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m1ckeyb3rry · 4 months

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Pomegranate Ink: XXIX

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: A small glimpse into your mother’s past and how she came to be associated with the L/Ns.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.0k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: y’all…toji is TOO POPULAR for me to feel confident writing him 😭 if he’s ooc i’m sorry this is the only chapter he’s in so i am afraid you all will just have to deal with it. we will be back to the regularly scheduled y/n & co. shenanigans next chapter don’t worry

He was there again. Every day, she made a point to look and see if he was, and without fail, she always found him in some or another odd place. She didn’t really understand what he was ever doing, exactly, nor what business he had in the area, but she supposed it was a popular enough place that she could not find any suspicion in his presence.

It was more like a game for her than anything, trying to spot him, to pick him out of the crowd. Today, he was sitting on the edge of a fountain, flicking through a magazine too fast to actually be reading any of it. Almost as soon as she had noticed him, he tossed the magazine aside and got up, stretching like a cat and leaving the magazine behind to slide into the clear waters of the fountain.

She noticed it was one of the ones that had her face on the cover. It was definitely a coincidence — after all, nowadays more magazines had her face on them than not — but for some reason, she found herself flattered anyways.

There wasn’t much she could say about the man; it wasn’t as if she knew him or anything. He had dark hair. He generally wore casual clothing. He had an imposing presence but also a knack for slipping into the shadows, vanishing without a trace despite how much attention he naturally should’ve demanded. That was about it.

Sometimes, it felt like she was the only one who could even saw him. Everyone else’s eyes slid right over him, no matter where he was, and more than once she wondered if he was as much a figment of her imagination as those strange monsters she sometimes saw creeping about. Well, if that was the case, then he was the best hallucination her mind had ever conjured up, and she’d not complain about them quite as much if more of them resembled him instead of the grotesque, twisted beings that haunted her daily anew.

Unlike those other things, she actually even liked seeing him. On days when work was entirely too much and she’d have to go home alone and sit in her empty apartment and cry as she tried to eat dinner, those few seconds of admiring the man were the closest thing to real human connection she got. The man didn’t demand anything from her. He didn’t talk to her or ask for her autograph or shamelessly try to touch her. It didn’t matter to him that she was a famous model. He didn’t even know she existed, and she found comfort in that kind of anonymity. She was just a passerby to him, as he was to her.

“Oh, hey. Just so you know,” her manager said as she zipped up her coat and pulled on her shoes, “you should probably cut back on the calories. If you gain much more weight, it’ll be hard for you to get new jobs.”

She glanced at the portly man out of the corner of her eye, weighing the merits of telling him to follow his own advice before deciding it wouldn’t be worth it.

“No one else has said anything,” she said. The manager shrugged.

“It’s your own livelihood on the line,” he said. “But fine. Do as you please. It hardly matters to me.”

“You’ll never have another client as lucrative as me, so I’d say it does matter to you,” she said. He made a face at her but did not respond — likely he could not think of any sort of rebuttal. She sighed. “Alright. I’ll be careful.”

“Good,” he said. “You’re fine to walk alone again?”

“Yes, it’s okay,” she said, though more because she knew the manager did not have the time to drive her than anything. Her apartment wasn’t far enough to warrant hiring a driver for the short trip, and even though she was so famous, it would be fine as long as she kept her hood up and her head ducked. It was nice outside, too, with nothing more than a slight evening chill in the air, so all in all she didn’t mind.

As she waited for the crosswalk light to turn green, she noticed something undulating in her peripheral vision. With as much dread as resignation in her posture, she turned so that she could see the enormous winged serpent in full, gulping at its towering stature. It was the biggest one yet — did that mean that it was getting worse?

Even though her doctor said there was nothing wrong with her, she couldn’t stop herself from picking up on those beings’ presences everywhere she went. It was almost as if they were chasing her or something, though they took different forms each time. And despite knowing that none of it was real, she felt a jolt of terror with every appearance, every new way that her brain decided to torture her.

This one was the worst, along with being or perhaps because it was the grandest. It exuded an aura of awesome power, with feathery wings lining its scaled body, something blue and formless dripping from its mouth. Blood? Did this kind of creature even have blood to begin with, or was it something else? Poison? Entrails? She couldn’t be sure, but she had this sense that whatever it was, she probably did not want to know, would not like having that knowledge once she did.

The monster stared directly at her with eyes of a bright gold shade — though it was not the gold of the sun, never as benevolent or gentle as that; rather, it was a gold like dehydration, clouded and muggy like dog piss on a white carpet.

So transfixed was she by that stare, she did not notice the man until he was standing in front of the serpent, a knife in one hand, the other on his hip, like he was sizing up a typical situation instead of the most terrifying thing she had ever seen.

The monster screeched at the man in challenge, but this earned nothing more than a dry chuckle out of him.

“Thank you!” he called out over his shoulder. “I owe you, lady. You’ve just made my job a lot easier.”

“Me?” she said. The crosswalk turned green, but she did not dare cross, not when the man she always looked for was there in front of her, facing off against the beast of her own imagining.

“Yeah, you,” he said. “Man, I hate owing people. How about I promise to watch over you when I can and we call it a deal?”

“What are you talking about?” she said, bewildered.

“I don’t have any money, so don’t expect that!” he said. “This is the best you’ll get, so just be grateful!”

“I don’t care about money! Can you see that thing?” she shouted at him. “That’s what’s important to me! Can you see it? Is it really there?”

He was far enough away that she couldn’t discern if he reacted. A car honked at her, the driver opening their window and shouting at her to hurry up and move. It only drew her attention for a brief moment, but that was enough; by the time she looked back to the winged serpent and the man, both had vanished.

After that, she stopped being able to find him. She tried for a while, craned her neck and tilted her head, searching for him in the most random places she could think of, but she never saw him in the square again. What she wouldn’t give to see him lounging around by the fountain, pretending to read a magazine! Or sitting in the window seat at a cafe, sipping on a drink with a book open yet unread in front of him. It was more than just her earlier fascination — now, she had genuine reason to meet him. He was the first person who could see those things, too, and she wanted to ask him what it meant. She wanted to ask him what they were, if they were real, if he was real.

It was many months later that she saw him once more, and by that point she had convinced herself that she had dreamt his entire existence up in a flight of fancy. A handsome man that fought the demons plaguing her night and day? It was definitely something that only a desperate woman would think of.

No matter what position she twisted into, no matter how hard she smiled, the designer wasn’t satisfied. First, he claimed that she wasn’t truly embodying the essence of his line, then he bemoaned how she took all the attention off of the clothes and onto her face, and finally he just started coming up with random things to criticize.

“Your people are the ones who did my makeup!” she snapped when he started complaining about how her lipstick was too red. Ripping off the jacket she was supposed to be showcasing at the moment, she balled it up and threw it at his forehead. “You can just go ahead and find a new model, if you’re going to harass me like this!”

“Hey!” her manager said as she stormed out of the room, his short legs churning to keep up with her. “Hey, you’re ruining your own career here! Do you think you can just get away with a performance like that? You’re going to be labeled as a high-maintenance bitch from now on, do you get it? And no one likes to work with high-maintenance bitches!”

“Oh, go on and let them call me that,” she said, blinking back her tears so that her mascara did not run and give her a ridiculous, raccoon-eyed appearance on her walk back home. “I know that you agree with the assessment, so why are you even trying to act like my reputation is important to you?”

He got a commission for every job she did. That was why it was important to him. There was no other reason; if she stopped paying him, he would vanish, just like every other person in her life.

“The tabloids won’t just accept this,” he warned her. “This could seriously ruin your career. If you go back and grovel, he might consider forgiving you, but you have to be fast.”

“No,” she said. “I’m done for today.”

“You’re insufferable!” her manager said. “Alright? You’re an insufferable whore that thinks she’s special because she’s pretty. Well, there’s a million other pretty girls in just this city alone!”

“Work with one of them, then,” she said.

She knew he wouldn’t. He knew, too, so he just groaned as she let the door slam shut behind her, the only outlet she had for her irritation.

It was like her life was not her own. She was less model and more mannequin, her personal feelings a lesser concern for the people who only saw her as a poseable doll. To be sure, it was something to be expected from the profession she had chosen, but more and more, she was beginning to think that maybe she had picked the wrong career after all.

“It’s her!” someone behind her whispered.

“Are you sure?” their companion whispered back. She furrowed her brow, wondering what they could be discussing and hoping beyond hope that it didn’t have anything to do with her. She hadn’t had the time to go about donning her typical disguise, but she had been praying that it was dark enough out by this time that no one would pay her any mind.

It had been a foolish hope. She sped up her pace, the lights of the main road so close, never closer — yet never further, either. She just had to make it there. She just had to make it, and then it would be alright. Internally, she swore at her manager for not offering to drive her home, though of course she had been the one to leave before he could. Anyways, she wouldn’t have taken him up on it even if he hadoffered, so the only person she could really blame was herself, but it made her feel marginally better to swear at the man who, according to her, very closely resembled a swine.

“We’ll definitely get a good price,” the person whispered.

“Won’t people look for her, though?” their companion said. They must not have realized that she could hear them. She was almost running at this point, but the street never grew any nearer, not in any meaningful way. Just a few steps more. Just a few more, and she’d be okay.

“The kind of people that’d pay for her have ways to cover these things up,” the person said. “Shit!”

They weren’t even being discreet. Footsteps pounded on the concrete behind her as they realized they were running out of time, and of course neither of them were wearing heels, so they caught up with her in an instant, one of them clapping their hand over her mouth, the other grabbing her hands and holding them behind her back.

She tried screaming, but it was muffled through the first assailant’s clammy palm, and the second’s grip was too strong for her to break from, no matter how much she thrashed. They started dragging her backwards, so she dug her feet into the pavement, but it was two against one and she had never been that strong, anyways, so it was a losing battle.

“Alright!” the first person cheered. “We’re going to make out like kings after this!”

“Think we can retire?” their companion said. “It’ll be nice to not have to work much anymore.”

“Probably not,” a third voice said. This one was familiar, and her eyes widened when she heard the rough tones she had thought she made up to soothe herself in her panic. “You likely won’t even live much longer, if I’m being honest, so you can just forget about retirement at all.”

Two loud bangs, and then the hands on her went slack. She stumbled away from them, spinning around to see that both of them were on the ground, blood pooling from the twin bullet wounds in their temples. This prompted a scream from her, and she used her arms to cover her head in case she was next.

“You can quit it with that,” he said. It was the man, there was no doubt about it; slowly, she lowered her arms, peeking at him through narrowed eyes. He was standing there innocently, hands empty and face blank, entirely at odds with the two bodies lying by his feet. “I’m just paying you back for the other time.”

“What?” she said.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d look out for you when I got the chance, since you drew that curse out for me? I happened to be in the area and decided I’d visit you to settle the debt once and for, and look at that! I got the perfect chance to do exactly what I intended to,” he said.

Up close, the details of his face became strikingly evident. His eyes were a cutting green like bottle shards, and there was a scar on the edge of his mouth, lending him a dangerous appearance, though she thought he didn’t really need that for the effect. He looked plenty dangerous enough without it, so it was an addition that was more like an extravagance than anything.

“Who are you?” she said, taking off one shoe and pointing it heel-first at him like a weapon. “Answer me! Are you real?”

He grimaced. “Uh, yeah.”

This was at odds with everything her doctors had told her, so taking a gamble, she hurled the shoe at him. It hit his chest and bounced off, clattering to the ground into the puddles of blood he stood beside, crimson quickly overtaking the once-white leather. The man looked at her in disbelief, like he was more shocked than offended that she had dared to do that.

“You’re definitely corporeal,” she said.

“Why did you throw a shoe at me?” he said, phrasing it like a statement instead of a question.

“I was checking to see if you were actually physically here or if I was just imagining things again,” she explained. “Anyways, since it seems like you might really be a true person, what’s your name?”

“Why would I tell you that?” he said.

“I’m sure you already know what mine is,” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “Obviously. There’s not a soul in Tokyo that doesn’t.”

“Right, so it’s only fair that you give me yours in exchange,” she said.

“It’s not my fault that you wanted your name plastered on every billboard, news ad, and magazine cover in the country! That’s your own doing, so why would I owe you my name for it?” he said.

“So I can pay you back,” she said. “For saving my life and all. Would you prefer a check or cash? I can do either, but I’d need your name for it.”

At this, the man’s eyes grew starry. It was like that, usually; people would do a lot more for money than they would otherwise, and he was no exception. Especially because, if she was remembering their last interaction correctly, he did not have much of his own — it was an easy way to incentivize him.

“Toji Zenin,” he said.

“Toji,” she repeated. “Or would you rather I call you Zenin?”

“Toji is fine,” he said. “I’m not that fond of the Zenins.”

“Alright,” she said. “How much do you want in return?”

“You’re telling me to name my price?” he said. She shrugged.

“I can’t put a monetary value on my life, but I’m sure you can put one on your labor, so I’ll leave the negotiations up to you,” she said.

“I won’t turn you down, but for the sake of good business ethics and client relations, I’ll remind you that I did technically only do this because I was paying you back in the first place,” he said.

“Then consider it payment for telling me your name, and for being real,” she said. “What do you want? I can give it to you, no matter how much it is.”

“Getting paid for being real,” Toji said under his breath, like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. “Okay, I won’t argue with that. But, you know, being real is a difficult thing to do.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” she said. “Believe me, I’m well aware of the fact.”

“One such difficulty is that real people have to eat,” he continued.

“Tell that to my manager,” she said.

“Once a week,” he said, holding up his index finger for emphasis, ignoring her quips. “That’s how often you have to take me out for food. You will pay, but we will go to places of my choosing, and I will order however much I want. If one of us can’t make it one week, then we will go twice the following week.”

Her manager would definitely kill her. Going out to eat once a week without even getting to choose the location was a surefire method for losing that carefully maintained body of hers. But maybe that was why she agreed — she wasn’t all too fond of that body, the one that barely even belonged to her in the first place.

She held out her hand. “Deal.”

“Deal,” he said, taking it and shaking it firmly. “Give me your phone number. I’ll tell you when and where to pick me up for next week.”

She couldn’t deny that the first few times were awkward. Toji would eat whatever he ordered — which was always the fanciest thing on the menu — and then leave with nothing more than a stiff, routine ‘thank you.’ It didn’t offend her much; she was just happy to have some kind of company, and the one day a week they saw each other was often the only thing she looked forward to.

“Damn,” he said one day, dropping a magazine in front of her as she tried to read the menu she had been given by the waiter that had seated them both. “What’d you do to piss this many people off?”

“People don’t like it when you throw their ugly clothes at them and walk out during shoots because of their unreasonable demands,” she said, not even looking at the magazine. She knew exactly which one it was and what the contents of the article were; her manager had been right, unfortunately. High-maintenance bitch. She was in fact labeled with many names along those lines, and though it hadn’t impacted her work schedule too much yet, they all knew it was a matter of time before brands began refusing to work with her for fear of the negative press she might bring them.

Toji guffawed. “Is throwing things at people a common pastime for you?”

“I’ve only done it twice,” she said. “Do you think I’m any good? Maybe I’ll take up baseball once my modeling career ends.”

He considered this, likely thinking back to when she had thrown her shoe at him, and then he shook his head.

“You should probably stick with modeling for as long as you can,” he said. She laughed in surprised delight.

“Fine, then!” she said. “I’m sure you know best.”

“I’m sure I do,” he said.

“Typical,” she said. “Oh, and speaking of knowing…there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What?” he said, abruptly wary. She didn’t blame it; it definitely sounded like a different kind of confession when she started off like that, but that wasn’t something either of them were interested in. She hastened to make her point in order to clear up any misunderstandings.

“I think we’ve established that you’re real,” she said.

“I’m not really sure why that was ever in question, to be frank,” he said.

“You can see the monsters, too,” she said. “That’s why. I’ve never met anyone who can; my parents always thought I had an overactive imagination, and the doctors prescribed every medicine in the book but could never compe up with a solution that lasted. They always come back. But then you came along, and I thought I must’ve dreamt you up, too, because you were actually able to see that winged serpent, yet you’re real, which means that those things are, too.”

Toji was silent for a bit, mulling over what she had said, chewing on the appetizers that she had ordered for the both of them as he did so. She thought he might not answer at all, but eventually, he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Yeah?” she repeated.

“Yeah, they’re real,” he said. “You’re not imaginative or insane or seeing things. You just have an extra sense that not everyone does.”

“Like you?” she said.

“Nope,” he said. “I don’t have it, either, or at least not in the way that you do.”

“I’m a little confused,” she admitted.

“Honestly, it’s not something you have to understand. Just be happy with what I’ve told you; it’s all too confusing to go over at one time, so I won’t bother,” he said.

“What about more than one time?” she said.

“Hm?” he said.

“You said it’s too confusing to go over at one time, but you don’t have to do it all at once. Every time we meet, you can tell me a little more, and in that way we can cover everything,” she said.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said, shifting in his seat uncomfortably, obviously unhappy with the proposition. Ordinarily, she would’ve respected his wishes, but not this time. Not when he was her only chance at getting answers about the things she had been seeing for so long.

“One question. Answer one question of mine every time, and I’ll be alright with that,” she bargained.

“Only one?” he said.

“Only one,” she agreed. He nodded.

“You better think of good questions, because I’m holding you to that,” he said. “I don’t do work for free. One question is all you get, and only because you’ve been allowing me to get dessert, too.”

“I didn’t realize that dessert wasn’t included in the original deal,” she said.

“I wasn’t about to tell you otherwise,” he said. She could only shake her head in response, too amused to be irritated, not when she had more than enough money to afford it.

The next few dinners felt more like interviews, though this time, she was the interviewer instead of the interviewee. It was a pleasant change, even if Toji was a terrible person to ask questions to, only giving exactly what was necessary to answer and nothing more.

“So, what are the monsters officially called?”

“Curses.”

“Curses?”

“Why’re you so surprised by that? It’s a pretty obvious name for that kind of thing.”

Bit by bit, she learned more about the world of sorcery, though she was no closer to figuring out what kind of person he was. He was generally private and closed off, so once her curiosity about curses and techniques and jujutsu society waned, she began steering her questions in a different direction.

“Why do you not like the Zenins?”

“Buncha assholes.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s more than one question.”

He was even more dodgy about answering these kinds of inquiries, to the point that she could probably recite his entire family line by heart but was still no closer to knowing anything meaningful about him. It didn’t seem like those were things he was interested in sharing.

“I’ll ask you a question this time,” Toji said one day. “If you hate modeling so much, then why do you it?”

He had been privy to more than one session of complaining on her part. He wasn’t that talkative, and he was so far removed from the rest of her life that it was simple to tell him about whatever was on her mind and not fear retribution. He didn’t really care enough to go tell the tabloids about whatever she was annoyed about at the moment, and besides, she had at least picked up on the fact that his line of work was unsavory, which meant that he probably couldn’t go to any news source without ending up on the front page himself.

“It’s the only thing I’m good for,” she said, stabbing at a piece of lettuce with her fork. Toji raised his eyebrows at her. “I mean, obviously I’m good looking.”

“Obviously.”

“That was sarcastic, but I’m taking it as a compliment anyways,” she said.

“Go ahead.”

“Anyways, my entire life, people have only ever wanted to be near me for my beauty. I suppose I got used to it and figured I might as well get paid for it. You’ll pity me for it, but it’s not really a stretch for me to say you’re the best friend I’ve ever had,” she said.

“Me,” he said dubiously. “The best friend you’ve ever had.”

“Yes, it’s true. You’re the only person that talks to me as a person instead of just to my body or face,” she said. “You don’t think I’m automatically stupid because I’m pretty. You don’t think I automatically want to sleep with you because I happened to look your way. You don’t think I automatically do or am anything; you just treat me like you would treat anyone else, which I’m sure other people would be offended by, but I actually really like it. I don’t mind how short you are with me. It’s better that you’re true to yourself than being overly nice to me just because you think you have a chance at getting with me or something.”

“This is me being nice, by the way,” he said, pouting childishly. “But you’re right in that I don’t want anything of the sort out of you. I’m using you for your wallet, not your figure.”

“That’s fine,” she said, exhaling at the joke. “I don’t mind that. At least it’s something different than the usual.”

The nicest thing about Toji was that nobody ever seemed to want to take pictures of him. When she was sitting across from him, everyone left her alone, and she could have some peace, a break from the constant flashing lights that constituted the rest of her life. In this sense, he was her respite, the only chance she had to be a woman her own age instead of a celebrity constantly in the public eye.

She couldn’t help it. It was to be expected; what kind of person could spend so much time with someone else and not end up loving them? It didn’t matter that he was blunt at the best of times and downright cold at the worst. It didn’t matter that he was, as he had confided in her once, essentially an assassin, working in the underworld of jujutsu society after leaving his family behind. Maybe these things should’ve been warning signals, but for someone as lonely as her, they were easy to ignore in favor of the fact that he paid attention to her, that he didn’t care about anything but who she was.

“You know, you’re actually not too bad looking yourself,” she said one time, analyzing him with a trained, objective eye that was generally nothing but critical. He grinned at her.

“Only good thing those shitty Zenins ever did for me,” he said.

“You should thank them,” she said.

“Mm, no,” he said. “Thanks for the suggestion, though.”

“Then maybe I will,” she said. “In your stead.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Meeting the Zenins is the last thing I want for you,” he said. Even though he tried to keep his same cold expression on his face, she detected the faintest twitching at the corner of his lips, the barest traces of a softer sort of smile than she had ever noticed on him.

“Are all of the clans as terrible as the Zenins?” she said. He had mentioned in the past that jujutsu society was run by a few powerful families; the Zenin were the extreme upper echelon, rivaled by only two other clans, but there were a few other families that had fair amounts of influence themselves.

“Is that your question for today?” he said. She hummed in agreement. “Well, on the whole, jujutsu society is like that, yes, but with some families, it just comes down to the leadership at the time. The family of healers, the L/Ns, are generally well-regarded, though. They’re known for being kind and just.”

“Healers?” she said. Even though it was a secondary question, he did not chide her for it.

“Yes, they can use something called a Reverse Cursed Technique to heal wounds and regenerate lost limbs. Using the power to that extent on other people is unique to their family, so they’re highly valued, but because none of them can fight, they have to stay humble or risk the wrath of the other clans. Due to that, they don’t do anything majorly out of line. The heir is our age, actually; he’s uptight as anything, though, so he dislikes me on principle and we never grew to be friends,” he said.

“That’s frustrating,” she said. “I wish they wouldn’t all treat you like that!”

“Like what?” he said. He was so tenured to it, she had come to understand, that it didn’t even impact him anymore. It no longer hurt him, what the Zenins and indeed all of jujutsu society had done to him, so he was typically surprised when it hurt her.

“Like you’re something less than all of them. You’re the best person I know, so how can that be?” she said.

“If I’m the best person you know, then you need to get out more,” he said.

“Maybe that’s true,” she admitted.

“Really, though,” he said. “I don’t know how I’ve given you this impression that I’m someone good and fair, but I’m really not. On the day we met, I killed two people in front of your eyes. Don’t you remember?”

“They were trying to kidnap me,” she said. “Why would I care if you killed them? It was definitely scary, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t say you’re a bad person for it.”

“I’m an assassin!” he said. “You know that already! So stop thinking so highly of me, okay? It’s not right.”

“I can’t just stop because you tell me to,” she said. “I still do. I always will.”

“I have to go,” he said, standing up abruptly. “Work. Just got an alert that I have a new job.”

“Please be careful,” she said. “Come back safely.”

“You should be more worried about my victim than me,” he said. “No one would care if I died. People will care when he does.”

“I would care,” she said. “If you died, Toji, I would care.”

He looked down his nose at her, but the feigned haughtiness didn’t fool her anymore. There was something else behind his eyes, something like desperation, something like grief, something like an emotion she didn’t dare name.

“You shouldn’t.”

Things were different after that. He was different. Before, he was playful in his detachedness, teasing her at his leisure, accepting it when she returned the favor in kind. Now, he just sat there and answered her questions — as many as she could come up with, not just one — and gazed at her in that same mournful way, like he was waiting for the day that she, too, left him behind.

Or maybe not. Maybe she was just assigning explanations where there was none. She was certain she meant something to him, but she could be wrong. She had been wrong before, but this time more than any other, she hoped she was not.

“You haven’t asked anything yet today,” he observed as they stood outside of the restaurant. He held an umbrella over the two of them, and she was so close to him that they were almost touching, but they were not. If she moved even a little, they would be, but she did not dare move, not when the situation was like this.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say,” she said. “How to phrase it. That type of concern.”

“Just get on with it. I have to leave soon,” he said. He wasn’t really that patient, so she just bit her lip before deciding to, as he had so eloquently said, ‘get on with it.’

“Do you love me?” she said.

There was a moment when neither of them spoke, when the only sound was the steady rush of the rain all around them. The streetlights flicked on, illuminating his face, ensuring that she would never forget the way he looked at her in that one moment.

That was her answer. It didn’t matter what he said afterwards; his expression just then was the only thing she needed to know about him. There were so many things contained in that expression, longing and regret and admiration and love, so much love, so much that she was sure no one had ever felt that quantity for her before and would never again.

“No,” he said, his face settled into the same serious, disdainful mask once again. “Of course not. I do love your credit card, but that’s about it. You really do think highly of yourself, believing that you’re the object of my unrequited affections! I’ll give you another question, since that one was a dud.”

“Okay,” she said. “If I told you I loved you, what would you say?”

“You shouldn’t,” he said. “I’d tell you I’m not capable of it. You’d be wasting your affection on someone that would never reciprocate. Someone that would never even want to.”

“I see,” she said. “Then can you do me one favor? Please embrace me as if you were someone that would.”

The umbrella clattered to the sidewalk as he pulled her into his chest, holding onto her like she was the most precious thing he had ever gotten to touch. The rain continued to pour down, soaking the both of them, but she was actually grateful for it. It disguised the tears brimming in her own eyes as she clung to him.

“The L/N boy,” he said. “The one our age. I’ve found out that he’s infatuated with you.”

“Okay,” she sniffed.

“I’ll set you guys up on a date,” he said. “A proper one, where he can pay for you.”

“I don’t want to,” she said.

“He’d be better for you than anyone else. He’s respectable, and he’s wealthy. He’ll be a clan head one day. That’s the kind of person you should be making these declarations to,” Toji said. Not me. He didn’t say that, but she heard it, anyways.

“I don’t want him,” she said. I want you. She didn’t say that, but she fancied that he heard it, anyways.

“I think you’ve paid me back enough,” he said. “This is sufficient. We don’t have to keep meeting up anymore. You can save your money for something that really matters.”

“This matters to me,” she said.

“I’m not the kind of person that matters to anyone,” he said. “The inverse is true as well; no one matters to me. You’re no different.”

It didn’t feel like that was true when his harsh hands purposefully gentled themselves to brush the damp strands of her hair out of her face as she openly sobbed into his shirt, knowing that this was the last time they’d ever be like this. It didn’t feel like that when his cheek rested against her head, his arms around her waist, the umbrella rolling away, long forgotten. When he did those things, she could only wonder what kind of indifference this was, that it was so similar to an aching, all-encompassing closeness.

Many years passed before she saw him again. He didn’t show up on the date he set her and the L/N heir up with, even if she had been hoping he would at least come to smoothe over the introduction. It was fine, though. The date went well. The L/N heir was as charming and sweet as Toji had said he would be, and he readily explained every last detail of sorcery to her when she asked.

He paid for the meal, and then he asked her if she’d go to another one with him. For a moment, she considered saying no, saying that there was someone else, but there wasn’t. Not anymore. So she said yes.

When he asked her to marry him some months later, she said yes to that, too. They didn’t let her invite Toji to the wedding. She wasn’t too sad; she doubted he would’ve come, anyways.

After her wedding, she faded into true obscurity. It was like she had never been a model, had never been famous in the first place. No one recognized her when she went out - not that she really went out much, anyways, but on those few rare occasions that she did, she was just like any other person. It was the culmination of every single dream of normalcy she’d ever had, so why was there a lingering trace of unhappiness in her?

Anyways, the L/Ns were good to her. She’d eventually bear the next clan head, or so they said, so they waited upon her hand and foot. She never wanted for much, as everything she wished for, they provided; well, everything except for that one desire which she never dared to vocalize. The L/Ns, like every other clan, hated Toji. If they knew how deep the association between him and her ran, they’d probably hate her too.

Satoru Gojo was renowned for being a spoiled, bratty child that ran roughshod over every person that dared to watch him, so when she was stuck with the duty as preparation for having a child of her own, she found herself dreading the occasion somewhat. Yet when they finally met, she didn’t find him to be rude or nasty. He was just lonely, and this was something that she could relate to all-too-well.

“I’m the strongest,” he would remind her every time she refused him something. “You have to listen to me.”

“You’re only seven,” she would remind him in return. “That means I’m older than you, so you have to listen to me. How about this: we can make cookies together and you can have extra if you behave.”

“Alright!” he’d say without fail. He was surprisingly easy to persuade, not the kind to stick to his ridiculous convictions if anyone ever stood up to them. She supposed no one else ever had before, but she’d be remiss if she let a young child bully her. Her! He was nothing compared to her old manager, the one who had only stopped calling recently.

They were out for a walk one day when suddenly, Satoru turned, his blue eyes gleaming with interest, though she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Even if someone was there, though, she didn’t feel afraid; seven though he might’ve been, it wasn’t an exaggeration to call Satoru the strongest sorcerer of the modern age already. If it was someone with malicious intent, he would take care of them in a second and then ask her to make popcorn for him as a reward.

The man was standing there with crossed arms, obviously taken aback by the fact that Satoru had detected him. And even though it had been so long, she recognized him immediately, so then it was her inhaling sharply, something long-dead and long-buried deep within her stirring at the sight of his still-handsome visage.

Toji. His eyes met her own, searching for answers to questions that she could not yet name. He must’ve gotten what he came for, as the moment she blinked, he was gone, vanishing in that way he always did, too fast for her mortal vision to follow.

“That was weird,” Satoru said. When she did not respond, he tugged on the end of her sleeve. “Mrs. L/N? Mrs. L/N, that was weird, right?”

Of course. Mrs. L/N. That was her, now. That was all she’d ever amount to. Mrs. L/N.

“Yes, it was certainly strange,” she said, for lack of anything better to say. Satoru crossed his arms, obviously satisfied with himself for identifying the oddness of the scenario.

“Don’t worry. I would’ve protected you if he tried to do anything!” he said, miming punching the air, ostensibly in her defense. She laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Thank you, Satoru,” she said. He beamed up at her.

“Do you think that that’s worthy of some popcorn?” he said. She shook herself off, knowing that she was no longer allowed to think about Toji. That time of her life had passed long ago, and it was foolish for her to linger on it in this way.

“Only if we get to watch a movie with it,” she said.

“Yay! Can I pick?” he said. “I wanna watch Star Wars.”

“Your wish is my command,” she said, saluting at him. “Lead the way, Jedi Knight Satoru Gojo.”

“Nuh-uh, I’m Darth Satoru, and you’re one of my Stormtroopers, okay?” he said.

“Yes, sir. Copy that!” she said. It was only a hunch, but she had figured some time ago that Satoru only got to behave like a child when he was with her, so she tried to indulge him as much as she could, never forcing him to act like an adult or a proper sorcerer or anything like that. It was probably why she was his favorite, why she kept watching him all of the way up until she realized she was pregnant.

Standing outside of the restaurant where she had last eaten with Toji, she thanked her luck that she had managed to slip away from the suffocating gaze of the L/Ns for long enough that she could come here. Ever since her pregnancy had been announced, they had been watching her like hawks, fretting over every single move she made, worrying that the slightest missteps might lead to her child being born a daughter — or, even worse, without the Composition that was their clan’s pride and joy.

She had only even escaped today because she pretended to have debilitating morning sickness. For all they knew, she was locked in the bathroom at present, hunched over the toilet, when in fact she had climbed out of the window and ran away so that she could sate her craving for the food that this particular restaurant served.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.”

Whipping around so fast it was a miracle she didn’t fall, her eyes widened when she saw Toji standing there, arms crossed and head cocked. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now — embrace him? No, that would be inappropriate. Keeping her hands on her stomach to keep her grounded, she dipped her head at him.

“Toji,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d be here, either. I just got a craving, but I knew the L/Ns wouldn’t approve of food like this, so I had to take the initiative and get it myself.”

“Craving?” he said, and then his eyes flicked down to her stomach, the way it swelled under her loose shirt. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said uncomfortably. “Um, don’t worry. I won’t let them grow up to be someone who’s condescending or cruel or anything. If they ever meet you, or else someone like you, they’ll definitely treat you or them as an equal.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” he said. “It’s L/N’s kid, isn’t it?”

“I am his wife, yes,” she said. “Of course it’s his.”

“Right,” he said. “I always — I always forget about that.”

“You were the one who facilitated it,” she reminded him. “I don’t see how you ever could.”

“Are you happy?” he said.

“Normally, I’m the one asking questions,” she said. What did her happiness matter to him? What good would it do if she told him she wasn’t, that she hadn’t been since the day they parted? She knew his answer already. He loved her enough to let her go, but not enough to change. Enough to know that who he was now wasn’t someone that deserved her, but not enough to become a version of himself that did.

“Won’t you just answer this one? For old times’ sake,” he said.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes, you’ll answer it? Or yes, you’re happy?” he said.

“Both,” she said. “The L/Ns treat me well. Like a princess. I cannot complain.”

“That’s good,” he said, with some difficulty. “I told you it would be like that.”

“You did,” she said.

“Have you thought about what you’re naming the kid?” he said.

“I’m not sure what I’ll do if it’s a boy,” she said. “If it’s a girl, though, she’ll be Y/N. Like her ancestor who helped seal Sukuna.”

“Y/N,” he said. “That’s a pretty name. I’m sure she’ll be as pretty as her mother, so it’s fitting.”

“What about you? Have you obtained some measure of happiness?” she said. He chuckled.

“Did you think I would’ve? The answer is no, not really. But maybe I’ll earnestly try to find it now. You’ve inspired me a little, so I think I’ll make an effort. Thank you for everything…Mrs. L/N.”

She would’ve told him not to call her that, not ever, because it sounded wrong when he did, but it was a moot point. They never saw one another again. Actually, the next time she heard his name was also the last. It was when her husband told her, in the dull tone he had adopted ever since their daughter Y/N had proven unable to utilize Composition, that he — Toji, her Toji — was dead.

#yuuta x reader #yuuta x y/n #yuuta x you #reader insert #canon au #pomegranate ink #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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love-toxin · 2 years

Note

A request from 🍄 anon... (because school has been kicking my whole butt and I need comfort.

May I ask for a combination of "don't cry sweetheart" and "I just need you in my arms", please? With Eddie and Steve?

(They're my comfort characters...)

ellie's sentence starter prompts

xxix - "Don't cry, sweetheart."

xlvi - "I just need you in my arms."

(cws: burnout/depression, mentions of panic attacks, crying, hurt/comfort)

The thunk of the screen door closing is what finally rouses you from bed, that haze of sobs and teary eyes dissipating in seconds when you hear Eddie's voice calling out to you. There's only a matter of moments before the two of them will be upon you, and you use those moments as wisely as you can think--you wipe your tears dry, and briskly slide yourself off Eddie's mattress and on to the floor, reaching for the first thing by your side to hold up and pretend you're reading.

"Baby!"

Right on cue, Eddie's bursting through his bedroom door with a big smile on his face, and Steve on his heels like he was following as close behind as he could. Your lips tweak into a smile at the sight of them, cause you are glad that they're here. But it drops when Eddie's features shift, and he raises a brow in curiosity before a chuckle erupts from him.

"Doing some light reading, huh sweetheart?" Only then do you get the cue to glance down, and you couldn't be more mortified. The magazine you're holding isn't one of the punk metal articles Eddie collects--you hadn't realized how far under his bed it actually was, because what you're holding is one of his very graphic porno mags. You toss it aside on instinct with a squeak, and while he finds it funny, Steve rolls his eyes and pushes past your boyfriend to come and kneel down in front of you.

"Did you miss us?" That voice couldn't be softer, his tone as light and airy as if he's afraid he might wake a sleeping lover. And you nod, hoping he doesn't look too closely at your trembling hands in your lap.

"Yeah. Of course."

"Is that why you're crying?" Your eyes widen, you glance down--but your gaze is tugged back to him when he touches your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear you hadn't realized was still falling.

"Um...yeah. Yeah, I just..." You hurry to dry your eyes again with your sleeves, and he can clearly see your fingers twitching, and he gives you a look like "c'mon, honey, be honest"....and you just crumble underneath it. A hiccup rises in your throat, and you squeeze your eyes shut to block out those oncoming tears with the heels of your hands pressed against them.

"Oh, don't cry, sweetheart!" Eddie pipes up, understanding now how serious it really is because he sidles up next to you, his arm stretched around your shoulders to lean you against him. Meanwhile, Steve takes your wrists so gently in his warm hands, prying them away slowly so he can lean in and press a kiss between your brows. You sink into Eddie's grasp, especially when he nuzzles his cheek into the top of your head, but it's not enough--you grab for Steve as best you can, the words not quite coming out for you to ask what you want to.

"I just need you in my arms. Please," You whimper, and without hesitation, Steve pushes himself between your legs and wraps his arm around your side that isn't pressed into Eddie, hunching over you with his height like he's subconsciously shielding you from the rest of the world. "I hate it when you leave."

You're not sure you've squeezed either of them so hard, Eddie's whispers of "It's okay, we're here now" quietly soothing the taut nerves inside you that have been escalating into a panic attack for the last few hours. How long they hold you like that, it's hard to tell--but it never feels like enough, not when you've still got those visions that crop up whenever you see either of their faces, those memories of them being hurt. Whenever you wake up in the morning and look over at Steve's sleeping face, you have to resist the urge to shake him awake, to make sure he's not slipping away. And when Eddie passes out a little too soundly after a drink or a smoke, you press your ear to his chest to hear his breathing, to soothe those fears that one moment he'll just stop.

And those are just worries about them. You've got more than enough on your own plate, stress and anxiety and panic and fear that you just have to brush away to get up each morning and go about your life, no matter how much you just want to stay in bed. Between the exhaustion of getting home after a day you didn't want to suffer through and coming back to worries about things completely out of your control, things you shouldn't even have to worry about because they're completely beyond mortal comprehension, has just made for a miserable state of being that almost makes you feel like being dead would be better than feeling this wretched. But how can you say those things to them? The two people in your world that have really faced death and narrowly evaded it? It would feel like you're just spitting in their faces, which is exactly why you're already beating yourself up over them finding you like this--and you didn't even realize you've been doing it out loud. You're so stupid.

"Hey! You are not stupid. Look at me." Eddie turns your head upwards, tilts it so he can look you in the eyes, and steals a kiss off your lips like he's so prone to doing. "Look at my pretty baby. You're the opposite of stupid--you're a lot smarter than me, for damn sure. You're perfect."

"No I'm not," You moan, shaking your head like even the notion of it is too ridiculous for you to accept.

"Then what percentage of perfect are you? Ninety-nine percent?"

"Zero."

"You really think so?" He cocks his head, and while part of you wishes he would drop this embarrassing conversation, you won't say a word otherwise. This is Eddie. You can never tell what he's really thinking, and the last thing you wanna do is ruin his fun wherever he can get it, even if it's by teasing you.

"Well, Steve, you know what we gotta do." Steve, who's been occupied with nuzzling his face into your neck until now, finally lifts his head to look down on you again, and the two of them share a look before each of them grab an arm and lift you up to drop you on to the bed. Steve's got his hands on his hips, and Eddie's are crossed over his chest--and if they're gonna lecture you about being nicer to yourself, you're not sure you're in the state to really listen. But fortunately for you, that's....not quite what Eddie has in mind.

"We've gotta put you in boyfriend rehab. We're gonna raise that zero to a hundred, one percent at a time."

A grin splits across his face, and Eddie turns to the hook by his bedroom door, grabbing the jacket that's hung there ever since a month after you started dating. It's custom, denim sleeves with the back plastered over with the design of your favourite album cover, and he tosses it into your lap before hurrying off to go get his and Steve's.

"We're going out! Get your shoes on!" He calls behind him, and hurries back just to toss your pair to Steve along with his coat--but when you move to get up and put them on, Steve gently pushes you back to sit, and makes a show of kneeling in front of you and taking your ankle in his hand, your sneaker in the other.

"You said you don't want us to leave, right?" He queries, offering his shoulder for you to hold for balance as he slides your sneaker on and starts lacing it up, and only continues when you nod. "Then you're coming with us from now on. We'll do it together."

He moves to the next shoe as you pull your jacket on, but even though his words are sweet, you can't shake that tight feeling in your chest at the thought of going out all together. Usually it's just you and Steve, or you and Eddie, or the two of them together, because all three of you at once....well, it's certainly not something that would go over easily.

"Are...Are you sure we aren't gonna attract attention?"

"Honestly? No. But I don't care." The second sneaker takes less time, and before you know it, he's patting your feet and kissing each of your knees before standing up, and helping you to do the same--except, conveniently, he pulls you just hard enough to make you stumble into his chest, and pulls his arms tightly around you in a hug. "If someone wants to say something about us, then they can go right ahead. I care about you and Eddie, not some nosy busybody."

That smile and the kiss that he plants on your nose are two more comforting things than he could even imagine--it doesn't make all your stress vanish magically, but it calms you enough that you don't feel like you're on the brink of another breakdown. It's more than you could ask for, and yet you get it so easily, it's...that thought makes things a little more bearable for now.

"Hurry it up, lovebirds! Our greasy-ass burgers and milkshakes are calling our names!" You can hear Eddie stumbling around as he gets his shoes on while yelling for you both, and you and Steve share a laugh that feels so rare up until now as you break yourselves out of that near-heavenly embrace.

"Looks like the diner's the first percent. C'mon," He tugs on your arm, one last kiss pressed to your temple before he has to hold all that back when you're out in public.

"You were serious about that?" Before he can answer, Eddie reappears in the doorway, keys dangling in his hand and a glimmer in his eye.

"Dead serious. Forget your wallet--this is on me. C'mon!" He says so as if he'd ever let you pay anyways, it's always him or Steve swiping the bill out from the other's nose--but regardless you aren't left to dwell on it for too long, cause Eddie grabs you by the wrist and starts dragging you and running down the hall of the trailer towards the door, with Steve hurrying close behind as he warns you two to be careful on the steps!

And maybe it's a dumb idea, and it won't really help--maybe you still feel like you're not worth helping. But even so, it won't hurt to spend an afternoon flinging fries at each other over the table, having one of their hands on your thigh in the booth, and quietly telling them a little bit about what you've been going through as they listen with open ears. Maybe, in the future, you won't even remember today, the good or the bad about it....but either way, living in the moment now and finding something to smile about is the best thing you can do.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #steddie x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie #eddie's angelface #st 4 #stranger things #ellie's sentence starters #🍄 anon #anons

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twoidiotwriters1 · 2 months

Text

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: THEM -Danny Words: 1,956 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'If It Wasn't (For You)' -by Jacob Noah

XXIX: Emotionally Repressed by Day, Socially Inept by Night

Leo makes a beeline to the control panels and sets the Archimedes sphere back in place. Ara hangs her Octopi over one shoulder and makes her way to the stairs, but then she spots Nico.

He's usually at the top mast or in Hazel's room until it's time for bed and he leaves to... wherever he sleeps. But he's leaning against the stern's handrail today, looking right at her. Ara lets out a heavy sigh, he wants to talk to her, and it won't be fun.

"What?" She asks.

Nico eyes her before replying. "You got your stuff back?"

Ara leans on the railing and stares at the sea. "You ate?"

"Yeah, the birthday cake they made for you," he replies sarcastically. "I thought you'd died so I didn't want to waste it."

Ara lowers her gaze. "Did you tell them?"

Nico snorts. "I thought you would've told them all about you by now, that's how it always is with you."

She makes a face. "Some of it, not all. But Leo knows it all. He was always asking for stories and Jason had no memories, so I had to give him context."

Nico looks at her with a sarcastic smirk she's grown to loathe. "Bet it felt good to be someone's hero at last."

"Can we not do this today?" Ara groans. "Tomorrow we can do the whole thing all over but... it's the worst birthday of my life, man. I'm already going through it. Can't you enjoy in silence?"

That seems to bother Nico. "I take no pleasure in seeing you suffer, Ara. It annoys me that you try so hard to be something you're not."

"What are you talking about?"

"You can be who you are unapologetically and for some reason, you prefer to walk around in that stupid cloak, completely unlike you, and it makes you miserable—"

"The cloak gives me purpose—"

"Nemesis talked to you, right? Hazel said you never told them who you saw, so who was it?"

She hates having to look up when talking to Nico, he's a year younger than her and yet he could get half the things she's gained way easier. He could be happy, and he could've been the friend Lily needed when Ara failed her. Now both of them left their friend alone, standing on the remains of their broken promises.

"That is none of your business," she says tensely.

Nico's gaze is unwavering. "I talked to Achilles before taking Percy, and what he said—"

"Let me guess," Ara tilts her head, an ironic smile on her lips. "Something about ambition being our worst enemy or whatever? You're too late, Hercules already warned me about it."

The boy frowns. "I can't believe you chose to follow their path. Every win they got sent innocent people to their early graves."

Ara's heart stings at his comment. "Don't talk about them like that."

"I'm talking about you, you should know better," he glares at her. "You saw Percy take risks for nothing, you saw Mike die thanks to it. Beckendorf, and Bianca—" He cuts his speech short, turning away, then clears his throat forcefully. "You and Lily treat your birthdays like they don't matter, and all I can think is... she can't even have that."

He lets out a dry laugh and shakes his head.

"'Course—she joined the hunters before dying, so she would still be twelve years old no matter what." Nico runs a hand over his face and squeezes his eyes shut. "She wasn't allowed to grow old, but you are, and don't want to."

It would be easier to stab his soft spots until he shows his fangs again, but she can't bring herself to do it. Ara's lost her brother, Annabeth, and Leo is next. She's tired of the fights.

Ara moves slowly to make sure he knows what she's doing, giving him the chance to step back. He doesn't. The boy takes a shaky breath, keeps his eyes closed, and lets Ara absorb some of his hurt. As soon as she does, her heart squeezes in a way that takes the air out of her lungs, she tries to talk, but her throat is tight with grief.

Nico relaxes only enough to keep talking. "I know it sounds... cruel... but I'm glad she's not with them. I prefer missing her than resenting her my entire life."

"I regret not convincing her to stay," Ara admits hoarsely. "We were the same age, but Bianca was braver. If I'd taken my lessons seriously since the start, I could've shown her what camp could offer us..."

"Us?" He opens his reddened eyes, still scowling at her.

"Orphan kids." She looks down in shame. "I wasn't a hero, Nico, you're right. I chose what was best for me. I'm sorry."

It's the first time she apologizes to Nico. It might be the grief she's absorbed, but Ara couldn't phantom the extent of Nico's pain until now, it feels just like when she lost Mike. She never showed regret, if anything, she'd made it clear that she thought nothing of Bianca. Now her words are coming out like they had been lying there for ages, rotting her core.

The way Nico reacted when Percy told him about Bianca, now that he and Annabeth are in Tartarus, she understands it. He's the only person on this ship who shares her anger and doesn't treat it like a scary thing.

The girl cleans her nose with the back of her sleeve. "I shouldn't say it now that I have their blessing, but I hated them for a while too. When Jason came and Thalia found him I realized it was you and Bianca all over again. My fate is to watch everything fall apart."

Nico stares at her, sighs tiredly, and dries her tears, his knuckles are cold against her skin but surprisingly gentle, which makes her feel even guiltier for all the times that she's punched his face. For the first time, he looks worried for her.

"It's okay if you don't want cake," he says. "But you should eat. The Kerkopes handed your ass to you."

Ara sniffs again. "I'm taking this conversation as you wishing me a happy birthday, so I'll say 'What the Tartarus you mean by 'happy', you jerk? Read the room', then I'll walk away and you can insult me and we can pretend this didn't happen."

"Tu sei sciocca."

Someone clears their throat in front of them and Ara looks back, spotting Leo. He's looking at them weirdly. Ara realizes she's holding Nico's hand. "You had issues putting the sphere back in place?" She asks, letting go of the boy.

Leo glances at Nico before replying. "Came to ask if we should hold a meeting now or wait until tomorrow."

It's not like she's enjoying her birthday, but she's not in the mood to hold a second meeting today. "Let's call it a day. I'm tired."

Leo nods, unable to shrug off the jealousy. "Yeah, I'm tired too."

Nico walks past them. "I'll take the night watch."

"Thank you," Ara says kindly. Her boyfriend frowns at their behavior but says nothing.

Leo comes to her cabin before sundown, and Ara makes room for him to sit. The boy enters reluctantly, like he'd rather be somewhere else.

"What you saw," she starts right away. "It's nothing."

Leo pulls out screws and wires from his belt and braids them to avoid her eyes. "Looked like something..."

"I can explain it," Ara pouts.

"Forget it," When he smiles it looks genuine, but the girl knows it's not real. "Came to give you a present."

"Oh?" She blinks. "You didn't have to..."

"You thought I'd let the day pass by?" The boy raises a brow. "I'm better than that!"

"Well, it was a busy day," Ara chuckles. "What is it?"

"I'm new to this whole getting-presents-for-my-girlfriend thing, and you're not easy—you don't have hobbies outside pretending to watch movies with me," he teases her.

The girl tilts her head with amusement. "So?"

"So... I'm a mechanic and an inventor. I could build you the weapon of your dreams," he makes a face. "Then I realized Almighty is pretty much it—I was going through my options and it wasn't looking great..." Leo rambles.

"I don't care for presents," she admits. "I spend all my birthdays in camp, so it's more like a day to do whatever I want—"

"I know," he interrupts her. "I know you're all about practicality and utility."

He pulls an item out of his tool belt: a black hair tie. It's decorated with a bronze dove, the wings spread open like it's either taking flight or landing. Leo holds her hand and places it around her wrist.

"Then I thought, Ara is always losing her scrunchies, her hair is always on her face while we're fixing stuff—and I know it drives you crazy. So I made you this."

He presses on the dove's breast and moves back when it expands, creating a large shield with an Omega engraved at the front. Ara turns her arm to examine it, her mouth falling open. "What!"

"Hercules and Achilles had stuff made for them. You needed a shield," he says, fidgeting with scraps from his belt as he waits for a full reaction. "I know your compass turns into a shield but if you needed to also use it as a sword you'd be... though you aren't helpless and also have Lily's dagger but..."

While Leo rambles, Ara turns her arm and spots a bronze buckle on the leather strap. She snaps it open and the shield goes back to being a hair tie. The girl throws her arms around his neck. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Leo stops talking and laughs, vividly glowing. It's like the setting sun is shining directly on him through the porthole window. His arms wrap around her waist. "Don't mention it."

Ara cups his face, a bunch of annoying butterflies making her mind fuzzy. "It must've taken you ages, I don't know what to say..."

He smirks. "Took me like a month, it wasn't that hard—but if you insist I wouldn't mind a few kisses if you're that grateful."

Ara kisses his face and neck effusively, making him giggle like a little kid, then she finds his lips and Leo makes a vastly different noise at the contact. This day doesn't seem so bad now.

"Y'know..." he mumbles in between kisses. "If you really feel like thanking me, you can give me my present in advance?" He pulls her close, and Ara blushes down to her neck.

"What?" She squeaks.

Leo laughs. "I'm just messing with you."

"Don't joke like that!" She tries to escape his grip.

The boy grabs her chin and gives her another kiss, falling back with her on top. "Sorry, doll. Can't help it! I love how flustered you get."

Ara leans down and gives him a butterfly kiss, making him squirm a little bit. He's always been a big fan of small affectionate gestures, of any affectionate gesture, as long as it's Ara doing it. She pushes herself up and smiles. "También te amo. Now get out of my cabin."

Leo's eyes brighten. "No! Let me—let me hear you say that again!" He begs while Ara gets to the door. "Sunshine, let me stay over! It's your birthday!"

"Yeah, exactly. I want to sleep alone. Your birthday is in two days, if you want to sleep with me then, I'll comply."

Leo looks at her with a huge smile. "For real?"

"Well, I'm learning Spanish, which must mean I don't joke about commitment," Ara gestures at the exit again. "Now leave me alone."

"You're so rude," Leo says, though he sounds delighted. "I'll respect your autonomy today, but on my birthday, I'll have none of that. Be ready to have a Leo Valdez all over you on the 7th!"

The boy kisses her cheek effusively when he walks past, and Ara leans into it laughing. "The warning should go to the rest of our poor crew, not me."

"I don't love them enough to warn them."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #doo #leo valdez x oc #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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songmingisthighs · 2 years

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Algedonic

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

ch. xxix - pet-sitting your brother's chicken

soulmate!yunho × reader

fated and marked, soulmates are supposed to be your destiny. you are connected to him by his heart and him to yours. but despite the cosmic or even divine intervention, you felt that he is not wholly yours. why is destiny so cruel to you?

Around 6.45, you entered the boys' apartment with Beomgyu holding onto your hand. He said that he had to make sure you wouldn't bail or flake. To add to his seriousness, he even stayed with you as you work. You tried covincing him several times that he CAN leave you alone and that you'd be at their apartment later that night. But of course Beomgyu refused and even used his VERY adorable sad puppy face against you.

Looking back to earlier in the day, you realized how pet-like Beomgyu is. In the best way. As you focused yourself on work, he had no problem entertaining himself. From organizing your fridge, to mix and matching your clothes and setting it aside for you to wear whenever you want, to taking a nap on your bed, to making you snack, and of course, clinging onto your legs silently as you work.

Literally, the man hugged your legs wordlessly for a couple of hours. Sometimes you have the strong urge to scratch his chin just to see how he'd react.

Immediately, San took your overnight bag and tossed it to its usual place next to the couch before hugging you tightly.

"It feels like it's been three decades since I last saw you!" he cried out. You could only laugh and hugged him back, "What are you talking about, San? We saw each other last week!" you said. As if on cue, Byeol emerged from San's room and immediately, she rubbed her whole body on your leg. You crouched down to pet the cat as she began to purr at your touch, "I see the little miss is visiting his brother, huh?" you said to her like as if you were talking to a baby.

Yeosang emerged and trodded to you with a charming smile on his face, "Did Beomgyu held you hostage?" He chuckled. You rolled your eyes as you move to side hug him, "You know he did," you confirmed. Yeosang laughed at the way you answered and the way Beomgyu was glaring at you accusingly, "Well thank god he did because we really do need to hang out together," he said.

As you settled in the boys' apartment, and by settling, it simply meant that you changed into Yeosang's sweatpants and Beomgyu's big ass hoodie and stole San's blanket from his bed, Liz arrived already clad in comfy sleeping pants and her comfiest white hoodie.

So now, you found yourself and Liz huddled on the couch under San's blanket as the boys went about their stream. They had pulled their gaming laptops instead of using their PC for the night's stream because they wanted to do the stream together in the living room. As usual, Beomgyu was screaming, San was laughing, and Yeosang simply looked done at the both of them. During the whole time, you and Liz kept giggling at their interactions.

"San," you called out as he slumped in his seat, having just been killed in the game. With sad eyes and pouty lips, San turned around to listen to what you had to say, "Beomgyu betrayed you," you revealed, smirking at a horrified looking Beomgyu. "(Y/N) !!! WHY !?!?!?!?" he screeched when San jumped on him and beat him up with a cushion.

Everyone laughed at that, but of course, Yeosang was still paying close attention to the stream. "Oh yeah, our friends, (y/n) and Liz are here!" he said to the audience, "Girls, come say hi!" he said, leaning to the side slightly to show you and Liz to the audience. You shrieked and threw a cushion at his head, "Yeosang! You fucking tricked me into being part of the stream!" you yelled at him.

Yeosang rubbed his head in the spot where the cushion hit him and pouted at you, "No I didn't! I was just showing that you and Liz are here!" he whined, defending himself. Beomgyu leaned to the screen and grinned widely, "Wooyoung hyung, you ass!" he laughed.

Hearing the familiar name, you perked up slightly which made Liz raise an eyebrow in acknowledgement. "Wooyoung?" you asked, repeating the name that Beomgyu had just said. "Yeah!" Beomgyu grinned at you, pointing at the screen, "He said that we should clear out and let you on the camera instead, it'll get us more views!"

You couldn't help but giggle and blush slightly at that, "Wooyoung, stop watching! Don't you have comatose people to take care of?" you spoke out loud so that the mic can catch your voice.

This time, San peeked on the screen and his eyes widened, "I'm not reading that, you can fucking text her yourself," he scoffed. You bit your lip to prevent yourself from grinning even wider, thinking about what Wooyoung might have said in public to you through the boys.

The stream ended after two hours. You all have now sat around the small coffee table in the living room, each person has their own bowl of noodles and everyone's just enjoying the presence of each other.

"You know," San started after he finished his bowl of noodles, "I see that you've been talking to Wooyoung a lot recently," he said, peering at you curiously. At his words, you choked on your noodles and began coughing. It wasn't what he asked, but it was his tone that threw you off. "Seems like you hit the jackpot with the topic," Yeosang smirked as he watched Beomgyu and Liz patting your back, trying to help you calm down.

After calming down, you glared at San who was looking at you smugly, "Yeah, so what?" you asked him. Shrugging, San tilted his head slightly, "It's just interesting, you know? I never thought that you both could be close, but you both have been sending food and texting each other every day, kinda romantic, isn't it?"

Beomgyu's eyes widened and he grabbed your shoulders tightly, "Is it romantic between you two? Does that mean you're leaving Yunho!?" he asked with much excitement in his voice. This time, your eyes widened and you immediately shook your head, "What!? No! Of course not!" you denied. Your response caused them all to boo at you.

"Seriously, (y/n), it seems like you have a better option now, why not just leave Yunho?" Liz asked, genuinely curious. You pursed your lips and shrugged, "Because it's fate, you know?" you said simply. San was about to say something but you raised a hand, stopping him from saying anything, "I know it sounds stupid, but I do believe that soulmates really do mean something. People do have the option to remove their mark and be with whoever they want, but I sincerely believe that fate must have planned something for me and Yunho, or at least they want something from us, you know?" your eyes then shifted to Yeosan as you threw him a sad smile, "No disrespect to you though, Sangie."

"But what about Wooyoung hyung?" Beomgyu asked, "You must've realized that he's developing romantic feelings for you."

In all honesty, you dreaded this question. You knew that the point of the sleepover was just simply so Beomgyu could ask you that.

So you smiled at him sadly, "Who said I'm not too?" Your answer shocked them, it was evident in their expression. "It's... very complicated because on one side, I wanna believe that Yunho and I have like this big blueprint, you know? But Wooyoung... He's been showing me how I should be treated and I like it a lot," you sighed, feeling bad about how you feel for the boys' friend.

Liz wrapped her arms around one of yours and pursed her lips, "Well... what are you gonna do about your feelings? What about Wooyoung?" she asked. You could sense from her tone that she was just trying to make sure that you would be fine since both of your relationships are involving a lot of people.

Giving her a small chuckle, you nodded slowly, thinking about how ridiculous the situation is, "Well, I will obviously keep having my feelings for him but I don't know if it's gonna develop or dissipate. Wooyoung... I told him during our first call when he said he wanted to court me that I'm in a very frustrating and very confusing soulmate situation. He understood and he said that despite his feelings, he wants to be friends with me," you explained.

"And you let him?" San asked, frowning as he found the idea rather confusing and unrealistic. Maybe even slightly unfair to only one party.

Thankfully, Yeosang interjected, pushing San so he toppled backwards. "We've known Wooyoung long enough to know that he does whatever he wants anyway," he said, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance. "What's important is that you have to know what you want, (y/n). We're not rooting for Wooyoung here, we're rooting for you to get what you deserve," he told you.

Hearing such words from your friend brought tears to your eyes and within seconds, Liz was all over you, trying to dry your tears as Beomgyu attacked Yeosang, kicking him for "making our dearest (y/n) cry unprompted", while San tried making your tears stop by getting Byeol who hissed at him.

In a romantic aspect, your track record isn't the best. Heck, you finally admitted out loud that you're slowly developing feelings for a guy who's not your soulmate.

You kind of resent yourself for believing in soulmates so much, it was one of the reasons why you had a falling out with your parents who both removed their soulmate marks to be with each other. You've always thought that they were brave, but apparently, they thought you were gutless for going with "what's intended" instead of being adventurous, going out to make your own story. You've always felt alone because it seemed like no one gets your decision. No one gets that despite going with fate's plan, you're still scared. There were times, even before meeting Wooyoung, you questioned fate for giving you a soulmate such as Yunho. But despite his shortcomings, there are qualities that he has that make you love him even through everything. But still, there was this voice at the back of your head that kept convincing you that he's staying with you not because it's what he wants, but it was because it's just what he was "told" to do.

It was stressful bearing the mental burden alone.

But as you sat there, watching Liz taking care of you, San trying to cheer you up, Beomgyu defending you, and Yeosang who never fail to ground you to reality, you realized that you were never alone. These people are your family. Through thick and thin, seemingly odd decisions, and stressful events, they are the ones who decided that they wanna be there for you. For the first time in a while, your heart felt lighter.

And it was all thanks to the people whom you love beyond anything in the world.

taglist :

@paralumanniluna @ikonic-loser @joonsthethicc @kodzukein @mirror-juliet @linhyyboo12 @theaufanartist @petitchou-t @bbymatz @rabbitlashpink @meowmeowminnie @eternalssanshine @hakuna-matata-ya @peachy-maia @pretty-pop-princess-hs @maddiebabyxoxo @hyvn-jaeee @shyfear @dreamlesswonder86 @honeyhotteoks @kpopnightingale @shaininguu @swaneffects @starlixs @iknowyouknowlino @captainjoongiekissme @marsophilia @rubberduckieyourtheone @noonaishere @baguette-atiny @rdiamond2727 @diestheticu @atinct @hibuki-chan @ateezourstars @shinotani @blaaiissee @hwanchaesong @multihoe-net @seoulscenarios @potaeto-writes-on-wp @bluepoison1975 @kirooz @dear-dreamie @hxneyboy @treasure-1117 @john-joong @heyimkay @starlight-channie

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ratmor · 7 months

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Wolves of Greed

Part 1. The Sheep Skin

They will come to you in cloth of sheep, but from within they are the wolves of greed.

The literal translation from ancient greek of Matthew 7:15

N. Index

I. Losing Rose-Tinted Glasses

II. The Illusion of Choice

III. The Emotional Morning

IV. The First Seance of Nonconformism

V. Salem

VI. The Aftermath of Fester Addams

VII. The Ravensdale Camp

VIII. The Kidnapping

IX. Truths and Lies of Owen Sinclair

X. The Roadtrip

XI. Playing Games

XII. The Suit for Vigilante

XIII. Smuggling Operations

XIV. The Feral Alert

XV. One Day of Forensic Photographer

XVI. Cry Uncle

XVII. The Choice

XVIII. Big Brother's Insights

XIX. Murdered Hopes of Joel Glicker

XX. The Unlikely Friendship

XXI. Don't Touch What's Mine

XXII. Not So Ordinary Wednesday

XXIII. The Parents' Day, Year One

XXIV. The Furs' Protection

XXV. The Nevermore Quad Fight

XXVI. Boston Holidays

XXVII. New Happy Tree Friends

XXVIII. The Lack of Reciprocity

XXIX. The Help of Understanding

XXX. The Supernatural Creatures Care Club

XXXI. School Days

XXXII. The Sheriff's Kid Full of Greed

XXXIII. The Not So Little Furry Problem

XXXIV. Tricks of the Cannibal Raven

XXXV. The Cleansing Agent

XXXVI. The Future Lost

I. Losing Rose-Tinted Glasses

Enid was waiting for her sixth birthday with great joy and energetic annoyance to everyone around.

Her eldest brother recently turned twelve, and on his birthday they went to the Muir Woods, to the usual camp of the San Francisco Pack, to celebrate with the whole pack and be closer to nature so that the young werewolf turned. At that time, Enid did not know all the details, but she really enjoyed spending time with the other children, that's why she asked her mother, Esther for the repeat.

She, surprisingly, agreed.

Years later, Enid realized what caused her consent.

Austin Sinclair, the oldest brother, didn't turn at twelve, but Esther Sinclair read all the necessary brochures to speed up the turning process and decided to follow one of the tips.

A young werewolf needs diverse interaction with peers and elders, and due to the fact that Austin did not turn until the age of twelve, she decided to add such interaction with the help of a rather conflictual gathering of the whole pack. And it seemed conflict-based even when it was without the participation of teenagers and children.

And what if not a bunch of hormonal teenagers, children with propellers in their asses and a general lack of a criticism filter against each other, could provoke a boy to turn?

Austin turned right in the middle of a werewolf croud, right during a scuffle with one of the teenagers who had already turned. And who decided to have fun at and even suggested that Austin is the late bloomer.

Austin turned and became the first pack alpha in his generation.

All attention turned to the boy, congratulations poured out like cornucopia of sorts. And obviously, everyone forgot about little Enid, even the rest of the brothers. It was new for them, as well as for Enid herself, but she was always quite emotional and sensitive.

Mom often pursed her lips and noted with a dismissive snort that these were the traits of the future omega of the pack. Murray, the father, always shrugged his shoulders at this and seemed to be showing that there was nothing terrible about it, even if you were the omega of the pack, but preferred to keep quiet.

Enid didn't want to be the omega of the pack even when she didn't quite understand what it was.

The understanding that being the pack omega is not the worst thing, came with time.

She remembered later that she had run away from the jubilant loud gathering, depressed and splashing emotions, all in tears because everyone had forgotten about her, and she hadn't even received her promised cake, nor had she received any gifts. These moments, small and even stupid, have not been forgotten for a very long time, although they have lost their sharpness, of course.

Enid turned ten minutes later than her eldest brother.

A couple of hours later, she was found by Owen Sinclair, a distant relative and former member of the pack, a lone wolf that Enid had never heard of before his introduction and attempts to calm her down. If it hadn't been for her heightened senses and certain traits that could only be discovered by a werewolf who turned, she would never have believed his story.

After all, when Enid was six years old, no one thought of scaring her that she would become a lone wolf and leave the pack if she didn't turn. The maximum of her fears was, as already mentioned, to become the omega of the pack, a kind of fool to be ordered around, as she understood it. Even for such a straightforward and assertive woman as Esther, it turns out there were limits to what was reasonable or not.

Enid didn't know at that time that you could be kicked out of the pack simply because, in theory, for biological reasons of your turning, you could challenge the right to the power of the pack alpha. And if you do not transfer power over yourself, do not obey, want to remain equal, then this "could be kicked out" turns into "definitely kicked out and deprived of your last name."

Such utter betrayal was new to Enid.

Owen asked to be called uncle and was surprisingly helpful when the girl turned into a human form and whimpered softly from the pain of the first turn, feeling every blade of grass and pebble on her heated and overly sensitive body. After she recovered a little, he told her the whole thing. As soon as her head cleared a little, Enid started asking questions. Why he told her all this was the first question.

Owen grinned, without malice but also without joy, smoothed Enid's disheveled hair, adjusted the blanket she was covered with, and lifted her by the armpits to the level of the side mirror of his pickup truck.

The scarlet sparks still lingered in her eyes.

Enid felt overwhelmed with emotions again, tears rolled up to her throat, and soreness in bones, joints and muscles added reasons to burst into wailing, but the man gently shook her, put her on the ground and looked into her eyes.

His pupils lit up with the same scarlet sparks as hers, but it was clear that he was letting them glow, and they were not doing it themselves without his knowledge.

This made little Enid hold her breath and stretch out her palm in an attempt to find support in the older werewolf. Her emotions were still getting the upper hand.

Owen gave her his palm and in a gentle tone began to explain to her the way to control these sparks. And the transformation. And her emotions.

Three hours flew by unnoticed, as if in a fog.

It was only later, years later, that Enid realized it was the alpha's power. That's how he gave her some of his knowledge so that she could hide her turning from her mother, father and brothers. They were insanely happy because of the presence of the next pack alpha in the family. That's how Owen made her not be gullible and childishly prattle everything to the family on the same day, as it would be logical for a child who still believed his parents, even though offended. That's how she, under the pretence of interest in the new status of her elder brother, asked all the adults available for conversation about what would happen if another alpha of the pack suddenly appeared. That's how she managed to ask her brother to show her the half-turn of the eyes.

That's how Enid realized that Owen Sinclair wasn't lying to her.

The next time they met was six years later, on her own twelfth birthday. Her parents let Enid go into the woods, hoping that there would be no problems with her - just as there were no problems with the other brothers, Brandon, Colin and Dylan. Each of the brothers, except Austin, were beta wolves and turned on the night of their twelfth birthday.

The same was expected of her.

Every full moon of the previous six years, she got out of her house to be closer to the moon, but did not give free rein to transformation - this was Owen's knowledge, developed over decades. Every full moon, she did not allow herself to turn, so that she would not be kicked out of the family - the laws of the pack have not changed since Owen. She was sure, she checked. Even though emotions still took over sometimes and she wanted to loosen control and stop torturing herself.

On the night of her twelfth birthday, when she was left alone in the forest, as it traditionally happened to everyone before her, Owen offered his support and help, said that even if she would be kicked out, she would have a place in his family. He was not as lonely as the stories of other relatives about lone wolves painted it. He had a wife, the witch of one of the psychic clans, it seemed. As Enid understood from his meager explanations. And he sincerely claimed that there was simply no difference between the Mates of werewolves and how he felt about the witch. Enid had doubts, not about his love for the witch - it was not for her to talk about matters of heart, she could not have an opinion on this, and she accepted Uncle Owen's version without much resistance. Enid was doubtful about their ability to provide for another growing and demanding werewolf - as Enid understood from his stories, Owen had his own twins much younger than Enid herself, who had yet to turn for the first time. And he didn't say much about the identity of his wife. All this together has become decisive for determining future actions, to some extent.

Enid couldn't risk her future like that.

Enid was persistent and stubborn, as alphas should be, which Uncle Owen noticed with a grin when she made her decision and informed him. And there was no taking that away from her.

That is why her decision to continue pretending was not revoked even when she realized the depth of contempt and neglect from her mother and even brothers that this decision brought.

Enid preferred to endure, realizing that it was still better than completely losing the opportunity to finish school and make friends with other outcasts, to find herself for hell's sake! Enid was jealous of her brothers when they were sent to Nevermore, and she definitely didn't want to say goodbye to such an opportunity without even trying.

Her position in the San Francisco Pack didn't mean that things would be the same in Nevermore. There, her turning situation will not be as important, and she will be able to surround herself with outcasts of various species and characters.

Enid understood that this was a postponement of the inevitable, yes. But during all this time of bullying, teasing and outright pressure that piled on her, she changed her mind about wanting to be in the pack. Fundamentally changed.

Enid cooled down to any attempts by relatives to urge her to respect the Sinclair leagcy, controlled any attempts by the inner wolf to get out and show primacy, which led to control over emotional outbursts that could lead to the wolf breaking out. By fifteen, Enid knew all her weaknesses and triggers, felt when it was better to close her eyes and when the inner wolf began to feel and act for her.

Enid gave herself free rein only in this small, if compared with what could have been, of course, uprising in the form of bright colors in clothes and decor - it was not wolfish in the slightest and irritated both narrow-minded brothers and mother as much as possible.

After the domestic torment of trying not to give herself away, the room in Nevermore was simply paradise. Without a roommate and without any obligation to visit the local containment cells - after all, Enid was not officially capable of turning. Within the room, Enid could even turn at the full moon and curl up on the bedsheets. The mentoring of another alpha, and such a detailed one, which began with that very "unsuccessful" twelfth birthday, aside for those few hours in early childhood, helped a lot with such antics.

By the time she entered Nevermore, Enid was convinced that she did not need such a pack as it was. That's why every quarrel with her mother over her non-turning was not something traumatic or deserving of special attention.

Enid knew her own worth.

And she knew that there's always a price.

***

If anyone thought to ask Enid Sinclair what exactly was the most important turning point in her life, she would have answered something like "Nevermore admission."

And then she would smile brightly so that what she said seemed truthful.

No one asked Enid such questions, so the honest answer would be something like this. The most important day in her life happened when she turned six, and her eldest brother turned for the first time.

That day Enid got lost in the woods and lost her rose-tinted glasses forever.

Next chapters on AO3

#fanfiction #wednesday #enid sinclair #wolves of greed #wednesday addams #wenclair

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whatsk-poppinhomies · 2 years

Text

✘ Apocalypse Now (18+)

✘ Synopsis : They were going on a world tour, and while the thought excited you, you couldn’t help but feel a lingering sense of dread as well. Call it luck, call it a premonition or fate… Something made you send that message, unsure of if they’d even read it. Now the world was ending, and standing on your front porch in a state of panic were seven men seeking shelter from the end.

✘ Genre : Angst ; Apocalypse AU ;

✘ TW : angst ; end of the world ; apocalypse au ; suggestive at times ; jealousy ; fear ; gore ; horror ; anxiety ; panic ; sometimes fluffy?? ; lots of cursing

✘ Pairing : Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jungwon x F!Reader

✘ A/N : No, Niki doesn’t have a chance because he is baby, but he will get attention in this fic, he’s moreso a little brother that Y/N will take care of and protect with every ounce of her being because he is baby. <3

✘ Schedule : Will be updated when I can. ATM I’m in driving school, so I can’t stay up late, but once that’s done, I’ll be able to update as often as possible. I just didn’t want this idea to slip my brain.

✘ Started : 20220710 ✘ Ended : 20220729

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

✘ Masterlist ✘

I. a foolish request

II. a shortage of time

III. a sudden knock

IV. not enough room

V. and 1 becomes 8

VI. sleeping arrangements

VII. breakfast in hell

VIII. we all fall down

IX. roll out

X. out of the blue

XI. the nightmare begins

XII. silent footsteps

XIII. shot through the heart

XIV. the sun and the rainfall

XV. never let me down

XVI. personal jesus

XVII. sweetest perfection

XVIII. the things you said

XIX. it’s no good

XX. the bottom line

XXI. a world full of nothing

XXII. but not tonight

XXIII. here is the house

XXIV. it doesn’t matter two

XXV. i want you now

XXVI. leave in silence

XXVII. it’s called a heart

XXVIII. get the balance right

XXIX. dreaming of me

XXX. everything counts

XXXI. see you

XXXII. new life

XXXIII. suffer well

XXXIV. precious

XXXV. condemnation

XXXVI. mercy in you

XXXVII. in your room

XXXVIII. walking in my shoes

XXXIX. one caress

XL. get right with me

XLI. the landscape is changing

XLII. and then…

XLIII. love, in itself

XLIV. two minute warning {epilogue}

Message me if you’d like to be added to the tag list for this fic. ♥️

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amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix · 9 months

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placeholder

Warnings: Uhhh. Non-graphical smut and slight angst, but that's pretty much it for now since I'm still crafting the next part, and some curse words lmao.

I won't control you, but MDNI. This is not for you, please.

Pairings: OT7/(F) Reader

Plot: Seven dates that has a significant mark in your life, one of which massively tilted and fucked up your world for good.

Seven men you didn't want to have more significance in your life than they already have for each of those dates you desperately want to forget.

Genre: mutual pining (ik, ik, i'm sorry), light angst, denial of feelings, eventual poly ot7

placeholder: avoust xxix - óutobre xxxi - nouvèmbre xv - desèmbre xxvi - febrié xxiii - mai xiii - juliet xxii

this is not my first dabble at the bts fandom but this was my first bangtan fic i posted in ao3 2 years ago bc i was a baby army (and my first bangtan creation [not the mixtape series] one is still unfinished and unposted wkwkwkw) so pls be kind to me uwu n i don't really have army moots so if you wanna, come say hi to me on twitter @shimaeara (i don't use it for now because i have no moots there yet) this fic is fucking self-serve and was written without sleep and came to me after reading a fucking drarry slowburn and binge listening to Moonchild and continued after weeks(months) of procrastination and am not good at smut so i might not be able to write it graphically for now idk sorry (edit, 2023: I can write smut now lmao but im still not good at it so i'll try!!!!) artists mentioned are not mine and own themselves. only my original character is self-made, and portrayal and descriptions are in no way real and did not happen in life. everything is entirely fictional not beta'd so i take full responsibility for each and every mistake, my existence included.

i'm reposting this right now because of the date in my country (and a happy birthday to my irl bestfriend, allain. hope you're happy wherever you are, fucker

aight imma head out

💜 You're not aware of the date today.

You wake up unusually early. It's ironic—everything today seems to be, and it's only six in the morning. That in itself should've clued you in because never in a million years would you wake up at five fucking thirty ahead of your alarm, and a weekend at that.

No one dare wake you up voluntarily before seven safest, not after that incident with an overly-hyper Joji that resulted in him sporting a black eye and split lip for a week. No hard feelings were had; you've been bestfriends with him during the past few years since he became your client at the villa. It was resolved with a quick fuck before you even got out of bed. Everybody pretended that the scratches on his back were—ahem—inflicted during the fight.

Pft. Sure.

He has since left residence, but he still flounces around whenever his schedule allows, the motherfucker. You should remind him to bring his own food next time because he cleansweeps the fridge every time.

Your mood has been off since you opened your eyes. You lie there for a few minutes before you realize that it's still kind of dark outside, and a quick check of your phone informs you of the time.

5:36 am

Huh. That's fucking early.

You rub at your chest softly, wondering where the hollow sinking feeling is coming from and what roused you from your sleep. Granted that yes, you're not the most mentally healthy person, but the feeling is different from usual. Almost worse.

You try to go back to sleep but right as you were about to drift off, your bladder decides to kick in. Groaning, you roll out of bed and pad sleepily to your bathroom to do your business with closed eyes, trying not to let go of your sleepiness. Of course, that proves futile. You aren't able to fall right back to sleep after that. Normally, you'd have no problem jumping right back to snoozing, but again, irony.

When trying prove to be useless, you decide to get up. On the way down, you forget to take your phone with you, and you ain't going back to sixth ass floor when you're already on the second. You continue onward and bump into Shads. "Morning, Matt."

He looks at you in trepidation, and you laugh lightly at his expression. Nobody dare forget that you're not a morning person. "Hey, Y/N."

"Relax, I'm not gonna punch you." He laughs at that and visibly relaxes.

"You're up early," he comments.

"Yeah. I don't even know why, and I can't go back to sleep now anyways so..."

He nods. "Well, I'm just turning in. Need to catch some sleep before we fly later."

"Fun night?" You ask.

He snorts at that with a laugh as he turns away to walk to his room. "Wish. Had to be at the studio to fix some things."

"Aw, you poor baby."

"Fuck off."

You both laugh and walk away; him towards his room, and you towards the kitchen. "Sleep well. I'll make sure the car will be here later for you guys."

"Thanks, babe."

You feel it again while you are making myself a cup of hot chocolate at the communal kitchen. You have a love-hate relationship with coffee, so you don't drink it that much. You thump your chest lightly with a slight grimace, the feeling almost crushing now. Your heart is racing and you don't know why, hands shaking as you grip the counter and try to breathe through your mouth.

"Y/N?"

You look up to see Jin in his pajamas, blinking at you owlishly. "Hey, Jin." Your grimace morphs into an awkward smile and you put your arms to your side in fear that he might've seen it—he did.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah," you say, ignoring the heavy pounding feeling in your chest. He doesn't look convinced. "You're up early."

He shakes his head. "This is my usual waking time. You're early."

Well, you don't have a rebut for that.

"Are you sure you're okay, Y/N?" he asks again when you stay silent.

"Yeah." You will yourself to calm down, even though it's obviously unsuccessful. "I think I'm just having a heartburn."

He raises an eyebrow at that, clearly not buying your lie. He decides to spare you instead. "You shouldn't be having hot chocolate then; that will just trigger it more. Sit. I'll make us some tea."

"No, no, it's okay! I'm fine." You try to argue, but you quickly shut up when he narrows his eyes at you. You wait in awkward silence as he prepares the tea and starts making breakfast, possibly for his friends. Once it was done, you thank him and turn to go back to your room.

"Where are you going?" he asks, spatula raised from where he is cooking.

"Back to my room?"

He shakes his head. "No, you sit. I'm making breakfast anyway."

"But I—"

"Are you really this stubborn?" When you remain silent, he hums and goes back to cooking "That's what I thought. Now sit down."

And what choice do you have?

"Do you take any medicines?" he asks after a few minutes of silence.

"...no?"

"Not even for anxiety? Or anything?"

Wow. What happened to sparing you? You shake your head no. He just raises his brows at that and (mercifully) changes the topic. "What are you doing today?"

"Nothing. It's my first break in months, so I think I might just sleep all day and stay in bed. I don't know." You shrug. "How 'bout you guys? Do you have promotions today?"

He shakes his head. "Nah. We're all preparing for Jungkook's birthday. It's in three days."

Wait. Jungkook's birthday is September 1.

You stop at that, the cup of tea paused from where you were just about to take a drink. "T-three days?" You ask shakily as he puts some food on a plate and places it down in front of you, unaware of your inner turmoil. The food smells amazing, but you don't think you can handle eating right now.

"Yeah. It's 29 today, isn't it?" Jin takes his phone that was on the counter and checks, then puts the phone back down. "It is. We're gonna prepare a surprise for him."

Fuck.

"That's good," you say, trying not to show how your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your chest. He smiles at you and turns back to where he's cooking.

So that's why you've been feeling off since you woke up. 29th. It's the 29th of August today.

You finish your food with difficulty but you don't show it to him to not be ungrateful. His cooking is great, but your mind is really just elsewhere today. "Thanks for the breakfast. And uh, the tea." You clear your throat as you finish washing your plate.

"No biggie." He smiles brightly and you almost forget—almost.

"Have fun today with your plans. I'll be"—you swallow as you leave the room almost hurriedly, and Jin finally notices your distress—"I'll be in my room if you guys need something from me."

You hear him ask if you were really okay but you ignore it, almost tripping on your way out. You don't know you've been holding your breath until you let it out as you reach your room and flop uselessly on your bed. You can't even cry at this rate. You've spent so long crying that it left you tearless and empty. When you try to look deeper, the pain is crippling that you can't even move to shed a tear. It feels like being suspended mid-air in a dark void with that feeling that you might fall anytime, only you don't know when and if the fall will finally kill you.

You spend the whole day in bed with minimal to no human interaction. Matt swung by midday and thanked you with a hug before the band left. It will be hours later when someone knocks on your door again.

It's Namjoon.

"Y/N?"

You're tempted to not answer him. While yes, your closeness with him and his group came a long way from just them being your clients, you still don't feel comfortable with giving them the burden of trying to deal with your tragedies and discomfort. He calls your name again with a light knock before you amble to the door weakly, opening it just an inch. "Hey."

You smile at him, but it's clear as day that you aren't really feeling it. "Hey, Namjoon."

"Are you okay?" He pauses, then shakes his head. "No, you're obviously not. Can I come in?"

And of course, he can.

One thing you like about him is his maturity and perceptiveness. With the chaos that comes with his group, Namjoon keeps them tethered. You love their group, you really do. But when the energy becomes too much, you're thankful because he always senses your need to slow down and calms them. Maybe it's the same reason you're drawn to him the most out of all of them. All you know is it isn't just a plain crush on such a charming person anymore. When you spend a lot of time with someone so kind and wonderful, their looks become just a fucking bonus. Every time you look at him your heart won't stop racing, and it's the exhilarating type that makes you sweat and puts the coil in your stomach.

You both sit on the bed, pulling up the covers as he sits a respectable distance from you.

"Hyung told me what happened," he says at last. Your stomach drops at that. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Do you want to?

With your silence, he continues. "I understand if you don't want to. Just know that we're here for you." Then softly, "I'm here for you."

Your heart stutters, but you keep your face neutral by giving him a soft smile. "Thank you, Namjoon."

After a few minutes, he asks, "Is it because of Jungkook?"

"What?"

"Jin-hyung said you ran away when he mentioned our surprise for Jungkook." There is an emotion you can't name that briefly flits through his face before it smooths out to curiosity. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"No!" At his surprised face, you backtrack. "No," you say in a much softer voice. "It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

"I—"

"Noona!"

Wow. Speak of the devil and all that jazz.

Jungkook bursts through the door, completely oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room. Or if he does, he doesn't comment on it. "My favorite Noona~!" He climbs on the bed and sits beside you.

Your eyes flit to Namjoon, and you nearly miss the sharp look he gives him when Jungkook lies with his head on your lap. You snort at Jungkook's antics, a slow smile spreading to your lips.

"I bet you say that to all your noonas," you tease, to which Jungkook splutters.

"No, I don't!" He turns to Namjoon. "Tell her, hyung."

"I—what?"

"That she is my favorite noona!"

"You do say that to all your noonas, Kook." Namjoon deadpans.

"Hyung!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." Namjoon laughs. "Everyone knows you love Y/N the most."

"Yeah! Don't be jealous though, hyung." Jungkook chides, a crimson blush slowly spreading over Namjoon's cheeks. "We all know you love her the most."

"Hey—!"

"By the way," Jungkook back turns to you and ignores Namjoon's protesting, "we're all going out later. Want to come with?"

"Uh," you awkwardly scratch the back of your head. "I don't know, Jungkook. I—"

"Please?" He pulls his infamous doe eyes that makes it hard to refuse. While you normally don't have an issue with going out, you're not feeling up for it today. Especially not today of all days.

Your mind drifts to your old friends.

It's been seven years since they'd all been gone, but the memory is still fresh. For the past few years, you'd celebrated this day—all their birthdays—cradling a bottle of whatever liquor you get your hands on. You'd plow through bottle after bottle, glass after glass, trying to forget that you would have been celebrating with them had that day not happened. Then, you'd come home and sob yourself to sleep and pass out from being drunk because them being gone meant your alcohol tolerance was suddenly gone too.

"Y/N?" You snap out of your trance and see both men looking at you in confusion. "Are you okay?"

"Y-yeah." The hollow feeling intensifies and you feel a little nauseous, but you shake it off. "Sorry, what was that again?"

"Do you want to come with us later?" Jungkook's mood subdues at your lost expression, concern marring his pretty face. "But you can say no if you don't want to!"

You know they really wouldn't force you to come with them if you say no. They never once made you feel like you have no choice with the shenanigans they drag you into.

Then you think about what Alex would probably say if he's still here, what all of them would say. They'd kick your ass for stopping yourself from celebrating and getting wasted. They'd tell you that you need to try to forget even just for a day, and that drinking a whole ass bar is one way to do it. They would probably say some shit about honoring them by getting shitfaced.

"Okay," you say weakly.

The two men looks at you apprehensively.

"Are you sure, Y/N? We really wouldn't mind."

You nod. "It's fine. I'm sure it'll be fun."

"It will be!" Jungkook says excitedly. "I'll make sure it is."

And make sure, he does.

Eight pm rolls around and you're ready to head out with them. You don't want to risk them being seen with someone who'll just drag their image down so as much as it pains you, you actually do put effort in dressing up and looking presentable. Normally, you would just wear the most comfortable outfit. You can't risk that tonight, however. You're going out with people who has all eyes on them. Being associated with someone who looks remotely like a trash can would do nothing good for their image, although you know they could care less about that.

"Noona, you read...y?" You turn around in time to see Jungkook's Adam's apple bob in his throat. His eyes rakes your figure and you can't help the slight flush in your cheeks when you meet his intense gaze.

"Am I overdressed?" You try to joke, but it feels weak. He shakes his head, cheeks a lovely shade of pink.

"You look wonderful, noona ." He mutters under his breath, "too wonderful."

"What?"

He ignores that, giving you a blinding smile. "Shall we go?"

You feel baffled by his actions, but nod at him nonetheless. "Lemme just put on my shoes." You turn around and miss his eyes go wide when you bend over to slip on your pumps. He subtly adjusts himself through his pants and tears his eyes away from your ass before you can catch him staring. "Let's go?"

"Y-yeah." He clears his throat. "Hyungs are all waiting downstairs."

"Are you sure you're okay?" You ask. You walk over to him and put your hand on his forehead, unaware of his inner turmoil at the skin contact.

He catches your hand, and you gasp at his intense stare. A few seconds pass and he squeezes your hand before letting go.

"I'm okay." He then smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's go?"

You've already lost track of how many drinks you've consumed tonight. The corner of the bar was the perfect place and you made a beeline for it straight away once you spot it, unaware of Namjoon's eyes that were trained on you the whole time. You know you probably should've stuck with the others but you know your presence wouldn't be missed that much, so you stay put. You just left when you had enough turning down unwanted attention. Seriously, can't they all get a fucking hint?

"There you are!"

You startle as you feel a hand on your shoulder. You turn around and Jungkook stands there with a dopey smile. You assume he's on the way to being drunk now, but you really can't tell. "Y/N! I've been looking for you everywhere."

Obviously not everywhere. "Sorry, Kookie. I was just at the bar."

His smile gets wider at the pet name. "Kookie?"

"Oh, I mean—"

"I like it." He takes your hand with a slight tug. "Come on, let's go find the others."

You let him lead you and weave through the throng of partygoers. You feel the warmth of his hand on yours and fixate on it. Too much, that you don't know where he's leading you until the sounds of music gets muffled and muted. There's a firm click and thud, and you're being pushed against the door. His lips are on yours before you can even comprehend what's happening.

It takes you a few seconds to realize that you're kissing back. Weakly at first, you try to push him off you until he takes the hint.

His lips detach from yours and he pulls away, breathing heavily. His profile is illuminated by the purple light of the room, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest from catching his breath.

"What are we doing?" You ask him, eyes wide.

"Nothing you won't consent to."

You look at each other wordlessly. He steps back a little from you and removes his hands on your hips. You realize that he's giving you an out if you want to, but that you really don't want him to give you an out.

The last part scares you.

"I won't force you to anything you don't want to," he says gravelly. "You can always say no."

"What if I don't want to?" You mumble. "Say no, that is."

He looks confused for a moment. When it dawns on him, however, his lips pull into a slow devilish smirk. Goosebumps follow his fingers on your skin.

"Then we do whatever you want."

It's all a blur after that.

His lips find yours again, hands seeking the curve of your hips. He trails kisses on your cheeks down to your neck and chest, and sucks bruises that make you gasp out loud as your hands tangle in his silky hair. They don't slack grip as you guide him down right where you want his mouth and hands.

He takes you twice; first is when he pounds you from behind. Your hair is fisted in his hands as he pulls on it, and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

He thrusts deeper when you moan loud. "Stay quiet, noona," the honorific sounding sinful from his lips. You keen when he grinds his hips and hit that wonderful spot.

The second is with your legs wrapped around his waist, arms on his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his cock inside you with every savage thrust, and it makes you forget what it is you're running from. Half-crescent scratches are etched on his shoulders as you grip him tightly when you come, his hips stuttering in rhythm as his own orgasm crashes through him when you tighten around him.

Once you both finally catch your breath, he puts you down gently and fixes the creases on your dress.

"I'm taking this home," he says and pockets your panties. You don't have it in you to protest. Instead, you settle on rolling your eyes at him with a placid smile.

"I think you fucked the sad out of me," you say as your breathing calms to normal. You run your fingers through his hair and he kisses your wrist. "Thank you, Kookie. Happy birthday."

He pulls you into a tender hug, pressing a kiss on your hair. "Love you, Y/N."

You don't respond, don't need to. You know he feels it with how you fix his appearance and ruffle his hair as you lead him out of the room, totally unaware of a set of eyes that follow you both on your way out.

#mutual pining #light angst #i wrote this instead of sleeping #crossposted from ao3 #written with no sleep #to be continued #eventual poly bts #polyamorous bts

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lightlycareless · 1 year

Text

First, it hurts— Chapter XXIX

Naoya Zen’in x Fem!Reader

While arranged marriages are not uncommon in the jujutsu community, it was strange to receive a proposal from none other than the Zen’in’s, nonetheless your clan accepted and before you knew it, you were married off to Naoya.

Your new purpose was clear: to serve and submit, to be seen and not heard. To forget any sense of individuality in favor of obeying your husband.

Will this marriage ever flourish into something else? Will it change…for better or for worse?

Chapter warnings: slight mentions of emotional abuse, mentions of physical abuse. mentions of menstruation, fertility, nausea, misogyny, mentions of adultery, I guess adultery in itself, and that seems to be about it.

A/N: GUESS WHO IS BACK AGAIN!! Yes, it's me 🥺❤️ I'm finally back from my cruise, and other shenanigans that I had to deal before I went back to writing. Got to put everything in place, you know?

I got to experience something completely different, like being on a boat... and getting sick, and going to the other side of the country haha, but I liked it! However, what I liked most was getting back to my home with my cat, and you guys :> ❤️

Well, I don't have much to say after this, except.... thank you for your patience ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Without any further ado, happy reading! 🥰

Masterlist ➸ Chapter 30

Ao3 link.

If you were forced to name one positive thing that came from the elders' unrequited involvement in your situation, is that their imposed distance (as well as obnoxious arrogance) was so abnormally high, that it permitted you to do the few tasks you were assigned to as the Lady of the House without much interference. They were seemingly so above your level, they barely even gave you any mind —outside of nasty comments here and there— when indulging in the few things that maintained your sanity, at least until the day you were rescued came.

It felt… reductive to even put the words positive and elder’s in the same sentence, considering that no less than just a few days ago you were nothing but a frightened mess, locked away in your room as you continuously tortured your mind with the when and how’s of their retribution.

Yet, it is said that time heals all wounds, and after tiring all of your energy ruminating in nothing more than your sorrow and your regrets, your body eventually scarred those painful memories, growing some kind of resistance (or perhaps ignorance, because it will always hurt), and arriving to the conclusion that you at least owed it to those who remained by your side in these difficult moments to hold your head up high and continue to fight.

After all, Mariya, Haruko, Hitomi, and Naoaki were all affected by what transpired to some degree, and they still persevered. So why couldn’t you do the same? Or at least… try?

And now that you began to slowly compose yourself, to the point where you actually had energy to get up and out of bed every morning… shame for the past emotional outbursts you’d unwittingly placed on them began to take hold of your conscience—Looking at the bigger picture, it feels like that's all you've ever done since you arrived here, placing them in danger, while in turn, they constantly reassured you that you were not as cruel, or weak as your inner sabotaging self believed.

Truly, if it weren't for them, you don't know where you'd be. And not giving the Zen'in any more power than what they already had over you was the least you could do to honor their efforts…

…

But as expected, things were always easier said than done.

It certainly wasn't… effortless to move on, not when you still had the presence of your stranded husband lingering in the corner of your eye, and the death sentence of your father-in-law haunting you like a yokai through every step you took, but you still tried your best, the best you could anyways.

Nonetheless… if it’s worth mentioning, there was a sudden change in your surroundings that altered your perception of them for a moment, at least until you figure out if for the best or for the worst, when noticing Naoya's behavior from one day forward.

You don’t know why, and you don’t usually bother to care when it comes to him, but it happened. And quite strangely too, so… abruptly , especially when all that you remember of him for the last days were his attempts to contact you, or that's what you presumed to be —judging by his looming presence in every room you were in—since you never allowed conversation to start between the two.

Taking this into consideration, it was only natural that you’d inquire with your ladies, if they knew, within their limited reach, about anything new happening to him, just in case you needed to anticipate his reaction and act accordingly.

They looked at one another, as if searching for the answer in their eyes, before looking back at you and shaking their heads.

“No, but now that you mention it, I noticed he seemed to be rather… focused, different from the blank stare he carried everywhere he went to" Mariya noted.

“What do you think of it?” Hitomi asks “Do you think he’s up to something?”

“Oh, I hope not!” Haruko frets, face pale as she shivers “I don’t think I’ll be able to handle anything more! But… What do you think, Y/N-chan? Do you think he’s planning something?”

Undeniably so, but that is not something that you were to find out any moment soon, or through them for that matter… less when there were endless topics to choose from.

The thing enacting his change could be his career, his title, the elders, perhaps even some paramour he’d fallen out with due to his "temporary" stay at the estate, or worse… you .

You swallow.

For the sake of your mental health, you really, really hoped that wasn't the case.

Your search for answers eventually leads you to Naoaki, whom you silently counted on to give you the closure you desperately needed, after all, he was still in somewhat of a good standing with the rest of the clan and if there was someone that would know of any new changes before the staff, it would be him.

It still surprises you that he hasn't heard of your scheduled death, planned by none other than his own father, or maybe he already knows, but always the considerate one, he decided to not bring it up to avoid hurting you, waiting for you to disclose it in your own terms, in your own time.

If that were the case, you didn’t think it was possible to admire him any more… but that will be something to focus on another time.

“I have no idea what he’s up to” Naoaki exhales, crossing his arms and looking back to you “But whatever it is, it’s never good”

You hum, agreeing with his words. Yet, there was a bit of an unsettling sentiment coming from them, undoubtedly, because they were not the ones you expected to hear from him.

“But don’t let that worry you, Y/N” he continues, as if sensing the mental gymnastics occurring inside your thoughts —or more like seeing them, since the tightness of your lips and the furrow of your brows were all too evident to him— reassuring you with a smile before taking a step closer to you, lifting his hand to tilt your head to his direction and place a soft kiss on your forehead. “It’s a beautiful day today to be focused on that, why don’t you accompany me to the training grounds? Or whatever you want, really, today is my day off”

“Oh” you murmur, a faint streak of pink painting your cheeks, a reaction coming from your still-inconclusive opinion of your relationship with him, and the giant leap forward it took a few nights ago.

Ever since that occasion, the one where you latched onto him in a desperate search of comfort, allowing him to stay in your chambers… something changed between the two.

It’s not anything that you haven’t thought of before, nothing that hasn’t been in the development after you wondered how different your life would’ve been had he been the one to marry you, and not his dreadful brother.

And as much as it's something you enjoy, (mostly) never rejecting him when he wants to dote on you… you have to be very careful with how you proceed.

After all, even if the winds of uncertainty seemed to have calmed down a bit, you were still in hot water, and Naoya's shift in behavior was a reminder of that: any misstep could lead to his detriment—and that is something that you do not wish for him.

Well, it seems you were the only one thinking that, for Naoaki didn’t seem to show any concern, after all, you’ve noticed how… confident he’s become when it comes to approaching you; you’d always been uneasy about it from the very beginning, now matter how many times he tried to tell you it was ok, but now that it’s become more apparent… you couldn't help but worry.

And how could you not? You already had Naoya confronting you about it in the days before everything went to hell. If he hasn't been distracted by his exam…

The thought is enough to send shivers through your spine, and just how it crossed your mind, you discarded it.

Just like Naoaki said, It was difficult … and even then, that word would be an understatement.

Oh, if you’d only met under different circumstances…

“I would like to but… Junko-san already she’d need me for the whole day” you eventually admit, and Naoaki's face paints the expression he always uses when he wants you to “not worry about it”

But you know him all too well to this point to understand that deep inside, he’s a bit hurt.

“I see” Naoaki answers, retracting his hand to his side and smiling “Maybe tomorrow I’ll have better luck?”

But what a terrific job he does to act as if he weren’t feeling that way.

“I’ll see what my schedule is” you chuckle, playing along. “I’ll try to see you whenever possible today, maybe we can eat something together”

“I would love that” he agrees “See you around, then?”

“See you around” you repeat, a smile on your face.

You then proceed to take a quick glance at your surroundings, just to check that the two had remained in the solitude you'd intended, before taking a step closer to him, placing your hands over his chest, carefully grasping the collar of his shirt, and pulling him down to land a place on his cheek.

To say that you’ve been wanting to do this for a while would still fall short to your emotions, however, you were not disappointed by the time it took you to finally achieve it—and judging by Naoaki's perplexed, but pleased reaction, it seems he thought the same.

At a closer approach, you could also smell his cologne, the same one he always used, regardless of the occasion. You always liked men's fragrances, but his… it felt rather soothing, basking you in an embrace which you did not want to let go…

From there, you noticed how soft his cheek was, and how it was leaning onto the warmer side, even with the cold weather, which made you assume he was flustered.

Even if it was for another reason, you still found it yourself to think of it as cute .

…

Would it be weird if you also admitted that his skin felt just right… underneath your lips?

You don’t let these thoughts distract you much from your upcoming tasks as you send him off with a quick wave, a coy smile on your lips as the faintest of redness painted your cheeks, before doing a sharp turn on your axis and heading towards the place the mother of the twins arranged to see you.

The memory of their mother is enough to pull you back to reality, tossing aside the tranquility Naoaki provided you and replacing it with chagrin.

Ever since hell broke loose, Junko has been… Well, you’d like to say that she's changed, but most likely than not, she returned to who she genuinely is, to who she was always supposed to be with you.

Where she once showed an ounce of trust and respect towards your persona, to the point where she even allowed you to carry on with your tasks without her supervision, going as far as permitting you to conduct meetings with contractors, taking decisions on behalf of the Zen’in estate without her approval… Now she only seems to scrutinize you, meticulously tear your discernment apart without giving you time to justify yourself—and way harsher than she has ever done before.

The reason for her behavior was no mystery: she was less than impressed by your antics. But even when she didn’t actively reprimand you, she was the kind of person to carry a semblance that lets you know there was something wrong, and that it was on you to figure it out.

A passive aggressive air that while it went undetected at first, for you were too focused on your own survival, wouldn’t take long before it became apparent by her own merits.

"Is this how you're going to act from now on?" The mother of two scowls as soon as you step into the gathering point—the kitchen.

"...what do you mean, Junko-san?" You cautiously inquired. It was only the first hour of the day, you haven’t done anything outside getting ready for the day, briefly conversing with Naoaki, and making your way here.

Unless… she’d seen you with Naoaki just moments before, and now, has decided to participate in the name-calling movement the rest of her relatives were partaking in?

“I asked you to be here at 7 o’ clock in the morning. And you’re 1 minute late” Junko says, and while her path had been completely different from what you expected, alleviating you in some way for this would be the one topic she has left out of her attention —you noticed early on that she doesn't talk about Naoaki, at least directly, contrary to those who are more than willing to call you nasty names due to the nature your relationship with him. Naoya…— you knew it wouldn't be beneficial in the long run.

This was just to be the tip of the iceberg regarding the behavior Junko decided to adopt when referring to you since that day.

Even the littlest of things, whether a simple accident or not, were accentuated before her observant dark eyes and brought to your attention in the most crudest of ways.

“It’s not enough that you disrespect your father-in-law, the head of the clan , and your husband” Junko continued on “But also the time of others?”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was still in time—”

“Don’t apologize” She says, sharply cutting through your fretting attempt at an explanation without hesitation. A reaction that has you immediately quieting up and intently observing her. “Do better ”

You don’t say nor do much after this interaction besides following her lead into what is the customary first task of the day, having long understood that no matter what you did, no matter how you tried to justify your actions, you had become virtually irremediable before her judgment.

But even when you were stung by her indifference… you guess you should still hold some kind of gratitude towards her.

After your small quarrel with Naobito and your continued attempts to avoid Naoya erupted, Junko had made it her utmost priority to ban you from any task that involved them.

Ever the one to please the masters in attempts of redeeming herself for committing “failures” of her own, Junko knew that an environment involving the problematic couple of the moment would do no good to anyone around, thus, did everything she could to avoid a repeat of that unfortunate scene.

You assumed this to be a necessary action due to her responsibility towards you, but one quick glance at the fresh wounds scattered on her arms and neck, which she often attempted to hide with her sleeves or collar of her kimono , would perhaps not tell you otherwise, but rather, give you another motivation behind her behavior.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen something like this, Ogi’s unnecessary involvement and following spite towards his wife, that is, whenever you seemingly committed something “unruly for the Lady of the House”

However, perhaps because of the status that you held and the animosity you imagined Naoya had towards him whenever he spoke about his uncle , you never faced the same repercussions as she did.

Sure, you had your own demons to fight, but they were never as… gruesome, or constant, as the one’s the mother of the twin’s carried—and all because at the end of the day, since Junko was in charge of overseeing your behavior, any negative repercussion from your actions naturally reflected on her , and subsequently, her husband.

Mai and Maki had never voiced you their opinion of this situation, or if they were even aware of it. But if you were to take into consideration the way they were able to immediately identify your silent sorrow with just taking a look at you, you could only guess they were all but unaware of what transpired between their parents.

Ogi, just like Junko, was the type of person that made no attempts to hide their discontent with you, however, because of previously stated reasons, he was far less detached from you and solely limited himself to shoot you nasty glances, scoffs, and evading you as if you were the plague itself —the biggest of his transgressions would be perhaps when he dared attack you with objectifying and degrading comments regarding your persona and family, sometimes redirecting them towards Naoya’s poor discernment— whenever you have the misfortune of crossing paths with him.

That didn’t mean he didn’t intend to do more, of course, and after noticing how sternly Junko started to treat you, you were more than convinced with the theory her husband often dumped her with things that would relieve his stress (or that he saw far beneath him, undeserving of his attention) such as taking absolute accountability for the twins, or reprimanding you—it makes you wonder how many of the nasty comments Junko has said to you are actually from her, and which ones are from her husband.

Or in the worst, but not impossible of cases… from Naobito himself.

Your father-in-law has kept quiet, distant, much to your surprise, and not in a sense that you find comforting. As you’ve thought so before, the higher up’s silence is often considered sinister for it provides the implication of something brewing up behind the scenes.

And as the days went by, and you have yet to hear anything from their side… your mind was forced to seek and answer, concluding that his calmness must’ve been from the fact that you already had the worst punishment that you could think of, your death , on its way. What was worse than dying at this point?

…

Making you suffer for it, of course, if they feel rather sadistic when it happens.

It was nothing more than rumors and assumptions that were inundating your mind at this point, all stemming from the fact that Naobito hadn’t forgotten your transgression and was simply waiting for things to act out on their own.

But maybe… if only maybe, had you been a bit more attentive to the whispers circulating the halls, you would’ve realized that Naobito had already moved on from the incident, and not because he was as cold and calculating as you portrayed him (he still is) but rather because he… genuinely already forgot about it.

Naobito was a man that harbored an uncontrolled alcoholic addiction —a s enior alcoholic, must one add— who’d gotten to the point in his life where he just stopped caring about topic outside his immediate reach, and considering that he grew up in a household of conflicting relatives and far more impactful situations, he took your behavior as nothing more than a “femal’s hormonal outburst”, an interesting one at that, considering the reputation that followed your marriage to Naoya, and moved on with his life.

After all, he did have bigger fish to fry with a certain… Gojo heir. And your punishment was already set, so why the hell would he bother wasting his time in doing more, like the elders were instigating him to, when it was only a matter of time before you either forced yourself to accept their lifestyle, or perish? He was the clan leader, for god’s sake! He could do whatever he wanted!

From there, the only person from the “elite” circle that has kept a close eye on you, was Jinichi.

But different from his crude relatives, he would approach you with the intention of checking in on you, see how you were faring, and perhaps… get a profile of your inner workings and deduce what made you act the way you did.

Your perception of him was still… confusing, baffling so to speak, even after you were slowly starting to get to know him a bit better, as well as losing that intimidating sensation he always unknowingly brought forth towards you.

The memory of the night you rejected Naoya for the nth time, running away from him before stumbling into Jinichi, vividly remained in your mind.

His words, his recounts, his version of the story —a new, unexplored side of the troubled existence of the Zen’in clan— and the alleged suffering of his brother was the only reason you hadn’t acted so dismissively towards him when he came to commend you for your bravery, as well as advise you to to not try anything of the liking again.

Although well intended, you don’t have to go beyond the conversation you had with him that fated night, as well as the whispers of his relatives, to understand that his warning, far from being intended as a caution for your well being, had been more of a remembrance of something that occurred with his estranged brother.

The mystery that surrounded Toji’s persona, exile, and the terror he imparted onto the jujutsu community after he left the clan, was one that you’d wish to unveil, but your need for survival outweighs far more than your curiosity at this particular moment...

Besides, his bare thought seems to be a painful yet shameful one for the Zen’in, so even if you wanted to pursue this subject, you doubt you’ll get any answers from it—leading you to quickly drop the topic.

Circling back to Jinichi, even if you have yet to determine your impression of him, you still thank him for his concern. Especially when he could’ve easily adopted Ogi’s stance and treated you the same way…

In fact, there was still hesitance in your heart when you thanked him for his kind words, because all that you knew of his opinion regarding you was that you reminded him of his brother and the regret he held for not being able to have one last conversation with him before he left…

Let’s go through that again: you reminded him of a man that most, if not all, members of the Zen’in clan thought of negatively , if not horrifyingly…

Well, there’s no use in over thinking what’s already set, after all, if there was no real damage (that you can perceive anyways) being done to you via his actions and words, you’re not going to denounce him—alliances are hard to come by in the wretched household of the Zen’in, and if you could at least preserve somewhat of a good relationship with one of the men that had more than enough power to make your life difficult, then you would accept it. For the sake of your survival and rescue.

And that’s what you did, and will continue to do as you go on with your tasks: remain amicable, and distant if necessary, to those around you, keep in your lane as you await for the next day, and the next one, and the day after that one, and so on and so forth, to arrive.

Once your early morning tasks were done and you had prepared the food of the masters as well as your own, Junko announced your second task for the day, one that you often assumed to be the most tedious and time consuming of them all, the reason why she booked you for the whole day: fixing the clothes of the sorcerers.

It had been a while since you laid hands on a needle, less focus on it for hours , since most of your responsibilities pertained to the maintenance and administration of the house, but when a slight organizational shift occurred in the missions of a particular heir , you were pulled back to the mundane, bottom of the barrel, activities of the everyday wife.

Now that you put it that way, this felt like some kind of a not-so-indirect punishment from Junko —from dealing with important, highly influential matters that solely pertain to the Lady of the House, you were now relegated to nothing more than domestic chores. Her words, not yours.

But as you stated before, you were nothing but glad that you were being kept away from anything that could possibly involve your tormentors—if anything, this new assignment couldn’t have been any better, for you were to be accompanied by none other than the most talented seamstress you’ve ever met in your life, the same one you had the fortune of calling your friend: Hitomi.

Having disclosed to Mariya how regretful you felt for unwittingly showing preference to her over Hitomi, and her sister Haruko, you’ve attempted to make it up to them in however way you could, and what better way than spending time with her, engaging in an activity she’s not only proficient in, but also, fond of?

Even if you still didn’t feel confident enough to share your intimate thoughts with her, you still wanted her to know how important she is to you—thank her for all the support she’s given you.

And not only would this task help strengthen your relationship with her, show your interest in wanting to learn something new from her (even if it was quite tedious and terrifying from her side, you’ve long learned that Hitomi was… quite the teacher) but also, brush up the sewing skills you’ve unintentionally placed on the back burner for external issues, since from one day forward, you’ve been wanting to do something nice for the twins, who recently began to complain about the cold weather, as well as something for Naoaki, who never fails to comment on how cold your hands are as soon as he holds them—so why not make their life easier?

Soon after you’re done eating breakfast and cleaning up after those you indirectly served, you’re picked up by Hitomi and taken to your favorite spot at one of the many gardens inside (your permitted section) of the Zen’in estate, somewhere in the south wing, where the flowers are slowly withering due to the changing weather, but still enjoy thanks to the beautiful koi pond in it, before getting to work.

“Are you ready, Y/N-san?” Hitomi says with a smile as she lays down a small metal box filled with needles and threads besides the mountain of clothes —the ones you assumed to be the victims, excuse me, canvases , for the occasion— she’d had one of the servants place in advance before taking a seat. “Judging by the amount of work we have, it seems like Junko-san was intentionally keeping these hidden for a while now. I heard she even went as far as taking the work from the other seamstress to put it here. If I knew any better, I think she’s intending on overworking you”

“As ready as I’ll ever be” you admit, sitting beside her and reaching over for the metallic box. Already familiar with the tools inside, you go ahead and take out the ones you deemed necessary for the taskblack thread, thread snips, and a needle. “And… you might be right. Junko-san isn’t very happy with me, I don’t think anyone is really. But… whatever— What surprises me the most is that you aren’t the only seamstress here, and I don’t know why I had the idea that, considering the size of the estate…”

Hitomi doesn’t proceed to take the box from you once you’ve set it back down to the engawa and on her side, but rather, she focuses on taking a quick glance at you, observing your unaware profile for a few seconds, before smiling.

She can’t recall the last time you were this talkative to her, or anyone for that matter, since that happened.

And while it might not be to the same extent as it was before, when things were infinitely better, Hitomi was still glad that you were slowly beginning to emotionally improve, giving the impression that you were growing more comfortable with her, enough to step a way, if only from a moment, from the confines of your mind and grant her what seems to be the beginning of a conversation—different from the unwittingly detached approach you’d given her days prior.

Your closeness to Mariya was never of her discomfort, neither for your sister. She was more worried about your reclusiveness and the fact that she couldn’t do anything to help you than those petty matters.

But now… it was different. There was an advancement, and there was nothing that made her happier than that.

“By the amount of work I sometimes had, that’s what you’d think” she moved on, sighing as she mirrored your actions by taking out her own tools “I sometimes wish that the kukuru would be a bit more cautious with their clothes, it seems like they intentionally put their clothes in harm’s way just because they can”

“Well, not to defend them… but going out on missions as frequently as they do, or just by rigorously training, you’re bound to get a scratch or two” you say, beginning to place the thread into the needle, and once that was set, awaiting Hitomi’s following indications. “My brother and sister would always take their own sewing kit just because of that”

“That’s different— they’re being conscious about it. Not like the ones here that just assume someone will always do their work, and thus, act irresponsible with their things! Just because they’re magically mended after throwing them into the dirty laundry bin doesn’t mean they can’t be careful” Hitomi groans, she could literally envision them taunting her when they place their clothes at the laundry room «Who cares! Hitomi is going to fix it anyways!» They’d say. “But whatever, we’re not here to complain about them, because if we are, I think we’re going to need more than a day for that”

You chuckle, agreeing with her. And your gesture makes Hitomi join with a chuckle of her own.

“I want you to first practice on your stitches before moving onto something a bit more difficult, like hems” Hitomi instructs as she reaches over to the pile of clothes and takes out a random pair of black pants “This one has a small rupture” she points at it and you hum “so a basic stitch will be more than enough to fix it. But I’m always here for guidance if you need some”

“I remember doing some, back in the day” you reflect, taking the garment away from Hitomi’s hands and laying it on your lap “Or attempting to do them… back when I was at school, I obviously never mastered them, but I’d rather have a badly fixed skirt than the long one I got as a uniform”

“I always liked long skirts” Hitomi adds “It makes you look regal, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I guess so, but it all depends on the context. I don’t mind long skirts if it’s for anything else but for physical activity—I don’t know how my sister does it… But that wasn’t the issue! The problem here was that it was completely different from what I requested. Picture this, I asked for my skirt to be just above the knee, but instead, I got one that ended 5 fingers below it!”

Hitomi scoffs “That’s a mistake not even I can figure where it came from; I’d like to say it was the usual extra piece they add to unite fabrics and make the hems, but we’re talking about almost 6 inches of a mistake! Whoever made your uniform must’ve been a beginner”

“I guess so” the two laugh, before you stab the needle into the black garment and begin to work. Hitomi doing the same with another piece of clothing. “That skirt would only hinder my work if I left it like that… and would’ve continued to do so, if I was still a sorcerer”

Upon noticing the subtle shift in your tone at the remembrance of something that is no longer meant to be, Hitomi decides to act quickly and push through the subject in hopes of preventing sadness from laying its roots in your heart.

“I can imagine. Kind of. I’ve only seen the sorcerers here and most of them wear pants, although we should consider most of them to be men, so…”

“The uniform at school is way different than what’s used here. The sorcerers here use far more traditional garments than the rest do, and the school offers a much more modern “default” alternative—However, students are permitted to file in a request for a customization” you explain, and Hitomi, whom was elated to see that you’d naturally carried on with the conversation, was also now… briefly interested to know more about your life as a sorcerer.

You don’t talk much about it, or more likely than not, you had a rather extensive background that the short conversations you’d had with her up to this point hadn’t been enough to uncover them all! Which only makes it more exciting.

Thus, prompted by her curiosity, she continues:

“If you don’t mind me asking, how was your uniform?”

“Oh, well” you blink, and something likened to excitement fills your chest.

Remembering this part of your life and education was always exciting for you because it was the beginning of something long-awaited! Even if it was all in the past…

Well, some were right in saying that recounting memories was the same as reliving them, and wouldn’t it be nice to share those nice sentiments with a friend? Undoubtedly.

So, you oblige.

“Since I wanted to do something different from my siblings and friends, cooler in a way, and that it somehow matched with my technique, I decided to take inspiration from one of the series I was—”

“Ah, there you are!” An exasperated voice booms through the stillness of the air as it breaks your sentence midway. The rudeness of the noise forced the women to perplexedly look at each other, wondering if this had been nothing more than a fabrication of their imagination—the assumption quickly debunked by the sound of rushed footsteps that followed soon after, which made their heads swirl into its general direction, intending to identify who had been the one that called them so abruptly, if they were even the person of interest. “I was looking everywhere for you!” the voice called yet again, and when the caller stepped into their sight, you were the first to react.

“Nao…hiko?” You whispered. To say that you were somewhat startled by his appearance would be an understatement, however, your companion did not seem to share that same sentiment, evident by the not so subtle groan that escaped her lips, followed by a quick eye roll.

The culprit behind the shout had been none other than Naoaki’s brother, the second oldest, and the one that wasn’t known for being particularly tactful with others, although that description fit another member of the Zen’in siblings…

As he continues to walk over to your direction, you glance over at Hitomi, giving her another look that asks her “What is going on?” hoping that perhaps she knew of some arrangement Junko had set forth without informing you first hand—although the garment in his hands already offered some hints.

But before either are even able to externalize their concerns, he interrupts once more.

“I’m talking to you , seamstress” Naohiko’s words were… condescending , to say the least.

Would you say unexpected? No, considering how he treats you, or his siblings whenever around, always carrying this aura as if everything were beneath him…

However, what you allow towards your persona is contrastingly different from what you permitted onto others, and with such thought is why you decide to put him in his place.

“She has a name, you know” you frown “ Hitomi ”

“Yeah, Hitomi, right. Whatever" Naohiko groans as he shrugs, not even bothering to glance at your direction as he responds, solely looking at her “Heard you were fixing clothes again, so, I want you to fix mine”

“I’m busy." Hitomi says, reacting with the same indifference he’s throwing at the two by keeping her eyes on the garments before her, and coincidentally, you. “You can ask the other seamstress to help you”

“Ugh, you think I would be here if I liked her job? Or if she knew how to do it?” He whines, shaking the garment before her to grab her attention and demonstrate his urgency. “You’re the only one that knows how to fix my clothes just how I like it, so yeah, I want you to do it”

Hitama inhales, exhales, turns lifts her gaze to his and declares:

“Not with that tone I’m not”

And then, everything goes silent.

You were already uneasy when Naohiko decided to approach the two out of the nowhere, and in the same manner that he’s always used to refer others, but to hear Hitomi actually retaliate was just something that you—well, you didn’t know how to take outside of getting in each other’s nerves.

Hitomi was the no-nonsense kind of person in the group, reserved and cool tempered; the voice of reason between her and her sister…

But Naohiko? Oh, he was as hot-headed as they come. Rude, not easy to get along with, can’t get a joke even if his life depended on it… and adding Hitomi’s reaction… It was only a matter of time before either one of them jumped the other.

You know it won’t be Hitomi, so all that remains is to anticipate Naohiko to be the one to take the first step.

Thus, you begin to slowly preparing yourself to stand up for her by setting your items on the side, slowly inching closer to her as you discreetly push yourself up from the wooden floor, completely expecting him to lose he’s cool and screech and demand that she do what he orders , and how dare she question his authority…

But what transpired after was something that you’d never think in a million years would happen, and such was the shock for the following events, that you were unable to do anything else but fall back into your seat and speechlessly watch everything unfold.

“Can you fix my pants, please ?” he murmurs, head to the side as his eyes are fixated everywhere but on the woman he’s requesting the service, as if he was embarrassed to show his desperation for such necessity, or perhaps… something more?

“My pleasure” Hitomi says, accepting her new assignment by grabbing the garments from his hand and placing them alongside the rest.

She then picks up from where she left off with her previous engagement, grabbing the needle and starting to thread in the fabric… or that's what she intended to do before noticing Naohiko's looming presence just over her shoulder, as if he were trying to make sure she was indeed planning on doing what he requested, instead of retreating back to whatever place he was before.

Never one to enjoy having an audience while working, at least not one that she hadn't approved of, Hitomi is prompted to place her tools back on her lap as she sighs, before turning around to face him once more.

“I’ll let you know when they’re done, Naohiko-sama , you don’t need to stand there" « like an idiot » she wished to add, but she knows she’s threading dangerously close.

“...Uh, yeah, sure” he says with a frown, clenching his hand before turning around and leaving their presence. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge you on his way in, or out, which was surprising since whenever you were present it always seemed he had something to say to you—but this change didn’t matter to you, not when you had a far more shocking interaction to analyze.

“What was that?” you ask once Naohiko is out of sight and earshot.

“What?” she asks and you huff, because there’s no way she doesn’t know what you’re talking about.

“I mean—he's always so… unruly, I was worried that he was going to snap at you!" you continue on "but… he didn't. And it looked like you weren't even worried about it either! Is there something going on between the two that I don't know of?”

“What?! No!” she twisted her face out of disgust, shaking her head as if you'd just told her the most gruesome, impossible scenario of them all “He’s nothing more than a pushover, someone had to tell him how to ask for things eventually! I don’t care if he’s one of the masters, he’s not going to treat me that way”

“Are you sure there’s nothing else going on?” you egg on, a smile on your face as you inch closer to her, elbowing her arm ever so slightly. "Cause I think I saw something in his face when he asked you nicely to fix his pants"

"Y/N-san… I swear, you're just like my sister…" Hitomi frowns, and at the implication, you gasp.

"Ah, so there is something!" You conclude and she just scoffs.

“No! Of course not! But… Well, I guess if I had to put it into words, he's the only one I tolerate of the masters because he's the only one who appreciates my work, instead of treating it like it was my duty” Hitomi eventually relents “Even if it is my job, who doesn't like to be recognized? And by one of the masters of the— what's with that face? " She asks when she finally notices the grin, which only grew bigger and bigger as she went on, in your mischievous face.

"Oh, nothing" you shrug, turning around to the pending work on your lap "Just thinking, that's all"

"Don't get the wrong idea, Y/N-san" she says as she mirrors you, picking up her thread to continue working "I'm just recognizing his appreciation for my work. But I don’t want to talk about that anymore, why don’t you tell me about your uniform?"

While Hitomi was more than comfortable in admitting that there really was nothing between the two outside of a professional relationship, she's not going to say that she doesn't enjoy how he always seeks her simply because, in his own words "there's no one else that can do what you do"

That's… certainly one way to get to the heart of a professional.

But if there's something that she likes the most above all, it’s being able to work without interruptions.

Unfortunately, that's something that’s not bound to happen that day.

“Hitomi!” Another voice calls, less intruding than Naohiko’s, softer even, but and with a sense of urgency that makes both women look into its direction: one out of curiosity, and the other with impatience “Hitomi! Where are you?!”

“Oh, Jesus, what is it now?!” Hitomi breathes exasperatedly as the notion of another person coming to bother her simply because she’s back in the game takes hold of her mind. Yes, she said she likes being appreciated, but that doesn’t mean she enjoys being dumped with all of their work—Junko was already doing that, what else do they want from her?

Too angered by being interrupted, she doesn't hold her tongue when voicing her frustration “Can’t you see I’m trying to work her—oh, Haruko! ”

At the recognizable figure of her sister turning just around the corner, Hitomi is quick to calm down her animosity and transform it into interest before ending in concern when her eyes capture the redness of her cheeks and the out-of-place strands of hair sticking to her her face: symbols that she had been doing nothing but running towards their direction for the past few minutes, as well as remembering the crucial tone of her voice in which she was calling to her just a few seconds ago.

Everything had been somewhat calm since the day began, and neither Junko, Mariya, her , or even you had been informed of anything important happening… So, what made her like that?

“I came rushing here as soon as possible!” Haruko piped as soon as she catches up to you, breathing heavily as she crouches forward to rest her hands on her knees in hopes to rest for a moment and regain her breath.

“Why are you in a rush, Haruko?” you ask as you discard all of your items to the side, pushing yourself up from the floor and going to her side “Sit down, you need to rest”

But instead of accepting your offer, she gently rejects you, shaking her head as she lifts her glance to you, before shifting to her sister, and darting back to you.

It’s almost as if she were pleading to the two to not have her say what burdens her mind, but knowing there are matters she has little to nothing control over, she painfully forces herself to continue. "I have—" she gasps, throat constrained as she swallows, her heartbeat echoing in her ears "I —I have an announcement… no, a dreadful request for you, Y/N-san!!”

Her words hollow in your head as you unwittingly take a step back from her, darting a quick glance towards Hitomi, attempting to corroborate (or perhaps seek comfort?) her sister’s words before looking back at Haruko once more.

“What is it?” you caution, voice low as a whisper, as all kinds of dreadful scenarios begin to flash through your mind, agitatedly hoping that none of them were happening. “Is… is everything ok? Is Mariya ok? What—what about the twins?!”

“They’re fine, they’re ok but… I—I don’t think you will” Haruko frets and your heart drops to your stomach. Hitomi attempts to reprimand her for her poor choice of words as soon as she sees your face pale, but your imperativeness wins her to it.

“What … Do you mean, Haruko?” your murmur and Haruko presses her brows together, dreading that she has to be the one to relay this distressing thought, one that is only destined to interrupt the few moments of peace you’ve only started to regain.

Just how things are always meant to be while in the claws of the Zen’in clan.

“...Na—Naoya’s staff informed me that—that he wants to—to take you to the—the doctor” she stammers in between breaths, yet to regain her stability, but with an announcement such as this that task will fade into the background “And that… you—you should carefully consider your situation since your—since your body body is already in a vulnerable position”

“ What ?” you whisper, and you feel as if you’d been dragged to a pit of darkness “When—when did he say this? How long has he… planned for this?”

“Just right now, I think… They—They told me they couldn’t find Mariya so they asked me to—to let you know instead” she exhales, and then, she finally sits down.

And in a matter of seconds, as your mind runs a thousand miles per second trying to find an answer to his unforeseen predicament, something inside your mind clicks that makes his sudden disappearance all too evident.

Of all the things that you feared, that you believed him to be doing behind the scenes, you were the unlucky winner of his attention.

Adding to the fact he used a servant to inform you… it adds a layer of seriousness to his already mysterious intentions—and it reminded you of that awful night he called you to his chambers soon after returning from his exams.

However, your feelings upon hearing his message weren’t ones of fear or uncertainty—no, it was pure anger .

“Is that—is that what he told you now?!” you hiss, clenching your fingers against your palms to the point where red crescent moons imprint on your skin “Is this—is this his way to coerce me into listening to him?!”

Haruko’s lips tremble at the revelation, with Hitomi following your lead by portraying a scowl of her own as she joins her sister's side.

“He’s growing desperate” you add “He thinks that by doing that, by threatening me with my own health I’ll look at him?! He’ll have to do better than that !”

“Ohh, Y/N-chan please don’t provoke him…” Haruko frets, teary eyes as she attempts to soothe you by placing her hands over your arms “He’s scary enough as it is… I can only imagine what he can do if he puts his mind into it”

You wish to say that you were all but a victim to this sentence, but this was not time to contemplate on things of the past, because all that you need to do is act quickly if you’re to avoid this situation before it worsens.

“...Thank you for letting me know, Haruko” you say as you glance over to Hitomi, who with nothing more but a nod, understood what was the next step to take and started picking up after the sewing kit “We need to talk to Mariya”

“She was at the east wing last time I checked, I can go get her for you” Haruko informs “Do you want to meet her here?”

“No, Tell her to meet me at my room” you respond, starting to gather the clothes with intentions of moving them with you “I should’ve known something was going on with Naoya the moment he stopped pestering me—how foolish was I to not anticipate that?!”

“Don’t berate yourself for something you had no control over” Hitomi says as she gestures to Haruko to help you with the garments, which her sister obliged almost immediately. “But we’ve been careful up to this point, and we cannot budge simply because he’s desperate for some attention. We’ve gone long enough without him, and we can continue that way, we just have to plan accordingly”

“But… but what if he decides to take you by force?” Haruko wonders and you momentarily stop, pressing your lips together as the selection of her wording makes something inside you twinge in pain.

You won’t say that her proposed situation isn’t something you hadn’t considered in the short time you have had to live with this new, unwanted situation. With Naoya, there’s only bad to worse outcomes, however, just because that’s all you’re ever going to get from him, it doesn’t mean you’re not going to do anything to prevent them.

And just as you were doing up to this moment, that’s what you’ll continue to do—starting by reuniting with the best person you knew you could rely on for these situations and come up with something to put an end to this ridiculous charade.

“Oh, he was planning what now ?” Mariya says as soon as Haruko finished relaying the request Naoya sent in through his servants, with the same skepticism you expected her to have. “He’s must be growing desperate ”

“That’s what I was thinking” you reiterare as your ladies give one last scan to the hallway, checking no one was nearby to hear their plotting, before stepping back into your room, closing and locking the door behind them. “He thinks I’m just going to… accept his conditions because he’s threatening me with something he knows is sensitive to me, and just go with him?”

“Hah! Now that is something you won’t do” Mariya scoffs, crossing her arms “I’ll make sure of it”

“But how can we convince him to not take Y/N-san to the doctor?” Haruko mumbles, having taken a bite of one of the many snacks she managed to sneak out of the kitchen on her way to you—the tool she commonly uses to control her anxiety— before offering some to her sister, Mariya, and you; with only you accepting them “There’s not a single moment where he isn’t threatening Y/N-san, why can’t he just leave her alone!”

“Because the men here are incessant when it comes to tormenting others” Mariya responds, stemming from her own experience. “But I'll be damned if I allow this to happen—Nobody knows about her condition more than us”

«And maybe Naoaki…» She ponders, reflecting back on the week he consistently sought you out, not a day passed without him visiting your room… « How did Naoya get this idea in the first place?»

“So all that we have to do is say that she’s greatly improved and that there’s no reason for her to go”

“Will they be convinced just by our word?” Hitomi rightfully asks “Let’s not forget we’re essentially banned from being considered as part of the staff”

“They have to” your prime lady-in-waiting reinforces “Who else is Naoya-sama going to ask? That friend of his, Ranta? His staff? The only thing we’ve ever told others was that you had your period—and that’s only because they were insistent. And never to the full extent of it because it’s not their business! The only ones that would know about it in greater detail would have to be his father, but he’s never been one to involve himself…” Mariya stops at the somber notion of your death sentence. That had been the only exception Naobito ever thought necessary to step in, and what a painful, shocking way to do so…. “So we have an advantage”

“... But—but what if it doesn’t work?” Haruko shudders mid chew and Mariya frowns.

“It’s a risk we have to take.” She reassures her, placing her hand on her shoulder “And if he wants to force her then she’ll have to go through me! We can probably hide her in one of the many rooms here, the Zen’in are too proud to even acknowledge they don’t know the complete layout of their estate, I’m sure there are even rooms they don’t even account for…”

“Then, when will the right time be to start?” Hitomi asks.

“Now—I’ll act as if Haruko was never informed—after all, if they wanted to state something official , then it must pass through me. I’m still surprised Meiko still respects that aspect from me”

Her nonchalant statement makes your heart clench, and the seed of regret you’ve tried your hardest to keep at bay, begins to settle its roots once again.

Mariya had given you a quick run through of why they were placed in that predicament in the first place, hoping to ease your confusion as well as distract you from your own struggles, but far from offering reassurance, it just made you feel more responsible for their well being, as well as devaluing your self worth.

You were their mistress—the one they were responsible for taking care of, who in turn, would provide them a good life for their service.

But it seems that all you’ve ever done since arriving at the estate is to be nothing more than a nuisance to them— and to think you were rude to Mariya at the beginning, for a stupid misunderstanding, only makes matters worse.

That's all in the past, however, and those thoughts don’t distract you from your intentions of venerating their care towards you one day, hopefully… when Hinata saves you from this hellish place.

For now, all you have to do is focus on going through with their plan: Feign ignorance to the point where they have to be approached yet again by Naoya’s staff, and then, if insistent enough, counter them with the notion that they deemed his suggestions unnecessary, sealing it with the fact that your health was actually improving.

It's a heavy compromise that requires everyone to play their parts accurately… you just hope he falls for it.

Yet, as much as you trusted your staff to do what was necessary as well as plan something with nothing but your wellbeing in mind, you still felt as if something were missing… as if there was a point of view you needed to ensure that everything was going accordingly.

Someone… on the inside, so to speak. Someone that could give you a better look of what perhaps the heir's intentions are and offer a much more efficient way to go around his request, and maybe comfort you too…

That missing piece refers to Naoaki, of course, the one person in your entourage you had yet to tell what had transpired moments earlier, and the one you approached as soon as your duties were done.

"Hey, Y/N” He says with a smile as soon as he sees you rapidly approach him. His mind believes it to be you wanting to be with him, making his heart soar at the premise, however, he’d be pulled back to reality when you voiced the following words with a gravity that has him bewildered immediately after.

"Naoaki, we have to talk now!" you say, and he blinks.

"Oh, sure, um… just let me change into something more comfortable and I'll join you—your room or…?"

"My room" and with that, he doesn’t need to inquire any further to understand he cannot afford to waste time. Thus, after he goes to his room to change out of the clothes he’d trained with, he goes straight to your chambers—what he was planning on doing anyways at the end of the day—and steps inside.

Judging by the imperativeness of your tone, Naoaki somewhat expected you to be accompanied by your ladies, yet surprisingly, the first thing that he notices outside of the anxious look on your face is the solitude in which you seem to wrap yourself with.

It’s uncommon for both things to coexist, you were never to suffer on your own, which only makes him feel even more uncertain of what’s to come, but undeniably sure that he needs to be there for you.

And once he’s completely sure that their absence wasn’t to be filled with any unrequited visitors lingering outside your room, he steps towards the futon, where you’d been seemingly impatiently waiting for him, and takes a seat just on the spot besides you.

"What happened? Are you hurt?" Even when he desires to approach the subject in the most sensible way possible, he can’t help his mouth from muttering the first thing that crosses his mind. After all, a lifetime of abuse is bound to warp his perception, expecting nothing more than the negative out of his family…

"I'm fine, nothing… has happened, yet" you murmur, and as if second nature, you lean towards his arm, resting your head on your shoulder.

" Yet? " Naoaki frowns, he doesn't like the sound of that, and what usually comes after—at all. "What's going on, Y/N?"

You exhale, mentally preparing yourself to plunge into what is, yet again, another charade from his younger brother—your husband .

"..Today, I was informed by one of my ladies that… he plans on taking me to the doctor" you stated "And although he might not said it explicitly, something tells me he’s planning on forcing me to go if I don’t agree”

It was just a few words, perhaps lesser than what actually transpired, but for Naoaki it was more than sufficient to understand the gravity of the current circumstances, and the infinite list of undesirable circumstances that could unfold if wrong decisions were made.

"When did this happen?"

"...Just short of starting my second task" you answered. It was so early in the morning, it barely gave you any time to breathe… Poor Haruko.

It surprises you, however, that it wasn’t the first thing that greeted you that day considering how things often went down, almost… as if he were hesitant to proceed, by whatever reason.

And assuming by the concerned look on Naoaki’s face, he’s to be thinking the same… which is what prompts you to continue on.

"But Mariya and I already came up with a plan. We’re quite confident it might work, but I just wanted your input, see if there’s anything we’re missing”

"What's the plan?" Naoaki asks, inching closer to you, letting you know you had all of his attention—if it weren’t already obvious by his hand resting on yours.

"Because the announcement was done through his staff to Haruko, Mariya thought we could go down the route of disregarding it because it was never given to her. After all, all official statements have to go through her if they’re to be considered by me”

“And then?” Naoaki tilts his head, he might not say it, but he’s starting to see some kind of… flaw behind this plan—in other words, he’s not convinced yet . But he doesn’t want to say anything until he hears the rest. “What if he insists?”

“Then she’ll state it’s not necessary, because my health is gradually improving—even if that’s… a lie to some extent, they have no one else to corroborate this kind of information, and since the status of my health has never been completely disclosed, they’re going to have to trust them”

"And what if that doesn't work either?"

His questions seem to irritate you, but that seems redundant when you come to understand that it’s his attempt to check for any overlooked details—after all, you did approach him requesting a different point of view…

"... I was hoping you'd help me" you murmur "We think that hiding me away in some unacknowledged room would work and…” you stop to glance up to his face, and there… you suddenly feel silly for going as far as plotting all of this, because at the end of the day, could you ever be free of Naoya’s grasp? Not until your sister comes along. “I already know what you’re going to say" you look away, ashamed. “It’s not going to work, is it?”

Naoaki stares at you for a few seconds, silent as he can be, as he dives into deep thought. It’s not an unusual action from him, often doing so to prepare the right answer he thinks might help you with whatever turmoil you found yourself in.

And while you always liked his caution, it wasn’t what you needed in this particular moment, and far from offering the reassurance it always did, it just brought along more uneasiness.

"Speak to me, Naoaki" you urge, clenching his hand "What… what do you think I should do?”

He sighs. And just by that gesture, you already know you’re not going to like it.

"I think you should go"

And you were right.

" What? " You paled, and Naoaki couldn’t do anything else but laugh nervously, scratching the back of his neck as a gesture of comfort to himself—this is exactly what he didn’t want, but at the same time… what was he expecting by saying that? “Why?”

"Out of context, yes, it sounds awful" he interjects before you could say anything more, or get angrier by that matter. "But first let me explain before you make a conclusion"

You frown, eyes darting towards an empty spot on the covers for a brief second, before going back to Naoaki and gesturing to him to continue. If you’d had a coin for every time he’d said something you deemed controversial, you’d have 2—which isn't much… but you’re astounded that it already happened twice.

Sensing that conflict, Naoaki ensues.

"The only reason I say this is not because the idea of you being with my brother, alone , thrills me, but rather, because…” he pauses, holding his breath before turning to you, eyes softening as he grabs your hands. “You don't know how terrifying it was to see you sick—I didn't know what was going on when it happened, you just suddenly started looking ill , and then, you disappeared. For a week . You say it was just your monthly visit, something that all women go through, and I can admit this isn’t my field to comment on but… I don’t think that’s normal. Less if it’s so painful to the point you can’t even get out of bed”

You look away.

Seeing it that way… you could understand where he was coming from.

But it still wasn’t convincing for you to accept Naoya’s “suggestion”...

"You were kept away from the rest of the world, and from what little you told me, I understood this was less painful than the last, but still bad” Naoaki pressed his lips together, caressing your knuckles with his thumb “Ah, I know this is probably not what you wanted to hear, but if there was a way to help you, to get a bit better… I would want you to take it"

"Even… if it's from Naoya?" you murmur, and he nods.

"I would've taken you if I could, you know that, Y/N." he reiterates, clasping your hand.

He notices the slightest restraint coming from you when it comes to accepting his gesture, a reaction that has him sinking deeper into his guilt, yet, he doesn't backtrack, not… until you’ve heard what’s on his mind.

“But if I do I'll only be placing you in danger, the estate might even come to think I'm kidnapping you. And I don't want to expose you any more than you already are"

"And you think this won't compromise me? Going out with Naoya?” you interject “Did you forget what happened the last time I went out—" and then, suddenly stop. A stillness that has Naoaki furrowing his brow in concern.

You haven't told him of your death sentence, the reason why you went to the doctor in the first place…

"What happened?" He asks and you shake the horrible memories of that day from your head.

"It’s—nothing, we just got into an argument, nothing new." you whisper "But I don't want that, not again . I don't think I can take it anymore—"

"... I know" he murmurs, placing his head over your crown and kissing it. You relax against him. "I know. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. But… Please understand that your health is important, and that you shouldn’t be suffering for it— Don't let him take this away from you too"

If there was one thing that you could always count on Naoaki for, outside of his comfort, was his honesty..

As much as it hurts you to say… he was right . There was an unspoken concern from your side when it came to the mystery of your status; it had been so long since you had a professional check you up, were you even healed from those… wounds ? Or at least in a better condition?

Your body was already in a fragile state hormonally, way before Naoya’s… defilement , and if you don't treat it the repercussions might be permanent—something you dread to even think of.

… All evidence was pointing into that direction. It’s so obvious that you should’ve taken this situation with a cold mind, not guided by your fear…

Thus, with much dejection, you accept that Naoaki's concerns were in the right place and effectively conclude that going to the doctor, instead of evading the subject, was the right course of action.

After your conversation with him is done, you immediately go back to your ladies’ room to relay to them your new decision, which was received with both frustration and annoyance (just as you expected) from them through various reasons: first, Naoaki’s persuasion—Hitomi being the main carrier of this sentiment, Haruko the immediate second. They felt as if he’d undone all that they carefully planned, a rightful sentiment to have given the circumstances.

And secondly, for his involvement. Here is where Mariya took the stage.

She was beyond angry to hear that he’d essentially convinced you to change your mind, and to say that she did not like him was nothing new, but her emotions, however, didn’t solely pertain to this fact. They extended over to a circumstance which she would never admit out loud, and that is… she actually found herself agreeing with him, understanding what he meant.

Yes, him , of all people! Mariya couldn’t believe it! Did she hit her head without even noticing?!

But the recollection of your first period, your fourteen days of bleeding, and then your second one, where your case of nausea had been so frightening, that you couldn’t remain at your bed without a bucket on your side —and that’s without even counting your lack of appetite on both of them, as well as your constant pain and runs to the bathroom…— It was all concerning indeed.

Mariya did what she could with what she had and what she had to comply to, but she won’t deny that there were more moments where she wished she carried the authority to call for a doctor and put a direct end to your pains—it's common for a woman to go through these trials, but it should not disrupt your life to this extent!

It’s why she doesn’t have much more to say or contemplate once you’ve made your decision.

Why Mariya goes ahead to summon Naoya’s staff first thing in the morning and inform you that you are to accept his request. From there, all that was left to do was schedule a day for your departure, and prepare you accordingly for it.

Your prime lady-in-waiting could only imagine the wicked face the heir must’ve put upon hearing your decision.

And while she was right in some department, the one that considered Naoya to be elated to be with you once again, it wasn’t as devilish as she envisioned.

Naoya was more relieved than anything—for it was the first step of Ranta’s plan being set in motion.

Such was his excitement that as soon as he received news of your approval he ran towards the phone to schedule an appointment with the doctor, the same one as before, for the day after.

It was a rare opportunity that came after days of nothing but incertitude, and he was to be a fool if he didn’t make the best of it.

It was thrilling to think that he was going to be with you again, away from the unpleasant commentary of his family, your noisy staff—but most importantly, away from the bothersome presence of his brother.

He was finally going to be with you , and just you , how it always should’ve been.

Naoya almost feels regretful for having doubted Ranta at the very beginning, because after everything was said and done, he was right to assume that you’d agree to look past your emotional differences and form a truce with the purpose of tending your health, your worth , as his father would say— Your husband didn’t see it that way, of course, just one of the many things he saw differently from Naobito… although he was in agreement with the consternation both had when hearing of your condition, and made through your own volition, no less…

Well, that’s one (of the many) obstacles he hopes will iron out once the second part of Ranta’s plan comes into fruition.

«Once you take her to the doctor, and it’s determined that her health is in good condition, you can relay this to your father and you’ll see how everything will start to change! You have to fight bad news with good news, Naoya, you just… uh, gotta be persistent»

He’s never been one to care for the approval of his father, less when the elders had already set him to be the heir from a very young age, the highest recognition there is to get in the Zen’in clan, but if it’s for the sake of getting out of this dark pit of his despairs, and maybe, start anew with you… then he’ll do as he needs.

But as expected of Naoya’s thoughts, deprived of any sense of rationale and care for anyone outside himself, his mind began to thread him into another realm of delusional possibilities, away from your health, his father’s approval, and back to you… one that somehow makes him believe that the reason behind your acceptance, far from wanting to know where your condition stood (although by your staff’s fretting words, he can imagine it stands high up in the list of your priorities) is because… you wanted to see him .

Because why else would you suddenly agree to go out with him, after going to great lengths in imposing distance between the two, if that wasn’t the case?

It’s almost as if his desperation blinded him from the fact that he had seen his brother leave your room just nights ago—although this could also be an effect of Ranta’s persuasive words reminding him to not give up, at least until he’s wasted all resources, since there’s no stated actions between the two… yet.

Oh, but Naoya seems to be fated to never learn, and he’s going to remember such a thing when the day of your outing comes at dawn, first thing in the morning—no, earlier than that, you were cited to be there far earlier than the last time you went to the doctor by some strange reason…— as he makes way towards the entrance, where you and your ladies are already waiting for him… alongside a few extra members of the staff which desired to see the newest episode in the drama between the heir and his wife.

Naoya urge to demand their absence was great, but the image of Ranta in the corner of his eye sways him to stop and control himself—the day is just beginning, thus doing anything irrational so early in his plan will ruin any chances of “reconciliation”

Outside of that, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you: it had been so long since he’d last seen you, overall, and it had been far longer since he’d seen you wear an attire that didn’t relate to those of a domestic employee.

For the occasion, your ladies dressed you up in a beautiful purple and blue kimono accompanied by a white obi that only highlighted the color combination—Naoya judges by the slight bulkiness he was able to perceive from your figure that you were appropriately warmed up for the day ahead, at least he doesn’t have to worry about that— from there, the second thing that caught his eye were the hair clips decorating your hair, —which was let down for the occasion, away from the tightness it seemed to be imbued in whenever you had to work around the house— ones that he vaguely recognize as one of the many wedding gifts you received at the reception, presumably from his family: purple butterfly clips of a similar shade of your kimono , giving you the regal look befitting of the wife of the heir.

And from there, your face. Regardless of the makeup that you donned, kept to the minimal and only to highlight your features, his attention was set somewhere else.

It had been… so long since he was this close to you, that he almost felt he had forgotten what your face looked like.

No—of course not. He could never forget what the face of his beloved wife looked like, instead, his feeling seemed to be more of… having forgotten what your calming presence felt like.

You looked absolutely beautiful. But in all honesty, he can't recall a day where you weren't—for all things accounted, he guesses he shouldn’t be surprised as to why others naturally gravitated towards you, seeing you as a work of art worthy of admiration.

However, it didn’t mean he would be all but appreciative of the jealousy that came along with it, especially when it pertained to his oldest brother, who had done nothing more than intrude in the moments that were reserved for husband and wife.

His chest hurts just thinking about the possibility of you sharing that title with someone else, but his mind pushes it aside as he’s quick to reassure himself with Ranta’s words, yet again: This was only the beginning of the day, of the mission per se, and he’s never been one to give up before his opponents.

But as Naoya sunk deeper into his delusion, convincing himself of an ulterior motive behind your actions, the only thing you could worry about is answering the endless questions about your condition.

Did you still have those… wounds inside you? Will your period become worse over time? Was there perhaps any medication that you could take to hopefully quiet down your pains?

You doubt the doctor would be kind enough to help you that way, considering his comments and past behavior, but you've already lost so much as to not ask.

And last, but not least… Was there any way to know where you stood in the timeline of your fertility? The man had previously stated that the effects of the pills you were taking to control your cramps could take from weeks to months to disappear, the only reason you were on death row, as well as allowing you to live as long as you have, away from Naoya.

But if the doctor somehow managed to declare that you were ready to have a child… you could only shudder at the implications.

As it shall be given unto you, so shall it be taken away—you just hope that the gods find enough kindness in themselves to offer you the briefest of mercies…

“Are you sure you want to go?” Mariya asks one last time, just to be sure, as she begins to walk you closer to your husband. “You still have time to back off, and we’ll be here to support you”

“No, I— I’m set on this decision” you say, looking at her as she grasps your hand, even if you were trembling at the prospect of leaving without them.

“Think of it as getting something that needed to be done out of the way first” Hitomi attempts to console—there is truth behind her words, if you somehow managed to evade Naoya’s persuasion at first, he’d only find a way to insist once more… There were many things that just couldn’t be hidden under the sun forever when it came to you. Better now than later, she supposes. “Still… I can’t figure out what his intentions are behind this? Why… now ?”

“Let’s not speak of that while he’s here” Mariya hushes her once she believes Naoya to be within earshot. He seemed rather amicable that morning, better not mess it up. “Be brave, Y/N. We’ll be here, waiting for you”

“In fact, we won’t leave this place!” Haruko chirps in, and her sister shakes her head. “Well, at least I will. I won’t be able to focus on anything else anyway”

“Don’t do that, Haruko” you chuckle “...I don’t want you to get into trouble with Meiko-san, or Junko-san for that matter”

“It’s not us you should worry about” Hitomi adds once she senses Naoya’s eyes to be on you once more. The mere thought of being in the same area as him is enough to sicken her, and frighten her as well… “Please… be careful”

“As careful as I can be” you murmur, stopping just a few feet away from your estranged husband, the moment you dreaded so much, finally here. “I’ll see you when I get back”

“And we’ll be here” Mariya nods “Be safe”

With that, your ladies took a step back and left you to your husband, whose golden eyes hadn’t peeled away from you from the moment you came closer to his eyeshot, but you wouldn’t know because yours was glued to the floor.

Something that he intends to rectify, because he… Well, he wants to see you.

“Y/N” He calls, but you do not respond. You don’t even lift your gaze to his, at least not the first time, still stuck on the rocky ground.

“ Y/N ” Naoya repeats sternly, careful enough to not appear angry because he doesn’t want to start off on the wrong foot (just as Ranta advised him), but strong enough to show he’s serious, and this is when you finally look up.

Your gaze is intense, heavy on him, and yet… he can’t shake the notion that you’re not looking at him, but rather, through him, before briefly returning to the same spot on the ground.

“Are you ready?” He asks in an attempt to catch your attention back to him, and maybe, hopefully , start a conversation.

And that’s what usually transpired back then, when he felt he had some semblance of control… or relevance in your mind. Probably what you would’ve done in this moment too, just to remain under his radar and avoid any find of instigation on your part, but something inside you pushes you past your boundaries of self-preservation to respond with the tone you felt he deserved to be referred with—the only one he merited, and the one that would set the tone for the rest of the day.

“I’m here, aren’t I? ”

Naoya swallows, taking the stinging sensation of your indifference to the chest as his eyes unwittingly dart to the approaching figure on the corner of his eye and the rumbling sound that follows—the car.

After a few seconds, the driver stops the car just a few feet away from the gates, setting the vehicle in park alongside the engine turned on before getting out of the vehicle and walking over to his master.

“The car is ready, sir” he says as Naoya glances over to the familiar black car, the same one he used to bring you from the ryokan the couple spent their “honeymoon” in, as well as take you to the doctor last time.

His mind wasn’t particularly anywhere when it came to the existence of the car, he trusted his staff to upkeep it in the best way possible. However, it was accumulating quite the mileage and the prospect of buying a new one was looming closer and closer as days went by—but who knows if that will ever come to happen, after all, he’s fallen out of grace with the elders, and just this outing had to be approved through loops and loops of justifications…

Up until now, this had been nothing more than a negative beginning, unwieldy steps of Ranta’s plan.

Yet, even when everything seems to be against him, he doesn’t lose hope. He pushes through this obstacle as he moves onto the car, first heading towards the passenger side to open the door and gesturing to you to step inside, while waiting for you to do so after you’re done waving goodbye to your staff…

That is, until he inadvertently catches sight of an additional figure approaching the crowd, one that has him rattling his belief yet again as he sees your face somewhat lighten up at his presence: his brother .

Naoya tries his best to ignore his pain as you finally step into the car, deafening himself from the chattery crowd who have nothing to comment on Naoaki’s arrival as he closes your door and moves on to the driver’s side.

He opens the door, gets into the driver’s seat, and once fastened his seatbelt, he takes hold of the steering wheel to begin driving into their new destination—with such focus on the road… one would almost think he was trying to run away.

The car soon begins to fade into the horizon, getting further and further away until it’s no longer seen. And when that happens, the crowd dissipates to return to their duties.

Yet, your staff remains, even when no one was there anymore—nervously glancing at each other with trembling lips and sorrowful eyes as they silently prayed that the events of that hauntingly similar day… wouldn’t occur again.

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x your #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #series: first it hurts—

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carbo-ships · 8 months

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Chapter XXIX

Beginning: Chapter I Previous: Chapter XXVIII Petrichor once again belongs to @limey-self-inserts

Aether awoke the next morning to the sound of the coffee maker running. He peeked his eyes open. The bus was dim – it was likely still fairly early. He was still lying on the couch downstairs with Ardis fast asleep on his chest. It seemed they'd never gone to bed. As the fog of sleep cleared, he vaguely remembered kissing the angel senseless before cuddling with her to wind her back down.

He turned his head to see who had come downstairs and spotted Papa Emeritus in the small kitchenette. Papa gave a little wave and mouthed "good morning". There was adoration in his eyes as he gazed at the slumbering girl, and just a hint of mirth. Aether replied with an embarrassed grin. He knew it was likely an amusing sight – the man's right-hand ghoul was being used as a mattress.

Ardis let out a tiny moan as she began to awaken. It made Aether's heart melt. Her eyes started to open, and her cheeks reddened when she realized what she’d slept on all night. "Oh, I'm sorry,” she mumbled.

"Whatever for?" Aether cooed, a gentle smile on his face.

She averted her gaze. "I fell asleep on you again."

"We both fell asleep, cara," he chuckled softly. "It seems your bunk isn't getting much use, hmm?" His fingers traced gentle circles into her back, making her cheeks flush even more. "I don't mind if you don't."

She looked up at him bashfully. "It's, um, it's been nice, being this close to you."

"Don't look at me like that," Aether sighed.

Ardis seemed nervous. "Like what?"

"Like that. Those big, gorgeous eyes of yours. Making me cave to your will. It's like that God of yours handmade you to make me weak." He tilted her chin up and kissed her sweetly.

"Coffee?" Papa asked from across the room. Ardis flinched, looking over her shoulder. She hadn't realized they weren't alone.

Aether and Papa both laughed. "It's alright, cara," Aether insisted, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Yes, Papa, I'll have some. Any for you, my angel?"

"N-No, thank you. Good morning, Papa." The poor thing was flustered.

"Good morning, my little dove." Papa poured Aether a mug of coffee and made his way across the tour bus to set it on the side table closest to them. He then crouched down and pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. "Is he comfortable?" he teased.

She grumbled something and hid her blushing face in Aether's neck, making both men laugh again. "What would you like to do for the gig this evening?" Aether asked, stroking her hair. "Backstage or the pit?"

"I was thinking maybe I'd try the pit again, if that's okay?" she asked timidly.

"Oh, the fans will like that," Papa chuckled, standing back up with a grunt. "Aether's bound to be rowdier, with you in the crowd."

"Hey," Aether huffed, although he knew Papa was right.

"It's true!" Papa laughed. "You're a different man when you're trying to impress this woman."

It was easily the best show Aether had ever performed, and he knew it. The adrenaline was making his head buzz. He could hear the crowd screaming his name. Ardis looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Any time her gaze strayed to Papa or one of the other ghouls, he stole her attention back. He knew what the Twitter feeds would look like as soon as the show ended, and he knew how much Petrichor and the others would tease him for it, but he didn't care. Everything felt right – on stage with his friends, thousands of screaming fans, and the woman of his dreams drooling over him in the front row. He couldn't ask for more.

After the fake walk-out, the encore, and the final bows, Papa and the ghouls all headed backstage. Their arms were loaded with flowers, flags, and other gifts that the audience had thrown at them. Petrichor took the tributes from each ghoul, carefully packing each item into a box so that everything would make it back to the bus safely. “You know,” Petrichor chuckled as Aether passed them another bundle of roses, “Papa’s right. You really are a different ghoul when you know Ardis is watching.”

He rolled his eyes behind his mask, but it was clear he was smiling. “Where is that girl, anyway?”

“She should be at the side door,” Petrichor answered. “I’m about to go get her. It’s all the way on the other side of the building, so go ahead and shower. You smell terrible.”

Aether laughed. “Alright. I’ll see you both in a bit.” He retreated to the men’s dressing room and grabbed his change of clothes, then made his way to the bathroom. His uniform now tossed in the designated laundry bag, he stepped into one of the shower stalls and turned on the hot water. Petrichor was right – he stunk. It was easy to work up a sweat in all those layers, especially while performing under the hot stage lights. The helmets certainly didn’t help, either. He worked a bit of shampoo through his hair then scrubbed the stage grime off of his arms. Once he was clean, he towelled himself off, dressed, and cleaned out the inside of his helmet before popping it back onto his head.

He returned to the backstage lounge and dropped his laundry bag in a pile with the others. He looked around the room, but couldn’t find who he was looking for. “Where are Petrichor and Ardis?” Aether asked Rain.

The other ghoul shrugged. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen Pet since we came backstage. Why?”

“They said they were going to go find Ardis, but that was probably fifteen, twenty minutes ago now.”

“Hmm. I can help you look, if you’d like,” Rain said as he stood from his seat.

“Thanks. I’ll go check the side door,” Aether said over his shoulder as he turned to go down the hallway. Perhaps they’d gotten lost, he thought to himself. It was certainly a big venue. He vaguely remembered the way from when they’d loaded in. Just as Petrichor said, it was a bit of a walk to get there.

He finally found the door and opened it to peek outside. It was nearly midnight, and pitch black outside aside from the external lights of the building. At the bottom of the stairs leading to the door stood Petrichor and Arids, hugging each other tightly. Petrichor looked up at him when they heard the door open. They seemed like they were barely holding back fury. Ardis’s face was hidden in their shoulder.

Aether felt uneasy. “Hey, I was wondering where you two were. Is, uh, is everything okay?”

Petrichor sighed. "One of the fans took a liking to her."

“What?” His heart quickened, dread settling in his stomach. He hurried down the short flight of stairs. “What do you mean?”

"He was drunk,” Petrichor answered simply. “I handled it. He and his buddies ran off."

Aether’s imagination was running rampant. He rested his hand on the angel’s shoulder. “Ardis?” he said softly.

She timidly peeked at him, her halo and wings cautiously blinking back on. There were tears in her eyes that threatened to spill over. “It just shook me up a little,” she answered weakly. “I’ll be okay.”

Aether wasn’t convinced. "Cara, you're trembling..." He hadn't seen her look this nervous since her first days at the ministry. “Come here.” He bent down and scooped her into his arms, lifting her off the ground. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "Let's get inside." He carried Ardis back into the building and Petrichor followed behind them.

“What happened?” Aether asked Petrichor as they walked down the long hallway, not wanting to force Ardis to answer.

"She said a group of guys saw her waiting at the back door, assumed she was just another fan, tried to convince her that they knew you guys, started hitting on her, wanted her to follow them somewhere…" Petrichor sighed again. "She wasn't having any of it, obviously, but she was cornered on those stairs until I showed up and scared them off."

He held the girl tighter against his chest. "Thank you for looking out for her, Petrichor. Shit, we should have had security wait with her. I'm sorry, cara."

"It's not your fault," Ardis assured him quietly.

"It's still my responsibility, though," he insisted. "I promised your superiors that I would take care of you."

As the trio made their way back toward the lounge, they passed Papa in the hallway. His smile vanished when he saw their expressions. "What's going on?" he asked quietly, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Some of the fans harassed her," Aether answered, doing his best to keep his voice calm. "Petrichor took care of it. Now I'm taking care of her."

"Harassed?" Papa gasped. "Oh, my little doll... They didn't touch you, did they?"

Ardis raised her head slightly to look at him. "He grabbed my arm, but that's all," she assured him.

"That's plenty," Papa said. His voice was cold. It was clear he was furious. "Petrichor?"

"One step ahead of you," they said with a nod. "The venue staff is already looking through the footage to identify him. He shouldn't be hard to find, especially with the limp I gave him."

"Good." Papa sighed, then turned back to Aether. "Take her to the showers, then bring her up to my room on the tour bus when she's done."

Aether nodded, then made his way toward the women's changing room. He kissed her forehead as he walked in silence, not wanting to scare her with the rage that was building inside him. He set her down when they reached the door. "I'll be waiting for you right here, okay?" he asked. Ardis nodded, gave him one last hug, and disappeared inside to shower. Aether sat on the hallway floor with his back against the wall as he waited.

Before too long, she re-emerged in her pajamas with her day clothes bundled under her arm. "Are you ready?" Aether stood up and offered her his hand. She took it gratefully.

Ardis and Aether were the last to board the bus. Petrichor and the other ghouls had retired to the lounge. Aether removed his helmet and set it in its designated place before leading Ardis to Papa's bedroom. He gave a little knock on the door, and it opened a moment later to reveal Papa in his velvet tracksuit with most of his face paint removed. Behind him was a verifiable fortress of every spare blanket and pillow he'd been able to find on the bus arranged carefully on his large bed.

"Now, shoes off, both of you," Papa instructed as he ushered them inside and shut the door behind them. "Let's all get snuggled up. You'd like that, yes?"

Ardis gave him a grateful smile and a little nod. Cuddling with her two favorite men? If she weren’t still so anxious, the notion alone would have made her blush and giggle. She kicked off her shoes and made herself comfortable on Papa's bed, snuggling into the blankets. Aether followed suit and lied on her right, followed by Papa joining her on the left.

"How do you two tend to cuddle?" Papa asked Aether. "Do you spoon her?"

Aether felt his face flush. He wasn't expecting a question like that. "No, we, uh... We face each other."

"Hold her how you normally would, then, and I'll come up behind."

Offering her a sweet smile, Aether gently pulled Ardis into his arms. He knew she was in a vulnerable position. She often felt too embarrassed to be intimate with Aether in front of others, especially Papa. Tonight, however, she didn’t hesitate to nuzzle into his chest. Papa pressed himself against her back and wrapped his arms around her little waist to hug her close. Ardis was securely sandwiched between the two men.

"Is this alright?" Aether asked as both men shifted to make themselves comfortable.

Ardis let out a little sigh. "This is nice," she mumbled.

"Good." Papa pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck. "That man's lucky Aether wasn't there. He'd have gotten much more than a limp."

"But you're so gentle," Ardis mumbled, burying her face into the soft, warm skin of the ghoul's neck. "I don't believe you could ever hurt someone."

Aether chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I'm not gentle, I'm protective. There's a difference. If I saw someone lay their hands on you, I'd cause a scene. I'm a demon, remember?" His warm hand slipped under the hem of her shirt to let his broad palm rest against her bare back. She practically purred, the skin-on-skin contact chasing the fear from her mind. Papa followed suit, letting his hand rest against her stomach. "Are you starting to feel a bit better?" Aether asked.

The angel nodded. She'd never felt so comfortable in her life. "You two make me feel safe."

"You said he grabbed your arm?" Papa asked. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, I'm okay," she assured him, holding back a yawn. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, she was starting to feel sleepy. The body heat from both men was multiplying the effect.

"Good, good. If I find a single bruise on you in the morning, I'll hunt that man down myself." Papa sighed. "You know we love you dearly, don't you?"

That was enough to make Ardis smile. "I know."

Next: Chapter XXX

#carbo writes

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lizzyverydizzyyo · 7 months

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D.E.A.N | Chapter 31 - Civilian (END)

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | Prompt on trope-appreciation-tuesdays that inspired this is here. | @whumptober-archive

Fandom : Original Work

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

AO3 (Will be added later)

A/N Aaaaaand here we are at last. The last chapter. The pseudo epilogue. The wrap-up. The end (before a new beginning for the sequel). I'm so proud of myself because this is genuinely the first long fic I've ever finished in my entire life. I have so many WIPs and they're all always half-written and get somewhat abandoned in the middle. Maybe this is the beginning of me finally being able to finish my other WIPs, including the sequel for D.E.A.N.

I cannot promise when I will start posting the chapters of the sequel, but with the first book in the installment now finished, it might be a little easier to finish writing the second book too because I don't have to jump around between writing two of them. I have another whump misunderstanding WIP too about a prince and a knight in a medieval setting that has a similar premise to D.E.A.N. And I have an anthology-style non-linear whump fic about two of my original OCs that are basically the prototype of Mark and Nick (you can read them on my AO3, if you want). It's likely that I will start posting those before posting D.E.A.N - Resurgence, so please be patient.

Anyway, if you want to read this chapter and immerse yourself, I suggest reading this while listening to T*ylor Sw*ft's "Wildest Dream", because Nick and Mark are so "Wildest Dream"-coded lol. Not to mention I loosely base Mark's appearance on Scott Eastwood, who is in that song's music video. Look, I know a lot of people here don't like her, but some of her songs are really good and fascinating, and I think that song really fits the end of D.E.A.N. (If you want to immerse yourself when reading the first few chapters, especially Chapter 15 - Visit, I suggest listening to Adele's Easy on Me, because that's the song I was constantly listening to when writing those chapters).

Anyway, adieu everyone! I'll see you in the next book, hopefully soon!

Wordcount: ± 5067

TW: Discussion of Past Sexual Assault, Kidnapping, Captivity, and Torture, Allusion to Slight Panic Attack, Allusion to Past Suicide Attempt

After all is said and done, and the dust has settled, Mark realizes everything will—and has to—change from now on, so he takes care of some unresolved heartfelt business before going ghost with the hope that it’s not going to be forever.

Whumptober 2023 Tropes:

Day 16 — “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Day 21 — Vows

Day 29 — Troubled Past Resurfacing

This story is set in the last half of 2016.

——

"Mister Belyaev! Mister Belyaev! Over here!"

"Nikolai, how would you describe your experience in Helga?"

"Nick Belyaev, is it true you made Helga network?"

"Nicky, over here!"

"Nikolai, can you tell us anything about your rescuers? They were said to be confidential?"

"Mister Belyaev, is it true you were prostituted to several senators? Which ones are they?"

"You were said to be the first surviving victim of Helga, is that true? How do you feel about that, Nick?"

"Mister Belyaev, can you tell us which politicians you know are involved in this syndicate?"

"Nikolai Belyaev, can you look here for a bit?"

The screen of the heavy-duty laptop is showing Mark the scene of Nick slightly slouching and covering his face with his hands, while double D.E.A.N/Secret Service agents stationed to protect Nick are trying their hardest to create barriers between the heterochromatic-eyed boy and the reporters trying to devour him.

Still, Nick and the agents can barely move, let alone walk away to their car to drive them to a safe house for Nick and his family. Despite the Secret Service agents pushing back reporters roughly and yelling, "Step aside now, all of you. He will not comment. Keep a distance or we will take necessary actions if you injure him," the reporters are relentless.

There are even civilians with signs yelling at the entourage, some saying, "Welcome home, Nicky! You're safe now :)"—which Mark begrudgingly feels grateful for as he hopes that it will cheer Nick up a little—while others have unsavory things to say regarding Nick's forced prostitution, his so-called ‘communist’ ancestry of being Russian-Vietnamese, and the fact that he created Helga's server—blaming him for it despite the widespread news that Nick was tortured into doing it.

Mark is tuning in on one among many livestreams available of the transfer. Some of them are filmed by reporters and broadcasted on behalf of the news companies they’re working for, big or independent, while others are by civilians from their personal social media accounts. They’re all equally competing with each other to get the best shots and audio so that they get the most viewers.

Nikolai looks so distressed in the livestream. Mark can tell from the screen that Nick looks somewhat pale with his swirly blue-brown eyes moist, lips also bitten. He hears Nick whispering with quivering voice to the closest reporters and nosy civilians, "Please, can you let me go?"

As usual, when he watches Nick being hurt by someone (like the times he was allowed to see Nick indirectly while being treated in D.E.A.N medic facility—many doctors and nurses, unfortunately, had to put Nick through somewhat painful treatments sometimes—or the instances Mark was shown more torture footages of Nick for intel purposes), he feels a jolt of fury and protectiveness seeing Nick deeply upset and scared like that.

Unfortunately, watching the livestream is the only thing Mark is allowed to do right now while the transfer to the safehouse is commencing.

He knows he isn't allowed to go near the building where Nick is officially announced to be rescued, with high-level commanders from Central Hub saying that 1056 agents aren't allowed to be near Nick. They’re citing worry that 1056’s objective judgments might be impaired after living with Nick for so long. So, all he can do at this point is just seethe, clench his jaw with balled fists, and wish his knuckles can connect to those asshole reporters and harassers roughly.

He muses that maybe the commanders are right about their suspicion.

Mark then ponders whether calling it ‘announced’ is too generous of a word. D.E.A.N simply moved Nick out of a confidential headquarter in Colorado and into this public venue—a transitional building to make sure no one can track D.E.A.N's classified locations—before delivering him to a safe house. D.E.A.N has finally decided that Nick has done enough work for them in secrecy, so he can now continue helping the division outside of their confidential sites.

They have also determined that Nick is safe enough to be put back into civilian life, although they will still station agents here and there to make sure Nick stays alive to keep helping D.E.A.N and other government agencies, including public law enforcement. Many national and foreign justice system courts have also requested help and testimony from him, since many are now starting to open criminal cases against Helga syndicate members who are caught and identified.

For some reason, crafty and sneaky reporters caught a whiff of the news of Nick's transfer and immediately descended upon the venue like a ravenous pack of vultures. The news traveled fast beyond reporters' communities too, so other curious or sympathetic people, along with bitter and mean trolls, are now also standing around the building, adding to the crowd that is swarming Nick.

There are at least 10 double D.E.A.N/Secret Service agents who are assigned to chaperone Nick right now, and they are still obviously overwhelmed anyway. It seems that they have underestimated just how easy and quick it is for classified information like this to breach containment, and how many people would be interested in it.

They are moving like ants, little by little, inches by inches, practically crawling instead of walking, but Mark can eventually see them pushing Nick gently into the car. The windows are tinted, and he knows that they are all also bullet-proof, but the reporters and the crowds do not give up in trying to see inside the car, many cameras shoved right onto the glass windowpanes. They’re probably hoping that if the lens is basically touching the glass, it can penetrate the dark tint of the windows.

It doesn’t matter. The car still manages to drive away, protected by another car in the front and one more taking the rear. So Mark sighs and closes his laptop, relieved on behalf of Nikolai, but also still anxious if the younger man is going to arrive here in one piece.

Marcus knows this is probably going to land him in hot waters with Central Hub, but he cannot make himself stay away until he can make sure that Nick is safe and sound. He is hoping Central Hub will only realize he is not accounted for in the headquarter within an hour at least, enough to buy him some time to see for himself that Nick has arrived in the safehouse, alive and well.

So he waits, leaning against his discardable car which he parks around a hundred meters from the aforementioned house.

Three cars that look different from the livestream finally pull over the safehouse property, and Mark is guessing they stopped by somewhere hidden to change cars, since the previous ones were already identified by the public. Those vehicles are probably no longer safe for travel to a sensitive spot like this.

Mark pulls out his binoculars, pointing them at the cars one by one until he finally sees Nick walking out of one of them. He sees Nick stumbling and hesitating when he sees his family—his mother, his father, his sister, his niece, and his brother-in-law. They are at a standstill for a bit until Alisa finally chokes out a sob and runs to Nick to hug him tightly.

Nick looks a bit surprised, but he raises his arms to hug his sister back, burying his face in the crook of his sister’s neck and shoulder despite being almost a head taller than her. The others then follow suit, walking towards Nick and hugging him tight. Mark can’t tell what they’re saying to each other, other than being able to see that they’re finally hugging each other with happy tears all over their faces, except for Tom who is more stilted and distant without hugging Nick like the rest.

Mark can only guess what Tom is saying to Nick, but Nick gives a small smile before looking at his brother-in-law’s arms where Nicole is being held. Nick immediately brightens up and bends down a little to coo at her, inviting a smile on Mark’s face too. He knows full well Nicole is really, really important to Nick. Months of living together in their Nevada headquarter have shown him that.

He sees Nick straighten up again with a wide smile and excited face—giving a peck to baby Nicole—before running to the car again. He pulls out a carrier, which Mark knows has Nightingale in it, so he is not surprised when he sees Nick unzipping the carrier and pulling out his black blob cat to show her to Nicole. The baby is reaching out to pet Nightingale stutteringly, probably because she hasn’t mastered her motor skill, and she laughs jovially while screaming in excitement because Nightingale turns to lick her tiny fingers. They all laugh together, and even the chaperone agents smile at the scene.

Mark pulls down his binoculars, feeling somewhat at ease since he can confirm that Nick is safe now, back with his family and hopefully getting better and becoming well-adjusted into normal life eventually.

Mark knows he should head back to the Central Hub headquarter right now, seeing that his secure D.E.A.N-issued phone is pinging alerts that he is being summoned to one of the offices in the headquarter, but nowhere to be found. He estimates that within 30 minutes they will realize that Mark has exited the premise without permission, and another 30 minutes to pinpoint exactly which coordinates he is at now.

Well, he still has time.

He pulls up his binoculars again and he sees the Belyaev (and Conrad) family walking into the house with Nick having his sister’s and mother’s arms around his shoulders. Alisa’s other hand is holding the pet carrier, while Nick is holding Nightingale in his arms, the feline looking much bigger than what Mark remembers seeing. Nick’s father and Tom are walking in front of him, opening the door so Nick can go in first.

He still sees some agents standing around the cars and the front door with their typical idle pose—a hand on top of the other over their stomachs. Mark can tell their earpiece comms are still on to communicate with some D.E.A.N management, seeing the lips movements of the agents with his binoculars.

He feels another vibration of alert in his phone, tsking in annoyance but still pulling out his phone anyway. A Central Hub agent apparently sent a direct message saying that he knows that Mark has gone somewhere out of the headquarter without clearance, and soon the commanders will know too. Mark rolls his eyes and types a message saying he has a pressing security matter to take care of, not really feeling bad about it because he is technically not lying. The matter of Nick’s safety is paramount to him.

But he continues the chat, sensing the testiness of the agent from the texts. He sounds pissed that Mark doesn’t show him enough respect despite being a higher-level agent—and also an agent in charge of managing several teams, one of which Mark is going to be assigned to. Mark tries to continue the lie, trying to conceal the fact that he is going directly against Central Hub’s instructions to not go anywhere near Nick.

He suddenly hears a knock on his car behind him.

He turns around near the speed of light, one hand already going to his holster, but then he sighs deeply in relief as he sees Nick there.

“Hi,” the heterochromatic-eyed boy says to him with a small smile.

“I thought you’re someone dangerous,” he responds with a slightly irritated voice.

Nick smirks, evidently pleased he could sneak up on Mark.

Mark narrows his eyes with a realization.

“How did you get here?”

Nick just shrugs. “Saw a suspicious car parked here since I arrived.”

Mark narrows his eyes even more in question.

“And you just decided to approach it?”

Nick shrugs again, making Mark slightly uncomfortable with how brazen Nick is about his safety.

“You know, for a confidential government institution agent, you’re kinda bad at disguising yourself,” Nick comments lightly, sensing that Mark might be concerned about his sense of self-preservation.

So Mark chuckles now, relieved.

“I’m not here under Central Hub’s command,” he explains casually, “so I don’t have enough resources and preparation to conceal myself like usual.”

“Hmm,” Nick smirks again, “Sure.”

Mark smiles lightly, feeling serene at the opportunity to talk to Nick again after weeks of not being allowed to meet directly. Or at all.

“You’re pretty good at ambushing me, though,” he comments again. “Learning well from those agents working around you all this time?”

Nick shrugs again. “Maybe.”

Nick moves his legs but stutters, seemingly wanting to get closer to Mark but not knowing if he is allowed. Bells are ringing in his head that this might be unwise to continue, but his heart yearns so badly for a chance to see Nikolai, so he steps aside to give space for Nick to stand near him. Nick walks around the front of the car and leans against the driver’s door next to Marcus.

“How are you?” he eventually asks softly, looking at Nick from top to bottom to detect if Nick is in any harm. He pauses a bit at Nick’s abdomen.

Nick gives a small nod with a bashful smile as he says, “I’m okay.”

It makes Mark feel that weird jolt in his heart again.

“How about you?” Nick asks back, now his turn to lower his eyes towards Mark’s abdomen on his right side.

Marcus looks down too, one hand absently going to his upper waist.

“Yeah, of course,” he replies with a reassuring voice as he feels softness in his heart at Nick’s concern. “Told you I was just lightly grazed.”

Nick nods again with his own relieved breath.

“That’s good. I didn’t know what became of you all these weeks. They didn’t tell me anything.”

“They want you and us, team 1056, to work efficiently,” he shrugs and adds, “Well, as efficient as we could be with all of our ongoing injuries recovery.”

Nick furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“They think separating us will help. Getting rid of distraction and all.”

Nick rolls his eyes.

“That’s stupid. I’ve been worried sick about you for so long I couldn’t think of anything else,” he says, before he sputters with widened eyes and continues, “I mean, the others in your team too!”

Mark tries not to read too much into it.

“Speaking of which, how are the others?” Nick starts again, his bashfulness after his comment about Mark starting to dissipate. “They didn’t tell me much about what happened to the agents in that attack.”

Mark stares at Nick for a while, eventually feeling some grief and maybe anger settling in his mind. He looks down and inhales deeply.

“3 from 1082… died in action.”

“Oh,” Nick whispers with a shocked and melancholic face.

“The deputy, one sniper, and another agent. I think. Wasn’t informed directly.”

“Agent Leonard, right? The black man?”

Mark nods mournfully. “That deputy, yeah.”

"And the decoy agent?" he asks unsurely, again with fearful face. "Robert Van Hoven, right? That's his name?"

Mark nods to confirm the name, but then gives a half-hearted shrug.

"He is not from 1056, so we weren't really given any information on him." He pauses a bit. "I hope he is okay, though."

Nick nods too.

“The thing is…” Mark leans his head back with a deep, weary sigh “…we weren’t told anything other than the official report. Even I don’t know what exactly happened to the rest. Just hush-hush info, not even verifiable.”

Nick stays quiet reverently, waiting for Mark to recount further.

“Over 25 died in that clash. 4 Tactical Intelligence agents. 11 Offensive team agents,” he explains with despair but also fury in his voice, eyes cast down.

He feels that familiar anger again at himself for failing once more—wondering what could have been done differently so that not so many lives were lost—and at to those sons of bitches from Helga themselves.

“Two out of Doctor Lowe’s three nurses, and another two out of the 5 additional Medical agents sent to 1034. I think at least 6 agents from backup teams also died. That’s all the report says.”

Nick’s lips part while looking down too, probably not knowing how to react to Mark’s obvious tumultuous emotion and expression, or show his condolence appropriately and sufficiently. They all pretty much died for Nick, after all.

“What about…” Nick hesitates, so Mark turns to him, “…your team?”

Mark breathes out heavily, relieved but also forlorn.

“We all survived,” he starts.

Nick’s eyes widen and he breathes out in relief too. “That’s… that’s really good to hear. I’m glad.”

Mark turns to him with slightly raised eyebrows.

“Oh, god, I don’t mean… I’m not glad about the other non-surviving agents,” Nick blurts out nervously with his raised hands waving frantically, “don’t get me wrong!”

Mark gives him a reassuring smile, although still tinged with mourning.

“I understand.”

Nick waits for a while in silence. He then asks, “But all 10 of you in team 1056 survived?”

Mark nods. “Yeah.”

“I’m relieved,” Nikolai says again, body slightly sagging against the car.

“Even for Don and Anna?” he jokes lightly.

“I’m not heartless, Mark. I never wished for any of you to die even if I’m angry,” Nick responds with a slight frown.

Mark chuckles. “I know.”

“Although you and I saw Anna and Angie in the end anyway, so I know they’re okay,” Nick tells him.

A silence passes where they just look forward to the other side of the road, then turn to their right to the safehouse far away from them.

“But…” Nick hesitates again, “…are they… okay?”

“Mostly…” he hangs his words, not sure about how to continue.

“Is anyone in critical condition?” Nick asks worriedly.

“No, not really.”

Nick still seems puzzled, waiting for more explanation.

“Horace is doing better with his shoulder after getting shot,” he recounts, “Anderson almost died of blood loss… had to have his burst spleen taken out… and Luke is still doing physio after his knee got shot.”

Nick raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“But I don’t know if he’s going to be recovered enough to still be a field agent. Fractured knee is kinda hard to repair, you know?”

Nick keeps silent to give Marcus the time he needs to collect himself.

“George… had to be resuscitated in the medic facility,” he informs more. “He survived, but… being dead for around 2 minutes gotta leave some chronic and permanent damage. For now, the Medical agents say just to wait and see.”

Nick bites his lips, unsurely asking him, “The rest?”

“Mary and Lena are thankfully pretty much unscathed. Somehow. Only bruises here and there.”

Nick sighs in relief again.

“And Don?”

Mark gives him another reassuring and somewhat cheeky smile.

“Of course, that son of a bitch survived despite getting shot in the spleen too. Why wouldn’t he?”

Nick laughs loudly, seemingly surprised by Mark’s sudden change of tone.

He drinks in the sound and tries to etch it into his mind deeply, sensing that he is probably not going to be able to hear it again for a long time.

“I mean, they’re probably not going to be fully okay-okay, you know?” he continues again with a somber voice after a while. “But they live.”

They both look down again in sedate silence.

“And are you… really okay, though?”

The way Nick says it tells him that he is not just asking about Mark’s physical condition.

That battle is the biggest conflict he has ever faced so far, seeing as multiple circles of Helga were all swarming them at once. He knew that he trained for this, but looking at the chaos and even some agents shot dead right in front of him still rattles his mind sometimes. He has never been in a collision that chaotic in all of his D.E.A.N history, short as it is.

The fear too that he might not be able to get Nick to safety—that he would have to watch Nick down a full vial of morphine just so that he wouldn’t be taken back by Helga—still haunts him too. It’s as if the fear when they got separated kept surfacing in his dreams all the time, making him this worried and obsessed with seeing Nick again despite direct prohibition from the higher-ranked agents.

That’s why he is here now.

Still, he nods anyway, a silent reassurance that he is fine.

“How about you, Nick?”

He knows that aside from his prior trauma in Helga and at the beginning of his time with Mark’s team (he shudders at the reminder), Nick also had to witness the chaos in 1034’s headquarter, running for his life and then separated and alone with his old handlers several times. He also had to escape with Mark, Anna, Angie, and Doctor Lowe until they eventually ran out of bullets, at one point considering doing a suicide pact with the morphine vials.

Nikolai experienced all of those hells too.

Even from the livestream before, Mark can see that Nick is still deeply anxious and mentally fragile. With how public his rescue is and how ruthless the reporters and harassers are, it’s bound to be another source of trauma for Nick.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” Nick hesitates with a small voice, “I think.”

Mark tilts his head so that he can still see Nick’s cast-down face.

“You’re out of there now. You can get better now, yeah? Try, for me?”

Mark says it with such a weight, a pleading at the reminder of what Nick did the day before that collision. He stares again at Nick's abdomen, coldly remembering the sensation of dripping blood on his thigh and Nick’s scream when he had to be cauterized.

Nick raises his head to stare back at him, slowly giving a nod and a small smile. Not completely happy-looking, but a smile nonetheless. Mark has to believe that it means Nick will be okay in the end.

Their silence is interrupted by another vibration on Mark’s phone. He sighs in irritation again.

“Where are you gonna go after this?”

Mark turns to Nick again at the deceivingly casual-sounding question, although he still can tell it’s a loaded one. Nick isn’t just asking where he is going to drive after seeing Nick here, but also where he is going to do his mission next.

He sighs.

“Pretty far,” he simply answers.

Nick looks down again with a frown.

“Central put together 100 new Offensive Department teams. Said it will probably be a good idea if I’m a deputy this time. But we’ll have to see from the preliminary meetings.”

Nick looks almost scared when he faces Mark again as he bites his lip.

“Where?”

Mark stays silent with his own melancholic look, the heaviness in his heart at the possibility of not seeing Nick for a long time settling deep. He doesn’t want to assume, but he senses that Nick is feeling the same about that possibility.

“North Dakota.”

“Oh,” Nick simply says, trying hard not to seem crestfallen as he fiddles with his fingers. “That’s halfway across the country from Oregon.”

“Yeah.”

They are quiet again. Mark doesn’t know what he should do or say now, with Nick not giving obvious hints as to what he wants from Mark.

“They… um…” he begins again at Nick’s silence, “…made the decision based on your story… to us before.”

Nick seems like he is working hard to not show any reaction, or even weep, but Mark can see the slightest movement of his jaw at the implication of what happened to him when he just turned 18. What was done to him before and after his attempt to escape at that time.

Maybe Mark shouldn’t have brought that up because he can sense the tension between them now, with Nick’s eyes glistening again despite his efforts to not seem affected. Mark decides to look away again to the safehouse instead.

Maybe he should end this before he makes things worse.

“You should probably go back.”

Nick follows suit by looking at the safe house, the place he is going to have to live in until whenever D.E.A.N decides he and his family can fully live as civilians again. Until they’re allowed to freely live wherever they choose with only having D.E.A.N agents check in on them once in a while, instead of watching them constantly.

“Your family must be worried sick about you. They might think you get kidnapped again.”

Nick stays looking firmly at the safe house, this time obviously trying to avoid facing Mark. He doesn’t know if Nick takes it as Mark indirectly telling Nick to go away.

He sighs quietly, mourning the gloomy and tense moment they’re in now. This is possibly the last ever moment they’re going to be together for a long time, and yet, this is the mood they’re currently in.

Eventually, Nick looks back at him with a smile that seems rough around the edge. Forced, even.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says quietly too. “I should.”

Still, they both don’t move from leaning against Mark’s disposable car, not until a while when Mark decides to be the one to end the moment. He straightens up and faces Nick fully, so Nick slowly does the same.

“Take care of yourself,” Mark says to Nick, earnest with a hint of desperation. He feels worried now that he realizes he cannot make sure Nick will be okay with his own eyes and hands.

Nick just nods, turning around to see the safe house and then to Mark again, almost like he is debating whether he should stay or go. He still ends up taking half a step to walk away, so Mark puts his hands into his pockets to prepare to watch Nick until the heterochromatic-eyed boy is safe inside again.

But he didn’t expect Nick to turn around quickly to face him again, launching himself to Mark with arms tightly embracing him. His eyes widen in shock before he processes what is happening, feeling Nick’s face burying into his shoulder with a sensation of moisture on his clothes.

His face softens eventually, and he raises his own arms to hug Nick too. His arms are careful—gentle, but also tight around Nick’s thin body—while he is drinking in Nikolai’s presence in his arms that he knows is going to stay deeply in his mind in years to come. It will be his lifeline to tether him to Nick, at least for several months, or maybe even years.

“You stay safe too,” Nick whispers with muffled voice to his shoulder, “give me a sign once in a while that you’re still out there.”

“Nick—"

Nick pulls back quickly with almost frantic and desperate eyes, some tears visible on his cheeks while his arms are still linked behind Mark’s neck.

“I know that you’re probably not allowed to contact me directly, or be stationed close to me,” Nick quickly says, “but just try to give me hidden signs somehow.”

Nick searches his eyes, almost like he is begging Mark to say yes.

“Tell me you haven't forgotten me. That you’re still alive somewhere doing your mission.”

Mark inhales and opens his mouth to explain some protocol, but Nick doesn’t let him.

“Promise me!”

He stares at Nick, and he loathes just how easy it is for Nick to bend Mark’s emotions to his will, even right now after not seeing each other for weeks. It feels like his attachment to Nick hasn’t worn out at all throughout that. He can’t look at those teary swirly blue-brown eyes and say no. He just can’t.

So he lets out a soft breath with crumbling defense, unknowingly getting close to Nick until their foreheads touch, his arms around Nick’s waist tightening. Nick doesn’t rebuff him.

“I promise,” he eventually says, “It’s not like I can forget you.”

They stay like that for a bit, letting themselves dip their toes into that… forbidden… place for once, even if Mark knows he can’t fully jump in and stay there indefinitely.

Just once, he’ll let himself take this moment.

After a while, they both let out heavy breaths and reluctantly separate from each other, their arms letting go of each other too.

“I really need to head back home,” Nick says as if trying to sober them both up.

Mark nods again, already feeling heavy in his heart, but he still lets Nick take several steps back, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. He wants to keep the sight of those captivating swirly blue-brown eyes permanently in his memory.

Eventually, Nick turns around and jogs away, and Mark tries to gulp down at the tight feeling in his throat.

Why is it this difficult?

As if to torture him even further, Nick pauses his jogging to turn back for a second, tantalizing Marcus again with the offer he knows he cannot take. Then Nick continues jogging again before slowing down to walk away, steadfastly no longer acknowledging Mark now.

Nick’s back to Mark gets smaller and smaller until he can no longer see him unless Mark uses his binoculars again. He chooses not to. He knows he’ll get hooked again if he can see Nick clearly.

It’s only when he can tell that the small dot of Nick’s body is walking into the house—welcomed by his family again—that his logical mind finally catches up.

Regardless of what he feels right now—or even later—he knows making sure that Nick stays safe is important. He knows that taking down the people who hurt Nick before—and can hurt Nick again, if he doesn’t do his job right—is his biggest priority right now. Whether one day he can see Nick and have him by his side again or not, what matters is making sure that Nick will be safe and sound permanently, whatever he needs to do to achieve that.

So, he opens his car door as he receives the call on his phone.

“Agent Hayden speaking,” he says to the agent on the phone professionally, “Yes, I will arrive in 40, Sir.”

Now, his real work begins.

-----

Masterlist and overall summary of the whole novel is here. | AO3 series link is here.

(I) (II) (III) (IV) (V) (VI) (VII) (VIII) (IX) (X) (XI) (XII) (XIII) (XIV) (XV) (XVI) (XVII) (XVIII) (XIX) (XX) (XXI) (XXII) (XXIII) (XXIV) (XXV) (XXVI) (XXVII) (XXVIII) (XXIX) (XXX) (XXXI - END)

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