#spicy angst hours ahead

[yoonieper]

For the Birds— Part 3 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri) 

♡ Genre: angst, smut

♡ Rated: T for Treachery 

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! 

♡ Chapter Warnings: Jungkook is really repressed, su*cidal thoughts (somewhat vague), cheating, masturbation (m), edging, mentions of substance abuse (alcohol), horny thoughts, public sex (kinda), lots of making out, dry humping, thigh fucking kinda (m), premature ejaculation(ish?), fingering, handjob, unprotected sex (nope!)

♡ Word Count: 34.5k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Low by SZA— see masterlist for playlist! 

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover @teawithhoneyandlemon and @mellowladyanchor for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: This chapter was such a pain to get done 😭, but please enjoy this behemoth of a chapter! Nice and spicy with a side of tears! My specialty~ This is like the true part 1 of the series so ;)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

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Jungkook yawned and tried to blink away the tears that had formed to soothe his stinging, dry eyes. A sigh escaped his lips before he turned his head to face the clock that sat ticking away on his nightstand. 

6:58am.

Nearly a whole hour until his phone would begin buzzing and the drum solo he set as his alarm would go off. He still had some time to get the sleep he needed, yet no matter what he did, Jungkook couldn’t drift off like he wanted to. He had a long day ahead of him, normally he would never wake up this early, but today of all days, this had to happen.

Jungkook had gone to bed thinking about you. It started off simple, it was like a routine. He would usually take some time to establish a checklist for his next day, especially during times like these where he was normally so busy. Yuri had rested peacefully beside him while he stared at the ceiling trying to remember everything he had planned for tomorrow. It was just meant to be a reminder to himself that he couldn’t go home early, that he couldn’t forget to meet you after work, that he needed to make sure to text the chef not to wait on him to make it home, and that he had to tell Yuri he wasn’t going to be back ‘till late, not that she really even cared. But the second you entered his train of thought, that was enough to keep you in his head, and in consequence, the moments with you the day before started replaying in his mind as he tried to finally close his eyes and go to sleep.

He thought about how impressive you were during your presentation. You were settling into your new role so well; it was astounding to witness. You were always so poised, confident, and everyone admired you, he did too. Later that day, you both would be working alone together. Maybe it was the time he could ask you how you do it.

Then his mind drifted to his brief moment he spent talking to you. Why was he so awkward? The embarrassment made him bury his head in the pillow, a sad attempt to shield himself from the memory of your confused gaze meeting his eyes while his panicked brain tried to find the words he wanted to say. Why did he always find it hard to speak to you like a normal person? It was about work and he’d even practiced what to say during the meeting. However, like always, the minute he tapped your shoulder and you turned around to look at him, his brain just went blank.

That made him think about you even more, your expression as he stumbled over his words while he asked you to stay late with him. He didn’t know when it happened, but his attention had drifted from your face and zoomed in on the purple blouse you wore yesterday— you had looked really good. 

With thoughts of you on his mind, finally Jungkook was able to turn his brain off to the point he could sleep for a few hours. However, even in his slumber, he wasn’t safe from being bombarded with thoughts of you and your meeting. His tired mind thought about your blouse and running the silk between his fingers. He imagined your face, your red-tinted lips, and he thought about how confident you were during the presentation. You had led the meeting so well despite how quickly he knew you had to prepare for it. 

He had no idea how it happened, but instead of him sitting back and watching you from the head of the table like he remembered, suddenly he was facing the board room; you were now in front of him, on the table, and in his arms. Your skirt was bunched around your waist— he hadn’t seen it happen, but he knew it was because of him. Your lips were hastily chasing his and your arms were wrapped around his neck, clutching on to him for dear life as he pounded into you right there on the meeting table.

You made such pretty sounds for him— he wished he could recall them better when he woke up, all his hazy mind could remember in good detail was how nice it felt to be inside you. You felt so good, every move he made inside your warmth had him feeling like he was on the verge of losing his mind. Tears filled his eyes quicker than he thought possible— but then, he was actually crying.

Jungkook had pulled away. He didn’t know when, but suddenly he was staring at the blurred faces of all the executives that were in the meeting room.

“He’s pathetic.”

“I can’t believe he’s cheating on his wife.”

“He’s just like his parents.”

“Bastard.”

“Why would we trust someone like him to run the company?”

He couldn’t pick apart the voices, but the prosecution was distinct, and he heard every word so clearly. They never moved, he couldn’t even see their faces, but their words had tears rolling down his cheeks like a riverbank after a summer storm. They wouldn’t stop, but neither could he because you just felt so fucking good he could care less about what they say at this point. Jungkook was so desperate, it wouldn’t have mattered if they were in the middle of the most devastating, earth-shattering, cosmic event where the walls were crumbling around him and the floor was ready to swallow him whole; nothing was going to stop him from feeling you.

Nevertheless, the voices were all so loud in the background, it was mind numbing. He just wanted to enjoy this, but he knew he didn’t deserve to. They were right after all, what was he doing?! His body wanted it more than words could describe, but his mind was constantly telling him he shouldn’t do this, that he needed to listen and remember his wife, to remember Yuri, except he couldn’t. The fact that the judgmental remarks of the executives weren’t enough to stop him in his quest to have you, spoke volumes, and it just made the ache in his heart even worse.

Jungkook yearned to remember more of you instead of the accusations, like how it felt to have you that close. He wished he took in every detail— your expression as he pushed inside you, your lips against his, or recalled if he got the chance to kiss the exposed skin revealed by your off-the-shoulder, purple blouse like he had wanted to all day.

When he woke up, his room was still dark, his face was wet with sweat and tears, and he was painfully hard. It hurt so much, Jungkook panicked at first as he reached under the cover hoping his sinful dream hadn’t resulted in a mess— Yuri would hate him so much if it did. That happened once and she’d screamed at him all day about how disgusting he was. But no, this wasn’t that type of dream, but a dream nonetheless that created a horrible problem.

In desperation, Jungkook looked over to Yuri, who was still sleeping next to him, and considered waking her up to help him. Would she? He’s tried his best to do everything she asked, but he knew it would only make her hate him further.

Everything Jungkook did made her hate him even more.

And fixing this himself was off the table— he couldn’t stoop to a level that low. He’d done well for so long, he wouldn’t give up now; it’s what he kept telling himself, but everything inside his body was screaming for him to run to the bathroom and fix this. But how pitiful would that be?

He couldn’t, he just fucking couldn’t. It’s just been so long, too long…

Jungkook both wished and dreaded for Yuri to wake up. He didn’t want her to see him like this, he knew he looked pitiful right now, but he knew she’d make him forget about his dream in no time.

There was no excuse, the only person who he should be fantasizing about is his wife; but you, you just won’t leave him alone. With your short skirts, pretty red lips, and unwavering confidence. It’s only gotten worse as the months have passed— so much worse, he could hardly look at you without remembering what his sinful imagination had pictured of you. He was so disgusting, so fucking disgusting.

Every day he hoped Yuri would put him out his misery— in his most desperate moments, he’d thought about telling her what’s filled his imagination, wishing that it would make her fuck the thoughts of his coworker out of him.

His frustration has affected his marriage, he knew that. He’d been so irritable these days, how in the world could he be the perfect husband if he really couldn’t stop thinking with his dick for five seconds? But he was trying, he really was, but not hard enough.

That’s why he’d been laying here for the last twenty minutes. He had to be on his best behavior, he had to show Yuri he really was trying— no matter how much it hurt, he wouldn’t give into such deplorable urges. He wanted to be good for her. 

At first, Jungkook tried to go back to sleep. The minute he opened his eyes and felt his problem, he’d just hope going back to bed would be the solution. He’d tried to get comfortable, pulling up the covers again, but the minute he shut his eyes all he could see was you and your bunched up skirt while he pounded you into the table.

Jungkook hated sleeping on his stomach, he never knew why he ended up like that when he’d fallen asleep lying on his back or his side sometimes— but the position had his hips hastily chasing into the mattress searching for some type of friction. And it only got worse as he imagined you laying right underneath him.

He flipped over so he was on his back, but his pajama pants and even the covers caused enough friction for his mind to go back to the dream. Your red lips against his, bodies hot and heavy, panting and pleading for—

He’s spent the last twenty minutes tossing and turning, trying to force himself to go back to sleep. He had a long day ahead of him, he needed to sleep, but it just hurt so fucking much. He wanted to cum— he couldn’t even remember the last time he did that. Has it really been that long since Yuri came back from that New Years Party?

Fuck, he wanted to be good, he’d wait, he’d wait until she wanted him again, but—

Tears pricked Jungkook’s eyes as his hand slid underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

But it just hurt so much. He really shouldn’t be doing this.

Jungkook thought about Yuri, how much he wished she was awake. She was wearing those tiny shorts again, the ones she knew drove him crazy. If things were different, if he was a better husband, how nice it would have been to just push her shorts slightly to the side— feel her warmth, Yuri always felt so good.

Jungkook wouldn’t even have the patience to get on top, his neediness only allowed for him to swiftly pull his pants down, get one hand under her tank top, and use the other to push her shorts slightly to the side as he’d take her.

“Fuck.” He couldn’t stop his mouth or his hand as it started playing with the waistband of his pants. But you and your damn purple blouse. The one that showed off your shoulders and collarbones. Jungkook imagined in his dream that he’d kissed, sucked, and painted them with small bruises. Maybe you would have made more of those pretty sounds—

Jungkook stared wide eyed at the ceiling as he felt his hand slip past his waistband and grasp onto his throbbing length.

Oh no.

The tears quickly started welling up in his eyes again.

He didn’t even have the decency to commit such an act in private. The bathroom was just right there, but in the moment it felt so far away as he slowly started moving his hand. Jungkook tried his best to choke back the moan as his fingers made it to the tip, he was so sensitive— it felt so wrong, but all he could picture as they came back down was you on that table.

Your blouse, your skirt bunched up, your lips on his, your warmth— fuck, why did something so wrong feel so good? Jungkook tried to tell himself this was just to relieve the pain, but you just wouldn’t let him go.

“Oh no…” He tried to sob quietly as his hand started speeding up. He was so fucking pathetic. Apparently he wasn’t quiet enough, or maybe Yuri was just waking up, she’d normally be in the shower before his alarm even went off. Yuri steadily lifted her head and turned to face him.

“Jungkook, what the hell?” She grumbled. She sounded tired, maybe he really had been too loud.

He looked at her, but his vision became blurry as the tears in his eyes grew heavier. He still was able to see her eyes dart down to the tent under the comforter. He probably looked like a deer trapped in headlights as his whole body froze.

“What are you doing?!” She looked distraught.

He hurriedly tried to blink away the tears. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation, maybe that dream had actually made him lose his mind, but that burn, that need, just wasn’t subsiding like he knew it should.

“Yuri, please…” His voice was soft, but he was begging.

Yuri pulled back the covers and was able to see in as much glory as the sunrise would allow, his hand that had slipped into his pajama pants, and the hand that was still underneath his shirt. Jungkook had never felt more pathetic, but his body pleaded, no, begged for more.

Yuri just continued to stare at him.

“I had a dream and— I tried so hard to go back to sleep— so hard, I promise I really did.” He was trying his best not to cry but he could feel the hatred brewing behind her dark gaze. He knew she was disappointed. How does he always fuck everything up?

He probably would have crumbled into pieces and started bawling right then and there if her hands didn’t come up and grab his wrists. He was so confused, but she didn’t give him much time to process as she pinned his hands over his head and climbed into his lap— sitting right where he needed her.

He probably could have come by that action alone if only he wasn’t so ashamed.

“Yuri!” He gasped. She was so close, he could feel her so well, those fucking shorts not doing much at all, it was taking everything in him to not rip them off.

“You’re such a mess.” She mumbled, looking down at him.

“I know… I’m sorry…” He wanted her to forgive him just this once. 

Jungkook almost screamed when he felt her hips rock slowly, making him hurriedly chase into hers. 

“Please, please, please!” He moaned. His whole body burned, ached, pleaded— he wanted so much more.

“Mmmm, you know how pathetic you look like this?” Yuri chuckled as she ground down a little harder. He couldn’t even imagine how he looked right now.

“I’m so sorry.” He cried, because he genuinely was. He was so sorry she had to be married to him.

“What is it that you want anyway?” She asked like it wasn’t obvious with how hard he was underneath her. He was going to go crazy at this point.

“It’s been so long since we— I— please— I want to fuck you so badly— it hurts so much.” Jungkook normally wasn’t so blunt, but his lust-filled mind only allowed for the equivalent of getting on his knees and begging her to forgive him just this once and put him out of his misery.

It’s been ten months.

Yuri laughed but sped up her pace.

“Fuck!” Jungkook whined, his eyes welling up all over again. He wished he could touch her; his hands running under her tank top or grabbing onto her waist as he pushed her shorts to the side so he could finally feel her. What he would have given to do that.

“Whose fault is that? It was your dick that wouldn’t work the last time.” She was laughing at him. His eyes burned from the tears that continued to fill his eyes, but he needed more.

She was right. It was his fault. Why couldn’t he just get his shit together that day? He knew he wouldn’t get another chance like that again, yet he still couldn’t do it. It was embarrassing.

Jungkook looked intently at where their bodies connected. His erection was so obvious, he wasn’t wearing any underwear so he could clearly see it as she ran over his length. Every time she’d rock forward the tip would almost push past the waistband, red, angry, and staring back at him with shame. He whined at the sight. He couldn’t help imagining what it would feel like if he could take off his pants and she wasn’t wearing those shorts.

She really would feel so good… how the hell did he pass this up back in April?

“I’m sorry.” That’s the only thing he could do, apologize. He felt so bad.

“And you’re crying, again?” She laughed in disbelief. Yes, yes he was; both in the fact he was ashamed, but she’d also been working him far longer than his deprived mind could take, and he wanted to finish. He only needed a little more.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Her voice was laced with honey, yet reeked of poison. She was so upset at him. Jungkook couldn’t even look at her anymore, he just hurriedly nodded, hoping she’d understand.

“You could cum just from this?” Yuri asked like she was actually curious.

“I will, soon.” There was no point in hiding it.  “I wish I could be inside you though— but I’ll take anything if you’ll let me finish.” How badly he wished she’d let him push her shorts to the side, but that didn’t matter anymore. All he needed was to be done with this pent-up frustration, maybe then he could get himself together again. 

This seemed to interest Yuri in some way, because she finally picked up the pace and started grinding on top of him. The tears spilled from Jungkook’s eyes as his whole body prepared for the release he craved more than anything right now. 

“Yuri please, please, please, please!” Jungkook cried and he couldn’t repeat it enough times for her to get it. He was close and all he could ask for was her forgiveness just this once. He knew this was his fault and he’d try and make it up to her in any way he could. 

He was so close, so fucking close— so hot, this position was so hot. He desperately wanted to touch her, but he liked being underneath her like this.

He only tried to hold back for a second, hoping at the last minute she’d hurl those stupid shorts across the room, get a condom, and he’d finally feel her like he’d been wanting for months. However, that only lasted for a second before he was sure he was about to spiral off the edge he craved. But it didn’t matter how much Jungkook pleaded, because right when his cries couldn’t get any more mangled and desperate, she stopped. She stopped and was off his lap before he could hardly comprehend his orgasm was snatched away. 

Yuri didn’t say much for once. She just hopped off the bed and looked at him for a little while.

“Somehow you keep getting more pitiful. Get your shit together, Jeon. This will never work if you don’t.” Was all she said with a dramatic eye roll, before she was marching out of the bedroom and leaving Jungkook alone.

Again.

Jungkook just sat there for a second, trying to comprehend what just happened. But his body didn’t allow for much because he still felt like he was five seconds away from exploding.

He hurriedly scurried over to the bathroom and set the shower to the coldest setting possible, he didn’t even bother to take off his clothes before jumping in.

As the cold water soaked his hair, his clothes, and finally started to cool his burning skin, that’s when the real tears began to flow. Because no cold water could stop how much he wanted to reach down and finish himself off. It would be so easy now that he was alone, but Jungkook couldn’t allow himself to stoop so low. 

He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s already disappointed her so much. 

Jungkook let himself sink to the floor.

He felt as if he was incapable of being a good husband; really, a good person. He was awful. Jungkook was such a disappointment, a failure, a pathetic human being who only brought agony to the people he cared about the most. He was making everyone’s lives so fucking miserable…

Yuri deserved a good husband, it shouldn’t be that hard to at least be decent, yet he couldn’t even do just that. He got hard while imagining fucking his coworker and he had expected his wife to fix the problem?! It was hilarious, he deserved the punishment, worse really. When would he learn to be good? That’s all Yuri expected of him, but—

Jungkook tried to be as quiet as possible while the freezing water poured over his head and washed away the tears that just wouldn’t stop. He wanted to disappear. That would make everything so much easier. All he did was cause pain.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook stared at the coffee maker as the dark liquid slowly dripped into the cup. He wondered how he was going to make it through the day only running on three hours of sleep. It would be horrible if he passed out in front of you later.

His whole body felt heavy, just standing up was hard as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Coffee should help— at least it should give him enough energy to make it to work before he could make another cup to push him through the day.

He couldn’t embarrass himself in front of you.

You.

Jungkook scoffed as he suddenly thought back to his dream— nightmare really. Oddly enough, he was used to it at this point. This wasn’t the first time you’d taken over his dreams, you had a terrible habit of filling his mind even when he was fast asleep. You seem to love being in his head.

It was a little more recently that the dreams started, but his mind loved making up scenarios anytime he’d see you in the office.

He couldn’t even remember when it began anymore.

Had it been since you’d spilled coffee all over him? Was it then? All he knew was that you pissed him off for a reason he didn’t even know, not then, not now. 

Why were you so pretty? Why did he think you were pretty? He had a wife!

Maybe if you had met any other day he would have had no problem with you, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed you at all, but you met at the wrong time on the wrong day. At first, there was a bit of resentment— he had never hated you, but your first impression left a mark where a wound already existed. Seeing you reminded him of that terrible day and, for a little while, he made it his mission to give you a hard time.

It was petty, he knew that. You literally did nothing wrong. He knew it was only an accident, but there was something about you… at first you just made him upset. The reasons now have morphed into something more complex, something he’s desperately been trying to figure out to get you out of his head. It didn’t make any sense why every time he’d look at you he wanted to pull you so close that your atoms would defy physics and meet at the quantum level. He wanted you, badly, so fucking badly that he was honestly a little worried about later’s meeting.

Jungkook would never act on anything, but he wasn’t sure if he could be alone with you and not lose his mind. How could he not? Everything about you was like candy handed out by a guy in a white van. Enticing, but dangerous, far worse than what his naive brain could comprehend.

His own anger made things worse. He should have known just seeing what you were like on your very first day. No matter what Jungkook seemed to throw at you, you never once faltered, never complained, you absolutely crushed the assignments he’d give you. He was so amazed. You were so self-assured, confident, and meticulous. 

Everything he wasn’t.

Jungkook would be in meetings trying to stop himself from fawning anytime you’d speak. You were amazing, and everything about you just aroused him in a way that shouldn’t be possible. It frustrated him so much, he was fucking married.

He was a husband. He had a wife. He couldn’t forget that.

Jungkook tried to shake himself out of it and focus back on the task at hand— coffee, something he desperately needed before he passed out on the floor. He'd taken up the job of making coffee for him and Yuri. She hadn’t asked him to, but he was hoping this would be a nice peace offering for earlier.

He’d worked part time as a barista throughout his first two years of college. How he managed school, gigs, part time jobs, and Golden Tech, was something he couldn’t even comprehend anymore. But while he was there, he did get the opportunity to learn how to make those cute drinks most people would only be able to get at coffee shops.

However, he went for the classics today. 

Yuri loved Americanos, iced when it was hotter, but the chill November weather begged for a warmer drink. Jungkook couldn’t handle bitter drinks, he didn’t even like coffee until his schedule forced him to develop a need for it before he even attempted to go outside. Still, he preferred sweeter drinks with milk, sugar, or so much creamer you couldn’t even taste the coffee anymore. Today though, he needed something a little more intense to make sure he wouldn’t pass out at his desk. 

He didn’t have time to nap, things were so hectic as they neared the end of the quarter and tried to prepare for next year. He was the overseer of all of this for their department and was more needed than ever.

A latte is what he settled with. He made it fancy too, using the milk to draw a heart over the shots of espresso because why the fuck not? He didn’t have much to smile about these days, why not add a heart to his coffee?

Americanos didn't offer the chance for a cute design, so instead he focused on trying to get the ratios right so it’d be perfect for his wife. 

Jungkook had just finished pouring the hot water into her mug, when he heard Yuri’s clicking heels as she made her way into the room. She was wearing a short, black, sweater dress, with her shoulders exposed just like your blouse had been yesterday.

His cheeks flushed the longer he looked. It was like she was trying to kill him. That shower had not worked like he’d hoped.

He coughed to keep himself from staring. “You won’t be cold?” He asked, hoping to keep his mind busy.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“What?” Yuri scowled. He could sense her irritation immediately.

“I— I just saw it was going to be really cold today— 5 degrees actually, and it’s going to rain. I don’t want you to catch a cold.” He fretted as he saw Yuri roll her eyes before taking a seat on one of the barstools. 

“Don’t boss me around.” She grumbled. 

Jungkook froze as the guilt washed over him. He didn’t mean it to sound that way, but of course he couldn’t effectively communicate that he was just worried about her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, still clearly disgruntled as she rested her head on her hand. Jungkook suddenly remembered the coffee and hastily went to grab her mug.

“I made you coffee…” He attempted to smile as he placed it in front of her. He hurriedly grabbed his own before taking a seat, making sure he was far away enough to leave a chair in between them.

For a second, she just stared down at the mug, but then her eyes moved to his briefly. He probably looked desperate as he waited to see if she’d accept the offering. He felt like he was waiting for an eternity, but eventually Yuri just sighed before she picked it up.

Jungkook tried to subtly watch her face as she took her first sip. He made a silent prayer to whomever would listen that she would enjoy it, but her expression was unreadable as she set the cup down. Yuri didn’t say anything that gave him any type of clue into her thoughts. It wasn’t good or bad… but it was better than her spitting it out, throwing her cup on the floor, and saying she was better off without him.

Instead of worrying about it too much, he took a sip of his latte, and his brows furrowed as the taste relished in his mouth. It was pretty good for an espresso. He gave himself a mental pat on the back knowing at least he did a nice job on his own.

A few minutes passed by, the steady silence started filling the room and grew more unbearable.

“Are you going to the gym today?” Yuri asked, not bothering to look at him. He didn’t mind, he couldn’t handle meeting her eyes right now.

Jungkook sadly laughed at the mention of it. “No. Things are hectic right now and I have a lot of work today. I’m trying to get there a little early.” He said, taking another sip of his latte. Normally, the first thing Jungkook would do in the morning was head to the gym after he had a bit of caffeine in his system. He always found it a great way to wake himself up. However, the hecticness of his schedule has fucked up his gym routine so much that he’d barely had time to go lately.

Yuri didn’t respond to that.

“What about your plans today?” Jungkook tried inquiring.

Yuri sipped her coffee lightly before setting it down. “I’m going to Busan for a shoot. I’ll be back late— probably not till early morning.”

Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his heart sank knowing she wouldn’t be home later. He had wanted to talk after giving her some time to cool off and properly apologize for what happened this morning.  

“Hopefully they won’t make you work too late.” Jungkook tried to smile at her, but instead he was met with the sight of her blank gaze focused more on the kitchen rather than her own husband who was beside her. He resisted every urge in him to pull her close— a hug, an arm over her shoulder, anything to make this better. But he fought it, knowing that it would only dig himself deeper into the hole he created.

Silence, not even a chuckle.

“I’ll be home late too by the way. I have to work overtime with a coworker, so…” His words were drowned in his latte as he brought it up to his lips.

Yuri, once again, didn’t say anything. As the seconds continued to tick by, Jungkook couldn’t easily brush it off this time around. He wished she would plead for him to come home as soon as he could, and then complain about work always getting in the way of their relationship. Maybe she could even question him entirely about the coworker he had mentioned. Anything, he just wanted his wife to speak to him. Yuri was upset. He hated the silence. Why couldn’t he just be better?

“Yuri, I’m sorry for earlier.” Jungkook’s voice was shaky as he finally broke the awkward tension. 

“I don’t know what came over me. I just— Yuri, I miss you.” Jungkook turned to face her. He reached out and grabbed her hand that was sitting on the countertop.

“I miss you so much, I’m sorry if I woke you up earlier, sorry you had to see that.” He probably would never recover from the embarrassment, but then he thought about her on his lap and how he nearly blew his load right there. He missed her, why did things always need to be like this?

She still didn’t say anything. 

“I’m trying, I promise— I’ll be better…” His eyes started to sting, he knew he was moments away from crying again.

“How long have you been giving that excuse?” Yuri finally said as she let out a dark chuckle. As soon as the words hit his ears, he instantly felt bad for even saying anything. She was right— she was always right.

“Yuri—“ Before he could say anything else, she abruptly hopped off the barstool.

“Jungkook, I'm not in the mood today.” Yuri grumbled as she grabbed her mug.

She was never in the mood to talk about anything. Jungkook knew he should be focused on trying to apologize for his despicable actions this morning, but her words quickly lit a flame he couldn’t extinguish. She was never in the mood to deal with him, to deal with anything that involved them as a couple.  

“So that’s it then?” Jungkook huffed, but his face was wet. Embarrassing. 

Yuri stopped in her tracks.

“You’re not going to stay? We’re never here together in the mornings— you don’t want to sit here and talk with me, nothing?!” He was upset because he was coming face to face with the reality that his wife hated spending time with him. He knew that already, but seeing her walking away so easily from the one time they were up together in the morning, was enough to make him snap.

“Why is it such a crime that I want to spend time with you?” He cried as he stared at her when she still hadn’t said anything. He usually never got to talk this long before she had something to say. 

It was finally then that Yuri turned around.

“And why would I want to do that?” She said with the same dark laugh as before.

“I’m trying Yuri, so fucking hard. I—I—“ And he had nothing to say. Why would she want to be with him? Just look at what happened this morning. 

“Jungkook, I told you I’m not in the mood for this— I have places to be.” She sighed and turned away again.

Jungkook watched as she dumped her coffee into the sink.

“It was shit by the way!” She made sure he knew this. That was the last thing she said before heading back to their bedroom.

Jungkook tried his best to quickly wipe away the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling. Her words weren’t surprising, and he deserved them more than ever. He really was out of line. He was pathetic, so, so, so pathetic— why would she ever want to be with him?

However, for some reason, the thing that kept replaying in his mind was how easily she chucked the coffee he had worked so hard on trying to make perfect. The one thing he thought he could do right for her, and of course he failed. He was just one big fucking failure.

Jungkook attempted to take another sip of his own drink, but the taste was completely different than what he had remembered. The bitterness made him nearly gag and it took everything in him not to scream. Instead, the tears ran harder down his face as he quickly got up to throw his latte away too.

He couldn’t do anything right.

•────•──────────•────•

Things have been hectic these days. You were managing and making sure all of the numbers were being met for the holiday promotions, and also working hard to prepare for the next quarter with the teams.

This was the first time you’ve been managing by yourself this long. Director Son would take a day off occasionally when he had to leave the office for meetings at other companies— twice since you had been promoted, but handling an entire week on your own was a challenge you honestly weren’t sure you were qualified for. But there was no way you’d let anyone else know that. Instead, you put on a brave face and did your absolute best.

Today was hectic, and workwise, not really that interesting. Some meetings, assignments you needed to do, tasks you had to handle, it all mainly consisted of what you would typically do every day. However, there was an uneasiness in the air from the minute you woke up and thought about the fact that you were going to be working overtime with Jungkook. It was strange, but you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t nervous.

Maybe it was simply the fact that you were going to be alone with your boss for the first time— you’ve never really hung out with the guy before, and any brief conversation you’ve shared has always been so awkward. You wondered if he genuinely might not like you or something, that it might go beyond pettiness over an incident that happened over two years ago at this point. You’d never been rude to him (at least not to his face), so you had no idea where that would have come from. You figured it had to be the coffee incident still biting you in the ass. Director Son had told you prior to his absence that your workload was still abnormally high in comparison to what had been expected of the last associate director. 

Things hadn’t changed besides your feelings being a bit more complicated. Did you like Jeon Jungkook? No, he was still a major dickhead for singling you out over an accident. But were you worried about him? All the time lately.

As much as you wanted to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’d get assigned more work, you kept your cool because maybe— maybe things weren’t as they seemed.

Even though it was always awkward, Jungkook was never mean to you whenever you talked to each other. He would smile sometimes, and you’d joke around with each other occasionally. He was pretty shy— you noticed that almost immediately, he blushed a lot which always made you feel a little funny. 

It was when you wouldn’t see each other when he’d get back to being unreasonably petty. Maybe the sad boy act was a trap to make you accept his cruelness out of pity. Maybe, or maybe not. The chance was enough for you, so you settled with— you still didn’t like him, but with more caution. You needed more evidence, and today was a great day to collect findings and investigate further— with you both spending hours alone with each other, it would hopefully give you enough time to see his true colors. 

Just leading up to your meeting, things were already starting to get a little weird to say the least. You both worked more closely than usual, and anytime you’d talk with another executive, or you worked on the mountain that was your workload, you always felt stared at.

You liked to think you had a secret pair of eyes in the back of your head because you could always tell when someone was looking at you. Your senses were going off like crazy today, and every time you’d turn to check, you’d see him staring at you.

It could’ve been because you both had plans later. You never once found yourself creeped out by his staring. He reminded you of Bambi at the way his eyes sparkled in the light, and just how bewildered he looked by your mere existence.

You hated to admit it, but it was almost cute?

You had no issue meeting his gaze— at first, because you were a little confused by what was happening, but then you noticed the way his face would light up before he quickly turned away, visibly flustered, so you just kept doing it for fun.

Then, there was the incident on the roof…

You needed to find him to get him to sign some papers. You had gone to his office first— he wasn’t there, so you asked Secretary Yu— she didn’t know where he was, so you were left wandering the floor, asking around, trying to see if anyone had seen him. Luckily, Hoseok came to the rescue as you wandered through marketing trying to find him— he told you he had seen him in the elevator when he went to deliver something upstairs. 

“He said he was on his lunch break. I think he was heading to the roof, maybe?” Hoseok shrugged.

The roof?

You tried to ignore the way you felt your stomach drop. There could be a perfectly reasonable excuse for why he would be up there. The actual rooftop of the building was reachable only by maintenance, but there was a terrace a few stories down that everyone at the office referred to as ‘the roof.’ It didn’t have much up there— a few tables and chairs where people could lounge around, and it also had these beautiful trees and greenery that somehow managed to grow that high up on a building.

It was a popular spot during the warmer months, and maybe if today were a nice day, you wouldn’t be as worried, but it was freezing outside. Just walking from your bus stop, which was just down the street, to the building’s entrance, you swore your nose would fall off before you even reached the door.

What business would he have on the roof in November?

That’s why you said a hurried goodbye to Hoseok and nearly ran to the elevator. Maybe this was all in your head, and maybe you had a bad habit of thinking the worst— but your worry had saved someone before. Propelled by your belief that there was even the slightest chance of something bad happening, you never once slowed down as you made your way to the elevators. You hurriedly pressed the floor button, believing it would somehow make it go faster, and you nearly tripped over your heels trying to rush down the short hallway to the door.

As soon as you opened it, the chill air almost blew you away. Your stockings and your white button-up didn’t do much to protect you from the cold, but you persevered anyway. 

You didn’t immediately see him out there, so you hastily made your way further around the terrace. Your panic only grew worse with each step you took until you rounded the corner and a silhouette began appearing. It was Jungkook. You took a second to let out a sigh of relief, because at least things weren’t as bad as you thought or certainly could have been, but as you stood there, you noticed his hand come up to wipe his eyes.

He wasn’t crying… was he?

“Director Jeon!” You didn’t hesitate to make your presence known, feeling weird just watching him like this.

At your voice, he turned around, and for a split second you saw it, you saw his sad eyes and the way his face glistened with tears. However, it wasn’t long, and he hurriedly used his sleeve to wipe his face.

“What are you doing out here?! It’s freezing!” You exclaimed as you started making your way towards him. You tried to hold up the papers you were carrying to block the wind, but they merely fluttered before folding over in your hand.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?” He tried to say over the sound of the wind rushing past. You couldn’t tell if he was annoyed to see you or not.

“I had papers I needed—” Before you could finish, he was approaching you and grabbing your wrist to lead you both back to the door.

You looked at him, then his hand on your wrist, then back at him, and then your wrist again. The more you looked, the more you felt your face grow hotter. Part of you wanted to scream and tell him to let go, but you never did, honestly too stunned to do anything but let him lead you away. He yanked the door open, pulling you back into the short hallway.

As soon as the door closed behind you, he finally let go, and you had to take a second to remind yourself to breathe, because what the fuck was that?

“Sorry, it’s freezing out there— I didn’t want you catching a cold.” He laughed shyly, and it was then that you realized how close he was standing. 

The hallway was short and not very wide. It was maybe big enough for two people to stand side by side with a little room left so they wouldn’t be scraping against the wall. But you and Jungkook were facing each other, so there was no need to be this close. You wondered if there was even a foot in between you.

You took a second to look at the way Jungkook was leaning against the door. A slight smile was on his face, but standing this close, you could see the way his eyes were a little red.

“I should be saying that to you. What were you doing out there?” You asked, hoping there was some reasonable answer to this. His smile slowly faded, and it’s like in an instant you saw the dark cloud that had managed to form above his head materialize right in front of your eyes. It rained and stormed down on him with a concerning ferocity, yet he never seemed to acknowledge the way the mood had shifted. 

“I— just needed some fresh air.” He didn’t even look at you as he spoke, almost like his mind was elsewhere.

“Fresh air without a coat?” You questioned after noticing he was only wearing his suit jacket.

“You got me there…” He chuckled sadly. You looked at him worriedly. It was on the tip of your tongue to ask if he was ok, but once again you found yourself lost for words.

“Um, you said you needed me for something?” Jungkook said, breaking the growing silence.

You almost completely forgot why you came up here. You looked down at the papers in your hand and waved them around. “Right, I just needed you to sign the proposal we talked about in the meeting earlier.”

“Ah right, I see— do you have a—“ he didn’t even need to finish before you were whipping out the pen you kept in the pocket of your shirt.

He smiled at your eagerness before taking your pen and the papers. You watched as he scanned over them, making sure everything was just as discussed, before putting the papers against the door and signing them.

For some reason as you watched him sign his name, it almost made you think about a celebrity signing autographs in the fancy way he wrote the characters. But that only led your eyes to his face, and then you were staring at him, observing him.

You noticed he was still a little pink, you weren’t sure if it was from crying or the cold outside. At some point he flicked his hair out of his face so you could finally see his eyes a little better and you were quick to notice the tinge of red, and his face seemed a little wet around his eyes. It instantly confirmed he had been crying earlier, worrying you further. 

His hair had gotten so long now, his bangs brushing softly against his cheeks, and the rest of his dark locks sat prettily just over his shoulders. It was probably long enough that he could very easily tie it up if he wanted. As he concentrated on the documents, you could even see that little mole make an appearance once again as he bit his lip.

It seems you weren’t the only one with eyes in the back of your head, because he turned to meet your gaze.

“I’m almost done.” He hurriedly reassured, and it was only then that you realized your staring might be rushing him.

You turned away so you were looking at the golden doors of the elevator, your face on fire again. It felt like a century as the silence painfully lingered in the air, but eventually he handed back the papers.

“I’m sorry you had to come looking for me. I wouldn’t have taken a break if I knew.” He genuinely seemed sorry. How could this be the same man who's been petty towards you since day one? How?! The Jungkook you had constructed in your mind over the years would never apologize, let alone for something he didn’t need to. 

“It’s not a problem. Things have been so hectic, it’s nice to have a break. It was only for a signature anyway.” He laughed at this, but then the silence started filling the air again.

You realized this was probably the time you should be saying your goodbyes.

“Do you want to come down with me?” You asked.

For a second, he pointed toward the door, like he really wanted to head back outside to that freezing tornado of no. But it’s like he realized that it didn’t make any sense, so he was just standing there, confused about what to say.

“Please don’t tell me you’re going back out there?” You looked at him worriedly.

If his fumbling earlier didn’t confirm anything, his silence now sure did. 

You had no idea what came over you, and honestly it probably wasn’t the most professional thing to do, but you flipped your hand over, brushed his bangs back, and rested your hand on his forehead.

You noticed his immediate shock with the way his eyes widened, but you pushed on. You then moved your hand to his cheeks and as you feared, he was still absolutely freezing.

“Sir, you’re freezing…” You let him know, hoping this would mean something.

You followed his gaze as it went from your hand, up your arm, and finally met your eyes once again. You nearly shivered as you stared into his eyes, his dark orbs felt weighted. Was it sadness, exhaustion, something else entirely?

You tried to shake yourself out of it and dropped your hand. “Going back out is just asking to get sick, and we really need you here.” You smiled up at him.

He didn’t say anything, and that confused look in his eyes still remained.

The awkward silence returned.

“Um, anyway, you should come down with me. I heard you were on your lunch break, yet I see no lunch.” You pointed out.

It seemed that was what it took to finally get him to snap out of it, as he looked down at his empty hands.

“Right…”

“Don’t tell me you forgot…?” And you just knew he did. 

“It’s a bad habit.” He chuckled shyly, but that just made you concerned all over again. What did he mean it was a habit? 

“Maybe we could eat together? I just have to drop these papers off and then we could head to the cafeteria.” You said so abruptly, it shocked yourself just as much as it seemed to shock him. 

What were you saying?! 

…

The silence that lingered had you ready to apologize for even putting out the idea.

“I’m a bit busy and my break is almost over…” You thought this was his way of rejecting your offer. “But… we can get food together.”

Jungkook looked back up at you with a smile on his face. For a second you saw it, that way his eyes crinkled and you found it hard not to fawn at the sight. You felt good that you were able to make him smile like that— for some reason you had the idea that it doesn’t happen too often.

With that, you were heading down the elevator and walking through the halls to your office. On the way, you sensed the questioning eyes of everyone as soon as they saw Jungkook trailing behind you.

Everyone around the office still thought that you hated him.

You eventually got to your office and you were a little shocked to find Solmi and Taehyung standing outside the door. They were just talking, probably waiting for you to go to the cafeteria, but then they finally saw you making your way over.

You noticed their smiles drop as soon as they saw Jungkook behind you.

“Hey guys…” You gave them a warning glare. “I was going to head down with Jungkook— meet me down there later~” You smiled a bit too hard as you set the papers down and turned back to Jungkook, who looked more than a little awkward.

You realized he probably didn’t come out here too often.

You didn’t give your friends any time to ask questions before you were whisking the both of you back to the elevator to finally head downstairs.

You honestly didn’t consider until later how… strange this might look to people. Not only because they thought you still hated him, but you were hanging around a married man like this. You sometimes forgot he was married, but the more looks you received, the more apparent it became how your colleagues might interpret your actions. But you had good intentions. All you wanted to do was make sure he actually ate something, fearing​​ that if you left him upstairs, he’d go back outside again and forget to eat lunch entirely. 

No one seemed to be worried, and you doubted anyone else would remind him to eat lunch. It’s not like you were this amazing person, but despite your mixed feelings toward Jeon Jungkook, you still didn’t want to just leave him like this. You wanted to help him even if it was just a little bit. He reminded you of Mi-Sun so much…

Besides that, it also gave you an opportunity to work on the awkwardness between you two before your long night together. Maybe he’d even give you bonus points for taking the initiative and being the first to try and extend the olive branch. 

However, neither of you talked too much as you waited in line, which wasn’t exactly what you had in mind. You’d sometimes try to ask him questions, but it didn’t lead anywhere besides a simple back and forth. The glaring awkwardness and the growing murmur of the crowd in the cafeteria filled the space between the two of you. Rome wasn’t built in a day; you knew creating any type of amicable relationship with Jungkook was going to take some time, especially considering you both didn’t start on the best foot, so you didn’t dwell on it too much. 

In between your short conversations, many people offered to let Jungkook go in front of them as soon as they noticed the CEO’s son was there, but he declined every time. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t surprised. That side of you who still thought the worst of him had you thinking he would use his position to nudge his way into any door he possibly could, even something as insignificant as skipping through the lunch line. But no, he didn’t even think about it any time someone would come up to him. Maybe you were wrong once again. 

Eventually, you were able to make it through the line.

“You sure you don’t want to stay? Maybe you could spare a few minutes to eat? My friends will be down soon if you want to sit with us, or maybe Director Park—“ 

“No, it’s alright. I’ve been gone long enough. Thank you, though.” Jungkook smiled.

You looked at him hesitantly. “Alright, just make sure you actually eat.”

“Don’t worry. I’m the king of multitasking~” He laughed, but you still were in fact still worried. For some reason you didn’t believe him, but you didn’t want to fight him on this.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, okay?” He smiled at you before turning around and heading back to the elevators.

That was the last time you saw each other before your meeting. The rest of the day, you found yourself feeling even more nervous.  

•────•──────────•────•

As your colleagues began packing up all their belongings and saying their goodbyes, you tried not to think about the fact that you had to meet with Jungkook soon, because you either found your nerves returning or you wanted to cry because you couldn’t go home. 

When the time finally arrived, you passed Secretary Yu’s empty desk and stood outside the door. You took a second to just breathe and try to calm your beating heart. There was no reason to be this nervous, you can handle Jeon Jungkook just like you do everything. Get in, be done, and then get out. Home was your finish line. 

Before they left, Taehyung and Solmi performed a ritual to wish you luck for tonight by surrounding your chair with pens, highlighters, bottles of white-out, and basically all the office supplies they could find. 

“By the power of this printer paper, Y/n is going to make it home alive.” Solmi said dramatically, holding a pack of printer paper— you had just asked her to fill the printer tray before they started doing this. Taehyung was standing behind her playing spooky music. They both told you that the ambiance was the last ingredient to reassure you that the ritual would work. 

You called them dramatic, but they said it was necessary to ensure you made it out of the “demon’s lair” unscathed. It was entirely too much, maybe even a little rude, but you let them have their fun.

There was absolutely no reason to be scared, but you couldn’t help the way your heart sped up in your chest as you knocked you pushed open the door.

Once again, you weren’t greeted with a demon’s lair, but well— no, maybe you couldn’t say that exactly. Taehyung and Solmi, during their ritual, had put the thought into your head that his bright office was merely a façade maintained during work hours, that he and the room revealed their true colors the minute most people were out of the building. You thought it was silly, but as you grasped your laptop tightly and saw that his office was dark apart from the faint glow of a couple of candles placed around the tables, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had entered the right room. This certainly wasn’t what you were expecting.

“Y/n—” You heard, but suddenly there was a loud thud making you nearly jump out of your skin as you snapped your head towards the commotion. “Shit!” You realized Jungkook groaned, as he clutched onto his desk. “I knew that was there…” He tried to laugh, but you could still hear the pain in his voice. 

You shook yourself out of your shock, before you hurriedly made your way over to him, trying your best to dodge past the faint outline of furniture on the way.

“Are you ok?” You asked looking down to see if you could notice any damage, but the room was just so dark. You helped him sit back down in his chair.

“Yeah, I just didn’t realize my desk was there…” He sighed, his brows furrowed as he leaned back.

“How could you? Why do you have all the lights off?” You looked around now that you were fully inside the room, and your eyes had adjusted a little more. The candles created a nice mood lighting, and the sparkling city lights outside provided that last little touch of magic. It was pretty, very different from what you’d see during the day. If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he was preparing for a date considering how romantic this almost seemed.

“I always turn them off when I stay here late— the lights are way too bright for this time of night, in my opinion. I don’t mind it being completely dark, but I lit some candles so you could see.” You were tempted to ask where he got so many since you had never seen them around before, but you kept quiet and just accepted the gesture. It was really sweet.

Jungkook suddenly swiveled around in his chair to reveal a minifridge you didn’t realize he had in here. He opened it, and you peeped a variety of drinks, mainly beer it seemed, but he pulled out a wine bottle before shutting it.

“Only if you want to.” He looked down at the bottle and then back at you. 

You were shocked. 

It was just then that you realized you never had a picture of what Jungkook was like outside of work. You couldn’t even imagine him stepping outside of this office building, but if you ever subconsciously had any impression, you never expected that he would be so… loose? You honestly thought it would be quite boring staying late with him, where you would be stuck fighting all forces of nature to keep your eyes open. You thought he would be the stone-cold, boring, business type, where you were here for work only. 

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Jungkook instructed you to grab Secretary Yu’s chair and roll it in so you could sit next to him, since all of the seats in his office were too heavy to move. As you left, he popped open the cork and took out wine glasses he also brought out of thin air.  

Once you got back, he even told you that the wine was yours to keep (a gift for staying late with him). You looked at the bottle, but you had no idea what it was. You squinted, trying to read the label, and eventually figured out it was entirely written in French. That’s when Jungkook explained that he had first tried this wine when his father had given him a bottle after a business trip to France.

“I had been having a terrible day, and then I remembered I had this white wine my dad gave me. I poured just a little to taste— next thing I knew, the whole bottle was gone.” He chuckled at the memory as he filled both of your glasses about halfway.

“I bought a few more bottles when I went this summer. I hope you like it~” He smiled at you. 

You figured this bottle was expensive, and you didn’t need to recognize the brand to understand that. Just as Jungkook described, one sip was all it took for you to understand precisely what he meant. It was probably the best wine you’d ever had; the sweetness danced nicely across your tongue before you couldn’t resist and had to swallow. You weren’t even that big of a wine drinker, but with this one, you could see yourself turning into one of those people who have a glass after coming home from work every day.

You seriously had to resist downing your drink because you were trying to hurriedly settle your nerves, but it was also that delicious. It was then that you both agreed not to go overboard. You were here to work after all, and you both still had to get home one way or another. One glass, two at most.

As the tension eased slightly, you opened your laptop, Jungkook turned back to his computer, and finally you both got to work.

Most of the time, it went as planned. You were able to fly through work relatively smoothly. You hated to admit that you two worked pretty well together. Your flow was like a perfect machine, two functions working independently, but eventually coming together to create the final product. Sometimes, you’d both be sitting in silence as the candles flickered around you, typing away at the keys, but then you’d always reconvene and spend most of the time talking about ideas, plans for next year’s Q1, and making the last bit of confirmations needed for the end of Q4.

As you both approached the end of the workload, you started to slow down, the last little bit is the hardest to finish as they say.

The whole evening was peaceful. It wasn’t anything at all like the second shift you’d pictured. Jungkook was… pretty chill. You sipped wine, and lightly chatted about work. How could this be the same guy you hated since your first day here? How the hell was he the guy who had rumors about people going into his office only to come out crying? 

It didn’t make any sense, and suddenly you found yourself upset at whoever spread that nasty rumor. Jungkook, with his sparkling eyes, looked like he couldn’t even hurt a fly, how did that even become a thing?

Then again, it’s not like you were any better… you were practically president of the Jungkook hate club before your promotion. You found yourself tempted to ask him why things had been so weird between you, if it really was all about the coffee you spilled on him, or if there was something else you did that you were entirely unaware of.

Your thoughts were interrupted all of a sudden when you heard ruffling. You looked over to find Jungkook taking off his suit jacket.

Oh?

•────•──────────•────•

He hadn’t thought much about it.

It was a little stuffy in his office, so he finally had to take his jacket off, roll up the sleeves of his white button-up, and undo just one more button. He didn’t even think you’d notice, but then he felt your gaze bearing down on him with enough weight to make him turn to face you.

Jungkook met your eyes briefly, and he had to take a second to recollect himself after seeing the way you were staring at him. Your eyes were dark and hooded, and you had the pen you had been twirling around your fingers teased between your lips. His mind was in all the wrong places. He knew that was his fault— but the longer he looked at you, the more his body burned with a horrible need. You looked so pretty; the city’s bright lights framed you nicely, and the faint candle glow made you look ethereal. 

“I didn’t know you had tattoos?” You used the pen you were holding to point at his arm. It finally dawned on him that that’s what you were looking at. He suddenly felt his cheeks grow warm, both embarrassed that he let his mind go there, and that you noticed something he’d been wanting to hide.

“Oh yeah… right, I sometimes forget they’re there.” Jungkook chuckled, trying to calm himself down. 

“When did you get them?” You asked, leaning a little closer to see them a bit better.

“Four— five years ago? I think I got them all during my last year of college.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help but notice the shock in your voice. “How did I never notice?”

“It’s not like I have too many. I originally planned to do a whole sleeve, but then I got busy, married, and overall things just changed. Unless I wear short sleeves, you can’t really see them.” Jungkook explained, his smile fading the longer he spoke.

“Does your wife not like tattoos?” You pondered, and he tried to ignore the weird feeling he got from hearing you mention her. 

“They’re not her favorite.” Jungkook was putting that a little nicely.

It wasn’t even like it was a big secret that he had tattoos before they got married. On their second date, Jungkook had to rush to meet Yuri after an appointment; his arm was still wrapped up and everything. This turned out to be the last tattoo he’d end up getting— the floral pattern he had on his elbow. 

Jungkook got so busy afterward dealing with the end of the semester and his job at Golden Tech, that he never could find the time for any more appointments before he got married. He planned to finish what he started when he got back from their honeymoon, he even had an appointment booked. But while they were lounging at the pool at their resort, basking under the sun in the Maldives, this one guy who had both arms done walked by. Jungkook had eagerly mentioned how cool they looked, but Yuri grimaced and said they weren’t really her thing.

At the time, she’d tried to recover and say she didn’t mind the couple that he'd managed to get, but Jungkook got the message; that was all she could tolerate.

Truthfully, she didn’t like them at all, and Yuri made sure he knew. In the heat of an argument, she’d called his tattoos ridiculous, silly, and even childish. Jungkook didn’t even fight back because he couldn’t deny that they didn’t look right. He’d planned to fill the space more when he got more time. The ones he had managed to brave before getting married individually he still thought were pretty cool, but all together, they were weirdly placed, spaced out, and generally just looked awkward since he never got to finish what he had planned.

He couldn’t say he liked them as much anymore. 

Jungkook had thought about getting them removed a couple of times; he’d even made an appointment once, but ultimately never followed through with it. He didn’t know if it was because of the pain he dreaded or the fact that when he tried to picture his arm bare again, he almost had a full-on breakdown. So he decided to keep them. They were his ridiculous, silly, and maybe even childish history.

Instead, he tried to be content with the fact his sleeve wouldn’t get finished, and just reminisced whenever he looked down at his right arm about the time when the thought of turning his body into a canvas was more than alluring.

He wanted to make Yuri happy.

“I think they’re pretty.” You suddenly mentioned, and one compliment was enough to make him feel funny all over. “Maybe you might change your mind one day about finishing it.” You continued.

Jungkook just stared at you as you spoke, his face felt like it was on fire. “I—I don’t know—“

“I’m sure your wife would grow to love them!” You exclaimed, turning your attention to the photo he kept on his desk. You leaned a little closer looking at his big smile as she kissed his cheek. They seemed so happy.

Jungkook noticed your gaze on the picture, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache at the sight. Something about it felt so wrong, almost like the two biggest problems in his life were coming face to face.

“How did you two meet?” You suddenly asked, breaking him out of his thoughts. At first, he was a little confused about who you were talking about, but in one of your hands was the picture you were looking at.

“Um— our parents introduced us to each other.” 

You cooed and turned to look at the picture, then back at Jungkook, and then back at the picture again. 

“You found love so early. We’re nearly the same age, right? It’s crazy to imagine being married right now.” You chuckled at the thought.

Jungkook stared at the candle in front of him as he soaked up your words. You were right; you would never see someone in this day and age married at twenty-six, at least not here. All of his friends from college were posting about going to the latest clubs. Not a single proposal announcement had crossed his timeline, yet he was about to celebrate his fourth anniversary in only a few months.

It really was crazy.

When Jungkook didn’t say anything, you took it upon yourself to fill in the silence. “Were you just so in love that you couldn’t wait?” You questioned dreamily as you batted your eyelashes. You watched as Jungkook continued to stare at the candle that sat between you, seemingly lost in thought.

“Jungkook?” You questioned.

“I heard you… it’s just… I mean, yes, we were, it’s just—”

“...trouble in paradise?” You asked hesitantly, worrying you were starting to pry too much.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, his heart pounding at how easily you seemed to notice. “You could say that.” He chuckled, his voice was soft, you barely heard him.

“Don’t worry. Every couple goes through difficulties, I’m sure you both will make it through this.” You tried to bring the mood back up, sensing you must have hit a touchy subject.

Jungkook resisted the urge to say it was all his fault, that he was the bomb in their relationship— the one who was wreaking havoc and causing the mass destruction. It was all him. 

“You guys look so happy here. When did you take this?” You pointed back to the picture on his desk. 

“That was our honeymoon.” His voice was slightly pained, as he thought back to a time when everything was still so promising; when he still seemed promising. You didn’t seem to notice, though.

“Where did you guys go? The background looks so pretty.” You pointed out the sparkling water that sat behind them. It was the clearest blue you’d ever seen.

“The Maldives.” He answered, and your eyes widened. You instantly felt a little jealous.

“If you ever have a business trip that takes you back to some beautiful island, you should take me with you. I could even try to squeeze into your suitcase if you’ll let me.” This finally got Jungkook to laugh.

“I’m serious— I’m sure I could fit inside!” You were already working out your plan in your head on how you’d somehow make the journey. He laughed even harder, like it was the funniest thing in the world. You quickly settled on the fact you liked it when Jungkook laughed, it was cute, this was the first time you heard it go beyond just a simple chuckle. It didn’t match him at all, but at the same time, it did. It was a distinct sound that made you unable to stop yourself from joining in, because you would have never guessed that was his laugh, but you found it oddly… endearing? It felt very Jungkook, even though you weren’t sure what that really meant yet. 

You decided to keep the joke going because you wanted to hear him laugh more. You told him you were sure you could somehow do it; if anyone could figure out how to travel by suitcase from Korea all the way to The Maldives, it would be you.

“What! I’ve never even left the country before, and I want to travel so badly. You seriously have to bring me on your next business trip!” You were both joking and incredibly serious at the same time. You had always wanted to travel.

Jungkook sensed this and calmed down a little. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Your eyes widened. “Is this a promise I’m hearing, Director Jeon?” Your excitement made Jungkook feel strange— fluttery almost. 

“Promise.” He smiled at you. You beamed and held out your pinkie. Jungkook looked down and then back up at your eyes, a little confused.

You got the message and grabbed his wrist so you could lock pinkies. You took it a step further, and your hand so your thumbs touched. “Look, it’s official now~” 

Jungkook stared down at your interwoven hands, his heart nearly beating out of his chest at all the thoughts racing through his head. The clearest one being the feeling of your hand in his— so small, warm, and the urge to pull you into his arms was dangerous. He remembered his dream from this morning, that stupid fucking dream he had of fucking you on that meeting table. What would your hands feel like elsewhere? He wanted to touch you too. He was aware of how alone you both were in the building; no one was in the office, no one would barge in and see if you— 

But then he was brought back to reality, and suddenly it was painfully hot in this room. Jungkook quickly let go of your hand as his face continued to warm.

“You ok?” Your red lips formed the words, but he had a hard time listening.

That cold shower didn’t help at all. If he took another one once he got back home, he knew that wouldn’t be enough. At this point, Jungkook doubted that if he sat in a bath of ice water for an hour it would be enough to calm the way his body burned and pleaded for help.

If he tried once again and begged Yuri, would she say yes? The idea was laughable, considering the stunt he pulled this morning. He was pathetic; why would she help him?

“Jungkook?” You tried calling out to him once again after seeing him get lost in thought. 

That was finally enough to get him to snap out of it. 

“I–I’m so sorry. I’m fine, you’re fine.” He tried his best to laugh it off. Jungkook couldn’t even look at you as he spoke.

“Was it the promise? I’m sorry if that was inappropriate. I know you’re married. I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable…” You trailed off worriedly.

“Don’t worry, I promise! I just got a lot on my mind.” You, he had a whole lot of you in his head.

You still looked at him with concern, but you hoped you didn’t make things weird… or rather, weirder than they already were. You tried to get back to work once again, but it was hard to make any progress after what happened. 

You battled the thoughts clouding your mind.

What was even happening? Maybe the wine was stronger than you thought, or you had suddenly become a lightweight, the possibility making more sense than understanding just how much you weren’t thinking straight anymore. That had to be it, right? 

Your face grew more flushed as you stared at your computer trying to comprehend what just occurred. Was that weird? It was just supposed to be a cute promise. You didn’t think that was crossing a line, but the way he looked at you…

Your whole body shivered at the thought and where your mind led you. You had to get it together. 

•────•──────────•────•

This was bad.

His wandering mind had led him down a dangerous path that he was desperately trying to save himself from. The only thing Jungkook could think about while he tried to focus on the spreadsheets in front of him was you who was sitting next to him: your hand in his, your red lips you’d occasionally pull between your teeth as you concentrated on your work, and your skirt that he swore got shorter each time he glanced over at you. But then his mind drifted to his wife, Yuri. 

He missed her. Was there any chance she’d be back at their place, ready willing to help him fix this? Clothes nowhere in sight, her legs spread, just waiting for him to come home and—

If he was just better… 

It only made him think back to their honeymoon, when she still had hope in him. 

Things had been a bit awkward at first, but as they partook in more activities around the island, they started loosening up. The pleasant moments eventually led them to the hot tub right outside their room. 

They had a beautiful view of the Indian Ocean, the sun was just starting to go under the horizon, and the sky was lit up beautifully with a symphony of vibrant colors that had painted the water below. It was breathtaking. 

It was Yuri’s idea for them to get in the hot tub that overlooked the sight to finally get the chance to just sit and talk. They did, that evening had been so magical as they spoke with each other about their lives and even spilled a lot of personal thoughts and fears, all while they sipped a bottle of amazing champagne. The awkwardness finally seemed to dissipate, and it was just the two of them getting to know each other after the chaos of the wedding. The moment had made his heart feel so warm, knowing that they were in a place where they could open up to each other. 

Jungkook didn’t know how it happened. Maybe Yuri had started to feel the same sparks flying in the air that he did. He was just so happy and in the moment, he didn’t remember how things got to that point, but suddenly she was crawling into his lap and kissing him. 

Things escalated very quickly after that. One moment Jungkook was kissing her sweetly, just happy to be having an intimate moment with his wife, but things changed before he could even process what was going on. The pace all of a sudden started picking up, her hands were running across his burning skin, her lips hastily moving against his. Then he was throwing her red bikini top off, and suddenly they were rushing out the hot tub back inside to the bed. It was there where they fucked with their bathing suits still clinging to their bodies— He thought it was romantic, the type of sex he had only dreamed of, so passionate and lost in the moment that no one could even find time to take off their clothes. 

If he got an opportunity like that again with Yuri...       

…

He wanted to ruin her.

He tried his best not to get emotional again. Not with you here. He didn’t want you to know how pathetic he was, how disgusting his thoughts were— because, with you he wanted to do worse. With you, he entertained the deepest, darkest desires he’d tried his best to keep buried for the sake of his relationship. But when it came to you—

Jungkook looked over in your direction, your red lips, short skirt, and long legs… he didn’t want to just ruin you, he wanted to absolutely destroy you. At least that’s what he felt would happen— this horrible desire to have you, when he had someone to go home to, was a breeding ground for his imagination to run wild. You were a fantasy, a fantasy that should be burned in the hottest flames imaginable.

It was just so fucking wrong, and the more he looked at you, the more his blood boiled. Why did you have to work here? Why were you so pretty? Why did he have to want you so badly? Why did he have to be married? Why did his brother have to leave? Why couldn’t he be a better husband so Yuri would want him and this whole situation could have been avoided?

In another world, he could have dreaded needing to stay with you after work. His wife could have been sitting back at home waiting for him, missing him. If he was just better, Yuri would have texted him throughout the day. It would have been about random stuff she wanted to tell him, and when she would have made it home, she would have sent him something cheesy like the apartment feels so empty without you here ㅠㅠ. He would have apologized, but fawned every time she’d text him because she was so cute. He’d respond each time and reassure her that he would be home as soon as he could.

But unfortunately, the reality was everything but that. He was the fucking problem. He could have had it all if he was better… he was always the fucking problem.

Instead, he was here with you, trying his best to ignore the way his pants were starting to feel tighter because he couldn’t get it together. He was thinking about those three buttons undone on that white button-up you have tucked into that short fucking skirt— so close to seeing more, how easy it would be to undo one more if you’d let him. That dream too— right there on the meeting table. Sitting here at his desk, it was so easy to imagine you sprawled right on top, waiting for him to touch you. You would look so pretty, and he would do anything you asked. He just wanted to make you feel good, to make someone feel good—

“Shit—“ It left his lips before he could stop it as he lifted his hips subtly, desperately wishing to meet something. That’s when you finally turned back to him, noticing how flushed he was.

“Sir, are you sure you’re ok?” You asked, concerned at the way he jumped at your voice. The candlelight was enough to show the pink dusting his cheeks.

To be honest, he’d nearly forgotten you were actually in the room with him. 

“Uhh— I’m just a little warm is all…” He tried to play it off.

You awed and started to fan him lightly with your hands, hoping that would help.

It didn’t, but he smiled at the gesture nonetheless.

Looking around the room, you noticed the fan that was sitting in the corner. You quickly stood up and went to grab it, hoping that would help him cool down. 

As soon as you got up, Jungkook let out a sigh of relief and rolled over to the minifridge that sat beside him. Past all the alcohol were a few water bottles he mainly kept as a means of sobering up, or to put a dent in the iron wall of a hangover he’d often wake up with. 

He grabbed one, and hurriedly opened it up and chugged it down, hoping it would help him relax.

You were supposed to chase a drink down with water, the tip saving him so many times when he was in college, but lately, he never remembered. Most times, all he cared about was silencing the thoughts that had grown so loud at this point it was almost deafening; it would always make his head hurt, and his heart ache. These days he could care less about the consequences whenever he’d be reaching into his fridge and pulling out a drink. No matter how bad the aftermath was, it was never more painful than how he felt sober. But today, Jungkook wasn’t drunk, not even tipsy. You were enough to occupy his mind, you and the image of you naked on his desk. While it did pose a great problem, it was enough to ignore the biggest one temporarily. 

You were back soon after and set the fan in between you both. You were a little shocked to see the candles illuminate the sheen across his skin— you didn’t think it was that hot in here.

“Sir, are you—“

Jungkook set down his water and shook his head. “You don’t need to call me that— please don’t call me that, especially when we’re alone.”

You stood there, a little confused. 

“We’re the same age right— I don’t know, every time you call me sir it feels like I aged 50 years all of a sudden. Please just call me Jungkook.” He laughed. It was true, it was always weird anytime you’d call him sir, but he needed any distraction he could get so he could finish his work.

“Are you sure?” You questioned, a little surprised he didn’t want to keep the honorifics in place. 

Jungkook nodded. 

You smiled. This was progress.

“Alright… Jungkook, how’s that?” You asked as you plugged in the fan. It instantly came to life and the blades quickly picked up enough speed to have a cool breeze blowing in between you both.

Jungkook tried to ignore the way he flushed at the fact that he instantly knew how much he liked hearing his name come out of your mouth. 

“Better, thank you so much.” He was lying straight through his teeth. It really didn’t do much. Jungkook doubted even a staycation to Alaska could solve his issues, but his heart still warmed at the gesture. You were always so sweet.

•────•──────────•────•

You sat back down on your chair and took another sip from your wine glass. It was almost empty at this point. You had kept drinking as your mind continued to travel back to Jungkook, his newfound tattoos, that extra button he undid— two now it seems, that bottle of wine you were sharing, but most of all, you were questioning where you stood. 

You had been debating whether to ask him if he likes you or not. This was probably the worst time to ask, but the dim candlelight and just how… nice, things for the most part have been tonight made you want to get to the bottom of it.

But Jungkook was quicker at filling the silence.

“Y/n, if you don’t mind me asking, why’d you start working at Golden Tech?” His voice was so gentle, sitting right above the sounds of the crackling candles.

The question had you stunned for a second, not at all expecting it, nor did you immediately have an answer.

“I don’t know, why does anyone start working anywhere?” You laughed, but realized who you were speaking to. Maybe not the best joke. You quickly cleared your throat. “But Golden Tech is a really good company— I heard a lot about it when I was still in college about how well they treat their employees. It aligned well with many of my ambitions, so once I finished grad school I thought I’d apply and see what would happen.” 

It was still crazy that you were sitting with the CEO’s son. A few years ago you thought maybe you were being a little too ambitious with trying to aim for Golden Tech, yet not even two years later, you got the job, and you were already the Associate Director of the Seoul division’s financial team. Who knows where you might be in another two years?

“Do you regret your decision? Honestly, I think you could have gotten a notable position at Samsung if you had applied.” Jungkook wondered. 

You laughed at his comment. “Me? At Samsung? Never in a million years would that happen. I thought I was being too ambitious by applying here!” You giggled, the entire idea oddly amusing.

“I don’t think it’s ambitious at all; you would have done well there,” Jungkook said quite seriously. He wasn’t used to this side of you. You were normally so confident, it was strange seeing you doubt yourself. 

“Yah, is this your way of trying to get me to leave?” You were teasing slightly, but you weren’t prepared for the panic to appear all over his face.

“No— no— never! I just— you’re amazing— I was just saying that—” If he weren’t so flustered, you would have probably heard the part where he mentioned you were amazing.

“I know what you meant~” You chuckled lightly, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. You saw this wave of relief wash over him, more than you expected, considering this was the guy who you feared didn’t like you.

Silence went on for a moment until Jungkook spoke up again. “You never answered my question, though. Do you regret coming here?” 

You thought about it for a second, before shaking your head. “Things have been kinda hectic, but I expected it; I mean, it’s a big company, I figured it wouldn’t be easy.” You decided to put it simply. Saying you did initially regret it to your boss probably wasn’t the best idea.

You thought that was the end of that, but when you finally turned back to Jungkook, you saw this weird somber gaze beginning to settle on his features. 

“I’ve been overworking everyone too much, haven’t I?” Jungkook suddenly said after your words finally settled in the air. 

You couldn’t hide the look of confusion on your face as you turned to him. His eyes were staring at the blinding computer screen before him, but you knew he wasn’t paying attention.

“What do you mean? Quarter fours are always busy—”

“That’s not what I mean… I know what they say sometimes. Everyone always speaks so highly of my dad, and he’s done so much for the company as CEO. The way things have gone so far makes me doubt I can meet their expectations when I take over…” That was an understatement. He couldn’t even make one woman happy. 

“The team I manage is already suffering.” He fretted. 

You found yourself at a bit of a loss on what to say. Where was this coming from? You were just joking a second ago but now… that look in his eyes. As he spoke, they grew more weary, tired, and sad. It was that same look you saw when you spilled coffee all over him on your first day here, it was the same look you saw earlier on the roof.

It was a peek into what was running through his head as he looked at you with those sad eyes. If you needed a bigger sign that something was seriously wrong, he couldn’t have given you a more obvious one. What made it even more concerning was that you didn’t know how big of a crack this was. What more could be lying behind those sad eyes?

“Jungkook, people understand you have a lot on your shoulders, it’s alright.” You tried to reassure, but you doubted he heard you. For a second, as he continued to stare down the spreadsheet he had up, you swore you saw his eyes get shiny.

“Ahh— sorry, this sometimes happens when I drink.” Jungkook finally snapped out of it, and hurriedly reached for his wine glass.

You watched concerningly as he chugged down the rest of the clear wine all in one go. 

“What happened to sipping lightly?” You tried to remind him jokingly about what he said as he poured your glasses earlier.

The wine glass clinked against the desk as he set it down.

“I’m fine— I’m making things weird. Tell me about yourself instead? Anything interesting happening in your life?” You could tell he was quickly trying to change the subject. You debated probing further, but you figured maybe a distraction might be what’s best to get him out of his train of thought.

“I was promoted not too long ago.” You smiled, and he actually laughed. It felt good seeing him smile again.

“I’m serious! You’ve nearly been here for two years, but I feel like this is the first time we’ve ever actually just talked.” Jungkook pointed out.

“I don’t think it’s normal to just walk up to your boss and talk about the weather or something.” You pointed out, but again it made your mind travel to the elephant in the room. Despite everything, had this entire time he wanted to be friendly with you? 

“I wouldn’t mind—“ He said it like he was serious, but sensing the sarcasm, you lightly swatted his shoulder— it was out of habit, but you regretted it immediately as soon as it happened.

Jungkook looked shocked for a second, before he smiled, that same smile that would make his eyes crinkle. “Exactly what I was saying, especially when we’re alone like this; treat me like we’re just coworkers.”

“Sir— Jungkook, I’m so sorry.” You felt like you were caught doing the worst crime imaginable— similar to how you felt after discovering you spilled coffee on the CEO’s son on your first day.

“Don’t worry, I really don’t—”

“I’m so so so sorry!” You panicked. Even though you really didn’t hit him hard, this might warrant him to hate you for an actual reason besides an accident.

Jungkook softly grabbed your shoulders to get you to calm down.

“Y/n, I told you it’s ok, really—” He suddenly stopped in his tracks because it seemed he realized how close in proximity you both had become now. Your chairs were a lot closer than you remembered and Jungkook pulling you a bit had somehow created a space between you that only had to be a few centimeters at most. From here, you could see the cute little scar he had on his left cheek.

He was staring directly into your eyes and you were staring back into his. Both of you seemingly shocked at the position you were in and stuck in place. It reminded you of what happened on the roof earlier, another precarious position, but as the seconds ticked by, you could have sworn his eyes darted down to your lips. Time seemed to slow down as you felt the gentle caress of his thumb on your shoulder, and… for a split second, you saw him bite down on his lower lip, only lightly teasing the flesh between his teeth— maybe it was the embarrassment, but it was so, so subtle, before you thought he started to lean a little closer. For a moment, you thought he was about to kiss you.

As quickly as that second came, he suddenly let go of you and tried to smile. “Uh— It seriously wasn’t a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

The moment of normalcy made you snap out of it. You honestly would have believed you blacked out for a second, but the way your face kept getting warmer was a sign something must have happened. 

As you turned away from him, you were greeted once again with the picture of him and his wife on their honeymoon. Right, he was married, you definitely imagined that.

Things grew awkward again as the silence settled into the room. You reached for your wine, wishing now it was a little stronger.

…

Saving the day from the growing discomfort being in this room was your phone buzzing on the desk. You sighed and set your glass down before you reached for it, not really thinking too much of it until you opened it to see a message from Solmi. 

You eagerly unlocked your phone, already having a feeling about what it was. Your smile erupted when you clicked on the picture she sent you. 

It was blurry, but you saw Solmi had quickly snapped a picture of her and Taehyung, who you heard earlier had decided to join her since you couldn’t make it. He had already been contemplating joining you both, but the fact that you definitely weren’t going with her, made him feel like he had to “be the responsible person there.” 

You had laughed at that considering they both were a handful, especially when alcohol was involved, but Taehyung could be worse if he got enough in his system. They matched each other’s energies so well, they had a sibling-like connection you had always found cute. Solmi was a year younger than you, and ever since she first introduced herself to your team when you used to be a manager, Taehyung had always taken on this big brother role to her, and it only got stronger as you all got closer to each other. Their bond created moments like this, Tae somehow getting dragged out to parties on a Tuesday. 

He’d left work a little early to go look for a last-minute costume, and you couldn’t help but laugh seeing what he’d somehow managed to get together. He was dressed as Mario— he had the hat, mustache, and you could just barely see the red shirt and straps that suggested he’d even managed to get overalls. Solmi was smiling beside him, and she had gone for another classic. She had already shown you a picture of her costume a few weeks ago, but she had thrown on some cat ears, drawn on a few whiskers, and you could also see a hint of the leather bodysuit she had on. 

It was a few seconds later that you got another text. 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:48pm]: you should be here >:O 

Followed by more pictures and even some videos. Then additional texts came at the end of the spam. 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:52pm]: taehyung’s drunk and keeps whining that he misses you 🙄 

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:52pm]: i miss you too friend ���

Sweet Baby Solmi [11:53pm]: tell director jeon we hate him for stealing you from us 😘

You couldn’t help but laugh at this one. However, out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungkook’s eyes on you again, so you quickly scrolled back up to look at the pictures she sent you earlier. 

They were mainly the same, just a few different angles. It looked like Solmi kept clicking the button to get as many pictures as she could. There were some with them holding up glasses of beer and clinking them together. Solmi must have also gotten someone to take their picture because she sent you a full-body one where you could see their entire costumes. You could see a few more details you didn’t get to at first. Taehyung had on these thick white gloves and boots. Solmi had left her bodysuit unzipped a little extra than what they advertised in the picture she’d shown you. You knew her goal was to try and get laid tonight, you silently saluted her, hoping she could succeed. She had even decided to brave wearing high-heeled boots to add that extra level of sexy to her outfit. There were also some pictures that showed they had moved into whatever club or bar they ended up in, and were busy enjoying themselves on the dance floor. 

You were so caught up in the sadness steadily filling your heart seeing your friends out having a great time while you were stuck at work, that you really forgot Jungkook was in the room with you. It was something you had gone through all your life, your friends out having fun and always needing to leave you behind… at least you could have been home enjoying yourself, but—

You scrolled back up and clicked on the first video she sent you. The sound of music filled the silence, and you were quickly greeted with Solmi’s smiling face as she danced along. She then brought the phone close. 

“You should be here Y/n! You left me with this idiot—” She then turned the camera around to reveal Taehyung who was dancing intensely beside her. It took him a second to notice the camera, but then he smiled as she brought it close. 

“Miss you Y/n!” He tried to say over the music before the video cut off. 

Awwww… you missed them too. But your attention tore away from your phone when you suddenly noticed Jungkook leaning over. 

“They’re at a club on a Tuesday?” He asked curiously. 

You smiled. “Mmmm, someone’s nosy.” You chuckled and that immediately had Jungkook leaning back. 

“I’m sorry, that was rude. I didn’t—” He quickly tried to defend, but you just laughed and leaned over yourself. 

“You’re fine, look.” You held out your phone to him so he could see a little better. At first you contemplated showing your boss these pictures, but you figured there was no harm, they were honestly cute. 

“It's Halloween?” He suddenly said, taking a better look to see they were dressed up.

“Yeah, did you forget?” You laughed, making him chuckle too.

“My memory is horrible these days.” Jungkook shied, running his hands through his hair.

“Understandable. Things have been really busy these days, it’s hard to keep track of what’s happening anymore.”

Jungkook nodded along as you spoke, but he couldn’t help but sigh. It felt like the world was moving without him, that he was just an observer in the background until moments like these where he was brought back down to realize time had in fact passed, and it was always more than expected. He could have sworn it was Chuseok just the other week. 

“Solmi had wanted to go bar hopping after she heard about all the stuff that they’re doing in Itaewon this year. She wanted me to come, but I was busy, so Taehyung decided to tag along and make sure she doesn’t do anything too crazy.” You smiled as you scrolled through the pictures and videos, and you landed on a particularly funny one where Taehyung managed to find a random pole and Solmi captured him hanging and swinging around it.   

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was a special occasion. If I would’ve known, I could've worked on this by my—” But you stopped him. 

“It’s fine, two people make the work go faster, and I had been contemplating going anyway. Who wants to go out on a Tuesday besides Solmi?” You cringed, in all likelihood you probably would have spent your evening cozied up under your blankets, enjoying any free time you could manage and catching up on sleep when you got too tired. “I know they’re going to be struggling trying to get to work tomorrow.” You laughed at your words and at another video where someone had joined Taehyung on the pole, a guy in one of those full-body suits people use for greenscreen stuff. 

But despite your words, Jungkook’s silence told you he still was thinking about it. 

“Jungkook, I promise it’s fine. The wine alone makes up for it.” You smiled. You were definitely going to brag to them that you were gifted expensive wine from the Jeon Jungkook. They probably wouldn’t believe it until they came over and saw the bottle. You also had plans to look it up afterward, check the price, and confirm your sneaking suspicion that this really would make up for it.

Another video. Without pressing play, you could see Taehyung had the phone. What was going on? 

“Y/n, baby, I miss you so much. Solmi keeps trying to—” But the video cuts off before he could finish. 

You laughed and kept going with a smile on your face. You didn’t even notice Jungkook’s eyes or the fact that you didn’t question the nickname.

Hmmm.

“Yah… I don’t think I could do this anymore.” You suddenly said, as more and more hectic documentation came from Solmi.

Jungkook turned to you a little confused about what you meant. You showed him your phone again and revealed the crowd Solmi and Taehyung had found themselves in in their latest pictures. 

“Partying like this. I mean, I didn’t even do all this when I was in college, but now…”  You laughed. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

“I don’t think we’re old,” Jungkook interjected, making you laugh.

“Oooo, is this when Jeon Jungkook reveals that he actually enjoys going to parties?” The thought was hilarious for some reason. He didn't seem like the party type, at all. You couldn’t imagine him doing anything else but work. 

“No— I just don’t think our age is a factor in us being able to go out and have fun at events like this…” 

You hummed at his answer. “I don’t know, the older I get, the more staying home and doing absolutely nothing becomes more and more appealing.” 

He laughed at that. “For me, that has nothing to do with getting older. But I somewhat see your point, college me was a very different person.” 

Was he?

You peered at him. Now that the thought was in your head, trying to imagine college-aged Jungkook. Hmmm…

You turned around over to where Jungkook had hung up his degrees. You had seen them before, but being this close actually gave you the chance to really look at them. 

You found yourself both shocked and not shocked at all to find out he graduated from SNU. It was the top university in the country, and of course the golden boy probably easily got accepted. No, that wasn't surprising, what was more interesting was the fact he didn’t have one but two bachelor's degrees, one in business and the other in computer science, you quickly read. It wasn’t the most outrageous thing to imagine because he was going to be the CEO of a tech company, but you knew that jaded perception you had of Jungkook still lingered because you couldn’t picture him actually managing to do all that work to get two very different degrees. 

“Did you even have time to go to parties?” You couldn’t help but ask. For all you knew he paid his way to get these degrees, but the more you talked with him, the more you couldn’t picture him doing that.

Jungkook laughed as he leaned back in his chair. “No, but Jimin hyung made me get out sometimes.”

His words reminded you that Jimin had mentioned that he and Jungkook had gone to the same college. As it sunk in though, you found that information a little easier to digest. Jimin had always seemed really smart. 

“Were you always the guy standing in the corner, brooding, clearly upset because his friend dragged him out of the house?” You giggled, and Jungkook joined in.

“You really think I’m that boring?” He laughed and you only just now realized how much closer you both were to each other once again as you looked into his sparkling eyes.  

“You tell me.” You smirked. 

He laughed again.

“Where did you go? Did you go to school in Seoul? I'm surprised we never ran into each other.” You suddenly heard Jungkook ask. 

“Korea University.” You answered quickly, but then your face grew flushed. You should be confident; it was really a notable achievement and most people would be in awe anytime you mentioned it, but for some reason everything about Jungkook made you a little self-conscious. 

“Ooo, so we were pretty much in the same boat then.” He said, and you looked at him with questioning eyes. 

“Did you even have time to go to parties?” He chuckled, repeating your original question. You playfully rolled your eyes at that. 

“I would make time, as much as I could, but I was often in situations like these where I’d be the one left behind so I could work.” You were proclaimed the most fun, non-fun person by your friend group in college.

“Were you the person in the corner?” His low voice had you feeling a little funny.

“Jungkook I’m a lot of things. I’ve been called a workaholic, understandable, but a wallflower is not one of them. You will find me on the dance floor at any given opportunity,” you boasted. 

Jungkook laughed again, the pinkness to his cheeks making you fawn. “I would like to see that.” 

Oh… you hated the way your body tingled at the thought of him watching you.

“Get me alone like this on a Friday or something, bring more wine like this one, and I’ll dance for you.” You smirked. 

His eyes quickly glanced over you, his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. “Noted.” 

You nodded, but it was mainly to shake the thoughts running through your mind out of your head. Fuck, Jeon Jungkook.     

“So you haven’t changed much then?” He inquired further. 

You shook your head. “I’ve always been this way. I put work before anything else, but I try to make a little time for fun sometimes.” You smiled. You turned back to Jungkook who had rested his arm on his desk and his head in his hand, with this smile on his face you couldn’t quite recognize.

“How do you do it?” He said softly. 

“What?” You laughed, but you were already getting choked up. He had no reason to look at you like that.

“I don’t know how to make time for anything else besides going home and to work. You’re amazing~” He chuckled nervously.

You were too busy however trained on the fact that he called you amazing. “A-Amazing?” You stumbled, your face was burned the more you thought about it.

Jungkook turned to you again when he realized what he had said. “It’s something I’ve always admired about you. You do so much, and you’re always so great with everyone here. Your meeting yesterday for example—” He gushed, and the more he spoke, the faster your heart started pounding in your chest.

“You did so well, and then there’s me. I’m supposed to be the head, yet—” Jungkook sighed and stopped himself knowing where this would go if he kept going. He didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

You sighed before picking up your wine and motioning over to his empty glass. He chuckled lightly before picking it up and clinking it against your own. You took one for the team and took a sip for you both.       

“Don’t sweat it too much. You’re not so bad yourself.” You smiled at him as you set the glass down. 

He really wasn’t. He still got on your nerves sometimes, but the Jungkook you’ve gotten to know over the last few weeks was almost entirely different from what you expected before you came into your position. He was cute, in a way that made you want to pinch his cheeks, no… that completely wasn’t right. He was cute in a way that made it hard for you to tear your gaze away from him. He was hot if you were being honest, but you didn’t want to admit that, he was married, and you still hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room as to why he was always so weird with you.

As the candle flickered, you took a moment to admire him, and how his white button-up stretched across his toned body nicely. You’d been trying to be on your best behavior all night, forcing yourself not to peer too closely at the way it fitted across his arms, or how he undid that button, and you could only picture how nice his chest might look the way the buttons seemed to be struggling to keep all that contained. Then there were the newly found tattoos that decorated his arm. You’d always liked tattoos, and you never pictured a big-corpa guy like Jungkook to be tatted. It just made you wonder how many more you couldn’t see… His hands were nice, fingers enhanced with his pretty gold and silver jewelry. Then his face, you might have drank too much, it was only one glass, but you had always loved how he looked at you. He was handsome, his pretty eyes, nose, jawline, and lips that you knew his wife probably went crazy over. Jungkook was hot and maybe in a different timeline… In a different timeline… It was starting to make a little more sense why he was already married.    

Jungkook’s face burned the longer your eyes peered over him. His brain was malfunctioning as he felt your gaze. It just made his already scrambled thoughts drift more to a place he knew they shouldn’t.

He wished he could kiss you.

Interrupting the moment was the sound of your phone buzzing on the desk again. You finally tore your eyes away again to look at your phone. Lo and behold, it was another text, however, it wasn't from Solmi this time; it was Taehyung.    

You opened it and it was a video. You once again didn’t think too much about it as you clicked play.

“Y/n!” Taehyung had tried to yell over the music. It seemed he had made his way to a table and was taking a little break. “You should be here getting drunk with us.” He sighed.

“Solmi abandoned me for this random guy who came up to her while we were dancing.” You giggled at the pout on his face. “You should be here, I’m just going to be third-wheeling the rest of the night.” He sighed. 

You laughed at that. Anytime you all have gone out together, you and Taehyung were usually left behind, while Solmi abandoned you both for her person of interest for the night. You always had fun together, making the most of the fact that a member of your friend group left you for some rando for the rest of the night.  

“I miss youuuuuu. Fuck Jeon Jungkook for making you stay.” He whined, and you could tell the alcohol had really started to have an effect on him. You panicked, feeling Jungkook’s eyes burning into your phone.  

Oh, this really was a bad idea. 

“I might head home soon. We’ve been to I don’t know how many bars, and I’m drunk as shit. If I’m late or you don’t see me at work tomorrow, you know why. Anyway, I miss you and if I’m not there tomorrow, I’ll try and come over if you’re free.” You were hardly processing his words as Jungkook’s gaze burned into you.

“Byeeee…” He waved at the camera. “Solmi says bye too even though she’s not here. I’ll text you later.” The video then clicked off and you were left with the mortifying silence.

You worriedly glanced over at Jungkook. “I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it like—”

Jungkook weakly smiled at you. “It’s fine. I still feel bad for keeping you here.” 

“And I told you it was fine.” You both smiled at each other, but you hurriedly reached for your wine once again, feeling that awkward silence return all too quickly.     

“So, um… how are things going for you dating-wise?” Jungkook suddenly asked out of the blue.

You nearly spit out your wine. “What?!”

He suddenly looked panicked. “I just mean— well, I told you about my marriage, I don’t know, I thought— you know, I wondered how things were going for people my age who aren’t married. I mean— well, no, I was really curious about you too—“ He was rambling.

“Uh, it’s fine.” You were still flustered, but you understood what he was trying to say.

“Are you and Taehyung…?” Jungkook stopped himself, worrying he overstepped with the suggestion.

“Mmm, that’s what everyone around the office seems to think.” You sighed as you leaned back in your chair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—“

“Jungkook, do you think you can keep a secret?” You asked, before he could finish.

“Yeah, I guess so.” But that alone was enough to give Jungkook a bad feeling about your answer. The endearing nickname he heard from Taehyung in the video was pretty much the nail in the coffin. It’s not like it mattered. It wasn’t his business, he really didn’t know why he was asking. However, he couldn’t lie and say it hadn’t been on his mind for a while as he watched you from afar over the years. There had always been this suspicion that there had been more going on between you two than just being friends. 

You waited a second, the suspense killing him even though he felt like he knew the answer already. 

“We actually did date.” You answered bluntly.  

The words seemed to linger in the air for a second. You watched as Jungkook’s eyes widened as he seemed to take that in.

“Really?” He sounded surprised, but there was a trembling in his voice that made it seem like the news of the century. The shock hadn’t been real, but he couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling that spread throughout his entire body as the words processed in his mind. So, he hadn’t been crazy. He suddenly had the very violent urge to throw up the lunch you had so kindly insisted for him to eat; that, or he could send you away and attempt to water down this feeling with anything he could find in his fridge.

You nodded.

“It was only for a few months, and we never really put a label on it at the time. It was dating in the most casual sense.”

Jungkook was too busy trying his best to ignore the way his heart squeezed, he didn’t even bother paying attention to your use of past tense.

“Again, it was only for a few months— we decided we were better off as friends than anything more at the end of it.”

Did you? Jungkook still saw the way Taehyung looked at you. He wondered how that conversation went. Was it you who made the decision and Taehyung just agreed? Maybe it was him, and Jungkook was wrong. He still didn’t like him.

“We didn’t tell anyone at work, not even Solmi officially; you know how office romances can go. Plus, we knew what people were saying, we didn’t want them to get excited and things didn't work out. But I guess we didn’t do a good job of hiding it.”

Turned out for the better.

“If it’s not too personal, can I ask what made you come to that conclusion?” He really was curious.

You looked around for a second, trying to find the words. “I don’t want to say too much; it’s mainly Taehyung’s business, and I don’t want to reveal anything he wouldn’t want me to, but Taehyung had a lot going on in his life when we started dating. Despite our connection, what he was going through made it hard for us to take things to the next level. It’s kinda hard to describe unless you’ve been in that situation. We had all the basics: we were attracted to each other, he was great company, and we really did mesh well. But the more we crossed into that territory, the more we realized something was missing at that time. It’s like we had all the right ingredients, but never the spark to actually turn it into anything.”

Jungkook didn’t really get the picture. What more did you need in a relationship? What was the “spark?”

He still nodded his head.

“When did this happen?”

“End of last year, slightly going into this one.” You recounted.

Again, that strange feeling of his heart tightening returned. He tried his best to ignore it. However, it wasn’t enough to stop him from asking his next question.

“Would you guys ever get back together? You mentioned he was going through something at the time… would you ever try again?” Jungkook felt his face flush as soon as the words left his mouth. This was probably way too personal. 

You looked noticeably shocked by his question, but maybe you wrote it off as the wine making him a little loose, or perhaps a slightly awkward attempt to keep this conversation going. Part of you considered whether you wanted to answer this question or not, but there was no harm in it really. 

“Um— I guess it’s not impossible. We ended things pretty open ended. Taehyung suggested that maybe we should try again when things finally got better for him, but it’s been months since then. We haven’t spoken about getting together, so I’m not sure. I just assumed he figured we’re better off as friends.” Your words trailed off at the end. 

Jungkook was tempted to ask if you wanted to get back together, but he stopped himself, not really wanting to hear the answer. You probably already thought he was weird.

Some much-needed silence passed for a little while. 

…

Jungkook shifted around in his chair awkwardly, desperately wanting to get the picture of you and Taehyung together out of his mind. He asked the first thing that he could think of, even though it really wasn’t much better. 

“Anything else exciting in the romance department?”

“Not really. Taehyung was probably the most recent. Things have been kinda dry since.” Suddenly, you seemed flustered. “Wait! Not in that way! Well… you know what I mean, right?” 

Now it was Jungkook’s turn to get warm, and he did a horrible job at brushing past the image you put in his head.

“Yeah— oh yeah, I know what you mean.” He spluttered, but he couldn’t stop himself from imagining being buried between your thighs. All of a sudden, his mind was back to that dream again and your pretty sounds as he slid through your warmth. Would you let him make you feel good? What he would give just for the chance to bring you some type of relief… All he wanted to do was make someone feel good.

But he was Jeon Jungkook. Even if he was in a position where he could, he doubted he would be able to do anything for you. Jeon Jungkook couldn’t do anything right. Nothing.

“What about you?” You suddenly asked to ease the tension in the air. “Has it always been your wife?” You were honestly expecting a sob story that would melt your heart as soon as it began, a nice transition to hopefully get away from the weirdness that had settled into the room.

“I guess you could say that— Yuri and I got married right after I graduated. Besides her, I never really dated anyone. I was so busy throughout high school trying to work on getting into a good college once it was decided I was going to be taking over the company— I thought I would wait and try the whole dating thing in college, but then I got there… things were even worse…” Jungkook trailed off.

“Until you met Yuri?” You piped in, wondering when she came into the story.

The mention of Yuri visibly shocked him. Right, because you and everyone else thought they met while in college— a silly suggestion by their parents that turned into a fiery romance that burned so hard they couldn’t wait to get married. If Jungkook were a better husband, that illusion would be so simple to keep up— it’d be so easy when speaking to people to forget about the contract that was signed along with their marriage license. 

But Jungkook wasn’t a good husband, he was a husband who made his wife feel miserable just by being in his presence, no matter how hard he tried. He was always a failure.

“Jungkook?” You questioned when he wasn’t answering, seemingly lost in thought again.

“Oh yeah! Yeah, then Yuri came into my life. Things were hard, but you know what they say, the worst storms always bloom the best flowers afterward.” Jungkook was lying through his teeth, and he wondered if you could tell. 

Going from college to being married was one shitstorm to the next, and it was all his fault. Everything was his fault.

He knew he must have looked strange at the way you continued to stare at him. But instead of pressing any further, you let the silence fill the air until you both finally got back to work. 

Jungkook typed away on his keyboard, but steadily his mind continued to fill with thoughts that felt like bombs going off in his mind— loud and destructive, the ones he knew would end him one day.

If you weren’t here, he would have downed that wine bottle, maybe a couple of beers too to try and bring the eye of the storm closer. But nothing he did was ever enough. It was never enough, just like he would never be. He was so tired, so tired of every single day being the same. He wanted peace, he wanted a happy marriage, he wanted to be a confident boss who assured everyone that Golden Tech was being handed over to a capable person.

Will the storm ever be over? Would he ever get to see the sunshine again? He was so fed up, and so, so tired. It would be so much easier that way. Nothing was helping anymore, no matter how much he’d drink, no matter how much he’d tell himself to get better, to make things better, that everything wrong with his life was his fault— nothing ever changed, nothing ever helped.

In the middle of the sea with no land in sight, sometimes drowning was your only option. His limbs hurt, he was exhausted from swimming too long, he was so tired, he couldn’t keep his head above the water. The sea underneath him no longer seemed like an angry beast trying to pull him down with all its might, he didn’t want to fight against it anymore, he wanted to relax, to let it embrace him, let it comfort him in a way that no earthly distraction could ever grant him. He wanted peace.

Peace. The quiet. He wanted it, needed it, he—

“Jungkook, do you like me?” Once again, you were here to cut through the darkness. At first, he didn’t even register your question until you quickly tried to backtrack. 

“That’s not what I meant— I… sorry I speak without thinking sometimes.” It seems like it happened all the time tonight, and that was all it took for Jungkook to remember he was here alone with you, and he wanted you bent over his desk.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore the way his cock pleaded for you and let you elaborate. 

“I was nearly finished with my work, and I had wanted to ask you this before I left… this might be a bit inappropriate, but I thought that maybe since we’ve been pretty casual with each other you wouldn’t mind if I asked whether you hated me or not.” You worriedly peered over at him.

Jungkook just stared at you, a little confused, wondering where this was coming from. It was right before you were about to elaborate that he understood. 

“Again, this might be out of line, but ever since my first day here, when I spilled coffee all over your suit, I’ve felt like I had a target on my back.” You were still trying to be professional, so you dumbed it down a little. If you said what you actually thought, you were sure you wouldn’t walk out of here with a job.

“I—I don’t hate you!” He rushed out.

He really didn’t, but you did piss him off, you still did. You pissed him off so much it didn’t make sense. It was confusing to him as well, but what happened with the coffee he knew was at the bottom of the list for his reasons— whatever they were.

“Are you sure? I mean, I’m not oblivious; I can see how you treat everyone else on the team versus how you treat me. It’s been like that since my first day.”

It wasn’t a good look.

“I don’t hate you.” He stated a little more firmly this time; he really didn’t. “I will admit we didn’t meet on the best day or under the best circumstances— that just made things awkward from the get-go. But I don’t hate you, Y/n.”

By the look on your face— you still weren’t buying it.

“It’s not you, it’s me, I’m sorry. I have a lot going on in my life, and it seems like you’re often on the receiving end of it. Maybe it was the coffee at first, but I can assure you it’s not because of that.” Jungkook was scrambling, and you were still listening to him.

You already felt a little bad asking him this. Jungkook had a lot going on in his life, that much was obvious. The fact he let you drop the honorifics and gifted you an expensive bottle of wine should be enough proof that he couldn’t possibly hate you.

Unless the clear liquid turned out to be poison, but the fact you were sharing the bottle assured you that shouldn’t be the case. If Jungkook really did hate you, he had a weird way of showing it. But still, even if he didn’t mind your company, he manifested it in the strangest way possible.

“You always complete your work so well too, I can understand that it might be frustrating to you.” Jungkook was still rambling, but that much was true. You were a great employee and someone he could always rely on to get the work done well and on time.

“I’m so sorry.” He finally just pleaded.

You were truly amazing. Everything that he wasn’t.

His anger and frustration were misplaced, he knew that, and it wasn’t fair to you. An actual good boss wouldn't take out his frustrations on his employees, no matter what was going on in his personal life.

It just goes to show how good of a person he is.

“Jungkook, it’s fine. I just wanted to be sure there wasn’t any bad blood between us, especially if we’re going to work a lot more closely from here on out—“  It was then when you finally turned back to him. 

His breath had quickened slightly, he had leaned over his desk, and his hands had tangled into his hair. The long strands blocked his face, but you could tell something was wrong.

You reached a hand out and rested it on his forearm. The minute you did, he finally turned back to face you. Just like on the roof, you saw his eyes, and despite only having the city lights outside and the faint flicker of the candles, you could see the shininess.

It was terrifying, because you were close this time; you could perfectly see the despair that painted his features.

“I’m sorry, I’m fine— we’re almost done, let’s get through this, okay?” He quickly said, returning to typing on his keyboard.

“Jungkook—“ You tried, but he seemed adamant about finishing and getting the work done.

You sighed and followed his lead. You couldn’t ignore the guilt that coursed through your body. Once again, you missed the opportunity.

•────•──────────•────•

The bombs were back once again, and louder than ever it seemed. This happened every time his mind would wander in that direction, and it was almost impossible to turn it off once it started. With you here, it made his usual method of drinking until it stopped impossible unless he wanted to make a fool of himself in front of you. Instead, in order to ensure he wouldn’t lose it, he turned to the only thing he knew would drown the noise in his mind. You— you and that dream he had this morning.

His fingers were fast on the keyboard, but all he could picture as he stared at his screen was the fleeting memory of what it felt like to pound into you.

You on that meeting table, that purple blouse exposing your shoulders, your skirt around your waist, and in, out, in, out, his hips would move into your sopping heat. The drean was so fuzzy, and he hardly had a memory to draw from. It’s been ten months since he last had sex. Ten months of unbearable torture, much like what he experienced this morning.

He’s tried his best to be good to Yuri, assuring her that she was beautiful and telling her he wanted her now and always. Just last week, he had her clinging to their countertop as he was on his knees, pleasing her between her thighs.

It had nearly sent him over the edge untouched. Tears had filled his eyes because he was so sure he’d make another mistake, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her upset. 

He had tried to plead then, but he was too eager and said she had enough for the night. A cold shower had barely stopped him from giving into such disgusting urges, just like earlier today. Now he feared next time he wouldn’t be strong enough. 

If you weren’t right beside him, his hands would probably be in his pants right now. It was horrible, wasn’t it? He couldn’t be an adult and control himself. But that’s what the last ten months of his life had been like— Yuri testing him any chance she could, doing anything and everything to get under his skin. 

Yuri loved to tease him. He loved it too, it was only in those moments when he felt wanted. Didn’t she see how much he wanted her?

As childish as it was, Jungkook wanted to blame her for all this. Why couldn’t she listen? He had told her he wanted a break, a break from anything sexual for a while once he had recovered from pneumonia. It would offer the chance for them to work on and prioritize their relationship— just as he’d discussed with Dr. Min. He begged her to listen, that he would put in the effort so they could spend more quality time together to fill the void. He promised, but that short time she listened was absolutely miserable.

Yuri would wear those tiny shorts more often, and did everything she possibly could to get under his skin. He’d even walked into their room one day to see her using her fingers to do his job. She had forced him to just sit and watch, because it was his dumb idea and he had to pay for it.

It’s just been so long…

You sitting next to him was enough to send him over the edge. You and your short skirt, long legs, and that red lipstick. 

It’s been so long, he wished he could make his dream a reality; he wanted you bent over his desk right now, with your skirt pushed so far up he could watch your ass as he hurriedly pushed into you from behind. You would look so pretty, you always did.

He was desperate at this point, he needed something, anything… 

He had to get out of here. Jungkook wished he could count on Yuri being at the apartment, that she would see what she'd done to him and all would be well again, but he knew she wouldn’t. It’s not like he deserved it either. 

This was his rightful punishment. 

The fact things were so bad, the thought of an affair crossing his mind was sufficient proof that he deserved everything that was happening to him.

Jungkook was hardly paying attention to what he was typing, too focused on trying to stop the tears that were quickly welling up in his eyes and ignoring the way his cock throbbed. 

He was hard, painfully so— in public, and he was right next to you. 

He felt it happen, budget numbers being replaced in his mind with despondency, and how in a haste to escape his darker thoughts, his brain tried to go somewhere a little more buoyant, and instead fixated on the lewdness of what you did to him. That need to feel you, just the thought of feeling you, touching you— for you to need him, he wanted so badly for someone to need him.

This was so embarrassing…

“Alright! I think I’m done on my side~” You celebrated, and it was horrible how when he looked over and saw your bright smile, it just made things worse.

He wanted you. 

It was then that Jungkook realized he’d just been staring at his monitor for a while. It seems he’d been done as well. 

You picked up immediately that something was still off in the look you gave him.

“Uh— uh yeah, me too. We can be done here for tonight. We can meet in the morning and review everything before the meeting later.” Jungkook rushed as he hurriedly shut his computer off.

He needed to get out of here.

He knew his haste shocked you a bit. With his monitor off, a newfound darkness had filled the room, and his speed hurried you to shut off your laptop as well.

Jungkook recorked the wine he was giving you before he tried to get up inconspicuously, turning away from you as much as he could. Even with the darkness in his office, he felt it would be hard to hide what his dirty mind had done to him. 

He couldn’t let you see, he was already so ashamed. 

If you saw this…

His eyes were watery as he shakily got up from his chair. This was so embarrassing…

After you turned your laptop off, you got up too, noticing Jungkook was trying to hurry this up. You didn’t blame him; it was already near one in the morning, but you could still sense something was wrong.

“Jungkook?” You called out as you rested a hand on his shoulder, completely stopping him in his tracks. His eyes glanced down at your hand and then back up at you. You weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes the longer you stared into them. You couldn’t exactly read it; it was similar to what you saw on the roof. 

It made you hot in an instant as you got lost in his dark gaze. You knew you weren’t mistaken this time as you watched him scan over you. The candlelight flickered in between you, illuminating his shiny eyes and how obvious they settled on your lips. It just made you aware how nice his arm felt under your touch, and how alone you both were in the office. This was bad. 

What were you doing? 

“Is everything alright?” You questioned, your voice so meek you wanted to slap yourself. You needed to get it together. 

This causedJungkook to snap out of it as well, finally tearing his eyes away from you. “I— um, I’m fine.” It didn’t sound confident at all, and you noticed. 

You might have questioned it, but you knew you needed to get out of here. 

“Si— Jungkook, I’ll be right back!” You hurried as you started wheeling the chair you stole from Secretary Yu’s desk out the room.

“Alright.” He said weakly as you quickly passed by. 

As soon as the door closed behind you, the tears he had been holding back finally fell down his cheeks. This was just so embarrassing, it hurt so much. He just needed a minute or two alone, that’s all, and he could ease the ache. But that also means giving in, disappointing Yuri more than he already has.

Jungkook quickly wiped his face, scared you might come in any second now, and instead worked on blowing out the candles that were still burning around the room.

The darker it was, the less likely you’d see his shame.

Jungkook made quick work of blowing the candles out around the room, first going to the ones on the little tables, then he came back to where he had placed the most, on his desk.

As much as he wished this was a sufficient distraction, it wasn’t. He was still thinking about you and how much he wished you would be the one to help him, he would take anything at this point.

He was blowing out the last candle when he heard the door open again.

“Woah, you did a lot without me.” You remarked, seeing the room darkened by the candles being out already. And he was glad he worked so fast. One candle and he feared that would have been enough for you to notice what he was hiding.

It was disgusting how badly he wanted you.

“Y-yeah, I don’t want to keep you here later than necessary.” He stuttered and shakily turned around to face you.

Jungkook was nearly blown away seeing how gorgeous you were. The window bathed you in a beautiful glow that was only achievable by the moonlight. You were absolutely stunning, a goddess, a temptress pulling him in to commit the most horrible acts; and it was working.

Your heels steadily clicked as you walked, your red-stained lips that were turned up into a warm smile lured him even further into temptation, all the while your twinkling eyes peered over his quivering body.

He wanted you so badly…

The sweet perfume you were wearing just made the tears in his eyes grow even heavier, you smelled really good. He would do anything to relieve this ache. The desire was mind numbing at this point.

Jungkook hardly noticed both of your jackets and the scarf he’d worn were in your hands.

You handed him his jacket with a weak smile. It took him a minute to realize what you were doing, too busy staring into your shimmering orbs that would always have him choked up anytime he tried to speak to you.

“Jungkook?” You called out worriedly.

“U-uh I-I’m sorry.” He tried to laugh it off as he grabbed it, but he failed miserably, and it sounded more like a choked sob. He was hoping you’d brush it off as he quickly put on his black, fuzzy trench coat, but he knew it was too late in the way his vision grew blurry from tears. The dam had been broken and he just couldn’t stop it anymore.

You were still holding his scarf when he finally looked back up at you, and the look of concern in your face was unmistakable. You could see his despair.

“Jungkook…” Your voice was so soft and warm, like a flame lit in the dead of night. You reached up to drape the scarf across his shoulders, but your eyes were still locked into his, like you were staring right through his soul and could easily see everything.

Standing so close, you could see the pain hidden behind the starry way his eyes would shine, you could feel the hurt— they were just like Mi-Sun’s. Your hand lingered on his shoulders, before you finally found the confidence to reach your hand up and ever so gently cup his cheek.

Like on instinct, he couldn’t stop himself from nuzzling further into your warmth, a flicker of light in the frozen tundra he had become. It was an overwhelming affection he had never known, and while you may have just done it because of how pathetic he looked, it was something. He closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the taste of the haven he’d been craving for years.

“Jungkook, are you ok?” You finally asked earnestly because he genuinely looked like he was about to break. 

Jimin had been the only person to ever ask him that. He thought he’d been doing well at hiding from everyone the storm that raged on in his mind, but hearing you could clearly see something was wrong…

It felt real, too real.

You looked so worried, and as he felt your hand on his cheek, he just broke down.

Jungkook shook his head as tears easily slipped past his eyes and trickled down your hand. 

He wasn’t fine, he was the furthest from fine. Sometimes he wished the earth would swallow him whole so he wouldn’t have to wake up and feel like this every single day. He hadn’t been fine in years, and the weight of it all came crashing down at that very moment. He could tell you were about to question him further, but he didn’t give you the chance as his hand slowly came up and snaked around your waist to pull you close.

Jungkook didn’t know what he was doing, this was wrong on so many levels and went against everything he stood for, but in the moment he didn’t think, he just wanted to stop the pain. 

That warmth, he needed you.

Jungkook pulled you so close, closer than you both stood earlier in the hallway on the roof, you could probably feel the shame he was trying to hide.

Time stood still for a second as he stared down at your red-stained lips, the bright color like a lighthouse for a desperate sailor in the middle of a storm. You were the refuge he needed, and right now, he didn’t care about the consequences, he just wanted you.

Jungkook leaned forward so he could rest his head in the crook of your neck and bathed in the sweet scent of your perfume. He was so worthless that even just that seemed to make the ache worse.

He felt your arms wrap around his waist and you pulled him a little closer. The movement was slight, but it created just enough friction for a soft, unmistakable moan to escape his lips.

You could certainly feel it now.  

Jungkook felt like his skin was on fire, only moments away from boiling over, and you were the only one who could fix this. 

He lifted his head slowly, his face still wet with the tears that continuously spilled from his sad eyes. The hand that had been on your waist quickly trailed up your side to settle on your jawline, his thumb so gently grazed across your cheek.

You were dangerously close, he’d never experienced a need to this degree. He needed you, he wanted you so badly he wasn’t thinking straight anymore.

“Please— I need— can we…” You probably could barely hear him, his voice hoarse from the strain and he was shaking so much. 

But it seemed he didn’t need to elaborate; you knew what he wanted. Your hand came up from his waist to grab his shoulders to pull him closer, making his lips not even centimeters from yours.

Jungkook lost it. He couldn’t stop himself as he finally closed the distance. His lips were on yours in a haste, but he was slow and gentle as you both tried to process the fact this was happening. 

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest as he tasted the sweetness of the wine you both drank only moments before. Your lips were so soft, pillowy, and inviting. He could feel the soft tickle of your breath beneath his nose, gently pulling you close, as you breathed each other in.

The world around him seemed to disappear at that moment. He forgot about Yuri, he forgot about his marriage, he forgot how shitty he’s been feeling, he forgot about the contract, he forgot who he was. Right now, he wasn’t the future CEO of the second-biggest tech provider in the country— he was just Jeon Jungkook.

Nothing else mattered in the moment. It was just you, him, and ten months' worth of bottled-up lust.

His touch was hesitant at first, like he was so sure any moment you might change your mind. He thought you would, he was sure you would, that you would realize what he was doing, and your appalled reaction would be enough to finally wake him up and make him register what he’d just done. His brain was shot, but he remembered what this was usually like, waiting for the moment when you would say something, yell, scream, complain that he wasn’t good enough. He didn’t think he was, but that just made him more desperate. He wanted to prove himself.

But you never stopped him as his hands steadily grew more fervent, tugging at your white button-up and traveling down your sides to grab and touch as much as he could, settling just above the curve of your ass. The kiss quickly grew more heated, from slow, sensual pecks, to you both were practically trying to eat each other, building the ever-growing heat that settled between you two. It wasn’t a slow flame that steadily spread, but an explosion of lust that violently consumed everything in its path. 

Your hands grew curious, playing with the button-up he had tucked into his black slacks, and occasionally pressing down into the belt wrapped around his waist.

The sensation made Jungkook’s knees almost give out entirely. He fell back slightly onto his desk that sat behind him, breaking the kiss for just a second.

The moment was brief, but Jungkook used it as the perfect opportunity to finally let his hands slip under your skirt. He gripped your ass, enjoying the way the soft skin felt in his grasp way too much.

Fuck.

Jungkook didn’t know how it happened; all he could remember was hearing you gasp as he suddenly flipped you both around and had you pinned against his desk. He didn’t give you any time to process what was happening, because his lips were back on yours with even more ferocity. He just had to feel you. 

It hurt so much.

Jungkook could hardly help you up, the kiss grew more intense, and all he heard was the sound of anything in the way being forcefully pushed back— some things clattering to the ground, your heels even falling off in the commotion. But he couldn’t care less, not with the way you were clinging onto him as desperately as he needed to feel you.

It was messy, so fucking messy as he kissed you with all the pent-up lust that’s been building since you walked into him with your coffee. Your teeth clinked together more often than not. Jungkook was kissing you so hard, at some point he was so sure he was going to actually climb inside you.

But it felt so good.

Your legs hastily came up to wrap around his waist, pulling his needy self to where he wanted to be so fucking badly. The moan he let out was embarrassing; it was more like a whimper in all honesty, but he couldn’t stop thinking about this morning and all the dreams he had of being in this exact position.

His hips eagerly chased yours, desperate, so fucking embarrassingly desperate for any type of friction.

Everything was happening so fast, and still, the tears didn’t stop pouring out of his eyes. It was so sad, Jungkook couldn’t even kiss you anymore. The moment his aching cock felt your clothed heat against his, kissing you proved impossible. 

His mind felt like the most chaotic storm; he felt drunk not off the wine you shared, but of you, and he wanted so much more.

“Oh—“ You cried.

Just a few glides of his hips and he had you making such pretty sounds, even better than what he remembered from his dream. He only got greedier, and his pace increased too much.

He was going to cum.

“F-fuuu-uck” he tried to hold it back, but it just came out as something in between a moan and a sob. 

“It’s ok…” Your voice was soft and gentle as you tried to get him to look at you again. His eyes were so pretty, you wanted to see them again.

“I need you so bad.” Jungkook cried into the crook of your neck.

It hurt so much. He wanted to cum, any longer, and he was sure this was going to turn into a horrible disaster. He was so tempted to keep going just like this, to rock into you until he came in his pants like he was sure to at any moment.

“You can— have me— it’s alright.” Your voice was so soothing, but hicked when his hips came to meet yours in a haste. Your hand came up to run through his long hair. 

The affection was new, something he hadn’t experienced before, which made things so much worse.

It physically pained him to pull away, even for just a second, as he moved over and straddled your thigh— that wasn’t his intention, but your thigh was right there as he worked to change the position, and he needed to feel anything to ease the ache.

On instinct, your thigh raised up, and he could have cried— he was crying. He hadn’t stopped crying since you walked in— it just felt so good. His brain was scrambled, but he couldn’t— he wouldn’t allow himself to cum until he was inside you. He wanted to be selfish. He needed you.

Jungkook grabbed your chin so you would look up at him. He took a second to admire your delicate features; you were absolutely stunning, and he hated it. To drown out the agony, he kissed you lightly before moving to your cheek and he trailed down to your neck.

“Jungkook…” His name fell so prettily from your lips as your arm wrapped around his neck.

For a split second, Jungkook thought about Taehyung— he wondered if while you were together he got to see you like this, if you moaned his name so beautifully. It was only for a second, but it was enough to get him to suck a little harder on your skin, so that it would leave a mark.

He hoped it would.

“Don’t stop—” You whined. 

Jungkook let his hand travel down your body, stopping when he felt the buttons of your shirt. He needed this shit off now.

Using what very little brain power he had left, he tried to focus on getting the buttons undone, but it proved to be an impossible task. He was only using one hand, and Jungkook was more than distracted with painting your neck and enjoying the subtle pleasure of rubbing himself along your thigh.

Frustrated, Jungkook did the only thing his horny brain could think of at that moment, and pulled the fabric until the buttons snapped. For a second, he hoped he didn’t break any of them, but the worry quickly went away as he noticed the newly exposed skin and the pretty black bra you were wearing. His hands were eager and massaged your mounds with need. He was almost hypnotized as the moonlight outside painted your body and the feel of your soft skin in his hands.

The ache just got worse when he heard the soft sighs of pleasure fall from your red-stained lips. It delighted him too much seeing how it was smeared across your face. 

He hoped you weren’t too disappointed when he pulled away, but he hastily pulled up your skirt so it was bunched around your waist, just like it had been in his dream. The sight was even more bewitching than he imagined when he noticed what you were wearing.

Jungkook had too many fantasies where he would rip your stockings off to fuck you, but unlike what he’d pictured, you weren’t wearing stockings like he had expected, but the black sheer that covered your legs were thigh highs.

He just stared for a second because the wave of need that washed over him, didn’t make any sense at all. 

He whimpered as the picture started to become clearer, the sheer fabric coming up your legs to the lacy ends, your skirt bunched around your waist, and the black panties he could now see covering your core. It was hot; you were so hot, and he wanted to ruin you.

Suddenly, you grabbed his hand that was resting on your thigh. He looked into your eyes and could see the concern behind your gaze.

“You’re shaking…” You whispered so gently.

Jungkook looked down at his hand, and indeed he was.

Why? He didn’t know, and he didn’t really care at that moment. Jungkook did what he wanted to for so long, instead of answering, he shut you up with a kiss. Sometimes, you really did talk too much. No more talking; he couldn’t even think straight anymore to form an actual sentence. Instead, he used what little brain power he had left and let his hand slide up your thigh to hover right over your panties.

Jungkook barely touched you, but you were already bucking into his hand, like you were just begging for more. The arm you had wrapped around his neck tightened to pull him closer.

“Jungkook, please, please touch me.” You looked him directly in the eyes as you broke the kiss. 

He’d never heard those words before, and he knew from that point on that they should be illegal in how much they affected him. He wanted to please you—

Jungkook didn’t waste anymore time, and let his fingers brush over your clothed heat. He nearly lost his mind feeling the fabric damp already.

Did he do that?

“Please…” You whined, and Jungkook nearly broke after seeing the look on your face seemingly growing more frustrated.

He loved it too much.

Jungkook pressed into you a little harder, the fabric growing wetter by the second, and he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to feel you. You clung onto him tighter when he pushed your panties to the side, finally letting his fingers run through your soaked folds. You cried out, and he almost did too when your pretty whines grew more desperate.

His fingers stopped once they reached your clit, rubbing tiny circles across the bud. Jungkook’s heart nearly beat out of his chest at your reaction, the way you shook and moaned underneath him, and he reveled in your pleas for more.

It just made him more eager once his fingers came down to your pleading hole, slowly pushing the digits inside you. 

The ache was unbearable now.

You cried out for him, it was his name that fell from your lips, and he couldn’t stop imagining it was his cock instead as he pushed in further. 

He wished it was.

You felt so good, so warm, so tight, and he still couldn’t get over how wet you were. He could hear the slick sounds of his fingers as they pumped inside you, just imagining this was his cock alone could have made him cum.

And so could you, the suddenness of everything had your body on high alert, every new sensation, so unexpected you couldn’t keep up. It was all too much, his body on yours, his fingers inside of you, his pained whimpers as he steadily rubbed himself along your thigh.

Too much, yet you wanted more, you wanted so much more. You wanted to make him feel good too, so good that he wouldn’t hurt anymore.

“Jungkook, please.” You cried, pulling him close. You didn’t expect him to kiss you, but you relished in the sensation, enjoying the way his lips felt against yours. Even in that moment, you couldn’t stop focusing on how wet his cheeks were and the feeling of more tears trickling down onto you.

You wanted him to be ok.

Jungkook groaned into the kiss, pulling away slightly; he sped up his pace, enjoying the slick sounds of his fingers moving inside you and your pleading reaction way too much.

You cried and moaned so easily for him, like you both weren’t in his office right now, like you weren’t getting fingerfucked on his desk. It was dirty, and he hated how much he loved this.

“Does this feel good?” His raspy whisper right into your ear just made it all worse.

And it was all too much, he wanted to be inside you so badly, and he knew that if he waited any longer, he wouldn’t make it. 

“Yes, yes— fuck, yes!” You answered, clinging onto him just a little tighter.

He was already so close. Pathetic, so fucking pathetic.

As much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook finally found the strength to pull his fingers out of you. What he would have given to see you fall apart on his fingers, but not when he felt like he was seconds away from combusting. He had to hurry this up.

You whined at how empty you felt all of a sudden and were about to question it, maybe even scream because you were getting so close, but the moment of clarity let you feel his shaky hand on your thigh as he sank to his knees.

You looked at him confused as to what he was doing, but it didn’t take long for you to get the picture as he started spreading your thighs once again.

You pulled on his hair lightly, making him look up at you with his big, bright, bewildered, round eyes. You felt your body light a blaze at the sight, so innocent in such a dirty position.

“No time. Want you inside me.” It was blunt, but the moment didn’t allow for anything more. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to still seem confused. 

“You— you don’t need me to—“ His voice was just as shaky as his hands were. He genuinely seemed confused.

“Just fuck me, please.” You whined, your hand coming down to rest under his chin. His eyes were red and watery, and you just hated it. You’d do anything to see him better.

Jungkook steadily rose to his feet once again, but that brief moment of pause was short-lived, as he was on you in a haste, lips on lips, needing, chasing, he had to feel you.

Jungkook had been so worried, so worried he’d disappoint you, he’d nearly burst into tears when he got on his knees knowing he couldn’t eat you out without making a mistake. Then you said it, just like Yuri did after she came back from that New Year’s party. You wanted him, needing him to make you feel good. “Just fuck me, please.” He’d never forget it, to the point it was replaying in his head even now, as he tried his best to make that one thing happen.

He just had to last a little longer. 

Jungkook scrambled, trying to feel you, kiss you, and get his belt loose. It was all too much, why he ever decided to wear belts in the first place was beyond him at the moment. So little was in the way, he had your permission, and all that stood in between what he wanted were a few thin layers of fabric.

He desperately rubbed himself against you, needing the friction as he kissed you, fuck, why wasn’t he inside you yet?!

Then your hands eagerly raked across his back, trying to pull him close. Yuri had never done that to him, and it was too much, too much when he’s not inside you yet. Jungkook tried again to get his belt off, but he couldn’t think anymore and was growing more desperate by the second, your hands, fuck he was so close. 

Tears spilled out of his eyes, so worried he was about to embarrass himself when he was so close, but then you swooped in to save the day.

You broke the kiss when you noticed he was struggling a bit, and decided to help.  

He looked so pretty like this, the moonlight highlighting all of his delicate features, his eyes sparkling so sadly in the light. He looked sad, so sad that if you made one wrong move, he’d burst into tears. What could possibly be making him feel this way?

Your hands ran up his back, over his shoulders, and down to the buttons of his shirt. You didn’t miss the way he shivered, his eyes fluttered closed, and his grip on your thigh grew tighter as you went past his neck. 

Your hands were a little shaky, but you managed to undo them all. As more was revealed, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of Jungkook being absolutely built. You had a feeling he worked out, but the sight of his firm chest, then his defined abs was one shock after another. 

It was bad how much you needed him.

It was lucky you were so distracted that you entirely missed how red Jungkook’s face had become under your gaze. He was scared, scared of you seeing him like this and thinking he was just as pathetic as Yuri says. What if you hated—

With his shirt undone, you slowly ran your hands over his warm skin, covered in a thin layer of sweat. Down his nape, chest, abs, and then eventually settling on his belt. 

Jungkook tried his best not to rut into you like some animal, but he had never been touched like this before, and he feared he was seconds away from exploding because of how good it felt. 

Taking him out of his spiraling thoughts, you hurriedly tugged on his belt, finally getting it undone so you could unfasten his pants.

His eyes were watery once again, feeling your hands graze past the prominent outline in his slacks. 

“P-Please!” He cried because it hurt so much, and he just wanted to feel you. His voice was hoarse, sounding more like a pained sob than anything coherent, but he needed anything at this point. 

“Don’t worry, I got you.” You whispered right in his ear as you finally freed his aching length. 

Jungkook didn’t know what he was expecting, just enough help so he could finally push himself inside you, but then you didn’t let go. It didn’t fully register until you stared directly into his watery eyes and started dragging your hand slowly up his length. Jungkook could have screamed, he really wanted to, and would have if his voice wasn’t so hoarse. Maybe he was and he didn’t even realize it.

As you reached the tip, you focused all your attention on massaging the head, wanting to get a reaction out of him. You were pleasantly surprised as your thumb ran over the tip, the amount of pre-cum that seemed to just leak onto your fingers…

“Oh god.” He groaned, his voice was so shaky as he writhed in your grasp. He quickly had to shut his eyes, the pleasure was too much.

“Does this feel good?” Your voice was gentle once again, and Jungkook felt like he was moments away from blowing it. A strangled moan he couldn’t hold back left his lips.  

He couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening. Your hand was…? You were touching him? It was strange, horrible even, that for a moment he thought about Yuri, back in April when he practically begged her to touch him, just like this. He had begged her, but with you, he didn’t even need to ask. 

It was awful, so fucking horrific, but your hand was too much to handle as you went from running your fingers over the tip to steadily pumping his cock. Jungkook immediately knew he should have said something; each glide of your hand sent him closer to an edge he was practically hanging off of already, but fuck. This was pathetic, absolutely pathetic.

Jungkook whined as he buried himself into your shoulder and pushed you further into the desk. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something, to stop you. It would have been so easy. He knew deep down he didn’t want to. He moaned as he subtly rocked his hips into your grasp, he thought of this morning, how easily Yuri stopped, and the thought of having that taken away again.

He should have said something, he didn’t need to see your face to know you weren’t expecting this to go as far as it did. 

You’d only wanted to tease him a little before he finally filled you up, but maybe you should have realized how close he was. You certainly weren’t expecting his hoarse moans to grow louder and pained. 

His grip on your thighs quickly tightened, and suddenly, with a very pained cry, you felt wetness across your fingers. 

A colossal wave of pleasure hit him all at once with a strangled cry, a feeling he hadn’t felt after nearly a year. It was more than ecstasy, a high he never wanted to end, the most he’d felt in months. For a second, his life wasn’t a mess. He was happy, and everything was fine. It was overwhelming, and his knees nearly gave out entirely as you started gently pumping his length to help work his way through his high. 

It was a terrible mix of the pleasure he’d craved for months, and the guilt of being the failure he knew he was. Months of waiting, and he couldn’t at least make it inside you. It was embarrassing, pathetic, and not to mention as the ropes continued to come with each flick of your wrist, deep down he knew he truly had made a loathsome mistake because it just wouldn’t stop.

But it felt so good, it seemed never ending as each glide from your hand brought more euphoria than his brain ever thought was possible to experience. Yet the searing guilt that simmered behind the pleasure made his mangled moans turn into sobs. He was bawling in your arms, his tears soaking the fabric of your shirt. 

Your free hand gently rubbed his back to try and soothe him. He was shaking.

“I—I’m so sorry— so sorry.” Jungkook choked out. He clung to you a little tighter and buried himself further into your neck. He didn’t want to see the disappointed look on your face, he wouldn’t be able to bare it—

“Jungkook, it’s ok…” You tried to comfort him, feeling yourself getting a little emotional.

Your reassurance meant nothing, if anything it just made him more upset; he hated pity. This was a mistake, he was so disappointing, that’s all he ever did was make people disappointed. 

You seemed to notice your words didn’t do anything, so you pulled him out of your neck so he could look at you.

But instead of meeting your eyes, he immediately moved far back enough to see the scene of the crime. You were practically covered in his cum, your hand that had been grasping his length was coated in it, and your shirt and skirt were ruined with his mess. Ten months of shame and he’d covered you in it. 

Jungkook’s face burned at the sight.

His gaze finally pulled away to look into your eyes. Even in the darkness, you could see how wet and red his face was, but the tears never stopped as the guilt and embarrassment continued to take over him.

“I’m sorry— I didn’t—“ He tried to feign, but he was lying right through his teeth. He could have told you to stop sooner, but he didn’t want to; he had just been so close. 

Your sympathetic eyes just made things worse as you continued to look at him. 

“I wanted to—“ He wanted to fuck you, that much was true. As nice as your hand felt, he wanted more, so much more. To think he could have been buried deep inside you if he hadn't given in so quickly. 

“Jungkook, it’s ok, don’t worry about it.” You tried to reassure him, but with the haze of his orgasm fading, reality began to hit him at full force. 

He ruined your clothes, and he literally came all over you like a fucking teenager. How much more embarrassing could he be?!

“I can replace them if you want.” He sniffled out, but he felr like could barely understand him through his sobs. 

“It’s ok, I’m serious.” Your slight smile gave him more sympathy than he deserved. 

You turned around and noticed the tissue box beside you. You let him go, making a slight whine escape his lips as you did so, and you grabbed a tissue to start cleaning yourself up. 

…

To make matters worse, if he couldn’t get any more despicable, the lack of contact made a horrible realization dawn upon him. 

He still wanted more. Instead of the guilt from his actions, the burn raged on, a little tamer this time, but it was still there sizzling, waiting to erupt once again at any moment.

You finally looked up, noticing his apologies had become too quiet and his hands had begun to steadily run over your waist again. You hoped this meant Jungkook realized everything was alright and that there were no hard feelings, but you were a little shocked to see his dazed gaze staring directly down at your opened-up shirt that had your black bra still exposed. 

There was a hunger in his eyes you recognized from earlier. Hmmmm…

You put the tissue down before you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him close. You were delighted at the sound of his gasp as he was tugged flush against your chest. You kissed his neck, before you moved back up to trail kisses along his jaw up to his ear. His grip on your thigh grew tighter with each move you made.

“Did you want to keep going?” Your voice was soft as you felt him shiver in your grasp.

“We—we don’t have to!” His voice was a lot louder than yours, like he was trying to defend himself from being led into a trap, but you felt his grip tighten around your waist.

The number of times he’d begged Yuri for a second chance anytime he came too quickly, he couldn’t believe this was real. This had to be a trap, you were trying to embarrass him, weren’t you? You wanted to ruin him. 

“You think you’re up for it?” You asked once again, your tone dropping to an octave that made his whole body shiver. 

If only you knew he could keep it up the whole night. Jungkook couldn’t say anything, he almost didn’t want to; at any moment, he thought you would take it back.

“You don’t know what you’re doing…” He whispered, lightly rubbing his cheek against yours. You were unlocking a part of himself he was scared to face. He didn’t think he could come back from this.

“I do… don’t worry.” Your tone was low as your teeth grazed across his ear. A moan fell from his lips before he could stop it. He felt like an animal as his mind thought about all the things he wanted to do to you. Instead of the degradation he’d expect from Yuri, his silence was rewarded with you wrapping your hand around his semi-hard length and pumping him once again ever so gently, careful not to overstimulate him too much. 

Jungkook could have screamed; his voice was too hoarse, but a guttural moan escaped his lips before he could even realize it. He couldn’t believe it; he had to be dreaming. But dream or not, that didn’t stop his softening length from beginning to grow hard once again in your grasp. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you.

“Please…” It was a sad, desperate plea. He just had to feel you once tonight.

This time, you didn’t hesitate to spread your legs for him, using one hand to pull your panties to the side and the other to rub him through your folds. You were absolutely soaked. A whine fell from both your lips as Jungkook resisted every urge to fuck into you. 

He could probably cum just from this again if you kept this up.

You didn’t tease him for long, seeing his expression growing increasingly impatient. You couldn’t wait any longer either, as you took it upon yourself to guide his tip to your dripping hole. 

You sighed in relief as Jungkook finally took control and slowly sank himself further into you. The more you took, the more you could have screamed, the fit filling you up in all the right places.

How much you wanted him to just destroy you…

Jungkook wanted to do just that, but the sweet sting of overstimulation made his worked-up length that much more sensitive to a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time. His eyes stung from the tears, and he felt drunk off the warmth of your walls wrapping around him, almost pleading to milk him of anything he had left. 

Too fast, and he knew you’d do just that.

He waited, as much as his body didn’t want to, but he wanted to try and make things right this time. He wanted to make you feel good too.

Soft sighs of pleasure escaped you, but you still tried to focus your mouth on his neck— gently sucking on a spot where he quickly found out was surprisingly sensitive. 

“Fuck…” He groaned. This was all new to him, and he wanted more.

“Y/n… can I move?” Jungkook rushed out. He felt like he was seconds away from losing his mind.

“Please…” You begged, just as desperate. 

Your plea was all he needed for him to slowly pull his hips out before shakily pushing back in. An embarrassing series of whines left his mouth in the process, not at all thinking about how loud he was anymore.

Tears spilled out of his eyes as the slick sounds started to fill his office. It was overwhelming in the best way possible. This was worse than his first time, he felt like a virgin all over again as he moved through your sopping heat, he wasn’t going to last long at all. 

Jungkook immediately had to focus on not cumming again, feeling the edge approaching so quickly, but he had to make you feel good this time.

His pace was a little awkward at first; he was too eager at times to feel you, making him fumble his rhythm, but he was quick at getting back in the groove of things. 

“Jungkook—“ You moaned out, your legs wrapping around his waist so he wouldn’t go far. You just needed him close, as close as he could get.

Fuck, how long has it been? Were you really this desperate? 

You clung onto him tightly, hearing his pretty whines with each glide of his hips. 

If you thought about it too much right now, you might come back down to the reality of the consequences of your actions. Weren’t you both about to leave just moments ago? But you didn’t think about it, you honestly couldn’t think about it as his cock glided past that spot that made you see stars. 

Fuck.

You both reveled in the pornographic sounds of skin slapping against skin and the subtle sounds of the creaking of his desk anytime he’d push inside you. Random objects would get knocked off occasionally as he pushed you further onto the desk, but neither of you cared, too focused on chasing a high that was quickly approaching.

Your hand ran through his hair, tugging at the strands in desperation, while the other was down his back, your manicured nails dragging across the white fabric that you knew would probably leave a mark. 

Your moans nearly drowned out his own,, but you both seemingly didn’t care about the fact that you were in public. 

Jungkook’s mind was filled with nothing but white-hot need, your hands on his body, it had never been like this, it had never felt like this. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself except fuck into you as quickly as his body would let him, any second spent apart was too long, needing to stay buried in your warmth.

You were fucking touching him— someone— touch— fuck.

“C-c-close!” Jungkook rushed out suddenly. He hurriedly wrapped his arm around your back and lifted your thigh so he could fuck into you even deeper. He just couldn’t get enough. Why did this feel so good?!

Jungkook wanted to delay it as much as he could so you would feel good too, but then your lips were on his neck and suddenly he had no self-control.

Still so sensitive from his last orgasm, fresh tears spilled from his eyes as he felt himself speeding toward the edge.

“Can I—“ He wanted to ask for permission, but at this point, he feared a no wouldn’t even be enough. 

“It’s okay… let go for me.” Your voice, always so sweet as you focused on running your fingers through his hair. It felt so good, so good that he wanted to cry right there in your arms. He could have, if that feeling hadn’t finally spilled over into another embarrassing whine.

“I’m sorry— so sorry, sorry, I’m—“

His rhythm turned frantic, then got sloppy, chasing, and chasing, till he buried his face in your shoulder as he came again, ropes and ropes of cum filling you up. It was hard to believe he came just minutes ago.

He sounded like he was crying again, maybe he was, but the pleasure overtook any realization of his surroundings. Jungkook’s moans turned silent, his voice too hoarse for anything louder. He wanted to scream, just wave after wave of pleasure hit him as he steadily thrusted into you. You were so nice, you always were, as you gently kissed his neck and rubbed his back.

You knew he needed it, you could feel the tears across your neck and the way he lightly shook in your arms. 

It had never been that intense before; a full minute passed and he was still getting hit with the shakes as another wave would hit. 

It was so good, so good, but he wasn’t satisfied just yet. 

Jungkook eventually found the strength to pull himself slightly away from your shoulder. Your kind eyes looked at him with so much concern, that he hardly gave you any time to process before he was kissing you again. It was a slow, sensual kiss, and his hand came up to cup your cheek so that he could have you just a little closer. A brief moment of calm, a second to settle your beating hearts.

It was at that moment, without you noticing, Jungkook slid his hand in between your bodies. You didn’t realize it until you felt his fingers on your clit, earning an immediate gasp out of you. Jungkook hummed lightly before kissing down your neck. 

You were so sensitive and so close already… 

“Cum for me…” Jungkook whispered across your skin. 

You will, you wanted to so badly.

“Jungkook—“

His fingers quickly picked up the pace, and you cried out for him. Jungkook could feel you tightening around his cock, spent, but greedy for more, as he started slowly thrusting into you once more. 

He groaned. You felt so good— it just didn’t make sense.

This was about you though, and he had to make you feel just as good as you had made him. Jungkook relished in the way you clung onto him as your orgasm grew nearer. You were so close, he could feel it. 

His fingers were skilled, so skilled you hardly had time to process before you came face to face with the edge you craved more than anything at that moment. 

“Please— please, fuck, fuck, please!” You cried, and Jungkook nearly did too at how tightly you were squeezing him. Overstimulation, two orgasms, and the pain mixed with pleasure, had him speeding to his third. But this was all about you, and he pulled away to watch your expression as you fell apart.

Jungkook almost didn’t feel worthy as he watched your eyes roll back, and your moans and pleas turned into one big sigh of relief as your orgasm washed over you. You gripped him hard, and you had him crying out with you, cumming for the third time today.

It probably was a little over a minute since his last one, and he didn’t have much to give, but you made sure to milk him of everything he had left, and he loved it.

You, this, everything, it was so good. 

Jungkook, through the haziness of it all, helped you both through it, his hips steadily rocking into you, and his fingers still at work until you whined at the overstimulation.

Jungkook quickly pulled you in for another kiss. It was lazy, you both were exhausted at this point, but Jungkook craved the affection more than ever as the rush, the heat, burn, and desire started to settle down. All that was left in its wake was the startling realization of what you both had just done. 

The wetness began to pool in between you, his body ached, the guilt was beginning to wash over him, and the treacherous reality he ran from was back.

As much as he didn’t want to, Jungkook eventually found the strength to pull out of you. It hurt physically speaking, but it was even worse mentally. He didn’t want to leave, not with how warm and wet you were around him. It took everything in him to slowly but surely leave your warm embrace, a pained whine falling from his lips, before he took a step back. 

Your hooded eyes stared at him as you breathed heavily. He was probably doing the same, but he could hardly pay attention as he stared at his mess: 

Your lipstick was heavily smeared, your hair disheveled, your legs still spread with your skirt bunched up around your waist, your stockings had runs all over them, and your panties he’d pulled to the side were back in place but soaked with a mix of both of your juices.

Jungkook wanted to feel ashamed; he should, he had ruined you, but your fucked out expression only made a startling realization come over him. He liked seeing you like this, and it made the flame that had started to quell, spark once again.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right. 

Jungkook should feel guilty right now. Not only had he ruined his marriage, you were also now caught up in his mess. Instead, all that resided as you both calmed down, was a startling numbness. 

He should feel guilty, but it was so fucking horrible how much he enjoyed it. This was a relief Jungkook had never known could come from sex. He was spent, exhausted, yet craved more all at the same time. 

But he really did feel bad, seeing you like this, and Yuri… however, that’s not what his mind could focus on. As horrible as it was, he felt… good.

Jungkook gently helped you off his desk. Your knees were a little wobbly, but he held onto you tightly as he guided you over to the couch. 

You silently thanked him and watched as he went to grab your coat and shoes, which had dropped to the floor during the commotion. As soon as he handed it to you, he then kindly went over to pack up your laptop for you and grab the bottle of wine.

It was sweet, too sweet almost, considering what the fuck just happened.

You and Jungkook… you and Jungkook?

This was the same Jungkook you hated until about a month ago. This was the same Jungkook who had made your life at work hell for nearly two years. This was the same Jungkook that was married. 

You started to put on your stuff, Jungkook picked up all things that had fallen off his desk, before he had his own coat and scarf in hand, and he took a seat on the opposite end of the couch. You were quickly reminded how you found yourself in this situation as he practically collapsed. A pained sigh left his lips and his hands were tangled in his hair once again. 

You quickly scooted over. 

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!” Jungkook cried, his sad eyes only looking at you for a second before his hair was in the way again. 

This… this is precisely why. Something about the look in his eyes, the pain in his voice, it was too much, and you wanted to do anything to fix that. 

You let your arm wrap around him. “You want to talk about it?” Your voice, soft and gentle as always. 

Jungkook didn’t know what to say. What could he possibly do at this point? It was really hitting him. He had done it, he truly had lost it.

His panic started getting to you as well, and you were realizing the mess you had just got yourself into. As concerned as you felt for Jungkook, you now were involved in an affair. His wife’s pictures that sat around his office felt like they were bearing into you, judging you for sleeping with her husband. How could you? Not only that, but this happened with your boss, at your job, who was fucking married.

The reason this happened in the first place was unknown, but what justification could there be for both of you? 

Jungkook tried his best to pull himself together as you both got up to begin your journey downstairs, but how could he go home now?

You both made a quick stop to the bathroom to clean yourselves up. 

You could hardly believe the sight you saw in the mirror. You finally saw the glorious mess Jungkook had made of you, your cheeks warmed at the sight the fluorescent lights granted you. You were a mess…

You tried to quickly cover up the evidence of your misdeed. You wiped your shirt and skirt so the stains wouldn’t be so noticeable, and with the brush you kept in your purse, you tried to smooth your hair down and style it so that it covered the marks across your neck. You then tried to make your clothes sit the way they did before you walked into his office earlier, tucking your top in and smoothing out your skirt.

You wiped down your face, and with a quick reapplication of your makeup, you were as good as new again— well, as new as you needed to be at nearly 1:30 in the morning.

Despite having more to do, you were left waiting outside the bathrooms on Jungkook for a little while. 

He’d walked in and the sight he saw in the mirror was equally as alluring as it was horrendous. His face was red and puffy, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. But the way your lipstick covered his face… his lips were smeared with it, just like yours had been. It was all over his cheeks, even his neck had red stains, and seeing that had him feeling funny all over again.

Jungkook was ashamed that he looked past it all, and enjoyed the way your lipstick painted his skin.

He nearly had another breakdown at the realization, and he had to give himself a pep talk to come out of the bathroom and face you again. His thoughts were quickly spiraling, and he felt himself getting jittery again. It was the same way he felt in Dr. Min’s office, the same way that would plague him occasionally, and he was stuck alone for hours trying to get himself together to face the world again. He probably would have collapsed and locked himself in the bathroom if you weren’t waiting on him.

He likely came out looking worse than he did coming in. Your lipstick was gone, but he had been stuck inside trying to wipe the tears that just wouldn’t stop falling from his eyes.

Eventually, you both made your way to the elevators.

Jungkook had offered to drive you home considering how late it was. You probably would have said no considering the situation, but you didn’t really think about how you would get home beforehand. You honestly didn’t think you’d be here this long, but you also knew Taehyung would have no issue coming to pick you up. 

He lived close by, and he’d been there many times before when the buses and subways were closed. Even at the oddest times of night, he always knew when you were out and would be there to get you. You would have called him, but considering you looked like a mess, surely Taehyung was bound to ask questions about what happened during your evening with the boss. That was the last thing you needed, keeping as few people involved as possible was the better option. Plus, he had spent the night partying, and you doubted if he was available or even sober enough to drive you.

Jungkook it was then.

Things were noticeably awkward between you two. As you both waited for the elevator, a notable distance separated you two, and a painful silence settled in the air.

“You never answered my question earlier…” Things felt different now. The further you walked from the sanctuary of his office, the more real it became. You honestly wanted nothing more than to get away from him.

The elevator dinged before the doors opened. You both stepped inside and Jungkook hit the button down to the garage. 

What could he say?

“What excuse could I give?” Jungkook sounded distraught and you started feeling bad once again. 

“I mean… I don’t mean to impose, but considering what happened… you just don’t seem fine.” You spoke sincerely, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Jungkook leaned against the elevator wall, and with the lights shining down on his face, you could clearly see the wetness staining his cheeks. 

There was a moment of silence as your statement lingered in the air, but eventually Jungkook worked up the courage to say something, anything really, he owed you that much at least. 

“It's an arranged marriage.” Jungkook's voice was still hoarse, and a tear rolled down his cheek as the words left his mouth. He really hated telling people.

You were visibly shocked at this, eyes widening as his words processed in your mind. You thought it was weird he was married, but you didn’t think arranged marriages happened anymore, especially here. Even if they did, that didn’t matter, he was still so young. 

“It’s been hard over the years… really, really hard, but that doesn’t excuse anything.” Jungkook was vague, however it was still something. 

As you both stepped out of the elevator, into the short hallway, and out the parking garage, Jungkook offered once again to get your clothes professionally cleaned or replaced if that’s what you preferred, when he still noticed the stain on your skirt under the light. 

You thanked him, but you didn’t want to be indebted to him. Instead, you said you’d handle it yourself.

Plus, now you can call it even.

It was awkward again as he pushed open the door and you both walked to his car. It was one of the only ones down here, but who else would own a Mercedes?

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry…” Jungkook was lying through his teeth. He wished he wasn’t, but as bad as he felt, no one had ever made him feel that good before.

“Look.” You stopped in your tracks, making him stop with you.

“You obviously seem to be going through a lot, I get that. But Jungkook, I don't want to be involved in this.” You were serious as you spoke. 

“That’s your business. Tonight did not happen. Tomorrow we’ll come into work like none of this happened. You won’t ever need to worry about me telling anyone. This was a fluke, a mistake, something that shouldn’t have happened. I trust you’ll do the same. That’s as simple as it needs to be.” You seemed mad, and as much as you were right, Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his chest tightened at your words.

A fluke, a mistake, something that shouldn’t have happened. It hurt so much for some reason, but you were right in the end.

Jungkook just nodded, knowing he would have a breakdown if he tried to say anything. But what could he say anyway? You were right.

You both steadily made it to his car, a sleek, black, 2022 Mercedes AMG GT 53 4-door Coupe. This was his personal car, not the fancy SUV his driver would always take him around in, but whenever Jungkook worked late nights like this, he’d normally drive himself to work and give Dae-Jung the day off.

You tried not to show how impressed you were as you got in. It really was a nice car with the pretty LED lights dimly illuminating the matching black interior. Then the sound it made as he started it up, and with one hand on the wheel, he pulled out of the underground garage…

If things were different, this definitely would have easily made you fold— a good looking guy driving a sexy car was a thing you knew you had, but this was a married man who you just had an affair with.

Now was certainly not the time.

The ride was silent, aside from when Jungkook asked for your apartment’s address. What else was there to say really?

You were mad. You wanted to put all the blame on Jungkook for getting you involved with this mess, but it takes two to tango as they say. You never stopped him when he pulled you close and you didn’t want to. You were just as mad at him as you were at yourself.

You knew he was married, yet you kept going, you wanted more, and relished when he finally filled you up. And his eyes, he seemed so sad, you wanted to do anything to make him feel better. 

As Jungkook drove you home, a new look seemed to settle behind his gaze. Before he seemed like he was constantly at the point of breaking, but now it was nothingness, lifelessness, a void contained in his dark orbs. 

Were you too harsh earlier? That’s the way it had to be though, this had to be a mistake you would never acknowledge at any point going forward. But maybe there was a better way to say it. Something clearly wasn’t right, and you were still concerned at the end of the day.

The late hour offered minimal traffic so you were pulling up to your apartment building just a little over twenty minutes later.

You were quick to grab your stuff and push open the door to get out, but not without a glance at the man beside you whose hair almost entirely shielded his gaze. His hands on the steering wheel were tight and he never once looked at you. 

“Jungkook…” That gentle tone was back and he finally looked at you.

He seemed dazed almost. 

“You should probably talk to someone. You seem to be going through a lot, and even though you were vague with me, someone out there will listen to you. Not going to lie, I’m a little worried… you remind me so much of a friend who went through a lot and… It might really help talking to a professional.” You held that same look of concern you had right before he kissed you.

It was so bad, he wanted to do it again.

Jungkook felt his cheeks warm at the thought, remembering how it felt to have your lips against his.

He weakly tried to laugh it off. “You aren’t the first person who’s said that.” 

“You might really benefit from it. I suggest trying it out.” 

Jungkook nodded. The last time he attempted therapy it didn’t go so well, but then again, he had only gone twice. 

You gave him a weak smile before you swung your bag over your shoulder and started walking toward the entrance. Jungkook stayed until he made sure you made it inside, and then he was driving off. 

His head was empty as he drove down the road, no tears, no pain, no anything. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about what happened earlier, it had never felt like that before, not once had it felt like that before.

Your hands, your lips, your body, your our skirt bunched up around your waist, your thigh-highs, that lacy black bra you had on underneath, your smeared lipstick. It replayed in his head over and over again. By the time Jungkook made it home it was going on three. He was tired, his body ached, his mind spent, but there was only one thing he could focus on as he punched in the code to the door. 

He wasn’t entirely surprised when he opened the door to find the apartment, dark, empty, and he was alone, like always. Yuri had texted him right before you walked in his office that the shoot was in fact running long and she wouldn’t be home until early in the morning. It was almost a relief that she wasn’t here. He didn’t know what he would have done if she was, but the silence was painful. Silence let his mind wander off too much, and in the silence the realization of his actions hit him once again. 

Jungkook’s eyes started to blur as he looked at the pictures that were sprinkled around the apartment of the two of them. He felt terrible, but not like how he should have.

This was actually his worst nightmare, he had turned his marriage from one that could have posed as real as any other, into that fake shit his parents put up with. Jungkook had turned into the person he detested the most, and there was nothing he could do to come back from it. He should feel terrible, so fucking terrible. He should prepare to get on his knees and beg for Yuri’s forgiveness, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it. He had been such a terrible husband over the years and the one thing he thought he’d never betray was the fact he was faithful and he’d always try his best to make their relationship work.

What now? Had he just given up? Jungkook wanted to cry, he wanted to scream, he wanted to do worse, he wanted to make it hurt, but instead, he just sank down against the door.

All he could think about was you and how good it felt. Was it just because he was so sensitive? It really had been so long, but it had never been like that before. Never, not even in the memory he held so closely— Yuri and him in the hot tub at the Maldives. It had never felt like that.

Jungkook should feel guilty, and he did, but only because he didn’t feel bad. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your hands, your lips, you, you, you.

Despite the fiasco in his office, the ride over with him and his stupid fucking mind that wouldn’t shut up, had his cock aching all over again. He was hard, and he wished so much you would have invited him upstairs so he could have stayed in your arms all night long. He would have said yes if you offered.

He wanted you so badly, but this wasn’t right. 

Jungkook wanted to fix this, he easily could have, the memories were vivid and he so badly wanted to feel good again. But the tears finally fell on his cheeks when he remembered Yuri and how disappointed she would be. He couldn't do that, he couldn't, he fucking couldn’t.

He was a disappointment, Yuri was right about everything. He was pathetic, his life couldn’t get any worse.

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[eloquentlytired]

the good cop chapter 1 𐙚˙ dark!walter marshall

pairing: dark!walter marshall x fem reader

word count: 4.8k

summary: always two steps ahead, the best in the department and your wise mentor; nothing could ever incriminate walter marshall because he is the good cop. but that ceases to exist when you discover who is behind your shadowy nightmares.

warnings for this fic : stalking — 18+ — non/dub con — age gap — angst — manipulation — creepy behavior

*no smut in this chapter. I will try to upload a new chapter once a week or faster if I'm rlly inspired ☺️

chapter two is out !

In the beginning it was unnoticeable.

“Don’t buy that. You will not like it.” Walter had said when you were choosing what to order for dinner during your night shift. There wasn't much to do tonight aside from paper work — at least you did not have any field work this time. For someone who had willingly and consciously decided to work as a police officer, it surely didn't make sense how much you preferred absolute peace. To most it was weird but to Walter it wasn't. “And how would you know? I happen to enjoy spicy food from time to time.” You replied while Walter simply rolled his eyes. “Buy it then. Beats me.”

An hour later your food arrived and Walter was peacefully enjoying his own noodles while you were practically gagging at yours because of how spicy they were. You shared a long awkward glance as your tear stained eyes silently pleaded with him for some assistance.

Walter let out a long-drawn sigh before switching your plates and offering you his own food instead. You watched in terror as he ate the spicy noodles without even blinking — how unfair yet at the same time charming. You shyly grabbed the noodles which once belonged to Walter and began eating them instead. “Thank you.” You muttered after a small bite. Perhaps it wasn't evident at that time but Walter was smiling and there was a rare glint in his eyes.

Halfway through it was discreet.

The job was well paid and you had been doing your best to decorate your apartment to your liking, in the closest to your imagination way. You were busy scrolling through your phone during one of your breaks that you didn't expect to suddenly bump against a hard chest. Two strong hands gripped you firmly by your shoulders and steadied you, not letting you fall. Your face blazed a little when you saw who it was.

“I’m sorry,sir. I wasn't looking.”

Walter of course scolded you, his eyebrows furrowed and his face strict. “If we were under attack right now, you would be dead because of your phone.” You gaped a little before shaking your head. “You underestimate my reflexes,sir. May I remind you of my score in—”

“Being distracted? I am sure it was splendid.” Walter cut you off before finally releasing the grip he had on you. You almost missed it because of how fast it had retreated but you obviously couldn't express such thoughts to him. He was your superior and your mentor. “Hey. Are you even listening?” Much to your embarrassment, you had managed to be distracted for the second time and never noticed Walter talking to you. That's what you got for daydreaming about him you guess. “Sorry what?” He couldn't possibly deny repeating himself when you looked at him like that. “You should stop smoking before patrols. I know you're anxious but it's a bad habit.” You looked at him dumbfounded for a few seconds before shaking your head. “How did you—”, “The smell. I always drive with the windows up in case you haven't noticed.” There's an evident flush on your face and it's definitely not there for a good reason. “I thought my cologne would keep me safe.” Walter nearly snorted at your words. “I’m a cop, not a child. But that's beside the point. Stop smoking.”

“Is it that obvious?” You ask out of the blue which makes Walter look at you as if you've grown a second head. You sigh and explain further. “I have been trying to keep my anxiety a secret. I know we're all to be observant because of our job but...I thought I was hiding it well.” Something strange seemed to flicker within Walter’s eyes, an emotion you've never seen before, before he quickly blinked. His face was hard but composed. “I could only tell because of the time pattern. Perhaps I should've assumed you're scared of water and soap—”

You snorted. “Okay okay! Gums it is.”

Later on it was coincidental.

There was a loud ruckus occurring as Walter entered the office of the police department, his colleagues laughing while you were standing at the center with unshed tears in your eyes. His blood immediately ran cold and he tightened his grip around his water bottle, slamming it on the nearest desk. Everyone grew silent and you turned to look at him with your startled expression and puffy eyes — Walter couldn't shake off how pretty you looked when you were crying.

“What the fuck happened?” He asked out loud but no one dared reply to him except you of course. He was staring at you after all. “I..I lost something.” Walter stared at you for a moment before crossing his arms, seeming to tense a little. No one seemed to notice that part though. “What?” You sighed. “It’s my favourite lipstick. My mom got it for me for my birthday. It's the only one I wear!” It wasn't an emergency or anything remotely close to that which is why your colleagues had appeared amused. Walter, on the other hand, remained passive and with an unreadable expression occupying his face.

“You’re a cop. Calm down and retrace your steps.” Was the only help Walter offered to you before turning around and leaving the room. To you and the others, he was just pissed because you had disturbed the department’s peace.

To Walter, he was simply trying to shake off the feeling that your crying face gave him while he was clutching something solid in his pocket. A bright red lipstick encased by a golden wrapper with your initials on it.

He promised himself he'd return it. Sooner or later.

In the end it was a habit.

You were shaking as you sat in a chair across Walter, his office not giving you the comfort it used to. So many weird things were happening recently and if you didn't have an answer for them soon, you'd explode.

“And you’re certain this happened?” Walter asked while examining your report, his eyes appearing more intense than any other time. You immediately nodded at him while hugging yourself and his chest almost felt tight because of how scared you looked. “I swear. At first I thought I was imagining things. I mean... coming home during nightly hours will sometimes be dangerous and the darkness only enhances fear and the false thoughts that someone is following you right?” You were blabbering anxiously, your nails digging into your palms. “I was certain I was paranoid at first but then came the missing underwear.. some make-up and some jewelry too..” Walter’s gaze never strayed from you as you explained how things were, a stream of hot tears running down your rosey cheeks. You were crying and all he could think about was how pretty you looked again. “And I.. I wanted to confirm it myself.”

Walter clenched the report in his hand while leaning forward. “What do you mean by that?” Your eyes flickered from Walter to the floor. Your bottom lip was quivering as you spoke. “I fixed all my drawers one day and counted everything. The next day two underwear were missing.” You were surprised to see Walter’s face after you finished talking — he appeared nervous. Angry even.

There was utter confusion in your mind until Walter spoke. “While your method was fruitful, that was utterly stupid. Sacrificing one more night of sleeping with a potential stalker in your house for some evidence.” He made a lot of sense. As expected of a good cop. “I know but I—”, “This isn't the time to be a hero. You need our help. My help.” You watched him rise from his seat and circle his desk before coming to kneel before you, placing his hands on each side of your knees. “You’re not alone. You don't have to be.” He whispered and you shivered because of how genuine he sounded. How caring. Your eyes filled with hot tears again and before you could control it, you threw yourself into his arms and Walter immediately hugged you tightly. He shushed you softly as one hand caressed your hair whilst the other hugged your waist. “I’m scared.” You told him and Walter shushed you again, brushing his lips over your ear to soothe you. “I‘ve got you. I've got you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fell shut as you allowed yourself to grow limp against him. Walter rocked you within his arms, a low rumble making his chest vibrate. He could be a good cop for you with a few exceptions; like the amounts of lace underwear he kept in his house, well hidden in his closet, or the expensive jewelry he had stuffed inside some decorative vases. There were a few more exceptions of course — like candy wrappers and half finished cigarettes with lipstick marks on them.

And that red bright lipstick still swimming deeply into his pocket. But of course, you did not have to know that.

author’s note: I hope u guys like it so far!! please leave a like and a reblog if you enjoyed reading this!! I hope to see u again in the next chapter ☺️🩷 AND I RLLY LOVE COMMENTS & DISCUSSIONS !!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

I’ll Take the Night Shift

Pairing: Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Before you knew it, John was gone - taken from right under your nose and leaving you no choice but to retreat without him. But you would do anything to get him back, even go into the lion’s den itself.

Word Count: 15.2k

Warnings: Torture, blood & gore, V suggestive & some spicy bits, vulgar language, angst, found family tropes, eventual fluff, and comfort, injured Price would be the sweetest person idc, so much plot, briefly edited

A/N: The flashbacks are spicy because I said so. (Soap request being written after this). Enjoy!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You try to remember how you felt the first time they told you. Your combat vest was still on, that night vision rig still connected to your head and weighing about as much as John did when he rolled on top of you in the middle of the night. At your front rested the M13, its black and sleek metal bumping against your chest with every teetering step.

Black, on black, on black. Except for one item, hidden, kept close to heart, and even closer to mind at all hours. You were always aware of it, the metallic press that was ingrained into your body just as the caress of John’s fingers was, burning over your pulsing epidermis as it traveled.

Around your neck, your wedding ring sat heavily on its chain – gold more bright than the sun and kept safe and warm against the flesh of your breast under the numerous padded layers. Your face was bathed in sweat, lungs aflame with blood dripping from a knife puncture on your right thigh. Although the limb is bathed in crimson, the dark fabric of your pants hid most of it. But it couldn’t hide the red footprints in the dirt.

It was a Black Op in Finland – a target stashed away in a mansion that was clawing for breath in this dense forest with more viridian-colored trees than any you had seen before. Green seemed to breed in the small spaces, between rocks, up crackling bark; crunching under your black boots as you came to a shattering halt. Moss and tiny plants get crushed under your fierce steps.

If it was any other circumstance, you would have loved to drag your husband here for a vacation.

You had felt fear when they told you. Cold. Chest-tightening. Skin tingling as your limping body fought to focus on anything but the pain that was spiking in your leg, but that was simple when the words flew from Gaz’s lips with panic. Simon had stopped behind you as well, the two men dressed just as you were and holding their breath for your reaction. They knew it wouldn’t be good.

“The Captain isn’t responding. Soap can’t bloody find him.” The chill of the night was nothing compared to the dread that flooded your veins, eyes snapping forward blankly at flashing shadows as your panting breath was all at once sucked back down.

What?! Is all you can numbly think.

A brief stuttering inhalation ensues, your brain screaming as if banshees wail and smash against the bone of your skull with sharp teeth and blunt nails; tearing to try and get out. But you were not born to break at such a fickle emotion as fear in your bloodstream, or the adrenaline making your eyes vibrate. You were taught to act. 

You’re turning on your heels and hiking back to the mansion without a word or hesitation, the world around you speeding by. In a single instant, the organ in your head promptly goes silent in a fell swoop of horrified realization. Everyone left in that mansion would be dead if you got your hands on them – ripped to tiny little pieces until that which was yours was returned unharmed and conscious into your arms.

You hold the M13 tight around the stock, jimmying it into your shaking grip.

“Whoa!” Gaz rushes to get ahead of your warpath – which didn’t take much as your wound was throbbing; making your head pound something awful. 

It doesn't matter what I feel…Where is my John?

Dark hands grasp your shoulders tightly, shaking you as your lips turn into a snarl.

“Out of my way, Garrick,” You growl, face suddenly twisting into an image of pure animalistic rage, “I’m going to Soap’s position.” 

Attempting to jerk out of the man’s hold, your skin crawls at the thought of John. He always answered the comms – always stayed within eyesight of his partner when placed with another individual. Your husband did not leave men behind. He would never leave Soap behind. 

And that meant he was either dead or captured.

Your mind jumps to violent imagery. Your Captain, riddled with bullets and bleeding as he writhes in pain; left to die like a feral dog as he snaps at everything that moves. Or worse, taken and stashed away, far from you, and tortured for information. John would never break – they’d have to kill him anyway.

There was no version of this story that involved him living if you did nothing.

“Johnny isn’t at the mansion,” Ghost comments, popping up in the side of your vision as you have a stare-off with Gaz and releases the radio attached to his vest, “He was under heavy fire – had to pull back. Should be closin’ in on our position soon.” 

“I’m still going back!” Growling, you snap your arms back and shoulder past Gaz, “You’re idiots if you think I’m leaving John by himself in fucking Finland surrounded by hostiles.”

But what if he’s already dead and I don’t know it? Can I handle that?

You grunt under your breath, trying to stop the sting of your eyes.

“Love,” The younger man pleads, Kyle’s dark eyes worryingly going from your thigh to your face, “You’ve got to be bloody joking with us. If you go back to that place you’re as good as dead. We have to pull back to the Evac Point. There are too many guns – we’re outnumbered.”

When you had joined Task Force 141 you had never expected to marry the older Captain of this rag-tag bunch. It had been surprising enough that you had been spotted by the brown-haired Brit at all, only seeing him once when he had come to teach a class of rookies on Counter-Terrorism. Naturally, the two of you had struck up a conversation – or, rather, you had forced him to speak to you. But how could you not? The man was about as handsome as they came. The gruff and gravel tone that rumbled his chest, his large build reminiscent of a brown bear, and how the muscles under his shirt had rippled when you snuck up on him. Physically, he was everything you wanted, and the same went for attitude once you got to know him.

And, hell, how could you look at someone like John Price and not get entranced by his eyes? Storm gray and raging waters; you swore you could see an entire world hidden in the flecks of silver as if he was carved from stone and his soul was pure electricity. But despite all of it, his serious face had seemed warm under that beard of his and that bucket hat on his head wasn’t helping. He seemed kind enough, and that had piqued your interest as you were constantly being surrounded by less-than-respectful men in the barracks.

In fact, your first sentence to him was, “How many times have you nearly lost that hat of yours mid-Op, Sir?” 

You had snuck up while the rookies were working through a practice course down below the loft, where the two of you currently were. John’s head had snapped to the side, his constantly narrowed eyes widening a fraction. If you had to guess, he didn’t get snuck up on often. 

But he had never met you before.

His arms were attached to the collar of his vest, and you saw the fingers tighten as his shoulder-width stance tensed below him. The shouts and calls of the people below blurred as you tilted your head, blinking innocently up at him, watching his lips move with heated thoughts. 

You quite liked him looking surprised.

“Ma’am,” He utters in greeting, before letting out a deep sigh that makes you huff a laugh in turn. He seemed tired – stressed, “Very funny. Don’t suppose you’re part of the others down there, then, are you?”

“Unfortunately, no, Sir,” Your gaze filters to the flailing limbs and you watch with creasing eyebrows at the chaos, amusement deep in your blood, “I mean…they look like they’re having fun, at least.”

“Yeah, that’s a bloody exaggeration, that is,” His wrinkled forehead had creased, following the horrific sight as well, “Laswell told me that this group was promising.”

Your laugh makes his head fully turn back to you, blinking down and fighting the flick of his eyebrow in confusion.

“Oh, God, she told you that?!” Shaking your head you shifted your body to face him and stifled your chuckles. You say your name and utter out, “If you want someone who’s not going to sugarcoat things for her amusement, Captain Price, you come straight to me. Squad 5 is the one you want for Counter-Terrorism courses; certainly not 3. That’s a good way to get shot in the ass by your own guys.”

He stared at you for a long minute before his eyes flickered down to your hand; he grunted and grasped it in his own. 

You were correct – he was warm. Firm. The ingrained lines of his palms splayed over yours, and the flesh of your lips softened at the delicate way he was holding you. Like you were a prized weapon. 

And you would have it no other way.

“Just Price is fine, Ma’am. Kate mentioned you in her call…You were in Romania in ‘04, Yeah? Quite the job to do by yourself…You ever think on joinin’ a team?” 

Three months later Laswell was giving you a call saying you were getting a promotion and the rest was subtle glances that evolved into stolen touches in dark corners when no one was looking. It had been scary how instant the feelings were realized…you trusted John with your life, just as he did with you. That was the first feeling after lust and the one far before love – protectiveness for each other on the same level as wolves in a pack.

You can’t leave him behind.

“He’s the Captain–” Your lips begin to hiss out, eyes narrowed at the ground as you struggle along. You were weaker than you should have been – blood loss leaving you nearly on the ground after the retreat, “He’s my husband!”

Rage was easier than panic. Perhaps that was why John called you Lion for a callsign.

“...And you’re going to get him killed.” The remark makes you freeze. Ghost doesn’t move from behind you as the echo of his words bounces off the trees, but you feel his presence just the same as Gaz clears his throat awkwardly, “You go back, Aarre Virtanen will put a bloody bullet in ‘em. Not a chance he doesn’t.”

Aarre Virtanen. The target that had escaped the Force’s grasp like the weasel he is. Your eyes alight with rage, and cities burn in your iris. 

“You’re just about the most impulsive person I’ve ever met, Love,” John mutters into your hair, running his fingertips over the hospital gown as he lays in the bed with you. Your eyes are closed, feeling your head rise and fall with the steady breathing in the Captain's chest – damn him, the way he touched you was hypnotic; putting you to sleep where the pain meds failed.

“Hm,” You groan, digging your head deeper into his peck and feeling him chuckle velvety.

“I need to teach you how to think plans through before you commit, Yeah? Else you’re going to keep getting hurt…and we can’t have that, eh, can we Sweetheart?”

“...If you’re gonna hold me like this when I get shot, I’ll make sure to take more bullets for you from now until the end of time.”

A puff of breath and a brush of coarse beard hairs over your scalp.

“You’re hopeless, you are. What am I supposed to do with you…?”

“Probably kiss me, Sir, but I’m not picky. You can fuck me too while you’re at it.”

A shuttering of leaves rips everyone out of their arguing, and in an instant three guns are held leveled at a dense bush, shaking in the moonlight. Every moment spent with John was flashing over your eyes like you were dying. Why was your breath getting strained? Why was your grip shaking?

“Friendly! Don’t go poppin’ off shots, it’s jus’ me!” Your stance lessens at the familiar Scottish drawl, air falling from your nose in a terse sigh. 

Soap’s body pops out a second later, and you’re right next to him with a heavy heart, gripping him by the arm and digging. It was hard, holding yourself together with string and fraying cloth, but you had to. You can’t break…not now. The man's vision is locked on your face, and you don’t like the thinness of his lips as his expression is layered with guilt. 

It mirrors against the desperation in yours, leaking into the tone coating your sentence like poison.

“Little Lady, I–”

“Where is my husband, Johnny?” Your face contorts, pulling back. He was supposed to be here, why wasn't he here? He took MacTavish with him because he needed an expert to detonate a bomb in the lower mansion’s tunnel structure. He said he’d be back soon…Where is he? “Johnny, please, he can’t…” Begging has never been implemented in your life. Never.

But for John, you’d do anything. 

The man in question flinches back, the dried blood over his face catching your gaze in the dim light as you stop dead; your eyes slashed the distance between Soap’s visage and the gore over his cheeks. Up his arms. On his hands. Staining his chest like fucking finger-paint. Before you know it you’re backing up, eyelids fluttering like hummingbird wings and jumping from place to place as all you can see is red. Your hands are slippery, and you hold them limply ahead of you. 

No, no, no. No, it can’t be.

“Holy shit, Soap,” Gaz whispers, voice horrified, and you feel his hand on your back trying to steady you, “Is that…” 

Ghost’s dead eyes stay locked on the scene, narrowing behind his mask. The Scot’s head flows to the blood, quickly inhaling as his nose scrunches. His lips part in horror as he tries to calm you down, backing up a step. 

But you can’t stop seeing red.

“Hen, now don’t do that – it’s not…I…He,” He stumbles over his words, swallowing thickly as you gape. Soap growls, splaying his hands, “Steamn’ Bloody Jesus! The explosive went off prematurely, fucken’ bastard of a device – whoever made it should get his neck rung – an’ the…the tunnel collapsed with us in it,” You just stare, and you wonder if your heart can hurt any more than it already is. At your side, Gaz blows out a slow breath, and over your back, you feel his grip tighten, “I tried to get him out of the rubble, Hen. But,” He stops, and one of his hands smacks against the top of his helmet, “Virtanen’s men got there first. God,” Johnny gasps your name, “I’m so sorry.” 

But all you do is stare. 

“Love,” Garrick lightly says, his breath on the side of your face, “Love, we have to move.”

But Gaz, You want to say; scream, as your stained fingers twitch when you level them with a heavy glare, Gaz I can’t leave him here

“He’s not dead.”

Ghost grunts, fixing the position of his gun over his chest; resting on hand on the end and looking off into the trees, “They’d keep ‘em alive. Try to get answers – who he is, who sent him…” The man trails. 

Your heart fractures your ribs, ears ring like cicadas under your skin.

He’s not dead, You have to tell yourself so you don’t break down, looking at everyone around with veiled shock, He’s not dead.

The only reason the four of you were still standing around was that, in the absence of John’s leadership, you took point. It hit you suddenly, then, in that instant where the storm that was going on inside of your head was silenced. These men were under your wing – they needed you to take up the mantle; you needed to trust that John was alright. If only to keep the whole of the 141 safe and alive.

Gaz had shrapnel in his back; Soap looked like he was about to either turn around and go on a rampage or slump over with his head in his hands. And Ghost well…he was Ghost, but even so, his clothes were layered with blood and dirt. Not to mention yourself – your thigh has since gone numb.

…And we can’t stay here. 

With your heart falling into a deep hole, you school your expression. 

Don’t think about him. Don’t do it. 

Your job has never been more difficult than at that moment.

“Evac Point is a ten-minute jog. L-Laswell’s expecting us.” The voice that comes out of your mouth isn’t yours, the tone is off and the structure is shaky at best and broken at worst. There was nothing more you could do, even if you knew you could drag your way back to the mansion and start a fight. 

Gaz was right, you would die if you went back. And you can’t get John home safe if you were dead. 

The team needs you to lead them just as your husband would. 

So, avoiding all eye contact and the wide looks, you slip out of Kyle’s hold, feeling your leg sizzle with agony as you put weight on it. Garrick mutters your name, and Soap clears his stuffed throat; coughing into the night. Ghost is the one who loops his arm under your shoulders when he strides up behind you, and you flinch at the contact before closing your eyes and feeling bitter tears drip down your cheeks.

“We’ll get ‘em back, Lion,” The man glances down at you, skeletal face glowing bone white, “I give you my word.” But you don’t answer, just grimace and will away the feelings in your heart and the vomit in the back of your throat. 

This is what John would want you to do, you know that – perhaps that was the only reason you were willing to leave and reevaluate at all – but, somehow, it still felt wrong. 

Akin to betrayal.

The ring around your neck suddenly weighed more than the numb flesh of your leg as tears smack the moss mutely.

—

Laswell is sitting in the meeting room as a nurse wraps your thigh tightly. The sutures underneath pull at your flesh; making it stretch at a touch of a finger as you stand upright. The others had pleaded with you to sit down, but nothing would sway you. Not even the needle that had been going through your skin when you refused pain medication. Being on your feet made you feel better – like you were about to do something which would stop the thinness of your breath and the jump of your heart. Your weight was mostly on your uninjured limb anyhow, shifting as the affected pant’s leg was cut lengthwise and shoved aside as the gauze slowly wrapped around and around.

“When are we going after him,” You ask Kate, rubbing the sleep from your eyes but only succeeding in spreading dirt and blood all over your sockets, “I’ll be ready in five if you need me to be. All of us will.”

“Damn right,” Kyle nods, “Just give the order.” 

The blonde sighs, and the other men in the room move on their feet in unease. No one was content sitting still – one of their own was missing. Soap in particular was taking it badly; almost as broken up as you about it.

“We can’t do anything,” Your rampaging heart clenches. You had been worried about that, “This mission was Black,” Laswell’s chair squeaks as she rises, a tablet in her hands and a scowl on her face, “Legally speaking, no one was ever in Finland in the first place. A blown power box was the cause of the explosion.”

“Kate–” Gaz growls, but Soap cuts him off.

“This is clatty, Laswell!” He crosses his arms, the mohawk on his head pressed down from being in a helmet for so long making him look unhinged. When the helicopter had dropped the Force off at base, a meeting had immediately been called; that was over three hours ago, and still, nothing had been done. It was precious time, “Send out drones, recon forces, anything. Hell, send us back in – we'll take care of this.”

“Sergeant MacTavish,” Kate stares at him, and she spares a quick glance at you as the nurse stands quickly and leaves. You clench your jaw. Without John being here the room felt empty, devoid of a very important figure; you were no leader, but what choice did you have but to take charge, “Price knew the risks, and…Black Op means no take backs. He’s been in this a long time.”

“We all have,” You whisper, grunting as a shiver of fire runs up your leg. 

In the back of your subconscious, you know everyone can see how shaken you are. Your eyes constantly rove to the corners as if shadows will suddenly take form and attack, your fingers twitch as if still around the trigger of a gun; when someone mentions John’s name your hand unconsciously reaches to grasp the ring around your neck. Gaz spares you looks, reaching up to fix the position of his ball cap with tense breaths. 

Inside, the thoughts were running faster than you could catch them. Every moment you spent with your Captain – dinner dates, gifts that you told him not to buy you but he did anyways…the list went on including the moments spent together. They were distracting you. He was distracting you.

Was this how it felt to lose a vital part of you? Like torture? But your person knows what torture was like – it had never felt as painful as this before. You couldn’t recall in your memory a time when your chest had been this wound tight, fingers so shaky and weak. Your brain was what you would consider your best companion in these situations…but this was different. Common sense had abandoned you in the form of a square brown-bearded face and strong arms.

God, John, You press your fingers into your eyes until you see stars, Please be okay. Please. I’ll be there soon. J-just wait for me.

There was another voice as well, telling you that if you just told yourself he was okay you could get through this easier. You could break later – you needed to focus on getting your husband back.

That was all that mattered.

Laswell scratches at the back of her neck, and your hands fall back to your sides.

“We can’t do anything,” Kate repeats, and the subtle change in phonics leads your head to snap up. Her deep blues were already staring at you; boring into your soul. The others perked up as well when your body stills, listening with predatory attention, “Shame. I heard the target was planning on being at a get-together in a week at his property in Poland.”

Your pulse stills, and you find your wavering voice, “...Can’t fault the man, he has a weapon-smuggling business to run…He’ll need more potential clients.”

“Hm,” The boys look back and forth with bright eyes, teeth showing as their lips peel back, “Affirm.” Laswell saunters to leave the room, slipping past you. But before she brushes against your shoulder her face tilts to you. You smell her scent – bark and coarse linen – as she speaks, “You might want to clean up the armory and get your gear repaired. John wouldn’t stand for his team looking like shit it if he was here.”

Kate saunters out the door, and you watch her back as the barrier closes, standing in silence. Sucking down a slow breath, your gaze filters back to the boys only to find them already staring at you. 

“Well,” Clearing your throat, your eyebrows twitch, “You heard her. We can’t do anything…officially.”

“I’d say we better go clean up, then,” Soap grunts, crossing his arms over his chest, and nodding his head to you, “Head off and get a good sleep.”

Gaz and Ghost spare glances, but look about as ready as you are. 

“You sure you’re up for this, Love?” Garrick asks motioning toward your leg with a head nod as he moves closer, “We have no problem doing this by ourselves.”

“I took my vows just the same as he did,” You respond immediately, gripping the younger man by the shoulder and sending a small, weak, smile, “You think he’d stay behind if it was me?”

“I think he’d rather let Soap make him tea again. And we know how that went last time.”

You huff out a sound that resembles a laugh, but the Scot in question refuses to look at you; your eyes catch Ghost sending you glances before he motions with his head to the man. Turning to Gaz you nod.

“You take Simon and get the gear ready. We’re leaving tomorrow first thing.”

“Copy, Ma’am.”

Ghost pats your skull once before disappearing, “Keep your head on, Lion.” 

The door once more closes, and silence overtakes the small room. Taking a deep breath that fills you with a wave of ease – even if for a moment – you focus on the second big problem after a brief second to close your eyes and think. 

Johnny.

He avoids your gaze; fidgets with his hands more than he usually does. The men of the 141 were dear to you and in a way, the entirety of it was a big family of people who really didn’t belong anywhere but with each other. You cared about them more than you cared about yourself – one of them was your husband, but the rest were your brothers. 

“You remember when I took a metal rod right through my lower leg?” You begin, hobbling closer and nearly laughing when the man takes a step forward to help with a grimace set on his lips. You raise a hand to stop him, “In Egypt about two summers ago?”

“You shoved me out of the way and got hurled through a window by a bastard with a knife, Hen. Landed in an industrial yard,” You stop a foot or two from him, attempting to get his attention while he stares at his feet and mutters like a kicked dog, “Yeah. Remember it clear as day. Price nearly had my head – knew right here that he was gonna marry you.”

The comment warms your heart.

“Did I ever blame you for standing near that window, Johnny?” You ask softly, tilting your head and catching his eye as he clenches his jaw in thought. The scar on the pale skin moves, and his stubble bunches.

“Never, Ma’am.”

“Then why would I ever blame you for an explosive that went off spontaneously – one that you didn’t even build in the first place?” 

He stays silent at that, but his head slowly rises to face yours fully. You had never seen him look so guilty before, those blue eyes of his so hopeless.  

“I couldn’t get ‘em out,” Soap whispers and before you know it you’re grabbing him by the arm and pulling him into an embrace, “I left him behind. How could I…?”

There was still blood on him, stuck in the makeup of his flesh like large bruises; dried, yes, but you nonetheless felt it. You found, though, that at that second, it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. The Sergeant’s arms hesitantly wrap around you and when you feel him press forward with his weight, your form loses tension. 

“No one blames you, Johnny,” He's shaking when you tell him, “No one. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known. Price,” Your throat tightens, “John knows how to handle himself, you know he would never be mad at you for retreating.”

Soap wetly laughs and places his chin on the top of your head; playing it off with a chuckle as the minutes stretch on, “I’ll just have to believe you then, Lion. Who’s to say I can go against my superior?”

Your arms tighten around him as a snort meets air, “You say that and when we get the real Captain back, I might not want to give up the position. The power’ll go straight to my head.”

“And it hasn’t already? Now that’s surprising, I could have sworn you were telling the others what to do not a second ago.”

There he was. 

—

“I’m just saying, John, Fantasy beat out Nonfiction as a genre,” You shake your head, bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and sipping. Over the rim, you watch the Brit toss his beanied head to the side in disbelief.

“Negative, Dear,” The Café was mostly empty today, considering that it was so late at night you were surprised it was still open and that it was a Tuesday, “I’ll agree to disagree.”

“Name me one Nonfiction book that beats ‘The Hobbit,’ hm?” Your eyebrow raises and you place the cup down, “That’s right – you can’t!” 

“‘The Guns of August’ to name one,” John raises a large brow, “do you want me to continue, Love? I’ve got quite the long list.” 

It was one of the rare moments when the two of you had Leave together – once in a blue moon. These moments were so special it became tradition to spend every moment together despite the wounds or the fatigue. You both had just gotten back from an Op and rushed to change into civilian clothes and clean up together before leaving.

Admittingly, the shower took a bit longer than expected, but who could blame the two of you for taking advantage of a chance to please one another? 

Across the table, your lover smirks, and you see his eyes dip to ogle the hickeys and beard burn on your neck with satisfaction. Under the table, you reel back a foot and kick his shin. Not hard, of course, but the message was received.

“Bloody Hell!” He sputters, looking back to glare comedically at you. His black athletic shirt was tight around his chest, making his muscles writhe under the fabric from where one arm sat over the back of his chair. You could imagine where you left nail marks down those abs of his; how his face had looked as you straddled his waist and used him.

“Don’t look so smug, bastard,” Your lips pull into an imitation of an annoyed frown, “Gaz is gonna make fun of me when we get back. I had a hard enough time trying to hide them when we were leaving!”

“Garrick?” John grunts from across the small table and the warm lights flicker above the two of you. His lips set forth a small smile, pulling his cheeks back and crinkling his eyes. The corner seat was the best in the café – allowing both privacy and a view of the windows and doors. Some things would just never die in the two of you, it seemed, “The Muppet can’t even pin you in drills, Sweetheart. If he teases you, just kick his legs out from under ‘em.”

“Encouraging violence between peers is not Captain behavior, Love. What would Laswell say?”

John grunts, “I couldn’t give a damn, Dear.”

While you roll your eyes and try to hide the adoring smile ripping open your skin at the man’s chuckle, you take notice of the street outside as time moves on. Staring out, your soft gaze dances over the illuminated areas of the street lights, finding old architecture and simply enjoying the scenery for what it was. When you were in the field, it was hard to take in the sights around you through the gun battles and tense situations; being able to take your time and admire was a gift. A calm silence falls over the café, and John hums gingerly from ahead of you as his knee brushes yours under the table.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” Blinking, you connect your eyes with his lovely blues. 

The way he’s looking at you leaves your lungs tight, lashes fluttering over your cheeks as heat alights. His body had moved forward, hands and elbows on the table and leaning forward to gaze at you in reverence. 

“John?” Your eyebrows turn in, lips flicking to a gentle expression of giddy embarrassment.

“Shh, Love,” He mutters, tilting his head to stare at you as your fingers fix the weight of his lent brown leather jacket over your shoulders, “Let me admire my wife, yeah? She gets lovelier every second.”

In your own little world, your head is floating as your eyes stay locked on an ocean with flecks of silver and storms. The air is thick, and around the leather, your fingers twitch with a want to embrace him; pull at the fabric of his shirt and rip him into a kiss over the table. Your heart skips beats.

Where was this coming from? You want to ask, but all that comes out is a huff as you tear your half-lidded eyes away.

“You’re making me all shy,” You grumble cheeks hot and on fire under the flesh. Your lips try to restrain a giggle, but your chest is too tight to hold anymore.

“That’s my job, that is. No use tryin’ to stop me now; you’re stuck with me.”

“I will kick you again,” You emphasize as fire burns down your neck and ears, heart suddenly too big for your body.

“Hm, I’d let you.”

“J-Johnathan Price!”

His chest-shaking laughter is contagious in the best possible way.

—

He remembers the explosion and then nothing more. It was like a ball of fire, carried on the wind before Soap even had the time to call out a detonation time; the device went off in the deep tunnels after the order had already been given to fallback. The fire was too heavy – you had taken a blade to the thigh and that had been it. John had called it off immediately.

Just when he and Soap were about to rush to the exit, the bomb went off without call or meaning. The tunnels were part of an old wine cellar – the target had converted them to be a quick back exit if anything went wrong and he needed to disappear. 

The entire purpose of John taking Soap with him was to collapse the long stretches of rock and wooden support beams; to box Aarre Virtanen in the mansion like a bear in a trap but, of course, these missions could never go simply. 

He remembers the explosion, and then nothing more. 

The pressure of rock on his chest and gripping hands. Was Soap the one yelling at him to wake up? Shoving off the debris and ripping at his gear with grunted breaths? The barked orders were getting closer from all over.

Muppet, he should have just run. 

But then the heavy presence had disappeared, and John knew he had been left behind; his thoughts, before it all left him, were only of you. How would you take it? The fact that he wasn’t coming home with you was sure to induce you into a rampage of gritted teeth and hurled curses. That was, perhaps, the worst thing that could happen. He prayed for one simple thing – that, no matter what, the boys would convince you to hold back. 

And then he woke up in the room.

It was small; barren of anything besides the chair John was tied to. Under his feet was a drain, the silver metal glinting as the chilling overhead light cascaded down and left him blinking rapidly to push back the instinctual tears gathering in his ducts. As John moves his neck, it pops, making his jaw clench even as the bones ache deep under the layers of black and blue flesh.

His whole body hurts.

Blood is dried over his skin, and the world around him pulses as the stab of broken bones moves inside of him. 

Concussion, He assesses, moving his wrists under the tight hold of rope from where they’re restricted behind his back; tied to the back of the metal seat. Still unable to focus his eyes, he continues to go down the list of injuries, broken ribs, John sucks in a sharp breath when he attempts to rotate his left ankle, and broken Fibula and Tibia. Bruises and lacerations everywhere…shit.

But were you alright? Was the knife wound treated, wherever you were? Did Mactavish get out?

Groaning deep in his throat, the Captain shakes his head, noticing immediately the familiar weight of his gear was absent – his bucket hat and night-vision rig are gone as are the combat vest and M13. But under his shirt, one item is still there, pressed into his skin deeply. 

Golden metal. The wedding band. At the very least, that item could bring him a sliver of comfort.

Narrowing his eyelids and scrunching his large nose, a bead of blood travels down a gash above his eyebrow. 

“Fucken’ hell,” John growls, grunting and groaning as he forces his neck to right itself, lower body jerking forward to help relieve the pressure on his midsection. 

Finally, the water over his eyes dissipates like a wave in the ocean and his ears cease ringing. But the buzzing of the light quickly takes its place and his nose twitches at the stench of black mold and gore. Everything was concrete – the walls, floors. Blinking, John’s eyes quickly snap around the room to take it all in; trying to find the weak points that may come in handy later. 

There was only one door and no windows. When the Brit tried the rope around his wrists he found it was bound incredibly tight, even making the skin irritated at the slightest movement.

“Bloody bastard,” The Captain weakly mutters under his breath, shuffling in his seat, “First you stab my wife then you tie me up, is that it?” 

Struggling does nothing but serve to make John angrier, and the pain can easily be thrown to the side when his thoughts run to you. They always did, but now more than ever, considering he didn’t know if you had also gotten captured and were only a concrete barrier away.

While he tries to force down the floating feeling of his brain, a sharp cough works its way from his mouth, jerking his body back and forth raggedly. John is so out of it that he missed the sound of the door opening, the violent squeaking of the metal hinges, and the scrape of concrete. Heavy shoes pound over the floor, and when the air finally returns to his rampaging lungs, blue eyes lock onto the man.

 Aarre Virtanen stands with his hands behind his back, a smug expression staining his perfect, unscathed, face. The Target wasn’t more than thirty, dressed in a nice expensive suit and dress shoes on his feet shining with more polish than Price could begin to wrap his head around. 

Muppet, The characterization was almost instantaneous, Pompous little Muppet. Lion would eat ‘em for bloody breakfast.

John raises a brow slowly as a dribble of blood slides down his nose and gets caught in his beard hairs. The two men stare at one another, eyes clashing. 

“I’d like to imagine,” Aarre smirks down at the Captain, “That whoever sent you planned on my life being forfeit. Unfortunately,” John has to stop himself from laughing in his face, “As you can see, Sir, I am very much alive.”

Narrowing his gaze, Price runs down the length of Aarre’s twig-like form – Not much of a Smuggler, is he? His picture made him look bigger.

But all that meant was that he had others to do the dirty work for him, and John knew that, whatever basement he was cramped into, was guarded heavily just beyond eyesight. 

The chances of escape were drawing up dry, and his tongue ran over his teeth. 

“The real question is, however,” The thin man speaks, coming closer with a careful step. Nose twitching, the Brit can smell the disgusting odor of violent perfume; his head rears back in disgust that the Smuggler takes as fear. Aarre leans closer, “Who might you be? Your little friends managed to slip my grasp, but we got that bitch in the thigh–”

John’s head moves forward so fast all that was seen was a blur, and soon after a cracking of a nose meets damp air. 

A muffled yell echoes off the cracked walls like a satisfactory reward to the Captain’s ears, and the brown-haired individual quickly shakes his head to the side to clear the bouncing of his skull.

Definitely a concussion. He hisses and rips at the bindings behind his back; all that gets him is bloody skin and blisters.

“You,” Aarre is stumbling backward, one hand grasping his broken and bleeding nose. Crimson splatters on the floor and ragged breathing rattle chests from both parties, quivering around the room, “You…p-pathetic little shit. Fuck!”

His tears only serve to make John smile, cheeks pulling back as a humorless chuckle enters the air. Feral satisfaction lives in his flesh.

“You better watch your language there, Mutt. It’s not proper to insult a lady who can’t be here,” John’s tone drops, nearly a growl as the deep rumble leaves a hunched over Aarre flinching back; the Captain’s teeth are bared like an animal. Feet sound off in the hallways – rushing boots booking it down a set of descending stairs, “To knock your fucken’ teeth in herself!” 

Blood spits from John’s lips at the hiss, and his limp feet over the floor slump to the side as his legs fall open, body raging forward as if he could break the restraints. He wanted to – wanted to bash this little bastard's skull against the floor until he was unrecognizable. 

How dare he say that? How dare he call you that?!

Pain could be shoved aside in this case, his anger was so overpowering when it came to you that it simply didn’t bother him. You defended him just as religiously, and John’s mind flies to glimpse a fast memory of you physically getting in the face of a man who had insulted him over some pointless football game at a bar. 

“You better mind your tone,” You had spoken slowly, face calm and the perfect example of hidden rage shimmering under the surface. The Brit watched from the corner of his eye with a smirk on his lips; not at all opposed to letting you pick your battles and feeling his heart skip beats when his title falls, “When speaking to my husband like that.” 

Aarre’s guards rushed through the door, guns held in hands, all immediately leveled on John’s head. 

“Don’t!” The target gasps out, slapping one of the barrels to the floor and straightening himself, “Don’t.”

A deep smirk spreads the still-falling stream of crimson over the sides of his lips; the brown-haired man’s muscles are tense, stringing him up like a wire or a snake ready to strike. Torture was elementary to him, he’d gone through it all before and none of it had ever worked. He could take it, as long as you were far away from here.

“He’s going to have a buyer,” John’s eyes minutely widened in surprise, caught off guard, “Prep him for the flight to Poland. Don’t bother being gentle…the staff won’t mind if he comes in a bit damaged.”

—

Your fingers flinch forward as you shove the sapphire earring into your ear, the sharp point poking out the other end before you shove the backing on. Taking a deep breath, you feel the car under you bounce right as you ask your question.

“Gaz?” Lips thinning, you look through the limo’s glass separator and grimace at the man’s reflection in the mirror, “Are you sure no one knows what we look like? No one at the mansion saw our faces?”

“Lion, I’m promising you – it was too dark, and we were moving too fast for ‘em to get a clear picture.”

“Hm,” You grunt, flattening out the brown fur jacket over your form-fitting gown. The navy blue color was deep, reminding you of a Lapis Lazuli stone with veins of silver reflected in the jewelry around your throat and wrists. 

Poland was cold this time of year, and as the expensive buildings whizzed past just outside the glass, your breath created condensation. 

You were nervous, heeled feet shuffling over the tufted floor of the vehicle and sucking down slow breaths as a way to slow your heart. It had been a week without John at your side, and all the makeup in the world couldn’t hide the bags that had sprouted under your eyes; sleep had come in bouts of quick fatigue but then left just as swiftly. Your body wouldn't relax – couldn’t – until your husband was right beside you once more. 

And if he was already dead…

Your hand goes to itch at your neck, catching on the necklaces, one specifically, before you force it back down with quivering effort. Attempting to shake out your head, your ribs suddenly feel like they’re strangling your organs, and all you want to do is take off this damn dress.

Kyle utters your name from the driver’s seat, and when you blink over to look at him, you find his eyes already staring back.

“When I went missing in the Congo – you raised hell to go and find me,” He tells you, focus flicking back and forth from the road to you, “If anyone can get intel on Price and bring him back, Love, it’s you. He’ll be just fine until then, yeah? Bloke’s probably already out and rushing to get back to you.”

“Think so?” Your lips form a smile, and on your forehead, a brow raises. John was stubborn, there was certainly a chance he was already free.

“Know so, Ma’am. Just you wait and see.” Snorting, you return to looking out the window, breath now noticeably more even. 

There weren't many people who could make you keep a conscience; when you worked alone before 141 it was because no one else could keep up with your spontaneous plans or ideas. You were described in your file as a quick-witted and cunning nuisance for anyone on the opposite end of your weapon – whether that be your tongue or an actual gun just depended on the Op. But John and the other boys were more of a good influence than a bad one; in many ways, they were just the same as you. 

Sometimes it felt nice to have people that understood you. Your actions, the small tics that gave away how you were feeling. No one else could do it like Task Force 141, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The rest of the ride was silent, and soon the city was peeling back to show off more extravagant houses with iron gates and cobblestone walkways. Properties the size of football fields take up your view, and your eyes blink at the extravagance; all you can’t help but wonder about is if the people that live there even know how many rooms they have.

When Gaz makes the final turn onto Aarre Virtanen’s land, you suck down a deep breath. 

There were so many lights that the night sky is nearly re-illuminated with a bath of warmth – the people already inside can be heard out in the air, a chorus of phantoms just beyond eyesight who sing with alcoholic breath and gasp down smoke. You had been to many parties to infiltrate high-level organizations, but never had the stakes been so high. 

Or so illegal. 

When the car in front of you pulls out of the roundabout driveway, Garrick pushes on the gas to take its place. A moment of steel silence rings. 

“Earpiece?” Gaz reminds softly, and you nod in response, tapping the appendage on your right side.

“Earpiece.”

“Alright…The rest of us’ll be listening – I’ll circle ‘round and be inside in an hour and Ghost is already there. He’s the waiter wearing the silver Jackal mask serving champagne near the back window. If anything goes wrong, Soap’s our sniper on the roof of the neighbor's house. Say the word and he starts popping shots to give you an exit.”

“Affirm,” Your hand is already reaching for the door, but the man stops you one last time with your name. You find his creased eyes in the mirror, brown a deep shade of concern.

“...You look beautiful, Love, Yeah? I’m sorry the Cap. isn’t here to see you like this – he’d lose his damn mind. Go all slack-jawed and trip over his own feet; God, I’d pay to see that.”

Lips delicately slide into a smile, and your face heats at the compliment. Letting out a light chuckle, you whisper, “I’ll see you in an hour, Sergeant.” 

“Count on it. Stay out of trouble ‘till then?”

“Trouble? Since when have I ever gotten into trouble?” When you sneak out the door, a light chuckle bounces off the doors before they close, and your heels click against the ground like nails on a desk. 

With a bitter determination entering your blood, your expression eases into a look of smug superiority as you begin to move forward and ascend the steps in front of the mansion. 

Virtanen was inside those doors, and your ears twitch, listening to Gaz peel the car away into the night; plucking out the forged invitation from your jacket pocket, you can’t help but call John forward to memory. Carefully maneuvering your way up the last flight of stairs, you reach the doors and imagine your husband right behind you, clothed in a suit and tie like the one he wore to your wedding, waiting to take you by the arm and lend you strength. 

Keep me aware, You want to ask his phantom, Make me see the hidden details so I can bring you home to me. 

Invitation in hand – which Ghost had to go through quite the killing spree to get accurate – your lips flick into an easy smirk.

Your silver tongue would come in handy tonight, but you hoped you weren’t too tired to miss important social cues. You needed to figure out where John was by tonight, or there was the possibility of losing him forever. Aarre Virtanen was the target yet again, and you would do whatever was necessary to get information to spill from his mouth like prayers; the party was an obvious front to impress buyers. 

And you could play that part quintessentially. 

“Hello, Handsome,” Purring, you move fluidly, body swaying as you come to a stop, letting your fur jacket slip down around your elbows and display a delicious amount of skin around your adorned neck, “So sorry you’re stuck out here in the cold, I can’t imagine what a bore it’s been.”

The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-five, eyes wide as they bore into your form from behind a silver mask depicting a bird of prey. His eyes slip, and a very audible swallowing of saliva makes his throat jerk – the poor individual's face was undoubtedly beet-red, seen extending down his neck and ears. 

“I-It’s really no problem, Ma’am,” He stutters, grabbing the slip of paper from your outstretched hand and barely opening it before he shoves it back into your chest, “You’re all good! Please, enjoy the hospitality of Sir Aarre Virtanen to the fullest of your abilities.”

“Why,” You show an all-teeth smile, “I’m sure I will.” 

Slipping through when he opens the door, a woman in a cat mask offers to take your jacket to the coatroom, which you agree to immediately, and disappears a second later. 

“Did you just flirt with the doorman, Hen?” Soap’s voice nearly startles you, but with a subtle flick of your hair, you play off the flinch as you step through the extensive foyer; slipping past other well-dressed individuals to make it to the ballroom, “Tch, naughty, naughty.”

“You’d be surprised,” You mutter and send a polite smile to a man who ogles your form, his eyes boring into your flesh, “How fast people can look over an invitation if you give them an incentive. Simon’s forger misspelled the street name.”

“Bloody fucken’ bastard,” Ghost growls lowly under the line. 

“So vulgar, Simon,” You smirk, waltzing into the marble-floored ballroom and clearing yourself a path with wide eyes and stares, “We’re at a party. Aren’t you excited?”

“You’re not the one holding a damn plate of champagne, Little Lion. Feelin’ like I might bash someone over the head if they wave me over with a fucken’ finger again. Like I’m some damn mutt.”

Stifling a deep laugh, your fingers splay over your lips, “Easy, boy. Don’t go barking up the wrong tree.”

All you hear in return is a grumble and a muffled giggle from Soap. Gaz is most likely scrambling to get his tux on and tie a bowtie like how you taught him on the far street corner back in the city. Slowly, but surely, it was coming together. 

Soon, You tell yourself and imagine a steady hand splayed over your back; digging into your skin.

“Excuse me?” A presence slips up to your left, and you turn with a slow head and an even slower smile. Already, your cheeks were hurting from the constant fake expression.

“Oh, hello, Love,” It’s a man who wears an all-black outfit, fitted with silver buttons and a red pocket square, “How can I help you?”

“That’s one of the target’s guards,” Soap slithers out over the line, “Saw ‘em scheming not five minutes ago near the snack bar.” 

“I was wondering if such a beautiful woman might not humor me. I’m in desperate need of company for the auction later this evening.” Your smile turns deadly, a glint forming in your eye that should have deterred anyone who saw it – but sometimes people overlook the snake in the grass if it’s pretty, regardless of its fangs. 

Getting close to this man got you close to Aarre. Your hand reaches up to caress the wedding ring on its chain.

“Well, how could I say no to such a dashing man? But you must tell me, where did you purchase your tux? My brother has been looking for one that looks the same; you understand, of course, the kind that hugs the body just right…”

—

“You’re a fucken’ minx, you are,” John moans under you, hips sputtering and jaw clenched. He’s panting as you finally slip off of him, choosing to collapse to the bed just by his side with a breathy sigh. Your legs are still shaking, but the deep-rooted ache of pleasure takes hold in your lower body nonetheless.

Chuckling while sucking down breaths, you smirk and turn your head to the side, finding deep blue already digging into your skin despite the glaze over the orbs. Perspiration leaks down his flushed forehead, getting caught in the hairs of his eyebrow before you reach up, and flick it away with a firm finger.

“And you’re a lousy bottom, Captain, how many times did I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself?” You ask, eyeing the way the brown strands of John’s hair stick up at odd angles with growing amusement. He looked like a porcupine, “You don’t listen very well. I’ll have to fix that.”

“Damn woman,” He groans, turning his head away with a huff escaping his lips. Your ears twitch when he cracks his neck, stifling a chortle behind your fingers as he levels you with an unamused look, “Need to figure out a way to tire you out quicker. Gettin’ too old for this.”

“Hm,” Rolling your eyes, you shift till you’re laying on your stomach, legs sliding over the ruffled sheets, “I like you like this. Just perfect.”

“Yeah? Tell that to my hips, Love.” Now that really gets a laugh out of you, hiding your face down in the covers for a moment and feeling John’s eyes lovingly gracing down the curve of your spine.

Reaching over, your fingers grab onto the bare skin of his toned thigh and pinch.

Grunting in surprise, the Captain’s hand snaps to your wrist and grasps it as your giggles fill the air with softness. You turn your head up and rest your chin on your free hand, looking over and letting your eyes wash down John’s physique; a primal sense of possessiveness leaks into you when you know no one else gets to see him like this. The nail marks track down his pecks, over his abs and deliciously lower atop his navel, and over his neck and collarbone is the fresh array of black and blue hickeys. Just like you, his heart was still racing, seen moving under the skin.

He looked positively, beautifully, wrecked. The Captain’s eyes never left yours, side-eyeing you with a half-open mouth. A small sigh leaves his red lips.

“C’mere,” John mutters, and you squeak when his grip is suddenly pulling you right up next to his chest so that you were more than half lying on top of him. 

Moaning out in contentment when you feel his heat leak into you, your body goes limp against the man; leg thrown over his upper thigh. Eyelashes flutter over your cheek when his large hand keeps you against him, settling on your ass heavily. He squeezes gently in payback for the pinch, and you smile, knowing he can feel it against his chest by the way he purrs like a cat as you press a kiss to his sweat-slick flesh.

The moment of content silence leads long, but just when your eyelids are nearing their final shut is when you hear it, muttered on teeth-bitten lips for the first time, though it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“Love you, my Sweet Girl,” John mutters deeply into the air, but you’re already drowned in sleep, satisfied and more at ease than ever before.  

But no matter, he’d just tell you again in the morning; make you say the same as he gripped your hips and used his tongue for more…carnal types of confessions. 

You had no idea at that moment, but two years from that day, you’d both be married. Husband and wife in every sense – bonded and promised to each other until the sun and moon collided; till every city burned and only dust remained. 

There was really no other pair so carefully crafted than the two of you. 

—

“Here you are, Lovely,” The guard, whose name is Mikael, hands you a champagne glass as you both stride forward to the bidding room. It had been two hours of entertaining this man – dancing, flirting, brushing off compliments that made you want to hurl – but none of that mattered. No matter the cost, you would see this done with a smile and a knife through Virtanen’s eye.

“Thank you,” You sing, toasting with him and taking a slow sip. The liquid sits bitterly in your stomach, a rock that bounces around with every clipped step. 

Choosing back-row seats, you sit in what could be described as a theater of sorts and place the glass on the floor. There was a large stage at the front, with rows upon rows of plush chairs.

How many people are here to buy smuggled contraband? You can’t help but wonder silently, eyes wide as more and more people flood through the doors.

“Do you usually get so many buyers?” Asking Mikael sweetly, you keep your gaze moving, filing every face into the back of your mind for later. 

His hand moves to rest on the back of your seat, and you have to hold back a grimace, “This is more than the last times, but, uh…well,” Sensing hesitation, you shift closer and peer up into his eyes, blinking innocently and smiling.

“Well…what?” 

You swore you heard Soap gag over the line and soon after a sharp shushing sound. At your side, Mikael’s expression gets giddy, pupils dilating as his vision darts down to your dress before righting itself. 

“My boss has got something good tonight – a new piece of merchandise that everyone wants to get their hands on. Apparently, some people here have been waiting for a score like this for years.”

“Oh?” Wondering aloud, you lean back out of Mikael’s hold with a furrowed brow and ignore his light huff of annoyance in your ear. 

Narrowing your eyes, you scrunch your nose at the thought.

‘New piece of merchandise?’ What the hell could that mean? The target mostly specializes in weapons – certain ones that are manufactured so that they can’t be traced…what could be so new?

“It’s starting, here,” The guard whispers as the lights dim, and hands you a golden-colored bid paddle designed with lace-like designs. You twirl it in your hands with an unimpressed look.

“How pompous can this guy get?” You mutter under your breath and startle when Ghost’s voice pipes up.

“Get me a new G18, yeah? Johnny lost my last one.” Resisting the sudden urge to cover up your face and hide your smile, you lightly hum in the back of your throat.

“I did not!” Soap starts a ruckus as the Auctioneer comes onto the stage, and you ignore the fast man’s voice as he begins a bid for a stack of RPGs – wheeled out in a crate by three other individuals in animal masks – in favor of the amusing argument, “I told ya’ where you could blood find it.”

“It was in the middle of an active war zone, MacTavish.”

“You’ve never complained about it before, ya’ bawbag. Canny be my fault if you don’t go an’ get it.” The Scots accent gets more prominent as the Auctioneer sells the current merchandise to a couple sitting two rows down, “‘I lost it’...utter shite.”

Gaz groans and you see a shadow near the door, leaning on the wood from the corner of your eye. The badly presented bowtie gives away who it is – you’d have to have John teach him how to do it properly when you got him back.

“Would the two of you shut up? Bloody hell, I’m about to scream.” 

The bickering went on for a while, making your tight chest just a little looser. John would be proud of them. 

“Finally,” The Auctioneer calls out, yelling over the crowd, “The grand attraction for tonight – a product put forward by our esteemed host Mr. Virtanen!” 

Your body straightens, spine tensing, as Mikael tries to get your attention fruitlessly to talk about a product he won. You ignore the guard, watching with a unique type of hatred as the weasel of a man swishes his way on stage from behind the red curtain. Immediately all conversation in your ear is halted, and try as you might, a growl builds in your throat.

“Easy, Lion,” Simon mutters, but all you see is red; red around an expensive tux and a lithe form of the man who had stolen away your husband from you without thinking of the consequences. The bandages over his nose gives you cruel satisfaction that someone, whoever they were, had gotten a hit in.

You had half the mind to tell Soap to take the shot but knew that if you did, John would be lost forever. Your Captain had always said violence and timing were the most important aspects of a mission – you had to politely disagree. 

Ops could be accomplished without violence, though it was rare, it could still happen on occasion and timing was all relative. One person could say it was time to act while a million others disagreed; this was shown in your case. You wanted to rush the stage, tackle the thief, and beat his head in – Gaz, Soap, and Ghost would all disagree, of course, but that was because you were thinking only about John and nothing else. 

What really mattered was cunning and drive. You had the silver tongue, and you, without a doubt, had the drive to see this through. 

But nothing could have prepared you for what came next. 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Aarre Virtanen called out, his thin face ugly and punchable, “May I present the star of tonight's bidding wars – an esteemed and highly sought-after mystery man! Captain Jonathan Price!” 

The curtain rolled back, and, tied to a chair with a light shining above his head, was John. Beaten. Bloodied. Barely recognizable besides the tufts of his brown locks and the glittering of golden metal under the ragged remains of his clothes. You can see his wedding band around his neck, and you go to grip your own in a flashing second. There was so much blood. Your heart ceased working, body suddenly very numb and stone-still despite the heat in it, as if you had been shot in the throat and all you could do was gasp out in panic. And gasp you did. It was involuntary, instinctual, like you could feel every ounce of pain and agony that he was undoubtedly in deep in your own marrow. 

What?! 

A loud, horrified, sound rips from your throat; the air was hard to suck down as your hand snapped to your mouth, muffling the exclamation of terror. Your eyes are so wide you’re afraid they’ll pop out of their sockets as you lightly hunch into yourself like a bug.

“Now, now!” Aarre Virtanen continues over the muttering of the crowd, oblivious to your panic in the back row. Mikael is giving you strange looks, lightly pulling away from you in confusion at your reaction; you don't register any of it, “I know what you’re thinking, my lovely patrons, but I can say without a doubt that this man–” He points to the limp figure, “Is the one and only Johnathan Price! Do you want to know why?” The crowd cheers, and in that instant you want to torch the entire building and laugh as it burns to the ground, “Because he and his precious 141 tried to attack me on my own property! The idiot’s explosive went off before they could run!”

Over the ruckus of gleeful laughter, Soap on the line is hissing curses under his breath, voice heated and full of hatred. 

What I’m I supposed to do? Your mind’s running. For the first time in your career, you can’t focus clearly. Gaz is saying something in your ear, his shadow slinking closer step-by-step, and Ghost is nowhere to be seen or heard. 

Oh, John, You feel like crying, eyes running from one injury to another as if he were just a punching bag – his body was broken, but still, you knew he hadn’t given anything away. In the chair, you can see the small inhalations of his lungs, jumpy and shaking, but he was still breathing.

“How did they figure out his name?” Simon grunts over the line, and his tone is the only one unaffected by emotion, even if you could feel the anger wafting out and mirroring your own. 

His dog tags, You want to tell them, He keeps them in his vest pocket because he said he wanted to wear his wedding band instead. 

Your hand tightens over your matching piece, one half of a promise to protect one another even in the direst of circumstances. 

Freezing, you snap back into focus as the bidding starts with Aarre Virtanen laughing and clapping on stage like some demented jester. So be it. Your mind halts and a rage-induced calm encompasses you as your eyes stick like glue to John. Tossing the joke of a bid paddle at a startled Mikael’s lap and slipping past him, your heels connect with the floor with muffled thumps, carrying you down the middle of the aisle. 

“Ma’am–!”

“Lion, what in the bloody hell are you doing?!”

“Playing the game,” You growl over the chaos in the comm, “Gaz, find a way to get on stage from behind one of the curtains,” People are starting to turn and look at you now, accusing glances that bounce off you like flies, “Soap, have a line of sight of the target – do not let him stray from it no matter what. And Ghost,” Your heart is speeding when Virtanen’s gaze snaps to yours, expression blanking. John groans weakly from where his head is downturned, and you can’t help but take a shaky breath at the sound, “Go find out where they store the sold items. Find something that’ll come in handy. Take out anyone you need, I give full Execute Authority.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” They all say it at once, and the line goes silent not a second after, flipped off so everyone can remain focused. Steeling your body, you put on a cloak of indifference, even as your eyes bug and sweat stains your palms – the stakes had never been this high, and if you messed this up…

The both of you would be going home in body bags. 

If I had known he was going to be here, I would have come more prepared. A knife in a carry bag or a hairpin – Something. But John had stated before that he loved you for your intuition. 

You simply needed to move your pawn piece and hope it wasn’t in the way of a bishop.

Sliding over your husband's slumped body once more, you have to rip your gaze away, else your cover be blown and everything falls apart before it’s begun as a sting forms in the back of your nose.

Just a little longer, Love, just hold out a little bit longer.

The Auctioneer halts when you stand just below the slightly higher plateau of the platform, and Aarre digs into your body with his dead face, body bent to stare down at you. All around you, the world is deathly quiet. A minute…two…

“And who might this be?” Virtanen spits, lips pulling into a sneer as his eyes crinkle, “I don’t have to tell you, Dear, that all purchases are final.”

Don’t look at John. Don’t look at him. 

“You said this is Johnathan Price?” Your voice carries; it's stronger than you would have imagined, even as your legs shake, “Well, I don’t believe you.” You swore then that your Captain’s head moved slightly, his face turning to the side, but you can’t be sure. 

Gasps are hidden behind hands and handkerchiefs.

“...What?” The smug look on the man's face falls in an instant, just as you had hoped it would – Virtanen relied on his power; ego, and unquestioned superiority. What you had to do first was break it down to a point where he was frothing at the mouth, “What is it that you are implying? That I would…lie to my loyal customers?!”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Your feet carry you away to the stairs, scaling them up to the stage and shoving past shell-shocked guards who didn’t know what to do, “Where’s the proof, Mr. Virtanen? I believe I would like to see it before I make any definitive financial choices. You could be selling us any stray British man you found on the street and we’d be none the wiser for it.”

There was a pause before a murmur of agreement from the crowd. 

Aarre gapes at you, mouth opening and closing as his face gains a red sheen, blood rushing to his head and making his eyes rapidly flutter from the guests to you. Swallowing down saliva, you saunter up to John, fingers shaking as they reach out to brush his arm. You nearly break when his flesh flinches and becomes tense, muscles writhing as you hook a finger under his chin all too aware of the eyes on you from every angle. It helps that one of them is Soap, though.

Looping the digit under him, John’s beard scratches your skin just like it always did when you ran your hands over his cheeks or around his square face. Moving his head up, your grip vibrates with anxiety when you’re finally able to take a full look at his visage. 

Please be okay, Love.

You can’t help the widening of your eyes when they lock on the bruises, the cuts, and scratches littering his large nose and forehead. His eyelids flutter over sunken cheeks, bags of severe color under his orbs as a rumble echoes in his battered chest.

Did they even feed him?

“I don’t – I don’t like what you’re implying, Miss!” The Target continues to prattle, but already your shoulders have squared, “I would never, in a million years, make such false claims–!”

When John’s eyes shutter open you seem to forget where you are entirely, head completely going silent off all fears or concerns. As the lids slide back, you notice one optic is bathed in red – the veins in the gentle sensory organ having been popped by relentless fists…but the other, oh, oh, the other. A shade so familiar it twists your lips and makes your heart clench. Storm gray; ocean blue, flecks of moonlight trapped just for you. 

John’s focus is blurry, his mind confused and in need of a dark room with a glass of chilled whiskey to put on his forehead, but...that finger under his chin. His gaze narrows, lips pulling tight under his beard hairs as a shadow stands in front of him. Why did it feel so familiar? So…warm? 

“John?” A soft voice graces his ears, leaving them twitching as his arms burn more than a thousand suns, “John, please, look at me.” 

His face scrunches, eyebrows turning in. Blinking, the man only succeeds for a few moments, consciousness so rapidly fading because of the wear on his body, but a few moments was all he needed. 

It was you – looking at him with terrified eyes, mouth slightly parted in awe. John’s heart skips beats. 

She’s here? He questions, weakly moving his arms to try and embrace her before the rope stops his bloodied and shredded hands, Why? How? And…oh hell, is that a dress?

Blinking at the navy gown, his eyes widened at the heavenly sight in front of him. Was he dead? No, he realized, you wouldn’t be here if he was. But that was the only option to see something like this in front of him when he was where he currently was. 

“L-love?” He gasps out, letting his full weight fall into your hold. 

Your hand brushes over his beard, tangling in the bristles and flinching at the open wounds that you find. 

“It’s me,” You whimper, “I’m right here.” 

If possible, he gravitates toward you even more.

“--Are you even listening?!” Aarre Virtanen yells, and people are standing from their seats out in the crowd, calling out in confusion. 

John murmurs out comments from under your grip, but they’re so weak you can’t make them out as he nuzzles your limb. From the corner of your eye, a figure rustles one of the stage curtains, held back in the shadows.

“I’m here,” Gaz says a second before Simon does.

“I found something that might come in handy...When I throw it, get Price out of there and take cover.”

“Soap?” You ask, voice low and gaining a sheen of ice. Slowly, your head tilts to the side, gripping your husband by the back of the head and drawing him to your stomach, caressing his scalp through his hair as he sighs into your dress.

“Yes, Ma’am?” 

“Take it.”

“...With pleasure.” The ear-ringing shot fires off, breaking glass and rustling half-drawn curtains, but it meets its mark with expert precision. 

Aarre Virtanen’s head pops like a balloon, and a moment later a smoke bomb is being chucked from halfway across the room by a Jackal-masked waiter with a strong arm. Before the guards can even get to their pistols around their thighs, Gaz has rushed through the smoke and sliced John’s bonds with a serrated cake knife. Both of you grab your Captain by one of his arms and drag him off to the side, disappearing just as the first screams wail out. 

The 141 works like a well-oiled machine, and not five minutes later everyone is in the limo that Gaz had re-driven and parked down the dark roads of Poland, rushing off as you press table cloths against your husband’s leaking cuts. Tears dribble down your cheeks, with large hiccuped gasps as you lean over John – who could only barely keep his eyes open to look at you as Soap and Ghost watch anxiously from their seats. 

“You’re gonna give me a heart attack, y’know that,” You sob out, practically sitting on top of him to stop the crimson leaking over the cushions, “I need to keep a bell on you, my Love.”

Your wedding band sways just above his face, and his own glints below you, bunched on his collarbone.

“Go on,” He says in a low voice, eyes incredibly soft but still distant in a way that told you he was concussed. It was a miracle he was even conscious if you could admit it to yourself.

The man’s shaking hand travels to your cheek, brushing away tear tracks only to leave blood stains behind instead. He pulls away slightly, staring at the mark in disgust as his complexion gets even paler. Snapping your grip up, you bring it back, making him cup your flesh in his big hands and splay his fingers over your ear and weave into your hair. 

John hums under his breath, “Beautiful.”

Then he goes limp, and you start screaming.

—

Stripping your face of makeup, you step into the shower with only your necklace on, letting the water slap against your head as you take a deep breath in. You lean forward, letting your head connect with the porcelain of the hospital’s washroom as your body begins to shake – finally allowed to fall apart and feel the genuine horror that had lived in you for a week straight.

John was just a door away in the hard bed of some random hospital Gaz had driven to. Quite recklessly, you should mention, but it’s not like it mattered. 

Ghost was on the phone with Laswell, getting a protection detail in case anyone attempted to break into the room and stab someone with a scalpel, while Gaz and Soap also got ready for sleep. No one was leaving the hospital tonight. Garrick had explained the situation in broken Polish to the local authorities, and the staff was kind enough to give out a free office room with pillows and blankets. It was a good thing that the room was connected to John’s, otherwise, you might have refused…even if the bags under your eyes threatened to block your line of sight.

Wiping blood and grime from your body, you take less time than you should have in the shower – too occupied with being by your husband's bedside. The new stitches on your recently ripped-open thigh wound were red with irritation, but you had all but forgotten about it entirely. 

They had only just gotten John stable an hour ago. 

“They, uh,” Gaz’s eyelids crease, “I think they said that they had to re-” He halts, face going slack, and sending you a slow look, “restart his heart.”

“They nearly beat him to death,” You whisper, hands coming up to weave over the top of your head as you sob into the wall, “They…God, John. I was nearly too late.” 

Your words trail off in a weak whimper, muffled over the sound of water and the whirring fan in the ceiling. What if you had been five minutes late? Three? Would he have…

Would he have died in your arms?

You spend the rest of the shower wondering, and as you dry yourself off and slip into sweats and a hoodie from the gift shop, your tears splatter the floor. Rubbing your nose, you sniffle; reaching to grab the ring and pull the chain out above the fabric. Your fingers caress the item for a minute or two, and your eyes flutter shut. 

He’s okay, You tell yourself, He’s just a door away. He’s alive.

You open the door and let the steam waft, itching at your neck before you take a steadying breath. John lays still on the hospital bed, body hooked to machines that display screens and vital signs with glitching green lights that pierce your eyes as if a mocking little beast was behind the glass. 

Your husband’s wounds are all stitched and glued back together; wrapped tightly and tucked in by your gentle hands with an extra blanket. He usually complained about how cold it was back at your shared flat in London and around the multiple bases the Force traveled to…you would hate for him to shiver here. 

It was the least you could do.

Drawing your eyebrows in, the red ring around your eyes doesn’t help the sting, but still, you gaze at your husband with all the tender concern in the world. 

If was determined, then, that you wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was awake; until you saw his eyes soften on your figure. Until he was tracing the very makeup of your genetics like no other being could even have a glimpse of you in their features – like the aspects of your form were holy and utterly unique, never seen besides out of legend and fable. You longed to bathe his flesh in the feeling of your touch. If you believed it hard enough, you could convince yourself that you could make him forget this ordeal, forget the wounds. 

But you were no fool. A cunning nuisance, perhaps, but not a fool. 

All you could do was wait for him to wake up, and so your socked feet carry over the tile and bring you to the chairs beside the bed, grabbing one and pulling it out. Your fingers intertwined with his, weaving the calloused pads and scared flesh that mirrored your own like an echo of history together. 

Bringing his limb to your face, you rest your forehead on it, feeling the pump of his blood like a hymn and letting it calm you. A presence in the room makes your once closed eye crack open, slipping to the side. You had only just noticed him.

I really must be tired.

“Doctors say he’s stable,” Gaz mutters lowly, leaning against the wall in the far corner. It was like he had known you wanted someone to watch John while you couldn’t – even if only for a few minutes, “They came in while you were showering” 

Your lungs inflate, “...Thank you, Kyle.” 

You feel his eyes on you, but as you lay a gentle kiss on your husband's knuckles he speaks once more.

“You sure you don’t want to get some rest, Love? It’s late, y’know – sun’s gonna come up in a few hours around here.” It was a nice concern, and you knew that after Ghost’s call with Laswell that he’d get some sleep as well; Johnny was already snoring away, the sound nearly heard through the walls. 

Gaz, well…

“And am I to expect my Sergeant to get some rest if I do that?” Your voice is hoarse and weighed down, but the message is clear. The man lets out a chuckle, pushing off the wall and coming over to you. He rests a hand on your shoulder and you lean into it.

“I have no problem watching over him for you – he’s my Captain too, Lion. Just because you’re married doesn’t mean you have to carry the burden more than the rest of us.”

If you could have rolled your eyes, you would have. A teasing tone sneaks into your words as you snort.

“Gaz, and I mean this in the best possible way,” Your lips utter out, still gazing at John’s face as it scrunches and twitches in his sleep, “Respectfully, fuck off, yeah?”

A moment of silence passes before a thick laugh echoes out over the room.

“You act a lot like Cap. when he’s out of commission, Ma��am.”

“Of course I do,” Your grip travels up John’s arm, tracing old blemishes and kissing across bruises, “If he brings all the hard-headedness away with him, none of you lot would get anything done.”

An easy air keeps the both of you in a tight embrace and Garrick’s hand squeezes for a moment; a piece of you breaks open as your gaze slips to the floor.

“I’ll take the night shift. Please, I…,” Your voice borders on unheard, “I can’t sleep until he’s awake.”

He sighs but nods his head.

“Say no more. If you need anything, and I mean anything, you just come get me, yeah? Don’t worry if you have to be loud – been trying to get used to waking up abruptly anyways.” His hand disappears, and you huff.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good. You better.” Gaz’s feet carry him away and through the side door, slipping into the office. A rustling of thin cotton is heard a moment later before the door completely closes on its own. 

You stay in that chair for another hour and a half before John moves an inch. When you feel his finger twitch you jerk up, drool falling from your chin to the sheets before you wipe it off.

“John?” Breathing out a gasp, you shake your head to focus better, and pause when his hold on your hand suddenly gains strength. Your heart soars.

“...Love,” He grunts out, face scrunched, and tense. 

At that moment you swear your body loses all weight, and you pull the chair closer as you wetly speak.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m right here. D-don’t move too much, just let the painkillers work.”

“Bloody things make my damn head lose,” He groans, head falling to the side on the pillow as his eyes flutter open. 

You place his knuckles to your lips to hide the shuttered breath you take when you see his eyes – even if one was still red. It was still your John. 

He looks at you for a moment, eyes glazed, with his jaw clenching and unclenching to gain bearing. The covers hide his chest, but you hear the way he breathes as his messed-up bedhead leaves you chuckling. But the longer you were chuckling, the more you wanted to cry, and soon nothing could stop the swell of vile sobs falling from your mouth. 

“Oh,” John whispers out, voice weak as his digits twitch under your shaking lips, “C’mere, Love. None of that, now.” 

Your body falls forward, and the man hides the grunt in his chest when you unintentionally hit his ribs as you burrow closer into his side. He doesn’t mind. John’s hand goes to the back of your head, weaving through the strands as the covers catch your tears – he’s looking down at you with such blatant worry it hurts. 

He shouldn’t be worried about me, look what happened. He’s in the fucking hospital.

“Y-You,” You’re gasping for breath, chest tight and vibrating. ‘Take a breath’ it tries to tell you, but getting the words out was more important. John’s hand gets tighter, and he longs to kiss your forehead, “I didn’t know if you were dead, a-and then when they had you on stage I was trying so hard to keep it together, John. But…but then you were bleeding all over the car and I was screaming at you too–”

“Breathe,” Your husband pleads, authority leaking into the comment, “Please, Dear, take a breath for me, Yeah? I’m right here.” 

You weep but do as he says, feeling the muscles under your grip move as he shifts his weight. Taking a deep breath, your nose is shoved into the fabric of the blankets, inhaling John’s scent and letting it encompass you entirely. 

He was there. He was right there. 

Letting out one last whine, your Captain prompts you to lift your head with a muted brush of his finger over your scalp. Pulling yourself up, you scrunch the bedding in your hands around John’s waist, practically leaning all the way over him. It was a good thing the bed wasn’t too high. 

He smiles softly down at you, his grip moving to slip past your eyebrow and swipe away the salty water that itches your chin, “There she is. My beautiful wife”

Your watery chuckle wraps him in more warmth than any blanket ever could. 

“Do you need anything?” You mutter after a minute of staring into each other’s eyes, head tilting to the side as your heart rate finally slows to a pace that copies John’s. 

One of your hands goes to smooth his hair, carefully flattening down the patches and being mindful of the bandages and band aids over his visage. You swear he purrs at you, body rumbling under your chest.

He doesn’t answer right away, instead focusing on mapping out your face – as if for the first time. But when he does speak he brushes off the question entirely.

“I had a dream.”

“A good one?” You ask immediately, voice equally as low and vulnerable as his. In his orbs, you see stars blinking with every movement, deep hues of blue in every shade.

“Hm,” He affirms, a slow smile blossoming on his lips, “You were there.”

“That, my love, could mean many things.”

“No. Only one, Mrs. Price,” Your eyebrows raise, eyes watering as rogue drops tracks fall down your cheeks once more. 

It was all so much. Getting him back; seeing him like this, having him talk to you like that again – with all the love in the world. He was beaten, but alive, and already awake beside the gargantuan odds.

But you didn’t marry him just because you thought he was buff and could give you a good time. You married him because he was John, and no one else could be.

John’s gaze washes over you, narrowed in that expression he always had on his face when he’s thinking. When he’s studying you with more care than anyone has in your entire life. Like he could figure out everything and anything about you in the way your lips curved, or how you looked at him so delicately as if he was made of glass and not stone or metal. 

He could never understand how you loved him so much, how every bit of stardust was reflected into your body and leaked out of you whenever you moved. 

How he managed to get you by his side…well, he’d never know. But the feeling was mutual.

“Oh,” Your thumb caresses his cheek, running over the bristles and skimming over the skin, “And what’s that, Mr. Price?”

“..Means I’ve been blessed to see you not only when I open my eyes…but when I close ‘em too.”

In Poland, two people are finally able to press their lips together for the first time in a long while; they themselves would say it felt like ages. That was expected, naturally, because a match such as the one made between you and Jonathan Price was forged with steel and tempered in rough waters. Nothing could break it.

Their wedding bands clink together as they pull back, glinting gold more vibrant than the sun…but not quite as warm or adoring as the looks in their eyes.

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[waynes-multiverse]

Polaris – Chapter 6

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, hurt, angst, more murder mystery, divorce, drinking, death

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: Welcome back, guys! I'm still trying to catch up with comments and reading, so be patient with me 😂 BUT there's a big reveal in this chapter and things are about to pick up. Can't wait to hear your thoughts on all of it. Enjoy! 🤓🤍

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 6: Curses And Cries

March 2021

As you entered the dingy bar on the outskirts of Juárez, the smell of salsa deliciously hit your nose, causing your stomach to growl. Ever since your prolonged stay in Mexico, you had really gotten attached to the cuisine here.

After your husband’s death, you started to eat your grief in spicy carbs and worked it off with an hour-long jog in the mornings and some Brazilian Jiu Jitsu in the evenings.

And while you were eating your sadness, your companion was drowning his in tequila. Apparently, three shots in this time, judging from the empty glasses on the oak counter in front of him.

You sat down next to him and wordlessly grabbed a plastic menu, skimming through it with interest as Beau watched you from his peripheral and downed another shot.

“Oooh, they have Quesadillas here,” you hummed happily.

“They have Quesadillas everywhere here. And back home. It’s called Tex-Mex,” Beau grumbled and gestured at the bartender for a refill with his fingers.

“Maybe some Nachos, too,” you mused, ignoring his murmurs next to you. He had become quite the grump.

“You’re gonna puke at some point,” he muttered, thanking the bartender as he placed down five more shots in front of him.

“Jesus, by the looks of it, you’re the one who’s gonna puke tonight, not me,” you quipped and arched an eyebrow at his life choices. “Maybe you should order some food as well, soak up all that Don Julio. Or at least eat the limes that come with it…”

“I’m fine,” Beau said and hissed as he gulped down another glass.

“Yeah, by all means, you look great,” you retorted wryly. “What happened? What are you doing back here so soon? You were supposed to be at home the whole week. Weren’t you and Carla planning to go on that cabin trip with Em?”

Unlike you, who had come down here and never gone back, Beau made the trip home every couple of weeks for the sake of his marriage and daughter. You knew, however, from the occasional concerned phone calls with Carla that he barely kept his commitment afloat.

You tried to talk to him, tried to keep a balance, tried to send him home, but you knew deep down that you could try even harder. Selfishly, you wanted him here with you. He was your lifeline, the only piece you still had left of your husband.

Beau snorted a drunken laugh in response and grabbed another shot. “Yeah, that went downhill quickly.”

Your brow scrunched with a mix of concern and confusion. You placed a palm on his forearm in a comforting manner. “What happened?”

Beau silently reached into the inner pocket of his jeans jacket and pulled out a folded and crumpled heap of stapled papers, slapping them onto the counter in front of you. With a creased brow, you took them and unfolded them carefully, while Beau downed another shot.

“Oh Beau…” You sighed when you read over the lines that stung out and looked at him, putting the document back down. “She’s divorcing you?”

“Yup,” he replied bitterly and stared ahead, another shot raining down his throat.

You frowned and snatched the last remaining shot, drinking it before he could.

“Ey!”

“You’re cut off,” you barked sternly at his protest. “Drinking isn’t gonna make this better, you know?”

“You sure? ‘Cause it certainly feels like it.” Beau grinned lazily at you. Judging by the glaze in his green eyes, you were honestly surprised he didn’t slur his words yet. But then again, you figured he had built up quite the tolerance over the last couple of months.

“Uh-huh, worked out great for you the last few weeks. You know, some would even say all the booze is what got you into this mess in the first place,” you retorted and threw him a pointed look.

Beau muttered mockingly into his empty glass, “Really? And who are those people?”

Rolling your eyes with a small sigh, you grabbed his arm and tried to get him up from the barstool. But Beau shook his head and wiggled himself out of your grip. In that moment, you wished that he was lighter and that you were a lot stronger.

“Nuh-uh, I’m not done sulking yet,” he told you and swiftly turned to the bartender once more.

Fourteen tequilas in, you were finally allowed to take him back to the motel. Getting him from the bar into the car and then from the parking lot into the room was quite the straining task. He was a big guy, his full weight resting on you as you had his arm slung around your shoulders, guiding him on wobbly bow legs.

“Where’s your key?” you demanded firmly like a kindergarten teacher talking to a misbehaving toddler.

Beau flashed you a crooked smirk. “It’s in my pocket. Go fish.”

You laughed in annoyed amusement. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that one tomorrow,” you said and dove your hand into the back pocket of his jeans, hauling out the key without further ado.

“Ow! Did you just pinch me?”

Well, some further ado.

“You bet I did,” you replied dryly, chuckling as you turned your back to him and fumbled the key into the lock.

“Oh, you’re a sly one, alright… Kinda like it,” he slurred drunkenly behind you.

You soon caught a waft of tequila as his breath tickled your neck, your gaze wandering up as his flat palm steadied on the door next to your cheek. He then leaned his forehead on your shoulder as he swayed behind you in the cool night air. A shiver ran down your spine, but you tried to remain composed.

“You smell nice,” he noted with a smile in his voice. “You always do.”

You snorted and finally managed to unlock the door. “Okay, now I know you’re really wasted,” you joked and tried to get his mind to focus on something else.

You didn’t take offense to his advances nor did you put too much thought into them. You supposed every guy, who was drunk, lonely, sad, and most of all, a man, would hit on any female in his proximity. His pride was shattered, and you were just the closest thing there to mend the pieces of his ego back together again.

Besides, you weren’t all that scared of him. Maybe currently a little uncomfortable, but that was it. You knew he was a good guy. And if it turned out he wasn’t, you had practiced enough Jiu Jitsu over the course of the last months to throw him on his ass with the power of your little pinky.

However, before you could twist the knob and open the door, he gripped your waist and spun you around. Your back hit the flat surface behind you, pressing against the fragile wood as you came face to face with him. He licked his plump lips with a mischievously cocky smile, leaning closer to you as he dipped his head.

But you didn’t move or flinch. Instead, you patiently crossed your arms over your chest and quirked your brow with an amused smile. “And what d’you think you’re doing here, gaucho?”

As long as he didn’t overstep any lines, you were willing to entertain his little flirtations for the sake of his ego. Deep down, you knew he wouldn’t go through with them anyway. Like the tequila, it just made him feel better in the moment.

As expected, the mischief soon disappeared abruptly from his face and was replaced by a surprise attack of nausea. “Puking,” he managed to spit out.

With a sigh, you grabbed behind you and swung the door open for him, watching him bolt past you into the bathroom. You heard him retching a second later.

“Told you so!” you called after him with a triumphant grin.

With a few taps of your combat boots, you waited till the silver elevator doors of the DA’s office parted with a ding. Your head bobbed mindlessly to the jazzily generic music till you reached the fifth floor and Diane’s office. For once during this case, you were excited to meet with a prosecutor. You finally struck gold and had something in your hands, even if it was just a username and a possible connection to the victims.

Depending on what your tech analysts at the FBI back in Houston would find, you hoped for an arrest by the end of the week.

“Hey, working hard, I see,” you said with a friendly smile as you approached Diane’s desk and saw the huge piles of files in front of her. It was late, too. The office was empty, her colleagues already having cleared out.

“Yeah, I’m the newbie, so I got a lot of catching up to do,” she said, chuckling softly.

You then noticed the diploma behind her hanging on the wall and nodded impressed. “Wow, Stanford Law School, huh? You’re from California?”

“Oh yeah, born and raised. And honestly, it’s not that remarkable. It’s really just like any other law school in the country,” she replied modestly.

You snorted, amused over her response. “Yeah, I doubt that.” There was a twinge in your stomach and a voice in your head.

Smart, driven, the California Penal Code, it whispered, checking off a secret list.

“By the way, I’m sorry about last week,” Diane apologized, causing your brow to wrinkle in confusion for a moment before you caught on. Her voice sounded secretive like the two of you were having a chat between friends. Only that you weren’t remotely close at all. “I didn’t mean to barge in and interrupt anything with that hottie sheriff.”

“Oh, uh, don’t worry about it,” you told her courteously, squinting your eyes a bit.

“You’d think someone like him would be married,” she commented cheekily, while you direly wished you could escape the awkwardness of that conversation.

“Divorced,” you supplied politely, trying your best to remain professional.

Socially weird, the detective voice in your mind noted.

“Oh, that explains it. Wonder what happened there. I was actually so surprised when Sheriff Arlen introduced you as his girlfriend,” Diane said and explained further, “I just noticed your wedding ring, so I assumed you were his wife.”

“Uh, no.” Your eyes flashed down to your golden wedding band around your ring finger, the urge to take it off and hide it in shame before crawling into bed with a torrid lover suddenly permeated your thoughts. As if taking it from your finger and hiding it in some pocket, out of everyone’s judgmental sight, would make the immoral affair less of a betrayal.

There’s nothing to feel guilty about, you reminded yourself sternly.

However, there was a flicker of something in Diane’s gray eyes that tugged and tore at you, cautioning you to tread carefully. That something wicked in her eyes wanted you to suffer and doubt yourself.

“So, what’s the story there? You married?” Diane asked bluntly and then shook her head, chuckling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. It’s none of my business.”

“No, you’re good,” you feigned your assurance with a hard smile. “Dead husband, actually. Happened a couple of years ago now.”

“Ah, well, lucky you. Sheriff Arlen seems like a catch,” she quipped, grinning.

“Yeah, lucky me,” you faux-agreed and kept your smile, although everything was killing you inside.

“So, how did you two meet? Excuse my nosiness, I’m a sucker for a good love story.” Diane’s question reverberated with charm that could’ve easily fooled anybody into thinking it was all just harmless curiosity.

But not you.

You broke a polite smile, but your stare could’ve killed her. “He was my husband’s partner back in Houston.”

“Oh, wow. Sounds a bit messy, doesn’t it?” Diane gave you a surprised look, but you couldn’t shake the feeling she had already known the answer and her question was only supposed to torture you. Your feet were starting to get antsy to leave, your hands itching to grasp your gun. When you only replied by offering her another tight-lipped smile, she cleared her throat and dropped her intrusive exam. “So, uh, what can I do for you? Any new leads?”

Pursing your lips, you shook your head. “Uh, no. It’s a tough one. We’re still chasing down several ends, but nothing concrete. Just wanted to stop by to give you the coroner’s report of our last victim. It came through this morning.” You pulled out only one file from your bag, keeping the others inside, and handed it to her.

“Oh, alright. Anything remarkable?” Diane’s smile was sharp as she leafed briefly through the report. You guessed she didn’t need to read it to know what state the victim was found in.

“Uh, no. Nothing so far. Gotta be honest with you – this case is a tough one. Might take us a while,” you lied openly. You knew she didn’t buy a word of what you said, and you could see that she didn’t care.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll solve the case. After all, you’re a smart one, Agent Y/L/N. I have no doubt you’ll catch her, eventually.” Diane sent you a confident smile.

It was the last insurance you’d needed. You knew for a fact you had never mentioned to Diane that the killer was most likely a woman. That information wasn’t anywhere in the documents you’d given her yesterday. You had kept it close. Only a handful of people knew.

You could then see it all right there in front of you as the alarm bells rang in your head. You were face to face with your killer, staring right into her gray and cold eyes, and there was nothing you could goddamn do about it.

Judging by her cunning look, she knew it, too. She wanted you to catch on. She wanted you to know it was her. She was fucking playing with you.

March 2021

“Oh God…” Beau groaned as he hugged the yellowing porcelain throne, his forehead propped up on the back of his hand, knees scraping against the chipped and dirty green motel bathroom tiles.

“There, there…” you soothed with a hint of amusement in your voice, your palm rubbing his back in comforting circles when he heaved again. “Let it all out, big guy.”

“I think this was the last of it.” Beau straightened a bit as his fingers fumbled blindly for the flush. His eyes were bloodshot and teary, his nose was red and snotty, and his lips were pale and dryer than the desert. He never looked worse.

You grinned and pulled out your phone, swiping to the camera. “Say cheese.”

Beau’s brow scrunched in confusion and betrayal. “What in God’s good name-… Why the hell would you do that?”

“You look terrible, my friend. Figured it’d be a great picture for the slideshow I’m planning for your fiftieth,” you quipped, your wicked grin widening.

“Oh God…”

“Relax.” Playfully, you rolled your eyes back, while you saved the photo to your favorites on your phone. “You’ve still got a while ‘til then. You’ve just turned forty not that long ago. I’m just planning ahead.”

“Not that.” Beau shook his head and clutched his stomach, his cheeks losing color again. His eyes widened in miserable realization. “I think it’s starting again.”

With that, he tossed himself over the stained white bowl and puked his literal guts out for the umpteenth time.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised. Pretty sure you purged all the tequila and drank the entirety of Mexico dry,” you commented with a chuckle over his vomiting noises. If you ever thought the guy was sexy again, you would remind yourself to think back to this moment.

“I don’t remember you ever being this funny when I was sober.” After his last heave, Beau flushed once more and leaned back against the cool wall with an exhaustive sigh. “I think I’m really done now.”

You lifted an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve said that a few times in the last two hours.”

He nodded with his eyes closed. “Mhm, yeah… That one felt final.”

“Alright.”

You rose from your floor seat against the bathtub and held out your hands. He glanced at them for a second before he took you up on your offer. With your help, he hoisted himself back onto his wobbly feet. You reached behind him and grabbed his toothbrush with a dab of paste from the sink, handing it to him.

You smiled. “You’ll thank me in the morning.”

After he thoroughly brushed his teeth and washed his face with cold water, you accompanied him to his bed with his arm slung around your neck. While he was more sober and coherent after his vomit escapade, he was still pretty drunk. You knew the massive hangover that would hit him in a few hours would be more punishing than the desert heat.

Sitting him down on the edge of his bed, you handed him a Tylenol and a bottle of water to swallow it down. “Hydrate,” you ordered as you kneeled down on the carpet in front of him, untying his boots and slipping them off his feet.

As you straightened, your face fell right into his hands, both of his massive palms cupping your cheeks. You stared into his hazy pine-green eyes, a twitch of confusion on your brow as your breaths mingled. Your heart skipped a beat, the white noise ringing in your ears. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but you could guess.

Beau swallowed thickly and dropped his hands from your cheeks. “I should lay down.”

“Yeah, you should,” you bit, a trace of anger in your voice. Though, you couldn’t tell if it was because he almost overstepped or because he didn’t. You knew the latter would be a problem for both of you, so you decided on the first. There was no need to unnecessarily burden your conscience with imagined immorality.

Beau groaned as his head hit the pillow. His eyes found yours, a fragment of an apology fluttered across his features. “Thank you, uhm, for taking care of me. You coulda just bailed.”

“Yeah, I know. But this was more fun to watch.” You grinned teasingly.

Beau pursed his lips, chuckling lightly. “Is that the only reason you stayed? ‘Cause it was fun?”

“No, you’re also my friend, and I’d never desert you. We leave no man behind, remember?” you said with a smile, quoting one of the cliché lines your task force team repeated often. “‘Sides, you and I are trauma bonded.”

“Alright.” Beau bobbed his head pensively, his lips curled. “So… on a scale from one to ten, how full is my quota for tonight to do somethin’ stupid again?”

Your heart twisted and clenched in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. He couldn’t have been clearer. It was all written in his eyes as bright as the stars in the sky when he looked at you, only a dangling question of “May I?” hanging in the air between you two.

“Twenty,” you said firmly and held your chin high, swallowing thickly. “I think that quota is pretty fucking full.”

“That’s too bad.” On his lips flickered a forlorn smile, his hand brushing your cheek for a moment before he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingered like smoke on your skin. “But maybe for the best. I’d like to remember that one, and I’m not sure I would tonight.”

A shallow scoff left your nose. “Maybe you’ll remember this,” you said with bitter anger in your voice and stared daggers at him. “You’ll always be the guy that stood on my doorstep and told me my husband was dead.”

Beau nodded with a harsh swallow of understanding and retreated, forcing some distance between you two. “Yeah, I think that’ll stick even through the tequila.”

“Good,” you bit and rose to your feet, walking to the door. “Get some fucking sleep.”

Beau’s mouth opened with a want to say something, maybe even an apology, but the door slammed harshly behind you before he got a chance. And now, all he had left was silence, a raging headache, guilt in his stomach, and regret in his heart.

Breathlessly, you arrived at the Sheriff’s Department and stormed into Beau’s office. The door was ajar as he chatted with Jenny, both of them curiously looking at you before concern took hold of their faces.

“Hey, everything alright?” Beau instantly rose from his chair, his brow knitting with worry.

“No,” you replied with a shake of your head, the alarm visible in every crease of your flushed face. “I think I’ve found our killer.”

“What? How? Who?” Beau ran down the basic wh-questions in confusion. “Weren’t you just at the DA’s office?”

“It’s Diane, isn’t it?” Jenny shot straightaway, and your eyes widened in confirmation as you nodded. “Yeah, I got a weird vibe from her, too.”

“What, no? Diane?” Beau raised his brow at the two of you in disbelief. “Okay, back up a little here. Why do you think it’s Diane? We met that woman only three weeks ago. She seemed alright. Little awkward maybe, but we can’t arrest people ‘cause they’re weird.”

“Look, I know that,” you said and crossed your arms. “And I don’t have anything concrete yet, but it’s just a feeling. I got a really strange vibe from her earlier.”

“Well, we can’t arrest people because of strange vibes either,” Beau retorted. “And if it really is Diane, arresting her at all is gonna be hard. I mean, she’s the DA on the case. Who’s gonna issue the warrant, huh?”

“Convenient.” Jenny scoffed under her breath, earning her a scolding look from her boss.

“Don’t encourage her, please.” He shot Jenny a warning and yet pleading glance.

“Look, I’m not crazy! It’s her. I’ll find proof,” you insisted. It almost sounded like a threatening promise.

“What did she say to you exactly?” Jenny questioned and cocked her head at you in interest. You appreciated her professionalism, unlike Beau who still looked at you doubtfully.

“She asked some really personal questions about me and Beau. And not in a friendly chitchat manner. It’s hard to explain. I guess you had to be there… It was weird, okay?”

“Well, you can’t really fault her for that after what she’s seen,” Beau mitigated the circumstances.

“What has she seen?” Jenny looked suspiciously between you two. When both of you responded with deafening silence and averted your gazes, she chortled. “You two really need to lock that door.”

“Alright, that’s not the point,” Beau huffed his retort with blushed cheeks.

“Can we get back to Diane being a serial killer, please?” you requested impatiently. “Look, she fits the profile. She’s got the California connection. She went to Stanford. She’s obviously wicked smart. And she also knows we're looking for a female perp.”

That caught Jenny’s attention. Her brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell her?”

You shook your head. “No, and it’s nowhere in the files. So unless one of you told her, how did she know that?”

Grabbing the football from his desk, Beau’s head bobbed pensively as he squeezed the peanut between his hands. You tried not to think about Randy, but your heart stung nonetheless. Beau seemed to notice your distracted look and quickly put the ball back down.

“Alright, what do we do next?” he asked with a clear of his throat.

“I hope whatever the tech analysts find points to her. We could also put a tracker on her car. Won’t help in court, but maybe she leads us to one of the bunkers,” you suggested and pursed your lips for the next part. “I could also talk to the other DAs on the case. If we can’t get an arrest warrant here, we can still try through the other states and extradite her.”

“Good idea. Who would–” Beau stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows drawing together as he realized your plan. “You wanna ask Ted? C’mon!”

“It’d be the fastest way! We’ve worked together for years,” you defended.

“Uh-huh, a little too closely…” Beau muttered under his breath, earning a small glare from you.

“Would you calm down? We only went on three dates. Nothing ever happened,” you stated and looked at him, completely forgetting Jenny was still in the room, too.

“I’m gonna go for this part,” she excused herself and touched your arm on the way out. “I’ll do some research on Diane. See what we can dig up about her past.”

“Thank you. That’d be great,” you said as she left.

Beau waited for a beat, ensuring you were completely alone before he found your eyes. “Nothing happened?”

“No, I ended it before it got to that point. Mainly because I didn’t want it to get to that point,” you explained and could see him relax, his shoulders falling.

He stalked closer to you, wrapping you in his arms. He kissed you deeply, hands wandering to your ass and squeezing the cheeks through your jeans. You smiled up at him.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you teased.

“I’m not–… You know what? I am,” Beau stated almost proudly. “I don’t like thinking about losing you to some jerk. Actually, I don’t like thinking about losing you at all. It’s killing me that I almost did. I should’ve never let you close the door on me that day. I should’ve never left… At least not like that.”

“It’s okay. I’m here now… with you. It all sorta worked out. Maybe we needed that time apart,” you said softly and hoped you soothed his guilt a little. Your mind drifted back to Diane’s words. Thoughtfully, you twisted the ring on your finger.

“You okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, it’s just something Diane said,” you told him, your brow wrinkling as the bad feeling in your gut expanded. “She just asked about my ring. It was odd.”

“Well, we already know she’s a bit nutty,” Beau said and gave you a soothing smile, embracing you a little tighter as he pulled you against his chest and pecked the top of your head. But his heart ached with worry and a bad feeling.

“Yeah, I just…” You glanced at your ring again and exhaled one nostalgic breath. You then took it off and placed it in Beau’s palm, who seemed rattled by your unforeseen choice. “Take it and keep it somewhere. Throw it in a lake or feed it to a trout. I don’t care. I don’t wanna wear it anymore.”

“Y/N–”

You stopped his protest, knowing it was well meant. “No, really. It’s alright, okay? I’m ready to let go. I’m with you now… And I love you.” You gave him a smile, and he mirrored a softer one, nodding.

“Alright,” he accepted your decision and lifted the ring to your view. He opened a drawer in his desk and stored it carefully inside. “I love you, too. But I’m gonna keep it safe here in case you ever change your mind… which you can do at any point in time, no questions asked, okay?”

“Thank you.” You stretched up to meet his lips, kissing him passionately. Sometimes, it was hard to believe you’d found it twice – true love. But you were sure of it whenever you stared into Beau’s mesmerizingly green eyes. Maybe Diane was right. You were lucky, after all.

August 2020

The cookbook laid open on the marble counter by the stove, a second one with another recipe right next to it. You stared at them, your narrowed eyes wandering back and forth between ‘Brisket’ and ‘Biscuits and Gravy’ as you tapped your chin with a wooden spatula.

You had never been the best cook, as your mother would attest to, but every once in a while you tried and even had some success with the classics. Those two dishes were Randy’s favorite – like almost every Texan’s if you excluded BBQ.

You’d been gone for close to a month for an assignment that took you all the way to Arizona. You had just gotten home two days ago, and after washing a month’s worth of laundry and getting some well-deserved rest, you promised your husband a delicious meal for date night.

When the food was done, you set the table with the good china you’d received from your mother-in-law at your wedding. As you waited, you filled a glass with Merlot. Then, a second one. You stared at the hands of the clock in the dining room moving in a circle, alternating with the watch around your wrist in case either one was wrong. Every two minutes you checked your phone, scrolled through social media, and exhaled sighs. The food was getting cold, but that was the least of your problems.

You were growing anxious, steadying the slight tremble in your hand with more wine.

But when the doorbell rang, you stood up from your chair with relief and rushed into the foyer. You ignored the voice in your head that told you Randy wouldn’t have rung the damn doorbell. He would’ve just used his key. And you ignored the voice when instead of Randy, you found his partner on your doorstep.

“Beau, hey.” Your brow crinkled at the oddness of seeing him so late at your house, but your lips formed a smile nonetheless. “What are you doing here?”

You ignored the voice that warned you about the universal truth everyone in law enforcement knew about. If a partner showed up at a cop’s wife’s house, it was never good news. Deep down, you already knew why he was here. You saw it in the haunted green of his eyes. You saw it in the dark and puffy circles underneath them. You saw it in the bloodstains on his white shirt. You saw it in the bloody creases of his nails that he couldn’t entirely scrub clean before he came here.

“Beau?” The wrinkles in your brow molded into deeper cracks, hardening like cement. You took a step forward, one hand on the door jamb steadying your jittery bones. “Is Randy okay? Is he in the hospital?”

You needed him to say the words, but he couldn’t. His lips quivered, his hands trembled, his eyes filled with tears. He swallowed harshly and clasped his mouth, not knowing what to say or how to find the words. He turned his back to you, walking a few steps. Whatever courage he had to come to your door in the first place, left him the second he saw your face.

You shook your head, disbelief keeping you from accepting reality. You stood on the tracks, the freight train was coming. “Just lemme grab my jacket. We can drive to the hospital together.”

Snatching a too-large jacket from the coat rack you were sure was your husband’s, you tried to bolt past Beau, but a hand on your arm caught you and stopped you on your front lawn. You found his green eyes. He wordlessly shook his head.

“No! It’s not true,” you insisted desperately, tears starting to flood your eyes. “I just talked to him a few hours ago. I-I made dinner… His favorite. He’s coming home! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Beau’s clasp on your arm tightened, a tear slipping down his cheek. “I’m so sorry.”

Your tears now fell, too. Yet, you vividly shook your head and stuffed the pain down your throat until it felt like you were choking. “No, you’re wrong. You’re wrong, Beau! He’s coming home to me. He’s coming home…”

You repeated those words over and over until your sobs swallowed them all. Beau pulled you to his chest and held you tightly. You felt his tears fall like raindrops upon your head, your body stiffening and bones turning to stone as unbearable pain and grief wracked through your veins and consumed you.

“I’m so sorry,” Beau repeated, his voice muffled by your hair. His arms wrapped around you even tighter. “He’s not coming home, darlin’. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.”

He kept saying it as he held you – how sorry he was. But once the reality of the situation fully hit you, so did your anger. You pushed him away. As you met his gaze, he almost looked hurt by that action, but all you could find in your heart was vitriol, disdain, and blame.

“You should be. You should be sorry,” you spat through your tears. “Where were you in all of this, huh? You said you’d have his back! So, why are you here and he’s not? Where the fuck were you, Beau?”

His mouth jittered open, searching for an explanation for his own failure. “I know… I-I don’t know what happened. It just went south so fast… I-…”

“You guys told me it was a quick job,” you pointed out furiously. “In and out! ‘No big deal, darlin’,” you quoted him in mock. “It was your fucking idea to go in! I asked if you guys needed backup, and you said no! You told me you could do it on your own, you arrogant shit!”

Beau dragged a hand over his face, wiping some of the tears away. “I know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it! You got it? It’s not gonna bring him back now, is it?”

“I know. I know I fucked up. Trust me, Y/N. I know…”

You furiously shoved at his chest, pushing him back a few inches. He let you, didn’t even try to stop you in the slightest. He was willingly volunteering to be your punching bag as if it would magically better the situation and absolve him from his sins.

“You were supposed to be his partner!” you yelled so loudly all the commotion in the front yard of your quiet neighborhood had woken the neighbors, a few of them flooding out of their houses and gathering in their own yards to gawk at the spectacle.

You pushed him again. Harder this time. “You were supposed to fucking protect him!”

Another push. “You promised me you’d take a bullet for him!”

Push. “You fucking coward!”

Beau just nodded in agreement with all your accusations, his eyes brimming with tears. “I know. It’s all my fault. I’m sorry, Y/N.”

This time, you slapped him across the cheek. “Stop saying you’re fucking sorry!”

The harsh slap echoed through suburbia. Your palm tingled and stung as you watched Beau’s cheek redden with your furious mistake. You stared around you and glanced at the gasping and gaping faces of your neighbors. You clasped your mouth with both hands as you broke down and started to sob uncontrollably.

Kind and forgiving as he was, Beau pulled you back into his embrace, strong arms locking around you and soothing your anguish. “It’s okay… I’m here. I gotcha… It’s okay. I gotcha… I’m not lettin’ go, alright?”

Sobbingly, you nodded as you cried and sniffled, burying your face in his chest. You wrapped your arms around his torso and held onto him, too weak to keep standing on your own.

“It’s okay… I know,” Beau said and tucked you under his arm, leading you back to the house. “C’mon, let’s get you inside, darlin’.”

Chapter 7: Storm Coming – JUNE 19

Welp, we know who our killer is now! Ready for the approaching storm called Diane? When it rains, it pours... 👀⛈️

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[eddiemunsonsmum]

Calls, Candy & Cotton Ponies - E.M

Eddie Munson x Original Female Character

Summary: Eddie is stressed about the fact that Karmen cancelled their last date. He hasn't heard from her in a few days which isn't usual and he is starting to wonder what he has done wrong.

Tags: Fluff, Love, Joking, Banter, Angst, Spicy references, inner healing/healing, Implied past domestic violence/bad partners, references to periods & menstuation.

Words: 5.2k

A/N: This story sits between Knights & Princesses' and With Good Reason. More notes at the end.

~~

Three days.

It had been three whole days since Eddie had heard from Karmen and he was selfishly starting to wonder if she’d forgotten he existed.

They’d only been seeing each other for around two months but it had been a steady routine of phone calls, dates and sleepovers at least every three days since they met. They always had something planned by the time they were leaving one another again and Eddie hadn’t had to worry up until this point that she would forget him.

But she had canceled their last date.

When she’d left his trailer on Thursday morning they had made plans for Saturday afternoon. Eddie played Hellfire with the gang on Friday nights so they had agreed he would pick her up on Saturday afternoon and take her to the lake where they would have a picnic in the back of the van. But she had called late on Friday night. After she knew he would be home from Hellfire and canceled their weekend plans. 

She’d said something had come up but hadn’t elaborated any further. He’d accepted it despite the nagging feeling in his gut that something wasn’t right. He tried to convince himself that she had just been inundated with work or one of her friends had asked her to babysit and she didn’t want to admit that she was canceling on him because helping someone else in her life was a bigger priority than their budding relationship.

But that was three days ago.

It was now Monday afternoon and he hadn’t heard from her at all. He had woken up wondering if he should call her but by the time he’d decided that he should, she would have already left for work and he needed to go to school.

He had gone to school and he hadn’t learnt a thing. Instead he’d spent the day wondering if maybe he should call her at work and ask for a spontaneous lunch date.

He’d hovered by the payphone in the parking lot instead of sitting with the Hellfire guys at lunch. He’d waited for it to be free and then walked towards it with purpose. Not hearing the Jocks coming up behind him through the ringing in his ears and nearly allowing himself to be toppled by the shoulder charge of one of the younger guys as they pushed ahead of him and took the phone booth for themselves, if only so he couldn’t have it.

He’d grumbled aloud about how they should have learned about taking turns and waiting in line in Kindergarten. But internally, he was grateful that the choice had been taken away.

He’d eaten his shitty pb&j in the driver’s seat of the van. Wishing instead that he was enjoying lunch at their favorite cafe with good company and not listening to the radio that never played anything he enjoyed.

Now he was home again. Despite the urge to turn off the country road that lead to the trailer park and head towards the industrial estate. He had kept on driving until he’d pulled up at his own place. 

Leaving Karmen in peace at work and pacing around his room for several hours until it was around the time she got home and he walked into the kitchen to glare at the phone above the dining table.

Eyes flicking to the clock near it and nodding to himself at the time.

Yeah she would definitely be home by now.

Unless she was busy…

With someone else…

He lunged towards the phone. Picking it up and dialing her number from muscle memory before he could think about it any further and stop himself from doing it.

He screwed his eyes shut at the sound of the line ringing. Gritting his teeth together in a grimace and barely holding in a long groan as he waited what felt like a century for her to pick up.

In reality it was about four rings. Which to be honest was probably faster than usual. She must have been sitting by the phone…

Was she waiting for him to call her?

“Hello?” She asked, sounding chipper. Eddie opened his mouth to reply, faltering at the casual tone.

What had he been expecting? 

Her to be beside herself with emotion because she hadn't heard from him in days? A croaky voice signaling that she was sick?

He didn’t know. Either way he had to reply and suddenly his voice wasn’t ready for it.

“H-hey.” He choked, voice breaking and making him huff quietly in exasperation. “It’s Uh… It’s Eddie.” He added, clearing his throat as she chuckled in response.

“Hey Eddie.” She said, using his name specifically. She’d already known it was him before she picked up. No one else ever called her immediately after she got home from work. “I’d recognize your voice anywhere.” She sing-songed. 

A flush rose on his cheeks at the way she spoke. Like she actually wanted to be talking to him.

Again, he was unsure why he was surprised. 

Or why it turned him on.

He cleared his throat again, coughing into a fist before speaking.

“Really?” He asked dumbly, making her chuckle for a second time.

“Yeah. Of course.” She laughed. He could hear the smile on her face. But through it, he could also hear the tiredness. Not at him or his call but life in general.

Maybe she was just swamped with work…

“Okay.” He said simply, rolling his eyes and shaking his head at his own words and deciding to push on and get it over with before he made an even bigger fool of himself.  “So uh… What are you up to?”

“Just got home. Lazing around now.” She answered flippantly. “You?”

“Nothing.” He replied. The silence after his word stretched a little longer than he would have liked before he heard her hum in acknowledgement, prompting him to keep talking.

“I… I haven’t heard from you in a few days…” He said as a statement but they both knew without it needing to be said that it was a question.

A needy one.

“Yeah, sorry.” She replied, something rustling against the receiver as she shifted her position. “I’ve…” She paused. “Not been… Feeling great.”

“Oh.” Eddie said softly, a frown on his features. “That’s not good.” He added, swallowing against the myriad of questions that rose to the surface at the admission. Something still didn’t sit right with him about the way she’d said it. But he decided to ignore it for now and push onward. “You should have let me know I could have come over and tried to help you feel better.” He said as casually as he could manage.

“That’s sweet.” She cooed, the smile on her face still apparent through the way she spoke.

“I could still try.” He said quickly before he could talk himself out of it. Cringing at the way the words had come out as she laughed in response.

“Are you asking for permission to turn up on my doorstep?” She queried. The flush on his cheeks deepened but this time from shame.

“Maybe.” She murmured against the receiver. Feeling sick to his stomach at how quickly she caught on to his meaning and the fact that she refused to pretend like she didn’t.

“I mean yeah, sure, you can come over if you want to.” She said after a moment of thought. 

The smile faltered. 

Eddie furrowed his brows at that. Lips a thin line as his heart dropped in his gut. 

Maybe she wasn’t the only one that could read him. He could see her expression clearly despite being across town.

“Do you want me to?” He asked despite everything screaming at him to leave it alone and just take the invitation. Feign obliviousness and turn up at her doorstep so she could break up with him in person and he could pretend to be shocked.

“...Yeah, I do.” She replied, not nearly as quick as he could have liked.

It didn’t sound like she did.

“Are you sure?” He asked, a self-deprecating chuckle flying through his lips before he could stop it. “Because I can just stay home, it’s fine.” He said hastily. “You can call me when– if, um, you want to see me again. It’s fine–”

“No! I do!” Karmen exclaimed quickly, realizing suddenly how she must have sounded and regretting the fact that she had obviously activated this poor man’s fight or flight with her own flakiness. “I really do want you to come over.” She assured him, hearing a sigh of relief from him on the other line and nodding to herself knowingly. “I’m just really not feeling well so…” She paused again, trying to figure out how to say it. “I’m not like… I’m not up to doing anything.” She said after a moment. “If you catch my meaning.”

Eddie thought for a moment, letting her words mull over in his head before a lightbulb flicked on and realized she was talking about sex.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, nodding even though she couldn’t see. “Yeah, I understand.” He said earnestly.

“Okay, I just want to make sure you know that before you get here.” Karmen said again, searching for the reassurance that he actually understood.

“Yeah, of course.” Eddie answered, shaking his head in confusion. “We don’t have to do anything…” He paused. “Strenuous.” He decided, making her giggle. “We can just hang out. Maybe watch a movie or something if you want?”

He heard the shuffle of her moving down the line and knew she was nodding against the receiver.

“Sure. That sounds nice.” 

~~

Eddie had stopped at Family Video on the way to Karmen’s place. Picking out a few movies he wasn’t really interested in but they seemed like her type of thing and he’d watch just about anything to make her happy. 

He’d also stocked up on candy after buying gas at the station near her place.

He had about $10 left for the fortnight and he had earmarked it for a pizza dinner if Karmen didn’t have anything planned.

He figured she wouldn’t be up to cooking. Not that he expected her to at all. But she didn’t mind making them dinner most of the time and he really enjoyed being fed a home cooked meal.

He had promised her that they wouldn’t do anything strenuous and that included making her stand in the kitchen to cook a meal for both of them.

But he had dropped this date on her spur of the moment and he couldn’t discount the fact that she may have already taken it upon herself to do so. Which is why he hadn’t chosen to pick pizza up on the way over. Instead he would offer it when he got there and go back out to get it.

As with earlier when he’d called he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he arrived. Maybe her lying in bed with a cold pack on her head, surrounded by tissues. Nose red raw, eyes bleary and barely able to stay open.

But as he had let himself inside with the spare key she’d hidden for him he had been surprised to find her on the couch. Looking perfectly healthy or rather maybe only a little pale. She was scribbling in a notepad that he knew to contain the latest draft of the book she had been writing since before they’d met. 

She hadn’t let him read it yet. Claiming it was too fresh and he’d be damned if curiosity didn’t get the best of him at times but thus far he had respected her privacy and not flipped through the pages of the fluffy pink notebook she so carelessly left about the house.

“Hi.” He greeted her as he closed the door behind himself. She was leaning over to place the book and pen on the coffee table, nodding in greeting as he made his way around the couch and plonked himself down in front of her.

She was leaning against the arm with her legs stretched out under a throw blanket but she pulled them up and crossed them under her as he sat. Sitting up straighter, no longer using the chair to support herself as she eyed the plastic bags he placed on the coffee table with a small thud.

“Hi.” She said back, looking between him and his cargo. “What’s all this?” She asked as Eddie smiled at her guilty.

“Well, I got us some movies.” He began, reaching forward to pull his selection of VHS tapes from the crinkled plastic and holding them up one by one for her to see as she ooed and ahhed at his picks.

“Amazing.” She said simply as he placed them back down and reached for the second bag.

“Andddd…” He dragged the word out as he tried to pull his surprises into view. A chunky ring getting caught on the plastic and making him huff as he shook his hand dramatically and she giggled at his antics. “Some candy.” He breathed finally as he managed to free them. Placing a selection of family sized bags of chocolate and lollies into her lap. The gas station bag was still hanging comically from his ring as he pulled his hands away and batted at it like a cat with his free paw. 

Knowing it would make her laugh and feeling a sense of pride in his chest as she did so heartily, a grin on her face as she raised her brows at the pile of candy atop her blanket.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” She marveled. Looking it over with wonder, voice a little croaker than it had been earlier but he chalked it up to her being unwell.

She might have said that she didn’t want to do anything strenuous and used that as a catalyst for not inviting him earlier but she probably also hadn’t wanted to risk him catching whatever ailed her.

He understood. But he personally despised being alone when he was sick. So he was more than happy to keep her company. He didn’t really care about getting sick himself. He could use a few days off school to try and catch up on his assignments.

“I wanted to help you feel better.” He said simply, tilting his head in confusion as she looked up at him with watery eyes.

She blinked a few times, at the look on his face. Realizing he could see the emotion on her face and forcing it away. She shook her head, waving her hand in front of her face and laughing at nothing except her own stupidity as she tried so desperately to pretend she was fine.

“Sorry.” She apologized as he inched closer to her. His heart in his throat as he wondered if he had overstepped a boundary or something. 

Was he supposed to just come over and ignore the fact she didn’t feel well? 

Was it… wrong… To bring someone candy when they were sick?

“I-I didn’t m-mean…” He stammered, shrugging uncomfortably for lack of anything else to do as she reached for him and placed a calming hand on his arm.

“No! No! This is so sweet!” She assured him, the tears in her eyes gone completely now as she leaned forward and rubbed her palm up and down his bicep. “So sweet!” She reassured. “Thank you, it’s just…” She swallowed thickly. “I didn’t think you’d even want to come over and then you did all this.” She explained weakly.

“Oh I don’t care about getting sick.” He said bluntly. “Don’t worry ‘bout that. I always want to see you, of course I still wanted to come over.” He laughed, face falling as she frowned at the statement. Looking away briefly and chewing on her bottom lip as she thought.

Eddie sucked in a sharp breath. The reality of what he’d said and how clingy it sounded hitting him hard like a sucker punch in the gut as he watched a flush rise on her cheeks.

Jesus Christ could he be any more needy?

That was so embarrassing. Now she was embarrassed for him. Why did he had to wear his heart on his sleeve all the damn time–

“I don’t think you have to worry about catching this one.” Karmen interrupted his thoughts with a self-deprecating chuckle. A hollow sound that didn’t light up her eyes like her laugh normally did.

Eddie cocked his head at that. Brows shooting up to hide under his bangs as he waited for an explanation.

Was it the Chicken Pox? He’d already had them as a kid but she had somehow managed to avoid it.

But exposure to chicken pox even after he’d already had it could lead to Shingles and she knew that. They had discussed it once before when she had refused to babysit her friend’s kid that had spent the weekend at a Chicken Pox Party.

Eddie shuddered at the thought.

“What do you mean?” He asked when he realized that he hadn’t replied and she hadn’t elaborated. He had gotten lost in his thoughts instead.

Karmen sighed at the question, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. Giving off a sense of defensiveness that he’d never seen in her before. It confused him more than the statement. 

It was as if she was trying to shield herself from whatever she was going to say next.

Maybe more accurately, his reaction to it.

“I um..” She cleared her throat. Leaning in close as huffing again before continuing. “I have my period.” She whispered scandalously, cheeks red as she quickly moved away again and waited for the noises of disgust to start.

Eddie was only nineteen. She was his first sexual partner. First… Girlfriend? She guessed. He hadn’t had a maternal figure in his life. Not a nice one anyway. Not even a nice aunt he could relate to. No sisters.

She doubted he had experience at all with periods. If he even knew what it was or how it worked. She’d assumed he’d learnt about them in Health Class at school. If they even taught Sex Ed anymore. She wasn’t sure. There had been an uproar about it when she had been in High School and she knew certain parents on the PTA had been trying to outlaw it ever since.

Eddie’s mouth fell open at the words. Head lolling downwards as he looked to the side at nothing in particular and he sat for a long moment in silence before breathing out a long.

“Ohhh…” 

Finally understanding. 

He had learnt about periods in Health Class. They did still do Sex Ed and not to brag but he’d passed it three times now.

“Mm.” Karmen hummed simply, holding herself a little tighter as Eddie turned to her with an incredulous look.

“Well that doesn’t matter.” He laughed, relief flowing over him in a large wave as everything clicked into place and he understood why she had been so cagey about it all and not feeling well.

Karmen inhaled sharply at his words. Feeling her throat go dry and swallowing against the arid feeling. 

Eddie was completely oblivious to her reaction, shaking his head rubbing at his eyes with calloused fingertips as he sighed a heavy sigh that alleviated so much of his anxiety.

Karmen watched him carefully, mistaking the shake of his head and the sigh of relief for frustration. Her tongue darted out to lick at her lips as she nodded in response to the anger she expected but hoped wouldn’t come from someone like Eddie. 

“Yeah…” She said softly, pulling her hands away from her body and picking at her nails as she thought. 

Eddie’s hand fell away from his face at the sound of her voice. He looked her up and down quickly, confused by the reaction and inching toward her as he tried to figure out where he had gone wrong.

Karmen flinched as he approached and Eddie stopped in his tracks as she tried to play it off as bringing up her hand to run her fingers through her hair.

His blood ran cold at the thought that he had startled her. That she was potentially scared of him.

“Yeah.” She agreed again, the hollow laugh returning as she forced a smile onto her face that he could tell immediately wasn’t real. “You’re right.” She said simply. “I guess it doesn’t stop me from…“ She trailed off. Eddie tilting his head forward ever so slightly, brows completely obscured by his hair as he waited.

“From… What?” He asked,  breaking the silence as she looked at him with tired eyes.

“From…” She shrugged, forcing the smile to stick as he made a lewd gesture with her hand and Eddie finally realized what had happened.

“Oh my God!” He exclaimed, making her flinch properly this time and slapping his hand over his mouth quickly in an apologetic gesture before letting it fall to his lap and lowering his tone. “Oh my God.” He repeated, barely words. “No.” He said urgently. “No, I meant…” He paused, eyes wide and whirring around the room as he tried to put it into words and made sure he was using the right ones. “I mean it doesn’t matter because… Because I just want to see you.” He stressed, his hand in the vague shape of a claw as he hovered it in front of his heart. “I don’t have to see you naked every time I see you.” He explained. “I just want to… To see you.” He said again. “To be with you.”

Karmen studied him thoughtfully. Seeming surprised by the reaction and skeptical about whether or not he was telling the truth.

“I–” She began, cutting herself off as Eddie took the opportunity to move an inch closer before closing the gap between them when she didn’t respond negatively. He placed a hand on her knee, thumb crinkling against the candy in her lap as he stroked her through the knitted blanket.

“You didn’t think I’d want to hang out?” He asked gently when she didn’t continue. “Just because we can’t do that kind of stuff?” He added as nonchalantly as he was able.

He found it hard to comprehend that she would think he would ever choose not to hang out with her. The only time he didn’t spend wishing in the back of his mind that he was with her instead of whatever else he was doing was on Hellfire Nights.

Even then when he returned home alone after a night of shouting at children and taking a little too much pleasure in the demise of their characters he was lonely and wished he could call her or go and see her.

He didn’t though because Friday Nights were when she planned things with her friends or family and kept up her own relationships. But even on nights that he knew she was alone or didn’t have plans he still left her to it. Not wanting to seem clingy and letting her have some much needed alone time to unwind after a stressful work week without the threat of her alarm waking her at the crack of dawn.

“I thought you would probably have better things to do than deal with that.” She answered honestly. Watching as his ringed hand tapped up against the M&Ms on her thigh.

“Um. No?” Eddie said he pushed through his astonishment. More of a question than anything. Like he couldn’t believe that she actually thought he wouldn’t want to spend time with her because sex was off the table. “I still want to see you.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you?” He asked again, a lopsided grin gracing his features and taking away from the small flush on his cheeks as he looked down after asking all his questions. 

He was going in too hard again. He could tell. 

But he was mortified by the misunderstanding. That she’d think even for a second that him saying it didn’t matter meant that he didn’t care about her feelings and that she could still… ‘service’ him.

The thought of disregarding someone else like that so flagrantly was disgusting.

He wanted to make it very clear that this was not the case. Not even remotely what he had been trying to say.

He had missed her so damn much over the last three days. He felt like he was going crazy. She was all he had been able to think about. Granted, a lot of that was wondering why she had really canceled and why she hadn;t called. But it wasn’t like he spent the time away from her jerking off and wishing she was in his bed with him. 

All of his distress had been emotional. The constant question of why in his mind. 

Would she want to see him again? 

When? 

When was it okay to ask? 

Was it needy to call? 

Sex had been the last thing on his mind when it came to her and their… friendship.

“I don’t know.” Karmen admitted softly, a sly smile on her face. “I guess I figured you would suddenly be very busy.” She said sarcastically.

He wouldn’t be the first boyfriend she’d ever had that dipped for a week at a time. Very specifically around the time she would get her cycle only to return ready and raring to go with a weeks worth of pent up desire, their schedule suddenly wide open when she wasn’t bleeding anymore. 

That was one of the reasons why she usually skipped taking the sugar pills in her contraceptive packet that would allow her to start her period. That and the fact that having a period was generally miserable. She enjoyed not having to worry about it for a few months. Her doctor had told her it was fine to skip a few in a row and she had. Regretting whole-heartedly that she had gone about six months without one at the point where she’d met Eddie.

That meant she only had a cycle or two left until her body began to rebel and she started spotting through the middle of a cycle. Something she’d learnt the hard way during her previous relationship.

She hadn't been planning to meet anyone or having sex at all really until Eddie came along and metaphorically set her loins on fire. She knew she’d have to let her body do its thing at some point early on in their relationship and she had been dreading it. 

She had planned on doing the next cycle after they had been hanging out for just a little longer. So she could feel even a little more secure. But her body had betrayed her and when she’d gone to the bathroom at lunch on Friday she discovered that the choice had been made for her.

She was just grateful that her and Eddie didn’t spend Friday nights together because for one she probably would have had to cancel on him in person or end up outright telling him and for two, it meant she wasn’t wearing any of her nice new underwear that she’d bought after meeting him. 

So the sting of angrily lobbing her ruined panties in the garbage when she’d gotten home during her break had been a tiny one.

She hadn’t wanted to cancel on Eddie. She really, really hadn’t wanted to cancel on Eddie. Being held by nice strong arms in a warm embrace was always the thing she found herself desiring most when she was wounded. In emotional and physical pain.

Her body had certainly decided that she had to pay back the deficit. Making her suffer through some of the worst cramps of her life. She’d spent the Saturday when she should have been at the lake crying on her couch over how much pain she was in and how much she missed her silly boyfriend and resisting the urge to call him.

At one point she had kicked the phone off the coffee table in an effort to stop her reaching for it. But she’d had to put it back when her friend that lived across the road had turned up at her door to check she was alive when her phone was off the hook for several hours.

John had nodded knowingly, backing out of the house as she glared at him with watery eyes and returning a little later to shove a bar of chocolate through the mail slot. It would have been a beautiful gesture if it wasn’t taped to the documents he needed her to sign before Monday morning.

“Do I look like someone who is ever busy?” Eddie asked wryly, making her sniff out a laugh as he hummed to himself. “Actually, I would like to do that again.” He amended. “I think it would bode better for me if you thought that I was someone whose company other people desired.” 

Karmen laughed at that, a proper laugh this time accompanied by a smile that sparkled in her eyes. Eddie only half regretted the fact that he wasn’t joking as he watched the way she reacted to it. Making her smile was worth the humiliation of her knowing he didn’t really have a social life  anymore since most of his friends had left town the year before.

“I desire your company.” She admitted as her laughter died down.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She breathed. “I missed you.”

“Why didn’t you call?” He asked against his better judgment and before he could stop himself.

“I don’t think my fragile emotional state could have taken you rejecting me.” She answered after a moment. Surprised by the stunned look on his face at her admission.

“Kam…” He laughed. “I’m so lucky everyday that you even want to talk to me. You think I’d not come around if you asked me to?” He asked incredulously. “I mean you’re flat out getting me to not come around when you didn’t ask me to.” He joked. “I know there was no key out there before me.” He added, pointing vaguely behind himself towards the front yard. “I know you put it there because you were sick of getting up to let me in.” He said pointedly as she snickered at his silliness.

“I do hate getting up.” She laughed as he nodded in agreement.

“So do I. But I do it for you.” He nodded, feigning exhaustion in his tone.

It was his turn to make a lewd gesture, making her scoff as he mimed getting a boner.

“No, seriously though.” He added quickly, worried she would think he was trying his luck with the innuendo. “Speaking of getting up for you.” He began. “With my legs. Get your mind out of the gutter.” He added with a sarcastic head shake that had her nudging at him with her knee. Some of the candy on her lap sliding onto the floor.

Eddie lent down to pick it up and she snatched it off him playfully, positioning her hands to pull the bag open when he placed his gently on top of it and blocked her from doing so, so that she would look at him.

“Shall I get us pizza for dinner?” He asked before she could indulge in the chocolate in her hands.

“Sure.” She answered excitedly as he pulled his hand away and she busted the bag of candy while staring deeply into his exasperated eyes. “Pizza for dessert sounds amazing.” She laughed.

~~

More Notes: I don't know if it was obvious or not but I very specifically had Karmen refer to Eddie as her boyfriend/partner and their 'relationship' while Eddie thinks of their friendship etc. Because at this point in time they haven't actually discussed what they are yet and in Labels, the misunderstanding is actually explained and aired out between them.

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tags: @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice]

I Will Write A Fic For You If You Donate to the Palestinian Children's Relief Fund!

I came across the super cool organization Fandom Trumps Hate just recently (as of this post actually), and unfortunately I learned of its existence too late to apply to be one of the writers for this year. Since I don't want to wait a whole year to do some good with my love of writing, I'm holding my own little auction! Let's use that autistic special interest for good!

How Much I Will Write: 1K-5K words (if I end up writing more, well, yay for the lucky auction winner I guess, but that's what I'm willing to commit to)

What Fandoms I Will Write For: Baldur's Gate 3, The Dragon Prince, Good Omens, Avatar: The Last Airbender, and Loki (just... the character. I will write so many things involving that character)

What I Will (and Will Not) Write: Character x Character, Character x reader, Character x OC even if you can give me enough about your OC, are all good! Not into shipping? No worries! I love the platonic and I can even just write a character study or a songfic. I am willing to write up to M rating for this, so some spicy stuff, but not pure smut. Any of the Main Warning Tags on AO3, save Major Character Death (gotta love that angst), are off limits. If you are worried that I can't write your idea before you want to bid, go ahead and shoot me a message before you bid and I'll let you know! You can also check out my pinned post for my masterlist of past fics. I have written all the examples I have given as requests before.

How to Bid: Place the dollar amount (in US $) of your bid in the replies of this post! The bidding period begins at the time of posting, March 3 2024 12pm ESR and ends March 10th 2024 2pm EST.

What Happens If You Win: When the bidding closes I will message the top bidder from this account here on tumblr. From there, you have 48 hours to send proof of your donation. I'm giving myself a deadline of a month to have your fic ready for you.

If the winner does not send proof of donation before the time period is up, I will contact the first runner up.

Additionally, I will match the winning bid in my own donation up to $100

AND A FINAL WARNING

The purpose of this endeavor is for fun fic writing and most importantly, doing a little bit of good for the Palestinian people. Any bigotry done on this post will result in the perpetrator being blocked and disqualified from receiving a fanfic.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello!! I thought I'd go ahead and send in a 2nd request since you offered. :)

How about something with Alpha 17 x F!reader. And maybe angst (with a happy ending though?)

Like beginning with Narcissus (unrequited love) but then ending up with Coriander (lust.) You can pick which direction you'd like it to go...whether it's Alpha pining for her and then they end up together or her that pines for him and then they end up together. And if the "end up together" could be a little NSFW? (However NSFW you are feeling, any level is cool with me.)

If you aren't feeling this, ANYTHING with Alpha 17 would be wonderful!

Thanks!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Burning Hot

Summary: You work at the facility where Alpha-17 has been a prisoner for months now, and you're totally smitten with him. But you know that he'll never feel the same.

Pairing: Demon!Alpha-17 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1554

Warning: Spicy - no actual smut, but Alpha is Alpha

Prompts: Narcissus - Unrequited love, Coriander - Lust

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Sorry this took so long, I've been having a hard time with Alpha for some reason, but then I had this idea! Yay me! But I couldn't make the NSFW work with me and I don't know why.

You watch him from behind the safety glass. A frown crosses your lips as you monitor his vitals, a frown that deepens as you notice that his core temperature is higher than ever before. High enough that, if he had the use of all of his powers, he’d be able to melt the safety glass and get to the Doctors.

Not that you’d blame him.

Almost a year ago now, scientists traveled to a planet that was long thought uninhabited. Only to learn that they were wrong. The planet is home to a race of people that you can only call demonic.

Demonic because of their tails. And their golden eyes. And the fact that they can create and manipulate fire and heat.

And Alpha-17, the man on the other side of the glass, was the first demon that the scientists came in contact with.

How they managed to capture him is beyond you, you are just an intern after all, but somehow they did, and he’s been a guest at this facility since then. 

Of course, the majority of the care for Alpha has fallen on your shoulders. You tend to his injuries, make sure that he has clean clothes, and feed him three times a day. While you were intimidated at first, he’s so much bigger than you, after all, over time you’ve come to appreciate his presence.

He’s rough and sarcastic and can be horrifically mean when he’s pushed, but he’s never been mean to you. And, much to your surprise, and shame, you’ve found yourself pining over him.

You wonder how his hands would feel against your skin, how his lips would feel against yours, how it would feel to lay against him in bed-

And it is embarrassing. Because Alpha would never look at you like that. For all that you have no choice but to be here, you’re still one of the people holding him here. Keeping him from his family.

Plus, for all you know, he already has a life partner. It’s not like you ever asked…and it isn’t as though he would tell you one way or the other.

“Time,” You say, your voice quiet and dispassionate, “That’s one hour, Doctor.”

The older man that you were interned under glances at you, and then at your readings, “Good thing he can’t actually use those powers to hurt us, huh.” He jokes, before he presses a series of buttons on the console, powering down the training simulation.

You watch as Alpha is escorted back to his cell by a group of droids, and then you flicker your gaze back to the datapad, “It’s only a matter of time before he breaks the suppression collar, Doctor. Perhaps it’s best to quit while we’re ahead?”

He laughs, “He’s a brute, but he’s an easily controlled brute.” The Doctor dismisses your concerns, “Anyway, I have been ordered to take the weekend off, apparently I work too much.”

“You do work too much.” You say dryly.

He sniffs, “I work a reasonable amount.”

“You worked 100 hours last week. I know, because I worked 100 hours last week.”

“...Anyway! I’m going to spend the next week with my wife and children.” He rolls his eyes, “So you’ll be holding down the fort on your own. Well. You and the droids.”

“That’s fine.”

“Good. Good.” He awkwardly pats your shoulder and then heads out of the room, “No need for any tests while I’m gone, just keep him alive.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He leaves the facility while you’re giving the janitorial droids their orders for making sure the training room is clean and in working order. 

Then, and only then, do you strip off the stark white jacket that you wear while working, and head down the hall to the holding cells where Alpha lives. His cell is more of a room, due solely to your actions. You’ve given him blankets to act as makeshift walls, and extra blankets and pillows to make the bed more comfortable.

The Doctor hadn’t been thrilled about it. But he didn’t take them away from Alpha either.

“Knock, knock.” You call as you enter the hallway, “I have the first aid kit, Alpha.”

The blankets are swept away from the door, allowing you to peer into his cell. He’s clad in the bottoms of his training outfit and nothing else, and you forcefully shove down the surge of attraction.

“Can I come in?” You ask with a small smile.

He glances at you, “Yeah, go ahead.”

You wave your key card over the lock, and key in the code that will allow you to come and go as you please, and then pull the door open. You step into the cell, and the door slides shut behind you, but you don’t mind.

You set the first aid kit on the small table you found for him months ago, “Well, you don’t look badly injured.” You note as he turns towards you, “Some of those hits looked bad-”

“So you were watching today?” Alpha asks, as he sinks down on the bed.

“I always watch.” You reply lightly, “The Doctor insists.”

Alpha scoffs, “Of course he does.”

“I am his intern.” You remind him, “Now, let me get a look at you.” You take a step closer to him, already taking in the rapidly healing bruises. “Healing already.” You murmur, “Honestly, it’s like you don’t even need me.” You add jokingly.

Alpha’s tail lightly twines around your wrist and tugs you close enough that you’re able to feel his body heat, “Don’t be silly. I’d have gone mad without you here.”

You know that Alpha has total control over his tail. He’s told you as much before. He likes wrapping his tail around you when you’re treating his injuries.

It’s comforting, in a way. 

It’s also the closest you know you’re ever going to get to him actually touching you. 

“So,” Alpha says as you start applying bacta to his chest, “Where’s the good doctor anyway. Usually he comes down here to gloat about me not escaping yet.”

“Oh…well…” You pull back to grab another bandage, “He’s not here. Mandatory vacation.”

“...you don’t say.” Alpha murmurs. “You’re still here.”

“Intern.” You remind him dryly.

“Right.” Alpha’s tail releases you, and you’re surprised when the cell suddenly gets darker. You glance over your shoulder and note that he’s releasing the curtains that block the light from the hall.

You shoot him a bemused look, “You might be able to see in the dark, Alpha, but I can’t.” You remind him.

“I’m not that badly injured.” He replies. “Besides, I thought we’d use this moment to talk.”

“We are talking.”

You start to adjust to the dim light, and you’re surprised to see his small smirk, “I want to talk to you about your obvious attraction to me.”

And your face burns, “Uh…um…I don’t-”

His hand, large and warm, lightly caresses your cheek, “Don’t lie to me. Did you think I wouldn’t notice, my sweet girl?”

Your face heats even more, “It’s…not right.” You mumble, “I’m holding you here against your will.”

“You’re as much a prisoner here as I am,” Alpha replies, as he slowly pulls you closer.

“That’s not-”

“It is.” One more sharp tug pulls you onto his lap, and his lips find purchase against your throat, “Mine.” He purrs against your skin, “My pretty girl.”

“A-Alpha-”

He pulls back and crashes his lips against yours, sharply nipping your lower lip, before soothing the sore spot with his tongue. “Take my collar off, pretty girl.”

You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. 

But his hands are sliding under your shirt, pushing your shirt up and out of the way, and his lips are back against your throat, nipping and sucking marks onto your tender skin, and before you really think about it, your fingers are sliding around the collar, releasing locks and undoing latches, until the collar comes off in your hands.

There’s a surge of heat around you, and then Alpha grabs the collar from your hands and tosses it to the side. “Good girl,” He purrs, catching your lips in a deep kiss.

His hands are everywhere, tugging your clothes either completely off or just to the side, and you’re not really surprised when he flips you so that you’re under him. 

You blink up at him hazily, and he chuckles, “Is this what you wanted?” Alpha asks, as he presses his body against yours, “What you needed more than anything?”

You whine quietly, “Yes…please…”

“Pretty girl. My perfect girl.” Alpha kisses you again and again, “I’m going to ruin you.” He breathes against your lips.

You laugh softly, and reach up to wrap your arms around his neck, “Yes, please.”

He slots himself between your legs, his fingers dipping between your thighs to slide against your slit pulling a moan from you, “And then,” Alpha murmurs, “We’re going to leave this place and return to my home, and I’m going to make you all mine.”

“Am I not already all yours?” You ask breathlessly.

He chuckles against your lips, “I’m going to make you more mine. My pretty girl.” His golden eyes glimmer with want and need.

“Yours,” You agree, slightly breathlessly.

And then Alpha crashes his lips against yours and more talking is useless.

[spicyseonghwas]

jeong yunho - "no one can hurt you now"

pairing jeong yunho x male reader viewer rating 16+ ; yandere content genres/au's fucked up fluff, slight angst & suggestive, omegaverse content warnings physical contact, cursing, blood, implied abduction, weapons (knives), threats, alpha!yunho, omega!reader, assault/attempted murder, yunho sort of has aichmomania, word-salad mention of sex in literally the last sentence word count :: 812 network tags :: @preciousillusions-net a/n just because i decided the person that dies for hitting on reader is a woman doesnt mean im sexist !! youre literally reading a fanfiction !! :DD

please reblog this if you like it! likes do not help my algorithm.

your eyelid twitched; you had to fight valiantly to keep the whole right side of your face from twitching in the immense measures of annoyance you were experiencing right at that moment. you were beginning to get so annoyed with this random woman, who had been hitting on you relentlessly for the past hour, that your heart rate was actually, genuinely accelerating. it got so bad that you almost swung at your boyfriend when he walked quietly up behind you, finally rescuing you from this torture that you had been forced to suffer through up until this point in the night.

"hello, my prince." came a soft whisper into your ear. a small shiver sneaked down your spine when you heard his voice; it was deep, husky and sort of raspy from the many cigarettes and spicy, acidic foods yunho consumed on a daily basis.

"this blasted woman just won't take a fucking hint." you growled quietly, spitting the last word like poison on your tongue.

"mmm." yunho said quite loudly, "how interesting, because you have clearly been scented, and your alpha is clearly standing next to you and hasn't once been more than a few hundred feet away from you this whole night."

"not to mention the fact that this woman herself is an omega." you snorted.

"how pointless." yunho said with a much-too-chipper voice.

you giggled, taking yunho's hand and pulling, gensturing silently to him that you wanted to leave.

but yunho seemed to have something else in mind; he yanked you back into his chest, glaring poison daggers at the woman who had been hitting on you. you looked over in her direction to see that she had stood up. she had a knife of her own in her hand, and she was staring directly at you.

"may i?" yunho asked quietly. you took a moment to answer- not quite hesitating, but not rushing to give your alpha an answer, either. you looked her up and down, sizing her up just as yunho was, before coming to the conclusion that it should be a safe thing to do.

"go ahead darling, have at her."

yunho giggled in a voice that was much too high-pitched to have come out of his throat, spinning the obsidian knife in his hand before driving it downward. the woman underneath him screamed, holding her hands over her face in an effort to stop it, then flinched to the left when the blade of the knife burrowed into the dirt an inch from her bloodied, cut open right cheekbone.

she screamed again when yunho yanked her hair so that she was looking right at him, and cowered backward into the dirt she was already pressed into as a wolf-like growl escaped her abductor's throat.

"you gonna hit on a taken omega again? huh?" yunho hissed gleefully, the protective aura he'd always had bleeding into the dark sky around him as he held her. "answer me, woman!"

"N-NO, I SWEAR," she screamed, "PLEASE JUST LET ME GO- AGH!" the nameless woman cut herself off with another scream as yunho's knife dug into her shoulder.

"if i ever see you near him again i'll rip you apart." he hissed, his voice lower, colder, sharper than you'd ever heard it before. it was so much so that a small shiver ran down your spine as you heard him speak. "do you understand me, little girl?"

the woman nodded furiously, pressing a hand she'd wrestled out of her attacker's tightly against the fresh wound on her opposite shoulder.

yunho stood up, grabbing her by the collar of her shirt and yanking her up with him. his beloved obsidian knife- bi su, he called it- was in her sheath in a fraction of a split second, replaced by a silver glock 43x, custom made just for him...

and it just so happened to be that you had made that gun for him with your own two hands.

he pointed the shinny barrel of the gun at the woman's head, making her stumble backward in fear, before his arm moved faster than any human could ever move as he shot once into the dirt mere inches from her toes.

"run, little girl." he whispered venomously, his words tearing a gash in her soul as she scrambled to obey his command, running for her life past him out onto the street and disappeared into the darkness of seoul.

"wasn't she lovely?" yunho snickered, twirling the gun in his fingers before stashing it away in his jacket.

"sure, if bimbo minus the attractive ability counts." you snorted, smirking darkly when yunho chuckled at your answer. he dusted himself off, turned toward you and looked you in the eyes as he held out his hand, silently gesturing for you to take it so that he could take you to some other magical place.

© seonghwas-lighter 2023-2024.

[sashketter]

The Captain and the Senator

Chapter 2 - Coruscant Covers

Summary: Riyo Chuchi shelters Rex and Echo in her senatorial living quarters for the night. With Echo fast asleep, Rex confronts Riyo about the danger she’s in, and sexy time ensues.

Word count: 4.2k

Warning: Porn With Plot. Starts with angst, continues with sexy times, ends with fluff. Oral (M and F receiving), fingering, PiV, unprotected sex (no glove, no love), creampie, cockwarming.

Notes: This take place after season 2 episode 8 of The Bad Batch, “Truth and Consequences.” It’s my first attempt at writing something spicy, and it, uh... got away from me lol This can be read as a standalone separate from the series. However, subsequent sexy times in the series will build off this chapter.

Chapter 1 - Table of Contents - Chapter 3

“Senator, a word?” Rex’s voice rumbles close behind her.

Riyo places a blanket over a lightly snoring Echo, prone and peaceful on her sofa. Rex had insisted that the corporal shower first after the senator. He had arrived at the apartment hours earlier, after all, and the captain wanted a chance to do his own sweep of the premises. Echo fell asleep as soon as he changed clothes.

Rex stood bare-chested with a Pantoran guard’s purple pants hanging loosely around his waist. A damp towel hung over his left shoulder.

Riyo pivots to face him. “Of course,” she whispers. Rex turns and misses her blush lavender.

Despite Rex’s misgivings about staying with the senator, he was grateful for the change in pace and scenery. He had spent countless rotations frantically hiding his movements, scurrying between the Outer and Mid Rims and scavenging sources in dark corners while subsisting almost exclusively on caf. It all blurred together in a sleepless haze. He more than welcomed having the Pantoran guards relieve him of watch duty while he enjoyed the use of a ready fresher. Riyo’s apartment was modest compared to other senators’, but it was luxurious to the clones who had been on the run since the fall of the Republic.

Riyo follows Rex down the hall. The door to the fresher is open, steam still clinging to the mirror and drifting above her head. Rex pops his arm inside quickly to discard the towel on the vanity and turn off the light. Something about the movement strikes the senator, his seeming familiarity with her surroundings, and she wonders idly if he’s known apartments like hers before. She shakes her head at the thought of Rex off-duty, her focus landing instead on the muscles on his back as they twist and go taut on their way to her bedroom. She looks down and tries to rub the heat from her cheeks.

Rex walks through the double doors and holds one side open for Riyo. She smells her soap on him as she passes. She walks to the bedside table on the left and turns on the two lamps on either side of her bed, their low warmth contrasting with the cool lights of Coruscant glowing through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Rex faces and closes the doors quietly. “Senator, we appreciate your help,” he starts cautiously, “but you need to trust my judgment on this.” His shoulders hunch as he looks down and rubs the back of his head.

Riyo blinks in surprise. “On what exactly?”

He turns around to look at her, eyebrows furrowed on the edge of anger. “I know you don’t think my presence here is necessary, but you’re in greater danger than you realize.” His voice is low and gruff. “The emperor wanted you to expose Rampart. That was his plan. He was using you, and now you’re a loose end.” For a brief moment, Rex remembers when he himself had been unwittingly used against his brothers and winces at the memories of Umbara.

Riyo hadn’t thought ahead to what the consequences of her actions might be. She had only hoped to provide the clones with some amount of justice. Now knowing the depth of the emperor’s cunning and forethought, she wonders how far he would go to keep her from revealing more.

She sits at the foot of the bed, her hands on her knees. “What could he do? The Senate would never stand—"

“The Senate doesn’t need to know for the emperor to act.” Rex enunciates each word like stubborn nails to be hammered home hard. His stare is cold steel.

Riyo flinches. She remembers friends and colleagues who had faced threats to their lives because of their political stances. Padmé, Onaconda, the Duchess of Mandalore, even Bail – all bore the bouts and bruises with dignity. Still, she always looked on in shock and horror that such brutality could exist at the center of a centuries’ old republic. Never could she have imagined that she herself could be caught in the crosshairs of the highest ruling member of the government she serves.

Rex watches the senator contemplate his words. He hadn’t meant to upset her, but he can see fear start to creep into her face. Before he could move to comfort her, she stands and crosses the floor to him.

She’s all determination, her voice as firm as his. “I said I wouldn’t give up.” She stops just a hair’s breath away from him. She pulls herself up to her full height and stares up into the captain’s eyes. “I appreciate all that you’ve done for me, Rex. I can’t thank you enough for saving my life.” Rex starts to shake his head, but she puts a hand up to stop him. “I apologize if I seemed to question your counsel before, but I can’t ask you to put yourself in more danger just for me.” Tears start to blur her vision, so she takes a deep breath to collect herself and raises her chin. “After all you and the clones have sacrificed, it’s my turn to protect you.”

Rex freezes in surprise. He had expected her to say something about fighting or putting herself in danger for him and was ready to counter, but this was a different tack. This wasn’t a reckless inversion of their duties or a desperate attempt to lash out at him or the emperor or anyone else standing in her way. This was care and reciprocation. This was a clear declaration of her intentions as a senator and an assumption of responsibility as another living being – something more than a soldier and a politician in a mutually beneficial arrangement. This was loyalty.

Rex stands for what feels like a lifetime. Unsure of his thoughts, Riyo instinctively reaches out to comfort him and meets the bare warmth of his abdomen. Her fingers pull back, but not fast enough. Rex catches her hand. Eyes fixed on her knuckles, he brings them up to his lips and kisses the backs of her fingers. He had meant it as a gesture of gratitude, something he’d seen his Jedi general do several times with high-ranking women, but he feels Riyo’s breath hitch. He catches her eyes glow darker with something more than surprise. Testing her nerve and looking for his own, he closes his eyes and turns her palm to cup the side of his face, his hand warm over hers. Riyo holds her breath as she watches him. Eons pass before he opens his eyes.

For the second time in half a rotation, Rex reconsiders Riyo Chuchi. During the war, she had been just another politician to him; one of the good ones, he had decided. While it was true that they had technically known each other for a long time, they were never close and had no reason to be. Their disparate duties kept them apart, him on the battlefield and her on the Senate floor. In this respect, not much had changed. But the galaxy had, more than they could imagine, and it was forcing them to change in ways they couldn’t predict. Adapt and survive. With this in mind, Rex was ready to take the next step.

Riyo never saw brown as bright and fiery as in Rex’s eyes. She searches his gaze and finds a mix of fear and determination, but no hesitation. Gravity seems to lurch as she steps into him and his hand reaches for the back of her head. Their mouths meet in a muffled moan. His stubble scratches her cheeks, but his warm lips and probing tongue soothe any anxieties she might have had just a moment ago. All the danger in the galaxy could wait while the captain and the senator seal their alliance.

Rex makes quick work of the buttons on her loose pajama top. Featherlight fingertips push the periwinkle fabric off her shoulders, and he brings her to equal his state of undress. His right hand finds the nape of her neck, his left the side of her waist, and he pulls her back into a slow, tender kiss. Her hands move down his forearms and reach for his chest, looking for purchase and finding only unyielding muscle. Unable to grasp him, she hooks a finger into the waistband of his pants and walks them both towards the bed. His hands leave her face and trail after her own waistband. He keeps his breath on her lips, not wanting to break contact. She sits down when the backs of her legs hit the edge of her mattress.

Wasting no time, Riyo rids Rex of his trousers and comes back up to do the same with his briefs. He stops her with a hand over hers.

“Wait,” Rex pants, his head swimming. “Senator, you don’t have to–”

“Call me Riyo, Rex,” she says softly. She frees her hand and works his briefs down to meet the purple fabric already around his ankles. “Please.”

Before Rex could breathe her name, she grabs him midshaft and places his head in her warm and waiting mouth. She pinches her lips as his frenulum meets the flat of her tongue, and he moans raggedly at the sensation.

Riyo quickly finds her rhythm and bobs in earnest. Her hand covers where her mouth can’t reach, and her wrist twists with each pass. She hollows her cheeks and sucks hard, breathing tightly through her nose. She lays her tongue flat against the underside of his shaft, and her mouth waters as her tongue explores every bump and vein. Wet, sucking sounds fill the air and grow louder to match Rex’s low moans. Eventually, she works herself up to take him further down her throat where she swallows shallowly. It earns her a breathy grunt, so she holds him there until he starts to paw at her hair and buck lightly into her face. She looks up to find Rex watching her intently, brows furrowed and jaw tight. The pained look on his face betrays the intensity of his impending orgasm.

“Riyo, stop,” he gasps, fighting hard not to come. She cups his balls and dislodges her mouth. He growls, “My turn.”

Rex takes a step back away from her grip. He bends down and finds her mouth with his. Any sense of apprehension is blown away when he feels her wet chin. He uses the kiss to push her back flat onto the bed. He breaks away to start a scorching trip down her torso. He presses soft lips and burning stubble to her neck and collarbone, stopping to nip and lick at her left shoulder, before continuing to her chest and leaving a damp trail of wet kisses down the valley of her breasts. He palms and kneads her soft mounds before dragging the flat of his tongue from her breastbone to her right nipple. Her head feels light from the sensation.

Riyo’s hands leave Rex’s scalp to try to push her pants off, but her knees connect with his erection, and he groans. Before she can apologize, he mouths at her stomach, and his hands wriggle her pants over her hips and down her legs. He leans back up over her for another kiss, soft and sweet in contrast to the rigid tension bumping into her leg. Riyo’s mouth waters at the thick sight, but Rex still has one piece of clothing left to remove. He heads back down her body and grazes his teeth on her left hip bone before biting on the thin strap of her underwear and pulling it down past her knees. Hunger and anticipation linger between them.

Rex stands as he reaches Riyo’s feet, bringing her legs up in the air and her heels on his chest. He throws the last piece of fabric behind him. Rough hands slide down the sides of her legs as he slowly lowers his knees to the floor. When she can, she bends her knees and rests her legs on either side of his head. He shifts his hands to the insides of her thighs and parts them, wedging his wide shoulders between her knees. Riyo feels impossibly exposed, but Rex kisses and rubs his cheeks on the insides of her thighs, calming her. He watches her blush from violet to mulberry wine, holding her gaze with promises of intoxication.

With a wink, Rex licks from opening to clit, earning him a mewl muffled by the hand that isn’t squeezing his hand on her thigh. As he laps and sucks on her bundle of nerves, Riyo starts writhing, her back arching off the bed and her heels pressing into his back and shoulders. Her movements push him on. He parts her folds with two gentle fingertips and searches first with the tip of his tongue and then with the flat of it flush and rolling against her inner lips. Her moans start to rumble from lower in her abdomen.

Riyo glistens from mound to cleft, but Rex wants more. Focusing his tongue on her clit, he pushes his middle finger in to the second knuckle and looks up in time to find her biting down on her own. He thrusts shallowly until he can feel her dripping down his finger and then adds his forefinger. Her hands fly to her sides, clawing the sheets and releasing her howls.

“Careful, senator,” Rex rumbles low as he seats his fingers fully and starts to slide. “Don’t want to wake the trooper in the other room.” In and out, in and out, from the webs of his hands to the tips of his fingers, never leaving her folds.

Riyo’s laugh turns into a moan. She looks down at him, determined to say, “Speaking from experience, captain?” She’d heard the stories. Not of Rex specifically, though she knew those must exist, too, but of the clones and their fan clubs and parties and incident reports.

Rex catches the allusion, but files it away for later. For now, he starts to kiss his way back up her torso, the two fingers massaging her walls now joined by his thumb on her clit. She’s chanting his name between breathy whispers and resonant groans. When he reaches her face, she uses both hands to pull him in for a searing kiss, open-mouthed and searching. Their tongues dance for dominance, and Rex smiles as Riyo tries to bite his bottom lip.

He withdraws his hand from her weeping core so they can crawl up to the head of the bed. Riyo finds a pillow, her pastel hair fanning out, and Rex sits on his knees between her open legs. Looking down, he smirks at his wet handiwork, but before he can get too smug, Riyo reaches two fingers down to pinch his engorged head. Two pearly beads of precum bud on his tip, and she swipes them on nibble fingertips up to her mouth. Rex groans and turns impossibly harder. With no time to waste, he tucks his forearms under her knees, pulls, and hooks her legs on top of his thighs. Riyo giggles at his strength. He brings the head of his heavy shaft to her entrance, pushing just enough to part her folds. He catches her watching them meet.

“Hey,” he checks in softly.

Her eyes snap up to his. “Rex, please,” she whines, impatience bordering on incredulity. Her hands pull on his forearms, bringing herself a little more but not enough onto him. That’s all he needs.

Gripping the swell of Riyo’s hips, Rex pushes in, slowly and steadily, one delicious inch at a time. Her chin tilts up, and she lets out a long, satisfied moan. His stretch meets her tight canal in a simmering blaze. They take their time feeling each ridge and every crevice of each other until Rex bottoms out, his balls tapping her perineum. He drapes his body over hers for a meandering kiss, pausing to melt and mold into each other. Riyo moans at the matching sensations above and below, the rough stubble of Rex’s five o’clock shadow and pubic hair paired with the hot velvet of his tongue and shaft inside her. It was a lot until it wasn’t enough. Eventually, she plants her feet and wiggles her hips. Rex takes the hint and starts.

Still fully seated inside her, he sits back up on his knees and grips the flesh between her waist and hips. He pulls out half way before pushing back in fractionally faster. Riyo hums low in her chest. He keeps a leisurely pace until she starts to push back to meet him sooner and faster. Then he’s off, his hips crashing into hers at a force that bounces her breasts with each thrust. He’s chasing his own pleasure, but keeps his eyes on Riyo’s face, careful not to confuse the vice grip on his wrists for a sign of pain.

On the contrary, Riyo is blissed and breathless, her mouth open in a wide smile that lets out choked moans. She feels the pressure start to build low in her abdomen. His thick piston is molten along her walls, hot and heavy and so good. His every bump and vein catches on a part of her that sends searing electricity to her extremities. Her nerve endings catch fire, and her skin prickles with heat. They meet in warmer and louder squelches that spur them on.

The intensity of Rex’s focus moves her. Riyo sits up on her elbows and stops his motions. His confusion fades quickly as she wraps an arm around his shoulders and brings him down to her. Her back meets the mattress, and his arms snake under her shoulders, leaving his hands to frame her face. He dives into a warm, passionate kiss. Riyo’s heels find his lower back and give him a nudge.

“Don’t stop,” she whimpers into his mouth.

Rex snaps his hips eagerly. He can feel his balls start to tighten. A few more thrusts would throw him over the edge, but he slows to let Riyo catch up. She’s clawing at his back and scalp and muffling her moans into his neck and shoulder. Her grip above and below grounds him. The pressure in her belly swells and bursts into spasms as Riyo comes and clenches Rex tight. Her wails are soon joined by his grunts. Rex seats himself fully and thrusts shallowly, emptying himself in her contracting chasm. Riyo squeezes her legs tighter around his back, not wanting to waste the sensation of him engorged and throbbing inside her. They take their time coming back down.

Sensing Rex’s exhaustion, Riyo lets his weight fall to the side and take her with him. Her thighs are tight around his hips as he rolls. She lands astride him, still fully seated on his shaft. She looks down and finds Rex still halfway to the heavens, eyes closed and torn between laughing and moaning. She leans down and kisses his jaw, his chin, the edges of his lips to even him out.

“Are you alright?” Riyo ghosts the question lightly over his open mouth. She’s unsure of how to proceed, their tentative alliance now perched on a precipice.

Rex is still catching his breath, but laughs. “Sir, yes, sir,” he teases. His mind is empty and light – a feat he hasn’t achieved in a long time – bereft of anything that isn’t the beautiful Pantoran on top of him. It takes him a long moment before he realizes. “Oh, scrag!” His abs clench and pull his head marginally off the bed, his nose almost bumping into hers. “I didn’t pull ou—"

“It’s okay.” Riyo is quick to ease his mind. She sits back up, holds up her arm, and pinches her left tricep. “Implant. Thought it’d be a good idea.” She smirks and wiggles her hips, reminding him he’s still inside her. He smiles back and realizes suddenly that for the first time, he’s allowed to linger.

Rex would never let on the exact veracity of the stories Riyo must’ve heard about his brothers’ reputations. He was well aware as much as she was that for every anti-clone sentiment bandied about, there was an equal amount of love for the troopers – love that had often found itself hurried in the barracks, muffled in supply closets, frantic behind stacks of crates, any quiet corner a clone could catch for a few minutes. After awhile, Rex stopped filing the incident reports; it would’ve been hypocritical.

Part of the hope he kept in continuing to fight and freeing his brothers was knowing that there were others like Riyo who saw the clones as more than just soldiers or science experiments, expendable pieces of frag from a fallen Republic. They were willing and capable of being more than what their training and conditioning had made them. If only they were given the chance. They were men, and there were those who knew and trusted them to act like it, in all the ways that mattered but had been prohibited by their duties.

Rex may have needed release that night, as he had every other night on distant planets and Jedi cruisers, but Riyo knew that without regulation manuals and chains of command, this was different. This was no longer forbidden, no longer hurried and abridged between boxes and battles. Rex was free to choose and stay for as long as he wanted, and she was honored that at least for tonight, he chose to stay with her.

Feeling exhaustion start to settle in her bones, Riyo holds Rex at his base and gently rolls off him. He groans at the sudden loss of contact. After her feet find the floor, she steps to the head of the bed where Rex found a pillow and bends down to claim a chaste kiss. She feels his smile on her lips and his fingers curl around the strands of her hair tickling his chest. She stands and grabs a robe from a chair next to the bedside table, tying its ties on the way to the door. She swivels back around and catches the captain eyeing her. He smirks, flops back down on the bed, and gives a curt, two-finger salute towards the ceiling.

When Riyo returns from the fresher, Rex is fast asleep, the covers drawn to his waist. She throws the robe back onto the chair and tucks herself under the sheets and into his side. In moments, she falls asleep to his light snores.

Dawn is beginning to break when Rex wakes up. He watches the gradient stretch across the windows, light pink to dark blue. He finds himself entangled in Riyo: her head on his right shoulder, his fingertips on her scalp, her long hair spread down past his elbow, and their legs intertwined underneath the sheets. He runs his fingertips along the arm on his chest until her head turns to bury her face in his side.

“Hmm, good morning,” she croons, her voice drowsy with asleep.

“Morning.” He squeezes her arm. “Sleep okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Riyo inhales his skin deeply. The smell of her soap is gone, replaced by a scent she hopes to memorize again and again and again.

Rex doesn’t want to leave the comfort of her bed, but the squad of Pantoran guards will be arriving soon, and he didn’t want to alert Echo by having him wake up alone in the living room. Reluctantly, Rex asks, “When do your handmaidens get in?”

Riyo starts to snap to full attention. “I don’t have handmaidens,” she says curiously. She looks up and sets her chin on his chest. “What made you think I did?”

Rex blushes at the memories of playing lookout for his Jedi general. He had never seen anything more incriminating than a kiss, but even in death, he felt duty-bound to keep their secret. “I, uh, remember seeing them in the Senate building,” he tries, “a few times.” He hopes she doesn’t feel his heart race underneath her palm.

“You’re thinking of Padmé,” Riyo deduces. Normally, she’d follow his train of thought and try to unravel and understand them, but her body is still light from the night before, and her mind isn’t quite up to the task. Instead, she crushes her face back onto his chest, unable to satiate the need to feel and smell his skin. “She was a queen, after all,” she says listlessly. “I’ve only ever been a senator.”

Rex thinks back a lifetime ago to Orto Plutonia where a shy but promising leader found her resolve in the middle of a snowy skirmish; back a few days ago to the Senate floor where a strong-willed idealist broadcast her defense of an unpopular cause to the galaxy; and back just hours ago on the repair shop platform where she had bent down to meet his sister’s young eyes and reassured them all that she was loyal to them, the clones. “You’re more than a senator,” he assures her gently.

Riyo looks back up and smiles at him. She thinks back a few years ago to the classified reports of Jedi General Pong Krell on Umbara and the captain’s horrified testimony in closed-door sessions to select Senate committees; back a day ago in the repair shop where a rogue but righteous clone recounted the story of Anaxes and Skako Minor while they waited for Clone Force 99; and back a lifetime ago to Orto Plutonia where a young but promising leader found his resolve in the face of his brothers’ annihilation. “And you’ve always been more than a soldier, Rex.”

(Footnotes here.)

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 19

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Bury The Cross

Notes: Thank you all for the nice comments ;_; ! It really lifts my spirit. Also, sorry for some of the future chapters lol I never said there wasn't going to be a ton of angst. <3

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  19/ It’s a secret.

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The weather was in your favor today, it wasn’t overly warm but quite comfortable, perfect for horseback riding. You had even taken off your cloak and vest to enjoy some of the sun.

You rode next to Lancelot and Squirrel, knowing that the Monk had memorized most of that map by now.

Squirrel was already planning ahead on what was important for him, “What are we gonna eat tonight?”

Lancelot’s eyes moved to the boy now. “We ate only a few hours ago.”

Was his stomach already empty after such a big serving of soup?

Then again, he was a child still growing and quite energetic.

The boy did not listen to the Monk and dreamed of the next meal. “Roasted potatoes sounds good.”

You could only agree. “That does sound good.”

The Monk almost rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

The large rock formations beginning to appear alerted that Madrock was not far away anymore.

“Gods…” You uttered at the sight of them.

“Are those clouds?” Squirrel was baffled.

Never before had you passed Madrock, instead you always stuck to following the river, and seeing it now was a marvel to behold.

Lancelot heard the wonder in the child’s voice. “Those are rocks, we will be riding between them to reach the village.”

Squirrel quietly asked, “Do you think there will be Feys in Madrock?”

It took Lancelot a second to reply. “I do not know.”

You could tell that it troubled him to think of the possibility. The Fey would recognize him and not be welcoming to him, of course it was a sensitive subject to speak off. And it wasn’t good either if he was recognized and they would call him by his former title in front of others, the Church was still looking for him.

By offering some insight, you hoped to ease his mind. “Not many of our kind show themselves in villages anymore. Let us believe that they wish to remain anonymous just like we do.”

Lancelot was looking at you, wanting to believe in the hope you held.

He could tell that you were aware of the nervousness he felt towards facing the Fey again. At least he was not alone in this, not like he had once been before.

This nice weather made you roll up the sleeves of your shirt somewhat. “It’s getting warmer.”

Lancelot was feeling it too. “We’ll have the shadows to keep us cool between the rock formations.”

Squirrel was taking off his cloak and propping it between himself and the Monk. “It better…”

It still took nearly two hours to reach the rocks, their presence was impressive. The road between them was the fastest one to Madrock village.

“Whoa!” Squirrel was in awe of the rocks.

“They’re beautiful.” You stated the fact.

The reins in your hands received a small tug and you saw that Lancelot was holding them a little too.

“There are no birds.” He was looking around himself.

Both you and Squirrel were quiet now and realized that the birds were no longer singing.

There was no one in sight either, what could have scared them off?

You proceeded to ride with caution and after a few minutes concluded. “It feels like we’re being watched.”

The Monk agreed on that. “We are.” He saw you looking over at him. “Fey kind. They’re hiding.”

All you could see was plants, trees and rocks covered in moss. “I don’t see anything.”

Lancelot gestured for you to halt as he did the same.

“Maybe they think we’re Manbloods?” Squirrel wondered.

There was on way to announce yourself as being Fey kind without alerting Manbloods of what you were.

You spoke to whom you could not see, “Born in the dawn?”

Someone small darted from behind a bush into the openings between the rocks.

Their skin had been the color of the rocks, no wonder you had not seen anyone until now. They blended into their surroundings perfectly.

Lancelot tilted his head down, letting the hood of his cloak fall just above his eyes in the hope that the shadow of it would hide his Fey markings from their sight.

You reached over and took hold of Goliath’s reins. If they had recognized him, you hoped to show them that he was with you and not let them think that you and Squirrel were in danger.

He understood the intention behind your action right away and let it happen.

Slowly you rode forward together, remaining calm even if you heard more of the Fey kind move close to the rocks.

That short road through the rock formations felt like it had taken you ages by the time you were past them.

Lancelot let out a breath of relief once there was some distance between you and the rocks. “I did not know how to react.”

You were quite glad that he had kept a calm head on his shoulders. “At least you didn’t draw your sword. So, I’d say you are getting better.”

Even young Squirrel was proud of the Monk for staying calm. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt them.”

This child had faith in him…

He prayed he was worthy of it.

“I do not want to return to who I was.” He told the boy.

Squirrel’s mouth curved into a smile, “We won’t let you. Right, y/n?”

You bit back a grin. “That’s right. We’re going to keep the ‘Weeping Monk’ out off the monk.”

The sudden silence that fell between you was palpable.

He almost struggled to speak off it. “I no longer see myself as a man of the clergy, I cannot remain a monk after losing my faith.”

Squirrel was cautiously hopeful, “You don’t want to be a monk anymore?”

You held your breath for the answer.

Lancelot confirmed what the boy believed. “I do not.”

This was him turning away from the religion he had been raised to fight for…

You almost couldn’t believe it…

Squirrel was quite happy to hear it. “Good! Now you can just be Lancelot.”

Just be… himself…

He was looking over at you, awaiting your reaction to the news.

You fumbled with the reins of your horse, sensing that he found it important to know what you were thinking now, “Would it upset you if I said that I am glad that you no longer wish to be a monk?”

“Not at all.” He slightly shook his head.

You could not hide the relief you felt now that he was finally breaking free of the hold the Church had on him. “Good. Because I am.”

He was quite positive on the fresh start. “I don’t know what or who I am now, but I can start anew.”

Squirrel chimed in ,“With us!”

Another silence fell, this one uncomfortable.

The agreement was to part ways once you and Percival safely reached your friend.

So far, that remained the plan, for you had not voiced any desire to continue this allyship beyond it.

You looked over at the Ash Man and saw him search your eyes. “Take it day by day, you’ll find your purpose and path in life.”

He appreciated the encouragement, because he could tell that you meant it.

Now that Madrock was in sight, you wanted to know for certain what the plan was for today, “So tell me, Ash Man, should we find a place to sleep in Madrock for the night? Or travel further and sleep in the forest?”

He preferred the later. “We have what we need to survive some nights in the forest, if we avoid going into the village, we avoid further incidents.”

Incidents like being chased by Trinity Guards in Oldmore.

The decision was made, you did not want to flee for your life like that again. “Alright. But this forest you chose to travel through, I do not know it. I always traveled along the riverside.”

The Ash Man dared to jest about it, “Since when are Fey afraid of the woods?”

It earned him a glare from you and Squirrel.

Squirrel was appalled by the insinuation. “I’m not afraid!”

Sometimes you hated how he could on your nerves. “I was bitten by a wolf days ago!”

He found it amusing to see the defensive reactions. Unbelievable.

When the oaf chuckled it made your temperament flare up.

You mumbled through your teeth, “Fine then. I hope you get eaten by them.”

The blunt boy reacted to it, “That’s not true. You wouldn’t have healed him if it was.”

You send Squirrel a look, but the boy was not letting you act like you still hated the Ash Man.

Lancelot was glancing over at you, visibly content with the boy siding with him on this.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Let’s just get to that forest.”

They shared a grin with each other and it proved that Squirrel had grown attached to the Ash Man.

Then again, they had quite a few things in common. They were both stubborn, hotheaded and loved swords. The boy looked up to him but would never admit to it. Perhaps it was good for the Ash Man to have the child in his life and have someone to set a better example for.

As expected, you passed Madrock by nightfall and saw that the village was quite crowded compared to Oldmore. It was wise indeed to avoid the place, with so many people around it would be difficult to see the enemy before they got too close.

The horses were getting tired, it was time to find a place to rest in the forest. You decided to dismount and walk the last distance to the forest on foot. It was a welcome change, everyone was bored of riding all day.

There were a lot of deer to be spotted in the forest, along with other nightly critters that made their presence known.

Not far into the forest, the three of you began to set up camp. You took it upon yourself to begin making a small bonfire, if only that would have gone easier.

On your third attempt, you wanted to throw the flint and the small piece of steel into the trees.

Lancelot must have noticed how close you were getting to tossing his flint and steel off into oblivion, because he gingerly stole them from your fingers.

“Impatience will not help you.” He said.

The only thing catching on fire was your mood.

“Neither will that stupid flint.” You told him.

He sighed deeply, mouth curling into a smile. “It will. Be more confident with it.”

The Ash Man flicked the flint against the steel and the spark it caused fell down on the dry pile of grass and branches you had made, the fire was born so easily from it now.

You let out a groan and plopped your rear down on the grass, you took the satchel off and put it down beside you.

He was already holding out his hand, like he had read your mind, or maybe he just remembered what you and Squirrel had planned to eat tonight.

You handed him some of the potatoes and he pinned one on the tip of his sword to roast it over the fire. You did the same with another potato and Squirrel came to sit down beside you to watch the fire prepare it.

Never had you thought that you would be sitting around a fire with a young Fey knight and one of the Ash Folk. The strangest thing was how natural it had begun to feel.

Lancelot finished roasting the first potato and made Squirrel pin it on his knife to eat, so the boy would not burn his hands.

The question he had for the boy was not meant to insult, he was merely curious, “Why do you prefer to be called by the name of an animal over your own name?”

You were trying to discreetly shake your head at the Ash Man, knowing the reason behind Squirrel’s nickname.

He was quick to understand that the reason went deeper than what Squirrel had previously admitted to.

Sadness took away the mischievous spark in Squirrel’s eyes. “Momma always called me her ‘Squirrel’…”

Any hunger you had felt was gone, the first time the boy had told you was on the second day you were together in the dark of the night just like now, when he had not been able to sleep.

Lancelot opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him now.

“She got sick.” Squirrel said as he watched the potato on his knife cool down enough to eat. “Poppa never called me “Squirrel’, he hated it. When he shouted at me, he always called me by my real name. And he always shouted.”

There they were, the roots of the reason why the boy did not like his name.

Who would like their name if it was never spoken with a gentle tone to them?

The Ash Man stood up and walked to your other side, where Squirrel was sitting, then knelt down beside him, “Do you not want me to call you by your given name?”

Squirrel was deep in thought, then quietly said. “You don’t shout it at me like he did…”

He touched Squirrel’s sleeve with a knuckle. “I see no reason to.”

You curled a hand around Squirrel’s arm and moved him a little closer. “You can always tell us if there is something upsetting you.”

Squirrel nodded to you, and he answered the Ash Man’s inquiry. “I don’t mind. You can call me ‘Percival’.”

Lancelot seemed relieved to hear that he had not accidentally upset the boy.

Then Squirrel looked at you with silent hope and a hint on uncertainty, “You’ll keep calling me ‘Squirrel’, won’t you, y/n?”

Like his mother used to do…

It left you speechless for a moment, until now you had not known of how deeply the boy had grown attached.

You brushed a hand over his head. “Of course, you’re my little Squirrel.”

The boy made you regret your choice of words. “I’m not little!”

From behind Squirrel, you could see the Ash Man turn his head to the side and downward to hide the smile before the boy could see.

You sighed a little and smiled. “Eat your potato. It’s getting cold.”

The boy’s attention immediately snapped back to it and he took a big bite from it.

Lancelot let his own sword push yours away from the fire before the potato pinned on it was burned instead of roasted.

A quiet curse fell out and you quickly moved your sword out of the fire, thankfully it wasn’t burned, just a bit more roasted than preferred.

The three of you sat around the fire, enjoying the simple meal so much that no one said a word until it was finished.

Lancelot had put his sword down for just one single moment and the boy had picked it up. Even though the Ash Man saw, he let it happen and stood up from the ground. By drawing the short sword and tapping it against the long one Squirrel was holding, he invited him to try and spar.

The boy was up on his feet within seconds and took a hard swing at him.

The sound of it rang loud into your ears and you got concerned with the way Squirrel was being a bit careless about it.

The Ash Man saw the concern on your face and proceeded to help the boy wield the sword safer before one would lose an eye or limb.

It wasn’t long before it turned more into a game than an actual lesson in sword fighting, mostly because Lancelot couldn’t resist constantly disarming the boy.

For the first time since long, you had heard Squirrel laugh from joy, the way a child would during play.

The circumstances weren’t the best, but they were happy like this and it was endearing to see.

Their game continued until the boy began to yawn every few minutes.

The Ash Man was not one to take risks when it came to the young boy, he reclaimed his longsword. “Get some sleep, my boy. It is late.”

Squirrel did not even protest against it, he was tired.

You got up and grabbed some of the linen sheets and put them down on the ground, making a sleeping spot against a tree close to the fire for warmth.

The boy knelt beside you and helped, once it was finished he crawled on the linen to sleep.

You tucked him in, seeing the pull of sleep slowly take a hold on him. “Sweet dreams, little Squirrel.”

This time the boy did not take offense and seemed rather content to hear the term of endearment.

“What happens after we die?” Squirrel asked all of a sudden.

Upon looking at the boy, you saw the pensively sad expression he had now.

Lancelot turned a little upon hearing it, but did not fully look at Squirrel.

It took a few seconds for you to think of the answer, and you had an inkling where this question came from. “It is said that the souls of the Fey join the Hidden.”

Squirrel accepted it as an answer, then asked another question that had been going through his mind, “Do you think Nimue felt pain?”

Gods… how could you provide him with the answers he sought without upsetting him?

Lancelot saw you hesitate and answered it himself, “No.”

No one knew what the girl must have felt in her last moments, and why upset a child with the truth when it could be avoided?

Your eyes snapped to the Monk, as did Squirrel’s.

He tried to not cause the child unnecessary fear or pain. “It is quite like fainting. A state of dreaming as the world fades away from us.”

Squirrel was quiet for a moment, the sorrowful look did not yield. “I didn’t get to say goodbye…”

You blinked the feeling of tears forming in your eyes away and raked your fingers through his hair a little.

The Monk had closed his eyes briefly.

To hear the child suffer through grief, just as he was, devastated him.

You had seen Lancelot’s troubled reaction to it, this was painful to experience for both.

The will in you to comfort the boy was strong, “Remember her, Squirrel. We don’t have to say goodbye to the ones we love if we keep them alive in our heart and memories.”

Squirrel snaked his arms around your waist embraced you, letting that mask of strength drop and showing the broken heart underneath it.

You gave Lancelot a knowing look when his eyes opened again and fixed on you, there was a slight nod from him in return.

To offer some comfort to Squirrel, you sat down beside him, he held on for a little while until he laid down.

It did not take very long for him to fall asleep, you kept brushing your hand over his arm until he did.

The Ash Man had made his own sleeping spot against a tree and had often paused to watch you pampering the boy to sleep.

After that, you began to make your own sleeping spot close to Squirrel.

You opened your satchel and took out one of the books, the one Lancelot had teased you about before, and sat close to the fire to be able to read it.

By the time you had turned the first page, you could see him struggle to hold his tongue.

He was sitting with his back against the tree, mouth slightly curved into a half-smile.

“Shut up.” You quietly warned.

His head tilted to the side. “That is the book I caught you with before. The one which speaks of the heart’s desires.”

You mumbled through your teeth, “You know nothing of romance.”

“Do you?” He daringly asked.

By choosing to ignore him, you hoped he would treat you the same. It did not work at all.

He dared to tease you about it. “Tell me about this ‘Matthew’, the one with eyes the color of honey.”

You did not move your eyes from the page they had been on for the last few minutes.

“No.”

“Why not?”

That persistence of him found it’s match in your own stubbornness. “Don’t stuff your nose in matters that don’t concern you.”

His eyes narrowed as it finally clicked in his mind. “He does not know of your infatuation for him.”

It had been a statement, not a question.

Dammit, why could he not keep his nose out of it?

“Why not?” He sounded genuinely curious

Like he knew what it was like to have feelings for someone and having to hide them in fear of rejection. No, it was one thing he was spared of by being what he had been.

You didn’t like having to explain it, “What do you mean ‘why not’? He could reject me!”

His quiet question followed quickly, “Why would he?”

By now your attention on the book was ruined and you put it back in your satchel. “He did before…”

His brows arched, like he could not understand it.

Your eyes were on the trees, because you could feel them sting a bit from the heartbreak it caused to think back to that time.

The Ash Man had not expected the answer at all, “Did he say why?”

He had indeed, and the reason why had been a blow to your self-esteem. But you could not change Matthew’s preferences in women. And neither would you change yourself to match them.

The rustling of leaves pulled you out of your thoughts, “Did you hear that?”

He was on his feet not a second later, as were you.

“Stay here.” He told you, then he quickly walked up to Goliath to grab the bow and an arrow from the saddle.

“It could be a wolf.” He readied the bow.

A wolf? Had he not said that there were none here?

It did not sound like there were more than one out there, not like it had the previous time. “Alone? Maybe it’s a deer.”

He hoped that your guess was the right one. “If it is a deer. It will fill our stomachs for days.”

You didn’t believe it necessary to kill an animal when you still had enough to survive. “We still have food and coin.”

The rustling came closer and you looked to the sleeping child. “Lance-”

He hushed you as he aimed to where the sound came from and nocked the arrow on the bowstring.

The moonlight shone from behind the creature, causing it’s antlers to cast shadows on the ground. This was no wolf, this was a large white stag being curious to see what other creatures were wandering these woods.

You put a hand on Lancelot’s arm and made him lower the bow.

A white stag was a rare sight often believed to just having been a legend. And here one was, in all it’s beauty.

“My goodness…” You had never seen one before.

The only thing that could steal his eyes away from this majestic stag, was your hand still wrapped around his arm.

He shushed you, knowing how easily startled a stag can be.

The animal came closer and the size of it’s antlers were on full display, they were intimidating and you resisted to urge to take a step back.

The Ash Man did not move a single step, unafraid of the creature that could spear him on those antlers if it wished to.

It felt like it was staring at the two of you, the faint whispers of the Hidden traveled through the shadows around, then the stag turned and walked back into the darkness of the forest.

You weren’t aware that you were still holding on to Lancelot, or of how strong your grasp on him was now.

When you did notice, you let go immediately and wondered why he had not said a word of it.

The bow and arrow was loosely in his left hand as he turned to face you.

You could not read his eyes and felt your feet freeze to the ground when he moved his right hand towards you.

It touched your upper arm and then slowly glided down to your elbow where it stopped.

You were looking at the hand on your elbow and feeling very, very, confused. Even when his thumb gently moved over your arm, you couldn’t snap yourself out of it.

Lancelot struggled to find the words to ask what he wished for, but he forced himself to try, “I know we have agreed to part ways once we reach your friend and when Percival is safe.”

You had not forgotten the agreement. Both Squirrel and you would be safe where you were heading, and he would be free to travel off to wherever he wanted without having to worry or feel guilty about what happened to the boy.

The Ash Man stepped closer and you ignored that nervous feeling in your stomach that wanted you to step back.

He sounded determined to keep what he had now, “Is there any hope that I could convince you to forsake the plan of us parting ways?”

Your eyes were darting between his now, was he truly asking this?

You plucked his hand from your arm and stepped back a bit.

To him, this was the answer to his question.

And he never expected it to be painful, but it was, terribly so.

He took a step back as well, then walked off into the darkness too.

You wanted to ask where he was going, but stopped yourself from doing so. He needed a moment alone and so did you.

Squirrel was still vast asleep and blissfully unaware of it all.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♤~~~♡~~~♡~~~

It took a while before the Ash Man returned and when he did, you were sitting on the sleeping spot he had made for himself.

He knew there and then that you weren’t going to just ignore this.

He walked over, stopped, and made the brave choice to sit down next to you on the sheet.

The bow and arrow was put down next to him on the ground.

For a moment, nothing was said between you.

It wasn’t simple to explain why him wanting to stay at your side was difficult. “My home is with the Feys, Lancelot. So is Squirrel’s.”

He had not expected differently. “I know.”

You did not want to sugarcoat what such a decision would mean for him, “Why would you take the risk of staying with us, knowing that the Fey will not be kind to you?”

He was fidgeting with his hands. “It is worth the risk.”

It felt so surreal to hear him admit to it out loud, it must have taken quite a bit of courage for him to do so.

That answer was what made you want to tell him the truth about this journey and it’s destination.

“Come with me.” You tapped him on the arm and stood up from the ground.

You wanted to make sure that Squirrel would not hear what you had to say.

Lancelot caught up with you by the time you were out of the bonfire’s light, “What is it?”

“I am not taking Squirrel to just a friend.” You carefully began.

Deep down he always knew that there was more behind it than you had shared with him.

Still…

He wasn’t very keen on learning you admit to the lie, “Who are we heading to?”

The answer was also the reason why you needed to be sure you could trust him. “My family.”

He took a step back to process the news.

You explained your reasoning. “I was going to bring Squirrel to them. He will be safe there.”

Lancelot fired the question, “And you?”

You shook your head, after leaving home they would not welcome you back. “They are good people, I just chose to follow my own path.”

A light scoff came out of him. “You have been lying to me for days…”

All your courage left you when he turned around and his back faced you instead.

You stepped closer and touched his arm, speaking softly to him. “My cousin is a little younger than Squirrel. My parents began raising him after my aunt and uncle died, they love him. And they will love Squirrel too.”

He stated what he believed would happen, “Percival will not part from you. The boy loves you, I can see it.”

You pulled back your hand and tried to keep yourself together. “I want him to be safe, even if it breaks my heart.”

Was there even another way? A way that could prevent this separation?

He did not want you to think that he didn’t know you were just trying to give the boy the best chances in life, “I know you do. And you must understand that I will not leave the boy with someone I have never met?”

Leaving Percival with complete strangers was out of the question for him.

“You want to meet my parents?” You blurted out.

“I do.” He was determined.

Him?!? Your parents did not even want you to come home, and now he was asking to meet them?!?

It worried you. “Lancelot, my parents are Dawn Folk. I don’t think I will be able to convince them to meet you, especially not my father.”

It was no problem to this stubborn oaf. “Then don’t. I shall just introduce myself.”

You shook your head. “Lancelot.”

He would not change his mind on this. “I will only leave Percival’s side if I know for certain he is safe. I will meet your parents and if they see it fit to kill me, then so be it.”

You hated to hear him think so wastefully about his life. “Don’t say that. I will let you meet them but I won’t let you be killed.”

His hands folded behind his back, something he would never do around an enemy, for it would be too easy to put a dagger into his chest.

It showed how much he had grown to trust you.

The Ash Man’s eyes trailed over to where Squirrel slept. “I am curious to meet the people who raised such a daughter.”

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The instant defensive response caused a mischievous smirk to curve his lips. “I wonder if you were this prepared for battle as a child as well.”

By giving a playful smack against his chest, you all but confirmed it. “I’ll have you know that I was always well-behaved as a child!”

He did not believe a word of it and jested, “Perhaps as long as your parents were in sight.”

The tug at the corner of your mouth betrayed you. “You don’t know anything about me, Ash Man.”

You tried to walk past him, he moved so you could not. You tried again and it had the same result.

“What?” It was ticking you off.

That mischievous smirk had now reached his eyes.

Was he daring you to physically move him out of your way? Even in the dark, you could see how focused he was on your face, in his eyes you could see a hint of curiosity and oddly enough it intrigued you too.

With a nervous soft chuckle, you swayed on your feet a bit. “I don’t play games anymore, I’m not a child.”

Your eyes darted between the sleeping child, and the Ash Man who seemed to be quiet determined to test your limits.

“I have learned about you.” He took a step closer, intruding your personal space without an ounce of remorse. “I know enough to see beyond the mask you often hide behind.”

He stood so close that you didn’t know where to look anymore, since when had it become so difficult to glare at him from a short distance?

You shook the feeling off and cheekily said, “It’s not a mask, it’s just my face when I see that you’re around.”

After that, he did not let you move past him at all, clearly you were too entertaining.

“Will you move? I am trying to go and get some sleep.” You were waving your hand at him, shooing him like you would an animal.

The sneaky bastard caught your lower arm and gave it a tug.

A squeak escaped you when you thought you were going to fall, but ended up against his side instead.

He hushed you while barely holding back a laugh himself, “Shhh… you’ll wake the boy.”

You smacked his side and arm with the back of your hand. “It’s your fault!”

He caught your hand when you tried to hit him a third time, “I thought you did not play games anymore?”

Then why was your smile so bright that it put the sun and moon to shame?

You regained your balance and pulled your hand free, but did not step back. “I don’t.”

By the look in his eyes, you know this wasn’t over yet. As if to challenge him completely, you brushed your arm against his whilst walking past him, even giving a small bump into him that was meant to imbalance him.

You got away with it for a few steps, then he caught you by the arm and had you against the bark of a tree a second later. One hand on your arm, his other placed just above your shoulder against the tree.

Your first reaction was to look over to see if Squirrel was still asleep before he got the wrong idea, you could not see the boy from this angle but knew Lancelot could.

The way he was acting now was new, and you were trying to understand his behavior.

“Have you gone mad?!?” You weren’t scared, just taken aback by it.

He was glad to see that you had grown to trust him, and pointed it out, “So far you have not even reached for your sword.”

Had he done this days earlier, you would have threatened him with it. He was testing you…

Quietly you told him of the conclusion you were drawing from his different behavior, “You’re doing this to see if I trust you.”

His hand on the tree got closer to your face, “Do you?”

You were pressing your back into the tree to handle the close proximity. “Seeing as you are unharmed, the answer should be clear to you.”

Even though he smirked, you could tell that he was waiting for a real answer.

“I trust you,” You admitted and warned him, “Don’t make me regret it.”

He let go off your arm and stood up straight again, no longer trapping you between himself and the tree, “Once Percival is safe, where will you be?”

Staying home was not an option. “Out into the world to help my people I suppose.”

“Alone?” He asked.

Squirrel turned in his sleep and distracted Lancelot.

You took the moment of distraction to step away. “I don’t want to be thinking too much of the future just before I go to sleep.”

He understood the reason and let you walk back to Squirrel.

The boy was mumbling in his sleep a bit, and you sat down on your sleeping spot beside him. You leaned back against the tree and made yourself comfortable under your sheet.

Squirrel rolled over on his back and his arm landed on your leg.

So, now you were stuck sleeping the way you were seated or risked waking the sleeping child.

Lancelot had seen it happen and focused on his own sleeping spot to try and hide the grin. “I would not move.”

You couldn’t manage to glare at him, it was too sweet to see Squirrel feel comfortable and safe enough to sleep like this.

The Ash Man rested against a tree, having both you and the boy perfectly in his sight.

A view to treasure.

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[bobbiworks]

Beyond the Bell's Chimes | Part 33

RIIZE Fanfiction: Wonbin, Seunghan, Eunseok, Sohee, Shotaro, Sungchan, Anton, Original Characters Genre: Teen romance, high school romance, fluff, angst, friendship

The students' go-to spot was a street food stand offering a variety of dishes. Some craved spicy rice cakes, while others opted for bowls of fried rice. The area was bustling with not only students but also other tourists, creating a lively, crowded atmosphere that only added to the fun.

"Looks like Jiwoo!" Seunghan teased, pointing to a soft turtle plushie. Jiwoo looked at him, perplexed. "Since when did I become a turtle?" she raised a brow, but Seunghan handed her the toy. "Am I slow?"

"Sort of?" Seunghan replied, earning a gentle jab to his chest. "Kidding. I just want you to smile a bit more," he said, concerned that she might not be enjoying herself without Wonbin.

"I'm fine, Seunghan. Thank you," Jiwoo reassured him, spotting an empty food stall. "Let's go there," she suggested, walking towards it. Simultaneously, on the other side, Wonbin was heading to the same stall.

"Oh… Hi," Jiwoo smiled, waving at him. "I guess you're thinking the sam—"

"Wonbinie! Let's grab some pizza!" Minseul shouted across the path. Wonbin turned toward her voice, but Jiwoo, knowing his preferences for hotdogs and kimbap, held his hand. "Sorry, I have to go," he said, placing a hand on hers.

Jiwoo tightened her hold, looking at him straight in the eyes. "You… You should eat a lot, okay?" she asked, struggling to push past the lump in her throat. Slowly letting go of his hand, Wonbin took a step back.

As he was about to leave, Seunghan blocked his way. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked quietly, not wanting Jiwoo to overhear.

"Like I said, I am going to give you time to be with her," Wonbin replied.

"This is not what I wanted," Seunghan said, growing agitated. "You're being ridiculous right now. Seriously? Of all the things you can do, avoiding her is not it."

"Then what is it that you want? I already stepped aside, even though I am getting upset…jealous," Wonbin tried to avoid the last word, but Seunghan heard it.

"It's not like I am trying to take her away from you," Seunghan replied with pain in his voice. "This trip is special, so we wanted to make memories together… all of us. Just so you know. I asked you to give me a chance with Jiwoo, but it doesn't mean you have to push her away. That's clearly and plainly stupid of you," he said, bumping Wonbin's shoulder as he walked ahead.

Jiwoo was at another stand buying hotcakes, trying to ignore the fact that Wonbin seemed to be avoiding her. She bought hotdogs and a roll of kimbap to go and ran towards Wonbin, giving him the bag of food.

"Just in case you won't like the pizza," Jiwoo smiled as she handed him the bag. "Sorry if I am being nagging," she said, running back to Seunghan before Wonbin could say a word. He watched Seunghan and Jiwoo walk away from him and later observed his friends hanging out without him.

"So, how's the situation going?" Minseul asked as they headed back to the bus.

"Don't talk to me," Wonbin shot back, mad at himself for falling into Minseul's tactics.

"Jiwoo…" Eunseok called out when he saw Jiwoo walking back to her bus with Suyoung. He jogged towards her, pulled her hand to him, and placed a couple of hotpacks in her hand. "Just in case you get cold," he said.

Suyoung, Sohee, and even other classmates who witnessed the gesture cooed in excitement, teasing Jiwoo, who was surprised to receive such a gesture from him. "Thanks, oppa," she smiled shyly. Eunseok simply nodded, ruffled her hair, and was then dragged away by Sungchan back to their bus.

Jiwoo held the hotpacks and put them in her pockets before heading back to her seat. Seunghan carried all their food for the next two hours in a paper bag. He caught eyes with Wonbin, who had exchanged seats with another classmate to avoid Minseul. Though Wonbin was just a few seats away, Seunghan didn't bother to talk to him.

Finally, they arrived at the center. It was a long but worthwhile journey. Students were assigned to their rooms before getting off the bus, following the tradition of girls with girls and boys with boys.

Jiwoo would share a room with Suyoung, Minseul, and two other girls. The room was spacious enough with flat beds on the floor. As usual, Jiwoo and Suyoung would be next to each other, while the others found their spots.

"What are you going to do for after settling up?" Suyoung asked.

"I'll have dinner and probably get some rest," Jiwoo said as she arranged her bed. "I have to return this to Seunghan in case he needs it. I have mine here anyway," she added.

"Are you alright?" Suyoung asked, concerned about how Jiwoo felt after Wonbin had been avoiding her.

"Yes, I am fine," Jiwoo assured. "I am just tired from riding the bus," she said nervously.

"Alright. I might not be with you after dinner because I made plans with Sohee to see the rooftop view," Suyoung explained. "He has been talking about it since last week," she chuckled.

"He must be so excited to take you there," Jiwoo said. "I am jealous," she added, reaching for her friend's hand. "But have fun with your boyf—"

Suyoung immediately slapped her hand onto Jiwoo's face, almost feeling like a slap. Jiwoo gasped, looking at her in shock. "You didn't—" Jiwoo started, and Suyoung screamed as she ran all over the room, even stepping out into the hallway.

"I'm sorry, Jiwoo!" Suyoung laughed, finding it hilarious as she ran amidst the crowd of students idling in the hallway. Jiwoo chased her, ready to playfully retaliate.

Jiwoo navigated the bustling school hallway, determined to catch up with Suyoung, when an unexpected hurdle named Wonbin abruptly blocked her path. The noisy crowd of students seemed to blur into the background as Jiwoo planned to casually walk past him after a simple greeting. However, her strategy hit a roadblock when Wonbin reached out and firmly grasped her hand.

Before Wonbin could articulate his thoughts, a surprise intervened in the form of a pair of arms encircling him from behind. The intruder turned out to be Minseul, who, with a casual intimacy, hugged Wonbin as Jiwoo helplessly watched.

The scene struck Jiwoo like a bolt of lightning, causing an instant pang in her chest. Whatever purpose had driven her to approach Wonbin in the first place faded from her mind as she withdrew from his hold, taking a step back in disbelief.

Minseul, undeterred, suggested, "Wonbin, let's go to the rooftop tonight!" She pressed her cheek against Wonbin, who was visibly stunned by her unexpected boldness. After regaining his composure, he managed to free himself from Minseul's embrace, leaving both girls to process the awkward tableau.

A nearby student couldn't help but vocalize the unfolding drama, exclaiming, "Oh my god… Is this a drama?"

As Wonbin attempted to explain himself, Jiwoo's tear-filled eyes betrayed her emotional turmoil. She stood there, silent and vulnerable, prompting concerned whispers from onlookers.

Attempting to bridge the widening gap, Wonbin stammered, "J-Jiwoo… I can explain." He moved to reach for her, but a sudden slap intercepted his attempt.

Eunseok materialized between them, shielding Jiwoo from Wonbin's proximity. Irritation emanated from him, barely contained as he shot a glare at Wonbin. "Do you still want to talk?" Eunseok's smile carried a subtle menace, challenging Wonbin to justify his actions.

Wonbin, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events, barely managed a response before Eunseok redirected his inquiry towards Jiwoo. "Shim Jiwoo… Do you still want to talk to him?" Eunseok's tone held a mix of concern and accusation, leaving Jiwoo caught in the storm of emotions that had unfolded before her.

"I-I'm okay," Jiwoo managed to say, summoning strength despite the pieces of her heart scattered within. Eunseok turned towards her, offering his handkerchief and gently turning her away from the disconcerting scene with Wonbin.

"I'll walk you to your room," Eunseok said, maintaining a respectful distance. He accompanied Jiwoo, watching her wipe away tears as if they were mere beads of sweat. "Should I call Miyoung? Suyoung?"

"No, it's okay," Jiwoo replied, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"I'm just here," Eunseok reassured her.

"Thank you for taking me out from there, but I think I should be by myself for now," Jiwoo said, holding his handkerchief. "I'll return this tomorrow." With that, she entered her room, leaving Eunseok alone in the hallway.

Alone in her room, Jiwoo rushed to her bed, burying herself under the blanket to release the flood of tears she had been holding back.

Meanwhile, Wonbin headed back to his room, only to be intercepted by Seunghan rushing towards him. Without warning, Seunghan's fist met Wonbin's face, sending him sprawling to the floor. The students around them intervened, restraining Seunghan from delivering another blow.

"I warned you," Seunghan growled, his anger palpable. He had heard about the situation from their friends. "You just can't wait and chose to hurt her, huh? I told you… get to your senses, asshole."

As Seunghan walked away, the onlookers could sense the gravity of the situation. It was the first time they had witnessed Seunghan, typically composed, unleashing such fury.

Spotting Minseul smirking in the crowd, Seunghan approached her. "Interesting," she commented, undeterred by the commotion.

Seunghan scoffed, revealing his knowledge of Minseul's less-than-honorable reputation. "Too bad, you are not her, who likes to fool around with men. Yeah, I heard about you, Minseul. I heard all about you."

Minseul, unimpressed, retorted, "She's not going to choose you anyway."

"Are you sure people here will choose you?" Seunghan shot back. "What did Jiwoo ever do to you? I may have feelings for Jiwoo, but it is not up for you to decide." Determined, Seunghan pushed Minseul against the wall.

"I'm not done yet," he declared, unable to contain his anger any longer. "I'm warning you. Stay away from them."

Minseul, unfazed, laughed sarcastically. "Or else what? Gonna beat a girl?"

"No, but I will," Suyoung announced, appearing behind Seunghan. She intervened, pushing him away and confronting Minseul. "I've been eyeing you since this tour began. You should have stayed invisible from everyone's view. Are you that desperate to get attention?"

Frustrated, Minseul pushed Suyoung away, but Suyoung quickly retaliated, grabbing Minseul's hair. "Let me go, you—"

"Finally," Suyoung interrupted, pushing her away. "You're just like those girls I met. I am going to repeat what Seunghan said: stay away from Wonbin and Jiwoo, and keep your hands to yourself." With that, Suyoung dragged Seunghan away from the growing crowd, leaving Minseul seething with anger and embarrassment.

Sohee anxiously waited in the room shared by Seunghan, Wonbin, Sungchan, and Eunseok. While it wasn't allowed, Eunseok, thanks to his parents being the main sponsors of the tour, had managed to secure a room with his friends. As Sohee lay on his bed, the atmosphere tensed when Suyoung walked in, dragging a visibly angry Seunghan with her.

"Why is that jerk here?" Seunghan yelled, his frustration evident. Sohee quickly stepped between them, attempting to ease the tension.

"Calm down, man," Sohee urged, guiding Seunghan to sit on the floor. He then gestured for Wonbin to join them, positioning him next to Sungchan, who was clueless about the unfolding drama.

Wonbin, his lip bruised from Seunghan's punch, felt a heavy weight in the room. Despite the urge to defend himself, he maintained composure, avoiding eye contact with Seunghan.

"Okay, calm down. We don't want Mr. Park to be involved in this fight," Sohee intervened, the only one capable of controlling the two boys. Eunseok, on the other hand, seemed disinterested, still preoccupied with helping Jiwoo.

"Tell that to the jerk," Seunghan spat, earning an approving thumbs-up from Eunseok.

"What did you do?" Sungchan questioned Wonbin, but the latter hesitated to speak, unsure of his place in the unfolding drama.

"He was out publicly having an intimate contact with another girl," Seunghan accused, not giving Wonbin a chance to defend himself.

"I was not! She hugged me!" Wonbin retorted angrily, feeling the weight of the accusations.

"Okay. Let's hear him out. Okay?" Sohee urged, attempting to bring some order before turning to Wonbin. "What really happened?"

"I was just heading back here, and Jiwoo was running. She was chasing Suyoung, but she stopped when I unconsciously stood in her way. I wanted to talk to her, but Minseul came in and just hugged me from behind," Wonbin explained, hoping his friends would understand.

"You think we can believe that?" Seunghan scoffed, his anger unabated.

"Seunghan!" Sohee yelled, trying to mediate. "Come on, man."

"No, ever since we went for a stopover, he was avoiding Jiwoo. How can I just stay calm?" Seunghan expressed his frustration.

"You said you wanted to be with her!" Wonbin yelled back.

"I DID NOT SAY THAT YOU IGNORE HER AND HURT HER, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Seunghan exploded, and Eunseok had to intervene to prevent another physical altercation.

"You know what's frustrating? She smiles more when you're with her. She is happier when she is next to you. But your sick ass is too full of shit to even notice the difference," Seunghan continued, pouring out his pent-up frustration.

Eunseok, surprisingly, found Seunghan's outburst amusing and struggled to contain his laughter. The others looked at him, bewildered.

"W-What's with him?" Sohee asked Sungchan, seeking an explanation.

"I-Isn't it always full… of shit… o-our ass," Eunseok stammered, his face red from trying to hold back laughter.

"Hyung, we are serious," Seunghan frowned, feeling that Eunseok wasn't taking the situation seriously. However, Eunseok simply waved his hand dismissively, patting Seunghan's shoulder in a comforting manner.

"Don't you like Jiwoo too?"Seunghan asked.

Eunseok admitted without hesitation. "I do, but I am not going to waste my energy fighting you guys. Besides, no one can beat the fact that she liked me first… but fell in love with Wonbin."

"That's what I have been trying to say to that jerk right there!" Seunghan complained, sounding more like a whine.

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door, and Suyoung returned from checking on Jiwoo. "Not a chance," she said in defeat. "She doesn't want to go out unless we have an activity from Mr. Park."

"I am going to talk to her," Seunghan declared, attempting to stand, but Sohee firmly stopped him.

"No. Just let her be for a while," Sohee advised, sensing that Jiwoo needed time alone.

"Miyoung-unni is going to try talking to her too, but it would be hard. She was too hurt," Suyoung added, shooting an angry glance at Wonbin. "And guess what, we're in the same room as your 'girlfriend.'"

"She is not my girlfriend!" Wonbin shot back defensively. "She's…"

"She is what? Wonbin? Just someone you like aside from Jiwoo?" Suyoung's tone was accusatory, her frustration with Wonbin palpable.

Wonbin found himself caught in a dilemma. Revealing the truth about Minseul's plan and his agreement with it would likely spell the end, but keeping it hidden would gnaw at his conscience.

"Dude, then what is it?" Sohee pressed for an explanation.

"She told me she'd help me make Jiwoo realize her feelings for me, and she assured that she will never get hurt," Wonbin confessed, the words heavy with the acknowledgment of his wrongdoing. "I'm sorry."

"Jeez. You are so immature," Sungchan commented, realizing the absurdity of Wonbin's reasoning. "Isn't this the same as the one with Yuri?" He turned to Eunseok, who discreetly signaled him not to mention Yuri.

"You are the worst," Seunghan shook his head in disbelief, disappointment evident in his eyes. The gravity of Wonbin's actions was sinking in, leaving his friends to grapple with the consequences of his misguided choices.

[edgeray]

Hello Ray! 🍅 anon here (again!)

I've been swamped irl these past few days (hence the relative radio silence) but. oh my goodness. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we have been eating GOOD. Going to ruin my digital footprint and quote zy0x on this: "I'm (s)creaming!" (both ways intended)

I absolutely love your dragon AU!Arle being a humongous dragon and nobody knows how old she is, thinking that she's some ancient beast when in reality she's still young, then "kidnapping" reader back to her nest where they spend some family time together... The trio coming to reader for food mainly because Arle Cannot Cook is hilarious, no wonder they went ham on the fish!

Arle only able to "cook" will forever be a running joke, istg. She and Tighnari would probably get along cuisine preferences wise, with their dislike of strong seasonings. Imagine Arle and Sumeru food?? Heavily seasoned to an inch of its life??? She's going to cry internally.

Let's avoid talking about the Angst TM of your madoka AU (Absolutely well written, love the style, love the effort, but screw it it's angst I left sobbing)

Comfort fics??? like one of your recent ones where reader just??? up and feeds Arle and then falls asleep in her arms??? are really to die for!!! ARLE IS SO SOFT OMGOMGOMG- Plus the teasing and banter that you throw in here and there? Absolute GOLD.

But I do agree about Arle on her period would show absolutely zero signs given what we know about her nature. Making Arle feel safe enough to fall asleep in reader's embrace is. SO ADORABLE HUHUFIWHUFWFIOJF;OI;JFJFIOW ARLEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It is prime time to spoil her.

"The beach episode that no one asked for" I think I can speak for everybody that it just hasn't been asked for YET because Nobody has cooked it YET. THANK YOU FOR THE FOOD-

Poor reader having to choose to look at either the children having fun and enjoying themselves and Arle's handsome body? Reader you have two eyes and so many Kameras!!!!! Give the children the true family outing experience by shoving the Kamera in their face as they laugh! Unleash the inner pervert by taking all sorts of photos with your husband's bare ABS EXPOSED!!!

"It's my sixth? seventh? Who knows, I lost count" reread of practically your entire fic offerings and I would like to express my continued gratitude. If you need more requests I'll be happy to send some! (I'm not sending requests currently because you might have some on your list and I am not adding on to it)

[I still have. not. done Arle's story quest. I'm not ready for the heartbreak even though it means now I've been farming using the handbook instead of being able to go to the arena. I don't need 100 primogems. I need Clervie and Arle to still be together /copium]

Hi 🍅 anon! Getting your asks always makes me giddy haha. No worries on the radio silence.

First of all, I'd like to say I made the smart descision of staying up until 7AM and then deciding maybe staying up longer isn't a good idea, so I went ahead and slept until I woke up again. My response will be fueled by 3.5 hours of sleep so apologies if it's not coherent.

I'd like to say that you will be seeing more of Dragon AU considering that my 3 out of 8 requests sitting in my inbox are asking for a continuation 😅🤣 which frankly I'm surprised about because there wasn't much Arle in it and it wasn't that good quality of my writing but I guess the inclusion of the trio was nice and the random worldbuilding I threw in there. I don't know why I was so detailed about the fantasy elements.

I like. Highkey forgot that Arlecchino didn't like heavily seasoned food so I had it so that she liked Sumeru food because of the spiciness 😅. Fr I'm a fake fan. I think that's what I put in "Rest Your Worries, Lax Your Heart" (do not ask me how I come up with titles for my requests. You can tell how tired I am after making requests based on how lazy the titles are lmfao).

I also like lowkey forgot about the existence of Kameras. Taking pictures during vacation is not natural to me and kind of forgot that I can actually do that. 🤣 hence why i forgot about including it in "Rest Your Worries, Lax Your Heart." (can you tell this was the part that was very self-indulgent? I wanna touch her abs 😩)

Do the story request, get your heart ripped out like the rest of us. Don't be a coward /j. If you need Clervie and Arlecchino together, don't worry. I do have a domestic Arlevie sitting in my inbox...

Anyways, this makes me super giddy, and was a nice start to my morning. I'm glad that my efforts are worth it and that people like you get to enjoy my work. 🫶 I still have much more to write over the summer. I've looked back on my Google Doc where I compile all the requests and looks like I've written over 20k~ words since starting writing at June 1, and it's been 13 days since (with a 3 day break because of vacation which means on average I write around 2k~ words per day that I'm actively writing). And somehow in that time, I've done 12 requests 😲.

At this rate, by the end of the summer, I will have written enough to have a whole ass novel worth. 🤣 I've never had the commitment for long books so that's why I stick to oneshots. I definetely would write a 100k+ Arlecchino x Reader if I could but sadly I cannot. That bitch would be discontinued by like 25k because I get bored of the plot or something, idk.

Enough rambling ehehe, I really appreciate this ask 🍅 anon. 🫶 do expect me to write daily for a while. much more content to make you (s)cream hehe :D

[ashplayz]

Bored.. Jasper x reader angst

Bored…

Jasper entered your house earlier than usual but she saw no signs of you anywhere she in turn grew slightly Irritated as she called out to you.  "Hey Brat! Where are you?" She called out (silence) she grew more and more irritated by the second "Runt! Are you here!?" She called out louder this time sounding angry. Nothing she walked -stomped into the kitchen to find a note on the counter.

The note read-

'Hey Jasper sorry for not checking in ahead of

time but I'm going to be spending some time with some old friends of mine so I won't be home until late tonight. Help yourself to whatever you can find to eat (I still need to do the shopping..)  Also, Try not to destroy anything while I'm gone I should be back by 8 O'clock or 8:30

I love you.

-Y/n'

Why did she read that in your annoyingly adorable voice/tone.. She let out an annoyed growl under her breath altho truthfully she never really cared if you spent time with your friends or away from her it wasn't like you were her prisoner and she never expected you to check in with her before going out somewhere she knew full well that she didn't own you and of course she trusted you it was other people she didn't trust..

Jasper Rummaged through your pantry in search of a snack grumbling something under her breath. She pulled out a half empty bag of spicy Cheetos. (you really did need to do the shopping) Jasper then grabbed the last can of soda out of the fridge smirking to herself as she knew she was going to get an ear full from you later seeing as you had already called dibs on the last soda. She made her way to the living room plopping down onto your sofa and turned on the TV in search of a nature documentary. The time was 5:30 when she started watching TV but to be honest she wasn't really even paying attention to the time.

Hours had passed of Jasper watching TV and ignoring the clock completely, also choosing to ignore the setting sun. But when Jasper finally looked up from the TV she had a bad feeling in her stomach.. It was 11 meaning that you were supposed to be home at 8 or 8:30 at the latest it had been 3 hours since you were supposed to be home.. Witch wasn't like you you were the kinda person that made a point to be on time the latest you had ever been after saying you'd be there at a certain time was roughly 30 minutes late or less not 3 damm hours..

Jasper growled as she sat up and turned off the TV not knowing what course of action would be best she settled on just sitting there and waiting for you to get back figuring that you couldn't be gone for much longer.. But as the seconds turned into minutes then the minutes turned into an hour she felt herself growing more and more anxious but clueless on how to act on it. Before she knew it it was almost 1 in the goddamn morning it was past 12:30 and still. No signs of you. That's when the door slammed open to reveal you standing there in the doorway covered in blood wearing tattered and ripped clothes, bruises and cuts covering you from head to toe Jasper felt her chest tighten and felt light headed which was odd considering she was a jem..

She quickly stood up off of the couch and bolted over to you causing the whole damn house to shake she was yelling but it was almost like you couldn't hear what she was saying you then collapsed closing your eyes tightly although you weren't actually passed out you just didn't want to deal with reality in that moment. Jasper caught you and was still yelling demanding to know who did this but to no avail.. She picked you up bridal style and set you on the couch running out of the room no doubt to find one of the first aid kits you had around the house. Her heavy foot falls shook the whole house and even caused something to fall off the wall and crash into the floor. Normally you would have yelled at her for running in the house but you couldn't care less about what she was doing in that moment you couldn't care less about her..

Your whole body ached and throbed it felt like you were just hit by a bus but that was nothing compared to the throbbing of fury inside you. You weren't really Sure who you were more angry with in that moment.. The people who you thought you could trust yet attacked you.. Or Jasper.. One things for sure you were indeed angry With her.. Her quickly falling feet made their way back to you as she knelt down beside you immediately starting to try to patch you up yelling something but you were far too irritated to listen to what was being said once her movements ceased she grabbed both of your arms forcing you to sit up despite the amount of pain you were in "Jasper!" You cried out angrily tears in your eyes..  "Y/n. Who. Did. This.!?" She demanded to know in a dangerous tone you didn't respond..

(Silence..) "I thought I could trust them.. I thought they actually cared.." You finally spoke up "Tell me who it was. So I can bash there skulls into the earth!" She said in that tone that always scared you. "NO! I DON'T WANT THAT! I DIDN'T WANT ANY OF THIS!" You yelled you struggled to stand up but once you stood over Jasper she too stood up her hands balled into fists altho she didn't say anything.. "I.. I was just.. We were hanging out and I started to vent about some problems  I was having.. Because I was going crazy! I needed someone to talk to! And.. And they seemed really supportive at first.. I thought they actually cared.. But they.. They started to get really pushy.. I told them to stop but they wouldn't listen.. I tried to fight them off but.. I was outnumbered..  Thankfully I got away before they could do anything.. Else..  Jasper was silent, you wouldn't meet her gaze..

"Why didn't you talk to me. We are partners are we not?"  She asked then causing anger to flare up inside of you "That's a laugh! You're never here!! And even when you are here you don't pay any mind to me! And I tried to talk to you. you didn't listen!!" you snapped, she was looking down at the ground, her hair hiding her expression "I am just so-!" You were about to start in on her again but you drew back all the fire leaving your soul Jasper watched as that spark you had in you die.. And it killed her inside.

"I am so… Bored… I am so bored of feeling like I'm not even worth a passing glance. I am so bored of feeling like you the person who's supposed to make me feel secure, the person I respect more than anyone else HATES ME!... I am… so.. Bored of this…I tried to make this work I really did because I choose to believe there was some good in you! But..mabey I was wrong mabey you really are a bad guy!... I .. I don't want this anymore.." You said tears were streaming down your face but you didn't feel sad. You didn't feel angry.. You just felt numb..

"What do you want?" She asked in a quiet voice not sounding angry…. After a deadly silence that Lingered for what felt like entirety you sighed before saying.. "I.. I want you out of my house. And I don't want you to come back." You said, sounding so sure of yourself.. What happened next you never would have expected.. She gently lifted your chin up with her fingers to meet her gaze. Her expression was unreadable but she was most certainly not feeling angry.. "Are you sure that's what you want?" She asked she looked into your eyes and you could swear it looked as if she had tears in them.. "yes. I am.. " you said finally.  But what shocked you the most is when she gently took her fingers to your cheeks and wiped away your tears that were still falling.. "I'm sorry.." She said almost in a whisper.

She then turned and walked off to go pack up her belongings. Her chest felt heavy in fact her entire body felt like lead.. She walked into the bedroom and grabbed a bag and shoved the few things she owned into it. The only reason she owned half these things was that you would buy her gifts things she didn't need on impulse and while Jasper didn't show it she had always taken great pride in the fact that you thought she was worth whatever gift you bought for her. That's when she picked up the stuffed lion toy you gave her that she always pretended to dislike.. But truthfully she never did.. She remembered the night you gave it to her..

It was a very stormy night and you were taking longer to get back from work than usual and every news Channel on TV was saying how bad the storm was and that you should avoid driving unless absolutely necessary and how many drivers have gotten into fatal crashes.. That's when Jasper started thinking about how weak humans truly were, how Vulnerable to everything they really were, in a blink of an eye something unthinkable could happen and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.. She knew she couldn't always be there by your side to protect you.. What if something horrible happened and she wasn't able to protect you.. She would never forgive herself..

Jasper felt herself starting to panic  she dug her nails Into her knees head down breathing hard forcing herself not to cry just then the door opened and you walked in you saw that something was clearly wrong so you hung up your wet coat and took your shoes off before making your way over to Jasper you knelt down in front of her putting your hand on top of one of hers "Jasper.. Hey.. Tell me what's wrong.. " you said gently, very worried her hand quickly grabbed onto yours tightly she was slightly shaking..

"How am I supposed to live with the fact that the worst possible thing could happen at any point in time and no one can do anything to stop it.. I.. Can't…  always be there to protect you.. What if you got hurt or worse…  I… I would never be able to forgive myself.. " Jasper said in a voice tight with emotion, your eyes widened at this.. You would never have thought Jasper to be the type to bring this up.. After a moment you smiled "Jasper.. " you said gently.. She looked up to face you "I might not know what's going to happen in the future.. But I do know that I'm actually.. A lot stronger than you might think.. Do you remember.. How I told you about that accident I was in when I was younger.. Well I didn't tell you the full story.." You said before standing up and climbing onto her lap as she wrapped her big arms protectively around you.

"I was 10 years old when it happened.. My parents were driving home from my grandparents house.. They were fighting as they Typically did.. My older brother maliki was complaining about how he wasn't getting any service and my baby brother Jay was crying.. And I.. Was pretending to be asleep so I didn't have to deal with it… that's when I heard my mother scream.. I opened my eyes to see a pair of bright headlights coming towards us from the side.. Next thing I knew.. We were weightless; it was like everything was in slow motion.. Then there was a massive crash as our car landed upside down.. What had happened was a semi truck hit our car from the side and it knocked our car off of the bridge above two other streets and our car fell to the bottom level.. It was a really bad crash… the last thing I remembered was.. Sirens and the sounds of screaming and crying fading out… I woke up in the hospital.. My parents were dead.. So was my baby brother Jay. My older brother Maliki was still alive though.. The doctors said it was a miracle I even woke up. They had predicted that I would be in a coma.. They also said that it was extremely unlikely that I would ever make a full recovery.. But I did.. Mostly.." You said

Jasper was silent and simply held you closer burying her face into your neck "You know.. Part of me feels like my older brother hates me for making a full recovery.. Because he's permanently damaged from the accident… We don't really talk any more.. " you said silence… "listen I really don't know what's going to happen in the future but what I do know is that we will face it together" you said before standing up and walking over to a cabinet you kept locked you unblocked it and pulled out a stuffed lion toy.

You walked over to her before handing the toy to Jasper "this lion always helped me through the dark times and when I was scared.. I named her Jay after my little brother. I think it's time she helped you now." You said Jasper didn't respond at first looking at the stuffed lion.. "Her? This is a male lion. It has a mane." Jasper pointed out you laughed a bit "Yeah but when I was a little kid I didn't know that I always called it a she." You said. "I think you should have her so she can help you when you're scared." You said with a sweet smile..

Jasper had stood there holding the stuffed toy while she remembered that night.. She hesitantly set it into her bag.. After Jasper had finished  shoving all of her belongings into the bag and slinging it over her shoulder she made her way out of your home but didn't see you however.. She was hoping to see you so she could tell you one of the many things she regretted never telling you.. She walked out the front door and saw you sitting on the porch step crying.. She didn't say anything as she walked past but she stopped. And turned to you "Look I know this isn't going to solve anything it isn't going to change anything but…  I want you to know that I love you.. And… i'm sorry it took.. this..  Happening for me to say this.. But I do truly.. Love you.. And I'm so sorry for everything… " she said then before turning and starting to walk off..

"For what it's worth… I'm really going to miss having you as my roommate.." You said suddenly.. "... Yeah.. Same here… . same here…" she said quietly before walking away.. It was silent then as you went to war with yourself in your mind fighting the urge to go after her and beg her to stay.. You knew that wasn't right.. You knew this was how things had to be.. With tears still streaming down your face you stood up walking into the house.. you knew that this was never healthy.. It was bad from the start.. You were a fool for forcing yourself to believe that she could change..

You sighed heavily "bored.. " you whispered out into the silence of your home..

Jasper walked not necessarily knowing whare she was going.. But knowing she just had to move.. She was angry.. But that was only directed inward.. And there was nothing.. She could do about it…  she knew this was her fault that she lost the one person that she had ever loved because of her huge ego and her pride.. She felt.. Incredibly hopeless in that moment…

She felt tears falling down her face… 'I really am a bad guy.. ' she thought to herself as she walked far away from the place and the person she called home..

(Pt 2 is finally out btw)

[silversiren1101]

Threshold - Stay

Needed a break from writing spicy smut so please take some angst and pain!

They passed through the flap of their tent, the deepest in the camp the Crusade set up right there on the doorstep of Threshold. Distant. Safe. 

The flap barely closed behind them before Regill, a few steps ahead, rounded on his heel. Concern angled his brows harshly now that no one was there to see such emotion—now that she could answer him candidly, without anyone to hear.

“There is something on your mind. You are anxious.” Not questions, and yet the question underlying them was apparent. “And it’s not about our odds.”

Her stomach fell out from beneath her, and she threatened to fall with it. Everything she’d been suppressing for the past several hours reared at the chains she’d constructed around them, and she could feel those links breaking as he stared her down. A chill took to her limbs now that she was faced with the inevitable and they, so rare for her, began to tremble. Her clenched fists started to shake so severely that a quiet rattling of her armor filled the tent.

The concern on Regill’s face turned blatant. His eyes widened and his brows fell from harsh and stern to shocked, then to reassuring affection.

It made her want to scream.

Now that they were alone… Now that he’d called her out on that anxiety she’d been trying to suppress…  There was no avoiding it now: what she had been agonizing over, growing like a rot throughout her body and soul for the past several hours as they’d fought their way, side by side, to the foot of this cursed place…

‘Side by side…’ 

The dread inside of her clenched so tightly in her stomach that it nearly threatened to drag her to her knees. What she needed to tell him… What she was about to order him to do… 

Minovae swallowed around the lump in her throat. Her lips parted and a shaky breath raked over her suddenly dry tongue.

‘Tell him,’ duty demanded.

The weight of her heart in her chest, now thudding wildly, burdened her more than any armor she’d ever worn in that moment. Not even her tail rattled and swayed across the canvas covered ground. It lay still, as if dead, burdened so heavily by what she needed to say.

‘You have to tell him now. You have to order him now. Before tomorrow,’ duty barked within her mind.

“Minovae…”, Regill’s eyes narrowed, and his voice was so low and warm and soft for him that it only made everything inside of her burn worse. “What is th—”

“You have to stay here.” Duty interrupted him on her behalf, tremulous. The discipline in her acted where her heart consciously could not.

Regill stared. His brows tilted slightly in his confusion, yellow eyes piercing into her, trying to discern her intent. Of course he was going to stay with her tonight, he didn’t need to be asked…

“You have to stay. Here”, she repeated. The words she needed to actually say burned coldly in her gut, so heavy she couldn’t dredge them up from her throat and onto her lips.

Something flicked in Regill’s gaze. His expression subtly shifted and what she saw threatened to break her already. He knew. Oh, he knew, at that moment. What she was asking of him; that impossible ask, was forming in his mind and she needed to do the right thing and just tell him because he deserved that much. He deserved to hear it directly.

Minovae swallowed, desperately trying to steady her voice. No, no. She couldn’t be Minovae for this. She had to be…

A deep breath: one shaking inhale, and then the steadier exhale.

“Tomorrow, Knight Lieutenant—”, Commander Arangeir spoke, her voice firmer, still underscored by a slight shake impossible to fully disguise, “—you are to lead the defense on my behalf. Here.”

The last word fell from her lips and she wanted to fall with it. Twisting, wrenching pain squeezed her chest as the gravity of what she’d just asked of him fully weighed upon both their shoulders.

Regill Derenge was not an emotive person. He defied displaying most anything.

And yet the shadow of despair and betrayal was evident in those piercing eyes she loved so very much. It was only for a split second, and yet, to her, it could’ve been all of time there ever was and would be.

Were they bouncing around in his head? The words she had really told him underneath what she’d actually said?

‘You won’t be coming with me.’ 

‘You won’t be coming with me.’ 

‘You won’t be coming with me.’ 

He drew a shaking breath himself, and the darkness in his gaze buried itself behind that typical cold stoicism of his—the one he rarely defaulted to anymore when they were alone like this and of course that felt like being run through with a ragged blade. Would there be blood on the ground, if she looked?

“Is this… an order, Commander?” 

Quiet. Quiet. His voice was so quiet. So muted. He never sounded like this. His confidence, his self-assuredness, it was all gone, leaving behind soulless words that sounded so empty and yet so full of pain that it told her, without a doubt, how much he was internally screaming. Was this him trying to hold back the rage? The yelling and demands and insults? Was the pain so great he couldn’t process it, much like the love he first felt for her some months ago?

More emotional agony than he could comprehend, greater than anything he’d ever felt before.

No. No.

The mantle of ‘Commander Arangeir’ vanished instantly from her shoulders.

Minovae surged forward, closing the gap between them. She grabbed at his jaw, cupping his face as tenderly as she could with her gloves and vambraces keeping her bare skin from his. The very moment her leather-clad thumbs caressed his cheek bones, that hurt seeped back into his eyes and she despised herself for it. 

How terribly, she had wounded him, that it showed itself so readily. 

“....Why?” He sounded wearier than she’d ever heard before, and so quiet she wouldn’t have heard it if she wasn’t as close as she was now. 

Tears began to burn at the corners of her eyes.

She wished she could take it all back, to lean on those forbidden time powers like she did before and make it as if she never gave the order.

But she couldn’t.

She couldn’t.

All she could do was tell him why. 

He had to know. Even if he didn’t agree. Even if he didn’t understand—though he most assuredly would and be so very proud of her for it—he had to at least know.

“I…”, she began and had to swallow down the pain again as the right words scrambled across her tongue.

She leaned down and pressed her brow to his, taking another shuddering breath. For a moment, she thought she could feel him trembling too, but… no. That was not like him. She was shaking enough for the both of them.

Her tongue flicked out and licked at her lips as she fought to find the words. Every single one that leapt forth was wrong, so very wrong. Nothing made sense when she went to say it.

And yet, she heard her voice anyway… As if someone else was speaking while she was screaming and fighting for coherency in the emotional turmoil of her thoughts.

“I want to live”, she whispered. “I want to live, Regill. So very badly.”

A drop fell from her closed eyes and she felt him flinch. It… strengthened her words. Tears and words together started to flow, and then flow, unable to stop as the surge of how deeply she loved him—them—emboldened her with the courage she needed to just tell him.

“I love you, so very much, Regill. I love you. I love you, and I want to live. I want to live more than anything. Both of us”, she paused, taking such a deep and shuddering breath that her armor clinked. “And that’s why you can’t be there… with me…” 

His own hands tentatively laid upon her wrists, and when she opened her eyes, his own were looking at her with such a profound and deep melancholy.

Because he understood.

Understood as only a fellow Hellknight could.

Duty… over all else.

“If what it takes to end this war is…”, Minovae’s tongue froze. She couldn’t say it. She wanted to live so dearly that even saying it, ‘my death’, felt anathema to her, and yet… “I will pay that cost. If it is the only thing to save this world, my love, I will pay it. But I can’t—”

She swallowed and the tears fell in earnest. Hot streams ran down her cheeks, following the grooves of her scales below falling from her face to his or the ground beneath them.

He squeezed, gently, about her wrists. Encouraging, as always, in spite of it all—even though he knew without her yet saying it.

She continued after another steadying breath, swallowing down a fresh wave of hot tears.

“I want to live with you, after all of this, come what may… I love you more than anything. And because of that, if you were there… if I saw your face… I don’t know if I would be able to do my duty, if it came down to that..” 

Silence fell between them.

It rang. It screamed.

It stretched on for eternity, and her tears refused to cease their quiet fall despite the sense that time had stopped.

“Mino…” When he finally spoke, Regill’s voice was nothing but gravel. Low and strained. Pained. “...Promise me, at least… that you won’t do anything needless…”

And she heard loud and clear, what was really beneath his words: ‘Don’t throw your life away. Please, gods, don’t die for nothing.’ 

She pulled her brow away from his to look him square in the eyes. Her lip trembled upon seeing that muted despair depriving them of their usual sharpness, blunted by a sadness deeper than she’d ever seen in them before.

Was this how he had looked when she had been stolen away from him by Ssila'meshnik? When he sat at her bedside for those weeks, waiting for her to wake up so he could tell her, after all these years, how he truly felt?

She sniffled, and a fresh stream of tears rolled down her already soaked cheeks.

“I promise. I’m going to do whatever it takes to come back to you.” Not even blinking those tears away made her see clearly again. “For you. For us. I’ll fight with my fangs if I have to. I’ll crawl my way out of the Abyss… I want to live, Regill. I want us.”

Her voice cracked fully before she could even finish, jaw full on shaking as she beheld her with that aching stare. Beneath the agony, though, she saw clearly a deep and boundless love. 

Adoration. Pride. Reverence.

A few moments of silence passed before he breathed in deeply, his eyes closing as he internalized it all. When they opened again, his stoicism had returned… to anyone else but her. That sorrow could not hide from her. While everyone outside of their tent would see the same dour, severe gnome as usual, to her, she saw the man she loved very much suffering in a way she had not ever seen before.

Regill gently pulled her hands away from his face. He nodded and then spoke as if nothing had happened. “Understood, Commander. I will lead the defense tomorrow, as per your orders.”

Minovae could feel herself breaking further. ‘Take it back. Take it back. Tell him to come with you. Order him to come with you!’

He pulled himself away completely and began to walk past her, back out of their tent. She wanted to scream. Was he so angry, so upset, that he would leave her tonight? No, No. What if either of them did fall tomorrow. She couldn’t bear the thought that if this was their last night together it would be like this…

Her hand thrust out into the space between them just as he grasped the tent flap.

“...Stay.” Barely above a whisper. Just as the breaking point of crying. “Please.”

Regill paused and when he looked at her, there was something like… scolding beneath the hurt. An incredulousness. As if he were telling her what a fool she was to have leapt to this conclusion. 

“I merely need some time…”, he sighed, trying to sound reassuring despite how clearly strained his voice was. “This order is not an easy one. I will be back soon… my dear. ”

Minovae blinked. Tears filled her vision immediately, regardless. Hearing that term of affection, relieving as it was, also felt like a punch in the gut after the suffering she’d just forced upon him. 

As for where he was off to… from the way his fist was clenched, and from the tensed muscles of his neck… she could tell he was brimming with energy he needed out.

He needed to perform a Reckoning.

Her stomach sank further from the realization. He hadn’t had to do one in quite some time. This was irrefutable proof of the amount of inner turmoil he was in: a need to succumb to physical pain to reconcile himself with the demands of the Chain against what he truly wanted. Of his, and her, duty.

She wanted to apologize. She wanted to caution him against going too far, to save his pain and strength for tomorrow. She wanted to hold him right then and there. But she knew any of these would only make it harder for him. How many times had she torn up her own back to force herself to submit to duty and orders, she herself being a Hellknight just like him? 

If this is what he needed, then…

“Minovae”, Regill continued. He held her gaze and told her plainly, “even if you told me to leave—to stay away tonight—that is one order I would refuse to follow.”

And with that, he was gone. 

The tent flap barely closed before her knees hit the canvas covered ground, and a deep, sob tore its way from her throat.

[deathbyseventeen]

As the World Caves In

pairing: Dino/Chan x f!reader

genre: post-apocalyptic, romance/fluff, angst | zombie!au

word count: ≅4.9k

series: To be Together

chapter warnings: allusions/reminders of death (an unnamed side character is said to be dead)

summary: The world ended on a Tuesday in November, days after Halloween, when the sun was less than an hour away from setting. Chan had just left his dorm’s building, late to his History of Dance 136A lecture, when it happened. You hadn’t been as lucky on the day the world began to crumble.

a/n: hello again :) take a chance on this fic, maybe? spicier times ahead (not explicitly spicy though) oh boy.. oh boy oh boy oh boy

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{intro} + {3 days since the end} + {7 days since the end} + {10 days since the end} + {20 days since the end} + {24 days since the end} + {27 days since the end} + {a month since the end}

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24 Days Since the End

You’re wiping down the coffee table that sits in front of the tv, trying to ignore the muted snow on the screen even as its reflection dances on the surface in front of you, when you hear the click of Chan’s old clock. You waver, hand freezing, but you don’t look. The temptation is too big, and instead, you turn to look for the remote on the couch.

You can hear yourself breathing as you fumble with the remote before unmuting the tv and flipping the channel. The snow turns into a gray screen with the words “NO SIGNAL” in bold, black letters at the center of the screen. You grimace and change the channel again. This time you’re greeted by color bars and the never-ending beep sound that drives you to mute the channel again in panic.

You stare at the screen for a while, fixated on the long beep sound you can no longer hear but echoes in your ears. In the little time you’ve been able to watch tv since the end, you’ve seen ten channels disappear. How many were disappearing each day, you wondered.

What about the radio?

Were the television and radio in your dorm the same? No, you shook your head, willing yourself to stop thinking. It didn’t matter.

You’d just grabbed the dry cloth again when the clock inside the cabinet under the television clicks again, and you freeze.

You’d just grabbed the dry cloth again when the clock inside the cabinet the television rests on clicks again, and you freeze. You still don’t want to look, but you can hear the seconds ticking away in your head, and you cave. 

You glance nervously at the clock: 5:15pm.

It’s been hours since Chan left. Where could he be? You asked yourself, chewing on your lips, staring at the clock just as you had been when he had first left. But, just as you could feel yourself growing nervous again, you hear the door open.

You swivel toward the door, clutching the cloth between your hands, when Chan comes bounding in through the door with a bouquet of flowers and his knifebrella in one hand, his duffle bag slung over a shoulder, and a tired smile.

“Honey,” he calls out sweetly, quietly, after he shuts the door, “I’m home.”

“Chan,” you sigh, rushing forward to embrace him after he places the duffle bag and knifebrella on the floor. 

“I brought food,” he laughs.

“Mmm,” you hum as your arms tighten around him, your face buried in his chest.

“I brought you some flowers too,” he goes on, and you feel him shift. You could feel his lips hovering near your forehead for a couple of moments before he places a kiss on your forehead. “Come on,” he mumbles, “let’s push the table against the door. Then, we can cuddle on the couch.”

You nod wordlessly, another hum accompanying it, before detaching yourself from him. Then, you accept the flowers he holds in his hands before noticing they’re a mixture of natural and artificial flowers. Confused, you turn back to Chan to ask about them when your eyes lock onto the cut he has running across his left cheek.

The flowers slip from your hands from the shock. 

“Chan,” you gasp, hands darting to cover your mouth. “Wha-what happened?”

He chuckles with a hint of sadness as he lifts a hand to graze the clotted wound. 

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” He answers softly, almost too quietly for you to hear, but you do. “I swear.” 

“What happened?” You insist, tears starting to pool in your eyes.

Blood rushes up to his face, “I fell in a bush outside.” 

Silence fills the room, and it feels like a lifetime has gone by before you can think of anything to say, and even then, the words erupt from you without a second more of hesitation.

“What?!” It comes out louder than anything you’ve said in the past month, and it startles you. It’s probably an exaggeration, but you can’t help it, not when you start to imagine the reasons why he would have fallen into the bushes in the first place. 

There’s shuffling outside and a croaking moan that plunges the two of you into an even deeper silence. And, after a moment of that stressful silence, you rush to push the table against the door. Chan follows. It’s not until the table is firmly against the door and its accompanying chairs have been stacked over it that your voice comes back. Though it returns in a whisper. 

“Did you--Why would you--Chan.” 

“I swear I wasn’t bit. I-I wasn’t running from them. I saw some flowers growing in the bushes on the way to the stadium, and I didn’t see any zombies--” Tears welled in your eyes again at the word, and a shudder of breath escaped you as he continued-- “Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. I was startled, that’s it. I heard one of them close by. It sounded like they were coming closer. I got startled, and I tripped on a root. I got scratched by the bush on the way down. But I got away. It wasn’t even close. That was it. I promise.”

“Chan,” you whine at last and pull him into the dorm room’s kitchen as you force your tears to dissipate, “Don’t ever do that again.”

Chan lets you run the faucet’s water and wet a corner of the kitchen’s drying towel to clean the cut on his cheek before speaking again, “I’m sorry. I just wanted to get you some flowers.” 

“Flowers aren’t worth your life, Chan.”

“They weren’t that much of a risk,” he smiled nervously, “They were on my way. I just thought….”

“No,” you insist, wiping your nose with the back of your hand after patting his cheek dry, “Please, Chan. I can’t--” you cried-- “I can’t--not without you. I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Chan frowns. He takes the drying towel from your hands and tosses it into the sink behind you. A moment later, he hoists you onto the counter and comes to a stop between your legs. He cups your cheeks and uses his thumbs to wipe the dry tears off the apples of your cheeks.

You weren’t crying, no. Though you could still feel the sting in your eyes. But he could tell you were forcing yourself to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, close enough that you can feel his breath fanning across your face.

You shiver at the feeling. Neither of you had realized how close the two of you had gotten until that very moment. 

Everything’s quiet again, but it’s different this time, sucked into Chan’s bubble. The two of you focused entirely on the other, gazes transfixed on the lips of the other.

His voice drops into an even softer whisper, “I--” he gulps-- “I won’t do it again.” 

You nod, and the tips of his fingers brush against your hairline, and the tip of your nose grazes his. Your breaths stutter at the contact, and suddenly, it’s too hot. It only takes a second more for the two of you to close the gap between your lips.

The kiss is long and tentative, as if afraid that the other would disappear if they were rougher. Though, with every second that passes, the two of you find yourselves adding pressure to it. His hands stop cradling your face and instead move to grip your waist.

His fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt, and it’s a sure thing that you’d wake the following day with bruised crescent moons in the same spots. Those marks would go unnoticed, overshadowed by the other marks that would come to litter your body. One of your hands presses against the base of his neck, while the other toys (tugs) with the strands of hair resting above his nape.

You rest on the counter of his kitchen a couple of more minutes before he pulls you closer and presses into you. You groan at the feeling and tug at his hair when he parts from your lips and goes to work on your neck. You hardly notice when he picks you up from the counter and carries you to the bedroom, only coming to when your back touches the mattress.

☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡☡

The next day, the dorm room feels as if it’s been plunged into a perpetual post-orgasmic bliss. Neither of you speaks of the prior night’s activities but hover around each other all morning. He draws open the curtains while you make breakfast, then joins you. He stands behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist lazily, and begins to leave kisses down the side of your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you gulp, face warming as you tilt your head to give him more access. It’s at this moment, while the sunshine filters in from the closed window, the two of you look like a photo of a couple amidst their honeymoon phase.

Hours later, the two of you were cuddled on the couch when you felt Chan tense behind you.

You were flipped through channels, trying to find a channel that worked, when Chan felt his phone buzzing in rapid succession. He shifted almost imperceptibly to pull out his phone and froze when he read the latest message in the notification thread. Another came in, and a chill ran down his spine. They arrived as if they were happening at the very moment, but they were all dated from the night before. 

He unlocked his phone as quickly as he could and scrolled to the very first message.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

-Yesterday 5:30 pm- 

Jeonghan Chan, are you home yet? [5:30pm]

Jeonghan Chan? [5:35pm]

Cheol Chaaaaan. You need to check in. [5:37pm]

Seungkwan You better be dead since you’re not responding [5:40pm]

Cheol Seungkwan! [5:41pm]

Hoshi Dude [5:41pm] 

Seungkwan What? It’s not like he’s actually dead [5:42pm] 

Cheol You don’t know that [5:42pm]

Hoshi Not cool [5:42pm] 

Cheol What if you just jinxed him? What then? [5:43pm]

Seungkwan I didn’t! Jeez [5:44pm] 

Jeonghan That’s great. Great. Now where’s Chan? [5:45pm]

Jeonghan Anyone? [5:45pm]

Jeonghan Anyone at all? [5:46pm]

Jeonghan Chan? [5:46pm]

Vernon Nope [5:50pm]

Vernon Any word from Joshua? [5:50pm]

Hoshi Ooog or Jihoon Wonwoo and Jun? [5:51pm]

Cheol Mingyu, Hao, Seokmin, you three need to check in too [5:52pm] 

Jeonghan Fuck. Where is everyone? Every single one of you needs to check in right now [6:00pm] 

Hoshi Here here [6:01pm] 

Seungkwan Yeah, okay [6:02pm] 

Cheol Here [6:02pm]

Mingyu I’m alright. Going to sleep soon. [6:04pm] 

Wonwoo I’m fine too. [6:20pm]

Hao Me too [6:23pm] 

Jeonghan Jihoon? Seokmin? Joshua? Jun? [6:40pm]

Jeonghan Chan [7:00pm]

Seungkwan That ass. He’s probably asleep [7:03pm]

Jeonghan He said he’d check in when he got home [7:04pm]

Jeonghan He said he’d be home by five right [7:04pm]

Jeonghan Right? [7:05pm]

Cheol Hannie. I’m sure he’s fine. Seungkwan’s right, he probably just fell asleep. Let’s give him til tomorrow before we start freaking out [7:06pm]

Chan sighed. Not only had he forgotten to check in and inadvertently scared Jeonghan, but now he also knew that the cell signal in his area was diminishing.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

-Today 8:32am-

Jeonghan Chan [8:32am]

Jeonghan Chan [8:32am] 

Jeonghan Chan [8:32am] 

Jeonghan Chan [8:32am] 

Jeonghan Chan, where are you? [8:33am]

Jeonghan You need to answer [8:33am] 

Jeonghan Chan [8:34am] 

Jeonghan Chan [8:34am] 

Cheol I’m sure he’s fine, Hannie. He’s probably still sleeping [8:35am]

Jeonghan But what if he isn’t [8:35am]

Cheol Then we’ll figure something out [8:36am]

Chan frowned. What exactly would they be able to do if something had happened to him?

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

- Today 10:52am - 

Chan I’m alright. Sorry I didn’t answer. I had a long night. [10:52am]

Seungkwan Ass [10:52am] 

Jeonghan CHAN [10:52am] 

Jeonghan Where have you been? [10:53am] 

Seungkwan You better be. When has Jeonghan ever been awake this early? [10:53am] 

Cheol Are you okay? [10:54am] 

Chan I’m okay. I swear [10:54am]

Jeonghan THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU ANSWER US [10:55am] 

Chan I was busy. I got distracted [10:55am] 

Chan Look I’m really sorry I didn’t answer sooner. I left my phone in my hoodie and I didn’t remember it was there until a couple of minutes ago. [10:56am] 

Seungkwan How were you so busy you couldn’t bother to remember to check in? It’s not like the world ended and any one of us could die at any point. OH WAIT [10:57am] 

Cheol SEUNGKWAN [10:58am]

Cheol NOT HELPING [10:58am]

Chan I’m SORRY [10:58am] 

Seungkwan YOUS TILL HAVENT ANSWERED [10:59am]

Cheol We do deserve an explanation, Chan. We were worried. [11:00am]

Seungkwan I wasn’t! I told you he was fine! He was just being an ass [11:00am]

Jeonghan What were you doing, Chan? [11:01am] 

The hair on Chan’s arms bristled. He could feel his blood rushing up into his face.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Chan I just got a bit busy, alright [11:02am]

Chan I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to make you worry, but don’t ask me to tell you what I was doing. I can’t [11:03am]

Seungkwan Asshole [11:03am]

Chan And while we’re on the subject, I appreciate the concern, but what exactly were you planning to do if I never answered? Come look for me? If I never responded again, all of you need to accept that something might have happened and that I’m probably dead. [11:04am] 

Cheol CHAN [11:05am] 

Chan It’s TRUE [11:05am]

Jeonghan I REFUSE ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME I REFUSE! I WOULD DO IT! I WOULD GO LOOKING FOR YOU I DONT CARE HOW HARD IT MAY BE BUT ID FIND A WAY TO FUCKING FIND YOU SO DONT TELL ME TO JUST ACCEPT YOUR DEATH I REFUSE [11:06am] 

Chan YOU SHOULDN’T [11:07am]

Chan IF I WAS DEAD THERE WOULD BE NOTHING FOR YOU TO FIND. I’D BE ONE OF THEM [11:07am] 

Cheol ENOUGH. BOTH OF YOU NEED TO STOP. [11:08am]

Chan I DIDN’T START IT [11:08am]

Cheol NOW [11:09am] 

Cheol Chan’s here and he’s fine. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but Jun, Joshua, Seokmin, and Jihoon have yet to check in. When’s the last time ANY ONE OF YOU has heard from them [11:10am]

Jeonghan No [11:11am]

Chan No [11:11am] 

Cheol Hoshi? Seungkwan? [11:12am]

Chan had been tapping his phone rapidly for the past couple of minutes. Truly, you didn’t know how long he had been texting, having been enraptured by his facial expressions while he did. His mouth had pressed into a thin line, but one corner of his lips twitched every now and then. His eyebrows scrunched inward, then relaxed, then pressed inward again.

His face relaxed, who knows how many minutes since he’d begun, as he stared at the screen for a couple of moments more. His fingers stopped tapping the screen as if waiting, then the screen blackened.

Chan stared at his phone’s screen for a minute, waiting for someone to answer, for his phone to buzz. A coughing fit came upon him as he waited, and soon enough, his phone lay forgotten on the couch’s armrest.

You watched him as it passed, brows furrowed. And when the fit finally ended, you asked him if he was alright. 

“Yeah,” he answered, clearing his throat, “It was just an itch.” 

“Here,” you said, reaching to the floor in front of the couch where you had left a bottle of water, “Drink this.”

“Thanks.” 

The two of you settled back onto the couch afterward, focusing on the old Christmas movie you had managed to find. He coughed every now and again, though not so sparingly that you’d have enough time to forget the coughing fit you’d witnessed. He’d cough again seconds after each bout. It was purposeful you decided after the third time, a way for him to clear his throat and play it off. 

You swallowed.

Then an influx of messages sent his phone buzzing.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

-Today 11:14am - 

Hoshi I haven’t heard from any of them. Jihoon isn’t responding to my texts either [11:14am]

Seungkwan I texted Seokmin a couple of hours ago, but he hasn’t answered. [11:15am]

Seungkwan Jun too, but he hasn’t answered either [11:16am]

Cheol That’s not good. I think something might be wrong with Joshua too [11:16am]

Hoshi What happened? [11:17am]

Cheol Nothing that I know of. I was hoping he was just ignoring me but it’s been days. He left me on read [11:18am]

Seungkwan He always does that though [11:19am]

Cheol Not for this long [11:19am]

Jeonghan Yeah. Let’s just hope he muted the chat and forgot [11:21am]

Cheol  And me :(( Maybe one of you could text him. Please? [11:23am]

Hoshi On it! [11:25am]

Cheol Maybe Jun and Jihoon too? [11:25am]

Seungkwan I’ll do it [11:26am]

Jeonghan Jihoon won’t answer. I already talked to him. [11:26am]

Hoshi  He answered?! He hasn’t answered me at all [11:27am]

Cheol Did Chan leave? [11:27am]

Seungkwan He’s probably ignoring us now. [11:28am]

Seungkwan Well Jun isn’t answering either. I hope he’s okay. I can’t imagine how they’re taking care of the baby… [11:28am]

Cheol Let’s not think too depressingly, alright? They were doing fine, even with the baby. Maybe he’s just too tired [11:29am]

Cheol Jeonghan? Are you gonna tell us what’s going on? [11:29am]

Jeonghan I have bad news. Do you remember ____ ? And the group that they joined? Jihoon told me they were picked to go on a scouting mission/supply run in a town nearby. He wanted to go with them too but they didn’t let him. It was a big group and they were supposed to be back before nightfall but they never came back. A single car came back in the morning and they weren’t in it. Jihoon said that ____ died on that supply run. [11:33am]

Chan froze. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. He’d met ____ once when they’d all gone to visit Jihoon at university during winter break, and he’d gotten stuck there. Though Jihoon denied they were dating and that he had any feelings for them at all, even after they had left, Chan was sure Jihoon and ____ would end up together at some point.

They’d met the group in an avalanche of chaos, and still, they had taken on all of their personalities with ease. It had felt like they’d known them the entire time, the same way they had known Jun’s partner most of their lives.

He could practically feel the pain Jihoon was going through.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Jeonghan He isn’t doing well guys. I don’t think he’s been eating. Or if he is I don’t know, he sounds weaker. [11:34am]

Cheol Oh no [11:35am]

Hoshi ____ dead?! [11:35am]

Seungkwan I feel so bad for Jihoon [11:35am]

Cheol We have to do something. [11:36am]

Seungkwan But what? We’re so far away [11:37am]

Hoshi He’s right. We don’t even know where this base is and I doubt Jihoon will tell us. [11:39am]

The buzzing stopped. 

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

- Today 11:46am - 

Chan I wasn’t ignoring you. I hate to tell you this, especially right now, but I think you’ll be hearing less from me [11:46am]

Seungkwan What do you mean? You can’t just disappear because you’re upset you know [11:47am] 

Chan IM NOT UPSET [11:47am]

Chan It just so happens that the signal in my area is starting to get weaker. I doubt I’m going to be able to talk to you for much longer. It comes and goes [11:48am] 

Cheol This can’t be happening [11:48am]

Sleep was beginning to take hold of you, eyes drooping even though you were trying to force yourself to stay awake and watch the movie. Chan’s periodic coughing, and the cold air from the oscillating fan on the table, were lulling you to sleep though you struggled to keep your concern at bay. 

He’d only just tossed the empty bottle of water on the carpeted floor in front of you--your eyes finally closing as it landed-- when the movie on the television froze. The room was plunged into silence, but neither of you took notice. 

Then you were startled awake. The television cried, snow replaced the frozen image, and the volume grew as if one of you were pressing the button on the remote without end.

You sat up, gasping for breath. Chan dropped his phone as he fumbled around the couch, hands darting left and right and in between the cushions before he finally found the remote. He muted the television and started to flip through the channels, looking for one where he could unmute and lower the volume comfortably.

He found one just as the snarling zombies reached your door, and the hairs on your arms bristled. He hurried to lower the volume even more and then shut off the television completely. He pulled you into his chest a second after, pressing a kiss onto your forehead as he laid the two of you down again.

You hid there, trying to fall asleep again, listening to his heartbeat as he grabbed his phone again. 

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Jeonghan Maybe that’s why the others aren’t answering? [11:50am]

Cheol Maybe. What are we going to do about it? [11:52am]

Chan There’s nothing that CAN be done [11:55am]

Chan A horde of zombies is at my door right now. What are you going to do about it? NOthing. There’s nothing that you can do. Even the signal on my tv is starting to die [11:59am]

Seungkwan You ass [11:55am]

Cheol Something I DONT KNOW WHST BUT SOMETHING [11:56am]

Hoshi Crap. Does anyone remember where they said it began? Was it near Chan’s uni [11:57am]

Chan sighed. So, it was happening again. He considered going outside. Maybe there would be a better signal. 

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

Jeonghan Is it happening right now? That second text [11:59am]

Chan Yeah [12:00pm]

Chan I didn’t realize it until now but I dont think I’ve been able to find a news channel at all today [12:00pm]

Chan waits for them to respond. Half an hour goes by, and nothing comes. His phone locked itself long ago, and he’s just beginning to fall asleep when an onslaught of messages sends his phone into a buzzing frenzy.

💕💕hannie’s fools 💕💕

- Today 12:02pm - 

Hoshi Hello? [12:02pm] 

Hoshi Oh no. Is it happening to me now too? [12:02pm]

Jeonghan Have you tried the internet? [12:03pm]

Cheol Will that even work with news channels? Isn’t the online version just the broadcast but uploaded online? [12:04pm]

Wonwoo Simulcast sometimes. Yeah. But, for that to work, people would still have to go to work. [12:05pm]

Seungkwan Are you saying that the rest of the country might have already fallen. [12:05pm]

Wonwoo Yeah. Or the world. [12:06pm]

Cheol Wonwoo no [12:06pm] 

Wonwoo I’m just stating possibilities. That being said, I don’t think the rest of the world, or our country, has fallen yet. [12:07pm] 

Seungkwan That what do you think is going on [12:08pm]

Jeonghan Chan? [12:09pm]

Hoshi Guys? [12:09pm]

Wonwoo I think that in the panic, the signal-receiving antennas were probably disturbed. They’re probably still being disturbed right now, and that’s why channels are disappearing one by one. Not just because the cities are being overtaken. The same is probably true about cell phone signals. [12:012pm]

Cheol Alright. Well, then we’ll find a way to make sure we can stay in touch. [12:13pm] 

Wonwoo I’ll be honest. I don’t think there is one. [12:13pm]

Cheol Maybe not right now. But we’ll figure something out [12:14pm]

Jeonghan Until then, everyone who still has access to some news channel or something should keep us updated. If they’re up for it. [12:15pm]

Jeonghan I just checked and I’ve still got some [12:16pm]

Cheol Me too [12:17pm]

Seungkwan Same [12:17pm]

Jeonghan Ok. [12:17pm]

Seungkwan I don’t know if you guys have seen, but I think we should consider the safe zones that the news are saying are being set up [12:20pm]

Chan huffs when the messages stop. The last time he’d watched the news, he hadn’t seen anything about safe zones being built. He hadn’t even seen a proposal to rescue everyone still alive and trapped.

He coughed as he sat up and, when he was done, mumbled under his breath about trying to find a better signal outside.

“No!” You gasped, speaking the loudest you had since the end. You’d sat up as if you were thunder and lightning, your hand shooting out to grip the front of his shirt. “Please don’t go outside. You’re sick.” 

“I’m not--” 

“Yes, you are! You’re coughing so much if you go outside, they’ll hear you. Chan, please,” you begged.

His head hung. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

Hours later, after the sun had already gone down, and the two of you slid under the covers, you came to a stark conclusion. 

Chan brushed his teeth as you changed into the pair of boxers and a tee shirt that he had given you when you heard him give a throaty cough. You heard him finish rinsing and then clear his throat three times until he was satisfied.

You sat on the edge of the bed, pinching the comforter you sat on, waiting for Chan to come out of the bathroom. 

You were nervous. Would he sleep with you tonight? 

You had slept together the night before, limbs entwined long after your laborious activities. He’d treated you kindly all day, hugging you, cuddling with you on the couch as you let yourselves get lost in the tv’s few remaining channels. 

Nothing had to change because of what you’d done together. That much was clear.

But you couldn’t help but remember the way he had wrapped his arms around you in the morning or the kisses he’d scattered down your neck.

The bathroom door opened before you could fall into the memory, close your eyes and pretend you were there again. 

“Are you--will you sleep with me tonight?” The words left you without much thought, but as your brain caught up with your words, you grew flustered. “I-I mean, I meant, I didn’t mean it like that! I just wanted to know if you’re going to be sleeping here--in the bed, with me-- today?”

Chan laughed shyly, you decided when you saw him rub the back of his neck and the blush on his cheeks. 

“If you don’t mind, s--” 

The lights went out in that instant. Your eyes fought to adjust to the blackened room, and before long, you could only make out Chan’s rough silhouette, stumbling toward the window in his room.

He opened them only a sliver, but it was enough for a streak of moonlight to hit the mirror hanging on his door and reflect back toward the bed as if it were a spotlight.

You look at him, standing behind the beam of moonlight that hit the mirror, half shrouded in darkness.

“Guess the power outages are starting.”

“The university has emergency generators.” 

“How long do you think they’ll last? They’ve probably been there since the university was founded.”

You shrugged, unable to answer him or look him in the eyes.

In the lull of the conversation, the lights come back on and blind the two of you.

“Turn them off,” you gasped, covering your eyes. 

There was a shuffling, a grunt as he hit a dresser, then a soft click. “They’re off.” 

“Thank you.”

The two of you stared at each other in silence again. Then 

“Bed, then?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded. 

You crawled to the head of the bed, slipping under the covers without much of a sound. Chan followed,  and the two of you lay there, bathed in moonlight, trying to fall asleep despite the storms ranging in both of your heads.

Far more disconcerted by the truths you were trying and failing to avoid, you took a deep breath. 

“Chan?” You asked faintly to gauge if he were still awake or not. Though truthfully, you knew it was because you were cowardly.

“Yeah?” He responded after a beat.

“My roommate… she’s rich.” You paused to swallow the panic. “We lived on the top floor of the Lothlórien dorms. No one knew, but the dorms on the top floor ran independently of the rest of the building. She even had a power generator of her own. She kept it in my room for a while. There was this satellite phone she used to brag about all the time too. She would give me her dad’s card to keep the kitchen stocked, and once I got so angry that I bought medicine to keep for myself.” 

You breathed through your nose, lips pursed. 

“What I’m trying to say is that if you want--if you think we should-- we can go there. I-I still had the key on me when you rescued me.”

Chan shuffled next to you, turning so he rested on his side and pressed into your back. He hugged you and pressed a kiss onto your bare shoulder.

“Okay. But let’s not talk about this anymore tonight. Let’s just go to sleep.”

↧↧c↧↧↧↧h↧↧↧↧a↧↧↧↧p↧↧↧↧t↧↧↧↧e↧↧↧↧r↧↧↧↧s↧↧

27 Days Since the End

[alegocarmadein]

Long read ahead I do warn.

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

Somber. Morose. Melancholy. Those three are my holy grail of insane meanings.

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

Yeah my own work, the Shaman was too late. So, I wrote it in 2021. Very beginning of 2021. I had just been put on bupropian, after years of trying anti-depressants, it finally worked. Slowly. But I still had psychosis, so I'm getting less depressed but I'm still psychotic. And literally the last day of 2020 into the early hours of Jan 1st 2021, I listened to (and binged) Kane and Feels. Obsessed. FUCKING OBSESSED. IMMEDIATELY. But I was off of social media in its entirety, so I had one (1) person to scream at and she was busy in school and shit. So I turn my mind to fanfiction. Psychosis is a BITCH. It robbed me of my memory during and after, it made me paranoid, and a horrible insomniac. So I sit in my room and formulate this plot in the early hours of morning, just muttering to myself. This weird story that would not ever truly make sense but vaguely had a plot and a destination. And I wrote it! And because my memory was so terribly dogshit, every night and every morning, in between edits and writing fits, I would read it. Uh. Out loud. It took hours to read, partially because of how long it was, partially because my reading skills were close to non existent. For a while I considered making a podfic of it to go along with it, but I didn't have recording equipment or money! I was really isolated and spent well over a hundred, maybe two hundred hours on a 13k fic. My writing skills at the time were…diminished, and far from polished, so it took a lot of edits to make it readable. But it was my baby. It was the first fic I'd truly fallen in love with of my own. And eventually I posted it and didn't hate it like all of my others. I would reread it every month, sometimes every week after, checking for errors (of which there were many). Again, my baby. And still, I consider it one of my best fics, this fic I wrote in between 16 hour sleeps, interrupted often by hallucinations and paranoia attacks. And its just terribly special to me, because I know it so very well. I spent two months writing it, and I love that fic, truly. 

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Okay its not really a subject matter, but fluff? So hard. Don't get me wrong, I can come up with it and put it on paper….but keeping it around is sooooo very hard. I am very much a kill-the-part-of-you-that-cringes, but with kaf especially….eeek. Like the first bit of physical affection I think we've ever been aware of them doing is in the end of WHY, right? So writing close affection is like….babe no, this is Kane we're talking about. but….I think I've had enough independent events/developments (character wise) through my string of fics that I can stretch the lines a bit and put in a little affection here and there. Not super shippy either, just…"holy fuck I'm so glad you're alive that really sucked man." oh and verbal affection is a BITCH. Dude NO. I can't. it never sounds reasonable. I can't do fluffy I CAN'T DO FLUFFY. I'M A MAN OF ANGST DEAR READER. ANGST. Anyway, I wrote a fic about them waltzing. You should read it. And I'm also really proud of the next of kin scene in Next of Kin.

And memory related magic trauma whatzits are my favorite thing to write. I have it so many fics of mine. Psychosis <3 you are so fun to write about, my beloathed.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

This is from The Shaman was too late, near the very end.

"Lucifer Kane is standing on a cliff, overseeing a hazy ocean with a soft lavender-grey sky. Distant golden-grey light shines through the clouds, and the smell of salt and a gust of a warm, ocean breeze puts him at ease."

First off, full name, this is serious talk. Usually I call him Kane, Lucifer when I'm trying to make a point, full name is for introductions and endings. The present tense is something I very rarely do, I generally get tripped up with present tense. The only other time recently I've used it is in Next of Kin at the very end of chapter 4-7, where Kane notices Brutus and is back in the present moment. Weird choice. And I don't really know why I had such a clear image of the hazy ocean with the golden light, streaming down, crepuscular rays (god's rays) streaming from the cloud, but still hazy. The lavender grey was such a spur of the moment thing while I was writing it, it's the color theme for the fic, the other worlds are lavender grey all over. I knew I wanted an emotional yet…like…quiet moment for them being reunited? Keep in mind at that point only season one and WHO, the first ep of season two had been put out, so no hand squeezes, no ocean, not yet, no reuniting, and I didn't know if kaf would ever be coming back. Sigh. Rough times. Well the scene at least hit dyn hard enough for them to make some really baller art of that scene, so I'm happy.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

so…..so much. Most of the time at least. Big fics are almost guaranteed to have a separate notes document with a general outline, to keep my ideas on track. You usually find them in the final end note on the fic, though occasionally they're too messy to really share. This is actually what has tripped me up so bad with the sequel to Next of Kin that I've been working on FOR A FUCKING YEAR NOW, JESUS, is that I wrote an outline for an ending, went a completely different direction, wrote a new outline, then changed it again and now I'm super duper stuck and have no clue how to get to the end. :\ 

It's a document with bullet points or checkboxes with short plot points and weird details/characters/places I want to add. I ignore them at my will. I actually do enjoy it…for any other fic than the elphame fic. jesus.

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

a fucken weirdo. Not like. WEIRD weirdo, just a weirdo. like, that artist who did the beautiful, colorful cat potraits that look very interesting? the one who had schizophrenia so now everyone attributes the weirder ones to his mental illness instead of to his creative ability? louis wain? I feel like they'd attribute all the weirder stuff I write to mental illness, when instead that was hand crafted and delivered by my loving, not-really-stable-i-kinda-have-a-tremor-but-lets-pretend hands.

(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/12/Louis_wain_cats.png)

(my ao3) https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlegoCarmadein/profile

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

(Not my poem (rest of the post is a poem))

Ode to Silence by Edna St. Vincent Millay

---

Aye, but she?

Your other sister and my other soul

Grave Silence, lovelier

Than the three loveliest maidens, what of her?

Clio, not you,

Not you, Calliope,

Nor all your wanton line,

Not Beauty's perfect self shall comfort me

For Silence once departed,

For her the cool-tongued, her the tranquil-hearted,

Whom evermore I follow wistfully,

Wandering Heaven and Earth and Hell and the four seasons through;

Thalia, not you,

Not you, Melpomene,

Not your incomparable feet, O thin Terpsichore, I seek in this great hall,

But one more pale, more pensive, most beloved of you all.

I seek her from afar,

I come from temples where her altars are,

From groves that bear her name,

Noisy with stricken victims now and sacrificial flame,

And cymbals struck on high and strident faces

Obstreperous in her praise

They neither love nor know,

A goddess of gone days,

Departed long ago,

Abandoning the invaded shrines and fanes

Of her old sanctuary,

A deity obscure and legendary,

Of whom there now remains,

For sages to decipher and priests to garble,

Only and for a little while her letters wedged in marble,

Which even now, behold, the friendly mumbling rain erases,

And the inarticulate snow,

Leaving at last of her least signs and traces

None whatsoever, nor whither she is vanished from these places.

"She will love well," I said,

"If love be of that heart inhabiter,

The flowers of the dead;

The red anemone that with no sound

Moves in the wind, and from another wound

That sprang, the heavily-sweet blue hyacinth,

That blossoms underground,

And sallow poppies, will be dear to her.

And will not Silence know

In the black shade of what obsidian steep

Stiffens the white narcissus numb with sleep?

(Seed which Demeter's daughter bore from home,

Uptorn by desperate fingers long ago,

Reluctant even as she,

Undone Persephone,

And even as she set out again to grow

In twilight, in perdition's lean and inauspicious loam).

She will love well," I said,

"The flowers of the dead;

Where dark Persephone the winter round,

Uncomforted for home, uncomforted,

Lacking a sunny southern slope in northern Sicily,

With sullen pupils focussed on a dream,

Stares on the stagnant stream

That moats the unequivocable battlements of Hell,

There, there will she be found,

She that is Beauty veiled from men and Music in a swound."

"I long for Silence as they long for breath

Whose helpless nostrils drink the bitter sea;

What thing can be

So stout, what so redoubtable, in Death

What fury, what considerable rage, if only she,

Upon whose icy breast,

Unquestioned, uncaressed,

One time I lay,

And whom always I lack,

Even to this day,

Being by no means from that frigid bosom weaned away,

If only she therewith be given me back?"

I sought her down that dolorous labyrinth,

Wherein no shaft of sunlight ever fell,

And in among the bloodless everywhere

I sought her, but the air,

Breathed many times and spent,

Was fretful with a whispering discontent,

And questioning me, importuning me to tell

Some slightest tidings of the light of day they know no more,

Plucking my sleeve, the eager shades were with me where I went.

I paused at every grievous door,

And harked a moment, holding up my hand,—and for a space

A hush was on them, while they watched my face;

And then they fell a-whispering as before;

So that I smiled at them and left them, seeing she was not there.

I sought her, too,

Among the upper gods, although I knew

She was not like to be where feasting is,

Nor near to Heaven's lord,

Being a thing abhorred

And shunned of him, although a child of his,

(Not yours, not yours; to you she owes not breath,

Mother of Song, being sown of Zeus upon a dream of Death).

Fearing to pass unvisited some place

And later learn, too late, how all the while,

With her still face,

She had been standing there and seen me pass, without a smile,

I sought her even to the sagging board whereat

The stout immortals sat;

But such a laughter shook the mighty hall

No one could hear me say:

Had she been seen upon the Hill that day?

And no one knew at all

How long I stood, or when at last I sighed and went away.

There is a garden lying in a lull

Between the mountains and the mountainous sea,

I know not where, but which a dream diurnal

Paints on my lids a moment till the hull

Be lifted from the kernel

And Slumber fed to me.

Your foot-print is not there, Mnemosene,

Though it would seem a ruined place and after

Your lichenous heart, being full

Of broken columns, caryatides

Thrown to the earth and fallen forward on their jointless knees,

And urns funereal altered into dust

Minuter than the ashes of the dead,

And Psyche's lamp out of the earth up-thrust,

Dripping itself in marble wax on what was once the bed

Of Love, and his young body asleep, but now is dust instead.

There twists the bitter-sweet, the white wisteria Fastens its fingers in the strangling wall,

And the wide crannies quicken with bright weeds;

There dumbly like a worm all day the still white orchid feeds;

But never an echo of your daughters' laughter

Is there, nor any sign of you at all

Swells fungous from the rotten bough, grey mother of Pieria!

Only her shadow once upon a stone

I saw,—and, lo, the shadow and the garden, too, were gone.

I tell you you have done her body an ill,

You chatterers, you noisy crew!

She is not anywhere!

I sought her in deep Hell;

And through the world as well;

I thought of Heaven and I sought her there;

Above nor under ground

Is Silence to be found,

That was the very warp and woof of you,

Lovely before your songs began and after they were through!

Oh, say if on this hill

Somewhere your sister's body lies in death,

So I may follow there, and make a wreath

Of my locked hands, that on her quiet breast

Shall lie till age has withered them!

                             (Ah, sweetly from the rest

I see

Turn and consider me

Compassionate Euterpe!)

"There is a gate beyond the gate of Death,

Beyond the gate of everlasting Life,

Beyond the gates of Heaven and Hell," she saith,

"Whereon but to believe is horror!

Whereon to meditate engendereth

Even in deathless spirits such as I

A tumult in the breath,

A chilling of the inexhaustible blood

Even in my veins that never will be dry,

And in the austere, divine monotony

That is my being, the madness of an unaccustomed mood.

This is her province whom you lack and seek;

And seek her not elsewhere.

Hell is a thoroughfare

For pilgrims,—Herakles,

And he that loved Euridice too well,

Have walked therein; and many more than these;

And witnessed the desire and the despair

Of souls that passed reluctantly and sicken for the air;

You, too, have entered Hell,

And issued thence; but thence whereof I speak

None has returned;—for thither fury brings

Only the driven ghosts of them that flee before all things.

Oblivion is the name of this abode: and she is there."

Oh, radiant Song! Oh, gracious Memory!

Be long upon this height

I shall not climb again!

I know the way you mean,—the little night,

And the long empty day,—never to see

Again the angry light,

Or hear the hungry noises cry my brain!

Ah, but she,

Your other sister and my other soul,

She shall again be mine;

And I shall drink her from a silver bowl,

A chilly thin green wine,

Not bitter to the taste,

Not sweet,

Not of your press, oh, restless, clamorous nine,—

To foam beneath the frantic hoofs of mirth—

But savoring faintly of the acid earth,

And trod by pensive feet

From perfect clusters ripened without haste

Out of the urgent heat

In some clear glimmering vaulted twilight under the odorous vine.

Lift up your lyres! Sing on!

But as for me, I seek your sister whither she is gone.

Weird Questions for Writers (because writers are weird)

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

2. If you had to give up your keyboard and write your stories exclusively by hand, could you do it? If you already write everything by hand, a) are you a wizard and b) pen or pencil?

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

5. Do you have any writing superstitions? What are they and why are they 100% true?

6. What is your darkest fear about writing?

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

10. Has a piece of writing ever “haunted” you? Has your own writing haunted you? What does that mean to you?

11. Do you believe in the old advice to “kill your darlings?” Are you a ruthless darling assassin? What happens to the darlings you murder? Do you have a darling graveyard? Do you grieve?

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

14. Do you lend your books to people? Are people scared to borrow books from you? Do you know exactly where all your “lost” books are and which specific friend from school you haven’t seen in twelve years still possesses them? Will you ever get them back?

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

20. If a witch offered you the choice between eternal happiness with your one true love and the ability to finally finish, perfect, and publish your dearest, darlingest, most precious WIP in exactly the way you’ve always imagined it — which would you choose? You can’t have both sorry, life’s a bitch

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

22. How organized are you with your writing? Describe to me your organization method, if it exists. What tools do you use? Notebooks? Binders? Apps? The Cloud?

23. Describe the physical environment in which you write. Be as detailed as possible. Tell me what’s around you as you work. Paint me a picture.

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

25. What is a weird, hyper-specific detail you know about one of your characters that is completely irrelevant to the story?

26. How do you get into your character’s head? How do you get out? Do you ever regret going in there in the first place?

27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?

28. Who is the most delightful character you’ve ever written? Why?

29. Where do you draw your inspiration? What do you do when the inspiration well runs dry?

30. Talk to me about the role dreams play in your writing life. Have you ever used material from your dreams in your writing? Have you ever written in a dream? Did you remember it when you woke up?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you?

33. Do you practice any other art besides writing? Does that art ever tie into your writing, or is it entirely separate?

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice…what do you Know?

37. If you were to be remembered only by the words you’ve put on the page, what would future historians think of you?

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.