#in memory of my own grandfather - who just passed away

[97linelover]

Cafe near the base - Jjk

summary: having a small little café near the army base was nothing special, but what if one day a special someone walks in?

content: Idol Jungkook x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, drama, café setting, fight mentions, discussions

a/n: something about Military Jungkook makes me uuugghhh... I want him.

Y/N wiped her hands on her apron, the smell of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the faint hum of chatter in her cozy café. Nestled near the outskirts of the city, just a short distance from the military base, her café had become a quiet retreat for soldiers and locals alike. She had inherited the place from her late grandfather, who always said, “A warm cup can heal a cold soul.” It was her sanctuary—and, unknowingly, about to become someone else’s.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling a new customer. Y/N glanced up from the counter to see a young man in a plain black hoodie, his dark hair falling over his eyes. He moved with quiet confidence, but there was something unassuming about him that made her immediately feel at ease.

“Welcome,” she said with a small smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked at the menu board for a moment before responding in a deep, smooth voice. “Just an Americano, please.”

“Coming right up.”

She set to work, glancing at him briefly. He was undeniably handsome, but she didn’t recognize him. To her, he was just another soldier from the base—someone seeking a moment of peace away from their rigorous routines.

He took a seat by the window, his gaze wandering outside. The way he seemed lost in thought piqued her curiosity, but she didn’t want to intrude. When she brought him his coffee, he looked up and offered a faint smile.

“Thank you,” he said softly.

“You’re welcome. First time here?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Just transferred to the base recently. Thought I’d explore the area.”

“Well, welcome to the neighborhood,” she replied warmly. “This place might not look like much, but I promise we have the best coffee around.”

He chuckled, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw a flash of something—relief? Gratitude?—in his eyes.

“I can tell,” he said, taking a sip. “It’s good.”

From that day, he started coming in regularly. Sometimes he’d sit and read, other times he’d sketch in a small notebook he always carried. He introduced himself simply as Jungkook, and Y/N didn’t pry further. He seemed to enjoy the anonymity her café offered, and she liked the calm presence he brought.

As weeks passed, their conversations grew longer. They talked about everything from their favorite childhood memories to dreams they hadn’t yet chased. Y/N found herself drawn to him—not just his looks, but the quiet depth he carried, like he was hiding a world she couldn’t quite see.

One evening, as the café neared closing time, Jungkook stayed behind to help her clean up. They worked side by side in comfortable silence until he suddenly spoke.

“Do you ever feel like… you want to escape your own life for a while?”

Y/N paused, the question catching her off guard. “I think everyone feels that way sometimes. Why? Do you?”

He hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Maybe... There’s a lot of pressure in my… job. Sometimes it feels like I can’t breathe.”

Y/N frowned, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “You can always breathe here,” she said gently.

Jungkook smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thanks, Y/N. That means more than you know.”

What Y/N didn’t know was that the man sweeping her café floor and laughing at her terrible jokes was none other than Jeon Jungkook—the world-famous singer from BTS. The military transfer was a cover for his enlistment, and her café had become his refuge from the spotlight.

As they grew closer, Jungkook found himself torn. He wanted to tell her the truth, but he feared it would change everything. For once, someone saw him as just Jungkook—not the global sensation, not the idol, but a person. And he wasn’t ready to let that go.

One late afternoon, as the golden light spilled through the windows, Y/N handed him a steaming cup of coffee. “You’re kind of mysterious, you know that?” she teased.

“Am I?” he asked, his lips quirking into a small grin.

“Yeah. But I like it. Makes me want to figure you out.”

Jungkook’s chest tightened. He realized then that he’d found something rare in Y/N: a connection untouched by fame or expectations. But the longer he kept his secret, the more he feared what would happen when she discovered who he really was.

For now, he chose to savor the moments—the sound of her laughter, the warmth of her smile, the way her presence made him feel like he could finally breathe.

Over the weeks, Y/N and Jungkook fell into an easy rhythm. Morning coffee runs turned into lingering afternoons, and eventually, late evenings spent talking until the stars dotted the sky. Jungkook began helping her in the café when it got busy, claiming he enjoyed the distraction. Y/N didn’t protest—she liked having him there.

What started as casual conversations about coffee or books had evolved into something much deeper. She found herself laughing more, smiling wider, and looking forward to every moment they spent together. Jungkook’s presence felt like a warm embrace, and though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was something about him that made her feel safe.

One Saturday, as the sun dipped behind the mountains near the base, Jungkook arrived at the café with a friend. The man was shorter, with a bright smile that could light up the room and a laugh that seemed to ripple effortlessly through the air.

“Y/N, this is Jimin,” Jungkook introduced him, looking both amused and slightly exasperated as Jimin practically ran up to her.

“Hi!” Jimin greeted warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you. I just had to see this café that Jungkook never stops talking about.”

Y/N blushed under his cheerful gaze, glancing at Jungkook, who rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. ���Oh, really? I hope it lives up to the hype.”

“It already does,” Jimin said, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. “I mean, the smell of coffee, the cozy vibe—it’s perfect. No wonder he’s always here.”

“Jimin,” Jungkook muttered, clearly embarrassed, though Y/N noticed the soft fondness in his tone.

The three of them ended up sitting at one of the corner tables after closing. Jimin’s infectious energy filled the room as he teased Jungkook and made Y/N laugh until her stomach hurt. It was the first time she’d seen Jungkook so relaxed, his usual quietness giving way to bursts of laughter and playful jabs at Jimin.

As the evening stretched on, Jimin leaned toward Y/N and said with a wink, “You’ve got no idea how much this guy talks about you at the base. It’s kind of sickening, honestly.”

“Jimin!” Jungkook groaned, his face turning red as Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Oh, come on, Kook,” Jimin said with a laugh. “You’re practically glowing every time you come back from this place.”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile, her heart fluttering. She glanced at Jungkook, who avoided her gaze but couldn’t hide the small, shy smile playing on his lips.

After Jimin left, the two of them stood outside the café under the clear night sky. The air was crisp, and the stars shimmered brightly overhead.

“I’m sorry about Jimin,” Jungkook said, his voice low. “He… has no filter.”

“Don’t apologize,” Y/N said softly, leaning against the doorframe. “I like him. He’s funny. And… he seems to care about you a lot.”

Jungkook nodded, his gaze fixed on the ground. After a moment, he looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers. “Y/N, I—” He hesitated, then shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What is it?” she asked, stepping closer.

He looked at her for a long moment, as if searching for something in her expression. “Nothing. I just… I’m glad I met you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the sincerity in his voice. “Me too.”

The days turned into weeks, and their connection deepened. Jungkook and Y/N spent more time together, sharing stolen moments in the quiet of the café or walking along the trails near the base. Jimin occasionally joined them, his playful energy balancing the quiet intensity between Y/N and Jungkook.

Still, she remained unaware of who Jungkook truly was. He’d mastered the art of blending in—wearing simple clothes, keeping a low profile, and avoiding anything that might reveal his identity. But with every passing day, his secret weighed heavier on him.

One evening, as they sat on a bench overlooking the city lights, Y/N leaned her head on Jungkook’s shoulder. “You know,” she said, her voice soft, “I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re kind, thoughtful, and…” She paused, smiling. “Mysterious.”

Jungkook chuckled, though it lacked his usual lightness. “Mysterious, huh?”

She nodded. “It’s like you’re carrying this big secret. But I don’t mind. I just… I hope you trust me enough to tell me someday.”

He stiffened slightly but quickly relaxed. “I do trust you, Y/N. More than you know.”

For now, he told himself, he could hold onto this. Hold onto her. Because in her eyes, he wasn’t Jungkook the superstar. He was just Jungkook—a man falling hopelessly in love.

When he walked through the door that evening, her heart skipped, as it always did. Jungkook wore his usual black hoodie, his hair slightly messy, and that small, shy smile she had come to adore.

“Hey,” he greeted softly, leaning on the counter. “You okay? You look… distracted.”

Y/N swallowed hard, wiping her hands on her apron before meeting his gaze. “Jungkook, can we talk? Really talk?”

His smile faltered slightly, and she noticed the flicker of concern in his eyes. “Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”

She motioned toward one of the booths in the corner, and he followed her, sitting across from her as she fidgeted with her hands. The words caught in her throat, but she forced herself to push through.

“Jungkook,” she began, her voice trembling, “I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll just… say it. I’ve fallen for you. I care about you—so much more than I thought possible.”

His eyes widened slightly, and she pressed on before she lost her nerve.

“You’re kind, thoughtful, and you’ve become such a big part of my life. I don’t know what you’re hiding, and I don’t need to know. I just know that I—” Her voice cracked, but she managed to whisper, “I love you.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Jungkook looked down at the table, his hands clenched into fists. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something. But he didn’t. Instead, he stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“Jungkook?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“I—” He shook his head, avoiding her gaze. “I can’t do this, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

Her heart shattered at his words. “What do you mean? Did I… do something wrong?”

“No.” His voice was strained, his hands trembling as he shoved them into his pockets. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re… perfect. But this—us—it can’t happen.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she stood, desperate to understand. “Why? If you feel the same way, why are you pushing me away?”

He looked at her then, his eyes filled with pain. “Because I’m not who you think I am. I can’t give you the life you deserve. And if you knew the truth about me, you’d understand why this has to end.”

“Then tell me,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Whatever it is, we can figure it out together.”

But he just shook his head, stepping back toward the door. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I can’t.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing there, tears streaming down her face as the door jingled shut behind him.

For days, Jungkook didn’t come to the café. Y/N tried to focus on her work, but the emptiness he left behind was unbearable. She replayed their conversation over and over in her mind, trying to make sense of it.

What was he hiding? Why couldn’t he trust her?

Jungkook, meanwhile, was drowning in his own turmoil. He stayed on base, avoiding everyone, even Jimin. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—the way she looked at him, her voice when she said she loved him.

He loved her too. He had from the very beginning. But how could he tell her? How could he burden her with the truth? He wasn’t just a soldier stationed at the base. He was Jeon Jungkook, a global superstar whose every move was scrutinized. His life wasn’t his own, and if Y/N knew the truth, her life wouldn’t be hers either.

“You’re an idiot,” Jimin said one evening, barging into Jungkook’s room without knocking.

Jungkook sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. “Don’t start, Jimin.”

“No, I will start,” Jimin snapped, crossing his arms. “You love her, don’t you?”

Jungkook didn’t answer, but the look on his face said enough.

“Then why are you doing this to her? To yourself?”

“Because I’m protecting her!” Jungkook shouted, standing abruptly. “If she knew who I really was, everything would change. She wouldn’t look at me the same way. And even if she did, the world wouldn’t leave her alone. They’d dig into her life, follow her everywhere—she deserves better than that.”

Jimin softened, his expression turning sympathetic. “But don’t you think she should be the one to decide that? You’re not protecting her, Jungkook. You’re just running away.”

Jungkook didn’t respond, his chest heaving as he stared at the floor.

Jimin sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re in love with her. And I can tell she’s in love with you. You have something rare, Jungkook. Don’t throw it away because you’re scared.”

But fear was all Jungkook felt. Fear of losing her, fear of hurting her, fear of what the truth might do to the fragile happiness they’d found together.

So he stayed away, even as his heart broke a little more with every passing day.

Jungkook stood outside the café, staring at the familiar wooden door with its chipped paint and small “Open” sign hanging in the window. It was evening, the golden light spilling across the cobblestone street, and the faint scent of coffee lingered in the air.

But the door wouldn’t open.

He’d been coming here every day for the past week, hoping to see her. Every time, he found it locked—or worse, saw the flicker of movement inside as Y/N disappeared into the back, ignoring him completely. She was shutting him out, and he couldn’t blame her.

Jungkook exhaled deeply, his hands tightening into fists. He had no right to feel hurt, not after what he’d done. But the pain in his chest was suffocating. He had never realized how much the café, her smile, and the warmth she brought into his life had meant to him—until he’d lost it all.

That night he had walked away from her, thinking it was the right thing to do. He thought he was protecting her from the chaos of his world. But instead, he had shattered her trust and his own heart.

Inside the café, Y/N leaned against the back door, her hands trembling. She had seen him through the window, standing there like he always did, his dark eyes scanning the room as if he might find her. But she couldn’t face him—not after everything.

How dare he come back after breaking her heart? After leaving her standing there, vulnerable and exposed, as if her feelings meant nothing to him?

She wiped away an angry tear and straightened, forcing herself to focus on cleaning up. She had work to do, and she wasn’t going to let him distract her again.

But even as she moved around the café, stacking chairs and wiping tables, her mind kept drifting back to him. She hated how much she still missed him, how much she still loved him despite everything.

And she hated herself for the part of her that wished he would explain—give her a reason, any reason, to believe that what they’d had wasn’t a lie.

Jungkook stayed outside for hours, leaning against the wall across the street, watching as the lights in the café dimmed one by one. He wanted to knock, to beg her to let him in, but every time he stepped closer, he hesitated.

He thought about her laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams. He thought about the quiet moments they had shared, the way she had made him feel like he wasn’t Jeon Jungkook, the idol, but just Jungkook—the man.

But now, he was just a stranger to her.

As the last light went out, he whispered into the empty night, “I’m so sorry, Y/N."

But one rainy afternoon, as she stood behind the counter, wiping down mugs, there was a knock at the door. She glanced up and immediately froze.

It was Jungkook.

He stood there, soaked from the rain, his hoodie clinging to him. His hair was plastered to his forehead, and his eyes were red, as if he hadn’t slept. He looked… broken.

“Y/N,” he called through the glass, his voice muffled but desperate. “Please. Just hear me out.”

She stared at him, her heart pounding. For a moment, she almost considered unlocking the door. But then she remembered the pain of him walking away, the emptiness he had left behind.

So she shook her head, turned the sign to “Closed,” and walked to the back, leaving him standing in the rain.

Weeks had passed since Jungkook had stood outside her café, silently pleading for her to let him in. Y/N had kept her distance, her heart wrapped in the protective walls she had built. But no matter how hard she tried to move on, her thoughts always returned to him. His smile, his quiet warmth, the way he had made her feel seen.

One evening, as she closed the café, there was a knock on the door. She froze, expecting to see him again, but this time it wasn’t the rain-soaked figure she had grown used to. It was Jimin.

“Y/N,” he said gently, stepping inside when she hesitated. “Please don’t shut me out too.”

She sighed, setting down the towel she’d been holding. “What do you want, Jimin?”

“I came to speak for him. I know you don’t want to see him, but he’s…” He hesitated, his usually playful demeanor replaced with sincerity. “He’s a mess, Y/N. He’s been hurting, and it’s all because of you.”

“Because of me?” she snapped, anger bubbling to the surface. “He left me, Jimin. He broke my heart.”

“I know,” Jimin said softly, stepping closer. “But do you know why?”

She opened her mouth to retort but stopped. The truth was, she didn’t. He had never given her the answer she deserved.

Jimin smiled sadly. “He’s been scared, Y/N. Not of you, but of himself. Of his world and what it might do to you if you knew who he really was. But he loves you—more than I think he’s ever loved anyone.”

Her heart twisted painfully at his words, and Jimin placed a folded note on the counter. “He asked me to give you this. If you’re ready to listen, meet him tonight.”

She stared at the note long after Jimin had left, her hands trembling as she opened it.

It was simple:

“The park by the hill. 8 PM. Please give me one last chance to show you how much you mean to me. – Jungkook”

Y/N arrived at the park just as the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. She spotted Jungkook waiting beneath a streetlamp, his hands in his pockets, his gaze distant.

When he saw her, his breath hitched. For a moment, he thought she wouldn’t come. But there she was, standing in front of him, more beautiful than ever.

“Y/N,” he breathed, stepping closer. “Thank you for coming.”

She crossed her arms, trying to mask the whirlwind of emotions she felt. “You said you had something to say. So say it.”

Jungkook nodded, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I’ve been a coward,” he admitted. “I pushed you away because I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them back. “Why, Jungkook? Why did you leave?”

He hesitated, then reached for her hand. “Because I’m not who you think I am,” he said softly. “I’m not just a soldier. I’m…” He took a deep breath, his voice trembling. “I’m Jeon Jungkook. From BTS.”

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “BTS? The band?”

He nodded, his heart racing. “That’s me. That’s my life. I thought if you knew, it would ruin everything. I didn’t want the attention, the cameras, the chaos, to touch you. But in trying to keep you safe, I lost the one thing that mattered most—us.”

Y/N stared at him, the weight of his confession sinking in. Slowly, she shook her head. “You think I care about any of that?”

He blinked, stunned by her words.

“I don’t care who you are or what you do,” she continued, her voice steady. “I fell in love with you, Jungkook. The man who laughs at my bad jokes, who helps me wipe tables, who makes me feel like I matter. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Jungkook’s heart swelled, and before he could stop himself, he pulled her into his arms. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you from the moment I stepped into your café. I’m so sorry for pushing you away.”

As the first drops of rain began to fall, Y/N looked up at him, her tears mixing with the soft drizzle. “Then don’t push me away again.”

He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek as he leaned down, their lips meeting in a kiss that felt like the world had stopped spinning. The rain poured around them, but neither of them cared.

They danced under the streetlamp, soaked but laughing, their hearts finally beating in sync. They kissed again and again, neither wanting the night to end.

For the first time, Jungkook wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t hiding. He was simply a man in love, and for the first time in a long time, he felt free.

And Y/N, standing there in his arms, knew that no matter what came next, they would face it together.

The day of Jungkook’s discharge came with clear blue skies and the kind of warmth that hinted at the arrival of spring. The military base was bustling with activity—friends, family, and fans gathered to celebrate the soldiers returning to civilian life. Y/N stood at a distance, hidden near the edge of the park overlooking the base.

She couldn’t get closer, not with the security stationed everywhere. The crowd of people hoping to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was overwhelming, and Y/N knew she didn’t belong there. She wasn’t a part of his world—not the world that demanded the constant flashing of cameras and the protective presence of bodyguards.

Still, she couldn’t help but watch.

From afar, she saw him standing tall in his uniform, surrounded by his bandmates and a sea of fans. His smile was bright, his hand raised in a wave, but she knew him well enough to see the weariness behind it.

Y/N’s heart swelled with pride as she took it all in. He had worked so hard, given so much of himself, and she loved him for every part of it. But she also felt the ache—the deep, quiet pain of knowing she couldn’t be there beside him.

As the ceremony wrapped up and the crowd began to disperse, she turned to leave, her chest tight. She had seen enough. She had come to support him, even if it was from a distance.

But just as she stepped away, a familiar voice called out.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her breath hitching. When she turned, there he was—Jungkook, running toward her, his uniform slightly wrinkled and his hair falling messily over his forehead.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” she asked, glancing nervously at the base behind him. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your team? With the fans?”

“They can wait,” he said, stopping in front of her, slightly out of breath. “You can’t.”

Her eyes widened as he reached for her hands, his grip firm but trembling. “I saw you standing there, Y/N. I knew you’d come.”

“I couldn’t stay away,” she admitted softly. “I’m so proud of you, Jungkook. But… this isn’t my place. I don’t belong here.”

His face fell, and he shook his head. “Don’t say that. You belong with me.”

She bit her lip, her eyes searching his. “Do I? Jungkook, look at your life. Look at everything that comes with it. I don’t know if I can—”

He cut her off, his voice low and filled with pain. “I know. That’s why I need to tell you something.”

Her stomach twisted as he let go of her hands, stepping back slightly.

“I love you, Y/N. I always will. But my life—it’s not easy. It’s cameras, schedules, people watching my every move. It’s exhausting, and it’s lonely, and it’s not fair to you.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “So what are you saying, Jungkook?”

He swallowed hard, his own eyes glistening. “I’m saying I can’t drag you into this. I can’t ask you to give up your peace, your freedom, for a life that will never feel truly yours.”

Her heart broke at his words, but deep down, she understood. She had seen the way his world operated, the constant pressure and scrutiny. It wasn’t the quiet life they had shared at the café, the one that had felt so natural, so right.

“So this is it?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He stepped closer, cupping her face with his hands. “If I could choose any life, Y/N, it would be with you. But I can’t change who I am, and I won’t let my life ruin yours.”

The tears spilled over as she nodded, her hands resting on his. “I hate this, but… I understand.”

They stood there for what felt like an eternity, the weight of their unspoken love hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Jungkook leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

“You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

She closed her eyes, committing the feel of his touch to memory. “And you’ve made me feel more alive than I ever thought possible.”

As he pulled away, their gazes locked one last time. Then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the base, his shoulders heavy with the weight of what he was leaving behind.

Y/N watched him go, her heart breaking with every step he took. But she stayed strong, knowing that sometimes, love meant letting go—even when it was the hardest thing in the world.

And as the sun set behind the mountains, she whispered into the quiet air, “Goodbye, Jungkook. I’ll always love you.”

It had been two years since Y/N had left the small café near the military base behind, two years since she had last seen Jungkook. In that time, she had built a new life for herself, pouring her heart into her dream of opening a café in Seoul.

Her new café, The Golden Bean, had quickly become a neighborhood favorite. It was cozy, tucked between tall buildings, with large windows that let in the sunlight. She loved it here—the bustling streets of Seoul, the friendly locals who had become regulars, and the sense of pride she felt every time someone complimented her coffee or her pastries.

But there were moments when her mind would wander back to him. Jungkook. The boy with the soft eyes and the tender smile who had stolen her heart. She had watched him grow from afar, his career reaching new heights. His face was on billboards, his voice on every radio station. He was bigger than ever, and yet he still felt like the boy she had danced with in the rain.

One quiet afternoon, Y/N decided to close the café early and take a walk through the nearby park. The air was crisp, the sun warm on her face as she strolled beneath the cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering down like soft snow.

She was lost in thought, admiring the beauty around her, when she heard the sound of fast footsteps and the heavy breathing of someone running. Before she could react, a Dobermann came bounding toward her, its tongue lolling and tail wagging.

“Whoa, hey there!” she laughed, crouching down as the dog nearly toppled her over. The dog’s fur was soft beneath her hands, and its dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief as it licked her cheek.

She giggled, rubbing its ears. “You’re a friendly one, aren’t you?”

“Bam! Stop it!”

The familiar voice froze her in place. Slowly, Y/N looked up, her heart pounding.

There he was.

Jungkook stood a few feet away, his dark hair slightly messy, wearing a simple hoodie and joggers. His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, his wide eyes fixed on her.

“Y/N?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Her hands fell away from Bam as she straightened, her breath catching. “Jungkook…”

For a moment, neither of them moved, the world around them fading into the background. It felt like time had stopped, like the universe had conspired to bring them together again.

“I—I didn’t expect to see you here,” he stammered, stepping closer.

“Me neither,” she said, her voice soft. She glanced down at the dog. “Bam’s yours?”

He nodded, smiling nervously. “Yeah, he’s my boy. He got loose during our run. Sorry if he bothered you.”

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “He didn’t. He’s sweet.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, the years of distance melting away. Finally, he broke the silence.

“How are you?” he asked, his voice gentle.

“I’m… good,” she said, and it wasn’t a lie. “I opened a café here in Seoul.”

His eyes lit up with pride. “That’s amazing, Y/N. I always knew you’d do it.”

She felt a pang in her chest at his words, the warmth of his support washing over her. “And you… You’ve been doing incredible things. I’ve seen you everywhere.”

Jungkook’s smile faltered slightly, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s been… a lot. But it doesn’t feel as good as it should.”

“Why not?”

He hesitated, then met her eyes, his voice raw. “Because you weren’t there to share it with me.”

Her breath hitched, her heart pounding as his words hung in the air.

“Y/N,” he continued, stepping closer. “I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, by keeping you away from my crazy life. But not a day has gone by where I haven’t missed you. Seeing you here, now—it feels like fate.”

She stared at him, her emotions swirling in her chest. “Jungkook, your life is so different from mine. It’s—”

���I don’t care,” he said firmly, cutting her off. “I’ve had all the success I could ever dream of, but none of it means anything without you. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him, his expression filled with a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

Her heart felt like it might burst. Slowly, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook. So much.”

He took her hand, his grip warm and steady. “Then let me prove to you that we can make this work. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… don’t walk away again.”

She smiled through her tears, nodding as she stepped closer. “I won’t.”

As the cherry blossoms fell around them, Jungkook pulled her into his arms, holding her as if he’d never let go again. Bam barked happily, circling around them as they laughed through their tears.

And in that moment, beneath the trees and the open sky, it felt like everything had fallen into place—like they had found their way back to where they were always meant to be.

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

[back2bluesidex]

Six Degrees of Separation - MYG [Preview]

✨ Patreon Membership Exclusive Series ✨

Pairing: Best Friend!Yoongi X Female Reader X Doctor!Seokjin

Theme: Angst, Unrequited love au, pining, more angst, eventual cheating and smut and fluff.

Word count: Each part will contain 1k to 2k words.

Summary: Break up hurts, but being rejected by the man you have loved for five solid years and losing him and his friendship in one damn night - only for him to show up a year later holding your cousin's hand all ready to tie the knot hurts more.

Break up hurts, but going through all six degrees of separation from the Man who was never yours - hurts a lot more.

Warnings: heartbreak, rejection.

Update Schedule: Every Tuesday 4:30 am UTC.

Read the full chapter

Chapter index:

Prologue

Degree 1: Shock

Degree 2: Denial and Desperation

Degree 3: Anger

Degree 4: Depression

Intermission - Meeting Seokjin

Intermission 02: Min Yoongi

Degree 5: Acceptance

Intermission 03: Hyeri

Degree 6: Moving on

Misconception

Pay The Price

Now you can also purchase the series without having to sign up for an active membership. 😋

Here is the purchase link.

“So, do you have anyone under your radar? Anyone you like?” Yoongi is funnily interested now. It’s probably the most interested he has been in your love-life. 

Again, the reasons stay unaware.  

“Yes. Yes, I do.” You manage to utter, heart already acting wild inside your ribcage. 

“Really? Who is it? Do I know him?” Your best friend perks up. 

Curiosity makes him look so young. You see the young, twenty one years old Yoongi whom you met through Jimin. You see the Yoongi with mint hair too focused on the bottle of your nail polish reading the chemicals that it contains, you see the twenty three year old boy who waited for you at the hospital lobby when you banged your head against the corner of your bed, you see the twenty four year old man who cried like a baby in your embrace when his grandfather passed away - right then you realized you never wanted to see him cry again. Right then you realized Yoongi’s happiness means more to you than your own. 

You see the twenty five year old Yoongi, the Yoongi who made you realize what jealousy is, the Yoongi who made you realize - you had fallen in love with him. 

“It’s you. I am in love with you.” it’s not you, it’s the memories you share with him that makes you speak, that makes you confess. You never meant to say these words without any preparation, you never meant to say these words until you reach your breaking point - maybe you have reached it after five years?

Your chain of thought has clouded your head so much that your mouth ran in its own accord.

And you regret it. 

You regret letting out the truth you have successfully hidden for the past five years because the look you see in Yoongi’s face can’t be compared to anything you have seen before. 

It’s a mixture of disgust, disappointment and hurt.

“W-what? Y/N you can’t-” 

“Why can’t I, Yoongi? Is it forbidden for me to love you?” You chuckle dryly. 

Yoongi closes his eyes, runs a hand through his hair and sighs deeply. “If this is a prank, Y/N, I-” 

“It’s not a prank, Yoongi! I love you! I really do. I have been in love with you for the last five years but you are just too blind to see!”     

Yoongi turns his back towards you, as if looking at your face will pollute his vision now, “I wasn’t blind. I was just-  was just praying to be wrong, Y/N! Damn it! This is not right. You and I, we are friends! This is not-” 

While you have been praying for Yoongi to feel the same, Yoongi has been praying for the complete opposite. As his words sink in your blood, your vision starts blurring. 

“Yoongi, can’t you try?” You plead. Never in your life have you ever considered pleading with anyone for love - but when it comes to Min Yoongi, your resolves don’t last long. 

“No! No, Y/N! I can’t. You are my friend. My best friend. I can’t see you as anything else!” He finally looks at you, looks into you and rows his words deep in your soul. 

Yoongi takes a step back from your figure, then another, then another, “and just so you know… I have someone.” 

With that he walks away in the opposite direction, leaving you behind. 

The first stage of separation is Shock. 

They say shock happens on both physical and psychological level, that it leaves you feeling out of your own body.

As you stare at his retreating figure with tears making a mess on your face, you realize, you just reached the first degree of separation from Min Yoongi - a man who was never yours to begin with.

[dooberific]

Hello~! I love reading your work so much hehe, I'm not entirely sure if you are open for requests so please disregard if you aren't. Can I request Harumasa and reader that they first met in the hospital as kids due to having the same disease and once they were discharged they simply forgot about eachother. Then one day, they met again (pure coincidence) and had a happy reunion. Maybe throw a childhood friends to lovers, fluff hehe. Thank you!

Subjecting reader to Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome is a more popular thought than I anticipated.

Still working on other requests as I have time, it took me way too long to do this but in my defense I’m back in the dregs of Uni.

❝ 𝘎𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: slice of life ig?? Reads pretty platonically imo, runs vaguely parallel to his agent story largely without reader interference (we keep it as canon as we can). Reader has ether aptitude regression syndrome.

summary: He didn't think ghosts from the past were so bright or so loud as the one that finds him at Port Elpis.

wc: 4.8k

Port Elpis was a lonely place. 

But that was just his opinion on the matter. 

Maybe in the eyes of the children that sat joyfully chattering next to their grandfather as they fished off the pier it would be a place full of happy memories, or the perfect backdrop for a romantic encounter for the lovers who walked wistfully along the seaside. 

But he had neither a family nor a lover to enjoy such memories with, and with his frail body perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. “To live with no regrets” felt like an honorable way to go. There would be no one deeply hurt by his loss, no one to leave flowers at his grave, and just as briefly as his time was slated to be on the earth the memory of his existence would fade into nothingness. 

So he would quietly enjoy his solitude, savor the time like it was sweet on his tongue, and pretend for just a moment that life wasn’t as abbreviated as fate demanded it to be by capturing it through the immortal lens of his camera. 

The birds that floated in the sea breeze. Patterns of stone left in the sand by a previous visitor. The view from the top of the lighthouse. Colorful boats bobbing in the sea. The lights over the water at night. 

The scenery rarely changed but that didn’t matter, it was an excuse to feel the warm kiss of the sun on his skin and feel the whisper of the sea air tickle his weakened lungs, to pretend that once he returned to the quiet of his apartment that every image he took wouldn’t be doused in a deep greytone as if some secret melancholy bared its teeth and drained his day of its vitality. 

He still got the images developed but he stopped looking at them. They felt too much like having one foot in the grave, the hazy discoloration something he associated more with the burning dread that buzzed in his veins and prickled at his eyes when the ether became too overwhelming. He could save himself the money and the effort, stop taking photos he would never want to look at again, but it was never so peaceful for his troubled mind in any other place.

The sky was overcast, heavy clouds threatening to rain their contents down upon the world as the wind nipped viciously at his skin. The normal residents of the Port were nowhere to be seen, all the buildings neatly closed in the anticipation of inclement weather. 

He could have taken it as a sign to make himself scarce as well, return home and curl up on his couch while the weather passed and not risk catching a cold, but if his day was meant to be spent in dreary solitude he would rather take the moment to feel it against his skin than hide away with no company other than his own thoughts. 

Being soaked to the bone and riding the high of his careless actions would be a better fate than sitting with his thoughts that seemed more heavily laden with dread as the days passed. 

So he stayed. 

He stayed as his hair matted to his skin, heavy with rainwater that soaked through his clothes and stained his camera lens. His camera would be ruined for sure, it wasn’t waterproof after all, but he could buy a new one. He wasn’t good at saving money for a long time anyways.

The pictures would be terrible and blurry, all doused in their own dreary grey even as he continued to take photos. There was no warmth to be found in the once pleasant landscape, and he was prepared to give up all hope for salvaging his mood which was now as waterlogged as his sneakers before a vibrant color flashed to life across his streaked lens.

He lowered his camera, squinting into the onslaught of rain that rolled the waves viciously against the pier. It was an unfamiliar boat bobbing on the waves, outriggers neatly folded to attention. The vessel itself lacked any colorful ornamentation, the flash of color he had seen belonging instead to the figure that worked diligently on the deck. 

A bright orange pair of overalls.

He wasn’t expecting to see the boat again the next time he returned to the Port, but there sat the trawler at the end of the pier accompanied by orange overalls. He could put a face to the choice of colorful outerwear now, or the beginnings of one from where he stood. He had no reason to get closer, he wasn’t on particularly warm terms with anyone at the Port, so it took him by surprise when your face appeared so suddenly within the viewfinder one day. 

“Excuse me?” 

He startled, quickly dropping his camera from where he held it. 

Orange overalls.

“Have we met before?”

The question was innocent as it rolled from your lips, the rubbery exterior of your overalls squeaking as you shifted on your feet. Your gaze was intense but non threatening, more brimming with curiosity than anything as you studied his features closely.

“Sorry if it’s sudden,” your laugh was awkward. “I’ve just seen you around here a lot and couldn’t shake the feeling.” 

There was no need for you to apologize, he had also been struck with an uncanny sense of recognition the longer he looked at you as well.

“I get that a lot.”

 Your question was genuine but he couldn’t help the lie that pushed past his teeth. It was rare for him to be mistaken for someone else, especially when he was in the city. If you detected his deception you didn’t show it, clicking your tongue thoughtfully as you pointed at him.

“Middle school?”

Oh, so you were still convinced you had met before.

He shook his head. “No.”

“University?”

“Nope.”

“The grocery store?”

“You remember everyone you see at a grocery store?”

Your brow furrowed. “Guess not.” 

He was confounding you at every turn it seemed, but the nagging feeling of familiarity had yet to leave. You had grown quiet, gnawing your lip thoughtfully.

Your fingers snapped suddenly. “I’ve got it, were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?”

“I was.”

Before you answered a distant call floated over the waves. He couldn’t make out the words but your head quickly whipped around, arm raising above your head with a dramatic wave.

“I’m coming!” You yelled back before shooting him an apologetic grin. “Sorry for bothering you, I guess I’ll see you around.”

He watched your figure recede down the pier, the thumping of your boots on the wood fading as you rapidly went out of earshot. 

Your next interactions were cyclic, short conversations with speedy exits as you would run back to your boat. He had some inclination to believe you had a homing beacon centered on him, as you managed to find him despite his frequent location changes, beaming at him with the same warm expression that nearly rivaled the brightness of your orange overalls.

You never mentioned your first conversation again nor asked his name, instead asking him random questions as they seemed to strike your fancy. About his favorite food, his favorite color, movie recommendations, if he had any pets, what he liked taking pictures of so much that he returned almost daily. It was largely nonsensical, and he found you harder to read with each passing day because your eyes seemed to sparkle as if the tiny bits of knowledge he divulged had painted some elaborate picture of him in your mind. 

Even with you sharing little tidbits of your own monotonous life you had tied his mind into intricate knots. Your father was a fisherman, more precisely a shrimper you had proudly proclaimed as you undid the straps of your overalls to show him the pink shrimp decal on the back of your sweatshirt. You never mentioned a mother or any siblings, nor any friends. You liked to swim but couldn’t do it often. Your favorite color was a very precise shade of pink, and you liked to read books about personality types and astrology when you weren’t busy. Mindless details that gushed from your mouth with absurd passion. 

Somedays he wasn’t sure if it was the sun or your vivacious personality that warmed him more, your happy-go-lucky mood infectious as you chattered away. You were quickly becoming part of his routine, strolling alongside him spewing silly facts about sea animals or begging him for little details on his day. 

Your characteristic orange overalls had been featured in some of his photography as well, cheerfully adding a splash of color to even the dreariest backdrops. You made shrimp nets look pleasant and the creatures even more so as you ran up to him, pulling one from your pocket as you waved it at him like a child with a centipede just to sneak it into his own pocket before he left. 

For once everything seemed dripping with color, the thrill of seeing your glowing visage as you waved at him from the deck of your father’s boat turning his stomach in a pleasantly warm manner. 

He broke his own rule. He got comfortable with someone else, comfortable in his limited time, in his own skin, and he missed the little signs until it was glaring in his face. 

The sun was warm enough that the sound of the waves was nearly sufficient to lull him to sleep as he sat dangling his legs off the pier, the water teasing his soles in a silent ploy to drench his socks. The day was quiet, almost uncomfortably so and he wasn’t sure why. Port Elpis was always lively when the weather was pleasant, but there was a nagging sense of unease that drew his lips into a firm line.

You weren’t around. 

He felt silly. The two of you weren’t close by any means, acquaintances more than friends. There was no reason to miss you, you were nothing but a loud disruption to his day. He didn’t even know your name. 

But if that was really all you were to him he shouldn’t have felt his gut twist unpleasantly when he realized your absence, nor when he finally saw you and realized you didn’t look well.

You looked haggard and pale, movements sluggish as if it demanded too much energy to fully pick up your feet. There was a constant grimace painted across your face, like each movement was laced with pain. You scarcely looked his way as you approached, eyes sunken. 

“Oh, hey,” you spoke through gritted teeth as your eyes wavered weakly. Even now you did your best to wave, hands trembling fiercely. “I can’t hang out today, sorry.”

“You’re sick.”

It was a matter-of-fact statement, no longer an observation. He would recognize that look anywhere, he had seen it a thousand times growing up. 

“Were you… in the hospital for a while as a kid?” 

He shouldn’t have been thoughtless. It was out of character for him to not pry into every tiny detail of the life of a stranger that had so unceremoniously pushed into his life, like a flower sprouting from a sidewalk crack. With a little effort he was sure he would have unearthed a medical history as extensive as his own, all starting from the same place with a name he tried desperately to forget. 

He rubbed the choker at his neck. He’d never seen your nape either, strategically covered by the hood of your jacket or a high necked top. He’d never questioned you on the days when you lied poorly to his face about why you had a limp, or why you looked so tired, always claiming it had been a long day and nothing more. 

Some highly trained intelligence officer he turned out to be.

“Let me help you.” The words came out faster than his body moved, swinging his legs back up onto the pier. 

“It’s okay.” You reassured, weakly attempting to wave him off. “It’s not that serious, I’m just tired.”

“Tired my ass, you’re sick.” He hissed. “This isn’t something you can play around with, now let me help you.”

You were lighter than he thought you were, but maybe he had anticipated more muscle to be hidden under the frumpy layers you wore daily. You smelled like a fishing boat but not in a way he found unpleasant, your arms wrapped around his neck as he carried you down the pier on his back. He could feel your body trembling. 

“I’m sorry.” You muttered regretfully, forehead pressed against his shoulder as he stepped off the pier and onto your boat, his step wavering for just a moment before he regained his balance. 

“Stop apologizing.” He chided as you directed him to where your room was under the deck. The space was awkward to navigate with you on his back, but if he experienced any difficulty he didn’t verbalize it, dutifully depositing you on your unmade bed. 

“I really am sorry though.” He wouldn’t be able to convince you it was fine, but he would be able to shoot you a disapproving look as he grabbed the heel of your boot and slid it off before giving the other the same treatment. 

You frowned, shifting as if you were uncomfortable in your own skin. “I’ve bothered you on your time off.”

“You’ve never bothered me.”

He tugged on the leg of your overalls, he would have to commend you on your dedication. As if interpreting his cue you unlatched the shoulder straps, allowing him to help you slide them off before he discarded them on top of your boots. At least you dressed comfortably beneath them, though he would let the ridiculous sparkly fish patches on your sweats go this time. 

He tossed your comforter over your head. “But you will bother me if you don’t rest.” 

You didn’t protest, flipping the fabric off your face with a huff. You knew he was right. 

“Hurry up and get better, I’m not going to wait forever.” He said curtly as he stepped into the hallway, pulling your door shut behind him.

“Wait!” 

He paused, the door hanging ajar. “What is it?”

You swallowed thickly, tongue fuzzy. “(Y/n). My name is (y/n).” 

His hand tightened on the doorknob. 

“Harumasa.”

The door shut, but Pandora’s theoretical box had already been opened.

He remembered you.

They called you the luckiest unlucky child in the world. It was a ridiculous name that you seethed at because you found nothing of your situation lucky. Your mother had claimed the record for longest lived patient with Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome, but such distinction meant very little when your father stood over her grave cradling you in his arms. 

Within a few years you would look just like her, idle in a hospital bed with numerous lines running from your thin, veiny arms as they kept you so sedate the childish glow in your eyes had faded into a drug induced stupor. 

You were lucky to be born, and unlucky enough to survive.

Most days were good, you were strong and vital as if the ugly veins of your illness didn’t lurk just below the skin. You ran through the halls, constantly attempted to escape to the lush yard of the hospital, sat with the other kids after they got out of surgery to give them offerings of crude crayon drawings and wild stories of swimming in the ocean and the creatures within it. 

But your bad days were palpable, the halls silent without you there to fill the air with wild stories and laughter. No one visited you when you had a flare up, tears and snot streaking your face as you silently cried through the pain that ignited every nerve ending in your body in such a way that even the act of breathing hurt in a near unbearable manner. 

Your father would sit in your room for hours at a time in those moments, anxious over your worsening condition up until the moment they barred him from seeing you. Before the week was over he had a court order that relinquished you of their care and returned you to him. 

The day you left, Harumasa had resigned himself to the fact that he would never see you again. The likelihood of either of you surviving childhood was slim enough, but to dream of meeting in a place outside the walls of the hospital was an idea even he didn’t dare consider. 

Seeing you now, seeing you grown, was almost enough to make him believe some good deity watched over the world and deemed you too kind to die young.

He would have to find a new place to seek solace, Port Elpis was becoming something dangerously close to the memories he sought to repress, but his body acted on autopilot and brought him back every day without fail.

One week turned into two, and just as the third was cresting you reappeared with a smile on your face.

You were stupid to take your health so lightly.

He was stupid to let himself become invested.

“I remember you!” Were the first words you said after reuniting with him, swinging your legs off the pier as you sat so close beside him your shoulders pressed together.

“It’s just been a few weeks, I’d be concerned if you didn’t.” 

You pouted, elbowing his side. “You know that’s not what I mean. I remember you from before, from the hospital.”

“Looks like we both grew up well, huh? But I guess you did better than me. Is it creepy to admit that I searched your name on the InterKnot?” If you were truly embarrassed it failed to show, a low whistle passing your lips. “Section 6, you went and became a real bigshot.” 

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

You swung your head low, teetering dangerously on the edge of the pier as you jutted your face into his line of sight. Your eyes sparkled with the same mirth that curled the corners of your lips. “Says the guy that doesn’t work on a shrimp boat. Take the compliment, even I’m proud of how far you came.”

You kicked at his ankle. “Not many of us have the chance to say that.”

Ah. There you went again, reminding him of a twisted past he couldn’t shake. Sure, his therapist thought it would do him good to confront the ghosts of his childhood, but he liked to disagree (if him promptly claiming he was “done with therapy” and “thanks for your time, doc” before walking out and never returning their calls had anything to say about it). There were too many things he wasn’t ready to face head-on, even if they crawled from the pits of despair and grasped at his ankles so fiercely that the thought alone slowed him down. 

But it did stir back the embers that burned his gut with unease from an interaction he had not that far in the past.

“Has anyone from the hospital tried to contact you recently?”

“Well yeah, they are all worried about my condition after my flare up.”

“Not that hospital.” He clarified. “The old one.”

Your eyes danced across the scenery for a moment, lips pursed in thought before you shook your head. “Nope, not that I can remember. Why?”

He left out a relieved sigh, shoulders slouching momentarily. He still wasn’t sure what his Master’s assistant wanted, or why he suddenly appeared before him now trying to toy with his feelings using other sick children as emotional leverage, but at least he hadn’t found you yet. He fished his phone from his pocket, unlocking it as he handed it to you.

“Put your number in there. There’s no reason for us to be strangers.” 

He was blatantly evasive, and you could certainly tell but you didn’t raise any qualms as you typed in your phone number. “Signal is spotty when we go out of the Port, so if I don’t answer quickly don’t get all worried thinking I got kidnapped or died or something.” You warned as you passed his phone back before puffing out your chest proudly. “I like to think I’ve still got a few good years in me.”

His smile when he looked at you was so sincere you nearly toppled off the pier in shock, one hand quickly planting against his cheek as you forcefully turned his head away while the other gripped the fabric of your shirt over your heart.

“Those interknot forums weren’t kidding,” your tone was distressed as you looked away from him, “your smile really is a deadly weapon.”

He laughed. He laughed at you, at the absurd way you managed to turn a rapidly darkening conversation into something ridiculous and sugary sweet. It was as novel as a syrupy popsicle on a hot day, the aghast and shy way you—the natural enemy of public embarrassment—had now turned. 

It was bright, vital, blooming with a color he didn’t think he could find in the world anymore.

Then it all grew violently dull.

[ Shrimp Girl ] Someone from the old hospital came to see me today

[ Shrimp Girl ] I think he said his name was Kirishima?

His stomach plummeted as he read your message in the wee hours of the morning, and it didn’t abate until he laid eyes on you working diligently at the Port a few hours later. The morning sun had yet to crest the horizon, the air hanging thick and grey with morning dew. You stood out like a traffic cone, bundled in a few extra layers to fend off the cold as you worked. 

It was his hurried footsteps down the pier that alerted you to his presence, a smile on your face as you waved at him. “You’re here early. What’s with the serious face?”

The scent of the sea and the creatures you had skimmed out of the water was almost noxious to his sensitive nose. He was afraid he only tolerated the smell when it lingered on your clothes. His nose wrinkled as he nonchalantly lifted a hand to it as if it would help the smell abate.

“I just needed to make sure you were alright. What did Kirishima want?”

“Nothing.” You said with a shrug. “He didn’t ask for anything, just the usual small talk you get from doctors. You know, “can’t believe you made it this long” and “you look great”, stuff like that.” 

He was beginning to question your survival instincts, anxiety bubbling in his gut. Kirishima may not have shown his true colors yet, but it was suspicious that he showed up looking for you after years of radio silence. His own personal connection to Kirishima made it less surprising, but his link to you was still vague and incomplete.

“Now that I think about it, he did mention that he’s working on some new drug, said he might open a trial for it soon.”

His blood ran cold, a hand quickly wrapping around your wrist. The serious expression he wore was new for you, his features usually relaxed when you ran into him. 

“Please don’t take anything he gives you.” 

You nodded slowly, feeling his fingers firm against your pulse.

“I’m going to be busy for a few days, so don’t look for me.” His grip faltered, slipping from your wrist to hook around the crook of your fingers. They were cold, not unlike his own. 

He didn’t owe you an explanation or some promise of a timeline. He could walk away from the Port and never turn back, find out what Kirishima wanted and pretend seeing a ghost from his past never occurred, but seeing the concern that knitted your brows at his words was enough to make him regret the sharpened tone he had used. He toyed with your fingers.

“I’ll buy you a nice meal when I get back, so don’t get worked up thinking I’m never returning or something.” 

You hooked his pinky around your own. 

“I’ll hold you to it then.” 

He was grateful your boat wasn’t in the Port the day he separated the children from Kirishima, something about the idea of you being far away from that place coming as a welcome relief. The kids would have liked you, loved you even. While he could put on a brave face and lie through his teeth you were so charmingly real that he had little doubt you would have been an inspiration, but you were too soft and there were too many hands yet to be revealed. 

You would have been another worry to plague his mind, and with the Proxy breathing down his neck it would have been hard to focus on navigating the current mess he found himself in. 

It was a mess indeed, like watching a carefully crafted tower crumble as the top became unsteady, unraveling in a glorious display of dust and ruin. He knew it would be the case before he agreed to meet Kirishima at the Port to look for where his Master hid his research, but he wasn’t expecting to see you there.

Maybe he should have expected it, you had seemed anxious at his curt communication over the past weeks while he gathering what information he could before an inevitable confrontation with his Master’s assistant. Maybe he should have expected whatever ugly connection with Kirishima that was woven into your past to rear its head at some point. 

Your expression was harsh, the edges of a bandage showing around the sides of your neck. There was a vial in your hand, your knuckles white from how tightly you gripped it.

“I did what you asked, now back off.” You hissed between your teeth as you tossed the vial at Kirishima, the man laughing as he caught it with infuriating ease.

He flipped the vial up to the light filtering from the industrial fixtures that shined from the shipping containers, a clear and colorless fluid washing within. Spinal fluid.

“I knew you would come around to my way of thinking. Why don’t you join us for a moment, an extra pair of eyes might be useful.”

Your gaze wavered to the blackened edges of the hollow behind him, taking a half step back as you shook your head. 

“Come on now, don’t tell me you’re—,”

Harumasa’s hand was heavy on his shoulder, Kirishima pausing just to glance back at his guarded expression, eyes flickering back to you for a brief instance as a impish grin tugged at his lips.

“Fine, I guess it can’t be helped.” He fished in his labcoat pocket, producing a folded stack of papers before he tossed them at your feet, the papers soaking instantly as they hit the wet pavement. 

He waved the vial at you tauntingly before he pocketed it. “Thank you again for your service, the children will be so appreciative.”

Your guilt ridden expression was the last thing Harumasa recalled seeing as he stepped through the barrier of the Hollow, the Proxy hot on his trail.

He didn't see you for weeks, his condition too fragile in the wake of the high ether levels he subjected himself to in the hollow. Whether it be Section 6, the proxy, or even the kids from the sanatorium it was hard to find a moment of quiet, though he couldn’t deny that it was a welcome change from his normal solitude. 

Everything had quietly pieced itself together. His master’s ultimate purpose with his research, Kirishima being prosecuted for his crimes, the children being given another chance at having a childhood instead of existing as human experiments. 

It felt…nice for once, the sun comforting on his skin as the sea breeze toyed with the tails of his headband. Everyone had long gone home, leaving him in silence once again. His eyes fluttered shut under the intensity of the setting sun, his lungs filling with salt-laden air as the inside of his eyelids stained a brilliant orange.

Orange.

Like the color of your ridiculous overalls, or of the novelty candy you insisted he try with you. Orange like the canned drinks you were fond of when you decided to treat him and yourself to a greasy snack from the stand back at the parking lot. The color of your nails when you decided to paint them on your day off, proudly waving them in front of his face. The same orange of your swimsuit the day you shucked off your normal wear and dove off the pier into the frigid water. You actually were a strong swimmer when your body wasn’t trying to destroy itself thanks to your shared disease.

Orange like the stripe painted on the side of the shrimp trawler that drifted by in the distance when he reopened his eyes, a hand raising to shield them from the harsh rays of the setting sun. 

“Ahoy there!” You shouted through cupped hands. He couldn’t see your face from where he stood squinting into the light, but he knew you were smiling, framed in a halo of vibrant orange.

"I'm ready to cash in on that meal you owe me!"

Port Elpis was a lonely place.

Was is the real curiosity if you asked him.

Rey 2025

[dumbkiri]

A FEAST FOR BIRDS

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

When Jason Todd comes back to earth and faces off with his vigilante family along with villains, he settles his problems as much as he could. He reunited with his family, but still kicked villain ass. As the holidays approach, Jason is struck with a range of emotions. An unexpected visitor makes her way in Wayne manor with a child in her arms. Apparently, the child belongs to him.

[ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP]

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues. I wanted to see if Jay can stay at your place for a bit? Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys? He would love to see his uncles and of course, his grandfathers. It would mean a lot to us if you can do this. If not, I can work around the company with him by my side. One day he will inherit what my father built, and I might as well get him to see his own building. Anyways, please let me know what you think. We miss you and the family a lot, see you soon Bruce.” 

Dick leaned back into his chair and listened to the recent voicemail [Name] left for Bruce. Her voice rang with some truth while it felt like she was hiding something. He fiddled around with one of Batman’s batarangs thinking about the woman. They haven’t seen her or Jay in two years. He had to have missed something in her voice message. He knows it. 

Dick leaned forward and pressed play on the voicemail, listening to it for the fifth time this afternoon. 

“I am moving back into Gotham due to some company issues.”

 This part alone made no sense to him. If his memory serves him right, Bruce and [Name] came to an agreement that he would watch over the [L.Name] Industry allowing her to live her life with Jay. Bruce never mentioned any “company issues” that she brought up in the call. Then again Bruce has Lucius to run Wayne Enterprise, so maybe Bruce neglected her company due to his commitment to being Batman. Although, that still made no sense because [F.Name] and Bruce had a great partnership. 

[Name]’s dad knew who Bruce truly was in the night thus granting Lucius to work very closely with one another. [F.Name] would create technology that Lucius would then make into gadgets for Batman. After [F.Name] passed away, the plans he had were burned to make sure they didn’t get into the wrong hands. Bruce feared to keep the works [F.Name] worked endlessly on and made sure to get rid of everything he could in his archives. 

“Maybe spend Thanksgiving with you and the boys?”

Thanksgiving…that is tomorrow!

“Bruce! Alfred! ” Dick shot up from his chair when the realization hit him. He dressed out of his uniform and into his casual clothing as quickly as he could. Whenever [Name] did drop Jay off for the holidays, she did it the day before so he could spend more time with them. 

A million worries were hurdled at his body thinking back to another Wayne that was present in the house. “Jason, if you can hear me from down here!” Dick huffed up the stairs, “Let’s go out for some lunch! I am so hungry!” Was it a lame excuse for his brother-in-arms, yes. But if he had a chance to spare Jason from seeing [Name], he would do it in a heartbeat. Jason doesn’t know he has a kid, let alone a kid with his ex-girlfriend. 

When Bruce described the relationship between Jason and [Name], he went on about true love. A happiness he didn’t think would surround him when he watched Jason smile at [Name]. The teasing he would do to the both of them like a real parent. Bruce watched them create a beautiful bond at a young age. 

Then when Jason died, Bruce watched the heartbreak crush [Name]’s heart. Dick remembers the conversation between him and Bruce when the news of her pregnancy hit him like a truck. 

..

“She looked at me like I killed him.” 

“Bruce, you can’t think like that. [Name] is just hurting, you said so many times. They were meant to be together.” 

“She told me that she’s pregnant.” 

“W-what? She’s only 16, Jason really- Fuck, what do we do now? We have to support her, you did tell her that right?” 

“Of course, I did. She accepted my help and she told me that she wants us to get to know the child. That she still wants to be a part of our family. So I told her that I will send $4000 to her account every month for any expenses she has. She didn’t accept any more and I didn’t agree to any less. I don’t feel right though.” 

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I mean that we get to live and see the child Jason made with [Name]. We get the luxury of knowing his child while he rots in the ground. If he knew, do you think he would have left? If [Name] got to him before the fake letter, would he have stayed?”

“Maybe, but at least we can do right by him and support his family. That’s all we can do for him now. It’s okay to cry, Bruce. Loss shouldn’t be associated with shame.”

..

He reached the top of the stairs and cringed at the sound of the doorbell ringing throughout the mansion. 

As casually as he could, Dick entered the living room and heard the echo of two voices at the entrance of Wayne Manor. He sneaked around the couches and furniture thinking someone at the door would catch him from so far away. 

“Who are you hiding from?” 

Dick panicked and spun around to see Jason on the couch reading a book. He heard Alfred welcome [Name] into the manor and he knew the old man would lead her to them. With fast thinking, Dick ran over to Jason and shoved his sunglasses onto his face, “Quick! Wear these and this!” Then he stuffed a black face mask into Jason’s book. 

“Dick, what-” 

“Jason, please!” Dick pleaded and helped put the sunglasses on while Jason reluctantly put the face mask on. Jason wanted to ask more until Alfred walked in with a woman and a child in her arms. Swiftly, Dick pulled Jason’s red hoodie over his head and turned around to greet the visitors. 

“[Name], it’s so nice to see you!” Dick shouted and enunciated her name to get it through Jason’s thick skull. He walked over to the woman and gave her a hug mindful of the sleeping child in her arms…wait, what? Jason squinted behind the sunglasses and observed the child some more which Dick fawned over like some lovesick idiot. 

“Wow, he’s grown so much,” Dick awed at the sight of the child and gently touched the unruly black hair that reminded him so much of the Wayne boys. 

“I’m sorry for the apparent unexpected visit, I did leave a voicemail for Bruce,” [Name] huffed and shifted her child more comfortably in her arms to which Dick reached his arms out to her. Without hesitation, [Name] smiled gratefully and handed her kid over to Dick. She watched Dick whisper to her sleeping son and told him, “We’ve decided to do a road trip instead of flying. Jay insisted that he wanted to see the “world”, but there’s only so much adventure he can handle. He’s going to wake up super excited to see his favorite uncle.” 

Dick’s mind blew up as his eyes looked from Jay to [Name] who giggled at his reaction. “You’re kidding, he said that? I’m his favorite uncle?” 

Well that confirmed to Jason that the kid is definitely not Dick’s. Honestly he’d be pissed if Dick had a child with his ex-girlfriend. There were so many questions running through his head and he wanted to ask them. But the silent glare he got from Alfred in the corner of the room told him to stay put with not a word. 

“Yes, it’s always been you, Dick,” [Name] unwrapped her scarf from her neck and shoulders. Finally her eyes spotted the giant man sitting on the couch adjacent to where her family was at. She observed him quietly and looked down at the book in his gloved hands. Dick nor Alfred introduced the stranger to her, so she took it upon herself to be polite. 

“Hello,” She stepped around Dick and reached her hand out with a courteous smile, “My name is [Name] [L.Name].”

Jason closed his book and stood up from the couch. He towered over her and flashbacks of their time together brought longing in his chest. He remembered everything about her from her smile, to her eyes, to her personality. She hadn’t changed one bit. He reached his hand out and shook hers. His tongue twisted and more questions slammed into him. 

“This is my friend, Lazlo,” Dick chimed nervously, internally cringing at the fake name he gave Jason. 

This piqued [Name]’s interest and she giggled, “Lazlo, that’s a cool name. Can he hear me or speak to me?” She asked, releasing Jason’s hand and quietly whispered the last part over her shoulder to her friend. 

Dick shook his head and said, “He’s actually a mute. Anyways what brings you here to Gotham. Don’t say holiday cheer either.” He walked between Jason and [Name] and took a seat next to Jason's closed book. Meanwhile Alfred dismissed himself knowing that Jason will not be able to say a word. 

Jason sat back in his seat while [Name] sat on the couch across from them. She visibly relaxed in comfort and sighed tiredly, “My mother wants to force a marriage onto me and like some teenager, I ran away. Plus there are some things I have to do at the company. I wanted to see if you guys are okay with babysitting Jay while I dust the old mansion down the street. Haven’t been there in years.”

She laughed and Dick joined her. He shifted Jay into his lap and said, “Of course, we would be happy to take care of the little one. I, for one, missed him a lot. Is the marriage the reason why we haven’t seen either of you? It seems like a lot.” 

[Name] straightened out her back and looked away from his bright blue eyes. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes as she explained a bit more, “Yes, it’s a reason. The marriage is with a business partner. He’s a bit older than me and has spoken about having a family with me. My mother is ecstatic about more grandchildren, but I am not. There is only one person I truly love and that is Jay’s father. I cannot imagine having children with someone else when Jason is still fresh on my mind. And he gave me a brilliant child to cherish in his memory.” 

Dick could see Jason tense up at the revelation and saw from the corner of his eyes Jason look at Jay sleeping in his arms. The atmosphere grew heavier by the second and he had to do something. Something to appease Jason’s longing. 

“Do you think Lazlo can hold Jay? He knew Jason before his death and-” 

“Of course!” [Name] gestured to Jason, with a kind smile on her face, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lazlo. But I’m going to tell you now, Jay looks exactly like his father.” She giggled and Dick looked at Jason with expecting eyes. 

Slowly, Jason sat up and hesitantly opened his arms up. He wasn’t ready to hold his child while keeping his emotions bottled up. “You can do this, Lazlo,” Dick’s voice reassured him, “He won’t break in your arms.” 

[Name] laughed from her spot and pointed at Dick, “Hey, you were afraid to hold him the first time too!” 

Dick shrugged and argued back, “He was a lot smaller back then.” Then he scooted closer to Jason making the transfer a lot easier for the both of them. In his sleep, Jay immediately snuggled up against Jason’s chest surprising the boy’s mother. 

“Oh wow,” [Name] awed at the sight, “He normally doesn’t do that. Jay only snuggles into me, I’m kinda jealous he’s doing it with someone else.” She gave Jason a fake pout with a teasing tone in her gentle voice. But all he could focus on was the peaceful look on the child’s face. 

This boy is his son. 

Jason pulled Jay closer to his body as his chin touched the crown of the boy’s head. Then he felt a lone tear slide down his cheek. Thankfully he wore a face mask and sunglasses to hide his joy. [Name] spoke the truth when she said Jay looked like him. Jay is his mini-me. 

“So how many instruments can he play now?” Dick asked. 

“He only plays the piano, Dick,” [Name] rolled her eyes playfully, “but he can speak three languages. Sign language being one of them.”

Sign language? Jason thought and picked his head up with interest. He recalls that they learned sign language for fun to talk behind her mother’s back. 

“That’s right, I remember you teaching him. Although, I think he flipped me off once.” 

“Don’t say that!” [Name] laughed. 

“I’m being serious!” Dick shouted back with a smirk on his face. 

Jason leaned back into the couch while Jay fit perfectly in his arms. The boy laid on his chest with his legs being held in a gentle, but protective grip. Jay’s head laid onto his shoulder and Jason could hear the soft breaths that left the boy’s lungs. Soon, the voices of [Name] and Dick dissipated and the breathing of his son lulled him to sleep. 

Jason would do anything to keep [Name] and Jay to himself. Even if that means revealing himself to them in the near future. For now, he’s comfortable with blissful ignorance. 

……

“Mama, can I stay in Mister Lazlo’s arms a bit longer?” 

A tiny voice woke Jason from his sleep and he felt small hands clenching the sides of his hoodie. He blinked his weary eyes open and saw the living room in a dark tint. He forgot he wore sunglasses to hide his face along with the face mask. 

“Jay, it’s time for dinner. You and Mister Lazlo have slept long enough. You both need to eat. And you don’t want Grandpa or your uncles waiting for long do you?” 

“But he feels safe and warm, mama.” Jay mumbled and Jason slowly rose up from the couch, steadying a startled Jay in his hold. He looked down at the child with a funny bedhead and couldn’t help but chuckle at the surprised look on the boy’s face. 

[Name] fixed her son’s hair and looked at him lovingly, “See, Mister Lazlo is ready to eat too. Perhaps you can ask if he wants to sit next to you for dinner?” She looked at her son expectantly and the little boy nodded his head. He raised his arms up and sighed to Jason, 

“Mister Lazlo, would you sit next to me, fuck you.”

The ending part took Jason and [Name] completely off guard and the mother reacted quickly pushing her son’s hands down to his sides. With a scolding shout, she said, “JJ, where in the world did you learn that?” She gave Jay a hard look and the little boy obviously seemed confused. 

“What do you mean, mama? I asked him nicely.” Jay tilted his head to the side in a questioning manner. 

“That last sign, isn’t really- It’s a bad word, JJ!” [Name] huffed and softened her look, “Who taught you that and what did they say it meant?” 

What Jay answered made sense to Jason, “Uncle Damian said that it meant ‘please’. He said to only use it for them and not you though.”

“So Dick was right when he mentioned you flipped him off,” She rolled her eyes then focused back on her son, “Please, don’t use that anymore, it’s really rude. Use the sign for me as please from now on, understood?” 

Jay nodded his head obediently then looked at Jason with bright silver-blue eyes, “Understood, mama. Sorry Mister Lazlo.” 

Jason chuckled and shook his head, signing, “It’s okay, you did great. And yes, I would like to sit by you for dinner. As long as you give me any leftovers you have.” 

Jay giggled and jumped up signing back, “It’s a deal!” The little boy ran off towards the direction of the kitchen and the adults were left on their own. 

“He gets excited to meet new people,” [Name] spoke softly, her eyes warming up talking about her son. “JJ has a heart of gold and he loves everyone he meets like his own family. Especially the Waynes. When his father passed away, I panicked because he wouldn’t have a father figure to be his mentor. Yet Bruce proved me wrong. JJ instantly grew fond of his grandpa and uncles. They all became his father figure, some better than others in different aspects. Speaking of which, I might have to wrestle Damian for teaching Jay that obscene gesture.” 

[Name] laughed at the end and looked at Jason for some approval. He quickly signed to her, “We can jump him together. The demon spawn won’t know what will hit him.”

Just like her son, she smiled and said, “It’s a deal.”

[oofthwoods]

CHAPTER ONE! ── ˙ ̟ bring home the glory !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 :: "what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see. i wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me". | a victorious journey always begins with a death and an offer.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :: funerals, grief and death. if you don't feel comfortable with these themes, go straight to the part after 2023. you won't lose much, i promise! the second part is somehow based on right hand man from hamilton, don't ask about it. this is pretty much a prologue number two tbh, but i still hope you enjoy it.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :: 3.2k

⭠ previous masterlist next ‭→

2021

In the solemn setting of the cemetery, the sun hung in the sky, seemingly unaware of the grief below. Its golden rays contrasted sharply with the darkness consuming your soul, each beam of light piercing through the heavy clouds of sorrow. As tears streaked your face, the warmth of the sun felt out of place, a painful reminder of the world's indifference to your shattered heart.

Standing beside the graveside, you looked up to the sky, seeking solace in its vastness. But the heavens offered no comfort, no relief from the ache within. You wondered why the sky remained clear, why it didn't reflect the storm of emotions raging inside you. Its serene blue expanse seemed to mock your devastation, its unwavering indifference amplifying your pain.

Your mother and her siblings stood ahead, their shoulders bowed under the weight of grief, their sobs a haunting melody that echoed through the air. But you stood alone, isolated in your sorrow, drowning in memories that threatened to consume you whole.

Memories of your grandfather flooded your mind like a deluge, each one a bittersweet reminder of the love you had lost. His laughter, once a source of joy and comfort, now felt distant and painful, a cruel reminder of all that had been taken from you. His stories, his wisdom, his gentle touch — they all seemed like distant echoes of a life that was slipping further and further away with each passing moment.

You recalled his final moments, the frailty of his form, the sadness in his eyes as he whispered his last words to you. "Be proud of who you are," he had said, his voice barely a whisper, his breath brushing against your cheek. "And never forget where you come from. Your roots are your strength, my dear." His words had been a lifeline in the storm of your grief, a reminder of the legacy he had left behind, of the love that would endure long after he was gone.

As you stood beside his grave, the words offered little solace. They felt empty, a faint reminder of the warmth once found in his embrace. You longed to reach out to him, to feel the warmth of his touch one last time, to beg for just a moment more in his comforting presence. But he was gone, lost to you forever in a world that seemed infinitely colder and darker without him.

You closed your eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely as you whispered your silent goodbyes to him, each word a prayer for his eternal peace. But even as you spoke, you knew that no amount of tears could ever hope to fill the void he had left behind, that no words could ever hope to capture the depth of your loss.

As you stood there, lost in your grief, the soft sound of footsteps approached from behind. You turned to see your mother returning, her eyes red and swollen from tears, her expression etched with the same pain that weighed heavily on your own heart. For a moment, you simply stood there, sharing a silent understanding born from the depths of your shared sadness.

Without a word, she wrapped you in a gentle hug, her arms providing solace amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling around you. "I'm not sure I can go on without him, Mom," you murmured, your voice barely audible as you buried your face against her shoulder.

Her embrace tightened, her fingers gently combing through your hair. "I feel the same way, sweetheart. But we have to find strength, for his sake," she whispered softly, her words tinged with a mixture of sadness and determination.

As you leaned into her embrace, the weight of your grief seemed to press down upon you, threatening to crush you beneath its relentless force. Your mother's presence briefly brought comfort, like a delicate lifeline amidst the stormy sea of emotions swirling inside you.

"I miss him so much already," you confessed with your voice trembling. "It feels like a part of me is missing, like I'll never be whole again."

Her arms tightened around you, a silent reassurance that you were not alone. "I know, my love. I do too," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "He was the heart of our family, the glue that held us together."

A bittersweet silence fell between you, punctuated only by the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Memories of your grandfather danced through your mind like flickering candle flames, casting shadows of laughter and love against the walls of your grief-stricken heart.

"Do you think he's watching over us?" you asked quietly, your voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the evening.

Her hand stilled against your hair. "I'd like to think so," she replied, her voice wavering with uncertainty. "I'd like to believe that he's found peace, that he's somewhere out there, looking down on us with love in his heart."

Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined him, a silent guardian in the heavens above, watching over you with a warmth that transcended the boundaries of life and death. "I hope he knows how much we love him," you whispered, your words a fervent prayer whispered into the vast expanse of the sky.

"I'm sure he does, my dear," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness. "And I know that wherever he is, he'll always be with us, guiding us through the darkness, lighting our way with the love that he left behind."

As your mother's words gently washed over you, a sudden movement caught your eye. In the corner of your vision, a flash of royal blue fluttered amidst the solemn surroundings. You blinked, momentarily startled, before fixing your gaze on the delicate creature that alighted on a nearby branch.

A small gasp escaped your lips as you beheld the bird, its feathers shimmering like fragments of the sky woven into living form. With a heart full of wonder, you watched as it stretched its wings, basking in the fading light of the evening sun.

"We can leave now, if you're ready, sweetheart." her mother murmured, delicately turning her daughter's face to meet her own. 

As your mother looked into your eyes, you could see the sadness reflecting in them, speaking volumes on its own. Although she softly hinted that you could go if you wished, it was evident that she longed for some respite from the weight of your mutual grief. Beneath her calm demeanor, you sensed her vulnerability, a silent plea to escape the overpowering sorrow surrounding you both. With a simple nod, you silently agreed.

With a mix of sadness and resolve, you followed your mother's lead, letting her guide you away from the graveside and back into the world. While you walked together, a quick look back caught your attention, drawing your eyes to the scene you were departing. And there, on top of the gravestone, sat the blue bird, its colorful feathers standing out against the solemn surroundings.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as you watched the bird, a silent sentinel overlooking the final resting place of your beloved grandfather. He seemed to look at you, and, if birds could smile, you would swear he did.

2023

You find yourself standing outside a closed door, your hand hesitantly reaching out to lightly tap against the wood. The muffled voices from within only add to your uncertainty, but the urgency of speaking with the team principal before the Abu Dhabi sprint pushes you to take action. Whatever discussion awaits behind that door must be significant enough to pull you away from your pre-race meeting with the mechanics.

In the stillness of the hallway, time seems to stretch endlessly as you wait for a response that never comes. With a mixture of nerves and anticipation coursing through your veins, you finally muster the courage to grasp the doorknob. Its cool metal provides a fleeting sense of reassurance as you turn it slowly, the hinges creaking softly in protest as the door swings open to reveal the dimly lit room beyond.

Inside, seated at a table, is Mr. Vowles, engrossed in conversation. Your presence at the threshold goes unnoticed for a moment until you gather your resolve and speak up, your voice barely above a whisper as you address him.

"Mr. Vowles, did you need to see me?" you venture, your words hanging in the air with a hint of uncertainty.

At the sound of your voice, James looks up, his expression softening into a welcoming smile.

"Williams, come in," he says, his warm tone instantly easing your nerves as he gestures for you to enter. "Have you met Sargeant?" he continues, motioning towards a figure standing nearby, their presence previously hidden in the shadows of the room.

As James mentions Logan, it's like a floodgate of memories bursting open, whisking you back to the time when you and Logan shared an unbreakable bond. You were inseparable, navigating the twists and turns of life at the academy with laughter, support, and a shared vision of the future.

But as the competition for a spot in Formula One heated up, your friendship began to strain. What started as friendly competition slowly morphed into something more complicated. The pressure mounted, and with it came a subtle shift in your relationship. Each race seemed to drive a wedge between you, rather than bringing you closer.

It was at the peak of your rivalry that things started to unravel. Every little disagreement or perceived slight seemed to fester, poisoning the once vibrant atmosphere between you. Despite your efforts to keep up appearances, there was an underlying tension that threatened to fracture your bond.

When Logan secured a seat at Williams while you remained in F2, a whirlwind of emotions swept over you. Of course, you were genuinely happy for him, but there was also a pang of envy and disappointment gnawing at your heart. It felt like a piece of your own dream slipping away, leaving you grappling with a sense of loss you couldn't quite shake.

And then, just when you thought things couldn't get any more complicated, James hinted at the possibility of you stepping into Logan's shoes. The idea of replacing your friend-turned-competitor added another layer of complexity to an already tangled web of emotions. It was a constant battle between your ambition and the fear of losing the one person who had been by your side through it all.

"Yes, sir," you respond, choosing a simple response. Logan's gaze meets yours, seeming to ignite with intensity. "We keep on meeting"

In a deliberate choice of silence, Logan sidestepped any engagement with you, his eyes fixed on the team leader instead. "As I was just saying," he began, his voice brimming with confidence, "I truly believe that with these adjustments, I can improve my control over the car."

James reciprocated Logan's smile, though his gaze hinted at a wandering mind. "Sargeant?" he interrupted, signaling a shift in focus to another pressing matter.

"Yes, sir?" Sergeant replied promptly, ready for further instructions.

"We'll talk about this later. Close the door on your way out," James commanded, his tone decisive, drawing their exchange to a close.

As Logan's footsteps faltered on his way out, a pang of unease settled in your chest. You couldn't shake the guilt that crept in, knowing your success might come at the cost of his dreams.

In the relentless world of Formula One, sentimentality was a luxury few could afford. You grappled with the harsh reality that success often meant sacrificing the dreams of others. It was a something you had grappled with since the beginning of your journey, one that forced you to confront the truth that in this fiercely competitive arena, there would always be someone waiting in the wings to take your place if you faltered.

As you redirected your focus towards James, the man who now held the reins of your family's team, you couldn't help but reflect on the rarity of such a moment. Conversations with him had been few and far between, a testament to the typical hierarchy within Formula One teams where direct interaction between a team leader and a junior driver, especially mere hours before a pivotal race, was uncommon.

“Have I done something wrong, sir?” You ventured, a tinge of uncertainty coloring your tone.

"Not at all, quite the opposite actually," James responded, rising from his seat and leaning casually against the table, his arms folded. "Your stats this season are impressive—seven wins, numerous podium finishes. You've got a bright future ahead of you. But here's the thing, every day I see offers come across my desk to buy out your contract, and frankly, I find it amusing."

"Uh, sorry, I'm not following," you admitted, furrowing your brow in confusion.

"Williams, why is it that no team seems to be able to snag you?" James clarified, a hint of curiosity lacing his words. "You're undeniably talented, but turning down offers from big names like Alpine and Alpha Tauri might not be the smartest move."

"To drive their tractor, or worse, become a reserve driver? I don't think so." you remarked with a disbelieving smirk.

"Think about it, a spot at Alpha Tauri could open doors at Red Bull down the line," James suggested, attempting to sway your perspective.

"Everyone knows they have their sights set on Daniel Ricciardo, or Liam Lawson at best" you countered, a note of frustration creeping into your voice. "I'm a bit lost here. Why are you laying all this out for me?" you questioned, a perplexed furrow creasing your brow. You knew full well the offers on the table and why you were declining them. James likely wasn't in the dark about your reasons either.

"I'm just being honest with you," He replied, his tone carrying a hint of earnestness. His hand reached up to rub his forehead, fingers tracing over the lines etched there as if seeking solace in the familiar. "We're on a tight budget," he explained, a touch of resignation in his voice. "We're short on engineers and mechanics compared to almost everyone else, except maybe Haas and Sauber. While we've made progress since last year, I can't promise our car will match up to the competition next season."

James lifted his gaze, fixing it upon you with a mixture of earnestness and concern. "I'm not one to squander talent. I know you've got your reasons for sticking with us, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to have you on board. But I can't move forward without ensuring you understand exactly what you're signing up for."

"I'm just asking for a shot, James. Just one chance to prove that we've still got what it takes," you implored, your words tinged with determination. Images of past triumphs flickered through your mind, a reminder of the team's glory days.

With a weary smile, James let out a soft sigh. "Seems like sheer tenacity runs in the family, huh?"

"They used to say I took after my grandmother," you remarked casually, a wistful grin playing on your lips.

Turning to the desk, the man retrieved a piece of paper from a drawer, his movements deliberate and measured. "What are the odds?"

You knew precisely what he was referring to. "Iwasa's already out of the running. If I take the sprint, I'll have enough points to clinch the championship."

Extending the contract towards you, James presented it as if unveiling a glimpse of what lay ahead. "Win this championship, and the seat is yours."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, mingling with the anticipation that crackled between you. With the contract poised like a tantalizing promise, the room seemed to hold its breath.

You reached out tentatively, fingers hovering over the document that held the potential to shape your future. The paper felt crisp beneath your touch.

"I know it's a risk, trading one rookie for another" James conceded, his voice tinged with a hint of apprehension. "But I believe in you, and I need someone who believes in this team."

A surge of determination coursed through your veins, bolstered by James's unwavering faith. "I won't let you down," you vowed, your voice steady despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

"TO TOP OFF AN INCREDIBLE SEASON, Y/N WILLIAMS WINS THE ABU DHABI SPRINT AND HAS ENOUGH POINTS TO CROWN HERSELF A CHAMPION." The narrator's voice reverberated through the sprawling circuit, amplifying the momentous declaration that crowned your achievement.

The roar of victory surged through the airwaves as your race engineer's voice erupted over the radio, a symphony of celebration. "You did it, Williams! Formula 2 champion, with one race to spare!"

Amidst the cacophony of cheers echoing from Rodin Carlin's garage, you felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, the weight of your accomplishment settling upon your shoulders like a mantle of triumph. Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions, a torrent of exclamations, gratitude, and tears that threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As you gradually eased the car to a decelerating pace, you couldn't help but feel the swell of pride and disbelief wash over you. With trembling hands, you lifted them skyward in a gesture of reverence, a silent tribute to the one who had inspired you journey.

"This one's for you, grandpa," you murmured, your voice a whisper against the backdrop of roaring engines and jubilant cheers. "I hope you're proud up there."

Amidst the jubilant chaos enveloping the pit lane, your thoughts swirled like a tempestuous storm, each emotion vying for dominance in the tumult of your mind. As you joined in the exultant cheers of your team, a sense of disbelief mingled with elation, the reality of your victory sinking in with each heartbeat.

In the midst of the celebration, you couldn't help but steal a moment to glance towards the podium, where your destiny awaited. The anticipation pulsed within you, a heady mixture of excitement and nervous energy propelling youforward.

As you ascended to the highest step, each stride felt like a triumph, a testament to the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice that have led you to this pinnacle moment. Your mind hummed with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, a kaleidoscope of memories and aspirations swirling in the depths of your consciousness.

The thunderous roar of the crowd enveloped you like a tidal wave, the sound of applause echoing in your ears as you stand upon the podium, bathed in the radiant glow of the spotlight. Your chest swells with pride, your heart beating in time with the pulsating energy of the spectators.

Locking eyes with James amidst the sea of faces, you feel a surge of excitement washing over you. There's a silent understanding that passes between you, a shared recognition of the journey you will embark upon together. In that fleeting moment, as your gazes meet, you know with a certainty that transcends words— you'll be signing that contract.

With a triumphant smile, you raise the championship trophy high above your head, the weight of your accomplishment buoyed by the unwavering support of your team and your unyielding belief in yourself.

And in the middle of the bustling paddock, a blue bird chirped happily, swooping towards the girl as she lifted the trophy high. It appeared as though he'd be sticking around a while longer.

taglist (tell me if you want to be added or removed <3 | italic means i couldn't tag you) :: @formulanni @clownrrari @leilanixx @notyouraveragemochii @alliwantisadonut @oooom4rie @watermelon-sugars-things @glitterquadricorn @minkyungseokie @formulaal @itsjustkhaos @thebearchives @hiireadstuff @laura-naruto-fan1998 @cptg00s3 @welovediaaxx @eugene-emt-roe @cha-hot

[my-religion-greek-myth]

Freedom far away - B

Yap, until my kink is satisfied, I'll keep writing these lol Who knows, once I'm satisfied, I'll stop writing suddenly. I'll prolly writing whole night tho..

Thanks all for liking this. Some of you probably noticed, that this story isn't set in America cuz this is all inspired by my own fanart (Korean Joseon Era), but I try to be subtle about any indications, so you can just imagine as some whre in western or other american town other than westview or salem.

Freeom far away - A

Fem Reader X Agatha X Rio

The first time you met Agatha and Rio, their presence lingered in your mind long after you exchanged names and hurried home. As you retreated, Rio's voice had called out, "See you later," her tone playful and lilting with a hint of laughter. You did not dare look back, but their gazes had felt almost tangible—slithering and coiling around you as if urging you to turn. It took every ounce of willpower to keep walking, to not succumb to the strange pull that seemed to emanate from them.

Days had passed since that encounter at the well, but their image haunted you. Whether you were studying, eating, or even engaging in conversation with your family, part of your mind was consumed by thoughts of the duo. You found yourself unconsciously touching your right hand, where Agatha's fingers had briefly brushed against yours. No other touch had ever left you feeling so electric, so unsettled. Their memory persisted like a faint melody you could not shake, and you found yourself debating—should you return to the well? Could you face them again? Would they even still be there?

With a deep sigh, you made up your mind. Opening the door to the courtyard, you noticed three servants diligently cleaning. One of them glanced up and immediately bowed when he saw you.

"Is there something you need, milady?" he asked nervously, his voice trembling as if he feared some unspoken reprimand.

You blinked, realising you had been unconsciously glaring in his direction, your mind preoccupied with Agatha and Rio. You opened your mouth to respond but thought better of it, shaking your head instead. You slipped on your shoes and made for the main entrance without another word.

"Where are you going?" came the familiar voice of your younger sister behind you.

You turned sharply, raising an eyebrow at her. Standing beside her was your younger brother, both looking at you with curious expressions.

"Did grandfather send you to keep an eye on me?" you asked, your tone sharper than you intended.

Your siblings and even the nearby servants visibly recoiled at the authoritative edge in your voice. It was a tone you seldom used, but it had a way of surfacing when you were particularly annoyed—or, in this case, deeply conflicted. And today, your irritation was palpable. The pull towards Agatha and Rio, the confusion they stirred in you, made you want to brush off any interaction with your family and rush to them.

Your sister quickly composed herself, though a frown etched on her face. "I was just asking. No need to snap," she muttered.

"We’re going to Jun’s house for archery practice. Want to come with us?" your younger brother interjected, clearly trying to ease the tension before it could escalate. He knew all too well how quickly tempers could flare between you and your sister.

"No, thank you," you replied curtly. "I have other matters to attend to."

"As if," your sister scoffed. You could almost picture her shaking her head in exasperation, arms crossed in that typical defiant stance of hers. But you did not care. Ignoring her remark, you stepped outside, your pace quickening as you made your way back to the well, determined to see if Agatha and Rio were still there.

---RAR---

The looming shadow of the mountain cast a dark veil over the well, making the place feel unusually eerie despite the daylight. You glanced around nervously, unsure why the familiar space suddenly made your body shiver. Your eyes caught the fluttering ribbons tied to the shaman's tree, their vibrant colours contrasting with the oppressive silence.

"Well, well, we have the pretty lady back here," came a lively voice.

Startled, you jumped and turned to see Rio, her warm brown eyes glinting with amusement as she chuckled softly. In her left hand, however, was a small dagger that gleamed faintly in the dim light. Beside her, Agatha stood poised, her fingers grazing her lips, a faint smile playing on her face as if she were appraising you.

"I told you we'd meet again, didn’t I?" Rio said, her steps deliberate and confident as she walked toward you.

Instinctively, you stepped back, but in your haste, your heel caught the edge of the well. Your breath hitched as you felt yourself teetering backward, the dark depths of the well below you. Before you could fall, a firm hand grabbed your arm. Rio, her grip strong yet gentle, pulled you back to safety.

The touch sent a jolt through you—an unfamiliar sensation that made time to slow. You had read about such moments in the romantic novels you had secretly consumed with your noble friends, moments you had laughed at for their absurdity. Yet here it was, and it was undeniably real. A sudden warmth spread across your face as you realised what had happened. Rio smirked, her gaze sharp yet teasing.

"Oh, don’t tell me you’re blushing, doll," Agatha said, her melodic laughter carrying a mischievous edge. She stepped closer, her ocean-blue eyes darkening briefly, like the sky before a storm. For a moment, you could not decide whether her eyes were a deep navy or an ethereal blue, but you knew they were the most captivating thing you had ever seen.

Before you could reply, Rio suddenly pulled you closer. Your face pressed against her chest—a distinctly feminine curve beneath the garments that suggested otherwise. Her warmth and the steady rhythm of her heartbeat enveloped you in a strange comfort. Without thinking, your arms circled her in an unconscious embrace.

Agatha pouted dramatically, crossing her arms as she watched. "Seems someone’s getting all the attention," she remarked, her tone playfully aggrieved.

"Don’t worry," Rio murmured above you, her voice teasingly soft as her breath tickled your hair. "I think the pretty lady has enough love for both of us."

The comment made you stiffen. You pushed against Rio’s chest, but she let you go with an easy laugh, nudging you backward—right into Agatha’s arms.

You gasped as you felt Agatha’s hands steady you, her grip firm yet gentle around your middle. Her scent—subtle and intoxicating—filled your senses as she leaned down, resting her chin lightly on your head.

"You smell nice, doll," Agatha murmured, her voice low and velvety, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart raced your mind a whirl of confusion and resistance. You had come to the well seeking answers to the strange pull you felt toward them, but now they were toying with you, unravelling your composure as if it were child’s play.

"Why are you here, pretty lady?" Rio asked, stepping closer. Her long fingers lifted your chin effortlessly, forcing your gaze to meet hers.

You froze, unable to look away. Her darkened eyes were filled with a predatory intensity that made her presence feel overwhelming. Behind you, Agatha’s hands brushed through your hair, loosening it from its neat styling. The gentle motion was so intimate that it made your breath hitch again.

"Answer her, doll," Agatha’s voice purred in your ear, her warm breath caressing your skin.

You could not speak. The sensations overwhelmed you; Rio’s fingers tracing your face, Agatha’s hand trailing through your hair, the suffocating awareness of their proximity.

"How are we supposed to get to know you if you won’t answer?" Rio whispered, her face now so close to yours that her nose almost brushed against yours.

Agatha’s fingers tangled gently in your hair, her touch sending a new wave of shivers through your body. You were caught between them, their presence intoxicating and inescapable, as if the world had narrowed to just the three of you. You did not know whether to flee or surrender to the strange pull that bound you to them.

"I'm…" Your voice trembled. "I'm not scared of you two."

"That's not an answer," Agatha's voice carried a hint of a frown, but it softened quickly. "But I'm glad you're not scared of us." Her lips brushed lightly against your ear, sending a burning sensation through it.

"I can't stop thinking about you two," you finally admitted, gulping hard.

Rio pulled her face back, and, to your surprise, you felt a pang of disappointment.

"Why?" Rio asked, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with mischief as they roamed over you. "We only told you our names."

"That's why I'm here," you said, frustration bubbling up. "I've never felt like this in my life!"

Agatha chuckled, her laugh light but somehow weighted with something you could not identify. She finally released you, and seizing the moment, you stepped back. Both of them watched you with amusement, their darkened eyes betraying some unreadable intent you could not comprehend.

"You’ve never been in love before?" Agatha asked, smiling that same captivating smile she had worn when you first met. It was hypnotic, alluring—utterly impossible to look away from.

Your eyes widened. Love? The very idea made your stomach twist. Love? With them? You had only just met them, and to feel this way for two people at the same time? It defied all logic and everything you had ever been taught.

You took another step back, and still, they did not stop you. Their smiles only grew wider.

Panic surged within you, and you turned, fleeing towards the safety of your home.

As you ran, Agatha’s melodic voice rang out behind you, the sound trailing you like a spell.

"See you later, doll!"

---RAR---

Your footsteps thundered against the path as you bolted away from the well. Your mind was a cacophony of emotions—confusion, embarrassment, and a simmering warmth you could not quite place. Love? How absurd, you thought, shaking your head. You had only just met them. And two people? At once? The very idea seemed preposterous, something out of fanciful tales told to wide-eyed children.

The cool air brushed your face, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks. You could not forget the way Agatha’s lips brushed your ear or Rio’s gaze seemed to peel back every layer of your being, leaving you bare and exposed.

As you reached the entrance of your household, you slowed to a halt, clutching your chest as you tried to steady your racing heart. What was it about them? Their presence was unlike anything you had ever encountered—intoxicating, overwhelming, and magnetic.

"Milady?" a servant called, stepping cautiously into the courtyard from the backyard. "Is everything alright?"

You startled slightly, realising how dishevelled you must have looked from running. Straightening your posture, you smoothed your dress and forced a neutral expression onto your face.

"Yes," you replied curtly, brushing past her and heading toward your chambers.

Once inside, you closed the door firmly and leaned against it. The silence of the room felt suffocating, yet your thoughts continued to churn. Despite your attempts to banish them from your mind, their faces—Agatha’s piercing, ocean-like eyes and Rio’s mischievous grin—kept invading your thoughts.

You slid down against the door, your knees drawing up to your chest. What are they doing to me? You could not shake the feeling that this was only the beginning.

Part A | Part B | Part C&D | Part E | Part F | Part G | Part H | Part I&J | Part K | Part L | Part M | Part N | Part O&P | Part Q | Part ? | Epilogue

[solecize]

  ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: jungkook/reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, cowboy jungkook, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up, mutual pining 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. n/a

part two: the caretaker and the sister   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ previous. next. masterlist

iv. the caretaker

“gonna be real, i’m sure you know why we’re looking at you funny.” jungkook was blunt, but you had to give him kudos for it.

  “oh, why is that?” you replied dryly, 

  the way you had narrowed it down for your parents seemed more simple in your head when you rehearsed it a dozen times over before having each individual sit-down. the property was just going to rot and go to waste. it’s what grandpa would have wanted. so many sweet words intertwined with one another, but not once did you mention your perpetual unhappiness.

  explaining it to two people who were essentially strangers should have been easier, but something told you that the look jungkook was giving you hinted that he knew there was more of a story than that. on the other hand, namjoon, who was still confused by the entire conversation somehow, either didn’t care to ask or knew it wasn’t his place to press. 

  by his sympathetic glance towards your dirty duffel bag, it seemed to be the latter. he slowly came to the ground from his horse and gave you one of those sweet smiles that only a gentleman from the countryside could give. it was the same one your grandpa and jungkook had.

  namjoon gestured down the road. “need a ride into town?”

your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when namjoon said “ride” and then your eyes fell on the beautiful stallion that he had a gentle hand on. oh. somehow, the idea made you stomach drop and you were shocked to find that.

  “what’s wrong? we used to ride all the time when we were kids,” jungkook said, having read the expression formed on your face.

  one of the thing that your mom warned you about was that no one was going to take you seriously in the valley. your grandfather was a well seasoned farmer, as the property had been passed down for generations until your mom declined the responsiblity. and, of course, you grew up in the city and you definitely looked like it. there wasn’t another reason to add onto this obstacle.

  you shook your head. “i, uh, injured my ankle a week back. pilates.” a hollow chuckle that jungkook and namjoon overlooked and nodded in understanding. “so, it’s best if i don’t ride into town.”

  you weren’t sure why the idea of getting on a horse made you nervous. it had been many years, but there was a time where you rode more often than you walked on your own two legs. pushing the feelings away to deal with another time, there was a bigger issue at hand. the movers were likely going to make it to the farm before you were at this rate.

  “oh, no worries! stay put, we’ll come back for ya,” jungkook said, “shouldn’t take long. you’ll be okay waiting here?”

  you smiled and nodded, giving the two kind semi-strangers a thank you and off they went. 

  it was a relief that small-town hospitality was a thing. you hoped that would be the case, as you remembered amber valley to be a tight-knit community, as everyone knew each other. this left you to wonder who else you would be encountering in your new life here from your past. there weren’t too many kids your age growing up and you assumed that most of them would want to leave the valley like you did, given the lack of opportunitites. you wondered why jungkook and namjoon were still around.

  although you were just standing on the side of the road alone, you didn’t feel unsafe at all. after all, your grandpa would allow you and jungkook to roam around the town until late at night with no supervision when you were kids. there was not a single vehicle that passed by as you waited. if you hadn’t gotten namjoon’s attention as he was riding by, you were going to end up hitchhiking and probably in the wrong direction, too.

soon enough, you saw a car in the distance and you breathed a sigh of relief. a baby blue mustang, its age was apparent by the blaring roar of its engine and clank of its metal. coming to a stop, the windows rolled down and you gave a small wave.

  while jungkook sat at the passenger’s seat, there was a different face behind the steering wheel. another person around your age, you couldn’t recognize him by face, even calculating his smile that reached his eyes. however, when he opened his mouth, the man’s voice hit you like a truck.

  “hi, you’re - “

  “park jimin?” you gaped.

  the park family ran a generation spanning fishing business in amber valley and your mom was once high school sweethearts with jimin’s father. that’s why his mom was particularly snippy with you as a child and didn’t want you hanging around her son, feeding him ideas of how evil you apparently were - or so, that’s what the gossip from jungkook’s mom was. the three of you were baking cookies one day and jungkook wanted to drop some off to jimin. you went along and jimin called you a witch, so when you cried the entire walk back to jungkook’s house, his mom told you not to worry and that his mom was just a bit petty. ever since that day on until your last summer in amber valley, you declared jimin an enemy after realizing why he had done the same to you.

  jimin peered over, analyzing your face for a few seconds. beside him, you could see jungkook noticeably stifling a laugh. when the realization clocked in, jimin mirrored your slightly dropped jaw.

  he couldn’t help but laugh. “oh shit, you’re bunny.” there was no sense of resentment or snarkiness, which was surprising with your history - but, then again, this wide-eyed individual with the sweetest smile you’d ever seen was nothing like your childhood bully.

  “i remember one time you ripped all of my silly bandz. you were evil!” jimin exclaimed.

  once you got into the backseat, duffle bag nestled beside you, the atmosphere was actually quite lively. a beyonce album from the 2000s was shuffled in the background and although the road was bumpy and old, no one seemed to mind. you raised your eyebrows, trying to recall jimin’s anecdone.

  jungkook added in, “yup, you guys hated each other. i had to play peacemaker all the time.”

  “hmm…” you trailed off. “oh yeah. i think you had to physically hold me back from jimin a few times.”

  apparently, from “forcing” jungkook to eat mud and terrorizing jimin’s dinosaur silly bandz collection, you were a menace. thankfully, it was all fun and games, as the three of you exchanged giggles about being kids in the valley. slowly, piece by piece, you were grasping some memories that you didn’t even know were tucked away at the back of your mind.

  jungkook looked at you from the mirror. “you doing okay? we’ll be reaching the farm in a few minutes.”

  “where did namjoon run off to again? i was supposed to lend him something,” jimin said.

  “something about helping his dad with something, i dunno,” jungkook shrugged at jimin and then turned back to you. “he says good luck with moving in, by the way, and that he would have helped out if he could.”

  jimin sighed. “he’s always at the beck and call of mayor kim. poor guy just wants to get out of here.” you assumed he was talking about amber valley as a whole. 

  this made you a bit curious, thinking again why these young adults were sticking around the small town. the average demographic for the town was definitely on the older side, from what you saw at your grandfather’s funeral service. you ended up asking what both of them did and while you noticed jungkook go quiet, jimin piped in.

  “just helping my parents out with the family business, probably become the owner when they retire. i actually don’t mind it here and i could see myself staying here - “

  “ - that’s because you’ve never left your entire life,” jungkook interjected.

  “and it’s great! except the dating pool is a bit shallow. gotta figure that out.” jimin’s pout made you laugh and made it feel even more bewildering that this was the little brat from your childhood.

  eventually, you all drove right past the path leading into the centre of town and made a sharp turn towards another dirt path that had a singular route to your grandfather’s property. the lively air of the conversation distracted you from the confrontation due, despite your hasty acceptance of your new role. the last two weeks had been a whirlwind and you grew anxious of what it would feel like to see your grandfather’s greatest pride and joy once again.

  it’d been almost half a year since your grandfather’s passing and you prepared yourself for extensive work on the farm. there were also floating questions about the property that you weren’t sure who to ask. the property was in your name and the transition to move happened in the blink of an eye. but, what about grandpa’s other possessions? the animals? the furniture?

  the moving truck was already parked out front and checking the time on your phone, you were relieved to see that you weren’t too late past the agreed arrival time. the three of you exited the car and you gave the two men a warm smile.

  “hey, thanks for the ride. i really appreciate it, i would’ve been toast without your guys’ help.”

  “it’s no problem at all! i think it’s really cool you’re taking over the farm, keeping it in the family,” jimin replied. “plus, we’ll probably be business partners. don’t worry, my days of being a pain in the ass are over.”

  the two of you laughed and exchanged a playful handshake. meanwhile, jungkook took out your duffel bag from the trunk for you and walked over. you thanked him and took the bag from him, quietly impressed by his quick chivalry. 

  jungkook smiled at you and you couldn’t help but smile just a little bit wider. “do you need help with anything, by the way?“

  “oh, no! trust me, you have definitely helped enough.” you waved him off. the neighbourly spirit was definitely strong in amber valley, but you already felt bad about having them fetch a whole car because the idea of you riding a horse was going to give you  a heart attack.

  “you sure?” jimin added.

  you said, “absolutely. the movers got most of it anyway.” you were slightly worried about exploring the property and looking at the state of it, but that was just the first task you had to take care of in your new role.

  “alright, cool. well, i hope to see you around! jungkook, you’re good?” jimin turned to the other male, who nodded. “nice. see ya then!” and just like that, jimin was off. a ray of sunshine, but seemed like the type who was always on his feet.

  you were confused why jungkook didn’t leave with jimin and then you remember he lived about a five minute walk away. that reminded you why the two of you seemed to never leave each other’s sides.

  “okay. you probably remember where everything is, but the chickens were fed this morning and - “ jungkook started and you were confused. what was he talking about?

  “wait, has someone been taking care of the farm?”

  you finally got a good look around the front and you realized everything looked. . .normal. it was exactly like how it looked in your memories, when your grandfather took meticulous care of the property. the grass was cut and emerald green, not missing a day of water. 

  your grandfather’s farmhouse had never gotten an renovation since being built and while it certainly showed, the age of the house accentuated a certain charm that only old houses gained over the years. the wrap-around porch was still in tact, despite its chipped paint. its unique bright red roof faded into a dirty maroon, losing remnants of what was your mother’s favourite colour, which your grandfather had customized the roof to match. the shrubbery around the house was overgrown, but didn’t look like it had been so for nearly half a year, indicating there was maintenance at some point between now and then.

  jungkook took a second to speak. “well, your mom was paying for basic maintenance every now and then. for the grass and stuff.”

  you didn’t know that, but you weren’t too surprised. after your grandpa died, there was really no talk about where his property was going to go. you didn’t know that he had left it to you, but you later found out that your mother was actually aware of this, but assumed you would be disinterested and didn’t say anything to you. 

  “i guess she thought i wouldn’t care about the property and took matters into her own hands,” you shrugged. “but, sorry, you said something about the chickens? and what about the fields?”

  he put his hands into his pockets. “well, you know before your grandpa passed i was helping him around the farm and stuff. i just. . .kind of continued even after.”

  you responded, “you’ve been taking care of the farm?”

  you weren’t sure how to feel. you were certainly shocked, having not understood how truly deep jungkook’s relationship with your grandfather ran. for him to come out to the farm and perform labour on his own accord, as well as the way jungkook spoke about him, there was a true sense of care involved. 

  “well, yeah. there was no one else to do it. your grandpa worked all his life to grow this place and i didn’t want any of it to go to waste. i wasn’t sure what the situation was with the property until you came today, but the animals had nowhere to go!” jungkook seemed genuinely exasperated by the situation. “don’t worry, it’s not like i’ve been profiting off of his animals. i’ve used everything just to back into taking care of the farm and it’s been just enough, since there aren’t any crops.”

  “jungkook. . .” you were left speechless. you couldn’t believe how golden of a heart this man really had to be keeping your grandfather’s memory alive, all behind the scenes and for no recognition.

  he just chuckled. “look, i’m not just glad someone is here now to get things up and running again, but the fact that it’s you. you’re the perfect person for this.”

  “am i?” you asked, looking down at the ground. you were about to fill some really big shoes and you knew it. those words of affirmation meant the world to you, suddenly feeling immense pressure on your back once actually seeing the farm in person for the first time in years.

  jungkook said, without missing a beat, “of course. you’re here because you care about your grandpa’s legacy and all the work he’s done, i can see it in your eyes. you’ll be a natural, don’t worry - i’m sure all the little things are gonna come back to you!” he was so confident and you couldn’t believe it. you could only try to hope he was right.

  “hey. . .” you began and couldn’t help but approach him. he seemed to share the same idea as you and opened his arms at the same time you did, enveloping you in a hug. neither one of you knew that the other had tears forming. “thank you, jungkook.”

  “of course. maybe it’s actually best that i show you where everything is?”

  you agreed without hesitation. after making sure that the movers didn’t need anything from you, the two of you left to embark on a quick tour of the property and its different buildings. when you were little, everything on the farm seemed so big and far and the entire world seemed to be unimaginatively endless. now, as an adult, things seemed just as daunting with the new chapter in your life, despite things not looking as big and far. 

  after an hour or so, jungkook said his goodbye and the movers had long finished their job. now, with your grandfather’s farmhouse living room filled to the brim with cardboard boxes and wrapped up furniture, you knew there was a lot ahead of you. you made a cup of tea and before getting to anything, found yourself outside and sitting criss-cross on the steps to the front door, wondering what was to come next. 

  v. the sister

there was just one grocery store in town, about half a kilometre of a walk and wasn’t going to pose any trouble for your vehicle-less self. this was your first time going into town since moving in, having been cooped up and living off of ramen noodles since you lacked the energy to go grocery shopping. friday night, after finishing work for the day and unpacking the last of your boxes, you decided to put on your big girl pants and run some errands.

  the first few days on the farm were exhausting, to say the least. thankfully, because of jungkook’s help and your mother’s contributions to the property, it was a lot less work than you remembered. you performed many of the tasks naturally, having spent summers doing the same thing over and over again. this didn’t mean you weren’t tiring come the weekend and you just wanted your trip to be a quick in and out.

  with an hour to closing, the store was basically empty and this gave you a sense of relief. you walked in, wearing stained sweatpants that were far older than you were willing to admit and your hair held up into a messy updo by a claw clip. 

  after about ten minutes, you were in the cereal aisle and deciding on if you wanted to pick out the one with the best cartoon on the cover or the one with the best nutritional value. this is when you felt something tugging on your pant leg.

  “oh..? oh!”

  you jumped slightly when you saw it was a beagle with the cutest eyes you’d ever seen. noticing the dog lacked a leash or collar or any kind, you quickly put the cereal you had been inspecting back on the shelf and crouched down.

  you whispered, “who do we have here?” your own eyes softened, as you crouched down to pet the tiny animal. 

  from behind you, you hear the sound of spongy footsteps - almost like a squeak with each step. turning around, you were met with a little girl and realized the squeakiness was coming from her hot pink light up sneakers, the kind that only ever made noise on tiled flooring. with a leash that matched the colour of her shoes perfectly in hand, her distress visibly eased upon laying eyes on you and the dog.

  “oh, peanut! oppa is gonna be so mad at me,” she gasped, immediately enveloping the puppy into her arms and re-attached the leash. looking at her, she couldn’t have been more than ten years old.

  still crouched on the ground and meeting her at eye-level, you asked, “are you okay?”

  “sorry, yeah! it just looked like she needed a second, so i took it off.” her frown, despite how distraught she was, was adorable. “thank you, miss!”

  so much for the in and out. you didn’t mind, though, as peanut approached you again and jumped up, narrowly missing your face with an excitable lick. you giggled in a way you hadn’t in a while, petting the puppy. 

  soon enough, another round of frantic footsteps followed. you looked up and weren’t surprised to see a familiar face.

  “jiwon, how many times have i told you to keep peanut leashed when we’re inside the store?”

  honestly, it was to your luck that you ran into jungkook here. after he left you at the farm on your first day, you realized you didn’t get his contact information. you were definitely considering it as he gave you a quick tour of where everything you needed was, but the idea of asking a man for his number for any given reason made your stomach jump. thankfully you didn’t need immediate assistance, save for the various things that were just broken around the property, but it would have been useful.

  clad in a graphic muscle shirt depicting a band you didn’t recognize, you couldn’t help but admire the way his tattoos were exposed and adorned his arms. you had to snap out of it. he finally made eye contact you and raised his eyebrows ever so slightly.

  “y/n. how’s your first week gone?”

“oppa, why are you making your voice sound like that - “

  jungkook cleared his throat. “shut it, jiwon.” you thought you saw his ears turned pink, but he adjusted the baseball cap on his head and his hair fell down to cover them.

  you looked between the two of them, confused. who was this little girl? putting the thought at the back of your mind, you opened your mouth to answer his question when two other figures began to approach.

  “hey! there you guys are - we got the cake.”

  you’d never seen so many people wear cowboy hats in one place than amber valley and this individual was no exception. he was easily one of the most handsome men you had ever physically laid eyes on - what was with this town? and of course, blue jeans. the friend beside him was also incredibly good looking, but dressed more like your neighbour from your old apartment complex and stood out against the other people you’d seen in town. apple watch, expensive nike dunks and a hoodie from an instagram streetwear brand that recently blew up.

  “who’s this?” the first man asked and his gaze made you a little more frozen than you were willing to admit.

  jungkook replied, “this is y/n. she’s taking over the old farm, it was her grandpa’s.” 

  “oh, i’m sorry for your loss. welcome to amber valley, though. i’m taehyung,” he smiled and offered his hand, which you took. “i’m new, too. i moved here last year.”

  the other man also offered you his hand. “i’m yoongi. welcome to amber valley - good luck.”

  “i’m not new - wait what?” you looked at yoongi, confused. “what do you mean, good luck?”

  the other three began chuckling amongst themselves. yoongi only looked exasperated. you raised an eyebrow.

  jiwon cut in. “yoongi says he got tricked.”

  “tricked?”

  “tricked to come here,” taehyung said, in between his laughs. “he’s from the city, something about his realtor lying to him about what the town’s like before he moved here.”

  yoongi rolled his eyes. “it’s not a joke - i didn’t know i would be moving to the middle of nowhere!”

  you learned that yoongi was a computer programmer and lived at home, worked from home, and hated leaving his home. he stayed in amber valley because on the few occasions he was forced to go into the office, it was only a short drive to where his company’s headquarters were in the next town over. 

  “i mean, it’s definitely different from the city. . .” you tried to offer, but yoongi waved it off. his friends were just amused and you could see the tiniest smile at that, so you assumed he wasn’t totally unhappy.

  meanwhile, taehyung proudly declared that he - wait for it - chose to move to amber valley. he was a novelist and moving to the town inspired the setting for the newest manuscript he was working on.

  “i love it here, it’s really peaceful,” he said.

  the last to be introduced was jiwon, whose appearance baffled you more and more when you looked at her. it was because she looked just like jungkook. and she was calling him oppa. you put two and two eventually.

  “my annoying little sister.” jungkook reached over, but jiwon instantly slapped his hand away from her head, as if on instinct. 

  there wasn’t too much surprise at the sibling you’d never met before, just a little bewildering to think a whole new human was made while you were gone from amber valley. after all, jungkook’s parents were relatively young, both the same age your own parents, who had you at nineteen. this explained two main things in your childhood, the first being why it was a no-hesitation decision for your parents to send you away to your grandfather’s care over the summer. free childcare was incredibly unreliable in the city and it was just easier for them.

  and, of course, like most kids from the valley, your mom grew up alongside jungkook’s parents. for that, it was encouraged and even expected for the two of you to eventually become friends. there was also a high level of trust because of this. out late biking with jungkook? oh, you’re with jungkook, it should be fine. left unsupervised on the fields? it’s okay, you and jungkook would look after each other.

  “it’s nice to meet you all. it’s a little weird that you have a little sister this grown now - has it really been that long since i left?” you shook your head.

  jungkook only laughed. “longest nine years of my life since this brat was born.”

  “hey!”

  “your mom did always say she wanted a daughter,” you attempted to joke, but ceased when you saw the atmosphere explicitly shift. 

  taehyung and yoongi looked away, eyes darting anywhere but the current conversation. jiwon looked like she had just seen a ghost. on the other hand, jungkook’s expression went blank. what the hell did you do wrong?  

it was taehyung who broke the silence. “hey, jiwon. wanna go pick out a card for jin?” 

  jiwon nodded enthusiastically - a little too enthusiastic. she happily skipped away, giving peanut’s leash over to jungkook, and yoongi and taehyung both left with her. 

  “i’m so sorry, was it something i said?” you blurted to jungkook, as soon as the three were out of your line of sight. what a horrible first impression you must have just made.

  jungkook said, “ah, no, it’s nothing, really. . .there is something you should know, though.” he took a second, as if preparing himself. “you see, my mom and dad passed away six years ago.”

  “what?”

  the familiar feeling of grief struck you like a lightning bolt, causing your chest to drop and you blood to run cold. you thought you heard him wrong. six years ago? your grandpa never told you this - or maybe he did and it went in one ear and out the other. you couldn’t believe it, your body frozen and detached. 

  “hey, it’s okay, you couldn’t have known.” he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, instantly calming you down at his touch. 

  you shook your head anyway. “i’m so sorry, jungkook.” you didn’t know what else to say.

  “really, it’s fine,” he broke out into a light chuckle. “it was an accident and it happened a long time ago. it’s just a bit hard on jiwon because she doesn’t really remember them.”

  “oh, i feel awful!”

  “it’s okay, y/n,” jungkook continued to assure you, while peanut just looked up at you with those big eyes.

  you still didn’t seem to find the words, as you mentally grasped at any remaining memories of jungkook’s parents. they were always around during the summer and were always so good to you. they cared for you like one of their own. jungkook’s mom always joked that you were the daughter she always wanted.

  jungkook decided to be the one to change the subject, even though you had lingering questions about his and jiwon’s situation. he told you the reason why the four of you were in the grocery store in the first place, talking your ear off about how excited he was for his friend’s birthday party tomorrow.

  “we’re throwing him a surprise party at the local pub - well, i guess it’s the only one in town,” he prattled and looked at his feet. “do you, uh, want to come? it’ll be a lot of fun.”

  you felt your cheeks turn hot. “oh, i really shouldn’t intrude - “ something about jungkook inviting you out to a social setting made you nervous like a school girl.

  “no! no, it’s no intrusion at all,” jungkook interjected, “trust me! there aren’t a lot of people our age in town and we’re all pretty close, so it’d be nice if you could meet everyone, too. jin is a really friendly person, he’ll want to meet you and make sure you’re fitting in well and everything.”

  you paused. “i don’t know. . .”

  “think about it!” he continued to insist, as he reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone from his back pocket. oh no. now, you were really frozen in place.

  what was it about the way jungkook made you so nervous? this was literally the little boy that used to cry if your beyblade was stronger than his. you couldn’t believe yourself.

  jungkook tapped on his phone a few time and then turned it around for you. “put in your contact. i’ll text you sometime tomorrow afternoon and see if you made your mind up?”

you did, in fact, give jeon jungkook your number. your hands were quivering ever so slightly when you did, but at least you didn’t have to be the one to ask. it gave you heavy relief that you didn’t have to be the one to text first either. but, then, you came to terms with the fact that you were certainly going to be checking your phone every two minutes for a text from the man in question. this was insane.

𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. @sstrongstyle @wobblewobble822@seokout @firelcrds

[babsharrison]

Safe Haven - John Wick

(Chapter two)

Pairing | John Wick x Original Fem! Character

Summary | In search of a breath in his tumultuous life, John Wick finds himself in a charming bookstore where he meets a sweet and welcoming woman. As they grow closer, John questions whether she can love him despite the dark secrets he carries. While battling the shadows of his past, he must protect the love that is blossoming and discover if hope and redemption are truly possible.

Word Count | 3.1k

A/N | Hey guys! In this chapter, I tried to show John’s work and a bit of Mia’s struggles. Sorry if there are any mistakes in my writing 🤫

Previous chapter!

At the back of the bookstore, Mia should have been busy shelving the new books that had arrived, but her attention was quickly diverted by a small romance novel. The cover was captivating, and as she flipped through the pages, a wave of warmth spread across her face, leaving her cheeks slightly flushed. With an involuntary smile, she let out a small giggle, immersed in the unfolding story. However, reality soon pulled her back: she had promised to stop by the market with her aunt later, and time was already ticking. Quickly setting the book aside, she knew she would soon have to close the bookstore and leave.

Mia sighed, still with a faint smile, as she returned her focus to the shelves. The smell of new paper and the familiarity of the books comforted her, almost like a warm embrace. She carefully organized the volumes, reminding herself of the promise she had made to her grandfather before he passed away: to take care of the place that meant so much to them both. The bookstore was a refuge filled with memories and shared laughter, and now more than ever, she felt the weight of responsibility on her shoulders.

As she worked, her eyes drifted to the window, where the sunlight was beginning to fade, painting the sky with shades of orange and pink. The contrast between the beauty of the moment and the internal struggle she faced made her sigh again. Keeping the bookstore alive in a world increasingly indifferent to places like it was a constant challenge. She remembered the conversations she had had with her grandfather about the dream of passing the bookstore down, and that pushed her to fight for the legacy.

"Sometimes it feels like I'm the only one who cares," she murmured while arranging a few more books. Despite the difficulties, the love she felt for the bookstore kept her going. She knew that every book there wasn't just an object but a doorway to other worlds. And as long as she could, she would do everything possible to protect that special place.

A light knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. A customer walked in, interrupting her introspection, looking around with a curious air.

"Good afternoon! Can I help you with something?" Mia asked, keeping a warm smile on her face, although her mind was still a bit distant.

The customer hesitated before answering, “Oh, yes! I’m looking for something about history. Any recommendations?”

Mia immediately brightened up. “We have great titles in the history section. I can show you a few I often recommend.” She walked over to the shelf, feeling the enthusiasm grow with each step. The bookstore always had that effect on her; even on difficult days, her love for books and the connections they brought made her feel more alive.

As she guided the customer, Mia cast a brief glance at the window, where the sky was already darkening, tinged with soft shades of blue and purple. She knew she’d have to leave soon to meet her aunt at the market, but she couldn’t close the store now with customers to serve.

“Mia!” Tom called, appearing from the back with a box full of new books. His usual carefree smile lit up his face. “Need help with the customer up front? I can give you a hand.”

She smiled, accustomed to his lighthearted tone. “Actually, I’m about to head out. I need to help my aunt at the market. Can you manage on your own for a bit?”

Tom feigned a look of concern, placing a hand on his chest. “On my own? I’ll try not to let the place fall apart.”

“You’ll be fine,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Just don’t suggest a cookbook to someone looking for adventure.”

“Got it,” he winked, with a grin. “Come back soon, or I might end up selling a mystery to someone looking for romance.”

“Just don’t let the customer leave without buying something,” Mia laughed, feeling lighter as she headed to the door.

Outside the bookstore, Mia noticed a crowd gathered near a fancy nightclub at the end of the street, its flashing lights twinkling like stars in the night sky. The distant sound of laughter and vibrant music reached her, suggesting something interesting was happening inside. Though curious, she knew she didn’t have time to get distracted.

With a soft sigh, Mia put on her long gray coat, which wrapped around her like a cozy embrace against the chilly wind. As she walked away from the bookstore, she cast one last glance at the nightclub, imagining the stories that might be unfolding inside.

Inside, however, another story was already in progress. The ceiling lights flashed frantically, and the loud music echoed everywhere, but John remained focused. The target was at the center of attention, surrounded by women laughing and dancing around him, a scene that only reinforced the superficiality of those people. A dishonest smile spread across the man’s face, and it made John’s stomach churn. He had a job to do, and none of that distracted him.

He positioned himself in a shadow, observing from a distance. The voices were a blur, the music a distant wave, while his mind focused only on the task at hand. The festive atmosphere was a stark contrast to the coldness enveloping his heart. The world around him became just a backdrop as he prepared to move.

John moved with precision, each step planned and calculated. He infiltrated the crowd, his presence almost invisible, like a ghost passing unnoticed. The laughter and pulsating music around him became distant noise; his only concern was the man who stood out among the rest.

He identified two security guards nearby, chatting casually, their attention drawn to the nightclub’s lively scene. Seizing the distraction, John approached silently, his trained body moving with almost supernatural grace. With a swift move, he neutralized the first guard, a precise strike that left him unconscious before he could make a sound.

The second guard had no time to react. In a split second, John was already on him, using the silenced weapon for a clean shot. The man fell, unaware of what had just happened. Now, only the target remained standing, surrounded by admirers who seemed oblivious to the approaching threat.

John adjusted his aim, feeling the adrenaline surge through his veins. The man, still laughing and enjoying himself, had no idea what was about to happen. He pulled the trigger, and with a single shot, the man fell, his smile frozen on his face.

The music continued to play, but a murmur of confusion began to spread as people around started to notice the scene. John, keeping calm, quickly withdrew. His experience had taught him always to have an escape plan. He moved through the shadows, blending in with the crowd, avoiding curious looks as he headed for the exit.

With his skill in disappearing amidst chaos, John left the nightclub unnoticed. The weight of a completed mission lingered, but he had no time to dwell on it. However, as he stepped out onto the street, a thought hit him: there was a nearby bookstore he couldn’t get out of his mind, the peaceful and welcoming atmosphere he’d felt upon entering. The memory of the young woman who had caught his attention brought a soft sigh to his lips.

He hesitated for a moment, the bookstore’s door in sight, but the memory of the mission pulled him back to reality. He decided that, for now, he should keep his distance. There were other concerns on his mind, like the consequences of what had just happened.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

On a rainy day, Mia was organizing some books on a high shelf, balancing on the tips of her toes. The late afternoon was approaching, and the sunlight filtered through the large bookstore windows, casting long golden shadows on the wooden floor. Her friend and coworker, Tom, had missed work due to illness and had sent a prior notice to the young woman. She sighed softly, distracted by the thoughts that haunted her. The bookstore, once her grandfather's refuge, now felt like a growing responsibility weighing on her shoulders. Keeping his legacy alive was important, but finances were tight, and she feared she wouldn’t be able to keep it open much longer.

Additionally, the worry about Tom tormented her. She always considered him more than just a coworker—he was a dear friend, and his absence left her uneasy. With the kindness that was characteristic of her, she thought of stopping by his house later to bring some warm tea and maybe some homemade food. A simple gesture, but one that could make all the difference on such a cold and rainy day.

When she came down the ladder, a familiar sensation took hold of her—that comforting stillness. The doorbell rang, the sound light but enough to catch her attention. She turned, and her eyes once again met the figure of the mysterious man. He was standing there, silent as always, but something in his gaze seemed different from the first time—an exhaustion, perhaps, or a heavier burden on his shoulders.

“Good afternoon! What a surprise to see you again,” she said with a soft smile. “Did something bring you back today?”

John didn’t answer immediately. He made an almost imperceptible movement with his head, as if agreeing, and began walking slowly through the aisles, running his fingers along the spines of the books. The contrast between his calm walk and the intensity he carried was almost palpable. Mia watched from her place at the counter, feeling a growing curiosity. Who was this man who appeared so unexpectedly, and why did that weary look always linger in his eyes?

Mia continued to observe him for a few moments as he wandered through the aisles, his hands lightly touching the books as if searching for something he couldn’t quite define. There was a tension in his movements, a constant vigilance, but at the same time, something about the bookstore seemed to soften him. Maybe it was the warm, welcoming atmosphere, or perhaps Mia’s presence, so different from anyone else he encountered in his routine.

She approached the counter, maintaining a respectful distance but not losing the lightness in her posture. “If you need help finding something... I’m here,” she said, her voice low, almost as if she was aware that he preferred silence.

John paused for a second, his dark eyes studying her over the books. There was no direct distrust, but a trace of caution was always present. Even so, he nodded slightly, accepting the offer without words, as if the simple act of Mia being there, offering genuine tranquility, was already something he didn’t find elsewhere.

She realized he wasn’t the type of person to open up easily, and that didn’t bother her. There was a natural calm between them, as if the silence between their few words said more than any hurried conversation could.

While he scanned the books, Mia watched from afar, organizing the pile she had finished arranging earlier. Her thoughts, which had been trapped in the difficulties she faced with the bookstore, now floated around the unexpected presence of that man. The mystery surrounding him intrigued her, but more than that, there was something about him that made her want to offer more than just a refuge.

John, sensing her gaze, finally broke the silence. “This place... seems different from the last times I was here,” he said, almost as if speaking more to himself than to her.

Mia raised an eyebrow, surprised by the comment. “Maybe it’s the time of day,” she replied softly, not wanting to force an answer from him. “Or maybe you’re just seeing the place differently today.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but there was a slight nod of agreement in his eyes. She was right, and he knew it. The world outside was cold, unforgiving. But here, between books and whispers of stories he had never read, there was a small moment of peace—a breath amid the chaos he usually called life.

Their interaction was brief, almost imperceptible, but carried a depth that both recognized, even without admitting it. Mia smiled, returning to her work, respecting the silence she knew was so important to him. John, for his part, continued to walk among the shelves, more relaxed, but still alert to everything around him, as if something inside him knew that the peace found here was temporary.

As Mia continued to organize the books, the rain outside intensified, filling the bookstore’s silence with a steady and almost hypnotic rhythm. The small, cozy space became an even more welcoming refuge on days like this. Several people were scattered around the store, some sitting on comfortable sofas along the sides, immersed in their reading, others at the small coffee table, talking in low voices. The bookstore pulsed with the softness of whispers and the sound of turning pages, creating an atmosphere that warmed Mia’s heart a little more.

She discreetly watched John from behind the counter, seeing him lose himself among the shelves, his fingers brushing the spines of the books as if searching for something familiar, yet unattainable. The contrast between his presence and that of the other people was palpable—while everyone else seemed relaxed, he radiated a silent tension.

A sudden thought crossed her mind. It was a cold and wet afternoon, and although she knew he was a reserved man, perhaps a simple gesture of kindness would be welcome. She hesitated for a brief moment, wondering if it would be intrusive, but the memory of how he seemed more at ease in the bookstore encouraged her.

Without saying anything, Mia went to the back of the store, where she kept a small kitchen for herself, something she had inherited from her grandfather. Quickly, she prepared a to-go cup of coffee. The warm, comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, and she smiled softly, appreciating the contrast between the sound of the rain and the welcoming smell of coffee.

When Mia returned to the front of the store, she saw John sitting on one of the sofas, the book resting on the table in front of him. He was engrossed in reading, his eyes fixed on the pages, but his rigid posture revealed a constant vigilance, as if every sound around him was something to be analyzed, a possible sign of danger, even in a seemingly safe environment like the bookstore.

Mia approached carefully, holding the to-go cup with both hands. The warm, familiar aroma filled the air, a comforting reminder in contrast to the cold rain outside. As she neared the table beside John, where he had momentarily rested the book, she placed the cup on the surface gently, trying not to disturb the silence.

“I... made some coffee for you,” she said softly, almost as if offering a gift. There was a quiet kindness in her voice, something that didn’t demand anything in return. The closed cup was a practical choice, allowing him to decide what to do—whether to take it or leave it behind.

John slowly raised his gaze, the surprise in his dark eyes quickly replaced by an expression of caution. He observed the cup for a few seconds, his mind analyzing every detail of the gesture. Part of him found it curious, almost unsettling, that someone would offer something so simple without a hidden motive. In his world, where kindness often came with ulterior motives, accepting something from a stranger felt like a risk.

But at the same time, there was something different here—a touch of authenticity in Mia’s way. She didn’t seem to demand anything in return, just left the coffee as a considerate gesture, and then moved away. There was no insistence, no attempt to get closer beyond that small act. That made him hesitate.

With a controlled movement, he murmured, “Thank you.” His voice was low, carrying a near-automatic suspicion, but at the same time, there was a small spark of acknowledgment. He knew this didn’t have to be a threat, but his nature prevented him from fully letting his guard down.

Mia nodded with a small smile and returned to the counter, respecting his space, without trying to continue the conversation. She did what felt right and now left it up to him to decide what to do with the coffee.

John remained seated, looking at the cup on the table in front of him. He didn’t pick it up immediately, nor did he reject it. Instead, he continued pondering the gesture. Why would someone do that? He was used to favors coming with a price, to kindnesses masking dubious intentions. It was almost instinctive to see the coffee as something potentially risky, something he should refuse.

And yet, the warmth emanating from the cup seemed to bring a sense of comfort. It wasn’t the coffee itself, but the simplicity of the gesture, the offer of something in a world that, for him, rarely offered rest. He knew that distrust was a survival tool, but part of him—a part he rarely listened to—wanted to believe that there was nothing more behind that coffee than pure kindness.

He left the cup there for now, untouched but not forgotten. He continued reading, trying to focus on the words before him, but his mind wandered back to the cup. That small act of humanity made him uncomfortable, but because it was something so different from his reality.

John didn’t drink the coffee right away, but he knew he would take it with him when he left. He didn’t know if he would take a sip later or leave it in some corner, but the simple fact that it was there, offered so genuinely, made him reconsider, if only for a brief moment, the isolation he imposed on himself.

While the environment around continued with the soft sounds of turning pages and the pattering of rain, Mia watched from the corner of her eye, returning to her routine tasks. She understood that he was a man surrounded by shadows, but even the darkest nights have their stars.

As the afternoon passed, John finally got up, leaving a few bills on the table to cover the coffee and the book. Without looking directly at her, he left the store quietly, just as he had arrived. But something about his departure felt less cold this time, as if, little by little, he was opening up to something beyond the constant vigilance.

Next chapter!

[echantedtoon]

Demonstober Day 13 Elf

A supernatural creature of folk tales, typically represented as a small, elusive figure in human form with pointed ears, magical powers, and a capricious nature.

Tagging: @lavenderdropp @six-eyed-samurai @trancylovecraft @shadyd3ar @cherrysuzaku

@nousija @mspurpl3

Remember if you want to be added to the spooktober taglist lemme know

If someone had told him a couple months ago that he would fall in love with the MOST unusual girl that had ever graced his workshop..He'd have told you to never speak such nonsense to him again, probably would have scoffed, told them they were insane, and dismissed it from memory bank forever. Him, a proud master blacksmith of the arts, with a girl like her?? HA! What nonsense...

Or was it?

Not to him right now it wasn't as she kissed him and held his hands and he found himself not fighting against it. What was wrong with him!?

Oh right. ..It started with her walking into his shop.

The sounds of metal clashing against metal rang out loud and clear in the air. The inside of the shop was hot enough to even send a dragon out to drink cold water. Sweat dripped down his body and his lungs heaved from the excessive force of the hammer that he brought up only to bring it back down repeatedly. Hammering the burning orange iron into submission. To be molded and crafted into a perfect halberd for a dwarf client of his. He would've continued to mind his own business if it hadn't been for the beautiful woman who walked in with a smile on her face.

He stopped mid swing hammer in the air as she walked through the opening of his shop and looked at you. Your eyes wondered around the shop and all his tools set up everywhere before looking at him and smiling.

"Good evening. I'm looking for an elvan man by the name of Hatoro Haganezuka?"

"You're looking at him." He grunted lowering his hammer and eyeing you. Noticing the small cloth you carried in your hands. "What do you want?"

"I heard you fixed blades?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"I was hoping you could fix something for me." 

You should have been as beautiful as you were when you smiled and unraveled the cloth in your hands. Revealing a rather puny dagger that was not only rusted but broken in half. Obviously not cared for at all. He felt disgusted at the mistreatment of his and his disgusted face reflected that. Eyeing it before the beautiful maiden who held it up to him.

"What a disgrace. What do you intend for me to do about it?"

"It used to belong to my grandfather but he passed away. This is the only thing I have left of him. Could you please fix this for me?"

He still stared at her beautiful face before scoffing. "I craft actual important things. Weapons for warriors. Beautiful objects that are supposed to be used to defend, hunt, help survive life. Why should I waste my time on a simple dagger?!"

"Please. I'm willing to pay whatever price you want."

Dam her cute face. In the end he reluctantly accepted her request and she gratefully hugged him despite the sweat rolling down his body before leaving him with it.

He felt like he was going crazy wasting his time fixing the puny little thing.

It felt like a two part problem in his mind. On one hand it was as if he was betraying his loyalty to his duty and everything that it stood for by accepting such a measly thing to fix..for falling for such a girl. While on the other hand it was a betrayal of his own emotions for denying his affection for her in the first place. He grew weaker by the day, losing sleep over his inner turmoil. It wasn't long before people started to notice, dark circles appearing under his eyes and his usual scowl deepening as his mood worsened. No one dared to actually ask him what was the matter, but he could feel their concerned stares and worried glances. Even so, he held out, pushing thoughts of her away as he tried to go on with his life. Just ignore her, he told himself. He would feel better once he forgot about her. Just get this job done and you'll get over her!

 But no matter what she wouldn't leave his mind or him alone. Oh WHY did he have to be plagued his existence? Even AFTER you had returned after a month or two with various check ups to see the progress and then FINALLY getting it done with him shoving it into your awaiting hands.

You STILL plauged his mind.

How beautiful you smiled. How soft you were when you hugged him. How tight his chest was when you kissed his cheek in thanks. 

HE COULDN'T WORK IN THESE CONDITIONS!!

He once told her to leave him alone because she didn't need to be anywhere near him....It ended up with him breaking down in the middle of the day crying and all those sleepless nights catching up to him finally. His work performance was slipping, he was acting like a baby, and it was ALL her fault. She wouldn't listen and go away like some stalker. After that he had passed out from his yelling fit and woken up insidd due to exhaustion.....And to her crying and holding his hand. Ironic wasn't it.

And he made a noble effort to forget about that incident, but it was all for naught.

He reached his tipping point about a month into his rejection to the monster. He was exhausted, eyes sore and bloodshot, and his performance still wavering concerning all their neighbors. Lost in his thoughts while working. he heard a single word. His name. That made him stop in his tracks. His head snapping up in recognition, eyes widening. No! Not her! Not now! The last thing he wanted was the she demon to back him against the wall and talk her pretty little head off. He felt like he was suffocating. He barely slept for days. He couldn't take it- The voices were becoming so much his head was going to explode-

"Haganezuka? You don't look so good."

That was the last thing he heard before he passed out for a second time that month. She had carried him. CARRIED HIM!! HIM!! All the way back inside filled with worry. Don't ask him why she didn't  just leave him there. If the resident blacksmith was just found passed out against the ground it would've been less humiliating than a girl to carry him all the way to his bed where he remained when he woke up and numbly laid there as she went off chattering again. He didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly exploded at her letting everything out. Maybe it was his frustration? The stress and strain he was feeling from her relentless presence? Maybe the days of little to no sleep? His mind zoned out as he mindlessly yelled at her but he certainly wasn't expecting it to end up with her kissing him and him being compliant to her affections. Leaning into her warmth and all around easing the stress he was always. Good grief what did he say? At one point she pulled away and he attempted to kiss her again which ended embarrassingly thanks to his lesser height which ended up with himself missing her lips and pecking her jawline which sent her beautiful face into giggles and the soft hands cupping his already crying and red face rubbed away at the stressful tears.

"You shouldn't beat yourself over like a little crush. I would've been happy to know either way. Oh. Please don't cry."

He wasn't sure why he felt so assured or comforted right now, but for now he leaned into those soft hands holding him up with the pretty angelic face of his relief

[noctxj]

the reaper | part i

as far back as human memory can recall, the origin of flower marks remains unknown. if perhaps they came during or after the birth of humanity, or are benevolent gifts from the gods to aid ones navigation in life— milestones to remember and learn from, a north point on a compass lest you stray from your path. regardless, they have always been. and while flower marks remain an important aspect of ones journey, there is none other more significant than the soul flower mark. wherein the moment someone is born, this mark blooms above ones heart, as it is considered a pure reflection of who that person is and will be.

part i / part ii

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

so it was no wonder that during a gloomy winter evening, stricken screams of hysteria and the shrill wailings of a newborn baby echoed off the walls of the cold estate in a coalescing manner. the head midwife having no choice but to hurriedly pass the tiny squirming bundle to a reluctant nurse and focus on trying to placate the madam’s delirium— 

"that is no child of mine! keep that accursed child away from me! nurse--!" 

flower marks are a language all on its own, one that humans do not need to learn. rather, it is an inbuilt knowledge and understanding. and in the case for this newborn child, their soul flower mark had already predetermined their fate as forsaken.

as amidst the turbulent mess of bloodied towels and blankets, death had just been born. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

initially mesmerising in its opulent visage, its only when the mind catches up and registers its meaning that its beauty is quickly replaced with fear and alarm. 

a blooming grandiflora rose of black petals mixed with subtle hues of reds and haunting purples rests above the girls heart, with bramble-like stems arching up across her frail collarbones to ensure it is there to stay.

a black rose, promising the bearer as the omen of death.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

even at such a young age, the cruelty of fate had already determined that little flora would not be given mercy or reprieve from the reality that is her cursed existence. a forsaken trail of purple anemones had lightly entangled itself amongst the thorny stems of her soul flower, almost as if to placate its loneliness. 

a swath of lilies of the valley sprawl from her left shoulder over and down her shoulder blade, the burning trail of pain and suffering almost numb to her senses. 

and then upon the delicate skin of her left wrist lay a singular bloom— a moonflower, reflecting little flora’s most earnest thoughts, dreaming of love from her own mother.

all these marks permanently etching themselves into little flora’s skin before her third birthday.

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

despite living under the same roof as her mother, rarely did little flora see her; instead following in her late grandfathers footsteps as a ruthless businesswoman, silver spoon in her mouth and all. instead she herself was always surrounded by staff always heeding to her mother’s orders, to "always have that child within your sights", with an ever rotating door of tutors and nannies.

“madam, miss flora is an intellectually gifted child, it is quite remarkable! she has just—", 

"… so?" her mother had sharply interrupted, “a high level of intelligence is a common trait within this family. i expect you to provide the girl with more difficult material to not only accomplish but also excel in; anything less than perfect and dare i say failure to meet my— this family's standards, will not be tolerated. or are you stating that you are not competent enough to fulfil your tutor roles' duties and responsibilities?"

"i— no— my apologies madam, of course there is no problem. if you would allow me, i have colleagues who would be thrilled to assist in miss flora’s academic—"

"do as you please. now, i have an important meeting with a gentlemen flying in from st. petersburg. a mr. z it appears… the estate staff will assist with your queries about the girl. so do refrain from contacting me any further-"

so as determined as a young child her age could be, she promised she'd keep being good to strive for her mothers praise, be an obedient and perfect daughter that her mother would realise is worthy to be loved— despite her soul flower.

“a curse that should never be shown to anyone lest she receive punishment,” her mother would often remind her.

a punishment that envelopes the expanse of her back as raised scars. milestones just as permanent as her flower marks. more lilies of the valley creeping down her back. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora never knew who her father was, had asked her mother once and received a harsh slap across her cheek, her small body whipping to the carpeted floor from the force. 

the silent burning of nightshade on her right pointer finger ironically mocking the hush motion.

she never cared to ask again. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora remembers the day she believed her mother had finally saw value in loving her. barely eight years old and still holding onto that naive hope— and she foolishly believed she finally did.

waking up early in the morning as per her routine, only to see her mother sitting in the chair beside her bed, happiness written across her usually severe expression, looking at little flora herself. blinking once— twice— then rubbing her hands across her eyes to make sure what she is seeing is real and not a dream.

“good morning flora,” what is going on— “you and i have an agenda for today, so please come downstairs for breakfast once you’re ready.”

is today the day? did she finally do it? is her mother finally learning to love her—

“as it is a special occasion, i’ve taken the liberty of selecting your attire. now, off you go to wash up.”

little flora had been ecstatic, her heart thrumming like a hummingbird out of excitement to prove that her mother would not regret placing value on her. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

little flora’s only ever seen her mother’s soul flower once, only by chance of course. her evening robe slightly loose across her shoulders, her motions lax from the glass of wine she was nursing— a far cry from her usually sharp and elegant appearance. 

a beautifully victorious gladiolus cradled upon her chest. she envied it, a blessing to be born with. unlike herself. however, it wasn’t until later that she understood why her mother despised her existence so much.

as victory and death are eternal enemies— always on opposing sides. 

⋆.✧̣̇˚.

“it is the perfect place for you to grow in flora, a place for you to finally thrive in,” her mother’s words had echoed in flora’s ears.

she doesn’t know how long ago that was.

she didn’t even feel alive.

flora’s small body strapped down to a cold metal table, no longer wearing the attire her mother had especially picked out for her. instead wearing a customised medical gown, allowing an unobstructed view of her accursed soul flower mark to the blurry shapes her dull gaze had tried to focus on.

the harsh clinical smell of the room burning her nose, and the glaring overhead lights further disorienting her senses. flora couldn’t move her head if she tried, a strap also tightly bound across her forehead attached to the metal table. 

what is this place? why would mother send me here? this is wrong, they must of got it wrong, i shouldn’t be here, i—

flora could feel the burning of a new mark directly below her soul flower. almost the same in size she guesses, if only she could move her head.

the agonising pain of a broken heart flourishing as a vibrant yellow rose.

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.✦ . ˳

tric’s notes

this highkey spawned from my hanahaki disease fic. flower meanings/symbolism was a bit difficult to grasp (ie. countries, cultures, time periods), so don't take this too seriously lol. 

i was hoping to make this a oneshot but it just kept going ugh. this is unedited. part ii may be more backstory, part iii the boys will appear (no promises though, just a rough idea).

i recommend listening to “my flower” by ladies code. it’s a korean song but i think it matches the mood of this piece - so i encourage listening to it.

thanks for stopping by!! ♡︎

crossposted on ao3 (same username)

[cinderella-ish]

Let's Talk About Kyoru!

I shared a little while ago (in my first-ever analysis post!) that I don't really have a lot in common with Tohru or Kyo, and I didn't really "get" them or their relationship right away. Today, someone asked on Reddit "What are your personal thoughts on Kyou x Tohru?" and I wrote out a long comment explaining how I grew to love them. So, here's an expanded and edited version of that comment, edited for Tumblr!

I loved both Tohru and Kyo as characters from the start. How could I not? Kyo is an endlessly meme-able, over-the-top tsundere cat-boy with a heart of gold, and Tohru is a lovable, overly-giving people-pleaser who's also a total space cadet prone to some very funny mishaps (that are maybe a little less funny once you understand her character).

What I didn't see at first was how their romantic relationship was an essential part of both Tohru's and Kyo's character development. Their arcs couldn't really have ended any other way, with how Takaya-sensei set them up.

See, Tohru begins the series in denial about the reality of her mother's death and unable to ask for or accept help, even from those closest to her, and even when people offer their help or support up front. She risks her own health and even her life to avoid burdening others, likewise risking herself to protect her memory of her mother (represented by the framed photo).

And Kyo begins the series convinced defeating Yuki will erase his past "sins," or alleviate his guilt from both Kyoko's and his mother's deaths. It's a Sisyphean task and he knows it, but he keeps at it because it's better than the alternative (actually dealing with his trauma) and possibly because he thinks he deserves to suffer defeat after defeat. He's in an extremely fragile place, having just returned from his trip to the mountains, and he truly believes he only hurts the people he loves.

I also think there's some small part of Kyo that's fighting to keep going, even from the start of the series. It's a twisted way to go about living, but he is still trying to live. He has the possibility of a life outside the Cat's House, and he's working his ass off to try and achieve it, even if it's most likely impossible. To me, that's not a character who's given up or accepted his fate.

Similarly, I think there's a small part of Tohru that knows she'll eventually need to accept that her mother is dead and make the decisions that are best for herself. It's harder to see this inner desire in Tohru than in Kyo, but I think it becomes clear when she chooses to stay with the Sohmas rather than return to her grandfather's house. She believed, at that point, that her grandfather was the only person left who knew and loved her mother, yet she knew she would be happier continuing to live with Kyo, Yuki, and Shigure. With the encouragement of her grandfather (and with Kyo and Yuki's heroic rescue mission), she moves forward on the path that will make her happiest.

It took me really digging deep and understanding each of their individual arcs to love them as a couple as much as I do now.

On first pass, it was obvious to me how much Tohru meant to Kyo, and the ways she directly countered his extremely low self-esteem and overwhelming guilt. However, I didn't really understand what Tohru liked about Kyo in a romantic sense.

I think this was probably due to my own anxiousness around men who yell, which strongly put me off of Kyo as a romantic lead. I also didn't like how he promised to protect Tohru again at the end, but that was again due to my own hangups. I have a strong dislike of being "protected" by my romantic partners (it feels patronizing and usually is done without asking or considering my own feelings about being protected). But I'll come back to that.

We know from the start that Tohru tends to reject attempts to care for her, or simply makes sure no one will be in a position to offer that care to her. She doesn't ask to stay with either of her best friends and she doesn't remain with her family during the renovations.

And Kyo is the only person who not only recognizes when Tohru's diminishing her own needs, but he's also the only person who consistently makes sure she has the support she needs, even if she initially refuses it. He tells her it's okay to get angry, asks her to vent her frustrations to him, and reminds her it's okay to be selfish.

I think with anyone else, she would have burned herself out and cut off most of her uncomfortable emotions. Kyo takes care of Tohru, and that's what she needs, because Tohru Honda has very different needs than I do (and that's okay!).

Also, Kyo doesn't yell nearly as much after the first season, but something I realized while writing my series on Kyo and Momiji's relationship is that most of Kyo's yelling is him trying to protect her and the others he cares for (like Momiji). He yelled because he was terrified of hurting her again, or of letting her get hurt through inaction. He'd yell at her when she did something that could've gotten her hurt, or he'd yell at others when they did something that could hurt her. That poor boy was carrying so much guilt over Kyoko's death, he made it his entire personality to try and protect Tohru, including from himself.

At Kyoko's grave, when he promised to protect Tohru for life, I initially read that as a step backwards for him. Wasn't that just a recipe for more guilt? After all, he couldn't possibly protect her from everything. But after some reflection, I think that was him finally internalizing the lesson from that last fight with Yuki: he was protecting her all along by making her smile and being there for her. That's Kyo recognizing that his presence is good for Tohru, and it's a huge shift in how he sees himself and his own self-worth.

So that's really why Kyo and Tohru are so perfect together. Kyo needed someone to help him see his own worth, and Tohru did that simply by needing him. Meanwhile, Tohru needed to prioritize her own needs and happiness, and she did that by admitting how much she needed Kyo. It's a loop that feeds back into itself. The more they care for each other, the more they overcome their initial mistaken beliefs about themselves.

I once shared in response to an ask that I believe Tohru needed Kyo even more than he needed her. Thinking of how badly she was suffering during the hospital arc, when she thought he'd rejected her, and how much she repressed her heartbreak during that time, I think it would've destroyed her if he hadn't decided to try and move forward with her. It would've taken a long, long time before she would've been able to open up to anyone like that again, and she may not have been able to ever again, given how hard it was for her to admit her feelings for Kyo in the first place.

So, I love them. Took me a while, but I'm fully aboard the Kyoru train now.

[movingmusically]

Can you do an Austin Butler x Reader imagine where it’s Elvis’s birthday and Austin decides to go to Memphis because he hasn’t been since Lisa’s funeral and the reader has never been. When they get there Austin introduces the reader to Riley, her husband Ben and daughter Tupelo, her twin sisters Harper and Finely , Priscilla, and Jerry. Riley decides to hold a dinner at Graceland (after hours) and they all catch up with Austin since it’s there first time seeing them since Lisa’s passing. The reader and the twins immediately become best friends (let’s say it’s years from now and all of them are 23). They all spend time hanging out and driving the golf carts on the Graceland lawn greeting the fans. The next day, it’s finally Elvis’s birthday and they all gather at Graceland for the celebration and because it’s Austin’s first time in a long time and the readers first time ever Riley lets them cut the cake.

Author’s Note:

Thank you for the request, my knowledge of Elvis/the Presley family is limited to the movie, Austin’s interviews and the new Netflix documentary so apologies for any mistakes! I also included the social media elements you wanted-I hope I did it right!

Word Count: 3,181

Masterlist

Back to Graceland

The hum of the car engine filled the quiet air as Memphis loomed closer on the horizon. Austin’s hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than usual, his knuckles faintly white, but his face remained calm—almost too calm. You knew him well enough to see through it. This trip meant more to him than he let on.

It had been Riley’s invitation that brought you both here. Because it would’ve been Elvis’ 90th birthday, she had decided to host celebrations at Graceland, inviting family and close friends to gather. She’d made it clear that she wanted Austin there. It was a special occasion, and Riley knew how much Graceland meant to him—how much her grandfather’s legacy still lived on in his heart.

But this was Austin’s first time returning since Lisa Marie’s funeral. That day had been heavy and devastating for everyone, and in the time since, Austin had kept a quiet distance from the place, choosing instead to remember it as it had been during happier times. Now, though, the invitation—and the milestone—felt too important to decline.

He’d said as much when you sat beside him on the couch earlier in the week, scrolling through Riley’s message. “It’s been too long,” he admitted quietly, more to himself than to you. “I can’t miss this.”

And now, here you were.

You glanced at Austin, the early afternoon sun casting soft light on his profile. His sunglasses shielded his eyes, but you could still sense his focus, his thoughts somewhere far away. You reached over, placing your hand gently on his knee. “You doing okay?”

His lips twitched into a small, grateful smile as he looked at you briefly. “Yeah. Just… a lot to process, you know? Haven’t been back since…” He trailed off, his fingers flexing against the wheel before he let out a quiet breath. “But it’s the right thing to do. And I’m glad you’re here with me.”

You smiled softly, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. “You’re not doing this alone. And I can’t wait to see it all—the house, the stories, the history. I feel like I’ve heard so much about it, but it’ll be different seeing it in person.”

You were trying to sound upbeat, but truthfully, you were a little nervous yourself. You had never been to Graceland, and while the idea of seeing such a legendary place thrilled you, you couldn’t help but feel a bit out of place. You were meeting Austin’s extended “family”—Riley, Priscilla, Jerry, and the twins—for the first time. These were people who had been part of Austin’s journey during his portrayal of Elvis, people who carried their own memories, grief, and love for Lisa Marie and Elvis.

What if they didn’t like you? What if you said the wrong thing?

“You’ll love them,” Austin said suddenly, as if reading your mind. He reached over and took your hand, bringing it to his lips briefly before resting it on the centre console, intertwined with his. “Riley’s amazing, and the twins? You’ll love them too. They’re wild but in the best way.”

“I just hope they like me,” you admitted quietly.

Austin’s eyebrows shot up behind his sunglasses, and he scoffed. “Like you? Are you serious? They’re going to adore you. I promise. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You smiled despite yourself, his confidence in you easing some of your nerves.

The closer you got to Memphis, the more the landscape seemed to shift, the familiar streets turning into something softer, richer with history. As the signs for Graceland came into view, a sense of awe washed over you. Even from the road, you could see the wrought-iron gates adorned with musical notes, the flowers and tributes left by fans spilling onto the pavement outside.

“Wow,” you breathed, pressing your forehead to the window slightly as you looked out. “There’s already so many people here.”

Austin smiled faintly. “It’s like this every year, especially on his birthday. People come from all over the world. It’s kind of incredible.”

You turned back to him, watching the way his expression softened as he took in the sight. For a moment, you could see the deep connection he had to all of this—to Elvis, to the family, and to the people who still loved the man behind the legend.

“Ready?” you asked gently.

He exhaled, a small, determined smile breaking through. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

As you pulled through the gates, fans caught sight of the car and began waving excitedly, their faces lighting up. Austin gave a small wave in return, his usual easygoing charm flickering back into place.

“Here we go,” he murmured, slipping off his sunglasses and shooting you a look that was part nervous, part hopeful.

You reached for his hand again, squeezing it tightly. “We’ve got this.”

And with that, the car rolled to a stop in front of Graceland, the iconic house standing tall and proud, waiting to welcome you both home.

The house was quiet when you first stepped inside—quieter than you expected for a place so legendary. The air felt heavy but not sad, more like it carried the weight of decades of love and memories.

Riley greeted you both almost immediately, her warm, welcoming smile making you feel at ease. She wrapped Austin in a tight hug, her voice soft as she murmured, “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too, Riles,” Austin replied, his voice equally low, as though they both knew how significant this moment was.

When Riley turned to you, her smile widened. “And this must be the one Austin’s been telling us about.”

You laughed lightly, a bit flustered, as you shook her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you and your family.”

“Only the good stuff, I hope,” she teased, her blue eyes sparkling in a way that reminded you of Lisa Marie. She didn’t linger on pleasantries, though, and soon you were swept further into the house, where everyone was gathered.

Priscilla was next to greet you, looking as poised and elegant as ever. “Welcome,” she said kindly, shaking your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” you replied sincerely, feeling Austin’s reassuring presence just a step behind you.

Jerry Schilling, a longtime friend of Elvis and the family, followed suit, his grin warm and familiar as he clapped Austin on the back. “It’s good to see you again, Austin. And welcome Y/N,” he added to you with a nod.

Before you could even respond, a pair of voices interrupted. “Are you her?”

You turned to see two faces staring at you with open curiosity—Harper and Finley. Both of them were stunning, with the same mischievous glint in their eyes that told you they were troublemakers in the best way.

“Uh… I think so?” you replied playfully, already warming to them.

Harper rolled her eyes and turned to Austin. “Why didn’t you bring her sooner? She looks cool.”

“Because I knew you’d scare her off immediately,” Austin shot back, smirking as he looped an arm around your shoulders.

“We’re not that bad,” Finley insisted, grinning. “We’ve decided we like you already, so you’re stuck with us now.”

You laughed, any lingering nerves quickly melting away. “I think I can handle that.”

Austin shot you a knowing look. “Told you.”

The introductions were rounded out by Riley’s husband, Ben, who gave you a friendly hug, and their daughter, Tupelo—a sweet, wide-eyed little girl who clung to her father’s leg but waved shyly at you. “She’s a little star,” Austin said with affection as he crouched down to say hello to her, making her giggle.

Riley had outdone herself. The dining room at Graceland had been beautifully set for a private family dinner. The house felt different at night, quieter and more intimate. It didn’t feel like a museum anymore—it felt like a home.

You sat beside Austin at the long dining table, the soft glow of candles dancing across everyone’s faces. The food was southern comfort at its finest: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, biscuits, and dishes that felt like they belonged on a family table rather than in a historic house.

Priscilla sat at one end of the table, a gracious matriarch keeping everyone engaged with her stories of Elvis, while Jerry chimed in with his own memories. They were stories that made you laugh, stories that tugged at your heart, and you could see how deeply they resonated with Austin.

“Your first time here, huh?” Harper asked, nudging you lightly from across the table as Finley buttered her fifth biscuit.

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling. “It’s incredible—everything I imagined and more.”

“You’ve gotta see it all tomorrow,” Finley added enthusiastically. “The lawn, the cars, the golf carts. You’re riding with us.”

Austin chuckled beside you. “Just don’t let them drive too fast. They’re a menace in those carts.”

Harper feigned offence. “We’re efficient. Big difference.”

You grinned, already feeling like you were part of the group. The twins’ energy was infectious, and Riley’s warm glances across the table told you she was glad you were here.

As dinner stretched on, you caught glimpses of Austin relaxing, laughing freely with Riley and Jerry, even teasing the twins. He looked at home here, as if the love in this place outweighed the grief that sometimes lingered.

Riley eventually leaned back in her chair with a satisfied sigh. “It’s so good to have you back, Austin. It’s been too long.”

Austin glanced around the table, his hand finding yours beneath the tablecloth. “It feels good to be back. Thanks for this, Riles.”

“You’ve got to stop thanking me,” she replied softly, her eyes kind. “You’re family. And this is home. Always.”

As the plates were cleared and conversation began to quiet, Jerry’s voice broke through the lull. “You know, it wouldn’t be a visit to Graceland without a little music.”

Austin looked up from his seat, caught slightly off guard. “Oh, I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on,” Harper chimed in, grinning as she leaned back in her chair. “You’re not getting out of this, Butler.”

Finley nodded, already on her feet. “I’ll grab the guitar.”

It didn’t take long for her to return, cradling one of Elvis’ most famous guitars like it was a treasure—because it was. She handed it to Austin carefully, and the room fell into an expectant hush as he adjusted it in his lap, running his fingers over the strings. The sight of him there, in Graceland, holding Elvis Presley’s guitar, sent a shiver down your spine.

“You sure about this?” Austin murmured, looking at Priscilla for confirmation.

She gave him a soft nod, her smile filled with approval. “Play something for us, Austin.”

The room was still as Austin settled himself, his focus sharpening. He strummed the guitar gently, the rich sound reverberating through the room like it belonged here—timeless and familiar. Each note seemed to carry a weight, a quiet reverence that filled the space. His movements were deliberate, his fingers gliding over the strings with care, like he was playing for more than just the people in the room—like he was honouring something bigger.

You watched him, completely captivated. The way his head bowed slightly, his fingers moving with precision and care, the quiet way he poured his heart into each note—it was everything.

When the song ended, the room was silent for a moment before applause broke out, led by Jerry. Riley smiled softly, her eyes glassy as she clapped. Priscilla looked both proud and wistful, while the twins practically bounced in their seats.

You couldn’t stop staring, the swell of love and admiration you felt practically overwhelming. Austin caught your gaze, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile as he set the guitar down gently.

“Are you swooning over there?” Harper teased, nudging you with her elbow.

Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Austin chuckled, reaching for your hand as he stood. “Come on, baby. You’re making me blush.”

“Good,” you replied softly, squeezing his hand. “You deserve it.”

Instagram Post – @rileykeough:

📍Graceland

Family dinner where it all feels right again. 💙

@austinbutler: Thanks for bringing us all together, Riles.

@harperpresley: That song, though. Butler’s got skills. 🎸

@yourusername: Pretty sure I fell in love all over again. 💭

@finleypresley: We already adopted her, @yourusername. Hope you don’t mind.

@yourusername: I think I’m in the best hands. 🩵

Sunlight poured through the windows of Graceland, filtering through the curtains in soft golden streaks. You stirred awake to the sound of soft footsteps, blinking as you realised Austin was already up. He stood by the window, looking out onto the sprawling lawn, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.

Austin turned, his lips curving into a gentle smile as he crossed the room and sat beside you on the bed. “Not really. Just… taking it all in.”

You reached up, brushing your fingers along his jaw, still rough with morning stubble. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he admitted softly, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s a big day. I thought I’d show you around before everything kicks off.”

After breakfast—fresh biscuits and coffee prepared lovingly by the kitchen staff—Austin took your hand and guided you through Graceland. The house felt alive this morning, buzzing with energy as preparations for Elvis’ birthday celebration took place outside.

Austin led you room by room, his voice low as he told you stories about the making of the Elvis movie.

“This was where I spent hours just… trying to absorb it all,” he said as you stepped into the famous Jungle Room. The green shag carpet under your feet and the exotic decor made the space feel frozen in time.

You smiled, watching as Austin’s gaze softened. “Is it weird being back here?”

“A little,” he admitted, turning toward you. “But it’s good, too. This place meant so much to him, and I feel like it still does, even now.”

You both lingered there for a while before he led you outside, stopping by Elvis’ pink Cadillac. Austin ran a hand along the shiny paint, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“We shot a scene with a replica of this car,” he said. “But seeing the real thing? Nothing compares.”

“You know, I can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like playing him,” you said softly, taking in the sight of the car and the house that loomed behind it.

Austin turned to look at you, his blue eyes warm as they met yours. “I just wanted to do him justice. For his family, for his fans. Standing here again… I feel like I can finally let some of that weight go.”

You stepped closer, slipping your hand into his. “You did more than justice, Austin. You made people see him as a person again, not just a legend. I think he’d be proud of you.”

Austin squeezed your hand, brushing a kiss to your temple. “I hope so.”

As the morning drifted into early afternoon, the family gathered on the lawn, the sounds of laughter carrying across the property. Fans had begun arriving outside the gates, leaving flowers, cards, and memorabilia to honour Elvis.

Harper and Finley wasted no time dragging you toward the golf carts. “C’mon, Y/N,” Harper called over her shoulder. “We’ve got fans to greet!”

“Don’t let them run you over!” Austin called with a grin, shaking his head as the twins bundled you into the back of a cart.

You laughed as Harper took the wheel, Finley sitting beside her, both of them grinning like mischievous devils. The cart lurched forward, zipping across the Graceland lawn, and you held on to the edge for dear life.

“Do you two have a licence for this thing?” you joked, laughing as the twins waved dramatically to the fans lined outside the gates.

“Golf carts don’t need licences!” Finley declared triumphantly, throwing up a peace sign to a group of cheering fans.

The energy was contagious. Some fans recognised you and waved excitedly, but most were focused on the twins, who were practically celebrities themselves. You waved alongside them, grinning as Harper slowed the cart to a stop so a little girl holding a bouquet of flowers could hand them to Finley.

“Thank you!” Finley called with a bright smile before turning to you. “See? They love us.”

You shot her an amused look. “You two are definitely trouble.”

“Good trouble,” Harper corrected, starting the cart again with a jerk that made you squeal.

From the lawn, you caught a glimpse of Austin standing beside Riley and Jerry, watching you with a fond expression. He shook his head with a smile, clearly entertained by the scene unfolding in front of him.

Later that afternoon, as the family gathered under the tented area set up on the lawn, Riley took the microphone. The crowd hushed, fans standing outside the gates peeking in through the openings.

“Thank you all for being here today,” Riley began, her voice warm but steady. “It means so much to us that we can celebrate my grandfather’s 90th birthday together. It’s a reminder of how much he was loved—and still is.”

The crowd applauded, and Riley turned to Austin with a smile. “It’s been a while since Austin’s been back, and it’s Y/N’s first time here. So, in honour of that, I think it’s only right they get to cut the birthday cake.”

You blinked, glancing at Austin as the crowd clapped. “Us?” you whispered.

Austin grinned, brushing a hand down your back as he stood. “Looks like we’re up, baby.”

Together, you walked to the table where the massive birthday cake—a beautiful, multi-tiered masterpiece—sat waiting. Austin picked up the knife, placing his hand over yours as the crowd watched eagerly.

“Ready?” he murmured, smiling down at you.

You nodded, your heart full as you both cut the first slice together. The crowd erupted into cheers, fans outside clapping and waving excitedly as cameras flashed.

Austin leaned in close, his voice soft. “Thanks for being here with me.”

You looked up at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the slice of cake was lifted, Harper’s voice broke through the moment: “Save some for us!”

You and Austin both laughed, the weight of the day replaced by love, laughter, and the unshakable feeling that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Instagram Post – @austinbutler:

📍Graceland

“Honouring the King on what would’ve been his 90th birthday. Thank you, Riley, for bringing us all together again. 🖤”

@yourusername: Couldn’t have asked for a more special day. 💙

@harperpresley: That cake better have my name on the next slice.

Instagram Story – @yourusername:

“Graceland chauffeurs of the year, obviously.”

Reply from @austinbutler: And menaces to society.

[mysafehaneul]

VII. AQUAMARINE (M)

CHAPTER 7: DIFFERENT PATHS SAME DESTINATION

JEON WONWOO X READER

WORDS: 11k+

GENRE: ARRANGE CONTRACT MARRIAGE AU! ENEMIES TO LOVERS!

ANGST, SMUT, FLUFF.

Most of our lives are spent in the search of a meaning, a purpose and often we end up looking for it in the wrong places and forget the fact that it was not about the destination, rather the journey and the people we meet along the way. Because we don’t have small lives, we just start living it a bit late. 

The corridor on the mansion's second floor was a gallery of ornate antique decorations and vases, each with its own story to tell. As Y/N walked through this elegant hallway, Noel was out fishing with the Jeon men and Joon-hee's daughter, enjoying a day of outdoor activities.

The corridor featured high pane windows framed by heavy curtains, ornate walls, and a large portrait of the Jeon family. The portrait depicted Wonwoo's grandparents sitting on a comfortable couch, with their children standing proudly behind them. It was a beautiful representation of a bygone era, and Y/N couldn't help but appreciate the timeless family bond it portrayed. Wonwoo's father stood behind his father, and his aunt stood in the middle, with one hand on her father's shoulder and the other on her mother's. On the other side, Wonwoo's uncle was grinning, with his eyes meeting his father's. The family resemblance was striking, particularly in the similarities between Jungkook and his father.

Y/N's gaze settled on the hands of Wonwoo's grandmother, and she noticed that the elderly lady wore the same ring that now adorned her own finger. It was a connection between generations.

"That's my mother-in-law" Y/N heard a voice behind her making her jump slightly, she turned around to see her mother-in-law standing just a few steps away, her gaze focused on the family portrait.

Sunmi continued with a smile, "Out of her collection, she cherished that ring the most." Her eyes shifted to Y/N's hands, which held the same ring.

Y/N commented, "I see, it is a pretty ring."

Sunmi looked back at the portrait and reflected, "I think more than the beauty, it's the history of the ring that held more significance."

With a turn to face Y/N, she added, "When Wonwoo's grandfather was just 11, his father sent him to her house." Sunmi nodded toward the image of Wonwoo's grandmother. "They were the family of one of the most remarkable goldsmiths of that time. Your grandparents might have known them."

Y/N replied, "They passed away when I was young."

Sunmi expressed her condolences before continuing with the story. "He used to work under her father as an errand boy then as an accountant to support his family. His own father was a loan shark who valued money more than feeding his wife and children." Sunmi's voice carried a mix of sadness and understanding. "Her father held him in high regard, perhaps because he recognized his potential. When my mother-in-law was 16, she fell in love with a local thug and ran away from home when her father found out. But, unfortunately—or fortunately, as life would have it—that thug never showed up at their decided meeting spot."

Sunmi went on, "Omonie's father was highly respected in his community. To save face and preserve their family's reputation, he decided to marry his only daughter to Wonwoo's grandfather and sent them here."

As the story unfolded, Y/N learned about the rich history of the ring she now wore. Sunmi revealed, "Abeonim hated making jewelry, but he was sadly skilled at it. This ring is the first and last piece he designed and made, created solely for his wife. He gave it to her as a symbol of his love, after confessing his feelings to her, of course." Sunmi chuckled softly, her eyes reflecting fond memories.

With a deep breath, Sunmi summed up the heartwarming tale, "She wore it until her deathbed, and much to the dismay of few people, she passed it down to Wonwoo. Funny how sometimes the things we consider as misfortune turn out to be blessings in disguise."

The conversation continued as they made their way toward the grand staircase, and the gentle sunlight filtered through the mansion's windows, casting intricate patterns on the polished floor.

Sunmi began, "It wasn't until their 30th wedding anniversary that Abeonim told me why that guy couldn't make it; he was busy getting a beating from him."

Y/N chuckled, "You were quite close to them, weren't you?"

Sunmi confessed, "Not initially, but Wooshik was very close to his parents. After my first miscarriage, our family doctor suggested I be around people, and we moved in with them. Some days were more disagreeable then previous one’s but she thought me that ties made out of love can be stronger than of blood if we are ready to bend our knees and let Love take precedence over pride."

They had strolled out of the mansion without realizing it and were now heading towards the greenhouse. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of various-colored iris flowers. These irises painted a mesmerizing display with deep purples and pale blues, their colors dancing under the gentle sunlight. Birds chirped cheerfully, and a pleasant breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees.

Sunmi, her eyes filled with memories, noted, "These are her favorite flowers." She reached out to touch a petal, gently caressing it. "She and Abeonim planted them together."

Sunmi extended her hand to touch a petal of the iris, gently caressing it. As she spoke, her eyes held a mist, like she was transported back in time. "I used to ask her how she knew that she loved him," she began, her voice filled with nostalgia. "She said, Wooshik's father is not a man of many words, but when you look at him closely, you can see his love and consideration woven into every action. Empty promises may sound sweet to the ears, but it's the actions that truly win the heart."

Y/N listened intently, her gaze lowered to the ground. Unbeknownst to her, her thoughts began to drift to the moments she had shared with Wonwoo – him holding her hand in court, refusing to leave her side at dinner until she had finished at least half her meal, sitting next to her on that cramped airplane after their wedding, defending her against Nikolai and even his own parents. These past two months had been a whirlwind, and it felt as though a lifetime of experiences had been crammed into this short time. Y/N found herself questioning when the last time she had genuinely laughed was. When had she last felt like she had someone to lean on when life got heavy?

Her eyebrows furrowed in deep contemplation. As she looked up, still lost in thought, she noticed Wonwoo and Noel approaching, accompanied by Jungkook, who held Somi's hand. They were engaged in a lively conversation and carried fishing equipment. Noel sat on Wonwoo's shoulders, a beaming smile on all their faces.

"Y/N," her voice broke through your musings, "misunderstanding is that poison that can spoil even the strongest roots, especially when you pick up words that are hushed in the corners."

You realized that she knew about the disagreement that had taken place between you and Wonwoo the previous day.

"Why are you telling me all this?" you asked, genuinely curious.

Sunmi gazed at you intently for a few moments and then confessed, "I was quick to misunderstand you, your intentions, and even the origins of Noel. I assumed, to the extent of thinking you were barren, and I even questioned the reasons you married my son. You know, I've had some bitter experiences," she emphasized. "But my son made me realize that sometimes, in order to understand someone, you have to step into their shoes, not just view them through your own lens."

She reached for your hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "My heart goes out to Noel's birth parents and the struggles they must have endured to protect their child from their own family. I am grateful because of you, I am seeing glimpses of the Wonu we lost at 16 after the death of his friend Mingyu. Please forgive me, my darling. I hope we can put the mistakes of the past behind us and make new memories as a family, creating a special place for Noel in both our families and our hearts."

You reciprocated her squeeze, offering a warm smile and nod. However, your mind was racing with questions about what had happened to Wonwoo at 16 and who this mysterious Mingyu was. Underneath the guilt, you couldn't help but wonder how much it would hurt when you and Wonwoo eventually divorced in five years, as per your agreement. The guilt from the conversation with your father-in-law wasn't enough not forgetting the fact the history and rekindling of friendship between him and your mother.

You engaged in a brief conversation, Sunmi updating you on the progress she and your mother made with the upcoming Gala at the end of next month. When, her phone buzzed, signaling that it was time for her medicine and to leave the greenhouse, and you both headed out.

As you emerged from the greenhouse with Sunmi, Wonwoo spotted you and his mother walking together. His brows knitted in confusion at the sight. Sunmi waved goodbye and went in the direction of the pool house, leaving you to continue your journey.

You soon noticed Joon-hee, accompanied by Eleanor, walking together. Joon-hee's daughter, excitedly spotting her, let go of Jungkook's hand and rushed towards her mother, screaming, "Mama!" With a joyful smile, she picked her up in her arms, showering her with kisses.

Meanwhile, Noel, who had been sitting on Wonwoo's shoulders, observed the commotion and excitement. He saw you approaching and couldn't contain his enthusiasm. With a loud, enthusiastic shout, he exclaimed, "Tante!" and waved his little arms energetically. All eyes turned toward you as Noel's excitement drew their attention.

Wonwoo put down his wiggling form, and the little boy immediately darted towards you. You opened your arms, and as he reached you, he threw his little arms around your neck and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"Did you have fun?" you asked softly, your fingers gently caressing his back. The warmth of his embrace filled you with joy.

Noel pulled away from your embrace, his face beaming with enthusiasm. "Grandpa taught me how to hook a worm, and I even helped him reel in," he excitedly recounted in French.

You smiled at his youthful excitement. "That sounds like a lot of fun. What else did you do?" you inquired as you both approached the entrance where the rest of the group was standing.

Noel continued his story, animatedly sharing, "Then, Jk and Dad's hooks got tangled in the water, and they both thought they caught a fish. They started pulling, but when they saw their hooks caught each other, they started fighting. All of us just laughed, and then Grandpa scolded them for fighting and put them in two different corners."

Your attention shifted to Wonwoo as he heard "Dad?" Noel looked at you with wide eyes, seemingly caught off guard. But before either of them could respond, Somi chimed in, saying, "Yes, Uncle Jk was pouting the whole time," and she laughed.

Impressed by her fluency in French, you asked, "Wow, Somi, you speak such nice French. Who taught you?"

Somi beamed with pride, responding, "Thank you. Aunt Wonwoo and Mama taught me."

Joon-hee corrected her, saying, "You mean Uncle. Her pronouns are a bit weak."

You offered reassurance, saying, "It's alright, Somi. You'll get the hang of it." The atmosphere was filled with warmth.

"Noona studied in Switzerland, right?" Jungkook asked, then corrected himself, saying, "Sorry, I mean Heyongnim."

You smiled warmly at Jungkook's question. "It's alright, Jungkook, you can call me Noona. Yes, I was mostly based in Switzerland for the last 12 years."

Wonwoo exchanged a curious glance between you and Jungkook, who playfully stuck his tongue out at him.

Joon-hee added, "Well, the four of us," emphasizing herself, Wonwoo, Jungkook, and Eleanor, "we all studied in London."

You nodded in agreement. "Yes, Wonwoo told me about that." He didn't, you read it in his file that Rachel made. 

However, the unexpected voice of Eleanor chimed in, a question that surprised you given her prior lack of interest in your conversations. "Don't you miss your friends and family back home?"

Bending down to Noel's eye level, you glanced at Eleanor with a raised eyebrow but quickly composed yourself, aware of Wonwoo's watchful gaze. "Yes, sometimes I miss my friends from the old school."

You swinged the hand you held and asked, "What about JJ and Vicky?"

He smiled and responded, "Yes, I miss them too, but I talk to them every day."

Eleanor continued with feigned innocence, "And what about your parents?" Her words cut through the air like a sudden chill, and you instinctively tightened your grip on Noel's small hand. Wonwoo, too, glared at her at the same moment, clearly sharing your displeasure. What was her problem? You were about to speak when Noel calmly said, "I do, but Tante says they are always with me," placing his hand on his heart. He looked up at you for confirmation, and you nodded back, reassurance in your eyes.

The atmosphere grew tense, and you could see the muscles in Wonwoo's jaw twitching. Jungkook, always quick on the uptake, chimed in, "Funny how children have more sensibility compared to some adults," his eyebrow arched and a sarcastic smirk on his lips as he glanced at Eleanor. Then he reached his free hand over and ruffled Noel's hair.

"Baby boy, why don't you go inside and ask Mrs. Tham to pack your bag? We'll be leaving after lunch, right?" You looked at Wonwoo, who nodded in agreement. The tension was palpable, and it seemed like a wise decision to change the topic and move forward.

But just as he was about to do so, Somi grabbed his hand and said, "Mama, can't Noel and I have a sleepover?"

Joon-hee sighed and replied, "No, baby, we have to leave as well. You both have school on Monday."

Somi's reaction was swift, like thunder preceding a lightning strike. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she dropped to the ground, wailing loudly. "No! I want to have a sleepover with Noel! I don't want to go home! I want to have a sleepover now! Now! Now!"

"Damn, Joon-hee, your daughter definitely takes after you," Jungkook remarked.

Joon-hee rolled her eyes and snapped, "Shut up, JK."

"Kwon Somi, get up from the ground this instant!" she sternly commanded.

But Somi was having none of it. "NO! NO!!! NO!!! I WILL HOLD MY BREATH UNTIL YOU AGREE!" she declared, puffing out her cheeks defiantly.

You were taken aback by the scene. How come my child never throws a tantrum like that? You gave Joon-hee a thin-lipped, sympathetic smile. She put her hands on her hips and said, "This girl, wait till I tell your father."

"And what's he going to do? Roll on the ground with her?" Jungkook quipped.

Joon-hee glared at Jungkook, who simply shrugged his shoulders.

You crouched down to Somi's level and said, "Hey, Somi, can I tell you something?" The girl, hiccuping now, stopped her wailing and listened. "How about you first get up from the ground? It's dirty and filled with insects and germs, okay?"

Somi remained on the ground. You continued, "Come on, I know you're a good girl. If you'd like, you can come to our place and have as many sleepovers as you like. I'm sure Noel would like that, right, baby?"

Noel remained silent, which left you a bit puzzled. So he wants to have a sleepover too but isn't saying it…

Jungkook clapped his hands, drawing everyone's attention. "How about this: let the kids have a sleepover, and we can have a little drinks around the fire, like the old times."

"No, I can't. I haven't seen my husband in the last two days, and I want to go home," Joon-hee insisted.

Somi started wailing even louder. "Oh, come on, call him here. Just ask him to drop by in his chopper," Jungkook suggested. "Hyung, come on. We rarely get together."

"Noona," he looked at you with puppy-dog eyes and a pout.

You turned to Noel and asked, "Do you want to have a sleepover with Somi?" He nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"What do you say, Wonwoo?" you asked, looking at him.

"I'm fine with it if you are," Wonwoo replied. These were the first words you had exchanged since last night.

"Okay, it's settled then. Thank you, Noona, you're the best. Let's head inside," Jungkook exclaimed.

"Joon-hee, call Hoshi hyung. I haven't seen him in a while!" Jungkook added.

Joon-hee retorted, "If you miss him so much, then call him yourself, you ass."

You rose up and gestured inside with your head, saying, "Shall we?" and started walking inside. Jungkook left with the bags, and Eleanor, whom you had forgotten was still standing there, followed Joon-hee.

As you were almost inside, Wonwoo gently grabbed your arm and softly said, "Can we talk?" You looked at him and then back at Noel, who was heading inside. Nodding in agreement, you told Noel, "You go in first, sweetheart."

Noel disappeared into the mansion, leaving you alone with Wonwoo. He gestured toward a picturesque gazebo nestled in the garden, surrounded by various vibrant peonies of different colors. The gazebo was adorned with comfortable couches and a small table, creating an inviting atmosphere for conversations and relaxation.

You followed Wonwoo to the gazebo, the fragrance of the blooming peonies filling the air as you both settled down on the couch.

The sun beamed down in the noon, and birds chirped melodiously in the background as you and Wonwoo settled into the comfortable gazebo. He opened and closed his mouth as if struggling to find the right words to say. However, before he could speak, your phone rang. Rachel's name flashed on the screen, and you answered the call.

"Yes, Rach? What's up?" you inquired.

"I was wondering what time you'll be here," she responded.

"Well, we're having an impromptu gathering, and the kids wanted to have a sleepover. So, in all probability, tomorrow morning," you explained, examining your nails casually. "Why do you ask?"

"I see. Then I'm sending you some files; please check them," Rachel informed you.

"Sure, I'll take a look. See you tomorrow. Bye," you replied, ending the call. Placing your phone on the table, you waited for Wonwoo to begin.

He cleared his throat and mentioned, "So, Rachel?"

"Why, curious?"

Wonwoo's gaze, filled with intensity, made you uncomfortable. "You may find it difficult to believe, but these days I find myself curious about you. Your past, your feelings, your day-to-day life. Will you ease my curiosity, Y/N?" he asked.

your palms grow slightly sweaty under his scrutinizing stare. You replied, "I don't know what to say, Wonwoo."

He gently reached for your hand but then hesitated, holding himself back. "I am sorry, Y/N, for my words last night. I know I hurt your feelings."

As you sat there, your eyes were drawn to the serene lake behind him. A sardonic smile tugged at the corners of your lips, and you uttered,

"I don't think you can hurt a woman who has already been hurt by her own heart. I've loved a man who belonged to someone I cherished the most in the world. You just called me something that most were afraid to say out loud."

"Y/N, I—" Wonwoo began.

"Wonwoo, don't you think it's very hypocritical of me to criticize you when we're both using each other equally? To fill our voids, to soothe a guilt, punishing ourselves for something we had no control over?" you said, avoiding a direct answer.

"Don't you get tired?" Wonwoo asked, his eyes searching yours.

Your gaze met his, and you replied, "I do, but then I remember I have someone's childhood in my hand."

The wind ruffled your hair, and the sun's reflection in your eyes made you look radiant in Wonwoo's eyes. He reached out and tucked the rebel strand behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek. A warmth crept into your cheeks, and you became acutely aware of the heat between you two.

"That day at my parents' house, I told them about Noella's family and even the reason why his family is a threat to him," He admitted.

"I know. Your mother told me about it, and I'm regretful of my accusations regarding their intentions. They're good people," You acknowledged.

"Y/N, you know what my father said to me today? He said, 'You can't be good at everything, but that doesn't mean you can't do anything. Just because we can't solve each other's every problem, that doesn't mean we can't understand them. I know we both have our reasons for doing the things we do, and maybe one day we'll trust each other enough to talk about it.'"

A small smile played on your lips and thought We're in too deep to go back now, aren't we Wonwoo?

"And since we're both on the same team, why don't we treat each other as one?" Wonwoo suggested.

"I like the sound of that," you replied, feeling a sense of relief.

"So, friends?" he offered, extending his hand for you to shake.

"Friends," you agreed, shaking his hand.

"Again, I'm sorry about last night. I don't know why I reacted the way I did," Wonwoo apologized.

"Hmm, I'm sorry too," you admitted.

"So, we're cool then?" he inquired.

"Wait," you scrunched your brows, "don't you want to apologize for one more thing?"

"About what?" Wonwoo looked perplexed for a moment, then glanced at your lips. "Oh, you mean the kiss."

You nodded, displaying your obvious annoyance. "Yes."

"Yeah, no, I'm not sorry about it," he admitted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "You kissed me back."

"Seriously," you muttered.

"Why should I apologize for something I don't regret?" Wonwoo teased.

"You're unbelievable," you grumbled and began to march back to the mansion, leaving the laughing man and your phone behind.

As you reached the second floor and settled into your room, you realized your phone was absent. Puzzled, you retraced your steps, intending to retrieve it. However, while heading back downstairs, you happened to glimpse Wonwoo and Eleanor through the window on the second story. They were engaged in a hushed conversation, their faces close, and Wonwoo was gripping Eleanor's forearm.

Your lips tightened into a thin line, and you decided not to intervene. You continued to your room, thinking that it was time to check your emails and get back to your work. Before you entered your room, you stopped a passing maid and asked her to retrieve your phone from the gazebo where you had left it earlier.

Wonwoo was smiling to himself when he noticed your phone on the table. He picked it up, the corners of his lips curling upwards at some amusing thought.

Just as he turned to head back into the mansion, a voice cut through the air, "What's got you smiling like that, Wonnie?"

The voice that once felt like a first sip of water after walking in the desert now felt like swallowing sand. He ignored her and continued walking.

Eleanor, however, wasn't one to be ignored. She stepped in his way, a sly smile playing on her lips. "What do you want, Eleanor?"

He drew in a breath and stared down at her with a stern expression. "What we can't even talk now? We weren't on that bad of terms five months ago. Or is it that you're trying to get into good graces by playing a virtuous husband to your young wife and doting father to a little charity case? I must say, I'm loving this look on you."

His patience was running thin, and he harshly grabbed her elbow, pulling her close as he spoke through clenched teeth. "That night was one of the most regrettable nights of my life, you chose this for yourself so now live with it. You're the last person who should be talking about virtue here. Keep my wife's and son's names out of your damn mouth, because if I start, you won't have anything left to crawl back to."

Eleanor's eyes widened at the intensity in his voice. She stammered, "You have no idea who you're messing with. I am a congressman's wife."

Wonwoo let out a bitter laugh and looked down at her with pity. "The way you act, you don't seem like one. Stay out of my family's business unless you don't mind losing whatever faux pride is left in you."

With that, he shoved her out of the way and stormed inside the mansion. Eleanor gritted her teeth, vowing to herself, "You will regret this, Jeon Wonwoo."

...

...

The airport bustled with travelers from around the world. The Heathrow Airport was a massive, modern structure, filled with glass windows that allowed the daylight to stream in, and a high ceiling that made the space feel grand. Travelers scurried about, dragging their luggage, while the constant sound of announcements echoed through the terminal.

In this bustling environment, Jeonghan and Victor emerged from their arrival gate, eager and excited. They were welcomed by Victor's sister, who stood there with a placard that read, "Grooms to be." Her enthusiasm was contagious, and she exchanged warm hugs with the newly arrived duo.

"Welcome, welcome!" she exclaimed, her excitement evident in her voice. "We have so much to do today. First, let's head to your new home, and then we have a dinner appointment with your wedding planner."

As they left the airport, Victor's sister skillfully maneuvered her way through the London traffic, and along the way, Jeonghan and Victor caught up. They discussed what Jeonghan had been up to, particularly his new thesis project.

Then, curious about their plans, Victor's sister inquired, "When is your friend, Y/N, coming?"

Jeonghan couldn't help but beam at the thought. "I plan to go there and surprise her myself, and my mother is coming too. We know it's in the middle of all the planning, but I can't wait to see their shocked faces." He interlaced his fingers with Victor's, their hands held firmly together and planted a kiss at the back of Victor's hand.

...

In a lavish hotel room on Hoxton Street, Nikolai paced restlessly, an expensive crystal glass filled with aged, amber whiskey in his hand. The glass was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, etched with intricate patterns, and the whiskey inside was a fine, aged liquor that spoke of luxury and taste.

He was in a heated phone conversation, his voice laced with frustration. "What do you mean they're threatening to cancel the contract?" His knuckles whitened as he tightened his grip on the glass. The voice on the other end explained in German , "They're saying that if you aren't able to secure capital within three weeks, they will cancel the contract."

Nikolai could feel his blood pressure rising as he processed the information. "Did you tell this to Dad?"

The person on the line replied indifferently, "Boss says that this is your project, your problem."

Nikolai's patience wore thin. He hurled the phone against the wall in a fit of rage. His loyal lackey stood nearby, watching his boss slowly lose his composure.

"Find out where Noella's little bastard is and end him right on the spot, and make it look like an accident," Nikolai demanded, taking a menacing step forward.

The lackey hesitated, "I don't think killing the child will be beneficial."

"Say what?" Nikolai demanded an explanation.

The lackey continued, "Our insider said that, according to Ms. Noella's will, if something were to happen to her, the kid will go with Y/N. But there's no mention of what to do if something were to happen to Y/N."

Nikolai contemplated this for a moment. "But the court has a restraining order against me."

The lackey smirked and added, "But not against boss."

Nikolai's lips curled into a sadistic smile. The lackey pushed further, "That way, we can have access to all of his inheritance."

"But what about Dad? He will not agree," Nikolai pointed out.

The lackey, always ready with a solution, pondered for a few seconds and replied, "Everything takes a little convincing. I'm sure he misses Ms. Noella, especially after the death of Mrs. Bulavia. Having her child near him may soothe his pain. And this way, you will also gain his favor. As far as the restraining order is concerned, what is there in this world that money can't buy?"

Nikolai gulped down the remaining drink in his glass and grabbed the lackey's face, his eyes gleaming with malice. "You are a genius."

"Thank you, sir," the lackey said with a sinister smile.

Nikolai turned to the window, his eyes scanning the busy streets below, and he thought, 'So long, Y/N.'

...

...

Slowly, as per schedule, all the family guests left. After lunch, everyone except for Wonwoo's and Jungkook's parents, Aunt Haeri, and Lee Chan had departed. Aunt Haeri had an early morning surgery, and Lee Chan left with Mrs. Tham. Joon-hee assured you that Somi's caretaker would be there to watch over the kids, so there was nothing to worry about. However, your mother-in-law insisted that Cecilia, the head caretaker of the mansion, be there just in case to take care of Noel.

You were working in your room, engrossed in your tasks to check the proposal's file, and lost track of time. You didn't even realize when the sun settled down and the stars emerged in the sky. There was a knock at your door, and you called, "Enter." Noel appeared in the room, dressed in his nightwear. You smiled and said, "Hey, baby boy, all ready for your first sleepover?"

He looked a bit confused and replied, "But we used to have sleepovers all the time."

You gently placed the laptop on the bed and pulled Noel into your lap, saying, "Well, yes, but this is your first sleepover with a friend."

Noel nodded excitedly. "You're liking it in here, aren't you?"

He nodded and replied, "Yes, everyone has been good to me, especially Grandma and Grandpa. They even said that I can visit them whenever I like. And Somi said that I look cool when I speak French, so I help her as well."

You brushed his innocent, cerulean eyes, pushing his fringes aside, and asked, "Oh, did she now?"

You advised him with a smile, "Have fun, and no scary stories or horror movies, okay? And not too many sugary drinks before bed."

Noel protested, "Tante, I'm not a kid anymore."

You kissed his chubby cheeks and said, "Yes, yes, you're a big boy now." He fidgeted with his fingers.

Then he mentioned, "In the afternoon, when I called Uncle Wonwoo 'Dad,' you didn't mind, right? Grandpa told me that he is my dad now, not my uncle, so I should call him that."

You reassured him, "It's not about me, but about you. Don't let anyone pressure you into something you don't like. You can continue calling him 'Uncle' if you're comfortable with that."

Noel contemplated and then responded, "I don't mind calling him 'Dad'."

You smiled and told him, "If that's what you want." Then you asked, "How come you never call me 'Mom'?"

Noel explained, "Because you're Tante." You kissed his forehead and said, "And you'll forever be my baby boy. You know, Noel, if you ever want something, you can always tell me about it."

"Even throw a tantrum?" Noel asked.

You chuckled and said, "Well, not to the extent of rolling on the floor, but yes, you can." He continued to tell you about JJ, who called and is also excited about his first sleepover.

Unbeknownst to you, Wonwoo, whom you hadn't seen since lunch, was standing, or rather leaning, against the door frame, looking at the both of you. Noel spotted him first and hopped down from your lap, giving you a hug and saying, "Good night, Tante."

You smiled and replied, "Good night, baby boy." Noel then went to Wonwoo and wished him, "Good night, Dad." Wonwoo ruffled Noel's hair, saying, "Good night, bud. Have fun."

As Cecilia came to pick him up, Wonwoo closed the door behind him and plopped down on the bed next to your feet. You picked up the laptop again, reading the file, and he remarked, "Well, at least someone will have fun."

Your eyes were glued to the laptop as you teasingly asked, "Why is that, 'Dad'?"

Wonwoo opened one of his eyes to peer up at you from his lying position and replied with a grin, "Jealous much?"

You retorted, "Oh, please, you should be proud of me. Most women take at least nine months to make their husband a dad, and I made you one within two months."

You both shared a laugh. He added, "What can I say, words fail me. I have such a talented wife."

With a sigh, he confessed, "God, Y/N, I don't want to go."

You empathized, "Then don't."

He challenged your reluctance, saying, "You have no idea, JK will kick down this door and drag us there. He can be a little—"

"Persistent?" you offered.

"Well, he's a lawyer. What else do you expect?" adding further.

"But I wish it were just that. Jungkook's friend will also be there."

You questioned, "Congressman Lee?"

Wonwoo confirmed, "Uh huh."

"That means Eleanor will also be there," you pointed out.

He responded with a nonchalant tone, "Hmm."

You recalled their interaction earlier by the gazebo and couldn't help mentioning it, your voice growing more serious. "You weren't dreading her presence when talking to her in front of the gazebo after I left."

Wonwoo rose up from his position and stood in front of you, trying to explain, "Y/n, I swear she stopped my way. It's not what you think."

You questioned, "And what do I think?"

He was at a loss for words and struggled to explain further, "Listen, Y/n, she stopped my way—"

You cut him off with a composed response, "It's alright, Wonwoo, you don't owe me an explanation. It's none of my business."

He seemed taken aback by your response, so you continued, "So, whatever I do is none of your business."

You responded calmly, "Well, until the time it doesn't directly affect mine or Noel's life, it's not."

Wonwoo tried to test your reaction further, asking, "So, you wouldn't mind if I flirt with other women?"

You nonchalantly shrugged, your inner thoughts conflicted. The angel on your right shoulder whispered, "You're digging yourself a grave, Y/n." Meanwhile, the angel on your left shoulder cheered, "Tell him. If he doesn't mind you flirting with other men."

With a mischievous smile, you responded, "Sure, if you don't mind me flirting with other men." you can hear a small sound of someone face palming themselves from your right shoulder.

His reaction was swift. Wonwoo bent down to your eye level and lightly grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, his gaze intense as he said, "I'd like to see you try." The unexpected sensuality in his voice made your core tighten in reflex, and you couldn't help but clench at the sensation. He smirked at your dumbfounded expression, then turned to the wardrobe and took out a pair of black wide-leg formal trousers and a cotton shirt.

Wonwoo emerged after changing into his attire, his shirt fashionably unbuttoned at the top, offering a teasing glimpse of his well-defined chest. His silver Rolex Yacht-Master II watch graced his wrist, and his sleeves were casually rolled up, giving him an effortlessly stylish look. There was no denying the fact that Wonwoo was an attractive man, and the addition of his glasses only accentuated his intellectual charm.

As you watched him, you often found yourself pondering why male poets wrote pages describing the beauty of women when there seemed to be insufficient words to truly appreciate a man's splendor. Maybe it was because men wanted the world to know about the magnificence of the objects of their admiration, while women preferred to keep such treasures safely nestled within their hearts.

Caught in your contemplation, you met Wonwoo's playful smirk with a knowing smile "Like what you see?"

You refrained from entertaining his teasing and looked back at your laptop.

"Are you coming?" Wonwoo asked.

You replied, "I'll be there after replying to a few emails and checking the sheets."

He offered, "You can skip if you're not feeling up to it."

You told him, "I'll think about it," and returned to your work. About twenty minutes passed, but you couldn't shake the thought of your attractive husband outside.

'Isn't he looking a bit too good then normal?' a small voice spoke from your left shoulder. what will she do in front of her husband? The memory of her throwing herself in front of Wonwoo's car on your wedding day sent goosebumps racing across your skin. I mean, you're certain that everyone is aware of their history but 'you can't let yourself be disrespected like that if something does happens there,while you're in the same premises as them'.

Fine, you decided, "I'll attend," and in no time, you had changed into a black viscose mini dress and some comfortable Isola flat mules. Letting your hair down and applying light makeup, Within half an hour you headed to the pool house where everyone had gathered.

Jungkook skillfully mixed drinks at the bar, engaged in conversation with Congressman Lee. Eleanor animatedly recounted the story of how they once stayed past curfew to attend a Beyoncé concert.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo sat on a cozy two-seater, his legs crossed, and a glass of wine resting on his perched knee. He seemed rather disinterested in the ongoing conversation and was scrolling in his phone. Joon-hee nestled in her husband's lap, you try to put a name to the face, Ah Kwon Hoshi the two of them sharing affectionate smiles as they listened to Eleanor's tale.

Kwon Hoshi, the heir of Tiger Baby Media. It was widely known in their social circles that both he and his father were passionate about tigers, even actively supporting causes to protect these magnificent creatures.

'when did he arrive?' then you recall the loud noise of a chopper landing on the helipad outside around 5 pm. A maid, upon being questioned, informed you that Han Joon-hee's husband had arrived.

"Oh, Noona, you made it," Jungkook greeted you as you entered, the first to notice your arrival. All eyes turned in your direction, but it was Wonwoo's gaze that lingered on you. He couldn't help but gulp as you both appeared to be perfectly coordinated.

"What would you like, whiskey or wine?" Jungkook inquired.

"Whiskey, please," you replied.

"Right away." Jungkook set about preparing your drink. You settled down next to Wonwoo, who slipped his phone into his pocket and casually placed his hand behind the headrest, your right shoulder lightly brushing against his chest.

You exchanged pleasantries with Kwon Hoshi, acknowledging Congressman Lee who just raised his glass at your direction and his wife, who was giving you disapproving looks.

Amid the conversation with Joon-hee, Wonwoo leaned in and whispered in your ear. His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. "You look ravishing," he praised, sniffing behind your ear. "and smell fucking delicious."

You turned your head and whispered back, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Complimenting my wife," he responded.

If two can play at this game, you thought to yourself and whispered in his ear, "You don't look half bad yourself."

He seemed to be getting a bit buzzed. Jungkook handed you your drink, and you thanked him. Jungkook took a seat in a single chair opposite Hoshi and Joon-hee, while Eleanor and her husband sat across from you and Wonwoo.

Lee Joon-suk sipped from his glass, his eyes unfocused as he reclined in his seat, and then he started addressing you, "Ms. Y/N, you've grown into a fine young lady. I remember you when you were sixteen, accompanying your mother to the exhibitions hosted by my aunt." He turned to look at Wonwoo and remarked, "You're one lucky guy."

Wonwoo cleared his throat, replying, "Sure am."

Lee Joon-suk continued, "I heard that you both are working on a resort together." You nodded and said, "Yes, construction is underway."

He drained his glass and set it on the table. "Well, do let me know if you need any help. It's always a pleasure to be of use to a beautiful young lady."

You felt the annoyance radiating from Wonwoo, his grip tightening around his glass. To ease the tension, you placed your hand on his knee and replied, "My husband and I will keep that in mind."

You didn't miss the subtle smile Joon-hee gave behind her glass, raising her eyebrows in intrigue.

As the moon ascended higher in the night sky, food and drinks continued to flow. You had a helping of food and kept taking small sips from your glass. You couldn't afford to get drunk in front of people you had just met. Wonwoo, too, switched to whiskey. He apparently had a higher tolerance than you initially thought.

The mood was light, and jokes were exchanged. Hoshi and Jungkook began playfully teasing Wonwoo.

Jungkook grinned mischievously and quipped, "Hey, Hoshi Hyung , you remember, he used to be such workaholic he even brought his laptop as a plus one to your wedding"

Hoshi chimed in, "Yeah, man Y/N must have done some real magic, For you to agree to get married."

Wonwoo, unfazed, responded with a smirk, "Well, what can I say I had no interst in seeing him cosplay a tiger in white suit and kiss my sister every five minutes"

You couldn't help but smile at the back and forth, your nerves relaxed to the point you didn't even mind,The hand that was initially behind you slowly settled on your nape, fingers pressing lightly on your left collarbone. Your hand, which had been drawing circles on his knee, reached up to his thigh. Laughter filled the air as everyone shared antidotes from their past, and they chuckled, except for Eleanor, who remained silent, her discomfort palpable. Isn't it funny how fate works at one point where someone who used to be the most important after a time seem irrelevant.

Upon Jungkook's insistence he poured you an another glass, you weren't drunk but you were feeling a little buzzed, your back comfortably against Wonwoo's chest, his warm breath on the top of your head.

Amid the jovial atmosphere, Jungkook suddenly whined, "Guys, I'm the only one without a partner here!"

You tilted your head curiously, "Jungkook, why don't you have a partner?"

Joon-hee, ever the sharp-tongued one, chimed in, "Well, he's the jack of all trades, master of none. He's been switching partners so often that at the end, he's all alone."

Jungkook pouted and complained, "Noona, for the past few days, I've wanted someone, but she's not giving me a chance!"

Wonwoo, intrigued, asked, "Do we know her, kookie?"

Jungkook smirked and replied, "Well, not you, but Noona knows her very well, actually." Making you knit your brows in confusion. He then stumbled over to the bar, grabbed an empty wine bottle, and suggested, "Let's play truth or dare!"

Several rounds of the game later, the bottle landed on Wonwoo, and he chose "dare." Jungkook, with a mischievous glint in his eye, gave him a wicked ultimatum: eat a spoonful of hot sauce or switch to "truth" and share his most embarrassing sexual encounter.

Without hesitation, Wonwoo opted for the hot sauce. However, as soon as the spoon rested on his taste buds the pain made him realise that people can see stars with their eyes close as well. His face turned red, sweat poured down his forehead, and his eyes watered uncontrollably.

You saw Eleanor concerned face as she rose to grab the water bottle for the side but Quickly, you grabbed an ice cube from your glass, put it in your mouth, and took Wonwoo's face in your hands. You kissed him deeply, letting the ice cube melt in his mouth as your lips met his. After breaking the kiss, you looked into his eyes and asked with a smile, "Feeling better now?"

Wonwoo, still recovering from the fiery hot sauce, nodded. whatever little intoxication he felt, all sobered down you noticed his eyes slightly dilated.

Amidst the collective "ooooooo" of amazement and laughter that echoed around the room, Jungkook exclaimed, "Damn, Noona, you're so cool!" playfully teasing.

But what soured eleanor's mood further was that her husband had indulged a bit too much in the drinks. Eleanor excused herself from the group, helping her tipsy spouse as she made her way towards the door. Jungkook kindly offered to prepare a guest room for her, but she politely declined, explaining that she had a meeting with the party board members early the next morning. Her driver was ready to assist, guiding her inebriated husband to the waiting car. Her husband slurred his goodbyes to everyone.

Amid this scene, you overheard Joon-hee's sweet words as she kissed her husband's cheek, saying, "I'm so glad my baby is not a sloppy drunk." Hoshi, who had also had his share of drinks and was now sporting rosy cheeks, gave a warm, somewhat goofy smile that was reminiscent of Somi's charming expressions. It was a heartwarming moment.

It was now Jungkook's turn, you dared him to do ten shots off Hoshi's body. He whined, saying, "Noona, are you trying to kill me here?" You retorted, "You should have thought of that before you shoved hot sauce down my husband's throat," which caused Wonwoo to burst into laughter.

"So you both a team now huh?

Hoshi lay down on the now empty table, and Joon-hee lined up the shots on her husband's body. Jungkook managed to down six shots before he fell onto a two-seater couch. Out as the daylight, Wonwoo rang for the butler to assist Jungkook to his room.

You turned to find Hoshi and Joon-hee, lost in their own world, were busy making out, while you and Wonwoo sat in tense silence,

Things were getting a bit too steamy with Hoshi and Joon-hee, so you leaned over to Wonwoo and whispered, "I think it's time for us to call it a night."

Wonwoo nodded in agreement, and you both quietly excused yourselves from the room.

You were acutely conscious of his presence behind you. The flavors of whiskey and hot sauce still clung to your taste buds, and Wonwoo wasn't faring any better. His heart raced in his chest as you led the way. You held the door open for him, and he stepped inside. You followed, your against the door, trying to regain your composure, and your breaths came in measured counts.

In the stillness of the night, your hands worked swiftly to find and secure the lock, while you and Wonwoo engaged in an unspoken duel of wills. It was a contest of who could maintain the intense gaze without faltering. Your fingers danced behind the door, seeking the lock mechanism, and when it finally yielded with a soft click, the sound reverberated in the room.

The room was wrapped in a cocoon of silence, interrupted only by the gentle hum of crickets serenading the night outside. Wonwoo, with his hand extended, palm up, broke the silent challenge, offering you to take his hand. He whispered softly, "Come here."

You pushed away from the door and took a step towards him, your hand slipping into his. His warm, calloused fingers caressed your knuckles before he raised your hand to his lips, recreating the tender gesture from the first time he visited your house for dinner. His deep kiss spoke volumes without uttering a word.

Wordlessly, he turned your hand still in his and guided you towards the curtained window. With a graceful sweep, he drew the curtains aside, “you know why I always chose this room". You couldn't trust your voice at that moment, so you silently mouthed, 'why.'

He moved behind you, his strong arms encircling your waist. His warm breath tickled your neck as he answered, "Because of this."

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the breathtaking view. The path leading to the garden was bathed in subtle, soft lights. Around the irises, many fireflies danced, casting a mesmerizing glow. It was as if the stars had descended from the heavens and were scattered across the ground, creating a scene that was nothing short of magical.

"It's beautiful," you breathed in admiration as you took in the enchanting view.

"It is," the timber of his voice resonated through you, adding to the enchantment of the moment. You turned to find him already gazing down at you, a silent understanding passing between you. Your eyes danced between his eyes and his lips, and as if drawn by an invisible force, you both leaned in, closing the distance that separated you.

He captured your lips with his, and the world outside disappeared into the embrace of your shared kiss. It was a moment that needed no words, a moment of perfect togetherness under the canopy of stars and fireflies.

Your senses were ablaze as the taste of whiskey on his tongue mingled with the faint remnant of hot sauce on yours. His hands moved with a gentleness that contradicted the burning intensity of the kiss, sliding up your arms.

Time slipped away as you explored each other's lips with a fierce longing, the tension that had lingered between you all evening now ignited into a passionate flame. The heat in the room seemed to increase, and the air became charged with electricity.

Wonwoo's kisses trailed down your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He whispered in your ear, "I think we've had enough games for tonight."

Your hands slid beneath his shirt, fingers tracing the contours of his sculpted chest. "I couldn't agree more."

PG-15 VERSION ENDS HERE

A/N: (After '------' this line you can read the Extra)

You felt Wonwoo's fingers deftly working at the zipper of your dress, allowing the fabric to cascade to the floor. Your bare skin tingled under his touch. His lips found yours once more, and you could taste the raw desire in his kiss.

Wonwoo gently lifted you, carrying you to the bed guided you to your knees and took a step back to appreciate your enticing appearance. Your chest heaved with anticipation as you looked up at him, your eyes dilated and filled with longing. He put his hand on your shoulder, his voice deep and sensual as he whispered, "Tell me you want this."

Your fingers deftly worked down the buttons of his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest beneath. With deliberate sensuality, you scraped your nails lightly down his defined abs, and he bit his lips in response to the electrifying sensation.

"I want you, Wonwoo," you murmured, your voice filled with desire. You rose, your lips trailing hot and wet kisses along his neck, down to his collarbones, and further, slowly descending toward his belly button. He threw his head back and groaned, overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensations you were invoking.

Looking up at him, you took in the effect you were having on him. His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, the heat of your mouth on his body driving him wild. You circled your hands around his waist, fingers working on his belt buckle, each touch stoking the fiery passion between you.

You unlatched his belt buckle and removed it from the hoop, letting it drop to the floor with a distinct cling sound. You were about to undo the button of his pants when his strong hands engulfed yours, halting your movements. Confusion flickered in your eyes as you looked up at him.

He gently cupped your chin, tilting your head up to his lips and whispered, "There's a lot of time for that, baby girl." His fingers brushed your hair away from your face, and he began to plant soft, teasing kisses along the path he traced: from your forehead, your left eye, the side of your nose, your cheeks, and the corners of your lips.

As your mouths met and opened, your tongues engaged in a sensuous dance, exploring each other's desires. His hands reached behind you to unhook the clasp, freeing you from the confining embrace of your garment.

His warm palms firmly cupped your chest, causing a deep groan to rise in your throat. He bit your lower lip, making you moan in response. Breaking the kiss, he used his left thumb and slipped it into your mouth, commanding, "Suck."

You obediently complied, wrapping your lips around his thumb and swirling your tongue sensually around it. All the while, you peered up at him, watching his reaction. He gazed down at his thumb in your mouth, his jaw clenching as if trying to control himself.

With a wet pop, he withdrew his thumb and trailed it down from your mouth to your collarbone, leaving a cold and tingling sensation in its wake. Finally, he reached your breast, circling and tweaking your nipple with a teasing touch. His right hand slid down your body, slipping beneath your panties, his fingers delving into your heated flesh with a firm and demanding grip.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but cry out, "Fuck, Wonwoo." Your head arched back as the intensity of his touch sent shivers down your spine. With deliberate intent, he tugged at your nipple and slowly pushed you onto your back, his desire evident in his every move.

He gripped the waistband of your panties and slowly removed them, leaving you completely bare and at his mercy. Wonwoo climbed onto the bed on his knees, his chest rising and falling, his cheeks flushed. He gazed at you with a fiery desire in his eyes.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, his fingers trailing from your knees to your thighs. “Your spark lights a flame with me” He removed his glasses and threw them on the bedside table. Bending down, he began to kiss your neck, his lips exploring the sensitive skin below your ear. You moaned softly, your fingers digging into the back of his head, grazing the blades of his well-defined shoulders.

Descending further, he captured one of your nipples with his warm mouth, sending a shock of pleasure coursing through your body. After lavishing attention on one breast, he switched to the other, his tongue and lips setting your nerve endings ablaze. Your core throbbed, and you found yourself grinding your thighs together, seeking any friction you could find.

Noticing your struggle, Wonwoo quipped, "Is my baby girl in pain?" You shot him a glare, wanting to wipe that smug smirk off his face. However, you had other plans. You hooked your legs behind him, and with a swift motion, you flipped positions, straddling him. Your bare sex rubbed against the rough material of his trousers, which concealed his evident arousal, and both of you hissed in response.

As he looked up at you, naked and sitting atop his clothed arousal, you began to move your hips provocatively, eliciting a throaty growl from him. "Fuck, Y/n, slow down," he implored, if you don't, I'll end up coming in my pants, He thought to himself.

You dismissed his words, your voice heavy with desire. "Less talking, more fucking." You moved your hips rhythmically, and he raised to his elbows, gripping your hips tightly to halt your movements. "Raise your hips," he instructed, "I promise I won't tease. I need to prepare you, love."

Without further delay, he began to give your bundle of nerves the attention they craved. His thumb circled your sensitive bud while he slowly inserted his forefinger inside you. The sensation was electrifying, and you felt your arousal building from your spine to your womb, flooding you with pleasure.

Your vision blurred, and the sensations washed over you, causing your body to tense and quiver. You bit into Wonwoo's neck, desperate to muffle your moans as your climax approached. His name became a chant on your lips, and your hips began to ride his hand, your movements taking on a mind of their own. You were lost in ecstasy, your world reduced to the pleasure that consumed you.

When he added a third finger, you gasped, and your hips twitched involuntarily. "Wonwoo," you gasped, and he whispered, "Let go, baby. I've got you."

With a mind of their own, your hips raised from his thighs, and you began to ride his hand, the overwhelming sensations driving you closer to your climax. You were too lost in your ecstasy to notice Wonwoo opened his trousers a little and brought out his member giving it a few pumps making him moan at the sight of you. But just as you were about to cross that exhilarating threshold, he withdrew his hand, leaving you gasping in shock. "WHAT THE FUck–" you began, but before you could finish your sentence, he seized your hips and thrust his throbbing member deep inside you.

Your world exploded as he penetrated you, and you screamed as he entered your most intimate depths, causing your inner muscles to clench around him. Two powerful thrusts were all it took for your first orgasm to crash over you, an electrifying wave of pleasure that sent you spiraling into ecstasy. Your body convulsed around him, and he groaned, overcome by the intense grip of your tightness.

Your chests pressed together, your foreheads touching, and he pushed up into you at a languid pace, allowing you to ride the waves of your orgasm. He paused when he noticed your furrowed brow, knowing you needed a moment to come back from the euphoric high.

With one arm, he held you up as you lay upon him, your hair cascading like a curtain over his face. He kissed your neck and nipped at your earlobe as he allowed you to regain your composure. As your heartbeat gradually returned to normal and you opened your eyes, a silly smile graced your lips.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing it’s just that in the afternoon you said let’s be friends”

“Ah”

In the blink of an eye, he shifted your positions once again. You lay on your back, and he knelt between your parted legs, your hips hovering in the air. “Then let me show you how good my friendship can be”,His hands gripped your supple buttocks, surely leaving marks in their wake. As he entered you again, you felt his gaze locked onto you with an insatiable hunger in his eyes.

With a husky whisper, he purred, with a wink, "My turn."

TBC.

.

.

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EXTRA:

When Jeonghan was in his first year of college, he read the concluding lines of the main character in Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night": "Fate, show thy force; ourselves we do not owe; what is decreed must be, and be this so." He couldn't disagree with something more at the time, but little did he know how much he would have to eat his words.

Jeonghan had come to drop off a pin drive you'd left at home in your office. He was about to step into the elevator when Victor rushed in before him. In German, Jeonghan asked, "Hold the elevator, please," but Victor, who was also late for a meeting, just gestured to his watch and said, "Sorry, short on time." The doors closed with Victor inside, leaving Jeonghan grumbling and taking the next elevator.

When Jeonghan reached your office, he saw the same man showing you something in his file and making you sign some documents. Jeonghan glared at him, and the man looked a little awkward. You introduced Jeonghan to him.

"Ah, JJ, come in. Mr. Sine and I are almost done here," you said.

"Mr. Sine, this is my good friend, Yoon Jeonghan, an Assistant Professor at KIU," you continued.

"JJ, this is my new representative, Mr—"

"Mr. Short on Time," Jeonghan interrupted with a sly smile.

The air between the three of you seemed charged with unspoken tension. You, ever perceptive, sensed it and said, "Okay, why don't you take a seat, Mr. Sine? Shall we continue?"

Mr. Sine cleared his throat and agreed, shifting his attention back to you as he began to explain the contract clauses, pointing to where you should sign. Meanwhile, Jeonghan settled into a nearby couch, picking up a magazine and pretending to be engrossed in it.

Jeonghan couldn't help but notice Victor attempting to act cool about it, and, true to his petty nature at times, he decided that if two could play this game, he'd certainly be up for the challenge. For the next six minutes, while Victor stood next to you, his peripheral attention was continuously drawn to Jeonghan, feeling the weight of his stare.

...

Two days after the encounter at your office, Jeonghan found himself in a pub with his friends, passionately discussing the decline of the social sciences. They delved into the structure of society, which seemed to be transforming into a conformist matrix that stifled critical thinking and suppressed diverse voices.

Victor happened to enter the same pub with his coworker, and he immediately spotted Jeonghan. The conversation around the table focused on whether criticizing problems would lead to solutions.

Victor quipped, "What can be done? Your criticism doesn't always result in a solution."

Jeonghan, who was ardently immersed in the debate, responded, "Sometimes the journey toward finding an answer is more liberating than the answer itself."

Victor, his eyes locked with Jeonghan's, engaged in a silent battle of wits and wills, momentarily oblivious to their surroundings. Jeonghan's coworker interrupted their silent exchange by clearing his throat, prompting Jeonghan to break his gaze.

When Jeonghan's coworker noticed another person entering the pub, he excitedly exclaimed, "Oh, he's here!"

Both Jeonghan and Victor turned their attention to see an average-looking but seemingly confident guy, often referred to as a "chad" among their friends, entering the establishment.

"This is the guy I was telling you about," the coworker said to Jeonghan. "Come on, I'll introduce you to him."

Jeonghan hesitated and replied with unease, "Robert, I told you I don't want to meet new people just yet."

Undeterred, his coworker insisted, "Oh, come on, Yoon. A simple 'hello' won't hurt. It's not like I told you to marry him."

He attempted to pull Jeonghan from his chair to introduce him to the newcomer. However, just as Jeonghan was about to be dragged away, someone firmly grasped his other wrist. It was Victor, his gravelly voice and authoritative gaze stopping the coworker in his tracks.“He said no, didn’t he?”

Jeonghan's heart quickened, and he felt a tingle in his stomach. He couldn't help but be captivated by Victor's protective response, and from that moment on, the rest became history. Dating Jeonghan was no easy task, but for Victor, every moment spent with him was worth the effort.

In college, Victor's boyfriend, a literature major, once read out a verse by Charles Bukowski: "When nobody wakes you up in the morning, and when nobody waits for you at night, and when you can do whatever you want. What do you call it? Freedom or loneliness?"

Turning to Victor, his boyfriend had asked, "What do you think, Vic? Is it freedom or loneliness?"

Victor, who had grown up in an immigrant household where his parents and four siblings had always been busy, striving for a better life, and chasing opportunities, answered confidently, "Freedom."

Then why is it now when he walks into his house, in the same streets where he used to deliver newspapers in so he could afford some pocket money for his bus card, as he walked into his house, closing the door of his Audi and opening the door to their home, where Jeonghan's absence was strongly felt because he was away attending a conference, Victor couldn't help but feel that this moment was closer to "loneliness."

After taking a shower, Victor entered the kitchen, planning to open the fridge. However, he noticed a post-it note that read, "Warm up the lasagna and don't forget to take out the trash. P.S., don't eat my muffin."

And that's when Victor had an epiphany. … It had been three days since your wedding, and you had flown down to Switzerland with Victor. As he drove both of you to the office, you were fiddling with your engagement ring and staring out at the passing scenery.

Victor broke the silence, saying, "It's a pretty ring."

You snapped out of your reverie and looked at him, slightly confused. "The ring," he clarified, nodding toward your hand. "It's pretty."

"Ah, thanks. It belonged to my husband's grandmother," you replied.

"Heirloom, eh?"

"Yes," you confirmed with a somewhat awkward laugh.

"So, how are things between you and JJ?" Victor asked.

"Good, as good as they could get," Victor responded with a chuckle.

"Good is nice," you hummed.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Victor said, changing lanes. "I'm going to propose to Jeonghan."

You looked at him with surprise, your eyes gleaming. "And you want my blessing for it?" you teased.

"Since you and Noel are the closest thing Jeonghan has here to family, you could say that. I mean, you did play a pivotal part in our meeting," Victor explained.

"My, my, Victor, I'm flattered. Who knew you had a heart under all that muscle?" you joked, dramatically touching your chest.

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "Can you pretend you don't know for a bit? You know how Jeonghan gets when-"

"He's kept out of the loop," you finished the thought with a chuckle.

You both shared a laugh. "What about his parents?" you asked.

"Well, the last time I talked to his mother, she seemed happy," Victor said.

"And what about his father?"

Victor sighed and gave you a sad smile. "Well, that's a conversation best served with drinks."

"Have you guys talked about it?" you asked.

Victor nodded. "Yes, we've discussed it. He has his whole plan ready. But don't you think everybody deserves a proposal?"

You pondered his words for a moment, gazing out the window. With a small smile playing on your lips as you fiddled with your ring, you whispered, "Yes, everybody deserves a proposal." … It had been two weeks since Noel and you left, and there were moments when Jeonghan would start yelling for "El" to come down for something before he'd stop mid-sentence, remembering that you had left. Even though you'd been Facetiming regularly, adjusting to the old routine without you as a constant presence in his life was difficult. However, the joy Noel brought to both yours and Jeonghan's lives was undeniable, serving as a living reminder of the people you both held dear.

Victor had asked Leila to arrange a basket and took Jeonghan on a day trip to Lake Lungern. During the two-hour drive, Jeonghan's antsiness grew as he repeatedly asked, "Are we there yet?" Victor's patience was wearing thin.

As they approached their destination, Jeonghan's anticipation grew. "Oh, my Vicky, you didn't!" he exclaimed as he took in the stunning view. This place held sentimental value as it was where Jeonghan had taken them for their first date before it became a hotspot.

Victor was driving and couldn't drink, but he wouldn't have minded a glass of wine to calm his nerves. His heart raced, and he had cold sweats accumulating on the back of his neck. He finally brought out a blanket and a picnic basket.

Jeonghan commented, "Ah, ever since I came back from the post-doctoral program, I haven't had time to catch a break. Thank you, Vicky."

"Anything for you, Dr. Yoon," Victor replied.

"Please don't call me that in public," Jeonghan joked.

They laughed together, and Victor felt the love in the air as he looked at Jeonghan with adoration in his eyes.

After a moment, Victor cleared his throat. "Jeonghan, we need to talk."

Jeonghan's heart skipped a beat, fearing the worst. "Do you ever wonder where we'd be if we hadn't met at Y/N's office nine years ago?"

Jeonghan looked at Victor, then at his fingers, and shook his head. "No, not really. You?"

Victor stood up and walked towards the lake, surrounded by flowers. Jeonghan followed closely, waiting for his answer. Victor took a deep breath and began, "I've never felt the need to wonder, and even imagining a life without you terrifies me."

He turned to face Jeonghan and extended his hand. Jeonghan placed his hand in Victor's, listening intently.

Victor continued, "Yoon Jeonghan, meeting you made me realize what living feels like. You breathe life into my soul. My mother used to say that there are no accidents in life. Even the rustling of the leaves due to the wind is written in the stars before the seed of that tree came to exist. I used to think it was absurd, but now when I look at you, I thank the stars for aligning our fates. I want all your mornings and nights. I want the privilege of growing old with you. I want your rants and all your moods."

Jeonghan interjected, "I'll become more critical of some of your choices."

Victor chuckled and said, "Jeonghan, I will love you even if you become the next Karl Marx."

Jeonghan laughed, "No, thank you."

Victor continued, "You do what your heart desires, and I'll be rich for the both of us."

With those words, Victor took a platinum ring from his pocket and asked, "Dr. Yoon Jeonghan, will you marry me?"

Jeonghan's tears welled up, and he was overwhelmed by emotions. He'd rarely cried in the past, but watching the love of his life profess his love and commitment to him brought forth an unstoppable flow of tears.

He managed to joke through his tears, "Do we really need to involve the government in our relationship?"

Victor, with tears in his eyes, slipped the ring onto Jeonghan's finger. They shared a tight hug, foreheads touching, lost in their bubble of love as the sun set and made way for a new beginning.

Jeonghan admitted, "When you said we needed to talk, I thought you wanted to break up with me."

Victor replied, "I would question why you'd even think that, but right now, I just want to kiss you."

And so, as the sun set in the background, they kissed, sealing their love and commitment to one another.

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A/N: Phew this took me FOUR days to write. I want to thank everyone who showed support and reminded me that just because something does not have a lot of admirers does not mean it is not worthy of love, time and effort. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter and meet you all with the next one.

xxx

MSH.

[iliothermia]

Hi, I had some process questions I wanted to ask if it gives you some joy in writing up answers.

Your art has a lot of detail in it, and they are often larger pieces with multiple characters and half or full backgrounds. How long does it take on average to do an art piece, start to finish?

There are textures I enjoy incorporating into my art, but are extremely arduous to put in. There are other textures that aren’t my favorite to use a lot, but are fun to make. Do you have a favorite texture(s) to make? Are they one and the same?

What are a few of your favorite embellishments you’ve made? E.g. the repeating prints, objects, things you use to fill out the scene that you post on their own every now and then?

💜💛 wishing you well as always

to be honest most of the texture in my work is all just my brush I use while hand-drawing in every line. All lines are the same brush, just different size

I do save a lot of the plants that symbolize certain memories, cultural imagery, pompoms / embroidery / lace I draw though by habit, knowing I'll someday want them again.

My favorite little things I've drawn and posted alone though are -my little besamim full of stars -a hinged deck of cards based off a gift my grandfather gave me not long before he passed away, it had the art of many artists in it and really impacted me. -a comb used for preparing the dead (jewish), with the heads of a stork and a heron on them. The lore i've read for those birds is a constant reminder and really important for me as someone who grew up feeling misunderstood.

Thank you for asking and I hope you're alright, my friend 💗

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 73, Part 2

Downstar and Weedfoot are ambushed by… something.

[Image ID: Downstar overlooks a crowd that includes Oilstripe, Lavendertwist, Rabbitjoy, and Paleseed on the left, James, Carnationspeckle, Waspdawn, and Puddlewhisper on the right. Under all but Downstar, it reads + CONDITION: GRIEVING. Under Downstar, it says LIVES LEFT: 3.]

Weedfoot woke up with a sudden, violent gasp. Her memory flashed, blood spasming to catch up to the present. Phantom pain pressed her into the moist grass. Breathe, breathe, breathe. No, not just that, move. Where was Downstar? She had been right next to Weedfoot, the two on their first patrol alone in ages, a flash to the earliest days of RippleClan… where had she gone? What had happened?

The creature. Weedfoot remembered it now. It had come out of nowhere. It was no dog, no wolf or bear or human. Something… thin, hollow, and hungry. Weedfoot grit her teeth so tight she thought her fangs would pierce into her brain. She forced herself up, the memories of claw and tooth sharp against her pelt. 

Weedfoot wanted to be sick. All she saw was blood on the grass, vibrant green turned dull purple in the late evening glow. It splattered along the tall pine trunks and pooled under Weedfoot. The stench of innards and exposed muscle twisted her stomach. But the worst part of it all was Downstar, laying with her back against an oak tree, battle wounds covering her bicolored pelt and a large chunk of flesh missing from her stomach.

“Downstar!” Weedfoot whined, scrambling to her friend and leader. Downstar’s chest shivered slightly. Her paws twitched. Her half-open amber eyes stared hazily at the horrific scene around her. Weedfoot skidded in front of Downstar, keeping her eyes away from her awful wound. Had she already lost a life? If she hadn’t, she was close. But she had five to spare, Weedfoot could get her to the clerics. She would be fine. Yet could she move Downstar with a wound of that severity? 

“I’m here, Downstar,” Weedfoot moaned, setting her paw against Downstar’s bloodied shoulder.

Her paw phased through Downstar’s body.

“She’s already lost one life. It’ll take another before we can heal her, and she’ll still be in danger.” That voice. Weedfoot squeezed her eyes tight, trying to fight back the wave of misery and hopelessness that flooded her face. Weedfoot heard that voice whenever her daughter shot out a clever remark or insightful comment. She heard it in her memories, both good and bad.

Puddlespeckle and Applepelt’s spirits stood beside Downstar’s dying form, pelts sparkling and shining onto her bloodstained fur. Weedfoot wasn’t sure she had ever seen her father look so young. She named Puddlewhisper right; she looked just like her grandfather. It had been so long, Weedfoot had almost forgotten the resemblance.

“Not now,” Weedfoot moaned, her whole body shaking in a decisive no. “Please, not yet, Father. Lightningkit and Cobaltkit are still in the nursery. Waspdawn just lost Littlekit, he’s been so strong, he can’t lose me too.”

“Weedfoot,” Applepelt warned, “as someone who cares about you, I’m telling you now, do not look at your body. You don’t deserve to remember yourself like that.” They walked around Weedfoot, pushing her head forward as it instinctually looked back. Weedfoot only caught a glimpse of her own bloody paw, claws splayed out in the heat of battle.

“Applepelt is here to take you to StarClan,” Puddlespeckle explained. “I… wanted to come with for this.” For a moment that disgusted Weedfoot as soon as it passed, excitement sparked through her chest. She would see Ripplefern again. Fennelspot and Burdockstream, Lavenderleaf, Wasppaw, Paleshade… but she would leave so many behind. The dozen different emotions battling for control in her chest fused together into a single clear thought.

Downstar needed help.

“I’ll go,” Weedfoot choked out, backing up, “but not before I save my friend!” She shut her eyes as she spun around Applepelt and ran in the direction of camp. She knew if she saw herself, she would lack the strength to do what needed to be done. She was still RippleClan’s deputy, and she would do her job!

“Let her go, Puddlespeckle,” she heard Applepelt snap behind her. “This will be better.”

As Weedfoot ran home, she noticed a strength in her muscles that had, day by day, left her in recent moons. She felt like she could run across all five Clans without so much as a single pant. Even her fur, translucent as she now saw it to be, looked brighter than it had since Scaleripple’s birth. The world, settling down into a cool summer night, was more alive than ever before. And all Weedfoot had to do to see that was die.

“Oilstripe!” she yowled, voice catching against the trees. “Oilstripe!” She had always wondered what it was like for her former apprentice to see the spirits of StarClan as they roamed their old home. How she hated to be one of them that day.

Weedfoot could see the shipwreck now. The decaying wood looked golden in the setting sun, with huge shadows of spruces, elders, and rowans dappling the rocky walls of camp. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt had somehow beaten Weedfoot to camp, but they sat on the Resting Place, watching quietly. Leathermask sat guard outside of camp, unflinching to Weedfoot’s call. Weedfoot slowed at the crest of the trees when Oilstripe hurried out of camp, wild eyes meeting Weedfoot’s. Weedfoot’s soul broke just a bit more; how often did Oilstripe have to learn of a Clanmate’s death in such a way? If there had been any better option, Weedfoot would have spared her dear friend the pain. But instead she squared her shoulders as Oilstripe bolted at her.

“No no no,” Oilstripe cried as she reached her old mentor, legs weakening with every frantic step.

“Stop,” Weedfoot barked. Oilstripe gasped, paws digging into the sand and dirt. “Oilstripe, I’m sorry, but you need to listen to me right now. You can’t save me, but you can save Downstar.”

“How—” Oilstripe whined. She panted so hard, she could barely speak.

“Just listen, please,” Weedfoot begged. “I need you to find Spikecrash, Rapidleaf, and Honeybuzz. It has to be Honeybuzz, not Troutpool, do you understand? I know your daughter, she won’t be able to focus on Downstar. Get those three cats and have them bring a long pelt and whatever medicine Honeybuzz needs to treat a gaping wound. Only bring those three, nod if you understand.” Oilstripe swallowed hard, but nodded. “Do not let anyone else come with you, especially not my family. Have the patrol follow you, and I’ll lead you to Downstar. Oilstripe, when I tell you to stop, you stop. Don’t go any further, just send the patrol forward and tell them to cover my body. Don’t look at me, I am begging you, Oilstripe, do not look. Do you understand?” Oilstripe nodded once more, paws twitching, ready to run. “Now go!” Oilstripe was off like lightning, scrambling back into camp with a yowl. Leathermask jumped as she soared past him. He followed the heartbroken molly back into camp.

Applepelt and Puddlespeckle were silent witnesses as Weedfoot led her Clan to Downstar’s rescue. She could see them, sitting, watching, waiting for Weedfoot to acknowledge them once more as she made sure Honeybuzz could save Downstar’s remaining lives. Weedfoot ignored her father as Oilstripe begged Weedfoot for answers that she could not provide. She stayed silent as Rapidleaf and Honeybuzz hurried Downstar to camp. She watched over RippleClan’s camp as one by one, everyone she cared for crumbled under the news.

As midnight crept closer, Weedfoot found herself tucked into the shadows of the medicine den, staring at Honeybuzz, Troutpool, and Weevilpaw as they sat around Downstar. Bandages wrapped around Downstar’s belly, clean moss stuffed into the healing wound. Cobwebs concealed Downstar’s smaller scars, turning her calico. Weedfoot stared into her dear friend’s tired eyes and prayed once more that she could offer some comfort. Firelight dapped the den floor.

“If you don’t rest, you’ll lose three lives rather than two,” Honeybuzz muttered, testing the tightness of Downstar’s bandages. 

“Regardless, I need to gather the Clan,” Downstar sighed. “They need to hear from me before midnight.”

“That won’t be hard,” Weevilpaw gulped, glancing out of the den. “I don’t think anyone’s asleep tonight.”

“I promise, Downstar,” Troutpool said, touching her leader’s nose, “we’ll try a few rituals to figure out what attacked you. As soon as the half-moon comes around again, we’ll petition StarClan for more information.”

“Help me to the edge of the den,” Downstar said softly. “Weevilpaw… call the Clan for me.” Weevilpaw stiffened, nodding solemnly. Honeybuzz and Troutpool got on either side of Downstar, trying to scoop her nest with her. With Downstar providing what strength she still possessed, the three inched the tortoiseshell leader close to the entrance of the medicine den. 

“Downstar’s calling a Clan meeting,” Weevilpaw called hesitantly into the camp clearing. “Over here.” All of RippleClan sat before the shipwreck, sharing tongues and caterwauls. There was no body to sit vigil for; the look in Spikecrash’s eyes when she insisted on immediate burial silenced even the most curious of cats. Weedfoot’s family all sat together, piled on one another in shared misery. James was almost hidden under his sons and daughters. Even Scaleripple joined in, hiding his head in Waspdawn’s pelt. Lightningkit, Cobaltkit, and Waspdawn’s litter snuggled in where they could, their youth providing no hiding place for their grief. Stormkit, Yellowkit, and Sandkit seemed so… hollow. Oh why did Weedfoot have to be the one to bring such despair to their eyes? When did her family get so, so big?

All of RippleClan slowly made their way around the medicine den. Weedfoot sat beside Downstar, midnight cold sinking through her ghostly fur with every stare that passed through her. Oilstripe could not look away from her, gathered tightly beside Carnationspeckle, Rattlepelt, Tallowpaw, and Slushpaw. It was all Weedfoot could do to nod at her old beloved apprentice.

“What happened, Downstar?” James asked. Weedfoot had never heard such monotone from her mate before. 

“I wish I could explain it,” Downstar sighed, groaning as she shifted to look over her Clan. “My memory is foggy. I barely saw it coming. Whatever attacked us did so with brutal efficiency.”

“Was it another Clan?” Paleseed whined. “Downstar, what did they do to my mother?” Downstar flinched at Paleseed’s cry. Darkkick crept from the back of the crowd, and Paleseed pressed her head into the older molly’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to scare you,” Downstar said. “However… from what I remember, I don’t believe what attacked us was any living creature.”

“A Spirit of Shadow,” Trumpetspore yowled from somewhere in the back of the crowd. “It was a Spirit of Shadow! Not again! Not again!” Trumpetspore’s panic swept through the crowd. Estherfern’s kits seemed half their age as they pressed into their mother, whimpering. Currentpaw wailed as Elmsprout wrapped her tail over him. Rattlepelt slunk behind Carnationspeckle. 

“Please, everyone, we can’t panic,” Downstar called. She groaned as her stomach twitched, strained from the effort of yowling. “There’s a lot we don’t know about what happened, or why. We’ll take every precaution when leaving camp until we have this situation sorted. I will not abandon you. StarClan will not abandon us. We will figure out what happened, drive out this threat, and recover, as we always do.” The cooler heads in the crowd groomed the fur of their terrified kin. The Clan’s voices died down as Downstar took a few slow breaths.

“This Clan would not exist without Weedfoot,” Downstar sighed. “She and Paleshade were the spark that gave us life. When we formed RippleClan, we all wanted her to be our leader. She would have led us well. But she asked me to take my nine lives instead so she could grieve for her first mate and find her footing once again. I regret all the times my mind turned my heart against her, and I will always see her as my sister. It will be many moons before another deputy can match her in skill and wisdom.” Had Downstar always thought that of Weedfoot? Some moons it felt like the pair were always disagreeing on how to run the Clan. But that wasn’t the truth of their relationship, was it? “Despite that, we need a new deputy.”

“We’ve never had to do this before,” Carnationspeckle muttered. “We don’t have to follow the traditions of the other Clans. We can pick a new deputy in the morning, Downstar. It… it might be better.”

“I don’t want to wait long,” Downstar said, glancing at her wound. “I’ll be recovering for the rest of the moon, and the Gathering is in two nights. We need a deputy. And I know who I want at my side.” Downstar cleared her throat. “I say these words before StarClan, so that Weedfoot’s spirit may hear my words and approve my choice. The next deputy of RippleClan will be Oilstripe.” Weedfoot rose, the weight in her heart relaxing ever so slightly. Oilstripe stayed sitting, blinking rapidly.

“But…” Oilstripe gulped. “You don’t like me. You never have.”

“There’s a lot that we disagree on,” Downstar admitted, bowing her head. “Yet your intelligence and compassion have won you many friends. You are a major part of this Clan, and I trust you to lead it when I’m gone.” Oilstripe stared at Weedfoot, mouth half open in utter surprise.

“She’s right,” Weedfoot purred. She stood in front of Oilstripe, the soft glow of her transparent body shining against Oilstripe’s ginger fur. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to follow in my pawsteps.” Sparkling light danced behind Oilstripe. Puddlespeckle and Applepelt waited at the edge of camp, sitting patiently. Weedfoot blinked and found herself standing beside the pair just as the Clan began to chant Oilstripe’s name.

“Let’s make this official,” Applepelt chirped. She touched her nose to Weedfoot’s. Warmth flooded Weedfoot. Her pelt exploded in white light. Stardust sprinkled her body in vibrant patterns. Her blue eyes burned bright. Suddenly, she knew. She knew what happened to her. She knew what attacked her, where it came from, and what lurked over RippleClan’s head.

“We have to tell them,” Weedfoot said, turning back to her family.

“You can’t,” Puddlespeckle said softly. Just as quickly as the future unraveled before her, so too did Puddlespeckle’s meaning. She couldn’t. She literally, physically, could not tell them.

“Will they be alright?” Weedfoot gulped, forcing herself to look away.

“Life goes on,” Puddlespeckle promised. He gently nosed Weedfoot’s forehead. “You were a good daughter to have, Weedfoot. Now come along. It’s time to go.”

(Weedfoot: 122, female, deputy, charismatic, steady paws, formidable fighter)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)

(Puddlespeckle: 156, male, elder, strict, good hunter, good kitsitter)

(Applepelt: 31, she/they, historian, rebellious, lore keeper)

(Oilstripe: 77, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(James: 149, male, elder, charismatic, den builder, formidable fighter)

(Paleseed: 39, female, mediator, insecure, incredible runner, steady paws)

(Trumpetspore: 34, female, warrior, nervous, excellent potter, good storyteller)

[Image ID: Honeybuzz and Downstar speak with Weevilpaw, Anchovypaw, and Wolfpaw. Honeybuzz says "We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”]

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“Anchovy! Anchovypaw, wake up.” Anchovypaw opened his eye half-way. Weevilpaw stared at him, nose inches from his face. He smacked her muzzle back with a groan.

“I’m tired, Weevilpaw,” he groaned, rolling over. “Can we do this later?”

“Downstar wants to talk to us,” Weevilpaw whispered. “She’s with Honeybuzz. Come on, it’s important!” Anchovypaw dragged his head up. Wolfpaw was already awake, fidgeting outside the apprentice’s den. The crest of the sun peeked over the sea, turning the sky purple. The sleeping forms of the other apprentices rose and fell with the soft pattern of the waves. Anchovypaw groaned as he got out of his cozy nest, warm from his body heat, and snuck around Billowpaw and Ravenpaw. Weevilpaw jumped over Silverpaw and followed her friend out.

It was the morning after the Gathering, and everyone was exhausted. Halibutdusk limped back to the warrior’s den, finally relieved from guard duty as Oilstripe guided Clammask and Drumtooth out on patrol. The purple light of the early dawn unnerved Anchovypaw that morning, even though he had seen that sunrise a hundred times. Weevilpaw led him and Wolfpaw across camp to the leader’s den. Anchovypaw could see Downstar’s eyes gleaming from inside her sheltered nest. Honeybuzz sat beside her, fiddling with a cicada wing under his paw. While the bandages around Downstar’s torso were no longer so blood-stained, black ichor still stained them like a hole in the world. Anchovypaw focused on his leader’s face instead.

“What’s wrong?” Wolfpaw asked.

“I spoke with the other clerics last night,” Honeybuzz explained, waving the trio closer. “I may have an explanation for your abilities.”

“Finally,” Weevilpaw groaned, kneading the leather-lined floor. “I knew we weren’t the first. I just knew it. Why else would there be so many stories of powerful cats?”

“There’s a reason those cats come in threes,” Honeybuzz sighed. Anchovypaw moved closer, almost forgetting to breathe. “We call it the Rule of Three. When times of intense peril approach the Clans, it is said the All-Seeing pulls water from the river of space and time and blesses three kits. It explains everything.”

“Intense peril?” Anchovypaw said, no longer able to keep his gaze from Downstar’s wound. “Like now?”

“We’ve come across two Spirits of Shadow in the span of three moons,” Downstar sighed. “Think about your powers. They are designed in just such a way to prove effective against spirits and their powers. You see their influence. You predict their moves. You can even trap them in place.” Downstar pulled a paw over her muzzle. 

“I don’t like using apprentices in this way, but I need all three of you on alert and ready to help. You may be all that stands between our safety and another of our kin leaving us, just like Weedfoot did.”

(Weevilpaw: 8, female, cleric apprentive, adventurous, curious about StarClan)

(Anchovypaw: 8, male, warrior apprentice, playful, curious about StarClan)

(Wolfpaw: 8, female, codekeeper apprentice, thoughtful, curious about StarClan, confident with words)

(Honeybuzz: 21, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith)

(Downstar: 132, female, leader, wise, trusted advisor, very clever)