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smartkookiee · 3 days

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Wounds We Never Show // Ch.2 - jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader {she/they, afab} ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits, these two really do hate each other ❥chapter warnings/tags: SMUUUTTT (mdni), protected sex (stay safe kids), dry humping, cum eating??, fingering, so much kissing, doggy, really confused about their feelings fr, they still hate each other, yay Melanie and Namjoons wedding hehe, drinking, swearing, Jungkook continuing to be a little shit ❥word-count: 13.9k (I'm so sorry its another monster) ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

“So… is that a yes?”

“I-…” Your mouth was moving before your mind could, “Okay.”

Jungkook blinked, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if you had actually said “okay” or if he’d just imagined it. He looked completely caught off guard. Honestly, you couldn’t blame him. You were pretty shocked yourself.

The word still hung between you both, heavy with the weight of the sheer stupidity of what you’d just agreed to. You half-expected him to start laughing, for you to snap out of whatever spell had come over you and tell him to go to hell.

But no one moved. Neither of you even took a breath.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up, surprise etched across his face. Clearly, he’d expected you to kick his ass, maybe curse him out, not... this.

It felt bizarre. The longer you sat with the idea, though, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. Maybe it was because you’d already agreed to this ridiculous plan in your head before your mouth even caught up. Because, as much as you hated to admit it, this was probably going to work better than the endless cycle of arguments. But also, by agreeing to this, you were, by extension, agreeing with Taehyung’s dumb, immature logic.

So in this moment—yes—you were dumb.

You thought back to your last hookup. It had been... disappointing, to say the least. You wanted something better. Needed it, actually. But this? Jungkook? Not what you had in mind, exactly.

“Okay,” Jungkook finally broke the silence, rubbing the back of his neck as if he couldn’t believe you’d gone along with his idiotic suggestion. He was clearly thinking through how the hell he’d come to agree with Taehyung’s logic himself.

He’d spent years watching Taehyung bury his problems in a series of meaningless hookups, laughing it off as Taehyung’s way of handling things. But deep down, Jungkook envied it. Taehyung took life so casually, like nothing really mattered. Jungkook never had that luxury. Not in the last few years, at least.

“So, uh... do we, like, hold hands or something?” you asked, unable to stop the awkwardness from bubbling up. Because really, what else could you say? You couldn’t even figure out how to broach the subject of touching each other, let alone jumping straight to that.

It was like the two of you had never spoken before, it was strange.

“Seriously? Hold hands? What are we four?” Jungkook teased trying to cut the tension and you groaned.

“I don’t know! This is uncharted territory!” You move away from the building wall and start pacing back and forth, Jungkook just watching you.

You just stayed like this for a moment going back and forth. Maybe being a little like Taehyung is what he needed. This just wasn’t the way he expected it to end up, and least of all with you.

Jungkook wasn’t really the hook up type, let alone hook up at a wedding. Yet here you two were, playing out the most common wedding hookup cliche. The best man and the maid of honor.

You let out a long groan before you looked directly at him.

“This is a one time thing.” You say quicker than you can think. You needed to stop thinking, just do.

“Okay.” He was sure in his tone.

“Fine.”

A beat, for the first time ever you two were in full agreement. Jungkook decided that it needed to happen now or never before the two of you thought to much about it. He walked away from you, going to the door back into the hotel. He didn’t look back until he realized that you weren’t following.

“Well, are you coming?” He nodded his head in the direction inside the door.

“Oh we are doing this now?”

Then your feet were moving. Without a word, he held the door open for you and followed you inside. Without some protest, Jungkook grabbed onto your wrist, almost like he wanted some contact with you. Jungkook pulling the two of you into the nearest elevator, pressing a button to what you assumed was his floor.

And then the doors closed.

You both stood in silence for a moment, standing side by side. Jungkook then stood in front of you, the hand that was on your wrist made its way up your arm to your face.

“What are you doing?” You pulled back for a moment and your voice was a little shaky, flinching away from him. Old habits die hard.

Jungkook would never admit this to you but he was nervous. Maybe more nervous than you but he would bury that down for now.

“Oh you know, I was going to kiss you.” The words felt gross coming out of his mouth. Kissing you after all is the last thing he ever thought he would do.

“Oh.” You realized yeah, you probably should kiss. Maybe a good place to start. You were deep in thought before you realized how close you and Jungkook were. Bodies almost pressed against each other. “Yeah go ahead.”

The only sound was the hum of the elevator filling the space. It felt so silent as you looked between Jungkook's eyes. For a moment he hesitated but then decided to just go for it. Kissing you softly at first. He tasted like cigarettes, and it was a little overwhelming. Not as gross as you thought though. His hands had now found a place on your waste and pressed your whole body into his. Without you really thinking about it one of your arms had wrapped around his neck and the other was wrapped in his hair.

The two of you begging silently for another kiss.

It was the only thing you two did on the short ride, just kissed, dipping your toes into the shallow end of your possible mistake. The elevator rang, causing both of you to split apart as fast as you could. The feeling of your mouth weighing on Jungkook's mind.

A memory from college came to the front of your mind.

“What? I’m a pretty good kisser I’ll have you know. I have references.”

You don’t know why you remembered it now, all you could think was that: he wasn’t lying about that.

You both peered around the corners of the hallway, a silent understanding passing between you as you checked to make sure no one familiar was nearby. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft thud of your heart echoing in your ears as Jungkook’s hand brushed against yours. He fumbled for his key, hands steady despite the electricity buzzing in the air. The lock clicked, and he hastily opened the door, pushing it open and gesturing for you to step inside.

The room was surprisingly tidy. Too tidy, like he’d barely even been in here.

“Huh. It’s smaller than mine,” you muttered, unable to stop yourself, that competitive streak rearing its head. It was a childish comment, but you were already grasping for control in the situation—anything to anchor yourself.

Jungkook ignored and he grabbed your wrist and spun you around, his lips meeting yours again. The taste of cigarettes filled your mouth, flooding your senses. His fingers pressed into your waist, as if he was trying to push the world away and keep you both in this moment. You kissed him back fiercely, but something was building in your chest—a knot of panic twisting tighter and tighter.

You broke away first, breathing hard, pressing your hands against his chest to put space between you. “Woah, okay.”

He paused, looking at you, his chest heaving. “You okay?”

You shook your head, the room suddenly feeling too small, the walls too close. You raised your hands like you were warding off some invisible force. “God, this feels... weird. Is this not weird for you?”

Jungkook exhaled and leaned back, running a hand through his hair. “It’s weird,” he admitted, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what made it weird—just that it was.

You paced in a tight circle, your fingers twitching. “I don’t know, I feel... confused. Like everything inside me is screaming that this is wrong, but I don’t know why. It’s like my head is split down the middle and I can’t—”

“Y/N—”

“And I can’t stand you,” you continued, voice rising, “but for some reason, I agreed to this. Like, maybe I’ve just got some kind of self-sabotaging streak? What is wrong with me?”

Jungkook moved closer, trying not to let you chatter annoy him. “Y/N.”

You met his gaze, finally stilling, but your heart was racing, chest tight with the weight of your own thoughts. His eyes were calm, though you could see the same uncertainty hiding behind them. He had already made up his mind, you could tell, but the awkwardness of it still clung to the space between you.

“Are you in, or are you out?”

The question hung in the air for a second longer than you liked. You blinked, your throat dry. “I was in. But now I don’t know. I can’t get past... being with you. You of all people.” Your fingers picked at the skin around your nails, searching for an answer you couldn’t find.

Jungkook stood there, thinking for a moment. “Then pretend I’m not me.”

“What?” You give him a confused look.

“Maybe we just pretend like we don’t know each other. Like we just met. So I’m not Jungkook… the guy I know you want to kill.” He teases and it actually lightens the mood a little. “I’m just… someone at a wedding, you’re also just someone at a wedding. I’m not me.”

A small smile actually seems to creep on your face for a moment, you have to catch yourself. “You’re not you.”

“I’m not me.”

“And I’m not me?”

“Exactly. We’re just two strangers.” He stepped closer, and you felt the gravity between you shift again. “Does that make it easier?”

You stared at him for a moment, your heart hammering as the absurdity of the whole thing began to ease the pressure in your chest. Slowly, the tension began to melt into something else. Something that felt almost like... freedom.

“Okay.” You found yourself nodding. “You’re not you. And I’m not me.”

Jungkook smiled, taking that as confirmation, his fingers brushing your cheek again, this time softer. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something hotter, more dangerous.

“See?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. “Just two strangers.”

He stepped forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, you closed the distance. You kissed him again, but this time it felt different—deeper, like the weight of everything that had been holding you back was gone. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you let yourself be pulled, let yourself sink into the kiss, the moment. Just two people—no history, no hate—just... heat.

You both stumble your way back to the bed, kicking off your shoes in the process. As you both just let yourselves live in the feeling rather than who it was with. Everything started to move faster and the intensity between the two of you got heavier. Jungkook detached himself from your lips onto the exposed skin on your neck. You found yourself leaning into it easily.Jungkook paused for a moment, his fingers tracing along the straps of the dress you wore.

“Can I take this off?’ He says lowly into your ear.

Both of your minds were quiet. Here it was, no going back after this.

“Yes.” Your voice almost gets caught in your throat.

He very slowly slips the straps off your shoulders. Your dress falling down the rest of the length of your body to the floor. Jungkook takes a pause, he had hoped somewhere deep inside him that you wouldn’t look good under your dress, but of course you did. You still had your bra and underwear on but he knew you’d probably look great without those as well. How incredibly annoying he thought.

“Listen I know I’m hot but you don’t have to stand there and stare.” You felt like you needed to move your hands to cover yourself.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “I wasn’t starring.”

“Yeah right.” Your hand found your way to his tie, beginning to undo it and pulling it off him. Jungkook following by undoing the buttons on his shirt.

“Eager are we?” He teases, it was too playful for what you were familiar with. Almost made you cringe but you pushed the feeling away.

“Says the one who took my dress off.”

He pulls his shirt off once the buttons are undone. You wanted to maybe deny for a bit that he did in fact have a nice body and you kissed him again. It left you breathless so quickly, your head was spinning. With some quick movements you moved back onto the bed and Jungkook held himself above you. He kissed down your neck and then down your chest, his mouth was warm against you with every kiss.

Oh god, you thought.

The suddenness of all of this though had gotten you soaked in your underwear and it was going to be embarrassing for him to see. As he inches closer you close your legs rather quickly. Only this one time, Jungkook was going to have this effect on you.

“Spread your legs for me, darling.” He looked up to you and he placed both of his hands on your knees trying to pry them open, you denying him the satisfaction.

“No.” You were very clearly teasing him and sat up, which allowed you to see the full sight of him, shirtless, kneeling in front of you. Never thought this would be something you would ever see. “And darling? What are we married now?”

“That would be my nightmare.” He shivers at the thought.

“Yeah I’ll be dead before I ever marry you.”

“Well we agree on something at least.”

His hand was running up and down the inside of your thigh, he leaned up to meet your eyeline again. Catching you in a quick kiss before his hand grazed against the outside of your underwear. You held in the gasp that wanted to release from you.

“Be good and let me eat you out.” He brings his face in close by your ears and leaves a small kiss behind.

“Ask nicely and I just might.”

He took the opportunity to stand up straight, towering over you a little. Like he was getting the same sight of you below him that you had just seen of him. He tilted your chin up with his thumb and index finger, to look into his eyes.

“Please.” He said so quietly and kindly. A tone he had never taken with you.

“Fine.” You try to say in a displeasing tone, but you couldn’t help but want it.

He lowers himself back to his knees and opens your legs up again and pulls your underwear down your legs rather quickly. You laid back on your back again.

“For someone who hates me so much, you sure are wet for me.” He laughed a little and it sent a ripple of anger. You covered your face with both of your arms.

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you.” He replies and his hands slowly slide up your thighs. Almost agonizingly slow.

He reached your pussy which was eager to feel his touch and he swirled his fingers around your clit a few times. You really were wet, his fingers took no time to play with you. Applying some pressure, he uses his other hand to play around with one finger at your entrance. You have been trying not to elicit any sounds because you didn’t want to see that stupid smirk on his face. Your breath was heavy in your chest though. He then instead inserted two of his fingers into your dripping pussy. You let out a low hum, you wanted a little more.

“There you are. Was worried you had lost your voice.”

He switched from using both hands to just one, with his two fingers moving in and out of you. His thumb still circling your clit. He had laid himself down on the bed next to you now, he was playing with a piece of your hair, and looking at you with an amusing smile.

Before you were able to say anything, he pushed his fingers into you deeper and he was touching a spot that could easily make you come. It forced a moan out of your mouth. Which seemed to surprise the both of you.

“You really needed it bad huh?” He laughed a little at your little noises and faces you were making.

He was right.

You turn your head to the side so you don’t have to face him but he stays with you. He had to take his fingers out of you, and adjust his arm but he slipped his fingers right back inside you but this time adding another one. You moan softly into the sheets. He uses his other hand to move some hair away from your face and he leaves little bites into your shoulder.

“Three fingers already? You must be desperate for it,” he pumps his fingers in and out of you faster. Making that little curling motion that is driving you crazy. Your breathing was quick. “Can I make you cum with just my fingers?”

“God shut up already.” You groan, but mostly at the feeling. He had you in the palm of his hand so easily.

“I’m good.” He hums, looking down at his fingers which were covered in your arousal. It made his cock twitch, he wanted to replace his fingers and fuck you but there was something satisfying seeing you all quiet and annoyed just with his fingers. “Annoying you seems to turn me on.”

“Stop.” You gasp but Jungkook picked up the pace of his fingers, and a soft moan left you. You mentally cursing yourself out. “You always this chatty during sex? Feel bad for any girls prior to me.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Nah, I usually have my tongue inside them by now.”

“You sure are confident in your skills.” Acting as if what he said didn’t send a wave of arousal through you.

Jungkook did a few harder thrusts of his fingers and you moan and your eyes fall shut.

“Just say please, and that can be you too.” He whispers and he kisses your skin.

“I’m never begging you for anything.”

“Nights still young.”

He had gotten a good rhythm with his fingers now. Touching you in just the right way. You were trying to fight the high off as best you could. Jungkook could tell you were trying to fight it but he wanted to get you off. Would be funny in a way that he could make you cum so fast even though you despise him. He begins to suck on your neck, just in a nice little spot and makes goosebumps rise all over your body.

“You really seem to want to get me off? Didn’t think you’d be so considerate considering how selfish you are during the daytime.” There was that competitive streak again, that same part of your that is protesting this whole thing.

“I may not like you, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to cum.”

Jungkook then lowers himself down to press his tongue flat against your clit. Your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. He keeps working his fingers in and out of you. He only sucks on your clit one more time because he wanted just his fingers to do the work here. He brings his other hand down to rub your clit as his other hand fucks you. You were letting small moans fall from you. It turning him on more than he wanted to admit.

It doesn’t take much longer but a few more pumps of his fingers he gets your cumming onto them. You grinding on his fingers. You come down quickly and your face was completely red. Jungkook just smiling down to you. Jungkook then removes his fingers from you with a small protest from you. Licking all of your arousal off them.

“That’s unfortunate, you taste really good.” He did sound a little disappointed at the discovery.

“You’re such a dick.”

“Relax, I’m not even done.” Jungkook let out and exasperated sigh, he wanted you to just trust the process but he should have guessed you give him a hard time.

“Addicted yet?”

“Not even slightly.”

You wanted to take back control since he had his moment of slight dominance over you. You pull Jungkook back onto the bed turn yourself around and swing your legs over his waist and pin him down on the bed. Jungkook knew it was painfully obvious how hard he was in his trousers and you were sitting right on top of it. You couldn’t help the pressure made your mouth drop open a little. You wanted to feel his dick stretch you out. Not just yet though.

You run your hands over his chest slowly, and you begin to grind yourself into his crotch. You were a skittle swollen and sensitive but it seems to drive him a little crazy. His eyes had fluttered closed, enjoying the feeling of the pressure on his cock. You lean down close to his ear.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that seems to need it badly.” You grind into his dick a little more forcefully. Jungkook moans a little bit and his hands have found the way to your ass, trying to guide you but you don’t let him take control of the pace. You keep your hip movements slow and taunting.

“Shit.” He whispers, followed by a soft moan.

“Think I could make you cum just by grinding on you? No chance to even slip yourself inside of me?” You're pushing him a little. You would not let this night go without getting fucked but making him cum just like this also sounded hot. Cum in his pants and then leave him here.

“Not a chance.” He says almost like he could hear your thoughts. “I’m fucking you tonight.”

He sits up, keeping you pressed into him. His hand found its way into your hair and pulled your head back. Keeping his other hand on your ass. Again trying to take the control back from you but you keep your hips still.

Jungkook runs his mouth over the side of your neck again, letting his hot breath fan over you. Then finding that same spot earlier that made you twitch. Attaching his mouth there and keeping his one hand tangled in your hair. You hum softly, and Jungkook tries to use his hand to encourage your hips to move. You refuse.

“Say please and I just might move.” You laugh under your breath. Jungkook squeezes your hip, he was getting really desperate though, he needed the friction for some relief.

“So annoying.” He mumbles against your skin and bites you lightly, “Please.”

Thank god, because you needed the friction too. You grind your hips down into him and he moans but this wasn’t enough. You were making a mess on the top of his pants for sure but you didn’t care, it would be his problem tomorrow.

Jungkook leaned away from you. Resting on one of him arms and just watched you move for a moment, it felt like he actually was in some sort of twisted dream. Because you of all people, were here dry humping him in his hotel room, and you both were really liking it. Your face was all twisted up and breathing heavily as you chased your high. Jungkook needed this to end though.

“Okay.” You stop for a moment and sigh, your legs were getting a little tired from the position. “I need… huh.” You mumble under your breath. Jungkook gave you a confused look.

“What was that?.” Jungkook smirks and he grinds his hips up into you. You moan a little but hit his chest to protest the movement.

“Please fuck me.” Your plea comes out more pathetic than you wanted. You wanted him to pound into you though.

“I thought you weren’t going to beg me for anything?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

Jungkook takes no pause and he lifts you off of him, and he kisses you so desperately before placing you back on the bed. He wastes zero time in getting off his pants and boxers. His dick springs free and you were upset but also glad to see it was a good size. Of course he’d have a nice dick, how fucking annoying.

You couldn’t help but think about sucking him off though.

Watching him unfold for you. It’d be nice. Unfortunately it was never going to happen. You just needed a good fuck and then you can go back to absolutely hating each other. He’s still vile… Just for this moment though, he is incredibly desirable.

“You got a bit of drool coming out of your mouth.” He teases you. You look away and scoff. Jungkook grabs something from his bag which proves to be a condom, quickly unpackaging it and rolling it onto his dick.

“You just had condoms at the ready?” You ask.

“I didn’t, Taehyung gave me some. ‘Just in case’, his words not mine.” Jungkook leans two hands on each side of the bed next to you. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping with anyone.”

“Find that hard to believe.”

He gave you a confused expression.

“How so?”

“Isn’t this your kind of guys stomping ground? Aren’t weddings like prime hookup locations. Taehyung always seems to have some wedding hookup story.” You sit up, coming closer to Jungkook’s face.

“Tell me what ‘my type of guy’ is then?” He was getting annoyed, and it honestly made you happy.

“Assholes. Haven’t said it to you in the last twenty minutes so you probably forgot what you were.” You tilt your head in innocence. You were poking the bear, but you may be starting to regret it because you might be cutting your fuck short.

“Well, you just let this asshole finger you.” He tilts his head in the same direction as you, then using one of his hands to move some hair off your shoulder.

“A minor lapse in judgment, I’m sure.” You place a hand on the back of his neck, you needed him close again. Due to your own inability to not fight with Jungkook, you were cooling off.

Jungkook leans close and kisses you again, head still spinning. You called him and asshole and he was willingly kissing you now. So strange but it was working for the both of you. One of his hands goes down to his cock and strokes himself slowly but then moves on top of you more. He then presses his tip down onto your clit and you break your kiss to gasp.

“Then let me fuck you and we can be done with it.”

He was staring at you so intensely, he needed you. You needed to give up this fight, you needed him too. You nod and he pulls himself back for a second. You don’t think you can face him during this, you decide to flip yourself over instead. You almost preferred it in this position anyways.

“Awe what?” You heard him laugh under his breath and you scoff. “Think you might fall in love with me if you look at me the whole time?”

“Yeah right. I’m here for one thing only and I can only hope you can actually deliver.” You sigh, Jungkook had reached over to the top of the bed for a pillow. He lifted your hips which surprised you and shifted the pillow underneath your hips.

Maybe he did know what he was doing.

He begins to climb on top of you, he presses a bunch of kissing up your back and up to your neck, sucking on a spot there. Your body is completely flooded with heat. He breaks away from you, one of his hands on his dick, stroking it a couple of times.

“Still time to back out now Jeon.” You say, tilting your head to the side to look back to him.

“Nah, I need to feel you cum around me.” He was completely serious.

He pressed the tip of his dick to your entrance, playing with you as he swirls it around and he just watches your reaction. He could see it’s driving you nuts. How badly you want him to sink his dick deep inside of you. You bite your lip to fight back the moans he could be eliciting from you.

“Moan for me baby. You know you want too.”

“And let you have the satisfaction? No.”

“What a brat.” his tone was lower.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were both a little hesitant because this was it. It would be real, you would have fucked each other after this.

Jungkook presses the tip of his dick into you and it elicits a small noise from you. He pushes his dick in more, slowly and you could feel every tiny movement. He slowly stretches you out so you can take the full length. His breath was rather ragged, and his eyes were shut. He didn’t completely bottom out yet but he pulls himself out and then pushes himself in again. You groan at the movement. You hated how much he was driving you crazy and how desperately you were wanting him to pound into you.

“Jungkook please.” You needed it.

“Oh yeah?” he opens his eyes. “What do you need?”

“Enough teasing. Just fuck me.” You grip onto the sheets below you, you needed it so bad and your breath was all ragged and desperate.

Jungkook observes you for a moment, you had laid your head to the side so he could examine your expression. You were desperate. He brought his hands up on top of yours gripping onto them. He then completely bottoms out inside you, which forces a moan out of you. It’s soft but it’s like music to Jungkook’s ears.

“I win.” he says with a chuckle.

He doesn’t give you much time to react before he pulls himself all they way out and shoves his dick all the way back in again. Wanting to feel every inch of your pussy around him. Each thrust forces a small moan out of you. You want to move your arms but Jungkook kept you in place. He is rocking you back and forth with each thrust and pounding all the way inside you.

The sound of his thrust and his pelvis slapping against your skin is so lewd. Its driving you crazy. Both of your moans fill the room. He bites down onto your shoulder and you swear it felt electric.

“Jesus your fucking wet.” He is so out of breath. He can’t get enough.

You can’t either.

“Oh my god.” You moan, you feel the swell of your climax rising again. Jungkook has been stroking a part of your pussy with his dick and it’s driving you insane. You have never cum from penetration sex this quickly before.

He slowed for a second. Moving his hand between your pussy and the pillow. Rubbing your clit. He was going to make you cum again, he was messing with you earlier but he didnt want you to feel good. You press your forehead deep into the mattress. Just letting whatever sound was in you out. You were almost running away from his touch and you push backwards just forced your ass into his pelvis. Pushing his dick deeper.

Double edged sword here, nowhere for you to escape. He did a few slower thrusts while he did this, keeping a certain rhythm. Before you are able to even think, your climax rolls over you again and you’re squeezing Jungkook's dick and he takes this moment to go a little faster with his thrusts while you ride it out on him.

“Fuck.” you let a long dragged out moan, as Jungkook rides you through your high.

“That’s right baby use me.” His hot breath fans over your skin. “I-I’m also close.”

You continue to hang onto his hand as he rocks into you. Filling you up completely. Never stopping for a second as you come off your climax. The stimulation felt crazy, you almost didn’t want to stop. Consider asking him to eat you out and make you come all over again. Then Jungkook gets a little sloppier in his thrusts as he’s close to his climax.

“Coming, coming.” His breath catches in his throat as you feel him fill up the condom.

He thrust a few more times but slows to a stop. Both of your breathing in sync. He rests his head on your back. You both just stay there for a minute. His cock still buried in you. You both relish what just happened. It felt really good.. Really really good… but oh my god.

You just fucked Jungkook.

How, bizarre.

Jungkook kissed your shoulder softly before pulling away and getting out of bed. He stood too quickly, feeling a little dizzy, but more from the weight of what had just happened. You stifled a small whine at the loss of contact, quickly covering your mouth. He chuckled through his heavy breaths, but you couldn’t look at him—your face was already burning with embarrassment.

What the hell did I just do?

You didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t help yourself. The guy you hated more than anyone was just in bed with you. His hands, his mouth, his entire presence—everything felt so good, too good. You hated him, didn’t you? This shouldn’t have happened. Yet, the feeling of him still lingered on your skin, and worse, a part of you already missed it.

Reality hit harder the moment you sat up. How long had the two of you been gone? You turned over, and Jungkook was already reaching out a hand to help you up. We can’t stay here. We need to get back. He held your dress in his other hand.

“Thank you. We need to get back.” You say at almost a whisper as you begin to redress yourself.

You rushed into the bathroom, flicking on the light. Seeing yourself in the mirror made everything feel even more real. Your hair was a mess, and you looked… well, you looked like you’d just been thoroughly fucked. You wiped at your neck where he’d left a tiny mark, hidden easily enough, but tomorrow? You were going to have to get creative.

Jungkook, meanwhile, was dressing in the other room, moving on autopilot. He stared at his ruined slacks, feeling a strange satisfaction. Damn, what did we just do? He hadn’t expected any of this, not with you. You were the last person he ever thought he'd sleep with, but there you were, both standing at the edge of something that shouldn’t have happened.

I don’t regret it, though. Should I? He shook his head. It can’t happen again.

When you came back out, dressed, Jungkook saw the tension written all over your face, mirroring his own. It was thick between you, the weight of what just happened hanging in the air. He cleared his throat, glancing at his phone.

He cleared his throat. “Yeah we should hurry.” He had checked the time on his phone, it was well past time that the two of you needed to be back.

The air felt tense between the two of you. What you both just did felt amazing but you also fucking despise this guy. You pretty sure that hate didn’t go away. Knowing what he can do in bed though certainly makes that feeling all the more confusing.

I guess you just go back to hating the guy. He would go back to hating you.

“I’m going to go down first.” You said and you don’t look at him.

He hums in agreement. Better to not show up together, not that you believe anyone would be at all suspicious of what you two had done.

“This is never happening again.” You say back, a seriousness behind your voice.

It shouldn’t happen again. You're reeling a little but from the touch of Jungkook’s skin, how it made you feel so warm. So inviting, even though he makes you burn with a fiery rage.

Your head was completely cloudy, and your mouth with the left over taste of a cigarette.

Downstairs, you entered the rehearsal as if nothing had happened. The walk had been a blur, your mind still buzzing from the touch of his skin, the way he made you feel even though you despised him. Your heart was still pounding, but you pushed it all aside when Melanie spotted you.

“Thank God, everything’s a mess. Where have you been?” she asked, concern mixed with curiosity.

You pulled yourself together, forcing a smile. “Sorry, Jungkook and I were… talking. I think we’re good now.”

“Talking?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly suspicious. “You guys actually talked?”

“Yeah, sort of,” you replied, keeping it casual. “No more fighting this weekend.”

After some time Jungkook also rejoined the party. You spent the entire party not speaking and not even looking at each other. Nothing else happened, like it never happened. A secret the two of you could bury way deep down. Except it kept playing over in your mind into the next morning. You were completely distracted getting dressed and doing hair and makeup.

Ash definitely took notice.

"Hey, where did you disappear to last night?" Ash tapped your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You blinked a few times, trying to refocus. Where’s my head right now? Well, you knew exactly where. You were still reeling from last night, mentally replaying every fight with Jungkook, trying to figure out how the two of you ended up… here.

“Oh.” You forced a casual tone, definitely not because you had slept with the person you hated most. “Jungkook and I got into a fight.”

“Shocker.” Ash rolled her eyes, not even mildly surprised.

“It was bad this time. Namjoon stepped in, got mad, so we took it outside...” You trailed off, hoping that would be enough to dodge further questions.

She raised a hand, halting you. “If you’re about to tell me you punched him and I missed it, I’m going to be pissed.”

You laughed. “I didn’t punch him. Wanted to, though.”

“So, what happened?” She raised an eyebrow, her curiosity not dropping.

Nothing I’m admitting out loud.

“We came to a truce... of sorts.” You gulped.

“I don’t get why he’s always up your ass.” Ash finally seemed to let it go. “What was he picking a fight about this time?”

“He just wanted to piss me off, I guess.”

At that moment, Melanie stepped out of the dressing room, her hair, makeup, and dress all done. She looked beautiful. Her mom and sister fussed over minor details, but she was radiant, if a little nervous. Hopefully, she’d relax more once we started pictures.

Apparently, she’d had a minor meltdown about dinner last night because the caterers were short on some items, which shifted the schedule. She seemed to have forgotten about it this morning, though. You’d gone straight to the reception area to help smooth things over.

For all the times Melanie had helped you, it was a small favor. Hopefully, today would go smoothly.

“You look so beautiful,” you say, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“No crying!” Melanie waves you off frantically. “The makeup cannot get messed up!”

She fans her face like crazy, trying to hold it together. You glance over at Ash, who’s already wiping away a tear.

“Ash!” You bump her gently.

“I can’t help it,” she mutters, dabbing under her eyes with her fingers.

“Melanie, we need to get down to the fountain for the reveal and photos,” the wedding planner calls out as she steps into the room. You glance at your phone and realize time’s running out—you need to get out of the hotel room now.

“I know, I know.” Melanie smooths out her dress, her mom hovering nearby trying to fuss with her hair, but Melanie waves her away.

Grabbing your bouquets, you start ushering everyone out the door. It’s a bit chaotic navigating through the hotel, with guests stopping every few steps to offer their congratulations. It’s sweet, but you’ve got a time limit, and you and Ash do your best to shield Melanie from well-wishers, playing defense as you maneuver outside.

Eventually, you make it to the courtyard. The photographer, who had been by earlier to get pictures of the hair and makeup process was here again, had gone ahead to get some shots of Namjoon before the big reveal.

“He’s going to bawl like a baby,” you say with a smile, and Melanie laughs in agreement.

“He is so going to cry.”

“You are too, though. I expect full waterworks.” You nudge her playfully.

“I’ve got tissues at the ready,” Ash announces, pulling out a small packet of tissues stashed between her boobs.

“No one wants your boob tissues!” you protest, cringing a little.

“Says you!” Ash pouts, stuffing the tissues back into her bra defiantly.

You all come to a halt as the photographer’s voice carries around the corner. Deciding to check if everything’s set, you sneak ahead and peek around the wall leading to the fountain. Namjoon stands facing the water, the photographer taking a few last shots of him.

You run back to Melanie and whisper, “We’re ready.”

She takes a deep breath before stepping forward. You, Ash, and the others stay back to watch the exchange.

The photographer takes a few more photos of Melanie as she approaches Namjoon from behind. Finally, the photographer waves her forward to tap him on the shoulder. He turns slowly, his eyes still closed.

You hear Melanie giggle softly as she pats him again to get him to open his eyes. The second he does, Namjoon doesn’t hesitate—he pulls her into his arms and lifts her off the ground, spinning her around like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

He sets her down gently, taking a moment just to look at her. You can’t hear what he says, but the words clearly make Melanie smile before they kiss. It’s such a tender moment that you feel your own eyes start to well up.

The photographer waves you all over, and you, Ash, Serena, and her mom step out from behind the wall, walking toward the fountain. As you get closer, it’s clear—Namjoon and Melanie are both absolute blubbering messes, completely lost in the moment. More touching than you’d imagined.

“Oh no,” you laugh and smile fondly at the both of them, “Not the both of you.”

Namjoon is wiping his eyes, and Melanie is also wiping his face while she wipes her own.

“I can’t stop.” He says so innocently.

“Shit I can’t stop either.” Melanie is trying to fan herself.

Ash comes to the rescue, with now an unpacked tissue. You laugh to yourself a little.

“Never thought I would be so happy to see a boob tissue.” Melanie laughs and accepts the tissue.

“A what?” Namjoon asks and looks between you.

“Don’t worry about it.” You pat him on the shoulder.

They both try to pull themselves together, with joyful sniffles. Namjoon didn’t let go of her for a second. His eyes are filled with nothing but her. It makes your heart scream.

“Okay, now we can get pictures with everyone.” The photographer yells a little louder. The fountain as a little loud for everyone to hear. You didn’t seem to notice she was actually trying to call over the groomsmen who were waiting a ways away.

“Hey guys!” Namjoon calls and does that cool like two finger in your mouth whistle thing.

You and Ash both try to mimic Namjoon and fail miserably. Just getting spit on your hands.

The groomsmen usher their way over and are ready and waiting for instructions.

“Okay, we will start getting a picture of everyone lined up! Bride and groom in the middle and then the maid of honor and the best man.”

Everyone lined up in order and Ash placed herself behind you. You get a couple of shots like this, some serious and some goofy. You couldn’t wait to see them later.

“Okay let’s get a picture of just the groomsmen and the bridesmaids really quick.”

She waves for Melanie and Namjoon to step away from the group really quick. You then come face to face with the scum of the earth himself. You had been avoiding acknowledging him up until this point. Jungkook just gives you the widest shit eating grin he can muster. You can’t help but have a look of disdain. His look is the one that says ‘we fucked last night’.

Fucking embarrassing.

“Morning.” He says a little too pridefully.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You groan before standing immediately next to him, making sure you aren’t touching.

“Play nice you two.” You hear Namjoon call off from the side, some of the other snicker knowing exactly who he’s addressing.

“I think we can take a picture, Namjoon.” You smile almost embarrassed, everyone else very audibly disagrees.

“Sure, we can.” Jungkook says, “At least I can.”

You just shake off the comment.

Once the group shot is finished, you waste no time putting distance between yourself and Jungkook, stepping away as quickly as possible. The other bridesmaids follow your lead, and the groomsmen do the same, splitting into their own groups. Namjoon and Melanie are ushered back for more couple shots, their laughter filling the air as the photographer clicks away.

“Jungkook can’t leave you alone for one day, huh?” Ash breaks the silence in your head.

“Seriously,” you sigh.

“He really does like provoking something out of you, doesn’t he?” she adds with a knowing grin.

“This is exactly what I’ve been saying!” You throw your arms up dramatically, earning a laugh from her.

You glance back at Namjoon and Melanie. They look absolutely radiant, like they’re in their own little world. Namjoon hasn’t taken his eyes off her the entire time.

“They look so happy, don’t they?” Ash comments, her gaze softening as she watches the couple.

You nod, a slight smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, they really do.”

“Got your sights set on anyone for the evening?” Ash wiggles her eyebrows mischievously.

“That was random.” You give her a look. “And no, I’ll probably be going to bed early tonight. This wedding has been months of stress on the brain. I’ll be happy to turn in, thanks.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay up! You’ve helped Melanie plan this whole thing from the very beginning. You deserve to enjoy it too!” Ash grins widely, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes. “Seeing Melanie happy is all the reward I need from today. No random hook-up is going to top that.” and you know… you already had one.

“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She leans against you, feigning a whine.

“I don’t know,” you muse. “I’m just not interested unless it’s with someone who looks at me like how Namjoon looks at Melanie.” You gesture toward the couple, where Namjoon is still gazing at his bride-to-be like she’s the only person in the world.

Ash cocks her head. “How would you describe it?”

You pause, watching as Melanie stumbles near the fountain, nearly pulling Namjoon with her. For a second, your heart skips a beat, but they both catch themselves, bursting into laughter. The moment is so full of joy, so genuine, you can’t help but sigh.

“He looks at her like he can’t breathe without her. Like she’s the air that keeps him going. And it’s the same the other way around. They push each other to be better, to grow. And somehow, through that, they keep falling deeper in love.” Your voice grows soft, almost wistful. You want that too, you realize. But it feels out of reach—like something only other people get to have.

Ash is quiet for a moment before she nods. “I get it. You want someone to breathe for, too. Someone who makes you want to be better.”

She pinches your cheek playfully, making an exaggerated cooing sound, and you swat her hand away, laughing.

“Not just that,” you add thoughtfully. “I want someone who makes me feel like fire too.”

Ash raises an eyebrow, teasing. “You want someone to set you on fire? Kinky.”

You shove her with a grin. “You know what I mean. I want tenderness, but I also want passion. The kind that burns. Most people don’t really want the specific kind of passion I’m looking for.”

Ash considers this for a moment, and you both fall into a comfortable silence. It’s not something you talk about often—your idea of love. Mostly because it seems too ideal, too unattainable. You’ve placed it high on a shelf, a fantasy you’ve all but convinced yourself isn’t real.

“I think you’ll find that,” Ash hums after a while.

You shrug. “Yeah? Well, let me know when you find them.”

“Find who?”

Of course, the second you think the day might calm down, Jungkook appears behind you, his voice as obnoxious as ever.

“Speaking of fire extinguishers,” you mutter under your breath before turning to face him. “What do you want?” you ask, your tone dry.

“Just thought I’d let you know—you look nice,” he says, flashing you that infuriating smile again.

“Well, that’s—” you start, but before you can finish, he adds.

“Oh, not you. I was talking to Ash.”

You catch the smirk on his face and feel your cheeks flush. Of course. Why were you even surprised? He’s just determined to remind you of how much of a mistake last night was.

“You really came over here just for that?” you ask, your patience wearing thin.

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’ like it’s the most satisfying thing in the world.

“Fuck you.”

“Funny you say that, Ash—” Jungkook starts to reply, but you shove him away before he can finish.

You glare at him, but he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he steps back with a smirk, clearly content with having annoyed you. Linking arms with Ash, you walk away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

“Just ignore him. Stay ten feet away all day.”

“We have to walk down the aisle together.”

Ash sighs. “Okay, other than that, stay ten feet away from him.”

The pictures had finally wrapped up, after what felt like a few thousand poses in every scenic corner of the hotel. The fairy tale vibe was exactly what Melanie had dreamed of, but now it was getting close to go time.

Except, of course, you couldn’t find the Best Man.

You paced around the ceremony hall, looking for Jungkook. He had exactly one job, and he managed to vanish right before it. Frustration boiled in your chest. Naturally, he’d run off now.

“Where the hell is he?” you muttered, stepping outside into the warm afternoon air. The sun greeted you, but so did the smell of cigarettes. A flash of last night flickered across your mind. Nope. Not going there.

You rounded the corner, and there he was. Of course. Standing there like nothing was wrong, cigarette in hand. Taehyung was next to him, equally guilty.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Your voice is coming out a little more aggressive than you intended.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung grabbed his chest in shock and held the cigarette away from him, “how did this get in my hand!” He threw the cigarette down like it had betrayed him and gave you his most innocent look.

Jungkook just stood there, holding the cigarette in his mouth and taking in a long breath.

“Just get your ass inside.” You look pointedly at Taehyung and he bows his head a little.

“Sorry, I’m going.” He drops his cigarette on the ground and stomps it out.

He then runs past you to head on inside and you follow him with your head, before you turn to look back at Jungkook. Who has not put out his cigarette.

“Well?” you say folding your arms over your chest.

He looks at you confused like he is supposed to do something.

“Are we supposed to be somewhere right now?” He says sarcastically, almost playful. Now coming your direction.

“Don’t start with me, you damn well know we need to be lining up to walk down that aisle in like five minutes and you’re out here smoking!” you rub the side of your head, you really didn’t want to do this right now.

“I’m kidding I’m sorry I really thought we had more time,” he drops his cigarette and stomps it out, unfinished, “Lets get this show on the road.”

For once, he didn’t argue. Progress.

“Thank you,” you muttered, leading the way back inside.

“No problem,” he said, tone as dry as sandpaper.

You turned around and you went inside first. He was close behind you heading back into the ceremony hall. You rushed a little because you had to go be in line right now or the wedding coordinator would have your head. Ash was in the line in front of you and had your flowers ready for you to grab when you got in line.

You and Jungkook were in the back of the line so that when you lined up you would be first behind the bride and groom at the alter.

You mouth a ‘thank you’ to Ash as you take them and hold it in your right hand. You look next to you and Jungkook is already holding his arm for you to take. You groan a little bit and wrap your arm around his.

“You stink.” You huff.

“Didn’t seem to be a problem yesterday-…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You elbowed him hard, earning a gasp, but he recovered quickly. Just as you settled in, Melanie popped up behind you, looking like she might explode from excitement or nerves.

“Are you two going to be okay back here?”

“Yes you just focus on your wedding.” You give her a soft smile.

“You look lovely Melanie.” Jungkook looks back at her and smiles.

“Awe thank you Jungkook. Stop giving my maid of honor a hard time.” She pats him on the shoulder.

“Fine, only for you though.” He smiles very genuinely.

The music in the Ceremony Hall began and everyone in front of you started walking down the aisle. You smile back to Melanie one more time before you and Jungkook begin to walk.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. Namjoon and Melanie’s vows were beautiful, heartfelt, and perfect.

But the day was far from over.

As soon as the ceremony ended, you slipped out to the reception hall, tackling Melanie’s last-minute worries so she could enjoy some alone time with Namjoon. It was a long day—they deserved a moment to themselves.

Unfortunately, things weren’t running as smoothly here. The DJ was late, so you had to improvise. The hotel lent a larger speaker, and the planner decided to shuffle the schedule—dinner and speeches first, dancing later.

Most of the guests had already arrived, found their seats, and were milling around. The open bar helped keep them entertained. Ash was busy working the room, chatting with everyone and keeping things lively, while you stayed on the outskirts, handling logistics.

Stationed by the front door, you kept an eye on the time, knowing you’d need to get things rolling soon, even without a DJ.

“Hello.” Jungkook’s voice rang next to you.

“Yes?” You look at him blankly.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No.” You sniff and continue doing what you were doing.

You walk away from him and he keeps right on your toes. He expected that exact answer from you but he didn’t stop. He placed himself in front of you, making you come to a halt.

“Oh come on. There is seriously nothing I can help you with? You look like you’re under a lot of stress.”

“No, because I don’t need your help Jungkook.”

He crossed his arms, irritation flashing across his face. “You know this is my friend’s wedding too. Thought I’d try to make things go smoother, but I guess you’ve got it handled.”

“Great, then go have a nice time,” you said, waving him off.

“You seriously can’t relinquish control if it’s me, huh? What—”

You angrily groan and push him a little further away from other guests and cover your ears with your hands in frustration.

“God I can’t do this right now Jungkook. I don’t have the brain power to fight with you right now.” You let out a long sigh of anger. “Just go away.”

He was annoyed and so were you. You don’t get why it was such a big deal and why you couldn’t just let him help. You just didn’t want him to ruin anything. You didn’t know where that feeling came from, that he would ruin anything. Maybe just to spite you, because it felt like something he would do.

“See this just makes me believe that last night was a waste of time. Nothing’s changed.” You rub your face a little bit.

“Maybe. Right now though we don’t have time to deal with that.” His voice was pretty steady, he was feeling the same, “I can help though. Just tell me what I can do..”

He was looking right at you. You hadn’t looked straight at him. You let yourself for a moment though and he looked genuine.

“The DJ isn’t here.” You let go.

“Okay… we do have some music playing though.”

“Okay but no one is announcing Namjoon and Melanie.”

He cocked his head to the side like he was a little confused.

“Announcing them?”

“Like ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Kim’ that whole thing.” You wave your hands around trying to describe it.

He just watches your hands fly around everywhere.

“Okay. I’ll do it then.” He says it so matter of factly, so easily. “We have a microphone set up. I can easily introduce them. Maybe even throw in a joke or two.”

This was a small weight off your shoulder.

“I was honestly dreading having to do it. I’m pretty worried about my speech. I don’t like talking in front of others.”

You had been dreading the thought. You made some note cards, they weren’t very good and the story was pretty boring. It was still something.

“Well this is one less thing you need to worry about.” He gave you what looked like a little bit of a smile, “See? I can be helpful.”

You roll your eyes.

“I’m sure your speech is great.” You mumble a little.

He had a certain confidence in himself that you envied a little bit.

Except you didn’t because you would never envy Jungkook. Obviously.

Still.

“Can I read your speech?” Jungkook held out his hand like you were just going to hand over the cards.

“Uh no.”

“I’m sure it’s good.”

For some reason—maybe because you were already too stressed—you actually did. You pulled the cards from your pocket and dropped them into his hand. He flipped through them with the speed of someone browsing a restaurant menu.

“It’s not that bad,” he said, still holding onto your cards.

“Really?” You picked at the skin on your thumb, surprised. It was weirdly nice hearing that.

“Oh yeah,” he smirked, wiping his nose before leaning closer. “Now let’s see if you can remember it.”

He then slipped your cards into the inside of his jacket. Your eyes widened at the action and immediately lunged for him and he backed up.

“You’re not fucking serious right now Jungkook.” You were trying to set him on fire with your eyes. He looked rather amused, “Give me back my cards before I kill you.”

He kept reaching out of your arm range. He knew if you got a hold of him, he was going to the ground for sure.

“Can’t do that.” He grabs hold of one of your wrists and stops you. “Speak from within.”

“I’m going to kill you. That is the worst advice!” You actually couldn’t believe what was happening.

Was he fucking five years old?

“I didn’t write down my speech.” He sounded so cheeky.

“Good for you.” You groaned, throwing your hands up. There was no way you were getting those cards back now.

He really was not going to give it back.

Jungkook m, still looking way too pleased with himself, tapped the side of his jacket. “I’m serious, though. You’ll have better things to say than what’s on these cards.”

“Okay, but not everyone can just whip it out like you!”

“Well—”

“Don’t.” You cut him off, pointing a finger at his face as the joke formed in his mind. He was practically buzzing with the urge to say it, but you could see him weighing whether it was worth the inevitable wrath.

Just then, your phone buzzed—a message from Melanie letting you know they were waiting outside. Jungkook leaned over your shoulder and peeked at the message too.

“Looks like it’s showtime.” He grinned, leaning way too close to your ear before taking off in a jog across the room.

You watched, half-annoyed, half-amused, as he reached the speaker playing music and paused it. The room’s chatter became the only sound as he tapped the microphone a few times, then cleared his throat loudly.

“Mic works!” He beamed, casually removing it from the stand like he was born to hold it. All eyes turned toward him. “Alright, everyone, sorry for the delay! It is my absolute pleasure to present to you all, for the very first time... Mr. and Mrs. Kim!”

He started clapping before anyone else, but soon the whole room joined in, everyone turning toward the doors as Namjoon and Melanie made their entrance. They looked overjoyed—and completely exhausted—but the energy in the room was contagious. You clapped too, quietly slipping toward your table at the edge of the room.

As Namjoon and Melanie finally reached their seats, the room began to settle, everyone sitting down together just as you reached your chair.

Jungkook still has the microphone and is standing in the middle of the dance floor in front of everyone.

“So, I’m Jungkook as many of you know. The best man. It is my duty to let you know there has been a slight change of plan for the night folks.” He was really good at speaking to the whole room, “We are going to get the kiss and cry out of the way first tonight so we can all party and celebrate with my wonderful friends here.”

He flashes a very genuine smile over to Namjoon and Melanie. Who were sitting so close they could have melted together.

“First thing I will say is drink responsibly tonight everyone!” He points around the room, “Specifically you mister.”

He points over to Namjoon who raises his hands up in defense. Everyone laughs a little bit.

“Speaking of whom,” Jungkook clears his throat, “I have a little story. We all know Namjoon to be kind of like a dad,” the guests all nod and agree, “He is pretty responsible and takes care of others a lot. What some may not know though is Namjoon does not hold his alcohol very well.”

Everyone in the room either laughed a little or let out some low chatter.

“Namjoon is actually a terrible lightweight. So he usually is the responsible one when we are out.” He paced around the room a little, “This story has to do with the night he met Melanie. He had a terrible week at his job, several years ago now.”

***********************************************************************

Four years prior.

Jungkook shoved his way into the bar, immediately swallowed by the crowd. It was packed—busier than he'd ever seen it, and it made finding Namjoon seem impossible. He craned his neck, scanning over heads and across booths, trying to spot his friend among the chaos.

“Come on, man…” Jungkook muttered, pulling out his phone and dialing Namjoon’s number, which, of course, went straight to voicemail. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

He sighed and left yet another voicemail.

“Dude, the one time you decide to turn off your phone? I’ve been looking everywhere—”

Jungkook froze mid-sentence, spotting Namjoon on the dance floor, swaying wildly in a sea of strangers. He cut the call and couldn’t help but laugh. Namjoon was not the kind of guy who danced with strangers—ever. And yet, here he was, fruity cocktail in hand, looking like he was auditioning for some bizarre dance competition.

Jungkook fumbled for his phone again, snapping a quick picture to roast him with later.

“Oh, buddy… you are done for,” he muttered, still laughing as he pushed through the crowd toward him.

Just as he was about to reach him, someone yanked Namjoon off the dance floor. Jungkook's eyes narrowed as he watched a girl—someone he didn’t recognize—drag Namjoon over to a booth and force water down his throat like he was a wilting plant.

“Do you have any friends I can call?” she asked, practically shouting to be heard over the noise. Namjoon, half-asleep, slumped against her shoulder in a drunken stupor.

“I have a friend named Jeonnnnyyy,” Namjoon slurred, and Jungkook cringed, feeling secondhand embarrassment from a distance.

The girl sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, can I have your phone to call him?”

“No no no no no no no,” Namjoon mumbled, waving his hands as if the mere thought of Jungkook seeing him like this was some mortal sin. “He’d laugh at me.”

The girl’s patience was saintly. “I’m sure he’d be happy you’re alive, but sure, whatever you say. Let me just text him—”

“I can’t leave. If I leave, I have to go back to work and get fired.” Namjoon hiccupped, sagging further into the booth. “I f-fucked up at work.” He looked like a kicked puppy, and it was almost pitiful.

The girl patted his arm reassuringly. “Hey, we all screw up. You’re not the first person to mess up at work. Trust me, I screw up all the time.”

Namjoon blinked at her, looking like he’d just found the meaning of life in her words. “Yeah, but I can’t screw up. I have to take care of everything.” His voice cracked with the weight of it, and he slouched even lower.

“Well, let me take care of you tonight,” she said softly, pushing his sweat-dampened hair back from his face. “Just for tonight. Let me carry the weight for a bit.”

Jungkook could see the change in Namjoon’s face—a moment where everything clicked for him, and suddenly he was grounded. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear.

The girl laughed, brushing it off. “You’re a mess, but thanks. Now, let me have your phone. I’ll call Johnny.”

That was Jungkook’s cue.

“Johnny here,” he announced, stepping up with a grin. “Actually, it's Jungkook.” He clapped a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Jeonnnnyyy!” Namjoon cheered, looking up at him with bleary eyes, completely oblivious to the embarrassment of it all.

The girl stood and crossed her arms, her brow creased with concern. “You know him? How did you even find us?”

Jungkook chuckled, pulling Namjoon to his feet. “He called me before he decided to turn off his phone. Classic Namjoon move.” Namjoon practically collapsed into him, his weight dragging both of them down slightly. “I think it’s time to call it a night, buddy.”

With the girl helping to steady Namjoon’s other side, they guided him through the crowd and outside, plopping him down on a bench.

Jungkook pulled out his phone to order an Uber. “Thanks for looking after him in there,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He usually doesn’t need babysitting, but today was… rough.”

She smiled warmly, wiping some of the sweat from Namjoon’s face. “No problem at all. I’m Melanie, by the way.” She extended a hand, and Jungkook shook it gratefully.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve got it from here, though. You should head back inside.”

Namjoon, however, had other plans. “Stayyyy!” he chanted, practically bouncing on the bench. “Don’t gooo!”

Melanie laughed but knelt in front of him, pressing a piece of paper into his hand. “Here. If you ever need to talk, give me a call, okay?”

Then like that she was gone and heading back inside. Namjoon held the piece of paper up above his head. Namjoon was smirking at him, just watching him completely star struck over this little piece of paper.

***********************************************************************

“I got Namjoon home that night,” Jungkook said, laughing as he addressed the room at the reception. “And yes, I made sure to stick the little piece of paper on his fridge. Luckily, he didn’t chicken out and actually called her.”

Namjoon stood up with a sheepish grin. “Full disclosure, he did stay at my place the next morning and bugged me non-stop until I called her.”

SOme laughter came from around the room, Jungkook was soared through this with ease. Seeing you basically stare daggers into the side of his head the entire time.

“Okay fine, he was a little baby. Though the rest is history now.” He sighed, “Dude you fucking scored.”

He ran over to Namjoon really quick and gave him a fist bump.

“Seriously though, I could not be more happy than to be the best man at this wedding. I’m so happy to see you this comfortable and at ease with someone. She is amazing. I couldn’t be more excited to see how you two grow together. If I find someone who makes me just as happy or comfortable as Melanie does for you. I will consider myself lucky. Congratulations to the both of you.”

Everyone clapped, and a few sniffles echoed through the room as Jungkook wrapped up his speech. You couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly charming he was when addressing an audience. His story had been sweet, and it stirred fond memories in you. You recalled a slightly different version from Melanie’s perspective—she had fallen for Namjoon that night, captivated by his blend of adorableness and vulnerability.

Thank goodness he’d called her.

You remembered how quickly they’d started dating after that. They dove headfirst into a whirlwind of outings, and Melanie was completely smitten while Namjoon was lost in her. Their connection had been instant. Years had passed since that fateful first date, but today felt like the culmination of a long journey—a day that had been long overdue.

“Alright, I now need to turn over the mic to my esteemed colleague.” Jungkook spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. That familiar, infuriating grin spread across his face. “Ladies and gentlemen, the Maid of Honor!”

He strode over to you, extending a hand to help you up. You accepted it, grimacing at the unwanted attention, as he hoisted you to your feet. He placed the microphone in your hands, and you could feel all eyes on you as you made your way to the dance floor. Sweat prickled at your brow, and your nerves danced wildly in your stomach.

A quick glance at Ash, who gave you a thumbs-up, and Melanie’s encouraging cheers offered a semblance of comfort, though you still felt like you might explode.

“Hi everyone, I am Y/N.” you managed, your voice wavering slightly. “I had a speech prepared for this occasion, but apparently, someone who shall remain nameless—definitely not Jungkook—decided to take my notecards. So, I’m winging it!”

That got you a few laughs, out of the corner of your eye you could see Ash hit Jungkook. You gripped the microphone tightly, focusing your gaze on the floor to steady your nerves.

“Anyway, I have a story that’s somewhat fitting. It’s about Melanie and Namjoon’s first date—an experience that couldn’t have gone more wrong. Namjoon had planned an elegant evening at a nice restaurant, but wouldn’t you know it, the place caught fire when they arrived. So, they shifted gears and went to see a movie instead, which turned out to be utterly terrible.”

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd, and you took a deep breath, pushing on.

“Determined to salvage the night, they decided to grab some snacks and hang out in a park. But here’s where it gets really interesting—Namjoon accidentally caused Melanie to go into anaphylactic shock because he didn’t know she was allergic to peanuts! And just when they thought things couldn’t get worse, it started pouring—I'm talking a torrential downpour, not a light drizzle.”

“It’s true!” Melanie called out from the back, prompting you to scrunch your face playfully at him.

“Some would say that, yeah that’s a really terrible date. Some may take that as a sign from the universe that you two shouldn’t be together. I certainly did. Melanie had a different perspective...”

***********************************************************************

“I’m your emergency contact?” You found Melanie’s bed in a far corner of the ER.

You had no idea Melanie had placed you down as her emergency contact. You were glad to see nothing crazy had happened. You came and sat in the chair that was available next to her.

“Yeah, I don’t have a lot of family in the city.” She looked embarrassed, she played with her hands in her lap. You took one of her hands.

“This is not the place I like to see you in after a date, What happened?” You scrunch your eyebrows together in some serious concern.

“Oh, I promise it was nothing insane. I had a reaction to some peanuts but I’m really okay!” She assured you and she sat up in her bed.

“Well that’s good, was the date good otherwise?”

“It’s actually been a crazy day. First the restaurant caught fire, our movie was terrible, I went into shock and then it rained on us.” She was laughing and you were confused, sounded like a really terrible date.

“Oh my god.” You were in shock just listening to her. “So I’m assuming you’re never seeing this guy again?”

Before Melanie could get in a word, Namjoon had come back with some water cups. He was walking slowly as not to spill. You hadn’t had a chance to see what this guy looked like. He was very handsome, no wonder Melanie suck around during this natural disaster.

“Water for you.” Melanie takes her water with a smile, “And I’m sorry how about you take this one.”

Namjoon tries to pass you the other water but you wave him off to keep the water. He takes a different chair next to the bed.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.” You give him a small wave and he nods. “You must be Namjoon.”

“That’s me.” He smiles, he looked embarrassed.

“You don’t have to stay I’m really okay.” Melanie assures him.

“Oh no it’s okay. I may go find where they put your jacket though, some nurse took it and hasn’t brought it back.” Namjoon set down his cup and got up again to see if he could find the nurse.

“He’s here?” You look back to Melanie.

“Yeah he was so worried he’s stayed the whole time.”

“That’s sweet. Do I need to scare him off?” You give her a serious look.

“No no don’t. I actually want to keep spending time with him.” She sits closer to you, “All of those things did go wrong. Except all the conversations we’ve had have been like… It’s like I’ve never clicked so well with someone so fast. He’s been very kind and is listening. He has very thoughtful and intelligent things to say to every topic I bring up. He’s very goofy and awfully clumsy, but I never felt more safe. So I promise it’s okay.”

“Still, you don’t know him.” You were hesitant.

“I swear to you that if anything happens I’ll call you in. Then we can kick his ass.” You placed a hand on your shoulder and you smile.

Melanie would probably break all of his bones before anything could happen.

“It’s funny though. I was serious. It’s like every time I talk to him, I’m just so at peace.”

***********************************************************************

“I stuck around because, you know, your best friend has a medical emergency with a random guy; you can’t just leave. We all talked for a while, but it became glaringly obvious when Namjoon came back that he was already so in love with her. I had never seen Melanie let her guard down with someone like that.” You chuckled, and everyone else joined in.

“That night, Melanie came back to my place, and I swear she didn’t shut up about him—not even for a second. She explained everything that happened in excruciating detail, and I thought it was the craziest first-date story I’d ever heard. But that wasn’t what captivated her. It was how Namjoon smiled, how kind and funny he was, how charming. She didn’t care that everything had gone wrong; she only cared about seeing him again. That was when I knew this was serious. This wasn’t just some fling—Namjoon was sticking around.”

You smiled at Melanie and Namjoon, realizing she had found exactly what she’d been looking for. He was the one who would treasure her heart, never to crush it. You remembered the night she met him, how she called you about another idiot she had to rescue, how he reminded her of you and how stupid he was.

She was in love with Namjoon from the very first night.

“All I have left to say is, Namjoon, I’m sorry I thought you were a creep. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better for Melanie to be with. Congratulations!”

You clapped, and everyone followed suit. Letting out a heavy breath of relief, you quickly made your way back to your seat. Ash was practically glowing, excitement written all over her face.

“That was so good!” She pats you on the back a you sit down.

“It was literally the only memory I could think of to be honest.” You scoot your chair in and you watch as dinner was being served to each table. Your food being sat in front of you.

You look back to Namjoon and Melanie who were only looking at each other. She was so happy, so in love, and has gotten everything she wanted. We finally made it to this day.

Thank god because you were over wedding planning for a long time.

“We did it.” You said, Ash was also looking over at them.

“We really did. Now we get to party and have a good time!” She looks at her drink for a moment and then hand sit to you, “Drink up. This night could only get better if you fall on your face”

You rolled your eyes and push her drink back over to her plate.

Everyone at dinner and mingled, a lot of the relatives from both Namjoon and Melanie's sides of the family came over and talked to you. Slowly everyone finished up and cake was also served. Namjoon and Melanie were not fond of the official cake cutting thing so they just wanted it to be served out once dinner was done. Everyone ate and mingled, and you got to hear lots of stories about Namjoon over the years. He really was just a good guy, everyone spoke of him so highly.

Even though he was one of your good friends, it was so interesting to hear about him from before.

You also got to hear some childhood stories about Melanie that you were going to keep in your memory for later. Definitely some embarrassing ones you can bring up at other times. Eventually the DJ showed up and everyone began to dance. Everyone is getting more and more drinks in them and loosening up. You were also one of these people. It was nice to finally wind down after a very stressful weekend.

Just dance and have a nice time.

You had gone back to your table though and it was now a slow song, which gave you a chance to be off your feet for a little while. You did take off your shoes and just watched everyone dance. Melanie and Namjoon had begun to make some rounds around the room to greet family they hadn’t had a chance to speak too yet. Ash was off dancing with some cousin or other of someone.

You just took a sip of your drink and closed your eyes for a moment and just listened to the music.

“All alone?” There he was, the little pest who had avoided you all night.

You open your eyes and look at Jungkook who has taken Ash’s vacant seat.

“I don’t see you with anyone.” You let out an annoyed sigh.

“Hmm not true. I have been chatting up that lovely young thing over there.” He points past you.

He’s pointing to Melanie's widowed grandmother. You couldn’t help but let out a laugh.

“She’s way out of your league.” You take a sip of your drink.

“I know right.” He says matter of factly, “Thought I would come over and give this back to you though.”

He places your cards back on the table, you slide them back over to yourself, lining up the edges of them.

“That was a mean prank Jungkook.” You scowl at him.

“It worked didn’t it? Your story was great.”

“I guess.” You don’t look at him, “Can you go bother someone else now.”

“I can’t. Unfortunately, I have been tasked to ask you to dance.”

You snort, laughing right in his face, maybe louder than necessary. “You’re kidding, right?”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Nope. Bride’s orders. She wants to see you ‘enjoy yourself.’ Her words, not mine,” he says, looking as unenthusiastic as you feel.

Your eyes narrow as you scan the room, landing on Melanie, who’s grinning like a Cheshire cat and motioning toward the dance floor. You shake your head at her, but she just waves and mouths the word “Go,” as if you have a choice.

You sigh dramatically. “Do we really need to do this?”

“It’s her day. One dance.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. One. But if you step on my foot, I’m taking you down.”

He stands up, stepping around the table with that annoyingly smug look. “Shall we?” His smile is barely there, but it’s cocky enough to make your blood boil.

“Don’t push it,” you mutter, taking his hand. You barely make contact, hovering your fingers above his like even touching him might burn you. As he leads you onto the dance floor, you bury yourselves among the other couples, hoping no one’s watching. His hand settles on your waist, and instinctively, you pull away.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “It’s a dance, genius. I kind of have to touch you.” You begrudgingly let him place his hand back on your waist, feeling the heat of his fingers through the fabric. “Not like we haven’t done more,” he adds with a smirk.

Your jaw tightens. “We are not doing this right now.”

“Why not? It’s funny,” he says, grinning wider.

“It’s not funny. And if you make this a running joke, I swear—”

He cuts you off, still smiling. “Alright, no jokes. Just dancing.”

The silence between you is thick as you sway to the music, the tension almost unbearable. Every inch of you screams to get away, but somehow, you stay. His body is warm—too warm—and it’s irritating how natural it feels to fall into rhythm with him. You hate it.

“This could be worse,” he murmurs, voice softer than you expect.

“Yeah, I could be dancing with someone I actually like,” you shoot back, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His eyes flick down to meet yours. “Always so charming,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You don’t have to make this harder.”

You smirk, the alcohol making you bolder. “Oh, trust me, I can make it way harder if you want.”

He snorts. “Of course you’d take it there.”

“Just saying. You’re the one who couldn’t keep it together last night,” you bite back, giving him a pointed look. Jungkook competitive side kicking into gear.

His hand tightens ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re really gonna go there?”

“You started it.”

Shaking his head. “Fine. This isn’t so bad, right? We’ve done worse things together.”

You bristle at his words, heat rising to your cheeks. “Like I said, let’s not make this a thing.”

“Fine. But don’t act like it wasn’t on your mind.” His voice is low, taunting. It had been on your mind, but you had been doing your best to push it to a deep place inside you to forget.

You glare up at him. “I barely remember it.”

He grins, leaning in just enough that you can smell the cigarettes and cologne on him. “Sure you don’t.”

You roll your eyes, willing your heart to stop racing. “Whatever. This is officially the worst slow dance of my life.”

“Mine too,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes you think he’s not completely serious.

The song drags on, slow and painful. Finally, you break the silence. “So... back to hating each other after tonight?”

He meets your eyes, his smirk fading just slightly. “That’s the plan, isn’t it?”

You hesitate for a second longer than you should. “Yeah. I guess so.”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something you don’t have time to figure out before he lets you go, stepping back as the song ends.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

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throughparisallthroughrome · 1 day

Text

"Got the Blues Back in Boston"

Chapter 1

Pairing: Modern!Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Description: Leaving behind an incompatible college and profound heartbreak on the Virginia Coast, you find yourself home again in Brookline, Massachusetts. A new opportunity presents itself to you at MIT, joining your brother ben and childhood friends/neighbors, Anakin and Ahsoka. Despite the familiarity, you discover just how much of a difference 2 years away can really make between the people you once considered family.

Warnings:f!reader, angst, jealousy, pining, smut, masturbation, mentions/descriptions of domestic abuse, cursing, drinking/drug usage, academic obsession, general obsession, hardcore partying, frats, general college bullshit

DISCLAIMER!!! READ BEFORE PROCEEDING: I’ve never been in an abusive relationship- I’ve only witnessed them. I’m an aspiring psychology major and have done a lot of research on the topic of domestic abuse/violence. This series deals with this topic HEAVILY, so be warned.

Word Count: 6.3k A/N: First chapter is up! I'm sorry it took so long, I was really hoping to nail a certain feel and aesthetic with this series, and I really hope that translates. I'm probably gonna post the playlist I listen to while writing this because it does have a lot of influence on the story and everything. Please let me know if you wish to be tagged! Requests and ask box is open, and any/all criticism is welcome! Thank you for reading and supporting me <3

masterlist.

The drive to Brookline was always a hassle. Whether it was crossing the scary bridge along the coast of Virginia or through New York City—knowing that you’d still never been—it always ached. Maybe it was because you hadn’t been home in two years—and you missed Boston.

Piled high in the back of your black Ford Focus was the last two years of your life that you could fit. You left behind everything else.

The forest that encompassed you on I-95 offered a clearer perspective on your situation. As devastating as it had been, your new beginning after high school was not quite what you expected it to be. Hampton was a lovely place; the beaches were excellent, the people friendly, and there was always something to do. Somewhere to go. You made decent money working as a cocktail waitress in a club near your apartment, which is how you met Nick.

Tall, with a handsome face and a charm that was impossible to resist, Nick was the kind of man you couldn't help but be drawn to. He had a gorgeous smile and a body sculpted from the gods. The night you met him, he smooth-talked his way into your bed, introducing himself as Nicholas, saying how he never met someone as beautiful as you. The other waitresses just didn’t compare. And the rest was history. Were you usually the type to sleep with someone on the first date (if you could call it that)? Definitely not. But something about him was so captivating.

But as the trees passed you by and your grip on your steering wheel tightened, you felt a tear fall onto your shaking hands. What happened to the Nick you loved? What went wrong? Who did you both turn into? Besides, the whole thing going south was your fault- you both knew that. You wanted too much; you let those men flirt, and you were never there for him. You never did what he asked. And you’d never amount to anything. At least, that’s what Nick always told you- and part of you was inclined to believe it.

Your heart ached at the loss. The 11-hour drive was increasingly painful by the second, only two hours in and not even through the first city. The morning sun beamed in your eye as your car trudged through the wetlands, bathed in its golden hue.1 In the distance, you could make out the skyline of DC, the first city you needed to travel through.

It was nice in DC. You had attended a few times in the past. On one of the many family vacations you took throughout the years, you, your parents, and the Skywalkers had all made a trip together to that specific destination. You intentionally took the longer way home to ensure you remember it all. Besides, the Delaware Peninsula was far from interesting. And you needed the time to think- and probably mentally prepare yourself for what you’d arrive at.

The most exciting part of the trip was Baltimore, Philly, and NYC back to back. Despite sitting in mind-numbing traffic a lot of times, there was always something to look at. And people-watching was always your favorite. You felt your heart hurt, wishing for the opportunities that these cities could bring. As New York City and Hartford disappeared in the rearview mirror, the approaching Boston skyline sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat. And there was the traffic.

You shakily reached for a cigarette out of your purse as your car came to a stop, breaking your own promise that you wouldn’t smoke in the car you bought. A wide smile spread across your face as you lit the cigarette, your body relaxing as the sweet scent filled the air. Naturally, your mind went straight to Anakin. Whenever you tasted cigarettes, it was impossible not to think of him and the bittersweet moments you shared. After all, he started your bad habit. Once again, your hands shook. Did he ever think about you while you were gone? You were close, but he was also an incredible pain in your ass. And what if he and Padme suddenly got back together? Ahsoka would have told you, right? Maybe.

She would have told you.

The familiar streets of Brookline outstretched before you, energetic and alive, instantly flooding your mind with cheerful memories that brought a grin to your face. Your smile widened across your face as you glanced at the familiar sports bar on the corner, reminiscing about the laughter and friendships you developed during your time as a hostess in high school. You turned the corner at the next light, a quiet laugh escaping your lips as the vibrant lights of the movie theater danced before your eyes, eliciting the sweet nostalgia of your god-awful first kiss. You weren’t expecting little Tommy to stick his tongue down your throat in 7th grade. As you approached Emerson Garden, a bittersweet ache tugged at your heart, memories of laughter and familiarity flooding your mind—the memories it held.

The streetlights flickered as you turned down the most familiar road of all. You bit your lip in anticipation and ignored the urge to light another cigarette right then and there- your mom didn’t need to know about your filthy habit (although she smoked, too). The soft melodies of Radiohead and the laughter echoed from the back porch as you parked in the driveway. Gazing at the house with a smile, you felt a hint of excitement about reclaiming your old room. It had been far too long.

The porch light turned on, and out ran Ahsoka, not even giving you a chance to turn your car off.

“You motherfucker!” She yelled, opening the car door and throwing her arms around you as you laughed, “It’s been so fucking long!”

You looked back at her, pulling the beanie off her head and giggling, “Well, don’t tell the others, but I only came back for you.”

“Shut up,” she stands up, pulling you up with her, “Get your ass inside.” You laugh and salute her, following her through the familiar corridors of your house and into the kitchen.

“Shut the FUCK up. She’s real!” Your mom squealed and quickly set her wine down, embracing you as if you’d be gone in an instant. “Never leave me like that again.” She pulls away and laughs, her tone laced with a hint of seriousness.

“Never.” You promised, smiling wide before your dad caught your attention, tossing you a beer and shooting a wink in your direction. Although he wasn't typically sentimental, you could tell he missed you.

“Where are the boys?” you asked, opening the can and drinking the bitter liquid. “Jesus Christ, Miller Lite never gets better, does it?” You squinted your eyes in disgust, giggling at your own reaction.

“Nope, thought I taught you better than that.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. “They’re outside with Cliegg and Shmi.”

“Okay, sweet, I’ll go say hello.” You motion towards the back door, catching a glimpse of Ben from the back porch.

“Hey,” He grabs your arm before you can turn to leave. “We missed you. I hope you’re okay. Ahsoka didn’t give us any details, but she said things really went to shit in Hampton. I just want to make sure you know you always have a home here, and we will do what we can to make it better, okay?”

You nodded and smiled before practically running out the back door, forgetting exactly what you were throwing yourself into.

“You fucker, you cheated!” Anakin yells, throwing down his cards as Ben takes a swig of his beer and laughs.

“I’m afraid you just have an awful poker face, Anakin.” He sets his cards down and stands up, turning to face you with a smile. “There she is. About time you graced us with your presence.”

You give a shrug before embracing Ben tightly, fighting back tears welling up in your eyes. You and Ben were close, and you knew that if he found out what happened, it would devastate him. He and Anakin were always there to keep you safe, but you had a distinct sibling connection. He knew you too well, always able to read your thoughts with uncanny accuracy.

“You okay?” He pulled away and whispered, searching your sad eyes.

“Yeah, just tired. Long ass drive. Took the long way this time.” You sniffled, and he nodded in response, letting go and pulling a chair out between Anakin and what you assumed was Ahsoka’s chair. With a quiet thank you on your lips, you raised your beer to your mouth and took a long, satisfying gulp, feeling a gentle buzz settle in.

“So, you’re back.” Anakin avoids eye contact, shuffling the cards before him as Ahsoka stifles a laugh. “Took you long enough.”

“Anakin!” Shmi scolds, noticing how his lips turn into a smirk, “You know he missed you, Y/N. He’s just a sore loser. Ben’s kicked his ass at poker three times now.”

“Ah,” You nod, a grin spreading across your face, “He just doesn’t want to admit he sucks at poker- OW!” You feel a sudden impact as Anakin's foot forcefully meets the top of yours, causing you to shoot a glare in his direction. His eyes remain fixed on the cards, completely disregarding your look, while he bites down on his lip, trying to contain his amusement. "Sore loser indeed," you mutter under her breath, shaking her head in annoyance as you pick up the cards he handed you.

Of course, the hand was awful. You weren’t sure how you’d make it out of this alive. Family poker nights were a tradition started by your parents and the Skywalkers, which you were all quickly introduced to by your 10th birthday. Once you hit double digits, you were old enough to gamble. Ahsoka was always the best, but you had a habit of making a comeback when people least expected it. And you had a great poker face- Anakin did not. Anakin had a habit of wearing every thought and emotion on his sleeve his entire life. Shmi always swore it would be his downfall- as a child, you thought she was just talking about his downfall at poker. But once you got older, you quickly understood.

When you discovered his breakup with Padme, you felt like maybe part of you understood. But you never really knew why they broke up. Everyone just told you, “They were better off as friends,” and that was all you knew. Did you want the real story? Absolutely. But part of you was worried about what he’d tell you. You knew better than to get involved in Anakin’s love life, and deep down, a part of you didn’t want to taint the image you had always had of him in your mind.

“Heard you finally got into MIT,” Anakin breaks the silence and your train of thought as he pushes a couple of chips into the center of the table, “Congratulations, although I’ve never heard of anyone going to MIT for an Archeology degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh.

“There it is.” You giggle as everyone groans, setting their cards down as they fold.

“There’s what?” He shoots you a disapproving glare.

“You’ve never given me a compliment without an insult. Was waiting for it.” You shrug, laying down your cards, “Full house.” Anakin’s jaw drops as you pull all the chips in your direction.

“Shit,” He mutters, setting his cards down and laying his head on the table as he groans loudly in annoyance, “Fucking done with this game.”

“And so are we,” Shmi motions Cliegg to stand, “Love you guys. Have fun. Good to have you back, sweetheart.” Shmi kisses your head as Cliegg ruffles your hair before leaving to say goodnight to your parents.

“Mhm,” you hum, finishing the last of your beer, “and plenty of people go to MIT for archeology. It’s a great school. Besides, it’s about time I joined you all there. And it’s only a 15-minute drive. Speaking of- how’s biochemical engineering going, little one?” With a gentle tap on Ahsoka's knee, she reluctantly tears her gaze away from her phone and responds with an eye roll.

“Fucking awful! I love what I’m studying; the school is incredible- just so much work. I’m so tired. I have time for nothing!” She groans and sinks further into her chair while you, Anakin, and Ben burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Coming from a recent MIT graduate- it doesn’t get any better. Just wait until you get further into your major- Biochemical Engineering is far from easy.” Ben offers her a smile while you and Anakin continue giggling.

“And on that note,” You stand up, shaking your empty can, “I’m getting something stronger than this Miller.”

As you enter the house, a soft purr fills the air as your familiar furry companion, Giz, wraps himself around your legs. You squat down on the floor and feel the warmth of his fur as you pet him, "Missed you, little guy."

“He missed you too.” Your mom leans against the doorway, handing you an obnoxiously full glass of wine. “Had a feeling you came in for this. Are we gonna talk about what happened?”

You sigh, standing up and rubbing your hands on your thighs. “Now’s not really the time or place, Mom. I just got here. The last thing I wanna think about is that.” You grab the glass out of her hand and attempt to turn around before her hand is on your shoulder, pulling you back.

“Not so fast.” You turn around and meet her concerned eyes, your hands feeling more sweaty than they did a minute ago. “Y/N, no one just up and leaves their entire life for the past two years suddenly without something major happening. I know you haven’t told anyone- and I know the last thing you want to do is talk about it- but please, for the love of God, talk to someone. We can all tell something is off. You’re not yourself, honey. We care about you- and we’re concerned. As much as I’m so fucking happy to have you back, I know something bad happened, and I want to be there for you.”

“Mom,” You put your hand on her shoulder, fighting back tears with a smile. “You’re doing enough. I just want to have a good time, focus on being in my dream school, and g-get my life back together, okay?”

“O-okay,” she nods, her voice laced with apprehension as she turns away from you and back into the kitchen, “Pasta on the stove if you want it!”

“Thanks!” you yell, shutting the back door behind you and sighing loudly as you plop back into your chair, earning an eyebrow raise from everyone, “I’m here for an hour and she’s already bugging me.”

“She just loves you, Y/N/N.” Ben tries to reason, and you feel your leg bounce.

“Yeah,” you mumble, fidgeting with the poker chips on the table.

“So,” Anakin leans forward, opening another beer, “You and that guy still together? What was his name.. Harry? James?”

“Nick.” You answer for him, unconsciously biting your lip. “And no, we’re not.” Everyone’s ears suddenly perked up at the confession, the consensus being just how little they knew about your life.

“Damn, what’d you do?” Anakin jokes, searching your face for a smile, only to be met with nothing.

“Ha. Good one.” You chuckle under your breath, your lips forming into a frown.

As soon as Anakin brought up Nick, you lost interest in the conversation. Nick never met the family; you only told them about him over the phone while you were gone. He had always insisted that your life was meant to be in Hampton with him, where you would create something new together. You didn’t need to return home to your family; if you did, you’d be leaving him all alone. Holidays and significant moments came and went, and all the while, you were stuck at a college you loathed, sharing your life with a man you mistakenly believed was the one.

During your nights in Hampton, you and Nick would often find yourselves curled up on the couch, indulging in excessive drinking while he introduced you to various illicit substances. You pretended to enjoy soccer and cocaine, drinking more tequila than you needed. Shot after shot, followed by line after line, you barely knew who you were. He constantly told you how pretty you were, how you were made for him, but if you forgot to run to the liquor store that day, he would treat you as if you were dead to him. Nick offered little in return for your support, except for empty assurances that the life you would build together would make it all worthwhile. Nick's behavior took a downward spiral as he began staying late at work and arriving home in a drunken stupor. From that point on, things spiraled out of control.

And maybe a part of you once loved Nick, but now you felt suffocated in the relationship. And when you tried to bring things up to him, he’d tell you that you were a cheap whore who was only made to be his personal fuck toy. And just like that, the conversation came to an end. The coercion left, and he started to force you to use the drugs he’d use, tell you to skip class, skip tests, skip your job- you were losing yourself within him, and you were worried about the consequences if you didn’t let it happen. He was always a kind, sweet, romantic boy- but he could be so, so evil.

And you’ll never forget the first time he hit you, the sound of his hand connecting with your skin echoing in your ears. As you sat on the counter, the alcohol made your vision blur, and your head throbbed as if it was about to explode. You were already at your limit, and the last thing you wanted was to do was another line. Your nose was already starting to bleed a little, and he begged and begged for you to keep going- telling you he needed it. He didn’t want to do it alone- you had to do it. As you stubbornly declined once more, a sudden, fiery sting seared across your cheek, causing your nose to finally bleed and droplets of blood to stain your thigh. He apologized profusely, waiting on you hand and foot as he cleaned you up, held your hair as you puked, washed you, and still talked you into sex- but it had happened. You knew you needed to leave, or your life could be at stake.

“Y/N?” Ben asks, and you break out of your Nick-induced trance with a sharp gasp, your eyes glossy and lips bloody from your nervous tic.

“I’ll be back.” You stand back up, taking a concerningly long swig from the wine before exiting out the back gate and into the driveway.

“I’m really concerned about her.” Ben watches you leave and bites his lip. Ahsoka nods along with him. “Listen, as happy as I am to have her back, something’s not right. As her brother, I just- I fear the worst. She’s not herself.”

“Did you see the way she reacted when you asked about Nick?” Ahsoka whispered, leaning in to closer to the table, “Something had to have happened.”

“Wait.” Anakin says, as he and Ben both turn to face her, their brows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Ahsoka, you don’t know anything either? She’s your best friend.”

“I- I know nothing. And I hate it.” She confesses to the boys, the air growing thick as Anakin uncomfortably shifts in his seat, and Ben sighs.

“I think I’m gonna try to talk to her.” Anakin stands slowly as Ben raises a brow and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes.

“Anakin, no offense, but I doubt she’ll want to talk to you,” Ahsoka murmured, avoiding his scowl.

“Well,” he pushes the chair behind him, walking towards the gate. “We’ll see!”

Curled up in the Papasan chair on the porch, you lit the joint between your fingers and watched as the lights in your neighbor's windows turned off. Your thoughts drifted from Nick and onto the childhood you missed dearly—so many snowball fights on the street before you, bike rides, and scraped knees. You remember the Johnsons across the street particularly not liking Anakin, so you and Ahsoka egged their house, only to backfire and get Anakin in trouble. You confessed to doing it, and no one believed you. It had to be Anakin. But for some strange reason, he never cared. He accepted the punishment, mowed their yard for a year, and never brought it up to you, no matter how many times you apologized. And every apology that slipped from between your lips was met with a grin.

And that time in 7th grade when Ahsoka really got into it with Julie down the street. She never liked Ahsoka and always found a way to get under her skin. However, this time was particularly awful. When you found Ahsoka, she was sobbing on the corner while Julie laughed at her, calling her pathetic, telling her that even her adopted parents didn’t love her and that her big brother wasn’t there to save her now. But you were. You pushed Julie onto the grass so fucking hard, only for her to get back up and swing. Ahsoka screamed for you to stop, but a newfound rage took over as you pounded into Julie’s face. She ended up on the pavement with a broken nose, and you ended the fight with a fractured wrist and grounded for a month (Only a month because your mom found out who you fought and what she said). Anakin was waiting for Ben to return from tennis and heard the commotion. He ran down the street, finding Ahsoka sobbing, Julie on the pavement, bloody and teary, and you sitting on the corner, shaking and clutching your throbbing wrist in your hand. He instantly asked Ahsoka what happened before making his way to you, holding your wrist, picking you up, and taking you and Ahsoka back to your house. Your mom called Julie’s mom and talked about what happened, and fortunately, Julie confessed to everything. And that’s when you found out her parents were going through a nasty divorce, and Julie was starting therapy. And surprisingly, she actually grew into a really decent, respectable person.

The four of you had always done everything together. You had always been inseparable. And when you left, it tore that apart. You left a hole in Brookline, and you knew it as well as they did. Even though they swore they were happy for you, moving on and doing more, you could see in their eyes that they selfishly did not want you to leave. They didn’t like the years of friendship to be put on hold just like that. And, of course, you felt guilty about it all, but you thought you needed to get out of Brookline. You assumed you wanted something bigger than Boston, bigger than you, bigger than those childhood friends. And two years later, you realize just how naïve you were. Those were your lifelong friends; your life was in Boston, and your dream school was there, too. You missed them more than you could ever envision, and the guilt ate at you every single fucking day. And you wished that 19-year-old you had just stayed. Things would be so much simpler if you had stayed. You let some pathetic man in Hampton tell you that it was just you and him- forever. And you knew deep down your 19-year-old naive self didn’t believe a fucking word he said- she just wished she did.

“Oh, that’s not a cigarette.” Your eyes flicker up from the street and towards a drunken Anakin leaning against the patio rail in front of you. His lips were curled into a mischievous smile, his hair curly and messy.

“No,” You lean forward, handing him the joint, “No, it’s not.”

“So,” He took a quick draw from the joint, flicking it against the deck railing as he looked back at you and smiled, “You just got here, and you’re already running from us? What’s up with that?”

You scoff, snatching the joint from him and leaning back in the chair.

“Just wanted some alone time, is all.” You avoid his gaze, and it’s his turn to scoff, plopping himself next to you in the chair.

“Yeah, because you’ve been so fond of that your entire life. I don’t believe you.”

“And? Never said I cared that you did.” You quickly retorted, earning an eyebrow raise and a smirk.

“Relax,” he said, snatching the joint back from you and holding it hostage. “Talk to me. It’s just us.” His hand met yours; his gaze was intense and empathetic.

You weren’t sure why you wanted to tell him. It was probably the weed mixed with a bit of liquid courage, but in that moment, you needed to get it out. He was so welcoming, holding your hand and offering you the comfort you needed in that moment. Was it pure manipulation? Possibly. But you knew Anakin loved you just as much as you loved him, and you knew you could trust him. He had kept your secrets before, so what’s another one? However, none of those other secrets typically included an abusive relationship; it was mainly about Ben and Ahsoka. You gripped his hand back, watching his eyes soften and his lips curve into a small smile.

“Just-” You started, dropping your voice into a low murmur, “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.” He looked into your eyes like he would die to protect your secret. That was precisely what you needed to see.

“Nick- uh- sorry,” You sniffled, rubbing your eyes as you searched for the right words. “He- uh- he hurt me—a lot. I barely made it out of that relationship in one piece. I think my breaking point was when I asked him to visit for your grandma’s funeral, and he knocked me out. I woke up in my bathtub, my face covered in my blood, and he was gone. I applied to MIT that morning. The day after I got in, I packed everything I could and left. He’s blocked on everything, and he hasn’t attempted to reach out in any sort of way. Anakin- I don’t know what would have happened to me if I didn’t leave.”

Your eyes met Anakin’s glossy ones as your hands shook underneath his touch. He crooked his head to the side, bringing you in for a much-needed hug. You let yourself cry softly in his arms, feeling his shaky hands rub in slow motions up and down your back, his other hand stroking the top of your scalp.

But when he looked back at you, the softness in his gaze had disappeared. His fists clenched at his side, his eyebrows furrowed as he bit his lip in frustration.

“A-Anakin?”

“Y/N, why didn’t you tell anybody? We would’ve come to help! We could have put that piece of shit in jail by now!” He stands up abruptly, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply.

“I-I’m sorry- I-” You stutter, your mind racing as he paces before you. His eyes meet yours, and he points at you as your heartbeat accelerates.

“Y/N, I swear to god- I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. He’s fucking dead. I don’t care what hap-” He stops momentarily, cut off by your sobs from the chair. Fuck. He’s yelling at a domestic violence victim- no- he’s yelling at you. What a fucking asshole.

“HeyHeyHeyHey-” He’s quickly on his knees in front of you, shushing and brushing your hair out of your face, “I’m so fucking sorry- that was so selfish of me to do. I shouldn’t have said or done any of that. You opened up to me, and I yelled at you.. that will never happen again, okay? Why don’t we get you to bed?” He held your hands in his, searching your red eyes for an answer as you quickly nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go say goodnight to everyone, you just hold tight here. Sound good?” You nodded once again, and he giggled. “Words, sweetheart. I need you to say something.”

“That’s what I want, Ani. Bed.” You mumble out, forming your lips into a sad smile. His heart broke at the sight of you.

The second the back gate opened back up, Ben and Ahsoka immediately shot out of their chairs at the sight of Anakin. Their interrupted conversation suddenly had no meaning as he entered, taking a quick seat next to them.

“She’s- uh- she’s pretty upset. And fucked up. I’m gonna take her to bed.” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair as Ben and Ahsoka looked at him, puzzled.

“Well, what happened? Is she okay? Does she need help?” Ahsoka frantically broke the silence, asking the questions she and Ben were both thinking.

“Listen, she’s in rough shape right now. I’m just gonna get her to sleep, and I’ll tell you guys all about it. I don’t even know if she’s done talking about it. I’ll be right back.”

“Y/N?” He calls out your name as he steps on the other side of the gate, jogging up the front porch to see you passed out in the chair, joint hanging loosely from your fingers.

Amused, he grabs the roach from your fingers and casually tosses it off the porch, letting out a small laugh. Clearly, you didn't waste any time before drifting off to sleep. All the crying and weed must have done something. As he crouches down beside you, he tenderly brushes your hair, his eyes filled with adoration as he looks at your sleeping figure.

“I’m so sorry about everything,” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, sighing softly, “I know you’re going to hate me for what I’m gonna do. Just please know it’s in your best interest. I care about you so much.” He bites his lip in thought, his eyes searching your figure.

As he rises to his feet, he effortlessly swipes your phone and tucks it away, his eyes briefly glancing at your water bottle. With a tender gesture, he reaches his arms beneath you, drawing you close to his chest and ensuring the blanket envelops you snugly as he lifts you from the chair. Your head is cradled against his chest, his hand wrapped around your waist and under your knees.

Anakin carried you gently up the stairs of your house, each step creaking under the weight of his feet. Passing through the familiar corridors, he reached your bedroom door and pushed it open, immediately being overwhelmed by the alluring scent of your space. As he laid you down on your bed, he couldn't help but notice how little the room had changed since you left, the same photos on the walls and the same worn-out rug. Your mom kept everything intact, probably hoping you’d come back eventually. He filled your water bottle, plugged your phone in, left some medicine on your nightstand, and tucked you in tightly. Just as he turned on the fan and kissed your forehead goodnight, your eyes fluttered open to meet with his, and you gave him a sleepy smile.

“Ani?” You mumbled, watching as his smile grew above you.

“Hey, sweetheart, feeling pretty sleepy, huh?”

“Mhm,” You stretched your arms out momentarily as you yawned. “I’m sorry I dropped all of that on you earlier. And I’m just- I’m sorry about it all. I feel so-”

“Y/N,” He gets on his knees next to you, the warmth in his eyes matching the tender smile on his lips, “You don’t need to apologize for a thing. I’m always here. And so are Ben and Ahsoka. We got you. You take as much time as you need to process, recover, and do whatever you need to, okay? It’s about you, Y/N/N, don’t worry about us.” You giggle and nod at his words, your eyes attempting to flutter shut. He laughs at your exhaustion, ruffling up the hair on your head. “Sleep well, okay? I’ll be here if you need me.”

He closes your door and leans against the door frame, exhaling heavily as he tries to make sense of everything that happened throughout the night. How could someone be so fucking despicable to do this to you? His girl. His fists clenched tightly at his waist, his eyes burning with rage as he vividly imagined the torment you endured. He tried not to let his mind go there. He really did. Resting against your bedroom door, vivid visions of you, covered in blood and pleading for help, overwhelmed him, plunging him into a downward spiral. And in a moment of weakness, he did exactly what he promised he wouldn’t do.

“She was abused. Badly.”

“WHAT?”

Ben and Ahsoka jump from their seats on the porch, rushing towards Anakin as he angrily makes his way from the house onto the deck.

“That fucking piece of shit!” Ben shouts, punching his fist against the side of the house while Ahsoka tries to calm Anakin down, asking him for more details.

“Okay, Anakin, I need you to give me more than just ‘abused.’ I know you have details.” Ahsoka sputtered while she held the sides of his arms, guiding him over to the table to sit down while Ben paced behind them.

“It was that asshole she was dating for the past two years- Nick. The one we conveniently never met, which I’m sure was on purpose. She didn’t tell me much other than that if she didn’t leave when she did, she could’ve- well- she- it just wouldn’t have ended well.”

Anakin's words hung in the air, creating a thick silence that was almost tangible with tension. Anakin's throat tightened as he locked eyes with Ben and Ahsoka, their glossy gazes reflecting their shared pain. Ben found a spot at the table, deep in thought, as he absentmindedly stroked his chin, his eyes devoid of any emotion. Ahsoka carefully finished the last of her wine, the cling! of it ringing out as the glass met the table one last time.

“Well-” Ben tried to start, cut off by his sudden sobs. He pushed his head on the table, covering his face from Ahsoka and Anakin as he attempted to take deep breaths, processing the information he had just learned. In an effort to hold back tears, Anakin bit his lip, his hand trembling as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes squeezed shut tightly. As she silently wept, Ahsoka soothingly rubbed Ben's back, hoping to ease his pain.

“I just- I should have known.” She mumbled, picking the cat's hair off of the back of Ben’s sweater.

“There’s no way you could’ve, Snips.”

“It’s just that- I thought it was odd when she suddenly asked me to pick up her cat. Saying she couldn’t take care of him and that it was an emergency. I never even met Nick, and she wouldn’t let me stay at the apartment long. I hardly saw her. So many fucking red flags..” she trailed off, feeling her head hurt at the thought.

“Ahsoka, it’s okay.” Ben sniffled, lifting his head off the table as his red eyes met Anakin’s. “There is no one at fault here other than Nick.”

"Exactly," Anakin paused momentarily at his comment, his eyes widening. “Guys, she made me promise I wouldn’t tell you. Considering everything, I think we should wait until she opens up. Even though it hurts, the last thing I’d want to do is hurt her anymore.”

“Yeah,” Ben whispers, and Ahsoka nods, holding onto each other as they try to calm down.

“We should get to bed, guys. It’s 3:30.” Anakin mumbles as he stands up and stretches, offering his hand to Ahsoka. “We’ll see you soon, Ben. Get some rest.”

As he lay in bed, Anakin’s mind wandered off to you. How could it not? Besides being your best friend, he always looked for more in you. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, and he despised himself because of it. To him, you were his world, his everything. Always. And hearing/seeing how hurt you were? It fucking destroyed him. So, he let himself cry. He allowed himself to feel those emotions for you, and he always had buried them deep down. Instead, he buried his face in his pillow and soaked it with his tears. His admiration for you would never falter, and neither would his protectiveness. He felt as if a part of him failed, and as a result, his guard was down. He felt the desire to love you and keep you safe increased, knowing that getting the chance to do so may destroy him inside and out.

And it didn’t help that you lost your virginities to each other. Sharing such a unique, intimate moment with the person he always knew was the one, well, that just really fucked things. Literally. There wasn't a moment when he wasn't haunted by the memories of that night; it was a constant presence in his mind. And then he got with Padme, and you left for Virginia, and things got so lost and confused, and life moved on. You moved on. He tried to. But he searched for you in everyone and everything. Padme knew it, he knew it, fuck, his mother probably knew it! He’s just thankful Ben doesn’t know it. As much as he hated to say it, Anakin knew he would have gone back in time to do anything to change that moment. Because now you’re here, and his feelings have only intensified. Feelings that should have left a long, long time ago. And yet, as he cried himself to sleep, he continued to dream of you, just like every night before.

Please let me know if you wish to be tagged!

Series tags: @w0rsh1psells @ursogorgeous13 @tommyvelvet @mistress-amidala @queenofnigthdarkness @nikkissecretlibrary @doblasftcisco @ann4zw @catachlysmicjedi @googie-jeon @xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo @anakinstwinklebunny

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the-monstermash · 2 days

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UNBROKEN BETROTHALS pt.5

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Synopsis: After running away from an unwanted proposal, you find yourself working in a brothel as a cook. When a certain guest takes an odd liking to you, secrets are revealed and betrothals unbroken

Warnings: Angst, Brothels, Mature, 18+, Smut, Explicit Language, P in V,

Word Count: 1,547

> A/N: I FINALLY finished this series, my first ever series! So sorry for the delay, I had some major emergencies that took all my time and energy for a while!

Walking towards the light in the Godswood had set your nerves on fire. You were panting, shaky, and even fighting some dizziness. Your mother whispered reassurances to you, which helped urge you to the opening.

The weirwood tree was stunning, its branches stretching out at least seven feet, the leaves a bright shade of red. It didn’t hold your attention for long, as your eyes fell upon Aemond, who was already looking at you. He glanced at your mother, his eye widening in panic for a second, and looked to you in question. A small smile was enough to ease his worry, and he straightened himself up and turned to Aegon, who was rested against the Weirwood tree and reading from an old book.

“Who comes before…the Old Gods this night?” He slurred, clearly disinterested. Your mother announced your name and title, and what your intentions were that night.

“Who comes to claim her?” Your mother turned to Aemond, who had stepped forward taken you from your mothers reluctant embrace.

“Aemond Targaryen, Prince of the seven kingdoms. Who gives her?”

Your mother recited her title, though the ringing in your ears made it hard to make out. You’d fallen silent, and Aemond turned back to Aegon, who was struggling to catch up to the line we were currently reciting.

“Do you take him?” Aegon smiled, seeming proud of himself.

“I take this man.” You said proudly, and Aemond leaned in to kiss your lips. “That is not tradition.: You whispered smugly.

“I could not help myself, Lady Wife.”

“Well, now that that’s done.” Aegon stumbled his was from the Godswood, in search of fun and debauchery, to be sure.

Your mother stood a few steps from you and Aemond, staring as if to appraise the two of you, deciding if she approved the match. Finally, the corners of her mouth tightened in a resigned smile, she sighed and reached out to pet your head.

“My sweet girl.” She leaned in to place a simple kiss on your temple. “My son.” She raised her head at Aemond, who bowed his head respectfully. “I hope you are ready for what comes tomorrow. For now, enjoy this night together.” And with that, she turned to leave.

There was a contented silence between the two of you, and it wasn’t long before Aemond was leading you out of the Godswood.

“People will notice us here if we remain. We should go back to our chambers for the night. I’ll prepare for our family’s ire, I’m sure there will be hell to pay tomorrow.”

“They will approve, won’t they?”

“It doesn’t matter. The wedding was witnessed, and performed by the king himself. Who could refute it?” He ran his fingers through your loose hair, brushing it from your shoulder. “I’ll escort you to your chambers to not raise suspicion.”

You nodded and followed arm in arm to his chambers. There was a difference in the way he held you now, something that wasn’t there before. A possessiveness. Servants’ gazes lingered in the halls, as if they could see the union between you like some universal aura. The halls were pretty abandoned, only lingering maids and servants coming to snuff candles and feed fires for their masters.

When you came upon your chamber door, you both stood there in silence for a few seconds, though it felt like much longer. There was only one other maid in the hall, and your eyes followed her until she retreated before addressing Aemond.

“I can’t believe we did that.” Your eyes were alight with mirth, your lips turning up with a half-hidden smile. “It will be a scandal tomorrow. It’s like people already know.”

“There is nothing that could keep me from taking you as my wife.” He leaned in, planting a soft kiss to your lips. He tried to retreat, but you followed him with your mouth, lengthening the kiss until he fully straightened so you could not reach him. “You’ll need rest for tomorrow.”

“Stay with me.” His eyes looked over your head, looking at your chamber door.

“I do not think it wise, we are in enough trouble as it is.”

“It is our wedding night…” His gaze shot down to yours. “Should we not…consummate?” His eyes drifted close at the mere thought, a shiver running down your spine as if the words left a chill in the air. “You mentioned earlier…that if we consummated it they’d have to recognize the union.”

“So I did.” He smirked and reached around you for the knob of your chambers, opening it and herding you inside quickly. He closed the door and locked it, moving to take his coat off. “I know you are naive in the ways of husband and wife, so I will do my best to teach you.”

“It will hurt.” You offered your limited knowledge. “All the women say it hurts.”

“I’ll make it pleasurable for you. I want my wife to enjoy her wedding night.”

“With my husband here to hold me, I can’t imagine not enjoying it.” He began stripping himself, and you did the same, pulling the strings of your gown until it fell, pooling at your feet.

You had just stepped out of it when he reached for you, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you close. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he guided you towards the bed, tossing you onto your back and kneeling over you.

“Forgive the lack of ceremony, wife. I’ve waited a long time for this night. You’ll have to excuse my eagerness.”

“A lack of eagerness would be most disrespectful, I think.” Your giggle was silenced by his lips on yours, your body melting into the bed with each touch.

When his hands made their way to your hip bones, you jerked in anticipation. You felt alive, in a way you had never experienced before, like white hot coals, you were still, but with one small touch you came alive.

His calloused hands massaged into your hip bones, soothing you enough to finally breathe again, a relief you didn’t know you’d been deprived of. When one of his hands made its way towards your chaste flower, you gripped his forearm in a bid for control.

“Breathe, my love. Allow me to have you, to take you. You must give yourself to me, wholly.” His words were breathy, and with your nod, he removed your hand from his arm and placed it by your head, where you grasped at the pillows in an attempt to ground yourself.

His touch returned, and as his fingers massaged and prodded the most forbidden parts of you, your ardent sighs floated through the still night, the only accompaniment were the crackling of the fire. You weren’t sure just what he was doing, only that you enjoyed it tremendously. Was this what it always felt like? How could all those women bitch about their duties, when it felt like this? His finger slid down your canyon, following the slick down to the hole, where he dipped only the tip of his index in, sinking until your sighs cut to gasps and your hands indented the pillow.

It was a slight, stinging pain, not unbearable but enough to surface you from your sea of pleasure. His fingertip sank into your tight hole, until you felt the rest of his knuckles rest against you. He resumed his massaging motions, gliding in and out against the fading resistance. When he seemed satisfied with his work, he removed his fingers and pushed himself up your body, resting a hand by your head and grasping himself with the other.

His fist stroked his hard cock, rubbing it against you to collect your slick. As he rested the tip against your entrance, he looked to you for approval. A jerky nod was all he needed to push himself into you.

The pain was minute, only a slight burn quickly overshadowed by the all-consuming flames of pleasure he had doused you in. Your moans called to him as he set his pace, groaning with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over again.

“I won’t last, wife. Not this night.” His voice pleaded for something, though you weren’t sure what. A tightening in your gut made your legs squeeze his waist. “Let go for me, wife. Have your pleasures, and feel my seed fill your womb.” His pace increased as the knot tightened within you.

You called out his name as the knot snapped, your legs trembled and your eyes clamped shut. He moaned out, continuing his thrusts until he finished, stilling inside you and groaning as his seed filled you to the brim.

The two of you were silent for a long while, he laid beside you and pulled you to his chest as you tried to catch your breath. He rubbed your back in circles and kissed your forehead.

“Did you enjoy yourself, wife?"

"Very much so. I can understand the passion of whores, if every night is spent in such bliss.” You smiled at his chortled response.

“I love you, my dear sweet wife."

“And I, you." He sighed in content as you both drifted to sleep, enjoying the serenity you were sure to relish come tomorrow.

@mamawiggers1980 @dahlias-and-marigolds @staarflowerr @aemondwhoresworld @uhnanix

#hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #unbroken betrothals

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its-all-stardust · 2 days

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Sugar || 10

Masterlist || Part Nine

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Steven says immediately after his admission. He doesn’t even give you time to react.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

He stands and starts pacing in front of the couch, carefully stepping around the cushions and pillows scattered on the floor, left there after vacuuming the crumbs from the chairs.

“I haven’t even told you what happened, and as soon as I do, you’re never going to want to speak to me again,” he continues to ramble, scenarios playing out in his head—none of them ending happily for him, you’re sure.

All the while, you’re still caught up in what he said to you.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

That’s what you want, isn’t it? And yet, you feel strange.

The words repeat in your head, threatening to overshadow this past weekend and Steven’s alarmed state.

“You know what? I didn’t mean it. Sorry to inconvenience you. I’ll just see myself to the loony bin now.” He starts to walk away, heading for the door.

He’s actually going to leave.

Your hand shoots out, grabbing his before he can get far. “Steven, wait.”

He stops, his hand twitching in yours, unsure what to do.

“Let’s just…try this again,” you say, tugging him back down onto the couch. He didn’t actually want to leave, it seems. He just doesn’t know what to do, overwhelmed by whatever happened and the unplanned admission.

“I’d rather be your boyfriend.”

You push the words away. Even if Steven genuinely meant them, coming on the heels of a blackout that has him more scared than before renders them almost meaningless.

“I told you everything I know. Now it’s your turn,” you say, and Steven tenses even more.

“I-I don’t know if I—”

“You came here because you needed help. Whatever it is, I’m here for you. No matter what, okay?”

Steven stares at you, nervous.

“What’s the first thing you remember?” you ask softly, squeezing Steven’s hand.

“Are we just…skipping over the embarrassing thing I said?” he asks, trying to tease, but his body is still tense, and his smile is more of a grimace.

You smile at him, trying to think over the heavy thudding in your chest.

“We can talk about that too if you want. After you tell me what you know.” You rest your other hand on top of his, cradling it between both of yours.

Steven looks away, his face flushed.

Then he takes a shaky breath and tells you everything.

He tells you about the strange dream that possibly wasn’t a dream at all. He mentions waking up in a strange town and the odd man who sent people chasing after him. Steven says he doesn’t remember how he got away and that some of the details are fuzzy.

Throughout the retelling, you get the sense that he’s holding something back, but you have no idea what it could be, not with how open he’s currently being.

“What was so strange about the man?” you asked.

“He was…weird, ya know? Talked like a cult leader or something,” he answered, a slight tremor in his voice.

“Why were they chasing you?”

“They thought I had something. Some artifact? Definitely don’t have anything like that, though.”

Steven couldn’t even tell you where he was.

It was an outrageous story, to be sure. You’re once again tempted to put some sort of tracker on him in case this happens again. Maybe you can ask…

“It couldn’t have been real,” Steven concludes at the end of this tale. “It had to have been a dream, right?” He looks at you, desperate, though for what answers you don’t know.

But you’ve never been in the habit of lying to Steven, and you won’t start now.

“Did it feel like a dream?” you ask. You feel confident it wasn’t, but Steven needs to accept it himself before the two of you can move on to finding a solution.

“No,” he answers quietly, sounding defeated and perhaps a little afraid. You pull Steven into you, wrapping your arms around him.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise. I’ll look for doctors or psychiatrists again. Something.” You hold Steven for a moment longer, relishing his presence, and he yours, when something occurs to you. “That strange man,” you begin slowly, making sure you have Steven’s attention. “Do you think he’ll come after you?”

After what Steven told you, if this man sent people to chase after him on the assumption that he took something, there’s no telling what lengths he would go to.

Steven tenses under your hands before pulling away from you.

“He wouldn’t. Couldn’t,” he says, though you don’t know if he’s trying to convince you or himself. “He doesn’t even know who I am. And if I didn’t even know where I was, there was no way he could follow me. And I don’t even have the bloody scarab he wanted! He’s got no reason to find me.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from saying anything. Whatever the artifact is, this scarab Steven mentioned, if it’s valuable enough, some black market dealers will go to any length to ensure their payday.

Instead of saying anything to Steven, you smile and try to appear relieved.

“Let’s not worry about that, about him, okay?”

You don’t doubt that Steven’s telling you the truth about his blackouts, but you can’t help but wonder how someone like him could get involved in business like that.

Skipping the background check was a bad idea.

You immediately scold yourself for the thought.

You know Steven. You trust him. Whatever happened had to have been some sort of mistake.

It had to.

You and Steven didn’t talk about what he said. With everything he told you, you figured it best to wait for that conversation.

Instead, you make sure he eats something and, remembering his schedule, get him ready for work tomorrow.

When you ask if he wants to stay the night with you, he practically jumps at the chance. Then he hesitates, suddenly looking nervous.

There are a few things still left unsaid.

“We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise,” you tell him with a soft kiss on the cheek.

“Alright,” Steven says softly, staring at you with tenderness filling his gaze.

In the morning, Steven isn’t beside you.

Not again.

You check the sheets, searching for his warmth, but find none. It’s almost become a routine at this point.

“Steven?” you call out, heartsick. He’s not in the en suite; the door is left open, and the lights are turned off.

You don’t want to leave your bed, afraid of what you might find. Or rather, what you might not.

But then—

“Downstairs,” called quietly back up to you.

The sound that escapes you would have made your face heat with embarrassment if you weren’t so relieved to hear Steven’s voice. You rush out of bed, not caring about your appearance. He’s seen you like this before anyway so what did it matter?

Steven is in the kitchen, sitting at the table, surrounded by the remnants of his making breakfast.

“Still warm,” he says, pushing a plate toward you. “Just finished up a few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, sitting across from him. Why did he make you wake up without him?

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You wait, but he seems to rethink whatever was about to come out and remains silent.

Turning to the plate in front of you, letting Steven think, despite how nervous his silence makes you, you look down at the plate he prepared for you. It’s simple. Pancakes topped with the bananas you had browning on the counter. You top them off with the syrup he’d left on the table and dig in.

“I don’t think we should get involved,” Steven blurts, the words coming out in a rush that leaves you choking on your food.

“W-what?” you manage between coughs.

Steven stands and starts pacing in a loop around the table. “I know what I said last night, but you… After this weekend, you shouldn’t want to even be around me.”

“Steven—” you try to interrupt.

“Something’s definitely wrong with me, and who knows where I’ll end up next or what’ll happen or if there will be some other shady man with a bad haircut—”

“Baby, stop,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm, bringing him to a stop.

Steven stares at you, holding his breath.

“Baby, we’re already involved,” you tell him. You’ve been involved since he agreed to meet you to go over the terms of your arrangement. And not once since that meeting have you ever thought about ending things between you. You’ve only grown more attached.

Steven shakes his head but doesn’t pull away from you. “We shouldn’t be,” he argues weakly.

“I want to be.”

His breath catches, and his eyes darken.

You know what to say next, but the words catch in your throat. You’ve been fighting your feelings for so long now. It’s like your mind is trying to stop you from going any further. You’ve protected yourself from any solid romantic feelings for years, causing you to balk at their rising.

This could end badly, a dark, scared part of you argues. He could hurt you. Break your heart.

You’ve always listened to that voice. It’s worked out well so far. That’s what you’ve always thought, at least.

But you don’t want to listen to it anymore.

“I want to be your girlfriend,” you admit, breathless, like your body couldn’t find the air until you said the words.

The words trigger something in Steven, all the fight visibly leaving him.

And before you realize what’s happening, Steven’s lips are on yours, crashing into you with a fervor you haven’t seen before.

You kiss him back just as fiercely.

“You don’t mean that,” Steven sighs, his lips brushing yours.

“I do,” you pant, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him back into you.

You want him even closer, but the angle is all wrong—him towering above you while you’re still in your chair. For now, though, it works, and you don’t want to let him go for a moment, even if it would be to somewhere more comfortable.

Eventually, you and Steven calm down. The kisses turn soft, lingering, instead of the gnashing of teeth and tongues it started as.

“Don’t go to work today,” you say softly, pulling away to look Steven in the eye. You don’t know if you can ask that of him, if you should, but you don’t care.

You want Steven with you. Forget everything else.

His face flushes as he looks down at you. “Okay,” he agrees immediately. “Do you…have something in mind?”

You take Steven in, pupils blown wide, blending into the brown, kiss-swollen lips, his mouth open, panting slightly. You can’t help but smirk a little, guessing his thoughts.

“We need to talk,” you say, standing and stepping away. You need to clear your head, and distance is likely the only thing that will help.

“Talk?” Steven asks, confused.

“If you want to do this, if you want to be more than my baby, things will be different. We’ll need to talk about it first before anything else,” you explain.

Steven frowned. “How different?”

You give him a gentle smile and take his hand, squeezing it. “Just different. Good different.”

You leave him to clean up the kitchen and call in sick to the museum as you return to your bedroom to make yourself more presentable. Giddiness fills you, knowing Steven still wants you after running out of bed and with syrup on your face.

When you go back downstairs, Steven is in the living room, having replaced all the cushions and pillows you had strewn across the floor. He’s staring over the back of the couch at the stairs, waiting for you. He gives you a tentative smile that you easily return.

He reaches for your hand as you round the end of the couch, pulling you down beside him, so close you’d be in his lap if you shifted your legs just a fraction closer.

“Romantic relationships are harder,” you start, needing to say it, to remind yourself, but also to make sure Steven realizes it. You’re giving him an out should he decide he needs one. Much like when you went into detail about your expectations of him as a baby, you want him to know that he doesn’t have to agree to this.

“Are you sure you want to be involved in that way? There’s no going back,” you warn, because there won’t be.

Once this line is crossed, there’s no taking it back for you. You know yourself too well. If this doesn’t work out with Steven, if being your boyfriend—and potentially anything else in the future—is too much, he could never go back to being just your sugar baby.

You will either have all of Steven or none of him.

Steven squeezes your hand, the flush returning to his face.

“I’ve sort of…already told people you were my girlfriend.” He ducks his head in embarrassment but doesn’t try to hide from you. “So, yeah. Very sure I’m sure.”

“You what?” you ask, a little stunned. “Who did you tell?”

“People at work,” Steven starts, sounding apologetic. “Donna was going on about how I couldn’t get a date. So I told her, actually, I’m dating an amazing woman, thank you very much, and she’s too good to be around the likes of you.”

“Did you really say that to her?” you laugh.

“Well, not that last bit. Didn’t actually want to get fired. I wasn’t sure if I should have tried to explain that you pay me, so it just kind of slipped out.”

“You should have told me. I would have put Donna in her place.”

Steven smiles affectionately at you. “I know you would have. But it was alright in the end. She didn’t have much to say after I showed her the pictures of us in Germany.”

You laugh again. “Good!” You loved that trip. You can’t wait to run away with him again. Then, you ask, “Did you tell your mom I was your girlfriend?”

He shakes his head. “But I talk about you enough. I’m sure she suspects.”

“Maybe we can call her again,” you suggest, remembering the one call—or rather, voicemail—you sat in on, how Steven was so excited to have you talk to his mother.

A tenderness filsl Steven’s eyes. “I’d like that.”

You take a moment to envision what all this could mean. What your future with Steven could look like.

It excites you.

“So first things first,” you say, finally ready to go into how things would change once he’s no longer Steven Grant, sugar baby, but Steven Grant, boyfriend. “Obviously, you can keep whatever I’ve given you so far, but I won’t be paying you anymore. That includes your bills.”

“I was never doing this for the money anyway,” Steven assures you, and that surprises you a little. The two of you have never spoken about why he agreed to be a sugar baby even though he’d never done it, never even had it on his radar.

Then again, it wasn’t typically a question you asked any of your babies. The answer was always the same: they did it for the money. Either they wanted it or desperately needed it. People don’t become sugar babies because they want to soothe the loneliness of the wealthy elite.

“Why were you doing it then?” you ask quietly, unable to guess the answer and unsure if you want to know but need to ask anyway.

Steven flushes again. “Well, when a woman like you said she wanted to take me to dinner, I wasn’t inclined to say no.” He gives a flustered, delighted laugh, remembering the day you asked him out. “And then we got to talking, and I liked you. Really liked you. And you liked me, which was shocking, I must say.”

He runs his thumb across your knuckles, taking a moment before continuing. “When you asked me to be your sugar baby, I figured if that was the only chance I was going to get at being around you, then I was going to take it.”

You’re both pleased and stunned by his admission. To know he was interested in you since the beginning—and not for your money, but just you—makes this feel like a dream. Surely, you are still asleep and will wake up to an empty bed, Steven gone.

But you know you’re awake. Steven thinking the only way to be with you was by being your baby wouldn’t break your heart so much if you weren’t. It hurts because you know it’s true.

Had Steven refused your offer and said he’d rather date you and act like a normal couple, you would have dropped him then and there, never tempted to see him again. It wouldn’t have mattered what you saw in him in those early days, how much you saw yourself in him; you would never have broken your self-imposed rule against traditional dating and relationships. It’s only now, months and overflowing—overwhelming—feelings later, that you’re finally willing to give it, give Steven, a chance.

And now, sitting here with him, you don’t know what to say. A breathless “Oh” is the only thing able to escape your lips because the knowledge that he has only ever seen you leaves you dumbstruck.

Steven must somehow know what you’re feeling, though, because he squeezes your hand, still clutched in his. Then his free hand reaches up and lays on your cheek, thumb lightly stroking it. His eyes don’t waver from yours as he leans in.

This kiss is different from the one in the kitchen. There’s none of the urgency or desperation. It’s soft, gentle, almost chaste, like Steven is trying to tell you something without words.

You guess at what it could be but are afraid to let the thought settle. Things are just beginning with you and Steven. There’s no rush to do anything. If he wants to tell you whatever he’s trying to through touch, you’ll happily wait until he can find the words.

And then, so unexpectedly you can’t help letting out a surprised sound, Steven gently pushes you down onto the couch. He braces himself on his forearms, keeping most of his weight off you. When his lips move along your jaw, you let out a gasp.

“We haven’t finished going over everything,” you say, clutching Steven’s shirt—not to push him away but to keep him close.

Steven lifts his head and grins down at you. “I think i can figure out how to be your boyfriend. Or do you have a list for that, too?” he teases, and your face warms ever so slightly.

“I might,” you mumble. Though now, you’re not sure you need to give it to him.

“You can tell me about it later, then, yeah?” Steven chuckles.

“Yeah,” you agree as you slide one hand up into his curls, pushing his head down so you can kiss him again.

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#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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a-leg-without-fear · 1 day

Text

Reading to Each Other 🪻

day one of tuna tober y'all!! i'm SO fricking excited! :D

Ship: Duke Leopold Mountbatten x f!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 1.3k

Warnings: lots of LOTR, tobacco mention, riddles, kissing, cuddles

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. Rain pattered on your apartment's windows, the occasional roll of thunder booming outside. The spiced scent of your pumpkin candle floated through the living room air. Warm light shone from shaded lamps positioned on either end of your green-clothed sofa. A thick, soft blanket was draped over your lap.

You held your worn copy of The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien. Images of a dark cave filled with still water and an eerie sense of calm floated from the yellowed pages. Sounds of whispered riddles and shaking hands holding shining jewelry bounced around inside your head. It was nearly impossible to read Tolkien and not get entirely engrossed.

"How's your book?" Leo asked from the other end of the couch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your head snapped up from where you'd been hunched over your book, eyes wide, as you met Leo's amused gaze. A light laugh filtered through his bright smile.

"Sorry! Didn't mean to alarm you," he said, amusement clearly indicating that he wasn't sorry in the slightest. You shook your head and sighed at his antics.

"Uh huh. Sure," you groused with a growing smile.

Leo was equally curled up on his side of the sofa. Fluffy blanket draped across his lap, glasses fitted over his thin nose, copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen balanced in one of his hands. Hazel eyes trailed over the "grumpy" expression you'd forced over your face.

"Anything interesting standing out so far?" he asked, nodding to the book still clutched in your hands.

"I'm at one of my favorite parts, if that's what you mean," you replied as you burrowed deeper into the couch cushions. Leo tucked his bookmark into his novel, then set the book and his glasses on the end table nearest him.

"Care to elaborate?" he pressed with a cocked eyebrow. You bit your lip as you scanned over the pages again. Hisses and riddles and splashes of ground water leapt from the ink. Hmm. Riddles.

"Well, this part is about Bilbo bargaining, with a creature named Gollum, for his life. They're exchanging riddles as a sort of game," you explained, trying your best to not confuse a man who'd never heard of the Lord of the Rings.

"And what riddles are they?" Leo asked with a growing smile. He crossed his legs under his blanket to give you his undivided attention. You glanced between him and the book in your hands.

"You want to try and solve the riddles, or do you want me to read the whole part?"

"Just the riddles," he specified. You hummed in response.

"Alright, just know that they can get pretty tricky," you said in a singsong manner. Leo stared at you with apt interest as you turned to the correct page in your book. Inked words flew past your eyes, descriptions of swords and hobbits and tobacco and goblins filling your mind, nearly sucking you back into the story, before you found the first riddle. You cleared your throat and read, "What has roots as nobody sees, is taller than trees, up, up it goes, and yet never grows?"

"Has to be a mountain, isn't it?" Leo guessed almost immediately. He seemed rather confident in his answer, dimples digging into his cheeks with how wide his smile had stretched.

"Yup. Mountain," you answered, already thinking of which riddle to do next. Do you be nice and keep giving him the easier ones, or kick it up a notch? He did invent the elevator, after all.

"Give us a harder one, love," he said. That decides it for you, then.

"It cannot be seen, cannot be felt. Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills, and empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, ends life, kills laughter."

Leo blew out a long stream of air, "When I said hard, I didn't mean that hard!"

You refrained from making the obvious joke brewing at the back of your throat. An involuntary giggle leaked from your lips. You tried to play it off by resting your chin in your hand, fingers digging into your lips, to keep yourself quiet.

The room was quiet for a few moments as Leo considered the riddle. Raindrops trailed down the window, rivulets chasing each other and creating long tails that winded up the glass. This Sunday, utterly serene in its quality, was one of many you'd gotten to experience with Leo. Something about him just garnered peace in your life.

"Do I get a hint?" he asked with a sigh. You grinned at him from under your fingers.

"If Bilbo doesn't get a hint, neither do you," you said. Leo groaned, leaning back on the sofa and throwing an arm over his face. You couldn't help the laugh that breezed between your fingers.

"You are undeniably cruel," he grumbled under his arm.

"You wanted a harder riddle," you replied with a shrug. Leo grunted in return, making you laugh again. You waited a few more moments, letting him agonize over the riddle, before you decided to take pity, "What is it when your eyes are closed?"

"The hell are you on about? Is this a part two to the riddle?" Leo groused.

The blanket in your lap pooled into a pile on the floor as you crawled across the couch. Your sweatpants-clad legs framed Leo's hips, your hands running up his sides, as you sat in his lap. He begrudgingly lowered his arm and met your eyes.

"That was a clue. What do you see when you close your eyes?" you repeated as you ran your palms up and down his forearms. Leo's expression softened slightly.

"A spot of mercy," he said, smile returning, "I was wrong in labeling you cruel."

"Yeah yeah, Mr.1876. Just answer the damn riddle," you said as you rolled your eyes. Leo's warm palms found their usual place on your hips.

"You can't see it, feel it, hear it, or smell it. And closing my eyes has something to do with it," he listed, tongue darting across his bottom lip. A few more moments filled with pondering passed.

"For god's sake," you breathed as you clapped your hand over his eyes. The two of you had been together for so long that the action had hardly surprised him. You waited for a moment in hope that this obvious clue would help. Being met with only silence, you said, "What do you see right now?"

"Your hand, for one," Leo quipped back. He flinched with a laugh when you pinched him with your free hand.

"Close your frickin' eyes, Leo."

Silence settled over the two of you. Warm, comfortable, charged with amusement at your situation. Only Leo's smile could be seen from under your hand. His thumbs tucked under the hem of your t-shirt.

"It's dark," he finally said. You gave him a few moments to connect the dots. A gasp shook his chest, "Dark! That's the answer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!" you exclaimed as you dropped your hand from his eyes.

Pure elation crinkled in the corners of his hazel eyes. He hugged you closer to his chest, a laugh shaking where your bodies met. You couldn't help but join in. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to steady yourself.

"Do I get a prize for so effortlessly solving the riddle?" Leo asked with a hint of sarcasm after the two of you had calmed a bit.

"I'm deducting points for the use of a hint," you hummed, feigning consideration at his question.

"And those points, will they affect the prize I know I've earned?"

You answered his question by pressing your lips to his. Both smiling, both clinging to the other with absolute adoration, the occasional giggle buzzing between you.

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon. It was raining outside, your candle had burnt down to the wick, and you were cradled in Leo's lap as you both read your respective books. Your back to his chest, blanket draped over both of your laps, his cheek rested on the crown of your head. Every now and then you'd read a part of your book aloud, garnering the same in return from Leo.

AHHHHHHHHH this is so frickin cute i might CRY!!! happy tuna tober everyone!!!

#hugh jackman #duke leopold mountbatten #kate and leopold #meg ryan #tuna-tober #tuna tober prompt challenge 2024 #promptober #murdock tuna team #duke leopold mountbatten fanfic #duke leopold mountbatten x reader

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holidayinhell · 10 hours

Text

Whumpee’s breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps.

Whumper watched his lips transition from blue to purple, finally fading to an ashen pink. His pale skin bore a faint flush, and his ragged breaths became steadier, almost rhythmic. Finally, Whumpee let out a series of sharp, painful coughs.

He was alive.

Somehow, Whumper had actually managed to save him.

He studied the man in his lap with wonder, watching as his chest rose and fell shallowly. He let out a grand exhale, the weight of guilt supplanted by a profound sense of relief. Against all odds, Whumpee had actually survived.

“Easy.” Whumper muttered, pushing a strand of damp, dark hair from Whumpee’s eyes.

Blinking through the blur, Whumpee’s mind began shifting into focus.

His ears rang with a deafening pitch and his head throbbed with the most painful headache he’d ever had. His throat burned like hellfire, but at least he could breathe sweet, sweet air. Never in his life had he felt so cold, so weak-- so close to death, to nothingness.

He remembered being cold, and the sensation had only intensified. The chill seeped deep into his bones. His hands and feet were beyond numb, he couldn’t move them, much less feel them, at all. Everything hurt. It felt like he was frozen solid, every nerve ending screaming from the biting chill, except for the small spot of warmth radiating from his back.

For one sacred moment, he sank deeper into the warmth underneath him. He almost managed to relax. But when he realized he was lying in Whumper’s lap, his eyes snapped open.

“You. Y-You tried to kill me.”

The words were frayed, but the accusation sliced through the room.

Whumper removed his hand from Whumpee’s damp hair, frowning.

“Shut up, Whumpee.” He dropped Whumpee from his lap onto the freezing porcelain floor with a decisive shove.

After all of this, not one ounce of gratitude.

Whumpee’s cheek pressed against the slick, frigid tiles of the bathroom floor. His slender, exposed body shivered in the icy puddle of water that had collected beneath him.

"I-I'm-mm sorry..." Whumpee's voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

Whumper turned and rose to his feet, leaning against the granite countertop.

"Please, d-don't... don’t do it again."

“Don’t give me a reason to.” The tall man said from over his shoulder.

In the mirror, Whumper’s eyes traced over Whumpee’s naked body. He’d never seen someone so fragile, so vulnerable. Whumpee was sprawled across the cold tile like a discarded ragdoll, shivering and too exhausted to move. He was so pale and thin.

Whumper watched Whumpee attempt to push himself up, determination etched on his face. But just before he managed to sit up, his arms wobbled as he lost his grip, sending his elbows crashing back into the ground with a dull thud.

A smile flashed across Whumper’s face. It reminded him of newborn horses trying to walk for the first time, clumsily wobbling until they tumble down. He wanted to laugh at the frail attempt, but thought better of it.

“For what it’s worth, Whumpee,” Whumper said to the man’s reflection in the mirror. “I forgive you.”

Whumpee couldn’t remember what he’d done to deserve this in the first place. He crumbled in on himself, bundling into a fetal position. Tears welled in his eyes.

“You were gonna kill me.” The frail man whispered into his arms. “You were gonna kill me…” The words felt like they belonged to someone who’d already died and left this shell behind.

Whumper sighed, trying to swallow the irritation buzzing in his brain. Each second he spent in the wreckage of the dripping bathroom only made his impatience grow. Besides, consoling people had never been his strong suit.

“You are alive,” he said, attempting a light-hearted tone. The forced cheer in his voice was a poor mask for his growing agitation. He turned around to face the collapsed, shivering man. “Now come on. Sit up, Whumpee.”

Whumpee braced himself, palms trembling as they pressed against the slick floor, struggling to find his grip. With a shaky exhale, he pushed his body upright. He actually managed to sit up this time, but the effort sent his head spinning. He drew his legs into his chest for warmth, deliberately avoiding Whumper’s chilling gaze.

“Are you cold?”

It was a dumb, painfully obvious question. Whumpee nodded.

“Sorry, Whumps. I’d let you take a bath…but, I uh, kinda think you’d hate that right now.”

Whumper collected a half-soaked towel hanging from a silver rack before flinging it over the crook of his arm, taking a step towards Whumpee.

“Things just got a little out of hand. I wasn’t trying to kill you, okay?”

Whumpee’s eyes were locked on the water pooling across the bathroom floor.

“Okay?” Whumper repeated, demanding to be heard.

Whumpee nodded frantically.

He probably thought saying it would make it true.

But his words were hollow. Empty. It didn’t matter what he said. When he’d held Whumpee’s head under the water, he wasn’t trying to teach Whumpee some fucking lesson. When the water closed in around him, seeping into his throat, no, that wasn’t a punishment. It was a death sentence.

Whumper stood squarely in front of him, leaning forward. The damp towel fell over Whumpee’s head limply, doing nothing to warm his frozen body.

“Hey.” Whumper said in a callused, hushed voice. “Hey. Look at me, Whumpee.”

He clutched Whumpee’s chin, forcing his tired eyes to meet his sharp, unyielding gaze.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be fucking dead.”

----

heyo! this is a part 2 to Went Too Far, but works as a standalone :~)

#whumpblr #whump #whump writing #whump fic #whump drabble #intimate whumper

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m0chisenpai · 14 hours

Note

Mochi what do you think about 90s model reader (think brandi quinones) and loumand (they 100 percent watch fashions shows in modern days)?

Its cannon that they like people who capture attention (*coff coff* lestat). I think they would meet her in a show and would send her flowers and letters to court her and all that jazz

Sorry if this is weird :/

vogue

˚｡⋆ louis de pointe du lac x black!fem!reader x armand

in which your pefermonce off and on the runway catches their attention

author note: I ate this up so much, I literally scoured Pintrest and fell down a rabbit hole and have to fight every desire in my body to do another multipart series for this

The production people move like flies past your eyes while you sit in your regal beauty. Legs crossed perfectly, your hair now braided pulled up into a bun with a few pieces falling and curled.

You hold the hand of Armand, his finger runs over and over. You've come to learn this calms not just your nerves but his as well.

"Runway, Vogue and Dior, red carpets, music videos. But your most recent appearance in critically acclaimed rockstar Lestat's music video put you back in the public eye when you should look much more...different."

"That damned name'

'Calm yourself my love.' You catch Louis fleeting gaze.

"How does the face of the 80s and 90s reappear in the 2000s rained in blood?"

"Hmm I think I have my wonderous loves to thank for that." Armand places a languid kiss to the back of your hand while Louis raises his glass from the side.

"I believe the Gift only encapsulated the beauty she had from the moment we first met." Armand speaks up.

"It was at the beginning of my runway career. Around the mid 80s I found my lovely companions. Watching from the sides. And I did everything to ensure not to fall in love."

"Cheeky." Louis coos in your mind.

Armand will never admit it out loud but he was particularly fond of the 80s and 90s. He loved the fashions o each era, but he fell in love with runway. It was theatre in an entirely new facet. Louis can recall, though his companions face was stone cold, the glimmer of warmth in his eyes that watched each and every model. Catching every small finite detail.

Louis was more than happy to donate and invest in the ocassional piece for Armand who returned the favor. Until one evening they are encaptured by a beauty amount the sea of tall skinny legs.

This angel that graced the runway one evening of Paris Fasion week. It was dull, Armand confided in Louis as they dressed for the show they and and a few exclusive members were invited to.

One by one Armand began to count them like sheep until she entered. A sheer black tube tob pencil skirt dress with a billowy white blouse beneath. Your eyes are smoky and sharp and your lips a bright chery red. When you walk, you lack the stiffness the other girls move with, no no you glide. The runway is your stage, you dance so beautifully.

Armand sits up as you walk past. He neded you then, he neededyou now.

When you are off you brush past the fussy designers who bark orders in french that is too fast and english far too broken.

You slump in your seat, a cigarette warms your up as you enjoy the momentary silence until you are up again.

"For you ma'am a gift from some of our most generous investors of the arts."

"M' not sleeping with them" you mumble around the still lit cigarete which dangles from your lips as you open the card tucked into the dozens of fresh roses.

"A rose for a rose." You grumble putting out your cigarette on the card and get up to squeeze into the sheer scandlous dress though you would hardly call it that wth the pièce de résistance being an intricate veil that twists and covers and is encrusted with diamonds.

When you walk you can't help but wonder, which one of you wants to sleep and tell the tale, hm?

"On the contrary my dear." You almost falter when you turn to walk back. That man's voice sends shives down your spine as you carefully make sure not to falter.

They follow you to London. Your picture is in all the tabloids and paprazzi is stationed outside of your hotel where you quckly find the bar. In an act of defiance, and trying to add your flare, you stopped during midwalk to kiss the collar of your mysterious suitor leaving a perfect red stain.

Since then your manager has been bombarded with numerous calls for editorials, spreads, and interviews.

"Another glass for her please."

Your eyes cut to the beautiful man whose eyes look enchanting through the fog of smoke he carefully clows away from your direction. A black turtle neck tucked into a pair of slacks to battle the chill.

But no words can describe the work of art that are his eyes which stare deep into your yours,

"I don't sleep with fashion fanatics, not anymore at least" you mumble into the dirty martini before a new one is placed in front of you.

The corner of his lips twitch into a mix of a smile and a smirk.

"Nah I'm not into the whole art of fashion. Just a simple collector" he watches how your luscious lips leave a red imprint along the rim.

"Oh? And do I fit your collection?"

He hums, "I'd dare to say you outshine it."

"Let me guess," you rest your cigarette in the ashtray to give him your undivided attention. "Your wife wants to watch doesn't she?" Your eyes look pass his shoulder at the women and some of your fellow workers.

"Your far off. Got no wife, but my companion does enjoy to watch." Louis leans forward, his chin on your shoulder and his cold lips touch your ear. "And he's been watching this entire time my dear."

Your head quickly turns and sure enough, a man watches at the end of the bar. A gass half filled, his both arms rest on the counter and his eyes remain unmoving on you both.

"Put her tab on my card will you?" Your mysterious heart throb drops a card that clanks and you catch a glimps of the name.

"Louis de Pointe du Lac" you read it to yourself as he stands to walk languidly to the man. Placing a hand don his shoulder and sitting beside him.

You should be unnerved by their constant appearances, but you enjoy this game of cat and mouse. Sharing words at afterpartiws, drinks at hotel bars, and one night together in the sating sheets of Milan.

Your room is always filled with flowers when you arrive. Champagne and chocolates await by your bedside.

You keep the notes and letters from Armand. His way with words are what bring the light back in your eyes as you walk and model.

"Can we be under the assumption you have a special someone?" Your interviewer asks over the roar of paparazzi and photographers at a red carpet event.

"Hmm, I guess you could continue to speculate." You give a cheeky grin to the camera as you walk off.

When you enter the musuem hosting the charity even they await you. You walk in between them looking at th ebeautifully restored and donated pieces.

"Oh my goodness look at this one, it reminds me of a monet" you coo as you stand before the water lily pond. Your hand on your chest as you pause. You wish it were yours. Though it is not the original you want it.

And that's enough for Armand to place a red sticker near the artists name.

"Oh you didn't have to, Armand." you pout at him as he cups your jaw looking into your eyes.

"You clearly desired it, did you not?" When all you do is nod he hums. His thumb begins to stroke the soft skin of your jaw. "Then you shall have it."

"We would travel the cities I was in. And during the off season I spent here or in the comforts of one of our other homes. I believe Berlin will be our destination this year for the holidays, right my love?"

And how can Armand no to those eyes.

They gleam with mischief, golden flakes sparkle in your bright eyes.

"But I believe this Gift would have to be my most treasured one."

#iwtv x reader #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac x reader #armand x reader #louis x reader #loumand x reader

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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 2 days

Text

Defenseless I remain before the first light breaks (part 2)

GIF by boromirswife

Younger!Dracule Mihawk x younger!reader.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series. This is part two of two.

This fic takes place before Mihawk joined the Seven Warlords.

*****

Alone in your study, you stare at the ringing Den Den Mushi in your hand, feeling tense, even worried, as if the tiny creature were a Sea Monster ready to devour you. As you told Mihawk, it’s not unusual for Garp to call to tell you about a new bounty, but only three days after Mihawk appeared on your door, more dead than living, victim of who knows what incident or assault? Too big of a coincidence for you not to become suspicious; and no matter how much you like Garp and consider him a good man, he’s a Marine - a natural enemy, for a pirate like your unexpected guest.

A deep breath to calm yourself, and “Vice Admiral; sorry I kept you waiting.” you answer, your tone relaxed.

“No problem. (name), have you by any chance seen Dracule Mihawk?”

The question is posed quickly, without I need to ask you something or It might seem a weird question, but… before it, no doubt to take you by surprise and not give you the time to prepare an answer. The sly old fox is as cunning as he is strong -that is, extremely- but you are your mother’s daughter, and verbal sparring is your bread and butter.

“Mihawk? Not since the last time I failed to apprehend him, four months ago.” you lie, sounding frustrated and unhappy “It was in Alabasta.”

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

“I need some time to lick my wounds. Why the sudden interest?”

Your contact hesitates only for a moment before replying that the information is classified, which doesn’t surprise you. “I’m asking because he was last seen a few days of navigation away from your island; I know it’s a long shot, but I thought I’d ask since I know you, and you know him. He might be wounded.”

Because you and yours are the ones who wounded him, maybe?, you’re almost about to ask.

“As I said, I haven’t seen him in months; but thanks for telling me he might be in the area, I’m going to check the waters around my island.”

“If you find any trace tell me, alright? And, (name)... I know you usually bring in the heads, but on this particular occasion there’s really no need for you to take him alive.”

You’re suddenly grateful that your interlocutor can’t see you. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Very well; I know how important it is for you to kill Mihawk, so… good luck.”

You say your good-byes, and you sigh deeply as you place the Den Den Mushi back on your desk; rather than a two-minute conversation, you feel as if you had just taken a difficult exam, one whose result you still don’t know.

At least, you’re reasonably sure Garp believed your lie; he has no reason to believe you would choose to protect and shelter Mihawk, since as far as he knows you’re nothing more than a hunter almost obsessively chasing the prey that keeps evading her, but he does know Mihawk was sailing in the vicinity of your island… what if Garp decides to come and check with his own eyes? You’d readily bet your life on the loyalty of your people, if they’re told to keep the arrival of your guest on the island secret they will, but it wouldn’t be the first time the Marines use force to extract a confession - which is an outcome you obviously need to avoid.

Why is Garp looking for Mihawk? He’s a powerful pirate, which makes him obviously an enemy and a target for the Marines, but the fact that the Vice Admiral chose not to tell you the reason for his sudden interest is suspicious. In the last month there has been no trace of Mihawk and his exploits in the paper, which you read carefully every day, therefore it can’t be that the Marines have a sudden need to apprehend him.

What the hell is happening?

You have no idea. What you know is that it doesn’t necessarily have to be your problem - in fact, the best thing you could do is to call back Garp in an hour and tell him you have captured Mihawk, and will soon deliver the man’s head to him, you’ll need the bounty paid in cash within two weeks, thank you very much.

Of course, the thought doesn’t even cross your mind. As you said, capturing Mihawk when he’s not at his full strength, and therefore does not represent a challenge, would give you no pleasure whatsoever, no matter how high the bounty; also, the man asked for your help in a moment of great need, when he was gravely sick and didn’t even know how to return home. How could you abandon him, or worse betray him to his enemies?

You couldn’t; in any circumstances. You told Mihawk he’ll be safe as long as he remains under your roof, and you’re determined to keep your word whatever the cost, because it’s the right, the human thing to do… and also for another reason.

Your grandfather, who first put a gun in your hand when you were barely a child and taught you to use it, warned you against developing a personal relationship with your targets. You can seduce them to make them lower their guard, and even enjoy the sex while you’re at it -your grandfather obviously waited for a few years before discussing this particular matter with you- but developing feelings for them is absolutely forbidden. Also, quite a few of your victims routinely beg to be spared: I’ll never do it again! Please, I swear I’m sorry! I have a wife and children…

It’s not your problem, (name). You’re not their mother, and it’s not your job to forgive or help them. If they are adults, and unless you doubt they are actually guilty of the crimes that led to the issuance of their bounty, have no mercy; every person chooses how to live their life, and this means the consequences are theirs and only theirs.

Wise words, said by a wise man, that you always treasured. Even though you don’t consider yourself an especially attractive woman, you have used your feminine graces to make a target drop their guard more often than you can remember, once even reaching for your gun and shooting the man while he was still inside you, and in a few occasions your victims have even shown you the pictures of their children, hoping it would help them be spared - it didn’t. That is a category of people you feel particularly not guilty about killing: if they cared so much about their families, they wouldn’t have resorted to a life of crime, wouldn’t they have?

Of course, Mihawk is not like that. He wouldn’t beg for his life even if a single word granted him a century of peace, and when you tried sliding to the seat next to his in a tavern, battling your eyelashes and asking if you could buy him a drink, he looked supremely unimpressed and asked whether you were a bounty-hunter or a Marine working undercover. In all the years since you’ve started this job, he is and remains the only person who realised what you were, which is only one of the many reasons he has become special, in a way you haven’t fully appreciated until -you fear- it was too late.

You do want to capture Mihawk; and why shouldn’t you? He’s a powerful pirate -even though he doesn’t go out of his way to spread death and destruction among innocent civilians, and you respect him for it- which makes him an interesting challenge; also, the name of the person who has neutralised the world’s greatest swordsman is bound to be remembered in the years to come, which you really wouldn’t mind.

You’ve tried your best, time and time again; you’ve meticulously planned each of your attacks, spending days researching on Mihawk to find his weaknesses -which he doesn’t seem to have- and even took risks you normally wouldn’t just for a single chance of killing him. You never have; and while those continuous failures are more than a little frustrating, and made you even doubt of your abilities as a bounty hunter, you can’t deny it’s also exciting, the sort of ambition that pushes you to improve and try again, to reach the limits of your body, mind and heart, to conquer your prize. A tiny, illogical part of you isn’t even sorry you’ve been defeated yet again, because it means you get to try again, and feel your heart pound with excitement every time you prepare for your next assault.

That is also why you’ve never tried to poison Mihawk, or to kill him without him having the chance to retaliate: bounty hunters have no specific moral code, beyond the basics of not killing civilians and making sure the person they’re going to neutralise is actually a criminal, but Mihawk deserves better than that - he deserved a proper fight, and you know he appreciates you giving it to him.

Obviously, he could have killed you; easily, even. Mihawk has proved many times in the course of his career as a pirate that he has no qualms about dispatching those who challenge or even just disturb him. You like to think that, even though you’ve never managed to neutralise him, your attacks bother him at least a little more than a fly that keeps buzzing around his head; nevertheless, and while he could probably cut you in half with Yoru with a hand behind his back, he has never hurt you - not to the point your life was at risk or even that you couldn’t return home safely. He doesn’t fear you might kill him; you could almost think he enjoys it, which should be humiliating from your point of view, but it isn’t, not fully, not only, and for some reason over the past few years a weird menage has arisen between you, as if you were not rivals, a killer and her prey, but two acquaintances who shared a good relationship… almost as if you were… friends.

Again, (name)? It’s the third time this year. With all the criminals and delinquents in the world, why do you keep coming back to me?

Good gracious, woman, it’s the middle of the summer. Do you really want to fight in this heat? Very well…

Ah, you again; can you at least wait for me to finish my dinner? You’re welcome to join me, if you want.

A witness would probably think you get more amusement and pleasure from your repeated fights, than frustration for failing over and over again; he clearly doesn’t mind too much you keep interfering with his life -a crime that has costed more than a famous pirate their life- since he has never killed you, and you feel furious every time you hear or read on the paper that a colleague of yours, or a mercenary, or a killer for hire -in short, someone who is not another pirate- has attempted to his life.

“How dare they? He’s mine, dammit!” you’ve cried the first time, to which your mother raised an eyebrow, more amused than perplexed.

“Are you sure you’re talking about your favourite quarry, my love? And not a new lover?” she said, and you felt yourself blushing, not knowing what to answer.

Mihawk is an extremely attractive man; tall and strong, he has those lovely, intense eyes, and the chiselled features of a fairy-tale prince. As well as, and perhaps even more than, his physical charm, you admire the self-confidence he carries himself with, the pride in his abilities that never falls into arrogance, the strength that exudes from each of his gestures. Having lost his family, with so few friends in the world, he’s a man who is enough to himself, content with his own company, and who never needs to ask for help or for attention - or at least he was, even though you feel you can forgive him now, since the poor man can’t even remember his own name. He’s honourable, brave and resilient, which you must admit you have come to respect and even to admire, and yes, for a while you’ve become aware of how… how fond you are of him, and why shouldn’t you? While your meetings remain sporadic, you’ve known him longer than you have most of your friends, you do appreciate his company and even though you’ve never dared to ask, you know he feels the same, like that time that, after the umpteenth time he had defeated you, he offered you his hand to stand, and you ended up sitting side by side on a wharf, looking at the red sun being swallowed by the waves in front of you, you opened a bottle of prized red wine you had bought to bring back home and Mihawk put his coat on your shoulders, pointing out that it wouldn’t do to have his rival catch a cold before she had another chance to kill him.

“You are making fun of me.”

“Never; not of you. I must admit I came to… relish our fights; I admire how resilient and resourceful you are. Promise me one thing, (name): I’ll always offer you a good challenge, so please never stop chasing me.”

You are pretty sure there was no hidden meaning in those words, but you have found yourself treasuring them, happy and even flattered, ever since; the fact that Mihawk considers you a worthy opponent, like pirates of the calibre of Red-Haired Shanks, is reason to rejoice… even though you can’t help wishing there was a hidden meaning Mihawk was trying to communicate with those words…

Oh, grandfather; if only you could see me! I fell for it, and I can’t even bring myself to feel sorry. What do I have to do now?

And now he has kissed you. You have done your best to stop thinking about it, because it was no doubt the impulsive gesture of a sick, confused man, without any particular meaning behind it, and Mihawk has apologised for it - which meant he regretted it. Nonetheless, you can still feel the warmth of his mouth on your lips; you reacted by slapping him, almost reflexively, but it doesn’t mean you didn’t enjoy it - far from it, in fact. This is not a romantic novel like the ones you secretly read as a teenager, and Mihawk is not a wounded soldier who falls desperately in love with the nurse who takes care of him, but it was a very good kiss, and while the wounded and helpless man you met today is as different from your usual rival as he might be, you do feel protective of him, and who knows, perhaps spending time together will lead him to appreciate you as more than a rival. Maybe you’ll become… friends, and one day he’ll come back to your island, not out of need but because he wanted to, to visit you, and…

Yeah, as if.

Suddenly exhausted, you let yourself fall on the chair behind your desk, wishing dearly everything you had to deal with was the annual tax collection, or letters to write, or even an imminent visit of your cousin; instead, you have Mihawk, still weak and needing protection, with the not completely off-chance that the Marines come looking for it, their most formidable officer at the head.

Well, let them come. You don’t want Mihawk to die; you don’t even want to kill him, not since that would mean giving up on your time together, but that’s a matter you’ll have to think about another time. What you know for sure now is that you won’t let Garp and his men harm a hair of Mihawk’s head, at least not until he’s back to his old strength and can defend himself. Gods willing, he’ll soon get his memory back, and then… and then you’ll go back to challenge him, for the years and the decades to come. You can imagine worse ways to spend the rest of your life, and who knows, maybe in the end you’ll kill each other, to be together in death like you have never been in life…

Get a grip, (name); it’s not like you to be so melodramatic, you chide yourself, before picking up your Den Den Mushi once more, to contact your mother’s attendant and ask him to place a call for you.

“Harbourmaster? Good evening, it’s the lady (name). I need you to listen carefully to what I have to tell you, and then to pass it to whoever might have been involved. It concerns the… guest who arrived on our island three days ago.”

The days pass.

Now that Mihawk is aware of the real nature of his and (name)’s relationship, unfortunately as dramatically different from what he had imagined as it could be, the way the woman is treating him now feels almost unreal - that is, like a dear friend and an honoured guest rather than a rival she’s keeping alive and hosting under her roof because she’s too honourable to do otherwise.

They spend time together every day. They have agreed it’s better for Mihawk not to show his face around the island, since the Marines are still looking for him, but no matter how busy she is, since her mother has left for a conference with other lords and ladies in the kingdom’s capital, (name) does her best to keep him occupied, even though he has assured her he doesn’t need to be entertained, especially when she’s already housing and feeding him and taking care of his health, but (name) seems to take her duties as an hostess very seriously - or maybe she appreciates his company, who knows.

At first Mihawk is still weak, which means that he can do little more than walking -slowly- in the gardens and sitting with a book and a cup of tea, but (name), in addition to having told her servants and doctor to take good care of him, seems not to mind keeping him company, even though it means wasting her time. She tells him about their past battles, her frustration at not having been able to best him devoid of bitterness and resentment, as if she enjoyed the challenge more than she desired victory, and of his exploits as a pirate, of the many foes he vanquished, the pirate fleets he destroyed, the countless swordsmen who were defeated or tremble at the simple mention of his name.

There is sincere admiration in her voice as she describes his strength and fame and ability with a sword, and Mihawk orders himself not to feel too flattered, nor to wonder too much about the reason why she knows as much about his life as a sister, or a spouse, would. After all they are rivals, it’s natural for (name) to have studied her prey to better decide how to face him; and yet, what man would not get his hopes up, when a woman knows so much about him she could write his biography?!

She is not less formidable. (name) keeps a detailed register with all her jobs as a bounty hunter, listing the names of the victims, the money they earned her, and the way they were killed; she lets him see it, blushing a bit as if fearing to appear too conceited, and as he turns the pages, full of paper clippings and detailed descriptions -three bullets in the heart; lost derringer, beaten him with a lead pipe; shot from across the square, cut head before anyone could see- he thinks that he must really be an exceptional warrior to have evaded her so many times, and who knows, one day he’ll find the courage to propose they bury the hatchet and rather than a rivalry they form… a partnership…

Wishful thinking, of course; one does not give up on a target they have hunted for years simply because they have housed him for a few days, especially not someone as determined and resilient as (name); part of Mihawk would happily keep that cat-and-mouse game going for the rest of their lives, all for the intimate, chaste pleasure of having that beautiful, kind, steadfast woman as part of his life.

Six days into his stay, Mihakw finally feels strong enough to do more than walking a quarter of a mile or holding a book; (name) is busy in a meeting with the members of her council, so he takes his sword, still placed against the wall in his room the way a broom would be while one is busy with other chores, and carries it to the gardens.

He has no idea what to do, nothing beyond what he can instinctively understand -the pointy end is to be aimed towards the opponent; the hilt is long enough for the user to wield it with both hands- but when he lifts it he feels it much less heavy than a few days ago, and as he swings it around aimlessly, it’s like his arms, his whole body actually, already knew how to move, as if his muscles still remembered what his mind has forgotten. He tries a lounge, then a parry, and suddenly he’s a man in his element again, that beautiful, formidable sword almost singing in his hands, and Mihawk thinks that maybe he’s not the world’s strongest swordsman, not anymore, and not yet until his memories returns, but he does feel better, stronger, more in control, not a victim but a man others respect and fear, master of his own destiny.

He trains for more than an hour, foregoing figures and techniques he can’t remember to simply let his body move for him; in the end he’s tired, his arms aching, his chest and back drenched in sweat, but he’s satisfied and even happy with himself. The last thing he wants is to leave (name), but it wouldn’t be fair to still remain as her guest once he has regained his health, he reflects, and after all he doesn’t particularly need to have regained his memories to take care of himself, especially if he really was a solitary man who lived on an otherwise uninhabited island. He could use a map to return to Kuraigana, and then wait patiently until he remembers who he is; maybe being in his own home, surrounded by his things, will help…

The knife cuts through the air with a hiss, exploding from among the trees behind him; had Mihawk not moved, the blade would have hit him between the shoulderblades - not a deadly wound, but probably enough to tip the already unbalanced scales towards his opponent.

Fortunately, he does move, an instinct he no longer knew he had warning him of the oncoming danger in time to avoid it; he lets the water bottle he had brought with him from the fortress and from which he was drinking avidly fall to the ground, grabs his sword and raises it as he turns around, the black blade easily deflecting the smaller one.

“What the devil…?”

“Shit…!”

The sound of retreating steps makes it clear whoever tried to kill him is running away, but Mihawk is determined not to let them get away; he pursues them, the sword raised above his head, and he only needs to swing it once -the street dancer’s lunge, his brain suddenly informs him, after a mid-step left parry; how does he know? Are his memories returning, or are these common enough terms anyone would know, the way he woke up already knowing what sea and ship and sun meant?- to slaughter his assailant, who a moment later lies at his feet, a deep wound slashing his chest.

Mihawk contemplates the body in front of him, life having already left the man’s eyes; it’s not the first time he kills someone -quite the opposite, according to (name)- but he doesn’t remember ever doing it before, so he should feel something, should he not? Fear, shame, guilt. Why doesn’t he, then? Is it because not even the Gods would condemn him for having defended himself when attacked? Or is there some other reason?

Still, that’s a thought for another day; Mihawk walks back to the fortress, and beckons the first servant he meets. “Please find the lady (name), and ask her to come to the gardens at her earliest convenience.” he says “There is something she needs to see.”

As he expected, (name) has seen enough dead bodies -most of which killed by her- not to throw a fit when confronted with the earthly remains of Mihawk’s victim; she’s more worried that the aggressor, who is clearly not a native of the island, was able to pass the fortress’ borders without raising an alarm.

“Apparently he told the guards he had to deliver a message, and they let him in. Fools.” she murmurs, dark in the face “Mihawk, I am so sorry.”

“You have no fault at all.”

“I disagree; this is my home, and you are my guest. I have a duty to keep you safe.”

Mihawk points out softly that he could never blame her, given everything she has already done for him and especially considering he’s unhurt.

“Thanks the Gods for that. Who is this man?”

“I obviously have no idea. Wait…”

The man has a piece of paper folded in the inside pocket of his jacket; Mihawk opens it, and is not at all surprised to recognize his own bounty poster, with a frankly mind-boggling sum of money listed under his picture.

“He’s a bounty hunter; I should have known.”

“It’s not the sort of number you simply find in the directory; Garp is sending out bounty hunters looking for you, and he must be convinced you are here.” (name) murmurs “Gods… Mihawk, I’m so sorry. It seems like this island is no longer a safe place for you.”

“We both should have.” (name) murmurs, dark in the face “But look… there’s something on the back.”

A Den Den Mushi number has been scribbled on the back of the bounty poster; a number (name) recognises as the one belonging to Vice Admiral Garp.

“If you can give me a map to my island ’ll leave immediately.”

(name) bites her lip; she seems as enthusiastic about his proposal as a convicted man busy digging his own grave. “I really wish it didn’t have to be like this; no one better than me knows how strong and resilient you are, but I don’t like the idea of you living on your own with no memories of who you are. Maybe you shouldn’t return to Kuraigana, the Marines know you live there; I know a few places far away where you could hide…”

“I’m not hiding like an animal in a burrow. Let them come, I will fight them.” Mihawk says, and (name) smiles for a moment, as if his answer had pleased her - as if that was the answer she expected from the man he used to be.

“Then I’ll come with you. I had promised to keep you safe, I’ll keep my word.”

“I can’t ask you that; if the Marines realise you are protecting me, they’ll target you as well.”

“Do you think I care?”

“You should; (name), I…” Mihawk sighs, frustrated, torn between the need to say what he feels and the potentially catastrophic consequences that sincerity might have; he takes her hands, and she lets him, and by now a few servants have approached with a blanket to take the bounty hunter’s body away, but neither notices, neither cares “If something were to happen to you, if I had to put your home and your people in danger, I would never forgive myself.”

He doesn’t add everything you’ve done for me. That is only part of the story and by now he’s more than aware.

A sad smile blossoms on (name)’s lips. “Even when you don’t remember who you are, you can’t help being honourable; it’s like it’s in your blood.” she points out, shaking her head “And I know I can’t change your mind. I… err, I would have come to you soon anyway; I got Shanks’ Den Den Mushi number.”

It wasn’t easy, she tells him, but a person who owed her a favour spotted the Red Haired Pirates on an island they had camped on during their travels; pirates usually don’t give away their contacts easily, well aware of how easy it would be for the Marines to intercept their calls, but when (name)’s contact had mentioned her name, Shanks had apparently given his readily… as if he knew somehow that the woman who had tried for years to kill his friend was someone he could trust.

Neither comments on the matter, but Mihawk takes the slip of paper (name) is offering him. “Thank you, really.”

“Don’t thank me, I don’t even know if it will be of any help. You want to do it now?”

He should leave as soon as he can, for his safety and hers as well, but the temptation of hearing more about his life, about the man he used to be, is too intense to resist. (name) gives him her Den Den Mushi and then she leaves to make sure the bounty hunter is buried quickly, his tomb unmarked in the cemetery of the island’s only jail, a gloomy area known as the Sinner’s camp.

“It’s going to be alright.” she promises softly, her hand resting on his bicep, and Mihawk nods; he’s more worried for her safety than for his own, but he knows (name) wouldn’t be happy to hear that. Or maybe in part she would, who knows…

He looks at the woman’s retreating figure until she has disappeared along the cobbled path that leads to the fortress; then, with a sigh, he reads the number and places the call.

Shanks picks up a moment later. “Hello? Is this (name)?”

“It’s Mihawk.”

“Mihawk! Are you alright?”

“I am not sure.” he confesses “I… well, I think I had an accident…”

He quickly tells his friend the events of the last days, of how he woke up on his ship, reached (name)’s island, and has been her guest ever since. Shanks is shocked, but expresses no alarm in learning Mihawk has been living in the home of a woman who has hunted him down for years.

“So you really… don’t remember anything? Not even your name?”

“Nothing. Just, err… about (name). Her name, and… her face.”

“Did you now…” Shanks muses; Mihawk doesn’t even know what the man looks like, beyond the hair colour he owes his moniker to, but he can feel Shanks is smiling “I wish I could say I was surprised, but I’m not; not that you remembered her, nor that she did her best to protect you.”

“She told me you’ve never met.”

“Never had the pleasure, no. But you’ve told me about her many times and… well. I’m sure you would have done the same for her, had your places been exchanged.”

Mihawk is now sitting on the grass, his legs crossed, not far from the spot his victim lied on a minute ago; he knows he’s alone -specifically, that (name) can’t hear what he’s saying- but his voice instinctively drops to a whisper.

“I’m in love with her, am I not?”

Shanks’ voice is kind as he answers. “You never told me openly, I don’t think you ever would, but… I’m pretty sure you are. You have been for a long time.”

Mihawk covers his face with a hand; he shouldn’t be surprised, and he’s not: what he feels is shame. “I’m a pirate in love with a bounty hunter.”

“Exactly; she’s not a Marine, and from what you’ve told me it’s a job for her, she has nothing specifically against pirates.” Shanks points out; Mihawk has no idea how unreal their conversation feels to the red-haired pirate, his friend openly discussing his feelings and needing comfort for his heartbreak “And since she’s hosting you in her home, risking the wrath of the Marines, I wouldn’t be surprised if she felt the same.”

“She’s simply a decent person who found a half-dead man on her doorstep and felt obliged to nurse him back to health.”

“Mihawk…”

“No; it’s stupid. I have more pressing matters to think about anyway.” he points out with a sigh. He asks Shanks if he has any idea how he ended up in the middle of the Sea, wounded and with no memory of himself, but the red-haired pirate can’t help, although…

“There is something you told me the last time we met, a couple weeks ago; of an invitation you had received. ”

Mihawk tenses. “An invitation for what?”

“I’m sorry, you never told me. But it had to concern the Marines, because you said it was surprising they would strike a deal with someone like you.”

“A deal?”

“A deal. And a few days later, you were… assaulted, I guess, and left for dead. I don’t know, Mihawk; maybe you met with the Marines to discuss some kind of bargain, they didn’t like your answer, and attacked you.”

It’s a reasonable explanation, Mihawk muses, even though there is still so much he ignores, and an hypothesis doesn’t help him decide what to do now that the Marines are after him. Shanks readily offers him protection, to stay with his crew until his memories return, but Mihawk is tired of depending on others for help and safety; he doesn’t even know how to return home, but he’s an adult, and it seems like he still remembers how to fight. He’ll manage.

“I can’t believe you have lost all of your memories.” Shanks murmurs; he feels sincerely saddened, and worried, and Mihawk feels the sudden desire to see him - to meet someone he can trust, and call friend, without wishing things were different “Tell me you at least have your sword with you; it’s huge, with a…”

“... black blade; yes, I have it. It’s beautiful.”

“It really is. Do you remember its name?”

“I don’t; It never occurred to me to ask (name).” Mihawk says, only half-listening; he knows -how?- weapons sometimes have names, like ships and works of art do, but he’s not particularly interested in the one he has chosen for his weapon

He should be.

“Well, it’s Yoru; I guess you chose it because of the colour of…”

Mihawk has stopped listening.

It’s as violent as a punch to the stomach, and as sudden as a bullet to the head. It’s like a dam has been opened, letting water flow in freely, like a dark room being illuminated when the light is turned on.

His memories come back, with the name of his sword, and so much more than that, being the fuse that, once lit, once spoken, has ignited an explosion in his mind, so painful and overwhelming Mihawk finds himself kneeling and trembling on the grass, his hands to his head as if to protect it from an assault. The Den Den Mushi has fallen to the ground, Shanks’ voice shouting his name, asking what is wrong, if he’s alright, but he barely hears it, because finally it’s happening…

His memories are back, suddenly, clearly, so much that at first he’s overwhelmed, his mind struggling to decipher the sudden onslaught of concepts, images and sounds.

He knows who he is now; where he comes from, his habits and personality and history, and how he ended up lost at Sea. He remembers about Shanks, and (name), how desperately in love he with her has been for years, of how he started practising swordsmanship and then became a pirate; he remembers his home, the melancholic beauty of Kuraigana’s forest and empty beaches, and of how he obtained his beloved sword. He even remembers little things he thought he had forgotten: the first beer of his life, that his master, the lord, let him drink in secret on the way back from his first tournament, which he had won; the dress that (name) wore on the day they first met, simple and practical but whose skirt hugged her hips in a way that even then made his blood boil; that time soon after moving on the island that he slept with the windows open and then woken up to find a forty pounds mandrill on his bed…

And then, of course, he remembers her. Yoru - not the sword, but the woman it was named after, his sister, the only family he ever had, who took care of him and raised him and loved him, who sacrificed her happiness to give him one chance at life, who was so afraid of how dangerous his life as a pirate and a swordsman would be, but who always supported him. His sister, who is dead because of him, because the one time she needed to be protected, he failed her…

She was so beautiful; graceful, unfailingly kind, surely more clever than him. She has been dead for years, but Mihawk feels like he’s losing her again, guilt and shame and pain weighting on him to the point he feels unable to stand; he closes his eyes, but that changes nothing, because what he’s seeing is a memory, by now remote but still limpid is his mind: his sister’s body lying on her bedroom’s floor, the blood staining her dress, her lovely dark eyes still open, as if she were waiting for someone - for him to come save her, as he had promised he would always do when she needed it…

Yoru. Lady Dracule Yoru. Oh, sister of mine, I am so sorry. If only I had been there…

“Mihawk! Mihawk, can you hear me? Are you alright?” Shanks, who has heard him scream, asks, sounding more alarmed by the second through the Den Den Mushi. Mihawk is still shaking as he picks it up, at first struggling to speak: he feels no pain, not in his body at least, but he has screamed, lost control, even though only for a minute, in a way he now knows for sure it had never happened before.

“I’m here.”

“Oh, thank the Gods. What was that? I thought someone had attacked you.”

He’s safe, Mihawk reassures his friend; his memories are back, which is something to celebrate, or at least to feel relief over.

Mihawk feels neither; he sighs, thinking that he had never wanted to forget his sister, but now that he has been confronted once more with the consequences of his mistake, part of him would have happily retained the ignorance.

“I still think you should remain at least a little more.”

“Why? Your doctor said I recovered enough to take care of myself until my wounds are healed.”

“Exactly; you’re still wounded, and the Marines are siccing bounty hunters on you. And it’s so late, you can at least wait until tomorrow morning…”

They are in (name)’s study, where Mihawk has joined her after saying good-bye to Shanks. The woman was happy to learn his memories have returned, but her good mood quickly evaporated when he told her who was responsible for what had effectively been an attempt on his life.

“The Marines are planning on building an alliance with a few selected pirates, who would have to deal with other pirates on their behalf in exchange for the suspension of their bounties. I am not sure of how well it would work, since having to compromise with their sworn enemy would speak volumes about the World Government’s own strength and capacity to fight, but still. I received an invitation to a meeting at the Marines HQ a couple weeks ago; I knew already I wasn’t interested in being the Marines’ lapdog, but I went since I had nothing better to do. As I expected, nothing they had to offer interested me, but when I refused and left… you may say they didn’t take it well.”

“They attacked you.”

“Not exactly; they had put a bomb on my ship, I guess to defuse and take away without me knowing once I had accepted their proposal. That didn’t happen, so I had just left the harbour when the bomb exploded; I got hurt, as you know, but I was able to swim ashore since my ship was sinking. By then the harbour was crawling with Marines, but I was able to steal a ship and sail away. I held it together for a while, but in the end I lost consciousness; when I woke up, my memories were gone.”

And now, everything that needed to be said has been, at least for the time being; silence fills the room, and (name) rests a closed fist under her chin, her eyes pensive.

“Were you heading here?” she asks in the end, turning to look at him; Mihawk could swear the movement looks forced, just a little “To my island, I mean. Considering the tides and the winds in this season, I can’t see how you could have reached it coming from the Marines HQ otherwise.”

Ah; that is a question he should have expected. Mihawk can’t remember he ever blushed in his life, not even after losing an important fight or during his first experiences with women as a youth, but he knows (name) can see he’s ill at ease, and while she’s not the sort of woman who would mock him for it, the knowledge makes him feel exposed, helpless.

The truth is, he was sailing towards her island - towards her. At first simply focused on getting as far as he could from the Marines, letting the wind push the ship he had stolen forward, Mihawk then realised the island (name) lived on, that the woman had once mentioned during one of their encounters, was relatively close. Not knowing what else to do, and well aware he wouldn’t be able to go on much longer weak and wounded as he was, he set a course towards (name)’s home; throwing himself on the mercy of a woman who had done her utmost to kill him countless times was probably foolish, escaping a danger to willingly go meet another, but in an odd, unexplainable way he did trust (name), and knew she would not take advantage of his wounded state to finally put an end to their rivalry. He couldn’t presume to know her feelings, but he was sure she was better than that; and she was, she really was, and now the thought he is going to have to leave her side, putting an end to that unexpected, chaste intimacy that has grown between them, breaks his heart…

(name) is still waiting for an answer; she’s sitting composely, like the refined, well-bred woman she is, hands in her lap -is she wringing them?- her derringer hanging from her waist, her gaze fixed on him.

He could lie; he could find a way to evade the question; he could refuse to answer, since (name) can’t very well force him to speak. But he’s never been the sort of man who avoids confrontations, and she deserves better than that, especially after all she has done for him; apart from that first, awkward attempt of seduction -he had not noticed the gun hidden under her skirt, but (name) had been just a little too eager to be believable as a woman who has simply fallen in lust with a stranger- their relationship has always been frank, honest, respectful even, two rivals who recognise each other’s strength and even admire it despite the danger to their life. Mihawk wonders if he can defame that bond with a lie to save his own face, and quickly decides he can’t.

“I was.”

(name) nods slightly; she doesn’t seem surprised, nor -to Mihawk’s secret disappointment- does her face express any particular emotion, positive or otherwise.

“I see.” she simply murmurs, and her hand rests on the one he has placed on the desk “Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay at least until tomorrow? You still need rest, and it’s going to be dark soon. There’s a ship leaving at dawn, I can ask the captain to take you on board and hide…”

“I don’t mind sailing at night; and it will be easier to pass unnoticed if I sail alone.”

(name) sighs. “I guess you’re right.” she concedes, clearly unhappy “Can I at least come with you at the harbour?”

Mihawk says he would be happy if she did; they share a smile, vaguely wistful but not unhappy, and the quiet between them stretches for a while more, the unsaid not needed to be spoken.

Less than an hour later they are at the harbour, the little ship already set to sail; the sun setting behind them is a ball of fire. Mihawk, Yoru once again hanging from his shoulders, considers himself a reasonably articulate man, but he knows he couldn’t describe what he feels, gratitude and yearning and regret, even if he tried, so he doesn’t; he has a strong suspicion that (name) knows already in any case.

(name) has brought a heavy bag from the fortress, that she resolutely pushes in his arms. “Food, bandages, and money. You’ll need them, since it’ll take you days to return to Kuraigana.”

“I can’t…”

“Of course you can; it’s still much less than what I’m going to earn when I’ll finally collect your bounty, so I won’t even ask you to pay me back.”

They share a smile, but (name)’s quickly changes to worry. “I know it sounds ridiculous, given how strong you are, but… take care of yourself, alright? The Marines are still hunting you, and your wounds are not fully healed yet.”

“I’ll be careful. And in a couple days I’ll make myself seen in some place away from here, so Garp will stop suspecting you… and other bounty hunters will leave you alone.”

“That would be helpful; thank you.”

Silence falls again; their eyes meet when Mihawk takes (name)’s hand in his, and he knows that if he tried to kiss her again, she would not slap him. But that would make leaving infinitely harder, and because of this, his lips press on the back of her hand.

“I guess I’ll see you soon.” he murmurs “No doubt, in time to thwart whatever new plan you concocted to claim my head.”

“Laugh all you want, but one day I’m going to catch you off guard…”

She smiles; a brave smile. “Now go.” she urges him gently, not elaborating on what would happen if he lingered only a little bit more; she doesn’t need to. She looks on as Mihawk steps on the ship, and remains on the harbour, her gaze raised towards the small vessel that soon disappears in the encroaching darkness.

(name) looks lovely, happy and smiling and relaxed as she sits on the veranda of an elegant restaurant in the company of a small group of other people, among which is her cousin-in-law, whose birthday the family is celebrating. Mihawk knows none of them, but he has asked discreetly around; he looks on from the street outside the restaurant, well aware that she can’t see him, and he likes that sudden reversal of roles in their menage, him observing her… even though he’s not planning on attempting on her life. Not at all.

The town is celebrating a holiday of some kind, the streets bustling with activity, music, food stands, street artists performing for the crowd under a sky lit with stars; among so much confusion, no one pays any attention to the tall, dark-dressed man waiting patiently, his back resting against a wall, his eyes focused on the outside tables of the fine dining restaurant, yearning in his gaze. Interrupting a family dinner is a discourtesy Mihawk would never lower himself to, and in any case, he's not in a hurry; he's been waiting to talk to (name) for most of the day, a few minutes more make no difference.

So he lingers, until his sharp gaze finally detects the small group leaving the restaurant, (name) arm in arm with her mother; they’re walking in the direction of the harbour, which means Mihawk will soon lose sight of them, but suddenly the youngest member of the dinner party, a boy six or seven years old, stops to observe the stall of a sweets seller. Both (name) and her mother remain with him, but after a brief conversation the older woman departs to join the others.

Mihawk smiles to himself; he has never believed in destiny, but it seems tonight luck is on his side. He waits for (name) and the child to be alone and then approaches, just as the woman is paying for the cotton candy on a stick the child is already biting into.

He doesn’t call her name; he doesn’t need to, because after so many years of hunting him down (name) is now attuned to him, not unlike lovers or parents and children who swear they can feel each other’s presence when they are nearby. She’s talking to the child -I can’t believe you’re still hungry, you finished a four course meal twenty minutes ago!- but then she turns, not in response to a sound or a movement but simply because she has perceived him, and after a moment of incredulity, she smiles at him.

“How did you find me? And don’t tell me you were just passing by.”

“I have my ways. How was dinner?”

“Delicious; even though the wine selection leaves much to be desired. Still, it was my cousin-in-law who chose it…”

The child is now looking up at Mihawk, open curiosity in his eyes; (name) rests her hand on his back to gently push him forward. “Go to your parents, Caspian; say I’m talking to someone, will you?”

The child promises he will; he runs after the rest of his family, the stick of the already reduced in half cotton candy still in his hand. (name)’s eyes follow him until the child’s hand is held securely in his mother’s.

“Your nephew, I gather.”

“He is; thank the Gods he takes after his mother rather than Theon. Now…” (name) smiles, openly amused, as he faces him, her arms to her chest “You haven’t answered my question yet; and more than how, I’d like to know why you came to see me.”

Mihawk sighs; he had known from the start it wouldn’t have been easy. “I think you know it already.”

“Maybe I do; but I don’t want to seem presumptuous, and sometimes things just need to be said.”

“Even between us, after all this time? I don’t think so.”

“Mihawk…”

Gods, just the way she has to say his name is enough to drive him crazy. They walk unhurriedly for a few minutes, leaving the chaos of the festivity between them, the silence between them vaguely tense but not unpleasant.

“The Seven Warlords have already started making the news.” (name) points out after a while “Some say they’re on par with the Four Emperors. No regrets about refusing to join?”

“None at all; the day I’ll need the help of the Marines to conduct my business will be the day I’ll give up pirating and devote myself to tilling the land on Kuraigana.”

“Would you really do it?”

“I actually do it already. The soil is fertile, and I can’t spend all day training, can I?”

(name) smiles. “I guess not.” she concedes “And thank you for letting the Marines see you far away from the island; I spoke to Garp two days ago, when I went to cash a new bounty, and I’m pretty sure he no longer suspects me.”

“It’s good to hear that. (name)...”

He stops, and she stops with him; they have reached a quieter part of the town, a small park empty save for a couple walking their dog and a mother pushing her child on a swing. Still, it’s four people more than what Mihawk would have wanted given the discussion they need to have, but he knows that this is as good a chance as he can get, and in any case he’s tired of waiting. “I wanted to ask whether you plan on attacking me again.”

He was trying to get under her skin, and he succeeded. “I am not slipping!” (name) protests “And no self-respecting bounty hunter would give up on a bounty simply because…”

“Why? Afraid you’re starting to slip, and that next time I could actually get you?”

Mihawk smiles; two can play this game, my beauty. “That will never happen; but I can’t help wondering if there’s another reason why you keep pestering me.” he points out innocently “After all there are so many other powerful pirates in the world, but you only seem to have eyes for me; and I could swear that the last few times we met, you were more interested in talking than in attempting on my life. Either you're slipping, or…”

Mihawk's patience has reached its limits; his self-control is already beyond that. “(name).”

“... because they struggle to…Yes?”

“Please, tell me I can kiss you.”

She stares at him, and for a moment Mihawk could wage his life he's in for another slap; then, the woman in front of him smiles, and rather than answering, she throws her arms around his neck and presses her mouth to his.

Several minutes pass before either is able to speak again; by that time, Mihawk's back is pressed against the trunk of a tree, (name)’s soft and warm body held in his arms. For a full minute they can do nothing but breathe, sharing their air, almost sharing their heartbeat.

“The reason why I kissed you… the day we met on your island…”

“It’s alright; you've apologised already, you don't need to…”

“I do. The truth is… I didn't do it because I was confused, or because I had mistaken you with another person.” Mihawk murmurs; his mouth is a breath away from (name)’s ear as he holds her in his arms, and he can feel her shiver in his arms as he speaks “Rather, it was because when I woke up… I didn't simply remember your name and your face, and nothing else; in my mind, there was a… a dream, I think you can call it, or a fantasy, because it never happened, even though I had mistaken it for a memory. That is why I reacted… that way.”

(name) looks at him; her fingers have started playing with his hair, the touch delicate but unmistakably sensual. “A fantasy that had to do with me?”

“... yes.”

“A fantasy that made you think I’d appreciate being kissed by you?”

Mihawk sighs. “Now you're making fun of me.”

“I'm sorry. I want to know more about this dream of yours, and… to be honest, I have something to confess too.”

She bites her lip; suddenly she’s flushing, and in Mihawk’s mind kissing is no longer enough - he needs to lie her down on the grass and make her scream. “I never started losing interest in claiming your bounty, and I certainly never started slipping.” she points out softly “But I must admit… I started looking forward to our meetings for more than the opportunity to finally beat you. You started occupying my thoughts more and more… and in the end I realised it was no longer just work; you were no longer just work, maybe you had never been. My grandfather would be so disappointed…”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. I… I don’t want to kill you; surely not for your bounty, and not for any other reason either. I’d rather have you alive, healthy, safe… and preferably close enough I can meet you when we both want to.”

Silence.

“You have nothing to say?”

“Well, I’d also rather be alive.”

(name) scoffs. “Now you’re making fun of me…”

They smile. Their foreheads touch. Their embrace lingers. A question is asked softly, a nod given in response; (name) only needs to call her relatives to say they can depart without her.

They take their time setting off to the harbour. “Where are we going?” (name) asks after a while; they’re walking side by side, their hands brushing against each other.

“To Kuraigana. I’ve seen your home, you should see mine.”

(name) smiles. “Hmm, good to know…” she murmurs; Mihawk grins, slipping his arm around her shoulders. Darkness envelops them as they walk.

“I’d like that. But I only have one change of clothes with me.”

“It’ll be more than enough, believe me; you will need no clothes for a while.”