#mild to medium angst

[nakahras]

᯽ one more hour • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you finally find out who chuuya is after months of him lying to you. unfortunately, for chuuya, you’re not the only one that figures out the identity of your boyfriend and that makes you a target.

warnings • intentional lowercase, angst, fem!reader, mild/medium language, verbal arguments, depictions of violence/gore, mentions of guns/knives, depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, hospital setting, mentions of injury/blood, chuuya’s an idiot

wc • 6.2k

a/n • i’ve been in the biggest writing funk. ofc this loser ginger was the one to drag me out of it wiriwiieiwieiqi

“how long did you plan on lying to me for? were you ever going to tell me the truth or were you going to hope i just never figured it out and let me live in complete ignorance?” you pace around the ginormous penthouse you find yourself in for the first time since your relationship with chuuya had started.

that was almost 7 months ago now. you can’t believe the amount of times you’ve almost said ‘i love you’ to the man standing a few feet away from you in just the last month alone. it’s comical, actually. chuuya isn’t even that person to you anymore, you don’t no longer even know who he is. you knew him as this above average guy that was an executive for some sort of multinational conglomerate. the adoptive son of the ceo. some form of a nepo-kid. that’s how you rationalized him being so successful at such a young age. 

you didn’t even know he had an ability.

you were delusional to think that this relationship was going so well because you had found the perfect guy. the perfect guy doesn’t lie to you about being a mafioso executive.

you stop pacing. you’re the most idiotic person on this planet. you can’t believe this is your reality.

“god, i cannot believe you hid something like this from me, chuuya. i cannot believe i fell for it.”

you have to give chuuya some credit. while you’ve been pacing and practically yelling at him he has annoyingly kept his composure with a straight face. unfortunately for him, that pissed you off even more. you turn to him finally and stare at the man in silence. his composure doesn’t budge. he gazes back but it’s as if he’s looking right through you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this emotionless before.

you’re desperate now, trying to rationalize your relationship even after finding out he isn’t who you thought he was. because, for better or for worse, even though you haven’t outwardly said the words to him you had, in fact, fallen in love with chuuya nakahara. 

you feel your stomach churn and waterline burn, you needed him to say something, anything. “are you just going to stand there like a fucking statue all night? or are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“how did you find out?” his voice is tight but unfeeling, expressionless and cold.

how frustrating of him. instead of answering your questions he asks one of his own. you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction he clearly wasn’t going to give you. you shouldn’t. but you have a bad habit of reacting before thinking about it fully.

“you attacked the armed detective agency at the hospital i work at? how do you think i found out, chuuya? you know how many times you’ve picked me up from there? just because i don’t work in that wing doesn’t mean my coworkers don’t know who you are. they sent me videos of what happened. i had to pretend that wasn’t you. i almost convinced myself of it.” your breathing is becoming erratic and uneven, only shallow and short breaths escaping you.

chuuya looks to the side as if he’s thinking something over then he looks back to you, gaze unchanged. “so other people know?”

“yeah, i’m sure not everyone believed me that it wasn’t you.” you let out a frustrated sigh, “why does that even matter? you should be focusing on the fact that i know.”

“it matters…” the ginger doesn’t give you any further explanation as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

you want to pull your hair out. he’s ignoring you almost — actually, you think him ignoring you would be less frustrating. he’s completely dismissing your concerns, questions and feelings on the matter. and now he’s texting someone?

that’s it. you were done with this conversation and you were done with him. maybe for good. you walk away to your belongings. chuuya clearly notices your movement and watches intently as you put your coat back on. 

panic finally settles deep within his chest and his voice cracks with desperation as he asks, “where are you going?”

you notice the change and look back at him from the elevator doors. his face is still expressionless, however, your eyes wander down to his gloved hands and take note of the way he’s gripping his phone just a bit too tightly. you shouldn’t, but you give him one last chance to explain himself, he just needs to give you anything to make you stay. it doesn’t need to be big, it could be the most vague explanation. just something enough that you can grasp onto.

“i’m leaving, unless you plan on answering any of my questions?” you look at him with wide and expectant eyes — they’re hopeful even.

chuuya just stands there, again. his bicolored eyes are filled with regret but he keeps his mouth shut. you let yourself sit in the silence that’s been created for a few moments. letting yourself get worked up. he was really willing to let you go, rather than just tell you what’s going on. 

you let out a shuddered and wet breath, tears welling up in your eyes and lips trembling. “i didn’t think so…”

with that you leave his apartment with a tight chest and damp cheeks.

that was 4 days ago and it has been radio silence on your end. chuuya tried calling you later that night but you didn’t answer. since then, there has been no further attempts on his end either. you weren’t sure if he was giving you space or still didn’t know how to answer your questions, but you think you’d prefer him blowing up your phone with no answers as opposed to nothing at all. you’ve been crying over a quart of ice cream all afternoon. you felt pathetic, sitting on the couch in pajama shorts and a hoodie of chuuya’s that you’re pretty sure was left behind on purpose. 

you lean over to set the now empty ice cream container down on the table of your kotatsu. a whine is heard from your lap and you look down to see your previously sleeping cat glaring up at you with an accusatory look in her eye. your movement had clearly disturbed her umpteenth nap of the day. you look at your little companion with an apologetic smile and pet her as an sorry for moving around so much. the torti is quick to be appeased as she starts purring loudly.

mochi, your cat, was the only thing that got you through this entire debacle. without her, you think you may have let yourself wither away into an empty shell. 

mochi’s ears perk up and suddenly she’s on high alert. the cat leaps off of you and investigates something in the kitchen. you hear her hiss and then a sort of bang. your brows furrow and you let out a sigh, thinking about how she probably just made a big mess in the kitchen as she scurries back in the room to hide underneath the kotatsu, bushy tailed and, oddly enough, growling. 

you shimmy yourself out from under the warmth of the kotatsu yourself and get up to investigate the mess you probably had to pick up. as you near the kitchen you feel a draft — funny, you distinctly remember closing the window in the kitchen. 

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

chuuya isn’t even pretending to listen to what’s happening in this meeting. he could feel the concerned gaze he’s getting from kouyou but his nerves are far too shot for him to even pretend to care. all he cares about is you. how you desperately wanted him to open up and be truthful, how betrayed you looked leaving his apartment with tears running down your face, how you wouldn’t answer his phone call that night and how you still hadn’t contacted him to make another attempt at getting him to explain.

chuuya would answer the phone in the middle of this meeting if you called at this very second. he had made up his mind when he finally came to his senses later that night. he always seemed to be one step behind when it came to relationships. being one step behind may be enough to ruin yet another relationship that he cherishes deeply.

the executive can’t comprehend what you’ve done to him. he’s felt on edge since the moment you left the penthouse. his fingers twitch in irritation, his skin crawls, his breath feels constricted. it’s like he’s coming down from a long lasting high. he was having withdrawals. he hasn’t felt this tense and unfocused since he tried to quit smoking a few years back when gin got on his ass about finishing a whole pack in one day.

actually, a cigarette sounded damn good right about now. mori would have a fit though, of course he’s always been a doctor to the core. so, the ginger falls back on tapping his foot incessantly and checking his phone obsessively. 

this meeting feels like it’s dragging, time moving in slow motion almost. it’s only been 30 minutes but to chuuya it feels like 30 hours. it’s agonizing to sit here when what he needs is a distraction. a mission where he can let out his frustration on some opposing force. he’s never been one to complain about meetings but it’s never too late to start.

the executive is ready to leave, literally 30 seconds away from standing up and walking out, but then something happens. one of kouyou’s subordinates urgently walks in and makes a beeline for her. an emergency, clearly, because everyone knows not to disturb an exec meeting otherwise.

kouyou’s eyes widen and flit to chuuya. this worried glance is different from her previous ones. it makes the ginger’s blood run cold and hairs stand on end. if he thought he was on edge before — that was nothing compared to this. 

kouyou wastes no time in reporting the issue as she shoos her subordinate away. “there was activity from one of our many opposing organizations. my people are working on pinpointing which one but… they broke into and vandalized several apartment buildings in the naka ward…” 

kouyou looks at chuuya again. her brows are furrowed in concern, it makes his stomach churn. why is she looking at him like that? what did she even say? chuuya wasn’t focused. he was on the verge of getting up to leave just two minutes ago. 

he was going to leave.

he needed a better distraction from his stewing thoughts of you. the longer he sat here the more time he spent thinking about how he should really just show up at your apartment door. surely, you wouldn’t turn him away if he was willing to finally explain things, right?

“they were all within a 2 kilometer radius of the yokohama city minato red cross hospital-“

mori interjects, “you mean the one you all took the liberty of storming while i was ill due to that cannibalism ability?” 

if chuuya wasn’t paying attention before, he is now. he thinks a knife to the eye would be better than this. physically: the executive is composed and stoned faced — but internally? chuuya is sinking in his seat wishing he would simply disappear. they’re all used to mori’s snide comments, his tongue always being quick and made of silver. sometimes, like today, his comments hit a little harder. 

so, even though they all try to stay composed, chuuya doesn’t miss the way kouyou flinches and once again her eyes flit over to him. 

“yes, mori-san, the same hospital…” the woman sounds almost pained as she talks, her internal panic slowly seeping out through the cracks. “most civilians were unharmed… but there were a couple women who were targeted and are now in critical condition at the same hospital. one of them was pronounced dead by the time she got to the hospital.”

mori hums, eyes cutting over to chuuya. “interesting. chuuya, don’t you have a little friend that lives in the same area?”

there it was. the reason kouyou was so concerned and fidgety. chuuya’s heart sinks and stomach drops to his feet. everything unfocuses, his vision going blurry and swirling. the ginger visibly turns pale and his blood runs cold. his whole body twitches, the need to get up and leave far too strong.

chuuya feels physically ill. how had he not thought of you the second kouyou said what ward it was? he was so busy thinking about himself and wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even think to second guess the information he was being fed. kouyou’s glances tell him it was bad too, or worse, she had no information on your status. 

this was chuuya’s fault. he has this sinking feeling that you were the target. he should’ve known you weren’t safe when you told him people at your work had connected who he was. he should have been more insistent on talking things out. he should have had you come over to his and stay over until he knew you were safe. hell, he should have at the very least set up a detail in your neighborhood.

this was all his fault. 

chuuya abruptly stands up, hands slamming on the table. “i should check on the situation. may i be dismissed, boss?”

“i don’t see why you shouldn’t. report back when you’ve got a handle on…the matter.” mori raises his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement at the executive’s reaction.

chuuya doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even give any of them a second glance as he practically flies out of the room to find the nearest exit to this god forsaken building. he finds an open window and easily hurls himself out of it, using his ability to hurdle himself through the sky. chuuya didn’t even think twice about, maybe, taking a vehicle. his mind was far too muddled to even register what he was doing.

this was all his fault.

he wasn’t looking for practicality right now anyway, he was looking at what would get him there the fastest.

“there” being your apartment. he didn’t want to assume you were attacked. maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. chuuya makes it to the average looking building in record time — which he’d boast about in any other situation, but now was not the time.

the gravity manipulator is about to circle your apartment to get to the front but notices something odd. the window at the side of your kitchen was wide open. you never did that, you only left it cracked open when you were cooking. chuuya enters your apartment the same way he left the port mafia building: through a window. 

what he sees next confirms his deepest fears. he’s had actual nightmares about this — or at least he thinks he has, having never actually been able to dream. but he’s woken up in cold sweats, throat raw from screaming, and a pit in his stomach with you on his mind. this was more like a waking nightmare, he imagines this is what the ones he can’t recall are filled with. 

there’s blood on the floor and also splattered across the walls and kitchen utilities. broken kitchenware is scattered across the wooden slats, your oven and fridge are out of place too. an obvious sign of a struggle. you clearly fought back. of course you fought back. chuuya had tried to teach you some self defense but with further observation he had learned that you grew up taking mixed martial arts classes. something about letting out your bad temper in a healthy way.

all the fighting skills in the world couldn’t save you from a bullet though. there was one lodged in your fridge and wall. as chuuya nears the other side of your kitchen he notices the front door is also wide open, two holes in it indicating more shots were set off. 

then chuuya sees it. his stomach churns violently, so much so that he almost doubles over and retches at the sight. a trail of blood that ends at the front of your apartment and then…

a bloody handprint.

your bloody handprint.

chuuya would recognize it anywhere. he’s memorized every detail of your hands from the size down to the swirls in your fingerprints. you had to have dragged yourself out of your home for help. 

chuuya is glued in place. he feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. the edges of his vision going white as the color falls from his grasp. his ears are ringing, the white noise becoming louder as his mind runs wild. 

you weren’t here.

there was so much blood.

the smell of iron stuck to his nostrils.

where were you?

did someone take you to the hospital?

the hospital.

one of the women that was brought there was pronounced dead. even if that wasn’t you… all of the other women were in critical condition. he couldn’t imagine you being okay after seeing the scene laid out before him. 

chuuya was going to be sick. a wave of nausea crashes over him. he feels the bile clawing up his throat. he scrambles over to your kitchen sink, almost slipping on your blood. he doesn’t let anything out at first, just gags and dry heaves. then his eyes sting and what little contents he had sitting in his stomach are released. this time he really does vomit. 

the executive's breathing is shallow and labored. he looks down to where his hands are gripping the sink and realizes they’re now covered in your blood. he holds them up and his breathing quickens. his stomach churns and he shoves his gloves off. stumbling back as he stares at his trembling hands. it was too much. this was different from all of the gore and violence that comes with being in the port mafia. 

it was you, you were in danger and he wasn’t there. he couldn’t help you. he should have been there to help you. he should have kept you safe.

the only thing that brought chuuya back to reality was a high pitched mewl that came from further inside your apartment. chuuya would recognize that little noise anywhere. mochi. he whips around to find the small feline peeking out from under your kotatsu. the orange glow indicating that it was still on. chuuya lets out a sort of wet and shaky breath. 

the ginger gently approaches the clearly spooked creature. he’s never been particularly fond of cats but for some reason yours took a liking to him and he couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the torti. much like he couldn’t help the way he fell for her mother. chuuya reaches out a finger and mochi hesitantly sniffs it. her eyes light up at the gravity manipulator’s familiar scent and nudges his finger with her nose. 

after getting the clear go ahead from the cat, chuuya leans in and picks her up. the torti nuzzles into him and she was still shaking — or maybe that was chuuya. he reaches down and turns the flammable item off before straightening himself and greet the small feline.

“hey, sweet girl, you scared for your mama too?” chuuya’s voice cracks and he knows he needs to get to the hospital but he feels a little guilty just leaving mochi here in this disaster of an apartment.

chuuya sighs and let’s the torti down. he pulls out his phone and sends out a quick message to kouyou, asking her to send a cleaning crew and to pick up the small creature and take her back to the gravity manipulator’s place. her response is sent mere moments after his own. he doesn’t bother responding. 

the ginger strides over to the front door. he makes sure to close it behind him so mochi doesn’t get out then makes a beeline for the hospital.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽��᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

”i’m sorry, sir, i pulled up her chart but you aren’t on her contacts list. unfortunately i’m unable to give you any further information.” the patient services rep behind the counter holds firm on her statement by giving the man a tight lipped smile.

chuuya’s bicolored eyes narrow in frustration. he knows, he knows, that the lady is just doing her job but she’s doing it so infuriatingly well. he’s desperate to know your status and his sanity is slowly losing its grip on him, he’s slipping away with each obstacle. as if answering a silent plea, a tap on his shoulder catches his attention.

the executive swivels around and is met with the sweet old lady that lives next door to you. she was always checking in with you. making sure you had enough to eat and were getting enough rest. you once compared her to your own mother, who is no longer with you but even when she was it was nothing like what the older woman does for you. when you introduced the woman to your boyfriend she was awfully judgemental of him at first, she was making sure he was good enough for you. he didn’t think so but apparently your neighbor thought otherwise, seeing something in him he didn’t see himself.

her usual smile is replaced with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. she was frowning at chuuya, something akin to scolding. the ginger felt oddly accosted by the woman standing before him. she’s never looked at him with so much contempt before.

she folds her arms across her chest and she lets out a huff, “what are you doing here, boy?”

chuuya flinches at her tone like she had just physically slapped him in the face. the ability user quickly recovers though, realizing if she was here that would mean…

you had to be here and you had to be alive, if not your neighbor wouldn’t be standing here in front of him scolding him. no, instead her face would be filled with grief. this was a good thing. 

you were still alive.

“where is she? i need to see her.” chuuya lets out a breath he’s been subconsciously holding in. 

the old lady bristles at his blatant disregard for her own question. “and why should i tell you? y’know, she’s been miserable the last few days because of you? she wouldn’t tell me you were the reason but i could just tell. what did you do to her? is this all your fault?”

chuuya actually takes a step back at her words. he felt like the woman had just punched him in the gut. the older lady packs quite the punch for how small she is, not even standing at 5 feet tall. she’s right, of course, this was all chuuya’s fault. 

it was all his fault.

”i didn’t mean to… she was supposed to be safe. i didn’t tell her anything to keep her safe.” he was rambling now, desperation seeping into his voice. “i just need to see her. please, please, ma’am, you have to tell me.”

the old lady falters, her scowl dropping and a pang of pity spreads across her chest. it doesn’t last long though. the implication of chuuya’s response, meaning he did have something to do with the fact you were in emergency surgery and would be in there for a few more hours.

you’d been rushed to the hospital. thanks to your neighbors, you assailants were scared off by the ambulance and police they called. after the first gunshot went off they were quick to make the call. 

you were brought in with a plethora of injuries. blunt force trauma to the head, 3 gunshot wounds (2 of which were still lodged inside of you), and several lacerations littering your entire body. all of which resulted in severe blood loss and unfortunately for you, since you weren’t the only one to sustain these kinds of injuries, the hospital was on a low supply of blood by the time you came in. 

the old woman is winding up to scold chuuya some more but she’s interrupted by a nurse walking up to her. the woman in scrubs looks exhausted, she must have been in the operating room with you. the nurse also looked worried, she must be a close coworker. 

“nakamura-sama? the surgeon wanted to give you an update…” the nurse’s eyes trail over to chuuya and her demeanor goes from concern to nervous, she nods at chuuya quickly, “please excuse us… nakahara-san…”

oh. she knew who he was. had she been one of your coworkers that he knew? chuuya’s guilt grows as he thinks he should remember who this woman is. this was all so frustrating. no one would tell him anything even if they knew who he was. the executive desperately wants to argue, to stand his ground and find out what was going on.

something occurs to him in that very moment. is this how you felt that day? when chuuya wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t tell you anything. shutting himself off. this was some sick and twisted karma. the universe was laughing in the ginger’s face and he only has himself to blame for it. 

a man’s voice speaks up, “the boy can stay. now why don’t you tell my wife and i how our dear granddaughter is doing?”

the nurse hesitates, looking to the older woman for guidance. mrs. nakamura squints at her husband for an uncomfortably long moment. however, the older man doesn’t seem bothered at all, he must be used to this type of scrutinizing glare from his wife. if chuuya wasn’t so distracted by your status he would be able to acknowledge that he wants that. he wants a future with you and he may be willing to give anything up for that.

mrs. nakamura clicks her tongue. “fine. the boy can stay.”

the nurse eyes chuuya for another moment before explaining your situation. she explains the injuries you sustained. that you’re still in surgery and probably would be for at least a couple more hours. you were doing surprisingly well, a fighter. of course you are. a warmth pools in the ginger’s chest. it was pride. 

“we have hit a small road block. due to the multiple victims being brought in… the blood supply is in the reserves. we have contacted other hospitals in the area and they’ve agreed to deliver us their extra supply. but it’s a process and it may take hours to receive any of it. do any of you know if you’re a match or a universal donor?” the nurse looks at the 3 of them hopefully, her gaze drifting to chuuya more than the other two.

chuuya freezes. he knows that he has type b blood, that’s not the problem. the problem is that he has no idea what your blood type is. he should know that, right? he’s sure you know his, sure you’re in the medical field but it’s common to know your partner's blood type. he should know this. 

he should know this. 

hanged, drawn and quartered. maybe a firing squad or even the guillotine. chuuya lists the ways he thinks he should be executed in his head. he’s had his head so far up his ass with trying to keep you in the dark about who he is that he hasn't even learned the most basic things about you. does he even know your favorite color? your favorite meal? your favorite song? 

this was the most criminal act he’s ever committed and that’s saying something considering the horrific things he’s done for the port mafia. this was bad. unforgivable even. this was all his fault and he couldn’t even tell the damn nurse if he was a match for you or not. 

what the fuck.

what the fuck?

what the fuck was wrong with him?

what does he even say? how does he tell the nurse and the old couple standing next to him that he has no idea if he’s a match for you? he supposes he can play it off. plainly state what his blood type is and leave it to the nurse to figure it out. maybe that could work. it would have to, he doesn’t have another choice. 

but before chuuya can even open his mouth the older man speaks up first. “i'm a universal donor, young lady. you can take some of my blood, i can’t possibly be using it all, i’m sure i have some to spare.”

the older man tries to lighten the situation as he chuckles at his own joke. his wife isn’t amused and even whacks him on his bicep with the back of her hand while clicking her tongue again. the nurse let’s out an uncomfortable laugh and looks to chuuya one last time. of course she would want to take a donation from a healthy young man. 

chuuya shakes his head and hopes to god he’s right when he says, “no, i’m- i’m not a match.”

”i see. mr. and mrs. nakamura, follow me please.”

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

your head feels light, like a morning fog had somehow managed to roll in and settle in your mind. everything was so numb and heavy, your entire body felt like lead. you wanted to keep sleeping. you wanted this annoying light behind your eyelids to go away. who the hell left the lights on?

did chuuya forget to turn them off again? why were they so bright? these weren’t your lights at home, they couldn’t be.

where were you? 

why did you feel like you got hit by a bus?

most importantly, where was chuuya?

…chuuya…

oh. 

you remember now. chuuya was an ass. he told you a sugar coated version of his truth. twisted who he was to fit your ideals even though you had never asked that of him. then he ignored you, refused to tell your anything and left you to the solitary confines of your apartment. and then…

your eyes fly open and you gasp for air. you were assaulted in your own home. someone had broken in and attacked you. they had guns and knives. you were shot. 

where were you?

did they take you? no, they were trying to kill you. you’re sure of that. if it hadn’t been for the sirens that scared them away, you’re sure they would have finished you off.

mochi. your poor mochi. she must have been terrified. oh god, they wouldn’t have…she hid right? she was safely under the kotatsu. she had to be unharmed physically. she had to be. you couldn’t be here right now, wherever you were. you had to get home and make sure she was okay.

distantly you hear this annoyingly incessant beeping and… someone's voice? what is it saying? are they speaking to you? your name. they’re calling for you but- 

who is it?

no. it wasn’t anything intelligible, it was screaming. it was your screaming. you were screaming. why were you screaming? 

a wave of fatigue crashes down on you, drowning you in darkness as you sink back into the depths of slumber.

the next time you wake up, you’re less confused. whatever anesthesia you were previously under obviously had worn off by now. the fog was certainly lifted and you were thinking much clearly now.

you haven’t opened your eyes yet but just by hearing the beeps coming from the monitors next to your bedside, you could piece together you are in the hospital and therefore you are safe. more importantly you’re alive. you try to bring your hand up to rub at your eyes but there’s a weight holding it down.

your brows furrow at the restriction. you stir only slightly, any movement you made right now was agonizing. you let out a grunt as a shooting pain courses through the entirety of your body. this wasn’t good, something like this was going to take a lot of time and physical therapy to recover from. 

how frustrating-

“are you awake?” his voice is gruff, filled with exhaustion but it was clear who was speaking to you.

you could pick out his voice from millions others. even worse, his voice never fails to soothe your soul. instantly your body relaxes from whatever tension it’s been managing to hold onto. traitor. you’re supposed to be upset with him. you should yell at him, kick him out. 

but… he stayed. he was here, he found you and stayed. how unfair. you’re tired, too tired to deny yourself the comfort he brings you. because despite everything, it’s still him. 

you think it will always be him.

so instead of crying or yelling or getting upset you simply give in. “yeah. i’m awake.”

you open your eyes, finally, to look at him. he looks like shit, it would be funny under any other circumstance. his hair is a mess, clearly he had been tug at it, nervously running his fingers through it. his usual under eye bag had bags. the dark circles a stark contrast against his porcelain complexion. 

if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one in the hospital bead, you’d think you two were here for him. after you examine him you look at his expression. it’s grim, he looks truly pathetic. you can only describe it as being akin to a wounded puppy. 

you let out a sigh but before you can even get another word out, he’s speaking. “i should have told you. i wasn’t thinking about you- i know i wasn’t but i convinced myself i was. i convinced myself that i was keeping you safe by not telling you but- i was a damn fool for that. this is all my-“

”chuuya, shut up.” this was so painful, you didn’t want to hear any of this. 

you are tired. you just want him to be there for you. you want him to comfort you. you just want your boyfriend. at this point you couldn’t care less about the bullshit he kept from you. at the end of the day it was his character you’ve fallen in love with and that was more than enough for you.

chuuya looks at you stunned. his words catch in his throat and he thinks he might actually cry. it’s been a while since he’s had the urge to cry like this. was this it? he almost lost you to death. now he was going to lose you in another way and he only had himself to blame. 

the ginger can’t even blame you for your decision. 

after all, this was all his fault.

“i don’t give a shit about who you are. tell me. don’t tell me. whatever. you found me and you’re here now. i just need you to be here. i-“ you choke on your words, you hadn’t realized but you’d started crying and it hurt. “i love you. i need you to not blame yourself for this because you need to be here for me and show me you can do this. please show me you can do this, i wont ask for anything-“

you can’t finish your thought. your lungs are constricted as you're held in his vice grip. you missed him. god, you missed him so much. his embrace is home. he’s your home and that’s terrifying. despite what you said you still have so much to learn about him. chuuya scares you but only because you feel so incredibly safe with him. 

you’ve never had that before and something tells you he’s never had that either. 

“i’m here. hell and back, i will always be here for you.” it wasn’t a direct admission but you don’t question it. this is the closest you’ll come to a declaration of love from chuuya for now and you’re okay with that. truthfully, you didn’t expect him to say anything.

you try your best to return the hold chuuya has on you. you get an arm around him loosely and rest your forehead on his shoulder. you’re still crying, like a baby. it would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. his hand is holding your head gingerly. it’s comforting and you manage to calm yourself down. you pull back, still sniffling but eyes no longer producing tears. 

your eyebrows furrow, something pressing returning to the forefront of your mind. “did you stop by my apartment? has anyone checked on mochi? is she okay?”

chuuya finally smiles for the first time in what feels like days — it might have actually been days since he last did. he pulls out his phone and produces a picture of the torti that kouyou had sent him. he hands the phone to you and you smile fondly as you let out a small puff of air, relief spreading throughout your chest.

“i asked kouyou to bring her to my apartment for the time being. i think she’s taken a liking to it.” 

you look at the picture then back up at chuuya, entirely unamused. “have you seen your apartment. i could fit like five of mine in it? of course she likes it there.”

something warm spreads across chuuya’s entire being. this scene is oddly familiar. reminiscent of the older couple from earlier. this was pure happiness, this is what it felt like. 

chuuya was going to make sure to cherish it deeply and keep it safe at all costs.

[lovequartz]

under wisteria blossoms

⊱ pairing: town doctor!wonwoo x reader

⊱ genre: small town, acquaintances to lovers, fluff & angst

⊱ warnings: historical inaccuracy, self-image and self-esteem issues, period-typical views (marriage/women)

⊱ word count: 7900+

⊱ tonight, i’ll send the glow of a firefly to somewhere near your window

⊱ notes: happy and somewhat relived to be able to share this, i think like aoybb this is something that i worked really hard on and tried my best with <3

The boy's skin feels warm and clammy underneath Wonwoo’s fingers. He’s glad the family called him when they did, thankfully the young boy’s condition had been better than he’d anticipated. He hangs his stethoscope back into its place over his shoulders and turns to the boy’s grandfather. 

“It’s a mild fever, he should be feeling better with a few doses of herbal tea and lots of rest,” Wonwoo pauses to pull the young boy’s shirt down and the sheet covering him, back up, “please don’t hesitate to call me if anything changes.” 

Your father walks the doctor to the door and bids him farewell with a firm handshake as well as a pat on the shoulder. As soon as the door shuts you move to change the washcloth resting on your nephew’s head.

“You could’ve greeted him properly rather than peek at him from the hallway,” your father teases. 

You shake your head as your hands busy themselves with wringing the washcloth. “He was so handsome,” you sigh, “I almost broke into a rash just staring at him.” You place the now cool fabric back into place across your nephew’s forehead, and press your moist hands against your cheeks in a futile effort to bring a chill to your warm face. Perhaps you’re the one with the fever now.

Your paths do not cross with the young and handsome doctor until sometime a week or two later. Your parents had insisted you bring him a small basket of persimmons on your morning delivery to thank him for Silas’s care, and your sister, Silas’s mother, had insisted that you bring your nephew with you.

So there you were, the pair of you, walking towards the town center to find Jeon Wonwoo’s office of practice. 

Silas squeezes your hand to get your attention and you glance toward him to let him know you’re listening. 

“Auntie,” he starts, “do you think I should become a doctor when I grow up?” 

You almost giggle but hold it in lest he thinks you’re laughing at him. His mother would probably run the streets in excitement if she’d just heard her son’s query. 

“Now why do I have a say in what you should be when you grow up? You can be whatever you want, I always tell you that.” 

His lips form a small pout before he replies; “You’re my best friend, of course you have a say.”

Tears try to fill your eyes before you will them away with a shake of your head. “Well as your best friend I say that you should be whatever makes you happy.” You tell him and lean down to quickly press a kiss to his cheek. “Now let’s hurry to Mister Jeon’s office so he can get his persimmons and you can go to afternoon classes.” 

The doctor’s office isn’t too hard to find, mostly due to the fact that there’s only one of them, and it’s fairly new to town.

As you and your nephew make your way to the entrance you notice the wisteria plants that span the awning. ‘They'll look lovely when they bloom in spring,’ you muse. 

The bell above the door chimes as the two of you enter and the young man sitting behind what you assume to be the reception desk nods in greeting. 

“Do you have an appointment?” He asks once you are closer to the desk. 

“Actually, I’m here with a delivery," you say, shyly holding up the basket, "and payment for Dr. Jeon's house visit." 

"Of course," he stands to receive the basket from you and sets it on the floor beside his chair. You watch him smooth down his dress shirt as he returns to his seat. The man then pulls open a drawer at his side and retrieves a medium sized journal, setting it in front of him and wetting his index finger to flip through its pages. 

"May I know the date the visit took place? As well as the patient's last name and address?"

You provide him with the information and watch as he skims through the cursive written on the journal's pages. 

As you converse with the man about payment you can't help but be thankful about how well behaved Silas is as you do. Although it might have been due to his fascination with the fish in a tank that sat in the waiting area, tucked next to some chairs and a table with a few newspapers, you're no less grateful. 

The two of you leave the office shortly after, your nephew a bit disappointed in not seeing Dr. Jeon, the man who has become the current subject of his admiration. 

"I'm sure we'll see him sometime soon," you say, trying to lift the boy's spirits, "it's a small town after all. Now, run along to class. Your mother will have my head if you're late again." 

Silas bids you farewell with a hug and you watch him jog down the road towards the schoolhouse, his bag swinging behind him. Unbeknownst to you that the doctor you'd been speaking about was watching it all from not too far away. 

Wonwoo is just shy of exhausted as he enters his practice. Removing his hat and tweed coat, holding onto them to hang them up in his office. 

Seungkwan stands from his chair to greet him but before he can utter a word Wonwoo lets out an almost comical sigh. 

"Please tell me I'm done with house visits for the day, I don't think I can handle another matriarch trying to convince me to marry their daughter." 

"You'll be happy to note that all the patients left today are mostly general check-ups." Seungkwan replies with a look of amusement. "Oh and before I forget the daughter of the persimmon farm came by with a basket for you and also took care of their bill for the visit two weeks ago," he continues. 

"I thought I caught a glimpse of her outside. Thank you, Seungkwan, I'll be in my office if you need me." 

Wonwoo closes his office door behind him as he enters, hanging up his hat and jacket on the coat rack to his immediate left. The basket of persimmons sits in the middle of his desk, covered with a cloth that had to have been hand-sewn. It's cream colored with a bouquet of embroidered flowers in the corner, beautiful work. It's a shame he can't enjoy the sweet fruit that lies beneath, work comes first. 

The bookstore's wood stairs creak as you ascend and in turn the bell hanging above the door chimes as you enter. Delight flashes across your face as you lock eyes with the girl who sits behind the counter. She returns your joy earnestly with a small smile and a wave of her hand. 

"You seem to be awfully chipper this afternoon." Jisun notes as you lean against the counter. 

"Maybe because I have it all to myself," You reply, with a smile. 

"I thought you had deliveries to do today?" She asks, confused. 

"Well, I did have one delivery today, to Dr. Jeon's office. My father said if I made that delivery and sent Silas off to classes I could take the afternoon off. I might have to do some this evening though."

At the mention of the doctor's name your friend gives you a coy look, which you ignore. 

Jisun and you fall into easy conversation between the calm buzz of the bookstore and her helping whatever customer needs it. You move to sit beside her behind the counter, to free up space. She tells you all about the planning being done by her mother for her upcoming wedding. Her engagement to the eldest son of the town's pottering family, Kim Doyoung, happened sometime this past winter. Jisun was over the moon when he had asked for her hand; you remember her crush on him from your school days. He was set to take over the family business in two to three years due to his father's declining health. 

"I'm thinking late summer or next autumn, because of the weather. My mother wants it to happen as early as possible, but Doyoung and I are okay with waiting a bit longer. His mother is fine with whatever I decide, she's truly wonderful." 

"I'm sure everything will work out. I just can't wait to atten– your response is cut off by the bell above the door chiming to announce a customer, your and Jisun's eyes snapping to the door. 

To your utter horror, Jeon Wonwoo enters the bookstore. 

You duck behind the counter quickly, praying he hasn't seen you yet and clutching your headscarf so it obscures your face better. 

Jisun gives you a confused look but you wordlessly plead for her to act normal, breathing a sigh of relief when she turns to greet the doctor. 

"Welcome, Dr. Jeon! I wasn't expecting you today."

You're glad Jisun is a better actress than she seems. 

Wonwoo returns her greeting and asks about the store. To which Jisun replies; "It's been fine, not too busy and not too slow." 

"How's Doyoung's father? I understand he's been taking his medicine diligently, but I haven't got around to seeing him yet as I was in the office all afternoon." 

She offers the doctor a smile, "He's doing much better, thankfully. We're all really grateful to you, Dr. Jeon." 

"Please, call me Wonwoo, I prefer to be 'Dr. Jeon' during work hours." 

Jisun smiles, "Of course."

Your squatting position soon becomes uncomfortable but you'd rather die than show yourself now, so you continue to listen to the two converse. 

"And the wedding? I know you've been planning." 

"Well, nothing is set in stone yet, but Doyoung and I are thinking perhaps late summer or even early autumn. Fret not, you and Seungkwan absolutely have a place on the guest list." 

"Looking forward to it then. Sorry to take up so much time with small talk, your father has a medical textbook saved for me. I told him I would be by this morning but I was a bit too busy." 

"I see, it's likely in his study then. I'll be just a minute!" She replies before turning around to the back of the bookstore, shooting you a wary glance before she disappears. 

You hear Wonwoo hum quietly to himself as he waits, and you silently pray for Jisun to make haste. Your legs are burning, not only from the weight of your body but also mostly due to the weight of your deceit. No matter, you cannot possibly let Jeon Wonwoo see you. 

"Here it is!" Jisun announces cheerfully as she returns, holding up the thick book with two hands and a sense of pride. 

"Thank you, Jisun. How much do I owe?" 

Jisun calculates the total along with a hefty discount sparing no room for argument, before wrapping the book up and handing it to the doctor. 

"You take care now Wonwoo! I'm sure I'll see you soon." Jisun says as she bids him farewell. 

You breathe a sigh of relief at the bell chiming, and the sound of the door closing. Grabbing onto the counter you hoist yourself back to standing much to the torment of your legs. 

"What was that about?" Jisun asks with a confused look as you wince and massage your knees. 

You open your mouth to respond but Jisun continues; "Don't you dare say 'nothing'." 

"I don't want him to see me." You admit, looking at your feet. 

"Why not?" She seems incredulous at your confession, "Is it because of your scar?" 

Your hand instinctively reaches to touch the long scar that runs through your left eye and down your cheek. The scar that "marred" you, the one that made people look twice, the only thing that prevents you from finding love. 

You sigh before giving Jisun a hollow smile, "I have to fetch Silas soon. I'll tell you more later." 

And with that you wave to Jisun and make your exit. 

The reminder of your scar brings awful memories back to the surface of your mind, and they are all you can think about as you walk to the schoolhouse.

Early Summer (Two Years Prior)

"Darling, is your sister ready? The Baes will be here any moment!" 

Your sister hurriedly pulls the curlers from your hair, and runs a brush through them. "Give us forty seconds Mama!" She looks you over in the mirror before giving you a reassuring smile, rushing to pick up the discarded curlers. 

"You look beautiful! Now go see Mama, quickly!" 

You meet your mother in the kitchen and she gives you a once over before kissing your cheek. "My lovely girl." 

Your mother instructs you on when to join them at the table after the Baes arrive and to bring the persimmons she's already cut with you. Figuring you still have time, you move to your sister's room where your nephew is playing. 

"Hi Silas." You say softly as you find a seat next to the boy. 

"Hi Auntie, what happened to your special meeting?" He asks with a tilt of his head. 

"The special people aren't here yet so I came to say hi one more time." You reply, pushing his hair out of his face, it was getting so long. 

You and your nephew chat for a bit more until the commotion from the front of the house draws away your attention; the Baes have arrived. 

The Baes were a modest family, a mom, a dad and two children, one boy and one girl. They owned the town jewelers, and were surprisingly well known. Bae Giwoong, the head of the family, was skilled with his hands, creating beautiful pieces that complimented anyone. Paired with a wife that had vast knowledge on jewels and precious stones, they had done quite well for themselves.

Hyunsik, the son, had come in earnest with his family to potentially ask for your hand. You were quite nervous, but seeing as your sister had married almost four years prior and had Silas, it was only natural that you were thinking about marriage as well. 

The meeting was dragging on. You had presented the persimmons just as your mother had instructed, before taking your seat at her side, across from Hyunsik who you offered a polite but reserved smile. He did not return it, only glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the conversation between your father and his. 

Soon, the chatter dwindled and the Baes announced their leave. Your father convinced Mr. Bae to have a cigar with him just outside the house before they departed. You busied yourself with clearing the table of the used forks and now empty cups of tea your mother had prepared.

After your tidying, you swiftly move through the house to the window at the front of it, intent on eavesdropping. 

Peering out you see the son and father chatting amongst themselves, your father probably in his study to fetch the cigar he promised Mr. Bae. Leaning closer to the ledge you're able to hear the two as they converse. 

"They're a good family, what do you think of her?" Mr. Bae asks. 

"They seem to be," Hyunsik agrees, "She's adequate, I suppose. If only she didn't have that unsightly scar," he continues. 

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words, as your hand unconsciously reaches to the scar. 

His father mulls over his words with a hum before replying; "You'd have to keep her under lock and key, the poor girl's mangled." 

The dread in your stomach hardens and you want nothing more than to stop hearing these harsh words, but you are frozen in place. 

Hyunsik nods in agreement, "It's really a shame. I'd be able to overlook it if it were anywhere else, I just can't imagine waking up to that face every morning."

You feel the tears before you register that you're crying, and the sensation is enough to knock you back to consciousness. You stand hurriedly and make your way to your room before anyone can see you in this pathetic state. 

 You pretend. In the day you are just yourself, getting errands done and living day to day. You pretend to agree, when your mother tells you that Bae Hyunsik would not be asking for your hand due to the fact that he believes you two wouldn't be compatible. At night you are inconsolable, crying into your pillow until your tears eventually put you to sleep. 

Silas senses a shift in your mood, but as a three year old he only does what he can. Seeking attention whenever you're sitting idle, laying his head on your lap while you stroke his hair. His little hands playing with your free one. 

Eventually, you learn to move on. As does Hyunsik when he marries the eldest daughter of Lee's dairy farm. 

His words, however, will stay with you forever. 

Drawn out of your memories by the clanging of the schoolhouse bell you quicken your pace, keeping eyes out for your nephew. He appears within a few moments, his own eyes searching for you. You wave to him when he finally finds you. 

"How were classes?" You ask as the boy bounds up to you, reaching to smooth his unruly hair. 

"Good!” He chirps, before launching into detail about his afternoon. Keeping the two of you entertained as you follow the road home. 

The days that follow glide by until eventually they all bleed into a week, a week since you’ve seen the young doctor. Your deliveries go as well as can be expected, though they have been slowing down, and your father is busy preparing the year’s saplings. Silas has gone off to visit his paternal grandparents who live a few towns away, your sister going along despite her relationship of apathy with her in-laws. She did say something about Henry’s younger brother finishing his woodworking apprenticeship so she was expected to be present. 

You find yourself bored without your small friend but find time to chat with Jisun every now and again. Miraculously you haven’t run into Wonwoo at all, though you’ve caught glimpses from afar and he has not gotten any less handsome. 

At dusk your mother finds you with a basket in her hands. 

"Did I forget a delivery?" You question eyes falling to the vermillion fruit. 

"No dear, your father is out with the trees still and it slipped my mind that I had promised Mrs. Lee these. You know her youngest just got engaged," She explains. 

"Ah right I had forgotten. I'll take care of it," you reply, taking the basket from your mother's hands and pressing a reassuring kiss to her cheek. 

The walk to the Lee home is not long, but it is closer to the town than to your own home. You greet the few townspeople you come across on the way, offering them small smiles and polite nods. 

The greetings have you in a good mood so you have a little more pep in your step as you bound up the Lee family's porch, curling your fingers around the knocker when you make it to the door. 

"Coming!" You hear a girlish voice say, followed by the sounds of the door unlocking. 

With a slight tug of the door inwards you come face to face with Lee Daeun, the eldest Lee sister, one hand laid on the wood while the other cradles her very pregnant stomach. The polite smile on her face slips when her eyes flash with recognition. 

"I had assumed your mother would be dropping by, not…..you." 

You offer a shrug, "Mother sent me instead, sorry to disappoint." You reply jokingly, trying to ease the tension. 

Daeun doesn't respond right away, choosing to study you for a few moments. The silence becomes awkward quickly so you try your best to remedy it. 

"Congratulations to your sister, what a joyous occasion for her. And to yourself, I didn't know you were with child." You say with a warm smile, probably the most genuine thing the two of you had exchanged thus far. 

You hold out the basket to her, which she takes sliding it up her arm so it rests in the crook of her elbow.

"Yes, well, our family is quite satisfied with her fiancé. He's the son of an artisan, and they live a few towns eastward." Both her hands now rest on her stomach, "As for this one, it's only been a few months. Hyunsik is over the moon, and Momma insists on keeping me inside for the time being, so I don't get out much." Daeun's eyes seize you once more before she continues; "And yourself? I know your family has been searching for suitors, any success?" 

She may as well have doused you in cold water with the way her tone becomes icy. 

"Unfortunately not. I'm not too worried though, I know finding a suitable bachelor can take some time and I'm nothing if not patient." 

A scoff escapes her at your reply. "Worried? I feel you should be rather embarrassed. My youngest sister, a girl who we both watched play with mud when we were all children, is now engaged. Meanwhile you continue to age with no partner to call yours, as well as toting around your poor nephew pretending he's your own. I think it's time you face reality, nobody wants a scarred wife no matter how pretty she is." 

You are stunned into silence, fists clenched and nails biting into the skin of your palms. Every cell in your body fighting the urge to cry at the venom Daeun had spat at you for seemingly no reason at all. 

"Give your parents our family's thanks." Is the last thing she says before shutting the door in your face. 

You stare at the door for a few moments, tears starting to blur your vision, before you turn and hurry away from the Lee's home. 

Hot tears are blurring your vision as you head in the direction opposite your house. You want to find somewhere quiet to cry your eyes out before heading back to your residence and pretending everything is fine and dandy. 

Reaching closer to town, you stumble across the fountain just behind the main street, tucked between a few trees. A veranda shielding it from the setting sun with vines of wisteria weaved through its wood. The flowers are nowhere in sight as their blooming season is still a ways off. You, however, are too busy crying to care much about wisteria.

Shakily you manage to sit at the fountain's edge before your body is wracked with your sobs. Fingers fumble to pull the knot of your scarf resting against your chin loose, and once the fabric comes free you bury your face in it, your tears never once stopping. 

You don't know how long you sit there crying, removing your face from your tear stained head scarf every so often to breathe. 

A soft voice is the thing that finally brings you back to reality, and there before you with worry etched into his wrinkled brow is Jeon Wonwoo. 

Your mind blanks at the sight of him, and it feels as if someone has stuffed cotton in your ears as Wonwoo's lips move but you cannot hear a word he utters. His concerned frown deepens as he gets no response from you, leaning closer. It's as if all the blood in your body rushes to your head and you feel yourself falling backwards as if someone had grabbed onto the back of your dress and yanked. 

Wonwoo cries in surprise as he watches you fall towards the water, arms reaching out to grab you. The sound kicks your brain into gear, it's too late to stop your descent but you throw your hands back to catch yourself. A loud splash echoes through the small area before you are engulfed in the sensation of cold water drenching your skin and clothes. Wonwoo as he lunged to grab you had also met with the fountain water, his hands and forearms submerged, and his body leaning over top of yours. 

Silence buzzes between the two of you as the only thing you can do is stare at each other. It's only then do you truly realize the situation that you've found yourself in. Wonwoo's face is mere inches from your own and the only thing you can think is how much more handsome he looks up close. His strong jaw, sharp nose, and the flecks of honey that swim in the brown of his irises. 

You notice him studying your own face, and as his eyes drift over to the left you remember why you were crying in the first place. Your hand snaps up to cover your scar and this is what seems to break the trance between you and the doctor. Wonwoo can feel the blood rushing to his ears as he scrambles back to his feet, bowing his head and offering apology after apology.

 When you don't respond his eyes meet yours, and he notices you have not made any attempt to remove yourself from the fountain. Your green dress is bunched up over your knees, the fabric now dark due to the water, and your patterned head scarf still gripped in hand. 

Wonwoo's face still feels like it has been set ablaze but he offers you both of his hands, "May I?" 

You nod shakily before he leans over and your hands reach up to grasp his own. He pulls you firmly, but not yanking, and even lets one of your hands go to loop an arm around your waist for a more secure hold. 

You notice how firm his body feels against yours and how much taller he is than you'd thought now that you're practically pressed together. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

Wonwoo slowly removes his arm from your waist and his hand from yours, taking half a step back to give you some (much needed) space. 

"Are you alright? I feel awful about startling you, but I heard the crying and wanted to know if you were okay." 

"I'm fine," you reply, voice small, "my apologies for getting you wet." 

The doctor's lips twitch and you feel perhaps he wants to laugh at you. You wouldn't fault him, you are soaked to the bone, rivulets of water running down your legs beneath your dress. 

"Water under the bridge." 

You almost giggle at that, but duck your head down and compose yourself quickly. 

Wonwoo continues; "Would you mind walking with me to my practice? I live right above it, and would feel better if I could get you into something dry before escorting you home. I know you live a bit out of town." 

Before you can respond Wonwoo must have realized how he sounded. 

"I know because you left me the persimmons and I treated the young boy, though I didn't see you there. I have seen you around town with him though, just briefly of course, completely coincidentally. I don't go out of my way to catch a glimpse of you here and there. I promise, I'm not a strange person." Wonwoo rambles in an attempt to clear the air, though you're not sure it needed clearing in the first place. 

The space above Wonwoo’s office is quaint, what it lacks in size it makes up for in homey-ness. Books piled neatly from where they spill out of the bookshelf, a warm armchair nestled right beside it. A dining table with one chair, both a dark cherrywood, sits against the wall adjacent to the small kitchenette. There’s a small wood-burning stove that looks well loved. Everything in the space feels very Wonwoo to you. 

Speaking of, you can hear him rustling through the drawers in the other room. He ushered you in despite your protests, not wanting to drip all over his home. Once inside he disappeared for a moment, reappearing with a towel clutched in his hand, and then layed it across the floor in front of you. “Since you feel so strongly about not getting my floor wet,” he’d said, before disappearing once more. 

You fiddle with your fingers, still drenched to the bone, as your clothes drip drip drip onto the towel. 

Finally, Wonwoo exits the room, pulling the door closed behind him with a bundle of clothes tucked safely in his other arm. 

“I’m sure they won’t fit like a glove, but you’re likely grateful for dry clothes either way.” His tone is a bit teasing, and you can only nod in response with your ears feeling hot. 

“The bathroom is just opposite of my room,” He says, passing over the clothes to your hands, “take your time. It’s just about dark so I’ll be sure to walk you home. You can call your parents, or husband, when you’re dressed. I have a phone.” He continues. 

The ‘husband’ comment makes you bristle but you decide to clear the air with Wonwoo at a later time, desperately wanting to get out of this wet dress.

“Thank you,” you reply softly, and turn to scurry into the safety of the bathroom. 

You get dressed quickly, not bothering with your undergarments. You’d rather have wet undergarments than be bare underneath clothes that don’t even belong to you, the thought flushes your whole body with heat. 

Wonwoo directs you to the phone, it rests on a side table next to the armchair,  and you dial your house phone with urgency, despite the slowness of the crank dial. The line rings for a few moments, and as you hear the other line click “Mother?” tumbles from your lips. 

Your mother says your name with surprise, “Darling where are you? Are you still at the Lees’?” 

“No, something happened on the way home. But I’m with Doctor Jeon, you know Doctor Jeon? He treated Silas when he had that god-awful fever. Well, he helped me out, so I’m fine. He insisted I call you before he accompanied me home, so I was just letting you know Momma.” 

You listen to your mother talk for a bit more before you bid her goodbye, her voice ringing out a “Be safe on your way home!” before you set the receiver down. 

“Thank you for letting me use your phone, and for the clothes,” you say to Wonwoo, who sits across the room from you in that dining table chair. 

“Of course,” he replies, “now let's get you home.” 

The small talk as the two of you walk the path to your family home is pleasant enough. You find that Wonwoo has somewhat of an eclectic sense of humor, and he’s quite witty despite the seriousness of his profession. In no time your home is visible, and you feel a tinge of disappointment at its sight. 

“Well, I suppose this is where we part,” Wonwoo sighs as the two of you stand in front of the gate of your home. 

“I suppose,” you echo.

A long pause ebbs between you both as you gaze at each other.

Suddenly you feel a jolt go through you as you have a realization. You’d forgotten your dress on the floor of his bathroom. 

“My dress,” you say bashfully, “I left it in your bathroom.” 

“That’s okay, I’ll get it washed for you. You can come by the office in the next few days, I’ll have it nice and clean.” He assures you with a soft smile. 

“Thank you,” you reply. 

Before you can turn to leave Wonwoo continues; “I haven’t seen your boy around, Silas was it? How’s he fairing these days?” 

You offer the doctor a tight lipped smile, “His father took him to visit family a few towns over.” You think you have to clear this misunderstanding up before it's too late. 

“Also, he’s not mine. Silas, I mean, he’s my sister’s son. I’m not married, I’ve never been.” 

“I see,” Wonwoo replies, and you feel you may have offended him somehow at his tone but he continues; “That’s good then, I felt I may have been acting inappropriately towards you. Thinking you were married and all.” 

“I didn’t think you were acting inappropriately at all.” 

“That brings me relief. Then you won’t think me telling you how lovely I think you look would be inappropriate either? Considering you’re unmarried.” 

You feel your ears are deceiving you, because surely Jeon Wonwoo didn’t just say he thinks you look lovely. But as you gaze at his face, a handsome smirk paints his lips, perhaps your ears work just fine. 

It seems your mother has never had a more perfect sense of timing as she swings the front door open shouting your name. 

You tear your gaze away from Wonwoo to call back to her; “I’m here! No need to shout.” 

You hear her footsteps as she makes her way to the gate, shooting Wonwoo an apologetic glance. He offers a soft smile in response. 

It isn’t long before you hear the rattling of the gate lock and your mother’s voice again “Honey, what are you doing loitering around outside…“ Her words trail off as she takes in Wonwoo standing across from you. Her gaze flits between the two of you, pausing at your state of dress; a linen shirt and black trousers that were a few sizes too big. Despite her obvious shock your mother paints on a lovely smile and bows her head in greeting to the doctor. 

“Oh my, Doctor Jeon, I had forgotten you’d be accompanying her home! Thank you for helping my daughter out, you’re quite the gentleman.” 

You shoot your mother an incredulous look, not wanting her to embarrass you further than you yourself already have. She ignores you, of course. 

Wonwoo bows his head with a smile, “Not at all. It was my pleasure, your daughter has quite the interesting personality.” 

“Doesn’t she? We have no idea where she gets it from, there’s no one like her in the family.” 

You assume your mother is trying to rope Wonwoo into having something to eat by the glint in her eye so you jump in. 

“I’m sure Wonwoo would like to head home, Momma. He has a bit of a walk back into town.” 

“Do you?” She turns to him, “We’d hate to keep you.” 

“I have some time,” Wonwoo assures her, “there’s no one waiting for me at home.” 

You can’t help but feel betrayed by Wonwoo’s choice to indulge your mother. 

“Really? Have you eaten? Let me pack some food for you to take!” 

And before any of you can say anything, your mother has Wonwoo’s wrist in her grip gently leading him through the front gate and to your house. 

You run a hand down your face before following. 

Your mother leads Wonwoo through the house, through the living room, to have him sit on the ledge just outside the living room doors that open up to the garden. 

“Now you wait right here,” your mother tells him, “I’ll have my daughter fetch you a drink while I pack up something for you!” 

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replies. 

She eyes you meaningfully before grabbing your arm to drag you to the kitchen. 

“There’s some cold yuzu tea in the fridge, take him a glass please.” She sets a medium sized cup onto a saucer, and you recognize it as a part of the china set your family typically uses for important guests. It’s white with some foliage painted on the side. 

You follow your mother’s command as she busies herself with packing side dishes, reaching past her into the fridge where the pot of yuzu tea sits. 

After pouring a cup you garnish it with a rosemary sprig you pluck from the plant sitting on the kitchen’s windowsill. You're careful not to spill as you make your way to where Wonwoo waits, your pace slow. 

He gives you a kind smile as you set the cup and saucer in front of him, thanking you in a soft voice. 

“Your mother made this?” He asks, after having a sip. The tea is quite refreshing, and it's probably one of the best yuzu teas he’s ever had. 

You shake your head. “I made the pot this time, usually whoever finds it running low makes it, between me and her of course. My older sister can’t brew tea to save her life, she takes after father.” 

“Well, it’s delicious. I suppose you’re quite the master when it comes to brewing tea.” 

You shake your head again, bashfully. You feel small under Wonwoo's fond gaze, not sure what is the appropriate way to act when he's showing you such kindness. The two of you sit in comfortable silence, with Wonwoo sipping at his tea and you trying to discreetly study his face. You know you've thought this before but he really is quite handsome. 

"The garden is beautiful, I don't think I've seen one built in the middle of a home like this before." 

"My great-grandfather built this house," you reply, moving so your body is parallel with Wonwoo's, both of you facing the open space. "He traveled a bit with my great-grandmother and when they built this house they took inspiration from some of the homes they stayed in on their travels." 

"I see." He replies, setting his now empty cup down, his knuckles brushing the side of your hand as he does so. 

You pull your hand away, as if burned, and heat flushes your body. 

Wonwoo doesn't comment on this thankfully but you think you see the edge of his lips twitch. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Your mother's voice rings out. Walking to where you and Wonwoo sit with the containers of food wrapped up in an orange cloth. She sets it between you and Wonwoo as she kneels.

"I don't know what you like, so I added a bit of everything! I snuck in a couple of persimmons as well, we have more than enough." 

"Thank you kindly," Wonwoo says sweetly, giving your mother a smile. 

"It's no trouble dear! And don't worry about the containers, I'll have this one fetch them from you whenever." She says, motioning to you. 

"Well, thank you again. I should be getting on my way now, I've overstayed my welcome it seems." 

"Oh not at all!" Your mother pats his arm, "We're always happy to have you Doctor Jeon. My daughter will see you out, don't be a stranger now!" 

Wonwoo gathers the cloth in his fist, and the cup and saucer in his free hand. You take the china, passing it to your mother before leading Wonwoo back towards the entrance of your home. 

Soon you are in the exact same setting you were when you had arrived; you and Wonwoo standing across from each other at the gate. 

"My apologies for my mother, she's the type to flit around even if you tell her to sit still." 

"Not at all. She's quite the character, but I can tell she's also immensely kind. I now know where you get it from." The smile on Wonwoo's lips is teasing and you think about how nice it is to have someone compliment you. 

After a few more short moments of small talk you urge the doctor to be on his way. The sun had already sunk low behind the horizon and the path back to town settled in darkness. You hurry to grab him a lantern, just to help him light his way home, as the roads would absolutely be dark until about halfway into town. 

Wonwoo promises to make it home safely, and he watches you enter your house before turning and making his way to his own. 

Later that night you lay awake, palm pressed to your racing heart, replaying the moment Wonwoo called you lovely over and over again in your mind.

The next few days are spent with you staying busy, too busy even to go see Wonwoo for your dress. Pruning the persimmon trees and overall maintenance of the farm are the allotted tasks that fall to you. The workload is a bit heavy due to your sister and her family’s absence. 

You’ve taken to sleeping in Wonwoo’s linen shirt, his pants have been washed and folded, but perhaps selfishly, you can't bring yourself to part from his shirt. It smells like him, petrichor with a light musk and the hint of something floral. It's intoxicating and the scent lulls you to sleep better than any tea you’ve ever had. 

Sadly, you aren’t meant to hold on to the young doctor’s clothes forever. You have your mother wash the shirt, and find a bag to put Wonwoo’s clean clothes in so they can be returned to him. You intend to slip out quickly, but when your mother catches wind of your plans she rushes off to grab a few persimmons to send with you. 

“Please, he’ll be sick of persimmons at this rate,” you whine. 

She ignores your concern, slipping the wrapped fruits into your hand. “Nonsense! Nobody can be sick of persimmons,” she argues. 

Soon, you are on your way to the doctor’s office. Unfortunately, with the persimmons in tow. The walk to town is pleasant enough, and you get a sense of tranquility with nobody else on the path except for yourself and the occasional woodland creature that makes an appearance. 

You made a point to doll yourself up just a bit, wanting to leave Wonwoo with a better impression of yourself than last time. You don’t have high hopes, but perhaps just a hope that Wonwoo holds any feelings other than cordiality towards you. Your dress today is a dusty pink, and you’d found your sister’s rouge and applied a smidge to your cheeks and lips. 

The air is somewhat brisk, as it usually is in early fall, but the chill still makes you shiver slightly. Red and yellow tipped leaves sway in the crisp wind, it is undoubtedly autumn. Soon enough you are at the entrance of town, face burning with embarrassment as you catch a glance of the fountain, remembering the events that transpired there. 

Your pace quickens. 

As you come upon Wonwoo’s practice, you are surprised to see him waiting outside. Giving you a small smile and a wave when he notices you. 

“Good Morning,” he greets you with a honeyed voice.

“Morning,” is your soft reply, “do you always mill about outside this early?” 

This makes the doctor chuckle. “No, not usually. I saw you coming up the path from my window, so I figured it was only right that I came to greet you.” 

“Oh,” you try to fight the heat blooming on your cheeks, “I have your clothes, freshly laundered. Mother thought it pertinent to slip in a few persimmons even though I told her you’re probably sick of them by now.” 

The smile has not left his lips yet, and he reaches out to take the bag from your hand, fingers brushing against your own. “I could never be sick of persimmons,” he replies, “after all, everytime I have one I think of you.” 

The heat rushes back tenfold, you are beyond flustered and you think Wonwoo notices because of the way his lips quirk up. You feel your brain has been fried at just those few words and you struggle to form a reply.  Thankfully, Wonwoo takes pity on you, despite being the cause of your non-functioning state. 

“Your dress is upstairs,” he tells you, “I didn’t want it to get wrinkled so I hung it up as best I could. If you’d like, we could go upstairs and retrieve it or I can always bring it down to you.” 

“We can go upstairs,” your voice small as you reply, your heart fluttering shamelessly in your chest at the thought of being in Wonwoo’s cozy home once more.

The fluttering of your heart does not stop even as the two of you climb the steps.

You get a lovely sense of warmth when the two of you enter, and you look at the wood stove still kindling. Wonwoo guides you to sit in his armchair, disappearing to the area his kitchenette is. You watch him grab a resting teapot and pour whatever resides within it into a mug. The mug is then wordless placed in your hands, and you murmur a soft “thank you”. 

“Apple blackberry tea,” he explains, “I thought you might need some warming up from the chill.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” you reply softly, “thank you.”

A small smile twitches at Wonwoo’s lips as he watches you cradle the mug and bring it to your lips to taste the tea. “Your dress is in the other room, give me a moment.”

You nod, taking another slow sip of the delicious tea. Both fruits pair surprisingly well, and it seems to be the perfect blend for a crisp autumn day. 

Wonwoo returns, your dress folded meticulously and resting in his hands. Despite how well worn it is it looks almost brand new, testament to his care of it.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go to all the trouble!” You stand to take the dress from Wonwoo’s hand, fondness swimming in your chest.

The man just shakes his head, “It was no trouble. It's something that belongs to you so I wanted to make sure it returned to you in an adequate condition.” 

You press the garment to your chest, your eyes meeting his. You try to think of what to say to convey your gratitude but nothing seems good enough. 

It's almost as if Wonwoo turns bashful under your gaze as he rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t intend to keep you longer, I would accompany you back to your home but unfortunately I have a few patients to see this morning.”

You snap back to reality at this, “Oh! Don’t apologize please, you’ve done more than enough for me, Wonwoo. I can make my way home no problem. Thank you again, for everything.” You give him a nod, walking past him to the door. However, before you can turn the knob you feel a hand at the crook of your arm, pulling you gently to a halt. 

Glancing behind yourself, you see that Wonwoo has stopped you. An emotion you can’t quite place swims within his eyes, and it just adds to your confusion. 

“Wonwoo..?” You say slowly, when neither of you has spoken for a stretch of moments. 

He uses his delicate grip on you to turn your body so you two face each other once more, and the hand on your arm raises slowly to hold your cheek. Suddenly, his thumb is rubbing against your scar gently. He whispers your name and you feel as if you’ve been caught in a trance, you can’t speak, move, or think. All you can do is breathe and feel Wonwoo’s touch. 

His eyes trace the lines of your face, before they find yours. “From this moment onwards, I intend to court you. If you’ll have me.”

His words stun you, a moment of silence passing between the two of you before it is broken by your mouth, moving faster than your mind can. “Yes, I’ll have you. Of course I will,” You say breathily. 

A smile tugs on Wonwoo’s lips and then he is leaning down to brush his lips over your scar, his hand falling from your cheek and finding your own. 

⊱ notes: as always thank you for reading! it really was a pleasure to write this doctor wonu is very dear to me <3333

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + twelve

authors note: ya'll remember the theme song from wizards of waverly place? 'everything is not what it seems'? yeah....remember that.

also, don't cuss me out for the ending, pleassseeee.

shoutout to the lovely @fearlesschimera for helping me with the italian translations! ❤️

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: violence against women, scene of dv, slight fighting? language, angst, fluff, sexy time scene aka mild smut

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 10k (unhinged)

So, I remember when we were driving, driving in your car

Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk

City lights laid out before us

And your arm felt nice wrapped around my shoulder

And I, I had a feeling that I belonged

I, I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

Nina’s singing and subsequent light laughter is what tears away Solana’s focus from her artwork. Turning away from the paper on the dining room table, she angles her body in the chair, swinging her legs around as she watches her mom dance around the kitchen.

Nina’s voice is soft and melodic, a nice compliment to the singer whose name Solana can never remember despite this being one of her mom’s, if not thee, favorite song.

Without thinking twice about it, Solana climbs off the chair and runs up to hug her mom from the side.

Nina’s smile grows even more as she looks down at her only daughter. “Mija.”

Solana looks up, big eyes reflecting the same amount of love and adoration. She responds in her mom’s native language. A ‘secret’ little thing they do in times like this where her dad and brother are gone. Communicating in only a way they can understand. 

“I wanna dance with you, mommy!”

Nina’s laughter is similar to her singing and speaking voice. And it’s infectious too, Solana joining in as Nina playfully spins her around. “Then dance with me, mija.”

Solana doesn’t need to be told twice. And maybe it’s less dancing and more moving around in a way that represents the happiness both mother and daughter feel in this moment. A brief little thing, something that happens in small to medium doses infrequently. 

But when it does roll around, the both of them capture and hold onto it with all that they have. 

When the song finishes, Nina turns down the music system as she redirects Solana to her art. “Can I see what you made?”

It’s a question she already knows the answer to. Solana nodding furiously as she takes her hand and guides her over to the table. Pointing, Solana explains, “look, mommy, it’s you and me!”

Nina gasps quietly. Even at seven, her daughter seems to have a gift with the arts. Reading, writing, and drawing. It hurts her sometimes that she can’t feed it more. That she’s limited to so little resources when it comes to helping Solana better her craft. 

Nina lifts up Solana and sits down in the chair, her daughter on her lap. “It’s beautiful, mija. You’re so talented.”

The complement brightens Solana’s smile. “Just like you, mommy!” Solana lifts up the page, offering additional explanation. “See, that’s you and me at the Play—playa—”

Nina helps her out, “Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres?” 

Solana nods. “That!” 

A brief sweep of sadness overcomes her with memories of home. Memories of simpler, happier times. Her children still bring her a sense of fulfillment, but it’s often weighed down by the trauma of everything else. “Oh, I wish you could see the water, Sol. It’s so beautiful, so clear. It’s like heaven on earth.”

Solana looks up at her with all of her naivety and innocence. “We can go there one day, mommy, right? Just you and me?”

Her throat constricts at Solana’s question. Nina doesn’t have it in her to expose her young child to the ugly truth. “Of course, baby.” She brushes some of Solana’s hair back. “What about your brother?”

It’s not missed upon her how the mention of Wesley makes Solana’s smile dim. “He doesn’t like us….”

“Oh, baby…” Nina brings her hands to gently cradle Solana’s face. “He does. It’s just your father….your father tells him things about us that’s not true, but he does like us. He loves us just like I love you and him. I love you both so much.”

There’s not enough time in the world or ways that she can say it to truly exemplify just how much she means it. Even with Xavier doing everything he can to keep her away from her son, it doesn’t extinguish her love for him. 

If anything, it just makes it stronger. 

The sound of the garage doors lifting brings Nina back to her crushing reality, from her brief escapism. “He’s home.” Wide eyes dart to the kitchen as she realizes dinner is still about twenty minutes out from being ready. “Come, mija!” Nina jumps from the table and is quick to gather all of Solana’s artwork. She knows how this will play out, and she refuses to allow him to destroy Solana’s work the same way he often does her own. Reaching it to her, Nina hurriedly advises, “go to your bathroom, lock the door, and don’t come out until I come get you, okay?” Trembling hands reach Solana the CD player and headphones. “Don’t take these off, you hear me?”

Solana’s smile is completely gone, her eyes watering, “he’s gonna hurt you, isn’t he?”

Nina swallows back her sob. “‘Don’t worry about me, Solana. Just do as I say, okay?” The sound of the door to the garage being ripped open alerts her to just how pressed for time they are. With all of the urgency, she pleads, “go!”

And despite everything in her wanting her to stay, to help, to do whatever she can, Solana does as she’s told.

Rushing up the stairs, Solana doesn’t stop until she’s in the bathroom. She locks the door and falls on the floor, back up against it, eyes watering even more.

She moves as fast as she can to put her headphones on, but it’s not fast enough. She can’t make out specific words, but it’s not needed to know and hear her father’s angry yelling followed by the pained wails of her mom. Glass breaking, items being thrown, Xavier’s screams of unbridled fury.

That’s when the dam breaks, tears spilling out of her eyes as she hits play to sound out the noise that never really goes away, never really stops haunting her, from making her chest feel so full and heavy.

This….this is the soundtrack to her life. 

Solana isn’t unsure how long she sits there, working so hard to drown out the cries and screams of her best friend. Long enough to where she falls asleep only to be woken up by the same woman whose shouts of terror unintentionally and tragically lulled her to sleep.

The first thing Solana notices is the blood, followed by the puffy, blackened area under her right eye. Still, her mom is only focused on her, hand under her chin as she asks, “are you okay, mija?”

The tears return as Solana is face to face with the result of her father whose anger knows no bounds. “Mommy….”

“Don’t cry, baby.” Nina pulls Solana against her chest, braving the pain coursing through her body, particularly her ribs. “I’m—I’m okay.”

She hates lying to her daughter, feels almost sick with herself for gaslighting her. Solana is wise and perceptive. She knows that her mother is far from fine.

“What if—what if one day he hurts you real bad?”

Nina wasn’t expecting this question, wasn’t expecting her young daughter to ask something she herself has thought about from time to time. 

What happens when Xavier finally takes his beatings too far?

Shoving away those dark thoughts, Nina shows Solana her inner forearm. “What is this, Sol?”

Solana wipes at her eyes and focuses on the beautifully, dark inked hummingbird tattoo on her mom’s skin. “A Hummingbird.”

“That’s right.” Nina wipes at her tears. “And what did I tell you about Hummingbirds? Hmm? What do they mean to our people?”

Solana sniffles and explains in a quiet voice. “They’re messengers from the spirits in heaven.”

“Exactly, so that means even when people leave us in one form, they’re still here in another. Still here even if they look a little different.” Nina’s voice cracks a bit as she promises, “I’m always with you, Solana. No matter what.”

Emotion building back up, Solana thrusts herself against Nina and cries into her chest. “Why can’t we leave, mommy?” She looks up, full of confusion and fear. “Then he can’t hurt you anymore.” Nina swallows. “We can run away where he won’t find us!”

Nina has a hard time holding back her tears. A dream. That would be a dream. If she could somehow escape this hell, take her children from this nightmare. But, it's just that, a dream. Because this is the life they live. This is her reality. 

And there’s nothing that can change that.

Not without her putting her children’s lives at risk, because Xaver has made it abundantly clear in a variety of violent ways what will happen should she ever be “stupid” enough to think she could leave.

“Listen to me, Solana.” She wipes away the tears of her sweet child. “This…what your father does to me….it’s not love, and it’s not okay. I don’t want you to ever let a man treat you that way.” It feels almost bitter leaving her mouth, the amount of hypocrisy she feels at saying such a thing. If only she could practice what she preaches. “You are so special, and your heart is so big.” She places her hand over Solana’s chest. “This is your biggest gift, and you must always be careful who you share it with. Because yours is extra special.” She presses her lips against Solana’s forehead. “No matter what, never forget that life is a gift. You are a gift, Solana.” Her eyes shut, absorbing all the love and comfort. “My sol.”

________

Memories of much darker, sadder times have unintentionally become a motivating factor for Solana during training. She finds a sort of strength and fuel at reflecting on times from the past where she was bogged down with such fear. 

Now though, it’s not as much fear as something else that’s unfamiliar but not unwarranted.

Anger. 

It’s what helps and almost keeps her on her feet and in the game as she spars with Bayley, knife in the back of her shorts. It’s the first time she’s done as such, practiced training, practiced fighting, with that little thing that’s caused her so much pain throughout her life.

But now, she’s the one with the blade, with the ability to use it against someone else vs it being used against her. 

It’s a different feeling, still uncomfortable, but also empowering in a strange sort of way.

Naomi is on the side, calling out various tips and reminders as Solana is able to successfully avoid certain hits and attacks from Bayley. She knows her friend is still holding back a bit, but not nearly as much as she did in the beginning.

Solana slightly appreciates that.

She feels….she feels good almost knowing that the progress she’s made isn’t because it’s been given to her. It’s been earned.

And unbeknownst to her, there’s an audience observing the sparring, an audience that consists of none other than the twins, Nia, and her husband who watch from the balcony above.

Roman had a meeting with Nia earlier in the day, hence his presence at the Warehouse, but staying after to silently observe Solana while she trains wasn’t necessarily on the agenda. It just happened.

Much to the chagrin of Wise Man who once again tries to remind Roman of what he already knows. He clears his throat, nerves big and evident, “sir, I hate to interrupt, but we do have to meet with—-”

“I’m aware.”

Paul swallows, closing his eyes as he sends up a prayer, asking for mercy. “Of course, sir, but—but, if we don’t leave now—”

“The meeting will start whenever I arrive, and I’ll get there when I get there.” Roman’s dark, irritated gaze falls on his chief advisor. “Is that understood?”

Paul straightens, more than familiar with that look. The look that can be followed up with an act of violence. “Y—yes, my Tribal Chief.” 

With that shit straightened out, Roman easily falls back into the almost trance he’s in watching her. 

Updates with her progress from Naomi and Bayley have been one thing, but it’s another to actually see her in action. 

See the precision and speed in which she moves. She seems almost….in her element.

A far cry from the terrified mess she was when he first met her.

She’s coming into her own, and he loves to see that shit. 

But, it’s when Bayley lands a particularly harsh blow against Solana, one that has her holding onto her face that Roman steps forward. A fresh wave of anger comes over him at the fact that Bayley could be so stupid to hit her so hard. She should fucking know better. 

Who the fuck does she think she is to hit Solana?

He’s stopped, however, when Nia extends her arm across his big body, preventing him from checking on his wife. 

He turns toward her, and if looks could kill, she’d be dead. “Move.”

She rolls her eyes, unbothered, motioning for him to continue watching. “Wait.”

Roman has no fucking intentions on waiting. Not when Solana could be hurt. He’s going to tear Bayley a new one for that. Why the fuck would she hit her so hard?

But, it’s as he’s watching and sees Bayley move toward Solana to check on her, that he realizes why Nia may have stopped him from acting too prematurely.

Because Solana is suddenly no longer doubled over. She’s bringing her knee up to Bayley, forcing the other woman to double over from some level of pain. But Solana doesn’t stop. She instead uses her leg to swipe Bayley off her feet, sending her into the ground.

Solana pounces on top of her, forcing her on her stomach. Straddling her, a fist full of her hair as she yanks her head back and brings the knife up to her neck.

Roman smiles.

Around him, the twins start to make a whole scene.

“Oh shit, okay Soso! I see you girl!”

“Alright, sis! That’s how you do it!”

Roman watches as she drops the knife almost immediately but not before she smiles, emotional almost, while being cheered on by Naomi who runs over and hugs her from the side. Solana laughs as she stands up, Bayley also jumping up, joining in the celebration.

“You know, it’s not very often that I'm wrong, but I gotta admit.” Roman turns to Nia who also looks a level of impressed. “I was wrong about Princess.” Nia chuckles. “Girl’s got some fight in her after all.”

Roman doesn’t say anything, but that’s not out of disagreement.

Solana might be one of the strongest people he’s ever met.

And it has nothing to do with what he just witnessed.

Nia continues, announcing, “I think she’s ready to advance to the next level.”

Roman has his own definition of what that is, but he’s slightly curious about Nia’s take. “Which is?”

“She needs to start training with a man.”

He nods. They’re on the same page then. “I’ll talk with her about taking over—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?” Nia has always been outspoken, but there are some days he has to remind himself that she’s family. Because her smart ass mouth on anyone else would have them six feet under.

“She’s comfortable with you. It needs to be with someone she doesn’t know.”

And this time, Roman is the one shooting it down. “No.” To make Solana train and fight with a man, a stranger at that, seems like it would be triggering for her. In no way, shape, or form will he let that shit happen.

Nia, however, seems intent on just that. “Look, four months ago, I would agree with you, but look at what that girl just did. She grounded Bayley, Roman.” He looks away, running his hand over his face. “She’s come a long way, and to stop her now would only be a disservice. You’d be hindering her.” When he says nothing, mostly because he knows she has a point and he hates that, she continues. “And I’d say have Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum do it, but she seems to be comfortable with them too. For some reason.”

Jey finishes chewing his snack, most likely a creation by Solana, asking with all the obliviousness, “hey, what’d you say?”

Roman ignores him while Nia rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn bastard, Roman, but you’re not stupid.” He looks at her. “You know I’m right.” 

He turns away,  watching as Bayely and Naomi talk to Solana, clearly providing her additional instruction. He’s focused on Solana. She looks so….relaxed. So in her element. It’s such a far cry from the first time he met her.

She’s almost like an entirely different person. This causes him to sigh loudly. 

Nia is correct. He’d be hindering the growth that’s got her to where she is today.

And that’s something he could never forgive himself for.

“I’ll talk to her.”

________

Bayley: If ya’ll could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?

Solana is taking a brief break to check her phone, mainly for any texts from Roman, when Bayley sends her message in the group chat that the three of them share.

Naomi: Ooooh, Bora Bora! Heard it’s beautiful!

Bayley: Nice! I’d say the Maldives. 

Bayley: Solana?

It’s a good question that she doesn’t really have the answer for. 

Solana: Idk. I’ve…I’ve never been out of the country, so it’s hard to say.

Naomi: Seriously? Never traveled at all?

Solana: No. 

Bayley: So then there definitely has to be someplace! 

It takes a minute for her to really think about how to respond, because her initial instinct is to double down on her first answer. But, it’s when her memory from earlier in the day returns to the forefront of her mind that she finds herself being more open than she anticipated. 

Solana: Playa Norte, Isla Mujeres. It’s in Mexico. My mom always said the water was so beautiful. 

And that they would visit someday.

That never happened though.

It never happened because she was murdered before she could make the dream come true. 

An uncomfortable blanket of sadness comes over her, forcing Solana to put her phone down and resume her work, an effective distraction. 

She grabs a set of books that need to be restocked and makes her way over to the appropriate aise when she overhears low sniffles.

Frowning, she places the books down on the cart and follows the sound of the sniffles that sound a lot like someone crying. It's when she moves to the next aisle that she finds the source.

A little girl. No more than 6 or 7. She’s sat up against a row of books, little legs pulled up to her chest as she cries into her knees.

Solana’s frown deepens as she slowly approaches the child, leaving enough distance to not startle her. Solana knows better than most the detriment of being taken off guard when already upset.

“Hi there.” Her head snaps up, and right away Solana is met with striking blue eyes that are blurred with tears and an emotion Solana knows all too well.

Fear.

“It’s okay,” she comforts, intentional about keeping her distance and voice soft. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

The little girl who, in a strange way, reminds her a lot of herself with her light complexion and russ brown hair that’s a combination of curl patterns, stammers with a response. “My—my mommy and daddy said I can’t talk to strangers.”

Solana smiles warmly. “Your mommy and daddy are very smart.” Staying where she is, Solana slides down onto the floor. She brings her legs to her side and offers her name. “My name is Solana. I work here in the library.” Wanting to earn some level of trust, Solana informs, “I really like to read.”

Her eyes light up a bit. “You do?”

She nods, keeping her smile. “My mom used to read with me all the time. Does your mommy ever read with you?”

The little girl nods and wipes at her eyes. “Yes. Daddy does too sometimes, but he works a lot.”

Solana’s smile dims a bit. She can both relate and not relate. Her father was never really home, and she preferred it that way. But when he was….it was hell. 

Using the opening, Solana asks softly, “where is your mommy?”

She hesitates, and her bottom lip trembles a bit, but she ends up explaining her presence. “I was walking outside with mommy, and I saw a butterfly, and—and I wanted to catch it, but then I got lost.” She starts to cry as Solana puts the pieces together, realizing she ran off, got lost, and maybe ventured into the library to ask for help. Or to cry in a safe space.

Solana gets that too.

“It’s okay, sweetie. I’ll help you find your mommy, okay?” 

The offer seems to settle her emotions a bit. Solana watches as she wipes her eyes and almost asks in a hopeful tone. “R–really?”

Solana smiles again and nods. “Of course.” She stands up, not moving from her spot but offering her hand. “You want to come with me?”

The little girl nods and stands up, slowly walking up to Solana and taking her hand. She looks up, sharing in a slightly more confident tone, “my name is Emma.”

“That’s a very pretty name.” Solana gently squeezes her hand. “Now let’s go find your mommy.” 

Solana notes how Emma squeezes her hand back. It warms her heart.

She guides Emma toward the steps, careful to not walk too fast, mindful of the fact that Emma is still, wisely, very cautious of the fact that Solana is still a stranger.

Solo meets Solana at the bottom of the steps, his unkind gaze falling on Emma who hides herself behind Solana.

Looking down, she advises her, “it’s okay, sweetie.”

Solo rolls his eyes, gesturing with his chin. “Who is this?”

Solana looks back at him, answering while intentionally not providing a name. Emma provided Solana her name, not Solo. “She got separated from her mother. I’m gonna help her find her.”

He scoffs. “Ain’t that what the police is for?” 

Frowning, Solana finds herself defending her actions. “She’s already scared.”

He cuts his eyes, voice sharp as she reminds her of his role. “My job is to protect and watch you. Not some random badass kid—”

“D–don’t call her that.” Anger. Solana finds herself growing angry with Solo’s disposition. A rare emotion for her. But, she can’t stop thinking about the scared little girl clinging onto her leg, finding some form of comfort in her. She can’t stop thinking about how she used to be that little girl. How she used to cling onto her mother for comfort. 

Until she couldn’t.

“I’ll help her by myself. I—” Solana swallows. “I don’t need your help.” 

The library is in neutral territory. She should be fine to walk up and down the street to help an innocent child without the protection of someone Solana is realizing really doesn’t want to be there in the first place.

Gently encouraging Emma to follow her, Solana leads the little girl out the double doors of the library and onto the busy sidewalk.

Solo never comes after her.

And in a weird, sort of unfamiliar twist that she doesn’t really understand, Solana prefers it that way.

She prefers Solo not toggling along, his negative energy not interfering and exacerbating Emma’s fear.

Leaning down, Solana asks, still with that gentle smile, “do you remember which way you came from?”

Emma frowns again, shaking her head. “N–no.”

“That’s okay. We’ll just look left and right.” Straightening up, Solana decides to go to the left first, knowing that there’s a kids boutique a few doors down. It seems like a good place to start. And it’s while walking, Emma suddenly asks a question that literally makes Solana feel like she’s gotten the wind knocked out of her.

“Are you a mommy?”

Solana hasn’t the slightest clue why it takes a second for her to answer such a basic question. The question, in terms of complexity, is simple and can be answered with a single word. But everything else with it is…..not easy. Because she has no idea why her tone suddenly shifts to something sad as she finally replies.

“No.” And before she can think about what’s leaving her mouth, before she can even process what she’s saying, Solana adds, “not yet.”

It takes a lot for Solana to not backtrack, to try to offer some explanation that probably wouldn’t make any sense to such a young child why she was taking her answer back. But beyond that, there’s a part of Solana that doesn’t want to take it back.

She doesn’t want to take it back because….because maybe it’s the truth. 

Emma looks up with a small smile, revealing a missing front tooth. “You’re gonna be a nice mommy.”

Her chest constricts, and Solana feels her eyes watering from an emotion she can’t pinpoint.

Emotional smile and all, she manages to keep the tears at bay. “Thank—”

“Emma!”

Solana and Emma snap their heads and attention to the source of the voice, as Emma drops Solana’s hand.

“Mommy!” 

Solana jogs behind Emma who makes a mad dash in the direction of the woman who called her name. Solana stops when a large man moves in between her and Emma and the woman.

Emma’s little voice calls out at the same time Solana backs away, a bit of anxiety growing in her stomach as she thinks about the knife in the back pocket of her jeans. “No, she’s my friend!” 

“Bron, back off.” The woman speaks, and almost instantly, the large man with cold eyes that remind her of Solo moves away. The view and path is cleared again as Solana sees Emma being held by a woman who could never deny the child in her arms belongs to her. Emma is her twin outside of the blue eyes Solana would guess she got from her father.

“Mommy, this is Solana.” Emma introduces, pointing and waving. “She helped me find you!”

The woman, a few inches taller than Solana, with hazel eyes and almost perfect facial features, smiles. Again, Solana sees nothing but Emma. “Thank you so much—”

The large man who Solana hasn’t forgotten about and vice versa chimes in. “Brandi—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Bron.” She cradles Emma closer to her chest, as Solanaa clears her throat.

“Of course.” She points behind her. “I—umm—I work at the library. I—I do a kids reading club on Mondays, if—if Emma would like to join.”

Emma’s eyes light up at that as she’s pulling on her mom’s sleeve. “Mommy, can I go?”

The woman, Brandi, as Solana heard the large, unkind man refer to her frowns a bit. “After today, I’ll be lucky if your dad lets you or me leave just to check the mail, let alone go into town again.” Still, she turns to Solana, “but thank you for the information. She loves books, so I’d know she’d love to attend.”

And it’s then that Emma throws out with all the innocence of a child. “Solana’s gonna be a mommy too! Just like you!” 

Her breath catches. Solana once again has to fight back the tears that don’t make sense as well as the sadness that doesn’t make even more sense. “Some…someday.”

Brandi offers a smile that’s reassuring. Like she understands what doesn’t need to be directly stated. “Well, I wish you all the luck.” She tickles Emma’s stomach and jokes, “they’re a handful.”

And for a second, just the briefest of a second, solana visualizes just that. Visualizes herself holding a child, a child that would have her smile. Roman’s eyes. His strong will. Her innocence.

A perfect representation of them both.

But, it’s quickly pushed away, stomped on by logic.

That…..that’s not even something she should allow herself to consider right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage.

Even if that very visual is exactly why the marriage was arranged in the first place. 

She clears her throat. Despite being outside, Solana all of a sudden feels almost closed in. “I—I should get back to work.” 

Brandi nods. “Of course.” She doesn’t even have to direct Emma to say goodbye, as the little girl with a sweet smile full of innocence is already on it.

“Bye, Solana!” She then adds on with all of the hope. “I hope I see you again!”

Solana hopes the same too.

After parting, Solana noticing the almost menacing glare that ‘Bron’ man sends her way, she walks back to the library in complete silence, feeling so conflicted and torn by emotions that usually don’t work in her favor in general.

But, it’s when she’s about to head up the steps, Solo appears again wearing an almost smug expression, that she stops in her tracks at his comment. “You done playing mother Teresa?”

She doesn’t know where it comes from. Doesn’t know how she’s even able to allow it to leave the safety of her mouth, the confines of her thoughts vs being expressed. But, that’s exactly what happens. 

Solana turns to him and doesn’t stutter as she asserts, “you don’t get to talk to me like that.” Swallowing and with an uncharacteristically amount of confidence, she warns almost, “Roman wouldn’t let you talk to me like that.”

And it seems like that not so little reminder of who her husband is triggers something for him. Solo clears his throat, muttering almost, “my apologies.” He asks, a perfect combination of forced concern and obligation, “whose kid?”

She starts not to answer, but being a form of assertive and dismissive feels like too much in one day. “I don’t know. Some man with her called her Brandi?”

At that, his attention seems almost intensified. He’s quiet for a moment. “Brandi?”

Confused at his subtle but noticeable change in demeanor, Solana nods. “Yeah. I think she called the man Bron?” 

Solo looks away, like there’s something about these two pieces of information that are important. So she asks, “why?”

Solo’s gaze is back on her, and like a snap of a finger, the intensity in his expression melts into something cavalier. “Nothing.”

Solana is quiet. And suspicious. Something in the pit of her stomach tells her there’s something he’s not telling her, something he’s keeping to himself. 

But she doesn’t push it.

She’s got other things on her mind.

Other things she shouldn’t have on her mind. 

But, she does. She really, really does.

________

Later that evening, the strange, conflicting emotions from her encounter with Emma and her mother, Brandi, are still plaguing Solana. She’s grateful that Roman has to take his dinner in his office due to work, because it at least gives her space to process such big emotions without him picking up on anything being wrong.

He seems to be very good at that. 

In preparation for winding down for the evening, she’s at the sink, washing the dishes when Roman comes up behind her. It’s only a brief second of tension that’s easily settled by his arms around her, his mouth on her neck. 

She smiles, noticing the increasing amount of comfort and want she’s experiencing at him touching her.

It’s getting to the point where she almost craves his touch.

It’s…comforting. 

Roman makes a sound, lips moving up to kiss her cheek. “Meet me at the pool in an hour.”

She frowns, turning toward him. “What?”

He brings hand to her mouth, thumb gliding over her bottom lip. “You said you wanted to get in, right?”

“I—” And she can’t protest, can’t find a way to politely disagree. Because she did say that. And he’s clearly holding her to it. “Yes.”

His hand slides down to cup her ass, Solana gasping quietly as he smirks. “Then let’s do it.” Her eyes shut, and she bites down on her bottom lip as he whispers in her ear, “I want to see that bathing suit of yours.”

Another gasp as he squeezes her ass. “Roman.” 

He says nothing else, walking away. Solana takes a second to reflect on the interaction, sits on the fact that he was able to touch her and she didn’t tense up. Didn’t freeze up. She almost…she almost liked it.

But what she doesn’t like is the fact that she now has to apparently meet this man in the pool wearing that bathing suit that nobody but her made him aware of. He would have never known she even owned it she hadn’t opened her mouth in a poor way to distract him.

And now he wants to see her in it.

And now the anxiety is growing again. 

Because while she’s grown more comfortable with his touching her, she’s been almost entirely clothed during those times. Even with the more revealing outfits. This one will definitely take the cake. She’s not sure her lingerie from their wedding night was as showy as this bikini.

She takes her time finishing up the dishes and is at least grateful to see he’s nowhere near their room or bathroom as she sneaks in and locks the door to put it on. 

Solana must mess around with the suit at least ten different times. Pulling. Tugging. Tightening. It doesn’t make a difference because the swell of her chest and backside prove too much. There’s not much to be hidden, to be camouflaged, to be covered up. And that’s always been her preference. Never in her life has she owned or even worn a two piece suit. And yet, here she is about to step out in one that leaves little to the imagination in front of one of the most attractive men she’s ever laid eyes on.

A man that gives her butterflies with just one look of his dark, beautiful eyes. 

She tries telling herself that it’s just Roman. That she shouldn’t overthink it so much. That he’s made his attraction to her clear, time and time again. But, it’s hard to factor those things in when he’s never seen this much of her, so much skin, so much scarred skin. Skin with stretch marks and cellulite. Scars from the stabbing. The pudge of her belly.

It’s all so…revealing. Physically and emotionally.

It’s almost to the point where she has more anxiety about him seeing this much of her body than actually getting in the water, which was and should be the main source of her abundance of nerves.

But, it’s not. It’s not because even with all of her progress, it’s so hard to not compare herself to other women he’s been with. Women like Samantha who look nothing like her, who must look better than her.

That brings on a deeper level of insecurity. 

Will he compare her body to Samantha’s? How can he not? 

They’re night and day. One is preferred. One is shunned.

And Solana has never been preferred.

Eyes watering, she reaches for the large t-shirt and slides it over her body, comforted by not being faced with so many flaws. Deterred entirely, she starts to think of an explanation she can give Roman as to why she can’t get in the pool tonight.

Or any other night. 

But when she steps out of the bathroom, that plan is thrown out the window because Roman is sitting on the edge of the bed. 

Shirtless.

Wearing only swim trunks.

She’s momentarily focused on him. Focused on every rippling muscle of his body that’s damn near perfect. So opposite of her own.

Realizing she’s staring, she shakes her head, “I—”

“It’s been an hour.” Roman drags his eyes over her, and it’s like she knows what he’s going to say before it leaves his mouth. “You’re not dressed.”

Pushing back some of her hair, Solana is very much focused on the piece of abstract art on the wall opposite his bed. “I was thinking—”

“No.”

That she wasn’t expecting. Such a….blunt rejection. Eyes back on him, she frowns. “What?”

“You’re not backing out.” Solana swallows. He sounds so definitive. “I won’t make you get completely in the water, because I understand why that’s difficult for you.” She says nothing, at least grateful for his understanding in that area. “But you can at least sit on the edge. Work your way up to it.” An ironic choice of wording considering the other thing they’re working their way up to. He stands from the bed, and as much as Solana wants to look away, she can’t. She’s focused on him. All 6’3 of him. So intimidating. But not to her. So strong. But he’s never used his strength against her. So attractive. The same way he feels about her. 

“Without the shirt.”

Her stomach drops, anxiety brewing again. “Roman….”

He’s suddenly in front of her, his hands reaching to pull her against him. “That’s not your trauma. It’s your insecurity, and I’m not accepting that shit because it’s not fucking fair for you to be as beautiful as you are and not see or feel it.”

She swallows as he reaches for the hem of her shirt. “Off.” It’s a statement, but there’s a questioning nature to it. Like regardless of how he feels, he’s still giving her the space to say no. 

To have that autonomy. 

It’s appreciated.

It’s also why despite her anxiety, with her eyes closed, she relents. “O–off.”

Roman doesn’t seem to waste any time pulling her shirt up and over her head. And as soon as she feels the chilly air of his room on her body, the realization that she’s more exposed in front of him than she’s ever been before, she’s crossing her arms over her chest. 

Hiding.

Embarrassed.

“No.” And his hands are on her forearms, pushing down, gently but with purpose. “No hiding.” She keeps her eyes closed as he forces her arms down at her side. “Solana, look at me.” And she wants to, she actually wants to, but it’s hard, because all she can imagine is his disgust, his disinterest. “Look at me.”

His tone is somehow forceful but gentle, in a way only he can do. In a way that never makes her feel scared, but always safe. 

So she obliges.

Roman’s gaze is on her, intentful and burning. His jaw is clenched. “It pisses me the fuck off that you’ve been made to feel anything less than fucking gorgeous.” And she watches as he travels his beautiful eyes over her body. Slowly. With a level of desire that she, even with all of her insecurities, can’t deny. Men like Roman don’t look at women like that unless they want them in that way. “The things I want to do to you….”

And once again, he’s affirming and practically repeating everything he’s assured her of several times now.

He wants her. 

“I’m going to make you believe it.” Wetting her lips, she watches Roman take her hand in his. “Come here.” 

He walks them over to the opposite side of his room where the black, full body mirror rests against the wall. His hands are on her hips, positioning her so that she’s standing directly in front of him, her back pressed into his chest. 

“Keep your eyes open.” His voice is commanding but still calm enough where it doesn’t unnerve her. “Spread your legs.” Solana is certain Roman can feel the way her body instantly tenses, because he’s kissing the shell of her ear, reassuring her. “Relax, baby. I won’t touch you there until you’re ready. Just trust me.”

And she does.

Maybe more than she’s ever trusted anyone.

It’s why she moves her legs apart so that her thick thighs are no longer rubbing against each other.

Again, he’s comforting her, “trust me…” Solana is briefly confused as to why he’s repeating himself when his hand is on her backside, squeezing in a way that makes her head fall back against his chest. “I love your ass.” She makes a sound, almost too low to hear when he moves his hands to her chest, big, strong hands cupping her breast. “But, I especially fucking love these.”

She moves her much smaller hands over his. For what reason, she doesn’t know. All she knows is that she nearly groans when his thumb flicks over her hardened areolas through the fabric of her swimsuit. 

“Roman….” Despite his clear directive, it’s hard to keep her eyes open when there’s so much coursing through her body.

“You know why I said your name when I was with her?” Not really, but also yes. It’s difficult for Solana to think straight with him touching her like this. A strange, unfamiliar feeling settling at the bottom of her belly. 

His mouth is back on her, kissing her jawline as he continues to caress her breast, alternating between light massaging and caressing her nipples. “Because I was imagining she was you. Because it’s you I want to be inside.”

Solana’s eyes are bouncing back and forth between open and closed, the soles of her feet  almost numb as standing suddenly feels much more difficult than it should be. There’s an unfamiliar ache in between her legs that has her thighs pressing back against each other. 

Her body is on fire, and despite this intimate touching, she has no desire to push him away. Doen’t feel shackled and stuck in a way that’s reminiscent of her trauma. She wants his touch on her. 

His deep, alluring voice is in her ear, watching every single one of her erotic reactions through the mirror. “There’s not a single part of you that I don’t want to touch….” Her breathing is labored and heavy almost as he moves his hand and trails his finger down the valley of her breast. “To feel…..” Her eyes are fluttering as his hand moves down to her stomach, hers shooting to rest on top of his, an unconscious effort to keep him from feeling the part of her that she’s always felt 

self-conscious about. Only for her to cry out when he lightly squeezes her stomach, rolls and all. “To taste….”

It should make her mortified, for him to be grabbing so freely a part of her that she used to cry over from embarrassment. But, it doesn’t. She’s simply trying to remain strong enough to remain on her own two feet.

Her body is on fire, and there’s this pressure building in her core. Intense but oh so delicious. A brand new sensation.

Whimpering, she moves her hand to his wrist. “Roman, I—”

“I know,” he coaxes, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “That’s what I want, baby.”  He moves his mouth over to her clavicle, tongue wetting her burning skin. “Want you to feel good….”

Good is an understatement. She feels completely overwhelmed in a way she didn’t think possible.

 And it only intensifies when his fingers create circles across her lower belly. Tears are pooling in her eyes, the throbbing in her belly and most intimate part increasing with every touch and every word that leaves his mouth. 

Solana also recognizes the wetness pooling between her legs. Something else she’s never experienced. Not like this. She’s been able to become aroused before, but never to this extent.

Not to this intensity. 

The pressure feels too much, too heavy, but she can’t seem to find the words to express as such while Roman continues to talk her through it.

“The next time you touch yourself, I want you to think of me.” His lips are ghosting the shell of her ear, his fingers continuing to trickle across the lower skin of her belly. “My mouth on you. Me inside of you.” 

She gasps, loud enough for it to almost echo throughout the room and almost bounce off the walls. “Oh my god….”

She feels just about ready to explode when his other hand has moved to her inner thighs, long fingers dancing across her skin and prying her thighs apart. She’s almost certain her essence has made her way past her bottoms and coats the tips of his fingers.  “I’m gonna be your first.” His words puncture her resolve, but it’s the latter statement that completely destroys it. “And your last.”

Solana cries out, stomach in waves as she squeezes his wrist, intense pleasure nearly knocking her off her feet if not for his strong arms around her. Solana feels partially discombobulated as he whispers things in her ear that she’s far too overwhelmed to make out.

She’s not sure how long she’s standing there, doesn’t know how long he’s holding her, helping her land back down to earth. She just knows there’s a pulsing between her legs that she’s never had before. An aftermath almost. 

The aftermath at what had to have been a climax. 

It takes a few minutes for her to finally be able to formulate words. She looks up at him, trying to not think too much of the way he circled his finger around the spillage between her thighs. It’s enough to make her womanhood start to pulse again. “how did—-I’ve never—”

Roman looks down at her, eyes almost narrowed with pure curiosity as she asks, “have you never had an orgasm before?”

Cheeks still flamed from what just occurred but also slight embarrassment at her answer, she explains, “I’ve—I’ve tried before, but I just—I couldn’t.”

He actually looks surprised but simply brings his hand to her chin, kissing her softly. “Well, it damn sure won’t be your last.” He gently bites down on her bottom lip before backing away. “Be outside in 10.” 

It takes a second for her to realize what he’s talking about. She’d completely forgotten what even kicked off all of that.

Watching him leave with her t-shirt, it’s only when he closes the door and she’s alone that something he said finally settles in.

Something that somehow gives her a sense of pleasure more enjoyable than even his talented touch. 

“I’m gonna be your first.” 

Just thinking of it brings tears to her eyes. For an entirely different reason. For so long, she felt so broken and devastated at having her virginity so brutally ripped away. To have it stolen from her before she could even understand what sex was.

And no, she can never truly get it back.

But this….Roman can give her. That first time of actually having a choice.

And that means more to her than he could ever know.

She cares for him more than she’s certain he knows.

And truth be told, Solana is starting to wonder if care is still a strong enough word to describe what she feels for a certain Roman Reigns.

________

After cleaning herself and gathering her bearings, Solana finds Roman out back already in the pool swimming laps as Dulce sits on the side just watching him, her tail wagging. She always seems so excited around him.

Taking advantage of him being underwater and not aware of her presence, Solana moves quickly over to the steps, faltering for a bit before stepping in just enough to where the water brushes against her knees. That’s when the anxiety starts. Her stomach begins knotting.

It’s also when Roman comes up from under, and she’s briefly distracted by just how good he looks while quite literally doing nothing out of the ordinary. She watches him swim over to her, one hand pushing back some of hair, the other reaching for her. 

She hesitates, and he sees it, gently reminding.

“I’ve got you….”

Solana just looks at him. He’s yet to not come through on that promise made time and time again. An oath almost, in every single situation where he’s asserted it.

It’s why she finds herself accepting his hand as she descends further into the water. And just as she recognizes her anxiety heightening along with the water that’s brushing against her chest, Roman tugs her against him. 

Gasping, her hands naturally move onto his shoulders, her legs naturally wrapping around his waist.

“Roman….” She’s looking from side to side as he moves them farther away from the steps. “I—”

“Can you swim?” His question both makes sense and serves as a brief distraction. 

“Y–yes, but I haven’t done it in years.” He’s still moving them though, and that still makes her nervous as more distance is created between her and a way to escape without actually getting under the water. “Roman, I—I can’t—”

“I know.” His assurance is soft, gentle almost. “I’m not gonna let you fall, Solana.”

And she swallows, because there’s an undertone to his statement. Like there’s another meaning that maybe one or both of them isn’t entirely ready to come to terms with.

It’s when they stop moving, she realizes that he wasn’t just aimlessly moving around. He wanted to bring them over to the stool within the pool that he sits on. It’s only then she really becomes cognizant of the fact that she’s straddling him as well as just how close her body is against his.

Not that he seems to mind.

His gaze on her is both distracting and tantalizing. She wants him to never look at her with such desire at the same time she wants him to never look away.

It’s….a strange experience.

Needing there to be some type of conversation, she goes with the first thing that comes to mind. “How….how was your day?”

Roman chuckles. “The same as most.” Solana makes an active effort to ignore how his hands remain planted on her ass, giving just the slightest pressure that makes her softly scratch at his taut skin. “How was yours?”

Eventful. She starts to tell him about Emma and Brandi, but that would somehow lead into a conversation about Solo and his odd behavior recently. And Roman already deals with enough. She doesn’t want to add onto his plate. 

She can handle that on her own.

It’s why she decides to share the most exciting news, a smile growing on her face. “I pinned Bayley today during my training.”

“Did you?” Something tells her that he already knew about this, that he was made aware of this occurrence prior to this moment. Regardless, she’s thankful for him trying to fake surprise. For him trying to give her the satisfaction of being the first to tell him. “Damn. They told me you’ve gotten good. That you’re fast.”

She nods, smile dimming a bit. “I do feel a little bad about how I did it though.”

“Don’t.” He’s quick to dismiss her concerns. “Bayley’s taken much worse in the ring.” After seeing Bayley fight on Night of Champions, she doesn’t doubt that one bit. “There’s actually something I want to talk to you about.”

Her anxiety returns at his ending statement. “O–okay.”

Roman seems to take a minute before explaining, “I think we need to expand your training.” Her confusion is evident and expected as he clarifies with all the preparation in the world for a less than pleased response. “You need to start training with a man.”

Deep down, she already knows his answer before she asks. But, she has to do it anyway. “Like with you?” Open to it, she even suggests, “or the twins?”

Safe people.

As expected, he shakes his head. “No. It needs to be someone you’re not familiar with. Not like you are with me or them.” She looks away, eyes focused on the spotlight on the opposite end of the pool. “It’s only to help you. You can fight now, that’s good. But, you need to learn how to fight someone you don’t feel comfortable with, because that’s the reality of our world.” He elaborates, seemingly pulling her closer to him. “I’m never going to let you be in a position where you have to defend yourself like that against a man, but it’s good for you to know regardless.”

That helps a bit. She believes him. Believes that he’ll never let her be in that space ever again.

But, there’s a ‘what if’ thought that she can’t push away. Because nothing in life is promised or final. Anything and nothing can happen. She could very well find herself one day on the opposite end of her brother, and the thought of him having that hold and power over her makes her sick.

Should that day ever roll around again, she wants it to be different. She wants to be different.

She wants to be able to fight back.

“I’ll do it.” She agrees in a quiet tone and goes on to briefly explain her answer. “I think—I think I need to do it for me.”

Roman simply nods and acknowledges her acceptance with a single word. “Okay.”

Solana is grateful he doesn’t follow up with additional questions. She doesn’t really want to talk about that, doesn’t want to participate in conversations that bring up old, painful memories. “Can I at least meet them before we start training?”

“Of course.” That provides another layer of relief. “Are you still alright with the Gala?”

And this time, she nods. A few days away, she’s already figured out her look for the evening, courtesy of Bayley and Naomi. Biting on her bottom lip, she finds her fingers moving across his chest. “I—I got my dress.” He makes a sound followed up with his mouth moving to her neck. “I think—I think you’ll like it.”

She struggles to keep her eyes open when he starts kissing on her wet skin. “I like everything you wear.” She smiles. “You thought about what you want for your birthday?”

 Once again, it’s hard to talk with him touching her like this. “No, cause I don’t–”

He chuckles against her. “Still on that shit, I see.” And before she can push him on that, he informs with all of the textbook coyness, “it’s alright, I’ve got it figured out.”

That makes her push lightly on his chest, to force his gaze on her. “What does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” His words are intentionally vague and don’t manage to answer her question. It’s expected, not entirely out of character for him, but still a bit irritating. 

She sighs. The last thing she wants is for this man to go out of his way for her more than he already has. “Roman…

“Solana, I’ve got you in my arms. Half naked.” His eyes take on a dark, lustful glint as he focuses on her mouth. “I really don’t feel like talking, baby….”

He brings his lips back onto hers, but it’s hard to get too into the kiss when her mind is so focused on one little word. 

Baby….

A nickname he seems to use with her more and more, the increasing usage doing nothing for the butterflies every time he calls her as such. But this time, this time the butterflies are for something more, something different.

Something she’s not even sure she should be telling him right now when they haven’t even consummated their marriage. 

It doesn’t stop her from saying his name, her tone serious enough to alert him that she has something to say.

“Roman….” He lifts his head, gaze focused on her, and Solana finds herself momentarily captivated by him. He’s so handsome. So attractive. The embodiment of strength. In so many different ways. Licking her lips, it falls out almost accidentally but also with all of the determination. “I’m going to give you an heir.”

His expression falters only for a second. He’s so good at maintaining composure at all times that it takes her off guard. His voice is lowered. “Solana, I told you, I’ll handle—”

“I know, but—but, it’s not because of that.” And maybe a part of it is, maybe she feels guilty that she’s failing to do the one thing he agreed to marry her for. Maybe it’s out of her trauma. Maybe it’s a sense of obligation. Whatever the potential contributors, there’s no denying the largest chunk comes from a place of pure individualistic want. “I never thought that I could, but….but I can.” This part she knows to be true. Solana never envisioned a life for herself where she could withstand the touch of a man, the desire to have a man touch her. The ability to be intimate. But Roman has changed all that. “I know I can, so I will.” When he says nothing, she adds on, starting to feel a bit unsure of herself. “And we don’t have to now, per se, but….we will. I—I want to do that for you.”

For us.

He still says nothing, but Solana can see there’s a million thoughts floating through her head. She’s prepared for him to push back, to maybe chastise her or scold her for whatever reason. In her experience, men have never really needed solid reasons to be upset with her.

He does none of that though.

Instead, she seems something gleam in his brown eyes, something she can’t name but feels is eerily similar to what she feels whenever she looks at him.

“Non sei quello che mi aspettavo.” Solana has no idea what he’s saying, but with the way he holds her, the way he hikes her higher onto his waist so she’s almost looking down at him, wet hands moving to his face, she doesn’t really care. Doesn’t really need to know. “Ma credo che tu sia esattamente quello di cui ho bisogno…."

—----------

“Are you sure this is going to work?”

Xavier smiles at the hint of nervousness in his son’s voice. Any other time, he’d scold him for weakness. But when plotting against the Bloodline, especially Roman Reigns, one can never be too careful.

“Not necessarily, but I do know your sister. She’s weak. Blinded by love.” Just saying the word leaves a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue. “Your mother fed her that shit, and now she holds onto it. It’s how I know she won’t let him do anything.”

Wes’s dark gaze rakes over his father’s still recovering state. “And yet he still put us both in the hospital.”

Xavier glares, voice icy. He hates being reminded of failure. “Watch it, son.”

We looks away, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his body. “I just think there is another way—”

“Have you heard from your sister? Found a way to get into contact with her without going through Reins?” Xavier already knows the answer but wants his son to recognize the stupidity of his stance. “This is the only way, and it’ll work. Trust me.”

Wes is still quiet, but Xavier is unbothered. He’s instead focused on his phone that vibrates three times, his lock screen showing a set of messages from an unknown number. And it’s in reading the messages that his day goes from good to so much fucking better.

“Well, I’ll be damned….” 

Wes notices the change in his father’s mood and gestures with his chin. “Who is it?”

“Not sure.” He reaches the phone to his son. “But, we’re definitely going to find out.”

And it’s when reading the text that Wes also smiles, the same wicked scheming oscillating in his father’s head traveling over to him. 

“Got you now, you little bitch….” Wes reads over the words once more, basking in the relief and potential this new development will provide.

Unknown: I believe we may have a mutual problem that needs to be….taken care of.

Unknown: Your daughter. Solana.

Unknown: Let’s meet.

—----------

translation: “you’re not what i expected, but i think you’re exactly what i need.”

[embbarnes]

Orange Guts.

summary: Pumpkin carving with Bucky.

warnings: Fluff | Slight nostalgic angst but only brief.

a/n: 'Tis the fucking season. It's getting closer to Halloween, and my vacation yayy. It's my favorite time of the year so yes I want to celebrate with Bucky. I don't care if pumpkin carving is considered 'childish' I will carve a damn pumpkin every year until the day I die. Shorter than normal, just a little fun drabble while I work on bigger pieces. Unedited, I plan to go over this later and fixing any mistakes. ;; wc: 3.4k

"So, are you planning to put those impressive knife skills to good use today?" you inquired with a hint of excitement in your voice. Your eyes carefully scanned the array of pumpkins laid out before you, each one a potential canvas for your autumnal artistry. Bucky stood patiently by your side, dutifully holding your steaming cup of coffee as you meticulously examined the various gourds.

Your hands moved from one pumpkin to another, gently caressing their surfaces, feeling for imperfections and assessing their potential. You were determined to find the perfect pumpkin, one that would serve as the ideal medium for your intricate carving designs. The process of selection was almost as important as the carving itself, and you took your time, knowing that the right pumpkin would make all the difference in the final product.

Bucky couldn't help but smirk as he observed your meticulous examination of the pumpkins. The way you scrutinized each pumpkin, one might think you were disarming a bomb rather than selecting a canvas for a jack-o-lantern. He found your careful, precise approach endearing, much different from the casual attitude most people adopted towards pumpkin picking. But it was you, one of your many traits he really loved. You had these little quirks he thought was adorable, and picking pumpkins happened to be one of them.

Bucky recalled how seriously you took this annual tradition from last year, you had just begun dating last fall, nothing too serious yet, but bonded enough to spend a lot of time together.

Last year's memory was still fresh in his mind as he let himself think back. The way some of the team members had playfully teased you about your intense focus on pumpkin selection. He remembered how their light-hearted jabs had unexpectedly upset you, your enthusiasm momentarily dampened by their lack of understanding and relentless teasing. Bucky hadn’t said anything like everyone else, but he noticed your reserved behavior for the rest of the time in town with everyone. He felt bad seeing your joy get crushed, he hadn’t seen you so excited before, only for it to be teased into hiding.

Bucky never wanted you to feel like you had to hide things that you were excited for, so he made an effort to ask you how to pick a pumpkin and continued to show interest just to get you back on your feet. This year, is was just the two of you, and of course dearest Alpine in the cart. No one to tease you. If anyone did, a simple stare from him is enough to shut them up.

"Sure, doll," Bucky said, his voice warm with affection. "I'm more than happy to cut the top of whichever pumpkin you choose. But," he added with a self-deprecating chuckle, "My artistic skills might not be up to par when it comes to the actual drawing part. That's where your expertise will have to take over."

As he spoke, the aroma of your fall-flavored coffee wafted towards him. Bucky's nose crinkled slightly, his reaction a mix of curiosity and mild aversion. The concept of seasonal coffee flavors was still somewhat foreign to him, he was used to plain, black coffee.

While he could appreciate the warm, spicy notes of cinnamon, nutmeg, and pumpkin spice in baked goods and desserts, the idea of infusing these flavors into coffee left him uncertain. He pondered for a moment, trying to reconcile his love for traditional, straightforward coffee with these modern, festive concoctions. "Eh," he thought to himself, "I'm not entirely convinced about these flavored coffees. Give me a simple, strong brew any day."

"How do you know you don't like it if you've never tried it?" You quipped back, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. Turning to look at him from your knelt position, you stuck your tongue out at him, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

"You sound exactly like my mom," he retorted, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner, though the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Word for word, I swear. It's like she's here lecturing me about trying new things." He paused, eyeing the steaming cup of coffee warily. "Fine, I'll give it a shot, but don't expect me to suddenly become a pumpkin spice enthusiast."

With a theatrical sigh, the damn sassy man he was, he slowly brought the cup to his lips, the lid barely touching them as he hesitated. He finally took a small, tentative sip. You watched intently as he let the maple liquid swirl on his tongue, allowing it to cool slightly before swallowing. His face contorted into a series of expressions, curiosity, surprise, and then... a slight cringe.

"Ah..." he began, his voice a mix of disappointment and amusement. You could tell he didn’t like it, but was trying so hard to be nice about it. "I hate to say it, sweetheart, but pumpkin coffee is definitely not my cup of tea - or coffee, in this case." He set the cup down in the cart’s cup holder gently, shaking his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you shelled out five whole bucks for this, it's like autumn decided to punch me in the taste buds. You know, when I was a kid, five bucks would’ve gotten an entire feast for our family, plus some change. And you spent it on bad tasting coffee."

"Hey! Pumpkin spice coffee is absolutely delicious! You're just accustomed to the plain, ordinary variety," you retorted back with enthusiasm, your eyes lighting up as you held up a large, flawlessly shaped pumpkin. "Look what I've found! The proportions are perfect, any of its sides could be used for carving a face, and its size is just right!" You couldn't contain your excitement and pride as you carefully placed the prized pumpkin into the shopping cart, treating it as if it were a precious treasure.

Alpine, ever curious, leaned forward from her cozy carrier, her furry head poking out just enough to investigate the new addition to your shopping haul. Her little pink nose twitched as she thoroughly sniffed the pumpkin, seeming to conduct her own quality inspection.

"Well, would you look at that? She approves," you said with a triumphant smirk, reaching over to gently scratch Alpine's chin. Your eyes were drawn to the bright orange collar adorning her neck, its intricate design of pumpkins, bats, and colorful candy wrappers peeking through her silky, well-groomed fur. "You know, I'm so glad I bought you that pretty collar for the holidays," you mused, admiring how the accessory complemented Alpine's natural beauty. "It really brings out the sparkle in your eyes, doesn't it, girl?"

"I draw the line at costumes," Bucky commented, only slightly serious. Maybe he'd let you put her in a costume, maybe not. He wasn't sure yet.

Alpine purred contentedly as you gently scratched her chin, her eyes drifting closed in a state of pure relaxation. The cat's entire body seemed to melt into your touch, the level of comfort and trust she felt in your presence was obvious. Bucky watched the scene unfold with of amusement and amazement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he observed you lavishing attention on the notoriously finicky feline, that spoiled cat of his was very picky with people.

"I swear, I'll never understand how you do it, doll," Bucky remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. "She absolutely adores you, she pretty much can't stand anyone else who comes within ten feet of her. It's like you've got some kind of magical touch or something." He let out another small chuckle as he watched his beloved cat nuzzle her head into your palm.

You glanced up at Bucky with a playful smirk, your fingers still working their magic on Alpine's chin and ears. "What can I say? It's not rocket science, you know. Nothing some of toys, treats, and fresh food won't accomplish." You hummed softly, "Plus, a little patience and understanding goes a long way."

You pulled your hand away from Alpine, earning a small chirp of disappointment from the cat. "Just a little longer princess," you smiled at her and looked back up a Bucky, "There's one more pumpkin we need, and then we can call it a day."

The kitchen counter had been prepared with a layer of protective paper, you wanted to try to preserve as much of the mess as possible. You carefully positioned the two large, plump pumpkins atop the paper, their orange surfaces gleaming as your mind raced with possibilities for your own design. Each carving tool laid neatly at each side, arranged and ready for use. You set two large bowls down to collect the seeds, stringy innards, and any excess pumpkin pieces that would be carved away during the process. You exhaled, finally done with the prep.

Bucky, seated comfortably at one of the kitchen chairs, gazing at the pumpkin you had specifically chosen for him. His eyes roamed over its surface, taking in every detail of the gourd before him. It was, without a doubt, a pumpkin of exceptional quality - perfectly round and symmetrical, with a smooth, unblemished skin that seemed to invite touch. The stem atop the pumpkin was curled elegantly and trimmed to a short, safe length, free from any potentially prickly protrusions.

"So," he ventured, his voice a mixture of eagerness and slight hesitation, "I start with cutting a hole in the top, right?"

"Don't tell me you've never carved a pumpkin before," you commented with a hint of amusement in your voice as you settled down next to him. You pulled your own pumpkin closer, positioning it comfortably in front of you. "There's a bit of technique to it, you know. You've got to cut at an angle when you're making the top opening. That way, when you put the lid back on after you're done carving, it doesn't just fall right inside. It's a little trick that makes a big difference. A lot of people don’t put enough of an angle."

Bucky's eyebrows furrowed slightly, a mix of concentration and mild indignation crossing his features. "Of course I have," he retorted, his voice carrying a touch of defensiveness. "It's just... well, it's been a while. Been sort of out of it for seven decades, if you remember." His words carried a weight of history, hinting at his painful past. Despite this, he reached for one of the carving knives with determination, his movements precise and controlled.

You watched as Bucky approached the task with the same focus he applied to everything. That cute knit in his brow, the way his eyes squinted as he formed tunnel vision on the pumpkin. He penetrated the thick skin of the pumpkin with ease, his enhanced strength making the job look effortless. True to your advice, he carefully cut at an angle with his right hand, creating a smooth, circular opening at the top.

You set to work on your own pumpkin, your cuts were slightly less refined than Bucky's, but you managed to create a serviceable opening nonetheless. A sense of accomplishment washed over you as you surveyed your handiwork. "Look at us," you said with a grin, "We've both got our pumpkins opened up now. Not bad, coming off seven decades, huh?"

Bucky smiled as he pulled the top off, “No, it’s not. Easy, actually. I’m just worried my face is going to come out funny looking.”

“That’s the point, silly. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s a pumpkin carving, the goofier or sillier, the better.”

Preparing to scoop out the insides, a childhood memory surfaced through your mind when your fingers touched the cool insides. "You know," you began, your voice taking on a nostalgic tone, "My younger brother used to be so scared of touching the inside of the pumpkin. He'd make all sorts of faces and noises when it came time to clean it out." Your hand disappeared into the pumpkin as you spoke, emerging with a fistful of slimy, stringy pumpkin guts. The cool, slippery texture brought back a flood of autumn memories to past carvings.

The callback to simpler times made Bucky crack another smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Really?" he asked, clearly entertained by the mental image of a young you and your squeamish brother.

"Oh yeah, he'd freak out," you confirmed with a chuckle. "He flat-out refused to touch the inside. I had to clean it out for him, or one of my parents would do it. But he did eventually grow out of it, though it took him quite a while. I think he was already a teenager by the time he finally got over it and scooped out his own pumpkin."

You paused for a moment, your hands stilling in their task as you found yourself lost in the bittersweet nostalgia of those memories. The laughter, the warmth, the sense of togetherness - it all felt so vivid yet so distant.

"It's strange how things change," you mused, your voice softening. "Back then, pumpkin carving was this big family event. We'd all gather around the kitchen table, newspapers spread out to catch the mess, competing to see who could create the scariest or funniest face. Now... well, we all have our own busy lives. We're scattered in different directions, each caught up in our own world."

A wistful sigh escaped your lips as you resumed your task, your movements more deliberate now. "Sometimes, I wish I could go back, you know? Just for a day. To feel that simplicity, that closeness again. Does that make sense?"

"Doll, if anyone understands wanting to go back, it's me," Bucky replied, his own hands now covered in slimy pumpkin guts. He scooped out a handful and tore out the seeds, letting them drop into the bowl with a soft patter. His eyes, filled with a mixture of nostalgia and resignation, met yours. "I think about that too, all the time. Seeing my family again... hearing their voices, feeling my mom's hugs. But deep down, I know it's just a dream. You can't change time, no matter how much we might wish we could."

There was a profound beat of silence between the two of you, as memories of a better time washed over you both like a bittersweet tide. Your minds wandered back to the warmth of family life, to the simple joys and shared laughter that seemed so distant now. Before the alien invasions that shattered the normalcy you once took for granted. Before what felt like an endless cycle of fighting, running, and hiding became your daily reality. The weight of the chaotic life you both now lived hung heavy in the air, you felt like you couldn’t get a break.

Just as the silence threatened to become overwhelming, Alpine's insistent meow for attention pierced through your shared reverie. Both of you instinctively glanced towards the source of the sound, your eyes landing on her pristine white fur. She sat primly at one of the bowls, her curiosity piqued by the strange contents within. She slowly extended a paw, attempting to touch the slimy pumpkin guts and seeds.

"I wouldn't change it," Bucky looked over at you, his eyes filled with sincerity and warmth. "I want to go back, sure, but I wouldn't. I have you now, and that means everything to me. The thought of never meeting you...I wouldn't want to risk losing that for anything in the world. You saved me already, I can’t imagine my life without you in it."

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, touched deeply by his heartfelt words. The intensity of his gaze and the raw honesty in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and affection for this man who valued your presence in his life so highly. You didn’t have conversations like these too often, or when you did, it was when one of you was feeling vulnerable or more down during a hard day. It often left you or him feeling choked up.

Trying to lighten the moment and hide how touched you were, you playfully hit his arm, your lips curving into a tender smile. "You big sap," you teased, your voice soft with fondness. "Cut a face into the damn pumpkin..."

Bucky's face lit up as he began to carve, his mind not set on any particular design but rather drawing inspiration from the classic jack-o-lantern image etched in his memory. He etched out a simple yet charming face, triangular eyes, a small triangular nose positioned just right, and a wide, friendly smile adorned with two square teeth strategically placed on opposite sides of the mouth. Even though he had claimed his artistry wasn’t the best, he carved the pumpkin very well. Each line he created was impeccably smooth, the blade gliding effortlessly through the pumpkin's flesh.

You, on the other hand, found yourself completely absorbed in your own creative process, your hands steady as you wielded the carving tool. You drew your chosen design onto the surface of your pumpkin, each stroke of the blade bringing your vision to life. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, lost in the satisfying task of transforming the ordinary gourd into a work of art. Once the main carving was complete, you took extra care to refine and clean up any stray pieces and wiping away excess bits with a damp paper towel to ensure a polished finish.

When you were done, you set down your tools and admired your handiwork. "There, I'm done," you announced proudly, carefully turning your pumpkin to face Bucky. Your eyes sparkled with excitement as you presented your creation, eager for his reaction. "What do you think?" you asked, a mix of anticipation and pride coloring your voice as you waited for his assessment of your jack-o-lantern.

"It looks fantastic, doll," he praised enthusiastically, his eyes lighting up as he carefully examined the intricate face you had carved onto the pumpkin. The details were truly impressive, showcasing your artistic talent and creativity. "You've really outdone yourself. I stuck with a boring one."

He then turned to his own creation, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice. "Now, how about mine? I know it's not as exciting or elaborate as yours, but I think I did a decent job, all things considered. What do you think?" He gently rotated his pumpkin, presenting it for your inspection. Despite his modest words, there was an undeniable glimmer of pride in his eyes. Art might not have been his forte, but he had poured his heart into it, feeding on your passion.

You studied his handiwork, you couldn't help but be impressed. It may not have been as flashy as some, but there was an undeniable charm to its simplicity. "Oh, Bucky," you breathed, your voice brimming with genuine admiration, "It's absolutely perfect."

Your praise seemed to bolster his confidence, and a warm smile spread across his face as you continued, "I mean it, you did an incredible job. The symmetry, the clean cuts - it's flawless. It looks like it should be featured on the cover of one of those glossy fall edition home and garden magazines. You know, the ones by the check out stands that always make everything look so effortlessly elegant and seasonal? That's exactly what your pumpkin reminds me of, it’s beautiful."

His cheeks flushed at your heartfelt praise, that pretty blush scattering across his cheeks and nose. Initially, he had thought it was just a simple, perhaps even silly, pumpkin face he had carved. But your sincere words of admiration stirred something within him, creating a warmth that spread from his chest outwards. He found himself basking in the glow of your approval, he was a sucker for praise after all.

At first, he had been hesitant about carving a pumpkin with you, unsure if he would enjoy such a traditional autumn pastime. He hadn’t done it since he was a kid anyway, so it wasn’t something that really crossed his mind. But now, looking at your beaming face and feeling the contentment settling over him, he knew that his initial doubts had been completely unfounded. The simple act of creating something together, sharing laughs, and enjoying each other's company was what it was about. Not the carving, but spending time with you.

"Let's put some candles inside and put them outside! I want to see them in the dark!" You got up and carried your pumpkin to the porch, prompting him to stand too. "Come on, Buck Buck!" You called, the nickname made him chuckle as he picked his pumpkin up, along with the two candles you set to the side.

"I'm comin' sweetheart, wait for me!"

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Cover images from Pinterest

[pars-ley]

Title: Come Alive (part two) Pairing: Jackson Wang x f reader Summary: Having not heard from Jackson since he pretended to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention, you try to push him out of your mind, that is until you run into him when you least expect it. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: some brief mild "friendly" threatening behaviour / foul language W/C: 2.2k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @seokgyuu thank you so much for you kind and encouraging words Tag list: @foofarny @kzokssb @galadrielthepsycho @sumzysworld @vminjackbaddie Notes: just a short chapter as I'm easing into the story that will unfold. I'm so excited. Please like, comment, reblog as it really helps!

"Can I get a medium latte and a slice of the lemon sponge, please?” You ask the barista, at the coffee shop around the corner from your apartment.

“Uh, sure, to have in or takeaway?” He responds with a bright smile, seeming slightly over the top.

“Have in, please.” 

He nods enthusiastically, “coming right up, tap when you're ready.” He points to the contactless card machine and rushes off to make your drink. “Swap with me.” He whispers to the other worker at the coffee machine, practically shoving him out of the way. Frowning, bewildered by his behaviour you shrug it off and make your payment before heading to the other end of the counter to wait for your order.

Taking a quick glance at the seating, you are pleased to see there are a few tables you can choose from, much to your relief. You need to get some work done and with your upstairs neighbours having renovations in their apartment, the noise there is almost impossible. So you came to your sanctuary, your favourite coffee shop with not only the best coffee, but most importantly, the best cakes. 

“Here you are.” The barista says with that same wide, slightly manic looking grin, as he hands you the tray. “Call me, anytime.” He whispers, but still loud enough for the people in the queue to hear, resulting in their quiet sniggers. You glance down at your order and see the scrawl of some numbers on your napkin and your face heats, only made worse by the fact you can feel so many eyes on you. Smiling awkwardly, you blurt out, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” before taking the tray and making a quick escape to your table by the window. 

Once seated you spin the cup to take a proper look at it.

The name ‘Lyle’ stares at you in bold, messy italics. Groaning to yourself, you turn the cup back back around and set your bag on the seat next to you, pulling out your laptop and hoping that the eyes you could still feel on you were only your imagination. 

You most definitely did not want to call him. Especially since you still haven't forgotten about Jackson. It has been a month since you met him at the club and you've had no text or call from him whatsoever and yet, he has crossed your mind more regularly than you would care to admit.

You shrug the thought away as you load up your work and dig into your cake, relishing the sharp lemon flavour of the sponge combined perfectly with the sweetness of the drizzled icing on top.

“Does this boyfriend have a name?” a voice beside your table startles you, your fork freezing in mid air while your mind races to come up with an answer for the persistent barista.

Glancing up at him, determined to continue your lie, you start, “l-” but stop when you see a familiar face smiling down at you. “Jackson?” you drop your fork and stand up to greet him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses you lightly on the cheek, lingering a little too long for just a casual greeting. “It’s great to see you, y/n.”

You can’t help smiling up at him, your bodies almost pressed against each other and radiating intense heat between the tiny gap. 

“y/n?” Another voice sounds and a smiling face appears from behind him.

“Do I know you?” you wonder.

“No, no, sorry, I’m Mark, Jackson’s friend, but boy, have I heard a lot about you.” he grins.

Arching a brow you peer up at Jackson and note the faint flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and have to fight the amusement that tugs at your mouth. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, very,” is all Mark responds, snapping his mouth shut when Jackson throws him a deathly glare. Biting your lip in an attempt to keep your excitement and amusement at bay and watch as Jackson turns your coffee cup towards him, looking at the numbers written there, “so, is this boyfriend real or did you need a fake one again?” 

The smirk that plays on his lips has your heart pounding against your ribcage, creating a tune just to serenade him with.

“I guess I could have really used your assistance again.” 

He laughs and then his eyes fall serious, seeming unsure of what he wanted to say.

“So still no boyfriend, huh?” Mark interrupts the silence, as he stares very obviously at Jackson.

You shrug, “nope, I seem to have this problem…” tapping your chin thoughtfully, “where guys don't call me.” 

Jackson groans and dips his head into his hands, “I know, I know, I was going to call, but then…” he hesitates, searching for the right words.

“He was being a little bitch about his ex,” Mark interrupts, “but, he's over that now, aren't you?” he scolds and you have to fight the urge to laugh.

“Yes, definitely.” Jackson responds staring intently at you, eyes burning through you and starting a surprisingly intense heat inside you. “I'm sorry, I should have at least sent a text.”

“Hey, if you're not ready, you're not ready, can't help meeting at shitty timing.” you smile graciously, trying to hide your disappointment and hoping you're succeeding.

“I'm ready, now,” he insists, stepping closer to you. “If I haven't blown my chance?”

Your heart hammers so loud in your chest, you can barely hear his words, but the resounding scream inside your head tells you what you've decided. “Why don't you message me and find out?”

He beams at you and nods, “yes, for sure.”

Your cheeks warm slightly and you have to break eye contact, if you want your brain to ever work normally again. Getting lost in his eyes is dangerously easy.

“Miss, are these guys bothering you?” A voice sounds next to you and your eyes drift slowly over following the sound. Who should it be? None other than Lyle, the barista. Thinking he's being a knight in shining armour, when in reality he's disturbing a moment you have hoped for since the night you met Jackson.

You bite your lip, as the awkwardness only continues to grow as you watch Lyle sneer at the two of them, it would almost be laughable if you weren't so disappointed by the interruption. 

Jackson glances slyly at you, a devilish smirk playing across his mouth and as if you can read his mind, you give him a sly wink.

Jackson steps towards him, glancing at the barista's badge, “Lyle, is it?”

He nods in response, suddenly seeming unsure of himself for butting in.

“I really appreciate the concern for my girlfriend, thank you for checking in on her and her well-being,” Jackson's hand lands on Lyle's shoulder, meant as a friendly gesture but you can tell it's also a warning by the firm grips he holds. He picks up your coffee cup and turns it towards Lyle, “and as you can gather, she won't be calling you. No hard feelings, right?”

Lyle shakes his head quickly, cheeks slightly pink and spins on his heels, making his way back behind the counter.

“Thank you.” You fight back a laugh. “you come to my rescue once again.” 

“Always happy to be your fake boyfriend.” he beams at you.

“Or,” Mark chimes in again, “you could just date each other, then you could be her real boyfriend.” He mimes bashing your head's together which would have made you laugh ordinarily but you're hyper focused on Jackson's reaction to that.

He fixes Mark with a hard stare before turning back to you. “I'm sorry, I'm really out of practice with dating.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I'll call you later today and we can arrange a date? I mean, if you'd like to, that is? I don't mean to assume.” His face flushes pink and you can't help but bite your lip from the sight.

“I would love to, but,” you pause just to torture him a little more, “why don't you give me your number this time, in case you chicken out again.”

He gives you a bashful grin before pulling out his phone, typing away and then returning it to his pocket. “Done.”

You feel your cell vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. “Ok, then.”

Both smiling at eachother like idiots, you're interrupted by Mark once again, “ok, lovebirds, we better get going so we're not late for the game.”

“Game?” You wonder.

“Basketball, a group of us play every week.” Jackson glances down at his watch. “Shit, you're right.” He takes a step towards you, “sorry, I've got to go but I promise I'll call you tonight.”

You nod, excitement blooming like roses in your stomach but a small whisper in the back of your mind does not want to get your hopes up again.

His fingers gently clasp your hand, and pull it up to his mouth, he presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, an action that almost has you swooning but you manage to stay upright.

“Really great to meet you!” Mark calls, as he heads towards the exit, drawing people's eyes in your direction.

Jackson backs away without another word, glancing back at you until he's out the door and out of sight.

You sit down, feeling dazed, your hand feels cold where his lips touched your skin, burning them with the memory of the tender kiss. Opening up your laptop and attempting to focus on today's tasks proves difficult when all you can think about is the hopeful impending conversation you would have with him later.

Pulling out your phone, remembering that he'd messaged you, so you could save his number and you see the text. Your mouth stretches in Cheshire grin before you can stop it seeing his message:

Unknown: can't wait to speak later

Just that simple sentence had you giddy and feeling like a love sick idiot. You also couldn't wait till later. 

*

Signing out at 5pm on the dot, you pack away your work things now you are back home. The renovations were still ongoing, the noise reverberating through your apartment like wildfire, making plans in your head to go out for dinner, until your phone rings, halting all other thoughts.

You see Jackson's name on your screen, scrambling to answer it and taking a deep breath to quell the excitement before you speak.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” you start, sounding a lot cooler than you feel.

His deep laughter vibrates your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. “There's no chickens here today, ma’am.”

You can't help but laugh at his reference to your earlier comment. “I can see that. Nice to hear from you. How was the game?”

Settling on your sofa, pulling you legs up to get cosy, you listen in. 

“Yea, good, my team won, of course.” 

How can his voice sound even more devastating over the phone? Every word drips with velvet.

“There's nothing wrong with your ego, is there?” you tease.

“Not when it comes to things I know I'm good at.”

“And I bet you're good at many things.” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air thick and heavy, until he speaks.

“I guess you'll just have to stick around and find out.”

You hold in the squeal that's bursting to escape, as more loud bangs and drilling sound around you.

“What on earth is that sound?” He asks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh you explain about your neighbours and your plans to stay out this evening, hoping when you return the noise would have dissipated somewhat.

“If you're free tonight, why don't we have dinner?” He asks, sounding nervous for the first time today.

Biting your lip and grinning you nod frantically, “oh sorry,” you laugh, realising he can't see you, “I was nodding. I would love that.”

“Ok, great, I'll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Perfect.” Holy fuck, you need to get ready fast.

You text him your address and raid your wardrobe, opting for a black dress with flat shoes, something simple but classic so you would fit whatever type of restaurant you go to. Your hair is beyond saving, so you pull it up in a rough bun, which for once turns out great. You neaten the very minimal makeup you have on when your doorbell goes. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, galloping like a horse that carries you to your front door. Pulling it open, your mind goes blank seeing him standing there all in black. A fitted black t-shirt, with black trousers and shoes, he looked devastating in such a simple ensemble.

“You look…” swallowing and trying to appear calm, “amazing.”

His answering smile almost floors you. “I was thinking the same thing, you look beautiful. And we match.”

Looking down at your outfit you can't help but laugh at the coincidence. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks.

Nodding, you grab your bag and keys and lock up. His fingers entwine through yours and he searches your eyes for permission, smiling as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. It feels nice, the simple action of your hands clasped together, natural and comfortable. Your usual first date nerves have evaporated, maybe it's because you've spent time with him already, maybe it's because you know what it's like to kiss him, or maybe he's just a good match for you. Only time will tell.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 8th

~*~

1. Could you recommend me a list of the saddest fanfics of mdzs?

I need a trigger to uplift my reading slump. Thanks^^

🔒 salt to the sea by starmins (M, 31k, WangXian, WWX & JYL, Modern AU, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Road Trips, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Canonical Character Death)

Across the street to another life by danegen (M, 99k, WangXian, Modern, unleashed au, Family Fluff, Set in America, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Addiction, Crime, Amnesia, Ableist Language, another fridged mother, POV Alternating, past wwx/ofc, past wwx/omc, Medium parent YZY, A-Yuan is wwx’s biological son, Musicians, Happy Ending)

grave goods by luckymarrow (E, 28k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, mortician!wwx, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Marriage Proposal, abrupt tonal shifts, Tragicomedy, Comedy, Romance, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Adoption, Implied/Referenced Abuse, for lan parents, it’s not described and is all backstory, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Married WangXian, brief daddy kink, the barest hint of consensual non-consent, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, BDSM)

Meet Me At The Corner After Dark by Omen1991 (M, 21k, WangXian, Modern, Ghosts, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Character Death, but he's already dead, Injury, Concerns about self-harm, no actual self-harm, Panic Attacks, Office, Tears, Sad with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, kind of, mild romance, POV LWJ, Ghost WWX, Neurodivergent LWJ, Amnesiac WWX, Siblings who love each other, Autism, Autistic LWJ, Translation Available)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) This is basically Lan Yuan growing up with Inquiry as a lullaby (and seeing LWJs grief through his eyes). It has a happy ending, but I couldn't get through this without a box of tissues. If you want the emotions dialed up even more, listen to the podfic version with music

ius in bello by Lise (T, 2k, JC & JYL & WWX, Canon Divergence, Tearjerker, Sad Ending, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Not A Fix-It, POV JC, [Podfic] ius in bello by flamingwell) WWX doesn't survive Qiongqi Path, told from Jiang Cheng's perspective

dormiveglia (in between sleeping and waking) by comforting_monachopsis (M, 13k, WangXian, XuanLi, Diary/Journal, Golden Core Reveal, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, YLLZ WWX, Oblivious WWX, Protective WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sort Of, Dysfunctional Family, Family Issues, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, Dead WWX, Angst and Tragedy) where wwx doesn't come back but left a journal behind and everyone has to live with it

~*~

2. itmf wangxian dating in cloud recesses study arc?

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

it’s just (aah) a little crush (crush!) by sweetlolixo (T, 9k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Romance, Fluff, Pining LWJ, Humor, Courting Rituals, Teen Wangxian)

🔒 in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, WangXian, LXC/NMJ, cloud recesses, NHS & LWJ friendship, developing relationship, LWJ pov, minor injuries, autistic LWJ, implied/referenced child abuse, aka YZY warning, genius WWX, light angst, hurt/comfort, WWX protection squad)

💖 Hoards and treasures by apathyinreverie (T, 21k, WangXian, Siblings, Family, not particularly Jiang friendly, YZY Bashing, slightly darker Gusu Lans, LXC being the best brother, Some manipulation, But with the best of intentions, and not between wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox WWX, Smitten LWJ, Fluff, perfect happiness, adorable WWX, Romance, Some worldbuilding, courting)

30 Days of Secret Marriage at Cloud Recesses by starandrea (T, 43k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Bunnies, Gusu Lan Forehead Ribbon, Accidental Marriage, Coming Out, Falling In Love, supportive family, Fluff, Happy Ending, the whole story is happy)

A Wedding of Choice by scifigeek14 (T, 17k, WangXian, Everyone Lives, Marriage Proposal, Episode Related Canon Divergence, POV Third Person Limited)

You Are My Euphoria by orphan_account (M, 17k, wangxian, canon divergence, fluff, making out, 5+1, pining)

loveliness by orphan_account (T, 1k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Pining, Teen Romance, Getting Together)

~*~

3. ITMF any fics where there is a focus or moment where wwx knows lwj can and will spoil the hell out of him and give him money for anything. kind of like the "it's not my money anyway" moment in the drama. preferably set in canon time period, but won't say no to a modern au if it has a good plot! thank you!!

~*~

4. I was wondering if anyone was aware of any fics that are dark!LWJ but the relationship between him and WWX isn't toxic or dubcon? Something like a mafia, a/b/o, or emperor au, but without the more non-con like elements that are often found in those fics. I would love to read more dark!LWJ, but the tag is full of the more toxic stuff that I personally can't handle (no judgement here, I wish I could lol), so any help is much appreciated! (ITMF ask)

🔒🧡 Rule Number One: Never get attached. by KizuKatana (E, 130k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O, Criminal underworld AU, Fluff and angst, Crime boss LWJ, Rouge criminal genius WWX, Explicit Sex)

Crown Jewel of the Hoard by xFourLeafCloverx (E, 29k, WIP, WangXian, Dark WangXian, Organized Crime, Gun Violence, Consensual Non-Consent, Omegaverse, Shifters, bunxian, dragonji, killing as foreplay and postplay, LWJ is So Whipped, Intersex Omegas, Disfigurement, Blood and Gore, Sugar Daddy LWJ, Jiang Family Bashing, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering) Got mafia and wangxian being together without one of them being forced into it

~*~

5. itmf deaf or hoh wei wuxian please

misunderstood 'verse by sysrae (M, 7k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, getting hit by cars, Past Child Abuse, Friends to Lovers, Abusive YZY, Caring LWJ, Injured WWX, partial hearing loss, the real OTP is everyone x therapy)

~*~

6. ITMF fics where Lan Zhan and/or Wei Ying smoke/get high (not drunk) can be weed or harder drugs, also okay if it's just Lan Zhan feeding Wei Ying drugs. @thehappyyellow

a constant satellite of your blazing sun (i obey your law of gravity) by Ariaste (M, 26k, JGY/LXC, WangXian, JGY & WWx, Madam LAN/QHJ, Modern, Slice of Life, Established Relationship, Family Drama, Flashbacks, HOAverse, Marijuana, Nice Lan Boys Marry Gremlins, (bass boosted) NICE LAN BOYS MARRY GREMLINS, OC(s), (sort of), OC Death(s), (but like it's already in canon so you know about it already)) this is part of the HOA series, but does feature wwx and lwj (among others) getting high. Not entirely sure if it can be read as a standalone, but the entire series is hilarious and absolutely worth checking out.

2am on a saturday by detectorist (E, 11k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Recreational Drug Use, (no sex happens while drunk/high!), Humour, Pining, Getting Together, Blow Jobs, it's about the yearning, somehow a harmonica gets involved, the lz/mm/jzx best friends agenda)

~*~

7. Itmf the juniors being protective of WWX?

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general, mostly novel-compliant but could easily be CQL-compliant too)

~*~

8. hello! for the next itmf, i would love to see fics where wwx does empathy with lxc and/or lqr and find out how mistreated he is. could be during his youth or post-sunshot, either one. thank you!

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) I'm not sure if these are quite what the requester was looking for but Lan Xichen uses Empathy (and is traumatized by it) to see a past timeline

❤️ All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, YZY Bashing, Definitely not YZY centric, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, Mainly CQL but has elements of the novel as well, WWX Isn’t Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY) and Lan Qiren uses Empathy to learn who a sick child Wei Ying is and learns about Wei Ying's abuse in his past timeline

Rise of the Divine Oracle by BlakSalt (T, 291k, WangXian, Boy Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance)

~*~

9. Does anyone have any Sizhui-centric fics where he learns about or pieces together his past with wwx and the wens before wwx comes back? 🥺 Like 'Would You Come Home?' By s6115, that was so good I need more fics with that concept. 😭 Please and thank you 🙏

~*~

10. Hi I wondering if you knew any fics similar to: A Corpse Called by Name by jaemyun👀 thank you so much for your hard work?

~*~

11. rogue cultivator wangji PLEASE

doesnt matter if its like post wwx's death or before the cloud recesses study arc i just have a NEED for rogue cultivator lwj if no one can find any i'll just write it myself i swear

🔒 And Miles To Go Before I Sleep by Glitterbombshell (T, 23k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, LXC is not really a good brother in this sorry, Canon Divergence, rogue cultivator LWJ) This one is good & has an interesting impetus for LWJ leaving (the Jin find out LSZ is a Wen) but sadly hasn't been updated in almost 4 years. BTW please write a rogue cultivator!LWJ fic - this is an insanely underutilised trope considering the obvious story potential

~*~

12. Hey! I’m in the mood for any and all fic where Lan Zhan marries into the Jiang sect with Wèi Ying. Thanks! @shapeshifters-anon

The Fire Lapping Up the Creek by notevenyou (E, 66k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Blood, Respiratory Illness, Major Illness, Fever, Grief/Mourning, Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hunger and food scarcity, Surgery, Fix-It of Sorts)

~*~

13. Hey, I'm looking for (and really need) a good story where WWX has had enough and just becomes a villain (+100 to interest if he goes back in time and is evil from the beginning) (+10 if WWX is a genius and uses his inventions to manipulating, getting what he wants and/or establishing his position so that no one can hurt or take advantage of him).

e.g. after destroying his new home and killing all the Wen, WWX destroys the seal and goes back in time, but instead of trying to fix everything and make it better he says "f*ck it" and simply stops being a good boy. He will be the same as the rest of the world... or something like that :)

Just... WWX as a villain <3 @ethealia

~*~

14. Hello! I am looking for fics where Meng Yao / Jin Guangyao is wholly nice and good (and not secretly scheming and villainous and such). Any au or era, I just want to see him happy and safe and supported by friends. Thank you so much!

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

a micro utopia born as the overture plays by tardigradeschool (T, 18k, wangxian, JGY/LXC, fix-it)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

结局难更改 (the ending is hard to change) Series by PorcupineGirl (G, 50k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending, Reincarnation, LWJ POV, Established Relationship, Aromantic JC) Not JGY centric, though.

Peony to Lotus series by Deriliarch (T, 65k, JYL/JGY, wangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, demisexual character, demiromantic character, fix-it, slice of life, angst)

~*~

15. ITMF Jiang disciples trying to actually get Wei Wuxian out of the Jiang sect or keep him safe from the main Jiang family for his own safety

Just go forward like you mean it by tawaen (M, 101k, WangXian, WWX & WN &WQ, WWX & JYL, NHS & WWX, Canon Divergence, WWx does not attend the Wen indoctrination, WWX saves Lotus Pier, Inventor WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, Sect Leader JYL, JC Has No Golden Core, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Not JC Friendly, but he gets a happier ending than canon so don't look here for bashing) There's a small scene where WWX decides to leave & a disciple helps him sneak away

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious) This might count? WWX leaves the clan himself, but there's a scene later in the fic where JFM & YZY are on trial & the Jiang disciples rebel & testify against them over WWX's treatment

~*~

16. May I ask an ITMF for wwx having a pet/befriending/encountered avians like cranes, songbirds, crows, etc. please? I read a fic where wwx has an army of mischievous ravens and I'd like more recommendations if you have any!

A Long Road by Vathara (T, 187k, WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Scheming NHS, Necromancy, Fire, Ghosts, Accidental Child Acquisition, is it an accident if the ghosts keep bringing them?)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever) Wei Ying and Lan Zhan befriend and save a Zhenniao (a mythical bird) in chapters 41-44

~*~

17. ITMF fics where Wei Wuxian is the Yiling Laozu but, like, he is established as such prior to or external to the events of canon? As in, WWX isn’t raised in Yunmeng and he doesn’t do the canon Gusu Lectures arc or Wen Indoctrination arc and such, instead he is already in Burial Mounds with a scary reputation. Usually this plot crops up in arranged marriage or war prize aus where Lan Wangji is given to the big bad Yiling Laozu to gain favor, kind of like in 山水盆景 (Shānshuǐ Pénjǐng) by meicairoubingfan where the Yiling Laozu is an immortal who the sects appeal to to intervene in the Sunshot Campaign conflict. Does this description make sense? Thank you!

what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, canon divergence, WWX was never adopted to Jiang, war prize, YLLZ WWX, pining, first kiss, first time, falling in love, angst w/ happy ending)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27)

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo's post)

🔒Fated Series by LtLJ (G, 31k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Post-Apocalypse, Magical Apocalypse, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Canon Diverted via Volcano, YLLZ WWX, Badass LWJ)

🔒hold me fast, fear me not by cicer (M, 16k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fairy Tale Elements, Ballad 39: Tam Lin, Mpreg, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, YLLZ WWX, brief reference to abortificants, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, may be interpreted as noncon by some)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[stayevildarling]

Hey! I am really enjoying reading all of the works you have been posting lately, you are such a great writer! I actually had a request if you happen to have the time? Maybe a fic with Delia, Mina, Billie, and reader where Delia uses magic on reader and accidentally hurts her in the process. Then maybe some angst between Mina and Delia because Mina is very overprotective and Billie tries to deescalate their argument? But also happy ending? 

Cordelia Goode x Wilhemina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader- As the gods will

A/N: I completely forgot this in my drafts 😅 it's a bit of a short one but I didn't want to drag it on

word count: 3.3k

tw: mention of smoking, mention of blood (mild), angst, arguing, fluff at the end

taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @billiebeanhoward, @lanawinters-ily, @kenzbro, @minaslittleone, @httpfiftyshadesofgay, @whitelotus00, @ninaahs, @vintagepaulson, @isle-of-earle, @paulsonsratched, @stepintomyworld, @grilledcheeseandguavajelly, @lucyintheskywithxanax, @fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself, @awritersometime, @ohrwurm26, @wastdstime

As Billie Dean returns home, she feels a buzz of excitement rush through her, finally at home after a long week of working, filming the last bits, mostly promotion for the upcoming season of her show. With the upcoming weekend, she had decided to treat her girlfriends to a little something, opting for a quick shopping spree after work, managing to pick just the right things for the three of you. And as the front door closes, she notices how oddly quiet it was, of course it being Friday meant most of the witches had left but she is surprised to find neither of you downstairs as she brushes past the kitchen and the living room.

,,What the hell have you done?'' Wilhemina's voice rings through the air, so loud that the medium could hear it from downstairs. Abandoning the shopping bags and kicking off her heels, she is quick to run up the stairs, with a sense of urgency, before finding a very unusually quiet and guilty Madison in front of Cordelia's office. ,,What is it?'' Billie asks nervously but quickly leaving the blonde behind, figuring she wasn't going to get any answers out of her.

What Billie Dean had missed was a very busy and uncomfortable Friday, some of the younger teenage witches testing Cordelia in a lot of ways, especially Madison on her nerves all day, teasing her and pushing her buttons. She had been that stressed and tense with her workload that she had even asked you to keep her company. Cordelia enjoyed nothing more than have you close but whenever things got a little hard and stressful she retreated to her office, dealing with it in silence, before calming herself down enough to join you three again and spend time with you. However, today she didn't feel like being alone and so she had asked if you minded sitting in her office as it was your day off and of course you didn't mind, happy to keep her company.

And despite there not being a whole lot you could do, other than regularly make her some tea, offer to make her some lunch a while ago or occasionally walking over and giving her shoulders some relief, as your hands gently massaged her, ridding her off the tension slowly. Nevertheless, your girlfriend appreciated it, appreciating to have her little sunshine close as you gave her the motivation to finish the few tasks she had left on her agenda for the day. A while ago you had made Cordelia and Wilhemina some lunch, taking it to Mina's office as she thanked you with a sweet gentle kiss, telling you she was almost finished for the day, before returning to the supreme's office, where she took a break with you, offering you to sit on her lap as she fed some of the lunch to you, her eyes sparkling with love and adoration, the tension almost gone.

When the door opened without knocking a while later, watching Madison enter so carelessly, you knew this would escalate things further. Cordelia and Madison had an odd connection, the younger witch often pushing the supremes buttons, but despite it all you could tell that your girlfriend cared about her wellbeing deeply and you also noticed how in times of trouble for the coven, Madison always stuck to Cordelia and the academy, despite only being loyal to herself usually. You swallowed hard, seeing how she walked inside with a cigarette hanging from her mouth, knowing Cordelia strictly forbid smoking inside after Fiona. And it surprised you when Cordelia didn't even look up from her laptop, simply continuing to type away and roll her eyes, quite aware who was interrupting the peace and quiet.

,,Alright I'm off to that party, so the four of you can have this place all to yourselves'' she muttered, almost nosily inspecting the supremes office, barely acknowledging your existence. ,,Give me a break Madison'' was all that Cordelia had said before waving her hand a little with the pure intention of making Madison shut up and leave her office. However, Madison knew better and so she quickly dodged the magic, and as the invisible force looked for the next life-form in the room, her magic had made you flying to the nearest wall behind you, causing for a loud thud to follow. And the thud was so loud that even Wilhemina had heard it, considering that same wall was connected to her office. And with furrowed eyebrows, she decided to investigate, wondering what the supreme and you were getting up to in there, her heels echoing through the academy ever so quietly.

And when she caught a glimpse of Madison, lingering by the door, a guilty expression on her face, she entered, watching as Cordelia typed away on her computer, thinking that all was well for a moment before noticing your frame on the floor and her eyebrows furrowed then before her voice rings through the air ,,What the hell have you done?''. Cordelia finally looks up, seeing Madison lingering by the doorway behind the redhead before her eyes travel to you in shock. She is quick on her feet, abandoning her work and kneeling beside you. ,,Oh my god'' Cordelia exclaims before taking your head into her hands as some blood pours from the back of your head, assuming that must have been from the impact. In panic and shock she meets Wilhemina's eyes, begging for her help and forgiveness at the same time.

,,Little one?'' Wilhemina tries gently but the pain is so severe that your eyes remain closed, despite aware of your surroundings and what had happened. With hands as quick as light, she hovers them over your head as you laid on the floor with your stomach, only your backside faced to them. And as Billie finally enters, watching the scene unfold in front of her, Cordelia already has the wound healed as the blood and any evidence of it completely vanishes. And finally you manage to open your eyes, composing yourself and trying to get up, still feeling a little shaky on the legs. However as you do, you notice a strange sensation, the inability to speak and looking at your girlfriends, you see the shock in their features. Cordelia's intention wasn't only to send Madison across the room but also to be quiet and so she had casted a spell which would assure just that.

However, as the magic travelled to you, Wilhemina and Billie watch in shock as their most precious thing is missing a very important feature, your mouth. ,,Cordelia what on earth?!'' Wilhemina's voice rings through the air again as crippling panic sets in on the supremes features as she begins pacing around the room after failing to rid you from the spell, her nerves playing up and causing her magic to get a little sloppy. Despite being the most powerful witch and supreme, this could happen, despite being rare. The blonde loved you three so much that the thought of seeing either of you hurt almost killed her, let alone when she was the reason for just that, despite that not in the slightest being her intention.

Unaware of what exactly is happening, panic equally kicks in as your eyes widen, pathetic sounds getting blocked in your throat as they had no way to leave you. As Billie walks closer, noticing your beginning panic, she tries to hold onto your hands, noticing how warm they are as your chest rises and falls quickly as you begin hyperventilating. ,,Cordelia fix this now'' Wilhemina demands, her voice raised, her overprotectiveness setting in as she couldn't stand to see you hurting. ,,I can't.. I've tried'' the supreme huffs as she continues pacing, trying to calm herself down in order to make this go away. Billie noticing the tension, leaves you for a moment, before walking over to Cordelia, placing her soft manicured hands on the supremes cheeks. ,,Calm down love'' she tries, ushering the supreme to follow her breathing. ,,That's it'' she praises before her eyes begin pleading with her.

,,What is this spell called darling?'' the medium tries gently, before Cordelia closes her eyes, slowly feeling calmer. ,,Perpetuum clausis'' she breathes out, still trying to focus to keep calm, not once looking at you as she couldn't stand the sight. ,,Okay honey, you can reverse it?'' Billie questions, very much hoping she could fix it considering she loved the things your pretty little mouth could do. ,,Yes'' Cordelia nods, closing her eyes before flicking her wrist. A painful mixture of an exhale, inhale and scream follows as it all returns to normal. Wilhemina moves even closer to you, taking your shaking hand into her own, her heart beating angrily against her chest. ,,Are you okay little one?'' she asks, ignoring the presence of the other two. Her main concern your wellbeing and safety right now. And all you can do is nod as your throat feels like it is on fire, your head still pounding in pain, still feeling as if you couldn't use your mouth for anything but breathing.

,,Sweetheart, I'm so so sorry'' Cordelia tries, finally walking over to you and trying to pull you into her arms. But she is stopped by Wilhemina who protectively hovers, placing herself in front of you and physically stopping the supreme. ,,Don't'' she hisses, her eyes and words filled with venom as Billie anxiously watches the scene unfold. ,,Don't touch her'' she carries on and you can't do or say anything as your body feels on fire. ,,Come on'' Wilhemina ushers, taking your hand and leading you out of the room, leaving behind a heartbroken and guilty Cordelia.

It doesn't take long before the tears stream from her beautiful features, Billie frowning seeing her girlfriend like this. ,,Sit down honey'' the medium tries, taking a seat on the sofa next to Cordelia and taking the supremes hands into her own. ,,What happened?'' the blonde asks confused, still not fully understanding what had happened and hoping the supreme would fill her in so she could fix this and help. It takes a while for Cordelia to find her composure again, but seeing Billie so compassionate, she eventually calms down. ,,I had no intention of hurting her'' she begins wanting to make sure that much is clear. ,,I know darling'' Billie coos as she tilts her head a little. ,,It was Madison..'' Cordelia sighs, remembering how the witch had tested her most of the day. ,,I wasn't even trying to use my magic on Madison, I just wanted her to shut up and leave us alone'' she explains trying to recall the events.

,,I guess when I tried to dismiss her with my hand it must have triggered my magic'' she carries on, the words now flowing freely without holding back. ,,And I'm assuming Madison dodged it and it hit..it..'' but she doesn't get to finish as tears return and Billie is quick to wipe them, understanding now what unfolded. ,,Come here'' the medium ushers and Cordelia hesitates, feeling stupid for being coddled after causing you pain, thinking about how you deserved this more as of right now and how she wanted to do nothing more than hold you like this. But she gives in as Billie pulls her forward and into her arms.

Meanwhile, Wilhemina had taken you to her office, ushering you to sit, the door banging shut in the process, as she takes in your features. You seem utterly calm given the circumstances but the redhead worried with how quiet you had been. ,,Are you okay?'' she asks, while walking away for a moment to fetch you some water. All you can do is nod, unable to talk as it still feels like the word are caught in your throat. But obviously she couldn't see your nodding and as she returns she simply looks at you, her eyebrows furrowing before asking again ,,Little one, are you okay?'' her voice now a little firmer as she hands you the water, worry washing over her. And when you nod again, she scans you a little further, and by the way she stares at the water you can tell she wants you to drink some and so pathetically you try with shaky hands but it all comes straight back up as you choke on it, your throat burning.

Wilhemina watches in shock and a sense of horror, not remotely understanding what was going on and how Cordelia's magic may have caused some serious harm and damage. ,,Can you talk?'' she tries again, trying to search your eyes. And all you can do is shake your head, scanning the room before standing up, finding a piece of paper and a pen on her desk. You look at her for permission and she nods before you write down ,,It hurts''. And as her eyes read over the words, she sighs heavily. ,,Okay little one, how about we get you some rest?'' she offers and you simply nod as she offers to take you to bed but you shake your head, your eyes wandering to her armchair and if you could speak, you would have told her how you didn't want to be alone, how you wanted to stay with her as everything was scary right now and the only safe thing was her. She nods despite not understanding and watches as you curl up in a ball on her purple armchair. All she can do is watch in sorrow before walking over, placing a blanket gently over your shaking body and when your eyes close, she opts to sit by her desk, near enough to be able to see you and keep an eye on you.

As the redhead silently sits and watches, her thoughts go back to what had happened, knowing deep down that Cordelia would and could never cause you any harm intentionally. She judges the way the supreme must have miscalculated her steps, Wilhemina perceptive and smart enough to figure out that it was aimed at Madison, that witch clever enough to dodge it. And a small part of her knows that it was probably due to how agitated Cordelia was today and how Madison must have provoked her and how the supreme probably didn't even want to use magic but it probably came natural, as she knows Cordelia wouldn't use that sort of magic, especially not when you are nearby. But she can't help and feel anger nevertheless, seeing you still shaking on her chair, only a small part of her able to understand how painful this must be. The redhead would die in a heartbeat if it meant protecting either of you three but there was always something about you, maybe the fact that you are younger than her and maybe she wanted to protect you from it all, often unsure whether being around the witches especially the younger witches was smart as they certainly got up to things that Wilhemina wouldn't approve of.

And while fighting her internal battle, a part of her wanting to forgive Cordelia and simply take care of you, the door knocks as Billie had suggested checking on you both and Cordelia hesitantly agreeing, knowing that there was going to be a raging storm as soon as Wilhemina's eyes would meet hers. But she needed to check on you, to see that you are okay, that this didn't traumatise you, that this didn't make you scared of her. Wilhemina simply watches as the door opens, Billie's head poking around it, frowning as she sees you curled up so comfortably. She enters after Wilhemina nods, giving her permission to do so but her eyes draw away from the door as soon as she sees her other blonde girlfriend walk in, her features filled with guilt and regret and cheeks stained with previous tears shed. ,,Is she okay?'' Billie asks a little nervously, kneeling in front of you.

,,No'' is all Wilhemina can say as she holds the note to the medium, who hastily takes it, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion as she looks at the supreme, who simply stands frozen a few steps away from them. ,,She can't speak still?'' Billie Dean asks and Wilhemina simply nods avoiding Cordelia's pleading eyes. ,,Cordelia, is that normal?'' the medium asks anxiously, placing her hand on your cheek and stroking it gently. The supreme doesn't hesitate before speaking ,,Unfortunately yes, it may take a while for the pain to go''. The admission is so painful that it brings tears to her eyes again, unable to believe she had caused you pain. Billie is quick to get lost in her own world a little, all she can sense as of right now, you and her as she gets lost looking at her adorable babydoll, watching over you protectively, making sure your breathing is normal.

Meanwhile, Cordelia kneels in front of Wilhemina, trying to get her to actually look at her but the redhead is having a hard time. ,,Mina darling, please let me explain'' she practically begs but the redhead is having a hard time as her stubbornness had reached it's peak point, her walls built up high, threatening to lose herself in a battle of protectiveness over you. ,,I didn't mean to hurt her Mina'' Cordelia tries again, her voice gentle as her hands rest on Wilhemina's knees, trying to ground them both. ,,Don't you think I know that?'' the redhead suddenly hisses as her emotions get ahold of her and something within her snaps. ,,How could you have been so careless around her, you should know better'' Wilhemina carries on, her statement causing for a sharp pain to burden Cordelia's heart.

,,I know, I know'' the supreme admits, tears welling up in her eyes, before she takes a deep breath. ,,I wasn't trying to use my magic, on either of them, I wouldn't have done that to Madison either, despite her having it coming'' she explains, more to herself than the redhead as she had given up hope of her girlfriend forgiving her anytime soon for this. But then something within Wilhemina softens up, maybe the confirmation that Cordelia's magic just took over, maybe the genuine forgiveness in her voice or maybe just the love Wilhemina has for this woman and you two. The thought crosses her mind how if the redhead was a witch, she would send people flying across rooms all the time, whether that being intentional or not. And so, Cordelia suddenly feels a gentle squeeze on her hand that still rests on her girlfriends knee. And as she looks up, she sees forgiveness in the redheads eyes through her teary vision and it causes her to choke on a sob. ,,I'm so sorry'' she repeats, the crashing weight of guilt slowly dropping from her shoulders.

,,De...Delia'' a very quiet broken whisper fills the room and three heads instantly snap in your direction as you had woken from the broken nap. ,,Sweetie'' Cordelia coos, instantly on her feet and walking over to you. Sleep had certainly helped as the pain from your head was mostly gone, your throat feeling less on fire and the ability to talk finally returning. ,,Are you okay? what hurts sweetie?'' the blonde asks, her voice tinged with concern and worry over you. ,,I'm okay Delia, promise'' you assure, some words still coming out broken but much better than before. ,,I'm so sorry sweetheart'' she cries now, but you are quick to sit up a little and wipe her tears.

Billie's eyes travel towards Wilhemina as they watch the scene unfold, both feeling relieved and a little at ease to have you talking again. And slowly the tension fades with each passing minute, the academy silent as you manage to shush Delia's quiet sobs and wipe her tears. ,,Well I'm certainly glad we fixed that, considering what that pretty mouth of yours can do honey'' Billie jokes, causing the four of you to giggle, even Wilhemina's low chuckle ringing through the air.

[mik0is0bored]

Yu Haibara x Reader

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Description: Yu Haibara x fem!reader

This oneshot has two parts in one; before his mission, and after the mission. Meaning I'll have cut this half, but there will only be one thing for this. (ANGST, MILD GORE(?) TALKS OF DEPRESSION, YOUVE BEEN WARNED)

"I'm going on a solo mission in a few days, y/n!" Haibara said, smiling at you as he played with your medium lengthed hair.

When the two of you were together, he always had or had his hands in your hair. You couldn't get mad at him.

Sometimes, not having a single thought in his mind, it seemed like, but he was so adorable, bow could you get upset with him?

But of course, he wasn't a complete idiot, he was just sooo optimistic.

You smiled and nodded when he told you about the mission in a few days, but you worried greatly.

You knew Haibara could handle himself. Hell, you've seen him on missions, and he can get shit done, if you say so yourself.

Haibara noticed your worry, furrowing his eyebrows, taking both your hands in his.

"Hey, I'll be alright, don't worry. I'll be back before you know it," he tries to reassure you.

But the both of you knew this was going to be a difficult mission for him. You didn't know what this mission meant for him, but you prayed to every possible diety he'd make it back in one piece.

Haibara released your hands and brought one of his hands the side of your cheek, as you leaned into his touch.

"Please, for the love of god, please don't die. I'll kick your ass in the afterlife if you do." You say, your voice slightly choked up.

Haibara chuckled softly, resting his forehead against yours, your noses touching.

"Y/n, I'll be okay, trust me. I've handled the other missions, I'll be able to handle this grade one curse." Haibara says with a light smile on his face.

Oh, how you loved his smile. It lit up a room, lit up your life. So you could very much say he was the light of your life, despite the both of you only being first years at Jujutsu Tech.

You looked into his deep brown eyes, finding comfort, as he looked into your eyes, seeing the anxiety.

Haibara knew that he couldn't fully make your anxieties and worries go away when it came to him, and he loved that about you, among several other things.

He chuckled softly as he pressed a small kiss to your nose, causing you to smile.

"I love you" he whispered, causing your heart to flutter.

"I love you too"

You hoped and prayed that he would come back.

You stood in the Jujutsu Tech mortuary, biting your lip, almost enough pressure to have your lip bleeding.

He promised. He promised he'd come back in one piece. He promised he'd be alive when he came back.

He promised...

He promised...

He promised...

You didn't believe he was dead. He died.

Yu Haibara was gone.

You didn't want to believe it. You just couldn't. You refused. You couldn't handle the pain, the loss. The guilt.

You stood in the mortuary alongside the other first year, who was yours and Haibara's friend; Kento Nanami, and your upperclassmen, Suguru Geto.

You felt kind of mad Geto was here, but you didn't question it. You weren't in the mood to talk.

You just stared down at his lifeless body, or what remained of it.

When you found out about Haibara's death, you were sitting in your dorm room, reading a book when you got a knock on your door, with principle Yaga on the other end of the door.

"Yu Haibara died." Yaga had said, which had caused your heart to stop for a brief moment. No, it couldn't be true.

But unfortunately, it was.

You flinched when you heard the noise of a chair thrown against the wall.

You turned to the origin of the sound to see Nanami sitting in a chair with a wet towel over his eyes.

You just leaned against the wall.

Mentioned how "what remained of his lifeless body," was that he didn't come back in one piece, which was one of the many promises he broke.

He was cut in half horizontally, at the waist. His face was littered with cuts and bruises, his hair stained with blood.

The cover that covered his body was stained in blood from where he had been cut in two.

Time went on, you lived on, but he was left behind.

There was a cemetery dedicated to Jujutsu students who died on missions and such, and you visited Haibara's headstone every damn day.

Until you mentally couldn't anymore.

Rather than living, you began just going through the motions. Shoving yourself through the routine you had created for yourself.

Upperclassmen Geto had quit Jujutsu sorcerery, according to the other two second years, Satoru Gojo and Ieiri Shoko.

But the leaving of Geto didbt affect you.

Haibara's death did.

You'd see Nanami practically every day, since you both were first years, you had similar missions and training.

You mentally thanked each time you saw him, it felt like each time you guys met up, you both healed slightly, but there would always be a scar in both yours and Nanami's hearts due to the loss of Haibara.

You forced smiles, you forced laughter, and once it was all said and done, you'd go to your dorm room and cry until you fell asleep.

Your mental health got bad. Really, really bad. Each time you went on a mission, you'd wonder if this was the mission that would take you out.

Sometimes, you hoped it would be the last time you took a breath, that you'd die, just to see Haibara's smile again.

Everytime you saw your phones lockscreen, which was Haibara, you had to bite the inside of your cheek. For some reason, even seeing his smile anymore brought you so much pain.

So you changed your lockscreen.

You changed everything about yourself. You changed everything in your room. Everything he touched that belonged to you, you threw out.

The only thing to remember him you had was the photos on your phone and a grey sweatshirt he had.

You wore that sweatshirt whenever you could. To bed, around campus, in the city, whenever you weren't wearing your Jujutsu uniform, you wore his sweatshirt.

You just wanted him back.

Sorry for such an angsty oneshot, I don't see a lot of writings with Haibara either, so more than likely I'll write a less depressing one.

[dazed--xx]

Hello! I love your fake texts and I religiously check you blog for new stuff thats how much i love them 🥹 I was hoping you could do a hyunjin scenario where he likes y/n and y/n likes him too but they're just friends and y/n thinks he could never see them as more than a friend so y/n's other friend has a big crush on hyunjin and y/n is so nice so when y/ns other friend asks to set them up with hyunjin y/n tries to by trying to talk up their friend to hyunjin and trying to convince him to go out with their other friend - you can decide where it goes from there thank you so much! ��

Honestly, at first i was gonna say I wont write this ngl. I typically don't like this type of prompt, I hate when this scenario pops up in the manga and manhwa I read. BUT then people just kinda hype me up when I take tired ass scenarios (No offense sorry) and make them my own. so I will be doing this, now I cant promise it will follow your prompt to a tea but do note that it will for sure have

Hyunjin and Y/N will like each other

friend will be either shitty, oblivious or a decent person

Y/N will have to try to set up friend with Hyunjin

this shit will be angsty, cant promise a happy ending I'm not too big on those but my readers like to bully me into them anyway (complete joke)

also how far can i go? i feel like some people don't realize the lines I'm willing to cross for a good story so from like a scale of 1 to 10. 1 being almost sunshine and rainbows and 10 being a Tsunami of angst and sadness? i feel like I'm not gonna get an answer but others considering making a request yall should let me know from now on. i mean one of my OT8 y/n's is the survivor of a serial killer people. like non con is the tip of the fucked up mental iceberg I'm willing to write like when october hits yall are gonna be traumatized with my Spooktober masterlist, BTW I'm doing a Spooktober event (We kinky but not in our works too much these days, but the first day will be a smut/horror fic. Just won’t be smut focused)

anyway, im writing this like legit right as I'm answering this so that's why I'm Rambling but like who cares right get into my mind. anyway if you could message me with the how far I could go question lol like mild angst, medium angst, or heavy angst id appreciate that

[orchidyoonkook]

To What We Were Before, And All The Things After | JJK | Ch. 3

Title: Greenhouse Muses and Surprise Guests   

Pairing: Prince!College Student!JK x Fine Arts Major!(F)!Reader

Series Rating//Genre: (M) | College AU, Mild Royalty AU, Smut, Angst, Fluff, S2F2L, Indiffernce to lovers, sloooowwww ass burn

Summary: You need to think out this whole situation, and where better than your favourite place on campus? The one place where no one ever goes and where you can truly do your best problem solvi—wait who the hell is sitting in your supposed place of undisturbed tranquility? 

Warnings: PG18, heavy swearing, photography jargon (hopefully nothing tooooo confusing, I intentionally over explained a bit for those unfamiliar but a quick google search should clear up anything), euc=short form for eucalyptus “Youke”, art jargon but less, 1 (one) mention of metaphorical murder, and a bit of angst and fluff. I think that’s all?? Hella internal dialogue 

Word Count: 10,804

Release Date: March 2, 2023, 4:00PM

A/N 1: she somehow went from 8k to 10.8k???? Hope you enjoy!!

A/N 1.5: I’m literally so tired of looking at this, I’ve read it at least 10 times in three days. 

Series: Chapter One | Chapter Two

Jungkook’s sitting at a table outside what he considers to be his new safe haven, making a mental note to thank Yuri for showing him the greenhouse cafe—is that its name? He should’ve asked.

He can see himself coming here all the time for quiet morning work sessions. The coffee is great, the snacks are delicious, and there aren’t a lot of people around either—zero—to be precise. So he really considers this a win in his book.

The cafe is just southwest of a medium sized greenhouse, not even a minute's walking distance between the two. He could clearly see all the flowers and plants within from his seat outside. And behind the greenhouse was nothing but a small grass field followed by thick, dense forest.

It doesn’t even feel like he’s on campus. Just free about the world, grabbing a coffee and sitting down to work on a project like anyone else would. Like anyone else could. Another face in the crowd instead of the one on magazines in every corner store, book shop and grocer.

He can dream about it. Take in these small moments, but it will never be his reality. Not really. Even in this little corner of blissful nowhere the barista who served him his coffee knew who he was, addressed him properly, albeit a bit stuttered.

And he can’t blame her. It’s what she’s supposed to do. How she’s ‘supposed’ to react to him. 

He’s someone big and important. Someone people look to and see their future in his hands. Someone who merits reactions when in the presence of others. 

Someone who...

Someone...

So he dreams. And is thankful for what little normalcy he can get.

Taking a deep breath in, he holds it and he shakes his head, dismissing the thoughts before releasing a steady, controlled exhale.

Reset.

The cafe has an awning over its small patio, four tables on either side of the doorway, two that seat four and two that seat two on their respective sides, eight in total. He’s chosen to sit at the table of two furthest from the greenhouse, closest to the cafe. It has more shade, allowing him to see the screen of his laptop better.

Jungkook needed some time alone without anyone finding him, he gave that stupid speech on Monday for many reasons, but one of the most important ones was that he wants to be able to exist in a public space and to do his school work without a crowd gathering.

He’s taking this university thing seriously, and that means doing good work, excelling in his chosen subjects. It requires no distractions and lots of effort.

He doesn’t want to have to be cramped up in his dorm the whole time, too scared to leave for fear of never being left alone. He left that behind when he stepped foot onto the campus.

No more worrying about cameras or security or kingdoms. No more watching and tracking his every step.

This is his time to be a young man, not the prince. Just Jungkook.

And so far? He’s doing okay.

But just in case, he’s also wearing a hat, hoodie and mask for extra protection while editing some pictures.

Old habits die hard.

His Design and Visual Culture professor had given out an intro assignment to the class so he could get a read on everyone’s skill levels and to see where his starting point would be. Professor Hirmer asked everyone in the class to each submit three images: one portrait; black and white or colour, one still life of the photographers choosing, and one image of whatever your preferred style was. Then edit them to the best of their abilities, and submit by noon the following Monday.

Jungkook’s already finished his portrait. He hasn’t really made any friends here yet, so he just took one of himself, which made it easier in the long run because he was so used to his picture being taken.

Slicked back hair, a black tight fit shirt, silver chain and white background made up the shot aside from him. He’d decided on butterfly lighting because he’s always found it to be the most flattering aside from Rembrandt. Don’t get him wrong, Rembrandt’s a nice technique, Jungkook just didn’t want his portrait to be too dramatic.

He got the one he wanted to use in no time, and it required very little editing. Black and white is forgiving like that.

Currently, he’s working on his still life.

A latte with a basic heart design in a dark navy mug sat on the keys of a mahogany wood grand piano. The mug sat on the right side of thirds, and a couple stems of eucalyptus half cover the keys to the left, the tips of it just barely covering the bottom of the mug. He kept his depth of field wide so that most of what was in the frame was in focus, but the primary focus of the entire image is intended to be the drink and tips of the eucalyptus.

Jungkook managed to get one of the six guards his father insisted on him having here to go to a local market to grab the euc stems. Their remains were currently hanging in his shower, smelling wonderful and fresh.

The latte he did himself, a small talent after needing coffee constantly in his teen years to keep up with everything.

And as for the piano? He booked a music room for an hour with one in it. Work smarter not harder.

He’d kept his lighting dark, but gentle, really highlighting the whites of the piano keys while keeping the rich hues of the mahogany and navy present. The eucalyptus is comfortably set in the middle, having some brighter and darker tones to balance it out.

He’s quite proud of it, having created a visually pleasing image that had equal amounts of high, medium and low tones. But he wants the edges of the picture to blur slightly, so he’s adding a very subtly feathered vignette to the image.

He knows most of his peers will likely be doing a traditional still life of fruit or flowers, so he took a risk and made the prompt his own. He just hopes it pays off.

While editing, Jungkook’s simultaneously trying to brainstorm what he wants to do for his third picture. His style of choice is candids, takes them constantly, yet he doesn’t have a single one he wants to use for the assignment.

He likes them best because candids are those perfectly imperfect moments that show who a person truly is, when they’re at their happiest and saddest moments and everything in between. Candids are for when someone’s so caught up in what they’re doing that they look entirely serene in their task, and you want to capture that, forever. A small sliver of them, existing purely as they are.

Nothing fake, nothing practiced, no do overs. Just capturing genuine moments as they happen. A true reflection of humanity without filters or editing.

Jungkook’s thinking of maybe going undercover in the courtyard to snap some pictures of random people to see if that could work when a movement in the corner of his eye catches his attention.

Someone, with their back facing him, is very unceremoniously dumping their tote bag at the table most opposite him; the table for two that’s half covered in sunlight, half shaded.

Clad in loose fitting paint and charcoal covered overalls, a white shirt and bandana, they’re taking out what appear to be art supplies.

Brushes, small metal tins filled with paint, a very chaotically colourful water holder, and painting pad all gather onto the little table. He’s surprised at how they make it all fit.

It seems like he’s not the only one who’s seen this place for its potential.

But when they turn around, it’s…You?

It’s you.

Of all people.

What are the odds?

He wants to say hi, but hesitates, still aware of your conversation from earlier and hopes there’s no harm in a friendly hello between people who are acquainted, regardless of pending decisions.

But Jungkook watches your eyes pass right over him, unaware or uncaring he’s there. His half-raised hand falls along with the smile that’s found its way onto his covered face as you continue into the cafe.

A byproduct of his upbringing is being able to read even the subtlest of body language and facial shifts in people. And in your case, it’s like you’re screaming at him without actually speaking.

He knows from your closed off posture alone that you don’t want to be disturbed. But your expression…it's like a mixture of anger, worry and thoughtfulness.

Jungkook knows better than to interrupt someone when they look like that, and he decides against saying anything, returning to his assignment.

A minute later the bell on the door chimes, signaling your exit. 

Looking up, he notes the cup of warm whatever it is in one hand, a very full looking pastry bag in the other, and a water bottle tucked into your side via your elbow.

He wonders what’s inside the cup. Coffee? Would you drink caffeinated or decaf? Or maybe you’re more of a tea person. But would it be black or green tea? Do you use milk? What about sweetener? He can’t decide but that doesn’t stop the thoughts from racing across his mind.

Why does he care so much?

You settle down into your seat, the shaded one of the pair, and—somehow—place your newly acquired goods on the already jam packed table. Truly a talent within itself.

But a sip from your cup, and a bite of something that resembles a tart later, you wipe your hands on your overalls and pick up a brush, wetting it from the colourful container. Bringing the empty, water only filled brush to the paint pad in front of you, you start.

Your back blocks most of it so he can’t see much, but your eye line is honed in on the greenhouse. And if he had to guess just by looking, you’re focused on the orchid that sits front and center. 

He couldn’t name it specifically, but he can see why you’d want to commit it to paper. It’s pretty—yellow and red, very exotic looking, and he doesn't mean to—doesn’t even realize he is—when he finds himself watching you work instead of doing his own, mesmerized.

Your hand moves gracefully from paint to paper to water and back again.  Occasionally, switching out brushes or wiping the one you had on your pants, drying it or maybe getting the last bits of colour off. He’s fascinated with how you know exactly what to use and where to put what in order for the image to spring to life. Most likely years of practice and muscle memory guiding you.

Sort of how he does photography. Years of experience and knowing which poses and angles to use to really make an image pop. For a moment he wonders if anyones looked at his art the way he’s looking at yours.

When you take a small break, stretching out your back and limbs, Jungkook snaps out of his daze and looks at the clock on the bottom right hand side of his screen.

He’s been watching you for nearly 30 minutes.

That’s creepy as hell Jeon, he thinks to himself, lucky you didn’t notice, and returns his sights to his laptop.

Fuck. What was he doing again?

Staring at the still life in front of him, it takes a minute before he recalls.

Oh right.

Professor Hirmer’s assignment. The third image. A picture of his preferred style—his preferred style of candids. What could he do for his candid shot?

He thinks. A candid shot. Candids. Caaaannnndidddssssss. Caaaaaa—

A lightbulb goes off and he feels like both an idiot and a genius.

Retrieving his camera from his bag, Jungkook glances your way and sees you painting again.

Perfect.

Quietly, he gets up from his seat, moving just enough to be able to see a sliver of your painting and a small portion of your face. You're so focused that you don't even notice him, like nothing outside the page matters. And only for a second does he wonder what you’re thinking about.

Your body is easy to read, it’s your mind that remains a mystery.

The sun’s moved ever so slightly so that your page is now fully doused in sunlight, while you remain under the gentle caress of shadow from the awning.

Smart girl.

But your face is bathed in the subtle glow of your papers reflecting illumination. And it's like you’re the one creating light with every brush stroke.

You look transcendent.

With that sight in his viewfinder, Jungkook takes a few shots in portrait framing, his thumb covering the speaker that lets out the ‘click’ noise of a picture being taken, before adjusting his shutter speed.

These pictures all have you in focus, with the background consisting of half somewhat blurry cafe wall, half very blurry forest green. And they’re okay, they work. But he wants to have your movements and surrounding materials in the image as well, to really show the process of an artist at work. So he switches to a landscape framing and settles on a slower shutter speed to create a longer exposure.

Waiting for you to clean your brush in the water cup before snapping the capture button, Jungkook holds steady as it’s a couple seconds before the image takes. It makes him wish he had his tripod with him because it would make this so much easier, but he can make due if he has too. 

And he has too. Because he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass.

After a few more shots and near leg cramp later, he brings the results of his efforts up on the viewfinder for review. Jungkook’s thrilled to see that the movement in the piece was taken exactly how he wanted. Your arm steady on the canvas, but all your movements prior shown like angelically lit rays due to the angle of the sun, creating an ocean of movement around a steadily focused you.

They’re hauntingly beautiful. 

He takes a couple more like that for good measure, getting in different movements and shutter speeds before slowly making his way back to his laptop and table.

Popping his SD card into his computer for closer inspection, Jungkook sees there’s definitely more than one useful candidate and gets to work on narrowing down his favourite.

He is going to pass this assignment with flying colours. And it’s all thanks to you.

As you arrive at the cafe you notice a guy in a black hoodie, hat and mask with his head stuck in a laptop at the furthest table on the patio. Internally, you sigh that there’s someone else here; it’s almost always vacant and that’s why you love it. No people, no distractions, just you and your work, and your thoughts.

You try not to worry too much about it, doing your best to just ignore him and have hope that he leaves soon. At least he’s as far away from your spot as he can get.

Dropping your tote on the chair in the sun, you start placing all your things on the table. It’s an exact science you’ve perfected over many, many paint sessions and far too much spilled liquid. Countless art projects have fallen victim on this table, some you were able to salvage, but most were added to its body count.

Setting down your paint tins, you still can’t get the conversation with Yuri out of your head. Not leaving the building, not crossing the campus, not all the time it took you to get way over here either, no matter how hard you tried.

You huff.

Was your reaction really that unjustified? Could she not see how insane she was acting? Why did she jump to you being jealous? Why would she even think you’d be jealous?

You have Nel.

A prince isn’t going to change that.

And speaking of, you didn’t even get to tell her about your conversation with Jungkook.

After this fight though…you don’t think you will.

He seems to be becoming a sore spot between the two of you, ridiculous as that is, so you think it best to just not bring it up and deal with it on your own. That’s how you usually do things anyway, and you were only going to ask Yuri as a thinking out loud type of thing, hoping she had some input. But it’s clear now that none of it would have been useful anyway.

Finishing placing your things down—all fitting perfectly, by the way—you dig into your tote for your wallet and head into the cafe, still doing your best to ignore the other patron. Hopefully you can give off enough of a vibe that he takes the hint and leaves.

The bells hanging on the door sound as it opens and shuts.

“Hey YN,” Vivian, the barista, calls at your entrance.

You two know each other well, enough to be on a first name basis. You, being one of—if not the only—regular, and the cafe—being a little out of the way of anything else—not having many students make it a part of their routine.

A comfortable, welcomed sort of exile. One you gladly share with her.

“It’s good to see you,” she says, looking at the window closest to where you sit, “Are we painting again? I saw they switched up the flowers in the greenhouse on Monday. The ones they have out now are so beautiful.”

“It’s great to see you too, Viv” you respond, eyeballing the pastry display. You notice they have your favourite egg tarts in today.

At least one thing is going right for you.

“And yeah, they are,” you say warmly, regarding her comment. “I’m thinking I’m about to get real sick and tired of looking at that orchid they placed front and center.”

Viv laughs, patiently waiting on your order, though she’s got a good idea of what it’ll be.

“Could I get a hot chocolate with whip please?” You ask, and drum your fingers on your legs deciding how many tarts to get—two or three? Two or three?—before remembering, “Oh! and if you still have the not so super secret stash of mini marshmallows that you don’t have here,” throwing up air quotes and a smirk for good measure, “Could you toss a few of those in too? I’ll tip you extraaaaa.”

Viv only gives you a look that says yes they do but that she’ll never admit it out loud, and you’re grateful to her.

You’d spotted them one day by chance in first year and asked if you could have some with your drink. Viv merely stated that they don’t have marshmallows at the cafe while slipping a few in under your lid with a wink. You’ve been eternally appreciative for that kindness ever since, and tip her handsomely for it, but you’ve never known why it was such a secret. 

Maybe one day you’ll ask.  

Coffee isn’t really your thing, only turning to it during exams season, and you weren’t in the mood for tea, so hot chocolate’s always your favourite alternative.

But hot chocolate with whip cream and marshmallows?

Instant mood booster. And you definitely need that after the afternoon you’ve had.

“Anything else?” Viv asks, adding the large amount of whip cream she knows you like to the top of your drink.

“Yeah actually,” you smile, “could I get a water bottle and three of the egg tarts? They’re my favourite.”

Three seemed to be the most unreasonable option, therefore it’s the one you had to go with. And soon, a much too small, very full paper pastry bag finds its way onto the counter, accompanying your drinks.

“I’ll let bossman know about your dragon-like hoarding tendencies with the tarts and see if we can get them in more regularly,” Viv says, unsuccessfully keeping in a giggle at the end of her subtle jab and it makes you laugh too. “I mean, I don’t see why not seeing as you pretty much single handedly keep this place afloat anyway.”

You adore Viv. She’s real and kind, and very much someone you consider to be a bosom friend of sorts. You can tell her if you’ve had a bad day or a good one, and she’ll do the same, no shroud of inane pleasantries. You two having escaped the somewhat awkward ‘you work here and I go here so lets be nice to one another’ worker-customer relationship to a genuine friendship, and it makes the whole experience that much better. 

But it also allows for pulling on one another’s legs, like you do now.

“You’re so mean to me… and lucky I like you for it,” you say, opening your wallet, happy to pay whatever number you’re given plus 30%. The marshmallows and Viv are worth it. “How much will it be?”

She lets you know the total and you hand her a couple of mandatory bills plus a few extra, telling her to keep the change. You’ll lose any coins you have anyway, might as well give them to someone who’ll use them.

Viv says thanks and you make your way back to your spot, hands full and mind feeling a little lighter.

Thanks Viv.

Sitting down, you take a swig of your drink, a bite of your newly acquired tarts and get to work.

Starting with a wet on wet approach: you brush the canvas with water where you’ll eventually put some colour so it bleeds intentionally, and glance up every couple seconds to make sure to get a proper likeness.

It’s a yellow tiger orchid, truly beautiful—you’re a bit of a flower nerd because of your mom, but especially with orchids because they’re your favourite. They just come in so many different forms, it’s hard not to love their diversity.

Dipping into your paints now, you add some yellows in slowly, deciding to think of it as less of a flower study and more of an artistic interpretation so you don't have to use your brain too much. You’ll be using it enough to think through this whole Jungkook thing, no need to get caught up in the details and strain yourself even more.

Carefully put and one by one, more and more colours make their way onto the page and you settle into the calmness of creating. It leaves the open space you need for your mind to finally start working through the whole Jungkook–Yuri, Yuri–You, You–Jungkook situation before immediately correcting that there is no You–Jungkook situation.

He just wants to be friends, and that doesn’t constitute a situation. More of a predicament.

Yeah, that sounds better.

You switch out your brush in favour of a tart after getting base colours down, takinge a hefty bite and chasing it down with more hot chocolate. Damn it’s good, you need to ask Viv what magic she puts in it to make it this amazing.

Another swig and you think it’ll be better to just jump right into your mental debate. Get it over with, hash it all out. 

So that’s exactly what you do.

It isn’t that you do or don’t want to be friends with Jungkook, he seems nice enough.

It’s a matter of if you can be.

Jungkook is probably a very self-disciplined individual—if you knew anything about his upbringing—so it’s not like he wouldn’t understand your drive. He’d probably understand you in that respect more than Yuri does. Why you work so hard, why you don’t slow down. You can’t.

You won't. Not for anyone or anything.

And he can clearly understand social cues so you don’t have to worry about things getting awkward. He would act appropriately, never pushing boundaries—

Using a thin angled brush, you add more yellow to create sharper lines.

—And had he been just Jungkook, you wouldn’t even be sitting here having this ridiculous mental conversation with yourself. Because who stresses this much over a new potential friendship? You certainly never have before.

But that’s the problem, he isn’t just regular old Jungkook.

He is His Royal Highness, Prince Jeon Jungkook.

And as much as his title doesn’t mean shit to you, it sure as hell means a whole lot of something to everyone else.

He’s heir to the biggest kingdom on this half of the planet. On the cover of every teen magazine and online news article. Only child to the King and Queen. 

Powerful. Attractive. Single.

In short, Jungkook has been incredibly well known and incredibly important since the day he was born 24 years ago.

So you have to sit and think out what would happen if you became the prince's first female college friend. Well… aside from Yuri, but you don’t know how long that’s going to last, given where she thought things were going.

Being seen with him publicly would immediately put you in a spotlight you don’t want. You hate being the center of attention, but that’s the least of your worries.

You worry greatly that you wouldn’t firstly be known for becoming ‘YN, globally renowned painter, artist and business woman,’ selling pieces for more than they’re worth and then some. Galleries from all over the world knocking down your door, begging for your work. Having billionaires auction off paintings you’ve done for charity, being flown around the world for and by people to have you create something for them. Be it portraits or murals or even a performance—

Some burnished red now, with a small thin tip brush to begin the rorschach like patterns on the petals.  

—You wanted to be successful by your own hand, and then and only then would you occasionally speak of your very, incredibly platonic, not at all romantic, years old friendship with the prince, who you’d met in your college years by chance.

But you know that if you say yes, if you agree, all of those worries would prove true. That none of it would happen. None of the future you’ve worked for the better part of a decade on would come to fruition.

Oh no, no, no. That wouldn’t be the case at all.

Why would it? If you said yes, you’d become this week's most hot and trending piece of gossip. You’d be ‘the first girl Prince Jungkook was seeing in college,’ and everyone would ask ‘are you his new girlfriend?’ or ‘just a fling?’

If you said yes, it would be a constant barrage of:

‘Where did you meet?’ ‘Is he a good kisser?’ ‘How long have you been dating?’ ‘Have you met the king?’ ‘Does he like you?’ ‘What about the Queen, does she approve?’ ‘Has The Prince mentioned marriage at all?’ ‘Can we see the ring?’ ‘How many children will you have?’

At the grocery store, the mall, the hallways of your school, your hometown, the bathroom of a restaurant. It would be everywhere all of the time, constantly, and your head is already spinning at all the potential bombardment to your currently nice and relatively quiet life, so you take another snack break and stretch. 

Finishing your first tart and making a good dent in your second, the hot chocolate is half gone at this point. Whip cream and marshmallows having long melted, making the drink extra smooth.

Returning to your painting and back on topic; you’re not dense. You know how the media does what it wants with the people they see as mere puppets. As if they aren’t living breathing individuals with lives outside the very narrow-minded, click bait titled, news articles.

Their ‘reporters’ have absolutely no regard for what they say and how they act. They have not a care in the world for what their claims do to all the innocent individuals whose lives they write about after they’re done with them.

Selfish is the nicest word you can think to describe them. They’re vicious, heartless, vile people, and you have no desire to ever be the object of their attention.

The flowers are springing to life beautifully as you put layer after layer of detail. You add some darker hues, deciding to go with a more vivid red rather than the burnished one from before. Your wet on wet approach is working magic on blending the colours seamlessly for you. It really accentua—

—And another thing! If you did say yes, you could just see it now;

After your successful career launch, you’d always—no matter what you did—always be questioned about your relationship and what could have been with the prince. Or you’d be asked if knowing him is what got you to where you were, if he gave you a leg up, so to speak.

As if you would let him have any hand in making you what you were always going to become.

You didn’t and don’t need his or anyone’s help.

But it would always be, ‘YN? Oh you mean that artist got that much recognition just because she knew Prince Jungkook?’ or ‘YN, the Prince’s ex from college?’ no matter how hard he or you pushed that you were just friends. Because who would listen to either of you after the speculation was already there? After the seed was planted in their minds.

People love secrets and thinking they know all the dirty, gossipy scandals more than anything. Thinking they know more about other people's secrets than they do their own. As if they have nothing better to do with their lives.

Sighing, you drink the last bit of hot chocolate, wanting another one once it’s gone, but not the sugar headache that comes with that. Water then.

Adding some dimension to the petals by using a clean, damp brush to remove some pigment, you can’t help but let your mind wander to the most obvious conclusion that would be made and sink into it.  

You’re almost scared of the social pariah you’d become with every other woman and handful of men on campus. One dating rumor and you're done. Gone. Dismissed.

Or worse. One dating rumor and your popularity will suddenly skyrocket. You won’t have another moment to breathe alone so long as you’re still in school.

Jungkook is the most eligible bachelor on this side of the planet, potentially the whole world. His potential matches are princesses and the daughters of the filthy rich.

Who are you?

No one.

At least right now you are.

You aren’t royal, aren’t of ‘noble birth,’ aren’t a wealthy socialite. You aren’t even an independent, wildly successful career woman yet.

You’re just a scholarship kid who’s only at this school because she worked her ass off for it. Who has to continuously work her ass off for it if she wants to continue to be here.  

And you do want to. You want to work hard and become who you’ve always known you’d be. One invisible, important step at a time. 

From the first sketch to the last brush stroke.

So to summarize.

You don’t want to be the media’s plaything. Something for them to have their fun with and be bored of in a week, the future you’re working so hard to create destroyed before ever seeing the light of day. Fizzled out like a candle in a pouring downfall, only smoke remaining from the once bright and proud flame.

Secondly, you don’t want to be the social outcast or new campus favourite simply because you made a new friend. Having either icicles thrown at you from every set of eyes on campus or clout grabbers following your every footstep, begging for attention. Snubbed from any group projects, crowds parting like the red sea at your arrival, or never getting a moment to yourself again, late to every class due to your own personal assembly.

You’re exhausted at the mere thought of the possibility of either.

And lastly, you don’t want all the possible implications that come with knowing and befriending a man like him. Plain and simple.

What you want is to establish yourself because you worked for and earned it. What you want is to be successful, putting your near decade of practice and studying to good use. What you want is to have media attention, but for your talents, your efforts, and accomplishments.

Not his.

Not because you happened to treat the second most important person in your country like a normal, regular person.

Like he’d asked literally everyone else on your campus to do.

It isn’t your fault you're the only one who has ears that work.

But…on that note…

This is the prince.

And you are his citizen under his family’s monarchy. 

You don’t know if you’re even allowed to say no.

Can you?

He said you could…or was that him just giving you the illusion of choice? Don’t you have to listen to him? By royal decree or whatever it was that forced people to live under the royal family’s rule?

You have no idea, and choose to sit on it some more. There has to be a better solution to this.

You wish you could just talk to Yuri. She’s been your sounding board for the better part of two years now. But that’s definitely a no-go after today. You worry what bringing up anything prince related would do to your friendship right now. You’ve had enough arguments and mental taxation for the time being, thanks.

And if not Yuri…You would talk to Nel…

But Nel’s in a completely different country—a completely different time zone—right now. Already halfway through his night and you don’t want to wake him.

Wait, Nel.

Fuck.

Nel is another thing you have to consider in all this. You aren’t sure how he’d react to any form of relationship you’d have with Jungkook. 

How would he react to the media’s coverage of you with the prince?

Would he believe you when you denied everything?

Five years is a long time.

To know someone. To love them. To trust them. And you both know where you stand. You know where your future lies; with him. And he knows his lies with you.

But Nel is only human, and every human has flaws. No one is perfect. Everyone can have moments of weakness. Every person can feel jealous no matter how secure the relationship.

And jealousy can kill a relationship just as quickly, if not faster than anything else.

Jealousy can make you think things so irrational that it breaks down the wall of trust you built on a foundation of cement and bricks like it was nothing more than two twigs being held up by sheer luck and willpower alone.

A horrible rumor. 

A gust of wind. 

What’s the difference?

Five years of love, trust and communication could crumble to dust because of some asshole with a camera, an angle, and a computer with an internet connection.

You don’t want that to happen. You cannot express fervently enough how badly you never want something like that to happen to you or Nel.

You love your relationship. You love Nel, and you can’t do anything to jeopardize that. Ever.

But surely he’d understand if the heir to your nation's throne asked you to be his friend.

Surely he’d believe you when you told him that absolutely nothing was going on between you and Jungkook and that the media is just having a field day because he was the prince, and you were a girl around his age.

Surely he would…

Surely…

Five years is a long time.

But it’s also short. If you consider that for just over two of them you were long distance 9 months out of the year. And that two and a half more of them were when you were in highschool doing 60 hour weeks while he had football practice before and after school every day.  

When you spent most of your weekends at galleries, or portrait study or cramming for a test.

When he spent his studying and practicing and catching up on all his lost sleep from practice.

Maybe…

Maybe you shouldn’t bring it up to him.

A fire can’t start where there isn’t any kindling…right?

An argument can’t start, mistrust can’t begin, jealousy can’t exist if he just…never knows about it.

If nobody knows about it.

Actually.

Maybe that’s exactly what you’ll do. Just not tell anyone.

It’s not lying, not really. It’s just omitting a very, very small part of your life. 

And it’s not like you’ll be doing anything bad. It would most likely just be Jungkook asking about where to bring girls on dates or if you’ve seen the newest tv show that’s been on.

You’d tell him Azorè’s is the restaurant closest to campus that’s actually nice, and that no, you haven’t, because you don’t watch a lot of TV if you can help it.

That’s not devious, it’s normal friend stuff—just without the immense social pressure and potential repercussions of knowing him and being female at the same time.

Holy Shit.

This might be crazy enough to work.

And this way… this way you don’t have to say no to Jungkook, and Yuri won’t be mad, and Nel won’t get jealous, and you’ll stay out of the spotlight.

This way works out for everyone.

This way solves everything.

You huff, relieved. 

Now you just have to convince the prince that it’s a good idea.

He’s used to omitting things, isn't he? He must because of his future job. Don’t they train future monarchs in the wise and ancient art of social deception and secret keeping—to keep the peace or whatever?

You don’t think it’ll be that big a leap for him.

The longer you ruminate, the more you like the idea, deciding that when you get back to your dorm later, that’s what you’ll tell him. And if he doesn’t like it, well then problem solved all around anyway.

You reach for your hot chocolate, remember it’s empty, and switch to your water instead. Celebrating by mentally patting yourself on the back.

Always trust the greenhouse cafe. The greenhouse cafe is good. The greenhouse cafe is wise. The greenhouse cafe is all kno—

“That’s beautiful.”

You almost jump out of your seat at the voice, knee hitting the table in the process. It makes everything on it bounce and clang loudly and the hand holding your brush that was also nearing your water flies to your chest, leaving a splotch of red paint on your cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, reaching to rub your now throbbing knee. That’s going to bruise. You’re just lucky nothing spilled, you certainly hit the table hard enough.

Looking up to see who your unintentional heart attack provoker was, you blink a couple times before a worried looking Jungkook with big eyes comes into focus.

Though, his worry is brief it seems, as his attention shifts to the painting in front of you, the small smile from the day you met making an reappearance.

Didn’t he just see you jump ten feet in the air? Because of him???

“What the fuck Jungkook?! You scared the shit out of me,” you say scowling, giving him a piece of your mind while your heartbeat returns to a healthier pace. “Didn’t they ever tell you not to sneak up on people in that big, fancy house of yours?”

Jungkook doesn’t think he’s ever heard anyone call the palace a ‘big, fancy house’ before. Another first with you. And he’s about to say as much when his gaze finally meets your own and see’s how upset you are. Right, he spooked you.

The hand not holding a laptop into his side slides behind his neck and he looks away. You swear you can see the prince blushing.

Did you cause that?

Wait.

Stop.

Rewind.

You look him up and down quickly.

Hoodie. Hat. Laptop. Mask around his wrist.

Jungkook was the guy sitting on the patio from earlier? How did you not recognize him? Like at all?

He has the most famous face in the world and you couldn’t recognize it when it was 20 feet away?

Wow.

Actually.

Hat to hide the hair, hoodie to hide the body, mask to hide the face. 

Impressive. He really knew how to blend in when he wanted too.

But he hasn’t even said hi or sorry. And he undoubtedly saw you earlier as you weren’t exactly subtle in placing your things on the table.

So much for wanting to be friends. He can’t even say hello to you?

...or maybe you got lucky and he saw that you really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Thoughts aside, you won’t admit to him you find his camouflage techniques exceptional. He doesn’t need the ego boost.

Jungkook's hand recedes from his nape and he looks at you again, blush almost gone.

“Ah.. sorry.” He cringes a little. “I’ve always been told I’m light on my feet and I constantly forget when I’m around new people. I didn’t mean to scare you. Sorry, YN.”

So his manners haven’t completely escaped him. 

You give him a hard time as you point a finger his way. “You’re paying the hospital bill if my kneecap’s broken.”

It only takes a second for the joke to land this time, and a small laugh escapes his lips.

“Yeah, that’s fair. You break it, you buy it?”

It’s the first joke you’ve heard him make, and honestly, it isn’t bad. You chuckle.

“Something like that, sure. Here,” you say, holding the canvas up a little higher for him to see. “It’s a Yellow Tiger Orchid. The greenhouse likes to switch around the plants every other week, but these guys are always my favourite. Make for a fun challenge.”

Jungkook's loose hand touches the edge of the canvas lightly, careful not to disturb the still drying paint.

His words are almost thoughtless, entirely too focused on your work as he says, “You’re incredibly talented, your parents must be so proud.”

“Parent,” you correct, not harshly, just so that he knows you’ve only got the one. “And thanks, it stems from my many years of practice and a shady deal with an even shadier witch. All I know is I owe her my first born.”

That smile of his makes a comeback, only bigger and followed by a snicker.

You match it.

“But yes, my mother’s incredibly proud and a large part of the reason I’m here, never once having stopped supporting my goals.”

That’s true. Very true. Your mum never once thought your dreams were out of your reach, only ever pushing you towards them where she could. Placing steps down for you where she was able to.

She signed you up for lessons, drove you to galleries, bought you book after book on all your favourite artists and painting techniques. She got you paints and palettes and canvases, and did everything she possibly could have to get you where you now are.

She’s your number one fan.

And, in true proud mom fashion, she told everyone she could about how her daughter got into RABFA on scholarship all by herself—except you didn’t. You’re here because of all the support she gave during those years as well as your efforts, but she refuses to take any of the credit.

“I’m happy to hear it,” he says genuinely, before hesitating. Looking like he wants to say something but is debating it. “Can I–Do you–,” he inhales deeply,  clearly not used to fumbling over his words.

It’s...cute.

“Would you mind if I sat down?” he finally gets out. “I’d love to see more of your work.”

You think about it only for a second, taking a quick scan of your surroundings. There’s no one around besides Viv, and she’s probably working in the back. Plus, you're pretty sure he’s seen or even spoken to some of the greatest artists of your time. Not to mention, you’d love to hear his input.

“Yeah, sure.”

Instead of sitting on the chair your bag is currently using, he puts his things on the table to your right and spins one around from there, settling down with arms folded over the back of it.

“Thanks.”

You hand over your sketchpad. A perk to using a heavily water based medium is that your painting’s already dried in the time since you first spoke.

Jungkook flips his way through the pages slowly, taking his time in studying each painting as an individual piece. It’s not long before he reaches the one you were working on today. Having just started this pad a month ago, there isn’t much in it yet.

He searches back through to one right near the beginning.

“This ones my favourite,” he says, spinning the canvas around for you to see. It’s a tiger lily painting you’d done late in the summer at home.

Your mother is a notorious gardener, and has several flower beds that could rival a plant nursery with the sheer size, magnitude and variety of flowers in them. 

Rose bushes, dahlias, sunflowers, snap dragons, carnations, tulips, daisies, chrysanthemums, you name it, they were there.

So it wasn’t uncommon for you to spend an afternoon out in the garden sketching different blooms or picking one out in particular to paint.

She’d gotten the bright orange tiger lilies this past spring. They were the first ones you’d chosen when you got home after second year to paint. And then you just didn’t stop. They take up about a quarter of your summer sketchbook.

You couldn’t help it. They were hypnotizing.

“Why that one?”

“It’s my birth flower,” he says, lifting the sleeve on his right, revealing a forearm full of wonderfully inked designs. At the center of it is a tiger lily in matching bright orange hue. “It’s always had significant meaning for me because it’s something that represents me that didn’t come from my lineage, position, or name.”

“Oh.”

You sit there for a moment, stunned, yet to release your gaze from the sight of his arm.

The designs that cover it go all the way up to his elbow and don’t stop.

From an artist's point of view, you’re incredibly impressed with the quality of the work. Intricately placed mixes of black, white and colour. Never one or the other for too long. Strong clean lines. Clear, unmuddied colours. Striking.

Beautiful.

You shouldn’t be so surprised, knowing only the best would be allowed to grace his skin, but still. It was rare you were this taken aback by art. 

The colours chosen on the more visual pieces are gorgeous together. Bright, brilliant, bold. And the few quotes mixed in? Their linework is just… spectacular.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind your staring, twisting his arm to show you some of the designs previously hidden from your sight. 

The quality doesn’t lessen.

It’s after you're done intaking the art on his body that you see the strong muscle underneath it. And you let yourself appreciate the discipline that goes into achieving said strong muscle instead of how it makes your mouth water.

Long distance does not help your libido, and you’re only human.

Not that you would ever cheat. You do have a functioning moral compass, and a person you love that you could never do that too in a hundred years.

It's just that you have working eyes... and it doesn't hurt to look every now and then.

To make sure everything’s still working.

It is.

You bring your line of vision back into his.

“I never thought of my birth flower like that before. My mom keeps an entire garden full of them—only child and all.” Like him, you realize. “They’re one of her favourites too. I guess they hold a similar importance to her as yours does to you.”

Jungkook nods as he asks for your birth flower and you tell him. He says he can understand why your mum would be so fond of them, they’re a beautiful and elegant flower, suiting for you.

“Thanks,” you say, brushing off the subtle compliment.

He holds a hand out for the pad and you give it to him, watching as he turns the pages to another drawing before returning it again.

This one’s of your mother, in the small breakfast nook by a window in your home. It’s drawn with dark pencil lead and painted loosely, a slight blending of the two mediums.

She’s drinking a cup of tea and reading a book. It’s one of your favourite pieces that you’ve done recently because it’s your mom, existing naturally.

Not posed for a portrait, or a painting, or a reference, just her enjoying her morning. You couldn’t help but sketch it quickly when you saw her, adding the bit of colour later.

“Is this her?” he asks, taking it in again as if seeing it for the first time.

“Yeah, that’s our breakfast nook. But she reads there more than eats, always saying the window lets in the perfect amount of light.”

“I see where you get it from.”

“Get what?” but he just smiles at you before switching the topic.

“Who do you draw inspiration from, or look up to? I’d guess but I only know the bigger names.”

You inhale, knowing that this answer is always long for you. You get it semi-regularly—it’s a part of being a visual artist the same way asking a musician who they look up to is.

“Well, there’s a couple bigger names in the mix,” you start, “Van Gogh comes to mind first because his work feels like freedom. Lines placed seemingly wherever, yet so meticulously put at the same time. Some aren’t like that, but even then, they still flow like water. I adore his work,” another breath. “Da Vinci. Always. I stand by that fact that he was a genius and I strive to have an ounce of whatever he did. Michelangelo is another. Enough said. The sheer magnitude he was capable of creating was incredible.

“I have a lot of smaller artists I love too. People I’ve seen at local galleries, people I’ve found online, teachers from past classes. Some not nearly as well known artists from a hundred years ago who broke the barriers of art in their time,” you’re smiling like an idiot as you recall all your favourites and how they inspire you.

“I like the people who create and created just because they could, because they loved to. Because it meant something to them to make something with their hands. I mean, look what their passion got them. They all created for themselves, perfected their craft for themselves and that was enough. A satisfying, fulfilling life. I can only hope to have that. But a part of me wants to be one of the lucky few. The ones who shared their art so that others might not feel so alone. They became some of the greatest artists of all time.”

“Also some of the saddest,” Jungkook adds. But he’s looking at you differently now. You can’t put your finger on it but it’s not bad. Something close to curiosity. Or wonder.

“That just goes hand and hand with being a creative person. I don’t know a single one who doesn’t express their pain through their art.”

“Do you?”

“Of course, but those are just for me.”

“Shame.”

That catches your attention. “Why?”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate for a second before saying, “Because some of the most beautiful things in life are created out of pain.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that.

You know he’s right. People are most likely to bare their soul into their art when they’re hurt, just to get it out. It’s cathartic for them in the same way crying or breaking things is for others.

The most magnificent things can come from that vulnerability, and it isn’t something you ever take lightly when you’re shown.

You’ve heard enough music in your life to know that the most beautiful songs are the most gut wrenching. You’ve seen so many dance performances you know the ones created from anguish and heartbreak are the ones that make for the most delicate movements; the most fragile moments on stage. You've painted enough pieces in grief over your lifetime to know that when someone doesn’t hold back what they’re feeling when creating, it’s the most emotionally provoking when looked at, listened to and experienced by others.

The audience can feel it in a piece. They can feel it in the movement and in the melodies. In the soul of what was created. Of the creator.

“Yes, they are,” you agree, near solemn, and that’s all that needs to be said.

And a moment of comfortable silence later, he hands you back the pad and you pick up your brush to continue with your orchid.

He watches your every stroke. You pretend he’s not there as you add green to the leaves.

“Have you given any thought to our earlier conversation?” he asks. “I know it was only a couple hours ago, so I understand if not.”

Jungkook looks nervous when you wash your brush in the colorful water jar. His face reads like he thinks you’re going to say no, like he’s preparing himself for the rejection but his body language gives him away. He’s wringing his fingers under the table, and his leg won't stop bouncing. 

It makes the corner of your mouth quirk. You thought he’d be better at hiding his tics, being prince and all.

But maybe he feels like he doesn’t have to around you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the chair, Jungkook feels like he’s sweating buckets. Unknowingly showing every nervous habit he has, but can’t help it. 

He doesn’t tell you that he doesn’t have a lot of friends. Doesn’t have a lot of people he trusts enough to even consider them friends.

Yeah, he’s always surrounded by people. But they were just that. People. He barely knew any of them, and they only ever wanted to be near him for what it said about them, for what being near him could give them.

He doesn’t say how can’t pinpoint it, but that there’s just something different about you. 

So he’s really hoping you say yes.

Because it’s been…a long while…since he’s made a new one.

And it would be really nice too. 

But he’ll respect your decision either way.

Just please say yes.

Mercifully, you end his suffering.

“I have,” a brush stroke—more yellow. You don’t look at him while you speak, focusing instead on what’s in front of you. “That’s actually why I came here. To think. I come here for that a lot, or to get work done. It’s my favourite spot on campus. Secluded, pretty, quiet.”

He silently agrees with every word, but is also impatient. “And?”

You try your best to ignore the stars in his eyes when you look up from your painting.

“And I’ve thought hard about this, Jungkook. I didn’t just once over the idea and choose on a whim, I fleshed out what it would mean for me—what a friendship with you would mean for me, that is,” putting the brush down, you allow your most recent details to dry. “And I have a condition—just one. It's one you may not like, but it’s the only one you’d have to agree to in order for me to agree.”

Jungkook deflates a little, wondering what you could want. Because everyone always wants something. He was just really hoping you’d be different.

His mind runs through all the possible answers he’s used to hearing; money, clout, pictures, gifts, vacations, an audience with his father, donations, sex, power, the list goes on. 

He doesn’t want to think these things about you, but he can’t help it.

After so long… you get used to it.

“What’s the condition?” he asks, bracing himself.

“That nobody knows we’re friends.”

What? He thinks.

“What?” He asks.

You inhale again, wiping your hands on your pants and straightening your back.

Here we go.

“The more I thought about it, the more I realised that being seen with you publicly all the time would not go over well for me and my future. Anyone can be seen with the prince, but one girl over and over? People will talk about me. And it will be about me, because I’ll be the new shiny toy for them to play with. What I’m wearing, if we’re dating, who am I, what do I do, how did we meet, are you interested, blah blah blah,” you flick your hand, cringing at all of it. “I also don’t want my current relationships to change because of it. I don’t want my mother being cornered in a grocery store by a stranger asking about how her daughter knows Prince Jungkook and if she’s willing to give a quote,” you may actually come close to murder if that ever happened. 

“Not to mention the social repercussions. I can deny everything all I want from here into next week, but the second anyone knows we’re friends? I’ll become  either the most popular girl on campus—which is a waking nightmare for me—or the campus leper, which is a close second. And before you say anything to the contrary,” you fix him with a hard stare, unwavering. “You know I’m right.”

He tries to speak but you hold up a finger to show you’re not finished, and take a deep breath. 

Collect yourself YN, sum it up, drive the point home.

“I don’t need nor want that in my life. So if you want me to be in yours, nobody will know except us and whatever royal people need to so I don’t get tackled for being near you.” He cracks a smile at that.

“If that isn’t okay with you, then that’s fine, I understand. It’s probably an ask you’re not used to hearing, but I hope you understand that I have to put myself first and that this is a hard boundary for me. I’ve worked too hard to get where I am and I won’t let anyone get in my way. Not even a prince,” you say. “Not even you.”

Jungkook waits a second this time, making sure you’re finished. Then leans back, deep in thought, eyes still trained on you. 

He’s never been so impressed with anyone in his life. 

It’s been a very long time since he’s met someone with such blatant, hard earned self respect. Such candor and veracity, who spoke to him with confidence, completely unwavered. Let alone a woman. 

He’s so used to the fawning that he’s forgotten he likes it when a girl has backbone. Forgotten he likes a girl who doesn’t bend because he asks her to, who doesn’t need him or anyone to get what she wants. 

She can do it herself.

If he’s completely real with himself, his pants are fitting a little tighter as he remembers. As he continues to stare into your unflinching eyes.

But he dismisses that feeling immediately.

He should have known better. You’ve always been honest with him up until this point, sparing as those moments were. So he shouldn’t be as astonished as he is; you’re the one that has yet to break pattern.

Yuri’d fed him piece after piece of information about you. How you almost never leave your dorm when not in class, how you’re always studying or practicing all hours of the day, how school is your number one priority above all else—she really liked to talk.

He should’ve known you wouldn’t let anyone get in your way—not even him—given how the first time you met, you told him point blank that you would’ve rather been in the library than be forced to see him talk. 

Confident and direct from the very start. Unwavering in your goals. 

Jungkook should have known when you said you had a condition, that you didn’t want anything from him, but privacy for you.

You are young, driven, smart, and beautiful.

He’s never wanted someone to be in his life more.

Fuck.

He shifts in his seat, primarily for comfort, but also to buy a bit more time. You’ve yet to break his gaze.

Yes, it is a strange request, and yes it isn’t one he’s ever gotten before, but he can work with it. He understands your need to not be in the public eye. To not have your image decided by the public for you.

Most importantly, he knows what being seen with him can do to a person via the media. It’s terrifying. They’re like vultures, ready to pick the flesh off of any victim they deem fit.

More than one woman has been slandered off the palace grounds because of it. He also should have considered that before asking, but like he knew—like he knows—you’re smart. There’s no reason why you wouldn’t have thought this through thoroughly enough to weigh upon all of the possible outcomes.  

It was a day full of realizations. On both your parts is what he didn’t know.

So he really, seriously should not be as stunned, surprised and…still partially hard as he is. 

Here you are, staring at him, expecting a reply while his mouth is slightly parted and apparently speechless. It’s rare for him to be given such a harsh truth instead of the immediate yes he is so used to hearing. For someone to have this kind of power over him.

When he’d asked you, Jungkook had just wanted a friend. Someone to talk to, maybe hang out with, share jokes with. Someone to spend time with so his college experience isn’t as lonely as it’s turning out to be.

But where he saw a potential friendship, you saw potential disaster.

Because as much as the title grants him, being Prince isn’t a great thing for everyone around him.

Sometimes it destroys them.

He’s still learning though, that you aren’t just smart. You’re calculated. 

You are a scythe in a field of grass, a gust of wind in a foggy gulf, a sunbeam shining through the clouds on a rainy day.

You think things through to their every possibility, finding the best outcomes and worst fallouts. You did it with his request, and managed to find a solution that works at only a small hindrance to him.

So who the hell would he be if he didn’t take it?

The outside world already knows all of his friends. Granted about 95% of them are men, but that’s what you get when you grow up having the sons of the guards, groundskeepers and chefs around. The other 5% are the girls he met during childhood, the daughters of other royals and titled individuals.

And even then with them, the speculation never stopped. Not after years of platonic friendship. There was always a ‘what if?’ thrown onto them. So he understands that if he starts hanging out with a new girl, the media will go wild. Understands that existing in the same place as you and his social etiquette towards you have the power to make or break you, mentally, socially, even physically.

He understands.

So, everything considered?

Your one condition isn’t so bad after all.

And he has no problems with it.

“Agreed.”

You blink, clearly not expecting him to give in so quickly, or to at least debate it. Your eyebrows scrunch as you sputter, “Just like that?”

He grips the back of the chair, and leans forward again.

“I would never expect you to give anything up or be forced into an unwanted narrative because I asked you to be my friend. Of course I agree. It’ll be nice to have someone I don’t have to worry about the press bashing. To have someone normal, who I can be normal around, and who will, clearly, call me out on my shit or set me straight when I need it. So yeah,” he sucks a tooth, “Just like that.”

You flinch a little at his words. “Wait I lied, I have one more condition.”

He’s intrigued, especially considering the look on your face. “Go for it.”

“You can’t throw me in a dungeon for calling you out. My safety needs to be assured for any and all potential verbal ass whoopings you may receive in the future.”  

A full, loud cackle sounds from Jungkook, eyes crinkling as he says, “Deal.” And holds out his hand.

“Deal,” you say, shaking it and laughing with him. Because you know there aren’t any dungeons in the palace.

And somehow, you know that even if there were, he still wouldn’t.

Chapter Four: Sunday Nights and Lost Memories

A/N 2: we do be getting into though.

A/N 3: I know I’m jumping ahead here but I’m excited for you guys to read chapter 4, it’s one of my favourites so far!

<- Back

[gallivantingheart]

Use Your Mouth as an Anchor

masterlist | previous | next

🍵 chapter 2: gooseberry 🍵

who?: soonyoung/hoshi x (f)reader

word count: 901

genre/s: fluff, humour, social media!au

warnings: some course language

genre: social media!au, princess diaries II !au, humour, romance, mild angst

warnings: none, as of yet

**please ignore the timestamps - they are not accurate**

a/n: oh i forgot to note that there may be an inconsistent update schedule! i'm aiming for every week or every two weeks, so it's manageable for me, but with the silly season coming up, no guarantees.

The honeymoon period was over, as blatantly shown when his cousin and Queen of Amaide, Haneul called for him bright and early this morning. Was she not at least a little hungover? His birthday had gone a little harder than he'd expected. Summoned to the archives was an even bigger surprise.

The Royal Archives were a sprawling space, set to an ambient controlled temperature with just as much security as the Crown estate. He didn’t really have the energy to dress formally, opting for a tee, nice jacket and loose pants. He signs in, seeing her messy handwriting above his - only got in fifteen minutes ago. Her handwriting still looked the same from five years ago, haphazard and a little unfinished. No wonder it took her double the time to fill in paperwork if she wanted it legible for the public eye.

Apart from the slight squinted grittiness to her gaze and the shadows under her eyes, Haneul looked every bit the unruffled queen she was meant to be. Dressed in clean medium wash jeans and a pink and white striped button up french tucked into the front, long hair tied back. The only give away to her royal title was the glinting golden coat of arms pin on the lapel.

She smirks, crossing her arms. “Thanks for showing up, Soonie. I can see the recovery from last night is still ongoing.”

“It would be ongoing better if I was in bed, dear cousin.” He mutters. “What’s in the archives that you couldn’t bring out?”

Her smirk slides off her face like melted ice-cream, a feat hard to do for someone who’s grown so confident and optimistic. So he sobers up and tries harder to stand to attention.

She sighs. “Right. Yes. Come with me.”

So he follows her down corridors and down the tight spiral staircase that lead to the oldest documents. Ones only she had unrestricted, physical access to. A fingerprint and passcode. Here there were no windows, only stained glass artworks backlit to create the illusion. One of a glorious lemon tree, another of the old royal court in traditional style, fresh off the departure from Korea.

Waiting for her is a heavy book, leather-bound and weathered. The pages are a coffee-stain brown. It’s in the old language.

“What is this? I’m pretty sure I don’t need a history lesson, Haneul.” He chuckles.

She cringes and shakes her head. “No, we do. Come here, and have a look at this passage. This is Amaide’s Constitution, unchanged for at least a century.”

He leans over her narrow shoulder, to where her manicured nail stabbed the page. Article XXVII, sub set XII. In summary, for Soonyoung to retain his title as heir, at least until Haneul has children, he must marry. There must be a female in line for the throne or opportunity for one.

“Holy crap.” He breathes. “No. I’ve never heard of this!”

She shrugs. “Neither had I, for obvious reasons. But Councillor Kang raised this with me privately last Thursday, while you were on Jeju Island.”

Soonyoung steps around to better face her and swat her hand away from the brittle pages.

“‘Han, what happens if I don’t marry?”

Haneul scowls, gaze shadowed and hard. She looks more and more like her grandmother everyday, which never used to really strike fear into him until someone younger than him started using it. Another queen no less.

“Soonyoung, you should know better than to ask that question. I am Queen. I must have an Heir or a royal line should something happen to me. If you cannot be that, then it will fall to the next family with worthy blood and title. And we know who that is.”

Oh. The Chon family. Notorious thorn in the Park family’s side for as long as they have been in power. At least once a year there is menial tell-all by one of their family members, attempting to slander the royal family. It was their bread and butter, really, seeing as they weren’t the charitable type.

“How long do we have before this becomes public?” He says low.

“Well, really, any day now. We’re past the deadline by about two months. But, I’ll give you six months.” She says, quite firm.

He frowns, head slanted. “Six months to what?”

“To find someone suitable to marry. You’re a guy with a great personality, you’ll find someone. And I’m happy to help!”

He leans to slam the book shut and she jumps back. His blood runs red hot and he can feel his face burn, steam almost blowing from his ears.

“Haneul! How can you say that! You’re Queen, can’t you call for a referendum for this? For me?” He cries out.

She flinches as his voice echoes. “I wish I could, but it’s too late in the game. If I do it now, even if it passes, it won’t pass in time for this not to go public. Those damn Chons will have a field day with it and you’ll still lose your position. I can’t risk losing you, Soonyoung. But I will call for one. So no one else will have to do what I am asking of you.”

If he hadn't already lost his stomach last night he most certainly would have thrown up on the polished concrete floor right then and there. An arranged marriage. What a disaster.

[merlinrarepairfest]

Title: More Than Being Unknown AO3 username: solsprite | @jayprobably Rating: T Warnings: mild violence, internalised transphobia Medium/Word Count: 4,535 words Pairing/main characters: Leon/Merlin Up to 10 tags: trans!Merlin, trans character by trans author, everyone in Camelot is emotionally constipated, angst with a happy ending, first kiss

Summary:

“Please just—don’t tell Arthur. I’ll go. I’ll leave Camelot as soon as I can, but let me take my secrets with me. Let me say my goodbyes.” “Merlin.” Leon’s always steady voice sounds devastated, and it takes Merlin by surprise. The sheer depth of concern in it is the complete opposite of the reaction he was expecting and he finds he has to look away for a moment to collect himself. “I won’t tell a soul,” Leon continues, despite the fact Merlin can’t even meet his eyes. Sincerity bleeds into his words, the raw emotion from a moment ago seemingly in check, though when Merlin forces himself to look at Leon again, worry is etched clearly on his face. “Nobody is going to make you leave Camelot. I’m just so very sorry you’ve been carrying this alone for so long.”

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59918920

[mugiwara-rosewolf]

All My Life

Part One II Part Two

Sabo x F! Reader

Summary: Reader has been a Revolutionary since birth. But her first mission went terribly wrong, leaving her friend Sabo terribly scarred. They've stuck together since the day he lost his memory--but she remembers everything. So when news hits the papers, and Sabo falls ill, Reader has to grapple with the outcomes and consequences of her first and longest-running mission. Has she succeeded or failed? What happens when her former-amnesiac Sabo finally remembers her?

Warnings: Slight Canon Divergence, Canon Typical Trauma, Medium Angst & Mild Cursing.

ROGER'S SON, FIRE FIST ACE, DEAD AT MARINEFORD

This is it. I failed. Two out of three thoughts circled in Y/N's head. Day in and day out. Sun up to sun down. The third, well, the third, was on a loop all its own. A sensation not unlike an iron brand or an ice pick to the chest every time she heard those words inside her head.

Guard him with your life.

That's what Dragon had told her. Her, her mother, her father - her parent's final mission when they set off all those years ago. 'I've hidden something precious on that island. Your mission is to Guard it with your life.' At first, she thought it was just Luffy she was meant to protect. They had docked at Fuschia Village and moved in right next to a little barkeep and one Monkey D. Luffy, and she assumed that was the end of that. Just keep that little twerp out of trouble as best she could, and her mission would be complete.

Then those blasted pirates came to town and threw a wrench in their plans. She should've known those pirates were a goddamned trouble magnet. Bringing mountain bandits down on their heads. Convincing Luffy to stab himself in the face...and that stupid straw hat. After that, things only ever got worse. Luffy was dragged into the mountains by his grandfather, so of course, Y/N chased after him. But then - for reasons unfathomable to her - Luffy started chasing after Ace. The idiot was constantly risking his life for the sake of some stranger who literally put the two of them through Hell.

Of course, that boy would turn out to be the son of a Demon.

Portgas D Ace, the lost son and only descendant of the legendary Gold Roger. A boy she hadn't put any stock in at first. A feral child she assumed to be some spawn that loud-mouthed bandit lady didn't want. At first, the truth sent Y/N reeling.

Wait, is this what Dragon really meant? She thought. Something Precious. Guard it with your Life.

Suddenly, not was she in the presence of the son of Dragon, but also the son of Roger -- two of the most wanted legacies in all the world. Two lives the World Government would love to snuff out for good. Guard it with your life. Guard it with your life. The words kept cycling, skipping, repeating in her head over and over again. So that's what she did.

Sworn to secrecy, Y/N dedicated herself to ensuring that Luffy and Ace survived to reach their majority. Saving Luffy's sorry butt from those blasted Blue Jam Pirates. Bailing that hot-tempered Ace out of fights he couldn't win. Teaching both boys how to sneak behind grownups undetected. To pick their pockets. To play to their sympathies and get what ya want from them. Garp and the bandits called them all reckless hoodlums. But the only hoodlum who had ever reached back and saved her skin - was Sabo.

He knew the lay of the land better than almost anyone. Could navigate both Grey Terminal and the Inner City even with his eyes closed. And if Ace wouldn't listen to her in a fight (which was often), he would listen to Sabo. And that was good enough for her. He was kinder to Luffy than either Ace or Y/N had the patience for, trying his best to train the boy in his devil fruit even with no powers of his own.

Powerless. She remembered that day. The day that golden boy in blue turned himself into - no, for us. Y/N bit her cheek. He left to save us.

She remembered the night when the fire started. Everything happened at once till all that came to mind was a rush of sensations. The smell of burning flesh. The ring of dying screams. The stampede of footsteps, desperate to escape.

'Luffy! Ace!'

Howling and screaming for her parents in the wreckage, when she couldn't see a thing.

'Mama! Papa!'

Lost in the maze of melting metal and tongues of flame. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. The words on repeat and repeat and repeat - and then he appeared. The source of that never-ending mantra.

Monkey D. Dragon himself.

Y/N reported the situation, just as she'd been trained. It didn't matter that she was straining for breath. The tears blurring her vision didn't matter. Coarse hands smeared the saltwater and grime from her cheeks.

'Head to the ship,' His deep voice instructed. 'I will take it from here.'

Y/N did as she was told. Upon Dragon's ship, her fellow Revolutionaries were awaiting her. All senior agents and officers. She spent all night in the crow's nest of that ship, watching the black plumes of smoke rise into the night. Eyes eagerly searched the dancing firelight for any silhouette she might recognize.

'Luffy, Ace, Mama, Papa - where are you?'

Surely Dragon would find them. Surely Dragon would take them home. Goa was no longer safe if it ever was. Surely Ace and Luffy could be better protected on Baltigo. Surely she and her family could take a break from active duty. Then finally, she could be honest with her friends.

Her parents never came home.

She never saw her friends again.

Upon the first light of morning, the only thing she saw was the smouldering wastes of Grey Terminal. -What was left of it, anyway. The Revolutionaries set to caring for those who escaped the wreckage. The refugees who now, more so than ever, had truly lost everything. All that day, Y/N's fellow agents looked after the wounded, offering them food and drink, even a place among their ranks. All the while, Y/N kept her eyes fixed on what remained of her family's hunting grounds. The jungle was thankfully untouched. The Upper City almost disgustingly so. But she saw no movement amidst the smoke and metal. No familiar silhouettes. No one.

The only things of note were the sounds of cheering and the blasting of a canon. Some sort of fanfare or festival must've been going on on the other side of the city. The sky scraping sprawl of the Nobles' estates kept Y/N from getting a clear view of its source. The Celestial Dragons must've been approaching the southerly port, she thought. She wouldn't have known that if Sabo hadn't drawn a map for her all those months ago.

Sabo... Her chest ached at the thought. She imagined the boy trapped behind a window in one of those pristine white buildings. His whole life was condemned to stay behind layers upon layers of cold stone walls. If Ace and Luffy died in that fire, their brother would never be free.

And what about me? The thought occurred to her as a chill down her spine. What force for good would she be if she knew he was trapped there and did nothing? What kind of friend would she be if she left them all behind? Yet again, Dragon's commission reverberated in her mind. Guard them with your life. Guard them with your life. --but how?!

Sunlight was already being swallowed by the sea by the time Dragon returned. Y/N could see the black of his cloak wandering between piles of smouldering rubble. But beyond her target's line of sight, something else caught her eye. Out there, floating in on the tide, was a familiar stove pipe hat. The glint of those oversized goggles at their brim was unmistakable.

Sabo!

Without a thought, Y/N leapt from the crows' nest and dove headfirst into that tepid water. The impact stole the breath from her lungs. But she didn't have time to stop. Arms and legs pressed her onwards, chest burning. Through the blur of the salt water, she could see the petite silhouette, those tailored blue clothes stained in smoke and blood.

Blood-?! Y/N paddled faster. The current pushed and pulled her side to side, tearing her off course, but she would not be deterred. Diving deeper, she perched herself on the nearest boulder on the ocean floor. She could feel the pressure of the ocean trying to pull her down. But the shadow cast by Sabo's limp body in the water spurred her on. She pushed off the rock and up towards the surface. Her arms crooked *just so* to catch Sabo under his arms and catapult them into the fresh air.

Foam and shards of wood sprayed around her. Y/N gasped for air. Every muscle burned and ached. Beyond her, a discordant choir of voices were hollering and calling out her name. She could see her leader's black cloak reach the shoreline. His strides paused upon hearing his crew's commotion.

'Dragon-sama!' she cried. 'Here! Right here!'

The Revolutionary turned. Every scrap of seafaring wind squealed in shock at what he saw.

'Help!' Y/N called out. 'He's hurt, please!'

The tides seemed rattled by the change in weather. A breaking wave shoved both Y/N and her unconscious friend forward. Out of her eye, she saw that stove pipe hat getting knocked about in the torrent. Wait-! Grabbing a nearby bar of flotsam wood, Y/N scrambled to hook the hat like a fish on a spear and fling it towards the shoreline. When the next wave hit, she transferred her limp friend's weight from her front to her back. When her feet finally touched the sand, she could race to Dragon's side and snatch Sabo's hat from him.

'We need to get a doctor, sir, right away.'

Dragon blinked. As he scanned the injured Sabo from head to toe, something shifted in his face.

'Y/N, do you know this boy?'

'Yessir,' No reason to lie to her leader. 'He and Luffy were bond brothers.' she glanced at her friend's face. Dripping in saltwater and blood. Everything within her ached. '...All he wanted was to be free.'

Her elder nodded. 'Very well. We can grant him that much.'

And that was the beginning. Or...maybe the end? Y/N never resumed her initial mission in Fuschia Village. When Dragon told her about her parent's fates in the fire, he formally dismissed her from active duty. She tried to press the issue, saying Luffy and Ace still needed her, but to that, he said:

'At least one of them has unlocked Conqueror's Haki. After this, neither should find much danger in the East Blue.'

Your job has been done for you. --He didn't say that last part, but she certainly heard it in his voice. Her mother always said, 'Spies are well versed in the art of subtext'.

Now, years later, come to find out, neither of her East Blue friends had ever been safe. From the moment Ace left Fuschia, he was dogged by an Ensign and then enslaved by a Yonko. Two Yonko, if Y/N's information network was to be believed. She found it hard once she got word that Ace was pursuing an exiled crewmate who'd turned around and murdered another in their ranks. That second Yonkou, Whitebeard - Ace wouldn't have done that if he didn't believe in the old geezer.

Then Luffy was chased to Paradise by an East Blue captain, where he proceeded to dethrone one of the Shichibukai! And several more after that! Hell, Luffy went all the way to Enies Lobby and fucking declared War on the World Government! The first time Y/N read that headline, she swore she nearly had an aneurysm. Meanwhile, Dragon was sitting at the head of the conference table fucking smirking about it. Little did she know things were only gonna get worse from there.

Ace was captured by the Marines.

Ace was sent to the deepest level of Impel Down.

Ace was revealed publicly to be the son of Gold Roger.

Ace was sentenced to be executed at Marineford.

A secret of the highest clearance has been exposed to the world - and Y/N wasn't there to keep him safe. Not like she promised. Not like she'd been tasked to do for as long as she could remember. Her orders were to 'guard them with your life'. ...And she hadn't done it.

The moment she heard the news of Ace's arrest, she raced to Dragon's office immediately. Requested reconnaissance, search and rescue, and any team fast enough to get him out of Impel Down before Luffy decided to pull a stupid and do it himself. Because he would. She knew he would. Because she still knew him, even after all these years.

Being a part of the Revolutionary Army, agents were forbidden from contacting anyone outside their trusted communications channels. Even passing on a message through her own communication network was considered a breach of conduct. Ace and Luffy probably didn't even know she was alive, or that Sabo was alive. But then again...Sabo didn't even know Ace and Luffy existed.

'Sir, if we don't act first, your son is gonna put himself in danger,' She remembered arguing with her leader. Something she never would've dared to do as a child. 'If he dies trying to break Roger's son out of Impel Down, then -'

'You are certain that will be his next course of action?'

'Of course, sir, Luffy and Ace are bond brothers. Same as he and Sabo. Luffy would drop everything to save his Naka-'

'Evidence serves to the contrary.'

'Are you kidding me?!' Dragon threw her a stern look. Y/N winced. 'A-all due respect, sir, but the whole reason Enies Lobby happened is because Luffy was looking to rescue a crewmate.'

'A crewmate who also happens to be a valuable asset,' Dragon noted. 'The last scholar of Ohara capable of reading the Poneglyphs.'

'That's not why he did it, and you know it.'

'Do I?'

You would, if you any spent time with your son. Y/N knew better than to say that retort out loud. Instead, she said: 'Sir, the first orders you ever gave me were to protect the secrets you'd hidden on Goa. Ace may no longer be a secret, but if we don't act, Luffy's cover will be blown, too.'

'Portgas D Ace has nothing to do with your orders.' Dragon said sternly. 'Your request is denied.'

'But Sir-!'

'Our mission is to free the people. Not one man,' The man's eyes were sharp as flint and harder than bedrock. 'Your request is denied, Y/N. Let. It. Go."

And he was right. Y/N hated to say it, or even to think it, if only to herself. But Dragon was right. The resources required to ensure success, either infiltrating Impel Down or foiling his transport to Marineford, would likely ruin their chances completely. If they were to fail, their forces would be wiped out. Their plans for the Reverie would be compromised. And the Revolution could not afford that...not even for the sake of her friend.

The Army's mission was to free the people. Not one man. Dragon was right. She knew. He told her to let it go, and she tried. Tried to fight other battles and go on other missions with Koala and Hack, and Sabo. -But she was off her game. Getting knocked by blades and bullets, she should've been able to dodge. Stealing more files from outposts than they'd actually need. Striking too hard and accidentally killing a few enemy soldiers. Something Hack most definitely disapproved of. Koala pinched her cheeks and tugged on her ears. Tying bandages too tight and making new bruises when Y/N scrambled for excuses. Hack even noted how he sensed her Chakras were out of balance or something.

But the worst part of it was Sabo. At team meetings, he would keep sneaking glances at her. Even when she stood on his left side, where he couldn't see, and his scar left no sign of any eyebrows furrowing in concern - she could still sense it from him. It was in the way he stood close enough to brush her shoulders in the hallway. Or the way he'd play with her fingers under the table. It had started out as a habit to help him sit still during class when they were little. But now, she knew it was a reassuring gesture. Something he did to reassure himself they were both okay. - Which meant he was picking up on the fact that she was not, in fact, okay. And that was a problem.

What she didn't expect what just how big of a problem it would grow to become.

It happened when she was going to Dragon's office, having just gussied up the courage to argue with him about this whole Ace debacle (again). She'd just bypassed Sabo and Koala in the officer's lobby, she caught hold of the whispers in the halls.

'Hey, check it out, the News Coo just arrived,'

'Eh, Hack-san, you better take a look at this,'

'Hm? New on the war, I presume.'

'Yea. It's finally over. The only reported casualties were Whitebeard, the Emporer, and -' Y/N's stomach twisted. '-Fire Fist Ace.'

Every drop of lifeblood in her body immediatley sank to the floor. Y/N's knees shook. The world spun around her. She couldn't think, could barely breathe. Y/N scrambled to clutch the nearest wall for support to keep her upright.

Ace, Ace, no- She gasped. Her eyes burned. Like she was drowning in salt water all over again. the corridor blurred around her. Only she wasn't in a hallway anymore. She was looking up from the bottom of the ocean as someone else's corpse floated above her. Corpses. Y/N clasped a hand over her mouth in an effort to contain her sobs. Ace, Luffy - oh, Luffy....

The headline staring her in the face was more than proof enough. That freckled face. That mane of tangled hair. That wicked smirk pressed ear to ear on the front page of the News Coo - that was him.

That's when she heard it.

A voice screamed - a howling cry of anguish and agony. Y/N's heart seized in her chest.

Sabo.

That's when it all went to shit.

***

Ahhh! This got way out of hand. I am so sorry, my dear but I'm afraid the epic conclusion to this swelling saga has become its own 3rd part. Please forgive my tardiness. I hope when this is all complete, you will find this story well worth the wait.

All the best,

Rose

[wangxianficfinder]

Interesting / Good Worldbuilding pt.2 (AU's only)

~*~

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

medium blues by darkterrible (E, 193k, WangXian, Modern AU, Horror, Spooky, Opposites Attract, Fluff and Angst, Gore, Ghosts, Necromancy, Mojo’s post)

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

Castle in the Wastes by ailuridae (abigailnicole) (T, 41k, wangxian, Howl’s Moving Castle fusion, personified Chenqing, canon typical violence)

💖 symmetry by bleuett (M, 44k, WangXian, Space, Science Fiction, Happy Ending, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Holding Hands, Blow Jobs, Hand Feeding, Cultivation in Space, Yearning, Reunions, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Canon-Typical  Violence, Minor Injuries, Grief/Mourning, Unconventional Time Travel,  Burial Mounds)

mountains, we met by fruitys (E, 79k, wangxian, historical au, the handmaiden (2016) fusion, enemies to lovers, misunderstandings, secret identity, touch starved, sharing a bed, pining, getting together, angst w happy ending, implied/referenced suicide, suicide attempt, mental health issues, emotional manipulation, rimming, blowjobs)

Hear a song this deeply by so_shhy (T, 87k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, modern cultivation au, Kind of academia AU, Music, Kid Fic, Action/Adventure, To An Extent, Original Character(s), Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending)

My Boy Builds Coffins by enbysaurus_rex (Not rated, 48k, wangxian, canon divergence, coffin maker au, YLLZ WWX, autistic LWJ, falling in love, hurt WWX, pining, deathscapes, farmer LWJ, burial mounds settlement days, tenderness)

Wrong Turn, Right Place by diamondbruise (E, 71k, WangXian, Time Travel, kind of, modern wwx, cultivator lwj, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jealousy, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Cultural Differences, Miscommunication, LWJ Has a Big Dick, Anal Sex)

of buried things by Sanguis (M, 31k, wangxian, modern w magic, case fic, witches, magical realism, haunted house, mild gore, pining, getting together, smut, accidental baby acquisation, fluff, tentacle sex)

other earths and skies by binghecarer (T, 54k, wangxian, modern w magic, slow burn, hurt/comfort, canon-typical scars & injuries, curses, East of the Sun, West of the Moon fairy tale au, Mojo’s bookmark)

take me back to a time by DizziDreams (T, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, College/University, Modern with Magic, Time Travel, Sharing a Bed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Student!WWX, Time-Traveling Wizard!LWJ, Slow Burn, Character Death, Angstreference to abuse, Canonical Character Death, Canonical Abuse, Canon!LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Mutual Pining, Chronic Illness, Not A Fix-It, Case Fic, implied 3zun, Transmigration, America, [Podfic of] take me back to a time by dreamhazer)

I will be chasing a starlight by feyburner, sundiscus (E, 71k, WangXian, Star Trek Fusion, Vulcan LWJ, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Eventual Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pon Farr, Mind Meld, Fuck Or Die, Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort)

you’re a bird in the water / i’m a fish on the ground by plonk (Not Rated, 8k, WangXian, Merpeople, Canon Era)

The Beast of Gusu series by Netrixie (T&M, 212k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Wolf WWX, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Happy Ending)

A Fox Demon Fathered My Children by bonbonsbunnies (Not Rated, 26k, WangXian, Fox Demon WWX, Dragon LWJ,  Eggpreg, Mpreg, Some angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced  Fertility Issues, Implied/Referenced Unsafe Pregnancy, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Mildly Dubious Consent, Outdoor sex (almost) but Wangxian get cockblocked by the Wens, Anal Fingering, brief thigh fucking, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Implied/Referenced Cheating (not real), unrealistic depiction of having kids, Eventual Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Fear of Abandonment)

see you yesterday by glyphic (M, 138k, WIP, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Ghost Hunters, Time Loop, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Memory Loss, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn) I adore the fic see you yesterday. It could be a good fit for your world-building list. The setting starts a little lower-key, but then gets wilder and wilder.

Duel of the Twins by Theladyofravenclaw (T, 71k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, star wars au, scifi, each chapter is intended to be a whole movie within a trilogy, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, mild body horror, Mentions of Suicide, please take that major character death warning seriously, Angst with a Happy Ending, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Angst, Dismemberment, WIP)

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers by Yukirin_Snow (M, 273k, wangxian, JC/LXC, ABO, Romance, Slow Burn, Pain, Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Pregnancy, Humor, No one dies that doesn't deserve to die, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending)

~*~

[moramaisis]

Characters: Ascended Astarion x Arsenia (tiefling)

Pairing: M/F SO: Both are bi

Status: Married without papers. Arsenia is Astarion's vampire bride. Alignment: Both are something between lawful and chaotic evil. Progression: 3 out of 4 chapters Word count: 23,438 Keywords and warnings: gore, mild torture, mild humiliation, explicit smut, pegging, anal sex, oral sex, threesomes, teasing, murder, action, dark romance, dark humor, cheese, light to medium angst, villains. It's too late to say but this is not one of those stories where ascended Astarion is evil and tav is the victim. They're both total monsters are very happy together. This story AO3 The full series on AO3 (I'm not going to post it here, it's too long. Sorry about that!) NB! I edited the first chapter, it was pretty rough. Maybe still is a little. Not the biggest fan of the writing there but it is what it is.

[stayevildarling]

Cordelia Goode x Wilhelmina Venable x Billie Dean Howard x Reader - Black Friday

A/N: Hello everyone. I am currently obsessed with these three again so I apologise for the spam. I got the idea for this from the song ,,Black Friday'' by Tom Odell. I honestly wasn't sure whether to carry this on, write a part two or just keep it at this. I decided to post it now to see if anyone on here even still reads my stuff.

tw: mention of past abusive relationship, very mild mention of scars, angst + fluff

taglist: (if you wanna be added or taken off, send me a dm or an ask):

@lunaticwhittaker @billiebeanhoward,@lanawinters-ily,@kenzbro,@minaslittleone,@httpfiftyshadesofgay,@whitelotus00,@ninaahs,@vintagepaulson,@isle-of-earle,@paulsonsratched,@stepintomyworld,@grilledcheeseandguavajelly,@lucyintheskywithxanax,@fanfics4world, @mymiraclewitch, @hazard-to-myself

Laughter illuminated your face, the room spinning, music filling your senses. Infront of you, Billie dancing cheerfully while she smiled at you. In that moment you knew it was one of those little moments that you wouldn‘t forget. Her perfect blonde curls swaying in synch with her hips, her smile and her laughter filling your heart and her singing causing you to giggle. You were always a lot of things but definitely not one to party. You hated it, the drunk people around, the unnecessary hangover the next morning. But somehow Billie had convinced you.

„Just this once“ she beamed excitedly as she tried to convince you but also convincing your other two lovers, promising one of them could pick you up after and that she wouldn‘t drive, wouldn‘t drink too much and would look after you. Of course you agreed, what other answer could you have given the woman with the beaming smile and excited tapping of her heels and it was worth it, so worth it.

If there was one thing Billie had taught you over the years it was how to have fun. She turned your world upside down, making you experience things you had never experienced before. The medium taught you it was okay not to feel guilty for smiling or showing genuine laughter. Never scolding you for being too loud or embarrassing and never once not in the mood to spend time with you, get out the house with you or spoil you wrotten.

Then there was a certain redhead. Mina, your mina. She taught you what it‘s like to be happy. Billie taught you all the fun parts but Mina showed you true happiness. Quiet moments spent together, eyes meeting at the dinner table, finding a quiet spot in the garden or greenhouse and her reading a book to you. Your heart fills with happiness whenever you get to spend those moments with her. Just like Billie, she never made you feel uncomfortable, never scolded you for asking for things. If you had a bad day, she would take your hand, hold it gently against her cheek and asked what you needed.

„You look so pretty, pretty like the sun“ you whispered, as you sat in Cordelia‘s lap. Her arms wrapped tightly around you, making you feel safe. Delia was your sun, the supreme lit up your world from the start. Often you find it hard to describe her to people or the love you feel for her. But the sun was simply the next best thing. Cordelia is warm, her presence making a room smile and instantly feel safe and comfortable. Her hands always feel warm, instantly making you feel safe. The supreme had taught you what true kindness feels like. To never be ashamed of being too nice or kind to people, whether your loved ones or strangers you would never see again.

„You are so kind my darling“ Delia would tell you after you helped one of the new girls in the academy get settled, no time or effort ever too much for you.

Their love for you was something you couldn‘t grasp til this day. To be loved by three beautiful, kind and powerful women at the same time felt like a jackpot to you, one you didn‘t deserve.

„I‘m so selfish“ you think to yourself as you look in the mirror. Your own thoughts pulling you back into reality. Despite their best efforts the self doubts never quite stopped. Despite being told it was okay to have bad days.

As Wilhemina enters the livingroom, she finds the usual picture in front of her. The coven finally quiet after a busy day, Cordelia reading and grading things, her laptop tucked in her lap. Billie scrolling on her phone while also glancing at the tv from time to time. Despite being busy doing their own things, the two blondes had a blanket around their shoulders, sharing it and occasionally exchanging loving glances and soft gentle kisses.

Usually however, you would be part of this. Wrapped in between them or next to one of them. The biggest beaming smile painting your face as you see Mina, knowing she prefers the coven quiet and also having her work for the day finished.

Today you didn‘t sit there. No beaming happy smile. „Where‘s my little one?“ she asks which causes Cordelia to smile softly. „She hasn‘t really been around since going out to do the shopping earlier“. the supreme explains, the smallest bit of concern lacing her voice but deep down remembering Billie‘s words from earlier, telling her you would be fine and are probably just tired and having a nap.

You are still standing in-front of the mirror as Wilhemina makes her way up the stairs to your shared bedroom. Staring at yourself, feeling emptiness, while your head is filled with all sorts of thoughts and flashbacks.

„Little one?“ the redhead asks after entering the room, having knocked before with no reply as your thoughts completely blocked out your surroundings before. However, her gentle voice and the tapping of her cane, walking towards you, pulls you right back into reality.

„Sorry Mina“ you smile and walk towards her, shaking off your thoughts and mustering up your best smile. The woman scans you for a moment before one of her hands makes it‘s way to your cheek. „Are you alright?“ she asks gently.

Your eyes try to go anywhere but meet her brown eyes, however it was inevitable. Mina always knew when something wasn‘t the way it should be. And your eyes definitely spoke. Delia was the better one at getting things out of you but over the years Mina had learned how to make you trust her, never pressure you and accepting honesty if you didn‘t want to talk about it as long as you didn‘t hide, didn’t lie. That had always been the deal.

„I saw him today, at the shops“ you almost whisper. Your words take a moment for her to register before her demeanor changes. Anger washes over her face before she reaches out a hand to hold yours. „What happened?“ she asks, trying to stay calm.

You explain to the redhead how nothing actually happened and while he tried to talk to you, he didn‘t actually do anything. You might have left out the part where he said some unnecessary things as you knew it would anger and trouble the redhead. Mina tries her hardest to comfort you as she faces an inner battle. She hated him, ever since Cordelia had found out what your ex boyfriend had done to you, physically and emotionally she had trouble not to go out looking for him. She could never understand how someone could treat you this way. Despite Wilhemina‘s past being filled with abuse and hatred, she could never accept that happening to you, her little one and her everything.

„Is there something I can do, little one?“ she asks with a gentle smile. „A book, some tea, a bath?“ she offers, having slowly learnt those things from Cordelia after having to learn herself what could give her comfort in moments of sadness or overwhelming emotions.

After thinking for a moment, you decide for the bath but reassure her that she didn‘t need to run it for you. You feel like having some quiet and being able to process the flashbacks alone. Wilhemina agrees, only after making you promise you would let either of them know if you needed company or anything at all.

As you sit in the bathtub, a while later, adding some of the camomile and lavender bath set that Cordelia had gotten you for your last birthday, you take some deep breaths, trying to calm down, forget about the whole thing. „You‘re so weak, selfish for telling her, it‘s pathetic“ the little voice in your head quickly reminds you. Still burnt into your brain, after he had put all those things into your head years ago. Despite years of healing with your three girlfriends, it didn’t take a lot for the voice to come and haunt you again.

Cordelia‘s thoughts are interrupted as she hears the tapping of Wilhemina‘s cane. She always knew what each tap meant, normal content Wilhemina, nervous Mina, angry Mina. And this was definitely concern and anger reflected in the slightly faster taps than usual. Instantly she puts her laptop and work aside before her eyes meet Wilhemina‘s as she finally enters the room.

„Whats wrong?“ Billie asks, also knowing by now what this expression means. „She saw him today at the shops“ the redhead states coldly but her voice filled with anger. Cordelia immediately stands up, inviting Wilhemina to sit down before calming her down a bit and giving her the chance to explain.

„I thought he was gone“ Billie snaps after the redhead finishes explaining what you had told her not that long ago. „I thought you placed a protection spell around her“ Billie snaps at Cordelia. The supreme explains calmly how that doesn‘t apply to meeting him by coincidence in a shop. „I‘m gonna go up and check on her“ the supreme announces.

Meanwhile you pull your knees closer to you, hugging them. ,,I want a better body, better skin'' you think to yourself, the voice still having the upper hand. The warm water was meant to help make you feel less shaken, the smell of the bath salts making you feel calmer. However it wasn‘t helping. The words of abuse, cycle in your head over and over again like a broken record. Suddenly the tiny scars that Cordelia healed and fixed visible again.

As the supreme approaches the bathroom your thoughts replay in her mind. Being the most powerful witch, Cordelia usually has the ability to keep her clairvoyance controlled. The ability to read other's thoughts. However, with you, Billie and Wilhemina sometimes her magic alerted her of something needing to be adressed or needing the supreme's attention. Your words pain the woman as she takes a deep breath standing in front of the bathroom door.

,,Darling?'' she knocks gently, pulling you out of your thoughts. ,,Yes Delia?'' you ask before she replies if she may enter. You think about it for a moment, not really wanting her to see you in a state like this but also knowing she would be worried if you refused. ,,Sure'' you simply reply before she enters. She gives you a gentle smile as she closes the door and approaches you. As your girlfriend kneels down beside the bathtub, you get a sense of her perfume, reminding you of her, of home.

Both of you sit in silence for a moment before her brown eyes meet yours. That's all it took for your chin to wobble and your eyes betraying you, tears rolling down your cheeks. ,,Oh darling'' she whispers before taking your cold hands into her warm ones. Your eyes reflect sadness but also the silent ask for help, for Delia to take over and as soon as she notices, she simply nods, telling you it's going to be okay.

Gentle sunshine Cordelia takes over, helping you finish your bath, drying you off, drying your hair for you and braiding it. She put you in one of her pyjamas before sitting you down on the bed, positioning herself behind you and wrapping her arms around you. Her head rests on your shoulders and her blonde hair falls on your face, taking in the smell of her shampoo, also reminding you of home and helping you to feel a bit calmer.

,,Do you think they are okay?'' Billie asks, still sitting in the living room with Wilhemina. The redhead takes a moment to think before assuring ,,I'm sure they are, otherwise Cordelia would have let us know''. Billie sighs slightly in annoyance. Part of her simply missing your presence as she hasn't seen you most of the day, another part of her annoyed that she couldn't help like Mina had done prior and now Cordelia. The redhead sitting next to her, senses her annoyance and despite not having the magic ability to read minds, knowing exactly what the medium was thinking.

,,How about you take some tea up to the bedroom? I'm sure that would be helpful'' she smiles gently at Billie. The mediums heart fills with warmth, knowing moments like these are exactly the reason she had fallen for the redhead. She agrees and excitedly waddles off to the kitchen. Mina smiling warmly, as she walks away, her heels tapping on the marble floor.

Meanwhile all your thoughts and emotions had spilled out of you. Delia right there, catching every single tear, listening to every word, making you feel safe and keeping you comfortable. She makes you feel valid with every single thing you say, slowly replacing the voice in your head, with her soft one, reminding you that you are none of those things. ,,I wanna be happy Delia'' you mumble through tears. ,,Do you think you can show me how it's done?'' you carry on. The blonde fights back her own tears, your statement causing for her heart to ache. ,,Of course my darling'' she whispers, pulling you onto her lap, as you rest your head on her chest.

The room is quiet for a while, your tears finally stopped, the only thing to be heard, Delia's heartbeat as you still rested on her chest. A gentle knock interrupts the silence. ,,Come in'' Delia softly says. As the door opens, you open your eyes and see Billie walk in, carrying a little tray with some cups and a teapot. ,,Um- I made some tea for you'' she announces anxiously. Delia smiles softly before looking down to see your face. She walks closer, placing the tray on one of the bedside tables before smiling at you and turning around to leave.

,,Billie?'' you whisper softly and she instantly turns around. ,,Yes babydoll?'' she asks as her eyes lock with yours. ,,Why is there only two cups?'' you ask confused. A bright smile fills her features as Delia smiles proudly. ,,I'll get some more'' she happily announces. ,,Could you ask Mina to come up as well please?'' you ask, your voice sounding small. ,,Of course sweetie'' she smiles softly before leaving for a moment. Delia presses a gentle kiss to your head before whispering ,,I'm so proud of you sweetheart''.

A couple of hours had passed, four tea cups now empty on the nightstand, the air filled with the smell of lavender. You are cuddled up in the middle of the bed. Delia to your right, Mina and Billie to your left. Their soft comfortable presence eventually made you fall asleep, feeling safe in their presence. ,,Do you think she's going to be okay?'' Billie asks after a while. Mina's hand finds hers under the blanket holding it tightly. ,,She will be just fine my love'' Delia replies confidently.