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serpentandlily · 7 months

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Hello! I hope you are doing well ^^ I love (times infinity!) your writing and if you are accepting reqs, I have an idea for a short oneshot and I would like to share it with you and hopefully to bring the story alive! It's Rhys x Reader where reader is Rhys's mate and reader has a lot of duties needed to handle, especially being the mate of the High Lord. One day reader feels all type of exhaustion; mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically, sleepness nights. Reader shut down the mate bond so that Rhys wouldn't feel anything and know about reader's emotions and wouldn't add more worry to Rhys. Reader always held their head high, smile on their face, and a strong persona as not to worry anyone. One day reader got too overwhelmed and decided to get a fresh air but as reader went out something happened (idk how to put it 😅 I'll leave this part to your creativity) and somehow during the process of everything of that something was happening Rhys found out about what their mate was truly feeling. Major major major angst, if you would like. Thank you so much in advance! 🫶

Ahhh tysm !! You’re my first request and I love your idea !! I hope I did it justice <3

Falling Apart for You - Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You’ve been a pillar of support for your mate and High Lord for as long as you can remember but when you receive some bad news, you can’t stop yourself from finally falling apart.

Warnings: angst, mention of loss, grief

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Everybody had a role in this group for their High Lord. Mor was his cousin, the one he could tease but always rely on, Cassian and Azriel were his brothers, the two people he could let off steam with in a way only Illyrians could–through fists and bruises, Amren, his trusted advisor and endless supply of knowledge, and then there was you…his High Lady and his rock. The one person in his life who he knew could handle everything he threw at you and more. His rock that kept him sane, supported him without crumbling, and held him up when he couldn’t do it himself.

And you loved being that person for him. He was your mate, your husband, your High Lord. You were honored to devote your life to the male you loved more than anything. The mating bond between you and Rhys had snapped right after he had just lost his mother and sister and had become High Lord of the Night Court. Suddenly, your life had gone from being a simple girl helping your parents with their farm in the countryside to a High Lady having to learn the ins and outs of running a court while also supporting your mate who was still suffering from the loss of his family.

You had done it all with a smile on your face. Because it did truly bring you happiness, Rhys brought you happiness. You loved him like the sun loved the moon, always one step behind him, ready to catch him if he ever fell. And you knew he loved you too. He practically worshiped the ground you walked on, spoiled you with a life filled with love and riches. And you were so grateful for everything he had done for you—and for your family. He had dug you all out of the trenches of poverty, given you a voice and power in a court who had previously never cared for its poor and unfortunate.

You never crumbled under the weight of the responsibilities of being a High Lord’s mate because you knew what it was like to constantly feel like you carried the world on your shoulders. Living in poverty meant always being strong because one mistake, one simple misfortune, could leave you without a home, without food, without anything left to your name.

So being the strong one, keeping your head up with a smile on your face despite the stress of everything, that had always been who you were. And that's exactly who you were for your mate.

So when Rhys went to that fateful meeting with Hybern’s General and disappeared for forty-nine years, you continued to be that person despite your whole world crumbling under your feet. You kept a brave face for your people, kept Velaris up and running without its High Lord, protected your court as best you could without your mate by your side.

You had begged and begged Rhys not to go to that meeting. Had begged him to let you go with him when he decided against your pleas to go anyways. And all it took was one night, one evil female, to completely ruin everything for you. Rhys had blocked off his end of the mating bond, something that was nearly as worse as death to you. But every once in a while, when things had gotten especially hard under the mountain for him, his control would slip and you would be hit with a wave of his emotions.

Disgust, pain, torture, agony, longing, guilt, grief, self-hatred, despair.

All the while, you had to keep a brave face not just for your people but for the Inner Circle. You never let them know the things you felt from Rhys through the mating bond. Didn’t want to add that burden to their shoulders. And despite how much they helped you in those forty-nine years, nothing they did would ever be able to take away the pure agony of knowing your mate was being abused and degraded and not being able to do a single thing about it.

You hated that part of you resented Rhys for that. For going to that stupid meeting despite you. For forcing you to run a court alone for forty-nine years. For locking you in Velaris with no contact from the outside world—no contact with your parents who lived on the outskirts of Illyria’s mountains. You were so angry with him at times.

But then he returned a broken male. Pale, thin and in pieces. So how could you ever let him know your true feelings? How could you ever even complain about how hard things had been for you here? He had gone through hell and back for you, for his family, for his court. So you sucked up all your feelings, bottled them away, and moved on. Went back to being his rock. Nursed him back to health. Shouldered every burden for him until he was well enough to resume his role.

And then the war came and everything got worse. Suddenly your work doubled and everything else had to be put on the backburner. You hadn’t even had the chance to visit your own family in the year after the barrier between Velaris and the rest of the world had finally come down. You focused all your attention and time on Rhys and your court. Just make it through the war, you would tell yourself. Just make it another day. When peace was reached, you’d finally be able to see your family—to hug your mother and father after fifty years.

It was finally all over and you were sucked up in the aftermath of rebuilding. With the newfound peace though, that hold you had over your emotions had begun to disintegrate. Without having to spend all your time focused on survival, the feelings you had buried deep inside of you had risen once again.

You were so tired. So unbelievably tired and overwhelmed. You could hardly sleep without being plagued with nightmares, rarely had an appetite. Mentally and physically, you could feel your body shutting down. It was hard to get out of bed most days, not that you would ever let Rhys know. He still had his own burdens and trauma to work through. The last thing you wanted was to add to his stress. So you kept your side of the mating bond well guarded, making sure he never even got so much of an inkling to what you were truly feeling.

You held a steaming mug of coffee in your hand as you slipped into Rhys’s office. A smile bloomed on your face at the sight of your mate at his desk, hunched over a bunch of reports and correspondence from other courts. All things you had already sorted through and weeded out the most important for him to look over. His beautiful face didn’t even lift at the sound of you walking in.

You set his mug down on his desk and moved over to his side to look over his shoulder at the paperwork. He grunted his thanks. You wrapped your arms around his neck from behind, pressing a small kiss to his throat.

“How’s it coming, my love?”

“Keir is still a pain in my ass. The Illyrians are still revolting against the idea of letting their females train,” Rhys grumbled. “It's taking longer to rebuild the areas in Velaris that got destroyed during the attack than we thought. And fucking Beron still isn’t responding to anyone’s letters about scheduling another High Lords’ meeting to discuss a new peace treaty.”

All things you already knew of course. What he didn’t know was the hundreds of other issues you had separated from the more important ones that you had dealt with this morning. Your hand hurt from all the letters you had written on his behalf. Your mind was numb after reading depressing letters from widows looking for aid because their husbands had died in the war.

You needed a break. He needed a break. You could feel yourself crumbling.

“How about you take a break for now,” you suggested. “And walk with me through the gardens before your meeting with Amren?”

Rhys let out a displeased noise and shook your arms off his shoulders. Hurt flashed through you at his dismissal but you tried not to let it get to you.

“Can’t you see I’m busy,” Rhys growled. “I don’t have time for a break.”

He was stressed, you knew that. But his words still cut through you like a sharpened blade. You were busy too. You had been for a long time. If you could see he needed a break, why couldn’t he see how much you needed one too?

“Of course,” you replied, keeping your pain and frustration out of your voice. “I just thought…Nevermind.”

You quickly scurried out of his office before he could see how hurt you were, not wanting to stress him out even further. You knew you shouldn’t take it to heart. You knew he’d likely apologize later. But it didn’t change the fact that it hurt. It hurt more than anything that he couldn’t see just how much you needed him right now. You hadn’t asked anything of him since he had returned from under the mountain, had never complained, never faltered in your support.

For once you wished it could be you leaning against someone else. You wished you had someone to hold you up right now. To be strong for you. But as usual, you were alone. So, so alone. Maybe it was your fault for not telling him but why should you have to? You had never had to ask someone if they needed you. Merely saw that they were struggling and went out of your way to help them without question. So why couldn’t your own mate do that for you?

You let out a long sigh and decided to take that walk in the gardens, even if you would do so alone. Maybe some fresh air would help.

The sound of birds and leaves rustling in the wind served as your company as you walked along the cobblestone path in the gardens. The scent of the spring-blooming flowers whirled around in the air. You should be enjoying it all but you couldn’t. Not when so much was on your mind.

Before you could take another step, a letter appeared right in front of you. It drifted to the ground and landed right at your feet. You picked it up, instantly recognizing the penmanship. Your name was written on the front of the envelope in your father’s handwriting. You frowned. You had forgotten about your family for the time being, lost in your work for the court. Forgot you hadn’t even seen them in fifty years.

You tore the letter open and read through the contents. Read it a second time. And then a third. No. No no no no. You squeezed your eyes shut and then read it again, hoping the words on the parchment would change. No. This couldn’t be right. This couldn’t be real. No.

You couldn’t breath, couldn’t see, couldn’t think.

You didn’t even realize you had fallen onto your knees. It felt like the entire world was collapsing on you. Every little thing you had been holding up suddenly too heavy. You wanted to scream and scream and scream. Wanted to vomit. Wanted to burn this whole city to the ground. The hold you had on yourself was ripped apart. Your entire being felt like it was ripped apart along it.

This was it. This would be the final thing that snapped you in half. Years and years of being strong, of keeping this court together in Rhys’s absence, of fighting through a war. Doing all of it with your head held high, with a smile on your face as you held your mate night after night. Let him fall apart in your arms and put him back together. You had survived through all of that but now this?

Had all of that been worth this? You had neglected your own life, your own family. Guilt crashed into you. Guilt, anger, agony. You had sacrificed so much to be a strong pillar in other peoples life and this is how the universe repaid you. You read the letter once more, the parchment crumbing as your grip tightened.

To my dearest daughter,

I have written to you twice a week for the past fifty years to no reply. I am beginning to worry my letters are not finding you. But I hope and pray this one does. Your mother has succumbed to her illness, angel. I wish I could’ve told you in person. I wish you could’ve been here for her last moments. I am putting off her funeral for as long as I can in hopes that you are able to come home and help me put her to rest, angel. I know how busy you are and how much you do for our court, so I hope you do not feel guilty for not being here. Your mother was so, so very proud of you, angel. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to feel that guilt.

I hope this letter finds you. I will send a messenger as well but I fear they might not make it to you in time. Please come as soon as you can.

With all my love,

Your Father

You could feel your magic swirling inside of you like a beast begging to be let out of its cage. You knew you’d take the whole damn city out with you if you released it here. So with half a mind, you winnowed away to the one place you knew would be safe.

You had no idea that your control over the mating bond had slipped in your grief. Had no idea you had just flooded your mate with years and years worth of pain. Had no idea that he collapsed over his desk, overwhelmed at the emotions bombarding him. He was shocked, stunned at the emotions that were coming through to him. His mate was suffering, deteriorating, and he had been so blind to it all. His hands clenched into fists and he rose from his desk. He needed to find you, now.

Your magic spiraled out of you like a monsoon. The earth surrounding you was scorched black, the trees all broken and bent out of place. You had released wave after wave of magic until you were burnt out completely. And now you lie in the wake of your destruction, crying and crying. Hugging yourself on the floor. Your mother was dead. DEAD. And your father had been trying to reach you for fifty years to tell you she was ill.

But Rhys had closed off Velaris when Amarantha had come. Had made every fae not in the city forget of its existence. And so his letters had never reached you. Not until this one that came now that the barriers were gone. Now that the whole of Prythian knew about the city. But it was too late. You would never get the chance to see her, to hug her, again. She was gone.

A wave of darkness took over the field and your mate appeared from it, his face cold and stony, as if he were expecting to come face to face with danger. You watched as his violet eyes took in the sight before him. Of the valley you had destroyed. And of you.

His face fell and he rushed towards you but you scurried away on your backside. You didn’t want to see him right now. Didn’t want him near you. He was partly at fault for all of this. He was the reason your father’s letters had never made it to you.

“Y/n…” he whispered your name, his voice filled with despair. “What’s going on? What happened? Are you okay?”

A sob broke free from your lips and his face crumbled further. He knelt down on the floor in front of you, reaching a hand out towards you but you turned your head away from it. “Please, darling. Please tell me what happened. What’s wrong?”

“W-what’s wrong?” you choked out. “Now you want to know what’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, darling?” he questioned. “Of course I do. You know I do.”

“Seriously, Rhys?! Ever since you came back to us, you’ve barely even looked at me! You hardly ever ask how I’m doing. Hardly ever make time for me, your mate! So why would I ever think that you cared now?!”

“I’ve been busy, darling, you know that,” he said, softly. “But I’m—”

You cut him off, crawling towards him and shoving a finger to his chest. “And you don’t think I have?! You think I haven't been busy too?! I have put everything I have into keeping this court together! I have spent hours and hours doing work so you could focus on the important things! I spent the past fifty years holding Velaris together while you were gone! I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a break, or even a day to myself! And you don’t even seem to recognize how much I do for you, how much I have done since you’ve been gone!”

“Darling, I had no idea—”

“Of course you didn’t! You never ask me how I’ve been. You never asked me how things were here when you were gone. Did you know when you were under the mountain, you’d sometimes send your feelings to me? Do you have any idea how hard it was to know you were suffering and not be able to do a single thing to help you? I begged you not to go to that party! Begged you! And then instead of letting us try to help you, you locked us all up with no way to get out!”

“I only had seconds to make a decision,” Rhys stressed. “Seconds. I’m sorry, darling, but I did what I had to in order to keep you safe, to keep Velaris safe. I don’t regret it.”

“I know, Rhys. I know how much you suffered for us. But what if I had done that to you? What if I had made that decision and forced you to spend fifty years stuck in Velaris while I was being tortured every single night?”

“I…I don’t know what I would’ve done, darling. I probably would’ve torn the whole world apart to get to you.”

“I considered it. I really did. But I knew you’d made that sacrifice for a reason. So I put on a brave face and I kept Velaris running the entire time you were gone. Kept our family from falling apart. And then you came back to us and I was so relieved, Rhys. But you were different. You had gone through hell. And then the war happened. Once it was over I thought maybe now we’d get to take a break, to just spend time with each other, to finally heal. But you just keep throwing yourself into work and I have to just smile through it all because I’m your High Lady and that's what's expected of me.”

Rhys seemed at a loss for words, taken aback. For some reason, that only made you angrier. You ripped at your stupid gown, at the jeweled necklace around your throat that cost more than your parent’s farm, and tossed it to the ground.

“I never asked for this! I never asked to be a High Lady! To have to run a court! I was just a farm girl, Rhys. And then you came along and suddenly I had to be this perfect, educated, well-mannered Lady. Do you realize how much effort that took? Do you realize how out of place I feel most of the time?”

“Darling, I’ve never expected you to be anything other than yourself,” Rhys said gently. “I love who you are. I fell in love with you when you were just that pretty little farm girl and I have loved you ever since.”

“Maybe you don’t expect me to be anyone else,” you cried. “But our people, our court—everyone wants something from me now! They expect me to be like you, expect me to know the answers to all their problems! And I’m supposed to do it all with a smile on my face, with grace and appreciation! And I’m just so tired, Rhys. So, so tired.”

“I had no idea you felt this way, darling.” Rhys reached for you again but you backed away from his touch once more. He frowned, devastated. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you tell me you needed a break?”

“How could I?” you cried out. “After everything you went through, how could I be the one to demand a break?! I sucked it up, for you, for our court. And Gods, I can’t do it anymore, Rhys. I can’t. I’ve fucked up and now I can’t even say goodbye to her!”

Rhys’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Darling, what are you talking about? You haven’t fucked up anything. It’s me who has let you down. What do you mean you can’t say goodbye to her? Say goodbye to who?”

You ripped your father’s letter out of your pocket and thrust it against his chest. He took it out of your hand gently as you fell apart all over again. You sobbed as he read it, his eyes widening as he looked up at you. “Oh darling…oh, my love, I am so, so sorry.”

He grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. You didn’t have the energy to fight him off—too lost in your grief. “You closed us off from the rest of the world. You made my father forget about Velaris. I never got any of his letters, Rhys! And now it's too late! She’s gone and it's too late.”

You choked on your own sobs and he tightened his arms around you, stroking your hair as he held you close. “I’m so sorry, darling. I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this. I didn’t even think…I’m so sorry.”

More sobs ripped from your throat and Rhys rocked you as you cried and cried and cried. It hurt so much. All of it. It was just too much. And even now you felt guilty. Guilty that you had dragged him out here, had unloaded on him.

“Don’t do that, darling,” he whispered against your hair. “Don’t feel guilty. Let me help you for once. I know how much you’ve done for my court, for me. I’ve been shit at showing you lately, but I love you so, so much, darling. And I appreciate every single thing you do for me, for our family, for our people. I’m so sorry that I haven’t been showing you just how much I appreciate you. I love you more than the stars themselves. I do not know where I’d be right now without you and I am just so sorry.”

You couldn’t reply. Couldn’t do anything but cry as you thought of your mother and father suffering all those years without you. You had been taking care of everyone else, everyone except your own family. And now it was too late.

Rhys held you close as you cried. Stroking your hair, pressing kisses to the top of your head, whispering how much he loved you, how sorry he was. And for once, you let yourself falter. Let yourself be held and coddled by your mate, the one person who loved you the most. You both had suffered so much, for far too long.

After some time had gone by, he pulled you back to look at you. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Let me take care of you, darling. Let me take you to your father. I will put together a proper send off for your mother, okay? I will get everything settled while you spend some time with him. And then after you put her to rest, we can go to the cabin and spend the rest of the week there. Just us. I won’t let anyone bother us. Okay? Will you let me do that for you?”

You sniffled, staring up into Rhys’s eyes. He stared down at you with love and admiration. Stared at you like you were the answer to all his questions. The most precious thing to him in the world. And you could feel him through your mating bond, sending reassurance and comfort to you. The floodgates completely open.

His touch was so loving, his gaze telling you everything you needed to know. So, you nodded. And then melted back into his arms and finally let him be the rock you crashed against.

#acotar #rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction #fanfic #acotar x reader #acotar x you #angst #hurt/comfort #oneshot

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padfootagain · 4 months

Text

When We Were Lying

Hi! Here is another Hozier fic! Had a lot of fun with this trope, as always, I hope you’ll like this little story! Tell me what you think!

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Pairing: Hozier x reader

Warnings: none… a bit of strong language and an awful lot of longing? Fake-dating AU

Summary: Your ex is attending your family gathering for Christmas and there is no way you're going to face that alone. Of course, you drag your best friend into this, and he's too smitten with you to say no when you ask him to pretend to be your boyfriend. Although, the fact that you both have feelings for each other might end up being a problem...

Word Count: 10055

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

“Sorry… what?!”

Andrew was blinking at you. There was something unnerving in his frown and the intensity of his stare, but you had to bear it. After all, you had no other choice.

“You’re the only one I can ask to do this with me…”

“I’m absolutely not doing that!”

“Why not?”

“Why not?! Why not?! Do I really have to answer that question or have you found back your sanity?”

“Andrew…”

“I am not going to lie to your entire family at Christmas just to save your stupid arse!”

“But I said ‘please’…”

“Y/N!”

“Andrew!”

“This is a terrible idea! I’m not doing that!”

He stared at you as if you had lost your mind, and in all fairness, perhaps you had… for a part at least. Why else would you be sitting in your best friend’s comfortable sofa, in the middle of his large and yet welcoming living room, asking him to lie to your family and pretend that you were together? Only for a day though, just for the traditional meal on Christmas, the boring and tedious lunch on the 25th where you exchanged gifts and stabbing remarks with your least favourite members of your family.

Not that you were not used to face this tragedy on your own; if your arse of an uncle had been the only obstacle to overcome this year, you would have emerged with flying colours. But this year was different. It was different, because your cousin Samantha was coming with her boyfriend… aka your ex-boyfriend. The one she had slept with ten months ago. The one who had betrayed you and broken your silly heart. The one you wished you could put laxatives into his drinks, or pierce his tires, or put some very strong pepper into his tea… Something Machiavellian like that…

But as your chances of poisoning his food at the Christmas lunch were limited, you had to settle for plan B. Which was simple enough: convince your best friend to pretend to be madly in love with you, so you would not have to bear any comments from your family about your broken heart and the fact that you had been cheated on by your fucking cousin Samantha… and perhaps, with a bit of luck, you could also make your ex, Craig, jealous.

A brilliant plan, if there was ever any. Only, Andrew didn’t seem to share your optimism.

“You’ve lost it, this time,” he went on, eyes wide, aghast as he slowly shook his head.

You couldn’t blame him for thinking this. Especially given the fact that your feelings for him would probably end up being a problem. But despite your silly little crush on him… who else could you ask such a favour to? The two of you had known each other for years. He was your best friend, you were ready to do anything for him. No one else would accept…

“Andy… I know I’m asking a lot…”

“This will never work. Beyond the fact that this is pure madness, it will never work! Your parents know me! They know we’re not together!”

“Friends get together all the time!”

“No one will believe us. And you know me, I hate… PDA and stuff like that… I can’t… even when it’s real, I struggle with that stuff. I can’t fake it.”

“On the contrary, that’s great! Cause then, we don’t have to act too much like we’re together, and we can just blame it on your well-known aversion for PDA!”

“No. I’m sorry, Y/N, but this time… it’s a no. I’m not doing that. I’m not playing fake-boyfriend for you.”

You heaved a defeated sigh.

“And I thought you would kill for me.”

“I’m a pacifist… a punch across the jaw is the best I can do.”

“Lousy friend.”

“Fuck off! You think you asking me to lie to your entire family is better? Just so you won’t have to hear them complaining about you being single? You think that’s not worse?”

You saw the way his expression saddened when yours did, when the tinge of playfulness left your features. His voice was softer when he spoke again.

“Why is it so unbearable anyway, huh? You’ve forgotten how my mother can be? I’ve got that refrain sang to me all the time too. It’s not so bad.”

You bit on your lip and lowered your gaze before answering, holding back tears that came blurring your vision of Andrew’s soft carpet.

“Craig and Sam will be there. Together.”

You didn’t need to look up at him to know he was clenching his jaw.

“I don’t… I don’t want to have to face that on my own. I’m not sure I can…”

You barely had time to brush a tear away that Andrew was holding you close, arms wrapped tightly around your frame. And you let him pull you even closer, until your ear was pressed against his heart, until he could drop a tender kiss to the top of your head. He heaved a sigh.

“Could you still come? As a friend?” you asked, voice trembling even if you didn’t want it to.

You hated being like this. Fragile. Crying. Not over the betrayal. You wanted to wave a perfect life at your ex so he would see all that he was missing, until he regretted everything. It was petty, but true. Instead, you would be the one sitting in an uncomfortable chair in a couple of weeks, trying not to throw up nor cry while you witnessed your ex and your cousin playing perfect couple…

Andrew heaved a painful sigh.

“I’ll come.”

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… I’ll do it. The whole crazy plan. I’ll do it. I’ll be your boyfriend for the day.”

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There were traces of annoyance in his gaze, but a lot of tenderness too as his eyes met yours, hazel irises turning greener in the quiet light of a late afternoon.

“Really?” you asked, voice shy even though you craved for confidence.

“Really. But you’d better make sure that your mother still loves me when you break it to her that we’re not together anymore! I’m not giving up on her amazing lasagnas, not even for you.”

“I have the recipe, you know?”

“Your mother’s taste better.”

“Fucker!”

“Don’t insult me, or I’ll take everything back and let you deal with this bunch of assholes on your own!”

“Sorry!” you quipped, hiding your face into his chest again, and you heard him mumbling some complaints, playing grumpy, but you knew better.

You were smiling as you listened to his low voice lulling you back into a soothed state. You wondered how he did that. How a mere hug and some whispering were all it took to calm you down, to make you feel safe all over again, when you were so damn insecure all the time.

You lost track of your own thoughts when his large hand came to rest on the back of your head, keeping you close.

And you were glad that you could explain a lack of PDA in front of your family, because there was no way for you to survive a whole day with the man you secretly loved holding you like that…

“Do you hate me? For being selfish and dragging you into this?” you asked him, voice muffled by his woollen jumper.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”

“Even if I called you to get rid of a body with me?”

“Erm… As long as I’m not the one cutting it into pieces.”

You both let out a chuckle.

“I’ll make sure to stain your carpet with the blood of my victims.”

“Now, that would make me hate you, for sure.”

“I knew you’d choose your carpet over me.”

“Yeah, but what a carpet it is!”

“It doesn’t make you lasagna though…”

“I only like your mam’s.”

You smiled, but remained quiet. You were serious again when your voice broke the comfortable silence that had settled over your two entwined frames.

“Seriously, though… I’m sorry I’m asking you this. I just… I just don’t see what else I can do. I don’t think I can stomach seeing the two of them as a happy couple while I’m still… desperately single. A real loser…”

“Stop talking about yourself like that,” he admonished, voice genuinely annoyed. “I hate it when you do that. You’re… you’re amazing, Y/N. More than you realise. And Craig and Samantha are terrible people. So… stop blaming it all on yourself. They can rot in hell.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in heaven and hell.”

“You know what I mean.”

A pause while you smiled, wool tickling your cheek.

“Thank you.”

He rubbed your back, gesture soft, taking his time.

“Don’t mention it.”

“You owe me so much…”

“I thought you said ‘don’t mention it!’”

“Don’t mention it, my arse…”

You laughed at him, you couldn’t help it. As Andrew and you walked together down the lane leading to your parents’ house, you couldn’t refrain your laughter. Andrew looked nervous… like the day he had met your parents for the first time, years ago.

“Stop acting like they don’t know you. My family adores you.”

“That’s until they learn I’m lying through my teeth.”

“You’re an infamous liar, anyway.”

“Hey!”

He faked outrage, making you laugh even more, and this time, he couldn’t refrain his own smile.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this…”

“Me neither. You must have lost your mind, too.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it, and sealed his lips again. There was something almost sad on his features for a second, and you wanted to ask if he was alright, but you were already in front of the green door.

“You ready?” he asked instead, an encouraging smile adorning his handsome features now, the cold of December making his cheeks and nose redden.

And you had to struggle through missing heartbeats to nod your head. He looked lovely like this, hair in a half-bun, some curls still free, hair tied only to keep the strands away from his face. He was wearing the grey beanie you adored, chin buried in a huge matching scarf…

“We’ll be fine,” he reassured you, all traces of playfulness or annoyance gone from his warm voice.

“Let’s make Craig so jealous he’ll choke over some pudding.”

You both chuckled, and Andrew nodded, lovely crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as he kept on smiling.

“Sounds like a plan.”

You took a deep breath before knocking.

There was no turning back.

You glimpsed at Andrew one more time as you waited for your mother to come and open the door, and you thought it truly was the worst idea you had ever had, to ask Andrew to do this… Andrew, of all people. If he was the only choice, he also was the worst one. You simply hoped you wouldn’t have to fake too much… because your heart sped up at the mere thought of holding his hand…

What an idiot you were, getting yourself into so much trouble… at what point had you imagined it was a good idea to ask the man you secretly loved to be your fake boyfriend?!

Your thoughts were interrupted though, as your mother finally appeared. You grinned at her as she hurried to give you a hug.

Andrew had barely closed the door behind him that he was receiving a warm hug as well.

“Ha! Andy!” your mother welcomed him, making him laugh. “It’s so good to see you, it’s been too long.”

“It has indeed…”

“And finally! You two came to your senses!”

You frowned, but didn’t have time to ask your mother what she meant. Instead, you were pulled into the whirlwind that was your family.

Andrew remained close to you, and you were not surprised. There were plenty of people gathered in the large living room, several generations together in the warmth of your childhood home, and Andrew wasn’t too good with dealing with so many people. When you turned to him to offer him a gentle smile, one he immediately offered as well, he seemed a little uncomfortable, hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to make of his long limbs, head slightly bent, as to appear less tall than he truly was, a desperate attempt at hiding. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, such a stark contrast with the confident musician he was each time he stepped on a stage.

You introduced him to the members of your family he didn’t know (including your terrible uncle, who didn’t fail to be rude, hence living up to his reputation). And everything was going fine, except perhaps for the uncontrollable burst that sparked through your heart and chest every time you called Andrew your boyfriend. You pushed to the side the longing that washed over you at the thought that you wished the word could be true…

But it wasn’t the right time for such consideration. After years spent as Andrew’s friend while harbouring feelings for him, you had grown amazingly talented at hiding the love that coursed through each of your cells every time you saw him, or heard him, or thought of him…

But that was not the right time for such thoughts. Indeed, a new couple was just entering the room…

… and suddenly everyone was quiet.

Samantha and Craig seemed to not notice the sudden silence, or else they were simply very good at hiding it. You couldn’t control your expression as you winced, turning towards the window.

But you were surprised by Andrew’s touch, as he reached for your hand. Fingers shy at first, barely the ghost of a caress across your knuckles. When you leaned closer, fingers searching for his too, he intertwined them together, and as you turned to him, he gave you the warmest smile. A silent gesture to tell you it would be okay.

You were even more surprised when he pulled you closer, a gentle tug at your joined hands. You had discussed, before coming to your parents’ house, the boundaries you needed to respect for today. Holding hands was okay. Touching arms, hair or a waist was okay. You had not discussed kissing, but you reckoned that it was a clear no. An arm around the other’s shoulders or back was good too.

But now, Andrew was pulling you gently closer until you were settled against his chest, and he bent to softly kiss your hair, lips lingering on the top of your head for several seconds. The gesture was so tender, you had to close your eyes…

And then his lips were gone, leaving behind the quiet sound of a kiss and their warmth. When you opened your eyes again and looked up at him, Andrew was blushing, but he was smiling too. And there was something in the way he was looking at you…

“Y/N! How good to see you!”

You turned towards Samantha, hence interrupting your train of thoughts, perhaps for the better.

You forced a polite smile, but didn’t go as far as to completely hide that you weren’t happy to see her.

“Sam! How are you?”

“Good! I’m good! What about you?”

She only then seemed to notice Andrew’s presence by your side, an impressive performance, given his height and the fact that you were still leaning into his chest…

“Oh, hi! Hmmm… Andrew, is it? I remember you! You’re Y/N’s friend!”

“Boyfriend now, actually,” you corrected her, and you were amused by the look of surprise on her face.

“Oh! Congratulations! Good for you!”

Around the room, conversations had started again, filling up space once more and giving you at least some privacy… although you knew it to be but a relative truth. Your relatives who stood closer to you were probably listening closely, unwilling to lose any crumb of the conversation and drama that might ensue.

Behind Samantha, Craig finally greeted you, more uncomfortable than his girlfriend was. He grew even more uncomfortable when he offered his open hand to Andrew.

“Good to see you again, Andy.”

You hated that Andrew had to let go of your hand to shake Craig’s, but his fingers found yours again as soon as the greeting was over. It was rare to see Andrew with a clearly forced smile on his face, he was generally better at hiding his discomfort, a habit of always being polite.

“Craig,” followed by a nod was the only greeting Andrew gave your ex, and you recognised protectiveness in the way he moved slightly closer to you, placing himself between you and Craig.

And you felt a little guilty for the sense of pride that you got from that gesture, knowing you shouldn’t be reading anything even remotely romantic into it… but then again, you were but human. And humans always liked dreaming…

“How are you two doing?” Craig asked, and you nodded.

“Good, we’re both doing good. You?”

“Oh, we’re great! We’re planning on going for a trip for our anniversary, don’t we, dear?” Samantha went on, turning to her boyfriend, who merely nodded… rightly uncomfortable.

“Amazing!” you managed to get out between gritted teeth.

“And for how long have you two been together, then?” Craig asked, changing the subject quickly.

“A couple of months,” you answered, a detail you and Andrew had agreed on.

“So, it’s still the honeymoon phase, then,” Sam nodded knowingly, although you weren’t sure what kind of knowledge that was…

“It’s pretty new,” you nodded.

“How lovely! But… I thought the two of you were friends,” she went on, acting confused.

“We were,” you confirmed, and when you struggled to continue, it was Andrew’s turn to step in.

“And now we’re more than that.”

The two of you exchanged a smile, and again, you noticed the way he was blushing.

Craig nodded his head, and you saw how he was frowning, the kind of expression he wore when he was upset over something.

“It’s funny that you were friends for so long and then all of a sudden… you decide to be more,” he spoke with a tinge of venom in a tone he tried to turn honeyed.

You looked for an excuse, but Andrew was the one to answer again. And you were taken aback by his words… and even more so by how earnest they sounded, although… although he could only be lying.

“We… we’ve spent a long time tiptoeing around that line. I think… we’ve had feelings for a while for each other. I guess we were simply afraid to lose everything we already had if we gave this a try.”

“And what decided you to give this a try, then?”

“I don’t know. Some courage, I guess.”

“Or an opportunity,” Craig proposed, making you frown. There was an insinuation behind his tone, and you didn’t quite know what to do of it.

Andrew seemed to understand better, judging by the way he clenched his jaw, slightly tightened his hold on your hand. He remained quiet though, refusing to rise to Craig’s challenge.

“These things can take time, you know?” you added, trying to pull the conversation away from the glares Andrew and Craig seemed keen to throw each other, a silent battle of thunder and storms. “Where are you planning that trip of yours?”

It was too easy to centre the conversation back onto Samantha, nothing surpriseing, though, considering her character…

Lucky for you, you were soon called by your mother to help in the kitchen.

Or actually, it was but a limited reprieve you were granted. It took your mother only a couple of minutes to bombard you with questions, while she made you cut some carrots, sunlight streaming on your hands from the window set above the sink as you worked. It enlightened the orange stains that slowly grew across your fingers while you dodged your mother’s queries, struggling to remain calm while lying. You thought you would be better at it, but as you peeled the vegetables, their forms made slippery in your hands, you were losing your footing, feeling increasingly guilty as the lies passed your lips again and again.

A first date in a quiet restaurant.

A piece of carrot thrown in the sink.

A first kiss in front of your door, as a tender goodbye, one that lingered in reluctance to part.

A blade slipping too fast.

No, you were not planning ahead for now, just taking things as they went, as they formed.

No, there was no words of love yet, don’t be ridiculous! It’s only the beginning…

“The beginning!” Your mother scoffed, throwing a potato in the sink, alongside your colourful pieces. “The man has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars for years! You’ve been stealing glances for so long… I don’t even remember when it started! It’s not the beginning, dear. The two of you have been in love for years. It is only a logical continuation.”

She frowned as she looked at you, finally lifting her gaze from the brown pile of peels.

“You’re okay?”

You were startled by her question.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“I don’t know… you seem… almost sad.”

You couldn’t hold her stare, and you fought every bit of instinct in you to avoid recoiling from her touch as your mother, in a sweet gesture, rested her hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry yourself over Craig and Samantha. And before you ask, I wasn’t the one who invited them.”

You nodded, as if you were reassured, as if she was right about the cause of your worry, had aimed straight at the knot of your problems.

She hadn’t. And you were perplexed as you realized this too. Because you had thought that seeing your ex and your cousin together would be unbearable, and it was, indeed, a painful sight. But it was hurting your pride more than your heart, a sting at your ego rather than a tear at your soul.

Instead, the images you summoned in a fake reality with Andrew were the ones destroying you. Because these details, these anecdotes, these stories you made up for your mother were ones you genuinely longed for.

A quiet date in a restaurant you loved. A kiss bathed in streetlights. Hands holding that didn’t want to let go…

This was a terrible idea. A terrible… terrible idea…

“Andrew! Come here, lad! Give us a hand with these, would you?”

You felt his presence by your side before his hand appeared in your vision, reaching for a vegetable, getting to work without any protest or arguing. He would lose anyway, against your mother, and he knew it.

You chatted together for a while, conversation smooth and easy, as always with him around. You almost forgot that all of this was fake when Andrew leaned closer, as if he longed for your nearness. You reached for him before you could think, leaning closer as well, until your arms touched as you worked, the ghost of a touch that was enough to set your heart ablaze…

God… this was such a terrible, terrible idea…

You barely noticed your mother as she moved around the kitchen, until she reached for Andrew.

“I’m so happy for you,” she spoke in a smile. “After all this time… I’m glad the two of you have finally worked out all the things that kept you apart.”

She disappeared before you could speak to her, ask her what she meant. When you turned to Andrew though, he was blinking tears away.

“Andy? You’re alright? What’s wrong?” You asked with sudden worry in your voice, but your friend shook his head.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just… Erm…”

But he grew quiet, shrugged. You tried to guess, but were pretty sure to miss the mark when he reassured you again.

“Is my mother bothering you?”

“No! Of course, not. It’s weird lying to her, that’s all.”

There was something more to it, but Andrew interrupted you before you could question him further.

“Besides… we have another problem. A more important one. That’s why I was looking for you.”

“What is it?”

“Craig doesn’t believe us.”

“What?”

“He pulled me aside and told me he knew we were faking it. That he was going to tell everyone.”

“The son of a bitch!”

“My thoughts, precisely.”

“What did you answer?”

Andrew shrugged.

“That he was being ridiculous.”

“And?”

“That he was merely being jealous over the fact that he had let a woman like you slip between his fingers like a moron.”

You tried to hide the grin that formed on your lips at his praise.

“Nice… going all in on the ‘make him jealous’ wagon, I see…”

He took a moment to answer, voice less confident than his usual tone when he spoke once more.

“Just the truth…”

You ignored his remark, and you didn’t get why the same tinge of sadness made his hazel eyes greener again, the same way they had earlier that day…

“What can we do to convince him?” you asked, eliciting little more than a shrug from your friend.

You heaved a sigh, your carrots now all cut in the sink. Game over…

“Let’s see how all this unfolds,” was your only solution for now.

“And if he tells your family?”

“We’ll see, Andy. We’ll see.”

The meal was over. The gifts had been given, the kisses and thankful glances had been exchanged. It was time to settle in with some board games, for those willing, while others nibbled on some pastries and chatted in sofas and armchairs. The last remnants of cakes lingered in porcelain plates while coffee, tea and hot chocolate were being served. You laughed when Andrew picked up your warm beverage before you had a chance.

“Are you drinking my cocoa?”

“I’m trying it out. Just to be sure. In case of poison or something like that.”

You both laughed as he took another sip, humming in delight.

“You could have asked for a hot chocolate instead of tea!” you admonished, but didn’t try to take the cup from him, too happy to see him smiling to even think about it.

God, he could steal the entire beverage, as long as he kept on smiling like that… happy, and soft, and welcoming, calling for a smile of your own to answer his…

“Tastes better when it’s yours,” he laughed, all mischief and cheekiness while he looked at you and drank a third sip, a tiny one, just to get on your nerves.

The charm was broken though when one of the children running around bumped into him and made Andrew spill a little bit of chocolate across his chin. You burst into laughter.

“Well, that was… hot,” you teased while Andrew tried to hide his mouth and chin with his hand, looking around for a napkin of some kind. “Literally, I mean. It must be hot. Graciously so.”

“I hate you,” he glowered without any animosity in his gaze, making you laugh harder as you finally handed him one of the paper towels set on the coffee table.

On the other side of the room, people were playing a board game, but you felt better like this. Just you and Andrew chatting around a cocoa, or what was left of it. No one was truly paying attention to you, or so you had thought… among the five people who were casually chatting in small groups around the coffee table, it was easy to notice that all around the room, if gazes were directed towards your small group, it was to stare at Andrew and you.

Was Andrew aware of that scrutiny? Of the gazes fixed upon you?

“You’re okay?” he asked, frowning slightly, and you wished you could ease the crease between his brow with a brush of your thumb.

“Sure. I’m fine. Just… I think people are kind of watching us,” you added in a whisper no one could eavesdrop, leaning closer to him in the process.

He hummed, slowly nodding.

“Yeah, I think we’re kind of… the new thing.”

You bit your lip before making your next request, and you were surprised to notice that his eyes lingered on your mouth until you spoke.

“Is that okay if we act like…?” you left your question suspended in mid-air.

He nodded again, in silence, and there it was again, the flash of pain turning the hazel into full green…

You noticed the sharp intake of breath he took before finally speaking, the way his eyes narrowed just a little, for a second, while he hesitated… but then the words were out all the same, making his pale cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

“Can I… tug that strand of hair behind your ear?”

You struggled to swallow and nodded, it was your time to be silent, you couldn’t trust your voice.

He was leaning closer when he lifted his arm towards you, shifting to be facing you, both of you sitting on a sofa that was too comfortable and too familiar for you to feel this tensed, almost frightened.

“You’re sure that’s alright?” Andrew asked again, and this time you let out a faint yes along with your nod.

Frightened wasn’t the right word though. You weren’t scared at all, in fact, you felt absolutely safe with Andrew sitting so close to you, your bodies almost touching, but not quite, just far enough to leave you longing to close these gaps. Slowly, his hand was lifted, all the way up to your face, pushing back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He was staring at you, something that went beyond softness, beyond the usual tenderness his gaze adorned when it fell on you. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, guess what it meant. But then again, his thumb was brushing your cheek, and the ghostly touch made you too dizzy, anyway.

He leaned closer, unbearably closer, until his lips were next to your ear, his fingers moving to hold your face in place, palm cradling your jaw.

“Can I… Can I kiss your cheek?”

You were certain that your heart could not take more of this, of his intoxicating cologne, of the warmth of his skin across yours, of the delicate breath fanning across your ear…

You reached up for something, anything to hold onto, and your fingers met his woollen jumper, attached themselves to it as if holding a safe line.

“Yes, you can,” you answered despite your shaking voice and the fact that you had no air left in your lungs whatsoever.

Your rational brain wanted to remind you that this was not real, that it was all for show… but the world had vanished the second he had leaned closer. No… no, before that. When he had stared at you in this gentle way, when his hand had risen towards your face. You couldn’t even remember that you were at your parents’, in fact, you couldn’t remember your own name. Your entire world was being rewritten because this man was holding you close, a palm cradling your jaw while the other found its way to your waist; because he was moving slowly away, only to come back closer than ever, lips resting on your cheek. You closed your eyes the second his lips found your skin, their warmth coursing through your entire frame it seemed, his beard slightly tickling you, just enough to make it all the more endearing. He lingered there for what anyone would consider too long, but when you thought he was about to pull away, his lips merely hovered above your cheek, close enough for you to feel their warmth still, and the hurried breaths he exhaled. And then he was kissing your cheekbone again, and again, and with each resting of his lips upon you, you tightened your hold on his jumper, your free hand coming to rest right against his heart, in the end…

You both jumped at the sharp sound of something falling, glass breaking. As you turned, you noticed that someone had dropped a glass of water to the floor. Nothing too bad, your father was already heading towards the kitchen to clean up the mess that was made. Craig didn’t have a drink.

Before you could analyse the situation in depth, though, Andrew was turning his attention back onto you, and you had no choice but to look at him again too. You remained perfectly still for a moment, hazel eyes meeting your gaze in an unreadable expression, his hands still on you…

And then you both realised how close you were, how easy it would be to just lean a little further and to close the gap between your lips…

And you pulled away in a jolt, startled by your nearness, like two teenagers caught red-handed by an adult.

Andrew cleared his throat, rubbing his palms on his dark jeans, shifting like he didn’t know what to do with his own body all over again.

“I should… help clean the mess…” you mumbled, stuttering slightly, while Andrew was nodding and humming, averting his gaze.

You did just that, hurrying towards the table and picking up pieces of broken glass while your brain remained stuck on the feeling of Andrew’s beard on your skin, the softness of his lips, the way he held you closer…

Your heart was still pounding, your breath catching in your throat every now and then; in fact, every time you thought about his fingers slipping to your hair…

“Let’s throw all these away, darling,” your mother told you, nodding towards the shards in your palm.

You stood straighter without a word, headed for the kitchen…

… to fall face to face with Craig.

Wonderful…

“Sorry about the glass,” he said, breathless for some reason.

“Oh, you’re the one who broke it? Don’t worry about it, my parents have plenty of those. As long as you didn’t cut yourself…”

“I did, actually.”

You took a closer look, and indeed, he was pouring cold water onto a cut across his thumb. Nothing worth worrying about, but it would be quite painful and bothersome for a few days, still. The cut was long and clean, if not too deep.

You had walked closer to inspect the wound, and you didn’t notice the way he stared at you.

“It’s not too bad, but it must hurt.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just waiting for it to stop bleeding.”

“You should press something on it, then.”

You handed him a napkin, which he rolled around his finger as he thanked you. You finally noticed that you were alone in the kitchen, that everybody else was still in the living room either chatting or cleaning up the mess Craig had made.

“Actually, I… I wanted to talk to you, just us…”

You silently encouraged him to continue, but you were taken aback at the passion and hurt in his eyes when your two gazes locked together.

“I… Is it serious? With Andrew, I mean?”

“Yeah… yes! Of course, it’s serious. Why?”

He shrugged, but you saw the way he clenched his jaw.

“It’s just… you’ve been friends for years… why now?”

You shrugged, feeling uncomfortable now… and you blamed it on a lie, but you knew it was because of the longing that was stuck in your heart, and had been dormant there for too long for you to count.

“I don’t know… the timing was always wrong. He wasn’t single, I wasn’t single, he was touring, I was busy… we kind of… were never on the same page, you know? We… our lives never managed to align.”

Slowly, Craig nodded.

“But this time, your lives are aligning?”

“Yeah! I mean… we’re both single, both staying in Ireland for more than a couple of weeks… we… we both want the same things.”

“And what is that?”

“What’s what?”

“That ‘thing’. Whatever it is that you want, what is it?”

You struggled to swallow, looking for a lie, an answer, anything to say. And a weight fell on your chest as the earnest answer flashed before you, taking the shape of two hazel eyes, unruly curls, soft-spoken words and an infectious laugh…

You thought you wanted some revenge. To make Craig jealous, for him to regret leaving you… but the truth was, you had wanted another man all along. And you still couldn’t have him. It was only a game of pretence.

What a terrible idea, this whole fake-relationship scheme…

Craig took a step closer to you, bringing your bodies so close, as you looked up at him, he was but a breath away.

“What do you want? Why are you with him? Of all people, why Andrew, and why now? Do you want to know what I think about all this?”

You frowned at his tone, crossing your arms before your chest, a glare starting to cover your features.

“Oh, enlighten me!” you replied with challenge in your voice.

But Craig didn’t back down. He only leant closer.

“I think you’re trying to make me jealous. I think you’re not over us. I think that deep down, you still want me. And you turned to your best friend as a rebound. But you’ll be tired of him in a couple of months.”

You shook your head, but your ex still went on.

“Look, I know that what I did was horrible, okay? I… Samantha was a mistake… but we could still have this. You and I, we… we were great together.”

You scoffed, taking a step back, shaking your head some more in amazement. The guy had balls, you had to give him that, at least.

“A mistake you’re about to celebrate your first anniversary with…” you replied, tone acidic and bearing no regrets for it.

“Y/N…”

“No! I don’t know what you’re trying to do right now, but you’re wrong, that’s for sure. I… you cheated on me! With my cousin! How could you possibly imagine that I would want to give you another chance?!”

He heaved a sigh, and you thought he would give in, but he didn’t, on the contrary. This was only the first round.

“So what? You’re bringing Andrew here and playing perfect couple just to get under my skin? To make me pay? To show me what I’ve lost?”

You looked for something to say, but couldn’t deny the plain truth.

“Because I already know what I’ve lost, okay?” Craig went on, tears shining in his eyes. “I know that. I don’t need you to pretend to be in love with someone else to see that.”

You let out a shaky breath. You could have walked away, but it felt good to let the truth out. A day spent telling nothing but lies, it was a relief to reveal the truth, even if it was but a fragment.

“You’re wrong. I love Andrew. In fact… I’ve loved him for years.”

He frowned at that, but you went on, a tear escaping your eyes that you didn’t even notice flowing down your cheek. You had been lying to yourself for a long time, pretending that all this made sense, that it was alright, that you were happy and content as Andrew’s friend. In truth, you were anything but happy, anything but content. And today, pretending to be his, pretending that he was yours… it only showed you more clearly that this was what you wanted. What you had always wanted. What you couldn’t have, perhaps, but what you needed.

It was a confession spoken to Craig, but made for you.

“I’ve been in love with Andrew for years. I’ve had relationships because… I wanted to forget him. Thought I could. Thought it was nothing but an infatuation, then nothing but a crush, and then nothing but a meaningless unrequited love that I would get over quickly. But the truth is, you were the band-aid, Craig. And he’s the one I’ve always wanted. And you know what? You’re right. Coming here with Andy today I… I wanted to come with him because I didn’t want to have to face you and Samantha on my own. Didn’t want to have to bear everybody’s stares and pity thinking I was the poor victim of a tragedy… And I wanted you to see that I was fine without you. That I deserved better than the way you treated me. That I… That I was worth keeping, and loving. But I… at the end of the day, if this afternoon has shown me anything, it’s that I don’t need you. I don’t want you. And I don’t give two fucks about you and Samantha. So… let’s be cordial, as we must, as you’re still part of the family for as long as you’ll be dating my cousin, but… I’m over you, Craig. I’m over all of this. And if there is one thing I want in this world, it’s Andy.”

Before Craig could say anything, before you could even process his reaction, you were storming out of the room. Or at least, you tried to. Because you had taken but a couple of steps towards the door, when Craig held you back, holding onto your wrist.

“Really? Is that how you feel?” he asked, clearly hurt, but also unmistakably angry. “I don’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you. You and Andy? I don’t believe it. I can’t believe it. You’re faking it. You’re lying now and for what? To hurt me?”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you merely broke free. Walked out of the kitchen, angry and annoyed and not thinking straight but with a decision taken anyway…

“Andy?”

When you looked around, he wasn’t on the sofa anymore.

“Yes?”

You turned around again. He was right there, by the table, wet napkins in hand, as he had clearly been helping cleaning up the mess your ex had made, standing not too far from the door to the kitchen, your mother by his side while everyone was turning towards you.

He frowned slightly as you hurried towards him, making a bee line to reach him, not caring that everyone was staring at the two of you. Instead, you didn’t think, forgot about the world, focused your attention on Andrew and his unruly curls and the confusion in his hazel eyes, and the way his lips slightly parted as you approached. And then, you took his face in your hands, pulled him down and rose to your tiptoes to meet him halfway, and you kissed him.

You crashed your lips against his, nothing graceful in the gesture, but desperation pouring from every inch of you. You were taken aback though, by the quiet huff he let out, your brain finally kicking in again, and thinking that this was crazy, a terrible idea, and more than anything else, highly inappropriate…

… but Andrew quickly recovered from the initial shock, and before you could pull away and profusely apologise, he had dropped the napkins that hit the floor in a thud, and his arms were wrapping around your frame, pulling you to him. You felt his eyelashes brushing your skin as he closed his eyes, leaning into your kiss, moving his lips over yours to compliment your own movements. And if he was more graceful about it, softer than your rushed gesture, he poured such passion into the kiss that your knees grew weak, and you rested your weight on him, leaning into his chest.

It was over too soon, though, interrupted by the sound of someone – probably one of your parents, or your pain of an uncle – clearing their throat. Andrew was the one pulling away, clearing his throat as well as he took a step back, although one of his hands remained at your waist.

He was blushing when you opened your eyes. And you suddenly wanted to leave. To just go and disappear and pretend like you had not broken the best friendship you had ever had and that the man you loved would not hate you from now on for kissing him like that and that you had not humiliated yourself in front of your entire family…

But as you were about to speak, Craig was hissing from somewhere behind Andrew, making him turn around. Before his attention was pulled away from you, you noted the way Andrew was looking at you. Intensely, a little stunned too, like he wasn’t sure that it had happened, that you had truly kissed him, and yet, like he was searching for answers in your eyes…

But then he turned to face Craig. He had barely turned towards him, though, that your ex was grabbing Andrew by the collar, and pushing him against the nearest wall, Andrew’s hand leaving its resting spot on your hip in the process.

“YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Craig shouted, the whole room too stunned to react while Andrew’s back collided with the wall, a hollow sound ensuing and making a couple of framed pictures shake with the strength of the impact.

“Get off me!” Andrew merely replied through his teeth, struggling to break free, but fighting had never been his strong suit…

“You fucking BASTARD!”

“Craig!”

The first people were finally reacting, hurrying to pull your ex away, but he kept them at bay, trying to keep on pushing Andrew against the wall.

“You were just waiting for your turn, you son of bitch! Dickhead! You were just waiting to get a chance to fuck that bitch!”

Andrew’s expression hardened, and this time, when he reached for Craig, it wasn’t to pull at his hands, but to grab the collar of your ex’s shirt and violently pull as well.

“Don’t you fucking dare insult her like that!” he growled, with such anger and threat, a tone you had never heard on his voice before.

“Both of you, stop!” your father ordered.

“Stop this! What are you doing?” you added, tugging at both their arms, but none of them seemed to care.

Instead, Craig went on, pushing on all of Andrew’s buttons…

“I can’t believe she did run straight into your bed like a whore…”

Before anyone could react, Andrew was pushing Craig away with so much force that he stumbled backwards and fell down.

For a second time, the whole room was too stunned to react, while Craig staggered back to his feet. Andrew moved away from the wall, and as your ex stood straighter again he was glaring at him, jaw tightly clenched. You had never seen so much wrath on his features before.

But it wasn’t over. Craig threw Andrew only one look before he was bending over and running to him, tackling him and making him fall back easily. You gasped at the loud sound of Andy’s head hitting the tiles.

Too stunned to move, Andrew didn’t even try to avoid Craig’s punch, and he got hit straight across the jaw. Thankfully, hands were then pulling Craig off of Andrew. You didn’t care though. You didn’t pay attention to your father and one of your aunts pushing Craig into the kitchen while shouting at him. You didn’t notice your cousin hurrying to join him, clearly worried. All you could do was to fall on your knees by Andrew’s side, holding onto his shoulders and gently shaking him while he blinked, clearly disoriented.

“Andy! Andy, you’re okay? Can you hear me?” you asked in a rush.

His unfocused gaze finally found you, and he blinked some more. You thought he was about to faint.

“Andy! Stay with me! Are you alright?”

Your hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks. He took hold on your right wrist, touch firm and yet gentle still.

“Y/N…”

“You’re okay? Andy?”

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure? How’s your head? Do you feel dizzy?”

“A little bit. I’m okay though.”

“Really?”

Slowly, he nodded. Your mother appeared by your side, asked Andrew how he felt as well. His answer was to slowly sit up. He looked exhausted, all of a sudden, paler than usual, but there was no cut across the back of his head, merely the beginning of a bump.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

You helped him to his feet, your mother checking that he was unharmed too.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologised, but your mother was quick to dismiss it all with a wave of her hand.

“It’s not your fault, dear. Let’s seat you down on the sofa for a moment.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine.”

Samantha walked out of the kitchen, crying, and you wondered why. Or actually, you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t want to stay for a minute longer in the same room as either her or Craig.

“Actually, I think we should go,” you interjected, and Andrew nodded.

“No, please… Craig is going to be kicked out, don’t worry about him,” your mother argued.

“No, really, I… I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.”

You were on the verge of tears, and so you turned towards the hallway, followed by your mother’s protests, along with some of your other relatives’ kind words. But you wanted to run now, disappear and leave all of them behind. You were tired of being looked at… you needed to be on your own for a while.

Meanwhile, Andrew was remaining silent. He only spoke to apologise once again to your family, clearly ashamed. You left before Craig could be let out of the kitchen, and were close to running to your car.

You climbed in, Andrew following suit in the passenger seat. You drove on, heading for home. You should have taken Andrew to his house, but you didn’t even think about it. The thought never came. You simply headed home, and Andrew didn’t protest, even though he obviously recognized the road you were taking.

Only when you arrived before your building did you realise that Andrew was still here, the ride had been filled with nothing but silence.

“You should come in, I’ll take a look at your jaw.”

Indeed, a bruise was forming under his beard, colouring the sharp angle of his face with yellowish hues.

“It’s nothing. Nothing broken.”

“Please, come in. Please…”

You stared at each other for a moment, but he yielded, nodding, at long last. You waited for him to climb out of your small car, and he held on the door before closing it, wincing as he unfolded his tall frame.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just… a little dizzy, that’s all.”

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it was just a punch.”

“And a hit on the head.”

“Thick skull. Don’t you know that already?”

You both chuckled, while Andrew followed you inside your home.

You rid yourself of your shoes and coat, aiming straight for the freezer to get a bag of frozen vegetables there. Andrew was by your side, leaning against the kitchen counter. He didn’t protest when you gently rested the cold bag against his jaw, merely winced at the sharp sensation.

“Thanks,” he breathed, staring right into your eyes.

But you didn’t acknowledge his words. Instead, your world got blurred by tears.

“You… are you angry?”

But Andrew shook his head.

“No. No, I’m not angry.”

“You should be.”

“Probably.”

“You… you had to lie all day long because of me, and then I kissed you without your permission and you probably hated that, and then you punched Craig, and you got punched in the face… all because of me. I’m a lousy friend.”

“The worst,” he corrected you, but there was a tender smile on his lips.

“You should be angry.”

“I’m not.”

“You should hate me.”

“I don’t. And I…”

A pause. He seemed out of breath for a second, wetted his lips, before he went on.

“I liked it, by the way.”

“What?”

“Your kiss. I… I didn’t hate it. I liked it. A lot.”

Your eyes merely grew round, and Andrew looked away, averting his eyes. He heaved a painful sigh.

“I told you this would be a terrible idea,” he pointed out.

“I know.”

“And you didn’t listen.”

“I know.”

“And now… what are we going to do now?”

You had no answer to give, you were plagued by this same question yourself.

A moment of silence, suspended in mid-air. Outside, the quiet of cars passing by and the wind flowing through branches and pushing clouds around. Inside, the cold of the bag making your fingers ache, a welcomed burn to distract your busy mind, while Andrew was taking a sharp inhale.

“I heard you, you know?”

His voice was quiet, low and deeper than usual. He blinked, focusing on you again, trapping you into these hazel orbs you adored.

“When you talked to Craig, in the kitchen. I heard you. I was right behind the door.”

“That’s creepy,” you tried to deflect the impact of that revelation with humour, speaking the silliest thing you could have uttered. It still made Andrew break, laughing despite his best effort not to.

“I was sent to put the napkins away. But then… I heard you. Didn’t interrupt. Wanted to know what you would say.”

He narrowed his eyes a little, the ghost of a frown forming a crease across his brow.

“Did you mean any of that? Or was that just… one more lie?”

The bag of vegetables slipped from the hold of your numb fingers and fell, but Andrew stopped you as you reached for it, holding your face in his hands to force you to look at him.

“Did you mean what you said? About me? About us?”

“What does it matter?”

He knitted his brows, tightening his hold on you. You noticed the way his breathing stuttered, grew shallower.

“What does it matter?” he repeated. “Are you serious?”

“You don’t feel that for me. So… what does it matter?”

He let out a shaky breath, almost a sigh.

“Why did you kiss me like that, though?” you asked, tears shining in your eyes but you were determined not to let them fall. Your tone was almost bitter as you questioned him. “On the couch. You kissed my cheek… God, that was so much more than what it should have been…”

He blinked, trying to read behind your words for their true meaning. He didn’t find it, reached in the dark and his hand closed on nothing.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I just… I didn’t mean to.”

“Why did you kiss me like that? That was so out of line…”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

“Why did you do that?”

Slowly, he shook his head. He looked almost stunned by your question.

“You really don’t know?”

He leaned back against the counter, and pulled you with him, until your faces were so close, you could feel his breath fanning over your lips.

“You really don’t know?” he asked again.

“I don’t know…”

“Did you mean it? When you said… when you said that you wanted me. Did you mean it?”

“I said a bit more than that…”

“I’m not foolish enough to hope for the rest to be true as well, I’ll settle for a ‘I vaguely like you’.”

It was your turn to chuckle even if you didn’t want to.

“If I answer earnestly, you’re going to hate me for wanting more and breaking our friendship.”

He shook his head, leaning closer, until his forehead rested upon yours. At long last, you reached up, holding on his forearms for support, and to make sure he wouldn’t go away…

You heard him wincing as he spoke, heard it in the way his voice was shaking. You had closed your eyes, and so had he.

“Let’s be honest with each other. Please… I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of denying the way I feel for you, or what I want when it comes to you, I’m tired… I’m tired of letting you slip away. So, please. Please be honest with me. I can’t keep on holding onto some mad hope. I can’t keep on pretending that I don’t… That I…”

He struggled to breathe for a moment, you tightened your hold on his arms but remained there, eyes closed, leaning against him.

“I kissed you like that because… because I wanted to. Because I let myself slip into yielding. Because I couldn’t help it. Because… because it hurt so fucking much to hold you like this, to be close to you in this way, to act the way I have longed for for years under some pretence, under a mask, as a lie… when it wasn’t a lie. When I… I wish it wasn’t a lie. I wish it could be for real.”

He sighed, long and painful and full of hurt, and you reached up to kiss him before he could say anything else.

If your first kiss at your parents’ house had been passionate and quite messy because of it, this one was slow, taking its time to learn each other’s taste and lips and mouth. You had no idea for how long you kissed, all you knew was that, while it lasted, there was nothing else in the world but Andrew kissing you; and that when it ended, you longed for it to start again.

“I meant it,” you whispered, bearing your soul in a confession that was so raw you couldn’t summon anything but a murmur, eyes still closed and lips barely parted from his. “What I told Craig, I meant it. I mean it. I want you… And this whole day has been torture for me too.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t either…”

“I almost said it a thousand times. Never had the courage.”

“Please… have it now, and kiss me again.”

He obliged, without protest or hesitation. You were lost in his embrace all over again, and rested your head against his chest when you eventually pulled away.

“So… what now?” you asked, voice muffled by his cardigan.

“We could go on a date.”

“I want to be wined and dined, just so you know,” you joked, making him chuckle.

“Duly noted. Anything else, for her ladyship?”

“I don’t know… I’m… I’m so fucking scared, to be honest.”

“Because everything is going to change?”

“Because it might not work out. Because… you might leave me, and I might give up and a thousand things can go wrong, and…”

But he softly shushed you, running his hand through your hair.

"Look, I… I’m not going to pretend that I’m not scared to bits by this. I feel like we have so much to lose. But I… I want you so badly. I want you so much, I’m ready to take the risk. We can take things slow, we don’t have to rush through this. I just… I feel like I'm truly myself when I'm with you. I want to be myself when I'm with you. So now, if you're scared, don't call it love yet. But whatever you want to call it, it's incredible, and I'm not going to give up on this. I'm not going to give up on us. I can promise you that, at least. That I’m ready to fight for this, for you.”

He was surprised by your chuckle.

“You’ve fought already. If you can call it a fight…”

“Yeah, exactly. I mean… he was about to seriously kick my arse but I did have a few seconds of manly glory there.”

You both laughed at that, the tension receding as a result.

“Perhaps, at the end of the day, that plan of mine wasn’t so bad,” you joked, making Andrew laugh harder, shaking his head.

“It was definitely a terrible idea. The worst idea you’ve ever had. Look at all the trouble it has caused!”

“Are you calling me trouble?”

“Of the worst kind.”

You were happy about this kind of trouble though, as Andrew was leaning down to kiss you once more, holding you close, unwilling to ever let go.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x yn #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #hozier oneshot #oneshot

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edenfenixblogs · 3 months

Text

Look what Google just recommended to me!!!!

I already own (and love) Shabbat and Portico.

But I am OBSESSED with the rest and must acquire them immediately.

Top of my list is Love Japan because LOOK AT THIS BEAUITFUL BOWL OF MATZO BALL RAMEN!!!!!

We hear a lot about Jewish people in Europe and MENA, but we do not hear a lot about Jewish culture as it blends with East Asian cultures, and that’s a shame. Not just because it erases the centuries of Jewish populations there, but also because there are plenty of people of mixed decent. People who may not have come directly from Jewish communities in East Asia, but people who have a Japanese Father and a Jewish Mother, for example. Or people in intercultural marriages. These are all real and valuable members of the Jewish community, and we should be celebrating them more. This cookbook focuses on Jewish Japanese American cuisine and I am delighted to learn more as soon as possible. The people who wrote this book run the restaurant Shalom Japan, which is the most adorable name I’ve ever heard. Everything about this book excites and delights me.

And of course, after that, I’m most interested in “Kugels and Collards” (as if you had any doubts about that after the #kugel discourse, if you were following me then).

This is actually written in conjunction with an organization of the same name devoted to preserving the food and culture of Jews in South Carolina!

I’m especially excited to read this one, because I have recently acquired the book Kosher Soul by the fantastic, inimitable Michael J. Twitty, which famously explores faith and food in African American Jewish culture. I’m excited to see how Jewish soul food and traditions in South Carolina specifically compare and contrast with Twitty’s writings.

I’m also excited for all the other books on this list!

A while ago, someone inboxed me privately to ask what I recommended for people to read in order to learn more about Jewish culture. I wrote out a long list of historical resources attempting to cover all the intricate details and historic pressure points that molded Jewish culture into what it is today. After a while I wrote back a second message that was much shorter. I said:

Actually, no. Scratch everything I just said. Read that other stuff if you want to know Jewish history.

But if you want to know Jewish culture? Cookbooks.

Read every Jewish cookbook you can find.

Even if you don’t cook, Jewish cookbooks contain our culture in a tangible form. They often explain not only the physical processes by which we make our meals, but also the culture and conditions that give rise to them. The food is often linked to specific times and places and events in diaspora. Or they explain the biblical root or the meaning behind the holidays associated with a given food.

I cannot speak for all Jews. No one can. But in my personal observation and experience—outside of actual religious tradition—food has often been the primary means of passing Jewish culture and history from generation to generation.

It is a way to commune with our ancestors. I made a recipe for chicken soup or stuffed cabbage and I know that my great grandmother and her own mother in their little Hungarian shtetl. I’ll never know the relatives of theirs who died in the Holocaust and I’ll never meet the cousins I should have had if they were allowed to live. But I can make the same food and know that their mother also made it for them. I have dishes I make that connect me to my lost ancestors in France and Mongolia and Russia and Latvia and Lithuania and, yes, Israel—where my relatives have lived continuously since the Roman occupation even after the expulsions. (They were Levites and Cohens and caretakers of synagogues and tradition and we have a pretty detailed family tree of their presence going back quite a long time. No idea how they managed to stay/hide for so long. That info is lost to history.)

I think there’s a strong tendency—aided by modern recipe bloggers—to view anything besides the actual recipe and procedures as fluff. There is an urge for many people to press “jump to recipe” and just start cooking. And I get that. We are all busy and when we want to make dinner we just want to make dinner.

But if your goal isn’t just to make dinner. If your goal is to actually develop an understanding of and empathy for Jewish people and our culture, then that’s my advice:

Read cookbooks.

#Judaism son #Jewish culture #Jewish cuisine #culinary tradition #culinary history #foodways #cultural preservation #tangible culture #jumblr #Judaism #food #cuisine #kugel discourse #Jewish joy #jewish positivity #Jews around the world #East Asian Jews

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probably-writing-x · 5 months

Text

You Do.

Conrad Fisher x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cheating

Conrad wasn’t sure he would ever be ready for today. No amount of preparation would ever prepare his heart for a sight like this. The sight of you getting married.

He’d envisioned the day countless times. Running it over and over in his mind. The way you’d look in your dress, the look on your face as you walked down the aisle, the sight of you surrounded by everybody that you loved.

But in every single time Conrad had ran it through his mind, it had always been him at the end of the aisle.

And that wouldn’t be the case today.

In fact, he’d be sat just a few rows back watching you marry a man that had given you everything that it seemed he couldn’t.

It was just over a year ago when he’d been told you were engaged, overhearing the excitement from Belly over the phone as you’d facetimed her with the news. He’d been at the Cousins house with the rest whilst you’d been on holiday with your then-boyfriend. And he was sure then that his heart had broken irreparably. He’d told you a faint congratulations, drowned out by the noise of the others.

It was a little over two years before that when he’d initially found out you had a boyfriend. You’d come back from college and had come to stay with them in Cousins, having been Belly’s best friend since school. He’d overheard you telling Belly about this boy you’d been seeing, how he was romantic and he’d bought you flowers and already asked you to meet his parents. Belly had hugged you and told you that she was happy you’d found someone good. Conrad knew what she really meant; she was happy that you’d moved on from him. He’d pretended he hadn’t overheard the conversation that day. But your boyfriend had come to visit two weeks later and Conrad finally had to accept that he’d lost you.

Truthfully, he’d lost you long before that. The summer before, in fact. The two of you had known each other for years - since the first time Belly had brought you to stay with them over summer. He’d made fun of you and made sarcastic comments and annoyed you and bickered with you. But, when it was just the two of you, he was sweet and he listened to you and you two would stay up talking until the hours all seemed to blend together. Conrad knew that you liked him. And, for a long time, you thought that he could like you too. He’d even kissed you one night when the two of you were awake after everyone else. You’d started dating in secret then, stepping away from the group whenever you got a chance, staying up late for the affection you couldn’t show in front of the rest of the group. For that entire summer the two of you were inseparable. You’d left after that summer and things still hadn’t changed - Conrad would come to visit you or you’d both drive to Cousins to spend a few days together. When thanksgiving came around, you’d told Belly you’d come with her to stay with the Fishers in Cousins again. And that’s when things changed.

You’d gone to a party a few streets away. He’d told you quietly that you looked pretty before you’d all left, quiet enough that nobody else had heard. He’d got a drink for you and asked if you were okay on your own for a minute. He was sweet and thoughtful and reassuring and, for a moment, you thought that this had all meant something to him too. Only an hour later had you seen him kissing another girl outside in the yard. You’d left fighting back tears that night, booked yourself onto the next bus out of Cousins, and left the following day. You’d convinced yourself that you could have forever with Conrad, and you’d decided that day that you’d never let yourself fall for his games again.

And so he’d lost his chance that day, and lost you with it.

And, now? He was stood in front of a mirror re-doing the same bowtie he’d already fixed three times this morning.

“Con? We need to go,” Jeremiah pokes his head around the door frame to his brother’s room, glancing inside, “Are you ready?”

Conrad glances over, dragging a hand through his growing hair, “Yeah, I’ll be there now. Do you want me to drive?”

Jeremiah laughs, “I think you’ll need a drink to get through today, I’ll drive.”

He knew his brother had never gotten over you, and part of him knew he never would.

———

It was a beautiful venue - an old church in the next town over from Cousins. There was a sign outside with ‘Mr and Mrs Lewis’ in calligraphy, the same lilac color Conrad knew that you’d picked for your bridesmaids. They’d got here early because the boys had promised they’d keep Stephen company whilst his Mom and Belly were busy helping you get ready.

“Thank god you guys are here!” Stephen breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Conrad and Jere walk through the door to the church.

It was completely empty, almost eerie in its silence only an hour before the service.

“Apparently it’s been going wrong all afternoon,” Stephen shakes his head, “We got stuck in traffic on the way here, and by the time we got here (Y/n) already hated her makeup and her hair wasn’t going right and… I don’t know, it doesn’t feel much like a wedding yet.”

Conrad stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers, taking one out to shake a hand through his hair.

“You doing okay, man?” Stephen glances at him, scrunching his face as if he’s dreading the response.

“I’m good.”

Before either of them can tell him that he’s lying, a door from the back of the church bursts open and Belly emerges through. She stops when she sees the boys.

“Hey! I didn’t even know you guys were here,” She breathes a sigh of relief, hurrying over with her dress bunched at either side in her hands.

They were a pale lilac, silk with thin straps on either shoulder. You had Belly, Taylor and your fiancé's sister as your bridesmaids. Belly was maid of honor.

“How’s it going?” Jeremiah wraps his arms around her cautiously to avoid messing her appearance, kissing the side of her head.

“It’s…” She pauses and glances over at Conrad, “I think (Y/n)’s just a bit overwhelmed.”

Conrad feels a lump form in his throat, like he’s fighting the urge just to seek you out and do anything he could to make you feel better.

“Are you doing okay?” Belly asks him softly.

He laughs gently, scratching at the back of his neck, “Seriously guys, stop asking me that.”

“Can you blame us Conrad? I mean everyone thought you’d end up with-“

“Stephen!” Belly hits at her brother, shaking her head before turning back to Conrad, “I think she’ll be really glad you’re here Con.”

Conrad nods, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Okay, I should go back,” Belly takes a deep breath, “Jason should be arriving soon with the groomsmen so please be nice.”

None of the boys were the biggest fan of Jason. He was fine but he was just… fine. They never really knew what to talk to him about, or if they had anything in common with him. He didn’t really have the same sense of humor as they did and they always thought he took himself too seriously. But he was nice to you, they’d at least give him credit for that.

They didn’t know everything, however. Jason had cheated on you about four months before he’d proposed. It was harmless, supposedly - meaningless. You’d stayed at Belly’s for a few nights after that and made her promise not to tell anyone. But he’d convinced you to come home, to come back to him. He’d made you dinner and bought you flowers and convinced you once again that he could be good again.

You’d hoped every day since then that you’d made the right decision. But the truth was, you couldn’t imagine breaking your heart again in the same way it had broken when you’d left Conrad. And so here you were. Praying this marriage would stop your heart from ever breaking again

———

It wasn’t long after that when people would start showing up. Jason was stood at the end of the aisle with his groomsmen, greeting guests as they walked through. Conrad was sat a few rows from the front, shaking his knee in his seat beside Jere. Every so often, his head would flick back towards the same door that Belly had come through as if you would be coming through any minute.

“Con,” Jeremiah places a hand on his brother’s knee to stop it from shaking, “Stop looking, you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

Conrad glances back towards his brother and feels the lump form back in his throat, “I-“

Jeremiah furrows his brows, praying that he had any words good enough for the moment.

“I can’t do it Jere,” Conrad’s voice breaks when he says the words, “I can’t lose her.”

“Con…” Jeremiah sighs, his shoulders dropping.

“I can’t lose her,” Conrad repeats, shaking his head as his voice comes out dry and hoarse.

“Conrad,” Jeremiah shakes his head, “Look at where we are.”

Conrad feels the weight of reality bear down on his chest, the realisation of what was about to come.

“You’ve already lost her,” Jeremiah states, “Now’s the chance to let her be happy.”

Con knew his brother was right. It was now seven minutes before the ceremony was meant to start. And the reality was that Conrad had lost you way before today, before this year, before your engagement, before everything. He hadn’t lost you because of Jason. He’d lost you because of himself.

“Um,” Conrad wipes his hands on his trousers, “I’m going to get some air.”

“Conrad…”

Jeremiah calls behind him but it gets drowned out by the sound of the blood coursing through his ears, and an undeniably pull in his heart that was drawing him to you.

———

Conrad circles around the back of the church, letting the nerves in his body start to settle as soon as the fresh air hits his clenching lungs.

He wasn’t sure of a single part of him that could do this, and the more he thought of it, the more his chest seemed to tighten and contort. He wasn’t about to watch you get married, watch you say ‘I do’ to a man that wasn’t him, watch you confess your love for someone that he could never be. And, even all of these years later, he hoped that a little bit of you still felt that same love you’d both felt all of those years ago - that a little part of you still held onto him in the way he wanted to hold onto you.

He circles back around and loses track of his path, stepping in through one of the doors as a breeze sweeps over the grounds of the church. Conrad rubs his hands together to bring them some needed warmth, glancing around at the room to realise he didn’t know where he’d walked into. He turns on his heel to walk back outside and that’s when he hears it.

“Con?”

All at once, every ounce of tension in his body seems to dissipate. And he turns back around to follow the sound of the words now coming from behind him.

There you are. In a room he didn’t recognise was a girl he’d simply never forget.

You were exactly like a thousand thoughts of you would make him imagine - beautiful in the most simple terms. Your hair was pinned back but curls fell in locks around your face. Your dress hugged your torso, with lace sleeves, your shoulders and chest exposed, material airy and flowing around your legs.

“Wow… you…” He’s breathless, like every ounce of life had been knocked from him, “You…”

There are tears in his eyes when he speaks, like the sight of you alone was simply overwhelming.

“Thank you,” You interrupt softly, smoothing a hand over the torso of your dress, “What are you doing here Conrad?”

“I just,” He glances behind him at the door that’s now shut behind the two of you, “I just went for some fresh air and I must’ve come the wrong way.”

You nod, “Well, you better get back to your seat, you’re going to be late.”

Conrad smiles gently, “Aren’t you going to be late at this rate too?”

You look down to the floor and clear your throat. For a second, he thinks you’re about to respond, but your words seem to escape you.

“(Y/n)?” Conrad dips his head to try and catch your eyes, “Are you okay?”

You look up at him and your lips part like you’re about to speak, “I…” Something switches back in you then, as if you’ve just slightly reset, “I think I’m just nervous.”

Conrad laughs gently, “(Y/n) (Y/l/n) is never nervous.”

“Yeah, well, she’s never got married before today,” You roll your eyes at him, holding both hands over your stomach that seemed to flipping over and over.

Something had flipped in you the moment your eyes had met his. You’d been running a thousand miles a minute in your head trying to keep up with yourself today. You were on edge and jumpy and stressed and nervous and yet… all of that just stopped as soon as that boy had turned around. He looked handsome in his suit, grown up. You hadn’t seen him in a good few months and his hair had grown out a little more - the length you said suited him most. His suit looked like the same one he wore for his prom and yet it had seemingly grown with his changing age.

He felt like a piece of home. And you couldn’t quite explain why.

“Getting married,” Conrad half-whispers the words, “Does it feel real?”

“Real?” You shake your head, “It will do when I’m at the altar.”

Both of you fall silent.

“Which…” You clear your throat again, “I’m going to be late for if I keep standing here talking to you.”

You smooth your hands over your dress once again and go to turn around, walking back towards the room that were likely starting to panic that they didn’t know where you were.

And that’s when he says it. The words that seem to flip your stomach on itself, that seem to freeze your entire world momentarily, seem to empty your brain of all other thoughts.

“Don’t marry him, (Y/n).”

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, terrified that you’ll be drawn to him as soon as you see the look in Conrad’s eyes.

“Don’t do it,” He reaffirms, a slight quiver in his voice, “I know this is terrible timing and it’s probably the last thing you want to be hearing today but I’d hate myself if I went through today without telling you how I feel.”

There’s still no words, as if you’re terrified of disturbing the moment.

“I love you, (Y/N). I’ve loved you since the first summer Belly brought you to Cousins. We stayed on the beach until it was dark and you told me about the stars and the moon and the tides. I’ve loved you since we stayed up talking until the sun came up, and we’d fall asleep on the couches. I’ve loved you since I first kissed you that one night, and I’ve hated myself every day since for ruining that with you,” He takes a breath then, like he realised he hadn’t breathed in a short infinity, “The truth is, I was scared. Because admitting I loved you then would be admitting that I didn’t ever want to love anybody else. And that terrified me.”

You feel your heart start to ache, the way it clenches in your chest.

“But I’m not scared of that anymore, (Y/n). I’m more scared of losing you, and I know that’ll happen if you say you’ll marry him today,” Conrad exhales.

“Conrad I-“ Your voice comes out hoarse and you can feel tears brewing in your eyes.

“If you love him, marry him. But (Y/n) if there’s even the tiniest bit of doubt in your mind… don’t do it. You can leave and I’ll leave with you. You can go and I’ll go with you. I’ll always stay with you.”

“I need to leave,” You tremble over the words, picking up your dress into your hands and hurrying off down the corridor.

Conrad’s shoulders drop, his chest tightening more and more as you disappear. His breath comes out shakily, tears starting to spill over his cheeks.

“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, dragging a hand over his face as he turns to walk back out.

———

“Con where the fuck did you go?” Jeremiah hisses under his breath as his brother takes back the seat beside him, “It’s meant to be starting.”

“Yeah,” Conrad clears his throat, keeping his eyes focused on his hands, “They must be running late.”

Jeremiah frowns at him but dismisses it quickly as the music starts and the rest of the crowd quietens down.

Your mother’s sat in the front row and she glances back when she hears Conrad’s name, offering him a small smile of reassurance. He smiles back and averts his eyes down to the floor once more, trying to stop the shake in his hands.

The bridesmaids walk down in pairs with groomsmen that Conrad didn’t recognise. Belly walks down last alongside Jason’s brother. She smiles at the boys when she sees them, taking in a deep breath as she takes her place at the end of the aisle.

The music changes then and everybody stands up, Conrad following just one beat behind.

And there you are. Arm in arm with your father, holding tightly onto him as you make your way down.

Everyone watches you in adoration, smiling wildly as you pass them. And then your eyes fall onto him, pausing there for a moment longer. Conrad has his hands clasped in front of him but you can tell they’re still trembling just a little - yours were doing the same. You feel your heart twist at the sight, the way you feel like you should reach out to him. Your father glances at him and back to you, as if he can feel the pain between you both. He squeezes your hand as the two of you reach the end of the aisle.

Jason glances at you but there aren’t tears in his eyes - everyone had asked you whether you thought he would cry when he saw you and part of you had always hoped he would.

“She looks beautiful,” Jeremiah mumbles to his brother as everyone sits back down.

“Yeah, she does,” Conrad returns, his eyes not once leaving you.

You looked ethereal.

As everyone settles, your eyes glance back at him, looking back down to the floor as soon as theres any contact. You could feel your heart clench again.

The service begins and you can barely hear the words being spoken over the pounding blood in your ears, the nerves coursing through your veins.

“(Y/n), we’ll begin with you,” The man says calmly, “Do you (Y/n) take Jason to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and health, in good times and not so good times, for richer or poorer, keeping yourself unto him for as long as you both shall live?”

You feel the words get caught in your throat, everything seemingly stopping around you, the world pausing. And, no matter how hard you tried, the word just wouldn’t come out. You just couldn’t say it.

Your eyes flick up to Jason and you notice the hints of a frown between his brows, slowly followed by the wave of realisation that seems to settle into his shoulders.

“I-“ You shake your head as tears start to fill your eyes, “I can’t do this.”

And it all happens so fast. You bunch your skirt into your hands and turn in your heels, blinking back tears as you start to hurry your way down the aisle, ignoring every pair of burning eyes on you.

You’re gone before anyone can stop you.

———

You’re not sure why you end up at the beach. You’d asked the closest taxi to drive you to Cousins and this was the first place you thought to go to. Your heels were abandoned at the edge of the sand, your dress dragging through the sand beneath your feet.

What had you done?

This wedding had been planned for months, you’d been in this relationship for years. How had you just walked out on all of it?

But the tension in your chest had seemed to lessen now, and it all seemed more manageable.

Seeing Conrad had made you question everything today - but it was a problem in itself that there was ever anything to question. Jason couldn’t ever be your everything if Conrad was going to continue to be something. Perhaps ending it today was just putting off the inevitable.

“I thought we’d find you here,” An all too familiar voice calls out, coming down the path towards the beach.

You turn around and see Conrad walking towards you, his shoes sinking in the soft sand, still fully kitted out in his suit.

“We?”

He glances behind him at the empty expanse, “It’s just me, the others are at the house.”

You nod.

“I tried to call you, couldn’t get through.”

You nod again, “I just needed a minute.”

Conrad hums in agreement as he walks over to you, stopping just a metre in front.

“What happened after I left?”

He laughs a little, tucking his hands into his pockets, “Well, everybody had some questions. Your Mom actually asked me to go after you.”

You scoff, wrapping your arms around yourself as a breeze floats over the coast, “Of course she did.”

As if instinctive, he pulls his jacket from his shoulders and holds it out to you. You oblige and slip it over your arms, letting it fall baggy around your torso.

Both of you are silent.

“I’m sorry, (Y/n),” Conrad swallows the lump in this throat, “It was selfish of me to say any of that today.”

You take a deep breath and nod, “Yeah, it was,” You flatten your hands over the back of your dress and take a seat on one of the dunes of sand, “But I needed to hear it.”

Conrad laughs gently again, “At least you’re honest.”

He sits down beside you and both of you are silent once again, neither of you being able to think of the words that are right for the moment. What can you say? The girl that had run out of her wedding and the boy who wanted her to be saying ‘I do’ to him.

“So, I’m pretty sure I’m single now,” You nod, taking in a long breath.

“I don’t know, people get cold feet at weddings all the time and it still works out.”

“I don’t think I want it to work out, Con,” You say softly, “I think I was naive to think that it ever would.”

“Come on,” Conrad shakes his head, “It’s okay that you loved him, (Y/n).”

“Maybe,” You shrug, “But I shouldn’t have stayed.”

Conrad frowns, the concern seeming to wash over him.

“You know how you said that you were scared of being in something that was going to last forever,” You draw your knees up to your chest, “I think I was scared of the opposite. After you, when I was with Jason, it was like I just wanted to hold onto it. I couldn’t imagine losing it because I just wanted to know I could have something that would last.”

Conrad watches you when he's listening as if he’s holding onto every word that you say, as if he’s grateful for any chance to hear your voice.

“A bit ago, before he proposed, he cheated on me,” You gulp back the emotion in your voice, “And for about two days I convinced myself that I could just leave, that I knew my worth or whatever and that I could just go. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear the thought of being on my own,” You laugh at your own mind, “I couldn’t bear the thought of not being enough for someone again.”

“(Y/n)…”

You pause to let him continue, hoping he’ll say anything that you need to hear.

“You were always enough, more than enough,” He says softly, “And I hate if I ever made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”

“Did you mean what you said earlier? Or was it just-“

“I meant it.”

You feel it then. All of the tension in your chest just seems to release. To dissipate.

“I loved you then and I loved you now, I just didn’t admit it to myself then, and I’ve regretted it for every day since.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” You shake your head, “How many times have I seen you since then and you’ve never said anything.”

Conrad nods, “I know. I just… I thought you were happy. And I’d ruined that for you once before, I wasn’t going to ruin it again.”

You sigh and look out onto the water, the waves crashing against the shore, “God, we’re a mess.”

Conrad laughs and you lean sideways to rest your head on his shoulder, settling into the feeling of his touch against you.

That’s how you both stay, watching the clouds move in the sky, watching the sea crash in repetition. You stay there as your breaths seem to pattern into one, both uncertainly certain together.

———

It’s starting to get dark by the time either of you speak again, your head still against his shoulder, Conrad’s arm now around your waist.

“We should probably move,” You mumble quietly, practically a whisper.

“Yeah there’s probably a lot of people wondering where you are now,” Conrad mentions, still not making any move away from you as much as you wouldn’t move from him.

You sigh, leaning into him for a second longer before you pull away.

He stands up first, quick enough that he can turn around and reach a hand out to help you up. His fingers interlock with yours as you stand in front of him, both of you latching onto the contact like it was the one thing you could be sure of.

“So, what now (Y/l/n)?” He smiles down at you.

“I think I have a lot to figure out,” You nod, “Maybe some stuff to work on.”

Conrad nods, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“But if you’re willing to wait then we-“ You take a breath, “We wait.”

“You can leave and I’ll wait for you. You can go and I’ll wait for you. I’ll always wait for you.”

You smile and he draws up a hand to cup your cheek, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. You could stay there for an infinity.

“Alright, time to face the music (y/l/n).”

Conrad leans forward and presses the quickest of kisses to your forehead, his hand still interlocked with yours, picking up your shoes in his other hand on the way.

You breathe deeply into the feeling of having him beside you - aware of the feeling of being home.

292 notes · View notes

jiminjamms · 8 months

Text

sex therapy :: 20. showtime

chapter tags/warnings: dad! toji. toji also calls himself daddy. vouyerism. angsty! megumi. infidelity/adultery. pet names (mainly "princess" and "sweetheart"). mentions of violence. mentions of betrayal. so much family drama. strong language. classism. manipulative undertones.

word count: 2.6k

notes: this was originally going to be one long ass chapter but I had to break this into two. you will see why. enjoy! comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

Obviously, you wanted to learn everything about Toji Fushiguro.

He didn’t have to hear you say it.

Already, Toji could tell from the inquisitive glisten in your round eyes, that all he saw in you was curiosity with the need—not the want—for him to share himself with you. Naturally, you would like him to retell his story from chapter one.

Similarly, he longed to share his tales, revealing the burdens that had been gnawing at him since his childhood. That Toji had known Naoya for years, that he used to be a Zenin himself, that he knew your husband was fucking his ex-wife. How messed up was that?

Very much so.

The main problem was, though, that Toji was selfish.

While he would love to be honest, he did not want to shatter your trust in him. He knew how much you lived under Naobito and Naoya’s control since your father worked under the Zenin Corporation, so the last thing he desired was for you to associate him with them.

Toji didn’t want you to be scared around him, too.

The idea of losing you was something that Toji did not want to think about. Yes, this was going to sound possessive but...Toji liked having you around. Not in a sexual way, but in a companionship manner.

Or maybe both, but still.

Regardless, your presence comforted him.

Of course, Megumi was another factor in the equation. Given that the teenager hated his Uncle Naoya, he understandably could not stand to see his pampered in-law (you) either. Toji knew Megumi’s frustration was a projection of his mental turmoil and that much of the ordeal was due to Toji’s previous poor decisions regarding women.

But you were different.

For the first time in a very long while, Toji believed he had gotten something right.

All these thoughts brewed in his mind as he outstretched his arm to brush over the smudged mascara by your cheek. In vain, he attempted to rub away the signs from your earlier sadness.

“Want to wash your face in the bathroom first?”

The question came out more like a command, and defeat sank into your features as you ultimately respected his decision.

“Okay,” you acquiesced.

Even if you wanted to, there was no chance for you to protest when Toji stepped past you and toward the spiral staircase. You followed him without another choice, trailing behind him like a lost duckling.

Although you seemingly settled down from the whole Naoya situation, Toji had yet to. As he ascended the steps to the apartment’s upper level, he placed up a front in which he was all calm and levelheaded when—in reality—he could still feel the burning, white-hot anger rolling off his body.

Toji badly—so, so badly—wanted to hightail it to wherever the fuck Naoya was in this world and beat the living shit out of him. He always knew that his kid cousin couldn’t be trusted with a wife because he wrecked so many people already.

Nonetheless, Toji had kept these thoughts to himself ever since he first heard about Naoya’s marriage from business and celebrity newspapers. After all, Toji didn’t know you earlier this year and wasn't in the appropriate position to intervene, therapist or not. His relationships were his relationships, and your relationships were yours.

Now, with that misogynistic jackoff proving him right, Toji had some regrets.

He should have done more.

Toji abhorred knowing that Naoya was emotionally abusing you, disrespecting you, and treating you like you were just another dumb slut.

Put simply, he absolutely could not stand to see you so upset and fucked over by somebody who didn’t deserve you in the first place—by Naoya fucking Zenin of all people in this world.

While Toji would admit that he had his reservations about you upon the first encounter, he rapidly realized that you were nothing more than an innocent lamb caught in an ugly crossfire.

Could Naoya not see how lucky he was with you? A whole package was what you were: your allure unparalleled, your energy contagious, and your elegance remarkable. No wonder Naobito had taken every measure to secure you as his son’s wife.

On the other hand, Toji sincerely wished that you would no longer be miserable because a person like you deserved to enjoy all the rhapsodies of life.

Sometimes, Toji wished that you stood up for yourself more. He wished that you had been more selfish over some things that were rightfully yours. Your marriage, your family, your happiness一these belonged to you , yet some other woman (the real ‘dumb slut’) was robbing you of these entitlements.

Had you been single, had you waited a little, Toji knew for sure that countless suitors would have lined up vying to court you, willing to throw themselves on the line because you would be their queen.

“Are you alright?”

Given that he had been lost in thought, Toji jolted at your voice. He had stopped completely at the upstairs landing, brain still reeling from thoughts of leaving Naoya busted and bloodied, hanging on to life from a thin little thread.

Vigorously, he shook his head from side to side to clear his mind.

Regardless of how badly he wanted to and how easy the task would be for him, Toji would not stoop that low to exert physical violence on someone else. Even though the fool deserved to be punished twenty times over, Toji wouldn’t hurt your husband because you would also not want him to.

But damn, holding himself back was hard.

For Toji, who had seen how Naoya’s impulsivity and greed had hurt his step-daughter Tsumiki and his son Megumi as well, restraint was especially difficult.

"Ah, my bad,” Toji finally said after composing himself many moments later. He then realized that he had yet to introduce the apartment’s layout. “So the lower level includes the guest areas: the parlor, kitchen, bar, dining space, home theater. Upstairs, though, are where the living spaces reside.” He gestured toward the far rear of the corridor. “Bedrooms are over there with a study room at the end, but the washroom,” he went several steps ahead, pushing open the first door to the left, “is right here."

In slow and inquisitive steps, you followed as Toji started rummaging in a linen closet by the entrance. He grabbed at the white cotton towels in the lower compartment.

"For you," he explained, placing a neatly folded set into your delicate hands. “Here. Splash some cold water on your face. Let me find you in a couple of minutes. I will check on Megumi in the meantime.”

“Alright,” you hummed while Toji retreated back into the halls.

“Talk to you later, then.”

Next mission was Megumi Fushiguro, a troubled boy who could easily be misunderstood.

Oftentimes, Toji saw his own reflection within his son. He recognized himself the most in Megumi’s cheerless gaze, where beyond the initial glimpse lay a barren tundra bleakened by pain, by incidents that have hurt him before.

In that dark void existed a part that cried for help, but this place remained faded over so that others could not pry into the true emotions within.

Megumi was terrified.

Heck, even Toji was, too.

Because, in their experiences, those who had betrayed the most were those who had been the closest to them. Therefore, all that was left was caution, wariness, and distrust, such that now—between father and son—there was no one to turn against but one another.

“Megumi!” Toji shouted when arriving at the said boy’s door. (Unlike a certain colleague, he at least had the decency to announce his arrival.)

As expected, however, there came no response.

He then knocked loudly so that Megumi would hear the sound even with his headphones blasting.

Nothing again.

Exasperated, Toji wiggled the knob. Noticing that the handle was unlocked, he opened the door and into a darkened room. Megumi had switched everything off save for his glaring computer monitor, but the boy wasn’t in his chair either.

“I don’t really want to talk right now.”

Instead, Megumi’s grumble came from his bed, to where Toji looked and saw a large blanketed heap. The teenager was cocooned in his sheets, not leaving a single black strand in sight.

From the small gap amid the lump came another glow.

He’s on his phone , Toji figured, which he knew among kids these days was the ultimate sign that they wanted to be left alone.

Except the therapist side in him was not going to give up that easily.

Idly, Toji flicked at a nearby houseplant.

“Not talking right now is okay but,” his green gaze shifted from the succulent to the enveloped lump, “trust me on her. She’s on our side.”

Rather than another outburst, Megumi didn’t reply immediately. “Sure,” he mumbled eventually but hardly convinced, using whatever TikToks he was scrolling through to fill the silence for him.

“If Tsumiki had been home from university,” Toji continued, this time bringing up the step-sister that the boy adored, “would she want to hear her little brother talk to others like that?”

Another long pause. “Whatever.”

“I know I had made bad judgments about people before, but—for this one instance—think about what you’ve said tonight,” was what Toji left his son with as he wished Megumi a good night and closed the door behind him with one very extended sigh.

Being a therapist was tough, but being a single father was a thousand times more wearisome.

Toji would consider calling an end to the evening, to sit in his study as he evaluated his own emotions, but was reminded that he had a guest by shuffling sounds from down the hall.

Knowing that he still owed a small explanation, he paced back to the bathroom, barging into the vicinity to suggest, “Whenever you’re ready, let’s go talk again...down...stairs....”

His voice trailed off before disappearing completely when he could not locate you.

Rather than finding you by the sink washing your face like he advised and expected, Toji spotted your tossed clothes on the floor. Confused, his gaze darted around until he glanced toward the bathtub where he found your muted form hovering over, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I, um,” you blinked rapidly, as though you had been caught doing something bad. “I showered, too.”

You got flustered too easily, which was adorable.

The only thing that covered your naked and glistening form was the towel that had been wrapped around your figure, but even that hung low from your chest before stopping abruptly past your hips, leaving little to the imagination.

In the lamplight, you glowed golden while clinging droplets made your skin shine. Your cheeks and arms were flushed, your body heaving from heavy panting.

You clutched the fabric tighter so that the towel would not merely slip away, but if Toji had to be honest, you would have to hold on to that for dear life so that he didn’t yank the whole damn cover away entirely.

A shaky breath later, his gaze wandered up your body until his malachite eyes flicked up to collide with yours, his tongue—piercing and all—caught between his teeth. Meanwhile, your mouth was plush and sweetly pursed, softened by a doe-like innocence, and he saw how you trembled slightly from the sudden vulnerability.

Toji should be able to handle himself better. After watching you break down and then dealing with his personal stressors, the last thing he should feel was the boiling need that burned through his skin, the air in his lungs weighty as if flames from his stomach drifted thick smoke into them.

Just…leave him alone okay?

Fuck.

"Not inviting your host to the party is bad manners,” was what he found himself saying, but the light grin on his face did not match the lust and pink flush that swept across his face.

You cleared your throat as water dripped from your elbows. With every effort, you tried to stay casual. “Sorry.”

Toji chuckled at how seriously you took the accusation. “Relax, princess. I’m just messing with you.”

All pouty, you looked at him with those huge, round eyes.

“Then, can I ask something while you’re here?”

Intrigued, he lifted a brow. “Depends.”

“Why are you scared to open up to me, Toji?” you pressed on.

The said man didn’t immediately answer, placing his hands inside his pockets instead. He rolled his shoulders back, all without his gaze leaving your intentful one. Sure, you both stared at each other wordlessly—but somehow, in the absence of conversation, the more you two began to understand one another.

“Simple. I don’t bring up my past to just anybody, darling. Apologies for the disappointment.”

“But I’m not ‘just anybody,’” you fought back, half-offended. “We’re friends , remember? Just like you had said.” Then, you directed an accusatory finger to his stoic face. “So, I’m somebody special .”

Well, you stumped him now.

Contemplating an answer, Toji walked around your clothes and met you at the other section in the bathroom, cornering you against the nearby countertop as his brawny body leered over your smaller one.

When you glanced upward, your warm breaths fanned across his scar. But the heat that whirled between your bodies was far more excruciating, stifling even.

“What if my reason is to protect you?” He stopped, half-expecting you to cower but all that shone was determination. So, he resumed, “My history is fucked up. I was born into an unlucky situation surrounded by manipulative people, and I was another stupid person making stupid choices. Here I am, still dealing with the blow many years later. I don’t think you’ll want to talk to me again once you learn about the people I share the same blood with."

“But that is them. That is not you . Why would I want to forget you after everything you have done for me?” you vented in disbelief. “Toji, all I want is to help you!”

“Better not to drag yourself into this. You’re already much deeper in the waters than you think,” he admitted with a heavy sigh and ran his hand through his inky hair. “I couldn’t shield my son, and I couldn’t shield my stepdaughter. Therefore, I cannot promise that I would not hurt you, either.”

You fell quiet for a brief moment.

“That’s okay,” you resolved. “Because you…would be worth the pain.”

Toji felt...his heart leap? He had not been this exposed in many, many years, and he reached for your hands so that he could lace your fingers together. His emotions were so fragile and raw , his face only inches away from yours at this point.

"Really now?"

"Yes." A pause. “Then, what…does this mean for us?”

Toji shrugged, eyeing that stupid fucking wedding band on your fourth digit. “I’m not the married one here, sweetheart. The decision is yours,” he offered up, although he could feel himself grow dizzy. “What do you want?”

In anticipation, your tongue ran across your lower lip. You crept forward and moved closer until your thighs were pressed flush against his.

“ You .”

And boy, did Toji love that answer.

He leaned forward again, this time scooping up your behind and propping you onto the countertop, yanking the pointless towel that had been shielding your goddess-like figure. He gave your hips a good squeeze before tearing your knees in opposite directions.

You yelped and winced from the discomfort, but Toji knew you loved being maneuvered. Between your legs was a glistening mess, almost as if your pussy had been weeping for him, begging and crying and sobbing for your therapist’s touch. Did you actually think you were going to hide this from him?

When Toji looked up and met your line of sight, he cherished how you peered at him from under your fluttering lashes.

What a beautiful scene.

So, he smiled.

“Then why don’t you give daddy a show?”

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: 1) I know you hate me for the cliffhanger, but I had to! 2) For a while, I had been debating whether to write this chapter and the upcoming one in Y/N's or Toji's POV. In the end, I chose Toji's perspective to shine some light into his thoughts when he's with us. See you all again soon! Get ready to get real dirty next chapter. ♡

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @hinativity @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @piqer @nobody289x @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @vvestwoodrose @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @obitohno @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @blackdragoncigarette @puffaloxx @shoisae @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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stealingpotatoes · 1 year

Text

And I'll Go With You

Summary: After finding out about their long lost family, the Naberries invite Luke & Leia to the family home for a traditional Naboo dinner. Leia’s feeling a bit overwhelmed by it all.

(sequel to my pooja meets the twins comic that got too long (nearly 3k) and turned into a fic instead of a 2nd comic!!) -- [also on ao3!]

It wasn’t like Luke had been eating badly these past few months. Ever since the Rebellion had become the New Republic, rations had been swapped out for consistent, mostly-hearty meals. There were still battlefields and shoddy basecamps, of course, where the food primarily consisted of ration packs and whatever the base cooks could make with what they’d managed to get through battle lines. Yet those were slowly becoming the exception and not the rule, especially as Luke fell further into the ancient role of Jedi diplomat, helping Leia convince systems to join the New Republic. Battles in politics tended to mean fancy meals with too many people and food Luke couldn’t even begin to understand. Even moreso for him than most; politicians and the like were more than happy to offer their finest meals to the Jedi master who’d blown up the Death Star and supposedly defeated the Emperor.

But none of that fine cheffery compared to the simple stomach-filling warmth of a home-cooked meal -- especially not a home-cooked meal prepared by his grandmother (he had one of those now!) for him, his sister, and their entire family.

Luke looked around the Naberrie dining room, joy bubbling in his chest and stomach at the warmly-lit sight. Empty dishes and plates stretched across the long table, that had earlier been filled with all kinds of Naboo dishes Luke had never seen or tried before. At either head of the table, his grandparents sat laughing at something Ryoo, sitting by their grandmother, had just said. At Luke’s side, Leia was enraptured in a quiet conversation with their cousin and her old colleague, Pooja, that Luke imagined he wouldn’t understand even if he was listening. His aunt and uncle, Sola and Darred, were the only ones not seated, circling around the table and dilligently clearing up the wreckage of the family meal.

“Are you sure you don't want some help with that?” Luke asked Sola as she piled up another plate opposite him.

“Really Luke, it’s alright,” she replied with a kind smile.

Luke half expected an assertion that he was their guest to follow, but none came. The blank space left a sunny feeling in his chest; he wasn’t a guest here, he was family. Completely and utterly welcome, as if he’d been a part of that family his whole life, and not as of a few days ago.

He was so wrapped up in the small joy that he almost didn’t notice Leia’s quiet excuse me, before she gently placed her napkin down on the table and gracefully got up to leave the dining room.

Luke doubted the Naberries thought anything of it -- Leia’s years of politics made her far too good at hiding her emotions to let them do otherwise. She was so good that even the strongest of force users might not have been able to sense it through her mental and expressive shields. But Luke was not any old strong force user; he was Leia's twin, and so her secret turmoil blared in his head like a whirring attack alarm.

He cleared his throat and excused himself too, not sticking around to field anyone’s quick questions (though knowing he should’ve). He wound through the love-filled house, following his senses and memory of the tour they’d been given earlier to reach the starlike presence of his sister. He passed through only two short hallways, both’s walls were filled to the brim with memories he’d never known. Holos of his young cousins, of Sola and Darred on their wedding, and of a brown-haired woman Luke wished he’d known as mom. He’d learn every story behind each of the pictures and keepsakes, some day.

He reached the back garden door -- a light, wooden thing, as ornately simple as the rest of the house -- and stepped into the early night.

The garden was hardly cold, but the sudden coolness compared to the hearth-warmth of the house bit at Luke. He stared up for a moment. Three moons hung white in the sky, painting the white house walls and the green of the garden in blueish moonlight. It was strange how it reminded him of home and yet was so different. Tatooine too had three moons, though all it did was turn golden sand a deep, colourless blue or silver. Never the friendly blue of Naboo’s.

Shaking himself from the thought, he easily spotted his sister standing cross-armed in front of a neat, flowery maybe-vegetable patch. Her white, Naboo-style dress with puffy sleeves and a many-layered skirt stood out against the dark of the moonlit garden as if it were a small, fourth moon itself.

Leia had bought the dress shortly before their diplomatic trip to Naboo for any formal dinners they would be invited to as a part of their Republic negotiations with the Naboo. It was, apparently, very strategically important to acknowledge the culture of those you wished to diplomatise with -- even if Luke and his poor galactic fashion knowledge thought the dress looked no different from any of her Alderaanian dresses. He supposed it was lucky he got to wear his Jedi robes everywhere.

“Hey,” Luke started, stepping up beside her, careful not to get his boots too close to the pristine flowers.

Leia smiled up at him, almost hiding her sorrowful expression. “Hi.”

She glanced back at the windows of the house, where warm, orange light diffused out across the neatly cut lawn, not quite reaching their night-blue patch of the garden. “You didn’t need to come out here for me,” she half-apologised. “It’s cold, you should get back to dinner.”

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Leia opened her mouth, but quickly closed it, as if realising I’m fine was a useless excuse to your brother who could sense your emotions. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re my sister, yes, I do,” Luke smiled with a slight shake of his head. After a breath, e leaned down slightly, trying to better enter Leia’s pointed-down sightline. “Hey, if you want to leave, I’m sure we can come up with some urgent New Republic excuse.”

Leia was the far better liar, but Luke had the added advantage of being one of the only Jedi in the galaxy. If Leia didn’t come up with some political excuse, Luke could always make something up about the force that nobody could refute.

Luke shrugged. “We’ve been here half the day, anyway, I’m sure they won’t take it personally if we miss one last course. There’ll be other--”

“No, no, I want to stay,” Leia shook her head with a sure furrow of her brow. “Really, I just needed some air. I don’t-- I can’t leave this.”

Luke nodded, hoping she didn’t notice how thankful he was that he didn’t have to go.

“It’s a nice night to be out.”

“Mm. Naboo’s temperature is quite agreeable,” Leia said, her voice growing politically hollow.

What were they doing, talking about the weather like they were at some stunted party? Luke wanted to say Leia, we both know I’m bad at this not-talking-about-feelings thing, please just tell me what’s on your mind, but he knew his sister well enough to know a brute-force question like that wouldn’t get much out of her. He needed to wait and let her talk on her own terms. So Luke left a gentle space in the air between them, one that Leia could fill when she was ready. Only quiet night birds and the faint rustle of garden trees were so brave as to interrupt it.

“Maybe I came out here for more than air…” Leia mumbled, predictably rewarding the silence after some long moments. “It's only that they’re so… I don’t know how to say this.”

“It’s okay, you can say whatever it is,” he managed through the slight panic entering his mind. Did Leia not like their new family? But they were so nice! They were perfect!

Clearly noticing the worry knotted in his brow, Leia held her hands up. “No, no, it’s nothing against them. It’s barely even about them as people, it’s just…”

Luke only watched for her continuation, aware all he could do was try to project his own comfort through the force.

Leia forced a deep breath in and out, clenching her eyes shut for a short moment. “When I lost Alderaan, I lost everyone. I lost my father, my mother-- anyone I’d so much as briefly considered family. I had nobody to call my own. Nobody. And I thought that was going to be it, forever. I thought that I would never have any family ever again.”

“But then,” a smile crept onto Leia’s lips as she gave Luke a short glance, “you came blasting into my life and you told me about everything, and suddenly I had family-- I had a brother!”

“Blasting is a bit of a strong word…”

Leia levelled him a raised eyebrow. “Is there a weaker word you think fits better, then?”

Luke huffed out a chuckle, remembering how quickly their first meeting had devolved into a blaster fight and a narrow escape of death. “I guess blasting works.”

Leia let out a quiet sigh, her presence brightening. “And suddenly it’s not just you, it’s our grandparents, our aunt, our uncle, our cousins, and it’s all…” Leia trailed off.

Luke nodded slowly.

Finding the Naberries had been very different for the two of them, but only now did he appreciate the true difference in what their new family meant for them both.

He’d had little cause to think of what new family meant to the two of them before, given how easily she accepted Luke as her brother, and how resolutely she refused to accept Vader as her father. Luke had thought it was so simple; that it was just Luke was good in her eyes, Vader was not. He saw now that it ran deeper than just Vader’s evil.

Luke loved his aunt and uncle, but they’d never claimed to be his parents. They had always left room for Luke to long for a mother and father, to dream of the people they never spoke about. He had despised the reality of his father at first, but come to accept that while Vader was not the father he dreamed of, he was Luke’s father nonetheless. However awkwardly he had filled that lifelong gap.

To Leia, Vader was not only a villain, but an invasive species. A predator, encroaching on the still-sore memory of Bail and Breha Organa. He could not be her father; that position belonged solely and permanently to Bail and nobody else. Vader would only ever be relegated to a ‘birth father’ -- and that was only on days that Leia felt particularly merciful.

The Naberries, on the other hand, didn’t stand to replace anyone. Padmé Amidala, their mother (force, that was weird to think), may have stood too close to Breha’s position -- but Luke suppose finding out your birth mother was your childhood hero and a founder of the rebellion was very different to finding out your parent was the Emperor’s genocidal attack dog. And even then, she was gone now. She could play little part other than a puzzle piece and a forgotten memory; she did not threaten to take a dead parent's place like the living Vader had once done.

The rest of the Naberries were purely happy additions to their family. There was no limit to how many aunts and uncles and cousins you would have, and neither twin had ever had grandparents before. Their family had become so full and so big with only a chance meeting of Leia’s old Senate colleague Pooja (and some intervention from an unsettling resourceful woman named Sabé). It had all happened so fast, and it was so wonderful… and so easily overwhelming.

Even Luke struggled to get his mind over all the sudden expansions to his once-thought-gone family, and his grief over two family members and strange hermit mentor was hardly comparable Leia’s planet-sized grief. He knew it wasn’t, because he had felt the difference for himself, every time she saw a certain plant or a heard a certain phrase. Such little things would bombard their force-bond with the soul-crushing grief that had hit Leia out of seeming nowhere.

Luke stretched the force out to Leia now, focusing on her shields as uninvasively as he could. Her heavy mantle of grief lay near-dormant, at least, but it was still present in the back of her mind.

Leia glanced up at him from the flowers, perhaps sensing his search despite her lack of training. If she did, she made no comment.

Luke put his flesh hand on her shoulder.

Leia delicately rested her own hand on it, bringing her eyes to firmly meet his. “I am okay. It’s just… it’s…” Leia -- the princess whose educated words never faltered, the general who could muster the greatest of speeches out of thin air -- stuttered.

“It’s a lot to deal with,” Luke offered.

Leia gave him a nod.

“But you're not dealing with it alone,” he said, turning around to face Leia in full. After a moment of quiet staring up, she turned to face him too. “I know this isn't all quite the same for me. I know it’s… a different kind of difficult. Still, I’m here. I’m always here for you. And I’m sure all of them are too,” Luke said with a nod back to the house.

Leia hummed in agreement-acknowledgement.

“I don't think they're expecting you -- expecting either of us -- to be completely and suddenly okay with this. I’m sure it’s almost as much for them as it is for us. But they're our family. We may not know each other very well yet, but they already love us so much.”

Luke knew it so certainly; he could sense all the Naberries’ love for the twins, as strong as the heat of the suns on a Tatooine noon. Mottled by cloudy grief in places, but always oh-so present. It radiated off each of them in waves whenever Luke and Leia were around.

“I think I’m just trying to say it’s okay,” Luke concluded, losing steam in his speech. “However you’re feeling now, it’s gonna be okay.”

Silence drifted between them, entirely comfortable and nothing like the eager, questioning one Luke had left earlier.

“Thank you,” Leia smiled finally.

Luke shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“No, really, thank you. I don’t think I say it enough, but I love you Luke. I’m-- thank you. For being my brother.”

Before Luke could even think of replying, Leia crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his robes and shoving her face into his shoulder. Luke caved into the hug, pulling his arms tight around his sister in return.

“I love you too,” he replied softly.

They stayed like that for a good few moments, fused together like twin stars, basking in each other’s presence as if they truly were so. The galaxy seemed so utterly at peace in the garden around their tight-armed cradling, like it had never faced a single war or fight, like Luke and Leia had always been one and never been ripped apart by the tragedy of circumstance.

Luke sensed Pooja’s presence -- joyous, if a little timid -- before he heard her treading over the grass towards him and his twin. The two of them pulled apart to face Pooja at the same time, arms still half-pressed together.

Pooja came to a slow stop as they did, standing still in the bright square of warm window-light. It painted the the cream of her dress a loving orange and made her half-up curls near-glow with its source behind her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt…” she started serenely, half-smiling at her cousins standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the blue near-dark.

Leia shook her head, moving towards Pooja. “We were just about to come back in anyway.”

Pooja brightened, bringing her hands to an almost-clap. “Perfect timing! I came to tell you Grandma’s about to serve up dessert. It’s cake, her speciality.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Luke’s mouth watered at the thought of more of Jobal Naberrie’s cooking, despite the protests from his already-full stomach.

“Not as wonderful as it tastes. Now come on!” Pooja over-gestured. “If we don't hurry, Ryoo will have eaten all of it before we get there!”

Leia laughed with all the gentle warmth of the Naboo sun. “We’re coming Pooja, don't worry!”

They followed their hurried cousin back to the nearby door, forming a line as they reached the portico of the entrance.

“I'm so happy we found you both,” Pooja admitted quietly as she held the door open for her cousins. The two of them stepped back into gentle embrace of the family home, something sweet hanging in the warm air.

Leia gave Luke a quick glance before she turned to Pooja; “I’m happy we found you too.”

#luke skywalker #leia organa #pooja naberrie #sola naberrie #jobal naberrie #ruwee naberrie #ryoo naberrie #darred naberrie #star wars #potes wrotes #skywalker twins #space twins #skywalkers & naberries

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karume-everything-else · 6 months

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Flufftober 2023

Day 23: "Does it make you nervous when I stare?" [Reader x Ganondorf] {Legend of Zelda}

If only his plans had gone off better, Ganondorf wouldn't have to deal with the young princess of Hyrule attempting to shoot him all the time. However, there was one upside; a cousin of the crowned family.

This one person was someone Ganondorf spent hours around simply because they were an ambassador. Something Ganondorf thought was a waste of someone who seemed so intelligent, attractive, and genuinely kind.

If they were willing, he would absolutely propose and whisk them away to Gerudo Town. But that was something he wasn't sure he could convince you of. Not that he thought he wasn't worthy of you, but he would rather secure a decent amount of power first.

Sadly, that was taking far too long. Until he could sneak into the sacred realm... he would keep some semblance of distance. Though it didn't stop him from actively courting you, it was somewhat sweet.

At least, you thought it was somewhat sweet. Coming from such a tall warrior, you had to choose to look past that exterior to see it that way though. Having to read between the lines of what he said, because most people wouldn't be able to get past his being nearly twelve feet tall.

"A bouquet of Swift Violets for one so equally lovely and rare." He bowed with a flourish, holding the flowers out to you, "One just as difficult to attain, but most certainly worth the effort."

His attempts at courting were very direct at least. Very little room for you to misconstrue his intentions, except you couldn't figure out why he was courting you of all people. You had far more powerful relatives in the same age range... ones with more class, fewer responsibilities, and you simply couldn't see why he would want to court an ambassador instead of a more established noble of the court.

None of that stopped Ganondorf either, especially when you had another meeting with him. Once again going over the same back and forth about land disputes; as much as he wanted was far too close to Castle Town and you were trying to divert to a different, equally clear area since he wanted the land to begin farming. Though you had to be careful about getting to close to the Lost Woods to avoid any mishaps.

Instead of looking where you were pointing, Ganondorf's eyes were focused solely on you. An intense gaze that usually made others wilt under his golden eyes, but one you were far too used to from the many months you'd spent working with the man. Up until you'd tried asking his opinion on the area you'd traced with your finger.

"Sir Ganondorf?" You looked up at him, directly in his eyes, "Your opinion on the area?"

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head, "Ah yes, which one?"

You couldn't help but snicker a little before you retraced the area. Somehow this was both normal and something the armed guards by the doorway behind you found extremely odd at the same time.

In truth, you were the only person beneath his station that Ganondorf even allowed to speak to him like this. Not just because you were the ambassador, nor even because he was courting you, but because you were the only person who consistently met his eyes in conversation. If he ever dared to admit how much that affected his feelings toward you, he would likely just propose on the spot.

However, as you rolled up the map, having successfully shifted Ganondorf's expectations of the land he would be able to move into. While moving the entirety of Gerudo Town would be wildly impractical, building another settlement was far more doable; especially given its meant to be mostly farm land.

"There is one thing I must ask [Name]." Ganondorf looked off into the distance, "If you wouldn't mind answering of course."

"Of course I don't mind answering, was there something else you'd meant to mention?"

"No, it isn't about the treaty, nor any of the agreements we've discussed. This is more a personal question, if that's acceptable?"

"I'll decide after you've asked, if you find that acceptable as well?"

Ganondorf nodded, turning to face you, "Does it make you uncomfortable when I stare? Or nervous? Given... how much I tower over you, among other things."

"Hm..." You tapped your chin, closing your eyes, "It was a tad unnerving at first, if only due to how intensely you tend to stare. But its no longer as unnerving."

He nearly stopped, but you couldn't walk nearly as fast as he could with his full stride. Even now your level of honesty was shocking to Ganondorf, hardly anyone would say anything like that to his face... eyes opened or closed.

"Though I suppose I've merely grown used to your stare." You continued, "There are many things I've grown accustomed to. Possibly due to our working together, or our courtship, or more likely a combination of the two."

"I see." Ganondorf held his chin, "And yet I can't seem to become accustomed to you in the same way."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Of course not. I quite enjoy how many ways you continue to surprise me." You stopped dead in your tracks, not that Ganondorf noticed as he kept talking, "Though I doubt that I would ever truly be used to how comfortable you appear to be around me. It would be a shame to ever change that, as it's refreshing to have someone as genuine and logical..."

Stopping a few feet away, finally noticing your absence, Ganondorf turned to you, "[Name]?"

"Uh... I uh. I wasn't expecting that sort of praise." You admitted, a soft blush rising on your face, "Even if we are courting one another... its... its..."

Before you really knew what was going on, Ganondorf had closed the distance between you, kneeling while clutching both your hands. The movement hadn't surprised you, rather the way he was looking up at you.

As if he was going to...

"You are deserving of such praise." He asserted, "That and much more, if only for the ways you're comparable to the moon as it hangs in the sky."

Even now you couldn't deny his words, no matter how flustered you were. Ganondorf couldn't stop himself from punctuating himself with a soft kiss to your knuckles. All the while he stared at you, the one time you struggled to meet that intense gaze.

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whorefordaemon · 1 year

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Requests open?!! 😃

How about Daemon reacting to reader lover/wife/etc flirting with guys and girls in front of him on purpose 😈

Hey anon! My first ever request! Hope you like it! I added a few extra details to make it more smutty and well, more Targaryen lol

"Give me your babe."

Daemon watched, eyes glaring as he stared at his sister wife who was dancing with some Lord from some where.

Daemon and her had had a fight last night, about the one thing they always fought on. She wanted a babe. And Daemon didn't want to risk losing her.

He had been there. Watched as life slowly left his bold and fierce mother, the Princess Alyssa, day by day after the birth of his sister. He had watched his grandmother howl and scream in the night, mourning her dead babes. He watches every year or so, as his cousin Aemma is killed little by little with every dead babe she brings forth and no son.

Can't she see? How desperately he wishes to spare her of such a fate?

What would he do if she was gone?

But his wife, stubborn as she was, refused to listen.

He had been on top of her, inside her when she locked her legs around him and refused to let him pull out early. The hot and tightness of her cunt was too alluring and Daemon hadn't been able to successfully separate himself from her before he was shooting all of his seed deep into her.

He had stared at her, eyes wide and breathless as she giggled. "How long do you think you can stay away from me, brother? How long before you're back here, inside me, railing me to our bed? I promise, I will have your seed in me soon enough."

He had raged at her, tried to shake some sense into her but she had refused to listen.

She had wanted a babe. And there was no stopping her. He had always given in to her demands before. He had spoiled her, he knew.

So he had taken to ignoring her. Refusing to fuck his beautiful little sister wife unless she promised to behave. It had only been a day and he was already going crazy.

She had only shown him her tongue before walking away, promising she'd have his cock back in her cunt by that very night.

And so far, she was doing a fantastic job riling him up. She had dressed all pretty, in a long black dress with sleeves designed to look like dragon scales and a back that was open for all to see. He imagined tearing down her dress and fucking her from behind, seeing way more than just her back.

Her hair was left open and he imagined pulling her by her hair whilst fucking and holding her in place as she ran her tongue down his cock.

He imagined giving a few smacks on her arse as she rightfully deserved for forcing his hand like this.

He was distracted the whole feast, unable to forget his raging hard on as he drank in the sight of her.

She turned to look at him once the dance was over, a smirk identical to his, as she laughed at whatever it was that the Lord had spoken.

It was a fake laugh and Daemon smirked, there was nobody who could've hoped to have had his wife's interest the way he had. But they could try, he mused.

He hoped for her sake she would put a stop to this charade though. Before he lost his cool. But alas, his sister was proving herself to be very foolish.

He watched, hands clenched into a fist as the Lord placed a kiss on her hand and she smiled. Did this sod have a death wish?!

He got up abruptly, the eyes of everyone as always on him, and made his way over to his wife.

He put his hand on the Lord's shoulder, a huge smile on his face as he greeted him. His grip tightened and his smile widened as he noticed how nervous the Lord became, moving away from his wife.

His. His. His.

"Lord, may I have my sister back? I haven't had the pleasure of her company all evening." He reminded the man and watched as he squirmed at the remainder that his wife was also his sister. Their queer customs never failed to make these Andal Lords uncomfortable. And he loved making them feel uncomfortable.

"Sure my prince." He stuttered before moving away.

Daemon watched him run, his tail tucked between his legs. He stared at everyone in the room, daring them to come between his wife and himself.

He turned to finally face her. His beautiful sister. A sinister smirk on his face which she replied with a soft, sweet smile on her face. "Brother." She whispered.

He pulled her into a dance, running his hands down her body. She stared up at him. For them, no one else existed in the great hall.

""I've missed you, brother." She confessed, looking him in the eye.

"It's barely been one whole day." He told her.

"So? Usually you would have filled me with your cock atleast twice by now, before the day was out." She told him in Valyrian, shameless with her words. Her eyes showed her desire for him. He knew his eyes held the same look.

"Usually, you'd be much more well behaved."

"I want your babe brother. A beautiful, pure Valyrian babe who may one day rule all of the seven kingdoms." She told him.

"Birthing is no easy task." He warned her, a pleading look came over him.

"I'm a dragon and a woman brother. I was born with the strength of a dragon and my body was made to bear children. Your children. I won't let you deprive me of my destiny." She told him, sounding more like him than ever before. So sure and so full of life.

Daemon smiled. "Children? How many do you plan to give me?"

She smiled, a soft laugh breaking their tension. Yes, their fight was over. He had lost before he could even begin to fight.

"A dozen. At the very least."

She grabbed his hands and began to pull him out of the hall and towards their chambers. "And me thinks the earlier we start, the better."

He laughed before pushing her against a wall in a dark corridor. He caged her inbetween his arms, their noses touching as her breathing got heavier. "The chambers are too far away. I say, let's make a babe right here." He whispered in her ears.

She stared up at him, eyes so full of lust and hope, Daemon felt his breeches tighten further. He turned her around, pushing her against the wall before his hands went under her dress. He let his fingers travel under her gown, tracing her legs up until he reached her cunt, which was wet and throbbing. "Hmm, no undergarments, my filthy whore!" He accused her. The vile words only making her more aroused.

"All yours brother." Her breathing hitched, a loud moan escaping her throat.

He rubbed at her wetness, brushing his fingers against her pearl and laughing as she squirmed and shook in his arms. Her head thrown back into his shoulders as she moaned.

He gathered her wetness before poking at her entrance. Sliding one finger in and pulling out slowly. Repeating this gesture a few more times and slowly adding more fingers until he had three stuffed inside of her.

He pulled them in and out of her furiously and the wet noises reverberated in the empty corridors. Daemon was sure anyone walking by would be able to guess what they were doing. He couldn't wait to hear the noises they made when it was his cock inside of her.

It wasn't long before she was tensing up, her cunt tightening around his fingers as she came.

"Fucccckkkk" she whined.

He pulled his hand out of her cunt, pulling at his breeches and freed his cock. It was aching painfully. He used her wetness to stroke his cock slowly before once again grabbing her dress, pulling it up so he had free access to her cunt.

He lined up, rubbing his cock at her little pearl and watched as she shook lightly.

He chuckled. "So eager, dear sister."

"I am! I want your seed. I want your babe! I want your cock! Please brother, give it to me please." She whined, moving her ass backward, trying to push his cock into her cunt.

He laughed harder, "patience.." he whispered before suddenly, without warning, he rammed his entire length inside her.

She screamed, Daemon bringing his hand to her mouth to prevent her from screaming too loud as she came all over his cock, her cunt tightening so much Daemon hissed, unable to pull his cock back out.

"Shhh...sister. Do you wish to alert everyone else to our sinful behaviour?"

She didn't reply, too lost in her pleasure. Her whole body shook as wave after wave of pleasure passed over her.

Daemon stayed inside her as she calmed down before slowly pulling out. Then back in. And out. And in again. And out. In. Out. In. Out. Until he was thrusting balls deep inside her in quick, rough thrusts that made her breasts shake, even within the tight confines of her dress.

"Ah! Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me! Give it to me love. Harder, harder please harder." She whimpered, pulling him closer by turning her face and kissing him full on the mouth.

Daemon had to hold her tightly to the wall so as to maintain his jackhammer pace.

The two kissed, biting at each other's lips and promising to love each other always.

Daemon held onto her hips, eyes on her arse as it slapped against his thighs, making all the more obscene and wet noises. He loved it.

"AH!" She screamed as she came a third time within the span of an hour. Her legs felt dead and she was sure she'd have fallen if Daemon hadn't been holding her up, still chasing his pleasure from her body.

She tensed, anticipation building as she dreamt of a silver haired, purple eyed babe.

She wanted his seed so bad. So, so bad!

Daemon grunted and growled and his hands moved from her hips to her waist. He pulled her off the wall and flush against himself as he thrust in one last time.

Hot cream filled her up as he came inside her. It hit her inner walls and she felt it as it shot all the way up into her womb.

Both husband and wife. Brother and sister moaned as they together came down from their high. They held onto each other, refusing to be parted after having such a intimate coupling together.

She sighed happily, laying her head against his broad shoulder and he hid his face in her neck. She knew. Just knew that they had made a babe tonight. She had, as always, gotten what she wanted. She really was spoiled!

#Daemon Targaryen #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #Daemon Targaryen x reader #Smut writing #Filth #Smut #Asoiaf #Brother x sister #Pregnancy #creative writing #requests open

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chimcess · 3 months

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→ Chapter Nine: Landscapes Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Werewolf!Jimin, Witch!Reader, Shifter!Reader, Shifter!Jimin, A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Jimin Genre: Supernatural!AU, Werewolf!AU, Angst, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Smut, Word Count: 10.2k+ Synopsis: Within the four realms of Lustra lay the Bangtan forest home to the Foxglove pack of the south and known as the “land of magic.” It is also home to the Bridd, a powerful witch from a cursed bloodline who is one of the sacred guardians of the forest. Y/N is the newest Bridd, a young girl who was given her position too early. Now a woman, Y/N is revered amongst the wolves as the most powerful witch they have ever known, but hiding under the surface is a woman who has to battle between her duty and her heart. Warnings: ANGST, strong language, PTSD, flashbacks, self-hate, self-depreciation, talks of death, nosey birds, Moland is a lot of fun to write about, (sorta) theft, home sickness, magic, very tame A/N: Don't know how I feel about this chapter. It was a bit difficult to write. I think you'll understand why in a moment. Thanks for reading!

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Namjoon pov

I stood inside of a small boat house, Bridd’s scent faint, but I knew it was fresh. At least I could give Jimin that. Hoseok said to take a look around outside and try to follow it. I sighed. I had already done that. I had done it yesterday as well, but Jimin demanded I go back to double check. Today’s assessment was much better than yesterday's so I was able to pick up the subtle nuances within it. She had been standing where my feet were planted no more than 48 hours earlier.

“She’s long gone,” Hoseok’s voice was clear in my head despite him being five miles away. “Wonder where she went.”

“Taehyung said something about Viridi Gramine,” Hyuna chimed in. She had been relatively quiet, her thoughts only focused on catching any sign of Bridd. “Do you think she’s headed that way?”

“Doubtful,” I followed the trail from the small cot on the floor to the fridge. “I don’t believe she was ever going to see our cousins.”

Hyuna contemplated this. Hoseok felt guilty. Both of us scolded him for this. He had been hard on himself over the entire ordeal. He thought if he had been able to speak to Bridd and Jimin that this situation would have never happened. Apologizing, the younger wolf went back to wondering where she could have gone.

“Not far,” Hyuna mused.

“She could be out of Moland by now,” I added. “I don’t know which way she would have gone. She might be lost out there.”

That worried all of us. Hoseok knew her better than I did and kept thinking about how little she knew of the outside world. She would have no idea where she was without a map. Hyuna had more faith in her ability to survive out there, and I leaned more towards her thought process. If she needed to fight, she could, and her shifting would lend itself useful regardless. She had probably flown over the swamps and into Clarcton. That would be the easiest and most efficient use of her time.

“That makes the most sense,” Hoseok thought.

Following her scent outside, it stopped on the small deck just outside of the home. She had to have shifted from here. We would not be able to find her. Hoseok huffed in annoyance, Hyuna tried to soothe him, and I could finally pick up my sister’s thoughts. She was worried about everyone, not that it surprised me, Yeong-Mi was always giving herself migraines and panic attacks.

“Shut up,” She snapped at me, her tone biting. I could still hear the stress underneath it. “He’s right, oppa,” Yeong-Mi was talking to Hoseok now. “You can’t blame yourself. We all know who’s to blame for this.”

Sol’s face came to her mind. It was distorted, the Luna’s features not quite right. My sister saw Sol as often as the rest of the village did, and her memories did not do the older girl justice. Mini told me she did not care how wrong she remembered Sol’s face; she had no thoughts of facing the stupid woman anytime soon. Hyuna agreed with a delighted giggle. Hoseok mumbled something about her only trying to help but none of us paid it any attention.

“Sol can’t bear all the responsibility,” I gently chastised my little sister. “Bridd still made the choice to run off.”

“If she had minded her own business,” Mini barked, her stress and frustration boiling over, “-Bridd wouldn’t have run away! God, the nerve. Who would say something like that to Jimin Oppa when we all know just how stressed he’s been?”

“An idiot,” Hyuna bit, her anger surfacing once more. She had always had an issue with Sol. “Between Bo, his brother, and the copiae the man hasn’t had a break.”

I had tried to stay neutral, but I could not help agreeing with Hyuna. Sol had been out of line and overstepped. I found solace in Taehyung’s own reaction to her wrongdoing. The boy had yet to touch his mate since Jimin went into a frantic panic in the middle of the night once he found his girl’s bed empty, and rumors of their constant arguing since the morning Bridd went missing were spreading throughout Bangtan.

“Eun-Jin told me Jimin said she was going to the Ozryn mountains alone,” My sister supplied. “I haven’t been around him since she left, so I don’t know what really happened, but he’s devastated about this.”

Hoseok growled when Jimin’s name came up. Mini took up for her favorite alpha while I reminded him of the situation at large. What Sol told Jimin was a very harsh, unrealistic, misrepresentation of Bridd’s plans. He was reacting on what he knew, or lack thereof, and lashed out. Hoseok vehemently disagreed until Hyuna asked him how he would have reacted if he was convinced she was going off to kill herself after she just recovered from a previous injury.

“She’s alone out there,” Hoseok grunted, his fire burnt out in the face of his wife. “He should have never let that happen.”

“It’s not his fault,” I was pleasantly surprised to hear Jungkook’s older brother, Jong-Hyun. He had been searching the east for a scent but came back around once he realized my sister had left him behind. “They’re both stubborn and I don’t think little miss witch would have allowed him to go. Ji-Hyun said the two of them got into an argument the afternoon she left, and he feels partially responsible for whatever happened between them.”

I growled, “That boy’s attitude is going to get him hurt. Is that why Callisto’s been even more irate than normal?”

Mini laughed, “I think that’s just how she is around you.”

All of us shared a laugh, the tense moment going by. Hyuna and Hoseok had finally found one another, and my sister was their next stop. She was almost to Syrena, and the couple wanted to go for a swim. The rest of us turned down their offer. I did not want to be a magindara’s next meal. Yeong-Mi decided to wait for them so she could keep an eye out for any elves.

Drowning out their voices, I continued sniffing. I knew finding a trail would be next to impossible unless I went deeper into the swamps, but elves could be anywhere. My fear for Bridd came back. I hoped to God that she was safe and watching her back out there. I knew she could handle her own, but she was not infallible.

I sat there, staring out at the brown water, willing it to tell me where to go next, until Hyuna let me know Taehyung was looking for me. My father was concerned about a party of elves spotted in the northwestern corner of Moland and wanted me out of the forest. Jimin was refusing to come home so Taehyung needed me to help him plan strategies. Hyuna had rounded back to meet up with me near Bridd’s cottage.

“We’re leaving him out here alone?” I asked her.

“Of course not,” The small, red wolf replied. “Jong-Hyun and Hoseok are scouting him out. He’s somewhere deep in the forest.”

She was disappointed that their beach trip was postponed but chose not to comment on it. I tried to comfort her in my own way, picturing the two of them swimming and laughing together another day, but she waved me off. She was grateful but did not want to talk about it knowing it would bother Hoseok.

“And he hasn’t found anything?”

“Nothing.”

Stepping into Bridd’s clearing, I admired the wildflowers. She had to have the most beautiful oasis in all of Lustra. Her cottage was surrounded by a beautiful garden filled with vegetables, fruits, and herbs. A large, porcelain bird bath at the very front of the house that, for some reason, never ran out of water. It was odd how perfectly made and curated the meadow was. The Gods must have made it this way so the Bridd would not grow depressed inside. Hyuna was laying in the grass close to the destroyed house. Taehyung said an elf was the one who did all of the damage. Bridd’s scent stuck to the wood, but it was starting to fade.

“I wanted to go inside,” Hyuna looked at the large hole in the front of the house, her mind revealing just how sad she felt. As much as she scolded Hoseok for harboring guilt, she had her own. “I don’t think Jimin would appreciate it. This is the only place that still smells like her.”

“He’s been here,” My friend’s scent was heavy in the air. Fresh. “Is he sleeping in there?”

She nodded, “I think he’s trying to fix the place up. Jungkook was talking about it with Cadoc. Jimin’s obsessed with having everything fixed before she comes home.”

We shared a look. Neither one of us were very hopeful that our little bird would be back anytime soon. I had more faith in her survival abilities than Hyuna did, but neither one of us had any way of knowing when she could realistically get back.

Hyuna remembered her trips to Bangtan back when she still lived in Viridi Gramine. The mountains were harsh, unforgiving, and absolutely lethal. She was a princess, royal and proud in her bloodline, and traveled with the most experienced and strong guides in the land, and still there was always a chance she could never return. After she became of age and found Hoseok, the thought of going through those mountains had never passed her mind before her mother grew ill.

I had never crossed Ozryn myself, but I knew it was a harsh place to be. Hyuna’s memories alone left a chill in my bones. Bridd could very well die out there and no one would be able to stop it from happening. I entertained the thought of Jimin and I leaving Foxglove behind to find her, but one look from Hyuna wiped it clean from my mind. We could not leave the village until we knew more.

Bridd’s death would destroy Jimin, and I was certain Taehyung and Sol’s marriage would fall apart for a time. More than it already had. The Park family would never be the same. For that I desperately hoped she would come to her senses and come home but knew she would not. The little flicker of fire I had seen in those eyes when I showed up to her cottage after Sol’s birthday had told me more about her than the years, we had orbited one another’s atmosphere. She had more in her than Hyuna realized.

“She’s never seen so much of the world before,” Hyuna whispered like we were breaking some unspoken law. “How can she know where to go if she doesn’t know what to look for?”

“She has maps-”

“Maps that predate the industrial revolution,” Hyuna was quick to cut me off. “That girl is blind, and you and I both know it.”

I did not have to speak- we both knew we were on the same page. Still, I told her how fierce Bridd could be when she felt threatened. Showing her our fight outside of the cottage, Hyuna chuckled.

“She’s a fighter, that’s for sure. Still, I worry. When she was in the infirmary all of the witches said that they were used to her fainting spells. How can we know she won’t do that out there?”

I shook my head. “We don’t. We just have to have faith. For Jimin’s sake. For her friends’ sake.”

“And Bridd’s,” Hyuna added.

“And Bridd’s,” I agreed.

A howl echoed through the forest, and I knew I had to get going. Taehyung rarely shifts these days so it must be urgent. Hyuna decided to tag along and wait for her husband at the Temple. She daydreamed of taking a few swings at Sol if given the chance while we ran. I chose to ignore it.

As we got closer to the village, I began to hear the voices of the other copiae that joined the search party. The loudest was Ji-Hyun who complained of his sister-in-law’s melodramatics. Hyuna fought back a snarl, her thoughts murderous. The younger wolf had the decency to drop the subject, but my distaste for him did not change. Taehyung shared my sentiments and told the Park boy to go home for the day. He was able to keep his thoughts to himself long enough to change and our connection severed.

“Irrumator,” Hyuna grunted, her thoughts of Sol swirling into Ji-Hyun.

I chuckled, “He’s young. Cut him some slack.”

“He’s older than Taehyung!” Hyuna barked. “That boy knows better, and what he said to Bridd was so out of line. How dare you defend him?”

I whined, bowed my head, and looked down. Submitting was not something I did often, but I respected Hyuna enough to do so. A fight was the last thing I wanted. Besides, if I had an issue with Hyuna that would mean I had an issue with Hoseok, and that was not something we could not afford right now. Not with this war starting.

“It’s not defending him,” I tried to keep any annoyance for her out of my tone. “I just think this is a time for unity. Arguing and fighting about something we cannot change is pointless.”

She huffed but dropped it. I knew I had won our little exchange and held my head up high. Now, more than ever, we needed to let things go. Taehyung’s thoughts showed his conflicting feelings. While he agreed we needed to come together to fight, to deal with this threat together, he was hurt and angered by his friend’s disappearance. I could see underneath it all, however, he felt betrayal from the one person he held dearest.

Sol brought up mixed emotions of my own. I had wanted her for so long, my longing to be the leader of my people blinding me. When Taehyung was chosen, I was disappointed, but any romantic feelings I may have harbored for the young Luna vanished. Even if my actions after did not reflect it, I was happy for my little cousin.

His wife was never someone I had been particularly close with. She was obsessed with Jimin for years. I could not recall the number of times I could hear her daydreaming about him when we went on walks together. Ahn had asked for me to be her escort when she shifted, and the ramblings of a teenage girl were the last thing I needed to hear. Especially when I found myself wanting to be at her side, to rule and lead, and her thoughts of me only commenting on how ugly I was.

To say she was distraught over Jimin’s lack of interest was an understatement. The poor girl was begging the other alpha to have his way with her- mates be damned. Sol was lucky he was nothing short of a good man. Anyone else might have been tempted, but not Park Jimin. He was kind, cordial, and played with her often, but any sexual advances were immediately shut down. I know why now, and through that lens it was easier to wrap my head around. He was already deeply enamored with another.

Sol’s entire life was flipped upside down once she found herself in Taehyung’s arms. Confusion and disbelief were very prominent at first, but that quickly melted away into adoration. It was as if she had always loved him. For Taehyung the feeling was mutual. Before Sol, he had his eyes set on a local girl called Minji.

Still, I could only guess Sol could not stop herself. It was almost a reflex for her to dote on Jimin at this point. They were closer in age than the rest of us (save Taehyung), though Jimin was a good 7 years older than her, and he was always kind and thoughtful. When she heard that he might be harmed she ran to his side. What she told him, things I only knew because Jimin would not stop thinking about that night, were only meant to help him. She pushed her friendship with Bridd aside to go to him, put her trust with Taehyung under the guillotine, and even risked ruining her bond with Jimin himself in order to protect his heart. It would be admirable if she had thought it over for a few minutes instead of rushing to his house like a bat out of hell, spewing out the most over dramatic and, frankly, not truthful, versions of events.

The argument he had with Bridd was based on what Sol had said. He was already agitated enough as it was. His pack of fifteen had been reduced to seven and the newer recruits were too young. Stress and frustration bubbled over the moment the Luna’s mouth opened. She said Bridd was planning on dying, that the witch was lying to everyone about where she was going, that she was hellbent on making up for her past mistakes. Ridiculous, and while partially true, it was spoken by a teenage girl who did not listen to a word the messenger had said. At that moment all Jimin could hear was his mate marching to her death so she could make up for keeping her mouth shut.

It was still strange to think about what Bridd did. I was annoyed she had kept her visions to herself but that faded once I realized that she was terrified and could do nothing. We were not on good terms. Foxglove had removed themselves completely and Ahn had not been quiet about his plans to go to her cottage. I could not blame her for feeling hesitant to say something when she was not sure what the threat could be. Ahn could have had the witch killed.

“He would have been a fool,” Hyuna mumbled.

“When wasn’t he?” I asked rhetorically.

The others all shared my sentiment. Bridd was the last person to blame for what happened, and her actions the minute she realized what was happening showed how much she cared. Cadoc helped those who were on the fence come back on our side. The way he described waking up and seeing the little witch girl who fumbled and fought by his side, broken and bleeding, was enough to make the toughest cry. When he said the second her eyes opened all she could think about was getting to Foxglove as quickly as possible any whispers of her being ill-intentioned were dashed away. Only a select few still felt weary of her, Ji-Hyun being one of them, but they were at least attempting to be decent for the pack’s sake.

We were at the village’s edge now and I parted ways with Hyuna. She gave me a brief goodbye before leaving me to shift. I was more private than the others, especially Hoseok and Hyuna, and they were used to giving me the space I desperately craved during the shift. It was my most vulnerable moment and I hated feeling seen.

We had various items of clothing hidden within Bangtan. None of it was meant to fit well or be personable, but it was practical. My mother was in charge of keeping the copiae clothed and taken care of a job that she took very seriously, and it was one of the only things my father felt proud of. He would often put her down and tell her she needed to do better, be better, and all of the other strange demeaning slogans the older men in town harped on about. I had never been able to see the fault of any of the women, my mother even more so, but she never commented on it and neither did I.

I found a pair of large, baggy pants and shifted. Putting on the cotton garments, I decided to forgo a shirt and made my way to the Temple. Taehyung was waiting for me, and I would not cause him undo stress. He was dealing with so much already and I did not want to add to my cousin’s weight. I think I have done enough of that already.

Walking through the town, I caught sight of Jimin’s mother. She was helping Jungkook’s father cut wood for his roof. The Parks were a strange family. Mi-Jeong was outspoken, loud, and fierce. She did not bow down to men the way the others did, and her stubborn streak was only rivaled by her youngest child. My own family often spoke of her ‘atrocious’ behavior, but I was only ever endeared by Mi-Jeong.

Ji-Hyun had been a quiet kid, favoring his mother more with his sharp features and moss-brown eyes. He followed his brother around for years and Jimin never complained. That lonely quietness followed him into his teenage years, but when he fell in love with a human girl that forced a fierce, possessiveness to form. He fought for her, both verbally and physically, and that changed him. His attitude was horrible, always defensive and quick to judge, but he had a love and devotion for his family unlike anything I have ever seen. Somehow, even more than his older brother.

Jimin, for all his faults, was someone who had always fascinated me. From the time he was born he had the village at his feet. His father had been a strong, powerful man who was every bit the wolf our people expected. His choice of bride was bizarre, but everyone was sure if anyone could handle Mi-Jeong it was Ji-Won. Jimin, like his father, bore all the hallmarks of a Park. Charming, witty, and courageous. What set him apart, however, was the sweetness he kept hidden away from the others. I saw it. I had always seen it.

The first time was when I watched him chase after butterflies in his backyard. He was no older than four, but at that age boys were expected to show signs of maturity. In public, Jimin was the picture-perfect child. However, as I watched him blow bubbles, giggling a sound so sweet it made my teeth hurt, before taking off after a monarch, I knew whatever he was doing was an act.

I frowned. His sweetness was showing once more, now very publicly, and I was not sure how he was handling it. He was not allowing anyone to speak with him, shunned his closest friends, and was hiding away waiting for the other piece of his heart to return. Such a strange sight, Park Jimin weak and in pain.

Mi-Jeong caught my eyes just then and I could see it in her as well. She was so sad, so worried. I hoped her family would come together but doubted that would happen. At least, not until Bridd came back. If she came back. I shuddered to think about the fate of the Park family if she did not return home.

I did not stop to speak to anyone like I normally did. My mind was too scattered and, frankly, I was done with conversation. Having a constant cycle of thoughts and voices in your head would do that. Luckily, no one seemed bothered by my silence. We were all living in uncertainty since losing one of our strongest fighters.

“Anything new, dog?”

I grit my teeth. I knew that voice. It was grating in its smoothness. Taking a deep breath, I turned to look across the way.

Of course, he would be here.

Seokjin had become my own personal hell over the last few days. The man could hold a grudge and had still not forgiven me for lunging at his friend. Now he was standing there, a stern look on his face, his eyes filled with disdain. Beside him was a face I did not see as frequently. Yoongi looked worse than ever. He was thin and frail, much frailer than he had been before he was blinded, and his hair messy. His eyes were even bluer today than they were when I had last seen him. His pupil was nearly gone.

“Unfortunately, not,” I deadpanned, trying to get out of this as quickly as possible. “There’s still a few out searching, but I was called away.”

“Hmft,” Seokjin crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes darkening even further. “Figures.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded, not liking the tone in his voice.

I did not like much about him.

“You don’t care if you find her or not,” He replied, his voice dripping with anger. “None of you do.”

I was exasperated, “You know that is not true-”

“It’s that bitch’s fault she’s gone,” Seokjin shouted over me.

“Stop yelling,” I was attempting to keep myself calm. We were causing a scene. My father was going to be furious. “I’m aware of what Sol has done. Neither one of us are happy about it, but I’m not God. I can’t turn back time just like I can’t bring her back. What’s done is done.”

“Yet you still follow her orders like some lap dog.”

“I follow Taehyung,” I corrected. “By extension, that means I follow his wife. We are at war, Seokjin. I’m sorry about Bridd, truly I am, and I hope she is alive and well, but my life does not revolve around her. I have a village to protect, a village she is not in, and I will not leave it to burn to go on some wild goose chase.”

Seokjin’s face was red now, his eyes moist from unshed tears. I could not help but pity the fool. Bridd was a close friend of his and she abandoned them. It was a harsh word to use, but that was the only one that truly captured the anguish the witches felt. I could not say how the others were doing. They made their disgust for our governing bodies known the night she went missing. Sol banned them from returning to the Temple after the woman who was always hanging off of Seokjin’s arm shouted at her. None of us had seen their little group leave the Park house since.

“You’re going to let her die,” He finally spoke, the accusation a punch in the gut.

Yes, I would let the witch girl die if it meant saving my own. She was nothing to me. We were hardly friends, and while I respected her, that did not mean I would choose her over my sister. Being here was far more important to me than that woman’s life. If the stakes were not so high then I would gladly hunt her down, but that was not the life we were living. I had to trust that she knew what she was doing and be okay with it.

“Jin,” Yoongi stepped in. I had forgotten he was there. “Let it be. Namjoon has done what he can. Let’s go back to Mi-Jeong’s.”

I was glad he seemed to be more reasonable than Seokjin. Stealing another look at him, I was pleased to see his hair was growing. That meant he was eating well enough. It was a shame no one knew how to help his condition. I could not imagine losing my vision within a blink of an eye. Then I remembered that he did not just lose it. Yoongi had been in agony, his head felt like it had been slammed through the thick cement of the castle walls, and his fear sent him into panic attacks. Samanya told me she had only ever seen it happen once. The spell should have killed him, and he was lucky to have survived with only his eyesight lost. I doubted he felt that way.

“But-”

“Drop it,” The raven-haired man stopped Seokjin before he could get another word in. Without looking, he addressed me. “I apologize for his callousness. We are all worried. I hope you understand.”

This was the most I had ever heard him speak, even counting the time all of us had been at Bridd’s cottage in the Spring. “It’s not an issue. I hope you are better.”

It was unnerving to talk to someone who did not look at my face. Yoongi stared out towards the south end of the village, his eyes untrained and unresponsive, and he showed no signs that he was having a discussion with anyone. Even his voice remained monotone and unwavering. Gruff and smokey while the intention was flat.

“I am fine,” He replied, “We are here because my mother was interested in how far you believe she could be. I will let her know that she must have shifted, and her scent was lost.”

“Thank you,” I replied, impressed he was able to keep Seokjin quiet for this long. “She was inside of a houseboat for a few hours before leaving. Any ideas?”

“Thelma,” Seokjin grunted. “Must have slept and then taken off. Was anything missing?”

I shrugged, “I couldn’t say. I’m sorry.”

Seokjin shook his head angrily.

“No need to apologize,” Yoongi raised a hand and dropped it immediately. I had no idea what he was trying to do but decided it did not matter. “We’ll leave you alone now.”

Seokjin seemed to open his mouth to argue but decided against it. I smirked triumphantly. I should keep the blind witch around more often. He had the perfect effect on the annoying one. Scowling, Seokjin wrapped an arm around Yoongi and turned back toward the direction of the residential district.

Taehyung was pacing when I finally found him in the Temple library. Books were scattered about the tables, a few pages torn out stacked messily on the edge of the large oak table he had been sitting at. His blonde hair was shaggy now, the back of it just past the nape of his neck while the rest hung just below his ears. My little cousin kept thick wavy bangs that fell over his eyebrows which were now so long they had to be held from his eyes back with a headband.

I was worried for him. He was frightened and slowly losing his composure. He was able to hold it together long enough to make it through meetings with the elders. He refused to show them any weakness. He did not want to prove Ahn right. However, anyone could see how much the pressure was starting to affect the young boy. Jimin was trying to keep him sane through this, but he was dealing with his own problems.

I had taken it upon myself to pick up where he slacked. I owed it to the both of them after my part in their exile. Taehyung was better at forgiveness than Jimin, but the both of them had given me grace I did not deserve. I was lucky. Other men might have taken my head after the show of disrespect. Jimin very well might have if he was not so concerned with upsetting his mate.

I needed to stop thinking of them. Taehyung had called me for a reason, and I had to be there for my cousin. His pacing did not slow or stop when I came in, so I was sure he was not about to talk war with me. He seemed to calm down when we talked about strategy.

“Sorry for taking so long, Tae,” I kept my voice low and calm.

He paused his pacing to look over at me. His eyes were red-rimmed and wet, his cheeks swollen and flushed, and his lower lip could not hide its tremble no matter how much effort he put into it. Taehyung’s emotional vulnerability had always confounded me. He was so sweet and kind, gentle and warm, and had never made any real efforts to change himself. He laughed at his clumsiness, skipped when he was happy, and played with his younger siblings like the giant child he was.

Likewise, he was never afraid to cry. When Jimin’s father died neither he nor Ji-Hyun shed a single tear when around others. I knew better than to foolishly think the boys did not sob into their mother’s shoulders during the night, especially Jimin, but the town was thrilled by their show of “bravery.” Taehyung did not know how to put on that mask as perfectly as Jimin had.

Taehyung’s father did not die as honorably as Jimin’s had, no final acts of courage protecting his wife from a stray pack of wolves. Just sickness. Ahn called him a weak man for allowing something as insignificant as an infected wound kill him. No one really thought the same way he had but made no effort to disagree with him. Not to his face, anyway. My own mother had said Ahn was cruel for putting down an already grieving family, and she was one of his loyalists.

“I hadn’t noticed it had been that long,” He mumbled before going back to pacing.

He had never looked more like his father. Dong-Min was respectable, wise and honest, but never a man others flocked to. He had been an artist from Viridi Gramine, and while his paintings and scrolls were the most beautiful in Nantgarth, he was not seen as someone important. When he met Hana, he had found his muse, and she adored his soft-spoken demeanor. She came from an abusive home, and her father had beaten her black and blue the night she ran to Dong-Min. The two ran away from Withertusk hand in hand, his sister’s house the only place he knew he could go, and their troubles ended soon after arriving in Foxglove.

“You’re upset,” I broached the subject bluntly. Taehyung preferred it that way. “What’s the matter?”

“Have I done something wrong?” He asked me, his voice cracking. He must have started crying again. “I want your honesty, Namjoon. Please. Tell me if I have done anything horrible to her.”

“To who?”

I went to comfort the boy. His shoulders moved with his cries, but he was surprisingly quiet. It had never crossed my mind that he was desperately trying to cover up his pain from the others, his discomfort so noticeable I had assumed he had forgotten the act. I was always getting things wrong with Taehyung. The only thing he could do was shake his head, close his eyes, and let a fresh wave of tears overtake him.

I embraced him then, his crying making me uncomfortable. The last time he shed tears on my shoulder had been his father’s funeral. It was after Ahn had told him tears would not bring his father back. He tripped running out of the building, unable to breathe in the presence of the chief, and scraped his knee. Blood flowing down his leg, pants ripped, and black clothes covered in dust, Taehyung begged me to hold him when I found him. My father came to check on us sometime later, and in a rare act of kindness, took the younger boy to our house to clean up.

“You could never wrong her,” I was not a good comforter, but I hoped words of encouragement would help. “Whatever happened between you two to have you like this is only a wrinkle in time. Sol is angry with herself. She loves you and knows how dearly you love her.”

Tae sniffled; his cries muffled against my shoulder.

“Not Sol,” He cried. “Y/N.”

That seemed worse to me. I could easily give him meaningless fluff about his mate. Their love was a given. He had been very angry with her about speaking to Jimin behind his back, but I knew they would work through it in time. Trust had been broken but their bond would conquer that. His friendship with the witch was a different story. I had never seen it with my own eyes, but I knew it was strong. He looked at her like the older sister he never had, his thoughts said as much, but I did not feel equipped enough to help him through his grief.

“You did nothing to her, Tae,” I reasoned. I could do logic. “She made a choice to leave and held no ill will toward you. She even left you a note with your necklace. Doesn’t that say enough?”

The red gem was pressed against my skin. Bridd had been so sweet to Taehyung and smiled after everything he said. The gift was a kind gesture he had not truly earned after such a botched introduction. Still, she had given it to him just as she gave me that journal. Ironic that she had given it to me to write about adventures and it had instead become my poetry book. He had refused to take the necklace off since reading the letter.

“I told Sol,” He whimpered. “I told her after she asked me to keep quiet. It’s all my fault-”

“I’m tired of the blame game,” I sighed, gently pushing Taehyung. Now an arm’s length away, I took a hold of my cousin's shoulders. “Everyone has been doing nothing but feeling sorry for themselves. Y/N chose to leave this place to find help. No one is forcing her to do that.

“You and I both know how capable she is, right? Stop acting like she’s dead, Tae. The girl knows what she’s doing, and if she doesn’t, I’m sure she’s smart enough to figure something out. Stop allowing guilt and fear to distract you from what’s important. She left to find some ancient being to help us survive this fight with the elves.”

“What if she…” His voice trailed off, unable to put death in the universe.

“Then we make sure it’s not in vain,” I let go of him. “We plan, strategize, and prepare to fight tooth and nail against those things. For Bridd.”

I did not really want to swear on her name this way, but I knew it would be something Taehyung latched onto. She was not really my friend, but I could live with fighting in her honor. I respected her enough. It worked and Taehyung’s eyes held more heat than they ever had.

“For Bridd,” He said it like a prayer.

Internally, I prayed she would come back soon. I was not sure if this fire would last, and I was afraid of what might happen if it was left to grow out of control. As long as I knew Taehyung, he was obsessive. When he was a boy, he painted like his father. When he got a little older, he sculpted like our grandmother. Early teen years Taehyung was dead set on learning how to garden. That soon shifted into learning about all of the plants in Bangtan. Now, I worry it will become this war. Taehyung was not ready for what was coming, but I had to believe in him.

“You should go and see your mom,” I told him earnestly. “I’m sure Jong and Jin miss you.”

I did not add my worries over him being locked away in the Temple since he got back.

He nodded, “I will. Let one of the maids know I’ve left. I don’t want Sol to worry if I’m gone.”

“You’re not telling her you’re leaving?”

He frowned, “We aren’t on speaking terms at the moment.”

Oh, Bridd why did you have to leave? Why did Sol have to run her mouth? I could not bear to see Taehyung look so defeated. The flames that I sparked in him did not ease my worries. He was still lost at sea, and I fear I had done more harm than good. I should have let him cry and whine. That was easier than trying to navigate if I had said or done the right thing or not.

The rest of the day flew by. After my conversation with Taehyung, he left to see his siblings and I stayed behind to get some work done. Despite our war plans we still had obligations to our cousins on the east coast. After writing for a few hours, warnings and heeds against traveling included, I went back to our maps. The library was filled with them, and I hoped a fresh start would help us get a breakthrough.

All talks of war had gotten loud and angry quickly with my father and Jimin at odds more often than not. I loved my dad, but I couldn't help but doubt his methods. He wanted to march to Northorn and meet our enemy there. Jimin saw this as idiotic. The elves would have an easier time fighting our kind on an unknown field. No one knew the forest like our pack did and we could use that to our advantage. If we were lucky, the elves might find a way to disturb the other creatures that lived here. Even luckier if it happened to be the fae.

Unfortunately, I was not as well versed as either one of them. I knew how to fight and was very good at it, but my skills in a tactical situation were severely lacking. Whenever Jungkook joined the conversation the two of us were on the same side of the debate. We did not want to die but would do so if asked. He, like myself, favored Jimin’s plans. Staying in Bangtan was the most logical step for now.

The rest of the witches from Syrena arrived late in the afternoon. They were loud and angry women, their rage burning bright enough to scare the most well-trained fighter. I felt sorry for them. They lost their leader during the attack and were now relying on the swamp woman to guide them. Thinking of them made me think of Yoongi again.

He had seemed to be adjusting well enough, but fighting would be pointless. He could not see a target. He was dead weight. I frowned. Such a pity. He was a great fighter and I had been impressed with him during the attack. The only way they were able to stop him was that spell and it only took him out temporarily. I had a feeling he would be back on the battlefield even if he was told to stay away. His death would be a respectable one.

Seokjin was another one that surprised me. As much as I disliked the witch, I could not deny the man knew how to fight. He took down elf after elf, defended his girlfriend, and saved his father’s life. I trusted him enough to know he would defend my pack with the same veracity and hoped we could place our differences aside to train together. It would be helpful to all of us if we could find a way to fight as a cohesive unit. I would speak with Jimin about it later.

I smelled her before I heard her. Her feet were normally bare and freezing cold, but I doubted she cared. Rose stuck to her honey-sweetness, and I had to hold back a gag. Sol always tried so hard to cover up her natural scent, but I knew it was not her fault for being so self conscious about it. Ahn had destroyed most of her individuality, made her second guess herself constantly, and called her ugly on numerous occasions. Jimin and I heard it all through the years, Hoseok as well but to a lesser extent, and we tried our best to keep her company.

Jungkook was the most vital member of her circle, but he was hardly around anymore. He was trying to give the couple space, and Sol had been happy with that until a Bridd left. Now Jungkook stayed away to avoid getting caught in the middle of their tug of war. I could not blame the boy. He was too young to be of any real emotional support, and he wanted to stay in Jimin’s good graces hoping the older man would allow him to join the copiae now that Ahn was not around to stop him.

She knew I was in here. She was coming to find me. Her little feet pitter pattered against the marble floors. The west wing was the most luxurious part of the Temple and the place Sol and Taehyung slept. The library here was huge, painted in white and gold, with thousands of books. Spiral staircases led to the second floor where more bookcases were lined up. That was considered the “ancient section” where one could find scrolls and books from our time in Korika. That was Sol’s favorite place in the entire Temple.

She stood in front of me, her hands clasped in front of her little body, and her toes wiggling. Her hair was not covered, something that made me feel deeply uncomfortable, and cascaded down her back. It was beautiful, thick and black with natural waves. Averting my gaze, I stared at her toes. They were small and cute.

“Luna,” I greeted. “Your hair.”

She sighed as if expecting me to say something. She was almost annoyed. I could not figure out why. Modesty had always meant something to Ahn and Sol, and her hair was called “impoper.” Ahn made it seem like it was inherently sexual simply for being beautiful. Not many of the other women in Foxglove would wear a head covering, but I always respected Sol’s choice. She was upset right now and not thinking straight, and I worried she would regret walking around me so exposed.

“Does it matter?” She murmured. “We all know I am no longer virtuous.”

I frowned, “Your virtue is not tied with your virginity, Sol.”

I was more aware of my bare chest than normal. It was improper for the two of us to be alone like this. Family or not, it was wrong. Taehyung would be hurt if he caught us in such a compromising position. I stood and put some distance between us, taking extra care not to look at Sol.

“What’s bothering you?” I asked. “Aside from the obvious.”

Walking over the library entrance, I leaned against the doorframe and stared out into the hall. At least I could say I was far away from the luna. I could hear her sit down in the chair I had left, and I waited.

“You must think I’m pathetic,” Sol spoke softly.

“Why would I think that?” I countered.

She laughed humorlessly, “We know you’re more in tune with my thoughts than most, Joon. You were there before Taehyung. You were always there. You and I were practically betrothed for a while. At least, that’s what my father said.”

I hated when she called Ahn father. He was nothing to her. Everyone knew Cho Haneul and Bong Ha-Yun were her parents. They suddenly disappeared from the village when Sol was less than six months old, leaving her behind and in Ahn’s care. Whispers spread about what had happened to them, but I always believed what my mother said. Ahn banished the couple from the village and took their child. No one had seen or heard from them in 18 years, so it was hard to say, but I did not trust Ahn. Not at all.

“I was never fair to you,” She continued. “I was mean and rude. Cold. I wanted Jimin so badly, probably because he did not want me, and I treated you like a problem. Maybe it was my own way of rebelling. Either way, I’m sorry.

“I think you understand me more than anyone else. You were always there with me. You never complained. It’s one of the things I always appreciated about you, your ability to stay calm. Taehyung is similar, though not as stoic. I love that about him.”

I did not have to see her to know her eyebrows were pulled down, her teeth nibbling her lower lip, and her leg shaking. Sol was very obvious in her discomfort. Her voice gave her away.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, not unkindly.

“You knew me before Taehyung did. I know you did not really like me very much, but I trust your opinion more than the others. I know I don’t deserve your kindness, but I’m asking for it anyway.”

Her voice was tired and worn, and I was not sure what to do about it. Not for the first time I found myself bored of the Luna. I reminded myself of her age, her youth, and her innocence, but it did not change how I felt. She made a mistake, overstepped boundaries and lied while doing so, and caused a mess of things. The fact that I knew her only made it worse, because I knew she did not consider a single person outside of herself. I doubt she thought anyone would be angry with her. In fact, she was probably hoping for praise and attention.

“Am I a bad person?” She asked, her voice weak and frail.

“No,” She was not a bad person for what happened, “But I won’t lie to make you feel better. You should not be trusted by anybody after the stunt you pulled.”

I heard her sniffle, “It’s not my fault he said the things he said. He chose to be cruel and mean to Y/N. She decided to leave! How is anything my fault?”

I rolled my eyes. Typical. Not even her gentle cries stopped my genuine annoyance with her from shining through. I had not been there for the argument between Jimin and Bridd, nor his conversation with Sol, but his thoughts had been enough to get me up to speed. She had done nothing but stir the pot between them, well intentioned or not, and made all of this far more dramatic than it needed to be.

“It’s your fault your relationship is suffering. It’s your fault that the pack is angry with you. You did that. No one else. Actions have consequences, Sol. You and I both know that,” Sparing her a brief look over my shoulder, I refused to let her tears soften my resolve. “If you were hoping I was going to lie to save your feelings, you were mistaken. Go to one of your maids and cry to them. They’re trained to dry your eyes, but I’m not.”

She did not speak and so I decided to leave. I had been here most of the day now and needed to find somewhere to sleep for the night. The Temple was the last place I wanted to spend time in right now, but my options were limited. Maybe if I could find Sam, she would not mind making space for me in her bed.

I fought back a smile. She was an amazing woman, her beauty striking and confidence refreshing. We had found ourselves alone a handful of times since her people came to our aid and our flirtatious relationship was amusing. I had come to know that quietus was not monogamous and rarely took on a full-time lover. She only knew of her king and queen, but they had another woman who joined them after the Century War. Sam and I shared a laugh about how scandalous that would be in the village, not just a threesome but same-sex relations, but I had not truly entertained her advances. She was not someone I imagined myself with.

I did not want to go to my family home either. Being around my parents for too long would drive me insane. I was always putting on a front with my father and my mother refused to stand up to him. Most of my childhood was spent getting beaten while my mother watched, relieved that her own punishment was over. By the time Mini came along those days were in the past. When my dad stopped drinking our relationship got better, a little less violent, but I never got rid of the resentment I held. Sometimes I truly believed I hated both of them.

I had been sleeping at Hoseok’s the last few nights, but he had asked for some privacy, and I got too caught up with work to ask someone else if they had any space for me. It was a far cry from the lavish room I had within the Temple, but I could not stand being there most of the time. I would have joined Jimin and the rest of the copiae, but my job was important enough to give me pause. If I stepped down as head council that would mean that my father or Bo would be placed in charge of public relations. I would eat my own shoes before letting that happen. Taehyung would go insane if those two were the only ones left in charge.

I thought about other friends I could visit. The Parks would open their door for me, but they were housing such a large group I felt awful going there. Yoongi and swamp witch’s families were still there. Jin’s little group was with Taehyung’s family, and the Syrena witches were spread out between a few wolf families and the humans. They were originally planning on staying at the Temple, but Sol made a mess of that. I sighed. Everything went south so quickly.

“You look lost.”

I stopped walking. I did not realize I had walked into the copiae grounds. Jimin was sitting on his porch, a large glass in his hand and a dark look in his eye. I could smell the alcohol on him from across the street. Going to him, I tried not to think about my dad.

“You’re drunk,” I took the glass from him and sniffed. Mead. If I had to guess, from Jungkook’s house. “This isn’t going to make you feel better.”

He shrugged, “I know. Just wanted a distraction.”

For the third time today, I was being asked to support someone. Even if Jimin had not asked for help directly, I knew I was going to drag his ass inside and make him go to sleep. At least I knew I could stay here afterwards. In the morning, I would make sure he ate and then try to convince him to come to the Temple and look over documents. He was the battle guy.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I stated bluntly. “I’ve already had to deal with two crybabies today and my emotional battery is drained. So, you’re just going to do me a favor and then we can talk in the morning.”

He scoffed, leaning back against his house. A faint sheen of sweat covered his body, and his hair was tangled. Jimin never looked so unkempt before. Showing no signs of moving, I rubbed my face roughly.

“Fine,” I sighed. “Look, how about I cut you a deal?”

He did not reply, but I decided to keep going anyway.

“I need somewhere to sleep. I can’t stand being around Taehyung and Sol right now. And you-” I gestured at his body, face tight, “-look like shit. Obviously, you’re upset but the pack needs you to pull it together so we can get through this.”

He was like a statue. “I’m going to stay the night, and tomorrow we’ll talk about feelings or whatever. Then, you and I are going to come up with a plan to get you back in the game. How does that sound?”

Jimin rolled his eyes, laughing humorlessly, “What’s the point?” His face crumbled and again I felt lost at sea. I could not deal with him crying. Thankfully, he gathered his composure. “What’s the point of anything? Without her… it just doesn’t matter.”

I sighed and sat down beside him. The wood was cold and rough, but it was easy to put that out of my mind. I had to think about this as two friends talking. Jimin had never asked me for anything, and when Taehyung was chosen, he had been the first person to tell me I needed to stand my ground against Ahn. I had been foolish at the time and ignored his advice. Now he needed me to stand my ground against himself, and I had no other option.

We could not go on like this. Jimin was not in the right state of mind right now, and I knew the only way to get him out of it was Bridd. My brain was already devising a plan, one that I had thought foolish and improbable this morning, and I wanted to laugh. There was no way we would be able to do it, but maybe bringing it up would make him feel better? Maybe knowing that someone would help him find her if we got the chance would motivate him to get work done. Feeling guilty, I decided to go for the jugular and deal with the consequences later.

“I know you're hurting right now,” I tried to soften my tone, but could not hear if it had worked or not. "I can't imagine how you feel. I know when you and Taehyung were gone how the guilt ate me alive. It must be worse for you."

"You don't have to say anything," He tried to interject, but I brushed off the comment like he had not said anything.

"I think I do. No one else is, apparently. We're in deep shit right now Park," I put my hand on his shoulder. "We need you, man."

He shook his head, "I wouldn't be much help right now, Joon."

"I don't believe that," I replied. "In fact, anything you do would be more helpful than whatever the hell you got going on. Your girl is on my side, by the way. She'd be on your ass if she found out how much you've been slacking."

That made him laugh quietly.

"That's fair," He was smiling, dazed and flushed from the alcohol. "She's such a little firecracker, isn't she?"

I nodded, "She tried to set me on fire once."

We shared a laugh at the memory. Truth is she terrified me. If she wanted to kill me that day she could have. If she did not have to worry about the sun, there was a real chance I left her house with more than a few scratches and bruises. Jimin beat my ass when she got hurt, but I had the added benefit of a lifetime worth of memories stopping him from taking my head off. I did not have that with Bridd.

"What if I wagered you something?" I asked.

That got his attention, “What?”

"If we get through this next wave of violence on top, I'll help you find her out there."

He looked at me, eyes more alert than they had been in days.

"Truly?"

The guilt made my stomach twist painfully. I did not truly believe we would ever get to that point. Elves were everywhere, the fight in Northorn growing in their favor as the days went by, and we were nowhere near ready. We had lost so many in this fight not to mention talks of traitors.

The alliance with the quietus was shaky at best without the proper bonds being formed. I was the only person in a position of power even attempting to reach out. Then there was the witch problem, and the only person I could see mending that fence was Jimin. It could be weeks, maybe even months, before we could go after Bridd. Still, I had to use her as leverage. We needed strong leadership right now and the witch was the best source of motivation one could come by.

“I’ll go with you,” I doubled down. “We can have a small party. I’ve made friends with a quietus who knows her way around so finding her could be fairly simple.”

“You’d do that for me?” I could tell he was genuinely surprised.

I nodded, “If we're in the position to do it, why not?"

I could see him thinking about it. The faraway look in his eyes was gone giving way to a refreshed, almost serene look. He was going to go for it. Hope blossomed in my chest. If I had Jimin on my side, Taehyung would be a piece of cake. He desperately wanted to make amends with the older alpha. Seeing the two of them back in action would bring Hoseok back into the fold as well.

Already our odds were turning. Soon the elementals and witches would be joining in on our meetings, the elder council getting pushed out for a new crowd of leaders, and the war would finally seem less daunting. I might even be able to convince a new wave of warriors to join the copiae once the village saw Jimin's new resolve.

"Stay here as long as you need" Jimin finally said, and I was cheering internally. "You can take the couch."

I stood up, ready to go to bed, and pushed his head playfully. He chuckled, swatting my hand away. We used to mess around like this all the time as kids. Jimin always ended up winning our wrestling matches. He was too slippery.

"Let's go, kid," I stretched my arms above my head. "We have to get up early. Council meeting."

He nodded, asking me to help him stand. He must have drunk more than I thought. It takes a lot for alcohol to affect us this much.

"Hopefully Taehyung will get rid of the two dinosaurs in the Temple," He slurred, walking inside grumbling about his bed feeling too big.

A/N: So Joon pov??? How do we like? He's not the only pov switch we're going to have, but we will be seeing a lot of our favorite (to hate) alpha joining our main squad. I thought he would be a good outside mind to get inside of since he's not as emotionally connected to Bridd as the others. Any guesses as to who our other switches might be?

p.s. These pov chapters will be a bit shorter than our normal, reader pov ones, but not by much.

Taglist: @greezenini@adventures-in-bookland@kthstrawberryshortcake-main@zae007live@jimin-neverout@nikkiordonez12@canarystwin@yamekomz @chimthicc@michiiedreamer@amorieus@mima795@yunki-yunki-yunki

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legitalicat · 1 month

Text

Out of Time

Chapter 7 - "Letters of Life and Love"

AN: Sorry for the long wait, lots of stuff going on in the personal. Also I may update the picture now that we have a new hairstyle for Jace lolol

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series masterlist here!

Summary: Tales of the past can help shape the future.

TW: blatant talks of past self harm, canon typical incest, Jace being tooth rotteningly sweet, talks of basically everyone being in love with everyone

Relationships: Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader, talks of just about every other ship imaginable in this story

Word Count: 3.8k

Aemond did not take it any further as we flew on Vhaela. He told me it was so that I could focus on flying, since it had been so long. Whether that was the truth, I wasn’t sure but I wasn’t entirely convinced. Yet, I didn’t particularly care.

Soaring through the skies on Vhaela’s back was perfect. The chill in the air stung against the skin of my face. The supple leather of the saddle she wore rubbed against my inner thighs. We passed birds who moved out of the way in perfect time with our approach. Today was the day I was meant to take to the skies.

I truly believed that the gods, whether they be the old or the new, made certain moments perfect. There had just been too many moments in my life that were so good there were no other explanations. This flight on Vhaela, the first time I flew on her, the first time I slept with Aemond, and the night I lost my maidenhead to Jace. How could I expect that much good to come from anything but divine intervention?

Aemond accompanied me the rest of the week so that I may fly, though he did choose to fly on Vhagar. We never went far, never past Felwood to the south or Duskendale to the north. Though in my bones I longed for more. I don’t imagine I would ever fly enough to be satisfied. In the sky I was free. Free from obligation and duty, free from the pains of my soul.

Free from the wretchedness that is Mother preparing me for this feast.

It felt as though I should’ve never agreed to it to begin with. I didn’t want every Lord in the seven kingdoms ogling me once again. Especially if word got out that my betrothal to Jace was no longer official. Men would see me as an opportunity to get close to the throne, maybe even have their children sit it one day. The thought disgusted me.

“Daemon, Rhaena, and Baela have returned from Driftmark. Your sisters are very anxious to see you,” Mother told me as she braided my hair. We were in her chambers, the door being propped open once we were dressed to allow a breeze. Today was warmer than usual.

I watched her reflection in the mirror as she moved. Sometimes I wondered if she thought of me as a doll. That is not to say anything against her parenting or the care she has given me, but it does cross my mind. She took every opportunity to dress me and fix my hair until I was perfect. Or as perfect as I could be.

“Step sisters,” I corrected her.

Rhaena and Baela may view my brothers as theirs but they made sure that I understood I was not their sister. Mother and Daemon always assumed part of it was Baela having a crush on Jace and Rhaena’s loyalty to her twin. I tried to offer to her that she could marry him and become Queen one day, begging with her that I would give anything to be their sister. But it was never about Jace.

Rhaena had been too kind and timid to say it to my face but Baela never had any problems with such. It was all about Vhagar and the role I played in Aemond claiming her. They claimed I showed no loyalty. That we were cousins and I should’ve convinced Aemond to allow Rhaena the chance to claim her first. They never listened to me when I told them he would’ve done it whether I was there or not. And they also never took into account I did not know them at that point. Yes, we were cousins, but they grew up far from King’s Landing. I grew up with Aemond at my side. Was he not owed my loyalty more?

“You are all women grown now,” she told me. “Surely you can move past this.”

“Mother I love the way you love your children, Baela and Rhaena included, but you need to realize a lot of us are far more capable than you think,” I said so firmly her hands took pause. “They are not the victims in anything, not more than I or Aemond. Yes, Rhaena did not have a dragon as a child but neither did Aemond until he claim Vhagar, and I waited longer. Yes, Baela and Rhaena lost their mother as children, but the four of us lost both men who could count as our father and I wasn’t even allowed to mourn. Rhaena and Baela started the fight that night on Driftmark because of their entitlement and Aemond lost his eye. The three of us did not get along during our girlhoods but not because of anything that I could help.”

“Darling,” she whispered. Her hands continued their motions, finishing the intricate braid.

“I offered Baela to take my place, did she ever tell you that? I thought if it was about Jace and her then I could deal with not marrying him so I could have sisters. It was never about that, it was about me telling the truth of Aemond losing his eye,” I told her. Tears started stinging my eyes as I spoke about things I swore I would never admit bothered me.

My entire life I always felt I had to be perfect. The perfect princess who would be the perfect queen. This kept me from having many emotional outbursts. The closest I ever got to crying in front of others was when tears forced themselves into existence as they did now. My pain was my own and I did not need others to experience it.

Jace always called it unhealthy. He said one day I would explode with the years of feelings I kept inside. I had always thought he was full of shit until I began to realize that physically harming myself made the pain in my chest ease. When I made a fist so tightly that my fingernails became so deeply embedded in my palms I started to draw blood, I was concerned at first. Until I realized I felt better. I referred to it as my pressure relief.

It became a growing concern. Jace caught me taking a knife to my thigh once when he had come to question why I was avoiding him. He was appalled at what I was doing. I tried to explain it was nothing bad, that I was merely caring for myself. He did not see it that way. He held me that night late into the night.

That was the night I gave him my maidenhead. I wasn’t sure you could fix someone by loving them hard enough. But gods, that night he tried. Looking back, it was awkward and clumsy, neither of us really knowing what to do. We were fifteen, nowhere near marriage, and Jace had always said I would be his first, so neither of us had any experience or had been taught anything. Though, I would not change anything about it. Thinking about it made me miss him more than I had the entirety of these last few weeks.

“You always stand up for every other child yet you do not stand up for the ones who need it most. I do not know if it is because you think I am strong enough to handle it, but I need you to come to my defense too. Not allow Jace to punish me in the ways he always does whenever I have displeased him. Not assume I can handle Baela and Rhaena isolating me for doing what was right,” I whispered, blinking rapidly to get the tears to go away. “Does Daemon know how close Alicent and you are?” I asked, trying to change the subject.

Her jaw clenched for a split second. If I were not looking for any sign that I may be right, I would miss it. With that simple little movement, I knew that even if she denied it to me, I was right.

But then she eased and smirked at me. “You assume he is not involved?” she asked.

My eyes widened. That was enough asking questions for now.

“Aemond has asked I do not announce that your betrothal to Jacaerys is on pause,” she told me after a few moments of silence. I must have had a confused look on my face because she chuckled and then continued. “He says if other lords know, they will try something idiotic.”

“Smart man, he is,” I whispered. “But they will know something is going on when Jace ignores me as he has done for weeks now.”

“It was not my intention to ignore you, my sun,” Jace’s voice sounded in my ears. I turned to my left and saw him standing in the open door way. “Did nobody tell you? I got pulled away to Dragonstone and have only just returned an hour ago.”

“I think I would know if you had gone to Dragonstone,” Mother said before I had the chance to respond.

The more I thought, the more I believed that Jace had not been here. I had been at breakfast and dinner before anyone else and he had not been there. Whenever I sent someone to get him, they merely said they could not find him. Mother and I were so used to Jace being rather dramatic when his feelings were hurt, so his avoidance of anything to do with me had not come with questions. I was merely used to it.

He sighed rather loudly, an exasperated type of sigh. It sounded like an old man whose grandchildren were irking him and trying to get him to tell him stories of war. Perhaps he had grown.

“Then it is my fault for entrusting Joffrey to tell you both. He was there when I got the letter. I would have told you myself but the matter was urgent,” he said, walking over to us.

Mother had just finished pinning the braid. She had wrapped it around itself on the back of my head. It was a hairstyle her mother did for her before she had died, in fact doing it the morning of her death. She learned to do it and wore her hair this way the day she was named heir. It felt special

When I stood from my seat to face him, I noticed his jaw drop a bit. He looked me up and down many times over. When Alicent brought this dress to me this morning, I was a bit skeptical. It was a very fancy dress made of black silk and decorated with blood red rubies. It had a matching black silk cape that fastened around my neck, leaving only the area just above my cleavage visible. I wore earrings made of silver and a jewel called green tourmaline, a beautiful green with secondary tones of blue. It was, apparently, the closest one could get to a Velaryon House colored stone. I wore black shoes that bared the top of my feet, giving the style of my bed slippers but more durable. The outfit was modest, not showing enough skin to be considered indecent, but yet the fabric clung to my every curve in a way that felt completely indecent.

“You are so beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I feel a bit like a ham stuffed in a stocking,” I whispered, biting her lip.

“You are not a ham,” he said before offering a smile.

He was in a rather lovely outfit himself. His shirt was made of matching black silk, though it did not cling to him in such a way. It was fitted, giving him shape but hiding the further intricacies of his body. He was wearing fitted pants as well, making me blush a bit at how amazing his body looked in them.

“So what business did you attend in Dragonstone?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“Sheepstealer was causing more trouble than usual,” he told the both of us. “As Prince of Dragonstone, the concerns of that island are mine own.”

Before Mother could say anything, I hugged him tightly. “Next time come get me yourself. If I am to be your Queen I need to be involved with your matters,” I said instinctually.

It occurred to me after I said it that I may not end up as his Queen. The possibility of that had never been present in my mind. It was always our plan in life that we would rule side by side, never one without the other. Any other reality made me ache.

My heart ached and it felt ridiculous. I am stuck choosing between two men that I love with everything in me. If I wanted to be really technical, I have three choices, though I could not name how I feel about Aegon. They love me the same. How silly it felt of me to be saddened by either possibility when no matter what I would love happily.

“I apologize, my sun,” he said quietly, hugging me to him just as tightly. “You are right, of course. I cannot hope to be a good King if I do not consider my Queen’s words on every decision.”

My heart fluttered against my chest. He still considered our marriage an inevitability, not just a possibility. He still thought of us being married and ruling together.

“Allow me to stay with you until it is time for your entrance?” he asked me. I nodded eagerly.

Mother looked between the two of us. Her gaze settled on me, her eyes searching my face. I gave her a subtle nod. She needed to know I had to be with him.

When she left the room, the doors still wide open behind her, I leaned into Jace’s arms. The world felt calm when he held me. The universe knew, somehow, that he was who I needed as my twin. He and I were balanced perfectly.

“You truly thought I was ignoring you?” he asked once I pulled away.

I looked down at the ground for a moment before looking back to him. He was looking at my with sad eyes. It hurt my heart to see him look like that.

“Yes. I thought you were upset enough that you were punishing me,” I told him.

He nodded and took my hand in his. “I’m sorry. Both for making you think that, and for what happened that night. It was not my place to act in such a way.”

“In truth, I think it is more your place than Aemond’s,” I admitted to him. I sighed quietly then looked to him. “You had a point. You are my twin, who I am formally betrothed to.”

He smiled at me. His smile was beautiful in a way that one had to see to understand. If you could imagine the way the prettiest sunrise makes you feel, that is how his smile makes me feel.

“You know, I like that you’ve grown your hair out. It’s quite curly, and you look amazing,” I told him. That simple of a compliment was enough to make him blush.

Jace and I felt so different than Aemond and I felt. With him there were no games. No constant battle for control. Our love for each other was simple and pure, uncaring of who was in control. I longed for the days when he was the only one who held a piece of me. It was so much simpler then.

“You always used to beg for me to grow it out,” he said with a smile on his face.

“And I was not wrong to,” I told him, smirking at him. “You look handsome. Classical. Like the prince from a fairytale.”

He reached his hand out towards me. I took it immediately, our fingers intertwining. He had somewhat of a sad smile on his face even though his eyes were sparkling like they normally did.

“It was never about us, was it?” he asked me. I couldn’t help the confusion that crossed my face at his question. “I mean…you are able to be complete with all of us, yes? Me, Aemond, even Aegon. The different sides of you that we all see, that is what makes you whole, and so it was never about one of us being better than another, but it was all about you feeling completed.”

As he spoke, he squeezed my hand. My throat felt as though it was beginning to close. All I could do was nod. I had no argument, no further explanation for him.

When Jace pulled me to sit on his lap, I could feel tears begin to prick at my eyes. The way he was so adamant about holding me close scared me. It almost felt like he was about to tell me he was done, that he didn’t want me anymore.

“I wish I could be the only one you need,” he said softly, placing his hand on my cheek. “I could never make you unhappy, issa dāria, and I thought giving you the time to find which you wanted would be the way to make you happy. But I realized something.”

“If this is your way of explaining to me you do not wish to marry me anymore, please just say it outright. This feels more cruel,” I whispered, letting out a shaky breath.

He shook his head softly. “Not at all. I could never love anyone else. I merely want to say that I have realized you have told me what would make you happy since we were children, and I was too selfish to ever consider it.”

My brain tried to understand what he was saying, to really grasp his meaning. But I could feel my heart banging against my chest as though it could already sense his next words. There was no way he was actually about to say it, was there?

“If marrying both Aemond and I is what will make you happy, I will no longer fight against it. I do not know how everything will work, I do not know how Aegon will fit into it, but I know that I love you and you love me. In the end, that is all that matters to me,” he told me, wiping away a tear that I had not been aware escaped my eye.

My entire life I had been begging for this. My entire life I knew that I was always meant to be with them, that my fate intertwined with theirs. I had convinced myself it was selfish and impossible.

I looked everywhere along his face, trying to find any uncertainty or reluctance. Yet, no matter how desperately I searched, there was none. He spoke the truth and his mind was made up.

“I imagine you already have thoughts as to how you wish it to work,” I whispered. He smiled at me and leaned forward to give me a gentle, albeit brief, kiss.

“Ideally we wait for certain things. You and I marry and give ourselves a couple of years so that we can have a child without question. I will not try to stop you from being with either of them in that time, I merely hope you will respect me enough to take precautions. Then after a couple of years, you and Aemond marry in the Valyrian tradition. Everything else I figure we will take it as it comes,” he said softly, running his thumb over my cheek again and again.

“And you truly love me enough for this?” I asked him. If there was any part of him that had any doubts, I could not ask him to do this.

“When I was in Dragonstone, I found letters. Many more than I ever thought had been shared, and in truth I should not have read any of them. But they were letters that Mother had received from Daemon, from our Aunt Laena, from our fathers, even from Alicent. All of these letters were discussing life and love in ways I had never thought of such,” he told me.

I placed my hand on the one of his that rested on my cheek. Simultaneously, I was pulling him further into me while holding him. He did not need to say anything else about them.

While I had not seen any from Alicent, I did once find nearly a box stuffed with letters. It was hard to piece together everything without Mother’s words, but I had an idea. Letters from Daemon and Laena talking about longing for Mother’s company, how they should have always been raising us and Rhaena and Baela together from the start. Letters from Ser Harwin, which I am almost certain he would hide for her to find instead of them being sent with a raven, describing her beauty and how she glowed when she was pregnant, thanking her for giving him such blessings. Ser Laenor’s were always phrased as though he was talking to his dearest friend, describing to her the beauty of the sea on the few trips out he went on after their marriage.

I could not honestly say I understood all the implications of them when I first read them. If I were being honest, they confused me more than told me anything. But when I thought back on them, I felt similarly to Jace. They teach more about love than most are willing to openly admit. That love does not always mean you find one person and that was it, after that person you were doomed to be alone.

“And your plans for you?” I asked him. I needed to know. If for no other reason, than if I felt too strongly about him talking about being with someone else, I couldn’t take him up on this. It had to be fair.

“I told you, I will never love anyone else,” he told me with a firmness that I had never heard from him. It was very Kingly of him. “I was not with anyone while you were away, but not because I never tried. After a couple of years, I tried. I tried to find love, I tried to find someone that could make the pain of losing you manageable. But after every person I met, I came to my chambers alone, still praying to every god imaginable you would be returned. I never even got so much as a kiss because any person I spoke with just made me ache more for you.”

“My darling, I never thought it could be so difficult for you,” I whispered. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy.”

He kissed me softly. It truly was the best way to shut me up. And this kiss felt so good. It was like it was the beginning of everything.

#dividers by benkeibear #jacaerys velaryon x reader #aegon targaryen ii #out of time #aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #daemyra #rhaenyra targaryen

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allmoshnobrain · 22 days

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫: 𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 06 of 06 | masterpost

word count: 9,8k | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: NSFW!!!, dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, pregnancy, breastfeeding, mxf sex, threesome mentioned/implied, poly relationship mentioned/discussed, oral sex, pregnancy sex, small pov change at the end, an actual happy ending ♡

✧ Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine / Cashmere, cologne, and white sunshine / Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine / The kids were young and pretty

Where have you been? / Where did you go? / Those summer nights seem long ago / So is the girl you used to call / The queen of New York City ✧

August 17th, 1992

I blinked open my eyes, letting out a sleepy yawn as sunlight crept through the curtains, brightening up the room. A small grin tugged at my lips when I realized Dave was still fast asleep beside me, snoring softly with his arms wrapped around me, his bare skin pressed against mine. With a groan, I stretched out, feeling how sore my muscles were.

Honestly, even though I’d caught some shut-eye, I was totally wiped out from last night. James and Dave hadn’t given me a break for a second, making it their mission to push me to one mind-blowing climax after another in a wild competition for my attention and pleasure that had lasted all night long. But I wasn’t complaining; in fact, it probably had been one of the best nights I've ever had up to that point.

I glanced over to the other side of the bed, sighing when I saw James wasn't there; reaching out, I noticed the mattress was still warm, so he probably had left not too long before. I carefully slipped out of Dave's arms, got up, and headed to the bathroom. After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my hair as I checked out my skin in the mirror. It was covered in bites and little bruises that were starting to show. I sighed; I'd definitely need to slap on some makeup to cover those up before we hopped on our flight back home.

I threw on one of Dave's t-shirts, my shorts, and my shoes before snagging my pack of cigarettes and lighter. I slipped out of the room quietly and made my way up to the hotel's terrace. The place was nice, offering a panoramic view of the city with a few tables and chairs scattered around. Surprisingly, even though it wasn’t that early, it was still empty, which was a relief. Leaning against the railing, I lit up a cigarette, taking slow drags with a sigh.

"Figured I'd find you here," a familiar voice chimed in. I glanced up, meeting James' eyes as he strolled over. Turning to him, I rested a hand on his chest as he wrapped his arm around my waist. Letting out a sigh, I melted into his kiss, his tongue gently exploring my mouth while his hand cradled my face.

"You bailed on me," I murmured against his lips, and he grunted, kissing me once more. I chuckled softly. "Jamie..."

"I couldn't sleep," he confessed, pulling back slightly, his thumb stroking my lower lip gently.

"Come back to the room with me," I whispered, and he raised an eyebrow, a slight smile playing on his lips. "We don't have to split just yet. We've got until tonight. I'm sure Dave won't mind picking up where we left off yesterday."

"Now that he's sober? Doubt it," he murmured, then brushed his fingers gently across my face. I closed my eyes with a sigh, resting my hand over his. "Babe... You realize this thing between the three of us won't last beyond these walls, right?"

I blinked open my eyes, my reaction to his words written all over my face — a messy mix of feeling betrayed and totally lost. I shook my head no, and he responded with a smile, though it was a sad and resigned one that tugged at my heartstrings. He sighed as I reached out, cupping his cheek, drawing nearer.

"We can give it a shot," I murmured, my voice pleading. He clasped my hand in his, pressing a light kiss to my palm before letting go.

"And how exactly would that work?" he inquired, his tone gentle. "We're both public figures, Nore. You're making waves in your career now. What happens if the industry catches wind of you being with two guys at once? If just by you dating Dave, your face ends up plastered across magazine covers?"

"I don't give a shit about that," I shot back, and he scoffed.

"Well, I do. Not sure if you remember, but I made a promise. Promised Cliff I'd look out for you," he said, gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze. "Even if that means letting Mustaine win this round."

"So you’re walking away from me?" I questioned, my voice cracking, a scary emptiness gripping my heart. As messy as things were between James and me, he'd never thrown in the towel before. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, especially coming right after the high of last night — after finally admitting to myself that I didn't want to choose, that I loved both Dave and James, that I wanted them both, not one or the other.

He nuzzled into my neck, his hand sliding down to my hip beneath the t-shirt. Such a simple move, yet so familiar. A familiar vulnerability that reminded me of the boy he used to be.

If Cliff were still around, would things have gotten so strained between us? Would James' anger and my own self-destructive tendencies have wormed their way into our relationship like poison, tearing us apart until we barely resembled the young lovers we once were? I'd pondered that question countless times. Guess I’d never know the answer.

"I couldn't leave you. You know that," he murmured. "But I can't handle this, Nore. I can't share you. Especially when I know it could mess things up for you. Especially when I know it could fuck up your thing with Mustaine. I know you couldn't handle losing him again. You think I don't see how much you love him? How much he loves you?"

"But I love you too," I pleaded. "And you love me."

"I do. And that's why I'm doing this," he said, holding my face in his hands and brushing away the tears I hadn't even realized were streaming down my cheeks. "You're gonna be happy, Nore. As time goes by and the hurt fades, you'll find happiness with him. I know you will, 'cause you already did."

"I don't want to lose you."

"You're not losing me. I'll still be around," he whispered, pulling me into a tight hug. "I'll always be by your side. Always. I just can't stand to see you hurting anymore because of me. You've been through too much."

"It's not fair," I sobbed. "I want you to be happy too."

"I will. But I gotta get my act together first, so I can stop screwing things up for the people I care about," he said with a sad smile. I gripped onto his arm with one hand, wiping my tears away with the other. I didn't want this. It wasn't fair. But James' eyes held a determination I'd never seen before, and I knew I couldn't talk him out of it. James reached up to touch my face, running his thumb along my lower lip. "I gotta do this. You get it, right?" he asked, his voice shaky. I hesitated, but nodded before trying to force a smile — one last smile for the man I loved.

"Want to give me one last kiss?" I asked, and he laughed quietly. "You know, for good luck."

He leaned in, pulling me close, his lips brushing against mine slowly, savoring every moment. I tangled my fingers in his hair, closing my eyes and pressing myself against him, trying in every way to convey everything I felt; how much I loved him, how long I'd loved him, and how a part of my heart would always belong to him. How I wouldn't be who I was without him. He ended the kiss with two gentle pecks, then planted two small kisses on my cheek and forehead before hugging me tightly.

When I opened my eyes, he was gone.

When I got back to the room, Dave was there, fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet and a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Hey, babe," he greeted me with a smile, but it faded when he saw the look on my face. "What's up? Something happened?"

I nodded, heading over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. Dave hugged me back right away, holding me close as he ran his fingers through my hair.

"Hey," he murmured, lifting my chin so I'd meet his gaze. "What's going on? Did I fuck anything up?"

"No, no," I reassured him, pulling him into another hug and nuzzling into his neck. He let out a soft, worried sigh, holding me close.

"Tell me what's going on, honey. I'm freaking out here," he urged, his voice filled with concern.

"I'm being selfish," I murmured, my voice shaking. "I'm being selfish because after yesterday... I thought... I thought that you, me, and James could figure it out. I've been torn up for so long about having to pick one of you, and… And yesterday it hit me, I don't really want to choose. But James... He's not on board. He said it wouldn't be good for my career if people found out. That I'd be better off without him." I pulled back, meeting his eyes, pleading. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you with this, Dave..."

"You're not hurting me," he said, cupping my face in his hands. "Do you really think I don't know you love him, Nore? After all these years together? I was the one who walked away, and he's the one who’s been there for you this whole time. As much as I hate it, I get it. I'm not mad at you. It's okay."

He helped me sit on the bed, pulling me close against his chest. I let out a sigh, giving him a light kiss, and he let out a low, contented sound as he held me tight. He smelled nice, all warm and woodsy; just being near him helped me relax.

"I love you," he whispered, leaning in to kiss me gently on the lips, his fingers brushing against my tear-stained cheeks. "But you know it's different for people like us," he said softly, studying my face as he traced it with his fingertips. "Behind the scenes at a gig, a private party... We can get carried away in those moments, do things we wouldn't do anywhere else. But then we go back to the real world. We put on our masks. We're their idols, babe. And those private moments become vulnerabilities that these media vultures would kill to get their hands on, to twist who we are into whatever they want. A wild drunk. A messed-up junkie. I get why James wants to shield you from that, I'd do the same. But if you wanna go back to him..." he furrowed his brow, his brown eyes filled with a restless sadness that tugged at my heart. "There's still time. And I won't hold it against you."

"No way. I'm not ditching you. Don't even go there, Dave," I said, my tone firm and cutting. James had a point about one thing: I couldn't handle losing Dave again, and I wasn't about to take that chance. I looked at him, pleading. "You know I love you. Don't even think about telling me to bail."

Sure, part of me was hurting and torn up, but I wasn't about to do anything that might push him away.

If it came down to choosing, my decision had been made long, long ago.

"Then stay with me," Dave said softly. "Stay with me, and I swear, even if you're still hung up on him, I'll love you just as much."

"I love you. I'm not going anywhere," I replied, locking eyes with him and holding his face in my hands. His breath hitched, relief and longing shining in his eyes as he pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his lips edging closer to mine. "Don’t ever dare to push me away again. You're stuck with me, Mustaine," I whispered, our mouths almost touching, and he grinned.

"You know you're the only one I love... Losing you is the last thing I'd ever want," he said, his hand tangling in my hair and pulling me closer as his lips met mine.

✧ But if you send for me, you know I'll come / And if you call for me, you know I'll run / I'll run to you, I'll run to you / I'll run, run, run / I'll come to you, I'll come to you / I'll come, come, come ✧

October 9, 1992

Ever since I was a kid, the ocean had been a great presence in my life. Growing up in Long Beach and then moving around to San Francisco and Los Angeles meant I was always near the beach. Whether I was feeling great or down, the sea was like a silent companion, there for me through thick and thin. So when Dave suggested we hit up a beachside cottage in San Francisco for the weekend, I was totally stoked.

The past couple of months hadn't exactly been easy. After Leanne's wedding, James and I went back to being cool with each other, but his choice to step back still stung. Trying to keep up a friendship after being together for years was bittersweet, and way tougher than I thought it'd be. But having Dave around made it all a bit smoother. Even when I still felt down sometimes, I knew I'd rather deal with that sadness over and over than go through the heartbreak of losing him again.

Things were looking up for our careers. On my end, I was hashing out the details for a role in my first movie, which was gonna be a whole new ball game compared to everything I'd done before. The series I was headlining was wrapping up filming, and it seemed like smooth sailing all around.

Dave had been riding high with all the concerts he'd been doing since Megadeth had dropped their latest album, Countdown to Extinction. The album had been a hit, which was awesome news for both of us. The following year, the band would hit the road for an international tour, and although we knew it was gonna be tough being apart for that long, we figured we'd make the most of the rest of '92 by squeezing in as much time together as we could, starting with our little weekend getaway.

At Dave's urging, I’d let him take the reins on planning everything. I grinned as he pulled up to the small beach cottage, instantly recognizing it. Even after all these years, some things in San Francisco still remained the same.

"That's the cottage you took me to that time, right before you went on that trip to New Jersey with the guys," I said, grinning at Dave as he pulled the car to a stop. He flashed me a smile in return.

"Yep, that's the spot. Good memory," he leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. "Wanted to whisk you away to a place that's got some history for us both."

And he’d totally hit the mark; the little cottage was quaint yet comfy, a throwback to the best days of my life, a time when we were just two young lovers, exploring what it meant to be together. Back when I was learning what it meant to have a family beyond blood, with all my friends by my side, back when Cliff was still around, all witty remarks and calm smiles. Back before Dave and the guys had their falling out and things had changed forever, for all of us.

Dave tossed me the key, asking me to pop open the doors and windows for some fresh air while he hauled our bags inside. I happily obliged, instantly recognizing the layout of the small house: cozy living room leading to the bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen. The bedroom had an old double bed and a wardrobe, plus a TV that definitely wasn't there last time. And then there was the balcony, right out to the beach, where I could see the sea glimmering in the morning light.

I grinned as Dave strolled in, dumping our bags on the bed before coming over to wrap me in a hug and plant a soft kiss on my lips.

"You like it?" he asked softly. I nodded. "Yeah, it's a bit smaller than I remembered, but I hope it’s still cozy enough."

"It's perfect, Dave," I said, cupping his face in my hands and giving him another kiss. He grinned, looking like he was about to say something, but then hesitated, which caught my attention. "What's up?"

"I was just curious... if you had any cool stuff planned for this weekend," he said, trying to keep a straight face, but I could tell he was about to crack a smile. I grinned back, a bit puzzled.

"I didn't plan anything fancy, babe. You were supposed to take care of all that, remember? But we can chill at the beach and then figure out something fun to do together, sound good?"

"Well, actually..." he started, his grin spreading. "I had something else in mind."

"Oh, really? You know I'm down for whatever," I answered, and he smiled playfully before taking my hands in his, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Even marrying me tomorrow?" he asked, his tone low.

I blinked, totally caught off guard, wondering if I'd heard him right. I leaned back a bit, a shocked grin breaking across my face as my heart started racing. Was he serious? Dave grinned back at my reaction, giving my hands a gentle squeeze, his soft touch grounding me back to reality.

"What do you mean, tomorrow?" I asked, dumbfounded, and he laughed.

"I mean tomorrow," he replied, genuine happiness and excitement in his voice. "Nore, I... I've spent too much of my life away from you already. And it sucked," he chuckled, and I couldn’t help but laugh too, feeling my heart completely out of sync as butterflies fluttered in my stomach. "Next year, when I go on tour... I want to know I’m coming back home to you. Every single day of my life, I want to be sure I'll come back to you."

I gasped in surprise as he knelt down on one knee, still holding my hands before letting them go and pulling out a small box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal a beautiful ring, gold with a large dark blue stone and small diamonds around it.

"This might just go down as the quickest engagement in history," he whispered with a smile. "But seriously, I've never been more certain about anything in my life than wanting to spend it with you. Eleanore Marie Burton... Will you mar-"

"Yes," I blurted out, barely letting him finish, a grin spreading across my face as I brought my fingertips to my lips, giggling like a little girl with tears brimming in my eyes. Dave beamed, his own eyes misting up as he got to his feet. "Yes, I’ll marry you," I confirmed, and he took my hand in his, slowly slipping the ring onto my finger before pulling me in close by the waist, drawing me into a slow, passionate kiss.

"Thank goodness you said yes," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips. "I mean, I've already forked out for the whole thing. Would've been a bit awkward if you'd turned me down."

I couldn't help but laugh, joyous tears streaking down my cheeks as I cupped his face in my hands, his arms enveloping me tightly, our lips finding each other's again, and again, and again.

✧ The power of youth is on my mind / Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time / Will you still love me when I shine / From words but not from beauty?

My father's love was always strong / My mother's glamor lives on and on / Yet still inside, I felt alone / For reasons unknown to me ✧

October 10, 1992

We got married the next day, on a sunny autumn afternoon. The morning was a whirlwind of activity as we scrambled to get everything just right: first, a crew showed up bright and early to set up the beachside ceremony, arranging tables and chairs, decking out the altar with decorations, and pitching tents for the guests to hang out in during the reception. Then came the chefs Dave had enlisted to whip up the feast; our little cottage just couldn't contain the festivities, so it was all hands on deck to get everything outdoors-ready.

Soon after, the guests began trickling in. My family was the first to arrive: Uncle Ray, Aunt Jan, and my parents. Then, to my utter delight, Leanne and Joe made an appearance. I hadn't expected Leanne to come, with her pregnancy moving along, but clearly, I’d underestimated her determination. When I mentioned my surprise, she just chuckled.

"Are you kidding? Wouldn't miss it for the world. Plus, you're gonna need a maid of honor, right?" she teased, and I couldn't help but beam with genuine happiness.

Leanne and my mom pitched in to get me ready; Mom tackled my hair while Leanne took charge of my makeup. The master bedroom turned into a makeshift beauty parlor, and before I knew it, the clock was ticking away as I was treated like royalty: my hair was coiffed and styled before a quick snack break, then Leanne got to work on my makeup before I slipped into the dress Dave had taken me to pick out the day prior.

All of this happened amidst all the hustle and bustle of getting the party ready and Dave getting himself sorted in the tiny bathroom. The cottage turned into a bit of a madhouse, mostly because Leanne and Mom were on strict guard duty, keeping everyone out of the bedroom until I was good to go. But, despite the chaos, the vibe was just pure joy, and nobody seemed to be sweating the small stuff.

Finally, when I was all dolled up, Leanne swooped in and covered my eyes with her hands, while Mom propped up a full-length mirror against the wall. Turns out, she'd had the foresight to pick one up just for the occasion. When I asked her about it, she just gave me an exasperated look.

"Imagine not being able to see yourself in the mirror on your big day. This is a once-in-a-lifetime deal, and I wasn't taking any chances on there not being one around. So, I came prepared," she explained.

Well, this time Mom had definitely hit the mark. The cottage was pretty basic, and a full-length mirror wasn't exactly on the inventory list. When I finally laid eyes on myself, I couldn't help but gasp in amazement. My hair was swept up into a loose bun, with bits of it cascading around my face, adorned with these adorable little yellow flowers nestled into the brown locks.

Leanne's makeup skills were on point, giving my eyes, lips, and cheeks just the right pop. And the dress was like it was made for me, light as a feather, sleeveless and elegant, hugging my curves in all the right places, even making me feel a bit taller. Grinning ear to ear, I took the bouquet from Leanne — a gorgeous mix of white roses and sunflowers, just like the ones Dave had handed me that first time we caught up after reuniting.

I was stunning. But it wasn't just about the looks: this overwhelming sense of pure joy seemed to radiate from every inch of me, lighting up my eyes and my smile. And for the first time in forever, there wasn't a shred of worry weighing me down.

"You know, when your fiancé called, I'll admit, I thought you two might've been rushing into things. But now... seeing you like this... You really love him, don’t you?" Mom asked, giving one last gentle tug on the dress zipper. All I could manage was a silent nod.

In that moment, one thing was crystal clear, and it was my love for Dave.

"Okay, it's showtime," my dad barged in out of nowhere, freezing in his tracks as he caught sight of me. His eyes welled up with a mix of shock and pride, his jaw practically hitting the floor. I couldn't help but grin, the excitement sending shivers down my spine, my heart pounding, and tears threatening to spill from my eyes. "Ellie, you... You look stunning," he said, grasping my arms and beaming at me before turning to my mom. "Clémence, sweetheart, you and Leanne better get a move on... The ceremony's about to kick off."

"Okay," Mom gave my hair one final tweak before she and Leanne settled my veil in place. Lea squeezed my hand tight.

"We'll be right there, Nore. See you in a bit," she said reassuringly.

I nodded, but inside, my stomach was doing somersaults. All morning, I'd been riding the excitement train, but now, with the ceremony about to kick off, a tidal wave of nerves hit me like a ton of bricks. Dad noticed, gripping my arm a little tighter, offering silent support as he sensed my jitters.

"You got this, Ellie. Dave's just waiting on you," Dad whispered, giving me a reassuring squeeze.

I nodded, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a nervous smile breaking out on my face. And with that, the music started up, and Dad guided me down the aisle to where Dave was waiting at the altar.

As I emerged into the back of the cottage, I couldn't help but be taken aback by the sea of familiar faces gathered for the ceremony. Charlotte and her boyfriend were holding court, joined by a bunch of my college and work buddies, along with Dave's band mates. Lars, Kirk, and Jason flashed me a grin. But my heart dropped a bit when I realized James wasn't among them. I couldn't help but wonder if he'd opted out, if my wedding would just add another layer to the hurt between us.

But all of that was shoved to the backburner the second I locked eyes with Dave. He had this intense, serious expression on his face, which might've been a bit intimidating if I didn't know it just showed how emotional he was. His gaze was glued to mine as I made my way over, and when Dad handed me off to him, Dave let out this deep breath, a huge grin spreading across his face that I couldn't help but mirror.

Our vows were straight from the heart, short and sweet, but bursting with love. I gotta admit, I tried my hardest to keep the waterworks at bay, but a few rogue tears still managed to slip out. And when the officiant asked if I took Dave as my husband, I found my voice all choked up. But I managed to squeak out my acceptance, which just melted Dave's eyes into a puddle of warmth and affection.

When he slid that ring onto my finger, it was like everything clicked into place. Like I'd finally found my spot in the universe. Through all the rough patches, all the time we’d spent apart, I guess deep down, I always knew we'd find our way back to each other. I always knew that I loved him, had loved him all along, right from the start, and that love wasn't going anywhere till my very last breath.

I let out a soft chuckle as Dave leaned in for a kiss, pulling me close, his hand gentle on my cheek, brushing away the tears of joy that had welled up. I sighed contentedly, wrapping my arms around his neck, never wanting to let go.

It was done. And in that moment, it hit me — I'd never have to go through losing him again. Our love had seen us through, brought us back together, helped us learn to forgive, and most importantly, to fall for each other all over again.

I was his, and he was mine.

The party after the ceremony was nothing fancy, but it was a blast. Our wedding wasn't a huge affair, just our nearest and dearest, but honestly, it couldn't have been any better in my book. I was practically beaming with joy as everyone came up to chat with me.

"Nore!" Lars burst out, champagne in hand, with Kirk right by his side, sporting a grin. I couldn't help but smile back, chuckling when they both practically tackled me with hugs. "Congrats, Mrs. Mustaine," Lars said with a twinkle in his eye, and I let out a laugh.

"Mustaine-Burton," I smiled. "I'm going with a double-barrelled name... Didn't want to ditch the Burton part, you know? It's got history with Cliff," I explained, which earned approving smiles from both of them.

"You know, I never really got what's up with you and Mustaine until I saw you two in the same place at the same time," Kirk mused. "It's like you two are in your own little world when you're together. And seeing him all smitten like this is a funny sight. Congrats, babe," he continued, pulling me in for another hug. I let out a soft chuckle in response.

"Can I crash the congrats party?" a familiar voice piped up, and I lit up as I spun around to find James, a hint of a smile on his face.

"James!" I blurted out, pulling him in for a hug, which he met with a soft laugh. "I thought... I thought you were gonna bail on me."

"A dude can't even be fashionably late these days?" he teased, and I laughed. "Of course I was gonna show up. You think you can shake me off that easily, Burton?"

"Mustaine-Burton, actually," I corrected him, and he just rolled his eyes.

"As if I'm gonna go with that," he quipped, caressing my hair softly, which made me giggle. "So, where's your... husband?"

"Last I saw, he was chatting with my folks. Ah, there he is," I grinned as I caught sight of Dave, shooting the breeze with his sister while clutching a flute of champagne. He spotted me, then James by my side, and immediately made a beeline over.

"Hey, honey. Hungry yet? I had 'em whip up that salad you're into," he said, slinging an arm around my waist, pulling me in snug. It was a sweet move, not without a hint of claiming me as his own.

"Oh yeah, I'm starving. I was just chatting a bit," I answered, planting a light kiss on Dave's cheek. He grinned and then turned his gaze to James, who met it without saying a word. I watched their silent exchange, feeling a bit on edge, but my eyebrows shot up in surprise when James reached out his hand to Dave, who shook it.

"Congrats, dude," James said, and Dave shot him a tight yet polite smile.

"Thanks."

"I'm thinking of snagging a brew... Catch you later, Nore," James said, giving me a nod. I returned it as he made his way towards the makeshift bar set up for the guests.

"Hey, James!" Dave called out, stopping him in his tracks. James turned back, eyebrow raised in question. Dave hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "I'll take care of her, man. You have my word."

"I know you will," James replied, offering a faint smile. I watched with interest as the two of them seemed to reach some unspoken understanding. Then James turned and headed off.

The party dragged on till way past bedtime. By the time the guests cleared out and the crew tore down the setup, I was beat. My eyes were practically glued shut with exhaustion as I wiped off my makeup and let down my hair. I couldn't help but laugh when I felt Dave sneak up behind me, wrapping his arms around me and planting a slow kiss on my neck, my body warming up at his touch.

"You happy?" he whispered, and I grinned, turning to meet his gaze, our hands intertwining. I couldn't help but smile at the cool touch of his ring against my skin.

"Over the moon," I murmured, letting out a soft chuckle as he fumbled for my dress’ zipper, planting a kiss on my shoulder and pulling me close. His lips trailed up my skin, and I couldn't help but smile when they met mine. "And you?"

"Absolutely," he murmured back, gently nipping at my lower lip.

I let out a sigh as he lifted my dress' hem, settling me on the vanity while taking off my panties. A quiet laugh escaped my lips as he started undoing his pants. He pressed his forehead against mine, parting my thighs with one hand. I moaned softly as he pushed into me, my fingers tangling in his ginger hair as he moved slowly. I tilted my head back as his lips traced the curve of my neck and collarbone.

"Couldn't even wait to get me in bed?" I managed to gasp out, and he smirked, easing himself inside me with slow, deliberate movements.

"What makes you think I won't fuck you in bed too?" he countered with a low growl, and I couldn't help but laugh, the sound melting into a moan as his lips crashed against mine, his thrusts growing more urgent by the second.

I melted into him, fingers tangling in his hair as my lips trailed down to his neck. He let out a deep groan, his hold on my hips tightening as his breathing grew heavier, his movements getting more frenzied by the second. I couldn't help but moan as he slipped a hand down to my clit, working it with such skill that sent shivers down my spine.

"My beautiful wife," he growled, burying his face in my neck as I clung to him. He grunted as he felt me tighten around him, my climax building rapidly. His movements grew more urgent, and I shuddered as the pleasure became almost overwhelming, my body convulsing with each wave as I moaned his name. He pulled me close, his rhythm faltering as he released inside me, his forehead resting against my shoulder, his breath coming in heavy pants. I giggled as he peppered kisses along my shoulder, then my neck, nibbling lightly on my ear before whispering again, "My beautiful, beautiful wife."

I had never been happier.

And if you call I'll run, run, run / If you change your mind, I'll come, come, come ✧

December 31st, 1992

Two months later, we headed back to San Francisco for Lars' annual New Year's Eve bash. Dave wasn't exactly jumping for joy at the thought of ringing in the new year with his old band mates, but I promised him he didn't have to mingle with them if he didn't feel like it. I mean, Lars' parties were notorious for being massive. Dave was trying his best to wrap his head around the fact that having me in his life also meant having some sort of contact with Lars, Kirk, and James. Surprisingly, he was handling it better than I thought he would.

I let out a sigh, a little smile playing on my lips as we pulled up to Lars' vacation home. Last time I’d set foot there, getting back with Dave wasn't even on my radar. If someone had told me then that a year later we'd be married, I'd have probably burst out laughing. It was like in the past year, all my wildest dreams had decided to come true.

I grinned as we stepped into our guest room and spotted Lars' handiwork of choosing the perfect outfits for his guests; this time, a stunning blood-red gown for me, paired with a slick black suit and shirt in the same shade for Dave. Dave let out a low whistle at the sight of our getups, slinging an arm around my waist.

"You’ll look absolutely gorgeous in that dress, babe," he said with a smile, leaning in to brush his lips against my ear. "Can't wait to take it off you later."

I laughed, giving him a playful shove, and he planted a kiss on my lips before stepping back.

The party was off the hook, as usual. Even Dave seemed blown away by the spread of food, drinks, and all the big shots milling around, though he tried to play it cool, which just made me smile. We worked the room together, hand in hand, stopping here and there to shoot the breeze with some familiar faces.

At one point, we split up when Dave went to grab us some drinks. That's when I felt a hand on my shoulder, and when I turned around, a smile spread across my face at the sight of James. He was rocking an all-black outfit, his blond hair flowing and his face looking healthier than I had seen in years.

"Thought you were gonna bail this year. You know, since your husband's not our biggest fan," James said, a slight grin playing on his lips. I rolled my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous, James. I wouldn't miss hanging out with you guys for anything," I retorted before pulling him into a hug. He let out a satisfied sigh, keeping me close for maybe a bit longer than strictly necessary, his hand resting at the small of my back as he buried his face in my hair.

"You look stunning," he whispered in my ear, and I swear I could feel my cheeks flushing. "Missed you, Nore," he grinned, those blue eyes twinkling with a certain mischief that sent my heart into a flutter.

Guess I wasn't entirely immune to James' charms after all.

Later, after the party wrapped up, Dave and I ended up back in our room, his hands all over me, his body pressing me against the wall, his tongue tangling with mine as I let out soft moans, my fingers entwined in his soft ginger hair. He suddenly pulled away when we heard a knock on the door. I blinked, curious. Dave groaned, irritated, rolling his eyes, and I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath.

"I'll get it," I offered, and he grunted, stepping aside to let me reach the door. Swinging it open, I was taken aback to find James standing there. His eyes swept over me, a faint smile playing on his lips as he noticed my flushed cheeks and mussed-up hair.

"Bad timing?" he quipped, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks once more.

"James, what's up? Need something?" I inquired, and he let out a low laugh, that same hint of mischief as before flashing in his eyes.

"You know why I'm here, sweetheart. Mind if I come in?" he murmured, his voice dropping. My skin warmed when Dave's arms wrapped around me, pulling me close as he planted a kiss on my neck.

"What do you think, babe?" Dave murmured, his proximity sending my pulse into overdrive. James observed, desire flickering in his blue eyes as he let out a soft sigh. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I realized what was about to happen. "Should we let him in?"

I glanced at James, who flashed a playful grin before closing the gap between us, lifting my chin with his fingers before pressing his lips to mine.

Believe it or not, that was the kick-off to some of the happiest times of my life. James, Dave, and I kept our meetings going for a few months, and I gotta say, it was pretty amazing to experience loving both of them at the same time.

But James had a point in the end; keeping our thing under wraps, away from the public, got tougher and more draining by the day. And even though he didn't outright say it, I could tell Dave wasn't thrilled about sharing me. Plus, James and Dave still had a lot of resentment between them; not even the possibility of both of them having me eased the wounds they still needed to heal. So, as time went on, our three-way nights became rarer until they just fizzled out completely.

Surprisingly, that didn't wreck my bond with James, thanks to something totally unexpected: him falling for someone else. Strangely enough, it didn't bug me as much as I thought it would. I had a long history of feeling jealous of James' girlfriends back in the day. But now, it was like our connection had matured into something peaceful. I was genuinely glad to see him finding happiness, just like he was glad to see how happy my marriage made me.

So, believe it or not, I found myself happy. I had a husband who adored me, a successful career, and friends who were like family. Sure, Cliff's loss was like a shadow that never quite left, but I wasn't going through my mourning alone. Some days hit harder than others, but ain't that just life? We all coped in our own ways, not always the healthiest, but bit by bit, I learned to live again.

Bit by bit, I allowed myself to be happy again.

✧ Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine / Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine / Red racing cars, Sunset and Vine / And we were young and pretty ✧

November 14, 1993

It happened not long after my first wedding anniversary.

The past year had been smooth sailing for both me and Dave. Hardly anything threw a wrench in the works; I kept climbing up the ladder in acting, and Dave was killing it in his music gig. His band was hitting new highs, even if that meant he was on the road more and we were apart a bunch. But, in the end, it just made every second we had together even sweeter.

Somewhere in the last few months, I’d ditched the birth control pills. Not 'cause Dave and I were mapping out parenthood or anything, but just because we figured we'd want kids somewhere down the line. Seemed like a good time to let nature take its course — if it happened, cool. If it didn’t, that was okay too.

I just wasn’t ready for it to happen that fast — but the two lines that appeared on the pregnancy test didn't lie.

I was pregnant.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest move to take that test while Dave was still laying down tracks at the studio. Because now, a full-on panic started to set in as I stared at that little plastic stick. I only grabbed it because I'd been feeling like garbage — tired as hell and sick to my stomach round the clock. Plus, I couldn't even remember the last time I'd had a period. But even with all those hints, the result still caught me off guard.

I rested a hand on my belly, staring at my own nervous reflection in the mirror. I had no clue how I was gonna break the news to Dave. And with the band gearing up for another album, I couldn't predict how he'd take it either. Albums meant tours, and I was freaking out, thinking I might mess up Dave's whole career and plans.

Chill out, I told myself. He's been wanting this as much as you have.

And it was true. Actually, it was Dave who'd thrown out the idea of me ditching the birth control pills. I tried to keep that in mind, shutting my eyes and taking a deep breath. It kinda eased some of my nerves. I absentmindedly noticed my face was all flushed.

"Nore?" I jumped when I heard Dave's voice. I hadn't even noticed he'd gotten back home, but then again, I was holed up in the bathroom upstairs. I heard a couple of taps on the door. "You in there?"

"Yeah, I'm here!" I called out, shoving the test back into its box and tucking it away in the cabinet under the sink before swinging the door open. Dave grinned at me, his ginger hair pulled back into a ponytail, and reached out for a hug. I chuckled softly, some of the tension melting away as I wrapped my arms around him, nuzzling into his chest. "Hey there, baby. Welcome home."

"You feeling any better?" He ran a gentle hand through my hair.

Now it was clear why I'd felt so sick — another day where I just couldn't drag myself to work because of the nausea. Dave would've stayed put if I hadn't practically pushed him out the door to the studio. Didn't want to throw a wrench in the works of the band's new album. The idea of being a hassle to him brought tears to my eyes, which kinda ticked me off. Guess my hormones were already all over the place.

Which meant one thing: I had to tell him.

"Dave..." I started, my voice shaky, meeting his gaze. He brushed his fingers over my face gently, a flicker of worry in his eyes.

"What is it?" he whispered. I tried to speak, to put into words what I needed to say, but I found myself speechless. Instead, I reached for his hand and pressed it against my stomach under my shirt. He looked at me, puzzled for a second, before realization slowly dawned in his eyes.

"Wait, seriously? Is this... Is this what I think it is?" he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. I nodded, a grin spreading across my face.

"Yeah, it is. We're... We're gonna have a baby," I confirmed, finally managing to say it. "I'm pregnant... You're gonna be a dad."

"Holy shit, are you serious?" he beamed, cupping my face in his hands and planting a bunch of little kisses on my lips, making me giggle. "I can't believe this!"

"It's true, Dave. Just took the test."

"Oh man, we gotta tell everyone!" he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. "And we gotta start prepping the baby's room... You think it's gonna be a boy or a girl?"

I smiled, feeling my heart light up at Dave's enthusiasm. I'd been worrying for nothing, I realized. He'd never see this pregnancy as a setback. That guy had shown me his love time and time again, way more than I could ever measure, way more than I ever thought I deserved.

I knew he was gonna be an amazing dad.

July 27, 1994

Elise Rose Mustaine-Burton came into the world in the early hours of a summer morning.

When I finally got to hold her, sweat and tears mixed as my whole body ached, it was as if my world had shifted for a moment; holding her, I just knew – life would never be the same again.

I fell for her right away, a fierce, raw, and unconditional love that just flooded through me. It wasn't like I had to make room for her in my heart; it was more like her arrival had stretched it wide open, carving out a piece of my soul that was hers and hers alone, forever.

I could tell Dave felt it too. When he held her, a grin lit up his face, tears welling in his eyes as he cradled her against his chest. She was so small, and so unmistakably ours — her little tufts of hair already matching Dave's, her eyes a deep blue that could only have come from me.

First time breastfeeding hit me harder than I thought. I sat there, cradling her close as she suckled vigorously, trying to push through the pain. But the hormonal roller coaster I’d just gone through suddenly overwhelmed me. I blinked, tears welling up, and Dave slid in beside me on the bed, planting a gentle kiss on my cheek.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

"Yeah, just stings a bit," I answered, my voice shaking. He gave me a gentle squeeze, careful not to jostle me too much.

"Want me to buzz the nurse?"

"Nah, I'll tough it out," I said, sniffling, and he wiped away the tears from my cheek. I let out a sigh of relief when Elise finally finished feeding, and Dave scooped her up while I got myself together, handing her back to me soon after.

"You're crying," he noted, and I looked up to meet his worried hazel eyes. "You sure you don't want me to call the nurse, babe?"

"I'm good," I said, wiping my face with one hand while holding Elise close with the other. "Just blame it on the hormones. Can you believe she's finally here?" I asked softly, my voice still shaky, and Dave grinned. "She looks just like you."

"She's got my hair, but that cute face is all yours," he remarked, gently holding her hand. Elise latched onto one of Dave's fingers right away, and I couldn't help but marvel at how tiny she was — five small fingers so delicate they almost looked like they belonged to a doll.

"How can you tell? Babies all look so similar at this age," I wondered, and Dave chuckled. I glanced up at him, tears welling in my eyes again as I smiled. "She's just perfect, Dave."

"She sure is. Just like her mom," he replied, and I let out a quiet laugh before resting my head on his shoulder. Feeling Elise's warmth against me was something entirely new, yet utterly wonderful, calming me down completely. Dave traced a finger lightly over her cheek, and she stirred in her sleep.

"My sweet Lizzie," he murmured, and the nickname sounded so perfect on his lips that I knew he'd hardly call her anything else from then on. He grinned, his eyes brimming with pure love as they met mine, and he planted a gentle kiss on my temple. "Can you believe we made her?" he whispered against my skin. "I didn't think it was possible to love you more than I already did, but you keep proving me wrong. How do you do it?"

“It’s easy,” I smiled. “You do the same for me.”

Dave smiled softly, giving me a light kiss before drawing me in closer. I let myself sink into his embrace, with our baby snug against me, and let out a contented sigh.

"I think I'm about to fall asleep," I mumbled, feeling my eyelids drooping.

"Course you are. You need some shut-eye," Dave chuckled, his smile practically audible, before gently transferring Lizzie to her crib. I grumbled softly, already missing the feel of her in my arms, but knowing it was best to wait until I was more awake to hold her. Dave settled back beside me on the bed, wrapping me in his arms, resting my head on his shoulder, and I let out a contented sigh, soaking in the warmth of his skin against mine. “I love you, Nore.”

"I love you too," I mumbled back, already drifting off, smiling as his lips brushed my forehead, and letting out a quiet laugh.

"What's on your mind?" Dave asked, grinning, and I shook my head.

"Just feeling damn lucky," I murmured, blinking open my eyes with a yawn. Dave cupped my face in his hand, stroking my cheek gently, a gesture so familiar, so him . I grinned, giving his jaw a light kiss, and he sighed. “I'm so lucky to be loved by you.”

It was actually kinda funny, you know, how lucky I was. The world might see Dave as this guy with a short fuse, sharp tongue, and a chip on his shoulder from all the crap life threw at him, but I didn’t. My Dave was not like that.

My Dave was sweet, affectionate, and thoughtful. He loved me, and he made damn sure I felt it, every single day of our lives.

And me? The longer I spent with him, the more I was sure that some things between us were simply meant to be.

We were always meant to fall in love. We were always meant to find one another. We were always meant to be together, for me to save him, for him to save me, every day, again, and again, and again.

We were always meant to love each other.

And I loved him.

God, how I loved him.

September 29, 1999

It was early morning when I finally rolled back home, tour fatigue dragging me down like a ton of bricks. No matter how many times I'd done this, coming back after weeks on the road always hit me like a truck. It was like all the exhaustion caught up to me at once, weighing me down.

The only thing stronger was the longing to see her.

Stepping inside, her voice coming from the kitchen welcomed me right away. I grinned, feeling like a kid again, head over heels in love with her. It was like my heart couldn’t quite wrap its head around how lucky I was to have her as my wife. Every time I laid eyes on her, it was like seeing her for the first time all over again — pure excitement and enchantment that I'd never felt with anyone else.

"What’s next?" she chirped as I strolled into the kitchen, her voice all sing-songy, setting off giggles from Lizzie, our little girl. I grinned at the sight; Nore was at the table, ingredients scattered about, while Lizzie sat on a stool, peeking over the table, her ginger hair tied up in pigtails, her blue eyes sparkling as she beamed at Nore.

"An egg!" Lizzie answered, so hyped up it cracked me up, catching both of their gazes. They both lit up with identical smiles when they spotted me, one a bit smaller and with a few less teeth than the other. "Daddy!" Lizzie squealed, beaming as I walked over, and I chuckled when she slapped her tiny hands on my chest, bouncing in her chair until I scooped her up, settling her on my lap. "We're making pancakes! Mommy said you get super hungry when you come home from work."

"No kidding?" I grinned, pulling her in close to my chest. She seemed taller and heavier since the last time I’d held her, but still the same gorgeous girl, a perfect mix of me and the woman I loved more than anything. "Well, she got that right. I am super, super hungry!" I nuzzled my face into her tummy, and she erupted into giggles, grabbing onto my hair as she cracked up, tossing her head back. Nore joined in, her laughter contagious, plastering an immediate smile on my face.

I plopped Lizzie back on her stool and turned to my wife, who flashed me a sweet grin as I cradled her face in my hands. I was itching to kiss her, to wrap her up tight in my arms and feel her melt against me, to trace every inch of her skin with my lips and my touch because no matter how close we got — it never felt close enough.

But Lizzie was watching us, so I settled for a quick peck on her lips. The more intense kisses would have to wait until night, when I’d take her clothes off and shower her with love, turning her into the most delightful mess of moans under my touch. She grinned into our kiss, her smile sweeter than ever (though honestly, every smile of hers just kept getting sweeter to me), and I couldn't resist kissing her one more time.

"Good to have you home," she said, and my heart swelled with warmth.

Later, after Lizzie had crashed out and we'd retreated to our bedroom, I finally got to pull Nore close, my lips trailing along her neck while she giggled softly, her arms snug around my shoulders as she perched on my lap.

"So, it's just you and me now?" she asked, all sweet-like, and I grunted, my hand drifting down to the little bump already poking out from her belly with our second kid on the way.

"Just you and me," I confirmed. With the tour wrapped up, I'd be sticking around until the new baby was born and the tough early months were behind us. Balancing the rockstar life with being a present dad and husband wasn't always easy, but I gave it my all. And man, was I lucky to have an understanding wife, who was also a wonderful mom, and one hell of a strong woman. No idea what I’d done to score such luck.

That night, every kiss I planted on her skin was filled with nothing but worship. I soaked up every second I got to touch her, her hushed moans echoing in the room as my tongue delved into the wetness between her legs, then her heavy breathing brushing against my cheek as she rode me slowly. Her chest pressed against mine, her arms locked around my neck, my hands guiding her hips in a steady rhythm as we moved together. Slow, tender kisses mixed with the sweetest moans I could ever wish to hear.

And then, after we finished, she cuddled up next to me, her bare skin cozy against mine as she lazily traced patterns on my chest with her fingertips. That had always been my favorite part — having her right there with me, knowing she was mine, that she wasn’t going anywhere, that her love was like a safe haven I could always come home to.

"I love you," she whispered, and I grinned, locking eyes with her. Eyes so blue I drowned, being pulled right into her soul.

"And I love you," I replied, my voice low and raspy. She laughed softly as I planted a gentle kiss on her lips. How damn lucky was I to always have her to come back to, no matter what, no matter where. To know that I'd always find her, over and over again, no matter the distance or the obstacles.

To know that if I had a hundred lifetimes, I'd choose to love her in every single one of them.

And by some miracle of fate, she was mine.

Mother of my children.

Light of my days.

Love of my life.

✧ the story's over, but if you'd like to be tagged on any eventual extra chapters, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope @ilovepapahet @decemberm0on

✦ a/n: And that's a wrap ❤

If you've been following along with this story, I just want to thank you with all my heart! It's been quite a journey for me, taking over a year to finish this fic. I've grown a ton as a writer, and I've had a blast interacting with all of you along the way. Honestly, when I first started posting, I never expected anyone to read it, so getting feedback from you all has been an awesome surprise. Your presence here has really kept me going, so thanks a million for that! 💖

So, we've reached the end of Nore's adventure, and it's been a happy one (just like I promised)! I might come back with a few extra chapters set in this universe down the road, but for now, I'm shifting gears to some other projects. If you want to stay in the loop, I'm always sharing updates about my fics right here on my blog!

If you've got any comments, feedback or reviews about the story, I'd love to read them. Thanks again for diving into Heartbreaker and enjoying the ride with me.

Catch you later! ❤

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pixydustworld · 1 year

Text

The war began on a Thursday, but if you asked Hermione Granger, the war had begun their first year. Eleven years old, knobby knees shaking as they faced Voldemort in the school dungeons.

A lifetime of fighting.

Everything after that blurred together, the gore of it all. Broken limbs and bleeding bodies — the screams of the dying, the weariness of the realization that the war was their new reality. That nothing would ever change. That the life they had before, was lost forever.

Child soldiers, fighting a war that wasn’t even their own, not really. Even Harry was part of a big picture, his role decided for him long before he was born. Defending a world that didn’t want her; the fighting was monotonous.

And then one morning, Hermione found Draco Malfoy’s broken body just beyond their property line, and that, in itself, was something new.

Something different.

She stood over him for a long time, watching as his chest struggled to breathe shallow breaths. In her mind, he hadn’t changed. She remembered him untouched by the war, a boy sneering in the school hallways.

That wasn’t the man who stared back at her.

He was frozen under her stare. Maybe he was shocked to see how she looked, too. Remembered her differently, didn’t remember her at all. Couldn’t believe that out of everyone, he’d had the terrible luck to be found by her.

Now, he’d never be free of her.

“Why are you here?” Unflinching. It was war, after all. And he was the enemy. She'd seen him on the other side of the battlefield too many times to convince herself of his innocence.

“Luna.” He gritted out. “She told me to come here if I ever changed my mind.” The snow beneath his body was stained with his blood, ruining the pristine surface. Dirtying it.

“Change your mind?”

“This is never going to end.” Malfoy said softly, “Not the with the way your people are fighting. I can help.”

“Help?” She felt like a broken children’s toy, repeating all of his words.

“Yes.” He said flatly. “Are you going to repeat that, too?”

“No.” Hermione snapped. “Why would Luna tell you to come here?”

He shrugged, looking perfect, even as he bled out in the snow. “Family has to stick together.”

Cousins, so similar, yet different. Same upturned nose, same white hair and pale skin, same glittering eyes — same blood, running through their veins. Hermione wondered if Malfoy had her smile, wondered if they both took their tea with 4 sugars.

Wondered if, maybe, they had been friends, once. Eager to see the other during the holidays, hours spent together, giggling over nothing and everything. Wondered, if perhaps, Luna Lovegood had unintentionally turned the tide in the war, granting them safe passage through the storm.

“This won’t be easy for you.” Hermione said, not to be cruel, but just to be honest, “Trust is earned, not given.”

As it turned out, it was easy for him.

Harry partnered with him on missions, their skills together in battle annoyingly good — Ron, who Hermione had once considered an impenetrable fortress of hatred against Malfoy, relented like an eager puppy (desperate for belly pats) and played Wizard Chess with him every evening.

He helped Neville in the garden, he laughed with Ginny while they made potions, he listened intently to Cho’s strategy meetings, asking the questions that were already on the tip of Hermione’s tongue.

Once, Hermione had overheard a conversation in the medical tent that made her head spin. “Malfoy, you’re such a good healer,” Padma had said,“I’m so glad you defected. I’m not sure what we would’ve done without you.”

“I think Granger was taking care of the lot of you, just fine on her own.” Had been his terrifying reply.

“Oh, yes!” Padma had rushed to say, “No, Hermione is brilliant.”

“She is.” Malfoy had said, not sounding afraid to admit it.

She wasn’t sure how to categorize her feelings for him, they were overpowering and heavy; she wanted to hold him close, she wanted to set him on fire. Hermione wanted, desperately wanted, a reason to not trust him — to prove to everyone that he hadn’t changed.

But, because the world was cruel, and Hermione was supremely unlucky, these opportunities never seemed arise.

Instead, Malfoy seemed to only further prove himself as a trusted member of the order, and Hermione was beginning to miserably feel as if she was the only person in the world who saw him for who he had been once, not who he was now.

“Maybe you should give him a break.” Ron said one evening, “He’s changed a lot.”

Ron, Ron was telling her to be nice to Malfoy — to find peace, to let everything go. Ron, who once had fashioned a dartboard with Malfoy’s face as the bullseye. Ron, who on more occasions than Hermione could count, had talked in great length and detail about what hexes he’d like to use on Malfoy, if given the opportunity.

“He hasn’t changed at all.” Hermione had replied.

It sounded like a lie, even to her own forgiving ears.

But the worst part was seeing him with Luna.

It seemed as if everything melted away in her presence, stripped down to the bones; Luna made him human, thawing the ice that had grown for years across his skin. Hermione often found them together, whispering over the fire — making up for wasted time, perhaps. Falling back in to their easy routine from their childhood.

He did have her smile, but he also had her laugh; a loud noise, cracking through the air.

He should laugh more often, Hermione found herself thinking. And then: Or he should never laugh at all.

She hoped his influence on everyone would fade, a temporary effect, but it only seemed to grow, evolving into something more as time passed. A part of them that she had to learn to accept.

In her worst moments, Hermione reminded herself of all the terrifying things she’d already done in her life: fought in a war, flown a dragon, lived in a tent with two teenage boys — facing Malfoy should be easy, in comparison.

Her breaking point came when he was chosen to lead a mission.

“You’re leaving me behind?”

He didn't look up from the map. “You’re too important for a simple raiding mission.”

“You don’t get to decide what I’m too important for.” Didn’t he understand? This was the only thing she was good at, fighting was the only thing she knew how to do anymore. If he took that away, Hermione would have nothing — and then, everyone would see that. See her for what she really was.

A smile, barely there. “I do.” He said, “As the leader. Deciding things is in the job description.”

“Fuck you,” Hermione spit. “You’re just doing this to control me.” He still wouldn’t look at her, which was infuriating. Malfoy was always looking at her, watching her every move — but now, in this moment, when she was so desperate for it, he refused to meet her eyes.

“I don’t think anyone could control you,” Malfoy sighed, looking tired. Perhaps his leadership role was taking time away from his beauty sleep, “Least of all me.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“I understand that you hate me.” Malfoy continued, finally looking at her, “I get that. It’s a miracle that you even stand to breathe the same air as me. I was never good, not like you. But I’m trying.”

“Try harder.” Hermione said.

He rewarded her with a smile, then, wide and all encompassing. “You see everything so clearly, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Hm.” He said, “Perhaps you should take a step back. You are the brightest thing I’ve ever seen, more powerful than any god I can think of, and you’re upset that I’m not bringing you on a pointless mission? Why would I force you to be near me? To trust me? To put your life in my hands?”

“That is not the point — ” She wanted to scream that she wanted to be near him, wanted to be by his side, wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Hermione survived because she understood, and it was terrifying, the way she didn’t understand him.

“That is the point I’m making, actually. You should see yourself the way others do. The way I do.” His eyes were glassy. “Golden. You’re untouchable.”

Hermione didn't feel that way, dirtied by the terribleness of the war, gaping wounds of loneliness littered across her skin; she felt like a poor imitation of herself, like someone had tried to draw her from memory. But here was Draco Malfoy of all people, seeing her clearly.

As if it was easy for him, simple, like breathing.

Maybe, there was truth in his words. She hated the nickname, felt like it was a cruel joke; but perhaps, it was given to her for a reason. See yourself the way others see you, the wind seemed to sigh. See yourself the way he sees you.

“I might not get a happy ending,” he was saying, “No one will build a statue in my honor. And that’s perfectly fine. My reward is here, in this moment. In the light in your eyes. In the realization that you’re brighter than all of us.”

She thought of how he’d changed, whether she liked to admit it or not; how she felt warm whenever he was near. A feeling she often confused with anger, but perhaps, it was something else, something new.

Something different.

And then, everything made sense, all at once.

A horrifying realization, but at least, it seemed, she wasn’t alone in this. Whatever rolling feeling she felt for him, he felt for her, too.

“Do you know why I came here?” Malfoy asked, voice soft, like she was a wounded animal that needed soothing. Maybe she was.

“For Luna.” Hermione said, that sharp edge she’d grown so familiar with lacking from her voice. “You told me when I found you.”

Malfoy grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I thought I had died. I’d been wondering the woods for hours when you found me. Luna, she told me where to find the camp, but not how to get in. I’ve never been lucky.” He said, “It seemed a fitting fate for me, to die an inch away from salvation — but then, you found me. And I thought to myself: How lucky am I, to get a glimpse of happiness, before my suffering begins?”

The strange look on his face, how he’d looked so lost — frozen on the ground. Hermione had found him in the snow and everything had been set in motion.

“But then, you let me in,” he continued, “You hated me, but you let me in.”

Hermione was silent, watching as he ripped apart her memory, rearranging it to his version of events — she’d been prepared for a fight, but nothing could have prepared her for whatever this was.

“Luna told me to come when I was ready, but I didn’t come for her.”

“Who?” Hermione’s voice was stronger than she expected, unwavering. “Say it.”

“I came for you.” He said. “To be near you, that would be enough.”

“You never talked to me — ” Hermione’s head was spinning. The lengths that he’d gone to avoid her, to give her space to snarl at him, to hate him, were incomprehensible. He felt so deeply, yet seemed content to sit in his misery. To live through the pain.

Pain, that Hermione was beginning to recognize, as something familiar. Something she felt, too. Without even noticing it.

“I’m not a fool,” Malfoy said, eyes colder than a moment before, “I know how you feel about me. I wouldn’t subject you to my feelings, knowing you don’t reciprocate them.” He took a deep breath. “Being near you,” he repeated, “is enough.”

“What if it isn’t enough for me?”

The question left her chest without permission, bursting from its cage, hanging in the air between them. In the background, Hermione heard people moving about — heard Ron’s laugh, heard Harry’s voice in the cacophony; but in the tent, time seemed to slow.

Malfoy was very still. Watching her with sharp eyes, flickering across her face, looking for cracks to slip between.

Hadn’t she once been brave? A few minutes ago, even. When she’d stormed into his tent, ready for a fight? Where was that version of herself now?

“Your feelings aren’t completely unreciprocated.” Was the only thing that came out of Hermione’s mouth. She could feel the blush overtaking her face, splotching down her neck, could feel the way his eyes tracked over it.

Malfoy nodded. “I see.” He said quietly. And then, he was touching her. A gentle brush of fingers across her arm, warmth tracing after his touch. So soft, a juxtaposition to his dark uniform, the sharp knife strapped to his leg, wand holster on his arm.

His fingers trailed upwards, until they danced across her throat, pausing at her trembling pulse. “I will take whatever you give me.” He breathed, “I’ll never ask for more. I’ll be grateful for what I’m given, and I’ll know I’m not worthy enough for more.”

It sounded like a speech he’d rehearsed in the mirror — and perhaps it was. A mantra he repeated to himself, over and over. Remnant of his old life; one he’d effortlessly left behind.

For her, she realized. For the chance to be near her, to exist in the same place.

In the end, Hermione’s hand made the choice for her — reaching up to his, fingers sliding easily along his flesh. Feeling his pulse jumping on the inside of his wrist, a pattern she would soon know by heart.

“You can have everything.”

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heavens-moonlight · 28 days

Text

𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 | 𝟬𝟰 : 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗦𝗢𝗡

𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 |

Author’s Note: Here’s a new chapter and the next one will be up in another two weeks! It will only be downhill from here...Personally, the ending of this one is my favorite writing so far ♡

The rest of the hike back to the retreat center is done in silence, no one daring to say a word.

There was no solace found on the journey.

Near death experience.

No way to escape.

Frozen reality.

Where do you all go from here?

Without prompt, Eun-Ha had taken on the responsibility of helping Na-Hee, allowing Hyun-Ho to switch over in support of Dong-Hyun, the latter's arm thrown over the former's shoulder, exhaustion evident in every single heavy step of his.

You can't help but observe how angry your cousin is, more than you've ever seen him before, a deep scowl present on his face. It's typical for him to blame himself when he can't protect someone, and given how you and Dong-Hyun, two of the people he cared for the most nearly lost your lives, you know he's wallowing in self-blame. If the two of you really had passed, you didn't think he'd ever let himself live with that fact.

When your eyes meet, his soften immediately, the dark look on his face passing briefly from the reassurance of the small smile you send his way. You can tell even without his direct confirmation this would become one of the moments that will haunt him forever. Even so, he'll remain strong so as not to worry you and your heart hangs heavy with that knowledge.

Noticing the silent exchange, So-Mi shuffles along in the back while constantly chewing on her nails, glancing between you, Dong-Hyun, and Eun-Ha in succession, more worried for her own life than anyone else's.

When your tears had long dried up, Jun-Hee insisted that he'd carry you on his back the remainder of the way no matter how much you refused. With your arms around his neck, your chin rests on his shoulder and your face is pressed against the side of his.

He's sweating profusely and you pull the sleeve of your blouse down to wipe off the drops that accumulate on his hairline. "Jun-Hee..." you start, a weak whisper.

"Don't," he responds gently. "I know what you're going to say."

"Then put me down, please."

"I won't." He strengthens his hold on your calves, fingers curling and uncurling, itching to touch the scratches, some more severe than others, marring the length of both your legs, the blood yet to dry.

"By the time we make it back, you're going to be in pain."

He turns his head slightly, cheek brushing against yours with an exasperated sigh. "And you think I'm not already in pain when I see you hurt?"

"But I can bear it when I'm hurt alone. I don't want anyone else to suffer because of me. Especially not you."

"Then you, more than anyone, should know how I feel."

Exhaling tiredly, you know there's no point in trying to dissuade him. Relenting, you brush the strands of hair that have fallen into his face out of the way instead, tightening your hold on his shoulders and closing your eyes, succumbing to the deep ache you finally allow yourself to feel.

A few tense minutes later, the group stands in front of the building's glass double doors, everyone stopping to stare.

The trip was pointless and you were all back where you started.

One step forward.

Two steps back.

The moment Jun-Hee pulls at the door, even without opening your eyes, you can tell the hurried footsteps belong to Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won, the two meeting you all by the entrance, having watched and waited the whole time for your return.

You feel a hand on your arm and a gasp follow. "Seol-Hwa..." comes Jung-Won's voice, shocked.

"We saw the notification. What even happened?" Yoon-Seo pats your arm soothingly, backtracking at the look on everyone's faces. "Anyway...it doesn't matter. You don't have to say anything. As long as you're back and safe."

"I'll tell you later," you utter, and Yoon-Seo nods, eyeing your injuries restlessly. Jung-Won's eyebrows are knit in worry, curiosity evident on her face although she doesn't voice it.

The remaining students await in the lobby anxiously and you tap Jun-Hee's shoulders softly to let you down but he doesn't give in. If anything, he only tightens his hold, keeping you close.

Eun-Chan comes running up in surprise. "What happened to Dong-Hyun and Seol-Hwa?" He shifts his gaze between the two of you, eyes widening at the state of Dong-Hyun's ripped clothes streaked with dirt and the bruises littering your skin.

"Say something," Mi-Na presses, voice shaky. "Why do you guys look like this?"

"Dong-Hyun..." So-Mi begins nearly inaudibly, timid. "He thought the line stopped there so he was checking. Then he slipped and Seol-Hwa tried to save him. Both of them..." she pauses, and you bite your lip hard, nearly enough to draw blood, wishing the discussion was anything but this. Her voice alone irritated you. "...Nearly went over the line."

"Funny that you should be the one to recount the story," Eun-Ha states grimly from the back.

"What are you talking about?" Yoon-Seo questions, focusing with rapt attention on Eun-Ha.

"So-Mi here, our role model of a vice president, loves to bend the truth." Eun-Ha's cryptic response has So-Mi fuming, striding over to shove her shoulder back roughly.

"Weren't you the one who told us all to vote for Yool that first night? What about that, huh?!"

"Guys, please calm down—" Yoon-Seo steps in hurriedly to pacify the situation, attempting to pull the two girls apart.

"You love to turn victims into criminals, don't you?" Eun-Ha's eyes blaze with anger, pushing So-Mi's hands away harshly. "As long as it's not you, right?" Eun-Ha crosses her arms and chuckles in So-Mi's face, a sarcastic and dry laugh devoid of humor. "I saw what you did with my own two eyes. Come to think of it, I shouldn't even be surprised. Out of all of us, you would definitely be the one to do it."

"Say it properly so we can understand." Jung-Won walks forward. "Just what the hell happened?"

"She...intentionally led them downhill under the guise of herself having slipped to guarantee that they wouldn't make it out alive." Eun-Ha points between you and Dong-Hyun, the others following with their eyes, the sight matching up.

A few of your classmate's mouths hang open in disbelief while others freeze, trying to process the information as neither you nor Dong-Hyun speak on the matter.

Where you're pressed against his back, Jun-Hee tenses up and you can feel the way his muscles stiffen, jaw clenching and head snapping toward Eun-Ha as he listens, wordlessly seething.

So-Mi rushes over to Dong-Hyun and grabs his hand desperately, the grip unreturned, her hold hanging limply. "Dong-Hyun," she pleads, trying to catch his eye as he avoids it, staring straight at the floor with Hyun-Ho glaring daggers at her. "Tell them that's not what happened."

With bated breath, she awaits his answer but regrets it the moment he speaks up, her face falling. "You didn't catch my hand earlier, so why hold it now?" He looks up at her through narrowed eyes with a look that could kill.

Head shaking, So-Mi drops his hand and falters, taking backward steps toward you as a last resort.

"Seol-Hwa...please." In a crazed manner, she turns to you with an outstretched hand. Before she can so much as graze her fingertips against you, Jun-Hee swivels his body in a way that shields you against her touch.

"Don't you dare lay a hand on her. I won't apologize for my actions if you do." His voice is cold and it makes So-Mi stop immediately, his warning like a slap of cold water across her face.

Not giving up, she turns to the crowd instead. "Are you all really going to believe Eun-Ha, the one who was the first to point fingers at innocent Yool?" She fixes each student with her gaze in turn. "Over me?!"

"What makes you think just being you gives you a pass?!" Eun-Ha slams the backpack she was carrying for Jun-Hee earlier onto the ground, the sound echoing in the still lobby. "Stop acting like you're better than everyone. You would have been a murderer, Kim So-Mi," Eun-Ha spits out with venom, articulating the name like acid that burns her tongue.

"Do you even have any proof, you bitch?!" So-Mi screams.

Calmly, Eun-Ha looks her dead in the eyes. "As if their appearance isn't enough proof," referring to you and Dong-Hyun. "Why are you so defensive then if you're not at fault? The more fervent a denial is, the stronger the confirmation."

"You're cornering me—"

"BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE HELL UP!" Kyung-Jun's voice reverberates in the space and everyone silences. "I don't give a flying fuck what your roles are right now. It's more important whether we can even leave."

He turns to Jun-Hee, regarding you behind his shoulders, eyes flickering over your form, contemplating what Eun-Ha said for a moment before shaking his head. "How far into the village were you able to go? You said you would meet people and call the police. Did you?!" Kyung-Jun's voice gets louder and louder with each sentence.

"We couldn't get anywhere. At least, not a distance that mattered. The entire place is enclosed within the lines and we're trapped here." Jun-Hee's voice is quiet and robotic, clearly hating to be the bearer of bad news.

Kyung-Jun slams his phone to the ground so hard that it ricochets and bounces a short distance away, the screen clattering on the floor.

Yoon-Seo turns in Jun-Hee's direction, looking at him hopelessly. "Then...does it mean we can't leave this place until the game is over?"

Jun-Hee nods remorsefully, the hopes of the rest falling along with his bowed head.

You're walking up and down the floors of the building aimlessly by yourself when you spot Yoon-Seo tucked into an alcove's corner, sitting in the dark of a resting area with her head down.

Approaching soundlessly, she doesn't notice your presence until you speak up. "Yoon-Seo, are you crying?" You lower yourself into a chair adjacent to hers.

She looks up at you with red eyes brimming with unshed teardrops. The ones that have already managed to escape outline tear marks on her cheeks. "If I hadn't suggested that we could try going to the mountain, neither you nor Dong-Hyun would've almost died. Even Jun-Hee is acting differently. All of you came back like you lost your souls out there." She swipes at her eyes frustratedly, choking up with every word that comes out. "What a stupid thing for me to have said. This is all my fault. I made everyone more hopeless than they already were."

Seeing her so sad hurt your heart as her friend. You didn't blame her one bit. No one could've predicted the events. "You didn't make any of us go, Yoon-Seo." Reaching over, you place your hand over the back of hers, warming her cold ones. "We all volunteered. Even then, at least you were able to think of a solution we could try. You can't resent yourself for not knowing that there wouldn't be a real way out, could you?" You give her a genuine smile as she looks over at you. "So, what will you do? We can't leave this place until the game is over. Are you just going to waste your tears here and mourn our regrets?”

"No," she replies resolutely, placing her other hand on top of yours, making a stack in the middle, both your hands tightening with determination. "We must find another way out, no matter what it takes."

"Count me in," Jung-Won adds as she rounds the corner, joining in, the three of you sitting peacefully and comfortably in each other's presence, discussing what to do going forward. "First, why don't we try searching through the staff lounge again?" she suggests.

As the three of you approach the room, you hear muffled yells mixed in with the sound of the table phones going off.

Swinging the door open reveals Jun-Hee hunched over, screaming into the phone's receiver angrily before swiping all present office materials off the desk's surface and onto the floor.

"Yah! Jun-Hee!" Baffled, Yoon-Seo approaches him and picks up the phone he casted aside.

"What are you doing?" Jung-Won quickly flips the light switch on, bathing the room in a soft yellow glow.

"Why aren't you answering the phone?" Yoon-Seo swiftly presses the phone against her ear, listening before trying a greeting that remains unanswered.

"Forget it!" Jun-Hee yanks the phone from Yoon-Seo's grip harshly and once again, tosses it on the floor to land uselessly amongst the other things he threw away in rage.

Jung-Won glances over at you, concerned. You shut the door and walk toward him, taking his forearms in yours and hold them tight so that he'd stop making a mess of the room. "Jun-Hee, it's Yoon-Seo," you remind, shocked that he would lash out at her like that. Yoon-Seo stands still next to you, staring at him like a stranger.

His frustration boils over, and he withdraws his arms out of your grip, grabbing hold of an empty mug with all intent to smash it against the glass cabinets. Yoon-Seo and Jung-Won clench their eyes shut, prepared for the impact, but before he can chuck it, you throw your arms around his waist, hugging him tight, face pressed against his chest. "Stop! Please, Jun-Hee." In a quieter voice only for him to hear, "For me?" He trembles in your hold before immediately lowering the mug, placing it lightly on the table, all tension finally leaving his body. You pull back enough to look up at him, slightly apprehensive about the repercussions still. "What's gotten into you? You're never like this." He's the calmest person you've ever known, rarely losing his temper when uncalled for.

"It's fake. Everything is," he says, a faraway look in his eyes, irises still burning in anger.

You stretch on your tiptoes and turn his face toward yours so that your eyes can meet. Once his dark eyes focus again on yours, they soften entirely, staring at you deeply.

"What are you talking about?"

Jun-Hee slumps into the chair he was sitting in previously. "The phone lines..." he begins, dishearteningly. "They're severed. Every single one of them."

"What?" you look around the room in incredulity.

Yoon-Seo makes herself busy, going from cubicle to cubicle, confirming that even the computer wires were cut and frayed in the same manner. Closing her eyes, she drags a hand down her face, not sure what to make of the discovery.

"Look at this." Jung-Won flips through file folders and binders organized in a bookshelf by the door, tilting it in your direction. "They're all empty..."

Yoon-Seo sinks into a chair opposite yours as Jun-Hee pulls one out for you, guiding you down by the hand into it before dragging it as close to his as physically possible.

"I'm sorry, Yoon-Seo..." Jun-Hee looks her way guiltily.

"It's okay. I know you were just disappointed." She puts her head in her hands. "I too, feel like I'm about to go crazy the longer we're here." Jung-Won settles atop a desk, turning to Yoon-Seo as her friend voices her ideas. "You know, the person who created this game...What was the reason behind putting us through this? I think we need to find that out before anything else."

Jung-Won spins a pen in her hand, thinking. "Where do you think the creator of this game is? Isn't it just us here?"

"Maybe they sneak in when we fall asleep?" Jun-Hee proposes.

"It's a bit unnerving to think someone is sitting around watching us. Also, what makes us sleep automatically without being able to fight against the feeling?" You revisit the role of the announcements. "If there is someone, how come we never see them but can only hear them?" As an afterthought, you add, "If that's even their real voice or it's modulated."

"They probably killed Ju-Won when we weren't aware."

"No, I don't think so," Yoon-Seo refutes Jung-Won's statement. "We were specifically told that it was done by the Mafia." She shudders at the thought. "Only us students are part of the participants list, so it has to be those hiding among us."

"Right," you agree. "If it was someone else, their name and picture would be listed along with ours."

"They must have also chosen the Mafia members when developing the game." Jung-Won stands up, pacing back and forth. "I don't know how they decided that though, or by what criteria."

"Then, someone in our class really killed Ju-Won in cold blood?" Jun-Hee leans against the chair's headrest.

Yoon-Seo takes a deep breath and exhales heavily. "Unfortunately, according to the rules we all saw, that was more than likely what went down."

A knock interrupts your little gathering before Woo-Ram pokes his head into the room, peeking around the door until he spots Jun-Hee. "There you are. I was looking all over. Everyone's saying it's time to vote, so we should go." He looks around, addressing you, Yoon-Seo, and Jung-Won too. "All of us."

Stepping out into the hallway, Jun-Hee looks at Woo-Ram incredulously. "Yool died after we voted and they still have the heart to go through with that again?"

Sighing, Woo-Ram hangs his head. "What else can we do? We can't leave until the game is over." Na-Hee rounds the corner just then with Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun in tow. "None of us have much of a choice."

Yoon-Seo tries to persuade him, regardless of the circumstances. "Still, how can we sacrifice someone? We have to stop them. As a group, we mustn't vote at all."

"Wait, Yoon-Seo." You hold her back from marching off to find the others and talking them out of it. If we want to convince them, we need an alternative otherwise they won't listen."

"I'll do it," Jun-Hee decides with determination. "Are the rest gathered together?"

"No, nearly everyone's in their room," Woo-Ram juts his thumb at the closed doors all down the hallway.

"Can you assemble them for me?"

Woo-Ram nods and Na-Hee agrees to help him round everyone up. "But...there's something you should know." Woo-Ram pulls Jun-Hee aside. "Da-Bum is being cornered by Kyung-Jun's crew downstairs. It was where I saw them last."

Hyun-Ho curses under his breath. "Those bastards. I never liked them." Without waiting any longer, he walks away, Dong-Hyun and Jun-Hee hot on his heels.

You, Yoon-Seo, and Jung-Won all fall into step behind, hoping that nothing had befallen Da-Bum yet at the hands of the cruel group.

It doesn't take long to locate the boys, screaming and shouting heard loud and clear coming from the cafeteria.

Jun-Hee swings the doors open, nearly hard enough to throw it off its hinges as it slams into the wall behind. "That's enough! What on earth are you doing?" Jun-Hee pulls Kyung-Jun away from Da-Bum, jostling Jin-Ha and Seung-Bin away in opposite directions. "What's your deal with him anyway? Is it fun for you to belittle others?"

You run in and help Da-Bum to his feet. "Get up, Da-Bum." A quick glance-over reveals he hasn't suffered too much yet, your group having arrived in time to prevent disaster. Yoon-Seo is by your side in mere moments, assisting to take him away not within reach of the three bullies. Jung-Won directs him backward further from the entrance so that he's blocked by your group, standing where someone would have to go through everyone before getting to him again.

Hyun-Ho steps up, leaving Dong-Hyun to look over all of you. "Three on one guy? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves?" he scoffs with disdain.

"Where do you think you're going?!" Kyung-Jun balls his fists up and makes a beeline for Da-Bum, but Jun-Hee elbows his chest hard, forcing him back.

"Cut it out."

"You can't stop me even if you are the class president." Kyung-Jun slides his upturned eyes over angrily. "Why do I have to listen to you?"

Wanting to help out his friend, Hyun-Ho further adds fuel to the fire by shouldering Kyung-Jun until he lands on the floor.

"You're not the boss of me either." Kyung-Jun balls his hands tightly, staring Hyun-Ho down as he gets back up. "Understood?"

You watch with trepidation, sensing a huge blowup about to take place and not being able to do anything to stop it without escalating the situation.

"You jerks never get it when I say it nicely. Guess I need to teach you a lesson, huh?" Hyun-Ho turns around to grab a metal container off a well-organized display of snacks, smacking Kyung-Jun on the head with it before proceeding to launch him over the very same counter, the table collapsing inward under Kyung-Jun's weight, products flying every which way.

Usually Kyung-Jun would back off and take revenge in some other way when spectators are none the wiser. However, with the presence of so many people, he needed to prove his point and show the control he had, which was in reality, very little. You rear back, knowing that to jump into the middle of this would both be stupid and pointless. Hyun-Ho and Kyung-Jun's rivalry has simmered for a long time with no one truly knowing the real reason behind it.

Seung-Bin looks around, eyes settling on a trash can, immediately upending it to smash against Hyun-Ho. It hits him square in the back and he wavers slightly but doesn't give up.

A kick behind from Kyung-Jun has him pivoting on his heel as the former grabs one of the foldable metal chairs scattered throughout the room to hoist overhead, trajectory sailing toward his opponent.

Luckily, Hyun-Ho ducks right as it brushes atop his head, the chair collapsing into itself and thumping with a loud clang into the opposite wall, sending bagged chips and snacks falling from the shelves upon impact.

The food rains down and Hyun-Ho quickly tosses them in succession at Kyung-Jun's face, the two ending up engaged in a fistfight on pure strength alone, no more creative petty methods as distraction.

Kyung-Jun winds up no match against Hyun-Ho and gets flipped onto his back, crashing into the ground harshly. Seung-Bin and Jin-Ha also get tossed to the side easily, incapable of retaliating for the time being.

Hyun-Ho hovers over Kyung-Jun to pin him to the ground with a tight grip around his collar, forcing him down to the spot.

"Let go of me," Kyung-Jun grits out, thrashing around in vain as Hyun-Ho has no intention of freeing him. "I said let go, you son of a bitch." Though he tries to appear threatening, you watch the rapid rise and fall of his chest, knowing the fight has left him. He's aware that he has lost, fair and square.

Hyun-Ho tightens his hold, squeezing Kyung-Jun's neck hard enough that he starts sputtering, glaring up revengefully. "Then, are you going to finally listen? Will you do as I say?"

Kyung-Jun uses his last spurt of energy to bat Hyun-Ho's fists away from his throat, kicking him off. "Fine, you bastard."

Hyun-Ho brushes off his hands and pants, all the more disgusted at the sight of the messy cafeteria. As he turns to everyone waiting by the door, Kyung-Jun grabs something from the counter, hiding it out of view beside his leg before making a beeline toward Hyun-Ho.

Jun-Hee dashes over and bends his arm back before the rest of you can even register he has in his possession.

You look up to see him wielding a pair of scissors meant to stab Hyun-Ho by way of petty retribution. Without hesitation, you drag Hyun-Ho out from the room, knowing the more Kyung-Jun sees him, the angrier he'll become. "Gaesaekki, get back here! I'm not through with you yet.”

Having had enough of standing around as a mere spectator, you step into the room before Hyun-Ho can stop you, moving Kyung-Jun away from Jun-Hee and stand between them. "Will you give it a rest for goodness' sake?!" He simply fixes you with a steely glare but halts, gauging your reaction. "Can I tell the others what you just did? What do you think they'd say if they knew you were willing to kill someone?" You keep your tone even and face neutral, wanting to appear reasonable rather than confrontational as much as possible. Kyung-Jun relents after a short pause, albeit reluctantly, weighing the consequences. "Come to your senses."

Jung-Won sidles up beside you in support. "What's the point of talking to him?" She points a finger, jabbing it against his chest. "If we vote on you now, everyone else will follow suit. Do you want me to press your name?" Taunting him, she goes so far as to pull out her phone. "I can do it easily. Say the word and I won't think twice."

"You bitch," he grits out between clenched teeth, trying to snatch Jung-Won's device.

You grab his balled-up fist even as he tries to evade it, fingers clenching around the scissors in his right hand. "Drop this now and I promise I won't let the others know." Not backing away from his glare, you stand your ground. "Just stop here."

Surprisingly, Kyung-Jun yields to you, his curled knuckles loosening in your grasp as he thinks better of his odds against your large group. Removing your hand from his, you turn it palm side up, tilting your head toward it. Getting the hint, Kyung-Jun slaps the scissors into your outstretched fingers and steps closer threateningly, lowering his head down to look straight into your eyes. "You better keep to that promise or I won't sit still."

"Aish shibal," Seung-Bin spits out from the corner where he's slumped in a heap nursing his sore arm, forced to surrender.

You regard Kyung-Jun for the last time as you turn to leave, his eyes following when you stop short to mention, "We're all going to gather in the assembly hall in a short while. Come once you've all calmed down."

As everyone files out, Hyun-Ho throws one final remark at the bullies. "You better leave the cafeteria door open and accessible for everyone to use unless you want a repeat of this."

After the confrontation, you had dragged Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun by the ears to the infirmary despite the two of them protesting all the way.

Once there, you push both of their shoulders down onto the beds so hard they bounce back up before settling into the mattress, their weight dipping the material.

You stand before them with arms crossed, eyeing their identical meerkat expressions in all seriousness.

The two look back and forth between one another before glancing back up at you inquisitively, entirely confused.

"Why are we here again?" Hyun-Ho speaks up.

"This is like couple's therapy," Dong-Hyun mumbles under his breath and Hyun-Ho elbows him as you roll your eyes.

"You guys never listen," you scold, flicking both of them above the eyebrows.

"Yah!" They say in unison, hands coming up to their foreheads in sync.

"Always getting into trouble. Making me worried," you mumble, busying yourself around the room gathering supplies.

"Talk about yourself," Hyun-Ho retorts, touching his forehead where a red mark is still imprinted. You press the q-tip you were holding dipped in antiseptic and squish it against his cut lip hard, narrowing your eyes as he winces in pain and flinches away from you. "Watch it! Can't you be a bit gentler?"

"Oops, my bad," you tease with a sarcastic smile. "Tough love."

Dong-Hyun tries to hide his chuckle before you also turn to him with an ice pack in your extended hand and he swallows the next fit of laughter immediately. "It's not funny," he says, suddenly stoic. "Nothing is funny." Looking to the side and up at the ceiling, he begins to whistle, hoping to avoid the same fate as Hyun-Ho.

You laugh, hiding your smile behind your hand. "I don't know. This is pretty funny." You place the ice pack lightly down into his lap, pressing it against his stomach where he slipped face-first down the dirt hill earlier on the cliff.

"Why is he being treated better than me?" Hyun-Ho sulks.

"Because he has more injuries, none of which he intended to have." Dong-Hyun sticks his tongue out at Hyun-Ho, enjoying being off the hook. "And you," you start, tapping your forefinger against Hyun-Ho's forehead, shoving it back lightly. "You willingly put yourself into less than desirable situations without thought and get hurt for fun."

"This time there was a reason!" Hyun-Ho argues. "It's not fair for them to act all mighty when they're really nothing."

You sigh, dabbing his lip and some scratches visible on his face with ointment so that it'll heal faster. "I know there is," you concede. "But do you think Kyung-Jun cares about that?" You step back and look at the boys in front of you. "This game...we don't know how it will end. It's best if we try to avoid conflict as best we can. We can't begin to imagine what anyone is capable of with ill intent and a deep-seated grudge that refuses to go away."

"We can protect you!" Dong-Hyun chimes in. "I owe you my life."

You run a hand through your hair, fond but exasperated. "I don't want you guys to have to risk your own wellbeing for mine. I can take care of myself, you know?"

"We know," Hyun-Ho answers. "But that doesn't make us any less worried for your safety."

"Then, can you at least promise me to put your safety before my own? Please?" you plead, knowing how the boys are, unyielding in their principles. You step forward and pull them both into an embrace, their arms coming around you immediately and squeezing tight, the circle becoming smaller in the group hug.

"Are you trying to convince us with your affection or what?" Hyun-Ho's voice comes out muffled where his face is pressed into your shoulder.

"Depends," you say. "Is it working?"

"Feels weird. We never hug."

"Don't get used to it."

For once, Hyun-Ho is solemn, hugging you tighter. "Promise."

"I don't hear anything from you Dong-Hyun," you tease.

He pats your back firmly. "I promise."

"We'll all make it out of here together," you say to them quietly. "Wherever we go, as long as we have one another."

With one last squeeze, you release the two of them, insisting that they head to the auditorium first while you clean up the infirmary. By how the game was already going, you felt like this was as good a place as any to know like the back of your hand. Heavens knows more and more will be injured the longer this goes on.

You've only just started looking through the medical supply cabinet when the door to the room slams open, bounding off the wall with a hard thump.

A hand placed over your heart in shock, you swivel your head toward the sound, seeing Kyung-Jun with one foot nudging the door open, keeping it from swinging shut.

Looking behind him with his hands in his pockets, he hasn't yet realized you were even in the room at the moment. As he sighs and lifts his head from the previous position, his hand also reaches up toward his face, touching his split lip.

You're gawking still, bandages in one hand and antiseptic in the other. It was unusual to see Kyung-Jun look, if you dared to say it, so down and defeated.

Finally, he steps over the threshold and kicks the door closed behind him, looking up and stilling as his eyes make contact with yours. You don't miss them widening slightly, clearly expecting the room to have been unoccupied.

Without saying a word, he turns on his heel about to leave, but putting the clues together, you stop him in his tracks.

"You clearly came for something."

"That's none of your business," he replies evenly, one hand on the doorknob.

"Then, I'll leave so you can stay," you offer.

You see his fingers slackening from the handle before he spins around again, analyzing you. The silence is uncomfortable, and his penetrating gaze, suffocating. Whatever it is he was searching for in your expression finally settles a look of indifference over him, his shoulders slumping.

"No." He takes a few steps forward, still staring at you. "You were here first."

Your eyebrows knit together, not quite understanding. "Come again?"

He purses his lips together, clearly regretting having remained in the room when he should've left. "Stay and do whatever you need to do and I'll wait until you're done."

Kyung-Jun plops himself on the bed Hyun-Ho and Dong-Hyun were just seated on earlier and the atmosphere is such a stark difference, you're tempted to pinch yourself to see if you happened to be hallucinating. Never in your right mind would you ever think you and Kyung-Jun could be in the same place at once without the former going on a rampage. You two were not the type of people who belonged together in any type of setting.

He leans against the hospital bed frame and kicks his leg out on the length of it, remaining quiet.

Decidedly, You don't say anything more and go back to sorting through the supplies, earnestly wanting to get out of the room as soon as possible. The only reason you didn't go escaping at the first sight of Kyung-Jun was you didn't want him to think you feared him at all in any capacity. He always used others' distress as leverage against them to remain in control and you weren't going to fall prey to that trap.

"When will you be done?" he asks, and you can feel the slight irritation in his voice rising.

"Soon," you counter curtly, disregarding his presence. Despite that, you can feel his stare fixated on the back of your head.

You hear rustling followed by liquid sloshing and you turn around just in time to see Kyung-Jun about to smear something on his face from a suspicious bottle that looks a lot like the one you told Na-Hee to use for her foot. You scurry over in a haste and yank it away from Kyung-Jun.

"What the fuck?!" He curses, as a q-tip drops from his hand, tumbling to the floor. His eyes are narrowed in slits as he glowers at you. "Didn't I tell you to do your thing and I'll do mine?"

"This..." you reveal to him in an even tone, pointing to the brown bottle, "...is for the feet only."

His eyes shift over to the label on the bottle he definitely did not read earlier in your grasp. If you didn't know any better, you would say he looks a little sheepish and embarrassed at the blunder.

"Aish," he groans, hand once again going to his lip as the wound stretches from the movement of forming words.

Shaking your head, you walk back to the cabinets, setting the bottle on a high shelf and grabbing the antiseptic you stored away earlier. With new cotton swabs and circular bandaids in hand, you approach Kyung-Jun and place it on the bedside table.

"I'll do it for you."

"I didn't ask."

"First, you came here to the infirmary for an obvious reason," you start ticking off on your fingers what you've observed. "Two, you could've kicked me out like you usually do to others that are in your space." He makes to speak but you plow on, unperturbed. "And finally, the third and most important point, you clearly don't know what you're doing." You look at him with a pointed stare. "Isn't that why you allowed me to stay? You weren't going to ask for help, but on the off chance you swallow your pride and decide to, it's better to have someone here. Am I wrong?"

"No, but I don't like to admit that I am."

"You can try, starting from today."

That draws a smirk from Kyung-Jun. "I like you better than Hyun-Ho." He glances up at your face again from his seated position, swinging his legs over the side and onto the ground, scooting to the edge and closer to you. "You have guts," he says, tapping his forefinger near his lip. "Go ahead." He visibly has to bite his tongue after, inwardly reprimanding himself for having said it at all. Shaking himself out of it, Kyung-Jun closes his eyes and lifts his chin up, inclining his head toward yours.

He's tall even as he's sitting, and you have to lean forward, bending at the waist to be able to clean both his lip and his forehead wound. It wasn't hard to fall out of favor with Kyung-Jun who more or less saw everyone like a thorn in his side, yet for some unknown reason, he tolerates you—back in the cafeteria and even now.

You pause with a swab in hand, not exactly sure how to touch his face. The wait has him opening his eyes, one at a time until they're focused on you, gaze steadfast. "Don't get scared now." He pulls your free hand against the side of his face in a much gentler manner than you expected. "I don't bite."

You look up at him, considering, and he lifts his brows at you. "We'll see."

The corner of one side of his lips quirk up in amusement, but he doesn't say anything else, opting to stare straight at you as you work, easily disinfecting the hurt areas and applying ointment after, waiting for it to dry before you can cover it up. Kyung-Jun's eyes lazily trail the path of your pupil's movements as you inspect the wounds, but he sits still otherwise, not flinching at all, no matter how deep you press the q-tip in certain spots.

"You sure have a high pain tolerance," you intone more so to yourself, having a habit of voicing your thoughts at times.

"I do, but I can't lie that this still hurts like a bitch."

"And you decided to not say anything?"

"You're gentle."

You tilt your head at him in perplexity, and he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "Don't give me that look."

"What look?"

He doesn't say anything anymore, and you don't push it, bewildered and curious all at once. You were genuinely confused. His labile personality was giving you whiplash but you power through it and finally place the bandaids on him, stepping away.

"You didn't give me weird themed ones, did you?" He inquires suspiciously, tapping both bandaids to make sure.

"Of course not. That would be a waste of the nice ones."

He studies you for a moment, halting his movements before finally getting back up to his feet. "Don't tell anyone I was here." Gone was his usual bravado and you finally understand why he had ditched Seung-Bin and Jin-Ha back in the cafeteria, along with the explanation for his shifty actions prior to entering the room. He didn't want to be seen as weak.

"I wouldn't dream of it," you confirm resolutely, finding no necessary reason to ever bring it up to anyone anyway.

"I mean it." Kyung-Jun points a finger at you. "If you do, I'll kill you."

"People who truly want to kill someone won't announce it beforehand. They just will."

Kyung-Jun lowers his arm, having been caught in his bluff and contemplates your very nature at the core, stare lingering before shaking his head to himself and striding toward the door. As he opens it to step outside, he pivots and casts his attention on you once more. "That look... I hate it like crazy." It finally registers to you that he was circling back to what he said earlier. "Your eyes...." he pauses, gaze flitting back and forth between your own. "Some people will misunderstand and think you actually care."

With that, he leaves, and you're left in the dark wondering if by some people he was referring only to himself.

As you finally make it to the gymnasium, everyone is congregated in a circle, the atmosphere tense and somber. You slip in beside Jun-Hee with Yoon-Seo to your right cradling her phone.

"I gathered all of you here not to decide whom we should vote for, but to give up on voting for good," Jun-Hee starts, hushed murmurs spreading through the crowd.

"Abandon voting?" someone probes with uncertainty. "Are you sure about that?"

"If we vote, one person is guaranteed to die. If we don't, we all stay alive."

"What if we agree to this but someone votes in secret. What will you do then?"

Although Mi-Na wasn't outrightly rejecting the idea, you didn't think she was really in favor of it either, going by the questions she brought up, her wariness ran high. You didn't blame her for you could count on one hand those you without reasonable doubt one hundred percent trust.

"She has a point," Ji-Soo concurs. "How can we truly believe you that this is the best option for us all?" Yu-Jun doesn't chime in, settling for taking glances at his girlfriend as he quietly debates the suggestion.

"We should at least try to trust one another," Jun-Hee resolves. "We can collect the phones so no one will be allowed to vote."

Eun-Ha nods, deep in thought. "He's right. That'll work." You look over at her, analyzing her actions and statements up until now. Call it your astuteness or pure instinct, but she in no way, shape, or form struck you as a Mafia member.

Ji-Soo continues to dissect Jun-Hee's idea, not so readily agreeable. "Who's going to guard the phones, then? The person in charge might change their minds last minute."

She's not wrong per se, given that your classmates were willing to go through with murder, a small betrayal like this didn't seem too far fetch.

Yoon-Seo gestures with her phone to the center of the court. "In the middle. We can all keep watch over it."

"What if someone steals it?" Mi-Na adds in, looking around at everyone's faces lacking confidence. "I'm not doing it." She takes a step back, crossing her arms and hiding her phone. "Don't count on me handing in my phone."

"I think it's a decent plan," Yu-Jun speaks up weakly, daring to take a peek at his girlfriend this time, linking arms with her. "Let's give our phones, yeah?"

Ji-Soo retracts her arm, rounding on him, her open blouse flapping wildly. "Are you crazy?!"

As the couple argues back and forth much less strained than you expected, probably due to Yu-Jun's calm demeanor and ability to recognize Ji-Soo's short temper, it helps her simmer down somewhat, the two going on to hold a conversation despite their differences.

"Can't you live without your phone for a few minutes?!" Joo-Young outbursts against Mi-Na, reaching out toward her friend's mobile device.

Mi-Na evades Joo-Young's hands and sidesteps the circle. "Why the hell are you yelling at me?!" Angrily, she tugs her hair roller out from its strong hold on her bangs and tosses it to the floor in a show of defiance.

"Gosh, you all are noisy and annoying," Kyung-Jun bellows, everyone immediately shutting up. "Banjang is actually making sense for once. Why won't you cooperate?" Looks are thrown around the room, curious as to why Kyung-Jun is siding with Jun-Hee. He doesn't agree with anyone or follow the rules, gladly making his own to follow. When no one says a word, Kyung-Jun grits his teeth and fixes everyone with a menacing stare. "I'm not asking. I'm telling you to do it, and you better damn well listen to me when I'm being nice." He emphasizes the end of his sentence, purposefully throwing it in Hyun-Ho's direction, echoing the words relayed to him previously.

The wait that follows is excruciating after Kyung-Jun collects phones and thumps the trash can haphazardly into the center ring. You and Yoon-Seo had tied white ropes in a line and placed it around the receptacle, enclosing it within, almost like no-man's land.

[ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ʟᴇғᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ. ]

No matter how many times you hear the announcement, it still makes goosebumps run across your skin and your hair stand on end, habituated to expect the deathly siren to follow.

"Yah Prez, are you sure we'll be alright?" Seung-Bin probes, head in his hands and fingers running through his buzzed hair repetitively, visibly anxious.

Calmly, Jun-Hee replies to him but doesn't take his eyes away from the collection bin. "Let's just wait a little longer. It's not midnight yet."

"Fuck this shit..." Seung-Bin curses as he settles down, trying to manage his restlessness by wringing his hands in his lap instead.

All around you, your classmates are either sitting frozen with eyes unmoving from the center, biting their nails to the nub, or pulling their hair out in worry, scattered in various spots. Some are in chairs, others are on the floor, and the remaining are lying down like they've given up already.

You're no better, sitting cross-legged with your eyes transfixed on the clock by the exit sign, unwilling to remove your eyes from the second hand. 30 seconds to go. Every tick of the black plastic has your heart beating along with it, palpitations irregular and resoundingly loud in your ears. You don't realize you're bouncing your leg repeatedly against the heel of your foot below it until Jun-Hee lays a warm palm on the exposed skin of your knee, just below the cover of your skirt and you turn to him, his eyes silently questioning.

You nod and smile back, trying to not make it as strained as it feels. His touch is a welcoming distraction in forcing you to stop staring at the numbers on the clock you've been so focused on that the printed dots and dashes begin to blur into a swipe of black and white, hypnotizing you.

All of a sudden, Woo-Ram springs up, his metal hair skidding back as the legs screech against the wooden floors. He points with a shaky finger toward the clock. "Hey, hey, hey." He pats those next to him hurriedly. "It's past midnight now and there was no announcement. Did it work...?"

You whip your head toward the clock and sure enough, it was now well past twelve, time ticking by so much faster than when you were waiting on it.

"Have we made it?" So-Mi's eyes widen in shock, the first time you've seen a true reaction from her not screened by her fake acting.

"We did it..." Jun-Hee whispers as you both spring to your feet, unable to believe in the miracle of a loophole.

Joo-Young turns to Mi-Na, grabbing and shaking her in excitement. "It's over! We've beaten the game!"

Jun-Hee draws you into a triumphant hug, holding you close. You can feel the smile on his face as he presses his cheek against yours. He's squeezing you so tight, it almost lifts you off the ground, your arms winding around his neck as you stretch on tiptoes, celebrations breaking out all around you.

In a matter of seconds, the smile drops right off of your face and your throat closes up as the alarm blares incessantly, signaling a broken rule.

Jun-Hee's arms fall from around your waist as he falters back, staring at the intercom, almost wishing he could will it away.

[ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀɴᴛs ᴍᴜsᴛ ᴠᴏᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪғʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀғɪᴀ. ]

Without a second thought, Joo-Young scurries toward the trash can of phones.

"What are you doing?!" Hyun-Ho yells to closed ears.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Joo-Young counters, spinning around to look at him, crazed. "Nothing else but grabbing my phone." She gestures wildly at everyone's sheer panic. "And if we do nothing only to die? Are you going to take responsibility?!"

"You can't return lost lives and you know it," Mi-Na reiterates, hastily moving to where Joo-Young is standing right on the ropes acting as a barrier.

"Wait..." Jun-Hee splutters.

"For what are we hesitating? We're still doomed," Joo-Young says with frustration.

"Stop blaming Jun-hee and settle down," So-Mi states from her spot on a chair, unmoving. Her friends listen to her for the time being and you wonder what she has over their heads that they willingly cater to her and heed her every beck and call.

Mi-Na's abrupt scream pierces the room as a body unexpectedly drops from atop the bleachers onto the floor with a sickening thud.

Your blood runs cold as you eye your fellow classmate, knowing a drop from that height would've crushed her organs resulting in internal hemorrhage with only fatality as the outcome.

There's no salvation.

Your hands shake and you have to clasp them together hard enough that your knuckles lose all color. Even then, they continue to tremble.

You wonder belatedly if in this position you could pray. Would the gods offer saving grace, or have they abandoned you too?

Instantaneously, another body plops down on top of the previous one, the impact so hard the corpses rebound off the ground before plopping with listless limbs back to the floor, the cracking of bones clacking.

Blood pools, a sea of red expanding vaster and vaster.

[ ғᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇs, ʟᴇᴇ sᴏᴏ-ʙɪɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴋ ᴊɪ-ʜᴏᴏɴ, ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴs, ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ]

"Grab your phones if you don't want to wind up like them!" Kyung-Jun shouts across the gymnasium as someone chucks the trash can overhead and phones scatter every which way.

Complete pandemonium and utter chaos ensue as every single person resort to crawling on all fours to locate their phones, no less like grave sinners atoning for their wrongdoings, groveling for leniency and forgiveness.

[ ғᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜʟᴇs, ᴏʜ ᴊɪɴ-sᴇᴏᴋ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴇxᴇᴄᴜᴛᴇᴅ. ᴏʜ ᴊɪɴ-sᴇᴏᴋ ᴡᴀs ᴀ ᴄɪᴛɪᴢᴇɴ.]

Jun-Hee's legs give out and he falls onto the floor, staring lifelessly into the void of the room, unblinking, overcome by the burden of guilt and the deaths he sentenced innocent individuals to inadvertently.

"Jun-Hee..." you call out weakly as you kneel beside him, receiving no answer for the first time.

A deafening silence befalls upon the room as bodies continue to barrage down with every passing minute from the rafters, lifeless forms hurtling to the ground with abandon amidst the crimson flashing lights.

The danger.

The warning signs.

Red as pure evil.

Why didn't anyone see it sooner?

Why didn't you?

But how could you? When Jun-Hee's still here in front of you, dressed in white, like a fallen angel succumbed to watching human suffering. Your eyes can only see him even in the shroud of red, but you're forced to remove your rose-tinted glasses. No, this shade of red isn't the color of love, of ardor, or of vitality.

It is the color that dyes the remnants of anger, uncontrolled flames, and stains of blood.

Not even the gentle flashes of white associated with light, goodness, and transcendence can mask the deep hue permeating all around.

Instead of peace, you see madness.

Instead of bliss, you see misery.

Instead of life, you see death.

No more did the divine exist in white.

The gods aren't here—you're all alone.

Yet, try as you might, how can you dare to blame the gods when humans are the most dangerous of all?

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

Self-persevering.

Plain naïve.

You had hoped—hoped so desperately.

But to hope is to risk disappointment. Now it's gone and left, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, clinging onto the shreds of previously existing innocent expectations.

The space has become a battlefield littered with bodies and drenched in torrents of blood.

Red meant war.

And you're losing the fight.

𝟬𝟯 : 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 |

© 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟’ 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨, 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞, 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐬𝐨, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

31 notes · View notes