#none of this is about Louis as a person

[pirateshelly]

While I very much do think Lestat is an extremely enjoyable/interesting/entertaining character (he's probably my least favorite in the show but that's entirely a me thing and it doesn't mean I dislike him he's just not a particular character type that tends to grab me!) I simply cannot imagine watching all of season 2 (which I personally enjoyed even more than season 1) and being like "this is really suffering from a lack of lestat". It just does not compute. My love for Louis and Claudia and Armand is simply so all encompassing that my brain just short circuits at the idea of watching them on screen and thinking "hmm this is fine I guess but what if lestat was here right now?"

And I am 100% looking forward to season 3 because I still do very much enjoy him as a character, and Louis and Armand and Daniel are still no doubt going to have solid roles even if it's a very Lestat focused season. But the thing that confuses and vexes me is when people (like a LOT of professional reviewers) act like he's THEE main draw and that the others simply aren't enough to hold the show up without him

[aranostra]

i'm just sitting here spinning curly and anya around in my mind. i cannot stop thinking about this game.

[newtness532]

how do i convince my sister to spend at least 70€ on a ticket for a concert of a band she doesn’t know that i only casually listen to every now and then?

[autumnrory]

i've been going into the liam tag from time to time the last year where both his fans and people who hated him were Weird about him well before there were any allegations so i would get curious, i don't even remember what started it (maybe it was merely looking for photos that update accounts wouldn't post), but i normally try to avoid going into anything but edit tags for people i enjoy bc there are so many nonsense takes

and of course happening to go through today before the news broke bc i wanted to see what was being said about the abuse as i've only gotten bits on twitter and of course there were many posts rightfully calling it out and all but there's that weird mentality which i was getting a lot more of from twitter but some on here where they're like??? celebrating it and girlboss-ing and i'm just like. okay it's great that you're believing a victim but you're making light of it by talking about it like it's just another stan thing, i have seen that time and time again when this kind of stuff comes out and if people already thought that person was annoying or whatever they're just like "oh yes! i knew it! their career is ruined haha!" and it's like. you clearly don't actually care about the horrible things this person has done and just want to brag that you somehow ~knew~ a stranger's vibes were off and it's so beyond gross like you could use that energy to support a person's victims and instead you'll just try to prove you stan the right people and never the wrong ones or whatever

[persephoneflouwers]

he no longer uses the peace ring, he no longer sings songs that are explicitly reported to louis, he no longer uses the blue bandana, he demonstrates that he is really in other places, while louis is on the other side of the continent, he is removing all the elements that were reported to louis precisely to demonstrate that they are no longer together. louis' end of show songs are breakup songs, fift is a breakup album, especially headline, not to mention hsh's loml which is about not loving the person anymore.

It kinda surprises me the amount of disagreement I feel towards this list of events. Genuinely flabbergasted that we listen, see and experience the same situations but perceive them sooooo differently.

It’s definitely interesting, but you lost me at fitf is a breakup album bc my friend, that album tells me literally nothing about their relationship status lmao

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

cannot get over the IMPLICATIONS of that 'armand was telling the truth' tattoo like:

-in universe fandom for the book

-potentially armand has come out of this whole situation once again portrayed as an innocent victim, and this time he didn't even have to work for it. none of the readers have even gazed into his big beautiful eyes!!!

- everyone thinks lestat is cosplaying as lestat. dear God do you think the armand girls are constantly @ -ing him and daniel on twitter bringing up copyright laws

- do you think daniel has publicly threatened to sue lestat. I Know he has.

- the author, who is perceived to be having an end of life cunty gay era, is convinced to interview the rock star who's cosplaying as his famous character. you KNOW. you KNOW the girls are rooting for them to fuck each other

- discourse about how a hashtag real artist would create their OWN character to embody and also isn't it a red flag that he's idolizing an abusive murderer?!?!?!?! boycott the new album guys!!!

- louis and armand and sam all have burner accounts to constantly shitpost about the book

- claudia girlies showing up to a concert with fanart of her on all of their posters and he has a public breakdown but everyone just thinks it's a regular drug scandal

- anyone remember the armie hammer cannibal situation. yeah.

- lestat says onstage that he ships loustat and he gets booed by even his most loyal fans

- small sector of fans that ship louis and daniel and they refuse to make eye contact about it

- daniel's daughters publicly try to have him committed more than once and some fans preemptively start a gofundme in case his daughters try and get a conservatorship

- (armand donates) (the fans don't even know daniel personally the whole thing is a scam)

- armand prints out and dramatically gazes at any and every piece of fanart drawn of him

- lestat projects hate comments on a screen at his show but like half of the hate comments are by people who think they're talking about a fictional character

- this is getting away from me. I DO wanna see louis in a mosh pit dressed slutty and covered in glitter tho

[merrybloomwrites]

When You're Lost, Just Look For Me

Summary: You’re not always good at asking for what you need. Luckily your bandmates know when you need a little extra love and are there to support you.

Word Count: 2.5K

CW: mentions of: neglectful family, periods, little bit of online hate

This story is set in the 1D days, and therefore Liam is a main character just like the other boys. Wanted to give a heads up in case anyone wants to avoid stories with him in it.

AN: When the news broke last week I wasn’t sure if I was going to continue writing, and really didn’t know what I would write about if I did. But then Passing Contact doubled in notes so I took that as a hint that it’s what people might want to read right now. So I decided to write a part 2 in hopes that it can help people in any way.

I have a couple other ideas for stories of reader x one direction that would also take place back when they were touring, but if you have any requests please let me know

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It’s a day off in a random hotel room in a random city in the United States. Of that you’re sure. But you're not sure of much else at the moment. 

You’re thinking back to the past few days. You’d messed up your backing vocals on stage, and had to re-record your parts for the next album because you just could not get it right. Numerous rumors were being spread about you being spotted with random boys, leading to renewed comments calling you all kinds of nasty things. 

You’re still in your pajamas, which you realize somehow consist of a pair of Louis’ sweatpants, one of Zayn's t-shirts, and a sweatshirt Liam had given you a week ago that you have yet to return. You think about texting one of them to come hang out, but you don’t want your glum mood to bring them down. Instead you turn on the TV and wrap yourself in all your blankets. 

It’s what you always did as a child when you were sad. Your family was never open with their emotions, and affection made them uncomfortable. From a young age you knew that going to your parents for comfort would end with rejection. So you’d learned how to comfort yourself. 

The blanket nest barely does its job today, and you’re still lost in your thoughts of self doubt when a knock at the door startles you. 

For a second you think about ignoring it, but odds are the person knocking wouldn’t just go away. So you pull yourself up and open the door, seeing Niall there waiting for you. 

“Hey, haven’t heard from you today, wanted to see what you’re up to,” he says. 

You’re hit with a wave of embarrassment, not wanting to admit that you've been wallowing all day. 

“Just taking it easy,” you reply, “Catching up on sleep.” It’s believable enough, none of you sleep too well on the bus and this is your first hotel bed in over a week. 

“I hear ya, think I slept twelve hours straight,” Niall says with a laugh. 

Knowing that he’s hoping for an invitation you step aside and motion your arm, silently asking him to join you in your room. You glance around quickly, glad to see everything is neat except the bed. You hope that he doesn’t judge the mess of blankets, and considering he just kicks off his shoes and climbs into your bed, you assume he’s fine with it. 

“What are we watching?” Is his next question so you sit on the other side of the bed and pass him the remote, allowing him to scroll through the channels until he finds some nature show that looks mildly interesting. 

You stare at the screen but you’re not focusing on it. You’re more focused on Niall just a couple feet away from you. 

During a celebration after the first tour, where you’d all indulged a bit with some drinks, you’d let slip about your family and your reluctance when it comes to physical affection. They listened and then made it a goal to help you be more comfortable with hugs, and hand holding, and all kinds of friendly contact. 

And it was nice. You’d always known that babies could be touch deprived, but you’d learned that adults can be starved for human touch as well. There was no doubt that you fell into this category, so getting random bouts of touch and affection from your band members had been healing in a way.

But lately things have been so crazy that everyone has been focusing on themselves. Plus you’re older now, not the teens that you were when you started the band. As people in your early twenties, the casual physical affection has dwindled. 

The boys seem to be coping with this, as though they haven’t even realized that the group hugs and cuddle piles have stopped. But you’ve noticed. And you’ll be the first to admit that you miss it. 

Now especially, with all this stress and disappointment weighing you down, you can’t help but desire a hug, one so tight that you can just burrow into one of the boys for a little while and feel safe and loved. 

But even though Niall is right there, you can’t bring yourself to ask. You can’t even move closer and get rid of the space between you. Because it was always the boys initiating the contact. You’re nervous to try, terrified that you might get rejected. 

Niall can tell something is going on with you, but he’s not sure what. He’s never been the best at navigating other people’s emotions so he calls in backup by sending a text to Harry who arrives a little bit later. He brings lunch with him, and you’re grateful for that since you’ve barely eaten all day. 

The three of you sit together at the table to eat. The food is good, and you’re grateful that Niall and Harry are talking to each other because you don’t have much to add right now. You don’t realize the way they’re watching you, communicating their worry through pointed looks. 

When lunch is done you all head back to the bed and put on a movie. You’re sitting against the headboard, Niall on your left and Harry on your right. And somehow, they’re still not touching you. At this point you’d take a brush of their arm against yours. Anything to help you feel less alone. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to lean closer to either of them. It’s maddening. 

“Y/N,” Harry says, catching your attention.

“Yea?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing,” you reply, not even sure why you’re lying to him.

“We know something is bothering you,” Niall adds. 

You take a breath before spilling everything that’s been going on. They listen and reassure you and while you do feel better after talking with them, there’s still that part of you that’s so on edge.

“What do you need?” Harry asks.

You think about it for a moment and say, “What I need is for people to stop judging me.”

“That’s a fair point. But I want to know what you need right now. From us.” Harry says.

The thing is, he knows the answer. He’s already aware of what would make you feel better. But he wants you to say it. He wants you to be comfortable to voice your needs with him and the other boys. 

Finally you blurt out, “I just need a hug.”

“That’s not it,” Harry says.

Now you’re confused. It’s what you want. You tapped into all your bravery to even say that. And now he’s telling you that’s not right?

“You want something more than that. Need something more than that,” he adds. 

You think about it for a moment and you realize that he’s right. A little hug isn’t going to cut it.

“I need someone to hold me,” you say quietly. “I need to be held.”

Neither boy hesitates now, and you end up tucking into Harry's side with Niall wrapping around you. They hold you tight, hands gently rubbing your back or arms to soothe you. 

It’s not often that you allow yourself to cry, but you do now. You heave out a sob and feel their arms tighten around you. They stay like that until your sobs turn into tears before finally drying up. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly once you’ve calmed down fully. 

“Of course, YN,” Niall says. “We’re always here for you. Whatever you need.”

“We’re in this together,” Harry adds. “And we take care of each other. Always.”

Their kindness, and comfort has you feeling so much better, but you remain in their hold just a bit longer. It feels so nice to have this type of physical contact after so long without it. 

The three of you eventually get cleaned up and join the rest of the boys for dinner. You end the day feeling so much better than you did at the start, and you know it’s thanks to these boys you call family. 

But despite how nice it felt to be held, thoughts of doubt and embarrassment fill your mind in the weeks that follow. When you look back at that afternoon you first think about how good it felt. And then you begin to feel weak that you even needed to be babied in the first place. 

You vow to be stronger in the future and not ask for that again. They have their own things, they don’t need to be taking care of you too. At least, that’s what your parents had always said. 

Tour continues, and one night you all have to stay at the venue for a while after the show. Security said something about it being unsafe to travel just yet, but you were too tired to listen to the details. 

After more than an hour of hanging out backstage you finally get the all clear to head out. But in that time you’d practically fallen asleep on the sofa. You have zero desire to get up so you sleepily raise your arms and look at Liam who’s standing before you and say, “Carry me.”

He chuckles, and a sweet smile appears on his face. Without even saying a word he leans down and slides an arm behind your back, the other under your knees to scoop you up bridal style. You sling one arm around his neck and hold on as he adjusts his grip to make sure you are secure. 

Once back on the bus he tucks you in, straightening your extra blanket and placing your stuffed cat in your arms. He runs a gentle hand through your hair until you fall asleep, once again feeling so safe and loved. 

A couple weeks later your period hits, and for some reason this month is especially bad. It’s day two of non stop cramps, and as much as you try to keep this a secret from the boys, they always know when you’re feeling particularly bad. 

Louis is the one to find you curled up on the couch. He brings chocolate, pain relievers, and some tea that’s supposed to help. You’d never heard of it before, but apparently his sisters swear by it. 

When nothing helps right away he lays down with you. His hand goes to your stomach and begins to rub, somehow soothing more than just the pain. Once your cramps finally go away you turn so that you're facing Louis. You tuck your head under his chin and he puts his arm around your waist to keep you close. 

It should be strange, being so close to him. But it just feels right, just like it does with the other boys. You let yourself enjoy the comfort as Louis’ hand rubs gentle circles on your back. 

Not only are your cramps gone, but the feelings of sadness and anxiety that usually come with your period are gone too, all thanks to Louis’ compassion and gentleness. 

A few days later you're sleeping in your bunk when a nightmare hits. It’s one that you used to get all the time, but now only comes when you’re extra exhausted or stressed. And with it being the last couple weeks of tour, you’re both of those things. 

You wake up gasping, adrenaline coursing through your body. You hoped that you were quiet and didn’t wake anyone else, but a moment later Zayn appears and asks if you’re alright. 

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Just a dream. I’m good now.”

But of course these boys can read you like a book. And Zayn immediately knows you’re not fine. 

“Scooch over,” he says, and you listen. As soon as there’s room he climbs in the bunk with you. He lays on his back and pulls you so your head is resting on his chest. 

You get comfy but you can’t help but feel bad. These bunks are small, uncomfortable for just one person. Definitely cramped with two.  

“You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine,” you say. 

“Nonsense. No one should be alone when they don’t have to,” he replies. 

You can't argue with that. The two of you hold each other close and fall into a peaceful sleep. He’s still there when you wake up in the morning and you snuggle closer, taking advantage of his comforting touch. 

When tour ends you’re a weird mixture of relieved and sad. It had been exhausting, but so wonderful. 

And you have to admit to yourself that you’re going to miss the boys. It’s only a couple of weeks apart before you come back together, but you’ll be back home with your family during that time. 

And you’re realizing that they’re not really family to you. 

Zayn, Niall, Louis, Liam, and Harry are your family. They care for you in ways your own parents never did. And you’re going to miss that while you’re all back home. 

The boys know how you feel about going to stay with your family. That’s why they plan a night in rather than going out to party. You have some drinks and pizza, and spend the evening reminiscing about the past months you had together. 

The later it gets, the more glum you feel. You know the goodbyes are coming soon, and that puts a damper on your mood. 

Liam’s the first to notice how quiet you’ve gotten. He sits next to you on the couch and gently nudges you with his shoulder. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. 

You don’t want to bring down the party, but you can’t ignore his pleading eyes so you reply, “I’m just going to miss you guys.”

He nods but continues to look at you, knowing there’s more to it. Sighing you add, “And you guys are so happy and so warm. At home everyone’s cold and distant.”

“What can we do to help?” He asks. A memory pops into your head. Another hotel room when you were feeling down. You know exactly what you need. And you’re no longer scared or embarrassed to ask for it. 

“I need to be held,” you say. 

“I think we can do that,” Liam says before once again picking you up and announcing, “Cuddle party on the bed!”

He gently tosses you onto the plush king bed and in no time you’re surrounded by your boys. That’s how the six of you sleep that night, all snuggled together in one big pile. 

You’ve never before felt so safe, so loved. And you’ll forever be grateful for the opportunity you received that brought you close to these boys. Because they are the ones who taught you what love truly feels like.

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AN: While I was working on this a butterfly landed next to me and stuck around for a while. Brought me a bit of peace.

To my readers, I hope you’re all doing okay, and if you need someone to talk to know that I’m here and willing to talk!

[altruistichellhound]

Prey vs Predator

Louis x Fem!Hybrid reader

In this you are a grey wolf snow leopard. Angst to half way good ending.

Warnings include: Implied smut, mentions of sex, Louis being a dick…

I exhaled softly through my nose, watching the deer get out of the bed we had just shared. Per usual I laid there as he left without even looking back at me. Stop, I need to stop… This one was the last time. I’m a carnivore, an apex predator, he was nothing but a deer. A deer that had me in the palm of his clawless hands. This was never going to happen again.

That’s what I said last week. Tonight the room was heavy with a haunting need. One so deeply engraved it was as if it was carved into my very bones. His hands ran down from my blank stomach to my leopard spotted thighs. He traced the spots with his finger teasingly. As his hands roamed his grip went between light and thoughtful, to rough and demanding. I couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath. However, something was shaking my focus. I inhaled deeply, catching a sent different than his. It was not something, but someone that had caught my attention. The smell of a rabbit was barely prominent on his coat.

Leaving my body Louis fell to the bed, both of our heavy breaths filling up the room. We had rules, a lot of them, but the question was nagging at me. Who was this rabbit? These thoughts kept me silent and motionless, finally Louis spoke.

“Aren’t you going to leave?” He turned his head to look at me.

My heart skipped a beat when he looked at me, “Yeah,” I sat up in the bed, “actually… I was wondering, you smell like a rabbit?”

His eyes filling with anger he snapped at me, “That’s none of your business now is it?”

I rolled my eyes at him, “Whatever,” collecting my clothes I dressed swiftly and practically ran out of the room.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" I looked up to see who I had just ran into. Looking down on me on was deer with a large set of antlers. The sun cascaded over his more than slightly serious face. I quickly scrambled to my feet, brushing off my school uniform.

“It’s fine, be more careful next time,” he patted at his green jacket.

While both his tone and eyes were very simplistic there was a snobbish air about him.

“y/n,” I spoke as I looked into his eyes.

“Louis,” he extended his hand out to me which I accepted.

Shaking his hand he had a strong, firm grip. Suddenly it clicked in my head, “Aren’t you the main actor of the drama club?” Star of the show and whatever?”

“Yes that would be me.” It sounded like something that he was proud of, “Goodbye then,” he nodded to me as he walked away.

From that moment on I thought about him daily. When I showed up to drama club that same day it was not a shock to see him, though he seemed somewhat surprised to see me. What surprised him even more was that being able to look at me entirely he noticed my wolf face, but my spotted legs and wide bushy tail. Over weeks of watching him lead the club, the way he spoke, walked, carried himself… All reasons that led us up to this point. His strength and willfulness was admirable. Always being among the strongest animals in the room it was not often I felt weaker than someone. When we first slept together I’m not sure who was more shocked.

“Let’s set ground rules then,” Louie stood facing me with his arms crossed. “We both have reputations to uphold.”

I nodded in agreement, “Yes I think rules are a good idea.”

He hummed at my agreement, “First and foremost this is between you and me, no one else.”

I agreed to that before he continued to speak, “Second, no meddling in each others personal lives. There is no reason to know each other beyond this and the club.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, “You mean no small talk then? I’d prefer to know the person i’m sleeping with.”

He left out a sigh that sounded somewhat understanding, “I suppose that’s not unreasonable…” he thought for a moment, “We can get to know each other. However, you can know me; not my personal life or the things that surround it.”

I again nodded as that sounded more reasonable. He further explained some more rules such as no discussing our “situation” in public, acting as no more than acquaintances in drama club and a few other simple ones. I only had one more rule to add on.

“Either of us can call this off at any time, no questions asked,” I reached out my hand to shake on out agreement.

He thought about my rule only for a second before reaching out and firmly grabbing my clawed hand.

“Why are we going to the gardening club?” I looked at Legoshi whom looked back at me.

“Ah.. I wanted to visit a friend…” His tail swayed back and fourth seemingly excited but nervous.

“How come you didn’t go alone?” I questions him lightly.

“I think I want you to meet her?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“You think?” I asked as we arrived at the club.

It was beautiful, the sun gleamed against the plants and its warmth swallowed up my fur. It smelled deliciously of flower and herbs. Another more delicious and mouth watering scent caught me by surprise. A very familiar scent of a red deer. Legoshis head dropped in concentration, obvious he had caught that same smell. I looked at him unsure of what to do, he looked back and walked over to a small building. I followed closely behind before he lifted his hand carefully to turn the knob. Before he could the door swung open causing him to yank his hand back.

There is the door way stood Louis, wide eyed, a shocked look covering his face. Behind him stood a small white rabbit.

“Legoshi?” He spoke before looking behind the wolf at me, “y/n?”

My jaw dropped and I spit words out, “Oh I uh, I forgot! Jack needed my help with..” I began backing up. “I’ll catch you later Legoshi!” I turned to leave, the second I was out of sight I sprinted away.

The rest of the day I avoided Louis the best I could. It was stupid really, it’s not like I was his girlfriend. We were just friends, hell not even friends. Then why? Why were my cheeks hot with anger? What was this wretched feeling in my stomach that made me want to hurt anyone that looked at him? A feeling of dread consumed me as I considered skipping drama club. I could run away to my dorm, but then Louie would know that I care.

Instead, I dragged myself to drama club. I would prove to not only him, but myself, that I in fact did not care who he was with! When I arrived at the club Louis was outside, with a rabbit. That same damn white little rabbit as before. She was as tiny and meek as they come. Louie brought his hand up to pat her head gently. I clenched my teeth together so hard I thought my canines would shatter, the rabbit walked away. I stood there in a towering stand of rage and jealousy. Suddenly, a hand was on my shoulder. I turned to look at whoever it was, a grey would stood towering behind me. Before he could say something I spoke up.

“Who is that rabbit from the gardening club?”

His face contorted into a mixture of shock and happiness, “That’s Haru!” He half shouted at me before slapping his hands over his mouth.

I raised an eyebrow at him, “Haru huh?”

We walked into the club together, Louis looked at me the same way he always does. I wasn’t sure if it was good that he was pretending nothing happened, or if it was the worst thing possible. Either way it’s what he was doing and I wasn’t going to contest that. Whilst the club proceeded like normal Bill was unusually flirty with. Every so often he would throw a harmless comment at me. Staring and offering more help than usual. It seemed that the others had noticed this, specifically Louie who almost looked jealous. It dawned on me that in more recent drama club news Bill had been dumped by his girlfriend not all that long ago. It was more than obvious to me that he wasn’t actually interested, he needed an ego boost. I wasn’t most inclined to be the person to help him, however it seemed as though it would benefit me. While I was never going to actually let him near me, it seemed enticing to flirt a little.

I could feel eyes burning into the back of my head. It made me nervously excited. After club had ended everyone began to back their bags and get ready to head home as the sun was setting. Just as I was about to leave Louis asked me to stay behind momentarily to discuss a few set displays with me. Without a word he locked the door after everyone was gone, he practically pounced on me. It was like I was the poor meek prey and he was like big scary predator ready to devour me whole. His hands were rough and full of greed, kisses hungry and ready to take my body as his own. After we were finished the night confirmed two things, one: I was in love with a deer, and two: I had to have him as my very own or not at all.

The choice in my mind was solidified, either Louis would commit to me or I would be leaving him forever. I could handle it if he rejected me. What I couldn’t handle is being in this position any longer. The air was cool today, clouds partially covered the sun. I had asked Louis to meet me outside behind the dorms, it was private and no one really came back here. I stood there, leaning against the brick with my heart beating out of my chest. In the distance I spotted a distinct set of antlers.

“Why did you call me here?” Louie stood right in front of me, his voice as cool as the air.

I sucked in air and my nerves along with it, “I’m… Well i’m not sure how to being this up.”

His face looked annoyed, “Would you spit it out?”

“I want to end this, our situation.” I put emphasis on situation.

He looked at me to see if I was serious, “Okay. I know it’s rule but seeing as you break them I can too. Why?”

Exactly what I had hoped for, “Because I fell in love with you.”

He thought about it for a second, “Okay.” He walked away.

While my face remained calm inside I was furious. Okay? What did he mean okay! I waited for him to walk away before I turned, punching the brick wall. It crumbled underneath my powerful hand, as well as my own bones.

“Fuck!” I shouted into the sky.

The next day my hand was wrapped and healing. My heart was still bleeding heavily and Legoshi had been nothing but questions.

“I still don’t understand why you hit that wall.” He looked at me with an empathetic look.

I sighed heavily, here’s to breaking our rules right? “I was sleeping with Louie, and when I told him I love him all he said was okay.”

Legoshi stared at me plain faced, zero expression and no word, “Legoshi?” I quipped.

He didn’t respond, still stuck in time. “Oh my god did I break you!” I grabbed his hand and yanked on it, “Wait I need someone to talk to!”

The large wolf snapped out of it, “You’ve been sleeping with Louie? WHAT.” He practically screamed at me while somehow falling out of his chair.

When he scrambled to his feet I explained everything, how we met, how we ended up sleeping together, our rules, and most importantly how I fell in love. It was then he also told me that he too had fallen in love with a herbivore.

“We’ll look at us,” I said, “Falling in love with our food.” I couldn’t help the cackling laughter that followed.

“Cosmic joke, I know.” He laughed with me.

“I guess I have to quit drama club…” I said sadly.

“What?” He asked me with a concerned tone, “You love drama club, you can’t quit because of him.”

I looked at him with defeated eyes and explained to him how I just couldn’t face Louis. He argued back, telling me I couldn’t let one person ruin my passion. I decided he was right, I couldn’t let someone ruin something I had worked so hard for. Legoshi walked with me that day, we walked in together and I put on a fake face of uncaring confidence. It was easy to ignore Louis as he had also decided to ignore me.

After drama club was over I walked out with Legoshi. He told me about how he was going to the gardening club to say hello to Haru and ask her to dinner. I watched him walk away, looking back at the door I wondered if I should go back in and face Louie alone. I had nothing more go lose so why wouldn’t I confront him? The least he could do is give me closure. I walked in together find Louie standing in the middle of the club, he looked at me before quickly looking away.

“Louis we need to talk,” I stepped closer but he didn’t move.

“Louis!” I yelled at him in a stern voice, yet again nothing.

“You are such a coward!” I turn to leave the room, it was a mistake to go back in.

A force ran up behind me, yanking my body towards him I collided with his chest

“What did you call me?” his voice was angry and his eyes looked almost on fire.

“I said you’re a coward! I told you that I loved you and you said nothing! You could’ve rejected me, gave me some sort of comfort.”

He left go of me, “Because I’m in love with you too and i’m scared!”

Both our faces dropped in shock. Louis grabbed me tightly, his hands moved to cup my cheeks as he brought me in for a passionate kiss.

When we pulled away, both breathless I was only able to utter out one sentence, “What do we do now?”

That question was answered by a series of quick pecks and my clothes being removed. Working it out physically was better than words.

[flowerchild28]

Backstage part 1

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: none, fluff

1.2k

Part 2

The lights flicker out, plunging the arena into darkness for just a moment before the rumble of anticipation grows to a deafening roar. You’re standing backstage, half-hidden behind equipment cases, feeling the vibration of thousands of excited fans shaking the floor beneath your feet. Louis is only a few steps away, his back to you, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights as he readies himself to step out into the spotlight.

The crew bustles around you, finishing last-minute checks, but Louis seems oblivious to it all. He’s rolling his shoulders, shaking out his hands, mentally preparing for what’s about to come. It’s a ritual you’ve seen countless times by now, but it never fails to captivate you. He’s calm yet focused, a perfect blend of nerves and confidence, like a storm waiting to unleash itself.

His fingers trace the edge of the microphone he’s holding, and just before the opening notes start to play, he turns his head slightly, catching your eye. His serious expression cracks into a grin that’s pure mischief, and for a brief second, it feels like you’re the only two people in the room. That one look speaks volumes: he’s excited, he’s ready, and most of all, he’s grateful you’re here.

He walks over to you, sliding his hands into yours, his grip warm and firm. “You sure you’re okay back here?” he asks softly, leaning down so you can hear him over the chaos.

“Of course,” you say with a reassuring smile. “I love watching you.”

His eyes soften, and he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good, because I’m about to kill it out there.”

You laugh as he pulls away, flashing you one last wink before disappearing into the swirling fog that floods the stage as his name booms through the speakers. The crowd explodes into screams so loud it shakes the walls, and you find yourself stepping closer to the side of the stage, watching with bated breath as Louis strides out, waving to his fans, his whole body humming with energy.

The moment he begins to sing, the arena seems to transform. Thousands of voices join him, echoing every word, and the lights sweep across the sea of faces, illuminating signs, handmade banners, and glowing bracelets. The love for him is tangible, almost overwhelming, and you feel a swell of pride in your chest. He belongs here, on this stage, in this world where his voice can touch so many hearts at once.

As the first few songs play, you notice the way he sneaks glances your way. Even in the middle of performing, his eyes find you, and each time, his grin grows wider. It’s like he’s silently saying, *this is for you,* and your heart swells knowing that, out of all the people in the world, he chooses you to share these moments with.

Halfway through the set, during a slower, more intimate song, something shifts. The stage lights dim, casting a soft glow around him as he sits down at the edge of the stage. He introduces the song, his voice quiet and sincere, and you realize it’s one of your favorites—the one he wrote in the early stages of your relationship. He starts singing the familiar lines, his voice low and filled with emotion. The fans don’t sing along as loudly this time, letting him take the lead, and for a few minutes, it feels like it’s just him, you, and the quiet melody floating through the air.

You close your eyes, leaning against a nearby wall, the sound of his voice washing over you like a warm embrace. Every word feels personal, like a love letter sung just for you, and even though you’re surrounded by thousands, it’s the most intimate moment of the night.

When the song ends, the crowd erupts again, but Louis doesn’t immediately jump into the next one. Instead, he looks your way, eyes twinkling under the soft glow of the stage lights. “That one’s for someone very special backstage,” he says, and the audience lets out a collective sigh, as if they know exactly who he’s talking about. Your cheeks flush, and you shake your head, grinning at his boldness, but your heart feels like it might burst.

As the show continues, you can see Louis’s energy intensify with every song. By the time he reaches the final track, the entire arena is alive, fans jumping, screaming, and waving their arms in time with the beat. Louis plays the crowd like an expert, his voice powerful and unwavering, even after nearly two hours of performing.

And then, it’s over. The music fades, the lights slowly dim, and the crowd erupts into one last round of applause. Louis bows, waving to the audience, thanking them with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. Sweat drips down his face, his shirt clinging to him, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s glowing, still high on the rush of performing.

The moment he’s off stage, he makes a beeline for you, his steps quick and determined. Before you can even say a word, his arms are around you, pulling you into a tight hug. His body is warm and slick from the performance, but you don’t care. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice hoarse and raw from singing. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I know it sounds stupid, but I swear I did.”

“You just performed for thousands of people,” you laugh softly. “How could you miss me?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Easy. I always do.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you—soft at first, but then it deepens, his hand cupping your cheek as if he can’t bear to let you go. You melt into him, your body relaxing in his arms as the rest of the world fades away. For a moment, it’s just the two of you, tangled up in each other, oblivious to the crew packing up equipment around you.

When he finally pulls away, his lips still brushing against yours, he grins. “How about we sneak out of here? I’m starving.”

“Are we talking midnight pancakes again?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” he says, his smile widening. “Pancakes, fries, maybe a milkshake or two. We can watch the sunrise if you’re up for it.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You never run out of ideas, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” he says softly, his eyes serious for a moment before the playful spark returns. “Now come on, before the fans figure out where we’re going.”

Hand in hand, you slip out of the arena through the back entrance, avoiding the crowds still lingering outside. The cool night air hits you, and for the first time in hours, everything feels calm. Louis pulls you closer, tucking you into his side as you walk down the quiet street, the city lights flickering above you.

As you head toward the diner, the world feels smaller, quieter, and more intimate. The chaos of the tour, the screaming fans, the bright lights—it all melts away, leaving only you and Louis, wandering through the night like two people with all the time in the world.

And in this moment, with his arm wrapped around you and the soft glow of streetlights illuminating your path, you know this is exactly where you’re meant to be—by his side, in every adventure that’s yet to come.

[neo127]

pop star gf and actor bf | sim jaeyun x fem!reader

genre. established relationship, non idol au + fluff cw. none! notes. totally inspired by olivia rodrigo and louis partridge bc they’re so so cute

✧.* the two of you met during a fashion week event. your debut album had been a smash hit and you gained popularity extremely fast. you had the chance to become a prada ambassador and jake happened to be one too.

✧.* your paths had rarely crossed considering your two opposite career paths, but jake has heard your songs on the radio and you had seen his handsome face on screen a few times.

✧.* when jake saw you in person for the first time, he was in awe. he had seen you on his phone screen but never in person, and he realized that no photo could capture how beautiful you actually were.

✧.* jake approached you first, even though his stomach was doing backflips and he felt as if he could puke. you flashed him the most stunning smile ever and jake knew that it was over for him. he needed to get to know you.

✧.* after the event, he got your number and the two of you began following each other on social media. luckily you lived in new york and jake would be filming there for a bit so you both agreed to meet up sometime.

✧.* on the first date, you were both extremely nervous. jake asked you loads of questions, especially about your career since he was curious. he hoped he didn’t come off as a creep, but your easy smile and relaxed demeanor showed that you weren’t uncomfortable. you asked jake what acting was like and gushed to the man how cool it was that he had been in so many hit movies.

✧.* after a successful first date, the two of you went out more. after a couple of months, jake wanted to make things official. he had surprised you with a well thought out picnic (including your favorite snacks) and a special gift. you nearly let some tears slip due to the gesture, not being used to a guy doing something so special for you.

✧.* when the two of you began dating, you decided to keep it private for a bit. having a relationship in the public eye wasn’t easy and you both had very big fan bases.

✧.* speculation began anyway, but it was neither confirmed nor denied by you and jake. that was until jake decided that he was tired of hiding and convinced you to roam the city streets with him.

✧.* photos of you and jake holding hands and sharing kisses blew up which ultimately confirmed that you were in a relationship. luckily, your fans reacted well and immediately fell in love with you two as a couple.

✧.* you two don’t post each other much on your social media, but when you do it’s very special. fans freaked out over a photo jake had posted of you on his film camera to officially confirm your relationship.

✧.* everyone is obsessed with your relationship which results in edits and threads of how much you two love each other.

✧.* jake is super supportive of your career and shows up to any concerts he can. he always has his film camera ready and takes a million photos of you on stage. fans have caught him before on video and it is very endearing to see how happy he is watching you perform.

✧.* you show up to premieres with jake to support him and make sure to promote whatever project he’s in on social media.

✧.* you guys are definitely the cutest celebrity couple and everyone absolutely adores you!!

[two-white-butterflies]

vienna waits for you

Description: A messy divorce with his college sweetheart sends Harvey catapulting into a bed of madness. He meets her years later, and the worst part is: they still love each other.

Pairing: harvey specter/singer!reader

A/N: i am obsessed with suits as of the moment, and i will be posting a lot about harvey specter regardless of his small fanbase. i have no idea if representing an ex-spouse is legal, but i saw jessica do it for her ex-husband so...by law of suits?

Harvey Specter does not have a positive outlook on love. His mom cheated on his dad, and subsequently his views on love were hinged on that heartbreak. Everyone around him knew that there was a great wall in the middle of Harvey and personal connections. He struggled to make friends - or in Donna's words, he is alone, has always been alone.

"What are you talking about?" Louis raised an eyebrow, a foot inside of Harvey's office. His eyes methodically darting back and forth between the two men. "Harvey was talking about his college sweetheart. She added him on Facebook." Mike lied.

Louis chuckles nervously, aware of Harvey's past.

It hasn't been that long ago, Harvey was still married to you during his early associate days. "She added you on Facebook?" Louis repeated the last words, his eyebrows were merged together. I don't mean to impose, but if Harvey's getting back with his ex-wife... Louis thought, and Harvey's jaw clenches.

He casts Mike a glance.

"If she added you on Facebook, then why didn't she add me?" Louis bites his bottom lips, Y/N likes me. I thought we were friends, Louis takes a deep breath. "Maybe it was a fake account, Louis." Harvey glares at him, his blue eyes piercing daggers deep into the other man's soul. Why couldn't have Mike thought of something clever-er?

There were three women that he could name at the top of his head, Scottie, Zoe, and that one waitress girl. "Oh, because for a second there I thought that..." Louis smiles bitterly. "Get out." Harvey rolls his eyes, mumbling something about closing the door on his way out. Louis quickly fades from view.

"What was that about?" Mike's eyebrows merged together. "None of your business," the older man replies curtly. Harvey didn't embrace the past with all of his heart. There were a million things that he could have done differently. He could be living a different life right now, had he made the right choice, but he didn't.

He has never experienced real love, but he was close, once.

"I get it," Mike sighs, aware that it wasn't smart to ask his 'mentor' personal questions. "I need those files by tomorrow." Harvey huffs, dismissing the associate. Way to ruin the day, Mike, Harvey thinks.

But it wasn't really Mike's fault.

(HARVEY SPECTER. 1ST YEAR AT HARVARD)

When you fall in love, everything happens in slow motion. As I'm watching this girl get off her motorcycle, everything happens in slow motion. She removes her helmet, and her hair is free - suddenly swaying with the strength of the wind, and when her face is free of her flowing hair - I see her face.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

"Harvey Specter, right? I'm sorry for being late but I was the one that they tasked to tour you around the place. Courtesy of Jessica." She smiles at me, her helmet sitting snugly on her hip. "You don't have to," I found myself mumbling and she shakes her head.

"I insist." She smiles at me. I think I can hear a love song play in the background. Harvard of my dreams, woman of my dreams. "Harvey Specter," I introduce myself. She mumbles her name, and shakes my hand willingly. "I'm from the school of Arts. I hope that you'll be able to attend my song event next Tuesday. I'm inviting you." She says promptly, her tone reminding me of Jessica.

School of arts? Pfft, she must come from real money.

"Invite me? But we've only just met. Shouldn't you invite me to dinner before coaxing me into your bed?" I raise an eyebrow. She laughs at my joke, I don't even know if that joke was funny in the first place - but I know that it made her laugh. "It's a song, Mr. Specter. I'm not asking for your soul." Her eyebrows relaxed, and we walk inside the building - the warmth of the heater entering my body.

"- plus, I made a bet with this girl in class that I'll be able to get more guests than her." She winked as we entered our first classroom. "Give me a good reason, and I'll bring all of my friends." I chuckled.

(CURRENT DAY)

"It is always a pleasure to see you," Jessica smiles.

"I wish that I was here under different circumstances." You take a deep breath. These past few weeks have been a blur. "A million artists have been accused of plagiarism, but songwriting is a grey area. Pearson Hardman will fix this problem. I promise." She promises.

Jessica has never let you down.

"We'll have to prove to them that your song was written before they published theirs, which is easy because you keep all our song lyrics in a clear-book." Jessica remembers, versed in all the times that you rambled about your songs in her office, but a sigh escapes your mouth. "Proving that to them is the trickiest part." You confess.

"I lost my book. I don't know if I left it with Harvey - if it's stacked in between his bookshelves, or god knows where it is." A bitter chuckle escapes your mouth as you sink deeper into the seats.

"I could've gone to any B list law-firm if this was an easy battle but I'm willing to spend money on Pearson Hardman because I can't afford to lose." You articulated with a forced smile. Being accused of plagiarism was a stain on your reputation. Pearson Hardman needs to protect your honor.

"Jessica," Harvey's voice breaks you away from your thoughts. Suddenly, the office became smaller, and the twenty-feet distance between the both of you wasn't enough to contain your anger.

"Harvey will handle your case, he is our best lawyer." Jessica compliments. "No," you resist without apprehension. "- what I need from you isn't trivial. I really can't afford to lose." You breath. If this was Jessica's way of entertaining herself, then she needs to find another person to play with. "We should all be professional here," Harvey breaks his silence.

He sits down on the couch parallel you.

He has always kept to himself, even resisted from showing you the vulnerable parts of him in fear that you'd leave. In the end, you weren't the one that left - he was the one who filed for divorce.

How do you talk to an ex-husband without yelling profanities at each other? When the last time you saw each other was in the middle of a court room, unable to look each other in the eye. It would be better to leave things unsaid, but given the circumstance - given the fact that he was staring at you right in the eye - it was impossible.

"I am being sued for plagiarism. I know that you don't care about the truth, so I'll make this simple: losing is not an option." you emphasized, wording it in a way that would leave no questions.

Jessica hands him the files.

"I don't plan on losing," Harvey mumbles while skimming through the files. "- you were smart to come here."

3:00 P.M

The sight of him in his three-piece suit, his gelled hair, and his fresh cologne scent sent you reeling back into the past. How long has it been since you've seen his shadow? Even longer since you've last spoken without your lawyers acting as a medium.

Stars shine and burn, and your star crashed into extinction.

You continued staring at him as he read through your files (all magnificently compiled thanks to your years of proofreading his case files which did not happen if anyone from the D.A asks.) "How long are you going to stare at me?" He asks in a cold tone, it has been an hour since the both of you left Jessica's office. Opting to meet in his office instead, lest you fall asleep in Jessica's comfy fibers.

"You really are miserable without me," you spoke out loud. "What the hell are you talking about?" His eyebrows merged together. "You still don't know how to tie your necktie properly," your lips burrow into your lower lips, watching a fraction of a flaw in his tie.

To any untrained eye, his necktie was polished and flawless - but you know that when he does his necktie, his thumb is a little tight and the entire fabric is tighter around the middle. The back part of his necktie moves slightly to the right, but he fixes that by tucking it in.

"I'm sorry but some of us don't have the time to study little things," his tone comes out colder than he anticipated. There was a time where Harvey was just this little thing in between your palms - if the you refused to move to the mountains, then he moves the mountains to you, that was until the fallout.

"It is because of the little things that we live," you replied in your usual artsy way, one that sends a corporate man like him careening. "- I know that you hate me." You began but he interrupts you with a stare. "I don't hate you," his voice is gentler this time.

"Regardless, I hope that you understand how much this case means to me." You look at him with your puppy-eyes, begging for justice. "I graduated from Harvard, top of my class in a course that people don't take seriously. I make art, not just soulless marketable music, but art that actually has meaning, and to be accused of plagiarism offends me. It really does." You explained your side.

And it doesn't take a genius to realize that he believes you.

"I listened to your song," Harvey replies.

"I didn't see you listening to it." You mumbled.

"You went to the bathroom and I listened in the interim," he lies. He still has your vinyl albums on his vinyl shelf, but no one knows that. "The songs are similar." He pointed out. "Songs sound similar all the time," you snap but only because you know that you've never copied a damn thing in your entire life.

"You told Jessica that you wrote this song during our... do you have any proof of that?" He inquires, following his usual procedure of investigating his client. "No, but I wrote that song after our fight. If that means something." You chuckled bitterly.

(THE BEGINNING OF THE END)

The white blanket covered your body, providing warmth against the coldness of your shared apartment with Harvey. "Good morning, beautiful." He presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Good morning," you replied with a lazy smile, still taken aback by the beauty of his stare.

When you are thrown back into reality, that sinking feeling returns and permeates in the bottom of your chest. "This isn't going to make me forget about that thing with Cameron Dennis," you sharply reminded him.

"This is why I didn't tell you in the first place." He frowns, a bad start to the day. "- you were against me when I was in the grey. I am in the black now and I don't know what you want me to do." He argues.

It wasn't as easy as you narrated it, there were nuances to the problem. Cameron Dennis wasn't going to let him go that easily, when Harvey had the evidence to implicate him in a crime. He'd want to settle a score, and a man like Cameron Dennis was unpredictable, regardless of his moral code. "Leave," your answer was simple.

"- there is still a place for you with Jessica. But if you think that covering up for Cameron, this one time makes you exempt from all the other crimes that he's about to do in the future. You're wrong. Don't wait until it comes to bite you in the ass," you pleaded.

Greater than him have failed against corruption. You didn't want to see him become another clog in the machine, if he was in the black a foot inside of the room - then what shade would he be a year being inside of the room? "If your eyes are open, there's no reason to close them." You continued to persuade.

"It's not that easy." He repeats himself, and for a man of his stature - it really isn't easy. All he had to defend himself was you and Jessica. "I know that it isn't, but instead of involving yourself it would be better to leave before the tides become stronger." You advised, but judging by the look in his eyes - he wasn't listening to you.

5:00 PM

"Their estate replied, they're willing to settle on 40%." Harvey informed you, aware that it was the best deal that he could get out of this scenario. You didn't have a single evidence in your hands, none but your words and the stories attached to it. He believes you, but it would never uphold in court. "I want to settle on 0%." You insisted.

It is bold, but not even half of what Harvey settles on a daily basis. "They wanted 100 and I got it down to 40, unless you come up with an alibi or concrete evidence. I firmly advice you to accept their offer." Harvey tries to convince you, his tone mirroring yours all those years ago. "For Christ's sake," you mumbled - it was a losing game.

You couldn't let anyone take credit over your song.

This song means something to you.

It means something to your life.

"I hate you Harvey," you suddenly let out.

After all these years you still hold that divorce against him. It wasn't your fault in the first place, he allowed himself to be consumed by that corruption in Cameron Dennis' office. He blamed you for every little problem that he encountered, he pushed you away, told you that he never cared about you - even though that wasn't the truth. Not even close to the truth, because he was afraid.

Afraid that you'd cheat on him. Afraid that you'd leave him, he left first. So he'd be the winner.

"What is this really about?" He tried to keep his distance. "You can't even win this damn case." You insulted him, your words still able to cut through his thick walls. "- you defend capitalists. You're a clog in the machine, and you can't even defend an innocent woman." You were aware that your anger was misplaced, but he was the one standing in front of you - the object of your ire.

"You still can't let it go," his voice was a distant whisper. "- this world isn't a walk in the park. I told you that during the divorce, and I still mean it." He says the word 'divorce' with no reluctance, whereas he was avoiding that word a few hours ago. "You changed. I can't even recognize you," you chuckled mockingly. "What happened to the man who had a moral code?" You ask.

"You've been gone for a long time." He made an observation. "And we don't know each other that well. You were always away, building your career. Leaving me." He voices out his anger for the first time in decades. His jaw clenches again, but his eyes - oh you could tell from his eyes that he was heartbroken.

"So the divorce was my fault?" You queried.

"We barely spoke to each other. You didn't return my calls, you pushed me out, you made me think that there was someone else." He points a finger at you, raising his voice by an octave. "I was scared that if I answered you, then we'd fight. So I ignored you because ignoring you was better than losing you!" You yell.

The last years of your marriage was hell. Every little thing that unnerved you of each other was brought out, used in arguments - and the very swords that you promised to defend each other with, was used to stab each other in the back.

"You gave me the divorce papers, I told you that we could fix our marriage and you ignored me too. I'm not the villain that you're making me out to be, Harvey." You take a deep breath, regaining your composure and walking out of his office.

(A DAY AFTER THE DIVORCE PAPERS WERE GIVEN)

I take a deep breath.

In and out, like she always told me to do.

How long has it been since we've last spoken to each other? The only time that I was able to hear the sound of her voice was when the judge spoke to her and she requested for half of my properties. I should hate her for doing that but I don't.

"Harvey, I'm sorry for that plea with the judge. I don't know how to get your attention without suing you. We both made mistakes, but that isn't a good enough reason to let go. Let's fix us. I love you, and please call me back." The voicemail ends and I take the phone off my ear. I love you, three words that I have never said to her before.

I can see her sitting on the corner spot of the cafe - the cafe where we had our first date because the steakhouse that I booked mysteriously got shot down, and she insisted on having coffee for dinner. I can see her wearing the red dress that she wore on her song recital - the first time that I was able to hear her perfect voice.

I want to enter the room, but I can't.

I reach for my phone, dialing her familiar number.

It rings a few times, and I see her fish for her phone inside the bag.

"Hello?" I hear her voice on the other line. "Harvey, are you coming?" She asks, but I'm already here - without the courage to walk through the doors. "Harvey," she says my voice in a firm tone.

I open my mouth to speak but no voice comes out. I'm scared, and what if she'll leave me in the future? I should leave before she falls out of love with me, before she realizes that I'm not worth the sweat. "- for christ's sake. If you're here to laugh at me." Her voice becomes frustrated, and I see her stand up.

She hangs up.

"I love you too," but she was unable to hear me.

10:00pm

Harvey takes a swig of his beer, making his way to an apartment that he hasn't been in for a long time. This used to be your shared apartment with him, and he got ownership of it in the settlement. He opens the door with the keys in his pocket (keys that he's always kept in his pockets just in case he needed to return).

The apartment didn't smell like you anymore, it smelled like dust. The pristine white couch was now a muddied version of grey, and all the portraits you had together were covered with a thick layer of dust. He takes a deep breath, sitting down on the floor beside the vinyl shelf.

He took all of his vinyls and placed them in his office, but yours were still there. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Don McLean and Coldplay, your favorite artists - and he hasn't listened to them in a while. He doesn't understand how your marriage with him took a sharp turn - he valued your love, held it close to his heart, but in the end it slept away from his hands, carried on and never looked back.

He opens the dusty vinyl box and plugs in the song.

The song that you were being sued for, and the song that he has only listened to once because he couldn't bear listening to your voice.

Slow down you crazy child, you're so ambitious for a juvenile. But if you're so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid? Where's the fire what's the hurry about? You better cool it off before you burn it out.

He opens one of the albums in the shelf. Elvis Presley's That's The Way It Is, which the both of you voted as the best Elvis album of all time, the soundtrack of your love story with him.

You're gonna kick off before you even get halfway through? When will you realize, Vienna waits for you.

The song continues playing in the background, and to his surprise a paper napkin was folded in the middle of the album, creating an indent that he hasn't noticed before. He reaches for the paper napkin, afraid that it would disintegrate with his touch. He unfolds it gently and to his surprise, the lyrics to the song that you were being sued for: Vienna, was written there.

To my husband, please remember that I'll be here waiting for you.

12:00 AM

He knocks on your apartment door, and you groggily open the door for him. "What the hell are you doing here?" Your eyebrows merged together, surprised by his sudden appearance. "I can win the case," he says with certainty - but already knew that. Harvey Specter is the best lawyer in NYC.

"You don't like losing. I get it." Your voice had hidden meaning.

Your eyes only softened once you realized that he was holding a laminated paper napkin in his right hand. "You found it," you take a deep breath, which probably also means that he was able to read the note that you wrote. "I went to our old apartment and it was-"

"In Elvis' album," you finished his sentence. "I didn't expect you to still have that apartment. I expected you to sell it the moment that it was given to you," it was your turn to make an observation.

"I'm sorry for hurting you." He made it very clear that he regretted the divorce, but should a relationship be founded on regret?

"It's in the past. We both have moved on." You partly lied.

"I was there in the cafe when you called me, and I wanted to talk to you but I was scared." He admitted, finally able to voice out his thoughts after all these years of keeping it in. "I was scared to tell you the truth because everyone who has loved me, has left me." He repeated, and suddenly a great weight was placed on your back.

"I think about you everyday," you confess.

Your hands in his necktie, pulling him closer towards your body. "What if we hurt each other worse?" It was your turn to voice your concern, eyes mirroring his - your fears were tangible. "Let's try again. I'd rather live knowing that we tried again, than live knowing that we could have but didn't." Harvey begs.

You answer him with a kiss to the lips.

A/N: will do a pt 2 fluff 🙏🏻 idk if people still watch suits but i love this show and i live breathe it.

[andscene-if]

AND SCENE—an 18+ slice of life plunges you, a nepotism baby, into the major spotlight as the lead in a highly anticipated movie, navigating swarms of hate, swirling scandals, dating rumours, false tabloid reports, and invasive paparazzi.

Breaking news—the love interest role in Claire White's latest blockbuster finally has a star, and it's none other than [MC], pictured above, the youngest offspring of Hollywood moguls. Brace yourselves for a wild ride as [MC], usually seen in their parents' flicks, takes on a meatier role in one of next year's most hyped movies.

But hold the popcorn—whispers on the red carpet suggest [MC]'s previous filmography is more "meh" than marvellous.

Is this casting coup the pinnacle of Hollywood nepotism, or will [MC] flip the script and prove they're a force to be reckoned with? Love them or hate them, one thing's for sure: this star-studded spectacle is about to kick off, and only time will spill the juiciest deets straight from the set.

So, grab your shades, folks, because this Hollywood rollercoaster is just getting warmed up and PinkCelebTea will report every step of the way—you know how it is!

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NEXT UP: Our insiders spill the tea—L Alvarez ain't exactly doing cartwheels about acting alongside what they're dubbing an 'untalented and undeserving' co-star. Trouble behind the scenes already?

# Choose the movie genre & title + those of your previous 4 films. # Customise your MC & public persona. # Navigate drama in front and behind the screen. # Shoot the movie cover & go on press tour. # Prove you're more than just a nepo kid...or don't. # Romance one out of four love interests. # Maybe even snag a few nominations by the end!

THE CO-STAR [M/F]—Louis/Luana Alvarez.

Appearance: 6'0. Brunette with curly hair (short for m, chest-length for f), pale skin and dark brown eyes. Signature style includes a white shirt/blouse, top buttons undone, and loose pants. Always impeccably dressed, with a flair for full-on glamour on special occasions, such as the red carpet. Personality: Reserved and quiet. While not everyone can pull off that demeanour, they do it flawlessly. Fans absolutely adore their composed exterior, noting, "it adds to their mystique."

THE MAKEUP ARTIST [F] — Red.

Appearance: 5'7. Long ginger hair, tanned skin adorned with freckles, and green eyes. Often dressed in skintight black or dark attire, with a scarlet shade coating her lips. Personality: Red exudes calm confidence with a soft-spoken demeanour, yet she's not one to be underestimated. She holds herself in a thoughtful, sensual, and quick-witted manner.

THE BARTENDER [M/F] — Zayn/Zara Lao.

Appearance: 5'11. Brunette with wavy hair (short for m, just below shoulders for f), tan skin, brown eyes, and a distinctive left brow slit. They've also got tattoos all over their body. Since the club gets hot quickly, you'll usually find them in something small and non-constricting, like a vest top and a pair of jeans. Personality: Unapologetically outspoken, they don't hold back. Blunt yet surprisingly charming, they've become somewhat of a local favourite in the area, rubbing shoulders with the right kind of people.

THE RIVAL [M/F] — Phoenix Ryder.

Appearance: 5'11. Black tightly curled hair (short for m, long for f & often styled differently), dark skin, and brown eyes. They sport a 90s-inspired style—often seen in loose-fitting denim jeans, a breezy shirt/crop top, and adorned with silver rings. Personality: Suave, charismatic, confident, and a touch cheeky—checking all the Hollywood boxes. As noted by many, "a legend in the making."

++contains mentions of alcohol and drug use, violence, explicit language, and optional sexual content++

DEMO TBA | CHARACTER INTROS

reblogs are appreciated :) thanks for reading!!

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

8 letters, 3 words!

synopsis: confessions are tricky.

genre: fluff

characters: lyney x gn! reader

warnings: modern (college) au, reader is referred to in 2nd person, navia + lynette cameo

a/n: hehe hi @ariicandy! i'm your secret admirer for @ecrin-de-litterature's kiss don't tell event :> hope you like this gift hehe happy valentine's!! likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

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“oh my, y/n, you really do have expensive taste.” navia grins at you from across the table. “did you win the lottery, or something?”

you huff. “no, i found them on my table.” the second you open the lid of the (previously) beautifully decorated tin box, the sweet fragrance of macarons wafts into your nostrils— you almost miss the way your friend’s jaw drops as she openly gapes at the treats. 

“what?” 

“you… er, well, do you know what those are?” navia gleefully looks between you and the macarons.

there’s a soft clink as lynette sets down her teacup. “5 bucks they have no clue,” she bets, earning a soft “tsk” from you and a smug navia crossing her arms as she leans back in her chair. 

“of course i do! they’re macarons! hey–” you protest, as navia dissolves into giggles and lynette sighs, “hey– listen, listen, i may have flunked midterms but that doesn’t mean i—stop laughing!—that doesn’t mean i don’t know a sweet treat when i see one, okay!”

lynette leans forward, an odd glint in her eyes. “these aren’t your ordinary macarons, you know. there’s only one bakery that sells them like this, and people queue for hours just so they can get their hands on one of these– they only sell eleven boxes each day, mind you. it’s like you’re saying your louis vuitton is just some random bag you picked off the streets. a single box can quite literally cost you the skin of your a–”

you cut her off. “i think we know what you mean, just take some if you wanna try ‘em, okay?” 

“still, who’d gift you something so expensive?” navia muses, chewing on the lemon macaron she’d nicked while you weren’t looking. 

“probably the same mystery guy who gave me that plushie bouquet the other day, and then those chocolates from yesterday, and also probably that box of pâte de fruits…” you hum in thought, utterly oblivious to your friends’ astounded gazes.

“...y/n, i think you might have a secret admirer.” 

“wha– hey, wait! what was with that tone when you said ‘who’d give me something that pricey’? you tryna say i’m not worth those?!?”

laughter echoes across the empty cafeteria as you lunge at navia and screech something about wanting her to return the macaron. none of you notice the pair of periwinkle eyes fixed on your figure from afar.

—

“ooooh, does someone have a secret admirer~?” navia peeks over your shoulder at the white envelope lying innocently on your desk. “y’know,” she continues, unfazed by your side-eye, “if it’s the same guy that got you those macarons, maybe you should consider getting–”

“shut up,” you grumble, feeling your ears heat up, “i don’t even know who gave me all these.” 

“do people not normally sign their names somewhere?”

“just the initials.” you unfold the enclosed paper, pointing to the very bottom, where the letters LS were printed. “who’s that supposed to be? lonely spirit?”

you don’t see a certain someone’s eyes dim when you don’t bother reading the letter and shove the envelope into your bag.

—

13 february. 7 days since you started receiving letters. 7 days since you got your first plushie bouquet (how the sender knew your favourite blooms and even your favourite character was a mystery you had yet to solve). and 1 day before valentine’s. 

the letter you got today was way simpler than the flowery words that filled the pages from before:

3 boxes, 8 letters. think you’ll be able to figure it out, ma chérie? that’s the key to your last gift.

(hint: the way each letter starts is important. good luck♡)

“the way each letter starts?” lynette shrugs, “no idea. probably something like the first letter of the first word.”

“lynette,” you begin, “you’re a genius!”

one problem, though. you only received 5 letters. oh, well, didn’t hurt to try, right?

“let’s see…” you lay out the letters on the table, trying hard to ignore the contents that made you blush so furiously in the safety of your bedroom. “u, l, v, o, i, e…” you mutter, before navia gives you a light shove.

“no way it’s taking you so long, isn’t it already so obvious?”

“???”

“rearrange the letters—where’s my pen— and what do you get?”

you stare mutely at the letters. “...i love u.” you read, before you’re hit with a realisation.

“wait– boxes are containers, and then words are like containers for letters– and then, and then… and then i love you makes up eight letters in three letters! i’m a genius!”

“if you’re such a genius, you should’ve noticed a certain someone staring at you.” lynette nods at a point behind you, “go get your man, y/n. i don’t wanna hear complaints about being single for valentine’s.”

you turn– and there stood lyney snezhevich, in all his glory, a bouquet in his hand. he offers you an apprehensive smile as he extends his arms for you to accept the flowers—your final gift— and averts his eyes. 

“seems you’ve managed to crack the code, ma chérie. now, then, if you hadn’t known from the letters… will you be my valentine?”

taglist: @yinyinggie @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @thexianzhoujade @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[doctorbitchcrxft]

The Usual Suspects | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? )

Warnings: creepy police officer (not that that differs from real life), canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3242

A/N: Ooh damn, this one was interesting to write. I tried the best I could to make this as coherent as possible. Y’all enjoy! Also, this'll be another creature-double-feature Saturday to make up for the short chapter! Love you, my darlings!

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“I don’t wanna have to keep asking this, kid. Who are you?” the man who’d been interrogating you asked. He was a member of the Baltimore police department: Peter Sheridan. He’d been a complete dick to you thus far after arresting you in the boys’ motel room with Sam. 

“I told you, Ann Wilson,” you replied. 

He chuckled humorlessly. “Listen, dollface—” he leaned across the table creepily, and you fought the urge to recoil under his predatory gaze, “—I’m done playing with you. You were found with Sam and Dean Winchester; one of which was supposed to be dead. They’ve got some pretty serious charges stacked up against them, and you, by proxy. Credit card fraud, breaking and entering, and this one… puzzled me. Grave desecration.

"But still, these are a long way from murder. Then, we get a fax from St. Louis. Where Dean’s suspected of torturing and murdering a young woman.” He got up from his chair and began pacing. “However, no one could prove anything, of course, because supposedly he died there. So now we know Karen Giles wasn't the first person he murdered. And what about Sam? He was pre-law before dropping out after the death of his girlfriend. He’s twenty three years old, no job, no home address. His mother died when he was a baby; his father's whereabouts are unknown. And then there's you.”

“Can you cut the monologuing, man? It’s really starting to get on my nerves,” you replied. You had been sitting back in your chair with your arms and legs crossed confidently the whole time he spoke despite the anxiety you had given your situation.

He slammed his hands down on the table; you didn’t even flinch. “Who the hell are you? And how are you connected to the Winchester brothers?”

You sucked in air through your teeth and relaxed back in your chair. “Seems you got nothin’ on me. You can’t really hold me if you can’t even pin down who I am.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do have you on one thing— over a dozen possible matches when we ran your prints.”

You tsked, cutting your eyes at him challengingly. “Possible. You can’t hold me on possible.”

“But I can hold you for forty-eight hours under suspicion of accomplice to murder,” he responded. “So you might as well start talking.”

You scoffed, sitting back in your chair.

“Sweetheart—” you nearly punched him when he called you that name, “—Dean’s life is over. Sam’s probably is, too. Yours doesn’t have to be. If you tell me who you are— maybe a bit about your place in all this— maybe I can get you a deal with the DA. We can look into your history, check your record; see how well you clean up. How does that sound?”

You considered for a moment before talking, repeating the story you and the brothers had discussed before your arrests in case you got caught. You had one of these stories for every case you’d ever worked on with them. “Sam and Dean’s dad knew Tony Giles. They were old friends; in the service together and everything. So we showed up as soon as we heard about his passing.”

Obviously, none of that was true. You and the brothers had found a story about a man’s throat that had been slit in the papers and headed up to investigate. 

You continued your story. “Woulda been kinda hard for Dean to kill Tony, considering we weren't in town at the time. Anyway, that’s when we went to see Karen. She was… she wasn’t doin’ well. We just wanted to be there for her.”

Karen was Anthony Giles’s wife, and you’d gone to see her to get information. She said he’d told her there was a woman standing at the foot of their bed the night before he passed away, and she'd been bleeding from the neck.

“And that was it. End of story,” you said.

“No, it’s not,” Sheridan pressed. “We have an eyewitness who said they saw two men and a woman fitting your description breaking into Giles’s office.”

“Karen just wanted us to get some old photos, okay? Police weren’t letting her in. I know it was wrong to break in, but she gave us the key,” you lied flawlessly.

In actuality, that was where you’d found a stack of papers littered with “danashulps” written over and over again on the tray of the man’s printer. The poor guy’s throat had been slit so deep, part of his spinal cord had been severed. Your working theory was that a Dana Shulps had died with her throat slit, and now she was back to wreak havoc. However, you found no evidence of any person by that name. So, you were back to square one. 

“Dean went back to Karen’s place to check on her and bring her those pictures and stuff,” you explained.

“Hm, and why didn’t you or Sam go with him?” Sheridan responded.

“We just went back to the motel,” you shrugged. “How’d you know we were there, by the way?”

“Why would I tell you?” he snapped.

“Whoa, pump the hate brakes, Biff,” you remarked, “I was just asking a question.”

“Don’t get cute with me, dollface. Now, you were with both brothers the whole time you were in Baltimore. Why separate now? Because Dean left you. To go murder Karen.”

You tried to seem unfazed, but your jaw clenched in anger. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

He slammed his fists on the table. “I heard the 9-1-1 call! Karen was terrified. She said someone was in the house.”

“Well, whoever it was, it wasn’t Dean,” you said. You stared him down. “Let me ask you something, babe. Do you have a murder weapon? Do you have a motive?” 

He seemed to have no response.

“That’s what I thought. Come back to me when you have something interesting to say.”

He angrily stormed out of the room, and your lips twisted up into a satisfied smirk.

***

You sat alone in your room, repeating “Dana Shulps” to yourself on a loop. You suddenly got an idea. ‘Maybe it’s not a name.’ You reached across the table and pulled a pen and paper pad toward you. You wrote several combinations of anagrams as to what it could possibly be. The only plausible thing you came up with was “ASHLAND SUP.” ‘But what would the S-U-P be? Ashland… a city? A town? …A street?’

***

You listened carefully to the commotion going on beyond the wall of your room. There was no two-way mirror, and from what you could tell, no camera nearby. You listened as footsteps hurriedly crossed in front of your room heading to the left and then growing quieter. You gathered your courage and took that opportunity to make your escape. Quickly, you opened the window and climbed out onto the outside of the building. Looking down below, it was almost a four-story drop. However, you knew you could make your way to the fire escape a few window sills over if you were careful enough. 

You clung to the wall, nervously, careful not to look down or move too quickly when the wind picked up. Thankfully, you made it to the fire escape safely and headed down as fast as you could. You weren’t sure if Sam or Dean had escaped, but you decided to try the trick they taught you to find each other: searching for Jim Rockford in the guest list of the first motel that appeared in the yellowpages. Thankfully, when you did, you found a Jim Rockford. You quickly made your way over to said motel and broke into the room. Sam had his gun drawn on you when you opened it.

“(Y/N)! Don’t scare me like that!” he huffed, putting the gun down.

You grinned and ran over to him. He scooped you up in a hug.

“I’m so glad to see you,” you told him. “What are we gonna do about Dean?”

He sighed. “I don't know, honestly. He’ll figure something out. For now, let’s focus on this ghost, huh?”

“I’m guessing you figured out it was an anagram, too, right?” you asked.

“Duh,” he grinned. 

“How’d Dean give you the cue to escape?” You sat down at the table across from him. 

“Got our lawyer to give me a note. Called me Hilts on it,” he smirked back.

You laughed. “The Great Escape? Nice.”

“I gotta say, man, I’m worried,” Sam told you. 

“Why?” 

“I’m guessing they read you the charges,” he replied. 

You nodded.

The brunet sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is bad, (Y/N/N)."

“Yeah, I know.” You stared down at the table in front of you and bit the inside of your cheek nervously. 

Sam huffed and tried to remain cheerful, changing the subject. “So, what are we thinkin’? Ashland’s a street, but what’s S-U-P?”

You shook your head. “I’m not sure. Initials, maybe?”

“Sounds like a good enough place to start to me,” Sam grinned.

The two of you began pouring through online resources to see if anyone had died ugly on Ashland Street.

“Dude, how’d you get all these files, by the way?” you asked Sam, referencing the many manila folders and photos laid neatly on the table between yours and Sam’s laptops. 

Suddenly, a knock was heard on the door. You looked through the peephole to see a frightened woman in her mid-forties, and you opened it to her. 

“Wait, (Y/N)—” Sam stood upon seeing her, and you put two and two together that she was probably a cop at Sam's end of the case. The woman shrugged and entered the room. She showed Sam her wrists which were lined with a ring of bruises. She explained to you that she had seen the same ghost Karen described seeing and that she saw “DANASHULPS” appear on the mirror in the bathroom at the same time the lesions appeared around her wrists. 

“These showed up after you saw it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” the woman responded. “You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. So is she.” She gestured to you. “I should be arresting you.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you questioned pointedly.

“Diana Ballard, Baltimore P.D.,” she said. “And… what was your name?”

You snickered. “You’re not getting that out of me that easily. Hey, do me a favor, look through these for us.”

“Why would I do that?” She suddenly seemed to register what she was looking at. “How'd you get those? Those are from crime scenes, and booking photos.”

Sam chuckled. “You have your job, we have ours. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

She flipped through the stack and stopped on the photo of a drugged-out-looking blonde woman. She stopped on it and held it up. “This is her. I'm sure of it.”

“Claire Becker,” you nodded. “Twenty-eight; disappeared about nine months ago.”

“But I don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after me?” Diana asked.

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” Sam replied.

“Yeah, Pete and I did. Before homicide,” the detective answered.

“You ever bust her?”

“Not that I remember.”

“It says she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place and didn’t find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves,” you added.

“Why would we do that?” Diana asked.

“See if we can find her body,” Sam explained. “We gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “Of course it is.”

***

Turns out, poor Claire’s body had been hidden right where the moon shone through the window of 2911 Ashland Street labeled “Ashland Sup.”

Diana noticed the necklace on the corpse and touched it cautiously.

“That mean something to you?” Sam asked.

You could see she was beginning to get angry. “I've seen it before. It's rare. It was custom made over on Carson street.” She pulled out the necklace from her shirt and showed it to you and Sam. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.”

“That son of a bitch,” you murmured. 

“Now it all makes perfect sense,” Sam began.

“I'm sorry?” Diana scoffed.

He nodded, explaining, “Yeah. You see, Claire is not a vengeful spirit, she's a death omen.”

“Claire's not killing anyone,” you chimed in. “She's trying to warn them. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.” You turned to Diana. “Detective, how much do you know about your partner?”

She thought for a moment before breathing out, “Oh my god. About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.”

Sam huffed. “Someone like a heroin dealer. Somebody like Claire.”

“C’mon, we gotta find him before he kills somebody else,” you said.

*** Claire drove you and Sam on the route to the police station to confront Sheridan. She snapped her phone shut and huffed in annoyance.

“What?” you asked.

“Pete just left the precinct. With Dean,” she replied.

“What?!” you and Sam stiffened in your seats.

“He said the prisoner had to be transferred, and he just took him. Dispatch has been calling but he won't answer the radio,” she said.

“Radio? He took a county vehicle?” Sam questioned. 

She nodded. 

“Well, then they should have a lo-jack, you've just gotta get it turned on,” he noted. 

Somehow, Sam managed to track down the vehicle Sheridan had taken. You arrived just in time to see him aiming a gun at Dean who was kneeling on the ground behind the van.

“Wait! Wait,” Dean pleaded. “Let's, let's talk about this. I mean, you don't want to do something that you're gonna regret later.” His voice became louder as you got closer.

You drew Diana’s gun from her holster and aimed it at Sheridan. “Drop the gun!”

Sheridan turned his gun on you. “You!”

You cocked the gun. “Me,” you smirked.

Sheridan suddenly seemed to notice his partner. “Diana? How'd you find me?”

“I know about Claire,” she said evenly.

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Put the fucking gun down!” you ordered.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Sheridan scowled. “You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.”

“Why are you doing this?” Diana interrogated.

“I didn't do anything, Diana,” he said. “It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.”

“And Tony? Karen?” Diana pressed.

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything. It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.” Sheridan’s sorry attempt at emotionally relaying his story was enough to induce an eye roll from you.

“How many more people are gonna die over this, Pete?” Diana asked dejectedly. 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just one more dead scumbag,” Sheridan chuckled coldly.

“Hey!” you barked. 

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you,” he told her, faltering slightly as he looked at his partner. Dean rolled out of the way, and you took the opportunity to fire and hit Sheridan in the stomach. 

Diana didn’t even flinch at you shooting Sheridan. “Then why don't you buy me another necklace, you ass?”

You kept the gun trained on Sheridan as you rushed to Dean’s side, crouching in front of his slumped-over form protectively. You tried to get a lock on Sheridan, but he and Diana were fighting too erratically for you to be able to get a clear shot. At some point, Sheridan lost his gun, and Sam went to go for it.

Pete grabbed it before Sam could, shouting, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it.” He rose from the ground and kept the gun trained on Sam as he backed away.

You stared past Sheridan to see Claire having appeared behind him, grinning ear to ear. You tossed Diana her gun as Sheridan turned around, and she shot her former partner in the back. He fell to the ground, much more permanently this time.

You turned your focus to Dean. You got the keys to his handcuffs from Diana and helped him out of them.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” you asked, putting your hands on either side of his face and looking him over.

He grabbed your wrist gently. “Relax, sweetheart, I’m fine.”

You nodded before throwing yourself into his arms. He hesitated in what you assumed was surprise but hugged you back tightly. You let go of him as the morning sun began to hit your eyes. You looked over to Diana who was crouched over the body of her ex-partner.

“You doin' alright?” Sam asked her.

She shook her head. “Not really.” She swallowed, her breath coming out unevenly despite the fact that she tried to hold her composure. “The death omen, Claire— what happens to her now?”

The brunet shrugged. “Should be over. She should be at rest.”

Dean brushed his hands off on his jeans as he stood next to his brother. “So, uh. What now, officer?”

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed,” she replied.

“You’d take care of that for us?” Sam questioned.

“I hope so,” Diana said. “But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless—” your and the boys’ heads perked up at her slight change in tone, “I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.”

Sam’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, are you sure?”

Dean pointedly looked at his brother. “Yeah, she's sure, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “No, it's just, I mean, you could lose your job over something like that.”

“Look, I just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” She turned to go. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for all of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.”

“Hey, uh, you wouldn't happen to know where my car is, by chance?” Dean asked her.

“It's at the impound yard down on Robertson.” She noticed Dean’s calculating look. “Don't... even think about it.”

“It's okay, it's alright, don't worry,” Sam chuckled. “We'll, uh, we'll just improvise. I mean, we're pretty good at that.”

Diana nodded. “Yeah. I've noticed.”

You and the brothers began to walk down the road. 

“Nice lady,” Sam commented.

“Yeah, for a cop. Did she look familiar to you?” Dean turned to you.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t know where from, though,” you answered.

“Yeah, me neither. Anyway, you guys hungry?”

You nodded, but Sam shook his head.

“For some reason, I could really go for some pea soup,” Dean said.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[yourlocaljonghoe]

Your Gentle Hands (Please Don't Ever Let Go Of Me Again). || Kim Hongjoong. [ Part 2 ]

Part 1 here.

Summary: meeting the local outcast shouldn't have ended with you slowly falling for him. yet you did, all while knowing you could never have this man, because you were already someones else's wife. two lovers, a dress shop, and a violent man between it all. we all know how this ends, right? ... right?

Pairing: dressmaker!kim hongjoong x fem. reader

Genre: angst, fluff, suggestive

Wordcount: 22.7k

Warnings: misogyny, mentions of (domestic) violence, injuries, wounds, scars, lots of tears and trauma, allusions to sex but cuts right before the actual act

A/N: all i have to say is... thank fucking god i finally finished it. i struggled so much, and though i still love it im also so sick of this fic haha. there are so many people i want to thank for listening to my rambling, brainstorming and constantly reassuring me: @ghstzzn, @skteezcursed, @xomakara and also to @pali-writes-atiny-bit who beta read the whole thing <33 please don't forget to reblog and like! divider credits as always to @firefly-graphics!

Available here on AO3.

“When you fall in love, it is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake, and then it subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots are to become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the desire to mate every second of the day. It is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every part of your body. No … don’t blush. I am telling you some truths. For that is just being in love; which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over, when being in love has burned away. Doesn’t sound very exciting, does it? But it is!”

Captain Corelli’s Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

The room around you was quiet, save for the distant ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway. As a child, you'd hated this clock. Now, as an adult, you despised it.

Your hands rested in your lap, the delicate lace of the dress you loved so much pooling around you like the last remnants of a life that, albeit short, once felt full of promises. The world outside was moving on, the townsfolk bustling about with their daily tasks, their lives seemingly untouched by the darkness that has taken hold of your heart.

It was funny, hilarious even.

Because despite pretending not to, they all knew, bowed their heads in shame whenever you walked by.

Yet not a single soul had ever cared.

Not until a man was dead, and another one was jailed for his murder.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching as the winter sun set over the distant hills, casting a golden glow on the town below. The streets were full of people rushing to finish their errands before nightfall, their faces etched with concern and urgency. None of them spared a glance in the direction of your family's old house, none of them knew the depth of your despair.

Or maybe they did. Maybe they just didn't care. 

It wouldn't be the first time.

The sound of the door creaking open drew your attention, but you didn't turn to look. You knew who it was. Your mother had a way of entering a room that felt like an invasion, like an unwelcome breeze slipping through a crack in the window.

“You’re still wearing that costume,” she said, voice low and disapproving. “That man. Hongjoong. You shouldn't-”

“Shouldn't what, Mother? Mourn the only person who ever truly cared for me?”

You kept your forehead pressed against the glass, your breath fogging up a small circle. The lace of your dress felt heavy now, like a shroud. Once, you had worn it with pride. It had been a gift from Hongjoong, back when his friendship, care and love felt like a lifeline. Back when you were still able to see him, touch him, kiss him-

“Why do you still have it on?” she continued, stepping further into the room. Her footsteps were slow, deliberate. “It's time to let go of the past.”

You finally turned to face her, your eyes cold. The sight of her stirred a boiling rage within you, a fury that had been simmering for too long. She looked at you with the same passive face she always had, the face of a woman who turned away from the truths she didn't want to see.

“You let him do this to me,” you said, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You saw the bruises. You heard the screams. And you did nothing.”

She flinched, just slightly, but quickly regained her composure, fidgeting with her hands. You two had that habit in common. “I did what I thought was best. It was a different time-”

“Different time?” you interrupted, standing up. The lace dress flowed around you, the wind making it flare up. “You watched your daughter suffer, and you did nothing. That's not the past. That's just who you are.”

Your mother’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but you felt no pity for her. Not anymore. The betrayal was too deep, the wounds too fresh.

“E-everything's changed now,” she said softly. “He's gone. You’re free.”

“Free?!” you echoed, laughing bitterly. “Free to live in this prison of horrible memories? Free to be haunted by the faces of all the people who turned away? Free to watch the man I love be behind bars for a crime I committed?”

Silence fell between you, heavy and oppressive. The ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway seemed so, so much louder now.

“You need to let go,” she whispered, a plea hidden in her tone.

“And you need to face what you did,” you replied, your voice cold and unwavering. “Or, well, didn't do.”

With that, you turned back to the window, shutting her out once more. The sun had nearly disappeared behind the hills, casting long shadows across the town. 

You wouldn't stay here much longer. You had a plan, and soon, it would be time to carry it out.

But before that, you had to see your entire family again. And tonight, while celebrating another successful harvest season was the perfect opportunity. Even though the bond you once shared was inevitably broken, they were your family, your people, whom you once loved and shared many memories with.

One last time, you wanted to look them right in the eye.

Because afterwards, you vowed to never speak to them again.

“Miyeon isn't coming today?” you asked as you and your eldest sister set the table. Unfortunately for you, you had to take off Hongjoong’s dress for real this time. To keep the peace, your mother insisted.

“She's with child, Y/N. She can't travel that far. Unlike some of us, she actually fulfills her wifely duties”, she remarked snarky, her voice cold and arrogant. 

You didn't take her usual bait. “What a shame. May she and her unborn be healthy,” you whispered. You were being honest; you truly wanted that. Your middle sister was a good human, and you knew if she and her husband Gikwang wouldn't be away so much traveling the world, she would probably be the only family member you could truly lean on.

Unlike Jisoo, the eldest of you. Your relationship had always been strained, even as children. While you and Miyeon were close, Jisoo had always thought of herself as the best of the best, thus never bothering to actually spend time with you.

And when she married her wealthy husband, Juwon, her arrogance reached a whole new level. When your family's fortune went downhill and you had to marry below your status, her evil, cruel nature fully revealed itself to you. 

While she was always cordial with your parents and sister, in private, you were her personal punching bag.

Your sister's voice snapped you back to the present. “Father's been asking about you,” Jisoo said, arranging the cutlery with a meticulousness that bordered on obsessiveness. “He's worried.”

“Worried?” you echoed, suppressing a bitter laugh. “Funny, he didn't seem worried at all when he handed me over to a monster.”

Jisoo’s lips pressed into a thin line. “He did what he thought was best for the family. You were meant to secure our future.”

“And look how well that turned out,” you said, the sarcasm dripping from your words. “One dead, another imprisoned, and me... here, all alone.”

For a brief moment, you could swear your sister's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something almost like sympathy crossing her features. “Y/N...”

But you weren’t in the mood for her half-hearted attempts at empathy. “Save it, Jisoo. You’ve made your feelings clear enough over the years.”

Silence fell over the room as the two of you continued to set the table. God, in moments like these, you really needed Miyeon. Or ‘Always the peacemaker Miyeon’, as you called her. Because now, this large dining room, once a place full of warmth and laughter, felt like a mausoleum, merely filled with the ghosts and memories of happier, easier times. The ornate chandelier above - one of the rare expensive items your family kept after your father lost his job and status -, the polished wooden floors, the family portraits lining the walls - they all seemed to mock the illusion of a perfect family that had long since shattered.

The room fell into an uneasy silence afterwards. Jisoo's meticulously manicured fingers continued moving with precision, setting each fork and knife in its place, perfectly in order.

“Y/N,” Jisoo began again, her voice softer this time. “I know you’ve been through a lot. But we’re still family. We have to… find a way to move forward.”

You looked at her, really looked at her for the first time in years. Behind the cold exterior, you saw traces of the sister you once played with in the gardens, the sister that, despite never being interested in the same things as Miyeon and you, tried her best to somewhat bond with you, all for the sake of the family. Before life had driven a wedge between you. Now, all those memories felt like they belonged to another lifetime, a dream you could barely recall.

“Moving forward,” you repeated, almost to yourself. “It sounds so simple when you say it.”

“It’s not simple,” Jisoo admitted, setting down the last knife and turning to face you fully. “But it’s necessary.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway made you pause. Your father entered the room, his once robust frame now slightly stooped with age and worry. His eyes, once so full of authority, now seemed to carry the weight of too many regrets.

He looked as miserable as you felt. 

“Y/N,” he said, “It’s good to see you. You've been hiding in your room every time I come back from the fields, I thought… I thought you were ignoring me.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak because yes, you totally were ignoring him. Your relationship with your father had always been complicated, and recent events had only made it worse.. He had been the one to arrange your marriage, to send you into the hands of the man who had caused you so much pain. Forgiveness was a luxury you couldn’t afford, not yet.

Not ever, maybe.

“Father,” you finally managed, your voice tight. “Jisoo and I were just finishing setting the table.”

He glanced at the table, then back at you, his eyes searching your face for something, anything - understanding, perhaps, or absolution. “Thank you, both of you. It means a lot to have the family together again, minus your lovely sister of course.”

Jisoo moved to stand beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “Are you worried? She's in good health, father, the delivery will surely go well.”

You tried so hard not to get upset at the scene unfolding in front of you. Seeing him so worried about Miyeon stung, because when has he ever shown you this kind of emotion?

He nodded, but his expression remained troubled. “Where’s your mother?”

“In the sitting room,” you replied. “She’s... resting.”

The truth was, you had left her standing in the middle of that room after yet another argument, lost in her own guilt and sorrow. But you didn’t have the energy to explain that to your father. 

“I’ll go get her,” he said, turning to leave. “Dinner will be ready soon. Jisoo, get your sons from the garden.”

As he walked away, you felt a pang of something close to pity. For all his faults, your father was still trying to hold the family together, still clinging to the hope that things could return to some semblance of normalcy. But you knew better.

Jisoo’s voice pulled you back to the present. “We should finish up. Mother won’t be happy if everything isn’t perfect.”

You nodded, moving mechanically as you placed the last of the plates on the table. The scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted in from the kitchen, mingling with the tension in the air. This dinner, this facade of normalcy, felt like a cruel joke. But for now, you played along, if only to keep the peace a little while longer.

Dinner was… a strained affair, to say the least. Your family gathered around the table, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on faces that had grown distant and unfamiliar. Your mother, seated at the head, looked as if she were holding herself together by sheer force of will. Beside her, your father’s attempts at small talk fell flat, met with monosyllabic responses and uncomfortable silences.

Jisoo, always the dutiful daughter, tried to keep the conversation going. “Father, have you heard from the merchants about the new trade routes? I read that they’re opening up opportunities in the south. It could be good for the farm, we could get more profit and such.”

Your father nodded, seizing on the topic like a lifeline. “Yes, I’ve been in contact with a few of them. They say the prospects are promising. It could be a chance to recover some of what we’ve lost.”

You listened with half an ear, your thoughts all over the place.

You wondered what Hongjoong was doing at this very moment. Was he getting enough food? Was the little prison cell cold? Was he… Was he thinking about you, just like you were thinking about him? All you could think about was the memory of his touch, his voice, once your only source of comfort, now a constant torment. He was the only person who had ever truly understood you, and now he was paying the price for your actions.

“Y/N?” your mother’s voice brought you right back to reality, “Did you hear me?”

You blinked, realizing she had been speaking to you. “I’m sorry, Mother. What did you say?”

She sighed, a sound full of frustration and sadness. “I asked if you had any plans now that... now that things have changed.”

You knew what she meant. Now that your husband was dead, now that the scandal had rocked your family to its core. “I haven’t decided yet,” you said carefully. “There’s a lot to think about.”

Your mother nodded, her eyes flickering to your father, then back to you. “Just remember, we’re here for you. No matter what.”

You wanted to believe her, but the years of neglect and indifference had built walls that were impossible to tear down. “Thank you,” you said, though the words felt hollow.

As the meal wore on, the conversation thankfully turned to more mundane matters - Jisoo’s children, Miyeon’s pregnancy, the upcoming harvest celebration in town. It was as if everyone was trying to pretend that nothing had changed, that you were still a family bound by more than just blood and obligation.

But you knew better. And as you looked around the table at the faces of your family, you couldn’t help but wonder if they felt that, slowly but surely, you were no longer a part of them.

Later on, as everyone else was lingering in the living room already, you turned around to your mother, now all alone with you in the kitchen. “Mother?” you asked.

“What is it?”

“The bread you made… can I have some more of it? It was… very good.”

For a split second, she looked you right in the eye. 

“...Sure, my daughter.”

She knew something was up.

But maybe, maybe, not intervening with your plans was her way of finally apologizing to you.

The small police station was cold and dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. As you stepped inside, Officer Kim, one of only four officers in your town, looked up from his desk, his expression a mix of surprise and curiosity as he spotted you.

“Mrs. Y/N,” he greeted, standing up. “What brings you here at this hour?”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “I need to see him,” you said, your voice cold and determined. “I need to face the man who killed my husband before he is executed.”

Officer Kim’s eyes widened slightly, but after composing himself, he nodded. “Of course. Just... be careful. He’s not in the best of moods.”

You forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Officer Kim. I brought this as a token of my appreciation.” You handed him the neatly wrapped loaf of bread. “It’s from my mother. She insisted.”

He accepted the gift with a nod. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very kind of you.”

As he led you down the short hallway to the cells, your heart pounded in your chest. The air grew colder the more you entered the building. At one point, it was so cold you felt multiple shivers run down your spine. God, Hongjoong must have frozen to death here. 

You shook your head, taking another deep breath. You had to act, and act well, for your plan to work.

“There he is,” Officer Kim said, nodding toward the second cell. Hongjoong sat on the narrow cot, his head bowed, his hands clasped together. At the sound of your approach, he looked up, his eyes meeting yours instantly.

You saw the turmoil of emotions behind his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, and so much relief to finally see you again.

“Y/N,” he began, but you cut him off with a glare.

“Don’t you dare say my name,” you hissed, stepping closer to the bars. “You have no right to speak to me.”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened, but he quickly masked his emotions. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you spat, your voice dripping with venom. “I needed to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my husband.”

Officer Kim shifted uncomfortably beside you, clearly uneasy with the tension. “I’ll give you a few minutes,” he said, retreating back to his desk. “But don’t take too long.”

You waited until his footsteps faded before turning back to Hongjoong, your expression softening. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I had to make it convincing.”

Hongjoong reached through the bars, his fingers brushing against yours. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, his voice trembling. He looked unwell; skinnier than ever before, his eyes sunken in and some torn, old clothes on his shivering frame.

“I have a plan to get you out,” you said, glancing over your shoulder to ensure Officer Kim wasn’t coming back just yet. “The bread I gave him... it’s poisoned. Not enough to kill, just enough to make him sick. When he’s down, I’ll get the keys and we’ll leave. Together.”

Hongjoong’s eyes filled with a mix of admiration and worry. “You’re risking everything for me.”

“I’d risk anything for you,” you confirmed, your voice breaking. “You’re the only person who’s ever truly cared for me. I can’t lose you.”

Before he could respond, you heard a muffled groan from the direction of the desk. It seemed as if officer Kim was already feeling the effects of the poison, his footsteps stumbling as he tried to return.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. “We have to go now.”

You hurried back to the entrance of the cells, finding Officer Kim slumped over his desk, groaning in pain. He looked up at you, confusion and betrayal clearly visible in his eyes.

“Mrs. Y/N... what...”

“I’m so, so sorry,” you said softly, reaching for the keys on his belt. “I had to.”

You returned to Hongjoong’s cell, unlocking the door with trembling hands. The door swung open with a creak, and he stepped out, his hand immediately finding yours.

“Let’s go,” you said, pulling him toward the back exit. “We don’t have much time.”

“Wait,” he said, and halted his steps. Before you could fully turn around and ask what's wrong, he was all over you. 

His arms wrapped around you in a fierce embrace, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might disappear. You could feel his heartbeat, fast and erratic, echoing your own.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he murmured into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

You held onto him just as tightly, savoring the warmth and solidity of his body against yours. “We don’t have much time,” you whispered, even though you wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms forever. “We have to go.”

Hongjoong nodded, pulling back slightly but keeping a firm grip on your hand. Together, you made your way out, your hearts pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. The night was cold and still, the moon casting a pale light over the deserted streets..

“We’ll head to the forest,” you said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. “I hid a few resources for us by the tree where we first met. Along with… along with some evidence. Against my former husband.”

“You want… you want to prove my innocence?”

You looked at him, and nodded. “You are innocent after all. And… and I am too.”

Hongjoong’s grip tightened on your hand as the two of you made your way through the dark, narrow streets. “I have someone who can help us,” he whispered urgently. “Someone… powerful.”

You glanced at him. “Who?”

“I can't tell you yet. But trust me, she can definitely help us.”

She?

You nodded, but your mind raced. “...Alright, let’s get to the tree first. We need those resources.”

The two of you moved down the all too familiar path. The town was quiet, the only sound the occasional bark of a distant dog or the rustle of leaves in the wind. Beside you, Hongjoong wasn't as quick as he'd usually be; the weeks of solitary confinement, barely enough food and cold temperatures were clearly evident, yet he did not once fall behind. You reached the tree where you and Hongjoong had first met, a towering oak tree.

The place where it all started.

“There,” you whispered, pointing to a hollow at the base of the tree. Hongjoong knelt down, reaching into the hollow and pulling out a small bag. He opened it, revealing the few precious items you had hidden: food, water, a change of clothes, and most importantly, the evidence that could clear Hongjoong’s name.

“These letters,” you said, pulling out a bundle of crumpled papers. “They’re from my husband. Threatening me, detailing his abuse and plans to ruin our family if I didn’t comply. They’ll prove what kind of man he really was.”

Hongjoong nodded, his eyes hardening. “We’ll make sure everyone knows the truth. But first, we need to get out of here.”

“Don't you want to rest?” you asked, clearly worried about his current state.

He just took your hand and placed a chaste kiss on it. “Later. I have to make sure you're safe first.”

“And you, too,” you added.

“And me too,” he repeated.

So, the two of you set off again, moving through the shadows, your hearts pounding in unison. As you reached the main street, you were determined to make it as far as possible, as quickly as possible. But as you rounded a corner, you came to a sudden halt.

A carriage awaited you, its dark silhouette looming in the moonlight. And standing beside it, his expression grim, was your father.

“Father,” you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped forward, his eyes locked on yours. “I… had a feeling you’d try to run,” he said quietly. “And I couldn’t let you do it alone.”

You stared at him, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve made many mistakes, Y/N. So, so many mistakes. But letting you suffer in silence was the worst of all. I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to help you. Even if it means I'll never see you again.”

Hongjoong stepped protectively in front of you, his eyes narrowed. “Why should we trust you? You never protected her before, why now?”

Your father met his gaze steadily. “Because I love my daughter.”

“You're a liar,” you whispered, hot, angry tears threatening to escape your eyes.

He fiercely shook his head. “I'm a bad person, Y/N. I do not want to earn my forgiveness with this. But I'm not a liar. Never that. Take this carriage and go, wherever you two want to.”

You looked at Hongjoong, then back at your father. “And what about you?”

He shook his head. “I’ll stay behind and livel with the consequences. It’s the least I can do.”

Tears filled your eyes as you stepped forward, embracing your father tightly. It was the first hug you shared in a long, long time, and also the last one. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He held you close for a moment, then gently pushed you toward the carriage. “Go. Be safe. And don’t look back.”

You and Hongjoong climbed into the carriage, the soft leather seats a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you had just left. As the carriage began to move, you looked out the window, watching your father’s figure grow smaller and smaller until it fully disappeared into the night.

The carriage rattled along the narrow, winding road, the wheels clattering over the uneven stones. The night was cold, the air crisp with the promise of frost. You wrapped a blanket around yourself and Hongjoong, sharing the warmth as best you could. The lantern hanging from the carriage’s front swayed with each bump, casting erratic shadows that danced across the landscape.

The path ahead was long and treacherous, leading through dense forests and over rocky hills. Every so often, the carriage would hit a particularly deep rut, jolting you both almost freaking the horse out numerous times.

Luckily for you, Hongjoong was some kind of animal whisperer and managed to calm the horse pretty quickly each time.

As the hours passed, the moon climbed higher in the sky, its pale light filtering through the bare branches of the trees. The forest around you was alive with nocturnal sounds - the hoot of an owl, the rustle of leaves, the distant cry of a fox. You kept a wary eye on the shadows, aware that danger could lurk in the darkness.

Dawn was beginning to break when the carriage crested a hill, revealing a panoramic view of the valley below. The first light of day painted the landscape in soft hues of pink and gold, the rolling hills stretching out like a patchwork quilt. It was a moment of fleeting beauty, a reminder of the world beyond your troubles.

“It's so pretty here,” you whispered. Hongjoong hummed in return, his gaze slowly becoming more and more unfocused.

He was tired, and in desperate need for some rest.

“Let me drive for a while,” you said softly, touching Hongjoong's arm. “You need to rest.”

Hongjoong shook his head, though his exhaustion was evident. “I’ll rest later. We need to put as much distance between us and the town as possible.”

“Please,” you insisted, your voice gentle but firm. “You’re no good to me if you collapse from exhaustion. Let me take over until we find an inn.”

He hesitated, then finally nodded, knowing you were right. The carriage came to a halt, and you swapped places. As you took the reins, Hongjoong settled into the seat, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. His eyes closed almost immediately, the tension in his body easing as he finally allowed himself to rest a little.

You guided the carriage along the winding road, the rhythm of the horse’s hooves a steady, comforting beat. The landscape around you began to change as the sun climbed higher, the dense forest giving way to open fields and distant mountains. 

Hours passed, and you kept a vigilant eye on the road ahead. Occasionally, you would glance back at Hongjoong, who slept fitfully, his brow furrowed even in rest. The evidence you had gathered against your husband lay safely tucked away, a lifeline that could clear Hongjoong’s name and secure your future together.

As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the fields, you spotted a small village nestled at the base of the mountains. It was far enough from your town that you felt safe enough to stop for a while. The village appeared peaceful and quiet, only a few people out on the street at this hour.

You gently shook Hongjoong awake as the carriage rolled to a stop at the edge of the village. He stirred, blinking groggily. “Where are we?”

“A village,” you replied, helping him down from the carriage. “We can rest here for the night.”

He nodded, too tired to argue. The two of you made your way to the inn, a modest building with a welcoming glow emanating from its windows. 

The inn's common room was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the sounds of laughter and the clinking of mugs. The innkeeper, a plump woman with kind eyes and a warm smile, greeted you as you approached the counter.

“Good evening, dear,” she said, her voice soft and welcoming. “What can I do for you?”

“We need a room for the night,” you replied, glancing back at Hongjoong, who was leaning heavily against the wall, fighting to stay awake.

The older woman nodded, her eyes flickering to Hongjoong before returning to you. "Of course, dear. We have one room available, but it only has one bed. I hope… that’s alright?”

Her eyes flickered towards your hand. There was no ring on it and so, if you took that single bed room, it would be quiet… frivolous.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. You yearned to be close to him, to feel his warmth and comfort, but after everything that happened, the thoughts of sleeping close to someone terrified you. And, most important in this current situation; you weren’t married yet. 

Hongjoong, sensing your hesitation, stepped forward. “That will be fine,” he said softly, tired eyes settling upon your figure. “Thank you.”

It seemed you were the only one caring about appearances.

The innkeeper's smile widened, and she quickly handed you a key. “Room 3, just up the stairs. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.”

You nodded, taking the key with trembling hands. “Thank you,” you managed.

You carefully led Hongjoong up the narrow staircase. The wooden steps creaked under your weight, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. It seemed that with your arrival, the sound of previous laughter had fully died down. Or maybe the ringing in your ears was too loud for you to notice any other noises. When you reached the door to your room, you hesitated for a moment before unlocking it and pushing it open.

The room was small but cozy, with a single bed pushed against one wall and a small window that offered a view of the village below. The bed was covered with a thick, quilted blanket, and a simple wooden chair sat in the corner.

Hongjoong sank onto the bed with a sigh, his eyes already half-closed. You stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong murmured, his voice gentle. “You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor.”

You shook your head, stepping closer. “No, you need to rest properly. We'll share the bed. It’s... it’s fine.”

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and gratitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, though your heart was pounding in your chest. “Yes. We'll manage. I trust you.”

And you did. What you did not trust though were your inner demons.

Hongjoong fully collapsed onto the bed, his exhaustion finally catching up with him. You sat beside him, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “Rest now,” you whispered. “We’ll figure out the rest in the morning. I'll go ahead and fetch us something to eat, okay?”

He nodded, his eyes already closing. You stayed by his side for a few minutes, then quietly left the room to look for food you both desperately needed.

After finding some bread, cheese, and a couple of apples in the inn's small kitchen, you returned to the room. The scent of the simple meal filled the space, mingling with the comforting warmth of the inn. Hongjoong stirred as you entered, his eyes slowly opening.

“Food,” you announced with a soft smile, sitting down on the edge of the bed and handing him a piece of bread. “It's not much, but it's something.”

He took the bread with a grateful smile, his fingers brushing against yours. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a bite. “This is perfect.”

You both ate in silence for a while. Despite the simplicity of the meal, it felt like a feast after eating little to nothing the past few days. Hongjoong's presence, his gentle smile, and the way he looked at you with such trust and affection made the food taste even better.

As you carefully cut and shared the apples with him, your fingers occasionally brushed against his, each touch sending a small shiver down your spine. The tension of the past days seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace and connection. You found yourself laughing softly at the way Hongjoong tried to juggle the uncut apples, almost dropping them.

“You're hopeless,” you teased, giggling as he finally managed to catch them.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I'm just a man hopelessly in love,” he corrected, his tone playful yet sincere.

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, carefree sound that you hadn't heard from yourself in a long time. It felt good to laugh, to share this moment of lightness with him.

As the meal came to an end, you both settled back on the bed, the small space forcing you to be close. Hongjoong's warmth radiated against your side, his arm brushing against yours. Despite the comfort of his presence, your body immediately tensed.

The last time a man laid next to you, he'd done unspeakable things to you. 

But this… this was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong.

You trusted him.

Yet at the same time, you were still terrified.

You tried to focus on his steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, but your heart raced, and your skin prickled with unease. You felt a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach, your muscles tightening involuntarily.

You couldn't breathe.

Hongjoong sensed your discomfort, his hand gently covering yours. “It's okay,” he whispered, his voice soothing. “I'm here.”

You nodded, but his reassurance did little to calm the storm inside you. Your mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts and emotions. The warmth of his body was both a comfort and a reminder of all you had endured. You wanted to relax, to let go and feel safe, but your body wouldn't allow it.

Your breathing quickened, your chest tightening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, each beat drowning out every other sound. Your hands trembled, and you clutched the blanket tightly, trying to ground yourself.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his voice soft and steady. “Just breathe with me.”

“I can't,” you sobbed.

“Shhh. Just close your eyes.”

You did as he said, focusing on his voice, his warmth. Slowly, you matched your breathing to his. The tension in your muscles began to ease, though the fear still lingered at the edges of your mind.

Hongjoong's hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soothing patterns on your skin. “You're safe,” he whispered, his voice a balm to your frayed nerves. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. You squeezed his hand, finding strength in his presence. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you in a gentle embrace. You felt the steady beat of his heart against your cheek, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest grounding you. “We'll get through this,” he murmured. “Together.”

“You know,” you slowly began, carefully turning around. Now, face to face with him, you carefully lifted your fingers and started tracing husband features; his acquainted eyebrows, over husband prominent cheekbones to his soft, plush lips, where you remained a little longer.

“I don't think I'd be alive without you, Kim Hongjoong. For that… for you, coming into my life and selflessly saving me, I am beyond thankful. But at the same time… at the same time, I can't help but think that if you'd never met me… you could still live your normal life. Sometimes… it gets all too much.”

You held his gaze, your fingers repeating your previous actions of lightly tracing the curve of his lips. “You’ve given me so much, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “More than I ever thought I deserved.”

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “You deserve everything, Y/N. More than I could ever give.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. “I don't know what I'd do without you,” you said, your voice breaking. “You've been my rock, my savior. I... I don't know if I can ever repay you.”

Hongjoong's hand moved to the back of your neck, his fingers gently kneading the tension there. “You don't need to repay me. Just being with you is enough. Seeing you smile, hearing your laughter... that's all I need for the rest of my life.”

You closed your eyes, savoring the feel of his touch. His fingers were warm and strong, yet so gentle. It was a stark contrast to the harshness you had known before. 

“You shine so bright, Joongie. Like the sun. My sun.”

He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. “And you will shine like that too again. Soon,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your skin. The intimacy of the moment made your heart race, but it wasn't fear this time. It was something else, something deeper.

Something only Kim Hongjoong could make you feel.

You opened your eyes, finding his face so close to yours that you could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I'm scared. Not of you, but of losing you. Of the future. Of what might happen if they find us.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering. “We won't let that happen. We're stronger together. They won't find us. Once we're in the capital, I’ll handle everything, okay?”

His words gave you strength, and you found yourself leaning into him, your lips brushing against his in a tender, lingering kiss. It was slow and gentle, a silent promise of your love and devotion towards each other. His hand slipped into your hair, holding you close as your lips moved together, exploring and savoring each other.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathing heavily, your foreheads still touching. “I love you,” you whispered, your voice filled with pure, raw emotion.

Hongjoong's eyes softened, his thumb tracing your jawline. “And I love you,” he replied, his voice just as tender. “More than words can say.”

You stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. In his embrace, you felt safe, cherished, and deeply loved. The fear and anxiety that had plagued you began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Let’s rest now,” he whispered, his voice a soothing balm. “Tomorrow is a new day, and we’ll face it together.”

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Together,” you echoed, your voice steady.

He gently guided you down onto the bed, pulling the blanket over both of you. His arms remained around you, holding you close as you settled into the warmth of his embrace. 

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt his lips press a gentle kiss to your temple, his breath warm against your skin. “Goodnight, my love,” he murmured, his voice a soft caress.

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, your heart full. 

That night, you finally had a good, peaceful sleep.

“How long until we arrive at the capital?”

Hongjoong was leaning against the carriage window, his eyes scanning the horizon. A storm would be coming soon, he said.

“Two more days, if we keep this pace,” he replied, turning to face you. “The storm may slow us down a bit.”

You nodded. The journey had been long and exhausting, the constant tension of being on the run making you an anxious mess. But with Hongjoong by your side, you felt a strength you had never known before.

The carriage jostled along the uneven road, the sounds of the wheels clattering against the stones a constant reminder of the distance still left to travel. You glanced at Hongjoong, his face etched with determination despite the exhaustion that lingered in his eyes.

“We’ll make it,” you said softly, more to yourself than to him. “We have to.”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “We will,” he affirmed, his voice steady. “And once we’re there, we’ll find a way to solve all this mess. To start over.”

You leaned against him, drawing comfort from his presence. 

You traveled through several more small villages, their inhabitants just beginning to stir. Farmers led their livestock out to pasture, and shopkeepers opened their doors, the smell of fresh bread and morning fires wafting through the air. The sight of these simple, everyday routines filled you with a strange sense of peace, a reminder that life went on, and that, maybe in the future, your life may look like this too.

Simple yet happy and fulfilling.

And then, you arrived. 

You gasped as the large gates of the city appeared in front of you.

The capital was a sprawling maze of streets and alleys, bustling with activity. Everything here was just so much larger, louder and generally more impressive, a stark contrast to the quiet, simpler life you had known. The noise and commotion seemed to close in around you, but Hongjoong’s steady presence kept you grounded.

“It's a lot to take in, right?” he asked.

You nodded, mouth opened in awe as you took in your surroundings. “It's huge. I can't stop looking everywhere!”

He laughed, gently squeezing your hand. “We'll have plenty of time to explore everything once we've settled in properly. I'll show you all my favorite places, okay?”

You smiled at him. A gentle, real smile. “Okay!”

Hongjoong looked around, his eyes bright with excitement despite the exhaustion. “Luckily for us, two of my closest friends live here. They’re good people, and I’m sure they’ll offer us a place to stay.”

You felt a wave of relief wash over you. “That would be wonderful. I can’t wait to meet them. You haven't told me much about your past, so I’m really excited, Joongie.”

“In the future, I'll tell you everything you want to know. My past, present and future are yours, Y/N.”

Your heart fluttered, and a deep blush coated your face. A sheepish smile stole its way onto your lips.

Hongjoong led you through the bustling streets, expertly navigating the maze of alleys and markets. After a few twists and turns, you arrived at a modest but welcoming home. 

He hastily jumped up the carriage and then held his hand out for you to take it. You smiled at him. Your lover was a true gentleman, and it made you feel all giddy inside, even at such a small gesture.

Hongjoong knocked on the door, and moments later, it swung open to reveal a tall, athletic man with sharp features and an inquisitive look.

“Hongjoong?” the man said in surprise, his eyes widening. The first thing you noticed was his clothes. They looked… expensive. And yet, he lived in such a small home.

You wondered what his story was.

“What are you doing here?”

“San, it’s a long story,” Hongjoong replied, pulling San into a hug. “We need a place to stay. Is Wooyoung home?”

San nodded, stepping aside to let you both in. “He’s in the kitchen. Come in.”

As you stepped inside, you were immediately greeted by the comforting smell of home-cooked food. A few moments later, another man appeared, carrying a tray of freshly baked bread. He had a playful sparkle in his eyes and a welcoming smile on his face.

“Who do we have here?” Wooyoung asked, setting the tray down and wiping his hands on a towel.

“Wooyoung, this is my friend,” Hongjoong introduced you. “She's been traveling with me.”

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in surprise and then softened. “Well, any friend of Hongjoong’s is welcome here. Please, make yourself at home.”

You felt a warmth spread through you at their genuine hospitality. San and Wooyoung led you to a cozy living room where a fire crackled in the hearth. You sank into a comfortable chair, letting out a sigh as your aching muscles relaxed.

“Sorry for the sudden arrival,” Hongjoong said, his tone sincere. “We didn’t have time to send word ahead.”

San waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. We’re just glad you’re safe. What’s going on?”

Hongjoong looked at you first, before briefly explaining: “It's too long of a story to share in detail. But, we had to flee from where we came from and are now on a mission to… clear up some misunderstandings. I can promise you two that you'll be kept out of any trouble. I just… need a safe place, especially to keep my woman safe.”

San nodded, curiously glancing towards you as the words ‘my woman’ left Hongjoong’s mouth. You smiled awkwardly at the man. “We have a spare room you can use, Hongjoong.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes. It wasn't much, but just having a place to stay, surrounded by people you knew Hongjoong trusted, was enough to make you feel all sorts of emotions. 

“Thank you,” you said, your voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Hongjoong squeezed your hand again, his own eyes full of gratitude. “We’re going to be okay,” he whispered softly. “Wooyoung and San are good, nice people. How about you just relax and befriend them while I'll do the work, hm?”

“I couldn't possibly-”

“Oh, but you can”, he interrupted you, playfully playing with your hair. “My Y/N should never worry her pretty head about anything again now that she's with me.”

You giggled sheepishly. “Oh Joongie, you're such a flirt!”

“Ahem.” A voice interrupted you and suddenly, the bubble around the two of you burst and you were reminded that you were not alone but, in fact, in the house of two men who were now very openly staring at you.

One who was cackling behind his hand like a menace - Wooyoung - and the other one who did not know where he should look. You, or the very interesting ceiling?

“So, ‘my woman', huh?” Wooyoung teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Since when did you become such a romantic, Hongjoong? And most importantly: where’s our invitation to the wedding?”

Hongjoong’s ears turned a deep shade of red, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wooyoung, now’s not the time…”

“Oh, but it’s always the time for love, Joongie!” Wooyoung replied with a dramatic flourish. “Here we were, thinking you were just wandering around from city to city and selling your dresses, but no, you were secretly out there sweeping a lovely lady off her feet!”

San tried to interject, a desperate attempt to hold the man beside him back. “Wooyoung, maybe we should-”

“San, don’t be a killjoy,” Wooyoung interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. “This is the most excitement we’ve had in weeks! Besides, our Hongjoong, who couldn't even look a woman into the eye the last time we saw him, has finally grown up. We must celebrate!”

“I'm older than both of you, Wooyoung!”

Hongjoong buried his face in his hands, clearly embarrassed. You couldn’t help but giggle at the situation, feeling a bit more at ease in the presence of the two strangers now.

“Y/N, you should know,” Wooyoung continued, leaning in conspiratorially, “Hongjoong here is quite the catch. He’s a gentleman, a true and talented dressmaker, and apparently, a poet. ‘My woman’, indeed.”

San finally managed to find his voice. “Alright, Wooyoung, give them a break. They’ve had a long journey, and they need rest, not your joking.”

Wooyoung pouted dramatically. “Fine, fine. But don’t think this conversation is over, Hongjoong. We need all the juicy details later.”

Hongjoong groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. “You never change, do you, Wooyoung?”

“Never,” Wooyoung replied proudly. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

San shook his head, though a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Let’s get you both settled in. You can rest, and we’ll talk more later. Until then Wooyoung, behave yourself.”

Wooyoung saluted playfully. “Aye, aye, captain!”

Later that evening, after a hearty meal and much laughter with Wooyoung and San, you were led into a small, cozy room. The modest bed in the corner looked incredibly inviting after the long journey. You quickly freshened up, San kindly lending you some spare clothing for the night, before returning back to the room. Hongjoong was already there, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. You quietly slipped in beside him, the bed creaking softly under your weight.

He turned to you, his expression softening as he reached out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you feeling?” he asked gently.

“Tired,” you admitted, snuggling closer to him. 

Only then did you realize that, despite sharing the bed with him multiple times now, this was the first time both of you wore proper sleeping clothing. Therefore, both of you were a bit… more exposed than usual.

Suddenly, you were very, very aware of the naked skin his hand was occasionally touching.

And your heart skipped a beat. This time, not of the usual warmth Hongjoong ignited within you all the time.

No, this time, there was also a hint of fear rushing through your veins.

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the softness of his touch, yet the past clung to you like a shroud, and you felt a flicker of hesitation within you.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, low and soothing, “you can trust me.” There was an earnestness in his tone, a promise that echoed in the silence of the room. He shifted closer, his body radiating heat and a sense of safety that beckoned you to let go of your fears and open your eyes to meet him.

Nothing but sincerity and love greeted you in his gaze.

As his hand traced a gentle path along your arm, you shivered at the sensation. It was a touch that was so different from what you had known, devoid of the harshness that had once marred your skin and spirit. His fingers danced lightly over your wrist, and you felt a rush of warmth that sent a thrill through your heart, igniting a yearning you had thought was lost forever.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort. You nodded carefully. It was a struggle to separate the innocence of his affection from the painful memories that tainted your every being. You could feel your breath quicken as he leaned closer, the scent of him - fresh and comforting - surrounding you like a soft embrace.

Hongjoong’s fingers slipped beneath your chin, tilting your face towards his. The way he looked at you, with such reverence and care, made your heart ache. “You’re safe with me,” he murmured, and it felt like a balm to your soul. You had craved this kind of tenderness, and even though the man in front of you was willing to give it to you, to give you his all, a remaining feeling of panic remained deep inside of you.

“I'm sorry you have to deal with this again. One may think that after we slept side by side so many times already I would get used to it. I don't know why I'm so pathe-”

“Princess, don't you dare finish this sentence. You're incredible and don't have to apologize for a single thing.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips softly against yours, a gentle caress that sent shivers down your spine. It was a kiss that said so, so much, a kiss that was patient and completely unhurried. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you like a protective cocoon.

You did your best to believe in his words.

That night, nothing more happened. 

Hongjoong knew that it would take you a long while to truly let go of your fears.

And, while tracing more gentle kisses along your skin, all he said was: “I don't need you to give me your body to know that you are already mine and I am yours.”

The next day, as you slowly woke up and blinked the tears away, you noticed two things immediately: winter was coming, and the temperatures were dropping quickly and, most importantly; Hongjoong's side of the bed was empty.

There was no logical explanation for the panic that immediately set in, yet you felt your chest tightening and your heart pounding quickly. You rushed out of bed, almost stumbling over your own feet as you slipped into the soft pantoffels San provided you with, and sprinted down the stairs. 

“Woah, what's the rush-”

“Wooyoung”, you interrupted the man with sleepy, still half-closed eyes, “Where's Hongjoong?”

He scratched the back of his hand. “He left when you fell asleep last night. All he said was that he had some matters to take care of and would be back early in the morning. He… isn't back yet?”

The weight of Wooyoung's words hit you like a train. If Hongjoong had promised to be back by morning, then where was he? The sun was already peeking through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, and there was still no sign of him. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as the panic threatened to overwhelm you. “No… he isn't back yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The words felt foreign on your tongue. 

Wooyoung's expression shifted from confusion to concern. “Maybe he got held up somewhere? You know how he is… always taking on more than he should.”

You shook your head, refusing to accept that as the answer. “He wouldn't just leave without telling me. Not like this.” 

But what if he would? 

The unease in your chest grew stronger, the fear tightening its grip around your heart.

Wooyoung reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's on his way back right now.”

But you could see the uncertainty in his eyes, the doubt he was trying so hard to hide. The pit in your stomach deepened, and you knew you couldn't just sit around waiting, hoping that everything would be okay. 

“I need to find him,” you said, determination lacing your voice. You quickly turned on your heel, heading for the door without another word.

"Wait!" Wooyoung called after you, but you were already halfway out the door, your mind set on one thing: finding Hongjoong.

And then you pumped head first into San.

“Careful, little one. What's the-”

“Have you seen Hongjoong?” you blurted out, your voice trembling as you nearly collided with San.

San’s usually warm expression was replaced with a frown. “No, I haven’t. What’s going on? Why are you in such a rush?”

You hesitated, your mind racing. Should you tell them? Would they even understand? Hongjoong hasn't told them anything concrete about your situation as of now, and you weren't sure if you should tell them without him present.

“He’s… He’s not back yet. Wooyoung said he left last night, but he should’ve been back by now.”

San’s eyes widened. “And he hasn't said where he's going?”

You shook your head, fighting to keep your voice steady. “No. But I... I can’t just sit around and wait. I need to find him.”

San looked conflicted, glancing over at Wooyoung, who had followed you outside. “But you don’t know your way around the capital. You could get lost or… worse.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but San gently placed a hand on your arm, stopping you. “I get that you’re worried, but let’s wait a bit longer, okay? He wouldn’t want you getting into trouble trying to find him.”

The thought of sitting around doing nothing while Hongjoong was out there - somewhere - felt unbearable. He was shouldering all your problems alone, and it made you both guilty and mad that he didn't even tell you a single thing. 

Reluctantly, you nodded, and San led you back inside the house. The atmosphere was heavy as the three of you settled into the living room, the clock on the wall ticking away the minutes in agonizing slowness.

“So… uh…”

Awkward silence set in, both men looking at each other concerned. Wooyoung, trying to lighten the mood, leaned back on the couch and stretched.

“Uh.. Did you know that San literally can't sleep without hugging something? And with something, I mean me - like, this man doesn't know how strong he is and literally suffocates me every night!”, he laughs.

You glanced at San, who looked somewhat mortified, a blush creeping up his neck. “Wooyoung…” he muttered, giving him a half-hearted glare. Unfortunately, his joke did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only made the awkwardness more palpable. “Uh, that's… interesting,” you mumbled, not really knowing what else to say. You liked them both, but conversations with them always felt like you were navigating a minefield, unsure of where to step. 

Especially now that Hongjoong wasn't here with you.

San rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “It's not like that, really. It's just… a comfort thing, I guess.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, stealing glances at Wooyoung and San, who were both trying, in their own ways, to lighten the atmosphere. They were being so kind, so patient, but it only made you feel worse. You weren’t used to this. It was foreign, almost suffocating, in a way you couldn't quite understand. 

Wooyoung cleared his throat, breaking the silence, seemingly ignoring that you still haven't said anything to his joking attempt to lighten the mood. “So, uh, have you had breakfast yet? I can make something if you’re hungry.”

You shook your head, though the thought of eating made your stomach twist in a knot. “No, I’m… I’m not really hungry.” 

“Coffee, then?” San offered, trying to keep the conversation going. “Or tea? I think there’s still some left in the kitchen.” 

You hesitated, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “Maybe… tea?” It felt like the right thing to say, even if you weren’t sure you could stomach anything right now. 

San nodded, giving you a small, encouraging smile. “Tea it is. I’ll be right back.” He got up, his footsteps almost too loud in the quiet room, leaving you alone with Wooyoung. The silence between you and the other man was thick, both of you unsure of what to say. You could feel his gaze on you, but you kept your eyes fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked up, he’d see just how out of sorts you really were.

Wooyoung shifted in his seat, clearly trying to come up with something to break the tension. “You know, I don’t think we’ve really had the chance to talk much… Just us,” he said.

“Yeah,” you murmured, feeling your cheeks heat up. You wanted to be able to talk to him, to say something normal, but the words just wouldn’t come. It was frustrating - feeling like you were locked inside your own head, even when you desperately wanted to reach out. He leaned back, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I get it, though. Meeting new people can be… overwhelming.”

You looked up at him. “It’s just… I’m not really used to this. To any of this,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Wooyoung nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I figured. But hey, no pressure. We’re just… trying to make you feel welcome, you know? You're Hongjoong's girl, after all.”

“I know,” you replied quickly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I really appreciate it. I do. It’s just… hard, sometimes.”

He didn’t press you, just nodded again, his eyes soft. “It’s okay. We’re not in any rush. We’ve all got our own issues, you know?”

Before you could respond, San returned, holding a steaming mug of tea. He handed it to you with a small, reassuring smile. “Here you go. It’s chamomile - good for relaxing.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep into your skin. 

San settled back into his seat, the three of you once again falling into a somewhat awkward silence. You sipped your tea, the warmth soothing your throat, but it did little to calm the turmoil inside you. They were trying so hard, and that only made it worse. You could see the effort in every glance, every word. They didn’t know your past, your struggles, and you didn’t know how to tell them - didn’t even know if you should. And so you stayed quiet, trapped in your own thoughts, feeling like an outsider despite their best efforts.

“I guess… I’m just not good at this,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“At what?” San asked gently, leaning forward slightly.

“Talking. Being around people. Making… friends I don’t know how to…” You trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, not in a mocking way, but as if he understood more than you realized. “You’re doing just fine. We’re not exactly pros at this either, you know. Most of the time, we’re just winging it.”

San nodded in agreement. “He’s right. It’s okay to not know what to say. We’re just… glad you’re here.”

Their words made something inside you ache. You still weren’t used to kindness without strings attached, to people caring just because. It felt undeserved, even after Hongjoong showed you that you did in fact deserve it, and that made you even more unsure of how to act. 

“Thanks,” you whispered, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You wanted to be better at this, for them, for Hongjoong, but you didn’t know how.

Wooyoung grinned, nudging your shoulder lightly. “No need to thank us. We’re all in this together, right?”

You nodded, managing a small smile in return. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

If someone would've told you that you'd ever be genuinely mad at Kim Hongjoong, you definitely would've laughed right in their face. Because Hongjoong was the kindest, sweetest man you'd ever known, so what would ever make you angry at him?

“Ah, look who's back,” was all you said as you heard the door close behind you.

You had never imagined feeling this way toward Hongjoong, the man who you grew to love so much. But now, as you stood in your shared living room, hearing the door close behind you, that anger burned hotter, fueled by the fear and helplessness that had consumed you all morning.

You didn't turn around to face him immediately, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. Your mind raced with thoughts, each one only making the knot in your chest tighter. 

The sound of his footsteps approaching filled the room, and you could feel his presence behind you, close enough to touch. For a moment, you considered letting it go, just brushing it all under the rug like you’d done with so many things before. But this was different. This problem wasn't just his alone; this was your life too, your problems, your fears, and he had just walked away, leaving you in the dark.

Hongjoong hesitated. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long,” he began, but that was all it took to make you whirl around, your emotions spilling over.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” The words came out harsher than you intended, but you couldn’t stop them. “You left without saying a word, Hongjoong. I don't even know where you went! You promised you’d be back by morning, and then you just… didn’t come back. It's almost midnight now! Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by your outburst. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” he said, his voice softening, but you could see the guilt in his eyes. “I just had to take care of some things-”

“But why alone?” you interrupted, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. “Why do you always do this? You think you have to handle everything by yourself, like I’m some fragile thing that needs to be protected. But this is my problem too, Joong! I have a right to know, to help, to be there with you! Because…” your voice broke, and you looked at the floor as you wiped a tear away, “because the guilt is eating me alive, Joong. Without me… without me, none of this would have ever happened. It all began with me, so I should… I should take responsibility too.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened as he saw the tears welling up in your eyes. “Hey, hey, no,” he murmured, stepping closer and reaching out to cup your face, but you took a step back and shook your head silently.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like this is just something we can brush aside, like it’s no big deal. You think you’re protecting me by keeping things from me, but you’re not. You’re only making it worse. I can’t keep doing this, Joong. I can’t keep pretending that it’s okay for you to shut me out. For you to shoulder everything alone.”

Hongjoong’s hand dropped to his side, his face crumbling with regret. “I never wanted to shut you out. I just… I didn’t want you to worry, didn’t want you to feel like you had to carry this burden. You're still so… hurt. I thought I was doing the right thing by handling it on my own.”

“But it’s not just your burden to carry!” you cried, your voice breaking. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Joong. You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle. You don’t get to just leave me in the dark, wondering if you’re okay, wondering if you’ll even come back. I was worried sick the whole day!”

His eyes were filled with a pain that mirrored your own, and for a moment, he looked like he didn’t know what to say, like he didn’t know how to make this right. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I thought I was protecting you, but all I did was hurt you. I’m so, so sorry.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over your cheeks as you looked at him, at the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who had somehow become a stranger to you in this moment. 

“I'll be sleeping on the couch tonight,” you mumbled. “You may talk to me again when you're finally ready to include me in your plans. Until then… good night, Joong.”

“Y/N, wait-”

But the door shut close behind you before he could finish his sentence.

“H‐hey, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to eavesdrop, but I heard you two arguing...” San’s voice trailed off, his gaze meeting yours. The moment your tear-filled eyes locked with his, the emotions you’d been trying so hard to keep in check threatened to overflow.

For a second, you hesitated. You weren’t close to San - not really. He was still more of a stranger than a friend, someone who was kind and caring but still somewhat distant. But right now, you felt like you were drowning, and he was the only solid thing within your reach.

Without thinking, you moved towards him. As soon as you reached him, you hesitated again, but before you could pull back, San’s arms wrapped around you in a warm, protective embrace. You buried your face in his chest, and the dam inside you finally broke.

Tears poured down your cheeks as you cried against him, the sobs you’d been holding back all day finally breaking free. San stiffened for a moment, clearly caught off guard, but he quickly relaxed, his hold tightening slightly as he let you cry it out.

The warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear - it was the first comfort you’d felt all day. But even as he stood there comforting you, you still felt torn. The only person you'd ever fully confined in was Hongjoong. This was new territory for you, and it was both comforting and terrifying at the same time.

San didn’t say anything, just stood there quietly, holding you as you trembled in his arms. His hand moved slowly to your back, rubbing gentle circles as he tried to soothe you. His touch was hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing.

As your sobs subsided, leaving you with shaky breaths and red, tear-streaked cheeks, you slowly pulled back, wiping your eyes. You were still in his arms, but you felt the awkwardness creeping back in, and your gaze wandered again, not knowing where to look.

“I… I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying. “I didn’t mean to…”

San shook his head, his gaze softening. “You don’t have to apologize,” he said quietly. “You’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to break down sometimes.”

You managed a small, shaky smile, but the uncertainty was still there, lingering between you. “I just… I don’t know what to do, San. I feel so lost. Hongjoong… he means everything to me, but he’s shutting me out. I know he has only my best interest at heart, but… This is my story, too. And I don’t know how to handle that.”

San hesitated, as if weighing his words carefully. “I’m not gonna pretend I know exactly what you’re going through,” he began, “but I do know that Hongjoong cares about you - more than you probably realize. He’s just… used to handling things on his own. ”

You nodded.

“You’re… you’re really kind, San,” you murmured, your voice still trembling. “But we barely know each other. I don’t want to burden you with my problems.”

San’s expression softened even more, and he gave you a small, reassuring smile. “You’re not a burden. We all have our struggles, and sometimes it helps to have someone to lean on, even if it’s someone you’re not that close to… yet.” He added that last word with a gentle emphasis, as if offering a bridge to something more.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you felt a small crack in the walls you've built around yourself. 

And so, in the heat of the moment, you told him everything. San brought you to the living room, where he carefully sat you down and wrapped you in a blanket, and as Wooyoung joined you two, you told them everything.

About your marriage, your family, your town - and about the man who took it upon himself to save you from this cruel fate.

The tension between you and Hongjoong had been unbearable for days. Ever since that night, neither of you had spoken more than a few words to each other. 

You had thrown yourself into anything that could keep your mind busy - cleaning, reading, anything to avoid thinking about the rift that had formed between you and the man you loved. 

Then, one evening, as you sat alone in the living room, lost in thought, you heard the front door creak open. Hongjoong stepped in, his presence immediately filling the room with the weight of everything left unsaid. Your heart clenched at the sight of him - he looked exhausted, worn down by the stress of the past few days.

He stood there for a moment, just looking at you, as if trying to gauge your mood, before finally breaking the silence. “We need to talk.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, but you nodded, too tired to resist any longer. “Okay,” you said quietly, standing up from the couch and facing him.

Hongjoong swallowed, his throat bobbing as he struggled to find the right words. “I know you’re still angry at me,” he began, his voice low and strained. “And I understand why. I learned my lesson, Y/N. But now… now I wanna include you. If you… if you want that.”

You didn’t say anything, just watched him, your heart beating faster as he continued.

“There’s someone we need to see,” he said after a pause, his eyes searching for yours. “Someone who can help us, who can clear my name and… maybe, just maybe, give us a chance at a life without all this running and hiding.”

You blinked, not sure if you’d heard him correctly. “Who… who are you talking about?”

Hongjoong took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. “The Queen,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s the only one powerful enough to undo this mess. I’ve been trying to arrange a meeting with her for days, but she’s… she’s not easy to reach. But now… now we can finally meet her.”

Your eyes widened in shock. “The Queen? As in… the Queen?” 

The Queen was a figure of almost mythical power, someone so far removed from your world that the idea of asking for her help seemed as impossible as wishing on a star.

But Hongjoong’s expression was deadly serious, and you could see the determination burning in his eyes. He wasn’t just grasping at straws - he truly believed this was your last chance, your only hope to end the nightmare that had taken over your lives.

“The Queen,” he confirmed, his voice steady, though his hands were shaking slightly as he reached out to you. 

“You know… I… I’ve worked for her for years, Y/N. I made her gowns, her dresses, the wedding dress she wore when she married the King… that was mine. She told me once, when I presented it to her, that if I ever needed anything, anything at all, she would do her best to help me. And I never thought I’d have to take her up on that offer, but now… I have no other choice.”

“The Queen… oh my God,” you whispered. “This is… insane.”

The reality of what Hongjoong was saying began to sink in, and your mind spun with the implications. The Queen, the most powerful woman in the kingdom, someone who could alter the course of your lives with just a single word… It was overwhelming, to say the least. You’d grown up hearing stories about her, tales of her beauty, wisdom, and strength. But those were just stories. The idea of meeting her, let alone asking for her help, seemed impossible. Yet here Hongjoong was, standing in front of you, serious and resolute.

“I know it sounds insane,” Hongjoong said, his voice breaking through your thoughts. “But this is our best chance, Y/N. Maybe our only chance. And we have evidence. The letters, remember?

“-And the scars on my body,” you whispered. 

Hongjoong bawled his hands, his jaw clenching immediately. “You never… told me you had remaining scars.”

You nodded. “Ignoring them is easier. I try to… forget them entirely when I can.”

Without a word, he moved closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort. You leaned into him, the warmth of his body making you relax immediately.

After a moment, he cleared his throat, shifting the focus back to the task at hand. “We need to get ready,” he said, his voice steady. “If we’re going to meet the Queen, we can’t go in looking like this.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“There’s no time to waste. I have to make something for us,” he said, determination flashing in his eyes. “We need to look elegant. I might not have my supplies here, but I can work with what we have.”

Your heart raced at the thought of him making outfits from scratch. “Are you sure you can do that?”

He nodded firmly, already moving toward the small room where you were temporarily staying in Wooyoung and San's house. “I’ll figure it out. Just give me a minute to gather some things.”

You watched as he began searching through the limited fabric and materials you had, his hands working swiftly. He rummaged through the closet, pulling out old sheets and any leftover clothing you had brought along. You felt a mixture of admiration and anxiety as you realized the weight of what he was attempting to do.

“What do you need me to do?” you asked, stepping closer to him.

“There's a shop nearby that sells fabrics,” he said, already rummaging through his pockets for money, “I need you to buy me some. Can you do that?”

Your heart raced at the urgency in his voice, but a wave of uncertainty washed over you. “Uh, sure, but... I’m not sure where it is,” you admitted, glancing out the window. The sun was starting to set, and you were acutely aware of the time slipping away.

“I’ll draw you a quick map,” he said, moving quickly to grab a scrap of paper and a pen. He sketched a simple layout, marking the route to the shop with clear, careful lines. “You can do this, Y/N. Just follow the map, and don’t let anyone see you.”

You nodded. “What do you need me to get?” 

“Just some quality fabric, something that looks nice but isn’t too extravagant. Maybe something dark for me, something light and flowing for you,” he instructed, glancing up at you. “Can you remember that?”

You took a deep breath, nodding again. “Yes, I can do that.”

“Great,” he said, folding the paper and handing it to you. “I’ll need you back as soon as possible. We don’t have much time.”

“I’ll be quick,” you promised. As you turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of him, already immersed in his work, the fabric and thread strewn across the table like a chaotic canvas. 

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air hit your face. You followed the map he had drawn. The shop wasn’t far, and soon you found yourself standing in front of a small fabric store, the sign creaking softly in the breeze.

Once inside, the overwhelming scent of textiles filled your senses. Bolts of fabric in every color and texture lined the walls, and the shopkeeper gave you a curious look as you stepped in. Remembering Hongjoong’s instructions, you immediately focused on finding something that fit his descriptions. 

After scanning the shelves, you spotted a soft, flowing fabric in a light cream color that seemed perfect. You could almost picture how beautiful it would look on you. With that in mind, you also searched for a darker fabric for Hongjoong. You settled on a deep navy blue, rich yet understated, that would complement the cream tone perfectly.

With your choices made, you approached the counter, your heart pounding as you handed over the money Hongjoong had given you. The shopkeeper smiled and carefully wrapped the fabric. 

“Thank you,” you said, clutching the bundle tightly as you headed back outside. 

As you stepped through the door of Wooyoung and San's house, you saw Hongjoong still working diligently. He looked up, his eyes lighting up as he saw the fabric in your arms. “You did it!” he exclaimed, taking the fabric from you. “This is perfect!”

You smiled, relieved to see his excitement. “I hope it’s what you wanted. I wasn’t sure…”

“It’s exactly what I needed,” he said, moving quickly to lay the fabric out on the table. “Now, we can start putting everything together.”

Hongjoong spread the fabrics across the table, eyes gleaming with purpose. “This is going to be incredible,” he said, barely able to contain his excitement. You watched him with admiration as he quickly sketched designs in his notebook, his mind racing with ideas.

The first night stretched on, the room dimly lit by a single lamp casting shadows on the walls. You could hear the rhythmic hum of the sewing machine as Hongjoong lost himself in the work. 

Time blurred as the night turned into dawn, and you found yourself falling in and out of sleep. The only sounds were the soft whir of the machine and the occasional rustle of fabric. You’d occasionally catch Hongjoong stealing glances at you, and though he was clearly exhausted, there was a fire in his eyes that wouldn't die down.

By morning, the first pieces of your outfits began to take shape. “Look at this,” Hongjoong said, holding up the bodice of your gown. His excitement was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile. “It’s coming together beautifully, don’t you think?”

“It’s stunning, Hongjoong,” you replied, your heart swelling with admiration. “I can't wait to see the final piece.”

As he set it down and returned to his work, you noticed how hard he had to concentrate just to keep his eyes open. He was clearly pushing himself to the limit. You wanted to urge him to take a break, to rest for a moment, but you hesitated.

Hongjoong moved with practiced precision, cutting and sewing and cutting and sewing; repeating the same routine over and over again.

Yet, as the hours ticked by, his pace slowed down more and more.

“Hongjoong,” you finally said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Maybe you should take a break. You’ve been at this for so long.”

He paused, looking at you with those tired yet determined eyes. “I can’t stop now. We’re so close. I just need to finish your gown, and then I’ll rest, I promise.”

You sighed. “Okay, but promise me you’ll take care of yourself too. I don’t want you collapsing from exhaustion when we meet the Queen.”

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, but the laughter quickly faded as he nodded. “I promise, Y/N. Just a bit longer.”

A bit longer turned out to be one more day full of work.

On the evening of the second day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hongjoong finally stepped back, surveying the gown he had made for you. The fabric flowed beautifully, a soft cream color with delicate embroidery that accentuates your figure. It was breathtaking.

“Look,” he said, gesturing to the dress. “It’s finished.”

“It doesn't matter how many dresses of yours I'll see, I'll always be amazed… you're so talented, Joongie,” you said, slowly stepping between his legs and carefully combing through his hair.

Hongjoong slung his arms around your waist and laid his head on your stomach, closing his eyes for a few minutes.

You took a deep breath, letting the warmth of his reassurance settle within you. “So, how exactly will we get to the palace?” you asked, trying to shift the focus from your worries to practical matters.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes brightening as he began to explain. “The Queen’s servants are discreet and efficient. After I sent word to her, she agreed to send a carriage for us. It should arrive tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” The reality sent your heart racing again. “Do we have everything ready? What if something goes wrong?”

Hongjoong chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t worry. Everything is in place. The only thing we need to do is stay calm.”

The following morning arrived way too fast. You woke to the sound of birds chirping outside and a warm breeze entering your room through the window.

Hongjoong was already up, carefully folding the outfits he had poured his heart into over the past two days. You stood up and approached him, placing a gentle hand on his back. “Are you ready for this?” you asked softly.

He nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied, offering you a small smile. 

You gave him a reassuring nod yourself, though your own nerves were starting to fray. The idea of meeting the Queen, of putting your fate in her hands, felt surreal. But there was no turning back now. You quickly changed into the gown Hongjoong had created for you, the fabric cool against your skin, yet surprisingly comforting. It fit you perfectly, accentuating your form in all the right ways, the soft cream color making you feel both elegant and ethereal.

Though the dress Hongjoong created back in your hometown, the one so blue it reminded you if the sea itself, would always be your favorite, this one was nonetheless nothing but breathtaking. 

When you finally emerged, Hongjoong’s breath caught in his throat. He stared at you for a long moment, a proud smile stealing its way on his lips. “You look… beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like I imagined.”

You smiled, stepping closer to him. “You look amazing, too.”

Hongjoong's gaze softened as you stepped closer. All that mattered was him, standing before you, his eyes tracing every curve and line of your face.

You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you brushed a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. His breath hitched at the simple touch, and you could see the raw emotion in his eyes, the love, the desire, and the lingering regret of the days you'd spent apart. 

His hands found your waist, pulling you gently but firmly against him. The heat of his body against yours sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest, 

Hongjoong’s eyes searched yours, silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You didn’t need to say a word - your eyes told him everything he needed to know. Slowly, deliberately, he leaned in, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. The anticipation was almost unbearable.

When his lips finally met yours, the world around you seemed to disappear. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, as if he was savoring every second. His lips were soft, warm, and as they moved against yours, you felt a deep, aching need stirring within you, a need that had been building for days, weeks, months.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Hongjoong responded in kind, his grip on your waist tightening as his other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back to gain better access. The kiss grew more intense, more passionate, as if all the emotions you'd both been holding back were pouring out in this one, desperate act.

You could taste the urgency on his lips, feel the way his heart was racing just as fast as yours. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a wave of heat through your body that made you feel like you were melting into him. The kiss was everything - sweet and tender, yet fierce and consuming.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. You could feel the strength in his arms, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, and it only made you want him more. 

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. Hongjoong’s eyes were half-lidded, his lips slightly swollen from the intensity of the kiss. He looked at you with an expression that was equal parts awe and desire, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real, that this very moment here was real.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I love you so much.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you cupped his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs gently across his cheeks. “I love you too, Hongjoong. I always have. I always will.”

He smiled, a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. And then, without another word, he leaned in and kissed you again, slow and deep, as if he had all the time in the world to show you just how much he loved you, how much you meant to him.

“You ready?” he asked as he took a step back. You instantly missed his lips on yours, but you nodded nonetheless. 

He offered you his hand, and you took it without hesitation.  

As you stepped aside, clearly overdressed in this rural neighborhood, the carriage was already waiting, a sleek, black vehicle with the Queen’s crest emblazoned on the side. The horses were well-groomed, their coats gleaming in the sunlight. A stern-looking driver stood by, his expression unreadable as he held the door open for you. With one last deep breath, you and Hongjoong climbed inside, settling onto the plush seats.

The carriage began to move slowly, the sound of the wheels clattering against the cobblestones filled the silence. You glanced at Hongjoong, who was staring out the window, his jaw clenched. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. You simply watched the world pass by outside. 

Finally, Hongjoong broke the silence, his voice low and contemplative. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

The question caught you off guard, and you turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden change in topic. But as you met his gaze, you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, a softness in his eyes that you hadn’t seen in days.

The sudden shift in conversation caught you off guard, but a small smile crept onto your face as the memory came flooding back. “Of course, I remember,” you replied, chuckling softly. “How could I forget that? Ah, Django… I miss him… And Benji… oh God, my little Benji… I hope they're all well.”

“They are, my love. I'm sure they are.”

And then, as the carriage rounded a final bend, the palace finally came into view. It was a magnificent structure, with its white marble walls glowing in the fading light. The Queen’s residence was every bit as awe-inspiring as the stories had said, its towering spires reaching towards the heavens.

Your breath caught in your throat at the sight, and you felt Hongjoong’s grip on your hand tighten.

As the carriage drew closer, you could see a group of palace guards standing right outside the gates, their armor gleaming under the soft glow of the lanterns that lined the pathway to the grand entrance. The carriage came to a smooth stop, and the driver emerged, opening the door for you and Hongjoong.

You took a deep breath. Hongjoong stepped out first, offering his hand to help you down. As your feet touched the ground, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

The grand doors of the palace opened with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing a tall, elegant woman dressed in a deep burgundy gown. Her presence was commanding, yet her expression was kind as she approached.

“Welcome,” she said, her voice smooth and authoritative. “The Queen has been expecting you.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hongjoong, who gave you a small nod, before you both followed the woman inside. The interior of the palace was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with high ceilings adorned with various paintings and chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds. The floor beneath your feet was made of polished marble, and the soft click of your shoes were echoing through the halls.

As you walked deeper into the palace, the grandeur only increased. Walls were lined with portraits of past kings and queens, their eyes seeming to follow you as you passed. 

Finally, you were led to a pair of ornately carved doors, which the woman pushed open with ease. Beyond them was a grand chamber, bathed in the warm light of a thousand candles. At the far end of the room, seated on a throne that seemed to be carved out of pure gold, was the Queen herself.

She was as regal as you had imagined, with an aura of quiet power that made the room feel smaller, the air more charged. Her hair was a rich, dark color, intricately braided and adorned with jewels that sparkled with every movement. Her eyes, sharp and intelligent, fixed on you and Hongjoong as you entered the room.

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said, bowing deeply before you had a chance to follow his lead.

The Queen’s gaze softened as she looked at Hongjoong, a small smile playing on her lips. “Rise, Hongjoong,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “It has been a long time.”

Hongjoong straightened up, but his grip on your hand tightened. You could feel the tension in his body as he struggled to maintain his composure. The Queen’s eyes flicked to you, her expression unreadable. “I see you have brought someone with you, Hongjoong. Please, both of you, come closer.”

You nodded, bowing deeply in respect. “It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesty,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the anxiety that almost made you fall ill.

The Queen studied you for a moment before her gaze returned to Hongjoong. “I understand you’ve come to ask for my help?” she said, her voice carrying the weight of authority.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong replied. “We’ve found ourselves in desperate need of your help. I’ve brought evidence to prove our case, but… there is also something that only Y/N can show you.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “And what is this evidence?”

Hongjoong hesitated, glancing at you before speaking. “Your Majesty, before I ask Y/N to show you the evidence, I feel it’s important for you to understand her story - our story - in its entirety.”

The Queen nodded, her expression growing more serious as she settled back into her seat, indicating for him to continue.

Hongjoong took a long, deep breath. “Y/N came from a decent, middle-class family. They lived comfortably - not wealthy, but certainly not poor. Her future should have been secure, perhaps with a marriage that would maintain or even improve her standing in society. But things took a dark turn.”

He paused, glancing at you as if seeking your permission to continue. You gave him a small nod, and he went on, his voice heavy with emotion.

“Her father… he made a decision that changed everything. He married her off to a man well below her status - a drunkard, a violent brute. This man - he was no husband. He was a monster. He raped and beat her almost every day, treating her worse than a common servant. She was trapped in a nightmare, until she… until she had to kill him in self defense to save the both of us.”

“And to protect me,” you chimed in, your desperate gaze finding the woman before you before you continued: “J-joong- I mean, Hongjoong took the blame upon himself. He… he was about to be beheaded for a crime he didn't commit, so I… I took it upon myself to release him and flee with him.”

“We are here to plead our innocence, and to ask for a royal pardon of you, your Majesty,” Hongjoong spoke, standing proud and tall beside you, like the safe haven he always was for you.

“A royal pardon, you say?” she asked.

“Yes. Since no one in our town bothered to even investigate, we ask for you to review all evidence and overturn the decision.”

The Queen’s expression remained inscrutable, giving away nothing of her thoughts. Silence stretched in the grand chamber, broken only by the faint crackling of the candles and the distant echo of footsteps in the vast corridors beyond.

At last, the Queen rose from her throne, the jewels in her hair catching the light as she moved. She descended the steps from the throne with grace 

“I can see the truth in your eyes, but understand this - granting a royal pardon is not a decision I take lightly. There must be undeniable proof,” she said.

She turned to you, her sharp gaze assessing. “Y/N, I need you to show me the evidence Hongjoong mentioned. Whatever it is, it must be enough to convince me beyond doubt.”

You reached into your cloak, pulling out a stack of worn, yellowed letters tied together with a frayed ribbon. Your hands shook as you untied them, revealing the harsh, almost frenzied handwriting of your late husband. You could feel the Queen’s eyes on you, her gaze intense, as you stepped forward and placed the letters in her outstretched hand.

“These letters,” you said, struggling to keep your voice steady, “are from my deceased husband. In them, he admits to everything - his abuse, his threats, and… even his intent to kill me one day. They are his own words, Your Majesty. Written in moments of drunken rage, or cruel clarity. He was proud of what he did, and he never hid that from anyone. But he was also reckless, and he left these behind, never thinking they might be used against him.”

The Queen’s expression remained unreadable once again as she began to read the letters. The room was silent save for the sound of rustling paper. With each page she turned, you felt your heart pound louder, your hands clasping Hongjoong’s tighter.

After what felt like an eternity, the Queen looked up from the letters. Her gaze was more somber now, tinged with something that might have been pity, or perhaps understanding.

“These letters are indeed compelling,” she said slowly, “but it alone is not enough. The word of a dead man, though through his own admission, cannot fully clear your names. I need more.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. “Your Majesty,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “the whole town knew what was happening. They turned a blind eye, because… because they didn’t want to get involved. I don’t know if I can rely on their testimony. But… my parents, though they looked away for so long, showed great remorse before I fled. They knew what was happening, and they did nothing to stop it. I… though I can never reconcile with them, I have no choice but to trust them this one last time.”

The Queen’s gaze softened slightly as she regarded you. “And you believe they will speak the truth, even now?”

You nodded, though you felt a knot of uncertainty in your stomach. “Yes, Your Majesty. They have to.”

The Queen considered this for a long moment before nodding slowly. “Very well. I will send for your parents and have them brought here to testify. But… there's another thing you want to show me, right?”

You swallowed hard. The letters had made an impact, but the Queen needed more, something undeniable. Your heart raced as you prepared to reveal the evidence that you had hidden for so long, even from yourself.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied, your voice trembling. “There is… one more thing I can show you.”

The Queen's eyes narrowed slightly. You hesitated, glancing at Hongjoong, who was watching you, his eyes telling more than words ever could. His presence gave you the strength to go on.

“My body bears the scars of my husband's cruelty,” you said quietly, “Scars that… tell the story of what he did to me.”

For a small second, something in her eyes flickered - perhaps sympathy, perhaps disgust at the thought of such brutality. But it disappeared as fast as it appeared, and she composed herself quickly. “Very well,” she said, her voice low and measured. “Show me.”

But before you could move, the Queen raised a hand to stop you. “Hongjoong,” she addressed him firmly, “you must wait outside. As you are not married, it would be inappropriate for you to remain here.”

Hongjoong looked like he wanted to protest, but he caught himself, understanding his words would make no impact. He nodded and gave you a reassuring look. “I’ll be right outside,” he said softly. “You’re not alone.”

You nodded, trying to offer him a smile. “Thank you, Hongjoong.”

As he was escorted out of the room, the Queen waited until the door closed before turning back to you. The room felt emptier without Hongjoong by your side, but you tried to stay calm nonetheless. 

As he left the room, the Queen gestured to a few of her attendants, and a group of maids quickly approached. Your dress was elegant, more elaborate than you were used to, and you realized you would need help to reveal the scars that were hidden beneath its layers.

The maids moved with practiced efficiency, unfastening the intricate clasps and loosening the delicate fabric of your gown. You felt a wave of vulnerability wash over you as they carefully peeled back the layers, revealing the faint, jagged lines etched into your skin. 

The Queen stepped closer, her gaze intense as she examined the marks. She didn’t speak, but her silence was heavy.

After a long moment, she stepped back, her eyes closing for a moment. “These scars… they cannot be ignored.” She turned to one of her attendants, a stern-looking guard who had been standing by the door. “Send for a scrivener,” she commanded. “These letters and the scars on her body must be documented.”

The man bowed and hurried out of the chamber, leaving you alone with the Queen and the maids, who carefully refastened your dress. The Queen’s eyes softened slightly as she looked at you. “Hongjoong has been a long confidante of mine, so naturally, he has my trust” she said, “But there is still a process that must be followed. The evidence will be recorded, and your parents and anyone else willing to testify will be brought before me. Until then, I must uphold the law.”

Once the scrivener arrived and began documenting the evidence, the Queen addressed you again. “You will be given quarters where you can rest,” she said, her tone kind but firm. “And I will ensure that you have everything you need until the trial begins. Be strong, Y/N. The truth will come to light.”

You bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

And with that, the Queen turned and left the chamber, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Now all you could do was wait.

“Y/N,” Hongjoong's voice reached you the moment you stepped into the tower room. But before you could even respond, you found yourself distracted by your surroundings. For a place meant to imprison you, the room was unexpectedly luxurious - far more so than anything you'd ever experienced. The walls were draped with rich tapestries and the bed was covered in soft linens. A large, plush rug covered the stone floor, and the air smelled faintly of lavender.

You paused, blinking in surprise at the sight. This was supposed to be your prison? It surely made you feel out of place, like it belonged to a royal guest chamber rather than a cell.

"Are you alright?" Hongjoong’s voice broke through your thoughts, concern etched in his features as he took a step closer to you. But before you could answer, the door behind you creaked open again, and a small group of maids entered.

“Your bath is ready, my lady,” one of them said with a polite bow, her voice soft yet firm. “Please, come with us.”

My lady?

You looked at Hongjoong, startled and confused. He gave you an encouraging nod, though he looked just as confused as you.

“Go on,” he said gently. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Reluctantly, you allowed the maids to lead you away, down a small corridor that connected to an adjoining room. The room was even more elaborate, with a large copper tub set in the center, already filled with steaming water that scented the air with rose petals and herbs. Thick, fluffy towels were neatly stacked nearby, and a selection of fine soaps and oils were arranged on a small table besides.

They helped you quickly undress and step into the bath. The warm water immediately melted away the tension from your muscles. As they poured fragrant oils into the water, your eyes closed and you sank deeper into the water. The maids worked in silence, their hands gentle as they washed your hair and scrubbed your skin with fine soaps. Eventually, the bath was over, and you were lifted from the water, wrapped in a thick, warm towel. The maids dried you off and led you to a big mirror where they brushed your hair and dressed you in a white nightgown that felt impossibly soft against your skin.

Once they were done, they stepped back, quietly observing you. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, almost not recognizing yourself. The nightgown was simple yet elegant, the white fabric almost transparent against your skin. It flowed down to your ankles, delicate lace trimming the neckline and sleeves. It made you look delicate and almost… sensual. 

Still deep in thought, you were guided back to the main room where Hongjoong was waiting. As you stepped into the room, you saw him pacing near the window, lost in thought. The moment he heard your footsteps, he turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat when he saw you.

For a long, long moment, he simply stared at you, his eyes wide as they traveled over your figure. His usual calm and collected demeanor seemed to crumble as a faint blush colored his cheeks. He quickly looked away, his jaw tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“You-” Hongjoong began, his voice strained as he took a step closer, his gaze flicking back to you before quickly averting again. “You look… beautiful.” His words were quiet, and you could see the internal battle playing out within him as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

You could see the way his eyes darkened whenever he sneaked a glance at you, something that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers twitched as if he wanted to reach out and touch you but was holding himself back. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure, but the way he avoided your gaze told you that he was struggling. “I… I didn't mean to stare,” he muttered, his voice rougher than usual. "I just… You-”

You took a step closer. Hongjoong's eyes snapped to yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of something raw and intoxicating in his expression - something that sent a shiver down your spine, something that made your mouth dry and your heart beat faster.

“Hongjoong,” you said softly, the sound of his name breaking the silence that had settled between you. “I'm fine. You can-”

“Sir, your bath is prepared as well,” one of the maids said with a polite bow. “Please allow us to assist you.”

Hongjoong stiffened slightly at the offer, clearly taken aback. “Uh, that's not necessary,” he stammered, his usual confidence faltering as a blush crept up his neck. “I can manage on my own.”

The maid, seemingly unfazed, simply nodded. “Of course, sir. But if you require anything, we will be right outside.” With that, she and the others gracefully exited the room, leaving the two of you alone once more.

Hongjoong let out a quiet sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair as he glanced back at you. “Well, I suppose I should... take that bath now,” he said.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “I'll wait here,” you said softly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

He stood there for another moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but instead, he simply gave you a nod before retreating into the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Desperately, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that the man of your dreams was completely bare just a few feet away. But just after a few minutes, you had to admit that it was pointless, and so, your feet took you to the bathroom once again.

You hesitated outside the door, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew this was a bad idea, that you were crossing a line, but curiosity got the better of you. Slowly, you pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Hongjoong was sitting in the tub, his back to the door, the water lapping gently around his figure. Steam filled the room, the scent of the same herbs and soaps you previously used in the air. His head was slightly bowed, his eyes closed, and he seemed lost in thought, completely unaware of your presence.

For a moment, you just stood there, silently watching him. His usually sharp features were entirely relaxed, his shoulders sacked as he soaked in the water. You couldn’t help but admire the way the droplets clung to his skin, the way the muscles in his back moved with each breath he took.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you silently crossed the room. The soft pads of your feet made no noise on the stone floor as you approached the tub. Without thinking, you reached for a cloth that was hanging nearby, dipping it into the warm water.

He still hadn’t noticed you as you knelt beside the tub. Your hand hovered for a moment before you gathered the courage to press the cloth gently against his back.

Hongjoong stiffened immediately, his eyes snapping open as he realized someone was there. He turned his head sharply, his eyes wide as he met your gaze.

“Y/N?” His voice was breathless, and he immediately tried to shield his naked body from you. “What are you doing?”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the blush that was creeping up your cheeks. “I thought… I thought I’d help you relax,” you said softly, your voice trembling with nerves.

Hongjoong’s gaze flicked down to the cloth in your hand and then back to your face. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the way his breathing had quickened, the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Y/N… you don’t have to…” He trailed off, his voice faltering as you began to gently scrub his back, your movements slow and careful. You could feel the tension in his body slowly melting away under your touch.

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward again as he allowed himself to relax. “You don't have to do this,” he murmured, though he didn't sound entirely convinced either.

You smiled a little, continuing your work, the cloth gliding over his skin in soothing circles. “Maybe not,” you whispered, “but I wanted to.”

Hongjoong’s breathing was uneven, each exhale shaky as you worked your way across his shoulders, the cloth tracing the lines of his muscles. You could see the way his body tensed, his fists clenching against the edge of the tub as if he was trying to control himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, almost pleading. “W-we should really stop… I-”

You gently pressed a finger against his lips, silencing him almost instantly. “Hongjoong,” you whispered, “I want to… I’m ready.”

His eyes found yours, wide with surprise and something else - something deeper. His gaze searched yours, as if he was trying to find any hint of uncertainty, any reason to stop this before it went too far.

But you didn’t waver. You had been through so much, had faced so many demons from your past, and now, standing here with him, you felt a sense of clarity you hadn’t in a long time. You wanted this, wanted him - wanted to break down the walls you had built so carefully around your heart.

Slowly, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his as you pressed a soft kiss to his temple. His eyes fluttered shut at the contact, a shiver running through his body. You could feel his resistance, the way he fought to hold himself back, but there was also something in the way he leaned into your touch, a silent plea for more.

Your lips traveled from his temple to his ear, brushing against the sensitive skin as you whispered, “I know you try to hold yourself back for my sake. But I’m not scared, Joongie. Not anymore.”

Hongjoong’s eyes were locked on yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. Without breaking eye contact, he stood, water cascading off his naked, sculpted body, droplets glistening on his skin in the soft, dim light of the room. 

Before you could say anything, his arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly from where you stood. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled you close, his wet skin soaking through your clothes as he carried you out the room. 

He reached the bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, the fabric cool against your heated skin. You looked up at him, your heart racing as he knelt beside you, droplets of water still clinging to his skin, his hair damp and falling into his eyes. He was completely bare, his body on full display, and yet his focus was entirely on you.

Slowly, he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid up your side, fingers grazing your ribs, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The kiss deepened, his tongue teasing yours, fighting your own in a battle of dominance you quickly lost.

Hongjoong’s hand moved under your gown, and with a gentle tug, he began to lift it, his fingertips brushing against your skin as he pulled it over your head. The cool air hit your newly exposed skin, making you shiver, but the heat of his gaze warmed you instantly. He paused for a moment, taking in the sight of you, his eyes so full of love and lust it made you ache.

“You’re so, so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. He leaned in again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses as he made his way to your collarbone. Each kiss sent a jolt of electricity through you, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you felt him explore your body with his lips, his hands, his entire being.

He moved lower, his hands sliding over your skin, slowly. You shivered under his touch, your hands gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hands moved delicately, tracing the lines of your body, exploring every curve, every dip, every inch of your skin. He was in no rush, savoring it all; every moment, every touch, every breath you took. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, it was as if he was worshiping you, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him.

“Y/N,” he whispered against your lips, his voice shaky, filled with emotion. “I want this to be perfect for you… for us.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, reassuring smile. “It already is,” you murmured, your voice filled with the same emotion you saw reflected in his eyes. “You make everything perfect for me, Joongie.”

He smiled, a tender, almost shy smile that made your heart flutter. “I’ve wanted this for so long… wanted you for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I know,” you whispered back, your fingers brushing through his damp hair. “I’ve wanted this too… I’ve wanted you.”

His breath caught in his throat, his eyes darkening with something deeper, more intense. “I’m scared… of hurting you,” he admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “Of moving too fast.”

You shook your head gently, your hands moving to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “You could never hurt me,” you assured him softly. “I trust you, Hongjoong. I’m ready… because I know these hands of yours could never hurt me like he did.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he tried to steady himself. When he opened them again, they were filled with an intensity that took your breath away. “I want to love you… properly, Y/N.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and adoration for the man above you. “Then love me, Hongjoong,” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Love me the way you’ve always wanted to. Make me yours.”

He chuckled, before slowly lowering himself into you. “Silly woman. You've been mine the moment I met you.”

If anyone would've told you you'd ever see your parents on their knees, begging for mercy in front of you, you would've laughed right in their face.

But here you were. Witnessing it at this very moment.

Well, technically it wasn't in front of you - but the Queen, who was looking at them with intense, cold eyes.

You stood to the side, Hongjoong right beside you, close enough to witness every detail, yet far enough to keep the emotional distance you needed to not break down in tears.

The Queen's voice cut through the silence. “You have been called before the court to deliver your testimony. If you lie, it will have severe consequences,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “We have gathered here today because a man was killed. Without any evidence or witness testimony, it was decided that Kim Hongjoong was the one responsible and would be hanged for it. Now, after careful investigation, I and everyone else here is fairly confident that this is not what happened. The man who died abused his wife L/N Y/N for close to a decade. And everyone supposedly knew. On the night of the alleged crime, it is to be assumed he came home to beat her once again. Kim Hongjoong was just there at the wrong time. Y/N had to kill her husband in self defense to protect the both of them,” the Queen continued. 

The whole room was deadly silent. Only the occasional sobs of your mother could be heard.

“Now I ask of you to truthfully answer my questions”, she said, looking at your parents directly, “is it true that you knew your daughter was getting abused?”

The silence that followed the Queen's question was suffocating, each second stretching into an eternity. Your father kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands trembling slightly as he knelt beside your mother. 

You remembered the last time you saw him. The moment where he apologized, where you saw the pain in his eyes. But would he also admit to his faults in public?

The Queen's eyes bore into them. She was not just asking for a simple answer; she was demanding the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. And there was no escaping it.

Your father was the first to speak, his voice barely above a whisper, rough and strained. “We… we knew,” he confessed, the words stumbling out of him like a boulder finally giving way to gravity. “We knew what was happening, Your Majesty.”

A collective gasp rippled through the courtroom, but you remained still, your heart pounding in your chest as the truth you had been denied for so long was finally laid bare. Your mother’s sobs grew louder, her hands covering her face as if to shield herself from the reality of what was happening.

The Queen’s gaze did not waver. “And yet, you did nothing to help her?” she pressed, her tone hardening. “You allowed your daughter to suffer for years, without lifting a finger to protect her? Knowing that one day she could possibly be killed?”

Your mother finally lifted her head, her face streaked with tears. “We… we were afraid,” she stammered, her voice shaking with emotion. “We didn’t know what to do… We thought… we thought it would be worse if we intervened.”

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you listened to their excuses. They had left you to fend for yourself in a nightmare, and had turned their backs on you when you needed them the most. 

Even after you tried for months, years to come to terms with their betrayal, it still hurt deeply.

The Queen narrowed her eyes, but her expression gave nothing away. “You thought it would be worse?” she repeated, “Worse than watching your daughter endure unimaginable suffering? Worse than allowing her to be beaten, night after night, while you did nothing?”

Your mother’s tears flowed uncontrollably now, her sobs wracking her body as she nodded, unable to form any coherent response. Your father remained silent, his head hanging low, as if the weight of his guilt was too much to bear.

The Queen’s gaze flicked to you for a moment, her expression softening just slightly as she took in the sight of you standing there, silent and strong beside Hongjoong. 

This wasn't the first time you saw that expression on her face, and for a second you were left wondering if, maybe, she understood your pain. Really understood.

From woman to woman, from victim to victim.

“Your Majesty,” your father spoke again, his voice hoarse with emotion. “We… we failed her. We know that now. We were wrong, and we are deeply sorry.”

For a second, his eyes found yours. And though you knew you could never forgive them, you saw nothing but love and guilt in your father's eyes.

Maybe in another life, where you as a woman would have more rights, you all could have been a happy, normal family.

Maybe.

“But… There is one last thing I want to do for my daughter,” he whispered. “Your Majesty, if I may…?”

Her gaze flicked towards you. You clutched Hongjoong’s hands tighter, before giving her a final nod.

“Go on,” she said.

Your father hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage, before speaking again. “I brought them here, Your Majesty,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “The rest of the people who stayed quiet. I brought all of them here today.”

The Queen raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between your father and you. The courtroom seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her decision. Your eyes widened and you immediately felt a lump form in your throat. 

Finally, the Queen nodded, “Bring them in.”

She turned towards the grand double doors at the back of the room, and with a slight motion of her hand, the guards opened them. One by one, a dozen people began to file in, their faces pale and solemn. You recognized each one of them - neighbors, former friends, even the local shopkeepers who had all turned a blind eye to your bruises and hushed cries for help. They looked as though they were walking to their own execution, eyes downcast, hands desperately clutching their clothes.

As they entered, they arranged themselves in a line before you, and then, as if guided by an unspoken command, they all began to bow. The sight of it - the people who had once ignored your pain now bowing before you, in front of the Queen herself - struck you like a blow to the heart.

You tightened your grip on Hongjoong’s hand, your breath hitching as the overwhelming weight of the moment began to settle over you. Tears welled up in your eyes, and no matter how much you tried to hold them back, they eventually began to spill over, silently tracing lines down your cheeks. Hongjoong’s hand remained warm and steady in yours, his presence grounding you as you struggled to process the scene before you.

Slowly, an elderly woman who had been your neighbor for years, stepped forward. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Y/N… we have no excuse for what we did, or rather, what we didn’t do. We failed you, just as your parents did. We saw the signs, but we chose to look away, to pretend it wasn’t our business. And for that… we are truly sorry.”

As everyone in line took their turn to speak, offering their apologies, their regrets, and their shame, the emotions you had been holding back for so long finally broke free. You wept openly now, the sound of your sobs filling the otherwise silent courtroom. These were the apologies you had never expected to hear, the recognition of your suffering that had been denied to you for so many years.

Hongjoong wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, and you leaned into him, burying your face in his neck. The tears kept coming, and you let them. 

After each person spoke to you, they all remained bowed, waiting for your response. The Queen, too, seemed to be waiting, her gaze fixed on you.

You took a shaky breath, wiping your tears with the back of your hand as you tried to find the right words. But there were no words that could truly capture the enormity of what you were feeling. So instead, you simply nodded, acknowledging their apologies once and for all.

“Thank you,” you managed to whisper, your voice raw and hoarse. “Thank you for saying what I needed to hear… even if it’s too late.”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the crowd, but the weight of the moment still pressed down heavily on you. The Queen stepped forward, her presence immediately commanding everyone's attention. “You have all acknowledged your failings here today,” she said, “A man has died, and even if Y/N pulled the trigger, everyone here knows that at the end of the day, she remains an innocent woman. A woman who had to save herself because no one else did.”

As her final words settled over the courtroom, you felt a deep, heavy relief wash over you. The people who had failed you had spoken their apologies, and though it could never erase the pain you endured, the recognition of your suffering soothed your wounded soul.

Hongjoong kept a protective arm around you as you walked outside. The air outside the courtroom was crisp, the world feeling both too small and too vast after what had just happened. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned just in time to see your sister Miyeon rushing towards you, tears already streaming down her face. Her belly was still slightly rounded from her recent pregnancy, and in her arms, she cradled her newborn, your tiny niece or nephew, who was bundled up warmly against her chest.

Miyeon threw her arms around you, careful not to hurt her child, pulling you into a tight embrace as she sobbed uncontrollably. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out between sobs, her voice filled with guilt and anguish. “I didn’t know... I didn’t know everything that was happening. If I had known, I would have been there for you. I should have been there for you!”

You held her tightly, your own tears spilling over once more as you buried your face in her shoulder. “Miyeon, it’s okay,” you whispered, even as your voice trembled. “I know you would’ve helped me if you could. You were far away, and you had no idea. You were also preparing to be a mother… I never wanted to burden you with my pain.”

“But you’re my sister,” she cried, pulling back to look at you with red, puffy eyes. “I should have been here. I should have done something, anything, to protect you. How could I have let this happen to you?”

You shook your head. “You couldn’t have known, Miyeon. None of this was your fault. I don’t blame you, not even for a second.”

Before you could respond, her husband, Gikwang, who had been standing a few steps behind her, joined the two of you. His expression was filled with compassion and guilt as he handed you a small, trembling bundle. “We… we brought something for you,” he said gently. “One of Hongjoong’s neighbors found him in his house and thought you’d want him back.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he placed the tiny, trembling creature in your arms.

“Benji!” you cried out.

The moment he was in your arms, the dam you had been holding back broke entirely. You clutched him to you, your sobs echoing through the quiet corridor as you cried even harder than you just moments before.

Hongjoong stood beside you, his hand on your back, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears as he watched you cradle Benji. Miyeon wrapped her arms around both you and Benji, and for a long, long while, you simply stood there, the three of you wrapped in a comforting embrace. As you finally pulled back, wiping your tears away, you looked at Miyeon and Hongjoong, then down at Benji, who was now purring softly in your arms, and also at Gikwang and their newborn child.

With a trembling but genuine smile, you whispered, "Thank you, Miyeon. Thank you for being here. And thank you for bringing him back to me."

Miyeon nodded, her own smile breaking through her tears. "I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. No matter what. You and I will keep in contact, right? You'll come visit me and I'll visit you, right? And… and you and Hongjoong will be happy together, right?”

As you wiped the last of your tears away, you gave Miyeon a firm nod. “Yes,” you replied, your voice steady for the first time in what felt like an eternity. “We will keep in contact. I’ll visit you, and you can come visit us. And yes… Hongjoong and I will be happy together. We’ll find a way to move forward.”

Miyeon smiled through her tears, her grip on her newborn tightening slightly as she nodded back. “Good,” she whispered, her voice full of emotion. “That’s all I want for you, Y/N. To be happy. You deserve that more than anything.”

Gikwang placed a reassuring hand on his wife's shoulder. “You’re strong, Y/N,” he said softly. “And even if your parents and Jisoo aren't included, you have us that care about you, no matter how far apart we may be.”

You took a long, deep breath before looking down at Benji, who was still purring contentedly in your arms, then up at Hongjoong, who met your gaze with a look of unwavering support and love.

“Let’s go,” Hongjoong murmured, his hand gently squeezing yours. “It’s time to head home.”

You nodded. Turning back to your sister, you reached out and gave her one last, lingering hug. “I’ll see you soon,” you promised, “until then, take care. And also of your bab-”

“Jihoon. His name is Jihoon,” she whispered, carefully cradling the baby in her arms.

You smiled warmly at her and her child. “Take care of Jihoon too, okay?”

With that, you and Hongjoong turned and began to walk away, Benji still cradled safely in your arms. 

“Hey, Joongie?” you asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Django is doing well?

He laughed. “Oh, I know he is. That damn goat is probably terrorizing the whole town by now.”

My Dearest Husband,

I hope this letter finds you well and you are not too weary from your travels. Though I'm proud the Queen has once again asked for one of your dresses, the house feels a little quieter without you here, though Miyeon, Gikwang, and little Jihoon are doing their best to fill the void. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s grown since you last saw him – he’s already running around like he owns the place. God, I’ve had to take more breaks than usual chasing after him. I’m sure you can guess why.

Miyeon has been a great help, though, and Gikwang even managed to fix the squeaky gate that’s been bothering you for months. We spent yesterday walking along the shore, Jihoon squealing with delight every time the waves came in. It made me think of how much you would’ve enjoyed the sight with him together. The sea is as beautiful as ever, though not nearly as beautiful as it is when I get to share it with you.

Oh, our little shop is thriving more than I could’ve imagined. Your teachings on sewing have paid off wonderfully, and the people can’t seem to get enough of the dresses I make. I'm so honored, though I still try and convince them yours are so much better. They keep saying how elegant the stitching is and how there’s something special about each piece. I always smile and tell them it’s because they were made with love – a love you taught me with every thread and needle. Though I do admit, I’ve had to slow down a bit these days. The shop misses you, too, but it’s running smoothly, and I can’t wait for you to see how well it's been going. 

I know you were worried about leaving me alone, but honestly, my love, you overthink too much. I think you forget sometimes just how capable I am. I may be waddling more than walking at this point, but I can still manage just fine, especially with Miyeon here to keep an eye on me. But I can’t help but smile when I think about how you’re already fretting over our little one, even before she’s born. You and your little princess – I can just see it now, the way you’ll spoil her rotten with all those tiny dresses you’ve been making. If she’s anything like her father, she’ll be quite the charmer, and I can’t wait to see you two together, hand in hand, as you show her the world.

She’s been kicking more these past few days, and it hurts like crazy. I can't wait to finally meet her. I’m already dreaming of the day when we’ll finally get to meet her. I know you’re just as eager as I am – I can see it in the way you smile whenever you talk about her. Our little princess. I think she knows, too, because she always seems to calm down when I think about you.

So, my love, don’t worry too much about us. We’re safe, happy, and counting down the days until you’re back home. The sea is waiting, the shop is thriving, and most importantly, your little family is here, eagerly anticipating your return. I’ll keep everything running smoothly until you’re back – though I must admit, I’m looking forward to resting when our little one decides it’s time to make her grand entrance.

Take care of yourself, and don’t let business keep you away for too long. We miss you dearly.

With all my love,

Your Wife

[danielsarmand]

honestly i think what i don't understand is why people expect certain things from certain characters. like why do you expect armand to earnestly give two damns about claudia and madeleine, or about anyone else beside himself and perhaps louis, or lestat, or people he has personally developed feelings for and/or entertained a relationship with? hell, why do you expect lestat, even, to truly care about claudia? louis is the one who wanted her, and for his own selfish reasons, no less! to make himself feel better about himself, to feel righteous and good, to feel like he'd atoned for his sins, to feel cleansed. and sure, he came to care for her, to love her, but never enough. never more than he loved lestat, never more than he loved his own pride and hubris.

and that is because each and every one of this characters is selfish, has been selfish, will be selfish. vampires are monsters. they are what's left when you're no longer the human you were, and some of them weren't good people to begin with, and some others have hundreds of years of abuse and trauma in place of human bones, and most of the times both things are true. louis has been warned time and time again, claudia has been warned time and time again, they have even been warned—multiple times—by the people who ended up hurting them the most. they were told there's no such thing as a good vampire, they were told to keep to themselves, they were told to leave, they were warned both with words and with actions. they proceeded to ignore all the warnings, all the signs, and to turn into wretched little things themselves in the process, because that's how it goes.

it confuses me, is all, to see posts where people are so outraged about armand not doing anything to stop what happened, or about him manipulating louis into believing he couldn't, because why did you expect him to? armand is not a good, immaculate entity. he operates under his own set of morals, his own rules, always has. at no point in the show was the audience meant to be fooled by him. we were always meant to be wary of him, because he is a 500+ yo vampire and we do not have a single example in favour of any vampire, really, let alone one so old and powerful. you cannot in your right mind ask this of armand. you cannot ask of him to be a decent, morally irreprehensible character who does the right thing and saves the day, because he was never meant to be that character for you, nor was it ever implied that he would. you cannot ask someone to be something they aren't and then get mad when—well, they're not.

the show is set in a future where things have gone very clearly awry, and the set of characters we are left with were never meant to be easily digestible, regardless of what you wanted them to be. otherwise, they wouldn't be all we're left with. so by all means, be mad at armand, be mad at lestat, be mad at louis, curse their names until you can't anymore—they deserve it! none of them, none of them, is exempt. but the surprise? the absolute confusion as to why they'd do what they each have done? nonsensical. they did all of those things—and more—because they were never good enough not to. they were never heroes. that's really all there is to it.