#the tears come back...i cried so much back then

[gweelczz]

“Talking you through it”

Sinners men x their women

Genre: fluff, smut

Warnings: none

Summary: The men from sinners talk their women through it

Bo Chow: The room was dim, the only light spillin’ in from the window—gold and warm, just like the Delta sun had kissed its last goodbye for the day. The air was still, thick with heat and something unspoken. Rosetta lay back against the worn quilt, chest rising and falling slow, her golden eyes never leavin’ Bo.

He was above her, shirt long gone, his calloused hands cradlin’ her hips like they were something holy.

“You alright, baby?” he asked, voice low, Southern drawl slidin’ over her like silk.

Rosetta nodded, breath already catchin’. “Mhm.”

Bo leaned down, pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her cheek, then that soft skin below her jaw. “I got you. Just feel, alright? Don’t think. Let me take care of you.”

She let out a breathy hum, one hand slidin’ up to bury itself in his thick black hair.

He moved slow, patient—like he had all the time in the world and nothin’ else to worship but her. His lips brushed down her neck, over the curve of her chest, his voice steady in her ear.

“Look at you, Rose… so beautiful like this. Soft. Open. All mine.”

She whimpered, her hips liftin’ ever so slightly, beggin’ without words.

“I know, baby. I know what you need,” he murmured, hand slidin’ between her thighs, the other still holdin’ her hip firm, keepin’ her grounded.

Her breath hitched as his fingers moved slow, teasing, coaxin’ her open, coaxin’ her deeper into herself.

“Shh… that’s it,” he whispered. “You don’t gotta do nothin’. Just let go. Let me hear you.”

Rosetta’s head tipped back, her hand tightenin’ in his hair, body tremblin’ under his touch.

Bo kissed her collarbone, murmurin’ against her skin, “You feel how perfect you are? How good you are for me?”

“Bo… oh, God,” she gasped, her voice crackin’ as her thighs began to tremble.

“Nah, baby,” he said gently, smilin’ against her throat. “Ain’t no God right now but you.”

He stayed with her, movin’ in rhythm with her breath, her cries, the way her body writhed beneath his. Every sound she made, every broken whisper, only spurred him on—soothing her when it got too much, pushin’ her when she tried to hold back.

“That’s it, baby… you’re right there. Don’t fight it.”

Rosetta’s back arched, her mouth fallin’ open, and Bo caught her with his lips, kissin’ her deep as the wave crashed through her. Her whole body shook, her hands clingin’ to him like he was the only thing tetherin’ her to the earth.

He didn’t stop holdin’ her. Didn’t stop whisperin’ to her.

“You’re safe. I got you. I’m right here, Rose… always.”

She collapsed into his arms, heart poundin’, body limp, tears slidin’ from the corners of her eyes. He kissed them away, murmurin’ love in every language he knew.

“I love you,” she whispered, voice barely a breath.

Bo kissed her again, deep and slow. “I know, baby. I love you more.”

Sammie ‘Preacher boy’ Moore: The night air curled lazy through the cracked window, warm and thick like molasses. The juke joint had long gone quiet, the world outside slowin’ to a hush. But in that little bedroom Sugar’s granddaddy left her, all was heat and breath and closeness.

Sammie hovered over her, his body flush with hers, their skin slick with sweat, their hearts beatin’ like drums caught in rhythm. He had her wrapped up in his arms like she was the most precious thing he ever held, his lips brushing her temple, his breath steady in her ear.

“Breathe, Sugar,” he murmured low, voice all velvet and gravel. “Don’t fight it now… just let it come. I got you.”

She whimpered beneath him, her fingers curlin’ in the sheets, back archin’ just so, and Sammie’s hand found hers — laced their fingers together like a prayer.

“There you go,” he whispered, kissin’ her cheek, her jaw, her throat. “That’s it, baby. You feel that? That’s me… That’s love, Sugar. That’s every bit of me I ever had to give.”

Her breath hitched, tremblin’ against his chest, and Sammie smiled, soft and reverent, like he was watchin’ a miracle unfold. His voice stayed with her, coaxin’, guidin’, groundin’ her.

“You doin’ so good, girl,” he hummed, voice thick and slow, like a hymn. “Ain’t nobody ever made me feel like you do. Ain’t never wanted to give myself to nobody but you.”

She gasped, her hands grippin’ his back, and Sammie held her through it, strong and gentle.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he breathed, kissin’ her again, firmer this time. “Come on now, ride it out, I ain’t goin’ nowhere. You safe with me, always.”

By the time her body settled, all soft and spent and glowin’, Sammie was still holdin’ her like he never planned to let go.

And he didn’t.

He pressed his forehead to hers, thumb sweepin’ tender over her cheek, and whispered, “That’s the kind of love they write gospel songs about, Sugar. The kind I’ll spend my whole life praisin’.”

Elijah ‘Smoke’ Moore: The room was bathed in the soft gold of the bedside lamp, shadows dancing across the walls as the baby slept peacefully in the bassinet nearby. Smoke’s touch was slow, reverent—like every inch of Honey’s skin was something holy.

“You sure you alright, mama?” he asked low against her neck, his breath warm, hands steady as they slid up her thighs.

Honey nodded, her voice barely a whisper. “I missed you…”

That was all he needed. He moved with care, not in any rush. It wasn’t just about the heat—it was about her. About making her feel like the goddess she was. Like the woman who gave him the most beautiful thing he’d ever known.

“You just breathe for me,” Smoke murmured, kissing the soft swell of her belly, then moving higher. “Ain’t gotta do nothin’ but feel.”

His fingers found her slowly, easing in, coaxing her open like a prayer. Her body responded with a shiver, hips lifting instinctively.

“That’s it,” he whispered, watching her, voice thick with love and want. “Just like that, baby. You ain’t gotta hold nothin’ back.”

Honey whimpered, her hand grasping the sheet, eyes fluttering closed. Smoke pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I got you. Let go. You know I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

She trembled under his touch, her breath catching as he kept whispering to her, voice dark and sweet like molasses. “You feel that, Betty? That’s all you, baby. That’s your body rememberin’ how good it feel to be worshiped.”

Her breath hitched, thighs tensing. He slowed just enough to keep her on the edge, his lips brushing her ear.

“Let it happen, mama. You safe. I got you—always.”

When it finally washed over her, she melted into his chest with a soft cry, heart racing, body trembling. Smoke held her tight, brushing damp curls from her face, kissing her forehead.

“There she go,” he whispered, pride and love thick in his voice. “My beautiful girl.”

And in the quiet that followed, their baby still asleep beside them, Smoke just held her—like he always would.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore: Stack’s voice was low, rough with desire, and full of assurance. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured, his hands steady as they traced the curve of her body. “I got you. Let go.”

Honey’s breath quickened, the heat between them intensifying, every touch pulling her closer to the edge. She clenched around him, the pressure building, and she gasped.

“That’s it,” Stack encouraged, his grip tightening, guiding her movements. “Feel it, let it build.” His words were like a tether, pulling her deeper into the moment. “You’re mine now, Honey. Let me hear you.”

Her body trembled, the wave crashing over her in a flood of sensation. She cried out his name, her hands gripping him as she let herself go completely.

Stack leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s my sweet girl.”

[t1red-twilight]

the void

content/warnings: gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, ptsd, dissociation, self hatred

wc: 1.1k

masterlist r. r. masterlist

“bob?” you called out. the room you stepped into looked to be a repurposed attic of sorts. it seemed there were toys in the room, this was definitely a childhood memory of some kind.

the void had made you remember things you did not want to, things you had pushed down so deep you couldn’t recall the exact details. throughout it all, you could only think of one thing: where was bob? was he alright? what was happening in new york was definitely not him, that was for sure.

there he was, sitting with crossed legs fiddling with something in his hands. “bob?” you said, quieter this time. his eyes flicked over to you and then back to whatever was in his hands. when he didn’t say anything, you sat beside him. “is-is everything okay?”

he looked forward at the wall in front of him, a far-away look in his eyes. if you looked back down at his hands, you could see them shaking. you weren’t sure if physical contact would help him or not, so you kept your distance. “bob?” you repeated.

bob inhaled, and then you heard it. yelling was coming from beneath you. if you maneuvered yourself you could see between the floorboards, and there he was. a little boy, with the same watery eyes and distant expression as the man in front of you.

when you looked back up at him, you could see his lips moving just so. his lips matched with the shouts from below. “just wait a second,” bob mumbled. “it’ll be over in a second.” his eyelashes fluttered as he relived the moment.

bob’s eyes became glassy for a few moments, but he blinked a few times and then it was gone. he turned to look at you, but he didn’t say anything. you sat in silence, just waiting until the air felt a little less dense.

you looked him over, his shoulders were hunched over, his jaw tense. you tried to meet his gaze, but to no avail. he began to fiddle with his fingers. the more the silence prolonged, the more bob curled in on himself.

“bob?” you repeated once again. your voice was hushed, you were scared of alarming him or making the situation worse. you set your hand palm-up, on the top of your leg. you wiggled your fingers ever so slightly.

tentatively, bob set his hand in your own. his hands were shaking almost violently. you laced your fingers together with his, and squeezed his hand a little tighter. “you don’t have to feel bad,” he started, his voice wavering. “this is-it’s, uh-“ he stammered.

bob straightened his spine and a faux smile grew on his face, one that didn’t reach his eyes. that faraway look was still there, almost as if his consciousness had retreated back into his body.

you stroked your thumb against the back of his hand and squeezed it another time. the small point of contact grounded you in the moment; all you could focus on was him.

bob looked up at you, his brow pinched and bottom lip quivering. “i’m sorry, i-“ he gulped. “you don’t want to see this, i-“

you raised your other hand and placed it on his cheek, effectively cutting him off “hey,” you swiped at his cheekbone. “no, don’t apologize. i’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me.”

bob clenched his eyes shut as a tear crawled its way out of his eye. his teeth bit down in his bottom lip rather harshly and his breathing became ragged. your thumb wiped the tear away and you scooted closer to him. “cry, if you want. this is a no-judgement zone.” bob opened his eyes and a sob wracked through his body.

he leaned into your touch. his shoulders shook as he cried. in this moment you saw a side of him that you hadn’t seen much of previously; right now he just looked like a scared child who hadn’t been provided safety.

“do you want a hug?” you said quietly. “if you don’t, that’s fine too.” you attempted a comforting smile but you were unsure if that was the effect it was giving.

bob nodded against your palm. you moved your position as to make it more comfortable for yourself, and you let go of his hand and his face. the loss of contact wasn’t for long, because as soon as you were apart, he was diving back into you.

his head tucked into your shoulder and his arms encircled you as much as they could. he pulled himself closer to you, and you could feel his shoulders beginning to shake again.

one of your hands trailed up to his neck and ran though the hair there, and the other sat on his mid-back. you set your cheek against the top of his head. every couple of seconds he would cry a little harder and pull you a little closer, but you didn’t dare let go. you couldn’t find it in yourself to want to let go, even if you could.

“i thought that this would make me better, but it just made me worse.” his voice shook and broke as he spoke. “you should’ve left me behind. you should’ve just left, if i wasn’t here, then-“

you pulled away slightly, just so you could look at him. “what? no. why would we have ever left you? despite everything you think about, you still deserve a shot. that’s not you out there. why would you say that?” bob didn’t respond. your hand on his neck began carding through his hair again.

he opened his mouth to speak and closed it. his shoulders went up in a shrugging motion and he shook his head. “bob, you can’t deal with this on your own. you don’t have to if you don’t want to, i’m here if you want me to be.” bob had closed his eyes tightly again, his face screwing up in a painful expression.

“i hate remembering everything. i forget so much, but i never can seem to forget this. i can never forget the bad things.” he topped his head forward and one of his palms rubbed against his eye socket.

“and then it feels like you’re neck-deep in all the bad. like you’re drowning and don’t know how to swim,” you weren’t good at this, at comforting people. you just hoped that you didn’t sound condescending or anything like that. but, you did have some experience with what he was talking about. “brains have a funny way of reminding us about everything that sucks, huh?”

a small smile found its way to his lips. bob inhaled for a few seconds and exhaled for a few. when he opened his eyes, this time it looked like he was actually in front of you for the first time. “thank you for not leaving me,” he whispered hoarsely.

you nodded before you spoke. “of course. i don’t leave important people behind.”

[minh907]

Hi I saw that you’re taking requests for solo leveling would it be possible to do a sung jinwoo x reader after he use the cup or reincarnation how they meet again can you also a a few silly/cute moment with all rhetorical shadow

Thank you

[High School] Revive.

Sung Jinwoo x Fem!Reader.

Note: Because Life with you - High school arc has similar content, I decided to add this to Life with you series, hope you don't mind.

______________

The light splashed out, covering everything. Dazzling. You stare at the light with wide eyes, unable to move, and time seems to stop.

And you wake up.

In a panic, you jump up and sit on the bed, one hand clutching the blanket, the other hand holding where your heart is, gasping for breath. You look around and see that you are in your room. The clock reads five thirty in the morning, just in time for dawn.

You look out the window. The sun is like a new fire rising behind the skyscrapers, the first rays of the morning light shining into your room, making the room bright even without the lights on.

Seoul has started a new day. Peaceful.

Your heart gradually stabilizes. But your mind is a mess.

You feel like you have just come back to life, like you have forgotten something, making you confused. What could you forget? But you feel that it is important.

You look at the calendar on the bedside table. You move the blanket from your body and face the coming day. Before you exit you ensure that everything is ready then move through the room and walk to the kitchen area.

Your father scans the newspaper while holding his hot coffee before him. Your mother is still preparing breakfast. Your brother is already sitting at the table, waiting.

Seeing you, your father puts down the newspaper. "Oh, my dear daughter woke up early today!"

Your brother teases. "Oh~ Lazy pig know how to wake up early today!" and get a smash on the head by your mother.

Your mother smiles gently, "You woke up so early today! Is there an special occasion?"

For some reason, your eyes feel stinging. It was the same scene as everyone else, your father still had the habit of reading the newspaper, your brother never stopped teasing you, and your mother's smile was still as gentle as ever. But... somehow you felt like it had been a long time since you had seen such a peaceful and intimate scene.

You burst into tears. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

Immediately, the whole family became panicked.

"What's wrong? Who bullys you? Tell papa. Did your brother tease you again?" Your father hit your brother on the back, stood up and ran to comfort you.

"What did I do!?" Your brother was also confused. "Oi! I'm sorry for calling you a lazy pig! Stop crying!"

You still cried loudly as you wrapped your arms around your father's neck, and burying your head in his  shoulder "I miss you all so much!"

Your family didn't understand, but they still comforted their beloved daughter. Promised to make whoever bullied you pay. Promised to buy you the things you wanted. That don't cry anymore, they would always be there for you.

You choked on your tears, just hugging your father tighter. The nameless longing seemed to be filled. Your heart seemed to lighten even though you didn't know why. But it was good to wake up and see that the people you loved were still here.

Safe. And happy.

______

Then, with puffy eyes and everyone's worried questions, you slowly carried your bag to school.

Although your parents always said that if you felt unwell, they would call the teacher to ask for you to be absent, you refused. You felt ashamed for suddenly bursting into tears like a three-year-old child in front of your family. You failed to comprehend the reason behind your strange behavior.

The start of your day found you entering class where your friends warmly received you. Your process to accept both safety and the lack of need for concern from others lasted for a substantial amount of time.

As the bell finished its sound a teacher entered the classroom. He announced that a student in the class named Sung Jinwoo had asked for an absence. Everyone immediately looked towards Jinwoo's desk, which was in the corner of the classroom, and so did you.

Sung Jinwoo? That name sounded familiar.

Previously your interest in him was nonexistent because he was average and failed to stand out in class. When his name was mentioned right now you felt as though you had known him for ages and he was someone you considered close. Your heart ached when you mentioned his name in your head.

That feeling again.

That feeling again, that feeling that you had forgotten something very important. It was so annoying.

You shook your head and patted your cheeks to calm yourself down, telling yourself that you were just imagining things because of the stress of studying lately. But a part of you still gravitates toward that name Sung Jinwoo.

The school day has passed, and you have not learned anything. Your mind is blank, and you have no energy to do anything. The whole day you have been absentmindedly looking out the window, your eyes fixed on the still shining sun. You have not even heard the teacher calling you. And as a result, you received a painful shot of chalk on the head from the teacher.

Ugh...What is wrong with you today?

Your family was very worried about you and decided to give you a day or two off so you could rest and calm your mind. Noticing their worries, you realized that you shouldn't bother everyone like that. So, you spent those two days doing what you liked, and your mind seemed to calm down.

Just when you thought you were okay, strange dreams came.

They start out as vague fragments. And gradually become clearer and longer dreams.

You dream of a world where there are things called 'dungeons' and 'hunters', and they are divided into levels. You dream of a sword in your hand, and you seem to be very familiar with that sword, as evidenced by the fact that you can use it to kill monsters skillfully.

You dream of an E-rank hunter, short but strong. Then suddenly one day that E-rank hunter becomes tall and strong. The strange thing is that you cannot see the man's face, it is always covered by dark shadows.

You dream of fighting alongside him. Witnessing his changes. And... falling in love with him.

His hand touchd your cheek so gently. He said sweet words to you. His arms around you so warmly. You found yourself loving with him. You found yourself smiling happily when you were with him. You loved the kisses he gave you.

And those dreams would usually end when he said something you couldn't hear clearly, and you will wake up with tears streaming down your pillow.

This situation repeated itself for two years. In a flash you were sixteen years old.

Today is Saturday, you have a day off from school. You and your group of close friends decide to hang out, go for a walk and try the new bakery that opened in the city center.

While laughing and joking happily, suddenly a huge portal appears in the sky. The news on the big screens of the city reports on Mrs. Selner's prophecy, that today the lord of darkness will return.

People stare at the portal, anxiously waiting for something to come out of it. And your group is no exception.

You look at the portal, your heart pounding in amazement and excitement. You suddenly feel like you are waiting, you feel like your dreams of the past two years will be answered by what will come out of it.

But you are disappointed when nothing appears after that.

Your group of friends pouts in disappointment and decide to continue with their plan to go out. You sigh and follow them. 'What was I expecting?'

You continued to walk around the streets, ignoring what just happened.

Until you passed by an ice cream shop, you felt that the scent coming from that place was fragrant and attractive. You felt strange, because it seemed like you passed by this place every day and the smell there was not as good as this. It made you want to go in and buy something.

Since you had just eaten a full cake, you didn't want to stuff anything into your stomach, because you knew that if you did, you would have to face excruciating stomach pain tonight.

But for some reason, you suddenly stopped, turned around and looked towards the ice cream shop.

A black-haired guy just ran out, he was also looking at you, his eyes wide with surprise. You swore you saw his eyes sparkle when he saw you.

When your eyes locked, your heart skipped a beat. A familiar feeling came over you, a strange emotion enveloped you. Do you know him? You're not sure. But it feels like you've known him for a long time...

Before you can do anything, your friend calls your name, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly apologize and run towards them, leaving you with a jumble of emotions.

That night, you cannot get the black-haired boy out of your mind. It make you blush violently and keep hitting your forehead against the pillow. You didn't expect to think so much about a boy you just met briefly.

Is this teenage love?

You shake your head urgently then hide under the blanket to try sleeping. 

In your dream, the black-haired man appears again. This time he's fighting the 'monarchs', shouldering the world alone...

The following Monday, you receive news that your class will have a new student. He has been out of school for two years, and he has just started going back to school.

You sat there bored, not really caring about the new student. You heard that he was a bad student, got into a fight and was suspended for two years. Although it wasn't confirmed, hearing those rumors made you not feel very good about him.

As soon as that student walked into the classroom, your eyes widened in surprise. It was the guy you saw last Saturday! Black hair, deep gray eyes, tall, super handsome!

He started to introduce himself. Just as he was about to say his name, a name suddenly popped into your head.

"Sung Jinwoo!"

You slammed the table, stood up, and shouted loudly.

Everyone in the class turned to stare at you. Jinwoo also looked at you with wide eyes, completely not expecting you to suddenly shout his name.

Your teacher asked. "Are you two acquaintances?"

Seeing everyone staring at you, you realized what you had done that made you embarrassed. And when you looked at Jinwoo, that embarrassment grew even bigger. You blushed furiously.

"Ugh...No...I'm sorry!"

You sat down in embarrassment and put your face on the table, covering your tomato-red face. But your ears betrayed you.

Jinwoo remained motionless for several seconds before he started chuckling. "Yes, I'm Sung Jinwoo."

The teacher was sure that you two knew each other before so he arranged for him to sit next to you. That only made you feel more embarrassed. You buried your face in your books all morning, not daring to look to the side.

You didn't know that Jinwoo was always looking at you, his lips curled up and his eyes filled with longing and love.

At lunchtime, everyone gathered around his desk, making you sigh in relief. At least you wouldn't see him anymore since the girls had already surrounded him. But before you could rejoice, Jinwoo looked over at you, smiled gently, and invited you to eat lunch together.

The embarrassing memories of this morning flooded back, making you blush again, stuttering and running out of the classroom under his surprised gaze.

Jinwoo laughed, finding your actions adorable.

After sprinting to the top you rested against the wall as your breathing intensified.

When around him you developed random clumsiness and a fidgety state of mind with no explanation. You also didn't understand why your heart felt warm when you saw him. You lied to yourself that you felt that way because this was the first time you saw someone as handsome as him.

You sighed and took out your lunch box. When you raised your head, you suddenly saw an ant's head pressing against your face, making you startled and step back.

The ant looked at you for a moment and then suddenly burst into tears. "My Queen!!"

You find him very familiar, but you can't remember who he is. And because you have lost your memories of the previous timeline, the first thing you feel is fear, which is a normal human reaction. You were looking at this strange creature in horror.

And then a knight appeared beside the ant, calling him Beru and scolding him for suddenly appearing and scaring you.

Looking at the two huge shadows before your eyes, you were too shocked and fainted to the panicked cries of Beru and Igris.

______

You woke up in the school infirmary. Jinwoo was reading a book next to you.

You froze for a moment.

Jinwoo saw that you were awake and asked you if you were okay. You nodded in confusion.

He smiled, "I'm relieved that you're okay."

At the handsome guy's smile, you blushed again and pulled the blanket over your head. Noticing your confusion, Jinwoo decided to give you some privacy. "School isn't over yet. Take a break. If you're too tired, you can call in for a day off."

And he went out and closed the door for you. Hearing the door close, you jumped up and covered your face with both hands. You still couldn't stop blushing when you were near him.

And then you remembered the two shadows that appeared at noon and you shivered. You reassured yourself that you were just hallucinating.

Meanwhile, in the Shadow Realm, Beru is crying because you don't remember him and are afraid of him. Bellion and Igris scold him for appearing suddenly, explaining that you don't remember anything about the past when the world still had dungeons and hunters.

But Beru doesn't seem to listen to any of it and continues to cry. This poor guy just misses you so much.

In the following days, you tried to get used to Jinwoo sitting next to you and tried to ignore him.

The desire to embrace him along with the need to kiss his lips was constant yet you managed to keep yourself from doing so. The intensity of your emotions seemed insane since it was impossible to feel this way about someone who had only recently entered your life.

And ever since Jinwoo moved in, you always saw shadows around you stirring. You saw that all the shadows seemed to be directed towards Jinwoo, or rather, focused on him.

Sometimes, those shadows would have a certain shape. Typically, when you were listening to the lecture, you suddenly looked out the door and saw a giant ant - Beru - pressing against the glass, looking at you with teary eyes, making you startled and stiff.

Since you were in class, you pretended to be normal and tried to ignore him. You mumbled that you were just imagining it, this wasn't real, you were just imagining it.

When Jinwoo touched you, you jumped, almost screaming. You felt uncomfortable as he asked if you needed to go to the infirmary but you gave him a crooked smile before refusing. Surprisingly the shadow became invisible when you glanced through the window a second time.

You didn't know that Jinwoo had actually noticed Beru and frowned, silently giving him orders, and then Igris came and grabbed Beru by the neck, disappearing from your sight.

Jinwoo would definitely scold Beru after that day and punish him by doing a neck plank for hours.

______

Ever since Jinwoo arrived, your dreams have become clearer. They are like slow motion movies that are broadcast in multiple episodes.

Step by step, all the memories of your past life are gradually restored. You gradually see the man's face clearly.

Especially on one night, you dream of that man again. He is standing in front of the Light Fragments, expressing his wish that he can use the Reincarnation Chalice to turn back time, to fix everything himself.

You try to stop him. But he just smiles and hugs you, saying that he has lost too many people, and he wants to fix everything.

You cry, he gently wipes your tears away. "Please support me, okay? I'll come find you when I'm done."

You choke up, knowing that you can't stop him. "Promise me to come back safely."

The man smiles and places a gentle kiss on your lips. "I promise."

Then the light enveloped you, his face slowly appearing. Black hair, deep gray eyes, looking at you with promise.

Sung Jinwoo.

It was him. Your lover, your hero, your hero you fought alongside.  He did it, he came back. But why didn't he let you remember all these memories?

You woke up and cried.

________

The next day, you came to class with a sullen face and told Jinwoo to meet you behind the school after school today.

Seeing you unhappy made him confused, not knowing what he had done wrong. As if to increase his fear, you didn't say a word to him all day even though he tried to talk to you.

Jinwoo felt helpless.

The shadow soldiers kept gossiping in his ears.

"My King, what did you do to make the queen angry?"

"You're in trouble!"

"My King, making your partner angry is not the right thing for a Shadow Monarch to do."

"You should apologize to her."

Jinwoo didn't know what he had done wrong. But he knew he needed to apologize to you.

So, after school, he immediately went to behind the school as you told him. Seeing you approaching, he quickly said "Sorry-"

But before he could finish his sentence, you punched him in the face. Completely unaware of your action, he took the full force of the punch and looked at you in surprise.

You looked at him with burning eyes, which were quickly covered with tears and you cried loudly. "Sung Jinwoo! You idiot!"

He was stunned when he saw your tears and panicked. Ignoring the fact that you had just punched him, he quickly approached and kept apologizing, begging you not to cry.

The shadow soldiers were agitated.

"My King, how could you make the Queen cry!?"

"Making your spouse cry is unbecoming of a gentleman, Your Majesty."

"You have to comfort the Queen right away or she will hate you!"

And that only made Jinwoo panic more.

You went to hug him. "Sung Jinwoo! You idiot! I remember everything, you bastard."

When Jinwoo detected your tears he quickly brought you into a tight embrace. His actions included gentle hair stroking before he placed kisses on your forehead while continuously expressing regret. "It is my fault. Please don't cry. You can punch me a few more times to relieve your anger. Please don't cry anymore."

You patted his chest repeatedly, telling him how much you missed him, blaming him for not letting you miss him in the first place, for letting you live in longing and pain for two years.

He was still patient with you, trying to make you stop crying because his heart ached seeing you cry like that.

It took you a while to calm down.

Now the two of you were sitting on a bench in the park, you still sniffling softly and Jinwoo patting your back. You pitifully looked over at Jinwoo and saw the red mark on his cheek, feeling guilty for suddenly hitting him.

"...Does it hurt?"

Jinwoo smiled reassuringly. "No, it's nothing. Don't worry."

You glanced at him before hugging him tight as your face rested against his shoulder. "I missed you so much. Welcome back."

"I missed you too." He hugged you tightly. "I'm back, back to you."

_____

And after that...

Beru, Igris, Bellion, and a few other shadow soldiers also appeared. You smiled and waved at them. "I missed you guys too."

As always, Beru was the most emotional. "My Queen, you finally remembered. I, Beru, this humble one is very happy."

Bellion looked at Beru with disdain, "You're overreacting," which made Beru angry.

"How could you say that!?"

And the two of them started arguing.

Igris sighed and knelt before you. "I'm glad to see you again, my Queen."

You smiled. "Everyone has worked hard. Welcome back."

It's finally over.

Everyone can be together now.

_________

Extra: When you met at the ice-cream shop.

Shadow Realm.

"Attention everyone! Look! Our King has met the Queen again!"

Silent.

"HURRAYYYYY."

"Finally this day has come!"

"My King! Hug her, kiss her, propose to her, marry her, and have kids!!!!"

"YAYYY OUR QUEEN!!!"

And they had a party to celebrate all day.

______________________________

Part of LIFE WITH YOU.

______________________________

tag: @soft-dots

[applejusue]

Sewn together ──  Ellie Williams ౨ৎ˚₊

tldr; she got into a fight again c/w: angst, grief, comfort w/c: 1.2k

You'd just finished a night shift, calves aching and brain foggy as you slumped into your car. You let your head move back against the headrest, mentally warming yourself up for the drive home. You wondered if Ellie cooked you dinner or maybe she was asleep, you hoped she was at least sleeping. You were worried about her lately. Joel's passing hit Ellie like a truck, her once loud and squawked laugh was now just a soft huff or an amused smile that didn't hit her eyes as much as she thought it did.

At the funeral, Ellie just stared, her glossed-over sunken eyes fixated on him as he was lowered into the ground. She wore a wrinkled grey suit two sizes too short and didn't utter a single word to you that night.

As you started up the engine to your barely functioning hunk of metal, your phone lit up brightly with a familiar number and a pretty face. Your lips tightened in soft affection, before pressing the phone between your shoulder and ear so you could take off. Your voice was tentatively hushed, a flicker of anxiousness in your gut. She knew you finished at 9.

"Hey baby, everything okay?"

You could hear her breathing on the other end, it only made your heart beat quicker.

"Yeah I just-.. I need you to pick me up yeah? Got into some trouble.."

Ellie's voice was a wobbled whisper, one you knew came out when she was trying to swallow back her tears. You could faintly hear a busy area around her, beeps, people and papers. The hospital. You exhaled silently through your nose, taking a U-turn to the clinic down the road. It wasn't the first time Ellie had gotten into some "trouble", but it seemed to be getting more frequent lately. She'd come home drunk and teary-eyed, a little scruffed up, or on the worst nights like this, you'd collect her from the hospital when her brawls got out of hand.

"Yeah.. I'll be there soon sweetpea.."

You didn't have it in your heart to be mad, not when she cried so quietly in the mornings or couldn't leave your bed for a few days because her legs wouldn't move. Not when her hands would shake even as you held them in your warm palm, or you'd see her sleeping with his shirt. Ellie felt so deeply, and you knew she'd lost something that would take a long time to come to terms with. You'd drive to the damn hospital.

The waiting room was a clusterfuck of sick babies, the elderly and sleep-deprived nurses. You approached the reception desk, your keys still jingling between your fingers. There were a few open doorways by the area, and you could just about make out some tattered jeans and boots dangling from a bed. That was your girl.

"Can I help you miss?"

The receptionist caught your attention, her smile tight against the lines on her forehead.

"Oh, I'm here to pick up Ellie, Ellie Williams.."

Your gaze was still fondly drifting toward the room, that familiar worry still swam around your gut as you listened to the receptionist clacking against her keyboard. After signing some papers, she stood, leading you over. You followed politely, even if you knew where Ellie was.

"She's pretty.. fragile, won't let any of the nurses near her so we didn't get to check her vitals or anything, but she seems to be alright other than some cuts and bruises. She had a nasty gash on her forehead when she arrived, but she sat still long enough for us to patch it up.."

You didn't like the look on her face as she spoke about Ellie. It wasn't exactly pity, more like the look you'd give a bad dog that never learnt how to be obedient. It made your jaw tighten slightly, but you nodded. It was a look people had given Ellie before when she caused fights or stormed off. A bad dog.

And yet when you entered the hospital room all you could see was your girl, your broken girl with glossy eyes and a big bandage over her forehead. The nurse came in with you to check over her file and clean up the space for the next patient. Ellie looked up at you as soon as you came in, her speckled face bruised with little scrapes from whoever she got too irritated by tonight. Her soft pupils were swimming in tears that started to drip down her face the minute you arrived, the minute she could let her guard down.

"Oh baby.."

You whispered softly, your arms coming around her shoulders almost immediately as she sunk into your chest. Ellie's bruised and trembling fingers gripped at your hoodie tightly, a flood of hushed apologies leaving her bloody lips.

"I'm sorry.. I wasn't trying to start shit this time I swear.."

Her muffled voice came from the soft fabric on your body as your fingers ran through her scruffy brown hair. You leaned down closer, cradling her as you kissed the top of her head. The nurse who still stood nearby disinfecting some of the equipment was almost surprised that the girl who had shown up barking and bleeding seemed so docile in your arms.

Once you'd gotten Ellie calmer you picked up her backpack, slinging it over your shoulder before tugging her gently off of the bed, her large cold hand laced into yours. Ellie hovered closely to you while you moved through the waiting room, her heavy eyes focused on the floor. She climbed into your passenger seat, still avoiding your eyes like a kid who's afraid of being grounded. It made you smile, even if you had a pain in your gut from worrying so much about her.

You laced your hand into hers as you drove home, a silent reassurance.

'I'm not mad at you.'

The journey home was quiet, and you were already wondering what food you'd order in when you got settled because you certainly weren't cooking dinner. Ellie followed you inside, lingering in the doorway. You hated seeing her like that, uncertain, sore and tender. Sometimes it felt like her soft little heart was in your hands, and you'd do anything to keep it safe.

"I'm gonna order in sweetpea, so you don't need to worry about dinner.."

Your voice was gentle, and you pecked her on the cheek that had the least damage. Ellie looked down at you almost dreamily, and you couldn't read what was in those dark eyes, but you were okay with that. Ellie's arms were suddenly around you again, catching you off guard as you both lingered in the doorway. Your hands hovered for a moment before moving around her with ease, feeling her warm damp cheek against your shoulder.

"Thank you.. for coming to get me, ..even when I don't deserve it.."

Her voice wobbled near the end, her grip tight.

You stroked her hair, gently tucking some strands back into place as you shook your head with a soft sigh.

"I'll always come to get you, always.."

a/n: Thanks for reading honey, If you've gotten this far feel free to give a request or check out my other works! Reblogs are greatly appreciated too  🍎 

[altarecs]

alright, let's get into it!!

Despite having a million-dollar bounty on your head, you are determined to get out of here alive, even if it means losing the man that you love.

you think i'm worth a million dollars !! i'm twirling my hair omgeee 😊

You love him with every fiber of your being. He is your morning sun, the Heart Nebula to your Soul Nebula, and anything you could say to describe a love that fills you deep in your soul and makes you whole.

no because why the fuck did i gasp LIKE I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS COMING I LITERALLY KNEW IT WAS COMING.

Wonwoo, your fiancé and his adopted son

NO FUCKING WAY NO FUCKING WAY YOURE KIDDING ME RN

Aeron was in love with your mother, and they had been having an affair for years.

SHUT UUUUUUP IABEHTGBTKJWL THATS SO FUCKING TEA O H MY GODDD HE SHOULD DIE 💘

He didn’t know what the hell he meant by that; he was just a scrawny fifteen-year-old pickpocket living on the streets before he was found. He was born and raised in the Lutum district, poor, with two parents who passed away when he was ten years old from a plague that took over his city.

that's so fucking tragic aeris how could u

You were half a year younger than him...

screams cries and throws up in 5 years younger

You were both nineteen, and you were dragged out of the club in Adamas City for punching a girl who got too close to your “date,” if that’s what you wanted to call it; more like your flavor of the month. You didn’t know the man had an on-and-off girlfriend, nor did you know she would show up to the place and start screaming at you, calling you every kind of whore, and how your parents were ashamed from the grave to have a daughter like you. But you did know she had to be taught manners, and before Wonwoo could stop you, the girl was knocked to the floor with a bruised right eye and a chipped tooth.

NAH BC FUCK THAT HO 💀 she deserved that shit!

Deep down, Wonwoo knew what that meant. It’s not like he hasn’t had crushes before, but you were different; you made him feel alive. Seeing you date these guys, who wouldn’t last longer than a few weeks, bothered him. You need someone you could rely on at the end of the day and be comfortable with; you needed someone who felt like home, and he wanted to be that for you. 

yk something about loverboy!wonwoo always gets me but with this added flair of yearning and also lowkey forbidden lovers, i feel insane! thanks!

“Hey,” he lifted your chin slightly so your eyes met.

OH MY GOD KISS KISS KISS KISSSS

Before he could respond, you pulled him into a kiss, catching him off guard. His pulse quickened as he understood what was happening, but he kissed you back, the heat radiating between you two on this chilly high tower.

NOW THATS WHAT THE FUCK I'M TALKING ABOUT! that, my friends, is a kiss done right - also wonwoo you're a WIMP! alexa play kiss the girl from the little mermaid

“Yeah, I don’t think you have much of a choice, Miss Million Dollar Bounty,” he smirks as he sets down his basket. You relax and put the gun back in its holster.

i love jeonghan badddd

“Silver, you saved our lives even when you didn’t have to,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I will always have your back.”

cue my loud wails all the way from my living room

“Wonwoo… I think I am ready to take the next step.” 

oh!

“W-what step?”

wonwoo you're so fucking stupid i love you

“What do you mean not yet?!” Aeron snapped. “Did you forget what that bitch did?”

aint no way brodie is calling HER a bitch 💀 like okay professor side piece.

“Family doesn’t try to kill each other, Wonwoo,” Aeron said plainly.

aeron, sweetie, i'd nuke u over a corn chip personally.

“Are you questioning me, boy?”

HELP THE VISCERAL RAGE I FELT THE MOMENT I READ THIS WAS CRAZYYY AHFLJRFRS;

“Here,” Sohee shoved it into your hands. “I also put some hot buns in there, in case Uncle Wonwoo wants some.”

I'M SOBBING OHHH SOHEE 😭

Turning him over, you place your foot on his back and grab both of his arms, pulling them back until you hear a tear and a blood-curdling scream that makes you satisfied. “You were saying?”

oh girl me next !

“For the love of Gods, Bob, shut the fuck up!” 

LMAOOO

“He said if I tried to take you in, if I got in his way, he would see to it that your life would be a living hell...."

okay so when are nuking bro?? bc this shit is ridiculous i need him dead like YESTERDAY.

“You’ve already said that,” he muttered. “I’ve heard it enough.” 

and honestly i don't blame him. do i understand her? absolutely. but even the most guarded have to have those they can fall back on.

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” He whispered. “I love you, okay? Nothing will ever change that.”

YAAAAH A LOVE SO POWERFUL IT KNOWS NO BOUNDS AND DOESNT WAVER IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY!!!

“Your ring,” he blurts out, looking at your left hand. “I’ve been able to track you with your ring.”

oh you sick and twisted bastard i'd have your balls in bronze.

“Baby, I have a plan,” he says, “And it may not work, and it could get us both killed. But I need you to trust me.” 

A LOVE THAT GOES BEYOND DEATH!

“You were always pussy-whipped,” Aeron chuckles at his desk. “She could ask you to leap into traffic, and you would do it, no questions asked.”

aye man, just bc you ain't get the girl don't mean the rest of us don't deserve true love. take the L, old guy.

“I just couldn’t have that.” 

this is also such a real and raw depiction of men in real life. not knowing how to take no for an answer, or to face rejection is such a scary thing.

Wonwoo silently releases the handcuffs while Aeron is distracted, whispering in your ear, “Do what you have to do.” 

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM OH YOUR HONOR THATS HIM THATS MY FAVORITE BOY

With a perfect aim, you shoot one more shot, a fatal blow to his heart. “And that is for my mother, you piece of shit.” 

alexa play bullet to the heart by jackson wang while i shake ass and rejoice

“Happy to see me?” Jeonghan smirked in the commander’s seat. 

YES JEONGHANNNNN AUAUAUUAUAUAAUAUUAU

“See you, space cowboy.”

aeris i am going to find you and we're going to fight bc why the fuck would u do this to me???

in final notes, i have this to say: this was incredibly well written! you can really feel the tumultuous nature of their relationship, and all of her feelings were so strong and valid and she didn't back down from them. wonwoo was what i like to call a love suture, kind of just binding all her open wounds with the sheer amount of adoration he held for her and i think that's beautiful. at the end of the day, he understood. he understood why she did what she had to and we all deserve something like that.

10/10!

see you, space cowboy

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: With a bounty on your head, you are determined to get your revenge at all costs… even if it means losing the man that you love. .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bounty hunter!Wonwoo x bounty hunter!reader, mentions of other members (Jeonghan, Soonyoung and Mingyu) .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst, sc-fi, smut, lovers to enemies to ???, cowboy bebop elements, space au, established relationship, betrayal, dark themes, neo-noir, dystopian-ish if you squint .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: PLEASE READ ALL THE WARNINGS! heavy angst, very strong language, mentions of murder/attempted murder, gun violence (for revenge and they're bounty hunters so), familial death, morally grey characters, grief, emotional manipulation (not by Wonwoo or the reader), drugging (not for sexual purposes), toxic family dynamics, gaslighting, graphic violence (reader gets into fights defending herself), guilt/self blame, mentions of black market dealings, kissing, oral (giving and receiving), nipple play, fingering, nail digging, unprotected shower sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, throat grabbing, creampie. lots and lots of yearning .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 16.7K .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𝐀𝐍: It's finally hereeeeee. Reader has a nickname "Silver", which is explained why and she will be referred as that for the most part. I was inspired by Cowboy Bebop and as a 90s anime enthusiast , I dreamed this up when I was doing a rewatch and I had to make this happen. I want to give a huge thank you to @starlightkyeom for reading this, putting up with me sending long ass voice notes agonizing over this story and reassuring me that what I had was good. I feel like we have gotten closer because of this 😭 Also thank you to @hobeemin, @hannieween, @neoneun-au and @straylightdream for reading as well and letting me bounce off ideas. It helped me a lot when I was stuck and need another opinion. Also thank you Beezy @hobeemin for the cool ass banner.

visual concept #1 visual concept #2 playlist

You see him coming to your door, gun drawn with his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot. You duck behind the bookshelf, the only place you can hide in this small room. Creeping low on the ground, you clutch your own pistol in your hand as your breathing slows. Your heart beats a million times a minute, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you wait for him to come in. Despite having a million-dollar bounty on your head, you are determined to get out of here alive, even if it means losing the man that you love.

“Silver, I know you're in there.”

Hearing Wonwoo’s voice is like a shot to the heart. You love him with every fiber of your being. He is your morning sun, the Heart Nebula to your Soul Nebula, and anything you could say to describe a love that fills you deep in your soul and makes you whole. He is the one for you, and it’s fucked that you are on enemy lines. You never thought it would be you against him. It was always supposed to be you and him till the end of time.

But you made it this way.

If this were another situation, you would be flattered that your life was worth this much to anyone. Unfortunately, you didn’t achieve this by being a damsel in distress, but by taking a shot at the head boss of your Organization, Aeron— and you almost succeeded. You were so close, narrowly missing his head by a centimeter and marking his ear instead. Wonwoo, your fiancé and his adopted son, was his saving grace as he knocked the gun out of your hand at the last minute. You should feel conflicted, as the man raised you as one of his own and trained you personally to be the top bounty hunter. He even gave you your nickname, “Silver,” due to the thick strand of silver hair you were born with, a signature trait passed down from your mother’s side of the family. He was a family friend, and you loved him like an uncle, and in a way, you still do. That’s why this hurts so much.

“Baby, open the door… I just want to know why you did it.”

The deep anguish in his voice twists your stomach into knots. You promised him that you would never hurt him and be honest with him, even if it meant breaking his heart. You’ve kept your word until now, and you hope that when the dust settles, he will understand.

The door creaks open, and you move towards the wall as the loud creak muffles your foot movement. His shadow is darker, moving closer to you, and before he can see you, you grab a heavy book and throw it at his head as a distraction. Wonwoo is quick, knocking it out of place and kicking down the bookshelf, forcing you to scurry out of the way. A small table separates the two as you face each other for the first time in months.

“Hey there, space cowboy.”

You aren’t sure why you were expecting him to crack a smile at the nickname you gave him long ago. You stare at each other, his stern stare enough to scare anyone away. His eyes are heavy with an unspoken pain that you caused, and it eats you alive. You know he didn’t want to be the one to bring you in, but you both know if it were someone else, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Silver, I don’t want to fight,” Wonwoo warns. “But you know what will happen if I don’t bring you in.”

“Well, tough shit,” you spit. “You know what will happen to me if I return to the Nova District. So you’re just going to have to bring me in dead.”

Another moment of silence hangs between you two, your fingernails digging into your palms as you prepare for a fight.

“One day, you’ll understand why I did it.”

Wonwoo doesn’t answer immediately; you can see the gears turning in his mind as he wrestles with your words, the pain etched on his face.

“Why can’t you help me understand now?” he pleads, desperation creeping into his voice. “Why did you try to kill him? Why didn’t you talk to me about this?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

He shakes his head, and you sigh heavily, your shoulders hanging low in exhaustion. Of course, he didn’t tell him, and you shouldn’t be surprised. Being honest isn’t exactly Aeron’s strong suit, and now you have to explain everything. The lies and secrets are how you ended up here in the first place. But today isn’t the day for that—you must get out of there and hope that one day, Wonwoo will be able to forgive you.

“I don’t have time to explain now,” your voice cracks. You're angry and tired all the same. “You just have to trust me.”

“Just like you trusted me before you shot at Aeron?” His words are laced with a venom that incinerates your chest. He’s hurt, and you know he’s right, but there is no time to dwell on that.

Taking Aeron’s life was necessary, even if you failed, as he lied to you for years about your family. You became an orphan when you were twelve, watching your family’s house blow up on a hill while you were painting. You were always told that it was a gas leak, and you believed that until you received an ominous email with documents and recordings that proved it was a lie. Aeron was in love with your mother, and they had been having an affair for years. Seeing the pictures of them embracing, exchanging longing looks, and kissing… it was hard to look at.

“I know this isn’t fair, but please, believe me.” The ache in your torn heart that you’ve been ignoring rears its ugly head, bringing you to tears. “I don’t want to bring you further into this.”

“I’m already in it!” Wonwoo raises his voice, the gun trembling in his hand. “My fiancé shot the man who raised me. Took you in. I’m already knee-deep into this shit, Silver!”

He lunges at the table and throws it against the wall, catching you off guard. Aside from your jobs as bounty hunters, he has never gotten aggressive towards you. He’s warm and gentle and would worship the ground you walk on. Seeing him in turmoil, a pain that you caused paralyzes you momentarily, allowing him to cross the room towards you, pulling you close to him. Your knees almost buckle in close proximity to him, and you have half a mind to call all this off and go back with him. Figure all this shit out. Your heart bleeds for him.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, his eyes peering into your soul. “Why did you do this?”

You rest your head against his shoulder, ready to lay down your burdens and reveal the truth. “He’s responsible for my family’s death.”

You feel him stiffen, his breathing tempered as you wipe away your tears, regaining your composure as you explain what happened. “He planned all of it. The gas leak, my house blowing up. All of it because he was in love with my mother.”

You explained how you received the evidence via email and Dropbox, which is typically used for work purposes, and how your own investigation followed afterward. You didn’t believe it at first, and you almost deleted everything, chucking it up to someone trying to fuck with your head and take your spot from being the top bounty hunter on the planet. But with that email came a delivery of something precious, making it seem like maybe it was the truth after all: a picture of your mother wearing a locket. A silver heirloom passed down resembled a peony covered with red jadeites. It is a rare gem that doesn’t exist in this galaxy, and your mother always had it tucked away, promising that one day it would be yours as the oldest child.

Even though you were far from the house, the force of the explosion knocked you off your feet, and you hit your head; you blocked out your memory, and your doctors all say it’s due to trauma and all of the related stuff. You started to forget about the locket, and eventually, your family’s memory became distant. That same locket, however, Aeron kept in his possession all these years in a glass container. He said it was his most “prized possession” that he won after a “tough” job, and despite the familiar feeling you had whenever you were near it, you believed him. Never again.

“The affair with my mother wasn’t just some secret,” you say, your voice filled with rage and sorrow. “He had been obsessed with her for years. They were childhood sweethearts, and she was forced to marry my father in an arranged marriage that turned into real love.” You grab his hands and study his eyes, hoping to find a flicker of hope that he believed you and that you didn’t just fly off the handle. “She tried to end it for years, and he wouldn’t let her. Now look what’s happened.”

The transcripts and phone call recordings showed she wanted to end things with Aeron and be faithful to your father. Your mother was beautiful and had an elegance and grace that turned every head in the room. You don’t know how the affair started, but you know your mother wanted to be free from Aeron, and he wouldn’t have that. So instead of letting her go, he killed her and everyone that you loved in that house. Your parents, your little sister, and your cat Dipper. All gone with a boom. He didn’t count on you not being in the house, so he tried to cover his tracks by taking you in. Raising you with Wonwoo, training you two together to be the best hunters in the galaxy. He watched you two fall in love and bragged about how much he loved his family. He talked about how much he loved you. It’s sick.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow as he processes your words, shadows of doubt flickering in his eyes. “How do you know what was sent was the truth? You could’ve come to me, and we could’ve—”

“Could’ve done fucking what?” You cut in sharply. “Gone to him and had him tell us the truth? He wouldn’t have done that if you were there. That’s why I went alone.”

You feel anger building in your chest, and you want to scream into the void. Betrayal doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel; it’s as if someone is tearing your heart apart at the seams. You can feel every rip, every piece of you being pulled away, and it just won’t stop.

“I know I put you in an impossible position, and I’m sorry,” you search his eyes for understanding and comfort. “I love you. So fucking much. And I know he means a lot to you, and he meant a lot to me, too, but he has to go—”

“Baby, stop,” he pleads. “Don’t do this.”

“I have to. I’m sorry.”

You lean in, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss, your heart racing as he pulls you closer to him. His taste evokes nostalgia and comfort, reminding you of happier times when you lay in bed together and talked about your future, planning your wedding, and discussing jobs you'd take together. Your whole lives were mapped out for the taking, and you could’ve had it all. Maybe you still can, in another life.

You quietly pull a powder called Dreamshade out of your back pocket. It is a bag of fine, shimmering dust that glimmers with deep violet and midnight blue, mixed with the endangered plants of blooming nightshade and wild lavender. A tear trickles down your left cheek as you know what you have to do next, breaking your kiss and sprinkling the dust across his face. You watch his expression soften, confusion clouding his features as he slumps to the ground, unconscious. You pull him until his back is against the wall, your heart twisting painfully as you betray his trust for the second time.

With one last lingering glance, you slip into the night, the vision of the last day your family was alive fueling your resolve. You had to eliminate Aeron, even if it meant losing everything.

Wonwoo remembered the first time you met. 

You were brought home from the hospital, where you spent a few weeks unconscious from the blast that destroyed your home. Aeron told him you were coming to stay with them and that it was his job to protect you. He didn’t know what the hell he meant by that; he was just a scrawny fifteen-year-old pickpocket living on the streets before he was found. He was born and raised in the Lutum district, poor, with two parents who passed away when he was ten years old from a plague that took over his city. He only knew how to take care of himself. Why was it his responsibility to care for someone he didn’t know? 

Wonwoo was a shy and quiet kid, but he knew that you meant a lot to Aeron, and he would do anything to please the man who took him in. You two didn’t talk much at first; his job was to protect you, not be your friend. But the more time you spent together as you navigated your new reality,  the closer you two became, and he got to see you for who you were. You were half a year younger than him, but you never let it show, as he found you fearless and driven, sometimes to the point that you were reckless. He always had your back, even if you were in the wrong, and Wonwoo wasn’t afraid to call you out on your shit. 

“Do you really have to start a fight everywhere we go?”

You were both nineteen, and you were dragged out of the club in Adamas City for punching a girl who got too close to your “date,” if that’s what you wanted to call it; more like your flavor of the month. You didn’t know the man had an on-and-off girlfriend, nor did you know she would show up to the place and start screaming at you, calling you every kind of whore, and how your parents were ashamed from the grave to have a daughter like you. But you did know she had to be taught manners, and before Wonwoo could stop you, the girl was knocked to the floor with a bruised right eye and a chipped tooth.

“Wonwoo, stop.” You snatched your hand from him. “I’m fine.” 

“Yeah, no shit, Silver,” Wonwoo retorted, running his fingers through his hair. “Why can’t you be normal for once?”

“Because,” you adjusted your jacket. “That’s fucking boring.” 

You frustrated him to no end. You were wild and resilient, and despite the hellfire you brought, you had a sharp wit and knack for adapting to any situation you were in. You also made him curious and brought a spark to his chest whenever you were around, and he found you more attractive as time went on. He noticed how your eyes squinted when you read, and how your silver hair shone brightly in the sun and moonlight. You sparkled like the stars in the night, a nuclear fusion of many components that made you beautiful to him, that kept him grounded.

Deep down, Wonwoo knew what that meant. It’s not like he hasn’t had crushes before, but you were different; you made him feel alive. Seeing you date these guys, who wouldn’t last longer than a few weeks, bothered him. You need someone you could rely on at the end of the day and be comfortable with; you needed someone who felt like home, and he wanted to be that for you. 

Wonwoo swore he would protect you with his life to Aeron, but he didn’t realize falling for you was in the cards. 

Aeron wasn’t pleased to hear what happened in the club, and he made you both start training to become bounty hunters for the Organization. He said you needed discipline and structure, and let you get away with acting out for far too long. Wonwoo didn’t fight it; he knew he was right, and it was time for you to grow and become an adult. You surprisingly took everything in stride, attending all the necessary training and adhering to the daily regimen implemented for you throughout this process. Later on, Wonwoo asked you why you didn’t fight it, and you said something clicked with you— you could either party and fight anyone who got in your way, or you could do something with your life and be taken more seriously. Amid everything, you wanted respect.

You two trained together with Aeron personally and became even closer. You tended each other’s cuts and bruises, vented about each other’s day, and, late at night, shared secrets about your fears and what you wanted for your future. You didn’t share much about your childhood, but Wonwoo shared about his life before Aeron, and he was okay with that. He saw you coming into your own, making him grow fond of you even more. Sometimes, he wondered if what he felt was love or if he just liked you a lot. But he kept to himself, as he didn’t want to rock the boat with Aeron, and he didn’t want to mess up this dynamic he had with you. 

A year into training, you both had to take a series of mental aptitude tests to strengthen your minds against any emotional factors that could affect your jobs. He knew bounty hunting wouldn’t be just bringing people in alive or collecting treasure— it also meant possibly taking people out of equations, permanently. On the last day of the test, he met with you on the rooftop of the Hightower, the building where the Organization was located and where you both lived. The test was rigorous, and it forced him to think of his parents and the pain they suffered from the sickness that killed them, and he just wanted a quiet moment to process that. He missed them.

After midnight, the stars formed different constellations in the dazzling dark sky, and you leaned on the balcony, lost in thought as the wind flowed slightly to the East. Wonwoo knew something was wrong; you never want to be this still. He was usually the quiet one and listened to you talk. It was his favorite thing to do at the end of the day. 

“Are you okay?” 

Wonwoo placed a supporting hand on your shoulder, watching you slowly come back to reality and regain your focus on him. Your eyes were red, and your face was tear-stricken, and it hurt him to see you upset. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you sniffled, wiping your face with your shirt sleeve. “The test just really sucked.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wonwoo agreed, leaning against the rail. “I’m glad it’s over.” 

“Is it?” You let out a shaky breath, gazing at the sky. “We will be doing jobs soon, which means we will be doing some tough things. What if we come across a dead family or a child without their parents?”

He watched your bottom lip tremble as you burst into tears, quickly covering your face and turning away from him. 

“What if I am not cut out for this?”

Wonwoo pulled you into a warm hug, letting you sob on his shirt as he rubbed your back. He had never seen you break down like this, which nerved him. You’ve always made it a point to never let anyone see you cry, yet you felt so vulnerable and trusted him. It pulled at him heavily, and he wanted to take your pain away. 

“Hey,” he lifted your chin slightly so your eyes met. “You’re stronger than you think. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still here. You’re a force of nature, Silver. I believe in you.” 

You nodded softly as he wiped the remaining tears from the corner of your eye. Wonwoo will always be there to protect you; as long as he is alive, no one else will ever make you cry again. 

“Wonwoo,” you whispered, gazing into his eyes. “I’m going to do something that you’ve been too nice to do.” 

Before he could respond, you pulled him into a kiss, catching him off guard. His pulse quickened as he understood what was happening, but he kissed you back, the heat radiating between you two on this chilly high tower. He needed you, but didn’t know how to tell you; however, he would surely show you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. Your kiss deepened, a mix of yearning and relief in the air as if he knew you felt the same way. 

You finally pulled apart, breathless and content. Wonwoo’s heart was pounding; he wanted more but didn’t want to rush things. In due time, it would happen. 

“Well, it’s exciting to know you feel the same way, space cowboy.” 

“You are never going to let that nickname go, will you?”

“Never.”

A slight grin spread across your face, and you stepped back, looking at the night sky again. Wonwoo came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, wanting to feel your warmth again. If it were up to him, he would never let you go. He stood there in silence, watching the beautiful person in front of him finally have a moment of peace, and it was because of him. 

At that moment, Wonwoo knew he was in love, and despite being ordered to protect and save you, you also saved him from a lifetime of loneliness. 

It took you a few hours to get to Merchara, an industrial planet dominated by towering factories and sprawling cities. The sky is a permanent rust orange, filled with smog that suffocates without the proper mask. It’s ironic that you are going to a place where you can barely breathe on your own after what you did to Wonwoo back there, leaving him slumped on a wall. You haven’t stopped crying and haven’t been able to breathe easily since a tight knot settling on your chest as each hour goes by; you don’t deserve him.

“Let’s do this shit,” you muttered. 

Settling behind a building in the city of Theodian, you wipe the remaining tears off your face and regain focus. You took a ship common enough to blend in with others in the galaxy that would let you go undetected. You registered with an alternate login no one knew, which gave you enough time to disable the GPS and turn into a ghost, hence its name, Umbra. People only come to this planet if they are hiding out or are involved in the black market. Fortunately, the person you need to see fits both criteria, and he may be the only person in this galaxy who will not rat you out the second you step into his establishment: Yoon Jeonghan. 

You met him on a job when you were tasked with a group of other bounty hunters to raid his building and eliminate anyone who got in your way. The job was messy and ended with unnecessary casualties, and you suspect that Jeonghan was targeted because he dabbles in black-market weaponry and tech. The only reason why you spared him, despite him attacking you on sight, was because he was protecting a little girl, his sister. Despite him being good at fighting, you had the upper hand, and you were ready to get rid of him, but then you saw her crawl from behind the table, wild-eyed and shaken. She stood behind him with big brown eyes and clung to his shirt, and it reminded you of the little sister you lost, and you didn’t want to be the reason you took her family away. 

You spared his life, and because of that, he became your most trusted ally, second only to Wonwoo. Jeonghan would supply you with weapons at a cheaper rate as a token of gratitude, and eventually, you would become friends. His sister, Sohee, was wary of you at first, and you didn’t blame her; you almost killed her brother. But she came around, and now she refers to you as “Aunt” Silver when you come around.

“Hello?”

Your knuckles rapped against the door while you waited for a response. The door slowly creaked open with little effort, causing your body to tense as you became more alert. Hesitating, you quietly pushed the door open, greeted by the coolness of the living room. Your heart quickened as you scanned the room, looking for anything out of place. You’ve known them a long time, and it’s not like them to leave their doors unlocked. 

You hear shuffling from the back corner, and you quickly pull out your gun, only to be met by Jeonghan, holding a basket of fruit. 

“Well, hello,” Jeonghan greets you, eyeing your gun.

“Don’t worry, Hannie, I come in peace,” you say, raising your hands slowly.

“Yeah, I don’t think you have much of a choice, Miss Million Dollar Bounty,” he smirks as he sets down his basket. You relax and put the gun back in its holster.

“You heard about that, huh?” you sighed. “I imagine the news is probably all over the galaxy.” 

“Fresh on the ten o’clock telecasts,” he remarked. 

“Shit.” 

“Yeah.”

You sit on one of the barstools, your head in your hands as everything hits you all at once. Finding out the truth about your family, attempting to kill Aeron, Wonwoo… fuck, Wonwoo. The thought of him lying there all alone feels like a knife twisting in your gut. 

“How is Wonwoo taking all of this?”

You slowly look up at him, your eyes blurry from the tears that you managed to repress for a short time. “Not good,” you sniffle. “I broke his heart.”

Your chest feels heavy, like a weight pressing down on you as you unravel, releasing all the frustration and hurt you've experienced over the past twenty-four hours. You thought Aeron was one of your last living connections to your family, and learning that he had a hand in severing that bond makes you feel sick to your stomach.

Jeonghan quickly pulls you into his embrace as you cry, unable to keep your jar of emotions shut. You’re not a crier; you view it as a weakness and never want anyone to see you that way… but you can’t help it. Your heart aches for the family you lost, Wonwoo, and for everything that has transpired since then. It feels like the last fifteen years were a lie—a facade created for Aeron to cover his tracks.

“He hates me, Hannie.” Your voice trembled. “Wonwoo is never going to forgive me.”

“Shhh, don’t say that,” he shushed you. “If I know anything about Wonwoo, you are his sun and moon and all that other cliche stuff. From what I have seen, that man is too deep in love with you. I’m sure he’ll understand… just give him some time.”

“I don’t know,” you sniffled again. “I really knocked him out the last time I saw him.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Dreamshade.”

“Oh, Silver,” he clicks his tongue. “You were always a sneaky one.”

He hands you a napkin, and you wipe your face in the mirror. Your eyes are rubor red and you lack sleep. You look worn down and defeated; even your silver hair is dull and no longer full of life. 

“You need to sleep,” Hannie says suddenly. “Go up to Sohee’s room and take a nap.”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I gotta keep moving. Where is she anyway?”

“School,” he says, taking the bananas out of the basket. “You do know what time it is, right?”

You glance at the digital clock on the wall; it reads nine o'clock AM, its bright blue lights glowing prominently. The adrenaline that has fueled you for the past twenty-four hours is fading, and fatigue and hunger crash over you like wildfire. Your back aches, and your feet are sore. As much as you want to leave, you know Jeonghan is right: you are completely exhausted.

“I just really need to re-up on some supplies,” you say wearily. “I’ll be out of your hair soon. I don’t want to risk you and Sohee’s life any more than I am being here.”

“Silver, you saved our lives even when you didn’t have to,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I will always have your back.”

He pointed toward Sohee’s room. “You should rest first. I can give you what you need when you wake up. But if you keep going like this, you will exhaust yourself, and I won’t be able to help you.”

You sigh heavily, running your fingers through your hair. “Don’t you want to know why I did it?”

Jeonghan pauses momentarily, giving you a once-over before coming around the corner. “Not if it’s going to get me in trouble,” he smirked. “But seriously, whatever reason you did it, I’m sure it was justified.”

You don’t have the strength to argue anymore; your eyes grow heavy with each passing second. You let him lead you to her bed, where he untucks the covers. You slowly crawl in, the scent of lavender lingering on her pillow.

“Sleep,” Jeonghan says softly. “I’ve got you.”

You nod, too tired to think. Your body succumbs to fatigue, and you drift into a deep sleep.

Wonwoo dreamed about you. 

It was an old memory, but it’s one of his favorites. You two were at the Sanctuary, a blip on the map outside the city, kept a secret from the public. You two discovered it accidentally after finishing a mission on the planet Glacius, which became your secret getaway. Very few people know about this place, and it provided the privacy you both craved when you grew tired of being in the public eye. The weather was always warm, with a tropical element reminiscent of the beaches on old Earth.

You had only been dating officially for several months, but Wonwoo was deeply in love. You were fire and ice and an enigma all at the same time. You made his soul smile when you touched him, and he was in awe of your bravery and the lengths you were willing to go to protect him on each mission. You weren’t the heavy emotional type, but he knew how much you cared about him. It was the little things— the way you talked to him softly like no one else could, the way you kept contact when Wonwoo spoke, and by gods, the way you kissed him. He felt it, knew you loved him too. But you haven’t said it out loud yet. 

“Wonwoo… I think I am ready to take the next step.” 

You two were lying on the blankets on the beach, letting the sun kiss your skin and melting the cold away from the other planet. Wonwoo lifted his head up, his glasses slightly askew and his heart racing as he replayed the words in his head.

“W-what step?”

You raised an eyebrow and threw him a look, and he got your message crystal clear. “Oh… I mean, are you sure?”

“Yes,” you nodded, now sitting up. “I want to do this with you. I’ve never been in love before… and I want to know what it’s like to do it with someone you love.”

Wonwoo’s eyes softened, sitting up and moving closer to you. “You love me?”

“Yes, you dolt,” you giggled. “Do you need me to say it?”

You leaned closer to him, your lips barely touching his. “I love you, space cowboy. More than you know.” 

Wonwoo never acts on impulse. He always thought ahead and planned for every scenario, but this time, he wanted to live in the moment with you and forget all his inhibitions. So he kissed you. Hard.

There wasn’t a place in the galaxy hotter than you two. Passion and lust flowed through each other at the simple but profound eight-lettered phrase. His heart was beating out of his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he laid you back on the blanket, tasting vanilla on your lips. 

“You are a man of very few words, Wonwoo,” you teased him. “I take it you love me too?”

He gave you one last, lingering kiss before gazing into your eyes, seeing a vision of love in front of him. 

“You consume every thought that I have. You make me feel open and alive. I love you, Silver—”

Bzzt! Bzzt!

Wonwoo’s world started to crumble, the Sanctuary slipping away with you in it, forming into a dark, blurry room with four vibrating walls. 

Bzzt Bzz!

Wonwoo stirred slowly, his right jeans pocket buzzing incessantly as he opened his eyes. His vision was blurred, a sign that the eye drops he had used to clear his eyesight had worn off. He reached into his left jacket pocket, pulled out his glasses, and carefully slipped them on. A dull ache throbbed in his head, and he felt groggy as the events of the previous day flooded back to him.

“Alright, alright,” he grumbled, digging into his right pocket.

He looked at the screen and groaned when he saw Aeron's call from his private residence. He rarely used the private line unless it was a matter of serious concern.

“Yeah?” he answered.

“State your location,” Aeron’s voice responded gruffly from the speaker.

It took Wonwoo a moment to answer; the effects of the Dreamshade were still holding him back. “I’m at the Portalis.”

The Portalis was a small area in the Nova District with a portal that transported people to other planets. There were a dozen rooms where individuals could conduct business, rest, or do whatever they wanted, much like a motel. Wonwoo knew that you would go there after the attempt on Aeron’s life; he would have done the same.

“Have you captured her?”

He envisioned your face, your soft lips pressed against his, before everything went purplish-blue and black. He should be angry at you for running off instead of sticking together; you are a team. But his love and longing for you supersede any anger he might feel. He was made for you, you need him, and he is determined to see this through. 

“No,” he pushed himself off the ground. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean not yet?!” Aeron snapped. “Did you forget what that bitch did?”

“That bitch is Silver,” Wonwoo defended, dusting off his jacket. “She isn’t some stranger on the street or a temp for hire. She is family. My fiancé.”

“Family doesn’t try to kill each other, Wonwoo,” Aeron said plainly. “She went against us. You know what happens when you break the code.” 

Wonwoo stilled, leaning against the wall as the effects of Dreamshade finally started to wear off. He knew very well what happens when you break the code, and never wanted to meet that kind of fate. Let’s just say he would rather have his death swift and to the point, instead of floating around in space. 

“Aeron, what Silver said you did… is there any truth to that?”

There was a momentary silence thick with anticipation; he almost thought Aeron hung up. 

“Are you questioning me, boy?”  His voice roared through the speaker. “Understand something. If I tell you to skip, you ask how many times you hear me? You would still be in the streets if it weren’t for me. Bring her to me NOW, or you will die right next to her.” 

The call ended with a hard click before he could respond, and he just stood there, motionless and angry. Aeron has never talked to Wonwoo that way, and he could feel his heart beating through his ears. Who does he think he is? Wonwoo didn’t need him. He didn’t ask to be saved. The Organization would be nothing without him and Silver, and he knows that. Is this how family treats each other?

He exited the room and slammed it shut, frustration seeping out of him as he climbed into his ship and turned on the engine. He would deal with Aeron later, but he had to find Silver before it was too late.

“Aunt Silver, wake up.” 

You feel a little hand softly nudge you awake. Your mouth opens, and tiny drool drops come out of the corner of your mouth. Your eyes regain focus, and you stare at little Sohee, with pigtails in her hair and a clean school uniform. She beams once you recognize her, giving you a tight hug that touches your heart. 

“Jeonghan told me to wake you up. Dinner is ready.” 

“Dinner?”

You look at the time plastered on the wall—it was quarter past seven. Shooting out of bed, you hurriedly put on your socks and laced up your boots, kissing Sohee on her head as you walked out of the bedroom. 

“No, Jeonghan said you must stay and eat with me.” 

“I can’t, sweetie,” you say, frantically looking around the house for your weapons. “I have somewhere to be and shouldn’t have stayed here this long.”

Little Sohee folds her arms and stands in front of the front door. “Jeonghan says he will be back and to stay with me and eat.”

This makes you stop in your tracks, and a slight panic starts to kick in. “He left?”

“Yes,” she nods. “He says something about you needing 'supplies' and he will be back.”

Then it clicks. Jeonghan must have gone to get you more weapons, and he doesn’t want you to leave Sohee alone. Jeonghan, if nothing else, is a tricky bastard.

“Okay,” you sighed, walking to the kitchen. 

Laid out on the table was an arrangement of foods in bowls, steaming hot, accompanied by a rare tea that grows only on this planet: hibiscus. You sit in view of the front door to see when Jeonghan or anyone else comes. Despite your eagerness to get out of there and your stomach pains of hunger, you reluctantly sit down, grab a bowl, and fill it with rice and braised chicken.

You observe Sohee as she happily fills her bowl with miso soup, accompanied by a side of grilled fish, with not a care in the world. You miss being at that age, when you only had to worry about whether your mom would let you play outside or if you remembered to fill Dipper’s food bowl. Sadness and a hint of envy prick at your heart, and you think of your past life and what you could’ve become.

“How’s school?” 

“It’s fine, Aunt Silver,” Sohee responds, slurping her soup. “We are learning about planets in the Milky Way and how they differ from those in our galaxy.” 

You listen to her shoot off random facts about Earth, Mars, and all the other planets in the solar system in awe. You’ve heard the story a million times about how Earth became inhabitable and how we had to travel through galaxies to get here. But hearing Sohee tell it, happy to share the knowledge she is learning, warms your heart. This is partly why you wanted to leave; you care about Sohee so much and want her to have the life your sister could’ve had. 

You mostly eat silently for the rest of dinner, and Sohee has already packed food for you to go before she wakes you up. You hear the door creak, and you instinctively grab for your gun, panic setting in when you remember it isn’t in your holster.

“Don’t worry, it’s just me.” Jeonghan’s voice rang out, calming your nerves. “I come bearing gifts.”

You meet him in the living room as he pulls out the weapons, more Dreamshade, clothes, and other things needed to protect you while you’re out there. You pick up a magazine, the cool metal feeling familiar in your grip, and begin attaching it to your gun with practiced efficiency. You secure your other weapons and powders that would affect you without gloves. You glance at Jeonghan, who gives you a soft smile and places a supporting hand on your shoulder. 

“You and Wonwoo will find your way back to each other. Do what you have to do.” 

You nod, put on your mask, walk out of the back door toward your ship, and place your bag behind your seat. Taking deep breaths, you are determined not to cry again as you head to your next destination for more answers.

“WAIT!”

You look to your left, and Sohee runs towards you, holding the packed food you forgot to grab. 

“Here,” Sohee shoved it into your hands. “I also put some hot buns in there, in case Uncle Wonwoo wants some.” Hearing his name left a painful reminder that struck your heart, leaving you momentarily lost in the memories you don’t want to revisit.

“Aww, come here, kid,” you say, shaking off those feelings, putting everything aside, and pulling her into a tight hug. 

“Aunt Silver, I don’t care what the people on TV say. You aren’t a bad person. I know it.”

Fresh tears threaten to break through, and you don’t want her to see that. Sohee is sweet, pure, and full of light. You hope she never changes.

“Thank you, Sohee,” you manage to say. “It means a lot to me.”

You wait until Sohee is safe before booting up your ship, soaring high in the galaxy, and heading to your next destination. 

The trip to Glacius was the longest twelve hours you have ever had to sit through. You’ve been on longer trips, but you were never alone—you at least had Wonwoo and other crew members or bounty hunters with you. The silence is the hardest part to sit through, the crippling thoughts in your head and considering your current mental state, it’s hard to turn off. All you can do is grieve; you mourn the life that you lost and the one that you are about to lose again, because of Aeron. There isn’t a hell in this galaxy you won’t send him through, and you will see to it that he suffers a satisfying death. 

The temperature drops significantly the farther you travel from the sun, and a turquoise planet with cloud rings around comes into view. Glacius is a planet with icy terrain throughout its surface. From the outside, there is nothing but snow for miles, and the forest is filled with Glaceons and other wild animals. However, only a few know about Zoie, the underground city with just over fifty thousand people. Scientists and researchers mostly live here, and the only place besides Merchara where you have another ally you can turn to at the drop of a hat.

You park your ship and suit up to brace the freezing cold. It is your luck to come here in the middle of the storm, but what other choice do you have? You exit the ship, fighting against the wind until you reach Zoie's hidden entrance. Three taps from your foot alert to your arrival. The ground shifts, and you are lowered through a glass tube, with illuminated lights being your only source of light in the darkness. Eventually, you reach the entrance to the city, met by bodyguards circling around as the glass lifts. 

“State your business here,” the agent with toad-like skin gruffed. The other guards took your bag and body searched you, digging through your bag in hopes of finding incriminating evidence. 

“I’m here for Dr. Selene Ardyn,” you say, eyeing one of the guards with porcelain-like skin sniffing your hot buns. 

“Wait here.” 

You awkwardly stand there while they finish searching your bags, your eyes twitching as they unfold the clothes you had packed and throw everything back unceremoniously. You would think that being in a place renowned for technology would instill more manners in people, but alas, not everyone possesses class. 

“These hot buns, you don’t want them, right?” The guard pulls one out and eats it in front of you. 

“Nope,” you roll your eyes. “Have fucking at it.” 

You shake your head, looking away at the greasy man smearing minced meat over his face in disgust. Your thumbnail instinctively digs into your palm, and you slowly count to ten as you try to keep your annoyance at bay. 

“What’s wrong?” He goads, stepping closer to you. “You don’t like it when people take your things?”

“You’re awfully perceptive.” You stand your ground. “I guess the worms in your brain have finally mellowed out.”

The other guards snicker at your remark, and you look straight ahead, waiting for the toad-like guard to return. The porcelain guard’s face turns tomato red, and before you can react, his hand grabs your throat and slams you against the wall. 

“You bounty hunters think you are tough shit and are better than the rest of us,” his words spit on your face. “You probably can’t even fi—”

Before he could finish his thought, he was already on the floor, thanks to a quick head butt and a kick to the left knee. It’s been a long day. You are tired and hungry, and the ache from missing Wonwoo eats at you more and more. You could’ve let his words slide and waited for the doctor, but unfortunately for him, you were having a bad time. 

Turning him over, you place your foot on his back and grab both of his arms, pulling them back until you hear a tear and a blood-curdling scream that makes you satisfied. “You were saying?”

“What’s going on here?”

You look up, facing Dr. Selene Ardyn, watching the scene before her with an eyebrow raised. She was all but five feet two, with smooth caramel colored skin and thick hair wrapped neatly into a bun. Dressed like the typical scientist, complete with a white trench coat, she folds her arms while waiting for an answer. 

“Your guard ate my food and put his grubby hands on me,” you grit through your teeth. “So I was teaching him some manners.”

“Silver, is that necessary?” Selene asks, looking annoyed. “Let him go, and I’ll take you back to my quarters. I’ve been expecting you.” 

You tug his arms one last time, dropping them unceremoniously, grabbing your bag, and walking around the injured guard. The other three move away quickly as you storm by, the red you saw slowly dissipating. 

“Guards?” You hear Selene call out. “Take Brutus to the medics and tell them I sent him.”

Selene Adryn is one of the most renowned scientists and engineers in the galaxy, specializing in the research of bioweapons. You have worked for her several times, gathering plants and resources from all over the galaxy, and have grown somewhat close. You’ve seen how she interacts with her employees, and though she hasn’t explicitly said it, you knew you could go to her if you were ever in trouble. 

The click of her heels against the glossy floor is almost melodic, calming your nerves as you pass the different quarters. Zoie City is not your typical city; besides being underground, it mainly comprises engineers, other scientists, and researchers from various fields. Everyone stays to themselves or congregates in the main halls for meals or other relaxing areas. Glancing at your watch, it’s a little after 10am, and everyone is bustling with scientific talk that you quite understand. 

“We’re here,” Selene announces as she stops before two sliding doors. “Let’s hurry inside.”

Placing her hand on the scanner, the machine beeped and gradually opened the door, revealing a sprawling condo with enough space for three houses. Her place was nothing less than high-tech, with housemaid Androids tidying up on each floor. 

“Take off your shoes and give your coat to Bob.”

You already knew who Bob was: her oldest butler, also an Android. He was built to look like a real person, and to someone who doesn’t interact with them often, you would think he is the real thing. But a stark difference always stood out to you—they always looked soulless in the eyes. It unnerved you. 

Sliding off your shoes, you hand your coat to Bob and follow Selene into the living room, where she sits on her sectional sofa. You gaze through the tall picture windows as the storm rages outside. The wind howls, lifting the snow into a wild, swirling dance, throwing it around as if it were nothing. 

“Thank you for seeing me on short notice,” you say, returning your focus to Selene. “I’m sure you saw the news.”

“Yeah, I did,” Selene confirms with a nod. “Seems like you’ve been busy.” 

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “Being on the run and all, I don’t exactly have time to sit around and linger.” 

You look down at your beaten hands, twirling the ruby and diamond infinity engagement ring that Wonwoo proposed to you with. He knew red was your favorite color, and he always said you were more precious than rubies and diamonds, which are rare in this galaxy. God, you miss him.

“So, you say you were expecting me?” you ask, pulling yourself out of your sadness.

“Yes, I was,” Selene replies, walking toward the kitchen. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No,” you shake your head. “I want to know how long you’ve known.”

Selena hesitates slightly as she grabs a mug from the counter. If it were anyone else, they might miss it, but after years of bounty hunter training, you have learned to read people’s body language without asking questions. It’s one of your special skills.

“What do you mean, Silver?” she asks.

“I mean,” you get off the couch and approach her in the kitchen, “how long have you known about my family?”

Selene clutches the handle of her hug, sighing heavily before turning around and facing you. In all the many years you’ve known her, you are actually seeing her— the delicate wrinkles on her forehead and the faint shadows beneath her eyes. It feels like her mask has slipped off, and she is finally revealing who she is. 

“Silver, I…” Selene’s voice falters. “How did you figure it out?”

“I didn’t,” you reply softly, trying to keep your emotions in check. “But you just confirmed it.”

When you started receiving the documents about the truth of your family’s death, you knew it had to be someone who had access to your Dropbox. It’s not easily accessible to the public, and though you couldn’t track the IP address exactly, you knew it had originated from far beyond your planet. The first two numbers indicated that you were this far in the galaxy, and you decided to apply the process of elimination. You knew this was a huge gamble, showing up here with accusations that may have been unfounded, but you had to trust your gut, and it rarely steers you wrong. 

“I don’t want to have to ask you again, Selene,” you warned. 

“Okay, okay.” 

She gestures back to the couch and urges you to sit, while you settle opposite her, on guard. Selene had known about you for so long and never said a word… You really can’t trust anyone, except for Wonwoo. 

“You remind me of your mother a lot.” 

Your head ticks at her words, unsure if you heard her right. “What do you mean, I remind you of my mother? How do you know her?”

Selene settles into the sofa, twiddling her thumbs on her lap. “She was my best friend.”

You look at her incredulously, the woman you respected, keeping this secret from you all this time. It all makes sense now; It all clicks now—why she was constantly requesting you for missions and would sometimes let you stay in her home overnight instead of sending you off when the job is complete. Sometimes you’d hear her hum a song your mom used to sing to you to sleep, and you thought it was a coincidence or the song was popular across the galaxy. You’ve just been a fool. 

“Wow,” a bitter laugh escapes your lips. “I can’t fucking believe this.” 

You turn away, looking at the window as the storm still rages on, the chaos mirroring what you feel inside. You're a tempest, brimming with anger and ready to wreak havoc on everyone who has played you like a fool. 

“Selene, you would be dead if I didn’t respect you so much.” 

You turn around and face her, your nails digging sharply in your palms. “You let me believe this lie… this fallacy that Aeron planted all these years. You were my mother’s best friend, supposedly, right? Why didn’t you take me in? Why did you leave me in the hospital for weeks and not visit me ONCE?”

Your chest heaved as you lay it all out. “Why Selene? WHY?”

“I detect elevated voices, is everything al—”

“For the love of Gods, Bob, shut the fuck up!” 

You overflow with anger, reaching behind your back and pulling out your pistol. Cocking the lever, you aim to shoot—

“Y/N, STOP!”

You freeze, slowly gazing at Selene as she runs over to Bob, covering the android with her body. No one has called you by your real name since you were a kid... Since you came to live with Aeron. “Don’t shoot him, please.” You study her, watching her chest heave, panic and fear wild in her eyes. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. Just… don’t hurt him.”

Reluctantly, you lower your weapon, choosing to keep out instead of putting it up. She whispers something to the android, who nods, bowing to her slightly and leaving the main room. The other androids follow on cue, and it’s just you and her. 

“You said you would tell me everything I need to know.” Your voice is low and tense. “So start talking.”

She sits on the couch, shifting around until she is comfortable, before she begins. “Like I said earlier, your mother and I were best friends. We attended the same girls' school and were roommates, so naturally we became close.”

“So you knew Aeron then as well?”

Her eyes briefly go dark at the mention of his name. “Yes, I knew him. He attended a brother school and would often follow her around. I hated him. I thought he was so weird, but your mother… she was sweet. Always saw the good in people. So, eventually, they fell in love.”

“Her family, your folks, weren’t close, and she thought she could convince them to accept Aeron, and they would get married and start a family. Aeron could’ve been your father.” You grimace at that thought. 

“But,” you cut in. “She was forced to marry Dad, right? “

She nods. “Yes. Your family was a very powerful people, and whatever they said went. So if your grandpa said you had to marry someone, there was only so much she could say or do before bending to their will. Aeron was obviously unhappy with it, but what could he do? He was just a boy who loved someone he could never truly have.”

“Don’t make excuses for him,” you say bitterly. 

“Oh, trust me, I’m not,” Selena waves her hands. “He’s a bastard who didn’t deserve your mother. I will hate him until the day I reach Valhalla.” 

You smirk at her statement, feeling slightly relieved that you two are on the same page. “So you knew my mother, my dad, I assume? How come I never saw you?”

“I used to come around a lot more when you were younger. You probably don’t remember, but I used to visit and bring you stuffed animals. Your favorite was always a lamb.”

You think back to your childhood, when your room was surrounded by stuffed animals of many species. You always found comfort in your little white lamb. You used to sleep with it and named it Boop, which smelled like rose petals. Maybe you were too young to remember her exactly, but your gut doesn’t tell you she’s lying. 

“I couldn’t visit much anymore when I became the head of bioweapon research, and I hadn’t seen your mother in almost ten years. We talked weekly, though, and I saw pictures and videos of you and your sister growing up.” 

A slight pang grips your chest, and your eyes water at the memories of you and your little sister that you could reclaim. She was full of sunshine and life, and she dreamed of exploring the cosmos, of discovering the wonders beyond the stars. She deserved to live, and if you could trade your life for hers, you would do it without a second thought. 

“Your family’s death devastated me,” Selene’s voice trembles. “It still does. When I heard what happened, my heart sank. I went to the morgue, identified the bodies, and started the process of formally taking guardianship over you. You needed someone, and I wanted to be that.”

“So what happened?” you demand, your voice cracking as tears stream down your cheeks. “There were no records of you trying to take guardianship or even visiting me. Why did you leave me there?”

“Aeron threatened me outright,” Selene discloses, shocking your heart. “He said if I tried to take you in, if I got in his way, he would see to it that your life would be a living hell. See, he knew I would eventually discover the truth about the accident. Just because I work mainly with diseases doesn’t mean I have forgotten about regular science. The day I visited your house after the explosion, I knew it wasn’t a simple gas leak.”

“My gods, he is truly a bastard.” You rub your temples. “So you managed to collect all the evidence and kept it hidden? Is that why you personally requested me to run missions for you?”

“Yes,” Selene nods. “It was the only way I could check on you without tipping off Aeron. If he knew we were having this conversation now…”

“To be frank, I don’t care if he knows we’re talking,” you sniffle. “Next time I see him, he will be dead.”

Silence comes over you, and you look to the windows again, watching the storm finally pull back as the snow finally settles. You hear Selene enter the other room and return with a white box engraved with beautiful drawings of bows and flowers. She hands it to you, slowly lifting the top, revealing pictures of your mother and her as kids, as well as pictures of your dad and mom before you were born. 

“I was keeping these until the time was right, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don’t miss your family. Please forgive me for lying to you.” 

Selene breaks down in front of you; all you can do is watch silently. The woman you’ve always seen as composed and put together now shows raw emotion and deep grief, which is unusual for you. Just 24 hours ago, you had no idea that anyone even knew about your family.

“I… I don’t hate you, Selene,” you draw breath. “I can’t say I just move on overnight, but understanding who Aeron truly is, I get you were in a tough spot.” 

Selene manages to calm down, her feelings reeling in slightly as she gazes at you, her eyes red and tear-stricken. “Let me take you to the spare room. I’m sure you want some time alone.” 

You have a lot more questions, especially about your mom’s side of the family, but you decide to table it for another day. You follow her as she takes you into a different room, where you’re used to staying. It’s smaller, but cozier, with a round window next to the bed that gives you the perfect outside view. You look at each other and nod; there is nothing more that needs to be said as of now. 

Gently shutting the door, you undress, settling into bed wearing just your shirt and underwear. You look through the box filled with photos—pictures of your mom and Selene at the all-girls school, moments from dances, and a few happy snapshots of your dad and mom together. For the next few hours, you immerse yourself in every photo, document, and memorabilia that captures your family's life before you were born. As you do, you feel a connection to them, their memories coming alive once more, burning brighter in your heart than ever before. For the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace and drift off to sleep.

…

“HEY! WHAT’S GOING ON IN HERE?!’

“BRING HER TO ME NOW!—”

You stir in the soft sheets, believing you are asleep and it’s a part of your dream. 

“SELENE, I WILL GO IN THERE AND GRAB HER MYSELF AND YOU DON’T WANT THAT.”

“Wonwoo, please don’t—”

You shoot up; the mention of his name constricts your heart as you hear shouted voices outside your door. Grabbing your pistol, you quickly leave the room, pointing it toward the voices until you see him: your Wonwoo.

You lock eyes with him, and his expression shifts, displaying a mixture of longing and sadness. It's the first time you've seen him since you left him behind in Portalis. You'll never love anyone as much as you love him.

“Wonwoo, I—”

“Put your clothes on and let’s go,” he commands, his face hardening. “You’re coming with me.”

Wonwoo hated this. He hated all of this. If someone had told him last week that his fiancée would be on the run for attempting to assassinate the head of the Organization and his father figure, he would’ve asked what they had been sniffing. 

It was the first time he had seen you in days, and he was almost breathless at the sight of you. You made his heart race, and all he wanted was to kiss your lips and tell you that everything would be okay, that you could get through this together. But he also remembered how you had left him in the dark during your quest for revenge, and that hurt him deeply. It felt as if the past fifteen years meant nothing; after all this time, you still couldn’t trust him. 

“Silver, let’s go,” he said bitterly. “We don’t have all day.”

You came out of the room shortly after, duffle bags in hand and suited to brace the bitter cold weather outside. He watched as you gave a longing look at Selene, who returned it with a teary nod, watching in sadness as Wonwoo placed the handcuffs on your wrists. 

“Come on, Wonwoo, is this really necessary?” Selene pleaded. “This is your fiancé we’re talking about here.”

“The same fiancé who knocked me out with Dreamshade?” Wonwoo scoffed. “I know better than to underestimate her.”

He shot a glare in your direction, and in response, you looked down at the ground in shame. “I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“There seems to be a lot of that going around,” he shook his head. “Let’s go.”

Wonwoo's footsteps echoed against the cold, hard floor as he led you away from the quarters, earning shocked and disapproving stares from the patrons. He didn’t care what people thought was happening; he just wanted to get out of this place and think. And talk to you. 

Reaching the entrance, only one guard was waiting, who gave Wonwoo a curt nod before placing you in the tube, raising you slowly to the outside world. 

‘Wonwoo, my ship—”

“Has already been taken care of,” he interrupted. “Did you forget I’m the one who taught you how to navigate an Umbra ship?”

He pulls you onto his ship, the wind howling furiously behind him as another snowstorm starts to commence. He sits you down on one of the chairs, strapping you in tightly across your chest and shackling your feet at the bottom. His heart is pounding heavily in his chest, a drumbeat of anxiety as he fights the urge to return your gaze while he is so close to your face, your lips. 

“Wonwoo,” you said weakly. “I’m really sorry.” 

“You’ve already said that,” he muttered. “I’ve heard it enough.” 

Moving swiftly, he closed the doors and booted up the spaceship before settling into the commander’s seat. The melodic sounds of the buttons being pressed momentarily distracted him as he focused on safely lifting off the ground and into the galaxy. Usually, he would have his usual crew of Mingyu and Soonyoung with him, but this was a mission he wanted to undertake alone. You were intelligent, quick, and a skilled shooter, and he didn’t want to take the risk of you hurting someone else and escaping again. It pained him to think of you that way.

Once you were safely in the air, he set the ship on autopilot and kicked his feet up on the dash as it navigated through the dark blue sky. Within a day's time, they would be back in Adamas City, where you would have to stand in front of Aeron and answer for what you did. This whole situation was gnawing at him; the family he found was being split apart, and the only reconciliation could come through death. Wonwoo hadn’t felt this kind of pain since his parents died, and he shuddered to think about life without you in it. You were his sun, his moon, and a world without you in it wasn’t something he could bear. 

Instead of talking to you, baring his feelings and putting everything on the line, he remained silent, watching the planets go by while he nursed a broken heart. 

“Where are we?”

16 hours have passed since you left Glacius, and the ship doors open to a planet that is not Galaxia. It is small, round, and rocky with multiple pit stops, restaurants, and a main hotel that stands higher than the planet, if you had to guess.

“East Eaoros XII, specifically Requim,” Wonwoo responds. “You haven’t been here before, but this is where you go to refuel your ships and rest before you go to your next destination.” 

“Oh…” you nod. “I see.” 

Wonwoo pulls a blanket over you, assumingly to cover your handcuffed hands to not draw attention to you. You catch a whiff of his cologne when he wraps it around your arms, his close proximity sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For a brief moment, your eyes meet, but he quickly looks away. His brown eyes are filled with sadness, yet they still radiate love for you.

“I think we should rest… You know, before we go back to Adamas City.” 

“Okay.” 

He leads you out of the ship and closes it with the remote in his pocket, walking towards the hotel. It is a ten-story building with nothing special about it, resembling a regular hotel. The interior was no different, with the typical mahogany-colored walls and shiny white floors that were supposed to exude luxury. You stood silently as Wonwoo checked into his reservation, listening to the conversations of the guests that walked by, oblivious that they were standing next to the most wanted person in the galaxy. 

“Let’s go.” 

He shoves the room keys into his pocket, and you follow him to the elevator, watching as he presses number ten on the pad. You passed each floor with a hum, the tension between you two thick and suffocating. You have so much to say, but your throat tightens every time you start. If today is truly going to be your last day in this galaxy, you want Wonwoo to know the truth, and no matter what, you love him deeply. 

The elevator dings on the tenth floor, opening to a grand suite that overlooks the city. Expansive picture windows, a spacious living room with a luxury kitchen, and two rooms that were presumably where you would be sleeping tonight. Wonwoo slips the blanket off of you, throwing it over his shoulder and walking you to the living room. For your last night of freedom, he went all out. If anything, you expected a standard room with two twin beds, a TV, and, if you’re lucky, a mini fridge.

“This was the only room they had left,” Wonwoo stated, as if he were reading your thoughts. “And I really need the rest… and so do you.”

You gaze at him, your words caught in your throat and keeping you from saying how you truly feel. You took a deep breath, sliding one of the dining room tables with your foot and sitting down, your head cocked back as you take in the A/C. You feel his presence nearby, his shadow looming over you as goosebumps rise on your arms. He takes your hands, unlocks the handcuffs, and briefly rubs your wrists before letting go. You know you’ve hurt him, and it’s your cross to bear whatever he throws at you, but he still took the time to take your pain away. 

“How do you know I won’t run?”

He studies you, putting the handcuffs and keys in one of the duffle bags. “If you wanted to run, you would’ve been out of the cuffs without my help.”

Your lips slightly twitch, knowing that once again, he is right. “Touche.”

Wonwoo hands you your duffle bag full of clothes, pointing to the bathroom in the room on the left. “You should go ahead and shower while we’re here.”

You nod slowly, walking into the bedroom and shutting the door. It had a king sized bed and soft satin sheets, a couple of fake plants in the window for personality and a large chess drawer with a mirror in front. You hear Wonwoo shuffling in the living room for a while, a light harmony escaping his lips that softens your heart. 

You remember when he sang soft lullabies in your ear, thinking you were sleeping, his raspy vocal tone soothing to your soul. You miss your late nights and late mornings, when you were either in his arms or underneath him. You miss his intimacy, his protection, his raw love, which he showed you in different ways that made you want to stay and live. Wonwoo is your whole world, your lifeline, and you're proud to say you’ve never loved anyone before him, and it's an honor to be loved by him in return. 

You step into the bathroom, turning on the shower, wincing as you slowly undress. The straps from the belts on the ship were too tight, and you felt them tightening against your skin as each hour passed. It’s left you with bruises across your chest, nothing too serious, but enough to feel when you move. You didn’t complain, you’ve had worse injuries before, and it seems so minuscule compared to the pain that you’ve caused. The only thing that mattered was being here with him and making the most out of it. 

“Wonwoo,” you call out, inhaling the steam quickly filling the bathroom. Your heart beats a drum of suspense, overriding your head, and what could blow up in your face. You can’t think straight, your thoughts are jumbled, and above all, you don’t want to be alone.

A few seconds later, he rushes into the bathroom, his eyes full of panic. 

“C-can you just hold me please?” Your voice trembles. “I know you hate me and I really fucked up but I don’t want to be alone.”

His gaze softens at your words, and he slips off his glasses, undressing without hesitation. Wonwoo is a muscular man with his own scars and battles, and you could recall how he got each one.  Stepping into the shower stall with you, he noted your bruises, his eyes welling up as he examined each one. “Did I do this?”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know—”

“NO, it’s not okay!” His raised voice makes you jump. “God, Silver, it’s like you don’t trust me anymore.”

His words pierce your heart, triggering a cascade of tears you can no longer hold back. You’ve been strong all this time, running throughout the galaxy to complete your last mission alive and eliminate Aeron. But your soul is tired, and Wonwoo is one of the few people you can depend on, and yet you keep hurting him. 

He pulls you into his arms as you continue to cry, the warm water from the shower head beating over both of you. You feel protected and safe, as if you are finally home and can lay down your burdens. You don’t regret trying to kill Aeron, and you would do it again in a heartbeat, but you regret not including him in on this. You will forever be sorry about it. 

“I don’t deserve you,” you blurt out, gazing at him. “You deserve someone who isn’t fucked up like me—”

Wonwoo kissed you ravenously like a starved man. He didn’t intend to go in so strong, but hearing you talk down about yourself, he hated it. He just wants to kiss your pain away. 

“I couldn’t hate you if I tried.” He whispered. “I love you, okay? Nothing will ever change that.”

You were beautiful to him, with many layers and flaws that he didn’t care about. Yes, he was upset that you hadn’t trusted him, but he also knew YOU, and understood you wouldn’t have acted that way without proof. He was hopelessly and deeply in love with you, and his heart was telling him to trust you. You had grown up together and had seen every side of each other. There was no way he would ever give up on you, Aeron or not.

He kissed you again, and he found himself caught in a rapture of love, his hunger and need for you superseding any logical thought or need. He touched you like he was trying to reclaim all the time you had been apart. Your nails dug into his back when he sucked your neck, leaving you more bruised. 

“Sorry, baby,” he said in between breaths. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you shook your head. “Do what you want.”

He felt himself hardening against your leg, and he instinctively started stroking himself, sending electric jolts throughout his body. His lips slightly parted, the thought of being inside of you and feeling your warmth around him, cumming for him over and over almost sends him into an abyss. 

You slowly get on your knees, moving his hand, rubbing his shaft, and giving his tip a soft kiss. Wonwoo watched as you took over, bobbing your head back and forth as you sucked him inch by inch, never breaking eye contact. He loved the way you twirled your tongue around his cock, the wet slurping sounds coming from your pretty mouth was music to his ears. It made his toes curl, turning him animalistic as his hands grasped your head and pulled it tightly. 

"You feel so good baby", he muttered against the wall. "I missed you."

You nodded fervently, increasing your pace and skillfully deepthroating him while he was in ecstasy. Watching his cock go in and out of your mouth, drops of spit coming out of your mouth was a sight to see. You sucked him earnestly like you owed him, and he felt that. But little did you know, Wonwoo is the one who owes you, for keeping him alive all this time.

“Get up,” he gritted his teeth, reluctantly pulling you off of him. 

He helped you off the ground and pressed your back against the tiled wall, the warm water hitting your breasts and falling on the curves of your stomach. The smell of vanilla on your skin is intoxicating, stirring in his chest a need for you and your taste. His fingers brushed against your nipples, your sensitive buds hardening at his touch. He sucked on them softly, his tongue swirled around each nipple, earning a hard moan from your lips. He loved the way your body responded to him. You were like a siren, your moans enticing to him as he sucked on them harder and putting him under your spell. 

“God, Wonwoo,” you whined. 

“I know, baby, I know.” 

His lips traveled lower to your abdomen, leaving a trail of kisses on your soft stomach as he made his way to your center. His mouth salivated as he saw your flowering bud, bringing back memories of his tongue inside of you for the first time at the Sanctuary. You were creamy and tasted like heaven, and he’s been addicted to your sweetness ever since.

“You’re so beautiful.” 

He dived in without any warning, sucking on your clit and spreading your legs. He was on his knees, devouring your center like this was the last time. He yearned to feel your cum on his tongue, to swallow everything that you had to offer him. He was a desperate man in love, and willing to do anything to make you satisfied. 

“Shit,” you sighed, your hands caressing his hair. “You feel so good.”

Wonwoo grinned against your folds, giving your clit another kiss before hiking your leg up, slipping two digits inside of you. He watched as you bit your lip in anticipation, slowly working his fingers in and out of you. HIs lips found your clit again, fingering and sucking you while your hips slow whined into a seductive rhythm. He loved watching you lose control, your legs shaking and your stomach tightening as the pressure built up in your abdomen. He didn’t slow down when he knew you were cumming, instead he increased the pace, wanting to see you explode over his face and fingers. 

“Wonwoo, I...”

Your sentence ended in a high-pitched moan, your fingers grasping his hair tightly as you erupted. He slowly slipped out his fingers, drunk on your sugarness, as he slurped everything you had to offer him. He didn’t stop until you lightly slapped his face, your unspoken yellow light when you needed to catch your breath. Standing up from the shower, the warm water hit his back as he faced you, pulling you into another kiss. Your lips curved into a smile, your eyes shone brightly into his as if nothing more needed to be said. 

But he said it anyway. 

“I love you.” 

You nodded slowly, bringing your hand down and stroking his cock near your entrance. His eyebrows raised, and you smirked, kissing his face lightly before turning around and pressing your chest against the wall. “You know what to do.”

His hands found your hair, wrapping it around his fist as he slid the head of his cock inside of you. He entered you slowly, knowing you were still ripe with overstimulation, despite your body saying otherwise. You pressed your ass against him, goading him to go keep as possible. Your hips rolled in a way that made Wonwoo’s cock twitch, and with one grunt he place his hand on your left hip and started to fuck you. Hard. 

“Please.” 

He knew exactly what your body craved, hitting you with deep, long strokes that made you quiver, your hands reaching for him and digging into his legs. You didn’t want to be handled like a princess tonight; you wanted to be fucked until there was nothing left. He felt your hunger, your ache, your eagerness to make your pain go away. He loved the way your walls tightened around him when he kissed the back of your neck. Wonwoo has studied you for a long time, and he knew exactly what you needed. 

He lets go of your hair, sliding his hand down to your throat and tightening his grip. Your body began to shake, and he thrusted into you harder, your wet skin slapping against his as you moved in harmony with each other. Your moans turn into a sirenic scream, your warm essence drowning his cock as you shudder, your eyes rolling in the back of your head.  Wonwoo didn’t last long after that, letting out a long mewl before emptying himself inside of you, coating your walls with his load. You’re both breathless, the water still warm as ever as it rinses away the mess that was made. Kissing you on your shoulder, Wonwoo pulls you off the wall, turning you around and moving a part of your silver hair out of your face. 

“We need to talk,” you muttered, looking down at the floor. 

“I know,” Wonwoo nodded, feeling his chest constrict at the dreaded conversation. “Let’s get cleaned up first.

A few hours later, you were sitting on the couch, watching the shooting stars go back and forth outside the window. After your shower, your energy was gone, and so you took a nap, promising to get up in an hour. Wonwoo let you sleep in and, at some point, laid in bed with you, as you woke up with his arms wrapped around your waist.  His light snores were peaceful, and you wondered if he dreamed like you did, where you were happy, without the threat of Aeron looming over your shoulder with a wedding ring on your finger and a baby in your stomach. Maybe in another life, you can get this back. 

“Hey.”

Wonwoo walks into the living room with sleepy eyes and messy hair, unfolding his glasses and sliding them on. He takes a seat next to you, pulls you into his arms, and gazes at the stars together. For the first time in days, you finally feel at peace, able to breathe easily with the limited time you have left.

“I can’t believe this is the last time I’ll see this,” you say solemnly.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

You turn to him and hold his hand tightly. “You know Aeron isn’t going to let me go alive.”

Aeron is a pitbull with a grudge that could go on for a thousand years. You’ve seen what he’s done to people who have pissed him off for less. You aren’t going to believe in some miracle or the greater good; you know better than that. He’s never laid a hand on you as many times as you’ve disobeyed him growing up, but you’ve never tried to kill him either. God, you wish you didn’t miss. 

Wonwoo rubs your shoulders, and you can tell he is thinking of a way to get out of this and take care of you, like he always does. “Who sent you the files and the evidence?”

“It was Selene,” you disclosed. “She was best friends with my mother, and she knew Aeron growing up as well.” 

You explained everything that Selene told you, even down to the box of mementos that was left in her quarters. Wonwoo listened, never interrupting and taking in everything you said. You saw anger flash in his dark eyes, and you are thankful you aren’t the reason behind that. 

“He created this whole, elaborate plan just to keep himself from facing judgment, from facing me,” you pointed at your chest. “He has to know that I would’ve killed him if I found out.” 

You think back to Glacius, looking at the photos of your mother’s childhood, happy and oblivious to the future she faced. You remember sleeping happily to your mother’s framed memories and waking up to Wonwoo pulling you back into reality… how did Wonwoo know where you were?

“Hey,” you say abruptly. “How did you know where I was?”

A fleeting look of shame crosses Wonwoo's face, prompting you to withdraw your hand as an eerie feeling coils in your chest. “Jeon Wonwoo, I swear to God—”

“Your ring,” he blurts out, looking at your left hand. “I’ve been able to track you with your ring.”

It didn’t hit you right away. You looked down at your engagement ring, a symbol of love and a promise of your future together that he gave you on the last day of the year, down on one knee at the Sanctuary. There is no way he would taint that memory with a lie, right?

“You must be talking about another ring…” Your voice trails off. “Surely you aren’t talking about this ring on my finger?!”

“Silver, let me explain—”

“Really, Wonwoo?!” You leap off the couch, yanking the ring off your finger while he watches wide-eyed. “It’s bad enough I have Aeron lying to me, but I would never think in a million eons that you would be capable of this, giving me a fake ring—” 

“Silver, STOP!”

His voice roars through the suite, sending chills down your spine. The heat of anger and betrayal that had fueled your fire suddenly evaporates. Anything else you wanted to say dies in your throat, your lips pressed tight in a mix of confusion and disbelief as you wave your hand, urging him to continue.

“That ring was made from the finest jeweler in the Nova District, and I personally picked out the stones in the lab. I would never, EVER, give you a fake ring, and I’m really offended you would think I would do that.” Wonwoo motions for you to sit down, and reluctantly, you sit. 

“Remember when we had the mission in the Xaros Forest and we were attacked by the wild boars there? Remember when we got separated and I couldn’t find you for days?” 

You think back to that particular mission from a year ago, as you were sent there to bring in a wanted fugitive and were met with the wild beasts. While fending them off, you were cut by one of them and almost died, bleeding out in the field. A native of that land saw what happened and stopped the bleeding in their cave, leaving you separated from Wonwoo and the rest of the hunters for seven days. Eventually, that native led Wonwoo to you, and you had never seen him look so terrified; the agony etched on his face upon seeing your condition was unforgettable.

“Those seven days were the worst days of my life,” Wonwoo laments. “I didn’t know if you were dead, alive, but held captive, and I never wanted us to be in that position again. So I placed a tracker on the band of the ring, so if you disappeared again, I would find you.”

You search his eyes for any hint of deceit, but deep down, you know he was telling the truth. Wonwoo could be a lot of things, but a liar he is not. The truth is, this Aeron situation has made you go out of your mind. If someone you looked up to could lie to you like that, or the scientist you did jobs for knew secrets and kept them from you, what’s to say Wonwoo wouldn’t do the same?

“I just wish you had told me, talked to me first,” you sigh heavily. “I would’ve done anything you wanted.”

“I don’t think you should be lecturing me on trust, Silver.”

His words hit you like an arrow to the chest, and you had no comeback for that. He was right. 

“Put your ring back on, please,” Wonwoo says softly. “If you want me to take off the tracker, I will.”

You study him for a moment, the familiar look of pain you keep causing on his face. You slowly slide the ring back on your finger, feeling like shit. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, getting up and pulling you into a hug. “I should’ve talked to you about it first. You’re right.”

You nod on his chest, listening to his heartbeat drum against your ear as the living room falls silent, sans your loud, grumbling stomach. 

“We have room service here. Go ahead and order something.”

He kisses your forehead and untangles himself from you, going into the other room and quietly shutting the door. You go into the kitchen and browse the menu, settling on two burgers and fries with drinks, since you know Wonwoo is going to want the same thing. After you enter your order, you sit at the table, alone with your thoughts and everything that has happened. Shortly after, Wonwoo exits the room, his face red with anger. 

‘What’s wrong?” You get up slowly. 

“It’s Aeron,” he said bitterly. “He wanted to know if I captured you.”

You feel your heart sink into your chest, collapsing back in your chair. Reality is setting in, and tonight will be the last day you will be alive. But at least you will have your day to confront him in person, to look him in the eyes and make him confess to everything he did. 

“The way he’s been talking to me every time I bring up what he did… It’s like I don’t matter. Just another body under The Organization.”

Wonwoo looks dejected and hurt, like a boy who's lost his father. You wrap him up in your arms, letting him squeeze you tight in the solace that he needs. 

“Baby, I have a plan,” he says, “And it may not work, and it could get us both killed. But I need you to trust me.” 

You release him and gaze into his eyes, placing your hand across his heart. “I trust you completely. What are you thinking?”

The rain pours as you land in Adamas City, and the wind is violent like it knows what today is: your judgment day. 

The last twelve hours you spent with Wonwoo on East Eaoros XII all seem like nothing but a memory now, the anxiety eating at your stomach as you face the unknown about your future. Wonwoo was careful leading you out of the ship in handcuffs, meeting Soonyoung and Mingyu at the doors before heading inside The Hightower. Soonyoung and Mingyu give you sympathetic looks, walking you to the elevators and standing on each side as you walk in. Wonwoo swipes his badge and presses the button to floor 77, where Aeron awaits you both. 

“Are you ready for this?”

You look at Wonwoo, and despite his calm demeanor, his brown eyes reveal that he is worried. You lean in, quickly kissing him and interlocking your pinky with his. “I’m as ready as I can be.” 

The elevator dings at 77, the doors opening to Aeron’s office, a swanky 7000 square feet of space that held business meetings, promotions, and if you were on his bad side, your last breath. 

“I’ve been expecting you.” 

Before you could react, a fist connected to your left cheek, sending you flying into one of the tables. You stagger, facing the 6’5” man with olive skin, a muscular build, and piercing eyes ready to kill. 

“You thought you could shoot me and get away with it?!”

He swings another punch, but you're nimble, ducking just in time. Your eyes catch a bottle of dark liquor on his desk, and with a swift motion, you hurl it at him like a Frisbee. Aeron raises his arm to block it, the glass shattering and slicing into his skin, shards splattering across his face. You see Wonwoo reach for his gun, but you shake your head, determined to be the one to send him out of this world.

You search wildly for anything that could free you from the cuffs, adrenaline surging as you fight for your life. You don’t hear Aeron’s approach until it’s too late; suddenly, you’re lifted off the ground and violently slammed down, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs. With merciless fury, Aeron unleashes a torrent of insults, calling you every foul name imaginable while you struggle to gather your thoughts on the hard, unforgiving carpet.

“And I bet it was that bitch Selene who tipped you off,” he spits. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her next.” 

“Leave her out of it,” You croak. “She had the guts to tell me the truth, and not hide behind my mother’s memory like some little bitch.”

Aeron’s roar could be heard several floors below. He marched over to your direction, but he was cut off by Wonwoo, standing squarely in front of you. “Enough, Aeron.” 

“Boy, get out of my way,” Aeron growls, rolling up his sleeves, attempting to go around Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo stood his ground, pushing him out of the way while giving you a chance to sit up and catch your breath. Aeron’s head tilts in disbelief, but instead of going after him, he saunters over to his desk, pulling out a cigar from his drawer. “I could use a break anyway.”

Slumping into his chair, Aeron lights up his cigar and takes one long puff, his eyes fixing on Wonwoo as he examines your swollen left cheek. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks softly. 

“I’m fine,” you assure him. “It’s going to take a lot more than this to take me out.”

“You were always pussy-whipped,” Aeron chuckles at his desk. “She could ask you to leap into traffic, and you would do it, no questions asked.”

Wonwoo didn’t respond, instead looking at the time on his watch and moving to your right side. You would be a liar if you said you weren’t in pain. You haven’t sparred with Aeron in years, let alone a real fight. He caught you off guard, and you underestimated his strength, and now you have a sore back and limbs to show for it. It’s not like he got away scot-free, the cuts of glass being the only blow that you could land while handcuffed. 

“Why did you do it, Aeron?” you speak up. “Why did you kill my mother? My family?”

You watch him as he takes another puff of his cigar, exhaling the thick smoke out of his mouth. 

“She was supposed to be mine, always,” he reveals. “I’ve loved your mother since the first time I laid eyes on her. She loved me too, ya know. Our love transcended time, and we would be happy together if she didn’t get married to that father of yours.” 

“I know about the affair, and she wanted to end it.” Your voice is low. “Why didn’t you just leave her be? Why did we all have to die? Why fake a gas leak?”

His hands twitch, fingers curling into fists before releasing. “Because she broke her promise to me,” his voice trembled. “She was only supposed to love me. We were going to figure out how to get her out of her marriage so we could finally be together, and I would raise you as my daughter. However, she fell in love with that man and wanted to make it work with him.” He gazes back at you, eyes wild with a mix of pain and fury. “I just couldn’t have that.” 

“So instead of moving on, you decided to kill us?” Your voice wavers, a lump forming in your throat as tears begin to blur your vision. “You were family to us, Aeron! How could you?”

“How could she? How could she love someone else? No, she did it to herself. Your family’s death is on her. I just facilitated the leak, that’s all.”

You stare at him incredulously, your body shaking in anger. You lost your family because Aeron couldn’t handle the thought of your mother being happy with someone else. He’s a bitch and a punk, and you can’t wait to put him down for good.

“Fuck you.” 

The telecast’s screen suddenly turns on, showing a livestream of the office and the three of you in it. The recording replays of Aeron assaulting you on entry, watching you fly across the room with a thundering smack to the face. You pinpoint how it was recorded, noting the camera moved every time Wonwoo did, realizing the pin Wonwoo was wearing was actually a hidden camera. Aeron’s eyes are wide with shock as the telecast is shown on the main public channels for everyone to witness. 

“What the hell is this?!”

Wonwoo silently releases the handcuffs while Aeron is distracted, whispering in your ear, “Do what you have to do.” 

Without hesitation, you grab Wonwoo’s gun, firing a shot into Aeron’s knee. He howls in pain, and without mercy, you shoot the other one, witnessing his face contort in agony and surprise.

“Those two? Are for Dipper and Umi,” you declare, your voice laced with vengeance. 

The gun recoils in your hand again, sending a bullet into Aeron's stomach. “That was for my dad, who was ten times the man you ever were.” 

With a perfect aim, you shoot one more shot, a fatal blow to his heart. “And that is for my mother, you piece of shit.” 

You watch the life leave his body, his eyes glassy and his tongue rolled out of his mouth like the dog he is. The alarms suddenly start blaring, the lights in the office flashing red. 

“We have to go.” 

Wonwoo pulls you out of the office and into a hidden stairwell, racing up to the roof where the helipad is located. When Wonwoo told you about his plan, you weren’t sure he could pull it off, as it involved many moving pieces. But just like you had friends in different places, so did he. Mingyu and Soonyoung were in on it, standing guard and making sure no one got in the way. Conveniently, they would also be the ones to sound off the alarm to cover up their tracks. He planned to have you leave the city while he cleaned up this mess, publicly and behind the scenes. Since Aeron is dead and Wonwoo is his adopted son on paper, Wonwoo is now the head of The Organization. 

He opens up the door leading to the roof, and there awaits a ship, ready to go. What he didn’t tell you was who was going to be navigating the ship, and you have never been happier to see your best friend. 

“Happy to see me?” Jeonghan smirked in the commander’s seat. 

“Always a pleasure,” you say, looking around the ship. “Where’s So—”

“She’s… with a friend,” Jeonghan finishes your sentence. “We need to leave now before the guards come.”

You nod sharply and turn to Wonwoo, who’s looking at you with a mix of awe and sorrow. The realization hits hard: this might really be the last time you see him until things chill out. All those moments you fought for just to end up on the brink of another goodbye—it feels so wrong. Frustration bubbles up inside you. It shouldn’t be like this; none of this is fair. You should be together, not caught in this mess, forced apart when all you want is to hold on.

“Remember what I told you at the Hightower when we passed our tests?”

You could never forget anything about that day. It was the first time you kissed him, and one of the best nights of your life. “You said I was a force of nature.” 

“That’s right, baby,” he says, tears welling up in his eyes. “We’re going to get through this together, and I will find you, okay?”

You point at your engagement ring, and he nods, and he meets your gaze, leaning in to kiss you deeply. A flood of emotions washes over you, your own tears spilling out of your eyes, as you draw him in tighter, breathing in his scent one last time. 

“I’m sorry to cut in here, but we have to go,” Jeonghan calls out from his seat. 

Reluctantly breaking away, you leave him with one last kiss, wiping his tears away and letting go of his hands. 

“I love you, Silver.”

You nod as he exits the ship, your heart feeling lighter with the resolve that you will see him again. Instead of saying goodbye, you leave him with a promise: 

“See you, space cowboy.”

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[exhaustedpirate]

bucktommy kiss meme #29 💚

#29 - as a promise (includes 8x16 spoilers)

The plane is high in the clear sky now, sun shining over the white metal. Bobby's casket is safely in the hold while the Grants sit in their comfortable seats. Everyone leaves one by one. Buck receives a kiss on the cheek from his sister, insistent and full of a meaning he doesn't want to think too hard on. A pat on the shoulder from Eddie as he tells him he'll catch a ride with Ravi back to his place. Nods, soft touches, maybe some worry, mostly exhaustion, as everyone leaves.

His body deflates when they are all gone, the wall behind him supporting all his weight.

Minnesota.

Bobby is going to be buried in Minnesota with his family.

It was really happening.

There was a heaviness in his chest, in his feet, his knees felt fragile.

"Evan?"

He's been doing so well.

He's been keeping it in. He's been helping Chimney, Maddie, Eddie. He's been trying to be okay. He's been managing it. He couldn't break apart, not now, not when they needed him. He said so.

But it's that soft voice, always soft when he said his name. It's a comforting, not intrusive touch on his elbow. It's concern, care.

He's been doing so well.

A sob rattles his chest and he finds himself in the arms of his ex-boyfriend, face hiding in his neck. His hands surely wrinkling the back of Tommy's coat with the way he's clutching it. One of Tommy's hands settles at the back of Buck's head, his fingers tangling in his hair and the other at his back, a warm, steady touch that makes him feel safe, held.

Tommy doesn't tell him that it'll be okay, doesn't try to shush his cries, he just holds him. Holds him in his comforting arms and lets him cry, lets him feel.

Buck doesn't know how long it's passed until he takes a deep shuddering breath, tears drying in his cheeks, against Tommy's coat. All he knows is the way Tommy's hand moves up and down his back, the way his fingers scratch his scalp.

He feels a soft, barely there kiss placed at his temple, right at the edge of his birthmark and he tightens his arms around Tommy.

"Thank you."

His voice comes out as a whisper almost.

Tommy's thumb caresses his ear, his hand moving to the side of his face in a soft touch. It makes Buck lean his head away, further enough along Tommy's shoulder to look up at him. To see his wet eyes, the redness of them, the grief in his face.

Buck's hands travel farther up on Tommy's back, hoping to be just as comforting as the other man can be.

"You lost him too, I'm sorry."

Tommy's lips tick up in a soft smile, disbelieving but so soft, and he nods. "You're going to be okay, Evan."

He can't help the tension in his muscles at that. Tommy notices, of course he does.

"That's, uh, that's what he told me before-" Buck clears his throat. "That I was gonna be okay and that the others are gonna need me." He sighs, looking down at the fabric of Tommy's coat. "I tried, I-I failed."

"Evan," His thumb catches on his chin, tilting his head back up, making eye contact. "I don't think he meant that you had to close yourself off to everyone," Buck frowns and Tommy runs his fingers along the wrinkles in his forehead, almost succeeding in smoothing them all. "You are going to be okay. Bobby knew how much you grew, how strong you are. But you have to take your time and grieve him," Tommy smiles, that small but so full smile of his. "You are not alone. You have people to lean on. That's how he knew you're going to be okay."

Buck feels fresh tears forming in his eyes, running down his cheek. Tommy lets his words linger in the silence between them, his thumb occasionally catching the tears halfway down.

"I'm gonna be okay."

Tommy nods, he smiles, that proud smile of his and Buck feels his chest fill with how much he missed Tommy's smiles, how much he missed him. Buck brings a hand up to the other man's face, his thumb catching the corner of Tommy's lips, feeling his smile.

"You are."

"And you're going to be one of the people I can lean on?"

He sees the flicker of fear in Tommy's eyes, the hope. Watches as Tommy takes a deep breath, steadies himself.

"For as long as you need me."

It's not the time. Not yet. But it's as close to something as they've been. Buck's heart pounds against his chest, feels Tommy's beat fast from where his hand settles on his chest.

"And if that's for a long time?"

"For as long as you need me." Tommy repeats.

"Promise?"

Tommy's eyes glance between his lips, his eyes, trying to decypher everything that goes on in Buck's brain. He always believed he could, always believed that Tommy had this special power to see into what Buck needed, wanted.

His lips touch Buck's, soft, chaste, but so much more than that.

Buck still believes.

"Promise."

[tearvls]

"It's to much!"

Pairing: Mark Grayson x GN! Reader

Synopsis: You edge Mark to tears with a cock vibrator, savoring every desperate sound as he breaks beneath your touch.

Content tags: smut, overstimulating, edging, cock vibrator, handjob, Dacryphilia

Mark’s wrists strain against the bedframe, muscles flexing with every tremor that rolls through him. You’ve got him right where you want him — naked, flushed, helpless. His chest rises and falls with sharp, shallow breaths, every inhale catching as the cock vibrator buzzes steadily against him.

You’ve had it on him for twenty minutes now. Twenty long minutes of teasing, stroking, and pulling your hand away the second his hips stuttered or his moans hit that desperate pitch. He’s soaked in sweat, eyes glassy, lip bitten raw. His cock twitches in your grip as you wrap your hand around it again, lazy and slow. The vibrator hums beneath your fingers, perfectly in tune with his leaking, overstimulated tip.

"Please—" he gasps, voice thick and raw. “I c-can’t—need to come, please—”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. “You don’t get to need yet,” you murmur, biting down lightly on his lobe. “You’re still being so good for me.”

His head tips back into the pillow, a broken sound clawing out of his throat. A tear slips down his cheek, and you pause to wipe it away with your thumb.

“Oh, Mark,” you coo, almost mockingly sweet. “You’re crying already? That’s so pretty. You’re such a pretty little mess.”

He chokes on a moan as you twist the dial on the vibrator just one notch higher. The shift is subtle but devastating. His back arches off the mattress, legs trembling, muscles locked with the need to thrust. But he doesn’t. Not yet.

"I-It’s too much, I—" His voice is high, strangled, like he’s on the edge of breaking.

You kiss along his jaw, breath warm and slow, contrasting how worked up his body is. “It’s never too much for you. You can take it.”

“I’m—” he tries, tears streaking now, his thighs twitching. “I’m gonna come—please—”

You let go of his cock.

His entire body jolts like you struck him, a wounded noise torn from his throat. “No—no, please—!”

You tut. “Almost, baby. But you know the rules. You don’t get to come until I let you.”

He whines, squirming against his restraints, the vibrator still buzzing mercilessly around him. You drag your fingers down his abdomen slowly, watching how he twitches at every touch.

“I bet you could come just from this. Just from the vibrator,” you tease, brushing your thumb over his slick head, not stroking — just touching. “Would that embarrass you? No hands, no thrusting — just a pathetic little mess?”

He nods, breath catching again. “Y-Yeah—yes—please—”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you whisper, grinning as you reach down and cup his balls, gently massaging while the vibrator does its work. “Coming like a toy. Like my toy.”

He whimpers, so close again, the tip of his cock leaking freely. His whole body is shaking now, muscles jumping from tension and denial. You can see it in his face — how badly he wants to give in, how close he is to losing all control.

"You’re gonna cry for me again before I even let you come," you promise, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And when I do let you, you’re gonna thank me. On your knees.”

Mark’s eyes roll back as a second tear slips down his cheek. He’s not even trying to be quiet anymore — he’s whining, breathless and overwhelmed, caught in that limbo between pleasure and pain. You keep your hand there, just cradling him, watching as the vibrator pushes him to the brink again. Not touching, not helping. Just waiting.

And when he starts sobbing for real — hips bucking, thighs clenching — you finally whisper:

“Good boy. Come for me.”

Mark shatters.

His hips jerk, spine bowing off the bed as he cries out—loud, broken, utterly lost in it. His orgasm hits like a tidal wave, thick ropes spilling over his abdomen, his cock twitching violently. His throat works around a sob, eyes squeezed shut, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. But you don’t move the vibrator. You keep it right there — buzzing against the sensitive underside of his cock, your hand still loosely wrapped around him, holding him in place.

"Ah—! W-Wait—!" Mark gasps, panic bleeding into his voice. “I—it’s too much—!”

His hips try to jerk away, trembling under you, but he can’t get far. You press your free hand gently to his chest, holding him down—not forcefully, but with presence. Control. A reminder.

“Easy,” you murmur, voice calm, grounding. “You remember your safeword?”

He nods rapidly, breathless and wide-eyed. “Y-Yeah—yes.”

“Say it if you need to. No hesitation,” you say, locking eyes with him. “We stop if you say it. Understand?”

Mark swallows hard, nodding again. “I-I understand.”

You soften for a beat, leaning in to kiss his temple, sweat-slick skin warm beneath your lips.

“Good boy,” you whisper. “Now take it for me.”

And he does — or he tries. Because the vibrator keeps working him, and he’s still hard — achingly so — even post-orgasm. His cock twitches violently, oversensitive, raw. You ease your fingers under the head again, not stroking, just letting your touch remind him he doesn’t belong to himself right now.

He whines, choked and wrecked. “F-Fuck—! Oh my god—”

His thighs twitch, muscles spasming helplessly. Another orgasm builds too fast, sharp and desperate. He’s trying to hold it back, babbling through gritted teeth, but it’s no use. It tears out of him in a strangled sob as he spills again, smaller, thinner—but no less intense. Pain and pleasure blur, his body trembling uncontrollably.

Tears are streaming down his face now, silent and shining. He gasps, “Please—it hurts—!”

“I know,” you whisper, brushing some of the wetness away with your thumb. “But you haven’t said your word.”

He shakes his head weakly, panting. “Don’t… want to stop…”

Your mouth curls into a pleased smile. “Good. Because you’re going to give me one more.”

He sobs—louder this time. “I-I can’t—”

“You can.” Your hand cradles his cock again. The vibrations continue without mercy. “And you will.”

Every sound he makes after that is pure wreckage. He’s not even trying to be composed anymore. Just raw noise—crying, gasping, pleading into the sheets as you guide him through the edge of another climax. He thrashes, overwhelmed, babbling your name, and you stay calm, steady—watching him with heat in your eyes.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you murmur, brushing his cheek. “So beautiful like this. Falling apart for me.”

And then it hits again—his third orgasm, ripped from him like it’s punishment and reward all at once. He screams through it, chest heaving, tears soaking the pillow beneath his head. You don’t move the vibrator right away. You just let it rest there—buzzing quietly—while his body twitches and shakes beneath you.

Only when his moans turn to shallow, hiccuping breaths do you reach down and finally shut it off. He melts into the mattress, sobbing, but his hands are still clenched in the restraints—until you untie them. The moment his wrists are free, he curls into your touch, collapsing against your chest with trembling arms and shaking legs. You hold him close. Quiet now. Gentle. Stroking his hair.

“You did so well,” you whisper, kissing the crown of his head. “I’m so proud of you.”

Mark hiccups, still riding the aftershocks, utterly spent—but safe. And you stay right there, wrapped around him, until the trembling stops.

[maopll]

Hello there. Read u for a while and just lurked silently but guessed i might try making a request? Can i maybe request some comfort for reader who has abonedend trauma with Aether, Wanderer and Xiao? If not thats alright, just wanted to try my luck. Hope it wont make u uncomfortable i asked something like this.

PLEASE DONT LEAVE ME ...

⋆·˚ you've seen people leave you too many times and now ... you can only hope that he also doesn't leave you

note : angst / hurt comfort. low budget work cause I'm tired.

— ୨ AETHER ୧

He also had to face the feeling of abandonment when his own dear sister left without even giving him a clue. So he knows how it feels. He spends many hours at night with you, cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Although they may be an insignificant medicine to your trauma, you admit that they still help you... even though it's just a little...

"Had a bad dream?" Aether gently asks when he sees beads of tears roll down your eyes. "Come here..." he opens his arms, which tells you to put yourself between them. "I'll sing you a lullaby... the one which Lumine and I used to hear often when we were still travelling together ..."

— ୨ WANDERER / SCARAMOUCHE ୧

He's seen and experienced enough. He may not show it on the outside, but the nightmare of those days when his own 'mother' left him still plagues his heart and mind. He acts quite tough and nonchalant when you express your problems, yet he takes great care of you. He cannot let the one, who he has committed his whole to, to experience such distasteful things.

"I will not return before dusk so" he glanced at you and saw your shivering hands, "Make sure to eat as much as you can alright? I'll try to return as early as possible."

As he wore the shoes and strided towards thr door, you blurted out "You will come back early right?". You didn't think that your thoughts would be announced. "I'm sor—" "Yeah... not so early but definitely a little more than when I usually return" he stands up from the edge of the stairs, and placed a gentle kiss to your forehead "I'll never leave you alone..."

— ୨ XIAO ୧

Sweat beaded your body as memories of those days when you were abandoned flashed. Your eyes shot wide awake as you sat on your bed heaving and panting from the shock of the nightmare. Your only repose from those were Xiao, your lovely soul mate. "Xiao—" you call out to none. He's not there.

You panic. Did he finally leave you? It should be like that since you are just a broken shell. Nobody should love broken things....you want it be a lie... "Xiao? Xiao! Xiao!" you call out but your answers are not returned.

"Xiao...." you sniffle and your knees hit the wooden balcony of the Wangshu Inn overlooking mighty Liyue. You try to soften your cries by covering your mouth as panic settles in and then you feel a warm and strong body embrace you.

You can guess his scent from anywhere around the world. Before he can even coddle you, you tackle him to the ground. He rubs and pats your back as he whispers, quite stiffly, that he's always there for you and will always come to you just by even whispering his name.

[rafesorchid]

Hii, just wondering if do a little blurb for a reader who cries when they're angry. Like Rafe and the reader are in an argument and maybe he's yelling or smth but after the reader says a few things she like breaks down sobbing while trying to argue but failing

★ don't cry, baby

wait i actually lov this

you weren’t even trying to argue, not really. not at first.

you’d just asked a question—maybe a little sharp, maybe too much tension curled in your tone—but it had been innocent in your head. a simple “where were you?” that somehow struck a nerve.

he looked at you like you’d said something cruel. like you’d accused him of something he didn’t do.

and maybe that’s where it all started.

“i told you i was with topper,” he snapped, standing in the middle of the living room with his arms crossed, shoulders tight. “why do you keep asking me that?”

you blinked, trying to keep calm. “because you didn’t answer your phone all night.”

“my phone died,” he shot back. “what, you think i’m lying?”

you didn’t say anything, and maybe that’s what pissed him off the most.

rafe had always been like this—his fuse a little too short, his voice a little too loud when he felt cornered. you’d gotten used to it, most days. he never meant to yell. he never meant to make you feel small. but tonight, your skin already felt raw, and every word he threw sounded sharper than usual.

“jesus, y/n, what do you want from me?” he barked, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to pull the frustration out of his skull. “you want a fucking minute-by-minute breakdown of my night? is that it?”

you flinched, just a little, but enough that his face changed for a split second—like he noticed. like he regretted it.

but you were too far in now.

“no,” you said softly, voice trembling despite your best effort. “i just wanted to know why you didn’t come home.”

he scoffed, shaking his head. “i fell asleep, alright? topper’s couch. didn’t know i had to report back to you like i’m on parole.”

“you said you’d be back,” you whispered.

“and i didn’t realize that meant i was gonna get interrogated like this if i wasn’t. god, y/n, i can’t fucking breathe with you sometimes—”

“don’t say that,” you cut in, your voice cracking, and that was the beginning of the end.

your chest felt tight. your face hot. and even though you were still trying—still trying to argue back, to explain, to stand your ground—your eyes were already burning.

he didn’t notice at first. or maybe he did and ignored it.

“you always do this,” he muttered, pacing now. “always think the worst of me. always turn shit into a fight when i’m already f*cking trying.”

“i’m not trying to fight with you,” you said, louder than before, but your voice wobbled on the last word.

and that’s when it happened.

you opened your mouth to keep going—“i just wanted to feel like you cared, like you didn’t forget about me”—but all that came out was a strangled little sob. not cute. not quiet. not something you could play off.

you were crying. fully crying.

and rafe went still.

your hands came up to your face instinctively, wiping at the tears like you could stop them, like that would fix the way your voice broke every time you tried to speak. you shook your head, trying to get it together, trying to finish what you’d started.

“i’m not—” another sob cracked through your words. “i’m not trying to fight, i’m not—god, i’m so tired, i just—i don’t even know—”

rafe’s expression crumbled like wet paper.

“baby—” his voice dropped, suddenly soft, hesitant.

but you kept going. you were spiraling now, sobbing into your palms, barely able to form words between gasps for air.

“you’re always mad at me, and i’m always scared of saying the wrong thing, and i hate feeling like this, i hate crying, i hate this—”

“baby, no—shh, hey, come here, come here,” rafe was in front of you before you could move, hands on your arms, panicked. “fuck, i didn’t—i didn’t mean to make you cry.”

you hiccuped through another sob, trying to pull away, but he wouldn’t let you.

“don’t,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest despite your protests. “don’t push me away. not right now. i’m here, i’m right here.”

you were shaking.

your tears soaked through his shirt. your hands clutched at his sides without meaning to, like your body needed the comfort more than your brain wanted it.

“‘m sorry,” you gasped, half-incoherent. “i don’t cry like this, i swear, i just—I get mad, and then i cry, and i can’t talk when i’m like this, and—”

“shh, baby, stop. don’t apologize. please don’t apologize.”

he held you tighter. rocked you a little. kissed your hair.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” he murmured. “this is my fault. i shouldn’t have yelled. i didn’t mean any of that shit, okay? you didn’t deserve that.”

you sniffled, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

he moved one hand to the back of your head, cradling it gently, and kept whispering.

“i just get so fucking stupid sometimes. when i think you’re upset with me, i get loud, and i get mean, and i hate that i do that. you’re the last person i ever wanna hurt.”

you didn’t answer, still catching your breath, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes even as they slowed.

“you have every right to be mad,” he said softly. “i told you i’d come home and i didn’t. you were just worried, weren’t you?”

you nodded against his chest, miserably.

“and then i showed up and started yelling like a f*cking asshole. jesus, baby, i’m so sorry.”

you mumbled something unintelligible, and rafe leaned down, tipping your chin up gently so he could see your face.

“say that again?”

“i didn’t mean to cry,” you whispered. “i hate crying when i’m angry. i hate it.”

“hey,” he said, brushing your hair back. “look at me.”

you did, barely.

his expression was nothing but soft now, like all the anger had drained out of him the moment he saw your tears.

“you cry because you care,” he said, voice low. “and that’s not a bad thing.”

you swallowed thickly, lip trembling.

“it’s embarrassing.”

“it’s not,” he promised. “it’s not, baby. not to me.”

he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb, lingering there for a second too long. like he couldn’t stand the idea of leaving you upset.

“you’re so strong all the time,” he murmured. “sometimes you forget you’re allowed to break a little. you don’t have to hold it in with me.”

you leaned into his touch without meaning to, and he took that as a sign to guide you to the couch. he sat down first, pulling you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“you warm enough?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you again. “want a blanket?”

you shook your head, resting your forehead against his collarbone.

he kissed the top of your head.

“i’ll be better,” he said quietly. “i promise.”

you didn’t say anything for a while. your tears dried slow, breath returning steady. you could feel your face aching from crying, throat raw, head pounding.

but rafe held you like he had nowhere else to be. like you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to let go of. he didn’t try to make it better with jokes or fake promises. he just stayed, quiet and steady.

and eventually, when your voice came back, you whispered:

“i just wanted you to come home.”

his arms tightened around you instantly.

“i know,” he said. “and i will. every time. i swear.”

you closed your eyes, exhaling shakily.

“okay.”

he kissed your temple.

“don’t cry, baby,” he murmured again, softer now. “you got me. i’m here.”

[misayani]

GIBSON GIRL — LOTTIE MATTHEWS × FEM READER

𝒾. TEXT you both believe that the wilderness thinks the two of you are perfect together, and the wilderness couldn't be more right.

𝒾𝒾. CONTENT sexual themes, batshit crazy gfs

𝒾𝒾𝒾. MISA'S THOUGHTS "i can fix her" no, i'll match her freak

Sex with Lottie is a ritual. You bite until she bleeds, she scratches until you bruise. Every act is devotion, every scream is a plea. You and Lottie don’t survive the crash. You ascend through it — hand in hand, mouth to mouth, soul to soul. 

That's what brought you here now: in the woods, filthy mouths crashed together as you both kissed each other like your sanity depended on it. 

"Fuck, Lottie—" You pull away from the kiss, shutting your eyes close, as her lips move from your lips, trailing down to your chin, before then settling on your neck, sucking the warmth. 

Your lips parted as you chant her name like a ritual. It was too much, but at the same time, it isn't. It is never too much. If you could, you would want her to be inside of you completely—just Lottie eating you from within.

"Keep them open." She mutters against your neck, pinning your legs down with force. You would think that a bruise was starting to form because of how hard she was gripping your thighs. 

Lottie pushed you down onto the dirty cloth that she took from the cabin. Her right hand creeping under your unclean night dress before sliding her fingers beneath your underwear like she had every right— and she did. 

You were dripping wet, body shivering from how badly you needed your girlfriend.

"Please, Lott... I need you inside me." The words fall from your lips like confession. Your eyes locked onto hers, pleading.

As if the woods were listening, a strong gust of wind rushes through the trees, you let out a whimper, the forest exhaling with you. 

You smile, eyes wide with awe, heart thudding like a drum that lay beneath your ribs. "See?" you whisper, "Even they agree." 

Lottie was drooling at the sight of you, you looked so fucking heavenly. Her pupils were dilated as she inhales the fresh air, before leaning down on you and started kissing the areas your clothes didn't cover.

"Look at you," she said, her voice low. "So soft. My angel, so ready to be ruined."  

She pulls herself away from you, her fingers pulling your underwear down as a strand of slick connected from your wetness and the cloth—before breaking eventually as it reached your mid-thighs.

She pulls it all the way down your legs until she got it off you, and tosses it beside you. 

She paused, her hand lingering just above your knee, her thumb gently tracing circles. She doesn't speak. She just watches you, her gaze laced with need.

She speaks so quietly you almost don't hear it:

"Mine."

And then her mouth was finally on you, as you let out a soft sound. She doesn't stop, her tongue lapping your cunt causing the filthiest sounds to be made by you.

A small part of you was embarassed. The fact that you were fucking dirty—physically—haunts you. But the moment that you heard a muffled moan come out from Lottie's mouth, the weight of your shame lifted.

Lottie did not give a fuck. She does not care that you stink. It was nasty, sure. But to her, the mess was just another part of you.

She knew you were filthy, hell, she knew you both were filthy—but that was the beauty of it. Everything was raw. 

Everything was real. She didn't need clean. She needed you, every inch of your skin, every layer of your flesh, every depth of your bones. 

"Lottie, faster!" You cried out, and she obeys. Your back arched as your vision blurred, the forest started to spin around the both of you or maybe it was just you.

Your breath trembled, a string of moans slipping from your lips as if you were in pain. "Lottie... Lottie, please.."

You bit your knuckles, as the other hand travels to grab the back of her head to push her deeper. Tears started welling up in your eyes, threatening to escape. 

"I'm close, so close—fuck, keep going" you breathe out, biting your knuckles harder when Lottie sank her nails deeper into the flesh of your thigh. Her pace was getting faster, as she devoured you like there was no tomorrow.

Lottie moaned into your cunt, sending chills all over your body. Lottie herself was being pleasured just by hearing the sounds your body made, squeezing her thighs together as she continued eating you out.

This was your fate. This is where you were meant to be: making love with the girl you cherish most. The wilderness did not make a mistake when it led you to her. It was a sacred decision. 

The knot inside your stomach slowly broke apart, "I'm cumming—!" your legs shook as you released your juices, Lottie slurping every single drop that left you. 

You sobbed as she didn't stop nor even slow down. You moaned her name out loudly as she helped you reach your high, letting you desperately grind on her face. 

Soon, she pulled away, her chesting moving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. With all the strength you could muster up, you pressed your palms against the ground and lifted yourself up, wanting to be close with Lottie, your beautiful Lottie, who's mouth and chin was visibly wet.

"Thank you." You breathe out, your arms snaking around her neck as hers rested gently on your waist. 

She looked deeply in your eyes, 

"They want you." she whispered, eyes flickering from your left eye and to the right. "But they can't have you. You're mine. And if I have to bleed for it, burn for it, starve for it— I will."

And you believed her.

[taegularities]

candles & flames: breeze | jjk (m)

(final) bonus chapter III: breeze

Summary: One day an end might near – but never with him.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: established relationship, royal!au; angst!!, fluff, smut ➳ warnings: mmmkay, they are at a weird place, but love each other so much; insecurities and sadness, jk grovels a lot, jihyo/illegitimate child mention, tears and overthinking, their kids <3, fears, abandonment issues, dad!jk, brief mention of a past death, yearning, an event, manyyy memories and references to the other parts, mention of post-sex memories, orphanage!!, kissing in the rain, jihyo sigh, oc makes him better fr </3 the ending bc that's what this chapter is </3 ➳ wc: 19.6k ➳ a/n: ah yes, the end of an era :') not sure if it was due to this being the definitive finale or just them in general, but i cried a lot, once again. thank you for giving them the amount of love that you did. i hope you like this one <3 ALSO, listen to the playlist, trust me!! ➳ a/n2: this is a bonus chapter for my mini-series candles & flames. reading the rest of the story helps!! find the mpost below <3 and the collaborative playlist here!

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

It’s interesting how a routine turns every night into the same returning experience.

Somewhat soulless, people awake in the morning, treading through their days and hours to fall back into the deep slumber that their bodies so desperately beg for. Back into the peace from the moment that the sky reveals its stars and its moon.

Then, the cycle repeats: cracking up their eyes at the same dawn or noon as the day before, or when the sun sits at its highest point, greeting and smiling, or hidden.

For you, it’s been different.

The nights always shift their personality, and the mornings unravel yet another unfelt, unseen emotion. Love, then longing, then misery, then near paralysis. Numbness. 

You don’t recall ever having been much of a victim to fate; you consider yourself more or less lucky, born under just the right constellation. But something about the odd way your mind has been circling around its own axis for a while now doesn’t feel natural.

An indicator of something bad, and you know. You know the phenomenon and know the reason and know the pain it accompanies.

With the nights, the seasons change, too. The more time passes, the warmer it gets. The cold has left. Left the shivers behind; left your head hanging. The dark and grey clouds floating above have vanished for the most part, clearing like a mist to boast the sky’s beauty.

You love the view. You love how rays of sunshine fall into your room like giving it a halo, golden and warm.

But above all, you have changed the most. In every shape and form, you’re somebody entirely new. As if you’re pottery, forged into something solid before smashed flat again. Inconsistently moving up and down, building and crashing, to the better and worse.

Healing isn’t linear, you have realised. You have known; you have seen it on him before, too. Sometimes, you do ponder whether you’re overreacting. Whether you’re supposed to move on the way so many other women do when their husbands come home late.

But no.

Your husband did not come home late.

You were the one who was late.

He never did you wrong; he didn’t intend to hurt you, did he? And thinking about it realistically: not a soul in this world summons even a fragment of the life you breathe into him. Nobody comes into any close proximity of who you are in his eyes and in his heart and in his mind.

But the pain never subsides so easily. What a shame, though. Your sister always appeases you by insisting that you have every right to hurt; that envy can be part of a deeply-feeling empath, and that love elicits these emotions naturally.

That one day, it’ll get better. That for now, you’re allowed to hate people, and allowed to hate him.

But you don’t. You do not hate him. You guess if you did, it would hurt much less.

It would hurt less to stand in the bit of sun shining through the window, letting it prick your skin. It would ache less to sleep next to him every night; to get up and leave at times, wandering the lonely mansion, just so his touch doesn’t stun your body or keep you awake.

Sometimes, you turn to see him awake, too, tossing and turning. Lifting his lids to meet your eyes wordlessly, at times with the smallest, weakest of smiles.

And it would pain less — stepping over the threshold, silken robe draped around you, and into the spacious room downstairs. It’s brighter than the corridor; the latter would’ve been quieter, darker, but certainly more depressing, too. Colder. 

You can’t just roam around there. Weird, though — who knows what dragged you back into this room of all, right where you first broke down; where your perspective changed.

It’s often the same; you tend to land here, as if to relive the moment and to convince yourself that it wasn’t as bad as you make it out to be. Or that it was, but that you need to look past it. You promised Jungkook to work on this, to not give up.

Told yourself that distance hurts more than closeness.

And it does. If you were to pack your bags and leave again, you might not be able to come out of the pitch black void again. At least he’s here; where you are.

You and me, in every damn life.

But you’re in a loop. Still right there, in this heart of his, but so forlorn, too. Always the same shit. If she hadn’t come, life would pain less. If you hadn’t been here, life would hurt less. If, if, if…

If you didn’t love him, you could look him in the eyes. If you didn’t love him, you’d care less. But you do. And you’re tortured by the fact that he constantly seeks your gaze. All the time.

Even now.

Right now, as he stands near the dead chimney, staring up to you from whatever document he was reading. You don’t have it in you to meet the dark brown eyes beseeching you to forgive. Sometimes, you do — in a moment of strength, you do.

But not right now.

And you guess you have forgiven him. You converse with him; but the change is palpable, just like the weather is.

From afar, you watch a smile appear on his still-gorgeous face, though a bit more sunken since last fall. His steps are timid when he nears you, and you mimic, walking towards the man whose arms you so desperately seek.

“Good morning,” he greets, and you answer in kind before he adds, “You still look tired. Do you need to sleep more? I don’t mind, I have a bit of time to take care of—”

“Oh, no, no,” you reassure, coming to a stand in front of him. Your fingers twitch to reach out, but your mind refuses; you hate this constant occurrence. “I feel fine, actually. And Hana will get up soon as well.”

“If you are certain.” Jungkook nods; then rolls his eyes again, more in a manner of amusement and sarcasm than annoyance. “That girl runs to her pony so fast these days that she barely ever acknowledges us anymore. So not a lot to do there for us.”

You chuckle a little. “Isn’t that right?” You observe as his head tilts just slightly; a gesture you well associate with affection. “What about you? You are awake early, too.”

A shrug of a shoulder as a response, no word uttered. He blinks once, just slowly, before his hand surrenders to the urge yours suppressed — and moves up, up towards your face. It happens in slow motion, an unnatural pace to it; but a moment later, you feel the touch.

A palm cradling your face. A familiar, somewhat ancient feeling. Known yet so estranged these days.

You close your eyes. Take in the warmth. Let the delusional relief wash over you for a second. And you feel better; much better when he presses in a tiny bit. You forget the pain still lingering.

Every fibre of you yearns to jump into his arms and to remain right there. To inhale his scent, to feel his lips in your hair, to feel the longing in his touch. And he would succumb to each sensation within a moment, a walking white flag, waiting for you to bring him to his knees.

He has been craving every bit of you in every little way, and you know. You know because you have been, too. But whenever his parted lips linger on your burning cheek, perfectly rosy and inviting and as beautiful as ever, or his thumb grazes your trembling chin, you just…

You trap yourself in this cramped cage of your own miserable thoughts; questions arise.

Such as—

Did he touch her like this, too? What did her skin on his feel like? And did he look at her with the same glint dancing in his dark gems? The same hooded gaze, pining and erasing every other thought, so incredibly desperate; like your own eyes offer oxygen for another day? 

And—

How are you different? 

This is what has been undeniably wounding you the most. The recurring thoughts you can’t turn off. The queries popping up. The fact that you can’t and won’t ask, and that you know what the answer would be, and that you would still burst your head overthinking.

Jungkook knows you’re drifting away day by day.

He’s crept up on you and learned about every single piece of you, has understood you on a level so detailed that even you can’t quite comprehend about yourself. So it’s only natural that he sees it when your mind doesn’t reside with him.

When you’re in pain. And he is in pain, too — perhaps in greater distress, even. But you have told the petty inner voices that this isn’t a competition; that no matter what the bad parts of you demand, he is not supposed to hurt worse than you. None of you is.

But he’s told you. Told you about the torment. The night you came back, as he held you for dear life, glued to you under the thin sheets until you could barely breathe against the fabric covering his chest, you heard him say—

“I cannot figure out what to do… I— I lost myself once. I wouldn’t recognise myself again if I lost you, too.”

You wonder — did he already know what future to expect if you weren’t in it? The time you were gone; did he see a version of himself he didn’t recognise?

You want to ask, but your mentality keeps slipping. Always absent but deep in his own emotions; you hate that you’re so aware of his thoughts. That even right now, he doesn’t expect you to quite look at him or to reciprocate his touch, even though sometimes, reluctantly, you do.

And he doesn’t expect you to smile. He has never known you otherwise — but he doesn’t expect it, consumed by his guilt. He knows you’re entitled to feel the way you feel. Doesn’t expect you to talk to him as you used to either, or to love him the way he’s always known.

He knows you love him… but he misses the moments when you showed him you were in love with him.

Months and years of affection passed, and the weeks since Jihyo entered your life shattered part of the idyllic paradise you had built for yourself. Covered it in clouds.

Yet, he accepts it. To you, it sometimes seems that he is content that you’re here at all. He won’t tell you what happened, how he felt, what he did while you were away, but it seems that his most prevalent fear is you vanishing again.

As long as he sees you standing here, in flesh and blood and not just in his wanting mind, understanding that you are not a figment of his imagination, he is satisfied.

Then again, you don’t think there is an absolute way of not hurting. So you’re not surprised when he brings you back to where you stand, into this moment, and says, “Hey,” he tries to lift your head, “I miss looking at you properly.”

You try. You meet his eyes. They’re filled with sleepless hours and the same sadness as yours.

You keep looking at him, eyebrows slightly moving, breath accelerating, and say, “I do, too.”

“And I miss your voice.”

“I know.”

“And I want you to laugh again. About anything at all.”

ƒrims Well. Maybe you were wrong. Or maybe not — he doesn’t expect you to smile, but… he can still want it, right?

Your body reacts fully automatically, closing in until your forehead gently collides with his. You hear it when he sucks in a sharp breath, hopeful and so hopelessly adoring, before he whispers, “I love you so much.”

Translates to: I need you back.

Translates to: I need you here.

Translates to: Stay.

For a moment, you keep staring into his pupils. A little longer… and then a little longer. It’s hard to look away; as if they harbour a spell and he’s practicing it right this moment. But then you feel another ache in your heart.

Familiar, but never less painful. The same damn one that your mind and body have been shooting through you, keeping you from giving in.

You move back just a little — but he understands. Accepts that you need more distance, just for a while; that it’ll take time. But as if to tell you he’s nowhere near giving up, he grazes your cheek again, warmth in the back of his fingers; hot as the fire that he is.

When he lets go, you feel breathless. Drowning. 

“It seems that our daughter is awake,” he comments. You only now notice her tiny voice. Drowsy little girl waddling to her beloved father. Cheek to his shoulder, quiet in the morning, eyes closed again once she’s settled. He adds, “Let’s get breakfast.”

And you follow, but the appetite isn’t too big. Your heart is still beating in your stomach.

Hana has now learned to express herself enough to ask what’s wrong. She understands basic emotions. Sometimes, you let yourself feel in your twins’ presence alone, solely for the reason that they do not pose questions.

But Hana knows.

And you adore her with everything that you are and everything that she has become; but so does she. She sees it when your eyes droop; notices when her father misses a thing she said or two. When he looks at her with deeply rooted affection, but with dead and stinging pain, too.

You think that sometimes, gaping at her round, bubbly face, he remembers as much as you that she’s not all there is. That she and the boys do belong to his blood, but that somewhere out there, another boy gets all excited about visits every now and then.

A child older than any toddler in your massive mansion, residing in a warm home so small and compact in comparison. At times, you think that your husband knows, too: That sweet Minjun is truly all that has ever defined Jungkook.

The art; the smile; the dimples. The politeness and gentleness.

You take a deep breath.

How does anybody ever get over this? You promised Jungkook to fight, and you will, with time you will because you love him, but…

How will you move past this? Will you stop seeing all that happened in everything one day? Grow out of it, find a way to hold onto him and onto who you are, to hurt less?

“Mama… did you hear?”

“Hm?” You glance at your daughter as she wipes her bangs out of her face, eyes too big on it. She’s holding a toy pony towards you. “Hear what, sweetheart?”

You stretch out a hand, carefully holding the toy in your palm. It’s still beautiful, solid snow white porcelain, albeit missing one of his four legs. Hana cried for a whole while when it happened.

“What I just said!” she tries again, her voice reprimanding, disappointed. Then she sighs, pouts, “You didn’t hear.”

It’s the enormous doe eyes that pierce your heart. When he’s sad, he looks the same. Awakens the urge to protect and to love and to keep him far from even a scratch. You sigh, too; keep yourself together.

“I apologise, baby,” you shift closer to her; she’s a bit older now, more forgiving. Still feisty, but very forgiving. “Mama is just tired. But I’m here, yes? Tell me again, please?”

Whenever Hana starts a thought, she needs to finish it. Your absent mind can’t keep her from it; so she soon turns to you, her voice much louder than yours. “I was saying,” she starts, easy to persuade, “I want to see Tee.”

You laugh.

Tee.

A self-made abbreviation for the term auntie. Somehow, it was too odd of a word for her to pronounce, so she settled on this one syllable to define your sister. She has accepted it; grown to love it, in fact. You guess her name is now simply Tee because Jeon Suhana says so.

“How convenient.” Your laugh dies; replaced by a little jump as his posed, soft voice suddenly joins the room, echoing through it. You give him a small smile. “Right?”

Jungkook walks in with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, two buttons of his dark shirt open. His chest peeks golden from underneath, with light spots of red, as if he rubbed the skin over his heart, soothing it.

The usually lifted collars are falling lazily to the sides; the baggy, loose sleeves rolled just below his elbows.

He looks as breathtaking as he did when you met him all those years ago; when you fell for the soul he revealed. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t fade, in any way at all. He still emanates the same confidence, even in times of desperation. Radiates pure attraction.

You guess people would be fooled by this, fall for the untamed, silky, dark hair if they didn’t know him well.

But you do — and you see the change in hue under his eyes. How the fragile, thin skin is a tad bit darker, and how he usually takes care of his mane so well. The way his strands stick out isn’t his usual appearance. Your husband used to be more put together.

But he’s smiling. For your sake and for hers, perhaps even for his own.

Hana is beaming back at him, though a bit timid in face of the change she’s surely seen in him.

But she couldn’t focus on more than the grand city right now, you know. Somehow, you reckon he planted this thought into her mind. He’s been mentioning an upcoming ball this spring, not too many days from now.

If you went, it’d be an excuse to visit your families again. For him to see his mother, and for you to spend an afternoon with your sister. He’s spoken about this once or twice, told you to think about it.

That—

I, however, understand if it is uncomfortable. If it hurts.

Of course it does. Going back to the one place where he handed you his bleeding, beating heart, yours for taking. But the place where he almost became hers, to. The place you met pain and then embraced love.

You were going to give him an answer soon, and you haven’t, and you know how goddamn unfair it is to him, but…

Your heart has been so delicate, and your tongue too mute to truly verbalise a proper response. Yes or no is all it takes, but you can’t stop pondering about the pros and cons.

“Daddy…” Hana calls, palms on the ground, butt up to lift herself upright. “Daddy, what?”

Ever-the-curious daughter. She probably got this from you. Too many unknown flowers that you picked together.

He lifts his trousers to his ankles and then crouches down to her, on the carpet that the two of you have made yourselves comfortable on. Hana drops back onto it. “We could see Tee, if we can make time, baby.”

If your mother agrees.

“Really?!”

Her legs are folded, her upper body leaning forwards, as if she can’t contain the joy in her little heart. She’s delighted, fists on the carpet, and for a moment, it lifts your spirits.

His eyes shift to yours carefully as Hana does a little victory dance, and you feel a prick in your chest. Is it okay to go back? You want to. You don’t want to. Will your heart withhold the pain and take the weight the trip might bring? Or perhaps the opposite…

“Wait,” Hana interrupts, suddenly solemn, “who will play with Leehi if I go?”

Leehi, her favourite nanny, young and beautiful and gentle. You chuckle, and Jungkook follows before he hums for a moment, responding, “Well, she will certainly miss you. Perhaps you should go and tell her that you might go away for a bit?”

Hana gets to her feet again, still your teeny tiny baby as she lifts a finger and declares with raised eyebrows, “I will tell her to not miss me.”

“You do that, love. Leehi is in your room, making your bed.”

Your daughter bolts away with such determination that you can’t help but laugh; her two braids move back and forth.

And once she’s out of sight, Jungkook plumps down on the carpet, knees pulled in and arms around them. He tilts his head with a tender smile, chest rising before he asks, “Did you have time to think about it? Going home?”

You remember a time not too long ago when you’d sit here like this, too; despite the couch in the back, you’d play with the twins and Hana right here, on this warm carpet, and Jungkook would join after work. You’d place your head on his shoulder and whisper-converse with him.

Sometimes, you’d fall asleep and wake up in his arms, in your bed, with the children secured in theirs. You never needed proof for how gentle Jungkook handles you — but if he could carry you into your room like a feather without disturbing a moment of your sleep, you were at utter peace, right?

He did that to you. He still does; his presence calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You want to put your head on his chest again, slumber there. Instead, you nod and say, “I did, yes.”

“And?”

“Hana wants to go.”

His eyes move to the side, down to the floor, then back to you as he tries again, “And what about you?”

You shrug a little. “Can I really refuse my daughter’s wish?”

He moves closer; a very small distance, but noticeable to you. His eyes are intense as he emphasises, “What’s your wish, love?”

Yours? You have a lot of wishes.

Whispered upon falling stars and eyelashes. You can’t utter most of them now, though, can you? But maybe you should. Maybe, rather than the universe, it could be him granting you what you desire.

He can read your thoughts anyway. Because he encourages, “You can share your mind with me. I’m your husband, darling.”

You nod; let something in you break and break until your fingers move, up to one of his knees. He immediately puts a palm onto your digits, holds onto you as you say, “You are.”

“Only yours.”

You inhale deeply. The tears are less these days, but never truly gone. You blink before they can reemerge, quickly adding, “I will go if you want to go. Your wish is my wish.”

“It is?”

“Of course. I am yours, too.”

A fresh colour dusts his cheeks, as if he’s falling in love anew. But his gaze betrays him; still sad when he wonders, “Then… Can I say something very kitschy?”

You feel yourself melt just a little. A hint of a smile graces your face. “Always.”

“My wish is… that I want you back.” He drops his head the moment your heart sinks, too. Even from here, you see the damp waterline. “I want you to be mine the way you were. I wish to give you the same joy I used to. I just…” His voice shakes. “I need my girl back so badly.”

And then, another whisper, stuck in a loop, “I miss you.”

You nod again, tell him, “I know.” Because if you said anything more, you’d cry. You know you would.

He looks up at you, the rims of his eyes red, trapping the tears in. He sniffles; shuts his lids, as if preparing for something. And then asks—

“Do you still love me?”

Do you?

Does he truly need to ask?

His presence still calms you, though it stirs your heart, too.

You love him irreversibly. You love him with an intensity that has nestled into your heart and is here to stay. Jungkook will never leave its crevices, no matter what. You just wish…

You wish you could show these sentiments to him better. Easier.

You’re the only one in your way now.

Mustering strength, you admit, “If I had stopped— I might’ve been long gone.”

He nods right away — it seems to be enough for him. Encourages him. Like he needed the confirmation; like, even for a moment, he’s glad that your life and soul and being are still merged with his. You haven’t strayed as far as he always fears and it relieves him.

Relieves you, too.

He licks his lips, clearing his throat, and says, “If you don’t want to go… we don’t have to, yes? I am sorry for putting pressure on you.”

“No,” you hold onto his fingers, just weakly, “no, we can go. I want to and… It might be a good alternative to the usual routine.”

Another bop of his head before he sees the pony in your other hand, reaching for it. You give it to him, and he inspects it. Comments, “Oh… It broke.”

“Mmh… damaged but still here. Hana makes sure of it.”

Jungkook looks at you. You understand your words; understand the hope behind them. And it makes him smile.

The same smile that you remember from before; the one you saw in the orphanage, in the carriages, in the rain. Months ago when you pestered him in his office until he came to bed with you.

You don’t know if he hears it when you add a quiet mumble under your breath; you guess he registers at least pieces of it as he finds your eyes soon again, so tender and vulnerable and speechless.

Pained and comforted at once as you whisper, “I miss you, too.”

This is far from your first time entering a hall that exceeds all expectations you have of pre-summer events and boasting the riches.

Jungkook and you have hosted parties before and attended even more. The number accumulated over the years; to a sum that made you immune with time. To the lusters and the dances; to the lights and the food.

Never to his touch, but much to the noise and the giggle. Most of the conversations are superficial, and when they’re not, you’re barely part of them. In your town, people respect you, but they have their own little culture that you’re not always too well versed with, up there in your mansion.

And here in this town, you stopped being a true, proper member of the peerage long ago. Even when you’re welcomed with wide arms and open hearts. People encourage you and admire you, but your life has long evolved.

These people don’t know half of it. To them, you’re the co-ruler of a beautiful town, far from here and deep in your own head. Living your days with gorgeous children and a wildly desired husband.

But you have perfected your act. Nobody suspects a thing, and you don’t want them to. So you cling to Jungkook’s arm, a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach when you enter the brightly lit hall and take in what you know.

The place is familiar; many years ago, you flipped to a new page right here, following the same steps. You probably walked the same line to the middle of the room, too, and then up to a dark hallway, meeting Jungkook in a corner before you turned your lives around.

For a while, this spot was connected to memories you would’ve rather forgotten. Tears and pain and betrayal and lies and eventually, the truth. But aches have dimmed over time, despite the fact that neither of you will truly ever forget.

You replaced these miseries. You live through your own and resolve them with a priority unmatched to all you ever experienced.

Yet, this very moment feels different somehow.

It has been years since you danced here together. Months since you danced properly at all.

Back then, there was envy in his touch, you so vividly recall. Affection in his words, concern in his thick eyebrows, fear in his dark brown pupils. Gems, is what they always were, and you would always fall for them; when you’d sneak up to empty rooms or hurt in vacant hallways.

When he was still younger than he is now, and you were, too; when you had so many other issues to forget about, the world seemed much bigger. Like there was hope somewhere out of these walls; and there was.

You were children so in love, inevitably possessed by a powerful force that never quite left you after that. The heartbeat, wild and thumping, never calmed.

All you used to be and all you remained is in your chest and in your mind. On your lips and in your words. No wonder everybody behaves so normally. Who could think otherwise than to be absolutely certain that your days are still the same as they always were?

Jungkook pulls up his arm gently, glove-clad hand lifting up to offer to you. He isn’t interested in conversing with others today. He allows a little greeting or a smile, but he doesn’t indulge in more or divulges his innermost emotions.

And they don’t bother. He isn’t trying, so they don’t either just yet; being a royal plants timidness in other people.

No, what he is focused on is your weak self next to him, knees as wobbly as many years ago. The palm shown to you is beseeching you to come with him, and to do him the honour of being his for another night.

You didn’t ever stop being his, but you don’t need to reveal this to him. Even when he nods a little, moving his hand up just a little to urge yours into it, you know he knows.

But you still accept with soft fingertips lightly kissing upon his warm hand, debunking all possible thoughts of doubts and erasing them out of his mind. And he seems relieved when you gulp down the stress, following your silent husband across the room.

You remain as wordless as you watch familiar and stranger faces float by. You nod when they do, pressing their digits when they reach for yours, a soft and quiet greeting with a smile or, on the other hand, a delighted, “Hello!”

You find your voice when you respond, find it when Jungkook does, reciprocating the others’ eventual, brave curiosity and joy upon seeing the two of you. Hearing him helps you bring your vocal cords back into swing.

And you feel as though you haven’t spoken for ages when you finally tell Jungkook, “You know…” He turns a little, not quite in the middle of the room just yet. “You used to be worried about me rejecting you.”

You aren’t sure why you’re saying this at all. Perhaps because he isn’t fearful of distance anymore — or at least, not the one he used to be afraid of. This is different. Back then, he was scared he’d lose a presence in his life that he hadn’t been able to call his own just yet.

Today, he knows exactly what he’d be letting go.

Maybe he isn’t overthinking it as much as you, though.

Because as you look at him, head a little tilted and carrying a big, dreamy mind, you lose yourself in his twinkle a bit. The smirk is crooked and saccharine, the same old as when the two of you met. 

There aren’t that many couples on the dancefloor yet when you reach it, but it seems that you two being one of the few to make the start helps. Inspires others; pre-wedding season is always an interesting event to witness. People are just waiting for an opportunity.

And when his hand reaches the small of your back, body close in front of you, you catch yourself taking in a breath too deep. You’re enthralled when he once again reminds you of the sugary undertone in his voice, so cautious when he says, “You know, I do not think I was ever worried.”

You lift an eyebrow. “You weren’t?”

“Well, worried would be the wrong word. I would rather argue—” He shrugs a shoulder, eyes drifting to the side, to the floor, and then back up to you as he scours his thoughts for a proper term. “You teased me, and I indulged in it.’”

You laugh softly, blinking slowly. Encouraged by the sound of it, he laces his fingers with yours, and you let him. Let him burn your skin through the gloves. Amused, you whisper, “I teased you?”

“You always did, did you not?”

You’re not too certain about this. If he is referring to your little sarcastic taunts, playfully threatening to keep his dance cards empty, he might be right. But you remember more than just this—

“You were the one to make short carriage rides adventurous,” you playfully accuse.

Another chuckle, and you’re nearly sold. As he twirls you a bit, leading you across the shiny floor, you find enough time for yourself to reminisce for a moment. Wherever you went, whenever the world called you to some nearby thing to attend to, his lips would find you.

Innocent or not.

Your clavicles, your neck, the spot behind your ears.

Or — your knuckles, your shoulder, your wrist.

People might have wondered how your love could bud this fast when only weeks had passed back then, but you knew and saw and felt it all. You never questioned any of it.

Jungkook says, “Maybe I should again.”

Hm…

“Maybe you should.”

Weren’t you just as breathless and faint back then, too? You think so. And you think he fared no better, did he?

He’d sigh, too, the moment you arrived at your destination, whispering promises and plans to you through similar symphonies as you are hearing right now. But even with the familiarity of the strings, reality has changed now.

Because as you rock, you don’t hear the cheerful music playing. The strings are dim in your ears and the dancing a reflex. Rather, for you, there is a piano in the background, keys singing the tune of what you were.

The more you talk and the more you listen, the more you see. Behind your eyes, fabricated by your mind, you register all the fleeting pictures of a distant yet vivid yesterday. And some of it still aches, but…

You can’t stop talking, and you can’t stop listening, either.

The nostalgia, paired with the movements dragging your feet across the floor and into his arms, keep catapulting you back to a place you know and one you crave to return to so deeply. But at the same time, you can’t be that young again.

You will always be in love, but you won’t feel the same sickening beginning again. Truths are harsh.

But are they always as thorough as you valued them to be?

Because if you can’t be who you were, why does your heart still hammer like this? If you’re so hurt, why do you still feel transported to another lifetime, like you never really left? As if you’re trudging and wading and crawling through it again to relive it all?

Maybe because you are. Maybe you never truly left indeed.

A voice interrupts your thoughts, the lights coming into focus again. Jungkook’s breath is close to your cheek as he hushes the words, wondering, “What are you thinking about?”

Yes, what are you thinking about?

You’re thinking about a plethora of things; none of which you can arrange into rational, lucid thoughts. Words don’t come easy to you these days, so you rely on what you feel. Rely on your senses.

On how he looks at you. How he touches you. How he speaks to you. And on how he moves.

You swallow again, hoping for your voice to overshadow the violins playing and the piano’s tunes taking form in your head. You tell him, “I am thinking about how gracefully you still dance.”

“Hmm,” he hums, “can that ever change?”

Your left shoulder lifts a little. “We don’t dance as much as we used to. But I suppose not.”

“Or perhaps it can change and I just find it easier with you.”

Your eyes expand a bit, but you don’t know if he sees it.

Easier with you.

With you, of all the people he has known over the decades. A life filled with touches so godless that you can barely wrap your head around still being the only one.

And you try to blend them out so badly. The thoughts of his body swaying as easily with somebody else’s, or hiding in another nook, far from creeping eyes. Feeling another heat on a chilly night.

You are truly trying to focus.

To focus on the heartbeat against your back when he releases you and turns you in his grip. For a moment, he holds you there, against his vest, the buttons cold on your bare arm. Your skin reacts, goosebumps scattered all over, helped by the proximity his lips come into.

They graze your ears, as if he’s doing this to you on purpose; as if he’s attempting to draw out the message your soul delivers. Responding with your name, spelled out by the pumping of his heart. He’s trying to make you receive it.

Every damn second, he has been wanting you to focus on him, and you have been. More so now than ever. On this and this only.

But it’s never easy. It hasn’t been.

You turn back in his arms. Even the piano fades a little now; you barely hear any of it anymore, let him lead you, relying on the pure trust you still put in him. It burns as much as all you see in those eyes of his.

Two tiny flames, red and orange, flickering blue sometimes. Behind them, a dark and sweet and gorgeous void; it still leads to his heart.

You have never seen this much love in anyone’s glance. Except for when he looks at your children, you guess. But this is different. The two of you are always, always different.

Jungkook loves you. Jungkook loves you with all he has and all he ever had and all he’ll be able to give. Jungkook intends to love you to your last exhale, and will love you into the next life; and Jungkook will wait for your soul in order to merge back with it someday, in the great unknown.

No matter who of you leaves this cruel world first — you have never caught him looking at someone like this. Like he will be sitting on his cloud impatiently on the other side, holding onto the fate bestowed upon you.

You know this much. You know the nature of the two of you because you are part of this constellation. So it should hurt less. Eternity should relieve you.

And he understands, too, that you’ll always be here, patient as he watches you come closer step by step, back to him. No matter in which universe and which time; he’ll be there, in an uncertain future and when humanity has changed into something far bigger.

But…

Right now, right where you are…

The same lights, the same light steps. The same love and the same scent announcing the change in season. This place and the memories attached to it; the fragility of your mind and the still fresh wounds to your heart.

They extend in size much too fast, much too ruthlessly.

You unlace your fingers when the sound ebbs down, just in a moment all too fitting to not raise much suspicion. The bodies around you are bowing, chattering, smiling. They don’t notice you.

So you step back by mere inches, parting from him with a frail smile. You offer a slight bow, as well, watching him imitate it with muscles just as feeble. You bring a hand to your face. Touch your cheek first, still feel the heat brushing your skin.

Then, you fan air against it, feigning the warmth that a near-summery event such as this often brings. They won’t know. You breathe out, as if overwhelmed by the heat, and then begin to walk away. But he realises your intentions immediately.

For a second, you see his mouth forming your name. Then, his voice changes, as if you’re the only one who can hear it through the crowd, adding a tiny, “Sweetheart—”

So aware of it all.

But you’re already stepping away because you can’t stop now. Because your feet won’t halt, their heels pressing into the floor as if they’re moving by themselves, carrying you away.

And because the wind outside helps, even if just a tad; even if only until his shoes clack against the floor, their sound all too known to you. He catches up to you right away; not that you expected otherwise. Jeon Jungkook would not stand there and let you go.

Not again.

You hear your name again, wondering about the next syllable to utter. Your mind is obscured, and you don’t want to say the wrong thing, no matter how obviously you just ran away. So you sniffle a bit and then suck in some air, as if to blame the now colder night.

It’s a lie. It’s still pleasant; you aren’t cold despite the still-present gooseflesh. Maybe that’s why you find it so hopeless to contain your silent cries or to wipe away that one stray tear as you respond, “Yes.”

And the moment allows some time again. Time to think back to more that you never experienced, that you’d rather still not be a part of.

Because you still can’t stop comparing. All you ever see is her when he never does. Whenever you think about how much he loves you now and loved you then, you remember that he was in the same halls with her, staring from a far end, hoping for something she could never grant.

That he stood at the same spots in this damned world as the two of you did many years ago — but without them ever further advancing. Because none of them could, not because they wouldn’t. Because they were veiled, forbidden.

You start to pour your heart out the moment you turn to him, at the end of the porch, watching his mouth open to speak. You aren’t prepared and haven’t written a mental speech, so you’ll need to improvise.

Which means, you need to shield yourself as you speak, expecting how pain-struck he looks when you begin, “My mind keeps saying…”

It’s already a miserable start; but Jungkook still urges, “It says what?”

“That,” you clear your throat, so absolutely fazed and dazed when his thumb reaches out, catching the tear only followed by many others, “that it could have been her. That she is still there and—”

You pause to breathe, looking past his shoulder. Nobody else is outside, and you see the crowd through the door. A pair of eyes or two peeks out, but you’re clearly not interesting enough right now. So they diverge their gaze again.

You don’t care about whether somebody sees. You only care about them possibly thinking that he hurt you. That the grand, famous son of the former, beloved duke has done something to break a heart.

You don’t want them to.

So you drop your head, keeping your voice in check as you try to add, “I am afraid that you might start regretting that it was not her.”

Jungkook silences. The lips so close to your ears before are locked now; not because he thinks you’re right or because he’s ever entertained the option of a reality where she replaced your role in his life.

But because he’s told you the truth so many times. Over and over; circling round and round. It won’t carve itself into your mind as it has onto his tongue, words repeated like crazy.

He pauses a little longer; much until you glance up. And despite each of his failed attempts at bringing you back to where you used to be, he refuses defeat and tries again—

“And does this not tell you otherwise? Does it not mean anything? This…”

The thumb wanders from your cheek to your jaw. “That it ended up being you and not her.”

You tilt your head again; it’s different now than from a couple minutes ago. Maybe you truly are being a tease. Giving him hope one second, crying the next. Asking things like, “What does it mean?”

You know. Of course you do. But you’re being selfish for the first time, waiting until he tells you, “That it was supposed to be you. Always, and even now. I can’t tell you how all the days without you pass, but I just…”

A shake of his head, a drop of his hand. His head falls like yours did, and he closes his eyes, bringing two fingers to the bridge of his nose to pinch it a little. You wait. His lips, full and pink, form a circle, breathing out, and then he says,

“I am running out of words.”

Maybe he doesn’t need to add anymore. The former ones still echo. All of them always echo.

The eyes looking at you and the whispers he utters. The stare that wants to bring you the stars. They want to freeze the moment, the wind, the clouds in place — it all echoes his heart.

“Jungkook…”

It’s all your strength allows.

And what else can you say at all?

You can only listen as he pleads again, “Please stay.”

What else can you do? You see him everywhere anyway, hear him all the time. The love never vanishes either way, no matter what the world does to crush you. And you don’t want it to.

You want to remember it.

Even if any of this came to crumble to pieces and left you with merely half of what you’re able to call yours. Even if one day, you were deserted and alone and started forgetting his voice or the way his hands moved or the warmth of his touch, you’ll remember this much.

The intensity of the burning in your stomach as it spreads, a wildfire that consumes. But if you’re smart enough, you’ll listen. You’ll stay. You’ll add to the memories instead of erasing them.

Build a world that’s both old and new to you and leave whatever you survived throughout these months in another universe, one that you didn’t ever live in but solely visited.

You were wrong. His name isn’t all that your strength allows. There’s more left in your wobbly, fragile body. A rising of your chest; a lift of your head, blinking of your eyes; and a step or two, enough to close the distance.

He’s pleading on repeat, the same little request that has accompanied you the past months. Still whispering a little, “Stay,” as he watches you close in, lodged in place because this time, it’s your feet dragging you to him instead of away from him.

You feel it in every fibre when your body collides with his. Head to chest and arms wound around him as if clasping some support to keep you afloat. Your legs, no matter how aflame your heart, are weak somehow; you might falter.

But Jungkook helps you fare better. Keeps you in place when his hand finds the small of your back, slowly, unsurely. Cautious as it drifts up your spine, leaving something in its wake that you missed so fiercely.

You need to stay like this. Just for a while. Perhaps tonight, if you don’t, you might die. With a feeling eating you up, blazing as it could get, and tears rolling down that you’re certain could be acid.

They have been for a bit; everything has been for a bit.

But right now, somehow, somewhat, they’re still as different as you prayed for them to be for so long.

That night, you don’t stay in his humongous mansion that is resplendent in this picturesque town of yours. In truth, Jungkook doesn’t spend much of his nights over there when you visit the place you once knew.

His mother and brother mind less, but to him, the bright walls are tinged with a darkness only he sees, perceptible under the touch of his palms and in the endless, empty hallways.

Instead, you spend an hour of the night staring at the door you grew up gazing at, big and comforting and closed, a portal to your younger years and turbulent moments. Just a minute walk from that door and down the stairs, there is an entrance that Jungkook once stood in front of, begging, stepping over the threshold to touch you just once.

To tell you what you needed to know, without his tongue ever working. And you remember bringing him back here one day then, with a ring on your finger and an arm slung around his. Listening as he told you, looking around, “So cosy.”

“Pretty?”

“Beautiful. And the scent helps.”

You smiled. You had given the kitchen staff an entire list of Jungkook’s favourite dishes. He is an omnivore; he will eat almost anything presented to him, never too picky. Before you were married, he had enjoyed every bite and every drop given to him.

But he was here as your husband for the first time, and you wanted to pamper him as much as he spoiled you daily.

He looked sweet as he sniffed, nose crinkled, dark, dark eyes so enthusiastic and happy. That moment had long killed all the pain you’d felt burning in your blood a year prior, and you knew he’d keep your veins clean and your heart pumping.

And today… years and years after.

It felt different as he came in. This is still his home, too. Your mother loves him. Your father loves him. Your sister, while empathic, no matter what past she shares with him, adores him as her brother-in-law, too.

And despite all the trails of dryness on your face, where the tears flowed, you love him, too.

His calm breathing behind you offers a source of relief. His warmth is palpable under the blanket, the mattress filled. When you came here with Hana last time, you truly noticed how big your bed was and how you’re not used to the space, how you don’t even want it anymore.

And when Jungkook moves, sighing, evidently turning, you close your eyes. If he notices, he will ask why you’re awake, and if you tell him why, you will cry, and you can’t cry again.

Too late, though.

He knows; but he doesn’t ask.

What he does do is touch your waist just a little. The fingertips send a shiver up your sides. Gentle goosebumps and a fiery pain, well-known but so far away that it catapults you back to what you were.

Your throat is clogged when he, well aware of how awake you are, analyses the pattern of your breathing so easily that you should’ve known you needn’t act. He whispers, “May I…”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t. You want to turn around and cuddle into him, so close to holding the side of his neck and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

But before your body can react, he does, an arm slinging around you when you put a hand over his. He pulls you close to him, a trembling lower lip sinking to your shoulder, and your inhales break.

Quickly, you close your eyes, thinking of the wind in your hair a couple hours ago. It was balm to your heart, the way his hug was; but the sobs echoing in front of the porch added a couple stones to your heart, forcing it heavier.

All these months, you have suppressed your tears in front of him, but by now, there is no need to hide and to pretend. Jungkook never has. Even now, he doesn’t veil a thing — you know when you realise he’s crying, too, shakily breathing in against your shoulder.

Between the silent weeping, you hear his voice whimper. You’re carried away when he holds you closer, still grovelling, delivering a now-rare touch to your clavicles and your jaw, as if to feel your heart and your presence.

And then, he mutters, “I love you. I am so sorry. I love you so, so much.”

The words are quiet, drowned as he presses his lips deeper into your shoulder, into your neck. His tears fall onto your skin, and you shut your eyes tight, letting out the same liquid, mixed with a longing, quiet moan. You don’t need to tell him that you feel the same.

You know he feels it. Feels it in the way you grip his hand. In how your head turns to his, and his fingers pinch your chin, and in the way you look at him. How you let him kiss your nose. Your lips.

In how you finally do put a warm palm to his neck, grazing the hair in the nape of it, mouth close to his as you shut your eyes before he does.

You remain and cry and hope and love until he falls asleep, and you follow.

You basked in the breeze.

It was scented and gentle, like the back of loving fingers caressing your cheeks. The sky was nearly cloudless; spring was slowly setting in. When you had walked the distance to this very spot, the wind howling in your ears had soothed you somehow.

Softly and sweetly; a desired change, along with the welcoming sun rays kissing your face. Warmth and love, a dress swaying. There was something about this world you breathed in that resembled a girl’s fairytale dreams.

So you didn’t mind the bugs or how ticklish the ankle-high grass made you or how hot it was getting by the hour today.

You wanted to be here. You wanted to be surrounded by the old trees, gazing at the paths between them leading to where you stood, amidst the butterflies and flowers and underneath the azure sky.

You were alone.

Saturdays were busy for the mansion and the village; people wandered about and tended to their businesses. Sometimes, they’d indulge in low-labour days and wander to this place. Some of those who could afford horses, would ride here with their kids, take a walk to breathe in the season and the worldly wonders the edge of your town offers.

But not today; and you were thankful.

You kicked the earth underneath your feet, the low boots not high enough or protective of your skin beneath the dress. You had fled from the mansion and the conversations going on. Jungkook was in the parlour and the children were playing with the nanny.

You guess this was the place to be. So you tucked your hair behind your ear, looking around the empty space, and then took a seat despite the wildness of the field. Plucked the grass.

Jihyo was probably still sitting in front of him, legs not nervously pressed together as she used to do when she visited. She crosses them now, her back a little more bent than usual, comfortable with her son and the man she once knew.

When you left, they were still exchanging pleasantries, but you knew it wasn’t long before they’d get to the business he’d promised her. Both of them pleaded with you to stay. To listen in and make decisions with him.

He held your hand until you retracted it, fingers left in his hold, and then, you pulled back entirely. 

You were terrible at being there. And you were terrible at being away, too. But the wind engulfed you with some solace at least, and this was only half as worse as the stifling air in that one room. Invisible thumbs pressing into your neck.

But this town, this village — they weren’t big. And your staff, and Jungkook, and the people knew you.

So you shouldn’t have been too surprised when she found you here, too. When you heard her voice close and recognised it immediately, swearing that the field was empty just a moment ago.

She was slow, careful. She knew you by now, at least a little; but she still always approached you as if she was waiting for an outburst, well aware that you weren’t going to snap again. But she saw a deep fault in herself, expected to be thrown out at some point.

But you wouldn’t; you never did. If you wanted to, you wouldn’t have found this very hidden spot that she’d located so easily.

Hands folded in front of her body, she smiled when you looked back at her, alarmed by the steps in the grass. You managed a little smile, just as savvy of the fact that she was harmless as she was. You didn’t hate Jihyo; but you were still wounded, insecure.

Squinting into the high sun, eyes hidden behind some of her strands swaying in the wind, she nodded towards you, standing over you before she said, “We are done.”

You reciprocated her nod, telling her, “That’s good.”

“He is giving Minjun a bit of his time, so I left. I have been wanting to find you for so long, but you always disappear.”

Of course she’d noticed. Jihyo, despite her faults and stupid mistakes in the past, wasn’t dumb in any way. She was a woman, like you, deeply tenderhearted and understanding of what swirled through your mind in her presence.

She knew that if she was you, she’d be hurting the same.

Yet, you told her, “I apologise.”

“There is no need.” Small pause, and then, “May I?”

She pointed to the spot next to you, asking to take a seat in the middle of a field that you didn’t own. Not like this; she didn’t need to ask. But you still nodded, shifting a little to the right, even though you didn’t need to.

Putting both hands under her thighs, she tucked the dress under her bottom and sat down, legs folded and fingers immediately grabbing some grass to toy with. She asked, “How are you?”

You puffed out a tiny breath. What were you supposed to answer? The shrug of your shoulder accompanying your seeming pondering was redundant, because you knew the answer very well. What good did it do to put on an act?

You responded, “It might take a while to feel like myself again.”

It was enough as an answer. She nodded once again, one eye still pinched shut as the noon sun stung in it. “It does take a while. Life would hurt less if it didn’t.”

“My mother says hardships build character.”

“Yes?” she wondered, letting out a little chuckle. Her digits wandered from the grass to her dress, picking at a stray thread. “I don’t know. I think it wouldn’t be too bad to evade these hardships. Does the character really need to be built?”

You sighed. “Right? I do not reckon I need to evolve as a person if I can just be happy.”

“Right,” she repeated.

She silenced again for a moment, the quietude broken by the whistle of the breeze. You breathed in, thankful for the oxygen so different from your hometown. You were thankful for a plethora of things around here and this was one of the aspects topping the list so easily.

Jihyo tongued her cheek and you watched for a second. When she noticed you staring, she smiled again, adding, “I appreciate your honesty. You do not need to talk to me at all, but you still do. Thank you.”

“Well,” you began, offering a tender smile, “it kills me to not be honest.”

Which was true, but not quite.

It wasn’t that you had been lying to Jungkook; you were just constantly burying your actual thoughts. What you felt and what you thought and what you needed. You felt odd about the moments you shared with him, and often waited for the right situations to be vulnerable.

It was killing you to not verbalise your mind, but you still powered through.

“I can see it,” she still admitted, “I see it even in your face.”

You were sure she could. Your face often felt contorted. Even if you wanted to, you were certain you couldn’t quite hide the emotions your brain elicited; it would always show in the eyes first. Windows to the soul and whatnot.

Did his eyes reveal the same to her? Did she see any of what she had so many years ago?

When he found out about her morals, when he felt the pang of pain in his chest back then, did he look similar to her? Or did she see a difference now?

Your stomach churned at the thought of this.

Words at the tip of your tongue, you chose to let them tumble, and asked in a voice so fragile, “How was he back then? Jungkook.”

Jihyo thought about it for a minute. Looked at you. Then gazed back down; without meeting your eye now, she said, “…Hurt.”

“Hmm…” you voiced, uncontrolled with your following words, seeking answers. “Then, he must not look different now. You know him like this, do you not?”

Another second to evaluate your question.

Your heart beat in your throat, and you let your head fall, understanding her answer until she spoke, and you realised that you actually didn’t, “I am not sure. For one, I did not know how to heal him. Back then, it was not just me. His emotions had to do with something much bigger than what we had.”

You only stared.

Your eyes begged for her to elaborate, and she did.

“He was hurt, but for another reason. Back then I was the distraction from his problems and he fell back into them once he stepped out of my life. But…” She hesitated, fumbling for words. “But you are the main reason for his heartache.”

Her words hurt deeply and violently. They had long been sitting in a space so concealed, but they floated to the surface now. As she voiced them, there was no way to deny them anymore; even if you weren’t at fault, and even if you understood your pain, validated it every day…

It was no lie that he was hurt because of you, too.

“Yes…” you confessed, your voice tiny and pained.

Maybe Jihyo understood what she had just uttered and how you’d taken it, because she shook her head in the next moment. Clarified, “Do not misunderstand, I don’t mean this in a bad way. Just that—”

She was struggling; was attempting to not be the source of your ache again. She inhaled deeply, and then tried again, “There is a big difference between me and you and his pain between us. With you, it’s so much more profound. If he can hurt because of you, and only hurt because he had lost a distraction all those years ago… doesn’t it reveal his true feelings?”

You didn’t answer. You needed to digest her words; eyes drifted to the ground, and you repeated them in your mind. She leaned into you, touched your elbow ever-so-gently. “Does it not?”

You tucked your hair loosely behind your ears. Partly, because it kept covering your eyes; partly, because you felt shy all of a sudden. Not the way you used to. Rather in a familiar in-love-way, yearning for somebody who was waiting for you just the same.

Somebody adored you for who you were, thankful for every damn breath you drew. There were moments of realisations like this; when you rethought your life and once again understood who it truly was who fell for you.

You were lucky, you thought, to be the one to be worthy enough to be loved by him.

“You’re right,” you soon agreed, “of course… of course you are.”

Jihyo didn’t answer right away. Your conversation was shaped by certain awkwardness, but it was drenched in support, too. You didn’t think you’d find yourself here, but realistically, you also knew that Jihyo wasn’t quite a bad person.

She had hurt, hadn’t she? Every woman deserves a love she can be proud of; Jihyo had never experienced it until now. Not when she hid with Jungkook in vacant rooms. Never meaning to hurt anybody when she broke into your life.

You wished you could despise her for her flaws, but you couldn’t.

Not when she looked at you like this. Those gorgeous, dark eyes so sweet, eyebrows knitted together just a little. Arched, pretty lips in a small smile, but the distress so obvious underneath her expression.

She said, “I don’t want to come in between you. I never wanted to, it’s just that…” She gulped. You already knew what she’d say and you nodded, but she explained anyway, “I need to ensure his safety. I wish there was another way.”

Perhaps there was. But no easy one. And maybe she was right anyway. If not the father, who else?

“I wish there was,” she repeated, “but as soon as I have figured it all out… I will be gone.”

The shake of your head came quicker than you would’ve assumed or expected. You surprised yourself when you defended, “But Jungkook deserves a relationship with him, too. I don’t want to take it away.” You gazed down again. “He wasn’t part of his life until now, but… can you or me or he really abandon that? Minjun is still his… his blood.”

You choked out the last words, suppressing the urge to hold onto your chest, to grip your heart and protect it, so it didn’t bleed through your digits. What could you do, really? You could’ve agreed, told her to pack her things once things were resolved.

You wished you were selfish like this; you knew Jungkook would’ve been for you if you just told him. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t fair towards anyone.

“Then…”

Jihyo’s gaze was intense, trying to communicate verbally. Maybe she knew it was hard to find the right words at the right times; she wasn’t bad at it, but it didn’t come to her naturally either, like the way it did for Jungkook so often. And he had said many times that it did for you, too.

“Then you might need to find a way to cope,” she threw out, “or to… to not hurt anymore. I’m wrong, I don’t want you to cope. I want us to stop hurting. Because I respect you.”

She let out another breath. Her hand moved in place, and you knew she was trying to reach out, holding back until you did it for her. Put a palm on her fingers. She continued, “And I do not want to lie… I am fond of you.”

Maybe because she understood. Or because, at heart, she knew you were good. Worth respecting. You wanted to hurt others just as little as she did.

You nodded, responding, “Thank you. I— I am fond of you, too, just not… of—”

“Of the situation itself. I know.” You agreed with another nodding gesture, nibbling at your lower lip for a second. Jihyo sighed. “Realistically… without lying to yourself. Do you want to leave?”

Did you? Of course not. If you’d wanted to, you would’ve. But you were too weak to fall out of love with him. Or maybe, in truth, this was one of your strengths.

Compassion. Care. Forgiveness. 

You never thought it took much to love him. But it always takes a lot to compromise, to fight through issues and circle back to love. Were you strong enough to do this?

Maybe. Probably.

Because it was him. Come on…

It was him.

“No,” you then said.

“You love him,” she stated. Not a question. A solid observation; anyone would see.

“I do.”

“…Would you regret staying more or leaving?”

Asking the right questions. Then again, the answer didn’t take much thinking. Your instinct knew, and your heart knew, and every overthinking thought, once cleared, would give way to one and only answer.

So you acknowledged, “I do not know how to leave him.”

And that was it.

Jihyo didn’t say more than that. She leaned back, one single nod, palms against the sharp grass; she didn’t seem to bother.

She stretched her chin towards the sun, indulging in the start of the spring. You saw a ladybug crawling up her clothed leg, but she didn’t pay it any mind. In fact, she didn’t utter anything at all anymore. Because she didn’t need to.

You knew, and she knew.

Because whatever she could’ve said, you already saw. Her silence divulged it.

Quietly, wordlessly made clear to you—

“Then you know where this will eventually go.”

The corners of your eyes are dry, somehow crusty when your lids flutter open the next morning. You guess that’s where the liquid traced down your face and left your skin to desiccate.

Your left side feels airy and empty, and when you turn, you see it devoid of a presence indeed. But there’s a soft, close rustling and whispering that you soon detect to be the man that priorly deserted the bed.

He’s standing close to your childhood room’s door, throwing a thin, baby blue coat over his shoulders. It’s reminiscent of the royalty he is.

His eyes meet yours in time as you blink at him, sad yet dreamy. The desire to act upon the emotions that the dream — no, the memory — called forth is vigorous. Like an invisible force, urged by the girl you expected it from the least.

She was right, you knew where it’d go. Perhaps you just needed more time; to heal, to come to terms with all the change around and inside you.

And you want to leave it behind and want to pull him back to you; but as his eyes flicker with an already established plan, you hold back, listen as he verbalises it, “Get dressed, my love. We shall go out today.”

“Out? Where?”

“Let me lead you. I wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.” And then he turns away. Adds, “I will wait downstairs. I will give you some time to get ready.”

He nods once towards the general direction of the house’s exit, hand already on the handle of the door. You start, “You can stay if you—”

But he sighs, not in annoyance but amusement. His mouth curves into a smile before he chuckles a bit, pushing down the handle. You silence, but he doesn’t leave before infiltrating each of your thoughts when he says, “I know you are fine with this, but—”

Just one more time, he turns to you, “But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.”

He doesn’t need to specify what it is, because you remember, too. The excitement seconds away from the door, when you’d rush to open and put your gloved hand into his. He’d bow and kiss your knuckles and offer his arm.

And you’d stare. You’d keep staring. Would marvel at the sun reflecting in his eyes or the raindrops trailing down his temple or the snowflakes melting in his hair.

You’d admire and fall, freeze and burn. Would wait for a single moment in a vacant corner, anticipate his lips closing in, holding the hand lifting to your cheeks.

The clot in your throat is thick as Jungkook leaves and shuts the door gently. And you, as lovesick as you have always been, let your legs dangle, for a minute tops before you hurry to find all you need.

Your maid helps you a little, tightening the corset and assuring you that Hana is still asleep. That your sister was planning on buying her toys today anyway, a certainly long trip. Maybe it was Jungkook who had schemed all this beforehand — it seems to work quite well.

Hana is never one to complain when it comes to her aunt or her uncle or her cousin.

You don’t notice how much time passes until you’re finished, a lock dangling on each side of your face and a summer hat sitting on top of the carefully mended hair. You only question what Jungkook did in your absence once you near the staircase.

Converse with your father? Flatter your mother? Soak in some of the sun, just outside on the porch, greeting passersby who must surely still remember him?

But it’s none of these things, really, and you should have known. Should have reminded yourself of the sincerity in his voice and the words he uttered as you awoke.

Because he’s nowhere near any of your family members; instead, he’s right there in the middle of the welcoming hall. Stands there like a lost but gorgeous, sweet puppy. Fondles with his fingers, a strand in his forehead.

His mane is as dark as his eyes when they find you at the top of the staircase, but they’re shinier, with a degree of affection you’ve known for years. So there’s something ancient in his gaze.

Something you knew back when life truly started. When he’d wait, just like this, and you’d walk down the stairs, as if descending to join him at the altar. Come to think of it, you think you remember similar sentiments in his pupils when you married him, too.

No, you don’t think so; you know. Hell might freeze over — you wouldn’t forget the way he looked at you, so vulnerable and in disbelief. Somewhat glad and relieved that you were there, putting his trust and his heart in your palms, yet expecting the worst.

You know that you taught him — to understand his worth and to see what he is to you.

And you see the same feelings now.

He knows you, knows you better than anyone. But he’s falling in love again. Seeing you again. Trying to mend what’s broken and finding an anchor in you, seeing the beauty one usually recognises in forests and waterfalls and colours.

You breathe in. Then out.

Keep watching as he watches.

His mouth is slightly apart, a bittersweet pain in his eyebrows, and once you reach him where he waits, you see him gulp. He dares not to blink as you take his hand, cherishes each moment and all he’s allowed to see of you.

Jungkook doesn’t need to say any of it. He has before. And even when he didn’t, you knew. He might have studied you over the years, but you know him better than anyone, too.

Strange, how your brain convinced you otherwise and planted doubts when you’ve never not been aware of the loyalty he always pledged to you.

But he’s so unwaveringly beautiful as you take him in. There is no moment in existence when he isn’t, but… those eyes. And the bridge of his nose, ending in that little button. The arch and curve of his lips and the moles you have kissed so often.

You’re breathless and taken when he smiles like this, madly insane when he says, “Not that I ever forgot, but,” he exhales, “I am incredibly lucky.”

Timid, you lower your head for a brief moment, fingers curling around his as you swallow the knot and tell him—

“Funny… I was going to say the same thing.”

You know the building. Know it like the back of your hand, even now.

“You brought me to…”

You look around, slightly blinded by the sun as you squeeze one eye shut. Some of the bricks look the same, some have been replaced. You didn’t realise how much you missed it here until now; not until the door of the carriage closes and it sinks in that he actually brought you here.

“The orphanage,” you breathe.

“You talk about them so much,” Jungkook says. Good — perhaps you did miss them and knew. But years passed. A new life started. Still… “We never got around to visiting this place. But I wanted to bring you this time.”

Your head turns to look at him. “Have you ever since you first asked to come to town?”

“Well… no,” he admits, “rather, I have wanted to for months. Before anything happened.”

You don’t know what to reply. There’s a little version of you in the back of your head, jumping in joy and tearing up at the same time. Another reminder of a million that Jungkook has always been attentive with you.

Maybe that’s why you fell just a bit deeper every day while other loves faded and wavered. Because Jeon Jungkook fucking cares. If not for anyone, then about you. You might die with this certainty embedded in your mind.

“Shall we go in?” Jungkook asks, and you nod, nervous and curious and so, so fond.

Once you’ve put your name in the visitors’ archive, the passage to the main hall is more or less empty, with a couple new faces passing you by. But once you reach the lovely place you’d frequent, watching spontaneous or carefully crafted performances on a small stage, names start coming to you.

It takes a second for them to perceive you. The orphanage can be a crowded place and random guests, especially unannounced, are not a given. You knew that back then, too. There are kind souls in this town, but the children are still not used to visitors.

They were used to you before you left.

And you see the month and year-long fondness they had set up for you once they do finally detect you. Some of them are new once again, but several you recognise. Just like you, they freeze momentarily, robbed of air.

For a second, they stare at you as if met with a forgotten ghost. As if they’re trying to place you into a fitting category in their lives, figuring out when you were part of it until they finally get it.

A boy and a girl, fraternal twins, are the first to abandon their game of nine men’s morris and get to their feet. You wave with a quiet, “Hello,” and they lift their hands and open their mouths, wordlessly telling you that, “I can’t believe this!”

The boy, Chul, would always hug you back when you came here. He was still so young then and now he’s grown by one or two heads. It’s easy to tell who they all are despite the time that passed; the moles and movements and smiles are still the same.

Though they have grown into such dashing gems.

Behind the twins, you see more children rushing, but he’s the first to speak your name, taking off his ivy cap, “You… it’s been so long. So long, welcome—”

“It has been,” you tell him as you allow him to take your hand. He must be around sixteen now. “Way too long as I can see. When did you start sounding like this?”

He laughs, looking around to the other kids and tells you, “You missed quite a lot. I even choose my clothes myself now.”

His sister chimes in, “Yet he’s not mature enough to see how awful they look at times.”

It is a joke, but you can’t help but feel a little sad. Even all those years ago, these two would bicker, playfully insulting each other’s intellect and appearance as siblings knowingly do. But even today, you know that the mere reason for unfitting clothes is the lack of resources at times.

The orphanage tries its best, but it can’t defy worse times. Chul is tall but on the leaner side, and the shirt is slightly too big. One day, you hope they can find a life outside from here, shape something they have dreamed of.

“You will grow into it,” you tell him, Jungkook quiet next to you, and pat the boy’s bicep, “you already look so much stronger.”

Chul blushes, carding his fingers through his chocolate brown hair. “I do try my best.”

Your eyes fall to the back, to a girl with lifted eyebrows and an absolutely delighted expression. Easily recognisable, too. She used to have flaming red hair; somehow, it has darkened with time, only by a shade. 

But her eyes are still a rare green, as unique as all of her. Lily was one of the few children who travelled from afar, in her mother’s arms that she never got to meet, like most of the kids here.

You still don’t quite know which country she originally came from, and it took her a while to accept that she’d never meet who brought her here. Almost everybody struggled with this at some point, but it took Lily longer to come to terms with it.

She was always loved, though. You recall her being mature beyond her years, and even now, she seems so put together. She must be close to adulthood by now.

And she was also one of the girls speaking to you when you brought Jungkook here for the first time. Bittersweet and nostalgic; she embodies much more for you than just the sweet girl you used to know.

She reminds you of Hana a bit, though they have nothing in common. Perhaps it’s because you hope Hana will be just as amazing one day; heighten all the wonderful qualities she already possesses.

Lily steps forward, along with the others; you soon see that a bunch is missing. A lot of those you played with and talked to — but as the conversation continues, you soon learn that they left the orphanage when they were old enough.

Saved up from the work they did as they grew old enough and then travelled the country and cities to find a college, studied what they desired, established a life. Those you knew as older children back then are now probably somewhere, hopefully happy, finding joy in something new.

You feel inexplicably proud.

The rest is still here — hoping to follow in their footsteps. Different from you who disappeared so long ago. You said your goodbyes back then, but you were sure you’d return.

Life moved so fast.

The kids, soon finding themselves in a circle on the clean floor, facing you, ask where you went and how you were doing. What life was like away from here.

They’re sweet, these people. Didn’t mind folding their legs on the spot, but insisted on offering a blanket for you to sit on. Jungkook is close to you, just a few inches behind you, allowing you space and privacy with those you cherished.

But as enthusiasm in all voices grows, he speaks up as well, curious as he asks, “Do you all remember me, too, by the way?”

Some nod enthusiastically; others stare at each other, still young and even younger then. Jungkook picks them from the circle, cocking an eyebrow in faux-offense as he curses, “Well, damn. I shall remember this.”

But the twin sister, Eunji, shakes her head, reprimanding, “How do you all not remember? He was the prince!”

Enlightenment spreads over the others’ visages. Of course it’d take them a little. They have probably heard of the Jeon Jungkook, one of the main royals the town offers, but since he left with you years ago, they wouldn’t know his face anymore, would they?

They were so little when they met him first.

“I mean, I am not really a prince, but—” Jungkook starts, but one of the older ones interrupts—

“Well, you looked like one.”

Then, one of the youngsters that forgot, “You still do.”

Jungkook chuckles. You look over your shoulder, catch the crinkles around his eyes and the bunny grin; the way he lifts his shoulders some whenever he laughs. He looks much younger like this.

Like before. Like then.

“Wow,” his candied voice utters, “thank you so much.”

“Were you already married back then?” Eunji asks.

You shake your head. “No, not for a while still. I invited you, did you forget?”

“Ooooh. I keep mixing up memories. But dang,” she teases, leaning forward, “so you fell in love when you brought him here, huh?”

You smile; see Jungkook blush. These are still hormonal, young adults. They’re probably roaming around, falling in love, too. No wonder they dig such topics so much. They didn’t care all those years ago.

But you’re delighted when you tell them parts of your and Jungkook’s story, conveniently leaving out pieces that concern nobody but the two of you. You must admit even: being here helps you forget some of it.

And as time passes, you reckon this was partly Jungkook’s intention, too.

Another girl, Hayun, hitherto quiet and listening, wonders at some point, “So why are you here?”

“I wanted to visit you,” you tell them.

The answer is easy and clear as day, though you weren’t the one to manifest the idea into actions. You don’t tell them that it is Jungkook doing this for you; that you would’ve come back for them, but perhaps not now, not with how life went for weeks.

But you don’t regret a moment. You’re thankful. If you could, you’d take his hand, squeeze it, silent gratitude, so he knows how you feel about all of this. And you’re determined to keep their smiles on, to return when you can when they ask,

“Are you going to stay?”

“Not for long… I will need to go home in a day or two…”

You could feel guilty. But you don’t; you’re not leaving for so long ever again. You adored all of them from the bottom of your heart. You won’t let all of what you came to feel be for nothing.

“But… if you’d like,” you begin and some of them straighten their posture, “I can stay here for a bit today. I will come back another time, too. Is that… alright?”

Their reaction is immediate. How did you never assume how much you mean to them, too? Of course you do. You were a frequent face and they learned to love it, to appreciate you deeply. Considering some of the lonely days they lived through, they’d never forget you.

Your waterline dampens, for the millionth time this week, and you blink it away. You won’t cry, not here, not now. They’re a source of joy, so you’ll show them this exact emotion, too.

“Of course!” they chime. “As long as you’d like. We’ll be here.”

But it’s hard, containing it all in your eyes. They must be seeing your glassy look, because theirs turns empathetic, smiles everywhere you look. Filling the seconds of noon, and then afternoon, with stories.

You’re baffled about how much has changed. Years ago, they’d tell you about their day and ask you for permission to braid your hair and draw with you.

Now, they reveal their first loves and tease you and ask about your children. And still, some of the moments are so familiar.

Because you remember that Jungkook sat next to you back then like this, too, and that he was silent, staring and caring and falling in love just like he is now. Seeing you for who you are and creeping deeper into your heart.

Things have changed and relationships have changed, but then again, they haven’t.

The young people the two of you were, flirting and rolling your eyes, pushing the other and then pulling them in. Swiftly into his arms, into his mind. You’re more mature now, but still in love, still one molten soul.

And you still see the same damn devotion when you recite a poem the children remember pieces of. You’re glad you still recall most of it, because they struggle with finding the words, reminiscing about how they loved it but not what it consisted of.

A belt of straw and ivy buds, with coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, come live with me, and be my love.

When you catch him looking, he doesn’t avert his eyes. They stay on you, aching and yearning, soft but so expressive.

There’s unspoken comfort floating between you, a sense of pleasure and beauty that truly moves you to your core, like ivy buds and amber studs, and you feel it perfectly.

Your heart — much closer to his chest than your own.

His hand is balmy in yours as it escorts you out.

The children’s day isn’t infinite. They soon find themselves busy with chores, apologising every now and then, and as the evening breaks in, you decide to leave them to their meals and tasks.

You have barely left, stepping into the carriage when you whisper, “Thank you.”

He squeezes your fingers, much as you wished to do before, and asks, “What for, love? This was long overdue.”

But you shrug, tell him, “Not just for this. But also for reminding me who I used to be.”

“You’re still who you were.” He nods a bit, a corner of his lips slightly jerking upwards. “If I saw anything today, then that you’re still you.”

“This is…” You furrow your eyebrows, not because you’re irritated but because you’re so deeply affected. Still sore from the knots in your throat, still wounded by the longing. “This is comforting… hearing it from you.”

He lets your hand go, fingers sneaking up to your face instead, cradling it. It’s not the first time, but the repetitiveness doesn’t stop him from vowing to you that, “Whatever you might assume… I will always feel the same about you.”

This isn’t what you are scared of; Jungkook has proven over and over again that he loves you more than humanly possible. It’s rather that—

“And I will never feel the same for anyone else.”

This. It’s this.

Your chin trembles and you start to give in, succumbing to the touch and the eyes and the memories. Your voice is shaky when you start, “I love you, Jungkook… I do. If there was—”

The shake of his head quietens you. “We’re not done yet.”

“What?”

“We’re not done,” he repeats, pinching your chin tenderly, “tell me all you need to once the night is over. I… I need you to be certain.”

You blink. “Certain about what?”

“About… all you need to be certain about. You’d know what that is.” Digits come back to yours, holding them again as the carriage starts with an unsteady jolt. “Only you.”

Yes… maybe nothing has changed as much as you thought.

“Back then you gave me time to think, too… Never rushed,” you say.

“I always will.”

“…Even though we live a human life that is so limited.”

“I will keep waiting.”

“I will be certain before the night is over, then,” you promise, breathe out the pain, “like I was then.”

He brings your knuckles up to his velvety lips, silky like your scarf as he presses a feathery peck onto them. They graze his cheeks and then his jaw, and you barely notice when your body drifts towards his when he speaks.

“Like you were then.”

As far as you recognise, you aren’t too far from your home.

Jungkook walked through a park and along a river with you, admiring the content fish and swans in its depths and at its shore. You didn’t come here a lot when you were younger; mostly with your parents, so there are memories attached to this place that aren’t quite his and yours.

Or at least, until now.

You assume Jungkook is giving the two of you the time you need, bringing back pieces of what was. But you don’t fully understand what it is and what he’s doing until you reach a bench and a spot you are very well acquainted with.

Jungkook’s and your name is clearly written in the sky above where you stand, like you own this place. Like it’ll be you who’ll be remembered by those passing by once both of you have left this realm.

The resemblance to the night you first spoke to Jungkook, many, many years ago when you were just kids, too, is striking. It’s when your initial enmity started; when you learned to abhor somebody you’d eventually learn to treasure.

And this… this is exactly where he first asked you about the odd deal. To be courted. When you stared at him in disbelief and dismissed him with a hundred accusations.

Why did he bring you here?

And why do you feel this way, as if things could truly be okay again? How does it all fit?

So you ask, “Why here?”

“Because… I don’t care which insufferable things we felt for each other,” he explains, “we started here.”

But I want to revisit it. The moment I saw you and felt it for the first time.

This is it, isn’t it? Jungkook didn’t just plan a random outing due to the pleasant day, the warm sun, the gentle breeze slowly introducing thunder and grey clouds. If he had, you’d have spent the day on a hill the two of you love, or strolled amongst a crowd.

No, Jungkook is retracing your steps. The ones you took several years ago, when you hadn’t each exchanged half of your hearts just yet. He wants to bring you back to a place of hopelessness and hostility, prove to you that sometimes, you can save a withering flower.

Or make something new bloom instead.

“We changed so much over time, no? I can barely remember what I used to feel that day,” he says; he’s right. You cannot even conjure fragments of the revulsion between you; it dispersed so quickly. “I can’t even believe any of the hatred ever existed at all.”

“As if we were someone else.”

“It seems like it, does it not? And then… now…”

Yes…

A shared mansion and shared offspring. A beautiful face choosing toys with her aunt and twins familiarising themselves with the grandparents they met too seldomly.

From there to here, from black to white. Then, to a hue of grey.

“As we started our life together…” Jungkook starts, his face more like ash now; the space between the clouds is narrowing. “Did you ever doubt the change? Remember how we were the years before.”

You would never dream of such a question or a thought. Would never form a doubt such as this in your mind. Even then, you were nearly blindly trusting, hopeful in people. You knew they were capable of change, because you weren’t the same anymore either.

“No,” you tell him, “I never thought you were a bad person at your core, but… it needed time for me to realise, too. And when we became what we are today, I knew who you really were. So no, I never did.”

You wait, watch him nod. He seems relieved but also nervous, distracted. Tells you, “I did a little. Doubt myself. I was scared that I wasn’t truly that kind person you saw me as. That I was still the same man plaguing you.”

“You never plagued me,” you promise, stepping near, an automatic hand finding his cheek. “You gave your all.”

“Do you remember,” he begins, halting when a quiet thunder sounds, “do you remember how scared I always was to mess up? Before Hana and anything.”

The books he’d read. The memories he’d carry. The conversations you’d have. Frightened to repeat or forward what he’d grown up with.

“I do,” you say.

“And you’d always remind me that I was easy to love… that effort is always worth it.”

“It is. It was for you, too. Our kids love you.”

The rain collects silvery in his waterline, at the same time as it does above in the sky. He’s harbouring something in this fragile heart of his — a dozen questions and a hundred scenarios. You know he’s hoping for a specific one, hoping for the right responses to all his inquiries.

So there is no surprise in the words he utters next, nor in the shaky fear in his voice, “And you?”

You're quick to answer.

“I will never unlove you.”

“D-do you also remember… how I’d always tell you how afraid I was you’d run away? Before I married you. How much I feared that I’d wake up and not find you anymore?”

“But you found me. I would never hide—”

“But I’m still scared. You reminded me that everybody’s worth loving, despite their mistakes and burdens, and despite all I let out on you or anyone else… you found a way to forgive me and love me. And I’m still scared because—”

His palms shoot up, too, holding your face much as you are holding his. He presses them in, pulls you closer, and you gasp soundlessly. Then, “Because none of this was or is ever a given.”

“I know, too, Jungkook,” you counter, “I never took you for granted. And you know it, you were never bad. Just…”

“Mistreated. You’ve told me, just… I chose to handle it all… way worse than mistreatment justifies. You never did so, no matter what or who hurt you because you’re the sound one, you know?”

“Jungkook, my coping does not have to align with yours, we’re different—”

“Yet, baby, I learned to be a proper human being because of you.”

“This is too big of a responsibility, Kook… it was never just me.”

“No…” he says, gulping, shutting his eyes for a second when another thunder rolls. Fitting spring evening for a blossoming yet blue couple. “I don’t want to attach my sanity to how you react to the things I do. I did this once and…”

He shakes his head, moving your hands with them. Your thumb brushes over his cheekbone and then sideways to his hair. He continues, “I don’t want my ability to make wise choices to be dependent on who you are to me, but…  I will never deny what your existence did for me.”

You nod, as if to pacify him; you do it with your children sometimes, make them feel heard and seen. It works with every human being. Jungkook is no different. He seeks your approval and seeks your love.

He sniffles. “Perhaps it wasn’t you making me decent but— it was you leading me back to myself.”

The sun is starting to set. You don’t know when time disappeared and rushed, but it’s almost invisible behind the pale sky. And now, the first drops fall, too. Starting slow but exploding quickly.

It’s a harsh reminder that, as a human being, you cannot repeat moments from the past. Even when you trace them back, they won’t come again; you won’t feel the exact same giddiness again.

But you can create new ones, more dizzy days.

Ones that resemble the night you stepped out of the orphanage, or any other hazy and dark evening that you spent wading through the shower instead of evading it. Or the moment you saw the duke’s son properly for the first time, sobbing on a lonely bench.

Whatever ghastly and foggy disappointment grew in your chest that very night a lifetime ago has long been replaced by guilt — guilt about not understanding better as a kid, not being able to elude the disgust that would follow your entire youth.

But most of all, sadness about how hurt he truly was and would continue to be; how you see something similar now, even though the situations differ drastically. Most of the issues from then have been resolved, and now he’s caught in something else.

Then again, losing somebody and dreading loss both induce fear, don’t they?

And it’s you who helped him last time; how deeply does the pain really run when his anchor is drowning, too?

You look around the world for a moment, lost in dreams and in your head. Jungkook calls your name, a distant sound as the rain patters onto your skin. It takes you a second to recall that you’re supposed to answer, and when you look at him, his voice is so terribly delicate—

“Do you remember?”

“…I do. All of it.”

“We’re living a new life now, aren’t we?”

“I guess we are,” you say, your hands falling a bit, grazing his neck to keep his attention and sanity just enough. “But a new life means rebirth. That does not have to be a bad thing.”

“It doesn’t,” Jungkook agrees. His hair is already soaked — when he shakes his head even a bit, the tips throw the drops into all directions. “But some things stay the same.” He stares up for a second, blinking faster as the sprinkle falls into his eyes. “The rain still connects us to the sky.”

He laughs when you do, suddenly and sweetly, breaking out of you. It has been a while. You keep your smile intact, but the chuckle stirs another emotion in you that you’ve kept at bay for the minutes you’ve stood here.

Glassy eyes find his, silence befalling the world for a moment barring the gentle storm. Then—

A sob.

It travels up straight from your throat, no way of stopping it, no matter how hard you try. Your voice stutters, eyebrows coming together, and his expression changes. Culpable, unforgiving towards himself.

His head sinks a bit, and you guess it doesn’t help when you admit, “Jungkook… I am so hurt.”

“I know,” he whispers; you’re surprised you hear him at all. “I am, too.”

“I’m so… why are my thoughts everywhere, Kook?”

Your desperation implodes and explodes, evident in every tone and tear. You hold onto the collars of his blue coat, tug yourself closer to him. You’re aching, but you need him nearer. Maybe you’ll spiral if he isn’t.

“It hurts so goddamn much to think about it, well knowing who I am to you, and… and I hate losing this part of my sanity,” you tell him.

“Do you…” he starts, swallowing. The state of his eyes resembles yours now; the salty grief is similar as it glides down his already wet face. “What do you need me to do to be happy? Do you need me go— gone?”

He barely gets the word out. Hesitates. So terrified of hearing your answer, unsure whether to take it back, as if it could make you forget he suggested it at all.

But you know Jungkook. He’d rather cut pieces of his heart and never mend them again if it meant bringing you peace and comfort.

The truth, though, is…

“How could I?” you mutter to the ground, not daring to move, like it could make reality dematerialise and throw you into one without him. “No matter the pain, I think that— that losing you would hurt more.”

His breathing accelerates. Some of the life he always breathes into you sparks anew, and he grasps your hand, lets you know that, “You’re not losing me. I’m right here.”

“What if this all, or I, ruin your life?”

“…How?”

“By being like this all the time, Kook—”

“What?” You shut up at the tone. He has told you before — he detests you accusing yourself of something when he messed up… always his words. “Do you know what’d happen if you left?”

You do. You don’t.

You have an idea of what happened when you were away, but he never told you all of it. If you disappeared for good, you’d possibly be met with a world with a Jungkook in it that you don’t even want to imagine.

“I don’t care if you ruin my life,” he emphasises, “I want you to. I want to sit at the fireplace with you and laugh and cry and fight with you. I want to see the kids grow, together with you. I want this. Okay… Okay?”

“I—”

“And I want you to keep remembering it all. How we started, how we grew, too. How I thought I’d die without you the moment I saw you walking towards me at the altar.” He brings your hands to his face as he always does, brushing your knuckles against his lips. “I… I can’t have this with anyone else.”

He moves your fingers to his eyes, and a moment later, you feel further wetness, the tears against your skin. He shakes his head, lets all he concealed for weeks flood out at once. You knew he was hurting, but he barely ever showed it as openly as he is now.

Just like you are. You remember — that he held back for you, died a bit every day.

“And I don’t want to,” you hear him whisper. And then, again. “I really don’t fucking want to.”

You’re speechless; if only for a second.

“This is… what you’ve grown to feel?”

“I always have,” he tells you through his trembling voice, a pitch higher now as he capitulates, “she was just— a fleeting memory of just one moment. And you are every second of my day.”

He has been occupied all these years — in every single nanomoment of every damn day and night, you were the main thought taking over his brain. Whatever he’s done, whatever’s he’s ever said, he’s done and said so for you.

Jungkook favours you over every existence in this universe, and you should have always known. No, you did. You were never an overthinker until the world turned upside down, until it forced dubious hesitation into you that you should’ve deemed irrelevant from the start.

Jihyo isn’t part of him anymore. He didn’t see you when she was. He didn’t see her now that you are. Does that very past matter more than this, though? This warm touch and the promises in it and the love in his eyes and the sadness in his lower lip.

“You don’t know who you are to me,” Jungkook says, not waiting for your query before he tells you, “you don’t know who you are at all, do you? Do you never see all the kindness and generosity? How selfless you are and how much you care?”

“Don’t you? See it in yourself, Jungkook?”

“This is what I mean. You’re so fucking forgiving, too, no? I—” Pause. Then, quieter, “Please forgive me…” He’s begging now, full on crying, closing in until his lips float over yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Jungkook has kissed you a million times. But when he does this time, he adds emotions you don’t think you’ve ever felt his lips press against yours.

And you feel it all when he leans in, parted mouth colliding with yours. He’s been so afraid to kiss you; but not now. Not when every single one of your glances pleads for him to. Not when you’re not ready to break the rhythm, not now, not ever.

Everything is already blurry around you, but it seems to vanish now. You still register the glossy streets, the silver, misty air, but all of it seems unreal. And then, you finally close your eyes, give in.

None of this feels rushed, but it feels urgent. Slow and tentative, but also desperate and thirsty. The rain combines with your tears and slips down your faces, threaded through your hair and soaking your clothes.

But you don’t care. You don’t move. You need warmth. Need shelter. This achingly gentle, still and suspended moment where everything ceases to exist.

Only skin and rain and tongues and lips. Only him and how he holds you, pulls you in, uncaring of who might see or what they might say. This waited to happen. You know it did.

It takes minutes until you gasp for air, remembering to breathe, fingers in his hair and forehead against his as you realise that you will never be able to unshackle yourself from him. You’re here to stay, following his steps, entangled with him until you cease to exist, too.

You’ll keep running back until he catches you. And you’ll catch him when he hurries to you.

And as he exhales into the air, face half lit as the moon rises, you clutch his body to yours, his ruined clothes for dear life, cheeks searing as you tell him—

“I do, too. I love you, too.”

For a moment and for an eternity.

Seasons changed again.

The twins talk now.

And ever since they learned to finally babble, it’s all they’ve been doing. Hana loves the fact, but acts as if she doesn’t. She’s an undoubtedly mature child. Knows too much for her age, still forgiving — but her ego also still remains intact, especially when it comes to her brothers.

The care she grants them rattles your heart. Protective and loving and so giving. But the fights continue; your twins are as gentle as their parents, but they do not shut up when they feel like they don’t need to.

They confront you or their sister when needed. Probably got this from you, too.

So nobody is really surprised when Hana feels as thoroughly irritated as she does most days growing up with them, a whiny voice exclaiming, “I don’t want your carrots! Eat them yourself!”

The brothers have been dumping their vegetables onto her plate for the past seven minutes; half of their meal makes a mess on the floor. You usually don’t let them eat on your precious carpet, but the kids have been particularly sweet these days.

Absolutely and unwaveringly mannered at yesterday’s gathering especially. You were celebrating Hana’s eighth birthday; maybe they were too distracted by the pastries and the cake to fight, too.

But you’re too weak, too easy to convince. As strict as needed at times, but not entirely immune to their irresistible charm. And Jungkook… he’s a hopeless cause anyway when it comes to them.

“Stop this!” Hana yells, returning the already mashed baby carrots. She emphasises each word with each piece she throws back onto their plates. “Eat. Your. Veggies!”

“I dun want to,” Jaehyuk responds, and Jaehoon, following, imitates. It fully provokes her. “You like them.”

“I am done, Jae. Let me rest.”

You can’t hold back the sudden laugh, not even when she fights back with a sigh, leaning back. Acts as if she took care of the dozen chores in the mansion when she’s merely exhausted from the party. To be a child again.

“I need my quiet time,” she told you, and you furrowed your eyebrows in delight before you granted the princess what she wished for.

The sun is setting outside, though having been hidden for most of the day. It’s colder now, but dusk is still pretty. You’re thankful for this; thankful for it all. Because this time of the day equals Jungkook close to you.

Done with work. Hip to hip on the same carpet against the couch that you once kept your distance on from him.

But you long stopped thinking of this. Whenever you find yourself here, basking in the presence of your little family, you think of the precious moments before anything happened. In hindsight, however, not much changed in the extent of affection after all.

Because you learned to cope, learned to let go. Jungkook still meets Jihyo sometimes, forms a bond with his son, provides him with a sense of fatherly love. And you let him — you don’t feel insecure anymore.

“Daddy,” his girl calls, tapping his knee for exclusive attention, “say something.”

And the father, ever so diplomatic and peaceful, settles on, “Leave the carrots, okay? I’ll eat them later. Stop fighting.”

“Hear?” Hana voices, an accusing finger scolding her brothers. They offer a full grin, absolutely aware of their effect on her.

Your eyes widen when Jaehyuk randomly and without a good reason rebukes, “Stupid Suhana.”

“Hey, hey!” you reprimand immediately, cocking an eyebrow until they go quiet. Their attention shifts to their food innocently as you chastise, “Don’t say such things. And definitely not like you’re insulting the name.”

“We are because we dun like her.”

Another giggle from Jaehoon. The boy mostly listens; doesn’t pick a fight. But if it’s about his siblings, he’ll definitely be a culprit, too.

“You so do,” Hana defends, and you agree with a nod and folded arms, “now eat. Leave me alone.”

This time, they listen; resume to their dinner, but not before sticking out their tongues to her. She ignores them, fiddling with her fingers. When she looks at you, her head is tilted, eyes curious as they are all the time before she asks, “Where does this name come from anyway, Mama?”

“Oh…” you respond, shooting Jungkook a look right away. You tell her, “You should ask your dad. It was his idea.”

Her gaze shifts to him, and he hums; then explains, “It was your aunt’s name. So you’re named after her.”

“Oh. Can I meet her?”

Your eyes drift to your lap. You register the change in his undertone as he speaks on, “I’m afraid this won’t be possible. She’s… she’s not with us anymore, baby.”

Hana’s mouth forms a silent Oh. She’s empathetic, sad when she sees a dead bird or a sick cat. She knows to grieve, but she knows to move on, too — so she says, “Well then, I like the name. I think I was named after somebody great!”

“Oh?” you wonder. “How do you know?”

“I wouldn’t have her name if she was bad.”

Jungkook chuckles, and you resume staring at him from the side, quietly finding the hand on his thigh as he answers, “I’m sure she was. I have heard only good things.”

“Good,” Hana says, much at the same time as Jungkook adds, “If I could… I’d thank her.”

You don’t know who this statement is directed to. Perhaps it’s too complex of a thought to truly expand on for your children; perhaps he’s thinking out loud for himself. But Hana doesn’t ask anyway, even though she hears it.

Too distracted by Jaehyuk, the troublemaker, who pokes her annoyance back, and she slaps his hand away, sulking. You let them handle this — sometimes, it’s easier to get rid of a situation when you let it unfold.

Instead, your eyes drift back to your husband, and you wonder, “Thank her, yes?”

“Yes.”

“What would you say?”

From the corner of your eyes, you see Jaehyuk and Jaehoon leave their posts and march to a disheartened Hana. No matter how impossible they are, they don’t like seeing her anything other than joyful.

It warms her heart as much as yours, you know. Soothes it when they position themselves on either side, cuddling into her, eliciting a half toothless smile. You’re content.

Back to Jungkook in time, you listen, “What I’d say?” He turns his hand under yours and entangles both your digits. “Hm, I would say…”

He ponders for a while. Waits for the right words to come to him.

And then, a puff of air escapes, your heart swelling when his eyes soften with his voice, “I would try and word my gratitude towards her. It was her who showed me that even the worst people can care.”

“He cared for her.”

“He did,” he squeezes your fingers, shoulder to shoulder. “It was also partly her who saved me, even if she’ll never know. And it was her who brought me closer to you. I wish I could tell her.”

“I wish I’d met her even once, too.”

“I know.” 

He nods. The Suhana you never got to know hasn’t been a topic very often. As years passed by, your mind developed its own image of the Suhana you do know. Hana, Suhana.

But when she is, this remains a common phrase. The never-to-be-fulfilled wish to see her just once. A stranger who never even knew of your existence, let alone your name.

“Suhana was supposed to stay,” Jungkook then voices. “But she didn’t and still managed to shine such light onto us from up there. So yes… I would express my gratitude for the life she gave me.”

He sighs, as if remembering somebody from a distant past. “For the life I had the blessing to witness as a human being and… will have the privilege to experience for the rest of my days. I would thank her for that.”

You cannot stop looking. You keep gazing and gazing. In truth, you don’t think you ever stopped ever since you came back from that one healing trip from your town years ago. You kept gaping. Kept falling — again and continuously.

And he’s still beautiful. Still the same mesmerising entity you once married. The same bright smile, still somehow youthful, blindingly lovely when he gives you one even now.

You and me, in every damn life.

Fingers brush his hair back, and you ask, “How could you ever doubt your kindness?”

And in response, he kisses your forehead, “I don’t anymore, I don’t think.”

You beam back at him. Hook your arm with his, settling your tired head on his chest. You hear his heart underneath, like a lullaby with a steady rhythm, and wait for the children to grow fatigued enough to go to bed.

And after that, he’ll carry you to your room, you foresee it already. Will let you fall into feathery, tranquil dreams.

Then again, perhaps you don’t need to wait for any of it. Don’t ever need a slumber for it.

Because you already live in a dream. And you are one, too.

okayyyyy. i don't cry a lot irl at all, but i'm so weak when it comes to these characters. crazy that their story is finished (once again), but i truly hope you guys will remember them for as long as you can. i know some of you grew to love them a lot and i am so, so thankful, truly. 🤍

if you can, please do let me know what you think! i shall answer everything bc it makes me giddy af anyway lol so do give this a like, a reblog and leave a comment, and talk to me about it!! <3 see you with more taegularities shenanigans soon mwah

[pearlescentparade]

Ur probably gonna ignore cuz it’s kinda boring but can i request two time x reader angst ?

Two and reader spending time together, reader trying to enjoy snuggling up to their partner yet two time isn’t returning any of the affection. Just sitting with their hands to themselves with no attempt to do anything besides watch whatever was in front of them.

Basically reader trying to cope with two time not actually returning their feelings despite dating and probably terrible communication.

up to you if two time loves them back.

light years 🔄 two time x reader angst drabble❤️‍🩹

it's cold tonight.

you shouldn't complain, considering it was your idea to go star-gazing. but in your defense, it sounded cute in the moment.

the blades of grass uncomfortably drag against and poke your skin, prickled with goosebumps, as you shift to turn on your side to face two time. they only blankly stare up at the eternal night sky.

"timey?"

they hum, but are complacent in making any other effort beyond that to acknowledge you.

"i'm a little cold.. can we cuddle? ...please?" your whispered pleas could've been mistaken for the ambient howling of the wind. perhaps that's why they don't answer you. but there is much shame to be had in asking again, you think.

hesitantly, and with much space, you reach your hand out to them.

nothing. no acceptance, no rejection.

then, you dare to slink your arms around their body, loosely embracing them as if unsure whether to commit fully to it. you think you feel colder touching them than not.

their body tenses under your touch. did they feel disgusted by you?

you shakily exhale, trying to ignore the deep pain rooting in your heart and constricting your throat. times like these, you wish that they'd start yelling how much they hate you. at least then, you'd know for sure, and you'd know how they feel or think for once. but instead, you are left in the dark, blind and guessing, and playing a game meant for two alone.

a familiar sting burns your eyes, and you take it as your cue to distract yourself.

"..that's orion's belt. it's thr-three stars." you point to the constellation, light years away. two time blinks, inches away. it's less about telling them, and more about telling yourself.

"over there is gemini. it--hic--has the twin stars, castor and- and pollux-" despite your futile attempts, the tears fall anyway. and when one slips out, the rest comes in a flood. it takes only seconds before you're uncontrollably sobbing, muffling your cries in two time's arm.

yet, even as you wet their arm with tears, snot, and saliva, they say nothing. no comfort, no disgust, simply silence.

they couldn't say anything.

not when fear paralyzes them.

they've messed this up before. it's not out of the question to say it could happen again. the same voices that lead them to atrocity chatter viciously in their mind, angry wasps rattling in the nest, urging for another sacrifice.

to once again spill blood, warm with infatuation. to take advantage of this golden opportunity to present their devotion to the spawn by stealing the love they hold with you and metamorphosizing it into the love for their god. one wrong move, and their ghostfire dagger will plunge right into your heart.

to two time, inaction is the greatest reciprocation of love they could offer you.

without turning their head, their eyes flick to glance at your blubbering form.

it's cold tonight.

(parade postscript: sorry this one is a lot shorter mostly bc reader is talking to a fkin brick wall and yk dialogue carries all my mfin writing and also i js thought itd be fitting that everything is all short and lacking bc of the whole two time not showing reciprocation thang [me pulling out a million bullshit excuses out of my ass for why ts is so short and pretending im being a literary genius]

also fun fact! castor and pollux look close together from earth but are farther from each other in reality! castor is actually 51 light-years away, while pollux is closer at 33.8 light-years)

[juuuulez]

S2 Travis, angry, sad and frustrated, spending most of his days searching for Javi. Reader tags along even though Travis prefers to be alone. They don’t find Javi and Travis breaks down, crying in his girlfriend’s arms and the only thing reader can think to do is hold and kiss him as Travis desperately grinds against her. It’s sad but that’s what Travis needs, even as he sobs into her hair and digs his nails into reader’s skin.

OH MY GOD THIS IS SOOOOOOO GOOD you know i like my men sad and pathetic and this is just next level woooooww

and he’s spending all his time out searching for javi, literally as soon as the sun rises, to when it gets dark. hes eating less, he barely talks, just searches and eventually comes home to sleep. you two don’t even really touch anymore, but he still makes a point to sleep next to you.

you’re loosing hope but you wouldn’t dare mention that to travis, because deep down he is also loosing hope, but just can’t bring himself to say the words.

it’s one night after another search, you two go up to the attic to sleep. the lights are off and you lay side by side in the dark, as usual. you’re used to sleeping like this, travis hasn’t been much of a cuddler lately.

you drift off and maybe an hour later wake to his arms around you, his face buried in the back of your neck. it’s wet with tears and you shift around to face him, his arms wrapping tight around your waist.

“it’s okay,” you’ll whisper into the darkness. “you should be asleep.”

and travis shakes his head, squeezing you in close so your face is in his neck, his nose pressed to your hair. “i missed you.” he practically sobs.

your arms wiggle around him, holding him tight, you pepper kisses against his neck, trying to physically reassure him that you’re here, that you don’t mind his withdrawal lately.

and you haven’t even touched in so long that travis can’t help himself, his hips canting against yours, the smallest movement feeling electric. the sadness is still buried deep inside him, but just that little bit of stimulation softens the blow.

so you hold him while he cries, the most pathetic sounds, torn between this almost forgotten sense of pleasure and the devastation he feels every single day.

you quiet the sounds with your mouth, kissing sloppily while you press a knee between his legs, prompting a broken moan against your lips. travis allows himself to be guided by your hands as he rocks down onto you, grinding helplessly in his jeans for some semblance of release.

wow! anyway 😋😋😋😋

[hameesstuff]

"Perfect frame shattered"

Preview: "They were expecting a baby. Then came the fight. Now Jaehyun is racing against time, chasing taillights and prayers."

Warnings: Arguments, emotional angst, reader dies, just sad in general.

Word count: ~2.1k

___________________________________________

The Argument

The night started like any other—a quiet dinner at home, the soft glow of the overhead lights casting shadows on the walls. Jaehyun had just finished talking about his day at work when the conversation took a turn.

It wasn’t anything dramatic at first, just a little misunderstanding between them. But as the words exchanged, a tension that had been simmering beneath the surface finally broke through.

“You never listen to me!” [Y/N] snapped, her voice shaky with frustration. “I’m not asking for much, Jaehyun. I just want to feel like I matter too.”

Jaehyun felt his chest tighten, irritation bubbling up. He had just spent a long day at the office, and now she was throwing accusations at him. His patience was running thin.

“I listen, [Y/N],” he replied, his voice controlled, but his eyes narrowed. “I listen to everything you say. But sometimes, you're too emotional. You blow things out of proportion.”

Her face flushed with anger, and she stood up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a loud screech. “I’m emotional? Oh, so now it’s my fault? Always my fault, Jaehyun, isn’t it?”

Jaehyun stood as well, trying to calm the situation, but the words kept coming. “I didn’t say it was your fault. I just—”

“Just what?” she interjected, her voice rising. “I’ve been trying so hard, trying to balance everything. But it’s never good enough for you, is it?”

Jaehyun felt the sting of her words, but instead of taking a breath, he fired back. “You never stop. You’re always angry at me for things I can’t even control. Maybe you should take a look at yourself before pointing fingers.”

Her expression shifted, her hurt evident in the way her eyes welled up with unshed tears. She was eight months pregnant, her body tired and aching, but the fight in her never faltered. “You don’t understand, Jaehyun. You never understand.”

“I understand more than you think,” he retorted, voice rising. “I’m doing the best I can. Maybe if you were more patient—”

“Patient?!” she cried, her breath coming faster now, as her voice broke. “I’ve been patient with you for so long, Jaehyun. I’ve been patient with your work, your coldness. But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t.”

With a final look of frustration, she stormed towards the door, grabbing her coat and throwing it on quickly. “I’m leaving. I can’t stand being here right now.”

Jaehyun’s words caught in his throat as she grabbed the keys to her car. “You can’t just walk out on me!”

But she didn’t respond. She only stepped outside, the door slamming behind her with finality.

The Panic

Jaehyun stood frozen in the middle of their living room, his heart racing, his mind spinning with a mix of anger and regret. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. But he had. And now, she was gone.

His chest tightened as the silence in the house grew deafening. He should have stopped her, should have held her, should have said the words she needed to hear. But he had been too proud, too angry to admit his mistakes.

His hand hovered over his phone, but instead of calling her, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door. He needed to make things right. He had to.

The cold night air hit him like a slap in the face as he stepped outside, the headlights of her car illuminating the empty street. His heart hammered in his chest, and panic surged through him as he looked around.

He couldn’t let her leave like this. Not now. Not when they were so close to the life they had planned together.

The Chase

Jaehyun’s car roared to life as he sped down the streets, his heart racing faster than the wheels beneath him. He kept dialing her number, praying she would pick up, but it went straight to voicemail every time.

His grip tightened on the wheel, his thoughts consumed by her face—the hurt in her eyes, the way she had walked out without even a second glance. He should have apologized. He should have just told her how much he loved her.

But now, it felt like it was too late.

As he rounded a corner, his headlights caught a glimpse of her car further down the road. His chest surged with relief, but the feeling was fleeting.

She wasn’t pulling over.

“[Y/N]!” he shouted, his voice breaking. He slammed the accelerator harder, the engine roaring as he pushed the car to its limit. He had to catch up. He had to make sure she was okay.

His heart beat in his throat as he drew closer to her, but then, in an instant, her car veered sharply off the road. The tires screeched as the car spun out of control, and Jaehyun’s stomach dropped into his gut.

“No!” He slammed his foot on the brake, but the car wasn’t stopping fast enough. He jerked the wheel to the side, trying to avoid a collision, but the road was slick, and everything happened too fast.

Jaehyun’s pulse pounded in his ears as he brought the car to a stop, the tires skidding against the asphalt. He was out of the car before it even fully stopped, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His heart was pounding in his throat as he rushed toward her car, fear and dread choking him.

He reached her vehicle in seconds, his hands shaking as he tried the door, but it was jammed. He shoved harder, adrenaline pushing him to act.

“[Y/N]!” He screamed her name again, his voice raw with panic. “Please, baby, please be okay.”

Finally, the door swung open, and his eyes locked onto her limp body inside. His blood ran cold.

[Y/N] was unconscious, her head resting against the seat, her face pale and streaked with blood.

“Oh my God,” Jaehyun whispered, his voice barely audible. “No, no, no… Please, wake up. Please.”

His heart thundered in his chest as he tried to pull her from the wreckage, his hands shaking uncontrollably as he gently cradled her in his arms.

“Please,” he begged, tears spilling from his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

Her eyelids fluttered briefly, and for a moment, Jaehyun thought she was waking up. His heart surged with hope, but then it faltered.

[Y/N]’s hand fell limply from his grasp.

His world came crashing down.

“No… no…” Jaehyun choked out, his voice breaking. “Please, no.”

He shook her desperately, but she didn’t respond. She didn’t move. He pressed his fingers to her neck, but there was no pulse.

His entire body went numb as the reality of the situation hit him like a freight train.

He was too late.

The woman he loved, the mother of his child—gone.

The Screams

Jaehyun’s world spun wildly as he dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he held her against him, feeling the coldness seep into his bones.

“No! NO!” He screamed, his voice raw and full of agony. “You can’t be gone! You can’t be! I—”

His throat closed, his words strangled by grief. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

The distant sound of sirens grew louder, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. He had lost her. And no matter how hard he screamed, no matter how much he begged, there was no bringing her back.

He ran his hands through his hair, disoriented, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He couldn’t fathom what had just happened. How had it come to this? Why had he let her leave?

The flashing red and blue lights finally filled the space, and officers rushed toward him, trying to pry him away from her. But Jaehyun couldn’t move. He wouldn’t. His whole body felt like it was breaking down, like he was falling apart from the inside out.

“Sir, you need to move,” one of the officers said, but Jaehyun shoved him away, his eyes wild with panic.

“No! Don’t touch me!” Jaehyun screamed, his voice raw, hoarse. He looked down at her one last time, his heart breaking as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please… don’t leave me.”

But she was gone.

The Heartbreak

Jaehyun sat alone, the world around him spinning, his mind unable to grasp the gravity of the situation. His legs were numb as he stared down at the blood-stained pavement. He could still feel the weight of [Y/N] in his arms, the coldness of her body, the lifelessness that now filled the space where she used to be.

But it wasn’t just her that he had lost. His heart ached with the hollow knowledge that their child—his little girl—was gone too. The dream they had of raising her together, of seeing her grow, of feeling her tiny hands grasping his finger… it was all ripped away in an instant.

The officers spoke to him, but his mind couldn’t focus on their words. Everything sounded distant, as if he were underwater, the world muted by his grief.

He wiped his face with his hands, trying to pull himself together, but there was no strength left in him. The pain of losing her—and their baby—was a raw wound that would never heal.

The flashing lights around him grew dimmer, the world around him closing in as he collapsed on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

He had lost her. And now he was left with nothing but the deafening silence of their home. The crib that would never be rocked. The fresh clothes for the baby she fought over. The leftover cravings in the fridge. All of it. Over.

The silence that echoed her absence.

The silence of a future he would never get to have.

The End.

(Sorry if I made you cry-)

[starlighthosh]

Fuck me - k.sy

Pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, MDNI, dom!soonyoung, sub!reader, ass slapping, lowkey degradation, a bit begging, overstimulation, hair pulling, slight fluff at the end, first time in relationship

Content: Even though you’ve been dating for a while now, you didn’t had any sex yet. But after a stressful week at work and Soonyoung coming back home from tour, you both gave in.

Word count: 1,3k

You and Soonyoung have been dating for a while now, but there hasn’t been any sexual intercourse yet. A few make out session here and there, grinding on him while feeling his growing bulge against you, dry humping. He always whispered his fantasies to you, but none of them happened. Yet.

If it went to Soonyoung, you would have done it on the first night. You were scared though. Sex, for you, is the deepest way to get to someone’s soul and you’ve ignored that fact way too often in the past. With Soonyoung, you wanted it to be special and he respected that.

But everyone could see the sexual frustration between you. The way you looked at each other, the slight touches in public, the way every kiss ends up lasting 10 minutes.

And after a stressful week at work and Soonyoung coming back from tour, you both just gave in.

Soonyoung pinned you down to the bed. His hands roaming over you, admiring every curve of your body. His mouth kissing and biting your neck, leaving marks.

You softly moaned at the feeling. Your need for him and his dick inside you growing with each passing moment.

“Soonyoung” you said. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “Yes baby?” “Fuck me”

His eyes wided with surprise and lust, excitement growing inside of him. “Are you sure?” he asked. He definitely wanted to fuck the shit out of you, but he also respected your decisions and wanted you to be 100% sure about it.

“Yes. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you to wreck me” You looked at him with a desire he hasn’t seen before. He gulped at your words, his already hard cock getting even harder.

He quickly undressed you, admiring your naked skin against him. “You’re so beautiful” he said in between sloppy kisses.

He stepped back and pulled down his pants. Your mouth dropping open at the sight. His cock was so long and pretty. You just knew that it’s going to absolutely destroy you.

“Are you ready?” he said. You nodded. He lined up with your entrance. “There’s no going back now” looking at you with sinful eyes.

His dick entered you slowly, inch by inch. He groaned at the feeling of your wet and tight pussy, your walls clenching around him. “Fuck baby, you’re squeezing me”

You couldn’t say anything. Everything that came out of your mouth were gasps, feeling like his dick is taking the oxygen from you.

He slowly started moving. Your moans growing louder with every thrust. “Faster. Please. I need more” you pleaded. His eyes turned black.

“My baby needs more? Are you sure you can take it?” you desperately nodded. He proceeded to roughly pound into you, his grip on your hips getting stronger, while he chased his high.

Your moans turned into sobs and cries, tears rolling down your cheek. You bit your hand, trying to get any hold, but nothing could change the immense pleasure you felt.

“Cum for me. Show me how much you want me” he ordered. Every thrust pushing you closer to your edge. He bend down biting your earlobe. The pain adding to the pleasure.

You finally reached your orgasm. Moaning and crying so loud, you were sure the neighbors heard you. “That’s it. Be loud for me” Soonyoung himself almost reaching his peak.

“Please. Cum inside me” you looked at him with puppy eyes, your mascara smudged on your cheeks. The sight was enough to make him cum, but he hold back.

“You want me to cum inside you? How much?” he said with a smug grin. “I’m begging you. I will do anything” you gasped. Him still relentlessly thrusting into you.

Hearing your desperate, begging tone, while you looked so messy just for him, made him cum hard. He buried himself deep inside you with a low groan.

He rode out his high, his chest still heaving from the sensation, connecting your lips in a sensual kiss.

Quickly he flipped you over onto your knees and hands. His eyes drinking in the sight of you. He slapped your ass one, two times, leaving his handprint. You gasped at the pain of it, getting wet again. “Fuck, you’re perfect” he hissed through gritted teeth, entering you again.

The room once again filled with your moans and clapping sounds. One of his hands holding your hip, while the other pulled on your hair.

You felt your orgasm building up again, feeling like your body is about to give out. Soonyoungs dick stretching you out in the best way, plus the way he slapped your ass, send you over the edge once again.

Soonyoung let out a surprised low moan, not expecting you to cum so fast. “Woah, am I really fucking you that good?” you could just huff at, not being able to form any words.

He went faster to chase his own release. You don’t even have time to calm down, crying out loud by the overstimulation. Your sight got blurry and you were on the verge of blacking out, but you couldn’t make him stop. It just felt so good and either way, he wouldn’t listen.

Soonyoung was so into the moment, fucking you three ways into Sunday, barely registering his surroundings. The wet noises from your pussy and the way you clenched around him made him spiraling.

It took a few more thrusts and he came too. Again burying himself deep inside you, admiring the part where you two connect.

He flopped onto the bed next to you. On any other day he would continue to pound into you for hours, but today he was just so exhausted, since he just came back from tour.

Still, he didn’t wanted to stop. And you too. It was your first time together, after all those months of almost doing it. You can’t stop, not now.

“Come ride me” he said, looking at you with tired but lustful eyes. You quickly straddled his lap, sinking down on him.

He put his hands back on your hips, guiding you up and down. You bend down to him, leaving bite marks on his neck, while you bounced on him in a rising pace.

“Look at you, using my dick for your own pleasure. You’re such a pretty little whore” he said, sucking on one of your nipples.

He was so deep inside you, you swear that he was probably messing up your organs. But it all just felt so good.

You put your hands on his thighs for support, giving him a clear sight of your pussy. He groaned looking at that.

The longer you bounced on him, the louder your moans got again. His too. The overstimulation hit him and his low sounds, acting all nonchalant, turned into needy whimpering.

His brows furrowed and his mouth dropped open. The way your boobs bounced and seeing how deep he was inside you, while you continuously rode his dick. He couldn’t hold back that image anymore. Both of you getting closer to your edge.

You took one of his hands, interlocking it with yours. “Cum with me” you begged. He gasped at your words. Besides the nasty stuff you do, his heart fluttered. He fucking loved you.

You soon reached your peak together. Your cum mixing inside of you for the third time today. You slowed down, giving both of you time to calm down before you collapsed onto his chest.

He put his arms around you, keeping you close. His dick was still inside you, but you were way too tired to get up. “That was amazing” you whispered. He hummed in agreement, kissing the top of your head.

The room still smelled after sex. Your sheets definitely needed to be changed and you had to get cleaned up. But all of this was a matter for tomorrow. Eventually you fell asleep like this, still connected with each other. The closest you can get to someones soul.

[lightofraye]

Happy Birthday, Sam Winchester

A little quick story I whipped up. Like I did for Dean, I’m doing for Sam.

Please enjoy. Likes, reblogs and comments are welcome. Please don’t post elsewhere.

—

It was his birthday.

Sam had forgotten, in the chaos of all that had happened over the years. Some years, it was a quick statement and nothing else. Some years, Dean would throw together a little treat, usually some Hostess pastries snatched from a gas station.

Once, it had been a full blown cake from the grocery store.

When they got older, it became beer and take out. And porn. Bless Dean, he honestly thought Sam would enjoy porn.

When Sam was in Stanford with Jessica, he had an actual birthday party. Cake, streamers, presents. He was so overwhelmed, he didn’t know how to react. He’d cried and Jess spent an hour trying to understand why he was so emotional. He couldn’t tell her. How could he? He had wanted to forget that life, bury it.

Then Yellow-Eyes came back and fucked it all up.

In the years that followed, it had been beer and… well, whatever take out they could get. Sam hadn’t expected much, and that was okay. They’d been on the road and couldn’t keep much by way of presents.

As long as he had Dean, Sam was okay. He had his brother.

Life in the bunker created a bit of permanence they hadn’t had before. Oh, sure, they had the Impala, but even Baby had limits in terms of space. But the bunker….

Suddenly, Sam had a smorgasbord of space, of books that he could lose himself in. Dean never stopped calling him a ‘nerd’—despite the fact that Dean knew more about pop culture than he did.

But in everything that happened—Jack, Billie, The Empty, and hell, Chuck—he’d forgotten. He’d lost track of time. He’d forgotten it was his birthday.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into the kitchen, saw Dean awake—before him, no less!—and there was the scent of something baking.

“Dean…?” He rubbed at his eyes. “You’re up early.”

Dean flashed him an awkward smile. “Uh, more like I’m up late.”

Sam blinked, padded into the kitchen, heading to the coffee pot. “Uh, okay. Why are you up this late?”

“Baking.”

Sam froze in shock. “You? You’re baking. You?”

“Well, yeah. I cook!” Dean looked so offended, San had to smile. “I mean, come on. I eat.”

“Obviously. But… why are you cooking?” Sam took a sip of the coffee, the beverage warming his throat.

Dean furrowed his brow at Sam, then smiled. “You forgot.”

“Forgot what?” Sam blinked at his older brother, baffled.

Dean shook his head, a tiny smile dancing across his face. “It’s your birthday, man.”

Sam felt the words land like a hammer. “…oh….”

“You really forgot, didn’t you?” Dean was sympathetic. Jack had just become the new God, and things were still kind of settling into the new norm.

“Uh, yeah.” Sam let out a breath, ran his fingers through his hair. “With everything going on… I didn’t expect you to remember either.”

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean said sincerely, clapping his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You being born was one of the best days of my life. I’m never gonna forget.”

“Are you really baking me a cake?”

Dean grinned. “Tryin’ to anyway. Oven keeps glitchin’ out on me. Might have to settle for store bought.”

“Dean…” Sam felt his eyes glisten with unshed tears, deeply moved by his brother’s gesture.

“Hey. No chick flick moments.” Dean gripped the back of his brother’s neck, then pulled Sam into a bear hug. “Happy birthday, Sammy.”

Sam embraced him in return, blinked back the tears. This, here, right now, was the best birthday he ever had.

“Thanks, Dean.”