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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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Magic is legal, Arthur knows The Truth and Merlin is... shit at explaining things:

Arthur demands a trip to visit the Druids, who are far more qualified than Merlin, so they can explain this whole... destiny thing.

I’ve written a lot of angst and Hurt!Merlin recently, so I just wanted to write something short and sweet and fluffy :)

SO.

Magic has been legalised, Merlin is Court Sorcerer, all the knights are alive and happy, Morgana is good, and the only thing Arthur has to worry about right now is what the hell to do about the rapidly growing crush he has on his BestFriend™.

After the dust had settled, Merlin had tried to sit Arthur down and tell him the whole story; all about Emrys, and the prophecies, and destiny. The King already knew about Merlin’s magic, and roughly how powerful he is, but that’s it.

But Merlin went so long barely mentioning it at all, not even to Gaius or Morgana or Lancelot, that he’s still not entirely sure what to say. Years of hiding and lying and trying desperately not to think about it, mean his brain now blanks when he tries to explain it.

After far too long of Arthur looking on confusedly whilst Merlin rambled on about dragons and coins and mental links and names, The Court Sorcerer gave up, and decided to just not bother.

Arthur, of course, decided that giving up was stupid, and made the executive decision that they would just go to the Druids, and someone who actual knew what they were talking about could explain it thoroughly. Maybe even allow Arthur to read the original prophecies.

Plus, it turned out that Initiating a Golden Age took quite a lot of work, so neither of them had had a chance to leave the city for weeks. They could do with the fresh air. And if Arthur saw it as a good chance to be properly alone with Merlin for more than half a candle mark? No one else needed to know, least of all Merlin.

It was a pleasant journey through the woods. The silences comfortable, and the conversations easy and filled with smiles.

Magic had only been legalised for about a fortnight, and after over twenty years of fear, magic users were still understandably cautious, meaning the closest Druid camp was still a two days ride away.

But that wasn’t a problem. With Merlin now able to use his magic openly, and therefor more able to defend his King, he found he was far less anxious about the trip outside the city than he would’ve been before. And if his good mood bled into the environment around them? Well... it was spring... surely no one would notice the extra flowers and abundance of butterflies?

(Arthur definitely noticed. But Merlin was still... wary, of performing sorcery openly, in fear of scaring the people who had been sucked in by two decades of propaganda and fear-mongering. Meaning Arthur sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped.)

It was around noon, and the sun was shining down on them when Merlin pulled his horse to a stop. He dismounts effortlessly, and hands a confused Arthur his reins. At Arthur’s raised eyebrow, Merlin sighs and speaks quietly:

“The camp is about two minutes further on but... the change in the law was only recent, and...-”

He bites his lip and looks away, worrying Arthur slightly, before continuing:

“-well, chainmail and red capes still make them a little nervous. I’ve already warned their leader that we’re coming-”

He taps his temple briefly:

“-but I should go ahead and explain properly.”

Arthur nods in understanding, and gives Merlin a comforting smile:

“I completely understand, Merlin. How long do you want me to wait, or will you come back to get me?”

Merlin returns his smile, before saying:

“Just wait ten minutes then follow me, straight down the path. Bring the horses, there’ll be somewhere to tie them there. You shouldn’t run into any trouble this close to a camp, but you do have a track-record so-”

Merlin laughs at Arthur’s indignant expression, but continues before he can interrupt him:

“-if you do, just yell. We won’t be too far away, we’ll hear you.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and shoos Merlin away. The Warlock laughs as he turns and continues down the path on foot. Just before he disappears behind a large bush, he turns around again, a slightly concerned expression on his face:

“I might look a bit... different? But don’t mention it, they’re quite fond of me... uh... dressing the part.”

Arthur huffs out a laugh before saying:

“I’m sure I won’t forget what you look like in ten minutes, Merlin. Go.”

Merlin hums thoughtfully, and turns back around, disappearing into the trees and leaving Arthur to his thoughts.

After a few moments, he removes his cloak, tucking it into a saddlebag. He also, after only a little hesitation, removes his sword, strapping it to his saddle. It was still visible and easily within reach, but not so threateningly on display at his hip.

He was entering these people’s home, after personally wielding the sharp edge of their persecution for almost a decade; the least he could do was make them as comfortable as possible.

He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Merlin, but he had a feeling that this meet was going to end up being about more than the prophecies. Peace had been harboured, magic had been legalised, but like Merlin had pointed out, things were still a little tense. This meeting was a way to show the Druids that Arthur meant it, that his whole heart was behind this change. The he was not his father.

Arthur was a little nervous (not that he’d ever admit that), this was important. Not just to him and the kingdom, but to Merlin personally. He had to get this right. One of the only things that Arthur had managed to get out of Merlin, to do with the whole destiny thing, was that it was finished. It was done.

If Arthur messes this up, not only will it ruin the peace they had been working so hard for... then Merlin might leave. He has no reason to stay after-all, he’s done his job. So Arthur has to get this right, has to impress everyone, now more than ever, because if he fails and the Druids all leave Camelot, then Merlin would leave with them.

And that thought was... unbearable.

He counts down the minutes, getting more and more tense. He tried to distract himself by thinking about what Merlin had said, “dressing the part” what does that even mean?

But it doesn’t work. Soon enough his brain is throwing thought after paranoid thought at him, about all the possible ways Merlin could tell Arthur he hated him, and leave forever and ever.

Arthur rubbed his eyes harshly, muttering to himself about how he really should’ve accepted the “relaxing tea” Gaius had offered him before they left. Other than Merlin, the old physician is the only one who ever seems to know what he needs in the moment, Arthur should definitely learn to listen to him more.

He finally reaches zero in his mental countdown, and sighs before standing from where he’d sat on a fallen log. He’d allowed the horses to wander a bit but they were trained to stay close by, so he has no problem gathering their reins again and leading them slowly down the path Merlin had followed.

All Druid camps were different. Some moved around constantly, some stayed fairly still. Some were huge, acres large with hundreds of people, others were small, only ten people or so. Some were occupied by mostly the sick and elderly, others were full of the young and adventurous, and others were family orientated.

And of course it was rare, according to Gaius, that someone would stay in the same camp their whole life. The Druids were a nomadic people, always shifting, drifting, wandering. Following a constantly tugging thread in their hearts, going where nature beckoned them.

According to Merlin, this specific camp was pretty small (around twenty adults) but it was also a fairly familial group, meaning lots of children. And if that didn’t make Arthur nervous (it definitely did) then nothing would.

Arthur didn’t have much experience with children, and definitely had no concept of how to act around them, especially Druid children.

After about a minute of walking, Arthur could hear loud laughter and quiet conversations floating through the trees. He slowed his pace; trying to appear unthreatening and friendly, or to delay the inevitable, he’s not quite sure.

He finally breaks through the treeline to see that... no one is even looking in his direction.

It was the middle of the day, so the camp was busy, people milling about everywhere, most of the tents open, various jobs getting done throughout the clearing.

But what immediately drew Arthur’s eye, was the source of the laughter.

The King looked across the clearing to see Merlin, in a whole new wardrobe, and a whole new light.

The man had changed from his simple travellers clothes (basically the clothes he’d worn as a manservant, just a bit newer and cleaner.) into a loose, white, lace up shirt (sleeves rolled up, which Arthur absolutely did NOT find himself staring at, thank you very much.) paired with slim black trousers.

But what was most striking, was the deep blue cloak billowing behind him, and the silver crown on his head. It was delicate, as if forged with vines and leaves and feathers, but it was oh so Merlin.

Arthur stayed at the edge of the clearing, glad that no one had noticed him; allowing him to stare in reverence at his best friend.

He was surrounded by young children, all laughing joyously as his eyes glowed golden and he waved his hands around. He needn’t mutter spells as he smiled widely, willing butterflies and bees to manifest in the air around him.

One of the younger children held his arms in the air and made grabbing motions with his hands. Merlin bent over and pulled him up into the air without a moment of hesitation, spinning him around on the spot (much to the kid’s enjoyment, who giggled outrageously), before settling him on his hip.

He used one hand to support the kid’s weight (when did Merlin get so strong??), and used the other to summon flowers around the feet of the rest of the children.

A fond smile spread across Arthur’s face as he saw them run around exuberantly, gathering the flowers in chubby hands to present to parents and siblings and friends.

Arthur laughed softly as he saw Merlin reply enthusiastically to something that the boy on his hip had said, and a second later, the child had a butterfly perched on the end of his nose.

Arthur is broken from his concentration, jumping a foot in the air when a soft hand lands on his shoulder from behind.

He whips his head around, just about managing to stop himself from yelping and reaching for where his sword usually is at his hip.

He calms his breathing as his eyes find the friendly face of a Druid, an amused smile on his face. Arthur returns his smile, a tad shakily, suddenly feeling the nerves again, and nods his head respectfully.

The man keeps his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, but looks towards Merlin in the clearing, before softly saying:

“He’s quite something, your Emrys, isn’t he?”

Arthur gulps, also looking back at Merlin as he replies with a chuckle that was only slightly forced:

“He’s more yours than mine, especially like this, but yes, he is something special.”

The Druid laughs disbelievingly, and Arthur turns to look, a confused expression on his face as he listens to his reply:

“Definitely not. He’s always belonged to you more than he’s belonged to us-”

He stops laughing to look at Arthur, eyes sparkling with friendly mirth as he continues:

“-prophecy or no, he had a... well... a pre-carved place among the Druids, but he still chose to carve his own space by your side. I think that speaks volumes about where he truly belongs, or at least where he wants to belong, don’t you?”

Arthur doesn’t really have a response to that as he stares at the man with barely concealed bafflement, but luckily, before the silence stretches too long, the Druid gestures to the clearing:

“Come. Everyone is excited to meet you, though I warn you, the children in this camp can be rather energetic, as you’ve already seen.”

Arthur gulps and nods, following him into the centre of the camp.

Everyone’s attention is quickly caught by The King’s presence, and someone comes over to wordlessly take the horse’s reins from him.

The adults bow their heads slightly in respect, giving him soft smiles, and the children fidget on the spot, wide grins on their faces as they whisper conspiratorially to each other.

The boy in Merlin’s arms wiggles, and he gets put down. He rushes over to Arthur, grabbing his hand with a toothy grin and dragging him over to Merlin and the other children.

Merlin hides a laugh behind his hand as Arthur’s eyes widen, and his face goes pale. He thought this was going to be meetings and serious discussions and apologies, not playing with children!! What do children even like?! Swords?? Can he talk to them about swords??! Druids are pacifists right? So probably not??

He gets pulled down to crouch, and the children crowd him, all babbling at once, wildly showing him flowers and butterflies.

Merlin laughs at his bewildered fear for a few moments, before he crouches next to Arthur and holds his hands up, saying loudly:

“Alright, alright, you lot. Remember what I said?”

The children still, and a chorus of “Yes Lord Emrys” resounds from the group. With that, they stay silent, but still grin widely and bounce on the spot in excitement.

Arthur gives Merlin a stressed, but grateful smile, before looking back to the children. He takes a deep breath, before smiling at them, and saying:

“My name’s Arthur. Thank you for having me, I appreciate your hospitality.”

Merlin snorts at his overly formal tone, and has to stop himself laughing at the shock and fear on Arthur’s face when one of the younger ones loudly asks:

“What’s hosp-ee-tal-it-ee?”

Arthur furrows his brows, but luckily one of the teenagers steps in, quietly saying:

“It’s when someone comes into your home, and you’re nice to them.”

Arthur smiles and nods, and Merlin chuckles in amusement.

Thankfully (for Arthur) Merlin then stands and announces to the children that it’s lunch time, and to get washed up. They all rush off, and Arthur lets out a breath as he stands.

Merlin holds in yet another laugh, but tilts his head in confusion as Arthur’s gaze is once again drawn to the crown that rests on Merlin’s unruly hair.

Merlin flushes slightly when he realises what Arthur is looking at, looking to the floor and mumbling:

“You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get them to just call me Merlin, but then they presented me with this a few months ago and I could hardly say no, could I?”

Arthur nods as Merlin looks up again, meeting his gaze. There’s a soft smile on his face, one that Merlin isn’t quite sure what to make of as he quietly replies:

“Hmm. Looks good on you.”

Merlin makes a surprised noise and his eyes go wide, the flush on his cheeks deepening as Arthur laughs gently at him.

Arthur puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb brushing against the skin of his neck in a way that was slightly more than friendly, but Merlin doesn’t pull away, so Arthur leaves his hand there as he looks around the bustling camp.

His smile falls into something more sad, and Merlin frowns at him curiously:

“Arthur? What is it?”

Arthur shakes his head slightly, not looking back at Merlin as he replies, almost whispering:

“Nothing. It’s just, last time I was this far into a Druid camp... I did terrible things. Look at this place, how could I ever have believed that magic was evil? It’s beautiful here.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, but before he can reply, a small hand tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, and the two of them look down suddenly to see one of the boys from before. He wore a confused expression, and whispered, as if he knew this was meant to be a secret conversation:

“What terrible things did you do, Mr King Sir?”

Merlin takes in a quiet gasp and widens his eyes, but before he can tell him off or lie, Arthur squeezes his shoulder, and crouches down in front of the child.

Arthur gives the boy a smile, and takes his hands, quietly saying:

“Well. When I was young, I was taught some things that are wrong, I didn’t question them, and because of that I did some really bad things. I thought I was being a good person, but actually I was being a bad person because I didn’t do my own research, and I didn’t know any better. But then I started learning how to be better, and now I do everything in my power to be an actual good person.-”

Arthur looks up at Merlin with a small smile on his face, before looking back down to the boy, who is hanging on to his every word:

“-Your Emrys is helping me with that. You see, he’s the best person I’ve ever met, and he’s helping me be more like him.”

Arthur resists the urge to look back at Merlin as he feels a firm, but shaky hand on his back, and instead looks at the child as he thinks over Arthur’s words. His face breaks into a grin, and Arthur returns the smile as the boy says:

“He’s the best isn’t he? I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

Arthur ruffles his hair, and replies quietly:

“Yeah kid, me too.”

The boy gives him a toothy grin, before running off once again, and Arthur lets out yet another breath he had been holding before standing up.

Merlin’s hand remains on his shoulder, and Arthur regrets meeting his gaze the moment he turns his head. But he also can’t rip his eyes away from the teary expression of awe and bewildered happiness on his face.

Merlin lets out a gentle laugh at Arthur’s apprehensive face before shaking his head, and looking back at him once again, this time amusement on his face:

“The best person you’ve ever met, huh?”

Arthur rolls his eyes and blushes deeply, pushing Merlin’s hand off his shoulder as he mumbles a flustered:

“Shut up, Merlin. I could hardly tell him the truth, could I?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully and replies with laughter in his voice:

“Hmm. That makes more sense, of course.”

Without waiting for Arthur’s reply, he grabs the King’s wrist and drags him towards a large tent in the corner of the clearing. Inside were two tables, one large, and one smaller and lower, both surrounded by benches.

Merlin directed them to bowls in the corner so they could wash their hands, before they sit at the larger of the two tables. Everyone over the ages of about fourteen joins them, the younger ones going to the smaller table.

Food appears, covering the surface, summoned from the cooking pots outside and the various food stores around the camp. Arthur tries to keep the wonderment off his face, but knows he failed miserably when he hears Merlin chuckle beside him. He punches Merlin’s leg under the table playfully, but that only makes him laugh harder.

He quietens when the man sat opposite Arthur stands:

“Today we have two honoured guests, our Lord Emrys, and the Once and Future King Arthur. We share our home, our food, and our welcome, for as long as they wish to stay. We raise our goblets to you, My Lords.”

At that, he raises his cup in the air, everyone else in the tent following him. Merlin smiles and nods at him, raising his own cup, and Arthur nervously copies his movements, comforted by Merlin’s reassuring hand on his knee.

With that, the Druid sits down, and conversation breaks out around the tent as everyone begins to eat.

Merlin handles most of the discussions, talking to everyone as if they were life long friends. Arthur is grateful for that, he answers any questions sent his way, asking a few polite ones in return, but Druid culture is so different to life in the city and Arthur doesn’t really know what he should be talking about.

Thankfully, the meal passes quickly, and after another announcement from the man Arthur now presumed was the leader here, the crowd dispersed, everything being cleared away with magic.

Not every Druid practiced sorcery, but they were clearly in a magic-heavy camp; Arthur could see it plain as day, everywhere he looked.

Merlin once again took Arthur’s wrist, leading him out into the sun. Usually, Arthur hated being led places, especially by the hand, but he found he didn’t quite mind it today. Whether it was because they were in Merlin’s domain, and Merlin was King here, or because of how nervous he was, or because of some other reason entirely, Arthur wasn’t sure, and frankly, he didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

This time, Merlin led them to another, smaller tent.

It had several comfortable looking chairs around a smallish circular table, which was covered in scrolls and parchments and old-looking books.

A few seconds later, they were joined by the Druid leader; he smiled softly at them and gestured for them to sit at the table. Merlin and Arthur sat next to each other, and the Druid kindly pretended not to notice them shuffling the chairs closer together.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur, Arthur having lost his nerves fairly early in the conversation. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that official meetings were his specialty, or maybe it was because Merlin’s hand once again found his knee, but stayed there this time. Who knows.

The Druid had introduced himself, and once more welcomed Arthur to the camp, before launching into explanations of the prophecies and destinies, and everyone’s roles in them.

Merlin knew most if it, and looked especially proud of himself when the Druid described in wonder how Merlin had changed the very fates of the Lady Morgana, Sir Mordred, and Arthur himself.

Arthur was definitely taken aback at that. Whilst Merlin had prattled on, making no sense, about his and Arthur’s destinies, he had never mentioned anyone else, and Arthur becomes increasingly glad he came here to sort it all out.

There were some bits that not even Merlin knew though. He wasn’t aware that the other knights, Guinevere, and Gaius featured in a few of the newer prophecies, and the Druid had an amused smile on his face when he admitted that he’d thought Merlin would have figured that out.

Arthur did laugh at him at that, and Merlin flushed before telling him:

“Shut up, or I’ll tell the others you said I was the best person you’ve ever met, and they’ll never let you live it down.”

Arthur narrows his eyes, and the Druid continues look at them in amusement as they bicker.

The meeting comes to an end just before dark, and Arthur thanks the Druid profusely, for welcoming him, and taking the time to go through everything thoroughly.

Another meal is had in the large tent, but when they leave this time, the clearing has been completely emptied. A large bonfire roars in the middle, and logs surround it, providing seating for everyone.

The evening is full of stories and music and magic, and Arthur once again finds himself wondering just how he thought any of this could be evil.

Even Merlin stands to lead a song. He moves around the clearing with yet another child sat sat on his hip, giggling as Merlin spins her around.

Arthur is surprised to learn that Merlin has a good voice, and stares in wonderment as he leads the melody as if it was what he was born to do. The rest of the Druids clap along, joining in loudly and harmonising and playing instruments in time with the tune.

When the song comes to a close, the crowd burst into cheers as Merlin looks back to Arthur, breathing deeply and cheeks flushed. The Warlock smiles widely as he settles the child back in her mother’s lap before walking back over to his seat, next to Arthur.

Arthur returns his wide grin with a soft smile of his own, and as the music continues around them, Merlin tilts his face in happy confusion:

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Arthur just shakes his head slightly, smiling slightly wider as he responds without missing a beat:

“You’re beautiful like this. And you have an exceptional voice.”

Merlin flushes in surprise and looks to his lap, quietly muttering:

“I wouldn’t know about that...”

Arthur doesn’t look away, huffing out a laugh before replying:

“I mean it, Merlin. You just look... happy. Like you belong here.-”

He does look away here, staring into the fire with a thoughtful, but slightly mournful look on his face as Merlin peers up at him, curious. Arthur continues, even quieter, before Merlin can question him:

“-You know, I wouldn’t be angry if you wanted to stay. Here, I mean. I know magic is legal in Camelot now, but you belong somewhere like this. I would never begrudge you a home like this Merlin.”

Merlin laughs quietly, and takes Arthur’s hand, holding it in his lap like it’s something precious (it is, at least it is to Merlin). Arthur looks back at him in surprise, but doesn’t pull away as Merlin replies, still smiling:

“Home isn’t a place, Arthur, and the Druids know that better than anyone. Home is... home is wherever the people you love are. You are my people, Arthur, you and the knights and Gwen and Morgana and Gaius. My home is wherever you are. No matter my magic or title or destiny; my home will always be where you are.”

Arthur doesn’t let the tears in his eyes fall, but he does squeeze Merlin’s hand, giving him a tender smile that's returned without hesitation.

With the exchanging of smiles that any onlooker would describe as loving, the conversation comes to an easy close, and they spend the rest of the evening hand in hand, smiling fondly at the antics around them.

It’s late when the festivities come to an end, and Arthur and Merlin are exhausted, struggling to hold back yawns as they’re shown to a tent that had been set up for them.

Their bags had been removed from the horses and left in there, and the floor was covered in various blankets and pillows. There was a small trunk, for them to store anything they wished to unpack, and a few candles were lit, filling the room with a soft golden light and pleasant smells.

Merlin charms the tent to be soundproof so they don’t have to worry about noise (he may be openly able to use magic, but the idiot was still rather clumsy, and prone to accidental bangs and crashes), before removing his crown carefully. His cloak and boots follow shortly, and they all go neatly into the trunk, before he starts organising a spot to sleep.

After a few minutes, he realises that Arthur hasn’t moved from his space by the entrance, and Merlin turns around to look at him questioningly. Arthur’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he looks deep in thought as he stares at the floor, fiddling with the hem of his tunic.

Merlin walks over, concerned, and takes one of Arthur’s hands into his own. Arthur looks up at him suddenly, broken free of his thoughts, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him as he strokes his thumb across The King’s knuckles:

“What’s wrong, Arthur?”

Arthur looks into Merlin’s eyes searchingly, but seems to find what he’s looking for after only a moment, and smiles. Merlin tilts his head to prompt him, and Arthur takes his other hand, before softly speaking:

“You know, I used to find the idea of falling in love frightening.-”

Merlin takes in a subtle deep breath, but Arthur doesn’t notice as he shakes his head, huffing out a gentle laugh before continuing, looking somewhere over Merlin’s shoulder:

“-The possibility that someone could have that much control over me; that I would willingly give another person dominion over my heart, my soul, my... everything, was terrifying to me. But I find I’m not scared anymore.-”

He looks back at Merlin’s shocked face. Arthur looks an odd mix of disbelieving, and happy beyond words as he continues, confident that what he’s saying is right, for the first time in a long time:

“-Because it’s you, Merlin. It’s always been you. And how could I possibly find falling in love with you anything other than beautiful?”

Merlin gulps, seemingly searching Arthur’s face for any hint of a lie. When he finds nothing but sincerity, he launches himself forward, almost knocking Arthur to the floor.

He wraps his arms around the blonde’s shoulders tightly, burying a hand in his hair, and his face in the crook of his neck. Arthur huffs out a laugh as he wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, running a soft hand up and down his back.

At Merlin’s muttered:

“I love you, Arthur, more than anything is this world. My magic, my everything, belongs to you.”

Arthur pulls back, smiling. He leans forward pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and cups his cheek softly with his hand. They stare into the blue of each other’s eyes for a moment, not in any hurry to move the moment along, Arthur running his thumb over Merlin’s cheekbone, and Merlin carding his fingers through Arthur’s hair.

Arthur takes a deep breath, before whispering, so quietly it’s a miracle Merlin hears him:

“Can I kiss you?”

Merlin nods infinitesimally, and the two of them lean forward, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss that could only be described as tender, and full of love.

If the stars shine brighter, and the wind blows warmer, and the animals of the dark seem happier that night... well... it was spring... surely no one would notice (Arthur definitely noticed, but he sure as shit wasn’t going to point it out, in case Merlin stopped).

THE END!!

This is the first one I’ve written in aaaaages that didn’t involve a dizzy/exhausted/sick Merlin so... yay me?

I just really wanted to write something fluffy, where there were no high stakes. No huge battles, or angsty confessions or anything like that, just a soft love story.

I genuinely got no clue what I’ll write next. I do have a few drafts and ideas floating around, but let me know if you’re after anything specific, I live to please :)

Like always, you wanna write this up properly with paragraphs and fleshed out stuff, go for it, credit and tag me :)

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cloudy-leonhart · 4 years ago

Text

You Took My World Away.

Author Note: Am I starting off with an angst fic about Erwin? Yes.

Summary: Erwin didn’t really focus on love, not until he met Reader. Although, nothing good really lasts for him, so losing his lover wasn’t that suprising, but his potential baby? it hurts. Really, really, bad.

Pairings: Erwin x Reader

Type: Feminine Reader

Theme: Angst

TW: Death, Swearing, Injuries, Miscarriage.

[gif belongs to the rightful owner]

He knew it’d happen eventually.

Your presence wasn’t there at HQ anymore, he knew that he’d never get to hold your hand one day, he wouldn’t hear and see you greet him a good morning by the kitchen when he walks by, he would never be able to catch you in his arms ever again when your ODM gear breaks down while you swing around during your off days.

He just never knew how soon it was, he realized how much he took you for granted, when they brought what was left of your body to him, he realized how stupid he was to not have been there by your side. How stupid could he have been, you must’ve been so lonely while you passed.

Nobody spoke when Erwin softly cried as he held your body, nobody tried to talk to him to let go of your corpse, not even Hanji or Levi. His friends surrounded him and you, he held you close to his chest as his friends tried to make him feel better, “Erwin? You should let go, alright?” Hanji gently clutched your limp arm as Erwin had quieted down. “No, I-” Erwin strained voice tried to speak.

“Erwin. Let her go.” Levi’s voice cut through, Erwin looked at him with pain and disbelief in his eyes, “You- Why aren’t any of you grieving?-” Mike’s hand placed itself on his shoulder. “We are, Erwin, but you have to let her go.” Erwin’s grip around your body had tightened. Levi held his wrist, as Hanji slowly pulled you out of his grip. Erwin tried to pull you back in his arms, Levi and Mike pulled him back, restricting him from taking your corpse away from the soldiers who were responsible of handling the corpses of other soldiers.

“You don’t understand, I need to-” Erwin tried to explain himself, as he looked at Mike and Levi frantically, as if to tell them to let him go. The two squad leaders struggled to hold him back. “Erwin, snap out of it! You knew this would happen!” Levi’s harsh voice tried to get through to Erwin, but his cerulean eyes were focused on his lover’s dead body as it slowly faded out of his view.

“You can’t take her away from me!” Erwin’s pained cries tried to convince Hanji to turn back, they could feel their tears run down their cheek, they could feel their grip on your body tighten slightly, as if they too, didn’t want to hand you over, with a heavy sigh, you were placed on the rickety wood of the carriage that carried also what remains of soldiers who fought bravely to their deaths.

———

“Oi, Erwin.” Levi leaned by the door frame, watching as the blonde sat in his chair, holding what seems to be a piece of jewelry, by the way the sun rays shone through the window, blanketing his restless figure and the item with different shades of the sun’s gold, the piece of jewelry produced a glare that seemed bright white to those who chose to stare at it head on.

“Levi?” Erwin looked up from his seemingly long gaze at your necklace, looking up to meet Levi’s industrial blue eyes, who seemed to glare at him from the door frame. “What- what are you doing here?” Erwin’s voice sounded rough and dry, as if he was dehydrated or had a sick throat.

“You haven’t left your quarters, not even for meals, besides, Hanji needs a break from being in charge in your place.” Levi looked away from Erwin’s full blue eyes, it has been fairly obvious that Erwin still hasn’t gotten over your demise.

“Oh yeah, uhm, I’ll be there.” Erwin looked over at Levi who seemed to be fishing something from his pockets. “You don’t have to start working soon, I’m just, here to deliver something honestly.” Erwin’s figure perked up as Levi’s footsteps came closer, placing two letters, one was a blood-stained letter, the second, a letter with the doctor’s wax seal was on it.

Of course, the doctor’s letter came first, probably news about you, his beloved, late wife. He grabbed his letter opener, prying gently at the black wax seal that kept it closed until it was delivered to him.

He slowly removed the parchment out of the envelope, placing it on the side as his eyes scanned the words on the parchment. His eyes scanned it over and over again before a heavy and broken sigh came out of his lips. Levi looked over to Erwin who seemed to be on the verge of crying once again.

Levi knew better than to poke through Erwin’s business so he left quietly, closing the door to give his commander some privacy.

Erwin’s hold on the letter tightened as it wrinkled the parchment. It read,

———

Trost District, Jan. 16th 851

Commander Erwin Smith.

Survey Corps.

Commander Smith, I am writing to you about your late wife, Mrs. Smith. I am saddened to share with you that your wife had carried while in battle, she was 4 weeks in her pregnancy, I am terribly sorry to be the one who had to inform you of your late child, I bring my condolences and hope that soon enough, you’ll be able to come from Trost to Wall Sina to collect your late wife’s corpse and give her a final resting place.

My Condolences

Dr. Edward Harley

———

Erwin felt himself freeze, he tried to take in deep breaths, doing anything to prevent him from spilling his tears, he knew if even one spilled from out his eyes, he’d never stop crying again.

The overwhelming guilt of not being able to be there by your side in the battlefield, to not be present during your passing, you must’ve cried for him, he shook his head, trying to rid himself of his thoughts of you and looked up to the dirty ceiling of his quarters as he tried to blink his tears away.

He continued on, he felt his hands weaken as he reached for the blood stained letter, he knew it was from you, the rich royal blue wax seal, a sign of extreme passion for the one who was to receive the letter. His letter opener pried at the wax seal, opening with a bit more force from the knife.

He pulled out the parchment the envelope dropping as soon as he let it go. He read this slowly and carefully, different from the doctor’s letter. His eyes ran over your written words carefully, making sure not to miss not even one letter on the parchment. He didn’t even notice his tears staining the parchment, the ink slowly spreading into the parchment, not being water-proof.

The letter was carelessly thrown onto his desk as he cried his heart out, the letter read,

———

Dearest, Erwin,

My beloved husband, I am currently writing this letter on the day of our wedding, I will carry this letter everyday with me, for in fear of my demise being uncertain whether it’d be today or years later.

It pains me, the thought of leaving such a remarkably amazing husband behind, I knew from the day we both met each other that our lives will be short, which is why we both married as soon as we were sure that we truly wanted to spend every second of our lives being in each other’s arms. I wanted to start a family with you, Erwin. I knew it will be hard to be able to start a family but I want to someday, I hope that both of us live long enough to atleast have a child together, I wish to wake up in your arms everyday, I wish to watch you and our child play around as they laughed cheerfully from enjoying their childhood.

I am sorry that it came to the time you’re reading this now, rather than a time where we lived happily, I was selfish enough to wish that you never had to read this and I was able to throw this letter away. I want you to know that my death will not keep us apart, this world was cruel enough to take me away from you.

I am strong enough to tell you that even if in this time I’m taken away, I will still find you in another life, I will wait a hundred years to be with you again, my beloved husband and hopefully, the future father of my children.

I promise that I will perish with you as my last thought and our wedding as my last memory, may we meet again.

Yours Truly, Y/N Smith.

———

He finally let his cries out, it wasn’t silent nor was it pretty, it was loud and painful, his eyes stung from the salty tears that left it, the painful and broken cries from his mouth went ignored by Erwin, the letter now laid on his desk as he had his head in his arms, his shoulders shook with every cry, his lungs begged to breath big breaths rather than staggered and short ones.

His hands clenched around his hair, it felt easy to pull out his hair, he could feel the cold ring on his finger, which used radiate so much warmth, even if it was the coldest night or the winter days. It was like the ring was powered by your presence. It felt warm rather than cold metal whenever you were with him. Now it feels cold forever, colder than any blizzard or colder than ice on his skin.

He cried out his guilt and his anger, he cried out the guilt of not being able to grant you the one wish you wanted, a family.

He felt horrible knowing that he could never hold you or his child ever again. He should’ve kept you here, he should’ve never let you went on that expedition. He should’ve been there. He wanted to turn back time, even just a few seconds from your death he could’ve at least done something, just something.

Erwin cried for what seemed like endlessly, hours it felt, on the other side of his closed door, was Levi and Hanji, who was stationed around his door, Hanji sat down on the ground, the tray of food originally brought warm enough so Erwin could atleast enjoy something while mourning, now laid beside them cold and tough.

They listened as Erwin let out staggered breaths and pained cries, they listened as their friend was miserable. Levi glared at the closed door of their friend’s quarters, as if it was to blame for the pain Erwin felt.

They sat and listened to Erwin’s cries over and over again, waiting for the right time to come in and comfort their blonde-headed friend.

“Levi..I can’t stand to listen to him anymore, I’m going in.” Hanji pulled themselves up, dusting their uniform before grabbing the door knob, a pale hand covered Hanji’s, they looked over to Levi’s face, emotionless eyes bore straight in Hanji’s pitiful ones.

“Let him cry and mourn, he won’t say anything if we go in there, you know he keeps to himself.” Levi suggested, Pulls back as Hanji let out a small sigh, stepping back from the door.

“I wish I could help him.” Hanji mumbled, sitting back down beside the closed door, trying their best to drown out Erwin’s muffled cries.

“Everyone loses something everyday, it just so happens to be the most important thing, Erwin lost these past few days.” Levi looked over to Hanji before glancing at Erwin’s door and walking away, leaving with slight sympathy in his heart.

Hanji soon walked away with the cold tray in hand, unable to take the overwhelming aura of sadness and guilt radiating off Erwin’s quarters, Hanji walked away with sadness built up inside themselves and a determination to lead while Erwin grieves.

Hanji looked back one more time, seeing Levi retreating back to his office before mumbling something as they walked back to the mess hall, deep in thought.

“Captain Hanji?” Moblit’s voice broke through her train of thought, “Is something wrong?” The blonde spoke worriedly, Hanji looked up at Moblit before speaking softly.

“As much as I think what Levi said is right, I don’t think Erwin just lost something, I think he lost his whole world.”

#snk erwin #erwin snk #erwin smith #attack on titan x reader #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot #shingeki no kyojin x reader #shingeki no kyojin #aot veterans #snk x reader #aot x y/n #aot angst #erwin x reader #aot erwin #erwin x y/n #attack on titan erwin #sweet.erwin #sweet.aot

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debbiechanclub · 3 years ago

Text

Know You Better Now (*new* BTOOT sequel), Part 1

The title is the same, but I assure you the content is all shiny and new! The revamped BTOOT sequel is here!

Thank you to everyone for your patience on this. I just lost interest/direction for the original sequel after Ethan all but disappeared off Dynamite, but I'm honestly kind of glad I did because I like this new version so. Much. More. And we have Kenny's facial hair to thank for it.

So enough talking - enjoy! And please let me know what you think!

Know You Better Now

Synopsis: Nearly nine months have passed since Alex's freak shoulder injury, and she's still not cleared for action. But while Kenny has been a source of strength for her throughout her recovery, all her other relationships are in shambles - and she's finding it harder and harder to reconcile the Kenny she knows behind closed doors with his persona as the "Belt Collector."

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x TBD 👀

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Language, ANGST

Find more of my fics here.

Tag squad: @galacticstat @hotyeehawman @hdbngsprnva @heelchampbucks @kingswitchblade @bec0m @betsy-bradock @linziland13 @librathepheonix13 @gabbynorth98 @exe-babymox-exe @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @brokenglassslippers @rocca09 @meteora-fc @kawaiikels @adriii-omega @thatgirlforever5 @sugar-melts-mo-fo

May 30, 2021 AEW Double or Nothing

Surgery with six to twelve months’ recovery time. That was the prognosis Alex had received when she’d dislocated her shoulder in September. Now, nearly nine months later, everything had changed.

“Well, there’s good news and there’s not-as-good news,” Doc Sampson started. He’d just completed yet another check-up exam on her shoulder, and Alex could tell he was trying to keep up morale. But she already knew what he was going say. “The good news is you’ve gotten the full range of mobility back. The bad news is the strength isn’t quite there yet.”

She scoffed lightly to herself. It was exactly as she suspected. “So it’s no news, in other words,” she quipped.

“At least it’s not bad news?” Kenny hopefully offered.

Doc smiled sympathetically. “Just keep at it. Resistance bands, weights; you know the drill.”

Alex’s eyebrows arched. “Yeah, I do,” she returned. It seemed like weight training and physical therapy was all she did anymore.

“Just a few more weeks,” Doc said; but in medical-speak, time was relative. Alex knew all too well that weeks could easily mean months. “Good luck tonight, Kenny,” he added, and he went out the door.

Alex’s head fell back and she groaned in frustration. Kenny wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into him. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured with a kiss on the side of her head.

“It’s been almost nine months,” she muttered.

“I know. But you don’t want to rush your recovery, especially for something like a shoulder injury.”

She frowned. “At this rate Anna will be back from her shoulder injury before I am.”

“What?” Kenny laughed and hugged her tighter. “No, she won’t. I give it maybe another month and you’ll be back better than you were before. Which reminds me, you should probably have some new gear made. I bet your old stuff is too big on you now.”

The sound of her laugh was muffled by his shoulder. “Because you’ve been kicking my ass every week for the last six months,” she said. If there was a silver lining to her injury, it was that she’d gotten into the best shape of her life what with all the training she’d been doing—and it was all thanks to Kenny. Truth be told, Alex didn’t know what she would have done without him over the last nine months. He’d moved her into his house so she wouldn’t have to struggle through the weeks after surgery alone; he’d set her up with his doctors; he’d driven her to physical therapy appointments and trained with her every single week. He’d been there for her in ways she couldn’t even express, and she’d fallen even more in love with him for it.

It made it that much more difficult for her to admit that the Kenny she knew in private was a far cry from the one who called himself the “Belt Collector.”

“I wouldn’t push you if I didn’t think you could handle it,” he returned with a peck on her lips. “I don’t think anyone’s gonna recognize you out there tonight.”

Alex momentarily tensed in his arms, but she didn’t relax quick enough. Kenny felt it—and he knew exactly what it was about.

“You’re not having second thoughts about it, are you?”

She looked up at him. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t,” she admitted.

Kenny’s face fell. “Alex… we’ve talked about this.”

“I know,” she breathed. She stepped back from him, suddenly anxious. They had talked about it, at length. It was a big statement for her to accompany him for his match tonight, because she hadn’t been seen since her injury. In fact, she’d all but gone off-grid. She hadn’t been on television; she’d barely posted on social media; she hadn’t responded to any questions for comment about her recovery or her thoughts on Kenny’s pursuits. She’d just wanted to fly under the radar until she was back in that ring for good.

But then, two-and-a-half weeks ago, the match between PAC and Orange Cassidy for a shot at Kenny’s AEW World Championship had gone to a no contest. As a result, it was decided that Kenny would defend the title in a triple threat match against them both at Double or Nothing—tonight. And as soon as the match was booked, Alex knew—she knew—that Kenny would find a way to pull her into it.

But she didn’t know if she could—or should—go out there with him. Not with the way things currently were between her and the people she’d thought were her best friends.

Kenny reached out and took her hands in his, and she looked back up at him from the floor. His blue eyes were concerned. But she could tell he was frustrated.

“I want you out there with me, baby. And yeah… I’d be lying if I said Orange wasn’t part of the reason why.”

She frowned. “Kenny—”

“Just hear me out,” he gently cut her off, and she pursed her lips. But she let him continue. “Best Friends are actually supposed to be your best friends, right? But when was the last time any of them checked in on you? I know Chuck did for a while, but Trent? He’s been a complete asshole to you.”

Alex fidgeted, her chest tightening. His words were like salt in a wound—but he wasn’t wrong. At first, Chuck had checked in on her fairly regularly… but his texts and FaceTime calls had tapered off after the first couple months. At the time, she’d just chalked it up to circumstance. She was out of sight and out of mind, and he and Orange had been put through more than their fair share of bullshit by Miro, Kip, and Penelope after Trent had torn his pec muscle in December. She couldn’t really blame him for going quiet.

But then, two months ago, Trent had returned with Kris in tow—and Alex hadn’t been able to chalk it up to circumstance any longer. And when Kris seemingly became an official member of Best Friends, she couldn’t ignore the twinge of jealousy in her gut, either. She felt forgotten. Replaced in person just as much as she had been on the Best Friends t-shirt. And the thing of it was, none of them seemed to even miss her.

Least of all Trent.

Kenny squeezed her hands, redrawing her attention. “Look… I’m not trying to turn you against them. But I can see how hurt you are by how they’ve acted over the last couple months, and it kills me. And yeah, it pisses me off, too. So… why not come out there with me tonight, looking absolutely fucking fantastic, and show Best Friends just how good you’re doing without them?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, there was a petty part of her that wanted to do exactly that. But the softer side of her just wanted her friends back.

“I get what you’re saying, I just... I feel like I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place.”

“I know you do,” he sympathetically returned. “But I’m not asking you to go out there and try to keep Orange from winning. I just want you in my corner. And maybe I want to show you off a little bit, too.”

He grinned and pulled her closer, and Alex couldn’t help the coy smile that pulled at her lips. Through all their ups and downs, Kenny had never failed to make her feel special; wanted. She didn’t take that for granted—especially not now.

“I did bring a really cute outfit to wear,” she said, sliding her hands up his arms. “It would be a shame if it went to waste.”

His smile widened. “Well then you gotta wear it.”

Alex bit her lip in thought. But she didn’t think for long. She put her hands on either side of his face and gave him a tender kiss. “You know I love you, right?”

Kenny gripped her waist. “Of course, I do. I love you, too,” he returned, and he kissed her again. “Come on, you should go get ready,” he said with a pat on her backside. And as they left the exam room, Alex knew that accompanying Kenny for his match was the right decision.

It was the potential consequences that worried her.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Holy shit, I almost didn’t recognize you!”

That was what Stella had proclaimed when Alex walked into hair and makeup. It was followed by a chorus of more of the same, a parade of hugs from everyone in the room—and dozens of questions.

“How are you? You look incredible!”

“Is your shoulder cleared?”

“So, are you officially living with Kenny now?”

“I’ve been dying to know how you feel about everything going on with him.”

And Alex had done her best to field each one of them.

“I’m doing pretty well, and thanks. It seems like I’ve been filling all my free time with working out.”

“No… not yet. But hopefully in the next few weeks.”

“I mean, not officially. I still have my house in Virginia—my cousin’s been renting it out. But I don’t know. It feels like I’ve officially moved in.”

“It is what it is. He’s just being Kenny Omega.”

Thankfully, no one pressed her on that last one.

Instead, Stella was all too happy to dish on all the latest and juiciest backstage news and gossip. Anna Jay and Jungle Boy were an item. Cody had estranged himself from nearly everyone. Callie had left AEW and pro wrestling altogether—and moved in with Cash. Alex had already known about that one, but it was still strange to hear. Looking back, it was hard to believe her friendship with Callie and relationship with Cash had ever even happened at all. It felt like another life; another time.

“You’re all done, my dear,” Stella said. She handed her a mirror—and Alex was taken aback by her own reflection. Long, sleek dark brown hair; glowing fair skin; pouty nude lips; a sexy reverse cat eye that made her hazel eyes pop. She sat up a little straighter. For perhaps the first time in months, she felt herself again.

She thanked Stella and hopped out of the chair, a pep in her step as she went out the door—

“Alex?!”

She halted in her tracks. Even though she hadn’t heard it in forever, she’d recognize that voice anywhere—Kris. She held her breath and turned around; but relaxed in relief. It was just her and Orange. At least she wouldn’t have to face them all at once.

“Holy shit!” She hurried over and wrapped her in a tight hug before she could even blink. Alex was stiff and awkward as she returned it. She hadn’t expected that reaction.

“Why didn’t you tell us you’d be here tonight?” Kris asked as she stepped back from her. Alex hesitated to answer.

“Um, I thought about it. But given why I’m here…”

She trailed off and looked awkwardly at Jim. He shrugged. “It’s business,” he returned. “So I guess this means you’ll be in Kenny’s corner tonight?”

Alex crossed an arm over herself and nervously fidgeted with the skin on her elbow. She nodded. Jim’s expression remained as indecipherable as ever.

“And you look hot as fuck,” Kris perceptively interjected. “Seriously, I think I might be questioning my sexuality.”

Alex breathed a laugh—

“You should come say hi to Chuck and Trent! Trent’s gonna shit himself.”

Just like that, her smile vanished. Her lips parted in silent question, uncertain if Kris was being serious. But she looked too genuinely excited not to be.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex said. “I mean, considering the last time I talked to Trent…”

She trailed off and looked down at her shoes. There had been things said by both her and Trent in the heat of the moment that had made an already uncomfortable situation worse. They hadn’t spoken in more than five months, since right before he’d gotten injured. She didn’t think now was the time to start.

“Trent has his head up his ass,” Jim said, and Alex flicked her eyes back up at him, surprised. “You know how he is with this stuff. You’ll probably have to be the bigger person.”

Alex sighed. He was probably right. But again—tonight wasn’t the night. “Now’s just not the time,” she remorsefully returned. “But I’ll see you out there. Good luck—really.”

And before either of them could say anything else, she turned and continued down the hall, digging her nails into the palms of her hands.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out there… you’re gonna distract me walking around like this.”

Alex looked at Kenny through the mirror as he sidled up behind her. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her neck, and she tilted her head so he could press his lips against her skin.

“It's too late,” she returned. “I’ve already gone through all the trouble of getting ready.”

Kenny hummed. “Well, I can take it all off for you, if you want.”

He nipped her neck, and she smirked and squirmed. Her mood had completely turned around from earlier in the night; it was amazing what a little hair and makeup and the right outfit could do. The white bustier-style crop top she wore wasn’t her usual style, but it showed off the hard work she’d put in at the gym—and it didn’t hurt that it made her boobs look amazing. And even though she’d made the outfit more “her” with a pair of distressed boyfriend jeans and her white low-top Chucks, Kenny was right—they probably wouldn’t recognize her out there.

But truth be told, she’d never felt more confident.

“You can later,” she smirked, and she felt a low growl rumble in his bare chest.

“Get a room!”

Alex rolled her eyes. Matt’s voice was an unwelcome interruption from across the locker room. She’d almost forgotten that he and Nick were there.

Kenny shot a glare over his shoulder. “Why are you looking?”

Matt opened his mouth, but two quick knocks on the door cut him off before he could make a smart-ass retort, and then Don Callis walked in.

“We’re up, Ken.”

Kenny smirked at Alex. “Let’s go give the people what they really want.”

He picked up his AEW World Championship, and she helped him secure it around his waist, followed by the Impact World Championship, which he strapped across his chest. Then, he picked up the AAA Mega Championship and old TNA World Heavyweight Championship and held them in each of his hands. And Alex had to admit—it was an impressive sight, Kenny draped in championship gold. She’d be lying if she said it didn’t turn her on.

“How do I look?” he asked her.

She bit her lip. “Good. Really good.”

He grinned, cocky.

They started for the door; but before Alex could follow Don and Kenny out, Matt stopped her. “Alex.” He pushed himself up from his chair and cast Nick a glance. He stood too. She rolled her eyes. They weren’t subtle at all.

Matt gave her a discerning look. “You are one-hundred percent in Kenny’s corner… right?”

Her brow lowered dangerously. Was he really questioning her loyalty now? “Are you serious?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Well… I know Orange is one of your best friends—”

“Or he was,” Nick interjected.

“—and I just want to make sure that there aren’t any conflicts of interest.”

He smirked, obnoxiously smacking his gum between his teeth. Alex bit down on her jaw. She’d thought that maybe—maybe—Callie’s departure and her relationship with Kenny would have led her and Matt to at least be friendly with each other. But she’d thought wrong.

She gave him a tight smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, Matt. The only conflict going on here is the one between what you think that outfit looks like and what it actually looks like.”

He abruptly stopped chewing his gum. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

But Alex was already out the door. She caught up with Kenny and fell in step beside him. “Forget something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No. Just got held up.”

They arrived at Gorilla, and Don went on and on talking Kenny up, boosting his confidence, assuring that neither Orange nor PAC stood a chance; but Alex tuned him out, nervously looking around. Waiting. And then she saw them: Orange, Chuck, Kris, and Trent.

Her heart jumped into her throat when her eyes met Chuck’s. He flashed her a smile; but it wasn’t as wide or as bright as she was used to.

“Hey. It’s good to see you,” he said, and he gave her arm a squeeze as he passed. She said nothing in response—just a tight grin of acknowledgement. Entirely impersonal compared to how they used to greet each other.

It’s the circumstances, she tried to tell herself.

Orange and Kris greeted her in much the same way, with awkward half-smiles as they walked by; Kris seemed apologetic, for some reason. And then, Trent reached her. His expression was cold, his eyes hard, and then he muttered underneath his breath, just loud enough for her to hear, “Thanks for telling us you’d be here.”

He kept walking, not waiting for her to even process what he’d said, and Alex’s heart sunk petrified into the pit of her stomach.

This was how things were now. She felt stupid for hoping for different.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex had known it would be difficult to be ringside for this match. But, sixteen minutes into it, she hadn’t realized it would be this difficult.

PAC laid on his back, staring up at the lights courtesy of a bridging deadlift suplex into a pin attempt from Kenny. So, with him taken care of for the moment, Kenny turned his attention to Orange. He pulled his right kneepad down, and Alex had to stop herself from watching through her fingers as he kneed Orange hard in the face, once, and then again. She could feel the eyes of the fans at ringside watching her with keen interest, trying to gauge her reactions. They’d been shocked to see her come out with Kenny, and now her presence provided them with an extra layer of entertainment. At least Chuck, Trent, and Kris weren’t at ringside, too; they’d walked Orange out and promptly disappeared backstage. Alex didn’t know what she would have done if they’d stayed.

Kenny backed toward the ropes, aiming to deliver a third and final V-Trigger. But before he could, Orange held up his hands as if to tell him “stop.” And then he plunged them into his pant pockets and fell facedown onto the mat.

Kenny laughed, but he couldn’t care less. He walked over and started to pick Orange up; but then a revived PAC grabbed him and hit him with a hard forearm. They traded blows and kicks in the middle of the ring until Orange suddenly intervened and hit Kenny with a Michinoku Driver. However, Kenny rolled away and PAC hit Orange with a brainbuster. He covered him, but Orange thankfully kicked out at two.

Alex put her hand on Kenny’s shoulder as he laid underneath the ropes, halfway out of the ring. “Are you alright?”

But he didn’t answer her question. Instead, he said, “Go get one of my belts.”

She looked back at him in confusion. “What?”

“Go get one of my belts in case.”

Alex blinked and shook her head. She could not believe what he was asking her to do. “What? No, Kenny, I’m not doing that. You don’t need—”

But he rolled away, back underneath the ropes into the ring. PAC and Orange were in a precarious position on the top turnbuckle closest to them. It looked like PAC was trying to execute a superplex—but Kenny jumped up and shoved PAC off-balance, causing Orange to tumble from his grip and bounce off the ring apron to the floor. Alex started to check on him—but then she remembered she wasn’t out there for him and stopped short. She ran her hands over her hair, helpless. Inwardly hoping that he was alright.

Meanwhile, PAC had reversed Kenny’s attempt at a One-Winged Angel from the top turnbuckle and sent him sailing across the ring via a sunset flip powerbomb. They stood atop the opposite turnbuckle now, and Alex’s eyes widened in horror when PAC delivered an avalanche Falcon Arrow. But then, Orange suddenly scrambled back into the ring, tossed PAC out, and hooked Kenny’s leg. Every single person packed into Daily’s Place jumped from their seats as Bryce Remsburg slid to the mat and started to count. Kenny barely kicked out before three. Alex leaned her elbows on the ring apron, her head in her hands. That had been way too close.

All around her the fans started chanting, “That was three!” booming in her ears, and she bit down on her jaw. Kenny rolled out of the ring and stumbled over to her. For some reason, she already knew what for.

“Alex, go get one of my belts,” he said again. It was an order, not a question. But she stood her ground.

“No! I’m not helping you win like that!”

He let out a frustrated huff. “Baby, now’s not the time to argue about this. Just go get—”

She cut him off with a gasp as PAC came flying over the top rope headed straight for them. Kenny shoved her out of the way at the last second, taking all the impact himself and getting knocked to the floor. PAC, meanwhile, sprung back up and to the top turnbuckle. He slowly stood—and when Alex saw him jump into the air and perform the Black Arrow, she knew she had just seconds to act. She jumped over Kenny and rounded the turnbuckle as PAC hooked Orange’s leg. And just before Bryce could count three, she grabbed Orange’s boot and put it on the bottom rope.

Bryce stopped the count and pointed at Orange’s foot, none the wiser to what had happened. The fans, on the other hand, showered Alex with thunderous boos. Realizing what she’d done, PAC turned and shot her a glower that seemed almost inhuman. But she just pursed her lips and raised her chin in defiance.

Kenny pulled himself up by the ropes and ducked back into the ring, grinning like the cat that caught the canary, and the match went on, back and forth between him and PAC—until Orange scored another near-fall after he hit Kenny with a frantic Beach Break. PAC then tried for a Liger Bomb on Orange, but he fought out of it and landed a hard Orange Punch across his jaw, dropping him to the mat. Then he gave one to Kenny, and the crowd came unglued.

Orange fed off their energy, pumping himself up as PAC staggered to his feet. He hit another Orange Punch and went for the pin. Time seemed to stop as Alex watched, her heart in her throat and her hands on her head. She didn’t want Kenny to lose at all, let alone like this. But just as Bryce started the count, Don appeared out of nowhere and pulled him from the ring by his ankles.

Alex stood frozen to her spot as Bryce and Don yelled at each other, and she fully expected the former to expel the latter from ringside—but he didn’t. He simply got back in the ring, and the match continued. Don walked toward Alex, straightening his suit jacket. “Good work putting Orange’s foot on the ropes,” he said to her.

She didn’t say anything in return. She didn’t want a compliment from the likes of him.

Back in the ring, Kenny had been knocked to the floor once again—and PAC had the Brutalizer locked on Orange. When Kenny finally made it back through the ropes, he kicked PAC in the face once, twice. But he didn’t let go of his hold on Orange. So instead, Kenny made the desperate decision to hit Bryce with a hard double axe handle to the back.

The crowd booed, and Alex hid her face in her hands. “Come on, Ken…” she breathed. Not like this.

Meanwhile, Don took the initiative to do what Kenny had been asking Alex to do all along. He grabbed the Impact Championship from the timekeeper’s area and tossed it to Kenny in the ring. Kenny caught it, and then he turned and clocked PAC over the head. He dropped like dead weight to the mat, and Kenny tossed the belt aside, the fans still booing all the while.

But apparently, one belt wasn’t enough.

Don tossed in the Triple A Mega Championship next, and as PAC staggered to his feet, Kenny hit him again. Then he threw in the TNA World Heavyweight Championship. Alex had to bite her lip to keep from shouting at Kenny to stop. She looked away just before he hit PAC a third time.

Finally, Don handed Kenny the AEW World Championship. He took it and held it high above his head, gloating, reveling in the crowd’s hatred. Somehow, PAC was still moving, trying to stay in the match. But just as he climbed to his feet for a third time, Kenny hit him again and knocked him down for good.

Kenny held the championship up again, parading around the ring. He didn’t notice Orange darting toward him until it was too late. He laid him out with another Orange Punch across the jaw.

Orange crawled toward Kenny, obviously going for the pin; but Bryce was still down from Kenny’s earlier attack. However, it didn’t matter. As soon as he draped himself across Kenny’s chest, Aubrey ran down to the ring. Alex grabbed her own throat as she counted.

One.

Two—

But unexpectedly, Kenny reversed the pin and rolled Orange’s shoulders to the mat in a crucifix. Aubrey counted again.

One.

Two.

Three.

That was it. The bell rung, and Kenny’s music started. Alex let out a breath. He’d won by the skin of his fucking teeth.

She and Don both rushed to Kenny’s side as Justin Roberts officially announced him the winner. He clutched his jaw, and somehow his left hand had been sliced open. “What happened?” she asked, looking over the blood on his fingers with concern. But he wasn’t able to answer her before they were suddenly swarmed by both the Young Bucks and the Good Brothers. Matt and Nick practically pushed her aside as they congratulated Kenny, and Nick and Karl Anderson put an arm each over their shoulders and helped him up the steps to the entrance ramp. And as they all celebrated, reveling in Kenny’s stolen victory, Alex felt a sourness curdle at the back of her throat.

She was in love with Kenny. He’d come to mean the world to her over the last nine months. But she hadn’t signed up for this world.

#aew fanfiction #kenny omega fanfiction #the elite fanfiction #orange cassidy fanfiction #trent beretta fanfiction #chuck taylor fanfiction #kris statlander fanfiction

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highfaelucien · 4 years ago

Text

Babysitting the Heir - An Inner Circle Fic

Repost from 2016 (god I’m old) that I redrafted bc it’s cute and wholesome af. And after all the salt and angst I have provided, I felt it was only fair to bring some fluff to the table.

Title: Babysitting the Heir

Summary: Azriel and Mor babysit Feyre and Rhys’ young son, Nyx, so the two of them can have a little time to themselves. He ends up taking quite a strong liking to Az... Fluff, pure fluff.

Teaser: ‘The moment he slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes.

Mor grins.’

Notes: No content warnings to speak of. Originally posted in 2016. Rewritten to update with (some) current canon, but also with some of my own additions, like happily queerplatonic Moriel. Because I can. And because this shit is adorable.

AO3: Link

“Be good for Aunt Mor, okay?” Feyre says, dipping forwards to kiss her son's forehead. “Does he understand the concept of ‘good’ yet?” Mor chirps conversationally.

Tilting her body she shifts in place and adjusts Nyx in her arms to allow Rhys to kiss him goodbye as well. “Why don’t you debate that with him this evening over some fine wine, Mor?” Rhys drawls.

The soft smile on his lips is very patently for his son; the words dripping with sarcasm very obviously for his cousin. Irritated by the baby balanced in her arms and her resulting lack of free hands with which to offer her cousin some obscene gesture, she makes do with snapping at him. “Why don’t you take a long walk off a very short balcony. Without wings. You sardonic pri-“ “We,” Feyre interrupts pointedly as Rhys starts smirking in a way that would have forced Mor to hand Nyx back to his mother so she could do something about it, “Are leaving,” she announces.

Grabbing her still obnoxiously smiling mate by his upper arm she begins to firmly drag him away from Mor before serious damage is done to his pretty face.

“Now,” Feyre adds in a slightly threatening growl as Rhys looks more than ready to continue bickering. “Thank you for this, Mor!” Feyre calls over her shoulder as she frog-marches Rhys to the door at the other end of the corridor.

“And you Az,” she adds with a smile and a wave, both hello and goodbye, tossed in the shadowsinger’s direction as he drifts serenely down the stairs to see what all the fuss is about in the hall. Mor lifts Nyx’s little hand with her first two fingers and has him wave goodbye to her parents while Az presses quiet kiss to her temple. His eyes fix on the baby in her arms with an air that suggests he’s seriously considering the possibility he might suddenly explode at any moment. “I’m going to the roof to train for a little while,” he murmurs quietly into her hair, his voice smooth and cool as ever. She nods, softly kissing the top of Nyx’s head, “We’ll be fine,” she says, shooing her partner upstairs, suppressing her eye roll with difficulty as she does so. “I’ll give you a shout if we need anything.”

Az nods his agreement then retreats silently back the way he had come leaving Mor to take Nyx into the living room alone. It’s not surprising. He does this every time they babysit for anyone. She knows that he’s more uncomfortable than the rest of them around any of the children, even if he secretly dotes on them, and she’s never pushed him into keeping her company unless she’s overwhelmed on her own. Which doesn’t happen often; usually only when Elain and Lucien’s twins are staying with them. Two years older than Nyx and already holy terrors in their own right. She chuckles to herself at the thought. She and Nyx have a nice afternoon that involves nothing more strenuous for Mor than setting him on her knee, holding his hands and bouncing him up and down until he giggles.

“Your parents are going to have so much fun when you start flying,” she teases as his small wings furl and unfurl excitedly. After an hour or so a servant interrupts politely to ask Mor if she could deal with something that’s arisen from some Court of Nightmares emissaries staying with them.

Nodding, Mor apologises to Nyx before gently popping him into the cot in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. Then she turns and hollers up the stairs for Azriel. He appears in moments and she stands on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and give him her most winning smile, which immediately makes him look nervous. As it should.

“Would you keep an eye on Nyx for me?” she asks him, nuzzling affectionately against his taut chest. “I have to deal with the idiots from the Court of Nightmares. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so.” Azriel frowns at this.

Mor sighs. “He’s a baby not a bogge, Az,” she reminds him, thinking that he’d probably rather tackle the latter on his own. She keeps that to herself however, looking beseechingly up at him. “Are you sure?” he deadpans, looking down at her, hazel eyes glittering. Mor beams and presses a hasty kiss to his lips that catches more cheek than mouth in her hurry as she darts for the door. “I won’t be long, thanks!” she’s calling over her shoulder at him, without him ever having quite agreed to this plan of hers. Then she winnows from the house and Az sighs; though he’s unable to entirely banish the small, affectionate smile that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to her. Padding into the room he gathers up the toys strewn around the room from earlier, wondering both how they ended up with so many and also how Mor had managed to scatter them so widely around the room in such a short space of time. He shakes his head slightly as he fishes one out from underneath the breakfast table, eyes twinkling at the whirlwind that is his Morrigan as he does so. He’s just setting everything back into the box in the corner when Nyx starts crying. Wincing at the sound he pads tentatively towards his cot, his wails increasing in volume with every moment.

Crouching down he gently rubs his tummy with his hand to soothe him. Trying not to cringe at the sight of the twisted, burned flesh touching the young child. Gentle hushing has no effect on him whatsoever and when his cries could more accurately be described as howling Azriel finally decides there’s nothing else for it.

Standing he tentatively reaches down into the crib and scoops him up into his arms. He’s held him before, naturally – neither Mor nor Feyre gave him any choice in the matter when he was born and continued to coax him into it afterwards – but it still feels...wrong somehow. His rough, scarred hands, hard with the calluses from his training are stained with more blood than he cares to remember. They were shaped to hold blades and handle the violent killing power that burns in his blue siphons, not children. He’s never been entirely comfortable with something so small and precious and fragile entrusted to his battered arms. Morrigan was one thing, but the little one... Slowly, he starts bouncing Nyx in his arms, the way Mor does to get him to quiet down. This plus the fact that he’s holding the child close to him seems to help.

He still sniffles faintly but he’s stopped screaming as though he’s trying to bring the place down at least. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and soothing murmuring he settles against his broad chest. “You were just being dramatic because you wanted some attention, weren’t you, little one?” Azriel muses quietly to him.

Mor, he’s noted, seems to talk away to him. all the time. Regardless of whether he understands, it's something he appears to like, so Azriel continues.

“That’s your father’s fault,” he informs him placidly. A broad smile spreads across his face as though he’s understood what he’s said and Az can’t help his own smile at the sight of it.

Nyx bats happily at his cheek, searching and grabbing at every bit of him he can reach from his arms.

Then the little fingers start to grab at his wings and he tenses, blinking down at him. “No, no,” he says in alarm as one small hand grips tightly onto the hooked, pointed talon at the crest of his wing and the other just grabs at whatever other part of it he can reach. “That’s not- No! Nyx, please-“ he tries hopelessly.

Prising his surprisingly strong grip off of him gently while still keeping one arm locked tightly around him proves to be near impossible.

He wonders vaguely if all children his age have such stubborn, iron grips or if this is a trait he can thank his mother for.

“Nyx-“ he pleads hopelessly as his small, nails dig into a sensitive spot of the membrane of his wing. A low, throaty chuckle interrupts his helpless floundering and he looks up to see Mor leaning artfully against one of the broad wooden pillars in the room. He’s rarely seen her looking so amused. “He’s one, Az,” she smirks at him, seeming to find his current predicament immensely amusing. “You can’t reason with him.” “Would you please-“ He gestures mutely for her to take Nyx back and somehow have him release his hold on him. Still laughing, her warm eyes dancing with merriment, Mor steps forwards at last and obliges him.

She scoops Nyx smoothly into her arms, detaching him from Azriel’s wing with ease.

Azriel shakes out his wings with relief and tucks them very firmly against his back. More so than he usually would. Something that's not missed by Mor, who gives him a wicked grin that has him groaning.

"Poor baby," she croons, voice playful and teasing.

Az gives her a half-hearted scowl in answer, starting to tidy the room again.

Mor's voice returns to normal as she kisses Nyx’s head and chuckles, “Wait ‘til we tell Uncle Cassian that all he has to do to bring the fearsome shadowsinger to his knees is not let go of his wing.”

Az shoots her a playful growl at the remark and Mor laughs again. Nyx, who had taken fairly well to being handed from one to the other of them like a solstice gift, had merely reached behind Mor to find something else to occupy himself.

While being obviously displeased by her lack of wings, he soon seems to decide that grabbing fistfuls of Mor’s beautiful golden hair will do just as well.

As Mor begins to carry him away from Azriel, however, he starts fussing again, his large, striking violet eyes fixed firmly on the retreating form of Az. Arching an eyebrow Mor wanders experimentally back to him and Nyx immediately reaches out for Az again, little fists grabbing the air insistently.

He blinks in surprise as he continues to squirm and fuss in Mor’s arms until she hands him over and coaxes him to take him again.

The moment she slips into Azriel’s arms again he pillows his head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes. Mor grins. “No,” he protests feebly, looking from one to the other of them and knowing he’s beaten long before he gets out, “No, Mor, I don’t want-“ She pats his shoulder consolingly, ruining the effect by laughing through it. “You can’t say no to your future High Lord, Az,” she trills, grinning broadly at him as Az blinks down at the baby nestled peacefully in his arms. “Mor, I,” he stumbles, looking down at her again, fear gripping him as he says, “What if I drop him? What if I hurt him?” He’s being as gentle and as careful with him as he can but... “You won’t,” Mor says, the laughter instantly easing from her voice as it drops, becoming even and soothing. “Come on,” she says, tenderly hooking her fingers between his forearm and Nyx’s soft, warm body and leading him over towards the comfortable couches by the fire. Patiently, Mor shows him different ways of holding Nyx to help him become more comfortable with the babe and stop him worrying about dropping or hurting him somehow.

To his credit, the little one is incredibly patient with being pushed and pulled into various different positions and doesn’t seem to mind as long as Azriel is doing most of the holding.

He snorts when Mor mentions he’s lucky he decided to discover this new side to himself with the very placid Nyx rather than the twins. Neither would have been nearly as accommodating of all this poking and prodding. When Nyx finally does seem to tire of training Azriel in how to deal with him and starts to become fussy again, Mor heads to the kitchen and brings back a bottle for him to feed him.

She watches the two of them fondly as Nyx sucks contentedly at the warm milk, his big violet eyes blinking serenely up at them both.

Az smiles down at her the whole while, his scarred hands cradling him gently. When he looks up and catches the faint gleam in Mor’s eye he carefully slides an arm around her shoulders and gathers her in against him. With a faint, contented hum he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Nyx successfully keeps Az in thrall all night. Each time he tries to leave him for more than a few minutes he makes his displeasure about his departure known to most of Velaris. “

You’re a devious little one,” he murmurs softly to him, after the third or fourth instance of this, tickling his tummy as Mor did, and watching him giggle happily in his lap. “That’s Rhys’s fault too.” Mor smirks. “What else was Rhys’s fault?” she enquires playfully, arching a golden eyebrow and plastering a wicked grin across her lips. Azriel smiles faintly.

“His flare for drama and need for constant attention,” he responds simply. Mor tips back her head and howls with laughter at that, so loudly that Nyx blinks at her and nuzzles in against his chest, alarmed by this outburst. Azriel gives her a gentle nudge to coax her to stop for the babe’s sake and she desists. “Well he’s clearly fond of you.” Mor observes, looking down at the small, placid bundle in his arms. “That level of sense can only come from his mother.” Az chuckles at that and the shadows that flit around him gather around his chest at the sound. “Do that again,” Mor says suddenly, her head tilted slightly to the side as she peers down at Nyx. “What?” Az asks, confused, not aware that he’d been doing anything more than absently rocking Nyx back and forth in his arms, something that seemed to soothe him “With the shadows,” Mor says and he tightens at the mention but she shakes her head, “Make them gather around your chest again,” she instructs and he obliges her uncertainly. At once, one of Nyx’s little hands shoots out, trying to grab them. Blinking in pleasant surprise, Az coaxes the shadows a little closer. He had deliberately kept them light, something that was never hard with Mor around, and away from Nyx in case he scared him. But he seems oddly transfixed by them. Again he reaches out, trying to grab at them, his little fists closing over air. Azriel starts to make them dart around him in little bursts and he keeps swiping for them, like a cat chasing a mouse, until he’s giggling wildly and Mor is laughing beside him at the sight.

Cautiously, Azriel reaches down and brushes Nyx’s soft pale skin with his shadows. His eyes go wide and his whole body stills. He repeats the gesture and he begins to laugh again as he tickles her with them.

Mor beams with delight, the unreserved joy on her face more intoxicating to him than a bottle of faerie wine at the Solstice. As the evening begins to draw to a close, both Mor and Nyx fall asleep on top of Azriel. Nyx sprawls flat against his chest. Meanwhile Mor presses in against his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, her legs curled up under her as she presses in against him.

Azriel smiles quietly at the sight of both of them, one hand underneath Nyx to keep him supported, the other trailing absently through Morrigan’s golden curls, absently stroking them and soothing her in her sleep. That’s the position that Feyre and Rhys find them in when they knock on the door and Azriel calls for them to come in several hours later.

Feyre smiles at the sight of them and hurries over to Azriel. She leans down and trails her fingers through Nyx’s soft, downy black hair. Mor stirs at the arrival of Feyre and Rhys and stretches away from Azriel like a cat, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiling dozily around at the scene. Azriel gets carefully to his feet and very gently hands Nyx to Rhys who soothes him almost instantly with a few quiet words when he wakes in response to all of the movement around him.

“That’s typical of Aunt Morrigan, isn’t it?” Rhys murmurs to Nyx, grinning at Mor over his son’s head. “Falling asleep and leaving poor Uncle Az to do all the work and cover for her.” Mor looses a rough growl at him and Az hastily snakes a hand around her waist, tugging her gently to his side and pressing a calming kiss to the top of her head while she glowers good naturedly at her smirking cousin.

“Well if that’s how you feel, cousin,” she says loftily, all anger suddenly smoothed away by a thought, which should only ever be read as concerning, “You won’t need to ask me to babysit when you want a date night again. You can just ask Az to do it all by himself, since he’s done ‘all the work’.”

Az felt himself pale at that, in spite of himself. Something his brother must note, because he quickly cuffs Mor on the back and says, “I don’t know what I’d ever do without you, cousin.”

“That’s what I thought,” Mor mutters under her breath, and Az gives her another small squeeze and a smile. “Was everything all right?” Feyre asks, looking between them, fondly stroking Nyx’s cheek as she moves to stand beside Rhys. “Everything was fine,” Azriel says smoothy, giving her a soft smile that instantly seems to reassure her. “Thank you again for having him,” she says, leaning forwards and embracing Mor then kissing Az’s cheek. They both assure them it was no problem and they’d be happy to do it again. Once Feyre and Rhys have left the two of them tidy up then flop down onto the couch. Mor immediately settles herself in Azriel’s lap, sprawling across him as though he’s a cushion. Az waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable and then settle down against him. Her smaller, more delicate form melts easily against his as she drapes her arms lazily around his chest. “So,” she says, a clear smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “You’ll be happy to help me the next time we babysit for Feyre and Rhys?” He smiles faintly “Feyre and Rhys?” He says, arching an eyebrow and lightly tapping her nose, “Yes,” he agrees, “Not Elain and Lucien.” He clarifies with a shudder at the thought of facing the twins alone. Mor laughs again and burrows affectionately in against him. “It’s okay,” she promises him, arching up to press a soft kiss to the tip of his nose, “We’ll tackle the two of them together.”

Azriel just wraps his arms around her, lightly kissing the top of her head and humming contentedly, closing his eyes. He’s asleep with his arms around her in minutes.

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tarithenurse · 3 years ago

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Nightingale - 47

Fandom: Naruto Pairing: Hatake Kakashi &/x Fem!OC Contents: One big mix of smut, fluff, angst, unrealistic handling of PTSD, past trauma, feels, and much more...like lack of proofing, probably. Can’t remember. A/N: Blame @maladaptive-ninja-returns for any pain and frustration (of any kind) this chapter might cause. ASK or REBLOG for tag! HUUUGE thanks to all who are reblogging already <3

Ch. 47

“Are you sure, you want to do this?”

“…yes.”

“That didn’t sound convincing.”

“Would you just shut up and let me go?”

“...now that’s more like it.”

Kakashi can barely see the eye roll under the shaggy hair and wide-rimmed hat, but he knows it’s there. He knows all of her is under there. Somewhere. There’s a beard in the way too, and a several worn layers of baggy clothes in neutral colours that do absolutely nothing to call for attention.

The thing about disguises worn in public is not as much to look different as it is to not be worth looking at – plain and boring without any details that can be remembered later so that if any civilian does try to describe what they saw, it’ll be too generic to be useful.

“Asuma keeps saying this kid is good,” Uguïsu straightens her back for one last time before stepping out of the borrowed office, “let’s see how good,” as she speaks the last bit, her voice warps into that of an old man reminiscent of the Hokage though without being a perfect echo, “now lead the way, boy.”

Hrm…maybe she’s enjoying this too much. Still, Kakashi obliges and leads what appears to be an old man out of the front door of their home and towards downtown Konoha.

It’s busier than usual. Although summer always brings a plethora of travellers and farmers to town (which in turn attracts merchants busy to strike a deal or in search of added muscle for the trip back), the upcoming events seem to have contributed the most to the swarming people. Knowing of his girlfriend’s predicament, the jōnin finds it hard to part ways with her and carry on alone. She’s resourceful and talented, he admonishes himself, but still worries if perhaps it was a mistake to have let Asuma ask her for help. Either way, it’s too late to go back now and he must attend to his own tasks if Team 7 is going to take the exams.

…

The fish sizzles decadently on the pan, yellow butter popping as herbs and spring onions change colour from the mat tones to more vibrant and inviting. The rice is already done and shaped (holding the heat under overturned bowls), and the soup is only waiting to be served.

Come on.

As if on cue, the door slides open and a figure steps in mid-metamorphosis: a short, scruffy beard is clutched together with thin gloves; blue strand spill out from under the hat and wig that are slipping askew.

“That was fun,” Uguïsu beams and shuts the door, “and it smells delicious here!”

Headbutting the hat further towards her back, Kakashi kisses her with a smile. “Good to hear. I’m told it went well?”

There’s a sigh from within the layers of clothes that the woman is discarding, “why do you make it sound like a question when you probably already know all the details?”

“Because I’d much rather hear you talk about it, sweetie.”

“Hrm.” Despite the distrustful grunt, it’s a happy face that greet him once she’s back to her normal appearance. “Not before I get something of whatever smells so delicious.”

Kakashi had fairly quickly figured out that his blue nightingale wasn’t a cook – not that she’s bad, but she simply doesn’t have a great interest in it – and had grasped the opportunity to take the so-called task upon himself in exchange for her delightful praises. He liked cooking for some one other than himself; enjoyed knowing that in this way, at least, he could take care of her.

…

“I’m glad they did well,” Uguïsu sighs as she adjust her pillow.

Together, the couple had cleaned after dinner, exchanging stories and gossip from the day interspersed with comfortable silences, and they are now getting ready to get a night’s good rest.

First in bed, the woman waits (im)patiently for the white-haired man and even goes as far as to make grabby hands the moment he returns from brushing his teeth.

“Silly-head,” he whispers through the kisses against her cheek before pulling the mask back in place.

“Says you.”

And he does indeed feel silly when scooting closer. Taking up the usual place by his left side, Uguïsu’s head comes to rest above his heart, her leg casually draped over his, and the left hand idly toying with the string of his pyjama pants. Wrapping his own arm around her, Kakashi feels bare skin wherever his fingertips wander.

Time has passed since the night in the cave, time where Uguïsu timidly has begun to explore each of their bodies out of her own free will. Sometimes, she has let Kakashi’s hands or tongue bring her to the peak of delight and each time, he has marvelled at her as she writhed in silent ecstasy. Those occasions have been far in between.

“Sweetheart…” his voice is weak at the revelation, “are you...do you want me to…?”

The big eyes almost look innocent. “Don’t you think it would be nice to be able to feel each other?”

Yes, I do! With the voice now completely gone, all he can do is nod which his girlfriend takes as a sign that she may begin working the clothes off him although the process is hampered by increasingly needy kisses.

Skin to skin, Kakashi revels in the intimacy his blue nightingale grants him and he can feel the smile that grants his tongue further access; can sense how their bodies shift as if they could melt together. All of his senses are taken over by cotton and sweet, sweet hunger for more as their hands roam in search of purchase.

“Considering how great a day you’ve had,” he hums against the woman’s neck, “a reward could be appropriate?”

Hearing no coherent words, he takes the tug of his hair and the happy mewl as a sign of agreement and follows between her legs as Uguïsu rolls onto her back.

Only a single lamp next to the bed illuminates the room, but for Kakashi's keen eyes, he can easily see the anticipation glistening between the folds, making his mouth water and cock throb...but he takes his time highlighting his favourite paths along her body and limbs with goosebumps before finally and ever so lightly flicking the clit with the tip of his tongue before committing fully to the goal.

He loves this part. What originally had been hesitation for the sake of helping Uguïsu feel safe in spite of her trauma has evolved into a gleeful delight in slowly teasing the woman by winding her up, balancing her on the edge of an orgasm again and again until she’s writhing and begging him.

Hushed moans and whimpers fill the room in waves in accordance to the jōnin's ministrations, and he is considering letting her reach the goal this time (the fourth) when Uguïsu’s fingers tug at his hair insistently until he has crawled close enough to find her mouth.

“Please...’Kashi...” she gasps, “m-more.”

She’s pulling him by the shoulders now and has wrapped her legs around his hips, nudging him gently with the heels until his cock head brushes against the slobbering mess of her pussy.

It would be a lie to claim that the baser instinct aren’t urging him to slide in without a question asked. But he can’t. Apprehension and concern keep him frozen as he scrutinizes the face beneath him for any sign of insecurity.

“Sweetheart...” he swallows hard, steeling himself against his girlfriends attempts to move his body, “please look at me.” Lashes flutter. Her nose wriggles adorably in an attempt, maybe, to help her focus. “I do not want to push you,” Kakashi intonates carefully.

Uguïsu is still out of breath and her chest is heaving, brushing her breasts again him. “You’re not.”

He gives in to the kiss, allowing her to relieve some of the tension of the moment and almost getting lost in the languid desperation before pulling back again. “I love you.” Another deep, but gentler kiss. “I’ll do anything you want.” This time he pulls away from her lips to catch her gaze. “But I need to know you’re sure.”

And there it is: the evasive eyes as she bites into her bottom lip and almost almost distracts him. However, next second Uguïsu fixes her full attention on him again. Then she twists, reaching under the matres to retrieve something in a flat foil-wrapper. She’s prepared for this step.

“I’m sure, ‘Kashi.” Her voice is strong even if it’s still a bit frazzled from the sounds of pleasure he had been drawing from her moments ago. “I want...it. Please, help me know that...that it can feel as good as my body is telling me when I’m with you...and d-don’t let...don’t let him keep that part...”

Going against every single law of nature, Kakashi's heart both breaks and swells, leaving a throbbing crater behind in his chest that overflows with admiration and fear.

Fear. Until this woman appeared from the shadows, fear had only existed in his life in the memories of his childhood – distant and unchangeable, and safe due to its static nature. But in less than a year, Uguïsu has managed to shake his understanding of...well, of everything. She has made him irrationally afraid; brought him a love so tender, he feels like drowning (without wanting to fight it); and has helped him come to an understanding he didn’t know he was lacking.

His hands tremble as he rolls on the condom before wrapping his arms around her. “If you change your mind”, his words are swallowed in the kiss, “you just stop, ‘kay?”

Already, Uguïsu is nudging for his hips to move but halts long enough to cup his face and promise him.

Her last word transcends into a squeak as Kakashi rolls them over, planting the woman he adores on top to ensure that she is the one to control the pace...and guarantee that she can retreat without hesitation if needed. A flash memory from a cave shielding them from a thunderstorm rears in the back of his mind but is immediately banish as she rolls her hips, dragging heat along the underside of his cock and making his eyes roll back.

“Oh?” He can hear her smile and fights to bring her face into focus.

Strong fingers are wringing the sheets beneath him in an attempt to prevent them from thrusting up. It’s a good thing too: extending the motion, her clit rubs the crown of his cock again, sending a new wave of fire through every muscle of him only to be countered by a weightless anticipation when Uguïsu lingers with the cock head by the entrance to her core.

And now she’s the one to tease him until he can’t hold back the stuttering of his hips and she lifts just a bit to position herself better above him and...

...and...? Kakashi looks up to see furrowed brows. “If you don’t -”

“I do,” she interrupts decisively before relapsing to worrying on the lip for a second. “It’s just...how...? I mean...it’s big a-and...I don’t know...if...” she trails off.

Reaching up to kiss her, the white-haired man can’t help but smile. “Take it slow. A bit at a time before pulling back a bit.” A last kiss before he lies down. “Do what feels right to you.”

Oh holy fucking shit! He manages to strangle the words with a groan as Uguïsu sinks down, enveloping the head before stopping with a gasp.

She looks so beautiful. He could compliment her in a million other ways but it’s carnal thoughts that win as Kakashi sees her back arch and breasts heave from the quivering moan that escapes. Her hair is spilling around the shoulders (well, entire upper body) as a silken veil, granting her an ethereal quality together with the sheen of sweat that shines golden in the lamp light.

For a moment she smiles down at him, hands reach for his, and only when their fingers are intertwined does she move again. Slowly up. Just as slowly down. Her mouth hangs open to allow small whimpers escape – sounds that grow when she reaches a certain spot that Kakashi has acquainted his fingers with before and never fails to have her eyes rolling. This time he can’t see that, as he face is scrunching up with concentration and the overwhelming sensation. And emotions. With a final sigh, she sinks down fully on his cock.

That’s when he sees it. The realization crashes like an ice-cold boulder into his guts and he doesn’t stop himself from sitting up to wrap her in his arms.

Tears are streaking Uguïsu’s face, adding salty water to the kisses he peppers her with while he frantically promises her they can stop, that she’s okay, that he never should have said yes, and much more...or he would have if she hadn’t stopped him.

“Happy tears, ‘Kashi, happy tears.” And she is indeed smiling so bright that her eyes almost disappear.

In awe, the more-than-confused man allows her to push him back, place his hands on her thighs, and guide her slow, bouncing motion into a rhythm that chases worries away.

Not yet not yet notyetnotyetnotohfuckinghellnotyet!

It becomes a mantra, played on loop in his brain as his body screams to chase release. His hips are nearly vibrating, lighting fizzling at the edge of his vision while he tries to contain the flood. And when the scalding heat tightens in rapid spasms, the gorgeous woman spilling a broken moan in spite of the rigid body? Let Orochimaru be gone forever, Kakashi manages to think and it grounds him enough to avoid toppling over the edge with his love.

Uguïsu is gasping for breath on her way back to the present, slumping onto the jōnin and enveloping him in her scent of cotton and fresh sweat. “I...had no...no idea...wow!” A moment passes where he strokes her back and kisses the top of her head, then she looks at him, “wait...did you...?”

“This is about you, love,” he smiles, but give me a few bounces and I could.

“And I thank you for that.” He knows she does. “And I want to feel that I can give myself over and that it’ll be good. Together with you,” Uguïsu concludes.

The meaning is clear: being in control is fine and safe but she wants to defeat the lingering fears in the ultimate trust exercise.

He should argue – Kakashi is already mentally preparing every argument – but is prevented from it when the woman rolls them 180 degrees and the movement makes her core squeeze him deliciously. The tightness. The motion. It diverts all of his blood to his groin and makes the hips roll so he’s pushing deeper than ever before and his mind blanks out for a split second until a whimper brings the horrible realization crashing down.

“Fuck!” His eyes snap open and the word slips out again, although with a different intonation, at the sight of Uguïsu’s blissed out facial expression.

Blinking, she looks up at him and he can see the exact instant she hatches a plan because a smirk blooms, twisting those pretty lips. “Please show me...teach me how delicious it is,” she purrs before short-circuiting his brain once more with “sensei.”

Slow drags through Uguïsu's heat fills the room with subtle squelching from where his cock is swallowed, their gasping breaths and moans (sometimes a hiss from Kakashi when nails dig into his back and drag red lines). He really does try to restrain himself...but it’s lost the moment the woman begins to chase a new high, meeting each thrust of her own volition and punctuating them with whimpers pulled from her chest.

Her chest...her breasts. Catching a nipple in the mouth, he barely registers the dark pattern right above it – and if he had, the only thought right night would be along the lines of: you’ve lost, snake – because the effect is astonishing. Arching, undulating, the wetness sucking his cock as deep as it can, Uguïsu cums beneath him and the white-haired man can’t hold back his own orgasm any longer but snaps his hips one last time as their lips meet.

It takes time before either of them can talk (let alone move) again, but that’s alright because words aren’t necessary any longer.

30 notes · View notes

luffles424 · 4 years ago

Text

Dark Side (01)

☼ Pairing: Namjoon x reader x Jungkook

☼ Genre: Star Wars au, Sith!Namjoon, Sith!Jungkook, Sith!reader, fluff, (future) smut, bit of angst, e2l, magical artifacts

☼ Count: 16.8K

☼ Warnings: violence (there’s some fight scenes), minor unnamed character death, mentions of enslavement

☼ Summary: You end up in the wrong temple at the wrong time and you’re certain that it spells nothing but your death. Except, it doesn’t. Has everything you’ve learned about the Sith been wrong? Or is it perhaps just these Sith that are different?

(This takes place long before the movies, it’s based around the SWTOR game, so it takes place roughly 3500 years before the events of the movies.)

☼ a/n: This is just... so wildly different from what it was originally suppose to be (originally was just a pwp with just Joon) and now there’s so much plot I’ve had to split it into two parts because now its a monster. It was also suppose to be posted on Star Wars day and I’ve clearly very badly failed on that part. This is primarily inspired by Joon’s 2018 MGA outfit and then Kook’s look when he wears a giant hood and looks like a sith. (I’ve also got some pictures of all three looks if y’all are interested in me posting that (they’re just from a dress up game but I have zero drawing skill)) Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

Part 2

You press yourself back against the pillar, the coolness of the stone seeping through your ragged clothes, a stark contrast to your heated skin. It’s too hot on this planet, even down in this tomb it’s too hot. You listen, hearing the scuff of footsteps against the sandy stones before they stop. They’re close. So close to you, it feels like your heart is in your throat as you wait and hope for them to leave.

Your gaze darts around and you spy your pack, too far away for you to reach without moving. And no matter how hard you try, you know what a futile attempt it would be to try to move with all the sand, even the slightest adjustment of stance would be audible. Because if you could hear this other person, they’d most assuredly hear you too.

It remains quiet for a few more moments before they let out an irritated sigh. “I know you’re there. You might as well just come out.” You remain frozen, you know they didn’t see you, their shadow gave them away before you would’ve been visible to them. There’s an annoyed growl. “You can either come out on your own or I can force you out.”

They put a weird emphasis on the word force, it makes something in you prickle at the overall command, something that sits just under your skin. You glance to your pack again. If you can edge your way out in front of them just right, you can get closer to your pack and subsequently, to your balster. It’s a shitty little thing. It’s probably not good for anymore than just one shot. But if you’re lucky, you’re only going to need the one shot.

You step out, shuffling a few steps towards your pack, as close as you think you can manage without the other growing suspicious. You know how you look, how you always look, a little dirty from scavenging, clothes torn and repaired, not necessarily with the steadiest of hands. Eyes hard from years of distrust. You let your shoulders slump, you know you can try to play up the runaway slave easily. You’ve done it before, it’s not entirely difficult given that you actually are one, but you’re far from that scared, timid girl anymore.

You keep your head down, but let your gaze wander over the man before you. His dark hair is longer than you’d expect of someone on this planet and its fluffiness is at odds with the glower on his face as his eyes rake over you too. He’s too clean and put together to be from around here, you know that much immediately. His clothes are dark, from the black cloak around his shoulders to the layers of black cloth and leather that cover him. The only thing that stands out is the red leather straps that accent his boots and the deep red fabric cinched around his waist, which draws your attention to the silver and black glint of metal hanging from his belt, signifying what he was. Sith.

Your stomach drops as your blood runs cold. Your chances to get out of here just got even lower, practically nonexistent. You were nothing to him and a sith would have no problem with getting rid of you should you be in his way, which given that you’re scavenging in a tomb, you probably are. You glance quickly to your bag, even if you die, if you were quick enough maybe you could still get your shot off. You certainly weren’t going to make this easy for him.

He follows your gaze and snorts. “Don’t even think about it.”

You’re going to die anyway. There’s no way you’re getting out of this, you have nothing to lose.

But you don’t even get a step before he’s thrown a hand out and you feel your oxygen cut off. Your hands scramble uselessly at your neck, but there’s nothing there for you to try to pry away to give you your breath back. He tuts at you, walking closer until he replaces the force choking you for his own hand. He tightens his grip and you claw at his hand, struggling to get away. You barely register his words as you try to get him off of you.

“Now then, little runaway, before I drag you back to whatever sorry hole you thought you could get away from, you have something of mine and I’d like it back now.”

He lifts you, until your toes are just barely brushing the ground. You don’t know what you could possibly have of his that he’d want, this isn’t even a sith tomb. Your mind races, you’re short on options at this point, held with your oxygen cut off like this. If you could just get to your bag. Your hands wrap around his forearm for lack of anything else to do. Then a small glimmer of a plan forms. It’s certainly not the best and if it even works then you’ll end up on your ass too. But it will hopefully serve as enough of a distraction for you to be able to grab your pack.

You tighten your grip as best as you can and look him in the eyes. He looks annoyed and you’re fairly certain that he’s said something else, but there’s a ringing in your ears now and your vision is starting to go black. You muster every ounce of strength you can and lift your legs, planting them firmly on his chest and push, relishing his brief look of surprise as your feet lift.

You expect him to maybe stumble, caught off guard enough that he releases your throat at the very least. What you don’t expect though, is for him to fly back 20 feet to slam into a pillar on the opposite side of the room. You hear his wheeze as his breath is knocked from him as he slides down to the base of the pillar to crumple in a dazed heap.

You hit the ground with a gasp, the air burning your throat and lungs as it floods your system. You take only a single deep breath before you’re scrambling closer to your pack and yanking your blaster free from the confines. You turn and point it at him just as he gets to his knees, hand outstretched to do… something. Something that you really don’t want to find out.

But there’s a shout of ‘enough’ that comes from neither of you that halts both of you. The power in the command makes you falter just slightly, end of your blaster wavering from where it’d been pointed at the other man. The other man looks equal parts pissed and nervous. You glance towards the entrance and watch the one who spoke enter. He’s dressed in a similar manner to the other. His hair though is shorter, blond, and more meticulously styled than the other’s. Fuck, just your luck, two sith. He waves a hand passively to the man you had been fighting.

“That’s enough, Jungkook.” His voice is soft spoken, but there’s an undeniable undercurrent of ‘or else’ that follows it that has you wanting to follow his order even though it wasn’t directed at you.

The man, Jungkook you presume, drops his hand and his murderous gaze turns to you. “She’s in the way, master,” he spits out.

Another hand wave and Jungkook slumps down, clearly upset that he’s not being listened to. The man approaches you, head tilted in curiosity. He flicks his hand and your blaster flies from your hand to smash against a pillar. You’re so dead now, you clutch your pack closer to you like a shield.

He reaches out a hand, unphased by the way you push yourself back. “You have the holocron I’ve been looking for. Will you hand it over?”

Your brows furrow, glancing from your pack back to this man. He must be crazy if he really thinks you’ll just hand something over that you could sell and get yourself off this blasted planet.

His face is disarmingly serene when he drops his hand after you refuse to respond. You don’t know whether you should be relieved or on edge. He studies you and seems to come to a decision. He turns and walks away, leaving you even more perplexed.

“Jungkook, bring her with.”

Twin shouts of ‘what’ ring out. Yours in confusion and Jungkook’s in anger and indignation.

“You can’t be serious!” he continues.

The man turns to him and you can see the fire in his eyes despite the fact that his face remains passive. “Do you think you know better than me, Jungkook?”

Jungkook shrinks under the look, murmuring a soft, “No, master.”

“Then take her to the ship. She may hold on to her bag if it makes her feel better.” He gives him a warning look. “It shall be handled carefully, we cannot afford for that holocron to be broken. It will set my work back years.”

The man leaves, ascending to the exit and leaving a heavy silence in his wake. You wonder if you could run. A scoff finally breaks that silence and you jerk your head to stare at Jungkook. He mutters something further in a language that’s unfamiliar to you and approaches, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know why Namjoon won’t just let me kill you or send you back to your little shithole.”

You glare at him, putting the strap of your bag over your head to let it hang, hand still clutching the strap tightly. His master may be willing to bring you with, but Jungkook clearly doesn’t share that sentiment and you wouldn’t put it past him to lie and say you tried to run. You straighten your back and make every attempt to look imposing.

“Listen here, you rockhead, you don’t scare me.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t give him a chance to respond, instead turning on your heel and following his master out of the tomb. You might as well milk his kindness while he’s got it. Before he changes his mind and you maybe end up dead in a sandpit somewhere.

You don’t really know how long the trip lasts. Once you exited the tomb, Jungkook seemed to have snapped out of his stunned surprise, quickly following so he could seize your arm roughly and drag you in the direction of a nearby ship. Not like you couldn’t have puzzled out that it was theirs, given that there was nothing around for miles. It’s nice, nicer than anything you’ve seen in a long while in this place. You’re surprised that it stands untouched given the sheer amount of scavengers on this planet.

Once drug on board, you’d been shoved into what you assume Jungkook is deeming your temporary prison. It’s too big to be such, and given the ship, you doubt that they actually had any sort of dedicated jail space on board. It’s a small room that looks more like it’s usual purpose is for storage. Containers are stacked neatly along the walls and there’s a cot in the corner as well. That’s where you take a seat for the duration of the ride.

When Jungkook had pushed you in, he’d looked you over in disgust, muttering out a warning about not trying anything and then the door was sliding shut and you heard the lock engaging. What did he expect you to try in a glorified closet? As far as you can tell, the things that are stored here would do little to help you. Although you do have to resist the urge to swipe some of the nicer looking spare circuitry, knowing how much you could sell it for.

So instead you sat and thought. Tried to figure out what this sith could possibly think about offering you that he couldn’t just do so in the tomb. Or why he didn’t simply kill you and leave you there. You wouldn’t have even been the first scavenger body left in that tomb. Anyone who found you would’ve just thought you to be another unfortunate scavenger. And there’s certainly no one who would’ve come looking for you or asking questions.

It makes you wary. Sith aren’t the paragons of trust anyway, but one that seems to want to take you to a place that you don’t even know the name of is a little alarming. You don’t think you could outpower him either. Jungkook, probably. Your scuffle in the tomb spoke volumes of the fact that you could maybe have taken him. But Namjoon, you definitely couldn’t. He’d wielded his power so easily and effortlessly when he’d talked to you that it looked like he hadn’t even thought about what he was doing, just something that was second nature to him, as easy as breathing.

You only know that you’ve arrived at whatever the destination is by Jungkook’s return. The glower is still painted on his face and he’s quick to take your arm again and pull you along. You blink as you exit the ship, eyes widening as you take in your new surroundings. You’ve never seen so many towering buildings in person before. The sky is clouded and you would think it night were it not for the fact that it’s clearly busy as if it were the middle of the day.

“Where are we?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Stars, seriously? This is Dromund Kaas. The seat of the Empire.”

He tugs you down the ramp, but you’re too distracted by the buildings around you. Everything gleams despite the low light and your eyes shine with wonder. Everything is so full of life. And once you exit the port into a more prominent thoroughfare, people move in large crowds, shopping and laughing. There’s stalls with food that others stop at. Your stomach growls at the scents that fill your nose but Jungkook pays it no mind, either not having heard it or, more likely, he doesn’t care.

He weaves through the crowd easily until you come to a large building and you’re led inside to a lift. You startle when it starts to move. You’ve heard about them before, but you’ve never seen one before, let alone rode one and the sensation is disorienting. When the lift stops, the door swishes open and Jungkook is moving before you can even blink. You pass by a window, freezing when you see how high up you are. Everything looks so small from up here. You’re stopping forces Jungkook to stop as well, both angered and perplexed that he can’t tug you along.

The city sprawls out below you, the view is both breathtaking and terrifying. You thought you’d be doomed to a life of sand and sun, but even if Namjoon decides to kill you to get what he needs, then at least you can say you’d gotten to find your favorite view. Jungkook tugs you roughly and you stumble towards him.

“Come on, runaway. You don’t want to keep Namjoon waiting,” he smirks then and it’s full of malice. “Or maybe you should keep taking in the view. I think I’d like that outcome much more.”

You glare at him and push him in the direction he had been headed before you stopped. You weren’t going to make it that easy for him. He sighs, like he had wished that you would choose to stay in place. Arriving at an innocuous looking door, Jungkook enters a code into the lock and the door grants you both entry.

He leads you through an opulent apartment, the colors are all muted but warm and while there seems to be a lot of metal used, it looks cozy. The most startling thing is the greenery. There are plants everywhere, the one point of color in the room that isn’t muted. They all look well maintained and cared for and you’ve never seen so much green in one place. Especially one so small. There’s more windows that you pass as Jungkook takes you down a short hall to another door.

He knocks once before entering, giving you a shove as he releases you and he moves off to the side to lean against a wall. You stumble and glare at him as you right yourself. You glance around, he’s brought you to an office, your gaze settling on the large ornate desk in front of you. Lifting your gaze, you realize this must be Namjoon's office, given that he’s sat behind the desk, reading through a datapad like he hadn’t just taken you from another planet and might be preparing to have to get rid of a body.

He pays you no mind for a while, leaving you to shift uncomfortably. Was this meant to be a ploy to get what he wants, make you make the first move? You won’t play into his game and you straighten and stare him down, expression carefully blank. You’ve certainly kept your face blank through worse, dealing with your old seller. Finally he looks up, looking bored. He glances over you, eyes pausing on your pack that’s still clutched close to your body. He looks back to the datapad before setting it down and folding his hands together in front of him casually, like this is an everyday occurrence for him.

“I have two options for you moving forward.” You wonder if one of those is death. “The first is, give me the holocron in your bag there and in return, you will receive 1 million credits and a ride to whatever planet you wish to travel to.”

You blink. Had you really heard him right? A million credits? And you get to leave, alive? There’s no way. He stands, moving towards the window in his office. How many windows did they have here? They were everywhere. You couldn’t really have windows back home, too much sand and solid walls kept the heat out better.

He paces for a few moments like he’s mulling over his words before he continues. “Or,” he stops, back facing you. “You give me the holocron and you can become a sith.”

Jungkook makes a noise of protest. “You can’t be serious! Her? A sith? That’s a joke, right?”

Namjoon turns, giving Jungkook a dark look that shuts the younger man up immediately. His attention turns back to you and he moves closer, circling you. You feel like you’re on a selling block being inspected. “You’ll become my apprentice, train under me, carry out missions, and rise through the ranks. You’ll gain unimaginable power.” He stops directly behind you, leaning in till his lips just barely brush your ear and you shudder. “Isn’t that what you wish for most? To never be as powerless as you were when you were enslaved?”

He walks away, going back to his desk and picking the datapad back up to read like he didn’t just offer you a new life on a silver platter. “The choice is yours. You may think it over for a while. But time is precious and I won’t wait long.”

With that, his attention is completely taken by the datapad in his hand. You see Jungkook fuming in the corner, clearly not liking the offer Namjoon has extended to you. You can’t even enjoy it, your mind is reeling from the deal.

A million credits. Even in your wildest dreams you never envisioned having that much. You could get so far away from your old life. You’d never have to worry about money again. Never have to worry about looking over your shoulder, waiting for someone to catch on that you’d run from your owners. You could live a normal life. The money makes his other offer seem so absurd.

You? A sith? Could you really do something like that? You know you’ve never been entirely innocent, stealing a regular occurance when you were just trying to survive. But sith are evil. Did you think you could be evil?

Namjoon must think you could be, you doubt he extended the offer for no reason. He must see something in you that makes him want to train you. You think about the power you’d gain. No one could control you again without your permission. You could defend yourself so easily. You’d wield power you never could’ve imagined.

You lick your lips. It’s so enticing. It’d be so easy to just say yes, to hand over the holocron and become his apprentice. He didn’t seem wholly evil. He offered you money or a new life. But appearances could always be deceiving. You have no idea if he would follow through with his side.

You reach into your bag, pulling the glowing pyramid out. You stare at it and you know your decision. You set the holocron down in front of Namjoon and he looks up expectantly.

“Train me.”

He smiles and for the first time, you realize he has dimples. They would make him seem sweet and innocent were it not for the holocron below, casting red across his face and making the smile seem far more sinister. He nods.

“Wise choice, little one.” He waves Jungkook over. “Take her to Korriban. Get her registered at the academy and started on her trials. You can work on your training there as well while you wait.” He glances over you from head to toe, lips twisting in distaste. “Take her to get more appropriate clothes as well. And her saber when she passes. Ensure that she gets anything that she needs.” He turns his gaze to Jungkook, expression dark. “Understood?”

Jungkook’s lips twitch. “Yes, master.”

Namjoon turns back to you, a pleased smile curling his lips. “I have a few things that will keep me here for a while so I won’t see you until you return. But you will have your hands plenty full taking your trials. You will be in excellent care while I’m occupied as Jungkook will also be there. If you need anything, be sure to contact him.” Namjoon seems to realize something. “Right, Jungkook, get her a communicator as well when you’re getting her set up at the academy.” He looks thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “That’ll be all. Jungkook, go ahead and take the smaller ship.”

With that, Namjoon’s dismissal of you both is clear as he turns his attention to the holocron. Jungkook storms out of the room and you hurry to follow after, knowing that he won’t wait for you in this mood. He angrily paces the living room for a few moments before he’s rounding on you, finger jabbing into your chest.

“I don’t know what Namjoon is fucking playing at, but you will not be his apprentice. That’s me.” He sneers. “You’re going to be eaten alive at the academy. Namjoon has lost his mind if he really thinks you have what it takes to be a sith.”

You tilt your head, smiling and taking a step closer to Jungkook that seems to throw him off guard. “Oh? Namjoon certainly seems to be confident in my abilities. I’m sure it’ll be no time before I take over for you.”

His tongue pushes at his cheek in irritation. “Stars, I can’t wait to watch you fall. Won’t be so fucking cocky then, will you, runaway?”

He turns and leaves, you trail along after him, smirk firmly in place. Even if you don’t make it through whatever training you’ve got coming, you’re certainly going to enjoy teasing Jungkook. Especially when he makes it so easy to do.

Once back down on the ground, Jungkook continues his pace. You’d think he was trying to lose you in the crowd but his pace is just slow enough for you to just keep up with him. You come to a large plaza and you look around in wonder at all the people and merchants here. There’s more people here just shopping than there was in the entirety of the village you grew up in.

You almost lose Jungkook, distracted by a stall selling shiny trinkets, but he doubles back to drag you away. You can feel the irritation rolling off of him and that just makes you giggle. He finally comes to a store, one that’s actually in a building, and shoves you through the doorway.

The walls are stacked high with rolls of fabric, from sheers and lace to leather in every shade you could ever imagine. You stand in the doorway, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of fabric in the room. Jungkook slips past you, craning his neck to search the shop.

“My, my! Is that my little Jungkook again!” A voice calls from somewhere among the stacks of fabric.

Jungkook’s cheeks flare red and he glares at you as you bite your lip on a snicker. A small, older woman finally comes into view, pulling on a pair of glasses. Her already wide smile widens when her gaze falls on Jungkook. She immediately prods his stomach.

“Have you been eating well, boy?”

Jungkook pouts, actually pouts, and gently pushes her prodding hands away. “Bhea, please. Not now.” He whines and oh, you’re so enjoying this. “I have work for you.”

The woman, Bhea, frowns at that. She steps back slightly to look over Jungkook’s figure, shoving his cloak off so it puddles on the floor at his feet. She tilts her head and gestures to the expanse of him and you can’t help the way your eyes trail along his figure, the thick red belt at his waist does wonders to accentuate his tiny waist. He may be a jerk, but he’s got a great ass.

“I see nothing wrong with what I’ve already made.”

Jungkook makes a face, quickly stooping to pick up his cloak and fasten it back around his shoulders. He shakes his head and gestures towards you. “Not for me. A… new recruit.” His face twists with the last word.

“Is that your way of saying you’ve got a girlfriend? My little Jungkook is growing up so quick.” She rests a hand on her heart and Jungkook’s cheeks flood red and he waves his hands.

“No, I- That’s… She’s not my girlfriend. She’s nothing to me.”

Bhea gives him a nod and smirk and you can’t tell if she said that to tease him or if she really thought that. But the reaction was certainly worth it so you can’t be too upset by it. She turns her gaze to you finally. “Oh my, what a pretty little thing you are.” She coos, stepping closer as she inspects you. “We’ll get you fixed up with something much more suitable. Not these rags here.”

Your cheeks heat in embarrassment. You knew your clothes were shabby, but you didn’t think they were all that bad. You did your best to keep them looking decent.

Bhea pays no mind to you, taking your hand and leading you towards the back of the shop. Jungkook follows behind. She leads you to a room where a droid sits, coming to life once she enters. She gestures to it.

“This is T43, he’ll take your measurements and then we can go pick out some fabrics and talk styles.”

She encourages you closer to the droid before turning and shooing Jungkook from the room. “You go, you don’t need to be in here for this.”

Jungkook splutters a protest but does nothing to stop Bhea as she pushes him out of the room and closes a curtain. She turns back to you with a smile, directing you so the droid can take all of your measurements while idly mentioning what sort of styles and colors would look good on you.

You barely get a word in as she happily rambles and you think that she’s mostly talking for her own benefit. Once you’ve been measured, she leads you back out to the main part of the shop and you see Jungkook looking over a stack of reds. You want to laugh at the predictability but Bhea is pulling you towards a stack of sheers.

Jungkook notices your return, frowning when he sees what Bhea is pawing through. “Those seem unnecessary.”

Bhea shoots him a look, eyebrow raised. Her gaze drops to his belt before dragging back up to look him in the eye. “Is it? Who says that a sith must dress boring in order to be a sith?” She taps her chin. “I would think Sith would be much more flexible in clothing given how simple the Jedi go. Am I wrong? You chose that belt when you didn’t need it.”

Jungkook pouts and you really wish you could get a picture for posterity. He might hate you, but he’s adorable when he pouts like that. “I suppose. Just… Make sure she can fight and move in whatever you make.”

She gives him a patronising smile. “What sort of seamstress do you take me for? She’ll be able to do anything in whatever I create for her.”

Jungkook bows his head, looking thoroughly chastised. “Of course, Bhea. I do not doubt your abilities.”

Nodding, Bhea turns back to the fabric, pulling colors out to hold against you before putting them back. She leads you around the shop, stopping at the leather fabric and linen as well. Finally, you’ve circled back to Jungkook where she waves you both out.

“Come back in 3 hours and she will have her clothes.”

“What? But-” Jungkook starts.

She holds up her hand before pointing out the door. “Go. Eat. I’m sure you’ve journeyed far today. Come back in 3 hours.”

Jungkook sighs but nods, turning and leaving with you in tow. He stands outside the shop, hands on his hips as he looks around.

“Where are we going?”

Jungkook’s face morphs into a scowl. “I’m going to get something to eat. I don’t care what you do.” He starts to walk away.

You follow, nudging his shoulder. “Namjoon told you to take care of me. So we’re going to get food.”

Jungkook opens his mouth, likely to argue but you catch the scent of something that makes your mouth water. You grab his arm to keep him still and inhale deeply. “Stars, what is that smell?”

You look around, eyes finally landing on a stall nearby that seems to be selling grilled meat. Your eyes alight when you see it and you immediately move towards it, dragging a protesting Jungkook with you. He can protest all he wants, it’s been so long since you’ve seen so much meat.

You stop in front of the stall, pouting up at him. “I want these.”

Jungkook looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Then buy them.”

You look down, toeing at the ground. Maybe you shouldn’t have asked. Jungkook doesn’t seem likely to be sympathetic to the fact that he interrupted your attempt to get credits earlier. The silence stretches before Jungkook seems to realize the problem. “You don’t have any money.” It’s not a question.

“I would’ve if you two hadn’t shown up and taken what I was going to scrap.”

Jungkook looks even more perplexed. “You were going to scrap that? Do you know how much you could’ve sold that for elsewhere?”

“And how the hell would I have done that? Did you see any convenient places to do it while you were there?” You turn and walk away. Namjoon can tell him what to do till he’s blue in the face, but you know that won’t change Jungkook’s behavior when Namjoon’s not there to force him to be nice. “Do whatever you want. I’ll see you back at the shop.”

You wander the market for a little while. Trying not to stray too far and get lost. That’s the last thing you need, getting lost on an unfamiliar planet with no money and no place to go. You don’t walk for too long, fear of getting lost and hungry forcing you to head back to the shop, finding a bench nearby to sit on. At least sitting wouldn’t expend your energy too much. You watch people as they come and go in the market, thinking about how the future might end up.

You’re tired, but years of being on the run keeps you alert enough, knowing that this is the worst place you could possibly fall asleep. Even if you don’t have that much with you, you’d most likely just be sold off yourself. A shadow falls over you and you look up to see Jungkook. You close your eyes. You don’t want to deal with him picking another fight right now.

The smell of cooking meat fills your senses and you blink your eyes open to see a skewer of meat in front of your face. You look up to Jungkook’s face and he’s stubbornly looking away. You reach up slowly, afraid that this might just be some cruel trick, and take the meat from his hand.

Once you’ve taken it, he moves to sit beside you. “I guess I can’t let you starve if I want to see you fail the trials.”

You hide your smile by taking a bite. That’s a flimsy excuse and you both know it, but you let it slide. Jungkook produces a small box full of more skewers and sets it on the bench between the both of you and takes one for himself.

You eat in silence and it’s nice. You don’t feel quite as alone with him beside you as you did when you were here by yourself. Even if he does wish that you’d been left in a tomb on some backwater planet. It’s not friendship, but it’s something. It’s enough for now.

The time passes quickly, it gets marginally darker, but the cloud cover makes it hard to tell that any time passed at all. Jungkook stands and leads you back into the shop. Bhea is waiting for you both when you enter.

“Excellent. Everything is all finished. Come, come. Let’s get you changed.”

“Bhea.” Jungkook stops her and she glances at him in confusion. “We’ll take them to go. She can change on the ship. She should bathe first. It’s been a long day.”

You can’t tell if that’s a subtle dig at you or if he’s being genuinely caring. Or if he just wants to leave. Bhea purses her lips before she looks you over and tuts.

“Fine. But you still need to come with me so I can make sure you know how to wear everything.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow. “It’s clothing. Is it really that hard to figure out?”

You pat his cheek. “When it’s high fashion, if it’s not complicated, it’s not good.” You look over his clothes. “You probably wouldn’t understand.”

You turn around before you catch the way his face scrunches up as Bhea laughs. She leads you to the back room where she meticulously goes over each piece. Turns out you really do need her instructions, simply for the fact that she gave you options and she needs to tell you how to mix and match. Once you’re reasonably confident that you understand the different pieces to what is essentially your new uniform, she packs it all up for you.

When you take it, she folds her hand over yours to keep you in place and looks you in the eye. She nods. “You’ll fit very well.”

You frown at the cryptic words. Does she mean the clothes? Or is there something else to them? She releases you, shooing you out to Jungkook.

“I’ll send the payment request on to Lord Namjoon.” She smiles and waves.

Jungkook gives her a small bow and you do the same. You exit back to the market and Jungkook turns away from the port. You frown in confusion, following after.

“Where are we going?”

“You need a comm and it’s better to get it here than on Korriban,” he states matter of factly.

You let out a soft ‘oh.’ That made sense although you don’t know much about this Korriban. But you figure Jungkook probably knows the best place to get a communicator. You’re a little giddy. You’ve never owned one. They cost far too much for you to have ever afforded and you had no need for one when you were alone.

You only take a few turns before Jungkook is stopping at a stall where a person with soft mint colored hair is sorting through a box of electronics. The man at the stall turns before either of you say anything and he blinks sleepy, cat-like eyes at you before his gaze slides over to Jungkook. His lips part in a smile.

“Ah, Jungkookie. What can I do for you today?”

Jungkook flushes at the name, gaze darting to you before going back to the man before you. “Just need a communicator.”

The man raises an eyebrow, glancing at you. “Got something to hide from Namjoon?”

Jungkook flushes darker and glares. “No. It’s for her. Namjoon is paying for it.”

The man chuckles, holding up his hands in surrender. “Whatever you say.” He turns to you. “What kind of communicator do you want? I think I’ve got a few in stock right now.”

You blink, opening your mouth before closing it again. You look at Jungkook helplessly. He sighs when he sees your gaze, turning to the man.

“Just pull them out, Yoongi. She’s not going to know the technical differences. She can just pick whichever she thinks is prettiest.”

You bristle slightly at the words. Yoongi shrugs, tugging a few devices out from a drawer beneath the table and setting them in front of you. You look them over carefully.

Jungkook sighs again. “Just pick one. It’s not that hard.”

You glare at him before looking back at the items in front of you. “Just because I’ve never had one before doesn’t mean I don’t understand how electronics work.” You give him a look. “Did you forget how I made a living?”

Yoongi hides a chuckle and picks up one of the devices. “This is probably the newest I’ve got. It’s only one or two models behind what’s current.”

You take it from his outstretched hand, inspecting it carefully. “How did you come by this one?”

“Bought it off a guy.”

“Why did he sell it? What’s wrong with it?”

Yoongi smiles, looking pleased with your questioning. “Nothing’s wrong with it. The idiot got in debt to the wrong person and he needed credits quick. I was happy to oblige.”

You nod thoughtfully. “This is good then. I’ll take it.”

Yoongi nods, putting the other comms away. “You said to bill Joon?” He looks to Jungkook for confirmation.

Jungkook nods. “I’m sure I’ll be bringing it back soon though.” He says with a malicious smirk directed at you.

You smile sweetly up at him. “Aw, are you planning to buy me a better one once I pass my trials? That’s so sweet of you, Jungkookie.”

Yoongi’s laugh interrupts whatever Jungkook was about to say. “Oh, I think she’s going to do very well.”

Jungkook’s face twists as he spins on his heel to stalk away from the stall. “Let’s go.” He snarls.

You giggle, giving Yoongi a wave before jogging to catch up to Jungkook. You make your way through the city, trying not to stop and stare in wonder and hoping that you get to come back here when you can explore the place freely. Jungkook stops to talk to someone at the entrance to the port before he’s continuing through the doors. He walks past ship after ship, each one more impressive than the last.

Finally he stops in front of one that’s a little smaller than many of the previous ones but no less grand than them. He leads you up the ramp and gestures to the left. “There’s a bedroom that way with a bathroom attached. You can shower and change there. The trip to Korriban isn’t terribly long, but better to get ready now. It should be daybreak when we get there and you can be registered and sent to your trial right away.”

He walks the opposite direction before you can ask anything further. You watch him as he disappears around a corner before making your way in the direction he has indicated, hoping it’s easy to find the room he mentioned. Lucky for you, there appears to be only two doors in this direction, the first revealing a storage room and the second revealing the simple bedroom he’d indicated.

You set your things down on bed, running a hand gently across the bag. It’s the first time in a long while that you’ve actually gotten new clothes, especially ones that are made with such nice fabric. It makes you want to do good in the trial all the more. To prove to Namjoon, and even more so to Jungkook, that you deserve to have these. You sort through the different pieces, choosing what you want your outfit to be and lay them out on the bed.

You move to the bathroom, it’s small but still more hightech than anything you’ve ever used before. You strip in the doorway, leaving the shabby, dirty clothes from your old life on the floor as you step into the bathroom properly. It only takes you a moment to work out the controls for the water and soon enough, hot water is pouring over you as the small room fills with steam.

You groan, the water almost too hot to handle, but the way you can already feel the grim sliding from your skin makes it more than worth the slight sting from the heat. You stand under the spray and your thoughts drift again to what the future may hold. This is an interesting opportunity, you certainly never thought that you would end up with the possibility of becoming such a powerful being.

But on the other hand, could you be evil? You’ve really only heard of sith before, stories passed around the compound at night and things told to make a child listen. Meeting Jungkook and Namjoon was your first encounter with one ever and they weren’t quite what you’d come to expect. Did becoming a sith mean something different than what you had originally thought? Were they wholly evil?

Namjoon certainly didn’t seem that way, he could’ve just killed you, easily at that, and left your body in that tomb. No one would’ve known. But he didn’t. Instead, he offered you a choice, money or power. The two things you’ve never had, two things you’ve wanted for as long as you could remember. To have enough of either that you could be your own person. He offered you that chance, how could you say no? When everything you wanted was within your grasp.

Even Jungkook didn’t seem that evil. You really don’t think that evil people would get embarrassed and blush the way he did with Bhea. Or have such a clear respect for her the way he did. For all the anger he holds towards you, he doesn’t seem to be purposefully malicious. Maybe you could be a sith. Maybe they’ve only gotten bad reps because of the few incredibly powerful sith out there. The public ones, the ones that make names for themselves, that want to be remembered for millenia.

You look around, finding some soap and scrubbing yourself almost raw in the need to finally feel clean. Once you deem yourself clean enough, and with the idea that maybe you don’t have to be totally evil to be a sith, you shut the water off. You look through the storage cabinets until you find something to dry yourself off with and make your way back into the bedroom.

You dress slowly, relishing in the feel of the fabric against your skin. It’s so different from the rough material you wore before. You step up to the mirror, making a few final adjustments before you’re giving yourself one last lookover.

You have to give it to Bhea, she certainly knows how to dress a sith. The leather pants are soft and supple, you’d thought they’d be stiff, but you know you’ll be able to easily move in these. They blend in well with the black leather boots. The shirt itself is simple, just a plain black tank top in a soft, breathable fabric, but it’s topped by a short vest in a deep blue, strands of beads latching it closed across your breasts and joining the collar to close around your neck.

Bands of black metal wrap around your wrists and mid-bicep holding sheer fabric in the same shade as the vest, one large slit running the length to allow better movement . Your belt wraps around your waist, a mix of more blue fabric and black metal, panels of more sheer hanging down to your ankles in shifting shades of blue and purple and speckled with glitter, giving the impression of a galaxy.

You’d think that the skirt would make it hard to move efficiently, but a few experimental stretches show that the panels are put together in a way that they hold large slits to not hinder your movement. You run your fingers through your hair and smile. You feel like an entirely new person and you can’t help but think that maybe this would be a really good change.

You open the door, startling when you come face to face with Jungkook, who looks just as surprised as you. His gaze drops to your new clothes, eyes widening as he takes in the expanse of skin exposed on your neck and upper chest. You see him swallow before he’s jerking his gaze away, cheeks turning red and his tongue pushing against his cheek, though this time it seems to be for a reason entirely unrelated to being annoyed at you.

“I was just coming to make sure you didn’t break anything.” He mutters. “I see that you’re fine. I’ll be in the cockpit.” And he turns and walks away before you can say anything.

You hold in a snicker at his reaction, pleased at the way he tried and failed to hide the way his cheeks flushed. You dart after him, following him the short distance to the other side of the ship.

Your snarky comment dies on your tongue as soon as you cross the threshold, suddenly staring out into space. Your mouth drops open and you move closer to the window, gaze wide eyed as you watch the stars pass you.

Jungkook watchs you quietly, scowl softening at the way the starlight shines on your wonder-filled face. He clears his throat, shaking his thoughts from his mind, “You might want to sit down. Now that you’re done, we’re going to jump to hyperspace.”

You turn to stare at him, watching as he takes a seat at the controls and it takes you a second to realize what he said, scurrying to take the seat beside him before he decides to go ahead while you’re still standing. You watch in fascination at the way his hands flit over the controls, completely at ease and confident in his motions.

The ship jerks slightly and you turn your gaze back to the window as the stars turn into streaks of light, blurring by as you fly through space. You don’t know how long it lasts, it feels like you blink and the stars are starting to return to pinpricks of light as a massive red planet looms before you both.

Jungkook sets the ship down with minimal fuss before he’s leading you off the ship. The land surrounding the landing bay is arid and sandy and your nose wrinkles in distaste. You just came from sand and now you’re back. Why couldn’t they have built this somewhere nicer.

You trail after Jungkook as he moves inside, easily navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the building. He stops by what appears to be an armory, motioning for you to stay by the door while he goes to speak to the Twi’lek in there. They exchange a few laughs before the Twi’lek hands something to Jungkook that looks like a stun baton. He hands it to you once he’s close enough.

Frowning, you tentatively take it. “What is it?”

He snorts, eyes rolling as he starts walking again. “Well you can’t get a saber until you pass your trials. But you need some sort of weapon to take them. That’s a training saber. All acolytes use them for their trials. If you pass, then you’ll get a lightsaber.”

You give it a few practice swings, testing its weight, narrowly missing Jungkook’s arm. He gives you a dark look and you sheepishly drop your arm. You hadn’t actually meant to almost hit him, the balance hadn’t been what you were expecting. He makes a few more turns before entering another room. You linger in the doorway but Jungkook waves you to follow until you’re standing before a man sitting at a desk.

“Overseer. This is the… acolyte that Lord Namjoon would like to put into the trials.”

The Overseer’s brow raises, a playful smirk on his face as he eyes you over before he’s looking at Jungkook. “He looking for an upgrade?”

Jungkook’s shoulder tense, but his words come out friendly and joking. “Shut up. You know no one can best me.” He gestures you closer. “She’s all yours. I’ll be upstairs in the training rooms.” He pauses before an almost sinister smile stretches his lips. “Test her well.”

You bat your eyelashes up at him, lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout. “Aw, you’re not gonna stick around to watch me pass? I thought we were friends.”

Jungkook makes a face of disgust. “Like I would ever stoop so low for friends.” He snarls before leaving.

The Overseer laughs as he watches Jungkook’s retreating figure before he’s standing and beckoning you to follow him through a different door.

The room he leads you to is massive, but holds only a large table in the middle of the room. With a wave of his hand, the table comes to life to reveal that it’s a holo map. He walks the length of the table before stopping at an outcropping of rocks. He gestures to the ends of the table where you can see what looks like part of the building you’re currently in is sat then draws your attention to the area he’s standing by.

“That is the exit to the Valley. This is a tomb that holds a holocron full of ancient secrets. Retrieve it and bring it back here.”

You squint at him. That seems way too easy. “That’s all?”

He gestures to the expanse between the two points. “Well you have to get there on your own. And remember the way back. If you get lost out there, you’re on your own.”

“How long do I get?”

He snorts. “You just need to bring it back. Time doesn’t matter for this.”

You step closer to examine the map. It doesn’t seem too terribly far to the tomb, though there are a few twists and turns on the way and it certainly seems like it’d be easy enough to get lost. And getting lost on a desert planet is never good.

“Do I get supplies?” You look up at him.

“Do you need them?” He seems slightly perplexed, like he’s never been asked that before.

You walk around the table, tracing the best path to take. “It’s not very long. But given the unfamiliar terrain, weather, and day cycle, it could take longer than one would think. Also, once in there it could take a while. I doubt this would be some sort of trial if it were as easy as walking a ways to a tomb and retrieving a holocron.” You glance at the saber. “And highly doubt I would need a weapon for something easy. So, yes, supplies seem necessary.”

He nods appraisingly at you. “I can see why Lord Namjoon is interested in you.” He gestures behind you to a set of large double doors. “When you go through there, there’s a small requisitions area you can get supplies at. The room then opens out into the Valley.” He approaches you. “There’s one last thing before I let you go. ‘Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.’ The Sith Code. That is your new philosophy. Learn it. Etch it into your heart because it is one with you now as much as the Force is.”

You nod, repeating the words in your head, feeling exhilarated at the rush of power that follows.

The Overseer nods and gestures to the table. “Take as much time as you need in here and begin whenever you are ready. You know what you must do.”

With that, he leaves, retreating back to his office. You watch him go before turning back to the map and looking over the path you want to take to the tomb. It’s simple enough but you go over it multiple times, committing it to memory and working out landmarks you can use to keep you from getting too hopelessly lost if you happen to get turned around out there. He said there was no time component but you can’t help but feel like you need to go at least a little fast. Something about the dismissive way that Jungkook thinks that you won’t pass makes you want to succeed and succeed quickly. Maybe also because you want to impress Namjoon, prove that you’re worth the chance he took on you.

Once you’re reasonably confident that you know the path, you go through the door the Overseer had indicated, met with a smaller room that opens to the outside. The building sits on a rise on this side, you can see the sand sloping away from the building and the way the maze-like canyon of tombs is laid out almost from above. The room for the most part sits empty, sand beginning to creep back into the building from the doorway to outside. One wall of the room is taken by a counter, behind which you see a Chiss woman working among some shelves.

When you approach, she looks a little surprised but pauses her work to meet you at the counter. “How can I help you?” She asks with a tilt of her head.

“I wanted to get some supplies for my trials.”

“For your trials? You think it’ll take that long?”

You don’t understand why they keep pushing like this is strange. There’s obviously more to your trial than what was told. Being better prepared means that you have an even better chance of survival. “Yes.” You gesture toward the door leading out. “You can’t predict weather in a place like this. Or what’s going to happen once you get into a tomb.” You knew that one painfully well. “If I want to survive and pass, I should make sure I’m as well equipped as possible, yes?”

Her lips curl into a pleased smile. “Of course.” She slides a small datapad over. “This is everything available to acolytes. Choose whatever you feel you need.”

You glance over the list, it’s fairly small, but you suppose they don’t want to give too much to people who may not return and they’d prefer to not lose things to the tomb when they already hold such secrets. That certainly won’t be you though.

“I’ll take a medkit, a couple of rations, a fire starter, flashlight, and a small blanket. Oh, and a shoulder bag.”

The woman nods and moves among the shelves, gathering the things that you noted. She slides them across the counter to you.

“You’re all set. Good luck acolyte. You certainly have more promise than some others I’ve seen venture out into the desert with nothing but their training saber.” She gives you a nod and turns back to the shelves.

You take the bag, arranging your supplies in it before slipping it over your head and adjusting it so it sits comfortably on your hip. You pause at the doorway, looking out over the Valley before you. You close your eyes and recite the code in your head again, smiling when that same heady rush of power fills you. Determination in your eyes as you open them, you set foot into the Valley.

You make it to the tomb relatively easily. You barely had to rely on your memory of the location, your body just seemed to know where to go and you trusted your instincts. You had one momentary hiccup where you had to fight a giant beast with tusks that were easily the size of your arm. You’d thought you’d be able to just skirt around it, but it seemed to sense you and once it’s gaze locked on you, it was relentless in pursuit. It was an ugly thing but fierce. Luckily it was so big that it wasn’t very nimble and you could easily navigate around it. You’ve fought big things before and know that if you can get on top that it’s all over for them. Especially when you have something as powerful as the training saber. You can’t wait to get your real one.

The entrance to the tomb is open but deserted and it leaves you instantly on high alert. You move slowly inside to see that torches have been lit and hung on pillars, casting a flickering glow on the walls. You pause, listening to see if you can hear anyone else, but there’s only the faint sound of the wind blowing through the valley behind you.

Moving cautiously, you creep further into the tomb. The Overseer didn’t tell you where exactly the holocron was going to be, but the tomb can’t be that complicated to navigate, at least given the previous one you’d been in. You check for signs of recent activity, but aside from the lit torches, there appears to be no signs of people having recently been in the antechamber.

You take a second to look closer around the room, noticing two halls that branch off from this room. Pursing your lips, you move closer to one side, trying to read the inscription beside the hall but it’s written in a language you don’t understand so it’s not particularly helpful.

You glance between the two ways once again, but something tells you that this is the one you need to go down. Your instincts haven’t failed you yet so you head down the hallway, careful to keep your steps light and soundless.

The path doesn’t branch, just twists and turns and it feels like ages before you come to another room. You crouch, because you hear voices echoing here. You peek around the corner, keeping yourself pressed as close to the wall as possible and slowly scan the room before you. It takes you a few minutes before you discover the source of the voices, a few figures tucked amongst some pillars and rubble and shadows.

You double check the rest of the room, ensuring that the only people here are those gathered in the small group. When you confirm the rest of the room's emptiness, you look for a way to creep closer, there’s too much echo and they’re speaking too lowly for you to hear what exactly they’re saying beyond that they are speaking. A downed pillar stretches out from the door towards the group and if you stay low enough to the ground, they won’t be able to see you.

Creeping along, you’re careful to avoid any loose rubble so you don’t alert the others to your presence. Once close enough, you stop and listen to the conversation happening.

“We’ve tried everything. We’re never going to pass if we can’t get in there.” One says, voice laced with irritation.

“I know that. But it’s clearly meant to be open. We just have to find the right key. What did the inscription say again?”

“The essence of life, the key to power, bathe the crystal to gain it’s knowledge.” You hear a third recite.

You didn’t see any sort of crystal when you entered. It must be further in then.

“That’s so stupid. Why do they always have to be vague?” The first one sighs.

You listen as the two begin discussing what they’ve tried and what the inscription could mean, missing that the second person hasn’t spoken in a while until their voice suddenly comes from much closer.

“Well, well. What have we here?” You look up with wide eyes as the red skinned man towers over your crouched form. You’ve never seen a Sith pureblood before, but you’ve heard plenty about them. His eyes shrewdly take in your form before he’s laughing cruelly. He glances over to his companions. “I think I’ve got a few new ideas to try to get that door open.”

He reaches for you but you quickly push yourself back and scramble to your feet. You see the other two have also risen to their feet and look startled by your sudden appearance. You put some more space between them and yourself. You look them over and see that they each have training sabers of their own. Acolytes. You knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as just walking into a tomb and retrieving a holocron.

The Sith approaches you slowly. “You know, there’s one thing that’s very vital to life. Something that just happens to be liquid and we can easily use to bathe a crystal in.” He muses and you feel your stomach sink at the implication.

The other two look lost for a moment before realization crosses their faces, replaced by matching smirks. One of them speaks. “Seems there’s someone looking out for us.”

Three blades are pulled out and your chest constricts. One you could probably take. Three at once? You’d think you’d have better chances at fighting a herd of those beasts from earlier. You roll your shoulders and pull your own saber out. You think of Jungkook and the smarmy look that would surely be on his face if you fail and let that rage fill you.

You smirk. “You can certainly try.”

The Sith steps back, letting the other two advance on you. You know there’s too much rubble where you were eavesdropping for a good fight, all too easy to lose your footing and so you back up towards the middle of the room where the rubble is more sparse. They follow, and you can tell by their snickering that they think you’re backing away because you’re scared. What a joke they’d make becoming sith if they can’t even think about their surroundings while starting a fight.

Your saber hums to life with little effort and you level the two with an eyebrow raised in challenge. The smaller of the two charges, saber held aloft and you easily deflect the intended blow. He’s sloppy in his movements, he clearly doesn’t have a lot of formal training weilding a weapon. Sabers and poles are vastly different but many of the principles are similar and that is going to give you an advantage over this one at the very least.

He lets out a frustrated cry and spins to try to attack again, but it’s another blow that you easily shrug off. If he was smart he’d work with his companions to attack instead of doing it alone. His next attack, you deflect and grab his wrist twisting until he drops his saber with a yelp of pain. Once it’s out of his hand you shove him roughly away and he stumbles and falls at his companion’s feet.

You stoop down to pick up his fallen saber, grinning at the three wide eyed looks you recieve. You twirl them both. “Well, are we doing this?”

The one who’s saber you took struggles to his feet, looking helplessly to his companions. The other leans over to whisper in his ear and then they’re both moving together, the smaller one circling behind you, while the other approaches you from the front. You listen carefully for the one you can’t see while keeping your eyes focused on the one in front of you.

This one seems a lot more calculating in their movements, slower and more careful to act than the first. They’ll be a little more difficult, but they still seem to underestimate you. They attack and you block with one saber while using the other to make your own attack while they’re distracted. They’re not distracted enough, just barely dodging your attack and moving quickly out of your range. You meet in a few instances of blows and parries before they manage to catch your wrist when you try to attack.

You're quickly seized from behind by the other, arms tight around your waist. You squirm in his hold but his grip remains firm. The one holding your wrist tightens their grip in a clear bid to get you to drop the saber but remembering your fight with Jungkook, you quickly lift your feet, taking advantage of the one holding you and kicking the one in front of you.

All three of you are pushed back, your landing cushioned by the body beneath you, leaving you less stunned than either of them. You turn quickly, slamming the butt of the saber into the side of his head and his head lulls to the side. You try not to think if it’s in unconsciousness or death. That’ll be something to dwell on later.

Panting, you push yourself to your feet, watching as the other struggles to their feet as well, blood dripping from their temple. They look furious and rush you, clearly past cautiousness and just wanting to be rid of you. Their fast and brutal attacks leave you struggling to keep up and block, a couple glancing blows leaving burns on your arms.

You can’t let this be the end. You didn’t run away from your slave life just to fail when your true freedom is within reach. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and let the force flow through you. You push back, forcing the other to take steps back or risk being hit. They get only a few steps before they trip over a piece of rubble, saber dropping from their hand.

You point one saber at their throat. “I would give up.” You warn.

They snarl at you. “As if I ever would. You’re weak.”

You press the tip of the other saber to their chest until they cry out from the searing pain. They spit something else at you, blindly reaching for their saber and you press the tip more firmly into their chest, it sinks half an inch into the flesh.

“Surrender.”

“I’ll die either way. Better in a fight than to be called a coward.” They push themselves up just enough for the saber to sink a little further in, crying out in pain.

You hesitate. Did it make you evil to kill them? It was self defense. Kill or be killed. Would they have been killed if they made it back unsuccessfully? You realize that the way the Overseer had spoken that yes, they were likely to be killed if they made it back without completing their task. Or worse, enslaved. This is a mercy, you think as you push the saber completely through their chest.

They splutter, blood dripping from their mouth as they twitch once before dropping, lifeless, back to the ground. You take a second to process, even when escaping enslavement, you hadn’t killed anyone. You blink a few times before jerking the saber out of their chest, ignoring the conflicting feelings you still have and turn back to the Sith.

He hasn’t moved since he discovered you, standing there passively observing your fight with his own saber drawn. He looks from one body to the other and shrugs.

“Well you saved me the trouble. But I’m afraid that this is the end for you now.”

You snort. “Good luck.”

He tilts his head. “Bold for someone untrained.”

“No, I just know what’s at stake and what I have to prove.”

He nods slightly, stepping close but stopping a few feet away from you. He doesn’t move further. He’s a lot more confident and most likely has had more training. You assume this was exactly what the Overseer was banking on since he didn’t seem confident in your return. He doesn’t even seem all that worried about the impending fight, stance relaxed, saber held loosely at his side. He looks more like he’s going for a stroll than a fight.

You flex your grip on your sabers. You’ve never fought two handed before, but having them in your hands feels right. It gives you the confidence that you can handle this fight.

He continues to stand in place and you assume he’s waiting for you to make a move, hoping to use whatever momentum you create against you. Meaning that you can’t attack first, you have to wait. It’s strange to stand there waiting to be attacked, but you won’t give in to his play.

He snorts when the minutes continue to stretch then his free hand raises and with a flick of his wrist, you’re pushed back; stumbling and tripping over some rubble. Your arm scraps against the stone, fine lines of red forming. You push yourself up, face hard. Against your better judgement, you charge. You have to, you have to get close to do any damage. Your control of the Force is severely lacking and that’s definitely come back to hurt you here. You just have to think a step ahead of him; if he knows what he’s going to do when you charge, you have to know how to counter that.

He sidesteps the attack and you turn, foot kicking out and connecting with his side. He slams into the pillar. He shoves himself off of it with a snarl. He seems to be done playing around, advancing on you slightly quicker than you had anticipated. You take a few steps back, feet shifting to give you a better bracing stance. You know his attack is going to be fast and brutal, giving you no easy way to maneuver so you need to be prepared now.

The first clash of his blade against yours has your feet sliding back an inch with the force of it. The impact vibrates your whole arm. You try to get an attack in with your other saber, but he quickly grabs your wrist, squeezing until it starts to hurt. You push with the other blade, just enough force to send him back and get him to release your hand. You only get a second’s reprieve before he’s attacking again.

Time blurs as you fight, it’s a struggle to keep up with him. He’s at an advantage, he didn’t have to fight 2 other people first. Your muscles ache but you can’t stop for even a second; it could be a matter of life or death. He gets a few hits in, nothing too bad, but you can feel the blood dripping from each wound, feel the tug of singed skin with each movement. You get a few hits in too; which seems to enrage him all the more.

He begins to get sloppy the angrier he gets; it makes his moves both easier and harder to predict. But you work out a tentative plan, if you can get him prone, you can win this. You’ve just gotta get him on the ground first. Your fight has moved you across a large part of the room and you manage to catch sight of some large loose stones behind him. You grit your teeth, forcing him further back, towards the stones. He deflects your attack and you are completely blindsided when his fist connects with your jaw.

It sends you stumbling, one saber dropping from your hand and you taste iron on your tongue. You spit, turning back and bringing the saber still in your hands down with all your strength. He stumbles from the force of the impact, taking a step back to brace himself but he ends up stepping on some rubble and he falls.

You stomp the heel of your boot into his wrist until his saber falls and you kick it away. His hand raises and you can feel the Force gathering around it. You mirror him, trying your best to draw the Force to you the way he is. The blasts meet between you both, each of you being pushed back a few inches. Sweat beads along your hairline as all your concentration and will goes into matching the strength of his push.

Pain blossoms in your head and you wince, but you push past the pain, ignoring it as best you can as you struggle to take a step forward. It takes a minute, but you manage the step and the small victory gives you enough of an encouraging boost to continue to slowly advance on the man. He seems mildly surprised but aside from the slight rise in his eyebrows, he appears unphased.

The pain in your head is excruciating when you’re finally close enough to him and something wet drips from your nose. It takes everything you have left to lift your other hand, the one that, by some miracle, still clutches your saber. You take a breath, gaze meeting his and you smirk in triumph.

He looks confused for only a second before you embed the saber in as far as you can. His hand spasms and a massive burst of energy erupts, sending you both flying. You slam into some rubble, wheezing as dust rises around you. Stars dance in your vision and you can feel consciousness slipping away from you.

Gasping awake, you stare at the ceiling. You hadn’t even realized you’d passed out; you also have no idea how long you may have been passed out for. It could’ve been minutes or hours, even a whole day or more is possible. All you really know is that everything hurts. And it’s a testament to how out of it you are that it takes you a moment to realize that the fact that you’re awake at all must mean that you succeeded.

You pant as you struggle to push yourself upright. You hurt and when you reach up to touch the back of your head, your hand comes away red and wet. That certainly explains the dizziness and the difficulty you have standing now. You have to take a moment standing completely still before you feel confident enough to move at all and even when you do, you stumble and trip the whole way to your pack.

You dig through it, pulling the medpac out once you find it and rifling through until you find the bacta salve. Your fingers slip when you try to open it and you nearly drop it. Wiping your hands off on your clothes, your second attempt is much more successful. Blindly reaching behind you, you rub some of the salve onto your head where it seems wettest; it leaves your hair feeling heavy and greasy. You have no idea if you actually managed to cover the wound with the healing salve but the lessening sting you feel seems to say that you at least got some of it close enough to get some of the effects. You spend some time spreading some across the rest of your wounds and the small container is quickly emptied. You can only hope nothing worse happens to you.

You slump against the pillar once finished. You feel like you could sleep for a week. But you don’t have the luxury of time here. Plus, you’re fairly certain that even if your current competition is dealt with, there’s sure to be more coming. You give yourself a few minutes though, taking the time to see if the medpac holds any sort of painkiller; which to your luck, it does.

You swallow the pills dry before you push yourself back to your feet. Shouldering your pack and collecting both your saber and the new one you’re now claiming as yours, one of which you have a hard time prying from the chest of the dead Sith, you move towards the only other door in this room, the one that the three other acolytes had been gathered next to. If you’d been the first one here, you probably wouldn’t have even realized it was actually a door. The whole thing was made of the same stone as the wall and pillars surrounding it, the seams barely noticeable. The only difference to the walls is the small plaque sent into the wall beside a recessed circle of stone just a little bigger than your hand, a small crystal set in the center of it.

You look over the plaque, but it does you no good because you have no idea what language it’s written in. It takes you a minute to recall what the acolytes had said it said. The essence of life, the key to power, bathe the crystal to gain it’s knowledge. They had seemed to have some idea of the answer when they discovered you. Essence of life? You glance at your hand, once again streaked with blood. Oh, essence of life.

Tentatively you reach out, smearing your blood onto the crystal. You step back expectantly. You frown when nothing happens, blood has to be the essence of life. Why didn’t it work? You think through the inscription again. You’ve got the essence of life… The key to power?

Oh. Oh, you need more than just the essence to open this. You step forward, you don’t have the slightest idea on how to do this, but you’ve got to try at the very least. The circle did seem pretty conveniently hand sized. The stone is cool against your palm, but the crystal feels oddly warm. The Force is the key to power, you just have to figure out how to channel it with no previous training. Closing your eyes, you focus on getting something to happen. But after a few moments where nothing changes, you open your eyes again with a huff.

You think back to when Jungkook had you by the throat and the power you felt gathering around you when you kicked him away, to all the occurences during the fight where you felt the force surround you like a cloak. But no matter how hard you try, there’s no shift in the air around you. You growl in frustration, shoving ineffectually at the wall.

Why was it so hard to get the Force to cooperate with you now? You hadn’t even been trying before. You think back through everything you’ve been told, which isn’t all that much, but you really hope that maybe there’s a clue hidden somewhere in someone’s words. But you woefully can’t find much of anything that might help, the only thing you really learned was the sith code.

You pause, the code. You know you might look stupid, but luckily there’s no one around right now to see that. You place your hand back in the circle, taking a calming breath. Then you recite the sith code, feeling power cloak you and slide down your arm. It connects with the crystal and searing pain shoots up your arm as lightning races across your skin.

You cry out in pain, jerking your hand away from the wall. The pain stops immediately but the door remains firmly shut. You chew your lip, looking down at your hand. It looks completely unscathed, you wiggle your fingers and aside from a slight tingle of discomfort, you’d have thought you imagined the lightning.

Had you done something wrong? The inscription seemed easy enough, there doesn’t seem like another component to it. You decide to try again, maybe you just weren’t concentrating enough. However the same thing happens when you try again. You need to do this. You need to prove that you have what it takes, you refuse to give Jungkook the satisfaction of seeing you fail and being right. You know you’re strong enough to be better than him.

Your eyes widen, strength. That had to be what you were missing here. With power, sith value strength, if you lack strength then you lack power. You stare at the wall, this isn’t going to be pleasant.

Putting your hand back into the slot, you steel yourself, gritting your teeth as the lightning starts as soon as you finish reciting the code. It hurts. You have to brace your other hand on the wall in an attempt to keep you grounded and from pulling your hand away. You think of how smug Jungkook would be if you never came back. You refuse to fail.

You don’t know how long the pain lasts; you feel slightly delirious from the crackle of power that traces your veins. But as abruptly as it came, it stops, leaving you breathless. There’s stone grinding against stone and the wall rumbles beneath your hands. You slowly pull away, afraid that it’ll stop and you’ll have to endure another round of pain. To your relief, it continues and soon enough the door is swinging open before you. The hallway that is revealed is dark for a moment before crystals lining the walls slowly come to life, swathing the length of the hall in a red glow.

You wait, making sure that nothing else is going to happen before stepping cautiously into the hall and making your way down it. Halfway down the hallway, an odd feeling settles in your gut and you find yourself stepping back. Your confusion at the action is short lived when a moment later, lightning arcs between the walls where you had just been about to walk. It looks much more lethal than what engulfed you to open the door.

You breathe a sigh of relief, thankful for whatever it was that tipped you off to the trap. You proceed carefully, hoping that there’s not anymore traps or if there are, that you can sense it before it’s too late. You safely reach the end of the hall, the room is small, barely wider than the hall. In the center of the room is a pedestal, about the width of your shoulders, on which sits a jet black pyramid, the top quarter of which is clear.

Approaching carefully, you look through the transparent material and can just make out the shape of the holocron within. You run your fingers across the surface of the pyramid, looking for anything that may open it, but the material is completely smooth, even where the two different materials join is seamless. You look around the room, hoping for any other clues, but the room is all smooth stone, no inscriptions or writings or anything. You walk a few circles around the pedestal, trying to figure out how to continue when something begins to glow in the corner, drawing your attention. A wash of blue fills the corner, quickly forming the shape of a woman. It’s hard to tell her race, her entire being is tinted blue, but she’s unmistakably a sith. There’s something about the way she holds herself and the thick black robes that shroud her form.

She gazes at you calmly, gaze trailing slowly over you and you’ve never felt more insignificant and scrutinized, not even when Namjoon looked at you. Her lips curl into a pleased smile and she gives a small nod. A soft click sounds and you turn to see the pyramid has opened, granting you access to the holocron within. When you turn back to the figure, whether to question her or thank her you’re not sure, but she’s gone once you look back.

You belatedly realize she must have been a Force ghost. You’ve heard the tales of them, but you didn’t think you’d ever encounter one in your life. She had looked almost… approving of you being here. You wonder who she was and, more importantly, why she had helped you. At least, you assume she helped you. There’s really no other explanation as to why or how the pyramid opened when she nodded. You quickly gather the holocron, tucking is safely away inside your bag.

You take the hall back to the antechamber, sparing a glance to the bodies that remain. You feel a little bad about just leaving them there. But you know if it were reversed that they’d have left you here to rot too. And, you reason, this is a tomb. Bodies are meant to rest here. It’s better than being left outside and rot away under the sun just to be torn apart and eaten by animals.

You continue through the ruins, retracing your path back to the entrance quietly, sure to keep an ear listening for anyone who may have come after you. You encounter no one though and you take only a moment at the doorway to outside to recall your route back to the Academy before you’re setting out.

You make it maybe halfway before the wind picks up. You freeze, sudden wind is never good. You take a look around, quickly locating the rapidly approaching wall of tan in the distance. Scanning your surroundings in the valley, you see no immediate place to take shelter and panic rises in you. You try to recall the map and if there’s something nearby, but you hadn’t paid much attention to other tombs and areas of the map. You really wish you had. You glance back to the approaching storm, you don’t have long before you get trapped in it. Quickening your pace, you continue on the path back to the academy, hoping that you can find shelter along the way soon.

The sand starts to whip around you and you grab a cloth from your bag to cover your nose and mouth to at least keep you from breathing in the sand now that the storm is practically on top of you and you’ve yet to find somewhere to hide. You’re about to give up hope on finding shelter when the slightest glint of metal off to your right catches your attention and you don’t even think twice before sprinting towards it.

You make it through the threshold just as the storm begins in earnest outside, the sudden gusts pushing you further inside. You double over, coughing, as you try to catch your breath and expel the sand that you managed to breath in. You wheeze for a moment before pushing yourself upright, glancing around to finally take in your surroundings.

You assume it’s another tomb, though this one appears far more modern than the previous one, given that this one is all polished metal. There’s signs that this has been explored thoroughly, which leaves you feeling a little relieved because that means that it’s unlikely that anyone will be here right now. Turning, you look out the opening to watch the sandstorm. You have no idea how long it’ll last, sandstorms are incredibly unpredictable and you could be here for only a few minutes to a few weeks. You just hope that it’s not the weeks option.

You set your bag down by the door before slowly making your way around the room, fingers tracing along the wall as you look at the different inscriptions and occasional graffiti. You freeze when your fingers connect with a section of wall that feels different. You take a step back, looking over the wall and trying to figure out what’s different.

It looks the same as the rest of the walls, but when your fingers touched it, you could tell there was something different. You put one hand on the section of wall that’s odd and one on the wall beside where it starts to feel different. It takes you a few moments before you realize what the difference means. This is a door. One that’s incredibly well hidden, blending in perfectly with the walls that surround it.

Leaning closer, you begin to look for a way to open it. Deciding to use some of your newly gained experience, you use a bit of the force to assist you and a panel slides open, revealing a crystal similar to the one from the other tomb. You’re leery of activating it, for fear of the lightning happening again, but also that something worse might happen. But the idea of finding something that had been missed sends a thrill through you and you smile at the image in your mind of gifting whatever you find to Namjoon. You wonder if he’d give you a dimpled smile again. You wonder how pissed Jungkook would be to see you hand something new over to Namjoon.

You squeeze your eyes closed as you touch the gem, willing a little of the Force into it. There’s a click and then the crystal is sliding away from your fingers at the door swooshes open. The room revealed is small; you’ve seen closets bigger than this. You step forward, there’s not much to see in here though and you feel dismayed that this has been found already.

There’s a small chest on the wall opposite the door and you pick it up to take it back out into the antechamber so you can keep an eye on the storm. You sit against the wall, watching the wall of sand outside before turning your attention to the chest. Opening reveals that maybe the room hadn’t been discovered because the chest is still full.

You pull the items out one by one; there’s an amulet, a bracelet, a ring, two scrolls, and a small black dagger. You feel a faint thrum of power from each of the items as you turn them over in your hands. You have no idea what any of them do or are for, but you know this seems exactly like something Namjoon would enjoy. At least you hope so. You don’t know a lot about your future master, but he seems the type to like knowledge. You tuck all of the items safely away in your pack, resolving to keep them hidden from the Overseer. He never said you had to turn everything you found in, just the holocron.

Setting aside the chest, you stare out the door for lack of anything else to do. It seems it’s going to be a longer one when one hour then two pass and the storm has yet to lighten up in any way. You eat, pace the perimeter of the room again, look over the artifacts you found. But nothing outside changes. You’re not even sure just how much time has passed, but you know it’s been a while because it’s nearly pitch black out, making the howling of the wind all the more eerie. Deciding that there’s nothing else you can do because of the storm, you pull out the blanket and your fire starter and create a small fire with some of the discarded items strewn about the room. You hunker down beside it, blanket wrapped around yourself. You’re just glad that you’re used to sleeping in uncomfortable positions, sleeping on this floor is nothing and you drift into a light doze soon enough.

Bright sunlight jolts you awake. You blink at the brightness, squinting as you look towards the door to see that the storm has cleared finally. You groan and push yourself up. Your whole body aches, the effects of the fight making themselves known. You pay it little mind, gathering your things and stepping back out into the Valley. It takes you a moment to get your bearings, but you see that the storm didn’t get you too far from the path you need to take. Confident that you can make it back to the Academy soon, you set out once again.

Lucky for you, you do make it back with no more issues and the cool metal interior of the Academy is the most welcoming thing you’ve ever experienced. The shop is shuttered so you limp your way through the room and to the map room. It also appears empty and so you make your way to the Overseer’s office and hear voices. You’re relieved that you won’t have to try to hunt for someone in this massive building.

You enter, realizing that the Overseer is actually talking to Jungkook. Well, it seems more accurate that they’re laughing and talking shit about you. Anger bubbles up in you and you stalk forward, digging the holocron from your pack as you go.

Slamming it on the desk between the two, they both startle, turning to look at you. You stare at Jungkook. “Your holocron, Overseer.”

“There’s no way-”

You wheel on the Overseer, expression hard. “Would you like to go see the corpses?”

He looks taken aback, quickly averting his gaze from yours to carefully take the holocron from you. He turns it over a few times before nodding. He looks apologetically to Jungkook.

“Congratulations. You’ve passed. We can continue on to less time consuming trials.”

You beam, turning back to Jungkook. “How lucky for me, hm?”

The rest of your trials go well and, in just a week, you’re back on the ship, headed back to Dromund Kaas, much to Jungkook’s absolute displeasure. The more of your trials that you passed, the more irritated you could see him getting. You take an incredibly long shower once on the ship, accessing the damage still prevalent on your body. After seeing a medic, you’re not as torn up as you had been. But there’s still some slight bruising and minor scratches you can see.

The shower does wonders to revitalize you after your trials, as does the knowledge that you’re on your way back to see Namjoon and you can present your findings to him, hopefully with Jungkook in the vicinity. You don’t spend any time with Jungkook on this trip, choosing instead to stay in the small bedroom, and he seems putout that he has to come find you so you can both leave.

Once you arrive on Dromund Kaas, Jungkook leads you to the Academy and towards the Artificer in the basement. There, you take great delight in learning and helping craft your two new sabers, happily clipping them to your belt once finished. You make note to come back here to learn more from the Artificer because this seems like an interesting skill to take up.

Jungkook rolls his eyes when he sees you have two sabers strapped to your belt. “Really? Need a backup just in case you fumble?”

You glare at him. “Hey rockhead, plenty of accomplished sith have used two sabers. At least it’s not a double sided one.” You smirk as your gaze drifts to his own saber resting on his hip. “Those aren’t even that useful in combat.”

You walk off before he can respond. You have absolutely no idea where you’re going, but you’ll be damned if you let Jungkook get the last word. If you really need help, you can always just ask someone to point you in the direction of Namjoon’s office. You hear the thud of boots and then Jungkook is beside you, gently directing you towards a lift. It doesn’t take you long to reach the office and Jungkook is quick to knock once reaching the door.

Hearing a soft ‘enter,’ Jungkook presses the door controls and they swish open before you. Namjoon doesn’t look up when you enter, deeply engrossed in reading something on a datapad before him. He only looks up when neither of you say anything for a stretch of time. He smiles and you’re a little dumbfounded to see his dimples again and that they make him look absolutely adorable without a sinister red light shining on his face, words you would definitely never mention to his face.

“Little one, you’ve returned.” His eyes trail slowly across your figure, taking in your new clothes and he pauses at your sabers, grin becoming impossibly wider. “I see you’ve passed. As I knew you would. I assume everything went well then?”

You go to speak but Jungkook cuts you off as he shoulders past you. “It went just great.” He grumbles, moving to stand beside Namjoon’s desk and faces you, a scowl firmly on his face.

You scowl back before turning back to beam at Namjoon. “I did. I seemed to impress a lot of people.” You step up to the desk, lifting your bag to rest on the edge as you quickly dig through it. “I had to make a small detour due to a sandstorm during my trial in the valley. But,” you give a smile of triumph as you pull the dagger, scrolls, and amulet from your bag and present them proudly to Namjoon, “it seemed to work in my favor. I found these.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen as he looks at the items in your hands. Jungkook looks just as surprised to see that you found something you hadn’t mentioned before now. Namjoon takes them from you, carefully inspecting each of them, his face inscrutable.

“What useless garbage.” Jungkook looks up at you as he takes a step, reaching out and roughly grabbing your arm. “How dare you waste Namjoon’s time like this, you ungrateful little-”

“Jungkook, enough. Let her go.” Namjoon cuts in.

Jungkook stares at him in bewilderment, grip tightening around your arm. “You can’t be serious, master. She’s just wasting your time with some useless trash that she thinks will get her into your good graces. You can’t-”

Namjoon’s hands slam on the table as he stands, startling both you and Jungkook. He looks far more imposing when he draws himself up to his full height. “I said that was enough, Jungkook. I believe it is for me to decide whether the items are of worth or not, not yours.” His gaze hardens the longer Jungkook continues to hold your arm until finally he rips his hand away from you. You definitely don’t envy him for being on the receiving end of that look. “You may leave now, Jungkook. You have training in the morning. I will send you the instructions later.”

Jungkook stands there, mouth open for a moment before he snaps it shut with a growl. He throws one last hateful look at you before storming out of the room. Silence descends on the room and you begin to nervously fidget the longer it stretches. Maybe you shouldn’t have brought anything back. It probably wasn’t anything that important.

Namjoon sits back down in his chair with a small sigh. “I’m sorry about him, little one. I don’t know what’s gotten into him, he’s usually much friendlier.” He looks up at you with a smile. “But we can deal with that later. I’d rather focus on your accomplishments right now. Not only did you complete your trials, which are incredibly difficult for even acolytes that have trained for it their whole lives, but you managed to find something extra.” His eyes twinkle with mischief. “And you snuck them out of the Valley rather than turning them in.”

He looks over the items again, much more at ease now that Jungkook has left. “Where did you find them?”

“I’m not sure. The tomb looked more recent than the one I went into for my trial and it seemed like whatever of importance was there had already been taken. I took shelter there from a sandstorm and while waiting I found a secret door and these were behind it in a plain chest.”

He purses his lips, carefully inspecting each of the items before setting them down on his desk. “I’ll have to take some time to carefully go over these, but they certainly seem like they’ll be fascinating to study. I’m quite proud.”

You feel yourself flush at the praise.

He stands and motions for you to follow as he leaves his office. “Now, I’ve gotten a place set up for you, it’s next to Jungkook’s and in the same building as mine, just on a lower floor. I can take you there so that you can get settled in before we start on your training in earnest. But first,” he grins as he steps out of the academy, arm wrapping around your shoulders. “I believe we should go celebrate such an accomplishment, don’t you think?”

#bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #magicshopnet #ficswithluv #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #jungkook x reader #namkook x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jungkook fanfic #star wars au

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pradaksj · 4 years ago

Text

7 Rings | 02

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ genre: richboy!taehyung | blackmailer!reader | infiltration au | future smut | angst.

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 9,990+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, usage of alcohol (legal)

♛ (please read) author’s note: This chapter basically goes back in time to the day in which Y/N finds out about her mother, but instead we now get a glimpse of tae’s life so there is not much y/n in this chapter !! Just to let y’all know so you don’t get confused :)

♛ summary: In desperate need of money, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, garner some money and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em.❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Kim Taehyung stared at the coffee shop’s mounted TV as he waited in line to order, feeling as if it was already too early to be stressed out. The weary feeling of 4 hours of sleep was beginning to manifest itself, irritation slowly beginning to take its form. Honestly, it was a feeling he found himself feeling quite often these days. In a few years, the responsibility of a billion dollar empire would be under his hands, something he wasn’t exactly looking forward to. The images of his dad shaking hands with Hyundai’s CEO appearing on the TV, the man was basically hailed a hero. Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

One could say his relationship with his father was not only distant but … complicated. As Taehyung grew up watching his dad’s empire become almost unstoppable, it also meant that he was always away from home. Though for the most part, Taehyung didn’t mind. His mother was everything a child could ask for, compassionate, hard-working, and never failing to provide her almost endless unconditional love for the young boy.

When he was younger though, his father seemed like an unattainable hero, an inspiration, and at some point it was a relationship he longed for. He often felt guilty whenever he’d hear kids in his school mention not having a father figure in their lives, either due to tragedy or other unspecified reasons. He was lucky enough to have his father in his life … so then why didn’t it ever feel like it ? Not like he had a right to complain.

Without his father he wouldn’t have grown up in the world of luxuries as he was fortunately able to. You see, there was a reason why Kim Enterprises was plastered all over Seoul (if not all of Korea), and that was because they were the IT company. A multi-conglomerate holding company who owned stakes in almost every major company from South Korea that you could possibly think of. Their rise in power was truly undeniable.

The company had been founded just a couple of years before Taehyung had been born, originally starting off as an insurance company which had done small investments in prospect companies, slowly rising in their investment and stakeholder shares. At least that was the story Taehyung’s father told him growing up, never failing to remind him that he came from nothing, and for that reason Taehyung should be nothing but grateful, stating that because of him he’d never know what it was like to feel the stigma of being poor in his own home and the powerlessness that comes with it. And you see Taehyung had absolutely no problem with that because well… it was true, and there was no denying that. What bothered him though, was that those speeches never seemed to come out of a place of genuinity, but one of animosity. As if to remind Taehyung that without his father he was, is, and would’ve been nothing.

To a certain extent he respected his father, but he didn’t love him. There was no genuine relationship there, and he knows it may sound horrible to say, but Taehyung most definitely had his reasons. But some things were just simply better left unsaid.

“Hello? Next in line,” a voice (an annoyed one at that) interrupted his thoughts, as he failed to realize that the cashier had been calling out for him for who knows how long. Though he didn’t take her harsh attitude to heart, if anything sympathizing with her and what he assumed was a stressful job, and it wasn’t like he was making it any easier by being a slow-poke.

“Welcome to Seoul’s Magnificent Mocha, what can I get for you this morning?” she asked once he had made his way up front to the cashier counter. Taking off his sunglasses, he couldn’t but want to laugh at how quick her facial expression had changed. It was the face that people made when they recognized him. It was amazing what a simple baseball cap and some shades could do, he hadn’t even worn his black face mask this time. “Y-You—” she began to stutter her words, instead slowly pointing at the TV. He gave her a small smile along with a small nod as a way of confirming what she was trying to say.

“That would be me,” he smiled, “Can I get an iced Americano and um a,” he paused trying to remember what Namjoon had wanted, “strawberry iced tea. Both medium please,” he finished off the order clearly sounding very uncertain.

“It’s g-going to b-be um,” the poor girl was so nervous she couldn’t even tell him his total without stuttering, “15,000 Won,” He proceeded in handing her a 50,000 note.

“You can keep the change,” he winked at her before putting his sunglasses back on and politely dismissing himself towards the waiting area, quietly laughing at how quickly she facepalmed herself when he was out of her line of sight.

Taehyung always did have a special charm on people, plus he was good looking, and he knew it. He didn’t have any special talents, nothing he could actually proudly boast about. It would be dense of him not to acknowledge that the only reason he was so famous was because of both his status and looks.

There were many people who swooned over him such as the cashier, but there were also many who believed he was still the same old spoiled brat who was nothing but a troublemaker from four years ago. It didn’t help that gossip blogs were still using the same clips from years ago when he really was nothing but a troublemaker who liked flashing his expensive cars for the paparazzi, and purposely kept a high profile. He had been naive, nothing but an eighteen year old teenager who thought fame was better than anything else in the entire world. Four years later, now at the age of twenty-two, and he had long learned that fame was horrible. But he had changed and that’s all that mattered, right? A complete 180, if you will.

Those people didn’t know him, so what made them think they had the right to judge him? To act as if they’d do things any better if they were in his position. The only Kim Taehyung they ever knew was the one they’d seen through a screen. He remembered the first time his name had made its way on the headline of gossip blogs and the comments that came with it.

[Kim Taehyung, son of Kim Jeong spotted out having a wild night out in Hongdae. Pictures leaked from last night with some steamy footage. Click here for more.]

[+3,623, -59] he better pray he doesn’t catch any STD’s while he’s at it ㅋㅋㅋ wouldn’t be surprised if he already has some

[+3,100, -100] i feel bad for his dad, he expects someone like this to run the fortune he’s worked so hard for??? he’s so young as well…

[+2,547, -57] leave him alone and respect his privacy

[+2,100, -23] ah he’s so cute!! whoever was dancing with him is one lucky lady!

[+1,022, -34] a brat like that doesn’t deserve the things he has

That night had only been the beginning to years of nothing but front covering gossip magazines and having his privacy invaded on a daily basis. People became invested in what he was doing with his personal life, his friends, who he was seeing, what he was wearing, and anything else you could possibly think of. He often wondered why, but he assumed it was the same reason as to why people continue to give someone like Kim Kardashian attention despite claiming to hate her. Because people want a glimpse of a world that isn’t their own, simply fascinated by the rich. That and their obsession for scandal only adds fuel to the fire.

With fame came pressure though, pressure to uphold an image for the family company, one his father fairly cared about these days. Hell, nowadays his dad gave him more attention than he ever did as a child, all because he knew that Taehyung was and is the future for Kim Enterprises. It was his father’s pressure that led to his current relationship with— ah speak of the devil.

[From: Sunhi]

[9:10AM] I know you see my texts.

[9:11AM] why are you ignoring me???

[9:12AM] hello???

“Taehyung! Your Iced Americano and strawberry iced tea is ready!” Taehyung rolled his eyes as he glanced through the several number of text messages, instead locking his phone and going up to grab the drinks.

Sunhi was the granddaughter of Hyundai’s CEO and had long been in the picture as early as Taehyung could remember. The two went to the same middle and high school, a one sided crush on her side forming at some point. It wasn’t until about a year ago after returning, that his father had basically forced him to take her out on a date citing that it was in his words, “good for business”. And well today the “good for business” approach had its results, the confirmation of a multibillion dollar deal.

The media loved the two together, hell, they were even labelled as Seoul's next generation’s power couple. Their names amassing a fortune worth billions behind them, their good looks garnering both of them ambassador deals, all in the meanwhile social media was the backbone of the phenomenon that was their so called “relationship”. Not that Taehyung considered it much of one, in his opinion it had stopped being an actual relationship a long time ago.

It wasn’t that Taehyung hated Sunhi, in fact in the beginning of their relationship he was smitten for her, but it wasn’t long until the spark burned out. “Wasn’t long” meaning a couple of weeks in and she actually turned out to be the real definition of a brat, the actual real-life manifestation of Blair Waldorf. Constant up and downs with her had quickly worn him out, and the constant badgering from the media only made things worse. But that doesn't mean he hated her, in order for him to hate her he’d actually have to care about her, and well in all honesty… he didn’t.

Sometimes he’d ask himself why he was still with her considering the deal had long been confirmed even before today. Taehyung had been free to do what he’d like for a long time, meaning there had never been a need for him to have kept this going for so long, he just did. One must ask, why?

Maybe it was because he knew she was the safest option, the person everyone expected and wanted him to be with. Breaking up with her right now would only further his stress, something he definitely didn’t need more of. Plus she knew him from the surface, and he knew her from the surface, and maybe that was just enough. He didn’t need, or want, anything more than that from her or anyone else for that matter. Sunhi was just enough.

It wasn’t like she was using him for anything, especially considering she already has everything. But by being with her, he was satisfying others, he was becoming the person everyone wanted him to be, the person he always should’ve been.

Hell, who knows, maybe he could truly fall in love with her one day … though in the back of his mind he knew the answer to that.

“Took you long enough,” Namjoon complained as he turned on the ignition of the car. He glanced at the drinks in Taehyung's hands, dramatically sighing at the sight, “and you somehow still ended up ordering the wrong drink for me,” he sighed, grabbing the drink from Taehyung’s hands nonetheless.

“My bad, I had forgotten in the moment…” he shot an apologetic smile towards his newly dyed platinum-haired friend.

Namjoon was the son of another one of Seoul’s elite, but also Taehyung’s right hand man. The two had met during their freshman year of high school, but funnily enough the two originally hated one another. Now looking back at it, Taehyung could admit that the two had acted extremely childish over a girl who’d end up picking neither of them, but that was a story to tell for another day.

Luckily Namjoon seemed to enjoy the drink, no longer complaining about it during the ride to Lotte World Mall. The two needed to go buy some new suits for tonight's event in celebration of the brand new deal between Kim Enterprises and Hyundai. The paparazzi were definitely going to be there and with all eyes on him, Taehyung decided that he might as well look good.

Friday Evening.

By the time Taehyung had returned to his place, he was both drained and exhausted, the idea of taking a nap and ditching the event seeming all too tempting. Namjoon this morning had felt the need to visit almost every high end store he could think of and try on the most useless things including scarves, gloves, and a whole bunch of other things. Basically going back and forth all across the mall whenever he’d regret not buying something.

He carried his bags upstairs to his room, ready to plop onto his bed and take a well deserved nap, but of course as always the universe seemed to work against him.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” he silently cursed to himself, asking himself why he thought it was a good idea to give Sunhi access to his penthouse. “Of course you went shopping without me, and to think I wanted to color coordinate,” she puckered her lips attempting to give him a small kiss on the lips, but before she could Taehyung had turned his cheek causing her to almost entirely miss.

She quickly composed herself acting as if that didn’t just happen, instead beginning to rummage through his bags, complimenting the things he chose while he just laid in bed slowly taking in deep breaths trying not to snap at her for coming unannounced. “So what exactly is that you came here for Sunhi…” he mumbled, failing to hide his annoyance.

She pouted, “Well you weren’t answering my texts, and I wanted to know whether you’d be going tonight…” she began to give him small pecks on his face, hoping that he’d show some kind of affection.

“I am, I am. I’m just really tired right now and in desperate need of a nap,” he responded, ignoring her obvious attempts to initiate things. His eyelids were half way closed, clearly ready to knock out at any second.

“Oh well I’ll just stay—”

“No, no. Just go back home, get ready, and I’ll see you over there okay?” his voice was much harsher this time, turning to face the other direction of his bed which was no longer facing her, a cold gesture on his part.

Sunhi sat there for a moment, feeling a mixture of both anger and disappointment. She wanted to say something, but instead crossed her arms, and let out a huff of air in response. Taking one last look at him before getting up from his bed and walking herself out. The same old feeling of being unwanted creeping into her mind, a feeling she knew all too well.

Friday Night.

By the time he had arrived, Taehyung thought that the paparazzi would’ve grown impatient waiting for him and end up leaving, but as per usual he was completely wrong. If anything, him being late had only caused them to triple in numbers. Those men really had no shame, their camera flashes penetrating through the Mercedes Benz’s tinted windows.

“You let me know when you’re ready Mr. Kim,” his security guard said. Taehyung took a deep breath, fixing his YSL brooch before nodding to him, letting him know that he was ready. He was quickly greeted with a stammering number of questions.

“Where’s Sunhi?”

“Over here! Over here!”

“How’s your night been?”

Taehyung tried to not make any faces, knowing that even the slightest lift of the brow would be taken out of context, and that by tomorrow morning there’d be a whole bunch of rumors trending on Twitter. The only thing was that the paparazzi always knew how to push his buttons whether it was shouting something rude, roughly grabbing at him, and etc.

At this point he just needed a drink to relax and take his mind off of these low life men who had nothing else better to do than to try and make a quick buck off his name.

“Finally! Took you long enough,” he heard, quickly spotting Namjoon the moment he entered the venue, wondering if he had been waiting up front for him the whole time.

“You didn’t have to wait for me you know? And plus it’s not my fault you had me running circles around the mall,” Taehyung said causing Namjoon to scoff in response, “Has he given his speech?” the “he” Taehyung was referring to was his father.

“I honestly don’t know,” Namjoon shrugged, who like Taehyung, never did like these kinds of events as they always had him wanting to knock out halfway through, the only thing he really did appreciate was the food they served.

The two walked towards the bar which caught their attention much more than the cathedral-inspired venue, deciding that a drink was necessary to kick the night off right.

“Two gin and tonics please,” the bartender nodded, beginning to prepare their drinks. Taehyung watched the bartender pour gin into his jigger, curious as to how someone could memorize the recipes for so many drinks. “How many years does it take for one to learn the ways of bartending?” he asked the brown-haired man, an attempt to strike conversation.

“Ah well a simple gin and tonic is something every bartender should know like it’s the back of their hand,” the man chuckled, “but if you’re talking about something like hmm,” he paused for a moment, “something like a bloody mary perhaps.”

A bloody mary? Isn’t that just vodka with some tomato juice?

“It’s much more than that,” the bartender laughed at Taehyung who was slightly taken aback, not realizing that he must’ve said what he was thinking aloud. “Though those are the two the main ingredients, it includes salt, pepper, hot sauce, garlic, herbs,” Taehyung was now genuinely curious as to where the bartender was going with this, “It covers the entire range of the human palate from sweet, salty, sour, unami, and savory but you have to make sure it doesn’t taste bitter.”

He continued talking as he poured the tonic water onto the frosted drinking glasses, “A little too much of one ingredient or a little too less and the whole drink goes to waste. You have to find a balance,” he emphasized the last part, almost as if this went beyond drinks, “Someone who wants a bloody mary is someone who definitely knows what they’re looking for,” he concludes his sermon-like speech, intensely staring at Taehyung. Namjoon looked at the man like he was crazy, who the hell overanalyzes a drink to this extent? Taehyung on the other had a look of fascination on his face, instead returning the stare.

“Well … cheers!,” Namjoon breaks the tense silence by raising his drink, momentarily being left hung dry until soon enough Taehyung lifted his drink up as well, the two of them clinking their glasses before chugging the bittersweet drink down their throats.

“Ah there he is!” Taehyung turned around, watching as his father made his way towards him, right alongside Sunhi’s parents. The two gave each other an awkward hug, “You better have a good damn reason for being so late,” his father harshly whispered into his ear before pulling back, the famous fake grin that Taehyung had grown to hate still plastered onto his face. The man was an expert at saving face, like father like son.

Taehyung remained silent instead politely greeting Sunhi’s parents before watching the trio as they made their way to greet other guests.

“I’m going to need a second drink,” he exasperated, causing Namjoon to let out a laugh. The bartender nodded, immediately beginning to prepare their drinks.

“I’m surprised Sunhi hasn’t gotten her claws on you yet, I could’ve sworn she was here earlier,” Namjoon mentioned causing Taehyung to shrug, his expression now dulled at the mention of her.

“I feel bad, I sorta snapped at her earlier, but she kept on nagging me, wouldn’t let me sleep in peace. I blame you,” he said, commenting on the situation earlier.

“Hey I’m not the one whose forcing you to be with her,” Namjoon remarked, causing Taehyung to shoot him a glare, his eyebrows now furrowed.

Instead he changed the topic, accustomed to Namjoon’s dismay of the relationship, “I just want to go home and sleep,” Taehyung yawned, the event was boring him more and more by the minute.

“Same he—” Namjoon suddenly stopped mid sentence, something more “important” now having caught his eye.

“You’re practically drooling, you do realize that right?” Taehyung deadpanned, glancing at the girl who had caught his friend’s eye. She was pretty, he wasn’t going to lie, but she seemed like someone who was quite stuck up to be honest. But he assumed that about everyone around here as it takes one to know one. “So are you going to just stand here and stare like a creep or …”

“You don’t mind me leaving you here?” Namjoon’s voice sounded a little too excited. Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, he wasn’t the type of person who couldn’t stand being alone. In fact, he enjoyed his own company sometimes, he had actually read somewhere that it was quite important for one’s own mental health.

“I think I need to go find Sunhi either way, or else she’ll be nagging me the whole night as to why I didn’t find her sooner, that and apologize for earlier,” Namjoon nodded, lightly patting on his shoulder before making his way to the woman who had caught his eye, trying his best not to gawk so much.

“Now where could she be…” Taehyung mumbled to himself, having now left the bar and instead walking around the venue, making a half-assed attempt at looking for his girlfriend.

Taehyung could feel his legs swaying left to right, the lack of balance he had was probably laughable to anyone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t drunk, at least that’s what he was telling himself. The way the world was spinning told him otherwise. In all honesty he had only asked for a couple more drinks after the second one, but nonetheless he always was a lightweight drinker to begin with. His bladder felt as if it was going to burst at any moment so instead of Sunhi being his top priority, going to the restroom now was.

He looked around, the signs on the doors now looking slightly blurry. He grabbed the handle to what looked like could be the men’s restroom harshly pushing the door open.

Everything happens for a reason… right?

“Oh my God, It’s not what it looks like,” Because what were the chances that he caught her right in the act, with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung had seen this situation play out in so many movies and TV shows, whereas the boyfriend usually destroys everything in his way and immediately begins to throw punches at the lover, and yada yada yada. But for some odd reason all Taehyung could do was stand there and watch as she hurriedly tried placing her bra back on.

He couldn’t help but actually want to … laugh. Really, because what were the chances? What were the chances that instead of walking into what he thought was a restroom, he instead walked in on his girlfriend and Seoul’s biggest man-whore about to fuck in a janitor’s closet.

He glanced at Jungkook who had nothing but a giant smirk plastered on his face, not even bothering to put his shirt back on.

Taehyung gathered his thoughts… What was he supposed to do again?

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing left for Kim Taehyung to do, but to turn around and walk away. And so that’s what he did, drowning out her pleads for him to stay, a small smile gracing his lips. He was finally free.

Namjoon must’ve left early because once Taehyung had returned back to the bar, he was nowhere to be found. He decided it was just best to leave before Sunhi could find him and start begging him to hear her out. After texting his security guard to meet him out front, he asked for a bottle of water and attempted at fully sobering up before he’d have to face several rapidly flashing lights in his face.

Did it end up actually helping? Fuck no. God, why did they have to park his Mercedes so far away. It was as if no matter how many steps he felt like he was taking, he was no closer to where he wanted to be.

“Smile for the camera man, come on!” The rapid flashes of light caused Taehyung to stumble his footsteps worse than before, the responses he gave to the multiple questions being thrown at him coming out more like mumbles and slurs. He knew that deep inside his brain was sending him signals on what to do, whether his body was listening was another story.

“Watch where you’re going man! Momma’s boy can’t handle his liq—” one of the paparazzo shouted at him while grabbing at his arm, and maybe it had been cause he was drunk, maybe because he was simply just tired, but in an instant Taehyung had felt his fist collide with the man’s face throwing everyone and everything into a frenzy. The questions and comments now coming out of their mouths at a lightning speed, some were cursing him out, others were pretending to praise him at an attempt to get him to say something, but none of it mattered because by the time he got into the car it was too late to take any of it back, and soon enough everything had gone black.

Saturday Evening.

The hangover the next day was literal hell, Taehyung felt as if the inner surface of his skull was practically being thrashed upon, his eyesight struggling to cope with the rays of daylight that directly shone on his eyes. Not only that, but his mouth had felt so dry, however having to get up for water seemed like so much work to do considering how much his back was aching.

It was like the flu except it had been self-inflicted. He attempted to raise his heavy eyelids all in one go, just for them to immediately fall shut. He could feel the constant vibrating notifications from his phone, choosing to ignore it altogether as he figured it was probably Sunhi sending him several text messages. Even if it wasn’t her, he was too lazy to even stretch his arm out and disconnect his phone. Maybe he could sleep it off, he thought to himself, curling himself back under his thick duvet.

How was it that he was barely 22 and already facing the repercussions of intense hangovers when just a couple of years ago he could drink all night long and wake up the next day hangover free. It was as if with each passing year it just got worse, no wonder so many older folks didn’t get drunk anymore, they had learnt it the hard way.

And just as he was about to fall asleep, of course his stomach had to both lurch and gurgle like some kind of trapped animal. He groaned, swinging his feet around in bed like a kid who had just been told “no”. Sadly, he was going to have to force himself to get up and so he did.

Once on his feet, he immediately felt the room sway almost causing him to lose balance until he managed to grab onto his bedstead in order to keep himself standing. He yawned and stretched out his entire body, lowkey loving the sound of his bones cracking. Time to start a new day.

After brushing up, he began to prepare himself something quick to eat fearing that his stomach was going to lash out on him any moment and so he decided to make some scrambled eggs. Quick and easy. Right?

Wrong.

The rare occasions that Taehyung did cook were always 50/50, as in there was half a chance whatever he cooked would come out either decent or completely under/over cooked. The boy practically lived off of takeout, restaurants, and microwaveable food, but at this current moment he needed food and quickly at that. Today his eggs had come out slightly undercooked with some of the yolk still a little slimy, but it was edible nonetheless.

As he ate he was genuinely surprised at the fact that Sunhi didn’t ambush his home this morning, causing him to set a reminder on his phone to remove her fingerprint off of his security system as soon as possible. He scrolled through her long thread of texts that consisted of her going back and forth between apologizing, begging, and guilt tripping him, only causing him to roll his eyes and sigh.

[Incoming Facetime from: Namjoon 🐨]

Taehyung quirked his brow before clicking “accept”.

“Weren’t you the one who scolded me about facetiming without sending a warning text,” he laughed, it wasn’t like he was lying.

“Ah I know, I know, but I felt sorta bad for just leaving last night without saying goodbye, but a man has his needs,” Namjoon now sported a giant grin on his face, probably recalling last night’s events, “and well I thought you’d be in bed hungover, in need of a wake up call,” he joked only causing Taehyung to flash him the middle finger through the screen.

“Well I’m up,” Taehyung wondered if Namjoon knew, maybe Sunhi had told him or something. He quickly scratched the idea as he knew Sunhi was the type of person to try and keep everything under wraps … but Jeon Jungkook was not.

Jeon Jungkook.

Remember the small mention of Namjoon and Taehyung fighting over the affections of a girl only for her to end up choosing someone else. That someone else was none other than Jeon Jungkook, one of Upper Seoul’s biggest man-whores, if not the biggest man whore. If Sunhi was actually someone Taehyung loved, he probably would’ve punched that stupid smirk off of Jungkook’s face last night, but luckily he didn’t have to. Did Jungkook have it out for Taehyung? It was unclear to be honest. This definitely wasn’t the first time Jungkook has attempted at sabotaging him despite Taehyung clearly showing he could care less.

In fact the two before yesterday’s incident had actually been mutual acquaintances being in the same “circle” and all. That circle being the sons of the multi million/billionares of Seoul which included names such as Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin. Namjoon in particular was good friends with Seokjin, who in return was very close with Jungkook. Seokjin and Namjoon both being the “neutral” bridge between the two. So Taehyung wasn’t going to be surprised if Seokjin had in fact informed Namjoon of yesterday’s dilemma. It had been Seokjin who told Namjoon of Jungkook’s actions of the past such as leaking Taehyung’s location to paparazzi on a number of occasions, stealing brand deals under Taehyung’s nose, and many other things.

“So…”

“I know that you know,” Taehyung chuckled out, causing Namjoon to let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh great, I was really not looking forward to beating around the bush and forcing it out of you,” he laughed, “well it looks like you got what you wanted.”

Taehyung’s nose crinkled in confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on!—” Namjoon’s mouth curved into his famous dimpled smile, obviously trying (but failing) to repress his laugh, “Don’t act like you’re not the happiest man on Earth right now! You’ve probably been praying for something like this to happen for forever,” Taehyung’s face went sour, “You’ve needed an excuse to break up with Sunhi without you ending up being the bad guy for so long, and that’s why you probably haven’t even shedded a single tear since you found out,” he insisted causing Taehyung to let out a bitter scoff , mumbling a silent “That’s not true.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Tae—” suddenly the sound of something abruptly falling grabbed Namjoon’s attention, “Moni! Put that down! Uh I gotta go, just text me later alright,” and with that he clicked, presumably to deal with his white feisty Eskimo.

Taehyung glanced at the clock which read 3:25PM, a small nap wouldn’t hurt right?

Sunday Morning.

So much for a “small nap”. Despite him having slept the whole Saturday off, Taehyung had woken up very early and in a good mood, ready to have himself a productive day.

He made himself breakfast that even a 5 year old could make: avocado toast with different slices of fruit and a simple protein shake. While letting his breakfast settle down in his stomach, he began to do his pre-workout stretch, with his goal in mind for today’s run being at least 6 miles.

After he was done stretching, he went down to the lobby making sure to politely greet his “neighbors”. They were the same people who kept tabs on him and sold him out to the press every chance they got, but not like he could lash out on them so instead he was forced to give them fake smiles along with stiff waves.

During his morning run, Taehyung took into appreciation of the crisp morning air which was both cold and dry. The view of the river brought him a sense of relaxation and before he knew it, he was done with his workout.

“What a beautiful day,” he had thought to himself as he walked back to his penthouse’s building, ready to take a much needed shower, but of course he should’ve known she was going to ambush him at some point because there she was, sitting in the building’s lobby.

Once she spotted him she immediately got up from the couch. He tried to quickly outpace her and get into the elevator, but she yanked on his hand preventing him from going any further.

“Stop avoiding me… please,” she sounded distraught which confused him. She certainly didn’t look distraught when she was getting her neck sucked on by Jungkook.

“Can we do this,” he pushed her hand off, “some other time. You’re gonna make a scene,” he scolded her. The two of them were in the middle of the lobby, and even though there seemed to be no one around, he could never be too sure.

“No because it seems this is the only way I could get your attention,” she muttered , “especially considering you removed my access,” causing him to let out a stifled laugh.

“Well that’s what someone does when they’re significant other hmm I don’t know cheats on them,” his voice emphasized the last words.

“I didn’t,” she quickly lowered her voice once she realized she had shouted that part out, “cheat on you,” she mumbled. “I was about to, but I didn’t,” she dramatically waved her finger at him.

“Yeah because I walked in on you?” he wondered if she knew how stupid she sounded.

“Well maybe if you showed me some affection every once in a while I wouldn’t have resorted to such acts!” What the two hadn't realized was that there was someone in the lobby quietly hiding behind a pillar, secretly recording the interaction between the two.

“Sunhi,” he ran his hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, “can you just leave me alone? There is no fixing this, especially since this,” he made a motion with his fingers pointing to the both of them, “has been broken for a very long time.” And with the final word, he turned around and walked away, not bothering to look at her face which had now fallen from expression.

Sunday Night.

“Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” was what the Twitter article headlined their argument, and of course the link provided the video of the whole thing.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:10] you really can be an ass [link to video]

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:11] how!!

[10:11] i just told her the truth, at the end of the day no one can tell me that I was in the wrong 🤷🏻‍♂️

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:12] you’d be surprised with what knetz have to say…

[10:13] them and the media are going crazy over you unfollowing her

Taehyung scoffed while unplugging his phone and rolling to the other side of bed now that his phone was at 100%.

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:14] yea well idc.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:15] well at least ur out the relationship, that’s all that matters right 😬

[10:16] looks like ur back on the market … we all know how crazy that can get

Taehyung could feel himself become stiff at the last text. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he was overthinking it too much…

He was a different person now, he reassured himself. Before he could dwell on it any further he decided that it was best to just go to sleep.

Monday Afternoon.

The next day Taehyung continued with his routine of making a somewhat decent breakfast, and running his daily number of miles, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t be ambushed like the morning prior. Luckily he wasn’t.

The sensation of steamy water hitting his body was calming to him, the shower was very much needed. Trying not to get so lost in his thoughts, he began to sing the random songs that first came to mind. He’d been told by Namjoon on multiple occasions that his singing was good, but Taehyung at this current moment was just glad he lived alone. Namjoon, or anyone for that matter, would probably make fun of him for the song he was um … rapping.

“Ain't got enough money to pay me respect. Ain't no budget when I'm on the set. If I like it, then that's what I get!” his sudden motions almost made him slip, but luckily he had caught himself just in time, “yeah,” he finished off the lyric despite his near death experience.

It was once he got out the shower that he was in for a surprise.

“7 Rings… really?” Taehyung’s towel almost fell from his waist because of his jump in surprise. Thankfully he had held onto it before it could completely fall. “I didn’t take you to be such an Ariana Grande fan,” Taehyung rolled his eyes to the teasing Namjoon.

“It’s the song of the summer for your information,” he interjected, “And how the hell did you even get up here?”

“Hmm I don’t know maybe because you practically forced me to get my fingerprint and memorize your code so that I would,” Namjoon mimicked quote signs with his fingers, “stop bugging you when I could open the door myself,” causing Taehyung’s stern face to quickly become one of dumbfoundeness.

“Oh…”

“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some food,” he playfully sighed before making his way out of Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung quickly lotioned his body, put on his overnight hair products, and threw on a baggy sweater along with some black sweatpants, assuming that Namjoon hopefully wasn’t going to try and drag him to go outside. He had a long week ahead of him which included photoshoots, interviews, meetings, and overall promotion for this brand new deal considering he currently served as the “face” to his family’s business.

“Wow making japchae, who put you in a good mood?” Taehyung laughed as he peeped over Namjoon’s shoulder, catching a whiff of the food he was making causing Namjoon to flash his dimpled smile at him.

“Well I have a date in a couple of weeks and so I’ve been practicing every chance I get,” he admitted catching Taehyung by surprise, “and before you ask, yes it’s the girl from the event on Friday.”

Taehyung tried to subdue his shock, “If I’m being honest I thought she was kind of a…” he contemplated his next choice of words, “um…”

“A one night stand,” Namjoon completed the sentence, a look of understanding on his face. “Well if I’m being honest I thought the same thing,” he cheeks reddened, “but she actually ended up being really sweet, and well I really li—”

“Okay I think I’m done hearing your little sap story that you haven’t even started,” he pretends to yawn, causing Namjoon to flash his middle finger at him which only makes him laugh, “Sorry I’m not a hopeless romantic like you.”

Namjoon scoffed as he stirred the noodles around, “So what? Deep down you know you’re one as well.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Why are you here again?” Namjoon flashed his middle finger again now causing Taehyung to laugh even harder than the first time.

“You sure know how to be rude sometimes,” Namjoon was now serving the japchae onto some plates, “and I’m here because one, I was bored, and two, because I was wondering if you were going to Thursday’s brunch,” the look on Taehyung’s face gave Namjoon the answer he was looking for.

“I completely forgot about that…”

“Why am I not surprised,” Namjoon sighed while giving Taehyung his plate of food.

“It’s always the same old place, same old routine, and most importantly the same old people,” he made sure to emphasize that last part, “you’re telling me you don’t get bored?”

“I do, but look what happened last time, I met someone new!” Namjoon bragged, only resulting in Taehyung rolling his eyes once again. “You’re like the grinch, but for love I swear,” Namjoon groaned, mentally taking note that the pleasant look on Taehyung’s face meant he had done a good job at making japchae. As long as he followed the exact amount of ingredients and steps as he did today then his date would go along just fine.

Taehyung slurped the final remaining bits of food on his plate before responding to Namjoon, “I’m fresh out of a relationship Joon, let me enjoy being single for the time being.”

“In the media’s eyes you’re fresh out of a relationship, but you and I both know that you’ve been single for a very long time,” Taehyung stayed silent at Namjoon’s words, a sudden pang of guilt now hitting him as he recalled what he had told Sunhi in the lobby that past Saturday. Did Taehyung see Namjoon’s point? Yes, of course he did. Did it feel good hearing it? No, it didn’t.

“Well um guess what, she cheated on me. I remained faithful, which honestly,” he scoffed in between his words, “was the least I could do. So stop trying to paint me as some big villain,” he sneered.

“All I’m saying is that the Taehyung I know would have never even gotten into that relationship to begin with,” Namjoon silently muttered to himself, a dismissive look on his face, causing Taehyung to let out a sardonic laugh. As if Namjoon was a better person than he was?

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, “You know I’m getting real tired of your little sly comments, as if i’m not going to catch on at some point, if you have something to say then grow some balls and say it,” Taehyung's voice echoed across the kitchen walls. Taehyung’s heart was practically pounding out of his chest, his jaw now completely clenched, glaring at Namjoon. The light atmosphere in the room had become stiff in the blink of an eye.

One would think that Namjoon would be shocked, maybe even angry at Taehyung’s outburst, but all he did was stare back, seeming completely unfazed, a pot that had been bubbling for quite some time between the two finally bubbling over. Withheld opinions, finally lashed out, “I’ll just never understand why you couldn’t break up with her from the moment your dad didn’t need you to date her anymore, or why you even got with her in the first place. All you did was waste her time and let her convince herself that she was in love with you knowing damn well you’ve never felt anything from day one. I mean even now she thinks there’s something worth saving,” he cursed, his voice now elevated up several notches, “And it’s the fact that you see nothing wrong with it that makes me sick!”

Taehyung’s face immediately fell, hurt by his friend’s words, but it didn’t stop Namjoon from continuing on, “I mean the Taehyung I knew would’ve never in a million years agreed to do something like this for anyone,” disappointment evident in his voice, “let alone for your dad,” he spat. “It just,” he pauses, “It just isn’t like you Taehyung. None of this is.”

Taehyung could feel his tough demeanor crumble, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so stop acting like you do,” he scowled.

“It’s just funny to me, years ago you’d talk about becoming nothing like your dad, but nowadays it looks like I’m looking at his clone,” Namjoon muttered, “You’ve changed Taehyung. You may joke around with me here and there, but I can tell you’re always holding back. You leave for a whole year to God knows where, and come back a completely different person, acting like your dad’s very own fucking puppet. You’ve closed yourself off. Like, like you’re mad at the world or something, or I don’t know—”

“And what, you want the old reckless Taehyung back?! The one who destroyed everything in his fucking path! Is that what the fuck you want?” his voice boomed, but even Namjoon could see it was merely a facade, the mixture of both guilt and sadness seeping through the cracks of his voice.

“Of course not! But the Taehyung standing in front of me is no better than the one before. You may not be as reckless as you used to be, but you’re definitely just as careless,” Namjoon condemned him, “And so then I think about everything and all I could ask myself is why? Why don’t you find something or someone, you genuinely love, something that makes you happy, not your dad, not the media, YOU.”

“Because I just don’t want to Joon…” Taehyung looked away, ashamed to make eye contact, his voice had now become a mere whisper.

“And all I can think about is if it has something to do with —” Namjoon could see Taehyung physically tense up, “Taehyung what the hell happened that night?” he pleaded desperately.

“Just don’t Joon,” and with that Namjoon knew that even he was pushing the boundaries, deciding that it was best to just keep quiet, “I came back didn’t I? ” he harshly spat.

There was a pregnant pause, “I’m sorry,” Namjoon apologized, but was only met with silence. Taehyung got up from the kitchen chair, and placed his dish into the sink, harshly passing by Namjoon.

“Make sure you lock the door on your way out,” he muttered, before making his way upstairs into his room, leaving Namjoon standing in the kitchen by himself.

Monday Night.

And so that night, Taehyung stared up at his ceiling thinking about what Namjoon had told him. He was hurt by his friend’s words, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand where he was coming from …

But it wasn’t like Taehyung was a cold hearted person, or at least he’d like to think he wasn’t. Behind it all, he was still the same kind and polite person he’d always been. He was just more mature nowadays, finally growing up like he should’ve years ago. It was simply for the best.

So then why did he feel so wrong?

He felt conflicted, he felt guilt, but honestly he had been feeling guilty long before he got into a relationship with Sunhi. Maybe it was that same guilt he’s felt eating him alive for the past several years that’s made him close himself off to others. It was the same guilt that led to disappearing one night and not coming back until about a year later.

Feeling overwhelmed, he decided to get up from bed, and stepped onto his balcony just wanting to just look at the stars before going to bed. Tonight they had seemed to be shining extra bright, he attempted at counting each one, losing count mid way.

He couldn’t help but reminisce about his childhood, when he and his mom would go camping at Noeul Campground at least once a year, and oh how the stars would shine like never before. The two of them making a game of who could come up with the best figurines using the stars. It was nights like these that he truly did miss her, but he knew she was watching over him. Forever and always.

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while, I hope you’re not mad. I know it’s no excuse, but time nowadays just goes by so fast and well I’m coming to a point in life where I feel like I have nothing figured out. Like as if I’m not truly satisfied, and not truly well … happy. I just feel lost, Ma. I thought coming back here, I could put the facade that I was fine but,” he lets out a deep breath,”I’m just not. God I wish you were here, you’d know exactly what to say right now,” he could feel the warm droplets of water falling from his face, not bothering to wipe them off. “I’m so sorry Ma,” were his final words before stepping back inside, a peaceful slumber waiting for him in bed.

Thursday Morning.

“Ah now this is what I’ve been looking forward to,” Namjoon grinned as politely grabbed the mimosa from the bartender’s hand. Taehyung made a motion with his hand once Namjoon offered him his cup, instead leaning against the bar watching as guests made their way in and out of the venue.

Taehyung and Namjoon had made up in the days prior, Taehyung sending a “btw the japchae was too sweet 🤭” text message, as a way of telling Namjoon that all was forgiven. Taehyung in return, reflected on Namjoon’s words, deciding that he was right, something needed to change.

“This place, it’s …” Namjoon expected a complaint out of Taehyung’s mouth, “really pretty,” he finished off, genuinely surprising Namjoon.

The venue resembled some kind of greenhouse, the arrangement of dangling flowers and potted plants, along with the rays of natural sunlight peeking through the glass exterior, and the minimalist design in seat arrangement truly was a work of art. The air itself felt crisp and fresh, he assumed it was because of the mixture of the plants’ scent along with the air ventilators.

“Wow, look who's in a good mood,” Namjoon teased him, Taehyung flashing him a small smile. Despite it only being 9 o'clock in the morning, he was glad he came. It was a brand new day, and he felt optimistic that things were going to start looking up for him.

“Ah well, let’s just enjoy it while it lasts,” he responded clearly joking around, “Let’s just say I thought about everything you said, and well I just want to start fresh. No more getting pressured into things, and being so tense about everything all the time, just me going with the flow,” Namjoon quirked his eyebrow, genuinely interested in what Taehyung had to say, “Whatever happens…” he pauses, “happens,” he finishes off, a grin now on his face.

As the brunch event went on, Taehyung continued to observe people, examining what they wore, the way they spoke, how they acted, as it usually told him a lot about a person.

“I’ll take a bloody mary, light on the vodka please,” Taehyung’s ears perked up at what he heard, a bloody mary? This early in the morning? He remembered the bartender’s words from a couple of days ago.

He tried to glance at the figure who was only a couple of feet away from him, sitting in one of the many empty seats aligned at the bar. He tried using his peripheral vision to try and make out a face, but sadly whoever this was, the angle that they were sitting along with their honey colored straw hat helped cover most of their face. The only thing he could see was that whoever it was, was a female and clearly a reckless one as a bloody mary was most likely going to result in an embarrassing stain.

He wondered if she was new around here, the way she was sitting clearly told him that she probably was. You see there were almost unspoken rules in the upper class, methods on doing things, and a high regard for appearance and well her posture wasn’t exactly… the best, and the blatant disregard for the all white dress code made him curious as to who she was. Like there was some kind of pull that made him feel the need to go up to her. She seemed … different.

“And you wanted to come at me for gawking last time! You can’t even see her face from here,” Namjoon’s undeniably loud voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um any fucking louder and I’m sure the whole place will hear you,” Taehyung face was flushed, hoping the woman didn’t hear. Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“Hm …” Namjoon stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before a mischievous look appeared on his face, “Hey well since you’re so keen about going with flow,” he mimicked Taehyung’s word’s from earlier, “how about you go get her number and see where things go from there,” he winked.

Taehyung quickly shook his head, garnering a laugh out of Namjoon. “Since when has Kim Taehyung been too scared to ask for someone’s number,” he teased, “Come on you know you want to, I’ll even go find something else to do just in case she rejects you, I won’t be there to see it.”

He contemplated going up to her, what if she was just another Upper Seoul brat? Worse, what if Namjoon was right and she just completely shrugged him off? No, no one shrugged Kim Taehyung off. Namjoon's grin became wider once he saw Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow, and a determined look appearing on his face.

And so with that he decided he’d go up to her, maybe try and make some small talk. It wouldn't hurt , right? At least he wouldn’t be as bored as he was now. Slowly he made his way over to the seat next to her, trying not to look so much like a creep.

“I’ll take a mimosa please,” he ordered, the bartender nodded, “So you’re not scared of spilling your drink?” Taehyung quickly noticed how tense the woman became from his question, her posture going from relaxed to completely stiff. It wasn’t until she turned to face him that Taehyung felt taken back, his heart now pounding out of his chest, and the feeling of nervousness hitting him like a wave. As cliche as he thought it sounded, she was completely mesmerizing.

“Oh uh well,” she stuttered her words out bringing him a sense of comfort that he wasn’t the only nervous one,“um,” she was looking anywhere but his eyes, “No not really, I tend to be careful with things like this,” she explained now fidgeting with her fingers.

Maybe it had been bad luck, but a couple of seconds later Taehyung suddenly now had red tomato juice mixed with vodka plastered all over his shirt. “Oh my God! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed.

Several guests were now staring at the scene in front of them, the unknown girl now had a look of horror on her face, but instead of being upset all Taehyung could do was genuinely laugh. “I really didn’t mean to do that, oh my—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured her, slowly pushing her hand away which was uselessly blotting his white buttoned up shirt with a napkin.

“No it’s not, I really didn’t mean to do that, I just—” her face was as red as the spilled drink itself, her words coming out completely jumbled almost as if she was talking more to herself than him.

“And I’m telling you it’s okay,” he insisted, “I think you’ve done the most interesting thing around here in a very long time,” he then stuck his hand out, “I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself, giving her a small smile along the way.

It felt like she was staring at him for an eternity with nothing but a doe-eyed look on her face, and he wondered what was going through her head. Was he really that intimidating? With several thoughts running through his head, the feeling of regret now creeped onto the back of his mind, maybe he shouldn’t have ever come up to her. What was he thinking? This was practically all his fault.

His panic came into a halt once he felt the touch of her hand now moving along with his, “I’m Y/N.”

🧚🏻 a/n: here we goooo! finally kicking things off hehe, things should defiantly move faster from this point on, I just felt like it was important for me to establish both y/n and Taehyung’s personality, background, and all that good stuff before diving into the basis of the whole story. feel free to send me any theories, comments, asks, etc ! I shall update very soon.

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kitkatopinions · 4 years ago

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I know alot of people thought this volume was Weiss time to shine but her contribution has been marginal at best. Now she's in the same situation as Blake and Yang then their arcs were ended in volume 5. This means when can we expect her to be shipped with someone and be mostly useless?

The way that Weiss was benched this season and the way her seasons-long story was just glossed over is confusing and frustrating. I was really looking forward to seeing Weiss not only interacting with her family in meaningful ways, but seeing her - the Atlas born and raised girl who’s used to how everything works there - not considering things as big of a deal as the others, being something of a celebrity, coming up with solutions only an Atlas born person might know, her having a full arc with her brother Whitley, her interacting with her team more and relying on them for strength instead of being mostly a support character. Instead, Weiss’s arc with her family not only is resolved like it’s easy, and Weiss doesn’t have to grow at all to get it, but it also barely involves Weiss’s friends at all. Also was Weiss treated like a celebrity? Or recognized by the people of Atlas or Mantle? As the very public singer-celebrity daughter of Jacques Schnee? And also, Weiss has spent the past volume acting like Ruby’s sidekick, barely doing more than throwing in some quips and taking four minutes or so to talk to her brother, and then the rest of her story in volume eight is just, being an extra fighter, making the appropriate faces when the creators want us to be shocked or sad or smug. Her last thread with Whitley and Willow has been tied off in a very unsatisfying and weird way...

And oh gosh, you’re right, this sounds really familiar.

Caution, this post isn’t super kind to B//umbleby or the characterization of Blake in particular. Bees I’m sorry if this shows up in your tags, I tried my best and used filterable tags. This is all just my personal opinion.

As soon as Blake’s arc, which was tied up in the problematic White Fang/Faunus racism plot was mostly solved in volume five, the quality of her character started going down, but there was still something there for her until they killed her abuser, and then her whole character was more or less stripped away and she was left hinting at her past in awkward dialogue, doing nothing but emoting in the proper way, occasionally patting Ruby or the others on the back, and being one half of a non-developed ship. Blake has had two moments in the past two seasons that seem to even somewhat include real fleshed out character, and that’s when she decided to trust Robyn, convincing Yang to go along with it, and now showing anger because Neo ‘killed’ Yang. Both of these are framed - and taken by the fans - as ‘bees moments’ though, so it’s still all tied up in her romance.

Now we’ve had some of the same sort of thing for Weiss. Her arc was also tied up in the problematic White Fang/Faunus racism plot (considering her family’s history that Weiss was originally trying to ‘reclaim’ despite her own racism never being fully called out and addressed in a meaningful way.) Once Weiss had broken away from her abusive father and thus at least somewhat solved her arc by volume five, then her quality of character started going down in volume six, and then she had a couple moments with her family in volumes seven and eight - although again, solved in fairly unsatisfying ways. Outside of only a couple of semi significant scenes in the Atlas arc, Weiss has been regulated to emoting in the proper ways, occasionally patting Ruby or the others on the back, and being an extra fighter in the group.

It is possible that she’s going to get some kind of romance and then kind of just... Fall into the same kind of stuck position as Blake and Yang - CRWBY won’t commit to them enough to give real confirmation or make them grow their relationship in significant ways, which means that in order to get across that their is a relationship, they keep the two mostly together, have them seem to revolve around each other and care about each other more than anyone else, and diminishing the connections the other characters have with both people in order to make Blake and Yang’s connection seem clearer. To be completely fair to CRWBY, Yang has been allowed to branch out and have real and natural interactions both with villains (taking on Salem, protesting Emerald’s involvement) and teammates (arguing with Ren, talking with Jaune, acting like Ruby is her close little sister again!) This season, Yang has started to act like her own character again, but Blake hasn’t been allowed much growth. I’d say Weiss would more likely to wind up in the ‘Blake’ position than the ‘Yang’ position as far as being allowed to grow, especially because we’re already seeing her character start to kind of falter now that they’ve tied up her arc in a messy bow, and especially if she wound up with Ruby or Jaune, who I think are the most likely romantic partners for Weiss at this time. But there’s also the possibility of them starting to force a relationship between her and literally anyone else, including any of the three boys waiting in Vacuo, or Emerald, or Marrow.

As a quick note, please keep in mind that this is all speculation for fun and it really might not amount to anything. It would be kind of funny and frustrating both if CRWBY repeated how they’ve done Blake with Weiss, but it’s possible that they’re going to give Weiss a more significant arc and growth in season nine, put more focus on her relationship with Whitley and Willow once things cool down a little after all of season eight was equal parts ‘a crisis mode’ and a ‘sit around and wait for the plot to come around’ storyline. This post is kind of running on in length pretty badly, but here are a couple of ways I think Weiss could really shine next arc.

1. Have her and Yang trapped in the void together without Ruby and Blake. I’ve talked before about how Ruby’s ‘protagonist’ framing swallows up her friend group before, and how Blake and Yang’s relationship tends to swallow up one or both of them, as well as other characters having to be a bit more diminished to try and make bee moments more significant, and I think splitting up the team between Weiss and Yang, and Blake and Ruby could make Weiss grow more significantly and have her and Yang interact meaningfully again (which we haven’t gotten since season five.) In an ideal situation, I’d personally throw Jaune into the mix as well, since I’ve started to enjoy both the concept of him and Yang as friends and the concept of him and Weiss as friends. I think it’d really speak to Weiss’s character and show growth if she made the choice to go in after Yang, since Ruby is needed more in the world immediately (because of her Silver Eyes,) Penny is needed too (because of her Maiden powers) and Blake is needed at least somewhat (since she’s the one with the connections to the reformed Faunus group and Ghira and Ilia and all.) This could add a layer to angst, with Weiss proclaiming herself the least important, but also make Weiss’s character seem much more selfless, as she’s willing to risk her life and is willing to risk being alone in the Void herself even though her whole thing is loneliness, in order to save Yang. Jaune then surprising everyone by going with Weiss, and having an emotional moment where Ruby and Blake realize they have to trust Weiss and Jaune to do this and try and force themselves to still fight and work while they wait and panic and worry... That’s some good stuff! Of course, that would unfortunately bench Weiss’s relationships with her family, but I’d still be very happy with this outcome.

2. Have Weiss go on to Vacuo and not go after Yang, but be the one to rally the people, help them all to the city, deal with Theodore, etc. If Blake and Ruby went after Yang, or Blake, Ruby, and Jaune went after Yang, or just Ruby and Jaune, I think there could be some interest there. Not quite so much for the Void Team, but for the Left Behind Team. Having Weiss have to deal with being thrown into a leadership position when she’s not a leader at heart would be really interesting. Having her trying to hold it together and not let any grief, worry, or panic take her over so she can focus on her mission would be really interesting. We could have at least one member of Team RWBY facing the consequences of their actions and taking the brunt of it, while defending their choices and trying to find a place for millions of refugees. Once again, this could play into Weiss’s themes about loneliness, and Weiss could maybe even wind up resenting her team for leaving her and knowing it’s unfair and knowing they did what they had to do, but it would still create tension when they come back. And this sort of arc could also really push and flesh out her relationship and interactions with Whitley. There’s a lot that CRWBY could do with their relationship in this sort of scenario, but I would love it if Weiss’s themes of loneliness played a part in the early episodes of the volume, with her kind of secluding herself because she doesn’t have her friends and she thinks she’s alone, but then getting closer and closer to Whitley and realizing that she’s not alone, because she has her little brother who she loves. Idk, I just think it could be really good and sweet.

So... Yeah. Those are the ways I think Weiss’s character could grow and be fleshed out. Currently, I’m not happy with how she’s been, but there’s still hope for her. However, I will laugh so hard if she gets some romance and starts being one half of a pairing. XD

#rwde #anti rwby #rwby hate #rwby bashing #anti-bumbleby #anti bb #anti bumbleby #anti bumblebee #I'm trying really hard to make sure this doesn't wind up on the bb tags #anti blake belladonna #anti blake x yang #rwby criticism

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moscnios · 4 years ago

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LET ME IN ━ﾞ

⁺◟ CHARACTERS . . . kujo jotaro fem!reader holly ‘ joseph ‘ suzi q ‘ jolyne mentions of the crusaders

⁺◟ GENRE . . . angst fluff oneshot

⁺◟ SYNOPSIS . . . 1989 was a scary year for jotaro. from the threat of his mother dying to going all the way to egypt to fight a vampire who took over his great great grandfather’s body. when coming back to japan, he finds out about, ( y/n ), the principal’s daughter’s who had brought his work home and took care of his mother while he was gone. after getting to know her, he does something he has never done before, let someone in and tell them how he’s feeling.

⁺◟ TRIGGER WARNINGS . . . mentions of death ‘ mental illness ptsd ‘ depression

⁺◟ WORD COUNT . . . 4.7k.

⁺◟ COMMENTARY . . . i originally didn’t plan for this to be this long. i have NEVER written so many words. oh wow.

Tap...tap...tap, the bamboo well sounded to the right of a young schoolgirl dressed a purple uniform, the ascot on her uniform being dark blue with a small mermaid tail on one the sides that her mother had stitched into it to make the young woman stand out, despite her will to never stand out.

School had let out a few hours ago, and she, ( y/n ) was tasked with heading to the Kujo household to give Jotaro his homework for the past few weeks.

The tall, muscular delinquent had pretty much disappeared from their school. He just up and left, without a word. Leaving his grades and fanclub to somewhat suffer, which was where ( y/n ) came in.

One of the top and most well behaved students at their school, trusted by the admiration. She was known for her good girl status across the campus. But she was fairly timid, quiet and, very reserved. If she spent half as much time as she did focusing on her work, she would have more friends than she did.

But what could you expect from her? It was expected of her. Her father was the school’s principal, while her mother was a college professor. She was expected to be smart and top of her class. Anything lower than that would be unacceptable. It was stressed to her from a young age from both of her parents as well as the rest of her family, as they had high expectations for her future, hoping she would become a doctor or a lawyer, even if she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life after high school at this point.

Now the principal’s daughter stood in front of the luxurious Kujo home, coming just from school, holding a large vanilla folder full of worksheets, handwritten notes from her very own journal that she copied onto her own loose-leaf paper because she ran out of printer paper at home and she was too scared to ask her mother for more, and many more papers that served as guides that would help Jotaro with all of his homework and studies since he wasn’t in class for the lessons.

She didn’t want to be here. She barely even knew the guy, only having any a handful of encounters with him.

He was her lab partner for a physics project once, but the two never talked after that. They had barely talked during the project. She tried to introduce herself and he blew her off, wanting to do the project alone. But he came around in the end, helping her but he wasn’t in school the day the two had to present as he was rumored to have been arrested the night before for beating a group of thugs to a pulp.

She always felt weird around him, like she was unwanted and she understood, trying to stay out of his hair often the project but at the discretion of her father, once again here she was having to meet the cold individual because he didn’t trust anyone else to do it.

In his own words: “You two are classmates. I’m sure he’ll be happier to get his work from a classmate rather than a teacher. And you’re one of the only students who doesn’t fangirl around him.”

Right, his fangirls who were both envious and angry at ( y/n ) for getting the chance to go to Jotaro’s home and give him his homework. It’s not like she wanted to do it anyways.

The property was quite gorgeous, and quiet. In a way, too quiet. She crossed the wooden bridge, walking to the home. She felt nervousness fill in her chest, as her heart began to race. She clung on tightly to the vanilla folder, as she approached the door.

Now face to face with the door, she knocked slightly, hoping and praying no one would answer the door, but she was wrong.

A sickly-looking fair headed woman with the prettiest blue-green eyes. Her skin was as pale as paper and beads of sweat decorated her forehead. She looked not only sick but in pain.

“A-Are you okay?” The young girl asked with a look of concern washing over her face.

The fair headed woman gave her a weak smile, “Y-Yes. I’m just a little tired. Luckily, I was already heading to the door when you came. C-Come in...”

“B-But I haven’t introduced myself ye―” She began, stopping midsentence as she watched the older woman’s eyes roll to the back of her head, as her body gave out from under her.

“MRS. KUJO!” She dropped the folder, quickly grabbing Holly before she could reach the ground. Her weak arms barely being able to hold the woman up. She quickly recovered herself, wrapping one of Holly’s arms around her shoulders and leading her over to a futon that sat in the middle of the floor and placing her down gently, “Easy does it.”

Holly opened her eyes, reaching up for her head, “What...what happened?”

“You passed out at the door, Mrs. Kujo, and I caught you before you fell. You only blacked out for a minute.” She placed the back of her hand to Holly’s forehead, feeling the extreme warmth, “You’re burning up. Have you seen a doctor? Do you need me to call an ambulance.”

“N-No! I’ll be okay...please don’t worry about me.”

“It’s kind of hard not to. You fainted at the door. And you’re here with a high fever all alone. Is Jotaro here with you? Is that why he hasn’t been coming to school?”

Holly eyed the girl up and down, noticing her school uniform, “Oh...you must be one of Jotaro’s classmates. He’s not here now and he won’t be here for a while. Did...did you come here to bring his work to him?”

“Yes, is that...is that okay?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want my boy to get behind on his school work.”

The girl lowered her head slightly, “I...I brought extensive notes for him as well, so he could understand the lesson despite not being there for it. If he needs more help, I’d be very happy to help him.”

“What’s your name?”

“( l/n ) ( y/n ), why?”

“Because I wanted to put a name to your face and so I can tell Jotaro who brought his work when he comes back,” Holly said with a smile. For a sickly woman, she sure did smile a lot. She struggled to sit up.

“M-Mrs, Kujo! You should lay down so you don’t hurt yourself,” ( y/n ) warned the woman, putting a hand on the woman’s shoulder gently. Holly laid back down, letting a pained whimper.

“I...I should go. I’ll pick up the notes and worksheets and I’ll leave them on the table for Jotaro.”

Holly took ( y/n )’s hand into her soft one, putting her free hand on top of their joint hands, “Could you do one thing for me before you go?”

“Of course, anything.”

“Could you make me shogayu? I could really go for some.”

The young girl nodded, “Of course. It will only be a second.”

And she did just that, making the older woman shogayu. The best damn shogayu she ever made all for the mother of one of her classmates because it made her feel warm on the inside watching Holly smile.

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Before ( y/n ) knew it, the sun was beginning to set and the moon was beginning to rise. She had gotten lost in conversation with the fair headed woman. It was the best type of conversation to have, one where you could talk about just about anything.

Holly had told embarrassing childhood tales of Jotaro, even some from her own childhood. Even at one point, ( y/n ) had opened up to Holly about her struggle with her own family and she listened. No one had ever listened to her before, at least not like Holly did. Here she felt like she was her own person and not the daughter of her parents.

Much to her dismay, she had to go home. But she made sure that wasn’t the last time she had met Holly.

Many more days after that, she returned to the home to check on her, each day she had gotten worse and it had scared her. She had made a new friend who was getting worse and worse by the day. She watched as random men from some unknown foundation came in and hooked her to IVs and many other machines to keep her breathing.

Seeing Holly like this, broke her. There she sat, on her knees in front of Holly’s futon, the sound of beeping from the machine and sniffles filled the now silent room. She had been since school had let out, her backpack was tossed across the room as she ran to Holly’s side to keep her company. Even if she was out cold, she still wanted to be there for her when she woke up. She held onto her hand, just like the first night she met the hair headed woman, how Holly held onto her hand, as she softly sang Japanese lullabies her own mother sang to her when she was sick.

The last few days were the worst, being told that Holly was on the verge of death and she didn’t understand why. She was told nothing. What was killing her? Why was she dying? Why were all these people from this organization here? What was going on?

She didn’t understand. Not even when a much older woman had walked in, claiming to be Holly’s mother. ( y/n ) didn’t talk much, only worrying about Holly’s condition. She had cried over someone else’s mother than she had over anything else. She had never experienced loss and she was afraid to.

Not only was the thought of losing a friend and mother figure on her mind, but the scary reality that Jotaro could be gone and his mother could die without even getting to tell him that she loves him one last time.

But her thoughts had disappeared one day.

It started out just like any day. After the dismissal bell had sounded through every room of the school, the girl rushed to grab her things, shoving them into her backpack and practically running out of the school and to the Kujo home.

Just as she reached the bridge, she halted. Standing on the other side was the tall stoic boy.

Jotaro was back.

There he stood in all his glory. He wore a purple tank top, his arm wrapped in a cast, a sling around his neck to hold it up. His upper arms on either side were decorated in red and purple bruises and elastic bandages. Even without his jacket on, she still recognized those bright blue eyes of his. That is of course without paying attention to his hat.

He noticed the panic and sadness in her eyes. But it wasn’t because she pitied him. He knew why she was here. She was here to check on his mother. He had become aware of her visits to his home from his grandmother, Suzi Q, who even told him, “there were even nights where she didn’t leave and slept over, but she always made sure to leave early in the morning so her family wouldn’t go out looking for her”.

To know that she cared for his mother so much, to come every day after school, it surprised him. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, it warmed his heart. And he knew that that was exactly reason she stood on the other side of the bridge right now, to see if Holly had made it.

He stepped to the side, giving her a clear walkway. He shoved his one hand into the pocket of his pants, looking away from her, “She hasn’t stopped talking about you since she woke up. She’ll be happy to see you.”

( y/n )’s ears peered up at the mention of ‘her’. She knew there was only one person he could be talking about. A look of glee replaced her look of panic and sadness, as she ran across the bridge right into his arms, hugging him gently, careful not to hurt his arm.

“Get off,” He said coldly, returning to the boy she knew. She did as he said, running toward the large home, calling out to Holly who met her halfway, pulling her in for a tight hug.

Dinner was fun that night, Holly inviting ( y/n ) to stay and take a seat between her and Jotaro. Holly quickly introduced the young girl to Joseph who had thanked her profusely for taking care and keeping his only baby girl company for as long as she did.

Jotaro had struggled slightly with his meal, the young girl had offered to help. Even after he declined a few times, she still helped him. And he watched her. Not in angry or annoyance, but in admiration and astonishment. From what he had recalled about his minimal encounters principal’s daughter, he wasn’t very nice to her. But here she was, in his home, trying to help him eat. And for the first time in a long time, he let go and allowed her to help him.

In the following weeks, she helped him get back on track with his studies, taking things slowly as he still injured and often would zone out when she was talking.

Unsure whether to ask him or not, she had asked his grandfather Joseph and she learned the truth or at least part of the truth. Her inability to see Stands had made it hard for the old man to explain some parts of what had happened to not only Jotaro but him and a friend they made along the way to Egypt.

She learned of the deaths of three.

Avdol.

Iggy.

Kakyoin.

All friends of Jotaro’s. Dead. Gone. Never coming back. He can never see them again. Never talk to them, never tell them how they made him feel. Joseph was mumbling on about survivor’s guilt when it hit her. He wasn’t only hurting physically but mentally as well. It was all too much for a 17-year-old to handle, let alone an adult! But yet here he was, trying to push onto the next day. Acting tough, like nothing ever happened.

She knew it was wrong to just bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it with her. I mean who was she? Just a classmate of his. She wasn’t a friend. She wasn’t family. She was just a classmate who helped him on the side to help get his grades back up.

But she couldn’t lie and pretend she didn’t know, especially when the death of his three friends was beginning to affect his grades again. And so she told him.

“Jotaro...if you ever need someone to talk to...about anything...anything at all...I’m here for you and I will always be here for you. And I hope you know that.”

Though he didn’t say anything that day, he took her words and held onto them.

Weeks had passed since then and they were now about to graduate. She was top of the class, followed closely behind by Jotaro, who was only a point behind her.

Just by pure coincidence, the two had gotten accepted into the same university in America. He was going into marine biology, and she, law. According to Holly, it was somehow fate trying to tell her something but she blew it off and prepared for her great big move to America which would be happening soon.

During the night, on her last week in Japan, there was a light tapping at her window, waking her up. It was Jotaro at her window. She opened the window, asking him if something was wrong. Not only was it pitch black outside and probably past midnight, but he had never done this before.

But her questions were answered when she looked into his eyes, not seeing that tall, stoic man, but a sensitive young man who has been through a lot. He opened his mouth and reminded her of her own words, “( y/n ), do you remember you said I could talk to you about anything?”

“Of course I do, Jojo.”

“Are...are you available to talk right now?”

How was she going to say now? She allowed the man to climb into her bedroom, closing the window behind him. And he told her everything, from start to finish, beginning to end.

He told her about his Stand, Star Platinum, and the first time it had appeared. He told her of seeing Star’s true potential and when he learned of what a Stand really was. He told her of the friends he made along the way, the friends he had lost at the very end before coming home. He even told her why he left and why Holly was sick.

The man was sobbing by the end of it. She, not knowing how else to comfort him, pulled him in for a hug, allowing him to let out and thanking him for trusting her with such information. Though he found himself embarrassed for crying in front of her, she tried to let him know that it was okay to cry sometimes.

“Thank you, Jojo.”

“For what?”

“Letting me inside, letting me comfort you, letting me hold you.”

But that was all in 1989.

It was now 1999.

Ten years had past and the two were still inseparable.

Well, almost.

The now much older woman let out an annoyed whine, as she leaned against the side of the brown desk. She placed both of her hands onto the surface of the desk before scooting up onto it, much to the dismay of the man sitting next to her who was concentrated on a stack of papers in front of him.

“Jojo, I finally get some time between cases and you head off to leave us again?”

“I don’t particularly want to. Joseph wants me to.”

( y/n ) folded her arms across her chest, letting out a huff, “I forgot. Joseph’s illegitimate son is all the new rave. I know Grandma Suzi is taking it rough. I wonder how Mom is taking it.”

“I’m not sure and I don’t think I want to know right now. I’m only going to Morioh to investigate. I’ll be back before you know it,” He added, his eyes still scanning over the papers in front of him.

She rolled her eyes, “You always say that. You and this Stand stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever understand and I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. You could have married a girl with a Stand.”

“But I didn’t. You’re the perfect one for me.”

He had proposed a year and a half into their relationship, the pair getting married at the young age of 20. He had married his best friend and the woman who listened to him. A year later the pair welcomed their first and only child, Jolyne, Holly being the one who picked out her name.

Even at a young age, she had developed Jotaro’s personality and a modified version of his catchphrase, which annoyed her mother, hoping she would at least develop something from her.

In reality, she did. She developed ( y/n )’s annoyance toward Jotaro’s frequent absence. Oh, and her eyes.

The man took his wife’s left hand into his own, looking down at her wedding band and diamond engagement ring. She always wore both. Why just wear one when both were gorgeous? He continued, “I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Stand or not, you’re the only woman I want. Not for your looks, even though you’re the most beautiful woman alive. Not for your talents, even though you’re the most talented woman I know. Hell not even for your job, even though you’re the best damn lawyer on the face of this Earth. I love you because of your personality, because you’re my rock, you’re the woman who I trust my life with.”

“You’re only getting soft on me because you know you’re going to be gone for a while, don’t you?” The woman questioned, trying not to swoon over his words. It had worked many times before but now this time. They had been married for eight years now. She knew him inside and out.

He was smart enough not to answer, kissing her knuckles.

“You’re unbelievable, Jojo. But you flatter me. Do you really trust me with your life? Even if I don’t have a Stand?”

“You’re the only one I will ever trust. You said it yourself back when we were teenagers. That night when I came to your door, I let you inside. I let you comfort me. I let you hold me. And I don’t think I could ever do that with another person, let alone another woman,” He answered truthfully, pulling his wife of eight years from his desk, onto his lap.

( y/n ) giggled, “You’re still my stoic romantic. I love you, Jojo.”

“I love you too, ( y/n ).”

The woman wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate, loving kiss. He kissed back, wasting little time, wrapping one strong arm around her waist, pulling her as close as he could get. His strong chest had collided with hers, their fragrances intermixing with one another to create a new one, love.

He could feel her warmth, and she could feel his. It wasn’t often he would let her kiss him like this. It was always a simple peck on the cheek or sometimes on the lips.

She missed this. She missed her husband.

In marrying him, she knew he wasn’t the most affectionate man, so when he was affectionate, she didn’t waste a single touch, a single hug, a single kiss. She had always waited for it. And when it came, it had always made her giddy like a little child, this moment they shared in his office.

Interrupting their kiss, a small ‘yuck’ sounded from a crack in the door. Jotaro had pulled away from your lips, an audible whine leaving her lips. Jotaro looked toward the track in the door, seeing their daughter peeping at the two of them with a look of disgust.

Seeing as now she was caught, Jolyne’s eyes widened before she rubbed her eyes and opening the door. She faked a yawn, stepping into the office, “Mommy, I had a bad dream―”

“Jolyne, no need to lie. We both know you were standing right there the entire time. No one else is in the house but the three of us.”

The young girl, put her small hands behind her back, “Maybe...maybe there’s someone else in the house.”

( y/n ) raised an eyebrow, “Someone else in the house? Like a monster.” A small devilish grin appeared on her face. There was something about that grin that made set a flame inside of him. He knew what she was doing and decided to play along.

Jotaro hummed, “There might be a monster in the house. I remember seeing it on the way to work just when I stopped in Jolyne’s room to kiss her forehead before I left. He was in the closet.”

Jolyne’s eyes widened once more at the mention of a monster being in her closet. She stood frozen, as parents continued to relish over seeing some kind of monster. Her mother continued, “I think that was a different one. The one I saw was under her bed. It had long skinny hands with razor-sharp claws. It even asked me if it could eat her and I said―”

Before she could finish, Jolyne ran into her parents, pulling them both in for a tight hug as she sobbed, “MOMMY! DADDY! PLEASE DON’T LET THEM GET ME! I WON’T SPY ANYMORE! I WON’T BE BAD! PLEASE! DON’T LET THEM GET ME!”

“J-Jojo. There are no monsters. We were just messing with you. Daddy killed all the monsters,” ( y/n ) explained, trying to soothe the now sobbing Jolyne.

Jolyne sniffled, “Really?”

Jotaro kissed his daughter’s head, “Yes, I did. No monsters will ever get to you. I promise. Monsters...they’re scary but we have to fight them sometimes and if I didn’t fight the monsters I did, I wouldn’t have met your mother and you wouldn’t be here. After fighting the real monsters, I fought monsters that were in my head.”

Jolyne gasped, listening to her father, “Monsters can get in your head?”

Her father nodded, “They get in there and they stay in there. They suck the life out of you and remind you of what went wrong.”

( y/n ) listened closely, watching as Jolyne had slowly retracted her arms, climbing into her mother’s lap. Jotaro reached up slightly, wiping away the tears that had fallen from Jolyne’s emerald green eyes, which reminded him of what used to be. He continued.

“And when monsters get in your head it’s hard to get them out. Sometimes...people don’t get them out.”

“What happens when the monsters don’t come out?”

“It depends. Sometimes that person, goes a while they move on to a better place,” He tried to explain, not wanting to explain the concept of death to the seven-year-old.

Jolyne blinked, “But they come back, right? They have family and friends so they can’t leave, right?”

( y/n ) looked to her husband, noticing the sudden change in his face. She knew this was a sensitive subject. Though he claimed to be over the death of his friends, she knew he wasn’t. You don’t just get over the death of someone close to you.

To this day, he often woke up in cold sweats from nightmares about his trip to Egypt, seeing his friends die before his eyes and not being able to do anything about it.

His most recent nightmare being one about his own wife and daughter become victims of DIO. Hearing their screams and cries had stuck in his mind and wouldn’t leave. He...he broke out into tears in his sleep. ( y/n ) had woken him up from nightmare, and he hugged her tighter than he ever hugged her before. He even brought a sleeping Jolyne into the master bedroom, so he could watch over the most two important women in his life.

( y/n ) opened her mouth to speak, but Jotaro was quicker, “Sometimes, they don’t come back and they can’t come back. But when you have the right people to talk to and you have someone at your side, they can get better. I got a little better because your mother helped me fight my mind monsters.”

Jolyne looked to her mother in amazement, her eyes sparkling in joy, “Mommy, can fight mind monsters?! That’s so cool!”

He nodded in agreement, “She is really cool. She’s very cool. And I’m so happy I met her and opened up to her. And it was all because of―”

“GRANDMA!” Jolyne interrupted him, holding her small fists in the air with stars in her eyes. ( y/n ) ruffled her daughter’s hair gently, kissing her cheek, “I’m going to go make dinner―”

“No need. I already made it,” Jotaro chimed.

“But you didn’t...”

“Yeah! I’m ready to eat!”

With the flash of light, the couple’s emerald-eyed daughter had bolted out of the office.

( y/n ) was suspicious, “You stopped time to make dinner, didn’t you?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. You’ll never know.”

She smiled at her husband, taking his hat off and putting it on her own head, “I’ll be taking this, Mr. Kujo.”

The man stood up from his chair, wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her into his broad chest once more. He took his hat back, before unraveling his arm, earning an eye roll from the woman, “You’re such a tease, Mr. Kujo.”

“And you’re a pain in the ass, Mrs. Kujo.”

“But you love it.”

“You’re damn right, I do.”

A now annoyed voice spoke from the door, “Yare yare dawa...CAN YOU TWO STOP KISSING AND COME EAT?! I CAN’T REACH THE PLATES!”

⁺◟ BACK TO NAVIGATION . . .

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