never will.”

“You’re an idiot,” you say. Your voice is surprisingly steady, but the last syllable trembles just as the first tear slips out of your eye. “You’re an incredible idiot, Beomgyu. You know all of this—you know what sort of new scandal it would create if we married—”

“What does it say about you, then, that you have still not given me a reply?”

“I’m also an idiot!” you yell. “A bloody fucking stupid idiot who loves you against all of her better judgement. I loved you when you waltzed with me, I loved you when you left me, I loved you when you gave me those gloves—even though I didn’t even it know it then. I thought about you kissing me for days on end and I asked you to be my friend just so you wouldn’t stop speaking to me, looking at me, because I couldn’t stand the thought of seeing you everywhere and not being able to talk to you. I loved you and I still love you because I’m an idiot. A bloody, stupid idiot—” You cut yourself off as tears begin to spill down your face. You harshly wipe them off. “I don’t want to say no because I love you, you stupid fool. Despite everything I still love you and I always will, and I need you to realize that this is a terrible idea because—because this will be a mistake, it will be a huge mistake for you if you marry me, but I—I don’t know if I can say no.”

Beomgyu lets go of your hand. You flinch, no doubt expecting him to step away, but he instead comes closer. This is hugely improper but Beomgyu doesn’t care as he lifts his hand to your cheek to brush away the tears as they come. “Then say yes,” he whispers.

You shake your head wildly. “This is a mistake, Beomgyu. You’re making a huge mistake.”

“You have never been a mistake,” he says quietly. “Not once. Not ever. It was only my mistakes that got us to this point. If I hadn’t been so terrified and unable to cope with my own feelings…” He swallows around the shame that rises bitterly on his tongue. “I am the one who left you at the ball. That was my mistake. But if you can still trust me, Y/N, trust me when I say that loving you was never a mistake for me.”

“I can’t do anything good for you,” you say miserably. “Society will talk about this forever.”

“They’ll talk about it forever anyway,” Beomgyu points out. “And I don’t know about you, but I’m somewhat past caring about what they think of you and me. They’ll never get the facts right, and I can’t control that, but…I know that I love you.” His thumb sweeps another tear from your cheek. “And if you love me too…”

“I do.” Your voice is hardly a whisper but the two words embed themselves in Beomgyu’s heart, warmth slowly filling his blood. “I do love you.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” Beomgyu gently presses his forehead to yours. “I don’t care what the ton will say. I want you to be with me, forever. You say you can do no good for me but just having you near me…Y/N, I have never felt this way for another in my life.” He slides an arm around your waist, pulling you closer gently, gently. “You are the best thing that has happened to me. I should be honored to have you with me wherever I go. I don’t care what you can and can’t do for me. Being around you, being with you…that is all I want. All I need.”

You take a shuddering breath. “Beomgyu…”

“I’ll take you everywhere, Y/N. We’ll travel far away, go wherever and see whatever you want. We don’t need to stay here. We can deal with the ton as much or as little as you want to.” You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “Don’t worry about your servants or your family. I will provide a dowry for Delia. I will buy the house for your brother. Your servants can travel with us or stay in the home, and I will double their wages.” He takes a deep breath. “So say yes, Y/N.”

You swallow hard.

“Say yes,” he whispers again. “Please.”

You close your eyes. Tears wet your eyelashes, and Beomgyu fights the urge to brush them away, for that would break the two of you apart. You open your eyes and they’re red from crying but in this moment, Beomgyu knows he could never tire of this. Of having you close, of seeing you close, of being able to love you like this—freely, without regrets.

“Yes.” The word ghosts over his lips, your breath soft like the wind against his skin. “Yes, Beomgyu.” You swallow hard, and though another tear rolls down your face, Beomgyu dares to believe it isn’t from sadness—that there could be some happiness joining the myriad of emotions on your face. “I will marry you.”

. . . . .

The next morning dawns uneventfully, which almost tricks you into thinking the previous day was just a dream. There’s no proof that anything happened beyond your memories, and even then, the idea that Beomgyu proposed to you seems almost too fantastical to be true.

But it did happen. You can still feel Beomgyu’s hands encasing yours, his thumb smoothing over the cracks and lines on your palm like his touch could take away the pain. You can feel his forehead pressed to yours, his arm around your waist, pulling you to him. You can feel him, his presence—feel the memories of him wrapped around you like a shield against the world.

You have him, and you have his promise—the promise that he would return the next day, today, with a betrothal ring. The promise that he would marry you and take you far from this place. The promise that he would love you forever.

“I will leave now, before your stepmother returns,” he had said, holding your hand. “But tomorrow I will come. I don’t care if your stepmother refuses callers—I will come. And I will have a betrothal ring, and we will be married as soon as we can.” And you had agreed, and he had kissed your hand like you were dressed in the finest silks and jewels rather than your dirty servant’s apron, and he left, and you believed him.

Maybe you are a fool for trusting him so after he left you once. But even knowing that…you still believe him. You still believe in the man who held Delia like a little princess. You still believe in the man who defended you from Lady Trombley. You still believe in the man who gave you the gloves. And when you hear people talking in the hallway just after the clock strikes ten, your heart lifts, setting several butterflies alight in your stomach.

You were right to trust him.

Unfortunately, as the minutes tick on, you start to suspect there might be some trouble. While you can’t quite hear what your stepmother is saying, the sound of her cold voice permeates through the walls enough that you can tell she doesn’t plan on letting Beomgyu in. You abandon your chores in the kitchen and follow the sound of her voice towards the hall.

You run into Brighton first, thankfully. “What’s happening?” you ask, even though you’re almost certain you know what is going on.

“You have a caller, Miss L/N,” he says. It’s all he gets out before your stepmother rounds the corner and interrupts.

“We are not taking callers,” she snaps, face even more pinched than usual. “Get back into the house.”

You ignore her. “Who is the caller?”

“Mr. Choi.”

Nervous warmth begins to tingle in your fingertips, which almost makes you groan—this is not the time to be feeling any sort of fluttery butterfly-ness, not when your stepmother is right there. “Let him in.”

Your stepmother snarls. “You are taking no callers—”

“He wasn’t asking for you, Stepmother,” you retort coldly. “Brighton, please bring him in.”

Brighton, smart man that he is, immediately departs. You brace yourself for your stepmother’s inevitable incoming tirade. There isn’t much in this hallway to put between you and her, so you can only hope Brighton comes back quickly.

“You are not the head of this household.”

You glance at the end of the hallway. You really hope Brighton comes back soon.

“You technically aren’t, either.” You take a step back but your stepmother advances faster, her eyes narrowed and sharp. “Henry is. But I don’t suppose you want to take orders from a four year old.”

There’s a flash of skin, a loud cracking sound, and then pain blooms across your left cheek. You cradle it instinctively, biting your lip against the pain. Well, at least the left side of your face will now be matching the right.

Your sharp tongue never fails to get you into trouble these days.

“Go back to the kitchen,” your stepmother snarls, her hands folded deceptively calmly at her waist. What a witch. “I will deal with you after I deal with Mr. Choi.”

“What, are you going to slap him too?” you snap. “He is my caller. I will receive him. You have no right—”

She laughs, high and sharp. “You wish for him to call on you now, when you look like this? Even if you weren’t buried in scandal, I would never let another see you in this dirty garb.”

“And whose fault is that?” You snort. “I wouldn’t be in this dirty garb if it weren’t for you. And for the record, Stepmother…” A smirk creeps across your lips. “He has already seen me like this.”

Horror flashes across her expression. “You—”

“I did.” You let your smirk widen. “He knows.”

You hear the slap before you feel it. The force of her hand against your cheek nearly knocks you against the wall and you don’t manage to stifle your cry, pressing your palm to your cheek in a futile effort to relieve some of the pain. A sharp sting rushes up your face, though, and when you pull your palm away, there’s a thin streak of blood. Her ring must have cut you again.

“You’re an idiot,” you say as calmly as you can. “Mr. Choi is here. In this house. Brighton will be back with him in moments. Do you think it will benefit you at all for him to see me like this? To see you like this?”

She blanches. You keep talking, years of rage boiling over. “What, lost your tongue?” You laugh humorlessly. “All these years you’ve kept me pent up like this, one of your worst secrets—cleaning for you, washing for you, sewing your clothes and mine—you’re lucky I cared enough about Delia and Henry not to say anything.” A sneer curls your lips. “You hit me and you slap me and you know it’s wrong, you know it’s bloody wrong because you never do it in front of the children! Why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to deserve—��

You see it coming—the hand rising, the palm flashing. Instinctively you flinch. Your eyes slam shut and you cringe away from the hand, covering your cheek as some small protection against the impact.

But it never comes.

You open your eyes. Beomgyu stands beside your stepmother, fingers wrapped tightly around her still-raised wrist. If you weren’t almost hyperventilating, you might laugh at how comically wide her eyes are, but only a slight wheeze manages to press past your lips.

“Miss L/N.” Brighton’s voice sounds next to your ear. You hadn’t registered his presence, but it calms you. “Are you all right?”

“Not—not really.” You look at Brighton, whose usually calm expression has twisted with anger, then at Beomgyu, whose face can only be described as the pure embodiment of cold rage. “But I’m fine.” You don’t take your hand away from your bleeding cheek as you meet Beomgyu’s eyes. “Beomgyu, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Beomgyu drops your stepmother’s wrist and shoves past her, coming to a stop right in front of you. For all the anger in his movements, his hand is surprisingly gentle as he pries your fingers away from your face, revealing whatever marks she left moments ago. You hiss as open air hits the cut, but Beomgyu’s thumb soothes it slightly. “Is there anything we can use to clean this?” he asks Brighton with deceptive calm.

“I will bring something shortly.” The butler bows, then quickly leaves.

Silence falls in the hallway, though Beomgyu’s anger clearly sizzles in the air. His dark eyes search yours for something, and only when his gaze falls to your cheek do you understand what he’s asking.

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. “Or, I will be.”

It’s clear Beomgyu isn’t happy with your response, but he does seem to realize you don’t want to speak about this—at least not now. He nods almost imperceptibly, then turns to your stepmother. “Leave,” he snaps. He barely gives her a glance.

She gapes, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. If the situation weren’t so charged, you might laugh. “I will not be ordered about in my own home!” she finally manages, her cheeks turning blotchy with embarrassment.

“Good God.” You sigh. “With all due respect, Stepmother, isn’t this exactly what you wanted? For me to be married to a wealthy husband and out of your hair?” You sneer. “If you don’t leave, that fantasy will never come true.”

Her eyes widen more, if that was possible. “You—” She glances between you and Beomgyu wildly. “You want to marry her?”

“I don’t answer to abusers,” Beomgyu says coldly.

“But—”

God, she is the absolute worst. “I don’t suggest you make Mr. Choi any angrier than he already is,” you snap.

With a last incredulous glance, your stepmother hurries out of the hallway. You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally.

Beomgyu’s gaze immediately softens, though concern still burns in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” he says quietly.

“You didn’t know.” You shrug. “It’s fine, Beomgyu. I’ll heal.”

“It’s not that,” he says, eyebrows furrowing. “It’s the fact that this has clearly been going on for a very long time—”

“That is true,” you interrupt. “But I couldn’t say anything then. And anyone who knew didn’t have the power to do anything about it. I am only glad now that I have someone who knows, and who might help protect me.” You take the hand still pressed to your cheek and squeeze it. “I will be fine.”

Beomgyu searches your expression for a long moment. Whatever he is looking for, he seems to find it, because he seems to relax slightly. “If you say so.”

“I do.” You smile, wincing when the movement hurts your cheek. Beomgyu clearly notices but he also clearly sees that you don’t want him to remark on it, so you’re very grateful when he says nothing. You let your voice take on a more playful tone. “Now, what are you here for?”

“Well, I came as I promised yesterday.” His voice takes on somewhat of an edge and you realize he seems almost nervous. It’s very endearing, and your smile widens. “I brought you a ring,” he continues, producing a small box from his pocket. “If you will still accept my suit.” He opens the box.

You gasp. A bright emerald decorates the simple gold band, flanked on each side by small diamonds. There isn’t much light in the hallway but the gems catch what light there is, sparkling cheerfully in the box. “It’s beautiful,” you whisper.

Beomgyu lifts the ring from the box and takes your hand. “It is yours,” he says, voice clearly shaking a little, “if you should like to have it.”

“Of course I would.” To your surprise, you can feel tears coming to your eyes that aren’t just from pain. “My answer hasn’t changed, Beomgyu.”

Relief floods across his expression, a tension disappearing from his shoulders that you hadn’t noticed before. “Oh. That’s good,” he says, smiling slightly. “Good for me, I mean. I just…I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

You keep quiet for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. “I can’t say I wasn’t hurt by what you did, Beomgyu,” you finally say. “I was.”

He nods, looking terribly guilty.

“But I also know that you are not characterized only by your mistakes then.” You smile softly, folding your hands over his. “You are still the man who defended me from Lady Trombley. The man who helped me after Lord Cho. The man who gave me gloves.”

Beomgyu peers at you with his dark eyes, so soft, so kind.

“Maybe it will take us time to work past this.” You shrug. “That’s fine. Everything takes time. But…I know, at least, that I want to work past this with you. I want to be with you.” Your smile grows, trembling on your lips. “We were idiots for so long. I’m just…I’m just glad we were able to get to this point, at least, without it being too late.”

“Well, we only have you to thank for that.” Beomgyu smiles softly, most of the awful guilt slipping off his face. “You were the one who apologized first.”

You make a face. “Desperation can do strange things to a person.”

“Desperation?”

Your cheeks feel warm. “After you kissed me, I couldn’t stop thinking of it.” You turn away, embarrassed. “I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing you again either. I was desperate. So I apologized, because I at least wanted to be friends.”

Beomgyu’s fingers light on your chin, turning you back to him. “Well, you are far braver than I,” he says sheepishly. “I was too scared to say anything, for fear that you wouldn’t feel the same way.”

You smile teasingly. “That just means you have the rest of our lives to make up for it.”

“Trust me, I will be.” And with that, he slides the ring onto your finger, the gold band comfortingly cool against your skin.

You hold up the hand, admiring the sparkle of the gems even in the dim light of the hall. “It really is lovely,” you murmur.

“It’s one of the betrothal rings that has been in the family for a long time,” Beomgyu says. “Soobin had our mother’s, of course, because he is the first born, but I think this one suits you better anyway.”

The emerald glints against your finger, cheerful and bright. You haven’t seen the other rings in Beomgyu’s family collection, but you’re inclined to agree with him. The longer you look at it, the giddier you feel, even remembering everything that happened just minutes ago. It’s almost unbelievable. You’re going to be married. Married. And to someone you love, even. Your smile widens.

“I can’t really believe this is happening,” you admit, almost in a whisper. It’s more to yourself than to Beomgyu, but he hears you anyway.

“Me neither.” The society version of him is gone now, replaced by a shyer, almost boyish version of him that endears you far more than is good for the butterflies in your chest. “I mean, less than a few months ago we were still at each other’s throats.”

“I suppose you can claim all the credit for this, then.” You laugh. “You’re the one who suggested that ridiculous deal in the first place.”

“I may have suggested it, but you’re the one who took it to the next step.” Beomgyu grins. “Out of desperation.”

You hit him lightly as heat floods your cheeks. “Hey, you felt the same way!”

“I did, and I was an idiot for not acting on it sooner.” Beomgyu steps forward, taking your hands, and suddenly you’re so close you swear he could hear your heart beating right now. “I’m sorry for that.”

“Stop apologizing. I have already forgiven you.” A rush of boldness course through you and you lean your head against Beomgyu’s shoulder. He stiffens for a moment but relaxes so suddenly you almost flinch, and then his arms come to wrap around your waist. It reminds you of how he held you when you kissed and with that memory, you only sink deeper into his hold. “Anyway, what is that thing they say?” you mumble. “Something about there being a line in between love and hate?”

Beomgyu smiles and pushes you away, but just so he can look into your eyes. “There is a fine line,” he murmurs against your ear, his gaze drifting down to your lips, “between hatred and love.”

You laugh as he kisses you, his mouth soft and sweet against yours. “Yes,” you whisper when you pull away. “A very fine line, indeed.”

. . . . .

epilogue.

“Beomgyu!” You run down the stairs, nearly tripping over your skirts in the process. “Where are you? We’re going to be late—”

A hand catches your wrist as you fly down the last few steps. Beomgyu’s laugh rings out when you screech, his arm pulling you flush against him. “I’m right here,” he says into your ear. You hear the smile in his voice even though you can’t see it, pressed to his chest as you are.

“I couldn’t find you!” You pull away, hoping your makeup hasn’t rubbed off onto his outfit. “Where were you hiding?”

“Nowhere.” He sneaks a kiss in between your flailing and you yelp again. “You just weren’t looking hard enough.”

You scowl, but both of you know there’s no real annoyance behind it. “You are incredibly annoying,” you inform him, only to be met with another chuckle.

It’s been a year since the last season, and six months since you married. If you had had it your way, you would have married as soon as he proposed—called the banns in a week, married in a matter of days after that. With your father dead, however, your entire family was sent into mourning. Never mind that you had never cared for the man.

You hated those six months. It wasn’t the seclusion from society, which you honestly didn’t mind—but just…mourning your father. A man who was barely present in your life. A man whose face you wouldn’t have remembered if not for the portrait still stuck up in the drawing room, a man who lied to you for years until he died so far away from home. You almost considered eloping to Gretna Green to escape the months of forced darkness—you’re fairly certain Beomgyu would have agreed—but ultimately decided against it. You had participated in enough scandal during the season to last you a lifetime. You didn’t need any more of it.

It helped when the three month mark came around and you could change out of the void black gowns and into the lighter colors of half-mourning. Not so much because of the clothes, but because you could slowly begin to accept social engagements again. It isn’t that you particularly wanted to see anyone—the season was over by then and you were incredibly glad for that—but Beomgyu could visit, then. It wasn’t as often as you or he would have liked since his family had moved to the country while you stayed in town, but it helped the time pass more quickly, especially when your little half-siblings freed themselves from the clutches of the staff and managed to tumble into the drawing room to join you two. You’re almost certain Delia has a little child-crush on Beomgyu, and Henry looks at him like a role model.

It's adorable.

Still, sometimes those three months seemed interminable. You barely spoke to your stepmother but after so many years of living under her iron fist, you could never feel at ease in the same house as her. When the wedding came around, you didn’t invite her and she didn’t ask to come. It was a lovely day to celebrate your escape from a life you never wished to live.

And here you are, now. Bickering with your husband whom you love in a home you can call your own, free from the back-breaking secret of your previous life and able to live, really live, in a way you haven’t been able to in years. You can even go about in society with your head held high, just like you will tonight.

That is, if Beomgyu decides to stop stalling anytime soon.

He leans in for another kiss but you jerk away before his lips can land on yours. “We’re going to be late, Beomgyu,” you repeat, forcibly pushing his face away.

He looks at you, face mushed still mushed against your hand. You fight the urge to laugh but a smile makes its way onto your lips anyway. “Be honest with me, Y/N,” he says, pulling away with that little twinkle in his eye. “Do you really want to go tonight?”

You open your mouth, ready to respond affirmatively. But then Beomgyu catches you with those very sweet, very alluring eyes, and you pinch your lips together. He’s already won, you both know, but you have to fight him a little bit. Just a little bit.

“You’re telling me we should skip our first public event since coming back from our very extended honeymoon?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Why not?” he asks, sneaking a quick kiss onto your neck. You yelp, squirming away, but he maintains his hold on your waist all the while. “We’d have more fun at home anyway.”

You do your very best to ignore the way he’s smiling against your skin. “We already said that we would go.”

“Something came up. A terrible emergency that required us to return to the country for another month.” Beomgyu decides that whatever he’s doing right now is no longer enough and begins to lay kisses down your neck, trailing them towards your shoulder even though he knows you are incredibly ticklish over there. “You can’t tell me you’re so eager to return to society.”

You sigh. Beomgyu made good on all of his promises—he bought the house for your brother, he set aside money for your sister’s dowry, and he doubled the wages of all your staff in service. Several of them have followed you to your new home, too. And after your wedding, he whisked you away from London and the upcoming season to show you everything he knew in the continent. It was wonderful to leave England and even more wonderful to see the world, but by the end, you had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t just leaving London that gave you this joy. It was the fact that you had someone you loved by your side.

It was the fact that you had Beomgyu.

It sounds terribly cliché, and you had said about as much to Beomgyu when you admitted it the night you returned to London, confessions whispered under the starlit sky. He had asked you if you really felt all right returning to society after the scandals and gossip of the last season and after a moment, you nodded. It would be difficult, but you didn’t want to hide forever. And with someone really and truly on your side, you could believe things would turn out fine.

You thought he’d laugh at you, and he did—a little bit. But that laugh was accompanied by a surprising shyness and warmth in his touch as he pulled you closer under the bedsheets, your head coming to rest against his chest, just under his chin. “That is somewhat cliché,” he had said, words ghosting softly past your skin. “But I am very glad you feel that way.”

Now here you are, ready to attend your first public event of the season, and he’s trying to convince you to stay home.

“I’m not not eager,” you protest.

“But you aren’t exactly saying you’re eager either,” he retorts easily.

You sigh. “We promised we would go,” you say emphatically, but even you can tell that you’re losing ground for your argument here.

Beomgyu hums into your shoulder, his arms sliding down to wrap around your waist from behind. “I’m sure Lady Park will understand,” he murmurs.

That draws you up short. You’d nearly forgotten who was hosting tonight. “We are not skipping out on Lady Park’s ball,” you say, twisting around to look at him fully. “She is probably one of my only supporters in society right now!”

He makes an affronted noise. “What, is my family just chopped liver?”

“They are family,” you retort. “It isn’t the same. If they didn’t support me, we would be in far greater trouble by now.”

Beomgyu falls silent, which means he’s conceding defeat—at least on this front. “Fine, we’ll go,” he eventually groans. “But no one said we have to stay the entire night.” He whirls you around so that you’re facing him directly, and his grin becomes something distinctly inviting. Sensual. Your heart begins to beat uncomfortably quickly. “In fact, no one said we had to arrive on time, either.”

Your mouth suddenly feels very dry. You fight hard to keep your eyes meeting his, and not floating downwards to fixate on his lips. “Beomgyu…”

He grins. He knows he’s winning. “Twenty minutes,” he proposes.

“…Five minutes.”

“Fifteen.”

“Ten.”

“Twelve and a half.” You laugh, and Beomgyu takes your distraction as an opportunity to press his lips to yours again. “Twelve and a half,” he repeats when he pulls away, eyes sparkling. “And by the way, did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening?”

You laugh again, despite yourself. “You are absolutely incorrigible,” you inform him.

“And yet you still love me,” he points out, infuriatingly correct as usual. “Twelve and a half minutes.”

“…Fine.”

He has his lips against yours in less than a second, an arm around your waist pulling you protectively close as your own hands wrap instinctively around his neck. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers against your lips. “I promise, every minute will be worth it.”

Sometimes it just suddenly hits you how lucky you are—how less than two years ago, you believed you would never find a husband, that you would never find love, that you would be forced to run away to avoid a life slated for a miserable end in your old household. Just a year past you believed this man to be your mortal enemy. When you think about it too much, you start to panic. Now that you have everything, a life that months ago you could only have dreamed of, it all feels like it could be taken away so easily.

So as Beomgyu’s lips capture yours again, pressing you against the staircase as his hand rises to caress your cheek, you decide not to think about it. You push your doubt and panic away and focus on here, on now—on the warmth of his hands and his lips, on the love he manages to convey with every miniscule touch. This life is yours, this life filled with so much devotion and warmth, yours to build, yours to love. And if you know yourself, you will never willingly let it go.

When you break away for air, you don’t let Beomgyu pull away too far. You tangle your fingers through his dark hair, grinning all the while. If he notices a few tears of joy threatening to spill down your cheek, he says nothing, just looks at you with his doting smile.

“That was never in doubt,” you reply, staring into loving eyes. “Because every moment with you has always been worth it.”

Reblogs and comments are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed this, and have a lovely day :)

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killuintense · 1 year ago

Text

❝ see you, leon ❞

rookie!leon x fem!reader.

Warning: first part, second part.

summary: for Leon wasn't being enough to have you in secret, if it were up to him, he would love you in front of the whole world.

content: 4.3k words, fluff, semi-established relationship, cute and needy Leon, possessive and capricious Leon, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, mention of oral sex (m and f receiving), carefree home moments, pet names.

note: finally the last part of this fic that i loved writing so much, i was really surprised to see everyone who asked me to continue. Thank you very much for that ♡ now i hope you enjoy it and see you in other one shots or fics ♡ i love y'all :p

You could list as many things as you needed to about leon, about how attentive he was, the bad jokes he could tell, how much he would curse when something scared him or his work didn't go as he expected. You loved those little moments you spent with him where there could only be complicit glances and low touches, soft and innocent caresses that made your day less horrible. That month and a half that had passed had given you the opportunity to get to know him, to understand him and to like him more and more. Sometimes you even got scared counting the number of times you thought about him. When you walked through the center of the city and you saw a coffee shop and it reminded you of the horrible coffees that leon prepared, but you drank them anyway because, from your point of view, they were the most delicious in the world; or when you passed by a store and you saw a teddy bear and you thought of him, being someone soft, silly and a little rough, but always trying to help others like the angel he was. But most of all with you.

Things had really become a lot more intimate between you in those weeks. Not just intimate in the sexual sense of the word, but rather that intimacy that only the two of you understood, where with looks you told each other everything you wanted without needing to talk, where you laughed at the same meaningless things, where you had your own special words and moments. Like when he would tell you that thanks to him and his contributions they managed to discover one more clue in that investigation that was taking place in the police department, and you would congratulate him saying 'that's my cute pookie patootie' and he would get upset, but deep inside his heart would jump and he would feel warm. Or like when you were stressed out about final exams and he would take you for a ride in the squad car to take your mind off things, telling funny and embarrassing anecdotes from his time at the police academy.

"Seriously! Major Krauser was the worst, he told me that if I didn't manage to run 20 times all over the training field without stopping he would make me walk around the rooms naked" your face was flushed and your cheeks hot, remembering that angrily as you drove through that starry night. Your laughter, however, meant that that experience had not been in vain, now I could hear that melody coming from your lips, while your hands clenched your stomach and you denied asking me to stop.

"God, Lee, I'm really sorry but it's too much" you laughed again, wiping away those tears that the laughter had caused you, while you brought your hand to his cheek and caressed him gently. "I'm thankful that hadn't happened to you, you'd be even more traumatized" you joked, watching as he stuck his tongue out at you in mock anger and kept driving. You didn't know where he was going, but just feeling the breeze on your face, his voice and his beautiful, steady chatter made you forget about your worries, about what was overtaking you.

You had taken a special liking to each other. Leon seemed to have a little angel by his side every time he saw you, every time he referred to you with that proud smile that someone as beautiful and special as you were was paying attention to him. He noticed how all your attention went to him when he talked to you, how you analyzed the little details to help him every time you could.

Now you seemed to spend more time at the police station and had even started helping with the paperwork, almost as an excuse to keep seeing Leon and to 'spend more time with your father', even though you hardly saw him. And Leon couldn't have been more excited at the thought of seeing you going back and forth with the paperwork, handing it to him in an orderly fashion that relieved him of his work, or when you met in the break room and talked excitedly about the finished paperwork. You brought joy into his life and he felt he was lost because of you, because of your presence that filled him with an inexplicable and suffocating love. It suffocated him to know that at the university there were other guys who talked to you, that when you went out you were in danger of anything happening to you and you wouldn't come back, when you had attentions with some other cadet at the police station and you ordered their papers or offered coffee to them instead of him. It drove him crazy that others didn't know about the times you kissed or hid in each other's arms, giving out suggestive caresses without anyone noticing. He needed you to walk around with a sign on your chest that said 'property of Leon Kennedy' for them to stay away from you immediately.

And that itself was one of the things you loved most about Leon. On the outside he always seemed so helpful, kind and shy with other people, and with you he was no less, always being a gentleman who sought to court you and be helpful to you at all times. But he was not always so innocent. Especially when they were hugging, almost as gentle as ever, and he would run his hands curiously down your waist to your bottom, caressing and squeezing it. You always scolded him, but you didn't pull away, you even seemed to move closer to his touch, and even though they soon had to stop because there were people going all over the station, he took advantage of every second to hold your body in his hands by heart.

In fact, they had continued with their slightly over the top approaches. Shit, you couldn't lie but that man was addicted to eating you. Every chance he got he stroked you just enough leaving you wet and ready to have you in his mouth, making you moan his name over and over again as he held you gently and his tongue rammed into you with a desperation that drove you to orgasm. He was so needy. And you were so addicted to seeing him need you, sometimes he didn't say it, but he loved how you sought to suck him off wherever you were. You remembered that time when he shyly wanted to reproach you about the guy who kept you five minutes too long in college to talk to you, and he was sure it was to flirt with you.

"Yeah, sure, I'm sure it was to talk about homework..." he mentioned sarcastically, you could tell he was saying it almost like a tantrum, turning his gaze from you as if that little scene could get you to pay attention to him alone. He loved your attention and thirsted for it whenever he could, so he softened further when you grabbed his jacket sleeve and gently tugged, giving him a playful giggle.

"Lee..." you were getting closer and closer, and you knew it was quite dangerous considering that you were in the corner of an empty room at the university, where you had brought him to talk because of that cutting behavior he had taken out of nowhere "Don't be mad at me, baby" you felt him gasp at that nickname, looking at you with his mouth shining from licking his lips, hungry for you. You kissed in a way that you felt his hands squeeze your hips and making you almost unintentionally feel the bulge in his pants. And you always loved to spoil him, to make him feel good. You loved to feel the way his legs trembled and he controlled himself not to cum the second you put him in your mouth, like in that moment, where he pushed his cock again and again against your throat "I love to fuck ya throat, damn it's so deep" he whimpered under his breath saying how good you made him feel, that he wanted you all to himself, that your attention should be his alone. He would always cum so desperately, take your hair between his fingers and stretch deeper inside you to the point where the hangings would begin. But it felt so good that you ignored him and chased his orgasm to have your reward; his essence so hot and thick in your throat filling you mercilessly.

Then he would become the most sensitive and cute little thing, as if there was nothing left of that uncontrolled Leon, almost fainting in your arms when he calmed down and you hugged him "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." his chest would move frenetically and he would stroke your hair, soothing the tight pain his fingers had left earlier; but you loved him, you loved that every tiny touch of him remained on your skin reminding you how good he could make you feel. But you always laughed and reminded him that you had ruined his hair that morning too, choking him between your thighs as he ate you hungrily, moaning against you, so wet and weeping for his tongue. You needed each other more and more, those touches and caresses weren't enough, having each other's mouths was intoxicating but it didn't make you drunk. They needed more.

You left Leon's bed lazily. You wore Leon's shirt, it was loose fitting and fit you like a short dress, filling you with the warmth of his scent as you grinned like a fool as you made your way to the kitchen. Both had been resting all that Saturday, your father had left town for work and you were able to sneak away with Leon to his house for the weekend. You were sure that your father would murder Leon if he found out about it, but in his own words, he would be willing to take that chance.

You headed towards the kitchen with curiosity while observing everything, laughing under your breath; there were things placed in an almost clumsy way, like the plates tilted in an uncomfortable area of the cabinet, or the glasses too far away from your reach. It made you tender to realize that it was obvious that he lived alone. And that really had been the best morning of your life. Waking up and seeing your boy slumped on the pillow with incomparable tranquility, breathing heavily as his arms tightened around your waist and his curves melted into the softness of the sheets. The skin of his bare upper torso, his broad back and full of small freckles and moles being illuminated by the morning sun was a blessing. The bed smelled of him; that masculine yet clean scent that Leon had, that you could swear was very similar to the perfume of a rose, mingling with your sweet scent that you soon let permeate making his sleep deeper than ever.

"Up so early?" you heard his husky voice and a soft yawn, bringing you out of your thoughts with a small start as you cursed for being startled. You turned around with a frown ready to scold him but your voice caught in your throat when you saw him with that facade he had when he first woke up. His blond hair was slightly tousled to one side, and although it wasn't very long it fit the contours of his face perfectly. He had a wonderful body, he wasn't exactly a skinny boy, he had everything in place and with a volume that made you want to squeeze and bite him. His abdomen smoothly marked by the training at the police academy and the V-shape that was made into a light trail of hair that took you to travel beyond his pajama pants. You swore that if it weren't for his drowsy state, he'd see you drooling like a fool.

"God, you scared me" you laughed, and after feeling your face warm from your recent thoughts, you turned your back to him and started heating water to pour coffee for both of you. Leon laughed and walked over to you to hug your back, wrapping his arms around your waist. It was wonderful how his muscles seemed to squeeze you tight enough, sharing that characteristic warmth with you.

"I didn't know you'd look so good in my shirt in the morning" his voice was drowned out by having his mouth sink into your neck, leaving soft kisses that caused you to melt like chocolate in the sun. He had no mercy for you.

"Kennedy, hands where I can see them, it's too early" you joked turning to kiss him. You couldn't resist him and his loving touches, his hands seeking to reassure you that you were there and not somewhere else, with someone else. Your mouths joined in a synchronized but awkward dance, both wanting to own each other. However, you decided to pass him the coffee cup before the kiss went to the next level, hearing a moan from him.

"You know you can't escape my kisses forever, don't you?" he raised both eyebrows and bumped his cup with yours in a playful toast-like fashion, stealing a soft chuckle from you. You loved that even just waking up he was like that with you, as honeyed and gooey as a jar of natural honey. So cloying that it forced you to pinch his cheeks in an attempt not to explode with love.

That day you acted like a couple who hadn't touched each other for months. Endless kisses, caresses here and there, and hugs where more than once you fell asleep in the tranquility of his arms. They had watched dozens of movies and eaten popcorn and chocolates like two bears hibernating under the warmth of blankets. They joked constantly and wouldn't stop chattering in the middle of the film, throwing out sarcastic comments and complaining about 'how bad horror movies were these days'. And you couldn't blame Leon, a young man from the nineties who grew up on eighties horror and you a lover of the classics, it seemed almost like fate.

However, at one point you both seemed to start ignoring the movies and put the snacks aside. That little kiss that had started as a simple token of affection ended up turning into a hungry kiss where the lion's hands traveled all over your body with curiosity. Both were aware that they didn't want to live from each other's mouth anymore and that they needed another kind of approach, but you couldn't avoid feeling exalted by the whole situation; it was the first time that things went too far and, although a little shy, both looked at each other with complicity when the hands needed to move away all possible clothes, being an annoying obstacle in the way. At that moment, knowing that they both wanted the same thing, the embarrassment took a back seat and noises began to emerge from both of them; soft gasps and meaningless words as they ran their mouths over each other's skin, exploring every nook and cranny.

In a moment, almost without realizing it, you were completely naked. Your clothes in the corner of the bed while your hand clung to Leon's shoulders and he groaned between your legs as his tongue plunged so deep into you that you felt like you were about to faint "Mhm..." a moan of pleasure escaped the blond's lips, his nose brushing against your throbbing clit while his free hand stroked himself hard and dripping.

"Leon, Leon-" a loud moan came from your lips as he inserted two fingers at the same time as he sucked your folds and abused them with his saliva mixed with your juices, he seemed to savor you as if it were his favorite food, as if eating you was his favorite activity in the world "Put it in, please..." your hands clutched at the sheets as you curved your back, completely stimulated at the slightest touch. Leon came out from his hiding place between your thighs and without stopping his fingered thrusts looked up at you in surprise.

"Are you sure...?" you wanted to laugh at that moment, feeling tender at the pathos of the situation. He was asking you that? they were both completely naked and from your position you could see his glans as red as it was wet, covered in precum that made you want to suck him right there. But, however, if it was because you didn't want to, Leon would ignore all that and stop, because you were his priority.

"Leon!" you scolded him trying to get a moan to stay in your throat, but you exposed yourself too much and his fingers touched your favorite spot again, making you moan loudly and collapse on the bed again, biting your bottom lip "Stick your fuckin' cock in me or I'll kill you" you bellowed as he laughed, gently pulling his fingers out. You reached for him desperately, feeling that unbearable emptiness you needed to fill with him. He looked so eager, you could see him twitching in desperation wanting to enter you, wanting to bury himself mercilessly. That's exactly why the blond couldn't take much more, and soon you felt his face hide in your neck and he slipped in with a slowness that made you see stars. It was thick and wet, hot, and you squeezed it with such precision that you soon heard it whimper in your ear, while your eyes tried to stay focused and not give way to tears of pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck..." he moaned, you felt him start to move, taking your hips hard as you felt his body stiffen on top of you; knowing him you knew he was taking all his desire to ram into you madly just so you could get used to him "You're so tight, so hot, I just...." he bit his lower lip and you sought his mouth to fill it with your tongue, kissing him messily and angrily, you were completely gone in the way you felt him growing in your belly.

"You're so thick, so hard, fuck me, fuck me!" you moaned in the middle of the kiss, you stirred your hips eagerly and Leon didn't take long to take you firmly to pull out completely and then back in. You both moaned in unison at that action. You scratched his back so hard that your punishment was to feel him thrust into you, hitting your womb with brutality. And he seemed so soft, sweet and innocent, but at that moment he seemed to be too high on your pussy.

"You're mine, you pussy it's mine, fuck, tell me yes, tell me you're mine" he moaned in groans, the back of the bed banging against the wall, making a noise that you hoped the neighbors wouldn't mind so much. But at that moment all you were interested in was that he kept up that ferocious rhythm, ripping curses from your throat as he whispered incoherently about how much he loved to fuck you. "I'll fill you up for days, baby, I'll make you walk around in pain so everyone knows I fucked you good at night, don't you want that, my girl?" he growled under his breath, feeling his abdomen contract and the tip of his dick pounding you faster, messier, perfectly about to cum.

"Yes! Fuck yes, yes, harder!" you moaned in a sob as you hugged him and felt his face sink into your tits with devotion as he bit them, sucked them, and made a mess of your skin. Between the thrusts, so erratic, so strong, mixed with his fingers pressing against your swollen clitoris, your vision went dark as you felt one last thrust and the hand Leon held on your hip dug his fingers in and tore a pathetic moan from his lips, accompanied by your name. You embraced him with your choking orgasm as spurts and spurts of cum deposited inside you, he seemed to cum so much that you felt full, hot. You were so wet around him that you felt that soon his dripping seed would spurt from inside you to stain the sheets beneath you. But Leon stayed inside you warily, wanting to live there if possible; loving the sensation of having you tied to him somehow, that somehow such a primal part of him was filling you at that very moment causing you to still be moaning under him while he could barely regulate his breathing.

"I'm sorry, I cum too much... I'm sorry..." his face sunk into your chest as he barely regularized, and you soothed him with caresses in his hair, laughing softly once the tranquility of that blow that gave you the orgasm, finally appeared. "I'm going to clean you up, just let me..." he was going to pull away but you prevented it by pressing his face against your tits, making him sink there. He didn't seem to object, staying like a scolded but pleased puppy in that hot and comfortable area of your body.

"I need you with me, just… stay," you asked him in a breath. Leon gently stepped out from where he was, looking at you as he smiled and nodded like a happy child. He gave you a soft kiss and made himself more comfortable next to you, still not coming out from inside you. You could almost swear you were starting to feel him hard again, but in return he left soft caresses in your hair as he laughed at the sight of you almost falling asleep in his arms. His arms that were your safe place.

"I love you."

You looked to your side as you stopped checking your notebook and paid attention to him. Leon was red as a tomato and staring at the ceiling, his police uniform resting against his body, just like the first day you saw him. You felt like it was yesterday, that you saw him enter naively not knowing that you would be transformed into his desire to live every day, his desire to love someone, to desire each other with someone. He was naive not knowing that the young woman he had seen in the distance would become his friend, his companion, his lover.

"I know... I know it's silly to say it now, to say it like this but it's not easy to see you just exist and feel like my chest is going to explode, you know? I need to tell you... I love you so much that I can't stand my shame to know that someone like you noticed someone like me" he confessed. There was nothing about that awkward, awkward young man with the words and, though you didn't know it, it had been the most spontaneous sentence he had said in years. He didn't think it, he just felt it and said it. Like a love impulse, which encouraged him to improve day by day. You were his love.

"I guess I was never good at hiding that I love you..." you laughed, turning your whole body towards him as your hand gently caressed his cheek. It was a habit between the two of you, you held his face in the softness of your hands and he closed his eyes; he forgot everything for a few seconds. And yet now you could see a look of love so deep that almost for a moment you felt that tears would threaten to escape. "I love you more than you can imagine, Leon" the sincerity in that whisper, where only you and he understood each other was enough. He kissed your hand and placed his own against it, caressing it, making sure that under no circumstances would you pull away.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend...?" his gaze was on yours and although he tried to look calm and confident, a glint of fear was visible in that sea of blue his eyes formed. And you felt that you had an angel in your care, an angel that was watching over you but at the same time he was looking for you to take care of him, to accept to take care of his little hurt and abandoned heart. Leon was alone in life. He had only you, and you caressed his soul at every moment, with every word, taking care of him from bad dreams and bad thoughts, being his confidant every day.

"You know I'd be a fool to refuse" you laughed, leaving a soft little Eskimo kiss as you bit your lower lip, seriously holding back the urge to cry. It was the first time you felt the need to cry for love; for a healthy, mutual love, for a love that gave as well as received and was reciprocal in every way. "I want to be yours for life" you murmured, your lips glued to hers "because I love you more than my heart can bear."

"Thank you..." you felt his voice break softly, and you held him, held his face with love just as you held him every day with your love "Thank you for making me the happiest man in this world" he planted a kiss on your lips. As sincere and soft as the breeze coming through the window, with the sun going down in the sunset orange sky with purple sparkles. A sky that witnessed a love corresponding and belonging to each other, two lovers in love with a heart to give.

Because if Leon had you, and you had him, you would never need to say goodbye to him again. Because if you had him, in your heart you would always welcome his love, like the first time you saw him.

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katyspersonal · 5 months ago

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Here’s a triple whammy, Midra, Messmer, Rellana for the character bingo pls?

( @izunias-meme-hole )

Ohh bitchin'

God I just.. I will have to try to not turn it into an essay for your SANITY (ba dum tss) but in simplest terms possible, this was THE peak DLC experience for me. The Abyssal Woods already were super interesting and atmospheric, as well as learning that Midra is a NERD with so many books all over his Manse. But like.. the battle already captivated me a lot. It was just.. so well-done in every aspect. The music, the movements and attacks... No boss ever deserved the staple "battle feels like a dance once you get into it" praise more than this guy. ;-; I already was not normal about Frenzied Flame in general, but this just dhfssdfg It was so well executed god. Remember being OBSESSED with his music theme, also the first character in a while to make me often check his character tag on Tumblr. @val-of-the-north won't let me lie, I was literally drooling thinking about him in the first few days after that fight and could not think of anyone else @_@

Also I really enjoyed digging further into his story and motivations, what happened here with the Three Fingers and Nanaya. Analysis of the whole SoTe for me. This brand of despair also appeals to me at all, especially when it is tied to you and your associates being hunted like heretics (only the old ones remember!!! XD). Funny enough, just the day before I've met him in the game I've had a very unique mental breakdown where I was ranting like a madman about how much I've tired of holding the horrors and pain inside and how I wanted to just give up and unleash it. I can't get into too much details, it was very personal, however the phrase "May chaos take the world" was stuck in my head all along! And Val mentioned that 'interestingly enough, a theme like this IS addressed in SoTE' + 'you kin one of the characters for sure' so... yeah, that was something. I needed a character like this quite a lot :')

Messmer is AWESOME!! I do not obsess actively but rather just reblog the fanart and stuff that gets on my dashboard, but there are SO many things I said as my thoughts about his and Marika's relationship. And now I have even more to say! You could tell I love Midra more, but Messmer offers infinitely more to talk about and explore! And, god, his charisma, having attracted so many intelligent people to join him and even accept his serpentine nature (apparently a big no for people in the setting for some reason fdjjfds). Also one of the best designs in the Soulsborne series EVER. Also it is his voice actor's DEBUT! Literally HOW????? sfhdjhsdhgfdshds

It IS, for sure, hard to talk about him and not touch upon MANY other characters as he is tied with them so much. Marika, Melina, Fire Knights (especially Queelign), closest Black Knights that ditched him, Rellana, Gaius, Winged Snakes, god knows who else... I love how many relationship he has, but also what interesting potential he opened for exploring the lore with Abyss, Base Serpent and potentially Fell God! He is so many things. And I think this is appropriate how hard it is to discuss him outside of his relationships and curses... It is just like the character himself: having his life and purpose in it basically predefined by a curse he had no control over and his mother, and being a scourge or an idol for others, but barely being a person on his own... Discussions about him are JUST like him, you see what I mean? This also makes me emotional.

I do not have that many headcanons about her, but I am proud of those that I have! x) There is always the room to create more of course! Ok naturally 'everyone else is wrong about them' is not meant to be taken seriously fdshfhds But a big cornerstone for understanding her was the description of her swords referring to Moon and Fire having always been together in Japanese original script, which is just the sentiment from Sword of Night and Flame! So I can no longer see her as huge Erdtree/Marika simp at all, but instead as someone who, although without any hard feelings for her sister's choice, believes Cosmic Sorcery and Fire should be together (again) which makes me look at other takes like:

Just the curse of getting brain hard-locked on your interpretation fdshfhds On another note, I fucking LOVE her design, I am NOT able to enjoy any other armour anymore and just want to wear hers all the time fhhfsd 'Silly' because Twin Moons IS a silly concept, as well as cosplaying Sulyvahn XD ...but also because I see her as silly and fun person, to contrast Messmer's emo vibe x) Smug about kicking asses too! She gives me this strange feeling too, like... I can accept most of the bosses having to die for the plot and narrative, but thinking about her getting killed actually upsets me! She is an optional boss and should STAY as such. #rellanaplslive

#ask replies #elden ring #midra lord of frenzied flame #messmer the impaler #rellana twin moon knight #ask memes #I tried to compress my thoughts as much as I could fsdjfjdhs #I think I am getting better at it..#*voice of a guy that never knows how to shut up*

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 8 months ago

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Do you think Tom getting Hagrid expelled was probably the best thing to happen to him? Because, assuming the Chamber of Secrets fiasco never happened, Aragog would have got out of Hagrid's trunk and he would have killed someone eventually.

It was probably pretty clear to everyone that Hagrid didn't open the Chamber and Aragog didn't attack anyone, as why would a Acromantula petrify a bunch of students and kill only one without eating any of them? Hell, Acromantula's can't even petrify people, so Aragog's clearly not the culprit. But, they were just the covenient scapegoat to make it seem like they were doing something.

It must have been pretty easy to justify Hagird remaining on school grounds as gamekeeper since he was just the fall guy and to everyone else the real culprit must have either got cold-feet after Myrtle's death or got killed themself by whatever monster they were using since the attacks stopped after that.

But, without the Chamber opening, Aragog would have no doubt escaped sooner or later and would have made lunch out of some poor little first-year. If that happened, Hagrid would have probably ended up in Azkaban.

There's a lot to unpack here.

What I Think is the Going Theory By People

At first, it looked like a prank, a very terrifying and unsettling prank but a prank. Someone rights blood on the walls that The Chamber of Secrets is Open, Enemies of the Heir Beware. And just. What the fuck.

The prank continues to get worse as several students are petrified. However, there's a key thing there, they are petrified and not killed. Petrification is a terrible but very reversable process with no after effects going by what we see in canon. It's just a pain in the fucking ass and you better hope you have enough mandrakes on hand or else it'll take for fucking ever to order them all.

Because of that, while it is terrifying and harmful, it's not quite the same as say when Katie Bell was cursed by the amulet in HBP where she had to go to an intensive ward in the hospital for months.

It still I imagine for most people falls in the realm of 'really stupid, dangerous, awful, what the fuck prank that some pureblood idiot thinks is funny'.

I imagine there's increasing speeches of "please knock this the fuck off whoever is doing this" at dinner in the Great Hall from Dippet and him only getting blank stares in response as the vast majority of students is not the ones doing it.

I'm sure like in canon people outside Slytherin blamed the most Pureblood Slytherin they could find (like how Harry assumed it was Malfoy at first), Dumbledore blamed Tom because he always does/he knows Tom is the Heir of Slytherin in actuality and that there might very well be a Chamber of Secrets or even if there isn't Tom would sure use the mantle if he ever found out about it, and I have my thoughts for what the Slytherin's thought but that's another post for another day.

Then a girl dies and suddenly this isn't a prank. There's a period of panic when the school is considered being shut down by the board, maybe there really is a Chamber of Secrets, and then they find a likely culprit, Rubeus Hagrid who has an Acromantula wandering around the school and has a history of bringing in extremely dangerous creatures into the school.

The thing is, I think most people at the time, and even later (barring those we see in canon who for their own reasons do not believe this) think it was Hagrid and a no brainer.

He has a creature whose bite causes death wandering about the halls and then shock of all shocks a student dies. True, while Acromantulas don't petrify, it's entirely possible that the petrifications/blood on the walls wasn't Hagrid and an unrelated stupid Pureblood prank. Added to this we don't seem to get much of a sense of forensic investigations/autopsies when it comes to wizarding world crimes (note that crime scene investigations is never really mentioned and there's only Aurors who come up whose job is just to catch dangerous Dark Wizards, not figure out what the hell happened at a place). So, I'm not sure that they could conclusively say what Myrtle had or had not died from/if they did an autopsy. For that matter, I don't know if it's common enough knowledge of what death by Acromantula looks like in a body after X hours have passed.

It's also not clear, I'm sure to most people given that Hagrid seems to be a pioneer of studying creatures, how Acromantula's feed and how they behave. Do we know that Acromantulas under threat don't poison their victims then scamper away? Do they always bite to feed? Since we know the spiders are sapient this has an extra layer of spice as well--humans certainly don't always kill to feed.

Which makes the defense of Hagrid of "but Acromantulas don't cause petrification!" or "An Acromantula would definitely eat that person it came across and never kill them in any other circumstance" very thin.

I imagine it depends who you ask but there's probably a few prevalent theories on how this all fits together:

Hagrid's spider killed Myrtle, but the blood and the petrifications were an unrelated stupid prank and no one wants to stick their nose into it after a girl died. After Hagrid's arrested/the death, all of it stops anyway so let's not think about it.

Hagrid's spider killed Myrtle and Hagrid had prepared for this eventuality by writing blood on the walls and petrifying students via some other method left and right so that people would think it was a Pureblood Slytherin. Hagrid has notably had run-ins with Slytherins before (see Tom noting the werewolf cubs under the bed/presumably having clashes with Hagrid) and it's possible he already resented them and that this was a ploy to frame someone else for murder/the spider's activities.

Hagrid was innocent! Someone else unrelated used some other monster that then never struck again and was never seen again and was never found in fifty years since to kill Myrtle and petrify those students! Sure, Hagrid has a bad history of bringing in dangerous creatures, doesn't get along great with other students who keep narking on him, and has been quite isolated and admittedly resentful of Slytherins but he's innocent! Because he's a good person who'd never harm a fly! (Except that there's the possibility this was unwitting manslaughter because Hagrid was letting a spider roam the halls)

I don't think anyone thinks Hagrid's actually the Heir of Slytherin or that the Chamber of Secrets even really exists. There might be some, but they'd be considered very stupid.

He has a creature whose bite causes death wandering about the halls and either the petrifications/blood was an unrelated prank from someone who was very unfunny or else Hagrid did it to cover up for himself/out of gleeful preparation for when his spider finally did kill someone. I imagine it depends who you ask, some will think Hagrid only did the death, some will think he did the whole Chamber of Secrets thing as well.

I imagine several don't even believe the Chamber existed or was opened at all but that Hagrid was definitely 100% guilty.

That is, unless you're Dumbledore, in which case it was that fucker Tom Riddle and you know it, you know it in your bones, you can smell it in the air, you just can't fucking prove it. But one day, Tom. One day.

Was Hagrid a Scapegoat/Was it Clear He Didn't Do it?

Honestly, I don't think he was. I think they honestly and truly believed that he was the one responsible because of what's outlined above. Added to the fact that arresting him caused it all to stop when the spider disappeared... it's not a good look.

A scapegoat is one thing, but very important people's children all go to Hogwarts, and people like the Blacks, the Malfoys, so on and so forth don't want a scapegoat they want this stopped. If it was just Dippet appeasing them then I imagine there'd be a lot more pushback for investigation. I think the Board of Governors believes it was Hagrid as well as does the Wizengamot at large.

So, no, not a scapegoat, they 100% thought he did it.

Similarly, I think pretty much everyone except Dumbledore believed Hagrid was responsible. No, it wasn't obvious that Hagrid didn't do it (for much the reason it wasn't obvious to Harry and Ron after Riddle told them. Harry didn't want to believe Riddle, Hagrid's so nice, but it... tracks...)

The them getting killed themselves by the monster is... well... who is missing aside from Myrtle? And why would that stop the monster from rampaging? The spider's gone and we know it's gone so kind of makes sense that everything stopped when the spider's gone.

Was it Hard to Hire Hagrid?

I imagine it was actually quite difficult for Hagrid to be hired on as assistant groundskeeper. I think what saved him there was Dumbledore really going to bat with him for Dippet using the "this poor orphan boy with no prospects and I personally think he isn't responsible for reasons I can't get into because no one will ever believe me" and Dippet feeling sympathy and telling himself "okay, Hagrid had his wand snapped, he is an orphan with no prospects who will starve if we don't employ him here, and his supervisors can keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything".

I imagine a lot of the students and the Board of Governors were very leery of Hagrid being hired/in proximity of the students but some combination of Dippet and Dumbledore brushed that under the rug.

By the time we get to canon enough time has passed, enough has happened, that people have kind of forgotten about this as shown by it not being discussed until the Aurors arrive for Hagrid because "wow Hagrid, this is exactly like fifty years ago, you're still here, and we have you on record saying things like 'all Slytherins are evil at birth', are we doing this again, Hagrid?"

Would Hagrid Have Ended Up in Azkaban if the Spider Had Killed Someone?

Honestly, I don't think anything would have changed from what happened in canon. Because this is what people thought happened.

If there was no Chamber of Secrets debacle and this just randomly happened I think Dumbledore would still go to bat for Hagrid and get him the groundskeeping job (as it seems Dumbledore must have covered for Hagrid in the past). Dumbledore would probably blame Tom Riddle or else quietly admit it was probably Hagrid but Hagrid's just so sweet and it was clearly an accident.

Given that this is exactly what the Wizengamot/greater Wizarding World thought happened, I think Hagrid would be given the same punishment of expulsion and wand snapping, probably because it's manslaughter and he's a minor.

It was only when we went for round 2, fifty years later when Hagrid's an adult and it's looking very purposeful/not like manslaughter, that Hagrid got his stint in Azkaban.

And at this fucking point--

Well, @therealvinelle and I have an @rankheresy episode planned. I'll just leave it there.

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #the chamber of secrets #rubeus hagrid #anti rubeus hagrid #meta #headcanon #opinion

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cxtori · 3 months ago

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word count: 5,258

series masterlist

playlist: spotify youtube

tori’s note: umm… I may have gone overboard with this… sorry. But also NOT sorry because I had fun writing it lol. I would also like to apologize in advance for the pain this is going to cause 🫂

“War is no place for a child”.

You hear those words muttered every so often as you walk by the soldiers in the barracks.

A battlefield full of violence and evil, blood and injuries. It was no sight for someone so young, someone who barely understood the concept of life and death. But, despite that bit of common sense, the greed of others is what landed you and your older sister here.

You and Akiko had abilities that most would consider beautiful gifts. That to heal the injuries of others without much effort. But your sister would often call it a curse, though you didn’t understand why.

You didn’t know what was going on, the conflict that was happening just several hundred yards away from your bed. The only thing you were ever told was that there were people who were hurt, and you had to help them. Afterall, how do you explain the complex nature of war to a mere 7 year old?

Either way, for your young mind, that was all the explanation needed. It made you feel wanted, important, even if it was for evil reasons you couldn’t begin to wrap your head around.

You never saw the worst of it. Akiko requested that you remain in the barracks, where soldiers were capable of coming to you. She didn’t want you to have to see the things she did while in the infirmary. If she could keep you away from it, she would.

Your ability wasn’t as strong as your sister’s. You could heal only “minor” wounds. Severe cuts, fractured bones, such as that. Akiko, however, had the ability to “bring people from the verge of death”. You didn’t quite understand how impressive that was, you just knew that the adults found it very important. Especially Mori.

He was the reason you were here. You thought he was a kind man at first. He made you feel special, the way he had shown interest in you and your sister’s abilities. But then he took you out here where it was dark and cold, lonely and sad.

You’ve noticed that this darkness has begun to rub off on your sister. She used to be so happy and giggly. But now you’re lucky to get a small smile from her.

Every time a soldier comes to see you, you hope it’s the last one. That you’ll never have to see another injured person again. That you and your sister will be able to go home. But as the months pass and nothing changes, the bright hope you had slowly begins to diminish into a sliver.

These days, you hardly ever see Akiko, her own responsibilities keeping her in the infirmary while you’re left on the other side of the army camp. The only thing that keeps you going is the friendship you’ve started to form with one of the soldiers.

Shunzen.

You smiled the first time you heard his name. Shunzen. Spring cicada. You loved cicadas. Their funny, beady eyes, their intricate wings, the beautiful buzzing noise they would make. They reminded you of home, safe and warm. Shunzen made you feel that way too. You thought the name was very fitting.

He always took the time to ask you how you were. The other soldiers didn’t ask that. They just came to see you, get their wounds healed, and up and leave the moment they were able. But Shunzen always stayed, if only for a few minutes. You liked that.

Sometimes, he would let you know that your sister was doing okay, having seen her only a day, sometimes mere hours before you. He did his best to keep the two of you informed on the other, knowing that you didn’t see each other very much anymore.

Sometimes, during his longer stays, he would tell you about his life back home. About his job and friends and school. It made you feel comforted, hearing about the world outside of these cold metal walls.

“My little brother back home is about your age,” Shunzen says softly. You perk up at this. Little brother? He hasn’t mentioned him before.

“You have a brother?” You ask excitedly. A little brother, just like you’re a little sister! Shunzen laughs and nods.

“I do. He’ll be turning 7 in just a few weeks. He’s got big golden eyes and dark hair. And he’s stubborn. Just. Like. You,” he says, punctuating his last few words with some gentle pokes at your belly, making you laugh.

“Haha he sounds funny,” you say.

“He is funny,” he says. There’s a look of sadness in his eyes, but it’s only there for a moment before they light up once more. “When this is all over, I’ll take you home. You can meet him.”

“Really?!” Shunzen nods, confirming that he meant his words.

“You two would get along great,” he says with a soft smile.

“But, Akiko has to come too, okay?” You add frantically, not wanting to forget your sister.

“Of course. I promise.”

Before you can say another word, your friend is being called for, dragged once more out onto the battlefield. Usually you felt sad when he had to leave, but right now, you feel happy, and a little more hopeful than you did before.

The weeks continue to go by, all blurring together into a meaningless stretch of misery. You’ve noticed that you’ve seen Akiko and Shunzen much less recently. In fact, you haven’t seen many soldiers at all. You once believed that would be a source of relief, but for some reason, it filled you with more dread.

You were happy when you heard that Shunzen was able to go home for a short time. He didn’t miss his little brother’s birthday as he feared he would. But it made you sad that you weren’t able to go with him. But he would reassure you, saying that once the war was over, that you and your sister would both be welcome to visit him. It gave you something to look forward to, to strive for.

You saw Shunzen much less, but he would often stay with you for longer periods of time now, talking about his visit with his family or reading a few poems from his book.

You sat beside him, resting against his arm as he read. He moves away for a moment to remove his jacket in favor of the white t-shirt underneath.

“What’s that around your neck?” You ask, noticing the large, flat piece of metal dangling from a chain and resting against his chest. He picks it up, lifting it over his head and gathering the necklace into his palm.

“It’s my dog tag,” he says, holding out his hand to show you. You look closer to see his name engraved into it in fine characters.

“A dog tag… why does it say your name?” You ask innocently. Shunzen pauses.

“…It’s just a fancy necklace they give the soldiers,” he says, not looking you in the eyes. He flips over the piece, showing you the other side.

There are several marks scratched into it, but they look different from the other side. They’re shallow and jagged, not as smooth and refined as the other side. You study the lines but you can’t make sense of it.

“Is it a secret code or something?” You ask.

“No,” Shunzen laughs. “See each of the individual lines?” He points to the thin, jagged marks cut into the metal. You nod. “Each of these lines represents a time you and your sister helped me. Every time either of you healed me, I made a scratch.”

Your eyes widen as they trail down the piece of metal. There were dozens of lines. Had you and Akiko really healed him that many times?

“It’s because of you two that I was able to see my little brother again,” he says softly. Your heart twists and you smile brightly. It was because of you that he was able to go home, to see the family that he talked about so much. You look back down at the metal in his hand.

“I want a dog tag,” you mutter quietly, more to yourself than to him. Shunzen looks at you, those words leaving the mouth of a child sending an unpleasant chill down his spine.

He turns from you, reaching for his jacket. He picks it up and wraps his hands around the buttons, the metal clasps melting into his hands, obeying his mental commands.

You watch in interest as he holds the practically liquified metal in his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. His eyes close in concentration and you keep quiet as you watch.

After a short moment, he opens his hand to reveal a dog tag, chain and all, similar to his but much smaller. You beam from ear to ear. He hands it to you, but you’re almost afraid to touch it. Shunzen laughs lightly and takes it between his fingers before carefully placing it over your head, the tag dangling just over your chest.

You look down at it and notice another detail: your initials are printed over the front. You look up at Shunzen who is watching you happily. You throw your arms around him, tackling him in a sweet hug.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

It’s been almost 3 weeks since you saw Shunzen last. It’s the longest stretch you’ve gone since he’d left to visit his family. And before that, you’re not sure you remember him being gone for so long.

The number of soldiers you see daily has dwindled. You’ve seen Akiko three times in the past few weeks, and each time she was far too tired to hold any conversation with you, passing out before she even got to say hello.

Everything feels tense. It’s like the air itself was becoming harder to breathe. You had noticed that even Mori, who was usually uncaring and nonchalant, was much more uptight as of late. You wish you understood why. You wish someone would tell you. Just how bad was this war that was keeping you all here? How much longer would you all be expected to suffer?

You lean against your sister’s arm who is sitting beside you on your bed. It’s one of the rare times she’s been given a break. And an even rarer occurrence is that she didn’t fall asleep the moment she sat down.

You run your fingers over the smooth, golden metal of the hair clip Shunzen made for her. A beautiful, large winged butterfly, reminiscent of those that appeared when she used her ability.

“It’s really pretty,” you say. Akiko hums in agreement before taking it from you gently and clipping it back in her hair. It suited her perfectly, the way the shiny gold contrasted against her dark hair.

“Your necklace is pretty too,” Akiko says, looking to the flat, reflective pendant around your neck. Your hand instinctually raises to your chest, your fingers wrapping gently around the cool metal, and you smile.

You rest your head against your sister’s shoulder once more, your eyes heavy. Things feel calm, almost normal for a moment and you practically forget where you are. Until you hear the startling clang of a door down the hall slamming shut, snapping you back to your dreary reality.

A shuddered sigh leaves Akiko’s lips and her tensed muscles soon relax again. She wraps her arms tightly around you and you hug her back, reveling in the warmth of your sister.

“I’m so tired, Akiko,” you whisper. “I want to go home.”

“I know, I do too,” she says, her hands rubbing your arms encouragingly. “We just have to finish things here. And then we’ll go home. And we’ll visit Shunzen and his family, like he said. It’ll be okay, just a little longer.”

And you believe her. Your eyes flit closed and you feel like you may actually get some good rest. But then the door flies open, revealing Mori behind it, and your moment of peace is quickly replaced by anxiety.

“Akiko, You’re needed in the infirmary,” the older man says coldly. You’ve begun to notice a feeling of unease anytime Mori is around you, like his very presence makes your body revolt.

“But, I just returned from there. Can’t I-“

“We don’t have time for relaxation,” Mori snaps, and the edge in his voice makes you curl closer to your sister.

You can tell he’s tired. The circles beneath his eyes have only darkened in the previous days, and the kind, friendly smile he frequently wore when you first arrived has slowly disappeared. Honestly, every aspect of his friendliness has vanished. It only added to your further growing fear of him.

“Our soldiers require a care that only you can provide. Now come along.” He leaves the room without another word, his abruptness leaving no room for argument.

Akiko’s breath comes out in a heavy shudder, and you feel her shake beneath your hands. She moves to stand, tugging her arm gently away from you.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” She says, doing her best to put on an encouraging smile for you. And with that, she’s gone, leaving you once again alone in the cold, musty barracks.

You fold your legs to your chest as you wrap your arms around them, pressing your face to your knees.

You miss Akiko. You miss Shunzen. You miss home, even if it was just you and your sister. You just want to leave, leave and never come back.

Little did you know how soon your wish would come true.

It’s been days since you saw Akiko last. Almost 2 months since you saw Shunzen. There were very few soldiers that came by now. You were told that, if they returned to the base, they were sent directly to Akiko. Very rarely now did they have injuries minor enough for you to handle.

You were laying on your bed, eyes squeezed shut as your fingers traced over the dog tag around your neck, trying to block out the loud rumbles and shakes that seem to have gotten louder over the last couple days.

You feel like you’re about to miraculously fall asleep when you hear a loud clang followed by an ear piercing scream. A scream you recognize.

It was Akiko.

You shot straight up in the bed, your heart rate rising. What was that? Was it a dream? The long silence that follows almost convinces you it was in your head. But then you hear several pairs of feet running down the hall. They shouldn’t be down here, not unless they were coming to see you. And the footsteps ran right past your closed door.

You jump for the door, heaving it open. You follow the sound of frantic, muffled voices. Your heart crawls into your throat and your stomach knots. Something isn’t right. Was that Akiko screaming?

Your slow walk shifts into a run as the voices grow louder, anger and fear heavy in the air. You come to a hatch in the floor where several soldiers are standing below. You almost fall down the stairs with how quickly you take them, the rusted hand bar biting into your palm.

You reach the bottom where your sister is sitting on her knees with her head in her hands. Your eyes drift to the dark mass laying crumpled in the floor, a rope swinging from the ceiling above it. The men stand around motionless, their speaking coming to a halt as soon as you enter the room, aside from a few, hushed words.

“She shouldn’t be here. Neither of them should be.”

“This is so fucked up.”

“This is war, kids shouldn’t be here.”

“Akiko?” You call as you walk to your sister. But she doesn’t respond, doesn’t even give you the slightest hint of acknowledgment. You step closer, the knot in your stomach tightening. You try to keep your eyes on your sister, but your curiosity wins over as your gaze drifts back to the form on the floor. Your heart drops into your stomach.

“Shunzen?” You say, recognizing the face of your friend laying on the floor.

At this, Akiko’s head snaps over to look at you, her eyes wild. She launches herself at you, pulling your face to her chest in an attempt to block your vision. But it was pointless.

Confusion begins to mix with your fear. Why was Shunzen here? Why wasn’t anyone helping him? You rip away from your sister’s arms, shoving her back harshly as you hop around her. If they weren’t going to help him then you would.

“Shunzen!” You drop to your knees beside him, your hands resting on his back to shake him. But he doesn’t answer. You use your ability, your hands glowing as your power seeps into him, though it changes nothing. Your sister sits beside you, a look you don’t recognize on her face.

“Akiko, help him!” You cry. Akiko shakes her head, the movement barely noticeable. “Please!”

Akiko winces at the crack in your voice, and she lays her hands down beside your own. Bright, glowing butterflies fill the air as she tries to revive him. Unknown to you, she’d already tried several times.

Upon realizing that Shunzen was still not moving, you begin to shake him again.

“Shunzen, wake up! Don’t leave us, please,” you cry pitifully. Akiko pries your hands away before wrapping her arms around you in a nearly suffocating grasp.

“You said you would take us home. You promised!” Akiko’s arms wrap impossibly tighter around you. You eventually give up and turn to her, your tears soaking into the front of her dress.

“He promised.”

The few days following were a blur. All you remember are the tears, the twisted pain in your heart, and the blank, emotionless gaze your sister began to develop.

Mori had grown colder toward you and Akiko. He still smiled often, but it was no longer the warm, friendly grin he wore when you first arrived. It was tight, emotionless, and didn’t do anything to cover the annoyance written all over his face.

He was upset. You knew he was. You and your sister’s productivity had dropped, and as punishment, he did his best to keep you separated. It didn’t have the effect he’d hoped and it only worsened your conditions.

Akiko continued to do her job, but it was like she was on autopilot. She hardly spoke a word now, to Mori and even you.

You, on the other hand, were struggling.

You were still only capable of healing minor injuries, and they used to bring such soldiers to you, in the barracks. But now, Mori requested that you come to the infirmary. Right where Akiko had previously refused to allow you.

But now she wasn’t mentally strong enough to say no.

You went a few times and you slowly began to understand why Akiko was so adamant about you staying away.

The smell of blood hung thickly in the air and the constant groaning of pain would ring in your ears even hours after leaving the infirmary. Seeing soldiers injured beyond what you could repair was sad and sickening. It gave you feelings you didn’t have words for.

Between Shunzen’s death, not seeing Akiko, and being forced to visit the infirmary, it only took a few days before you shut down.

You had been given only a half-day's break, and you spent the entire time wrapped in your blanket on your bed with your hand grasping your dog tag so tightly it cut into your palm.

The pain in your heart quickly grew into anger and hatred. All of it aimed at Mori. He was the reason you were here. Why you and your sister were suffering.

You hear the metal door squeak open and you don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Y/n, sweetheart, we need you in the infirmary.”

“I’m not going,” you say, still not bothering to lift your head. Mori steps closer to you, his presence suffocating, “I’m never using my ability again.”

“You’ll have to eventually.” He spoke with such coldness, not a trace of emotion in his voice. You grit your teeth and turn your head to look at him. His expression falters for half a second, taken aback by the look in your eyes as you stare at him

“No! I won’t. You’d have to kill me!”

You didn’t truly understand the weight of your words, let alone the fact that you wouldn’t be able to use your ability if they followed through with it. But Mori understood the severity of the meaning behind it.

You meant what you said, even if you didn’t fully understand it yourself. You were not going to be using your ability anymore.

Mori saw no use in having you there any longer, seeing you as nothing more than a liability. Another person to feed and keep alive. So you were sent back to the mainland.

They brought you back, kicking and screaming. You didn’t want to leave Akiko. You couldn’t. The thought of her being there all alone made you cry and you couldn’t believe that they would be so evil to separate you. But you had no choice, there was nothing you could do.

With your family gone, you were left with no one. You were sent to live with a family chosen by Mori, a connection he had through the mafia, in case you ever changed your mind and wanted to go back to work.

You hated living there, despite the fact that they were generally nice people. They lived a luxurious life, free of worry or care and it made you sick. You were here being taken care of while your sister was still in the middle of a battlefield, alone and miserable. You didn’t feel like you deserved it. Akiko was the one who worked harder than you. She should be here too.

You soon came to realize that speaking of the war was an unspoken rule. Anytime you would mention someone or something relating to what you’d experienced, you were shut down. Even after the war ended, when things went back to “normal”, you were forbidden from speaking about it.

Mori would come by occasionally, much to your horror. He still saw use in you, in your abilities. But you always refused. You wouldn’t work for him again, ever.

You would ask about Akiko every time you saw him. Had she come back? Was she okay? Was she alive? He never answered your questions. You knew it was to torture you in hopes of you agreeing to do what he asked.

It was three years after the war ended when a man you didn’t recognize showed up at the door. Your “parents” had been hesitant to let him in, wondering what the repercussions of doing so would be.

You weren’t going to get involved in the hushed conversation they were having. But then you heard him mention Akiko.

Before you knew it, you were skittering to the door, shoving the other two aside to see the man. His hair was silvery-gray, despite his young appearance and he had a soft yet stern expression on his face. The stoicism cracks when his grayish-blue eyes meet with yours, surprise flashing in them.

“You said something about Akiko,” you state, struggling to keep your composure. “Do you know where she is?” The man looks at you before glancing back at the couple standing aprehensivley behind you. You turn to look at them.

“Let me talk to him,” you request, though your tone sounds more like that of a demand. They give each other a look before shuffling away quietly, leaving the two of you alone.

You step outside next to the man, shutting the door behind you. You didn’t want them trying to listen in. They always did when Mori came to speak with you.

“My name is Yukichi Fukuzawa. I’m an old friend of Ougai Mori.”

You gasp softly and step away from him. Was this some new tactic Mori was trying? What torturous method to get you to come back with him was he trying now?

Fukuzawa’s face softens and he takes a couple steps back of his own.

“I understand your wariness, but I assure you, I’ve not come here to drag you away.”

“Then why are you here?” You ask, your voice snappier than intended, though he doesn't seem to mind.

“I had come here in hopes of finding Mori. I have something important to speak to him about. Do you know anything of his whereabouts?”

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me anything,” you say, your gaze dropping to the ground. The man doesn’t respond but studies you for a thoughtful moment.

“You’re Y/n Yosano, correct?” You look back up at him and give him a curt nod. He lets out a quiet sigh, lifts his fingers to the bridge of his nose and curses under his breath. “The other child he’d dragged into that warzone.”

“You mentioned my sister. Do you know if… If she’s…” You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but he understands despite that.

“She’s in a psychiatric facility,” he answers carefully. “She’s been there for a few years, but she’s alive.”

You feel sick and relieved all at once. She’s alive. But she’s been locked up, all alone, for years. For years, and Mori never let you see her once. Never even told you if she ever left that battlefield or not.

Your throat tightens and your face grows hot as you begin to cry. She’s alive.

Fukuzawa doesn’t comment on your tears. He doesn’t give you a look of pity. He doesn’t ask you to stop. He just lets you cry as he continues.

“I have reason to believe that Mori wants your sister back in his care. I plan to prevent that from happening.”

You had only been speaking to this man for a few minutes but you found yourself already trusting him.

He was kind. It wasn’t the type of kindness Mori had shown you when he’d found you and your sister, one rooted in greed and ulterior motives. This was genuine kindness, grown out of experience and concern. You had learned to tell the difference.

And if he was going to help your sister, then you wanted to go with him.

“Take me with you,” you find yourself saying as if your mouth had decided before your mind had. Fukuzawa’s eyebrows raise, but his expression remains otherwise blank. “Please?”

His eyes drift to the window behind you and you turn to follow his gaze. You just barely catch the man and woman inside leaping away from the window, attempting, and failing, to not be caught in their snooping.

“He’s placed you with a nice family here,” Fukuzawa says. “Are you sure you want to leave?” You hold back an annoyed groan.

“They don’t actually care. They don’t like when I talk about it. They want to just pretend that it never happened.” Fukuzawa’s face droops, not needing you to explain what “it” is. “They only took me in because Mori ordered them to. They’d be relieved to see me gone.”

The man hums and closes his eyes. He’s silent for long enough that you worry he’s about to deny your request. Say you should stay in this home with the family that inhabits it, with the family that has stifled you for years, keeping you under their wing as they wait for the day you finally break and return to work with Mori.

But then Fukuzawa speaks.

“If that is what you desire, then fine. I’m sure your sister will be happy to see you.”

You wait impatiently in the halls of the hospital, waiting for Fukuzawa and Ranpo to return.

They had discovered that Mori indeed planned to retrieve Akiko from the facility. To drag her back into the hell she’d barely escaped from. But none of you were going to allow it.

Fukuzawa instructed you to stay here and wait for him or Ranpo to get you. That was over 30 minutes ago. You pace around anxiously in the room you’d decided to stay in, the chair in the corner having become increasingly more uncomfortable the longer you sat in it.

And then you hear it. Footsteps and the rhythmic squeak of a wheelchair. You walk to the door and stop when you hear your sister’s voice.

“Bring me back,” she mutters, her quiet voice carrying through the empty hall. You step out of the room, immediately finding Ranpo pushing a wheelchair with a girl sitting in it. Akiko.

Her hair was long, much longer than she’d ever preferred to keep it. Her skin was pale, evidence of how long it’s been since she’s seen the sun. She looked… sickly. But what she says next quickly drives away any thought you have on her appearance.

“I only make the lives of those around me less valuable.”

You grit your teeth and walk closer to the pair.

“Am I less valuable then?”

Akiko gasps softly at the sound of your voice. She slowly, hesitantly raises her head, her gaze eventually finding yours.

“Y/n…?”

“I’m here to bring you home,” you say, stepping closer until you’re standing in front of her. “Fukuzawa and Ranpo, they’re nice people. They want to help us.”

Akiko’s eyes drop back to her lap and it’s only then that you realize she hadn’t even smiled when she saw you.

“I can’t,” she whispers. “I shouldn’t be allowed to live.”

You feel something in your heart break as those words leave her lips. What had happened to her? All those times she kept you away from her work, what was going on? What had she seen? What had happened when you left?

You drop in front of her and wrap your arms around her, tears quickly forming and streaming down your face.

“Don’t say that!” You cry. Akiko remains limp in your arms, too weak to hug you back. Possibly too mentally, emotionally broken to even try.

“Please, Akiko. Don’t make me leave you again. I need my sister.” You pull away from her to look her in the eyes and her face twitches with the first sliver of emotion she’s shown since she’s seen you.

Ranpo comes to stand beside you, telling her the same words he and Fukuzawa had told you. That they don’t need you. That they don’t need your special ability. They just wanted you because you care. Because you don’t view life the way Mori does. That this “Armed Detective Agency” was a place where you could just be. Just exist.

Ranpo concludes his words by placing something into Akiko’s lap. Her golden butterfly hair clip from Shunzen. You both gasp in shock and Akiko picks up the piece carefully as you reach for the dog tag you still keep around your neck.

You try to picture the man, but your time and trauma-worn memories are so distorted and you’re sure that the image you conjure is accurate. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

“We don’t want your special ability. It’s your kindness that means something,” Ranpo says gently.

Akiko sniffles and as you look into your sister’s eyes, vacant yet so full of pain as they flood with tears, you’re reminded of the words you heard muttered so often.

War is no place for a child.

Taglist: @chuuminn

#☆彡tori writes #ღtori’s series #ღlovely lies #tachihara michizo #michizo tachihara #tachihara #michizo tachihara x reader #tachihara michizo x reader #tachihara x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #michizo tachihara bungo stray dogs #tachihara bungo stray dogs #michizo tachihara bsd #tachihara bsd

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undiscovered-horizon · 2 years ago

Text

Imagine being the one who releases Morpheus. - ENDING

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [ALT. ENDING] || Sandman-inspired playlist

[...] Among those lights, I saw eternity Hidden somewhere in unknown chasms Although gods hid it so well It was here, sitting in front of me In that eternity I saw myself Among family photographs Preserved in every whispered word Or a poem left in the drawer When a black cortege follows me I will live on in their stories Still generous in my words: There is no end

Never once did you consider that living would be so physically difficult so early. You weren't even halfway through your life and breathing was becoming a hardship as well as walking or carrying things. All of that came as a consequence of your choice - a choice which morality you never disputed, although on odd occasions you did fantasize about the could-haves. At the time, the unfair exchange, your life instead of his, seemed so obvious as though it was unacceptable for you to even consider a different course of action. But now, when your days were counted, a certain melancholic reflection haunted your thoughts: what must happen to a person to be willing to give their life up so easily? Maybe there was a hidden truth in your sacrifice, something you never quite realized or admitted to yourself. Those thoughts, however, were in vain now just like a prisoner is better off not dreaming about the cotton-like clouds lazily drifting across the blue sky, pushed in their direction by a soft blow of the first warm wind sometime in June.

"Our time is coming to an end, dear Morpheus," you said quietly as you inspected the black web sprawling across your skin. In some macabre way, it looked fascinating and beautiful the same way fresh blood wonderfully glistens on marble floors. "The curse is eating my body away."

"Such knowledge is not yours to possess," his tone sounded as if he was warning you. "Only Death knows that."

It wasn't true, not necessarily. A sudden change in your behaviour did not escape Morpheus's attention such as the fact that you had to take a break every few steps and lean against something. Despite that, having irrefutable proof of your words right before his eyes, Morpheus opted to remain oblivious. He voluntarily chose this blindness.

"True, I do not know my fate for sure. Call it a gut feeling, if you will. Mine is calling unto eternity."

In some bitter way, it was all very funny: a mortal was approaching unending aeons and one of the Endless was running out of time.

For a while, he stood silently watching you. His lips were slightly pursed but you couldn't quite decipher what emotions stood behind such an expression. Morpheus's unreadable face was complemented with those steel blue eyes that seemed to stare intensely through you as if by looking in your direction he could see something else, something only irises as arcane as his could perceive.

"May I ask one more thing of you, dear Morpheus?"

"Of course."

"Wait with me, down by the sea. I'd hate to go in loneliness."

What a magnificent creature you must be! To effortlessly make an immortal god patiently wait for death.

The sky in the east was already bright. Above the distant horizon, where endless waters crashed on the shores of fantasy and wonder, a bright hue appeared. Slowly, it became a mirage of beautifully warm colours. The Sun, as glorious as it was awaited, slowly crawled out of the cold sea to once again begin its tireless journey across the firmament. Not even cotton-like clouds had the courage to hide this mundane miracle.

The thick material of his coat was slightly coarse against your cold cheek but it was pleasantly warm all the same. His shoulders slightly raised and fell with each of his breaths. Morpheus's head was hesitantly resting against yours and this anxious intimacy made you fearful to move even the smallest of muscles; his longing was always silent but never invisible. Perhaps, as befits a dream, his heartache was fleeting, disappearing in the very moment someone dares to entertain a different thought.

A content sigh left your mouth. "Look at her, the Sun!" you exclaimed happily. "She rises each morning to warm Earth and never asks for anything in return. She lets us live in such a beautiful world and yet, never says 'you owe me.'"

The white sand quietly rustled as someone slowly walked behind the two of you. Over the loud crashing of the waves, the stroll was hardly audible. After a few steps, the stranger stopped like they were waiting for one of you to finally acknowledge them. Dream decided to be the first to break the tense silence:

"Must you always be on time, sister?" he asked without looking over his shoulder. Maybe, just maybe, Morpheus was wrong and it wasn't your hour yet. Unfortunately, the stranger didn't deny the name he gave them. "Couldn't you be late this one day?"

"I am only fulfilling my duty," she answered.

"People spend their entire lives wondering where Death will lead them, you know?" Although your words were directed at Morpheus, your stare remained focused on the faraway horizon. "Hell, Heaven, Sheol... I never did," you said with a slight shrug of shoulders. "Perhaps, I like surprises a little too much."

"Wherever my sister leads you, it is somewhere I can not follow." Perhaps, in one of his deeply hidden and never admitted fantasies, it was enough to stop you from embarking on your last voyage.

"You are a king, dear Morpheus. You do not follow," you reminded him. His cold, blue eyes were bloodshot. With all the strength he could muster, Morpheus prevented those sinful, bitter tears from falling - yet. Feeling your heart break for him, your hands gently cradled his face. "Love, don’t cry. We were always headed this way. What story doesn't have a super fin?"

Dream took in a sharp inhale naively thinking it was enough to stop his heart from being torn in half at hearing you call him by the most beautiful of names. "Yours is much too early," he quietly said in a shaky voice. Perhaps if he spoke even slightly louder, calloused evil that hid beyond this realm would also hear it. But instead of raising its monstrous hand against him, it would surely weep too.

"I could live a thousand years in this world and it still wouldn't be enough, there is still so much to see, so much to love. But I shan't grieve the years I wasn't given. Instead, I'll always cherish those few I did have."

Morpheus clenched his jaw in a futile attempt to prevent his lips from trembling. His eyebrows suddenly furrowed and cheeks raised. "What am I to do with the emptiness you're leaving me with?" he asked angrily.

"Emptiness?" you repeated. A dry, sad chuckle left your lips as you stared into his red eyes. "One day, flowers shall grow out of my rotting corpse and those flowers will end up in an ornate vase on someone's windowsill to be cherished and admired. My dear Morpheus, there is no end."

His lips parted slightly as if he was about to say something, defy your poetic wisdom with his pragmatism but he didn't. He simply couldn't. Instead of words, Morpheus shared a tear that you tirelessly wiped away from his face.

"There's still so much I've yet to tell you," you quietly confessed.

"Then tell me now," he demanded. One of his hands gently grabbed your wrist as if he feared your touch might leave his face at any moment and he wasn't yet ready for such a loss. After all, only recently did he realize how his heart bloomed whenever he felt you. "I'm here, I'm listening."

"Oh, my lovely Morpheus..." you whispered with laughter in your voice. A tear dropped from your eye as you brushed your thumb against his cold cheek. Your swollen, trembling lips were still curved into a smile as if there was anything happy about your premature parting. "Among all the centuries and billions of lives, we met each other. I'd like to think it wasn't accidental, that maybe, for a moment, we were divine."

"There is nothing holy about our parting."

Morpheus recalled Yasmin's words: 'God looks after his angels and so should you.' But he never was a god - sacredness did not weave his bones like it did with yours. Whatever divinity might have resided in him was never once his. No, it came from your cup, a chalice out of which he drank a little too greedily for a creature of his kind. That halo around his head was once your crown.

"It's time for us to go," Death stated. Her tone was firm but never cold.

You slipped out of his longing touch and made your way towards the woman standing not too far behind you and Dream. As if frozen in time, Morpheus remained completely still. He did not have the courage to look at his sister who, surely, graced him with a sympathetic gaze. Whatever he could tell her, whatever pathetic and completely pointless begging he could commit, it wasn't anything she hadn't already seen or heard.

Suddenly, a meowing resounded over the pleasantly rhythmic crashing of waves - the very same meowing you heard from the living room of your house. Turning around to look at the unexpected guest, you were met with a sight most strange and welcome: an orange cat that was missing one of its front paws. Its greenish-yellow eyes reminded you of sun-dried long grass growing on a meadow hidden among a pine forest.

"Hugo!" you exclaimed. Unable to stop yourself from reaching for the missed pet, you crouched the moment you saw his red fur. "I never thought I'd see you again, you little fiery menace! I was barely six when we bid our farewells."

The feline only meowed again and bumped its small head against your leg. Curiously, he didn't leave paw prints on the white, cold sand. Too busy at the exciting reunion, you never noticed Death's slightly furrowed eyebrows as she stared at the cat. What was it doing there?

Scratching Hugo's chin and head, you noticed something strange about his pendant: it didn't read 'Hugo' anymore, although you knew it did the day he passed away. Instead of his name gracing the small metal plate, there were tally marks - seven, to be exact. You could only wonder what kind of trouble that fearless, silly friend had gotten into since the last time you saw him.

Not pondering the question of the appearing cat any longer, Death lead you in the direction of a destination only she knew of. Hugo, however, did not follow you right away. He sat on the cold concrete of the nearby boulevard, watching Dream's back. After a while, the feline let out a questioning purring-like sound, perhaps in confusion at the man's unwillingness to move from his spot. Hugo meowed again but never managed to catch the Dream King's attention. In a somewhat defeated manner, the cat got up and trotted in the direction of wherever Death was walking you.

Morpheus listened to you walk away with Death, never daring to look at you this one last time. Then, when silence fell on the world, it was unbearably loud. It was in the rustling of sand, in the crashing of waves and calling of seagulls: Mother Nature was mocking his yearning, a temporary whim that could not measure to her timeless might. In the distance, he saw a raft of mallards that seemed to quack at him.

"You, too, have been abandoned," he said to them, although never really expected the birds to understand such devastating words. Lucky them.

The blue sky grew black and Sun drowned in the endless seas before Morpheus got up from the sand. In a truly miserable fashion, he promised himself to never discard his grief. As long as he held onto that misery of your passing, placed you like a thorny crown on his head, you couldn't be gone, not entirely. In all of his selfishness, he wanted to curse you to never rest in peace but forever haunt him instead. Aren't rubble and ruin happier with a ghost that wanders their has-been halls, a companion to sweeten their decay? As a wraith of all the passion he never got to reveal, Morpheus would be able to love you as long he wished as though you were a wilted flower whose owner doesn't have the heart to throw out just yet. Perhaps you were akin to a dried sunflower that loomed over the window of his soul, always reminding all of creation that a life that is missed is a life that was loved and a heart that breaks is a heart that was once whole.

Morpheus had gone somewhere without a word and so Lucienne began her day in a frantic search for the lord of the realm. On top of his not-so-recent captivity, he'd been acting strange ever since he returned with the ruby and the pouch. The King of Dreaming would walk around the palace in a somewhat moping, round-shouldered manner, wandering like a phantom that couldn't find a place to haunt. Refusing to say more than a handful of words at the time, Lucienne and Jessamy could only suspect that a true calamity had fallen on their lord and friend. Morpheus, however, had a strange and entirely frustrating inclination for keeping his cards to himself.

At last, they did find him. Jessamy's black wings scoured lands near and far from the palace, only to find Dream King at work - contemplating his solitude as he busied himself with building new Dreams or Nightmares. Such news elicited a heavy sigh of relief from Lucienne, who dreaded seeing Dreaming fall into ruin once more. Still, her annoyance prevailed as she pondered how difficult it was for the King to speak about his plans and prevent the recent tensions from coming back to their original severity. Aside from that, there were still many matters the Lord of Dreaming should tend to, although probably none of them was as important as his current occupation.

Wasting no time, Lucienne and Jessamy paid a visit to working Morpheus. Despite several humanoid forms rising from the sands underneath their feet, Dream seemed to be focused on only one of them: one that appeared suspiciously not strange. The longer Lucienne stared at the oddly familiar face, the more she grew convinced that she did, in fact, know its owner - even if her entire knowledge was taken from Dream's account of his escape. "Isn't that...?"

"Yes, Lucienne," he interjected. Some part of Morpheus feared that she might just say your name out loud and he couldn't be sure what madness would take hold of him then. It was a beast best left unpoked. "They deserved to live many more years. The world deserved it. In fact, I think the world desperately needed it. Now they can live out the years stolen from them as something too human for me to understand yet: the dream of loving and being loved. Greek agape, if you will."

"Forgive me, my lord, but if you never quite understood it, how can you recreate it?"

Morpheus's blank stare was focused on your face. Like all the great painters and sculptors of humanity, he, too, chiselled his love into a masterpiece of artistry. How deranged such action truly was: to recreate his heart's greatest desire and claim for it to be something every person wished to have. "The sun never says," he whispered to himself but taking into account the hardly existing distance between him and his artwork, he could have been whispering those words to the monument of you.

"My lord?"

He turned towards Lucienne again. "The sun warms the earth and yet it never says 'you owe me'. Tenderness, they used to call it."

How tragic his affection truly was: he was but a moon in love with the sun. They were destined to live apart and yet he would be dim without the light she had so freely given him, never asking for anything in return. And just like with those beautiful celestial bodies, all the stars in the sky - each light of past, present and future - sighed in relief at your meeting.

Morpheus stared at his work in silence. It wasn't finished yet. In fact, it was far from being finished but he had already spent so much time perfecting the smallest of details, he had to remind himself of other duties he still had to tend to. Unlike the real you, his newly made Dream will wait for him until the edges of eternity. Although Lucienne did not gain any more understanding from his vague answer to his question, Morpheus's response was more than exhausting for someone who had experienced your gentle soul.

To his displeasure, there were other matters he had to take care of as the king of this wonderful realm. Seeing your nearly finished effigy, a new vigour entered his tired bones as if the sole sight of your features could remake him into a different creature. Suddenly, in the golden stardust you put into his veins, there was something holy about your parting: the moon, after all, shines not with his own light but the sun's. "Come, Lucienne, there is much we are yet to do. The world is spinning and we mustn't only stand on it."

But neither Lucienne nor Jessamy followed him immediately. Instead, they exchanged equally suspicious and confused looks. Their lord's behaviour was only becoming stranger and neither of them could point out exactly why, although they did have their, mostly correct, theories.

"Is he... being optimistic?" Jessamy asked. Putting 'Morpheus' and 'optimism' in one sentence seemed impossible unless someone wanted to accentuate his moping.

"I'm afraid so," Lucienne slowly answered as she watched Morpheus walk away into the distance.

After another moment of silence, Lucienne let out a light sigh and marched after Morpheus. Jessamy wanted to follow, take flight to reach the king in no time, but an unforeseen event prohibited her from doing so; the raven shrieked as an orange cat playfully tugged at her tail with its sharp teeth.

I'd like to thank everyone who supported this little series - your love was a monumental motivation! I'm really content with how this chapter/part turned out (I bawled my eyes out writing this bye). Perhaps, the ending was not what you expected but perhaps I can write an alternative one...?

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @rosaren2498 @jessiboobdbdb @chantzmar @lexi-anastasia @bisexualunicronrunningloose @farintonorth @oo0lady-mad0oo@all-bi-myselfs-blog @piperstofu101 @magic-magnoliaa @kotonei-molyneux @wheresmyboo @supermegapauselouca @sloanexx @rockergirl57 @aizawa-emma @ruyi-years @commanderfreethatdust @sapphireonline @izzicle@mxxny-lupin @shadowluna25

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