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xjoonchildx · 3 months

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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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coffeeshades · 1 month

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credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART V

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst. cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone! i know i owe you guys SO MUCH so here's a short lil chapter to quench your thirst. more on the way i promise!!! btw this isn't proofread so if u spot any mistakes hit me up. happy reading (or not cause the angst won once again besties, sorry in advance) <3

August 23rd, 2019

Anaheim, California

You thought that having a shot of tequila would take off the edge of anxiety that had you shaking in your seat, but there you were taking another one, and the tingling in your hands still hadn’t ceased. "Want another?" Renata asked, a bottle in hand and a glint of worry in her eyes as she noticed your unsteady movements. You shook your head; you wouldn't risk it with a third. She waited until the hair and makeup team left the room before putting a hand on your shoulder, the cold of her ring pressing into your skin. "You want to talk about it?"

"It's just nerves," you mumbled, toying with your fingers, trying to brush off her concern. But Renata wasn't convinced, her gaze piercing through your facade. "Is it because of—" she said before you cut her off.

"No," you interrupted firmly, not wanting to dive into that topic. Renata nodded, understanding your reluctance. She simply squeezed your shoulder in silent support, knowing damn well what it was about. As she started to lead you out of the room, you continued. "We haven't seen each other in months."

There it is.

"And the last time we talked, he basically told me he didn't want to do anything with me." Renata's eyes softened; her empathy evident. "He didn't say that," she murmured, her grip on your shoulder tightening.

Your eyes met hers, filled with anger and confusion. "He did. He slept with me and then decided that was it." Renata's expression turned grim as she guided you out of the halls and onto the red carpet. She knew there was more to it than what you were letting on, but who was she to pry?

She faced you while gently fixing your hair as you continued. "But I'm with someone else now, and I'm happy, and I just need to get my shit together." Renata nodded. "You deserve to be happy and move on from this," she said softly.

The chatter of everyone on the carpet and the click of cameras surrounded you both, louder than before. "It'll be just a couple of interviews and photos now. After that, you and—" she hesitated.

"It's okay, you can say his name, Ren."

"You and Pedro will be taken into a photo studio for the official portraits," Renata finished. "Let's just make this quick and painless."

"I can assure you this will be everything except quick and painless," you replied with a forced smile, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. "But I appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood." She mouthed sorry for a moment before leading you both towards the line of press, where the bright lights and flashing cameras awaited. As you stepped into position to talk to the reporters, you reminded yourself to take a deep breath and stay composed, knowing that it would be okay.

•••

It was, in fact, not okay.

The groan that escaped your lips and the rolling of your eyes were unavoidable. You'd managed to stay clear of him for as long as you could—a complete victory by your standards—and now, with only seconds before you escaped, the very man you had tried to evade appeared before you.

Being within meters of him now, all those firsts, lasts, and never agains were as sharp and vivid as they'd ever been, forming a knot of unease in your chest that made breathing difficult. You hadn't spoken yet, both preoccupied with the rush of media attention surrounding you.

Nonetheless, you took quick glances at him whenever you could.

"Time for the portraits," Renata whispered, as you finished talking to a reporter for the LA Times. "Looking forward to seeing the show!" you nodded, trying to keep your smile in place as you followed Renata. It was a small room with bright lights and a white backdrop, but all you could focus on was the man standing across from you, getting his hair touched up by a stylist. Your own team hovered around you, adjusting your outfit and makeup, but your eyes kept drifting back to him.

The photographer introduced herself, and you were instructed to stand in the middle of the backdrop. You looked each other up and down. God, he looked good, you thought. And then you cursed yourself. Your groan at the sight of him was barely audible, but Renata shot you a knowing look.

"You kinda stole my look," he said, raising an eyebrow. The audacity of this man was infurating. How dare he, after what happened, address you so casually, like nothing has changed between you two?

"Hm, no, you kinda stole my look," you retorted, no emotion in your voice. The tension between you was palpable as the photographer began snapping photos, capturing the silent competition between you two. He was wearing a floral shirt that perfectly complemented your own outfit—a corset-like black top with floral details and black dress pants. However, one little detail caught your eye: the shiny gold chain decorating his neck.

Stop, don't go there. It suddenly became necessary to wash away the awful thought that little piece of jewelry was attractive in the slightest and that cold shower and glass of wine you had been looking forward to at home would now have to happen—but instead of a glass, it would be a whole bottle.

"Okay guys, now let's take some shots pretending to laugh together," the photographer suggested, breaking the tension. You both shared a forced smile, trying to outdo each other in the fake laughter department. "And get closer, please," she added, gesturing for you to move in towards each other. As you leaned in, you couldn't help but notice the faint scent of his cologne. "Pedro, put your arm around her waist," the photographer instructed, prompting Pedro to look down on you.

"Can I?" he asked, ever so politely. The question transported you to a room in Chile, where the tips of his fingers were under your shorts and your mouths were enticingly close.

Stop, stop, stop.

"Sure, whatever," you replied, trying to shake off the memories flooding back. Pedro hesitated for a moment before standing behind you and gently placing his arm around your waist—a moment of unexpected intimacy as your hand followed and rested on top of his. The photographer snapped the picture just as you forced another smile, masking the turmoil within.

"Are we done?" Pedro asked, his voice rumbling in your ear. Despite his complaints, he enjoyed doing photoshoots. They catered to his need to show off.

"Yes, we have everything we need. Thanks guys!"

Both of you quickly separated, relieved to put some distance between yourselves. You didn't say another word as you both gathered your things and headed out of the studio, tension lingering in the air, unsure of what would come next and hating every second of the awkwardness that now hung between you.

•••

The D23 Expo was not turning out to be the fun experience you had hoped for. You've been sitting in the panel room with the rest of the cast and crew for about half an hour, actively avoiding eye contact with the source of your anxiety. Dave was talking about what a huge honor it is to continue his Star Wars journey with a live action series, having previously only worked on animated projects. Jon followed suit, expressing his excitement for the opportunity to develop the series on a more cinematic scale.

Everyone was buzzing with enthusiasm, but you.

"Now I'm going to give the floor to the fans for any questions," the moderator announced, turning towards the crowd with a smile. A teenager in the front row was handed a microphone, anticipation rippling through the audience as she prepared to ask her question.

"Hi, my name's Sarah, and I just wanted to say how thrilled I am for this new series. I am a huge fan of Star Wars, and pretty much everyone here," she said, "especially you and Pedro," gesturing towards you and finally asking the question you've successfully avoided answering all night. "I know you've been friends for a long time. Can you share any behind-the-scenes stories from filming, and how was it working together on this project?"

"Oh, they have a lot. These two were menaces on set," Jon interjected, eliciting laughter from the audience. You exchanged a knowing glance with Pedro before sharing a bright smile with the girl. "I think Jon is specifically referring to the time I broke Pedro's nose and ended up in the hospital."

The audience erupted into a mix of laughter and gasps, clearly entertained by the unexpected revelation as you continued to recount the hilarious mishap. "But yeah, overall, it was definitely a fun and memorable experience working together. We had some great times on set, despite the occasional injury," you added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, she's a brilliant scene partner; I wouldn't change a thing about it," Pedro chimed in, nodding in agreement. If you didn't know better, you would think he actually meant it. The girl beamed at the two of you, clearly enjoying the interaction between you and Pedro, oblivious to the fact that you couldn't wait to get out of there and never see him again.

The moderator intervened, clearly interested in picking up more about the dynamics. "Now that it's been brought up, I was one of the few people who got to see the first episode yesterday, and I have to say there's a lot of on-screen chemistry between the two of you. Is it possible that a romantic relationship will develop in future episodes?"

The answer escaped from your lips instantly. "Not that we can confirm or deny anything at this point, but I think that these characters are very different and have a complex relationship that will continue to evolve as the series progresses, and maybe they work better as friends or allies rather than romantically involved." The moderator nodded, satisfied with the somewhat vague response.

Pedro's eyes caught yours, puzzled by the subtle shift in your tone, before adding, "But I wouldn't rule that out completely."

He was so infuriatingly annoying.

•••

You were in the same room; circling each other the entire day, but he still missed you so much that a brief moment of broken eye contact sent a deep ache cutting through his chest.

Pedro watched you exit the panel room, knowing that he needed to find a way to talk to you. He called your name, making you stop in your tracks and turn around, your face unreadable. Pedro hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to approach you, before finally blurting out, "Hey, do you have a sec?"

He saw you reluctantly give your PA a nod, motioning for her to leave the both of you alone.

Pedro felt tension slip through him and iron in his spine, and he looked around swiftly to see if anyone was paying attention to them. He spotted a door leading to an empty room and gestured for you to follow him inside. As you both entered the room, Pedro closed the door behind you.

This conversation is inevitable.

Pedro waited for a moment before speaking. "We're working together, and will continue to do so."

"So?" your voice was cold and guarded.

He took a deep breath before continuing, "I think we should try to find a way to make it work."

"I think it's working well enough as it is," you replied, crossing your arms. Pedro couldn't help but laugh at your stubbornness. "Come on, we both know that's not true. You've avoided me all day. People are asking if things are okay between us."

"Isn't that what you wanted, though?"

Pedro shook his head. "What? I never said that."

"You might as well have," you spat back. "Because the way I see it, you don't want anything to do with me." He wanted to reach out, grab your hand and tell you that's not all what he meant but he stopped.

You are being so careful with each other now. It was breaking Pedro’s heart a little.

"That's not true. It drives me crazy when you won’t talk to me,” he muttered. "I…just didn't want to complicate things back then."

"Well, things got complicated the moment we slept together," you reminded him. "And that's on both of us."

Pedro sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "I know," he said softly. "I'm sorry… I didn't handle that conversation very well. I was…" he can't bring himself to finish the sentence. "I don't know."

"You have a tendency of hurting my feelings, disappearing, and then coming back asking for forgiveness," your words come out measured and unexpectedly calm. Bordering on cold.

It was such a sharp, perfect little sting that it made heat pool in his stomach. It made him want to cry.

He said your name ever so tenderly, a plea in his voice.

"I don't know what you want from me," you say, a defeated tone lacing your words. "I moved on, and yet, you keep coming back, reopening old wounds. It happens every time. I can't keep doing this dance with you."

"Yeah, you moved on," and before he can stop himself, Pedro blurts out, dripping in sarcasm, "Quite fast."

Pedro still remembers the shiver that ran down his spine when he picked up his phone one morning, only to see you parading around with Daniel on social media. The worst part was that he knew he had no one to blame but himself.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his response. He could tell it echoed through the small space and grated on your every last nerve.

"Fuck you."

A snarl forms on his face, and his upper lip slightly curls. His anger rising to match your own. "Is that all you have to say?" Pedro's voice is laced with bitterness as he struggles to keep his emotions in check. Your eyes burning through him, the air suffocating.

"I had to move on," you simply reply. "You should try it as well." you slipped past him, bumping into his shoulder as you made your way out of the room, leaving him there, trying to remember why he had convinced himself that everything was safer this way because you were too important to risk losing, when in reality, he had already lost you.

And Pedro tries not to love you. He really tries.

a/n: don't kill me please, i know. their time will come, i just need them to reaaaally go through it.

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it! thank you for reading :)

#love is complicated #thank you so much everyone for the support mwah #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal angst

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 10 months

Text

Yo! Adrian

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

AN: It's finally here, the LAST CHAPTER! What a journey this has been from a silly little oneshot to a whole fucking series that so many people have sent me so many kind messages and fanart of 💕 I'm so excited that I get to share this with you, and I'm so glad that I've been able to complete it and give you guys a full story. Thank you so so much to everyone that has sent me their support and kept the story going. Love you all sm, please let me know what you think whn you're done. I can't wait to see your reactions ✨🥰

Part 10 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

You swore you could feel König’s fingers caressing your face.

You could feel his heavy digits tracing over every tiny pore and for a second you could breathe calmly, you felt light. In the shadow of his phantom’s presence you smiled airily and thought of better times. It was as if a rift had opened in the room and you were no longer part of it, you were somewhere far away and lying in an unfamiliar bed, naked under the pale sheets in the shine of moonlight.

Just like always, you fell into each other's arms and drank in each other’s bodies just as greedily as the last time you’d met. His heady piney scent would soothe your tired nerves and his hands would roam your body, chasing off every stray piece of worry that dared linger. It was your memories of comfort that you were clinging onto the most, holding them high above your head as you sunk into the depths of your mind, cold flesh tingling with the thought of König’s fiery warmth.

You weren’t in some hole in the middle of nowhere. You were with him.

There’s nowhere you can be sent to that I won’t find a way to reach you.

You kept repeating those words over and over in your mind, throat constricting as you remembered those whispered promises that he’d given to you in your bunk. He was with you, you and he were joined together inextricably. It didn’t matter if he was actually there or if you were simply losing your mind to lack of sleep and sustenance, he was with you always.

All of a sudden König’s fingers stroked a wave across your cheek, a thin airy line that swung across your face like a breeze. It made you frown. What was he doing? Was he playing a game with you? It was so late, you both needed to sleep. Why was he doing this?

When you opened your eyes again, it was as if you’d been woken into hell. Rousseau grinned down at you, his metal pole hanging loosely from his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Reality was breaking down in front of your eyes, pieces of it glitching in your peripherals. The bedsheets and moonlight fell away and all you were left with was your dirty sheet in the middle of a crusty smelling shithole bunker.

“Where’s… wh- where’s König?” you croaked.

Getting those words out was like fighting through a sandstorm to talk. Your throat had never been so scratchy, and your head was so clouded and heavy. Everything was such a jumble you couldn’t understand how you were lying with König one moment and then back with Rousseau again tje next, it didn’t make sense.

“What’ve you done with him?” you cried, swaying with the effort it took to speak. “Where’s König!”

Rousseau shook his head and nudged your shoulder with his weapon, the thick metal bar barely even prodded you and you were sent spiralling. Your body tipped like a glass full of water and you spilled onto the floor, lurching onto your hands and knees as soon as you were able. Though you were shaking helplessly even as you steadied yourself, it felt like your muscles were rapidly atrophying in real time, tearing apart and wasting away like bean bag stuffing pouring from a tear.

“You’re not doing very well, hm?” Rousseau taunted, walking around your pathetic crawling form. “There is no König here. Just you and the Captain, Sergeant.”

The way he said König, it sounded like a curse.

You shrank back at his spitting venom and swallowed the bile that threatened to erupt upward from your throat. It was all too much. You couldn’t understand where you were anymore, couldn’t remember what was happening.

You closed your eyes and opened them again, executing the world’s slowest blink. Finally looking around properly, you saw Rousseau and when you swivelled you saw his faithful guard dogs, the men that always seemed to haunt the corners of your vision. A further glance had you finding Price on his knees, swaying gently as he tried miserably to stay upright. He was dancing to the same sick death drum that you were.

Your eyes lit up in recognition.

“You were…I was…you were going to kill me,” you said dumbly, holding your head as you rose to your knees. “Why do you keep playing with us like this?”

Rousseau stood in front of you and tilted his head, watchful dark eyes cascading down your shivering body. It was like looking back at a bear. A vicious giant towering above you, threatening to charge at any second and shred you to pieces. Though he never did. He always stopped just before he could truly break you.

Break your body anyway. You were more convinced by the day that your mind was gone.

“Are you really so eager to die, Sergeant?” He questioned.

His voice was light, playful as a cat batting a mouse around.

“You recorded a video teeing up for a final death blow…It doesn’t look very good if I’m said to be alive after that. Makes your threats look empty.”

Rousseau raised an eyebrow. His gaunt features slackened, but he didn’t look as angry as one might expect a scorned warlord to look. It seemed more like he was considering his next move carefully. Probably gauging what you could take after everything you’d endured already.

“You think I don’t mean to kill you?”

His voice had a harder edge to it now.

“I think that you’ve taken far too long to do it.”

It was true. As much as you still clung to the hope of rescue, you knew well enough that being constantly on the move between decrepit holes and dank pits meant that you weren’t going to be easily tracked. The only other release you could be certain of was death, and at the stage you were at, it felt like it’d be a mercy.

Your stomach constantly ached with clawing hunger, the kind that had you hallucinating little hands inside your belly - scraping at the lining just to try and find scraps. Your lips were dry and cracked and your eyes were always struggling to stay open. Your lids weighed so heavy on you, your entire body did in fact. It was becoming more and more of a chore just to keep breathing, nevermind trading barbs with the torturer in chief.

Soon you’d be as out of it as Price was.

“You are a government dog. All you know is ‘go fetch’,” Rousseau said eventually, straying from your side and leisurely working his way over to Price. “You do things quick and dirty. We are playing the long game, I am building something, I’m heading a revolution. Those aren’t built on quick decisions - no, they are chess moves. I am just aligning my pieces.”

He came to a stop behind Price’s back, his long legs were almost touching Price’s bare body, his black trousers were almost the same colour as some of your poor captain's bruises. Rousseau still held the length of metal piping in his hands, he was swinging it gently in his grip, meaningfully gazing at you and down to the bat. You stared between them from under your hooded eyelids and licked your lips.

What was he going to do?

You winced when you heard the crack.

“Sneak,” Price gasped.

He tumbled forward, his back crumbling as he’d taken on another hit. The Captain's mangled body was only getting worse by the hour, his cuts were weeping again and his bruises looked like animal markings, like something that had become inherently part of him. You had no idea how he was still going.

Even still, you flew forward and urged him up, looking into his tired eyes and trying to coax him back. At least if he was up he couldn’t be trampled. You’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Price gripped your arm and you huffed under the weight, almost screaming as you tried to keep his body aloft with what little strength you had left. His roughened fingers were scraping at your papery thin skin and you clenched your teeth while you fought to balance him. It was getting harder and harder to set him right with every time he fell, but no matter what you’d keep doing it.

Even while you’d gone against his orders he still held you up and made you keep fighting. It was only fair that you did the same in return.

“Price? Price, are you ok? Price?”

He took a moment to reply. His body wobbled a little, threatening to tip again, but he righted himself in the last minute, his scruffy jaw almost swinging as he gasped in a breath.

“Sneak, you’ve gotta shut the fuck up,” he coughed.

You almost laughed despite the situation.

“Affirmative,” you grimaced, resting against him as you managed to work out a delicate balancing act.

“Wait a minute now, Captain,” Rousseau tutted, signalling for his men to come forward. “You should welcome your Sergeant’s words. I’ve spared Sneak for now, but the next video is your final as a pair. I have something special planned…but all in good time. For now you can go back to your crate, dogs.”

The two of you stared at him, looking up through your tired gazes. The news didn’t feel shocking, you’d expected to die minutes ago so you hadn’t been holding out hope to steal time for much longer. It almost felt like a relief for a moment to know that you could be certain of something.

Though the relief didn’t last long. Not when his men finally reached you both and yanked you apart, dragging you along the floor like a couple of retired mannequins. Your skin burned with the familiar feeling of loose gravel and it didn’t take long until you were seething, clawing at the man’s gloved hand just to try and stop his forceful grip. It never ever seemed to help though.

“Try not to get yourself killed from fighting back. It would ruin the plans I have for you, Sergeant!”

The blanket that had previously been slouched on your back was now tangled around your waist. It was gathering itself between your legs and around your hips, snaking around you in a boa like grip. It might’ve felt like a relief earlier on in your time, but you knew well enough the men weren’t bothering about your state of dress, they never did. They would always drag you through the halls kicking and screaming, clothesless and dirty, feral as a child of the forest. Somehow the indignity faded with time, lost to the hurt you were drowning under.

You looked up at the man and his smug bearded face and snarled. You soon took to scrabbling against the floor and trying to get as much purchase as you could. If you fought hard enough maybe you could work yourself into a semi crawl by the his side, relieve the burning of your back and feet. The man wasn’t having it though.

He kicked at your legs and threw your arm away, sending you reeling and knocking into the dark wall by the doorway. Your jumbled head was spinning when you slammed into the concrete. The dim flickering light danced in your eyes and after a few blinks, you regained enough vision to see the man advancing back towards you. You cowered.

You feebly stuck your arms in front of you, blocking your face and hunching up just to try and protect yourself. Even if you thought it was useless, even if you’d tried to do the same thing many times already and failed. You tried anyway.

“You don’t follow orders well, soldier,” Rousseau scolded, voice full of amusement.

He had no idea.

His lackey’s steps barrelled toward you, he shouted something in french and with each ricocheting sound that slapped your ears, you shook like a mast in a storm. You shook, but still you cursed at the man, you cursed at Rousseau and you peaked through your makeshift body shield and cursed at the guard dragging Price away.

No matter what they did to you, you revelled in the fact that one day they would be caught. One day König would catch up to them, he and the remaining numbers in the 141 would crash in and they would draw ten times the blood that Rousseau ever could. They would wreak the kind of revenge you would’ve chewed König out for only months ago.

And you would celebrate it now.

You gritted your teeth and braced, the man was only steps away from you. Rousseau was smirking to himself in the background, metal pipe discarded as he stood with his arms crossed just as casually as if he were catching the tail end of a sitcom. You waited for the hit. You tensed every screaming muscle in your frail body and shut your eyes tight, scrunching your face in full knowing of the hurt you were about to feel.

Your heart beat furiously. You waited.

Boom

The entire room shook and you were sent sprawling and coughing into the smoky darkness. Dust swirled around your eyes and seconds later the room went completely pitch dark. You blinked.

Was this another of your hallucinations?

Were they really getting that vivid?

This felt real.

All of a sudden you were being yanked up and you screamed. Your arm felt like it had been pulled out of its socket and then replaced about five thousand times. It was sheer agony. Though you didn’t have the strength to fight the force. Instead you went along with it, crying out at whoever it was that was taking you further into the darkness.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

The voice confirmed it. The voice and the heavy metal weapon that struck your jaw.

Rousseau had taken you from your heap and was now ragdolling through the doorway, stealing you both through the trembling tunnels like a wraith. You had no idea how he was able to navigate the place so smoothly with a fighting captive and sheer darkness and yet he was doing it anyway. Unfortunately for you.

“Come! Gather the Captian!”

More explosions sounded overhead, gunshots rung out like hailstones hitting the ground, all muted and dull. Somewhere up above you there was a fucking massive firefight. The realisation had you grinning from ear to ear, even as blood sluiced from your split mouth.

With the very little brain capacity you had, even you were able to figure out who it was that was up there.

Your stomach was churning and your legs were barely able to crank themselves one in front of the other, but still you knew that König was close. You swore you could sense him even through the concrete. Somewhere in the battering of rock and scream of metal you could sense the six foot, ten inches of vengeance tearing up the ground overhead.

“König,” you choked.

Maybe you were going to make it.

You were tugged furiously forward.

“No one can help you now. Snivelling like that will only make your death worse” Rousseau seethed.

You frowned, stumbling forward only moments later. You tripped over a gap in the flooring and pinwheeled forward, falling through the darkness and onto the ground once again.

You shook your head, but before you could even think of recovering, you were blinded by a sudden shock of light. You let out a howling wail and covered your eyes, reeling as you tried to deal with the shock of it all.

Your head was pounding, the gunshots in the distance were relentlessly clashing with the swelling in your head. Your eyes felt like they might roll backwards through their sockets. Your nose was overwhelmed with thick dust, your throat was clogged with it too. Your ears were practically shrivelling with the wall of sound.

All of it combined was sensory overload.

You blacked out for a moment, temporarily lost. You saw König through flashes, but you knew it wasn’t really him. It couldn’t be. König wouldn’t just stand there, he’d be pulling you up into his arms and taking you away. He wouldn’t watch on as you were dragged around in that new level of hell.

You blinked back through the spots and the flashes of unreality and you were greeted with the sight of a union jack unfurling high above you. The fabric unfurled like an angry ghost and your eyes were filled with dancing red white and blue. The lines didn’t seem to stay still, they were crossing and uncrossing, blurring softly in and out of focus.

“What…what are you-”

“What did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!”

The metal pipe came down on your head once more and you gasped at the pressure, losing the breath from your lungs. You sprawled out like a bearskin rug and pasted yourself to the floor, watching dead eyed as Price was thrown by your side. He was equally as jelly-boned as you.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, too done in to follow the directions you were given.

Rousseau musn’t have heard you though. You followed the swelling blob that you assumed to be him and watched as it adjusted something and then gathered something else. Fuck. You were too fried to see what was happening. Everything was tinged in red, white and blue, nothing was solid, nothing felt real.

Well, except maybe the blood that was still threatening to drown you. You hacked away at that and sobbed lightly, feeling the tears dribbling pathetically down your cheeks. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised that you weren’t going to live through this afterall. Even if you did, was there going to be much of you left?

Rousseau only confirmed your suspicions as he marched forward and tugged you up by your neck. You screamed and flailed with every little shred of energy you had left, but still it wasn’t enough. He was strangling you with something, wrapping something around your throat while he batted off your hands.

“No! No! No! No! N-” you choked until you couldn’t anymore.

The thing was tightened around you and soon he didn’t have to hold you anymore. You gazed upwards and watched in horror as a long snaking line of rope was yanked upward - with you along with it.

The choking and hacking only got worse from that point on. Your throat was constricting, you were flapping like a headless chicken. The pressure was threatening to burst your eyeballs, but even still you were cursed to see, cursed to watch.

Price was being dragged the same as you, muscles twitching and head swaying like a lolling buoy. The camera was in front of you both, red light blinking ominously from the other end of the room. Rousseau was swinging his arms around and he was proselytising as always, sounding somehow even more passionate than usual. His voice was screeching and booming all at once, it filled the room and attacked the camera, it sent you swinging in his grasp.

“...and now this is what they die for! They may capture me, but they will never prevail! They will only turn to ash, while we burn on forever!”

Out of the corner of your bulging eyes you could see the flag behind you set alight. You gawped at it like a flapping fish, tongue flailing around uselessly even as you continued to fight the rope. It was no use. Your vision was almost completely fading now, black was corrupting the edges and inch by inch it was taking over completely. Your body was losing its strength. Your arms fell limply to their sides.

“Nein!”

A scream of terrible anguish filled your senses. Your body slumped down. The darkness in your eyes receded for a moment.

Boots filled your eyes, you coughed roughly upon seeing them, shocked as the two sets of feet got all too close to coming down on your head. The leading set stopped in their tracks and turned, forcing the other set of feet to back away before any final blow could come. You closed your eyes a moment and focused on hauling in tiny lungfuls of air, coughing like an old hag with every dying choke, but nevertheless you took those painful breaths in like they were bitter medicine.

“You will pay! I will rip you apart, I will stick a knife through every nerve you have! You will suffer for what you’ve done, you self righteous sack of shit!”

You widened your eyes and even through the terrible pain you were fighting, you roared through it and forced your head up. You knew that voice, you knew that high pitched screaming growl. The sight of him only confirmed it.

Was it really…were you dreaming again?

You blinked furiously and choked on a sob. Please don’t be dreaming, please don’t be dreaming. The mantra filled your mind and expanded into every little piece of you. Even through the dizziness and the labouring of your struggling body, you could recognise that man out of anywhere, you could’ve recognised him in the pitch black of the blown out tunnel.

König was laying into Rousseau with the fury of a wounded lion. He rammed him into the wall and forced his head into the concrete over and over, the sound of sickening smack managed to break through the barrier of fuzz in your ears. It managed to break through König’s garbled screaming. Even in your broken state the site brought on an unwilling half smile that came slinking sickeningly from your subconscious.

“Don’t you dare move, don’t you dare do anything but keep breathing! You don’t get to leave this world until I make you regret ever seeing the light of your first day! Do you hear me? Your fight is finished!”

König threw Rousseau to the ground and brought his shining black boot hard down into his stomach. Rousseau panted out, a wormy little gasp broke past his lips but nothing more. He was forced to lie flat on the floor, torn between clutching at his cracked head and his flattened belly. The man who had towered over you had finally been brought down, turned into debris.

You could hardly believe it. You couldn’t move for the shock. You just stared at Rousseau, wide eyed, unflinching through the battlefield of pain that raged through every muscle and bone from within you. Somewhere above you were sure you could recognise your name being called, but everything was too fuzzy, the inky darkness was taking over, drawing you into its loving embrace. The dust was settling, your heartbeat was stilling. Everything coalesced into one feeling. Relief.

You’d have never have felt that way before after seeing something so unnecessarily violent, but after all you’d been through… you weren’t so sure you could bring yourself to be upset.

“…Darling please look at me.”

The faint whisper broke through your spaced out sound barrier. It was anguished, the voice it came from was hoarse and panting. So much emotion was poured into it, it couldn’t help but wash away the patina of death’s touch.

“Sneak, it can’t end like this. You told me you would come to Austria, yeah? You said you’d let me show you home. You have lots still to do. Look at me. Look at me! You said we’d make it through together Sneak, I’m not going to let you get away from me, do you hear me? Look at me!”

You forced your eyes to flicker upward, trying in vain to settle them on your saviour. The light in the room was so bright though, and his face- no his mask was so dark. You could only make out blackness and dark streaks of red.

You grit your teeth and shuttered your eyes, blinking a few times until you could see König’s own big wet eyes staring forlornly down at you. You smiled then.

“It..is…you,” you croaked, voice all but useless from your injuries. “Not…dreaming.”

His eyes lit up at your garbled words, the dim blue puddles turned to shining icy lakes. The corners of your mouth lifted heavily into a pained smile. Those eyes didn’t lie, they weren’t figments of your imagination. This was real, you thought to yourself. Even if you might die, you still got to see him again, you got to look into his eyes again and hear his voice and bathe in the warmth of his presence.

“No, you’re not dreaming,” König confirmed, hastily looking from you and to your surroundings, “you can't dream now, you have to listen to me, you mustn't close your eyes. Hold on for me, darling.”

“Kö…Kön-”

You launched into an ugly coughing fit, your head lit up an alarm system. System failure, everything was red. Your concentration broke and already you disobeyed König. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the hacking and choking. It felt like your lungs were closing, like they were balloons getting filled so completely they might pop. Every nerve, every wound, every cell in your body was on fire.

You just wanted it to end. Why couldn’t the suffering end?

“Shh, c’mon breathe. Darling, breathe for me and take control. C’mon! Breathe for me!”

König drew you into his arms and wrapped something thick and warm around you. It might’ve been a comfort if not for the sparkling firecracker that was being set off in your chest. The endless coughing that was tearing up through your throat.

Tears filled your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to cling to life, if even just for König, you weren’t sure you were strong enough. You weren’t even sure how you’d made it that far to begin with. Raw hope, you’d supposed. Though it didn’t feel like enough anymore. The agony was too much.

“Sneak, you have to hold on,” König pleaded, rubbing his hands as firmly as your battered back would allow. “Please…don’t leave me alone.”

Dammit.

You wheezed and cried, clenching your fists with all your might. Your ears rang with a high pitched sound, something you imagined to be angel screams ripping through your ears. You were turning away from death and running, you were sprinting towards life again, toward the scrabbling ugly beast that ran through the chambers of your crumbling body and clawed down at the walls. Pain.

You gulped in what felt like a litre of air and held on, falling silent for a second until you slowly let it go and felt quiet once again. König’s arms stiffened around you, you could feel his fingers carving grooves into the melted clay of your skin.

“Sneak?”

You opened your eyes again and settled them on König’s, blinking a few times so that he could still see proof of your presence. He didn’t look as relieved as he did the first time, but there was still a glimmer of hope in his face, still detectable no matter how small. His breaths seemed to resume too, you could see the faint puff start up from behind the dark material of his hood.

“Sneak! Price!” A voice broke through the strangled calm.

You blinked again and directed your eyes toward the sound, only daring to crack your neck just a little so that you could see. It was Gaz.. Well, Gaz and Soap. Gaz was thundering over to Price in seconds, squatting over him and grabbing at him, begging him to come to. However Soap was torn, he was frozen in silent horror in the doorway, barely there even as he stood. His face seemed to hollow as he surveyed the two camps that filled the room, though something dark seemed to fill him again when he settled on looking between your groups.

He was looking at Rousseau.

“Soap, help me with Price!” Gaz demanded.

He didn’t listen to Kyle. He ignored him in fact and strided over to the centre of the room, grinding to a stop in front of Rousseau’s unconscious body. He knelt down and checked for a pulse, lips pursing when he must’ve found what he was looking for. Still alive, you guessed.

Why else would he be pulling zip ties from his back pocket? You hazily watched as he tightened them soundly around his wrists and ankles, double checking each one.

“He seems to be alive. How’re they?” Soap grunted, shooting over to Gaz and settling at Price’s other side. “König, how’s Sneak?”

Watching everyone felt like streaming on a bad connection, your vision was lagging, the frames kept flickering. It was a struggle to concentrate on their movements and breathe at the same time. You were faltering toward the darkness again.

“Not good,” König whined, tightening his embrace on you. “Sneak’s fading fast, we have to get out of here and get to a medic.”

“Price isnt much better,” Gaz grunted, huffing as he lifted Price into a standing position.

Just then another shadow filled the room, it grew and stretched from the doorway like a blight.

“Alright, halls are clear. How’re we looking in here?”

Ghost’s gruff voice echoed off the chalky walls. He looked between you all, eyes darting around and checking in on everyone, gun angled low to the ground. He looked like he was ready to destroy an entire army, his eyes were set hard and his stance was tense and ready. He was breathing fast.

“Bad. We gotta go,” Soap answered.

“Fucks sakes, get Price covered will you?” Ghost growled, throwing one of the discarded blankets toward Gaz and Soap.

You looked down at yourself then, only suddenly realising that König had stuck you into one of his sweaters earlier. He must’ve brought it knowing that you’d be naked…he’d seen the videos. A grim thought took hold after. At least if you’d died then, you weren’t dying knowing that everyone was staring at your naked body anymore.

“Wrong thing to fuss over, mate,” Price coughed, finally piping up after his long silence. “We just need to get out of here - quick.”

He sounded better than you for once. They clearly hadn’t been choking him quite so badly during the filming, he sounded reasonably clear after everything he’d been through. He accepted the blanket that was being draped over him nonetheless, but it was hard not to spot the annoyance that overtook him. His brows were knit together tight.

“We’ll get out, Price, we’ve got things handled,” Ghost assured, finally strapping his gun onto his back. “König, is Sneak going to be alright? Can you get them back to transport?”

“Yes,” König answered, his response harsh through his gritted teeth. “I’ll get Sneak back.”

“Good. I’ll handle Rousseau.”

The way that Ghost said that sounded like Rousseau might not make it back to the transport with the rest of you. Not that you could argue sense into him. Your vocal chords were fried. Though even if they weren’t, you couldn’t be sure you’d have much strength to speak. Your body felt like it was balancing on a knife’s edge, swaying too and fro between darkness and life.

Closing your eyes and accepting darkness wasn’t an option however. You had to keep fighting. You kept blinking furiously and breathed in however much air your struggling lungs would allow you to. You focused on your heartbeats, clung to König’s hard body and willed yourself to keep going. You weren’t going to let yourself fade out. You couldn’t face knowing that you’d leave him alone, couldn’t face knowing you’d break your promise.

“Darling, I know you’ve been through so much, but you have to hold on for a bit longer, ok?” König whispered.

His mouth was lowered to your ear. You could feel the roughened material of his hood caressing your skin, lighting a fuse just beneath the surface. You could feel it feathering through to the surface of your skull.

“Ok,” you whispered.

He stood up at that, your single utterance spurring him on and forcing him to go. Unfortunately you didn’t feel quite the same way, in fact you screamed out raggedly the moment you were forced to change position. It had him apologising furiously in your ear, but you could only shake your head at him, urging him on with a faded look.

“Just stay with me, Sneak.”

You nodded your head this time, though it was easier promised than done. You were aware that König was taking you through the shot up hallways, but you knew yourself that you weren’t staying conscious the whole way.

There were entire sections that seemed to be cleared without your knowledge. Some moments you’d only just be turning corners and the next you would bob your head past König’s shoulder and acknowledge an entire straight corridor behind you both.

Hold on.

You continued to blink sleepily and breathe.

Don’t leave me alone.

Time ran like slow honey. Each breath seemed to span hours. König was talking to you, but you weren’t entirely sure what it was he was saying. They seemed like affirmations, you were sure at some point he was promising to buy you things from that deli that you liked in town, but you weren’t awake for long to hear it.

Towards the end you must’ve been gone for a solid few minutes. You went from almost total darkness then violently awoke to four terrified faces surrounding you at once, all bathed in the yellow light of day like they were standing under buttercups. There was a whirring sound all around you and your body felt like it was smothered in bubble wrap. You could hardly feel a thing.

“The drugs must be helping!” Soap shouted hopefully, his voice almost lost under the loud whooshes of air all around you.

Were you on a helicopter?

You blinked up at the ceiling and smiled euphorically, almost laughing until you were forced to choke back more coughs. It forced your face to scrunch and the light around you to shatter.

Why were you coughing? What was happening? Why were you in a helicopter?

Oh no, it’s happening again I’m dreaming, you thought, absolutely horrified at the thought of waking up in the darkness again. It was the only explanation. How did you go from being beaten to being in a helicopter with all of your boys? It simply couldn’t be real.

“Not…real,” you croaked sadly, “Not…real.”

“Sneak, save your throat,” König roared, his voice sounding similarly distant as Soap’s.

His hand felt so heart shatteringly solid, like something that was really there. Hadn’t you felt him like that earlier and awoke to find it was all fake? His voice as well. The realisation brought on a violent sob. You were reduced to tears in seconds, shivering violently into the hard floor beneath you. You just couldn’t tell what was happening anymore, you couldn’t feel anything properly. Your skin felt fuzzy and your mind was filled with pillow stuffing.

“You’re safe, Sneak. It’s alright!”

You jumped when you heard König’s voice come through loud and clear. A weird snug feeling encapsulated your head and you frowned, not understanding that you’d been graced with a pair of headphones. The drugs really were doing their work, but you were too gone to even think of that.

“Sneak hold on for me, ok? Just a little bit longer, my love,” König begged.

His voice was so hoarse and scratchy. However you heard it loud and clear.

“Mm…love you,” you whispered. “Been…dreaming bout…you.”

Even if it was a dream, you were happy to fall into it now. The warm fuzz was spreading further through your veins, cushioning your insides pleasantly from all the misery and strain. The idea of this being one of your last dreams tickled at your brain and you almost felt like giggling again. The sunshine was returning to the edges of your vision.

“Sneak, listen to König and stay awake, alright? Don’t close your eyes Sneak!”

“Soap?” you frowned.

He’d never been in your visions before. Not that you were angry to hear his voice again, but you were thoroughly confused as to why he’d appeared all of a sudden.

“Stop talking, Sneak. Your throat’s fucked.”

Ghost?

“Yeah, you can relax for a little bit, ok? Just concentrate on us.”

Gaz?

“Stop overwhelming them,” Price growled out. “All of you shut it.”

Were they all there? You strained your head, moaning when you couldn’t move very much. Something was preventing you. Were you strapped down? You struggled and huffed out a few heavy breaths and soon found that it was no use. You couldn’t move. You could only face ahead.

That wasn’t so bad either. Soon König was filling your sights and he was leaning above you, floating into frame like an angel. He was wearing his half mask, allowing you to see his uncovered eyes and messy blonde hair. More than ever you wanted to reach out and stroke it, though you knew well enough that you couldn't in your restrained predicament. You pouted.

“Wan…feel…you…”

“Shhh, darling. Don’t talk. I’m right here, just stay with me. Focus on my voice and keep your eyes open. We’re getting you to a hospital, alright?”

You moaned.

Why couldn’t you just reach out and touch him? You wanted to feel his hard body against yours just one more time, even if you weren’t sure you’d feel him properly in your dreamstate. It didn’t matter, you figured you could convince yourself of anything. If only you were enjoying the spread of his thick fluffy blonde locks beneath your fingers. Even the thought was enough to send you tingling.

“That’s right, you’re going to be ok,” König smiled, gently holding your cheek and stroking it. “You’re going to be ok and you’re going to recover. You’re going to get seen to by the doctors, and you’ll rest up and before you know it you’ll be coming home with me. Yeah? You remember our trip? You’re going to be ok. You’re going to come back to Austria with me, ok?”

Finally you were in heaven. It felt so so real. It felt safe. You inhaled deeply and relaxed back, smiling contentedly to yourself. That was everything that you’d wanted for days. You craved loving gestures like a ravenous addict, the yearning had burnt in your heart for days.

“No! Stop that, keep your eyes open!”

You hadn’t even realised you’d closed them. You blinked sleepily and drew in a deep breath, but the yellow light couldn’t compete with the cool darkness. You craved the shade of rest, wanted to nuzzle into the black.

“Darling please. If you fall asleep now you might not wake again and I don’t know what I’ll do. Please! Please stay with me! You told me you wouldn’t leave me again, Sneak, you promised! Stop this!”

You frowned. Through the last dregs of light remaining you could see his eyes streaming with tears. His chest was heaving with effort to keep himself upright. His hand was wrapped around your shoulder now, and his other had joined your other side. König was clutching onto you like a little boy lost, but you could do nothing to help him. You felt so weak. You could barely hold your lids open anymore, never mind comfort anyone.

Why couldn’t he just relax into the warmth like you? You could both lie in the darkness together, bodied fused in the nothing, just floating. You frowned.

Why was he trying to make you hold on? Didn’t he know that if you woke again you’d be back inside the cell, tied up and shivering like a beaten dog. You didn’t want to go back to that. You wanted to stay in your dream forever now. This was it, you decided.

“Nein! Bitte verlass mich nicht. Ich flehe dich an, bitte bleib!” König sobbed, his voice overtaken by sad gasping breaths. “Please…keep your eyes open. Bitte…please…stop…bitte…Nein…”

Distantly you wanted to remind him that he needed to talk to you in English, but even talking seemed like some far off concept.

You shook your head and lay back into the darkness fully, swaying into the eternal night. You wished König wasn’t so sad. You wished your last dream had been a more pleasant one…but it didn’t matter.

It was just a dream.

Don’t cry König… you’ll find me no matter where I go…

-☠️-

I got pain an' experience... an' you got heart -- kinda remind me of Marciano, ya do.

“How’re things? Any progress?”

“I’ve noticed some twitching, but the doctors keep saying I’m seeing things. They keep blaming it on lack of sleep.”

Rocky, when I was fightin' it was the dirtiest racket goin', see. Pugs like me was treated like fightin' dogs -- throw ya in the pit an' for ten bucks ya try to kill each other.

“...I know it’s difficult, but you need to rest too. You’ve been holed up in here alone with these movies on repeat for god knows how long now. It’s not good for you, mate.”

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s good for me. The doctors said familiar people and sounds will help. Rocky will help. Being here will help.”

“I know but...If-”

“Don’t you dare say ‘if’ Sneak wakes up.”

Do you feel you have a chance?

Maybe

“König, enough's enough. Get yourself downstairs, jump in that fucking taxi and go to the hotel. Don’t come back till you’ve gotten that wretched smell off you and do something about the bags under your eyes.”

“For the last time I’m not going! I saw a finger spasm. It really moved!”

“I’m sure you’ve seen pink elephants and all sorts by now, sunshine. Fuck off and go look after yourself. You’re no good to anyone like this.”

“No! I won’t do it!”

“For god’s sakes do you want to stink Sneak awake? C’mon, look at yourself. Don’t you think you’ll scare them if they wake up and see you like this?”

“I don’t care! I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!”

Get outta my life both of ya's.

“Look, I know we don’t really get on but…I bought you a tea. Can I sit for a bit?”

“Are you going to try and make me leave too?”

“Jesus, no. Just wanted to come check in. They keep sayin’ you’re seeing movement…”

... It's cold outside, Paulie.

“I am seeing movement. Today it was a blink, I’m sure of it.”

“Well, that’s good, hm? What’re the doctors sayin’? Do they think there’ll be any change?”

“The doctors never want to reveal much.”

He's scum from the corner, I didn't raise ya to hang with no bum!

“Do you ever get tired of Rocky being on all the time? It’d drive me nuts watching the same thing over and over all day.”

“I barely notice it anymore.”

“Huh.”

“Sneak please, I’m begging you. You have to give me something…I’ve been watching you for so long now and you’ve never been so still. Just give me something so I can keep going, yeah? Anything…bitte.”

“You know I was looking out at the stars a minute ago. It reminded me of when we sat together that night and looked up at the sky together. Remember that, darling? You fixed my hair for me. I could use that again now. I almost broke my comb trying to put it through my hair yesterday. I suppose maybe I should listen to your team, hm? Garrick and MacTavish offered to sit with you for a little while tonight… Maybe you’d like to have some company with someone else for a bit. Maybe you’d be better off without me, hm?”

It don't matter if I lose... Don't matter if he opens my head...The only thing I wanna do is

go the distance -- That's all.

“I’ve tried it all and still you won’t wake up for me! What will it take Sneak? What will it fucking take! I’ve done everything and still it isn’t enough! Why am I not enough! Is it because of what I did that day? Is this my penance? Are you running away from me again? Goddamn it, I can’t take this, wake up Sneak! Just open your eyes!”

I love you -- I love you -- I love you…

“Fuckin’ hell, is this still on?”

“Ghost!”

“You know why it’s on.”

“Think I could recite it from memory by now.”

“You’re not helpin’, LT. Leave him alone.”

“Fuck me, there’s only so many times you can listen to that numbskull’s voice. Let the arsehole say Yo! Adrian and turn it off.”

“Well then, it sounds like you can’t recite it from memory then.”

“What?”

“‘Yo! Adrian’ - That’s from Rocky two. He didn’t say it in the first one, see? The movie is over now.”

“Oh, fuck me.”

“I was thinking earlier…you said before that you hated not knowing my name. You said that I shared everything with you, except that and it…it killed you not to know me completely. I don’t know why I had to be so stubborn about it now, I suppose it's just not a name I like to hear very much. Apart from my mother, it just reminds me of people I’d rather not think about…but I think if i ever heard you say it I’d like it. Do you still want to know it? What if I told you now, would you wake up?”

-☠️-

Swirling mist danced behind your lids. There was an electric current somewhere sparking in a breeze, you were floating along on it, your skin tingled and your spine burned with the fizz of it. You felt yourself twinge, felt a groan building in the back of your throat even though you couldn’t hear it. There was a vibration running down your body, it built and thrummed through you, undulating with the electricity.

You liked it. You enjoyed getting to float freely, loved the temporary bliss of your shadowy escape. There was no pain there in the darkness, just whooshes and whisps of feeling and giddy deliriousness. An endless drifting cycle that felt like it could go on for the rest of time. However implausible that would be to a sane person.

Ultimately it didn’t last forever though - eventually you felt yourself sinking.

You frowned. No. You didn’t want to sink, you didn’t want to go into the depths, you wanted to remain in the clouds. You hated the falling sensation, you hated the burning that built in your throat, hated the aches that broke out all over your back as if it were cracked glass. You especially disliked the crusty feeling behind your eyes.

You scrunched your eyelids furiously, gritting your teeth when you couldn’t relieve the sensation. With a strangled moan and no small amount of effort you cracked your eyes open. Somehow you resisted the urge to scream. Maybe you were too weak to do anything like that just yet, but your body wasn’t above holding it in, waiting to survey your surroundings first.

You blinked furiously into the light. The room you were in was disgustingly fucking bright, clinically bright. The shocking white glare flooded your vision and kept you fluttering your eyelids for a moment, continuously disturbing the layer of gunk that had built in the gloopy corners of your eyes. The world was in stark contrast to the one you’d just emerged from. What was painless and empty before was now bursting to life with sensation.

Fuck.

There were so many acidic scents and weird feelings around you. Your body felt like it was repressurising, your lungs were reacclimating to your surroundings. Through it all, you wanted to reach up and wipe your face so badly. There was no way you could muster the strength though. You didn’t have enough energy, it was all being used toward your growing awareness.

Why were you so weak? Why couldn’t you move? Where were you?

The questions clawed at your mind and had your brain scrambling until it burnt. There weren’t many memories to help you out. When you tried to think of where you were last, your head came up just as blank as the ceiling above you. That’s when you realised there was only one way you could get any answers.

You would have to move.

For some reason your instincts were telling you not to talk, not to draw attention to yourself. You weren’t sure why, but you sure as fuck weren’t going to go aginst your gut at a time like that.

You sucked in a silent breath and steeled yourself. Then you took in another. Then another. You breathed in and out and kept up a steady rhythm until you felt you’d gathered every miniscule ounce of strength you had and finally you put it all into twisting your neck around. You grunted out in pain, but kept yourself quiet, swivelling and sighing all you could until you were greeted with something other than ceiling.

A lightning shock of messy blonde hair. A black mask. A big scarred face gently slackened into a sleepy frown.

Your heart leaped in your chest. You couldn’t remember much, but one thing was for sure - you knew exactly who was sitting across from you then.

It brought a smile to your sore cracked lips. The corners twitched up and your heart jumped around in your chest like a parading cheerleader. Next thing you knew, something from somewhere next to you, something started to furiously beep. It filled your head and ricocheted through your ears, and more importantly startled the man across from you out of his slumber.

“Ah Oida! Doctor, nurse! The monitor its-”

König looked at you then and you could’ve sworn his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. The world went still.

You smiled softly at him and watched on as he stayed frozen in his tracks, looking like a perfect picture of fear and disbelief. The room felt like it’d been filled with gas, like it was seconds from ignition. He gaped at you in the heavy silence.

“Am I…Is this…Is this real?” he asked fearfully.

You smiled wider then and blinked a couple times. You couldn’t rely on your voice to work, it felt like your gullet was filled up with gravel. Talking was going to be a luxury, you could tell. It already felt like a miracle getting to lay eyes on your man again, but it wasn’t one you were taking for granted. From the few moments you’d had, you could tell you’d been out for a while.

“My love! It’s really you, you’re really awake!” König laughed.

You mustered a tiny nod from your depleted energy reserves. The second you moved you sent König running toward you.

His boots slapped down on the squeaky tiled floors, with the force he sped to you it felt like he was going to put his foot through the floor. Though you couldn’t focus too much on that, because soon enough he was on you, arms clamping around you as if he’d never let go again.

It hurt so bad to have him wrap himself so tightly round you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. Strangely it was comforting to feel pain from something good. And man did it feel good. It felt like you’d been pulled from the ice, like you were warm again. Safe. You were home.

It made you all the more aware that you really were alive.

“König what the fuck are you doing? You can’t squeeze sneak awake! The doctors are saying you’re causing a commotion in here, what’s going on?”

You smiled wider than you ever thought possible and looked past König’s heaving body and toward the source of the gruff commanding voice. It was a voice for sore ears.

“I don’t need to squeeze Sneak awake, Captain,” König giggled, his entire body vibrating with his maddened laughter.

“Fuckin’ hell you’ve finally crossed the border fully into looney land,” Price growled.

“No! No, see for yourself. See!”

König detached from you, allowing you some more space to breathe again, and you took the opportunity gratefully. However you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose when you finally caught the pungent smell that had clung to the air around you. Was that…König?

“What are you talking about? What- fucking christ alive!”

You broke out of your hazy thoughts and made eye contact with Price, almost breaking your silence with a fit of laughter when he did the same thing as König. His mouth hung open, his unusually clean shaven face looking thin and haunted from the second he realised that König hadn’t gone mad from grief. He dropped his shivering skinny arms and his whole hospital gown clad body shot up stick straight.

“Bloody hell It’s really…Sneak’s really…”

“See! I told you! I told you all!” König grinned. “I said there had been movement. I told you that Sneak would fight.”

König’s stance was victorious, his eyes were ablaze with pride. It made your chest wrench to see him so happy. Something told you that he hadn’t been doing well at all. If his greasy hair and fierce aroma were anything to go by. At least he would be able to fix that.

You weren’t so sure that you were going to be fixed anytime soon.

All of a sudden, as if awakened by your thoughts, a horrible tearing jolt worked itself through your throat and splintered down your back. It forced a pathetic squeak of pain from your lips and soon the two men were rushing to the door screaming and shouting for someone to come do something as your body heaved and trembled. The alarm and the crazed beeping from the machines only made your condition worsen, the shouting rattled your ears and rung through your head like a gong.

A nurse was by your side in minutes, shaking a little as König stood beside her, urging her to do something. You were in too much pain to pity her though. Your entire being was in atrophy. Chills and hot flashes worked their way through your skin and horrible zipping sparks jumped all around your body, directing themselves toward your tired lungs.

Though soon the trauma ended, and your pain dulled down into a light throb until eventually you felt like you were on a new plane. All the edges in the room appeared hazy and everything seemed to ebb and blur. At first it didn’t feel much better than the agony, but eventually you grew used to it, letting yourself lay back into the soft sheets and smile dopily into the skinny pillow you’d been given.

“Sneak? Sneak!”

“König,” you mouthed, floating steadily back into the darkness.

-☠️-

You’d had a few more encounters like that until you were finally able to stay awake without being shot up with drugs like a dying horse.

The pain started to get more manageable with time, and of course you were able to motivate yourself with seeing all of your loved ones again. König was always there, bar the times you had to raspily whisper shout at him to go take a bath or to go get some rest. He never would leave you alone to sleep though, opting instead to lay down on the empty hospital cot next you. He’d strong armed a young doctor into getting it into your room of course.

Price visited quite a lot too. He was in the room next to yours, thoroughly displeased that they weren’t giving him the all clear to go back to work. He groused that he was just fine and that the bloody doctors didn’t know what they were saying, going on about how he’d been a Captain long enough and he knew better than them that his body was ready to go home and heal there. You both knew it was a lie though. Price was as sick as you, even if he was mostly able to walk and talk. You could see it behind his eyes.

You knew well enough what was lurking in there, because you had the same sickness yourself. It was there when strangers came to touch you and check up on you, the doctors that were only trying to care for you. It was there when the lights went out at night. It was there lurking in the shadows. It was there every time you were forced to get a wash. You screamed bloody murder the first time you were awake for a sponge bath, almost choked up blood you were so terrified of the water. Even the sound of it sloshing at the edges of the bucket was enough to send you into a panic attack. It was a nightmare even having to drink the stuff.

König took it upon himself to look after every facet of your wellbeing after that wash. He bathed you, he fed you when you were finally able to have solid food, and he practically barked like a rottweiler at anyone that tried to touch you without letting him know what it was for. As much as you tried to tell him it was alright and that he didn’t have to do all that for you, he’d shake his head with indignance everytime and shush you with a million platitudes. He said he’d do anything for you. He would serve you until the minute you sent him away, which wasn’t very often, but it was necessary to tell him to eat or get himself a shower.

Price had confessed to you one night that he had reacted much the same as you after they’d brought him in. König had been sent away, and so your Captain sat on the foot of your bed drinking tea from a wonky paper cup, occasionally grimacing with his weird naked face as the bitter after taste sunk in. You were still getting used to seeing him without a beard, even after all you’d been through, that was still completely out of the ordinary.

“It’s the only reason I drink this utter shit,” he’d remarked, drawing the tea close to his lap. “I’d rather have something with a taste to it. Something with a bit of colour.”

“Glad to know its not just me,” you’d said bitterly.

Your voice was still raspy when you spoke, the doctors told you it would take a while to heal, you just had to keep your voice to a whisper for a while. Apparently your throat had suffered so much trauma that you were lucky you were getting to speak at all after what you’d been through. Not that you felt particularly lucky.

“You know…when we go back we’ll have to get tested…medical tests, psych evals.”

Your lips parted and you sucked in a low breath. In the back of your mind you hadn’t forgotten that Price was going to waive your little misstep with König. You were technically allowed to go back. That aside though, would you really be capable? Could you pass a psych eval? You screamed bloody murder most nights because of the awful nightmares you were having. Your body was frail and your scars were deep. Not all of them would heal.

“You’d let me back?” you asked slowly.

“Well, if you managed to pass - of course,” Price shrugged. “I was serious when I said that the whole mess with König didn’t matter, I think we’ve been through enough together that none of that means anything anymore. The most important factor is, do you want to go back?”

You caught eyes with him then, locked into his hard stare. His blue eyes were shining dully in the dim yellow night light. You could see the hollows in his cheeks more prominently now, the shadows were digging their palms into his face. He was right - you had been through a lot together.

You weren’t so sure about your abilities anymore, if you would have the nerve to get out on the field again. A dark part of you also wondered about the alternative, what if you’d enjoy it too much? What if you’d want to take your vengeance out on those who hadn’t even done anything to you?

Even through the haze of your memories of being rescued, you could still remember the way you stared at Rousseau's crushed up body and the feeling of your smile still haunted you.

Of all the things that that man had done to you, the most horrific of all was the taking of some small part of your humanity. It brought a shiver to your core each time you thought of his head being smashed against the wall, and how you couldn’t even imagine telling König to stop even if you’d had the ability at the time.

It was something you desperately tried not to dwell on, lest your chest cave in from the pressure.

Both you and Price wordlessly let the uncomfortable silence linger. Soon enough he cast his gaze away and flickered his attention over to the TV. It was playing a crappy sitcom that neither of you had seen before, nevertheless you were both as captivated with it as if it were your favourite. Neither of you brought up coming back again that night. It made for too many questions that you didn’t have the answer to yet.

It was easier to pretend that everything was going to be fine. Your head felt clearer when you plastered on a smile and acted like everything was normal. That was the tactic when Ghost, Gaz and Soap finally came to visit and it worked well then.

They’d all flooded into the room with faces like slapped arses. Gaz and Soap were fighting each other to apologise to you first while Ghost stood solemnly by your side giving you one of the sorriest looks you’d ever seen from those hard blue eyes of his. You weren’t going to have any of it though. They didn’t deserve to drown in their guilt because of a series of reckless choices that you’d made.

“All of you have got to stop apologising. You already did enough getting us out of there, there’s nothing more to be said about it,” you rasped, quickly looking over to the jug of water placed strategically away from you.

Ghost gave Soap and gaz a withering look, before he turned and fetched a small glass, filling it only a third of the way before steadily handing it to you. It barely shifted in his careful hands - it made you realise that someone must’ve filled him in. The realisation had your heart stuttering, it had revealed a crack in your normal facade.

Despite that though, you gave him a small nod and gently tipped the water back, greedily letting the water soothe your burning throat. Drinking it never completely relieved you of course. Your throat remained scratchy no matter what you had, it would still take some time before you fully recovered.

“We played our part in your capture, Sneak. There’s no denying it,” Ghost said. “Me more than anyone else. I put you in danger and I can’t let you dismiss that. I let my feelings get in the way of the mission, and ultimately that was the whole reason Price had set the rules he did with you in the first place. I’m truly sorry for what happened, and there isn’t anything that’ll make my part in what happened alright.”

“Aye, we all did, we all put you in danger. It was a fuckin’ big shock, Sneak. It didn’t feel good knowing you might’ve been leaving the team for someone we thought was…well it doesn’t matter what we thought. Point is we acted out of line and we do have to apologise,” Soap said seriously, placing his hand by yours on the bed. “Im sorry too.”

“It wasn’t our place to punish you,” Gaz said firmly, “We acted like fucking children and it almost cost your life. I can’t say sorry enough.”

“You were barely even with me on that mission!”

“Well I didn’t exactly stick up for you when I got the chance, did I?”

You started to roll your eyes, but the look that Gaz gave you was enough to stop them before they peaked at the skyline. You closed them instead for a second and then pursed your lips, taking a moment to consider their words.

Everything in you wanted to tell them all to shut up about it so that you wouldn’t have to think too much about that awful day, but you knew well enough that you couldn’t ask everyone to put it behind them just so that you could deny it. What happened happened. You had to face it. If not just for yourself, then for the men that had risked their lives coming to get you and Price back. For your brothers.

Though you didn’t have to unravel right at that exact moment, you decided. That could wait for a time that you could at least fetch your own water for yourself, or when you could take a shower without König standing outside of it.

“Well, seeing as we’re talking apologies…” you sighed, opening your eyes again and looking at each of them with serious measure. “Let’s get into reparations. What’d you all get me?”

“Get you?” Gaz repeated.

“Yeah, where are my ‘sorry you almost died, woops!’ balloons?”

“Oh, away n’ bile yer heid!” Soap groused.

“You didn’t even get a little bear with hand marks round it’s neck?” you grinned.

“Well we found one, but it had big red handprints on its arse as well, and that just didn’t seem appropriate,” Ghost remarked.

“Jesus, LT!” Soap snapped.

“Yeah, König might take it as us flirtin’ and snap our arms off,” Gaz sniggered.

“Oh for…” Soap groaned, and put his hands over his eyes.

You laughed properly for the first time in a long time, and most joyously of all you didn’t fly into a coughing fit straight after. It flowed freely from you like notes from a tuba, still not quite your usual timbre but fuck it, it was music. Your body lightened and your head cleared, it was like an oppressive fog was beginning to lift.

Even if you weren’t coughing by the end of it, your throat still dried up again though you didn’t need to worry. Ghost got you another glass of water and handed it to you with a softened expression.

You took the glass from him once more and sunk into a familiar rhythm with the guys again, transporting yourself away from the four stark white walls of the hospital room and away on their adventures. They filled you in on what was happening back at base, told you about their latest antics with the recruits and by the end of it you were so delirious from happiness, the nurse had to shoo them out so that you could rest.

König came in shortly after them, freshly washed and fed, and he lay down in his cot across the room. His footsteps had woken you, even when he hadn’t meant to, you were still so hypersensitive to movement. Even in the darkness you could make out his mountainous shape as it rose and curved from the bed and it brought a little smile curving onto your lips. Your protector was never far.

You sleepily invited him over and gladly he came speed walking to your bed. His messy was flopping in his excitement and the site of him reminded you so much of a cartoon you couldn't help but laugh a little.

The trilling sound of it had him smiling, and soon after he poured you a cup of water and let you drink before fastening his arms around you and cuddling into your back. Your personal stove was on full heat. He was assuming his faithful position by your side.

You sighed and relaxed into him, wiggling to get yourself right before frowning when you felt something sharp poking into your leg. What was that? You drew your hand back and stopped at König’s pocket, tilting your head when you slid your hand in and found the source.

“Oh, Scheiße,” König huffed.

“What?”

König’s body went stiff as a board and you could practically feel the air harden around you. You were confused as to why he was there until you brought your hand to your face and discovered the cause.

It was the wooden bird from the market. You tilted it gently and inspected it, quickly realising what the cause of his sorry state was. It’s little wing had been broken and glued back on, a permanent scar had been left on its frail body. Something that was all too familiar.

“It’s just like me,” you joked.

“What?” König somehow managed to get stiffer.

You turned around and faced him, gasping when you realised how upset he was. His entire expression soured, his eyebrows knitting into a deep frown. His shoulders sagged with grief and from behind his bandana you swore you could see his lips trembling, could sense his breath puffing out raggedly from behind the material. The pain on his face struck through your skull like a mallet.

Shit.

“You know…It’s got a little damage, but its ok. You put it back together,” you shrugged, trying fruitlessly to keep your tone light and even.

“It was only broken because of me,” König whimpered. “And I haven’t even properly fixed it.”

His eyes glazed over, spacing out into whatever terrible thoughts had been tugging at his subconscious. You’d felt your heart break then, cracking down the middle at the thought of him blaming himself. It was bad enough when the 141 were filling up the room with their apologies, but it was a whole other thing to see König folding under the pressure of his guilt. The boys had each other, but he didn’t have anyone other than you.

“Hey,” you said gently, voice still a little rough. “Listen to me. C’mon look at me. König I need you to know that it’s not your fault, what happened wasn’t because of you…I don’t even know why you’d think it’s your fault, but ultimately it comes down to me. My stupid actions. You tried to do your best by me that day and I fought you because I was scared. I couldn’t stop worrying about all the damage I’d done and in the end I only made it all worse. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?” he asked, frowning as he searched your face.

“Of course I’m sure. That day I got captured was a shit show, König. After you did everything you possibly could to make sure I got back safe and sound again, and… well I don’t even know if I can even count on myself not having more dreams or hallucinations, but I’m sure I heard you everyday that you were by my bedside. I could feel you when I was asleep. You were there with me even when I was getting moved around all those prisons. You’ve been my anchor König, you’ve been the one that’s kept me here fighting. You’re my reason to go on, so don’t you lie there blaming yourself for what’s happened.”

“How can I not?” König sighed. “It’s my fault things got so complicated between us in the first place. I was the reason that Price banned you from having a relationship with me, It was my fault for being so bloodthirsty. Fuck, I could barely even stop myself from killing Rousseau, I thought- I thought that, well I worried that you would’ve spent your last moments horrified with me for what I’d done to him that day.”

“Oh fuck no, don’t be stupid!” you snapped.

König’s brows shot up and his eyes grew big as saucers. You swore you could see your hardset gaze reflected clearly in the blue of them, burning holes through that layer of guilt he’d shrouded himself in. How dare he think that he was your ruin when he was the one that saved you?

“Don’t you dare put all the blame on yourself, König. You can’t think like that. I have just as much freedom over my actions as you do, it was equally my fault for getting Price on my back, and it was down to my actions that day that got me captured. As for Rousseau, well, I would’ve splattered him on the concrete myself if I had the energy.”

“Sneak!”

“It’s true,” you spat. “I know I shouldn’t think like that, but it’s true. I know I’m normally the one that tries to do right, but do you know what? After all the wrong I’ve done, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not capable of the same things as you. We both have violent jobs, and we both carry horrible truths that haunt us. Don’t turn me into one of your ghosts König, don’t let the guilt fester and eat you up. I love you and I’d do anything to make sure you were safe, and I know that you’d do the same for me. You brought me back from the brink and now because of it we can lay here together and we can make a future for ourselves. We can go to Austria and we can decide to do whatever we want with the time that we have König. That’s all that matters. Don’t shrink from the past and get upset at the scars left behind. We have to learn to accept it.”

You thrust the bird toward him and he took it, scooping it into his hands ever so delicately. It was as if you’d handed him your heart. His breaths were soft and his eyes were filled with tears.

There was a single beat where you worried he might try to walk away, but instead he gently placed the bird down on your over-bed table, wood hitting wood producing a soft whispery sound in the near silent room, and then he wrapped his arms around you again. He held you tight and kept you melded to him, fusing you with his shaking body.

He cried soundlessly and let his body shake most of it out, all of the terror and the pain and the stress he’d been holding onto was slowly being released through you. His tears ran thick and hot and collected at his mask, reddening his cheeks at the edges of it. You slid it down for him eventually and cleared away the salty tracts, dabbing at his cheeks with the corner of your crisp white bed sheets.

“You have no idea…I…I feel so selfish saying this, but you don’t know how lonely I’ve felt this past month. I’ve just felt like I’ve had all of this pain trapped inside and every time I’ve seen you suffer since waking up I just- I’ve felt like shit for thinking that I deserve an ounce of comfort when you’re the one that’s been through the worst.”

“Don’t think like that König, please. You always have me to turn to, you’re not being selfish for feeling hurt in all this. You got burnt too and it’s not fair you going it alone ok? You can talk to me, König. You can always talk to me. I love you, I love you so much, and I don’t want you bottling everything up just to protect me. I’m not broken, you don’t have to turn me into your next mission. I’m healing, and I think- I think we both need to heal. Y’know?”

König took a stuttering breath and nodded, his lips curling downward in a unique kind of sadness you’d never seen on him before. Now that his hair was flopping over his forehead and his half mask was wound down and dishevelled on his neck, he looked so young. His face was shadowed with his innocence, it shone out across his eyes.

You pressed your palms into his cheeks and smoothed your thumbs over the irritated salty skin, pressing kisses where you could to ease the pain. His face was scratchy from the thick stubble there, but you didn’t care. It was more important that you soothe the burning ache inside König. You had to show him that you could be there for him too, even if you were still physically weak.

He was your reason to remain strong. He was the reason you were taking steps every day to try and get better. He really was your anchor. Your König.

“Somehow we’ll make it through this…” you whispered, finally giving his swollen lips a much needed kiss.

He closed his eyes and leaned into it. The pressure in the atmosphere seemed to lighten, your lips crushed together like petals and you bathed in the calm that overflowed in you. It finally felt like things really would be ok. You were together now and you didn’t need to constantly think about your next steps, you just had to be. That was all that mattered for then.

Your kiss ended a little while after, your breath not quite back to normal yet. Your chest panted with the lack of air, but soon you settled again and smiled. König matched your smile and his dazzling blue eyes gleamed like jewels in the low light. He rested against the pillow and stared at you in awe, as if he was finally seeing someone he hadn’t gotten to be with in a very long time.

“Do you really think you heard me when you were…asleep?” he asked, tentatively breaking the silence as if it were fragile glass.

He could never bring himself to say ‘in a coma’.

“I dunno,” you sighed. “I think I dreamed a lot, but I can’t really remember. I swear I really could hear Rocky sometimes, but then Price was very eager to make a point of saying how insane you’d driven everyone with it so…who knows,” you laughed. “He’s a vivid storyteller I guess.”

König chuckled a little and shook his head. Looking a little guilty as he thought about the amount that movie had been on. He’d already confessed to you it’d be a long time before he’d ever be able to watch it again.

“You don’t remember me speaking to you though? Don’t remember the things I’d told you?”

You tilted your head at him, the movement rustling the stark sheets beneath you.

“I feel like I can remember you saying you loved me and you wanted me to open my eyes, but I can’t really remember anything specific. Nothing I couldn’t have just as well have dreamt,” you shrugged. “Why?”

“I…well I thought…ugh, it’s ridiculous. Nevermind,” he sighed, looking toward the wall and away from your questioning gaze.

“Aw, c’mon König! What is it? You can tell me,” you pressed, running your hand through a section of his fluffy hair.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His face washed with relief, his body relaxed. He let go of his anxieties.

“Well…I told you my name a little closer to the end of your sleep. I thought that maybe you might’ve remembered it if you were coming to awareness.”

You froze, stopping your calming gestures in your tracks as soon as you realised what you’d missed out on.

“You what! You told me your name and now you’re just casually throwing that out there?”

“Well I was desperate, Sneak. I thought maybe it’d motivate you to wake up, I dunno. I said it was ridiculous,” he huffed, opening his eyes back up again.

“Well, do I get to know it now?” you demanded, rolling over him so that he was caged between your arms.

He widened his eyes, and even in the darkness you could make out the rosy tint that had broken out across his cheeks. He breathed a little quicker.

“Aw, c’mon!” you begged, giving him your widest doe eyes you could muster. “Please.”

He sighed and bit his lip, trying to avoid your stare, but it didn’t work. He could feel the heat of your eyes on him and so he gave up. He puffed out a defeated breath and he smiled a queasy smile. He was about to speak, but instead found himself opening his mouth and closing it again, sealing his lips shut tightly.

“Are you really still scared to share it with me?” you asked, softening your harsh stare at him.

He opened and closed his mouth again and finally he shook his head at himself.

“I’m not scared, no. It just feels…I’m not sure. I don’t really like to say it. I Will tell you though. I don’t ever want anything to happen again and live knowing that I didn’t hear you say it. I’m sure I’ll love to hear you say it.”

“Well you could always write it down…I can’t promise I’ll pronounce it right if its got some weird Austrian spelling, but I can-”

“No, no,” he chuckled, taking one of your hands in his and stopping you before you could go off on a tirade. “I won’t need to write it down. I’ll tell you.”

“Ok, well…when you’re ready.”

He breathed out and traced your fingers with his thumb. The massive digit stroked featherlight touches into your skin and you smiled at the fizzing sensation of it. His breath was warm on your neck, his chest was beating erratically from beneath you. It prompted you to climb down off him, keeping a grip of his hand all the same, but instead you took to lying next to him again.

He smiled lazily as you settled by his side and he closed his eyes. You felt yourself strain as you listened to the buzzing quiet in the room, waiting to hear his name after all that time.

“Matthias,” he whispered.

You instantly grinned, the single word lighting you up like a beacon. Your chest felt like it could burst.

“Do I get a second name, Matthias?” you asked, pressing closer so you could kiss his cheek.

He shivered next to you, his entire body buzzing. The static zipped right through the bed. He gave you a look he’d never given you before, the joy indescribable.

“Luger,” he said gently.

You bit your lip, not quite believing that you finally heard it.

“Not König then?”

“No, not König,” he murmured. “König was my mother’s maiden name. I started using it when I left the army. No ones called me by my real name in a long time”

“Huh… Matthias Luger,” you said in a whisper, feeling conspiratorial. “It suits you.”

“It suits me when you call me it,” he smiled, cuddling himself into the bed.

“Should I call you Matthias when we’re alone now?” you pondered, letting your thoughts escape out loud.

He breathed out a laugh and pulled you close to him, forcing you to sink into the bed with him. It didn’t require too much coercion however. You were more than happy to lie there with him.

“You can call me whatever you like as long as you stay with me, darling,” he whispered. “Don’t ever run off like that again, you promise?”

You sighed and cuddled closer into his body, gradually letting yourself fade into the night with him.

“I promise…Matthias,” you whispered, not helping yourself from saying it just one last time.

-☠️-

The darkness kept a hold of you both for some time after that, after all was said and done. However during the course of your lying in bed together, it released its hold on you soon enough, and before you knew it the sun was raising its bright arms into the sky and beginning to wave good morning. You could see it out in the hallway, gently tickling at the floors and beginning to shift its eyes onto your room. You were dozing on and off, but now that you’d seen the light you were fully awake, flickering your lashes at the golden rays as they bounced off the blue linoleum.

“Morning.”

König yawned next to you, stretching himself out and uncurling his arms. His back cracked like a firework seconds later, and he wrapped himself around you again, snuggling into the back of your T-shirt (one of his that he’d supplied you with). You rolled your eyes and smiled, feeling your heartbeat pitter patter.

“You sure it’s morning for you?” You asked breathily.

“Mm, I’ll be awake properly in a few minutes,” he grunted. “This just feels nice.”

“Aw, so cute when you’re sleepy,” you cooed, rolling around so that you could see his shuttered lashes.

He moaned his disapproval at being called cute, but he didn’t say much. He was verging far too much on the side of sleep rather than waking and you knew it would take far more to prod the bear back to life.

You grinned slyly to yourself and bit your lip. Something of your old sense of mischief was returning to you.

“You’re just so sweet you’re all tired like that,” you continued.

He grunted again.

“My little Schnucki cuddle bear…my lil matty watty-”

At that, König wrenched his eyes open and shot you a warning look. It was written all over his face that he had no idea how to take his revenge with you still in your weakened state, but you knew well enough he’d think of something. You took to giggling at his frowning face and lay yourself back against the pillow, innocently staring up at him as plotted away.

“You know if you’re going to call me disgustingly cutesy names, I will have to leave.”

“You would never,” you snorted, “I have to shoo you away just to get a shower most of the time.”

“Well, maybe I’m in a showering mood this morning,” he said, smiling viciously at you.

His eyes were pointed at you like arrows. He pulled up his mask and sat up without breaking eye contact, then he tilted his head at you. A particularly smarmy look crossed his face. He’s clearly thought of a good way to get his revenge.

“Yes, I think maybe I’ll head out for a little bit,” he shrugged.

“Fine,” you said, playing along with his little game. “I’m sure the nurses will be around with food soon. Price will be up and about too.”

“Mm, that will be good for you,” he said with a nod. “I think what might be good for me is getting myself a lovely breakfast. I’ll forgo the hospital canteen though, that stuff's rubbish. I think instead there's a lovely Italian deli that’ll be opening soon. One that I think you’ve heard of. It does lovely breakfast food!”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“And you’d bring something back from the deli then?”

“Why would I do that?”

You shoved at him playfully, too weak and tired to make much impact, but nonetheless enough to send him laughing back onto the bed. The booming sound had you giggling immediately, and even while all the excitement was hurting your throat you didn’t care. He pulled you into him and cuddled you close, forcing you back to the bed, though he didn’t actually have to use much strength.

He held you like that until Price sleepily stumbled in with his morning tea round and cleared his throat, forcing you both to part. Even if he did say he was fine with König, it was evident he wasn’t in love with watching you exchange affections. Even standing next to König seemed like an issue some days.

König left then, making his usual excuses, promising to come back with something from the deli after all, and allowed Price to pull up a chair alone.

He was a lot more mobile now that he’d mostly healed, he still stood a little funny under the weight of his crushed back, but according to the physio (and maybe Price overexaggerating his diagnosis) he would be fine again in a few weeks. Judging by the way he grunted when his back connected with the hard leather, you knew you were onto something assuming Price was being unusually optimistic.

“Making noises like that, you’ll be a sure candidate for desk duty, old man.”

Price shot you a glare and you bit your lip. He wasn’t going to abide by your cheek.

“I can still send you to the latrines, Sneaky,” Price answered, slamming your flimsy takeaway tea down with a little too much force.

“Oh yeah? I can imagine that’ll be a cushy job if I only have to clean your office.”

“Fuck sake,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself. Now that you’d been through all that trauma together, you found yourself braving interactions with him that you never would’ve before. After seeing him bollock naked and covered in his own detritus, the sheen of his title had faded some. You were able to be braver.

You and he both knew that nothing he could threaten you with would be worse than what you’d already faced. It was that universally realised truth that meant you knew the bitter glare that he was directing you from behind his takeaway cup didn’t hold any real malice.

“Seriously though…Gaz told me you were thinking of going back in a couple weeks. Is that true?”

Price stopped mid sip and regarded you awkwardly. His eyes slanted downward to the floor and his palm rested on his sweats in defeat. It was still so odd seeing Price in pyjamas, almost weirder than seeing him naked. It made him look all the more uncomfortable in front of you.

“Well, just on paperwork to start. I’m not bloody likely to pass a medical and I’ve got a series of psych evals and debriefs to get through, so yeah, I figure I may as well get ahead of it all.”

“You’ve got to tell them about what happened? Do I? Will they ask me to come in?” you asked, breath hitching with fear. “Will they come here?”

“No, no, don’t worry. I’ve told them you’ll not be in until your health improves. Far as they’re concerned you’re barely talking right now,” he soothed.

Your heartbeat wound down from its highly strung little dance. You breathed out a sigh of relief and picked up your cup of tea, breathing in the warm berry steam that wafted through the little opening in the top before you took a relieved sip.

“Thanks…I don’t think I could face anything like that right now.”

“I barely can myself,” he muttered. “All those men giving me sorry looks like I’m a whipped dog. It’ll be hell. Still though, it’d be worse if I didn’t get to operate again. Needs must.”

You nodded, looking far beyond the pale white sheets that your head was directed towards. You didn’t have the same worries. You feared more than pitying looks, it was deeper than that for you. The real hell was having to relive what you’d gone through multiple times while blank faced suits noted down what had happened. The very idea made you want to bring up what little was in your stomach.

“Have you given much more thought to coming back?” Price asked.

You looked up at him and met his appraising look. His mouth quirked and his body tensed, he knew as well as you the answer was obvious. Obvious but complicated.

“Honest answer? I’ve thought about it alot. At the end of the day I don’t even know if I’ll heal completely right yet. The fractures I’ve got are still bad and the physios keep looking at me like a tripped horse. I still can’t wash without König there. There’s a lot going on…”

“They’ll put you behind a desk if you tell them all that.”

“Maybe it’s the best place for me…I dunno. I’m not really sure of much right now, but I do know one thing - I’m not going to hide things anymore. I can’t hide my feelings just to try and get the work done, I’m not going to put people at risk because of the shit I’ve got bottled up. I’m never going to repeat the mistakes I made on that mission, Price. I’ve got too much to lose to ever do anything like that again.”

Price sighed and nodded, looking off into his own middle distance. It gave a sort of sagely quality, his crinkling eyes working against his younger years.

“I’ve asked and I can buy you three months,” he said suddenly, “You can take that time to heal and to think about things, see a shrink, do whatever you need to do. Come back to me then and give me an answer.”

“Three months?” you repeated. “To answer what? I don’t even know if I’ll be fully recovered.”

“You don’t need to be fully recovered…physically. You can be trained back to what you were, that’s not the issue. I just need to know if you can still do the job, and if you still want to do it. Take the time, think about things properly, hell go on that fuckin’ trip König wouldn’t shut up about and clear your head. After that, just come to me with an answer and even if it’s a no, I at least know that you got to think about your decision properly. I can make peace with it then.”

“You’re not keen on me saying no then?” you smiled, catching onto what he was doing.

“I can see you leaning towards it and I’d rather you didn’t while you’re practically chained to the bed in a dour place like this. You’re a good soldier. You can recover from this and you can come back, if you want to. Get out of here as soon as you’re able and go away with König. Believe me when I tell you that I don’t doubt your ability for a second. You’ll get over the water stuff, you’ll overcome the shadows. If I can, then you can too. I don’t want to lose you, Sneak. So please, just promise me you’ll think about it, yeah?”

You sighed and gave him a nod, rubbing your thumb against the hot cardboard that barley kept your tea contained. It was almost blistering your skin, but the burning was a pleasant distraction from otherwise unpleasant thoughts.

Price got up from his chair and put his hand on your shoulder, making sure that you acknowledged his meaningful look. His soft blue eyes cast a beam of light onto you, the wrinkles at the corner scrunching as he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His touch lingered long after he was gone, leaving you with just enough comfort to last until König returned.

König did surreptitiously wander in minutes later, looking around warily before revealing his smuggled goods. He’d had to hide them in his hoodie like a pregnant lady, and just the sight of his overstuffed belly had you almost completely forgetting about what Price had discussed with you. You were happy to focus on better things. Afterall, you reasoned to yourself, it was Price that had told you to clear your head in the first place.

“Ok, I couldn’t bring you Soup because I wasn’t willing to burn myself for you, but I did pick up your favourite panini and I got you a cake that might be a little squashed. Does the royal highness approve?”

You approved indeed. Anything was better than hospital food, but furthermore the deli food was better than anything. Immediately you grabbed for the panini and took a big grateful bite, barely just thanking König before you did so. It was just so good. Your eyelids shut tight as soon as you got your first taste of crusty bread and homemade melty butter.

This was paradise.

“Do I say enough how much I love you?” you murmured.

“Not at all,” König smirked, looking around the doorway for unwanted eyes before taking his own bite of panini from out of his mask. “It should be every word that leaves your mouth from now on.”

You snorted back a laugh and finished your bite.

“I could do that, but your poor mother might think I'm a bit weird if I can only tell her how much I love you.”

König stopped eating and peered over at you, clearly forgetting all about his contraband treat. He regarded you seriously for a moment and pulled his chair closer, attention now completely focused on you.

“You still want to go to Austria?”

“Well, the flights will need rebooked I imagine, but once I’m better? Of course!”

“But…didn’t you say you might need to report in soon?”

“Well, I spoke to Price about it all there and I told him the same thing I’ve said to you. I don’t know if I’ll go back fully. He didn’t want to accept that right away though, so he said he can give me three months. I figure I can be outta here a lot sooner than that. So what do you say? Still wanna show me home?”

König threw his panini down onto the table and pushed it roughly to the side, immediately taking his chance to wrap around you like a koala. He smiled brightly and he exhaled, his long thick arms not easing up as he constricted around you.

“Do I say enough how much I love you?” König asked wryly.

“Mm, I could stand to hear it a little more,” you sighed.

He laughed lightly at that, you could feel it echoing around his chest. His warm puffs of breath landed hotly onto your neck. It had your eyelids fluttering closed, your own sandwich discarded somewhere next to König’s. You wrapped your arms around him in kind and revelled in the feeling of holding your universe close into your chest, letting everything else float away as you settled into the cloudy abyss once more.

Even if you were unsure of where your future was going exactly, there was always going to be one constant. No matter what you faced, no matter what you decided, you would always have each other now. It didn’t matter that Price would come looking for your answer, it didn’t matter if the guys would be upset to hear you say no, it didn’t matter if you were nail bitingly eager and terrified in equal measure to say yes to Price.

König would be with you through it all, he could lend you his strength and you could give him your love and vice versa. You were your own team. Together you’d make contenders for anything. He was your rock and you were his light. You were going to be fighters until the end.

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2 #a rocky start

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tainsan · 10 months

Text

misfits VIII

⇥ pairing: ot8 ateez x fem! reader

⇥ warnings: verbal and physical abuse, anxiety, mentions of death, mentions of blood

⇥ word count: 11.1k

⇥ a/n: in this chapter it may be very triggering to those who have gone through abusive situations, please read with care. this chapter is very angsty.

⇢ masterlist ⇠

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--- THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ---

“Wait backtrack, you have known them for years?” Jisung questions, extremely confused by the story you are telling him. Jisung's touch on your back provides a faint sense of comfort amidst the storm of emotions that engulfs you. His hand moves in a soothing rhythm, gliding up and down your trembling spine. The sobs that wrack your body become a symphony of sorrow, echoing through the air, and intertwining with Jisung's soft touch. With each tremor that courses through you, he maintains a steady presence, a steady anchor in the midst of your emotional storm. His touch speaks volumes, conveying a depth of understanding and empathy that words could never fully capture.

Sniffling, you answer, “Yes, they were that group I was with in high school, the ones who I got friendly with just before my mom died,” you explain, best you can with tears falling down your face and your voice shaking in your throat.

“Huh? You said they died?” Jisung asks, confused by the sudden confession from you, your words not making sense in his head that the eight you used to love were alive.

“I knew it wasn’t true.”

“But if the police said they died, then surely it would be true?”

“I never heard it from the police, I heard it from a guy who claimed to be a family member of ‘captain’. Who is apparently Hongjoong, I guess? It never made any sense, there was no proof, only this stranger’s word.”

“That makes more sense,” Jisung admits, nodding at the information before he realises something, “that’s likely why they changed their name from KQ Fellaz and ‘faked’ their death, so they could have a fresh start.”

“I suppose so, they wanted to start anew,” you conclude, trying to find any excuse or reason for them to have lied to you.

“That’s probably why they didn't tell you then.” Jisung raises his hand to rest on your head, patting it gently in an attempt to comfort you, yet all it does is remind you of all the times Wooyoung or San would do it to you, making your eyes sting even more than before.

“But why would they hide from me? I was their friend, they said I was one of them. How could they lie to me?”

“I am sure they had their reasons. You likely weren’t that close to them back then.”

As your gaze meets Jisung's, a profound realisation settles within you. In order for him to truly grasp the gravity of the situation and provide the support you need; you understand that it is necessary to lay bare the entirety of your journey. With a resolute breath, you begin recounting everything, from the very first moment you crossed paths with them to the heart-wrenching instant when they departed from your life. Every memory, every cherished moment, to the painful goodbye.

It all began in the middle of your Senior year in high school.

“Okay, class please pay attention we have a new student.” Your homeroom teacher announces, yet you pay zero interest to the familiar lady talking at the front of the classroom, simply continuing to draw in the sketch book you brought from home.

Immersed in the classroom setting, you find peace and concentration with a single wired headphone nestled in your ear. As the sounds of commotion and chatter from your surroundings gradually fade away, your attention becomes laser-focused on the small details of your immediate environment. The rhythmic strokes of your pencil on paper create a soothing melody, harmonising with the gentle hum of music seeping into your left ear, creating a personalised soundtrack to your inner world.

Positioned near the back of the classroom, you find yourself beside an open window, inviting the outside world to merge with you. The autumn breeze delicately sweeps through the window, gracefully brushing against your skin and delicately tousling your hair. The serene atmosphere in the air instils a deep sense of tranquillity, infusing your being with an irrefutable sense of ease and contentment.

Momentarily shifting your gaze outside, you are captivated by the sight before you. The warm wind, with its tender touch, continues to playfully tickle your face as if inviting you to fully embrace the present moment. Inhaling deeply, you fill your lungs with the crisp and refreshing scent of fall, a refreshing reminder of the beauty and change that accompanies this season.

“Could I sit here, please?” a soft voice speaks out from your right, if you were even an inch to the left, you would have not heard the boy, who seems to be looking at the chair on which your bag resides. Locking your gaze upon the boy standing before you, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you, and you mentally berate yourself for your sluggishness in comprehending his inquiry. A rush of frustration washes over you as you silently curse your own slowness, your mind now grasping the meaning behind his words. With a mere nod, you hastily seize the bag lying on the nearby surface and hastily tuck it away beneath your own chair, your movements reflecting your urgency. Turning your attention back to your sketchbook, you purposefully avoid glancing at the boy who wordlessly settles into the seat beside you.

Despite the absence of spoken words, you sense an adamant intensity radiating from the boy to your left. Internally, you let out a groan, fully aware that you must address this unfamiliar stranger and request that he mind his business. Tentatively, you direct your gaze towards him, annoyed you have to speak despite, yet before you can utter a single syllable, you are captivated by the sight that unfolds before you.

The boy's face beams with an adorable smile that engulfs his entire face, rendering you momentarily speechless. This unexpected display of pure charm effectively silences your intended retort, leaving your lips tightly sealed.

“I like your drawing.” His voice is incredibly soft and serene, yet the smile on his face speaks thousands of more words. The boy's unexpected compliment catches you off guard, causing a rush of warmth to surge through your cheeks, the telltale sign of an invading blush spreading down your neck. Your expression betrays a mixture of bewilderment and surprise, as you struggle to process this unfamiliar gesture of kindness. In that brief moment, you find yourself momentarily taken aback, incredulous that such a genuinely kind individual exists within the confines of this school.

Observing the boy attentively, you notice a complete lack of any hint of teasing or mockery behind his eyes, further deepening your astonishment. A flicker of uncertainty twinkles within you as you realise that he is carefully examining the paper before you, his gaze fixated on the meticulously crafted sketch of the mesmerising person you encountered during your morning journey to the classroom. A momentary sense of insecurity flits through your mind, as you worry that he will spot every small detail and flaw etched within the artwork. Left momentarily speechless, you can only offer another nod in response, silently conveying your gratitude without the need for words. Exhaustion from the past few days weighs heavily upon you, especially the funeral, leaves you unable to form words. You aren’t sure if it’s from the grief or the exhaustion.

Returning your focus to the sanctuary of your sketchbook, you resume the gentle strokes of your pencil upon the textured paper, desperately trying to capture and preserve the exact essence of the enigmatic person you encountered earlier. Each deliberate movement of your hand serves as an attempt to etch their features into your memory, ensuring that no captivating detail eludes your artistic rendition.

“I’m, uh… Hwa, by the way, it’s nice to meet you.” The boy called ‘Hwa’ speaks out, his voice is still quiet and you’re somewhat glad that he’s so soft-spoken, not wanting to deal with loud and obnoxious people right now. Once more, your eyes drift towards the right, where the boy sits with an endearing smile that effortlessly melts a fragment of your heart. Despite the warmth elicited by his expression, you find yourself limited to another nod as your sole means of communication. This time, your gesture conveys a silent acknowledgement, silently reciprocating his unspoken sentiment of "nice to meet you too." Without delay, you pivot back to your artwork, realising that this marks the third time you have redirected your attention in the span of a mere five minutes.

Hwa, perceptive in nature, detects your unwillingness to engage in conversation and graciously accepts your silent response. His smile remains untouched as he shifts his focus towards the front of the classroom, where your teacher begins recounting events from your weekend. While he respects your preference for silence, a sense of curiosity lingers within him, compelling him to wonder why someone as captivatingly beautiful as you would choose to remain in the shadows of social isolation.

From that crucial moment onward, it became apparent that Hwa had undertaken some sort of personal mission to forge a friendship with you. Each morning, he would approach you, eager to share anecdotes about his day, all about his close circle of seven friends, and his positive experiences in the new school. Puzzled by his unwavering interest in your life, you couldn't fathom why he found you intriguing, and it began to grate on your nerves. Despite your initial annoyance, you gradually learned that he had recently relocated from his father's home and was now residing with his mother, who he seems to prefer much more than his old man. He would go on and on about how his father was a horrible man, someone who he is very glad to not have in his life. From this information, you find yourself relating to Hwa and you almost feel grateful for his honesty and for the way he trusts you to relay this information.

As days turned into weeks, then months, Hwa's relentless efforts to elicit conversation and draw you out of your shell continued persistently. Initially, his persistence irritated you, but over time, his endearing gestures and genuinely kind manner began to chip away at your defences. Though your interactions remained devoid of spoken words, you found yourself gradually warming up to him, unable to resist the charm of his sweet antics. Each day, you maintained your steadfast silence, wordlessly lending an ear to his stories and offering the occasional nod to assure him of your attentive presence.

Hwa, driven by an unquenchable desire to hear your voice and witness your active participation in conversations, incessantly peppered you with questions. He longed for the day when your voice would join him in harmonious dialogue, surpassing the limitations of mere nods and smiles.

On a particular day, the sun begins its descent towards the horizon as you make your way home from school, the hour growing later than usual. A detour had become necessary as you sought out one of your teachers, embarking on a conversation regarding an assignment that you had fallen behind on. This particular instructor, well-informed about your personal home situation, swiftly understood the situation and granted you some much-needed leeway, even extending the offer of utilising an empty classroom for writing, while she occupied herself with grading tests. This teacher you trusted fully, her being the only person you speak with verbally. She understands why you are fewer with your words, not prying you ever. Grateful for the understanding and opportunity, you had seized the chance to make much-needed progress on your assignment.

As you traverse the familiar path home, the ambient noise of your surroundings blends with the music resonating through your headphones, enveloping you in a cocoon of sound. Engrossed in your auditory world, a distant voice manages to penetrate the barrier, capturing your attention. Swiftly turning your head, you catch sight of Hwa, jogging towards you with an infectious smile illuminating his face. The sun, in its gradual inclination, casts a warm glow upon his features, accentuating his sincere enthusiasm as he closes the distance between you.

“___.” He yells, excited to see you outside of school. When he reaches you, he is panting slightly and you realise he must have sprinted pretty far to catch up with you. Giving him a confused look, you wonder why he is near this area, never have seen him come this way before. Luckily, after months, Hwa has become accustomed to your familiar actions and wordless antics, being able to recognise what your different movements and expressions indicate. Your feelings for the man have developed immensely and you find yourself becoming extremely fond of the guy. Plus, it doesn’t help that the more you get to know him, the more you realise how handsome he is.

“What are you doing here?” Hwa questions, walking next to you as you continue to head towards your house.

“Going home.” You mutter your voice nothing above a whisper, you are shocked yourself by the words coming out of your mouth. You suddenly wonder why it is that you can suddenly speak freely around Hwa.

Immediately, Hwa’s eyes open hugely upon hearing you talk for the first time, he stops walking next to you, his mouth hanging wide open widely. Looking back at him, you giggle at his dramatic reaction, before speaking again.

“What?’’ You say, your body turning fully towards him, walking backwards, and scanning over his every reaction.

Quickly, the male bounds towards you, the smile resuming as he makes his way to you, almost jumping up and down with excitement.

“So, what did I do to deserve the ___ to finally speak to me,” Hwa asks, his voice giddy as he skips next to you.

“I don’t know, I feel safe around you...” You admit, trailing off and becoming slightly insecure about the way your voice sounds. Hwa seems to notice the turmoil of thoughts running through your head and instantly pauses your walking by grabbing your hand lightly, pulling you to look up at his warm eyes.

“You have a nice voice, please keep on speaking.” His voice is soft and peaceful, like usual, but at this moment, it sounds like music to your ears. Feeling your cheeks getting warm, you turn to look away, continuing your walk home. The both of you turn back to moving forwards and you realise you didn’t reciprocate the question Hwa had asked.

“Why are you here?” You ask, curious as to why Hwa would be in this area, never having seen him before around here.

“Ah, I’m seeing my friends, we are meeting at that abandoned warehouse just around the corner from here. Don’t tell anyone, it’s our secret hideout.” The male explains a small chuckle leaving his throat as he turns to you to put out his pinkie finger. Confused, you look up at him, wondering why he is pointing his pinkie finger at you.

“Pinkie promise that you won’t tell anyone.” For a moment he looks incredibly serious, and you wonder as to why he is so stern about the hideout of his friends. It makes you feel soft that here, an eighteen-year-old boy is so seriously making you pinkie promise something. The innocence of the action has you smiling widely, your heart melting.

“Okay, okay.” You reluctantly say, linking your pinkie with his, the both of you letting out gentle laughs. It is quiet for a while as the two of you continue on your way to your separate destinations when Hwa suddenly asks you a question.

“Would you perhaps like to come with me?” The tall male asks, hoping to spend some time with you outside of school, especially since now you are finally fully conversing with him.

Glancing at the watch on your wrist, you worry as to what would happen if you don’t show up on time home, worrying as to how your father would react. However, you realise tonight he should be out with some of his friends, drinking and knowing he will be out until the early hours of the morning. Today, it seems as if luck is in your favour. Not having any friends, it seems somewhat beautiful that Hwa invited you along to hang out with his friend group. From what you have heard from him, the group is very close and doesn’t usually spend time with outsiders. Yet at the same time, you have heard about how kind and fun they are, which makes it extremely easy to decide.

“I’d love that.”

So, you met the rest of the boys, and it was almost alien how quickly you hit it off with all of them.

“So, you must be the pretty girl who never speaks.” A cute boy with light purple hair speaks out and you suddenly feel extremely self-conscious as you realise Hwa has talked about you to his friends, even calling you pretty. Feeling your body start to get hot, Hwa places a hand on your shoulder in an effort to let you know that it’s okay and his friend is just teasing.

A jolt of surprise courses through you as your eyes land on a face that feels oddly familiar, instantly triggering a spark of recognition. It dawns on you that this is the very same male figure you had been sketching on the day you first encountered Hwa. A wave of embarrassment washes over you as the realisation hits home, leaving you acutely aware that Hwa must have noticed you discreetly capturing his friend's portrait. Yet, to your immense relief, Hwa remains tight-lipped about the situation, his mischievous wink the only acknowledgement he offers in response to your stunned expression upon seeing the familiar face.

As you meet each friend individually, a remarkable sense of astonishment washes over you when you realise how effortlessly you connect with the boys. It's as if you're engaging in conversations with Hwa himself, the connection and company flowing naturally between you. Overwhelmed by the sheer number of new acquaintances, you find comfort in only observing their banter, occasionally opting for quiet observation rather than actively participating in the verbal exchange.

Watching them interact and revel in their shared friendship fills you with inexplicable joy, for it is a feeling you had longed for—an authentic sense of belonging among friends. The ease with which you seamlessly fit into their circle surprises you, and it's not ignored by boys either, they immediately grow fond of you. They sense the immediate connection, as if destiny had intended for you to be a part of their lives all along.

This remarkable harmony that you effortlessly slot into makes it a natural progression for the boys to invite you to join them in their hangouts. The invitation comes easily as if it were given that you should be included, reinforcing the notion that you have found a place among them—a group of friends who accept and appreciate you just as you are.

There is a pure glow from each of them, yet you notice the blank, pained expressions and feelings on their faces, and it feels as if you are looking in the mirror and it is as if they can understand and relate deeply to who you are without needing to utter a single word.

Many days after this you find yourself spending more and more time with the group, finding yourself loving each of them the way you have grown to love Hwa. Turning up the music and dancing was your favourite part of your hangouts, watching as they all chanted to songs and moved to the beat. It made you feel some sense of belonging, something you haven’t felt in a very long time. Writing and singing to songs was one of the very things you loved most about the hang outs, every time they start a verse having to say the words “fix on”, or finishing it with “passion, young, fever”. The very words starting to feel as if they are engraved in your mind.

One peculiar aspect that strikes you is the fact that none of the boys have ever shared their actual names with you. Instead, they refer to each other solely by their unique and endearing nicknames. Yet, strangely enough, this detail doesn't bother you in the slightest. The absence of birth names becomes inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What truly matters is the profound contentment you feel, having finally discovered a group of individuals with whom you can fully be yourself with.

In their presence, you experience a rare sense of comfort, as if you've known them for a lifetime. Walls crumble, masks fade away, and you can simply exist as your authentic self. The love and acceptance that enters the air create a seemingly unbreakable bond. The absence of formal introductions and conventional names becomes a trivial detail, dwarfed by the depth of connection and genuine affection that binds you together. As your relationships with each of the boys deepened, an unexpected shift occurred within your heart, surpassing the boundaries of familial affection, and evolving into a profound form of liking. You were well aware of the impropriety of harbouring such feelings for all eight of them, understanding that it was highly unlikely any of them reciprocated those same emotions. Yet, you couldn't help but acknowledge that your heart seemed to act independently, beyond the constraints of reason.

What made matters even more complex was the knowledge that two of the boys were nursing shattered hearts, their pain etched deeply upon their souls due to a girl you had never met and who, in all likelihood, you had no chance against. The stories that circulated among the group painted a picture of a messy and agonising heartbreak that had left them both broken in its wake. Despite the overwhelming depth of your feelings for them, you made a conscious decision to suppress your own desires, opting instead to provide solace and support as they navigated their heartache. Every time you witnessed their tears, mourning over the faceless girl who had captivated their hearts, an ache resonated within your own chest. It was an ache born from unrequited emotions, an emotional reminder of the distance that separated you from the love they sought. Nonetheless, you steeled yourself, pushing those yearnings aside, focusing on being the shoulder to lean on, the one who offered unwavering support and understanding during their darkest hours. It was a choice fuelled by selflessness and a desire to ease their suffering, even if it meant struggling with your own unspoken longing.

The warehouse was an unusual sanctuary for you, a place of solitude amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life. With its towering shelves of empty boxes and the faint scent of cardboard, rust and moss, it offered a kind of comfort you couldn't find elsewhere. It was where you escaped to when you needed a break from the world.

Today, you arrived early, finishing school ahead of schedule due to a teacher falling ill. Alone in the vast expanse of the warehouse, you found peace in the quiet, engrossed in the pages of a book. The soft rustling of paper and the distant hum of the outside world being the only noise surrounding you.

As you turned another page, lost in the world of words, a sudden, screeching noise sliced through the calm. Startled, you look up just in time to see the massive metal door at the far end of the warehouse creaking open, a thin beam of sunlight piercing the dim interior.

The sudden blast of light makes you squint, shielding your eyes with one hand as you try to discern who or what had interrupted your solitude. Your heart raced slightly, a mix of curiosity and caution welling within you. The warehouse wasn't a frequented place, and the unexpected visitor had piqued your interest.

Slowly, you closed your book and set it aside, rising from your makeshift reading spot. As your eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, you made out the silhouette of a person framed by the open door.

Recognition washed over you like a gentle wave, replacing your initial unease with a sense of relief and surprise. The person at the door was someone you hadn't expected to see in this unlikely place.

“Oh sorry ___, I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” Yeo’s voice reaches your ears and you see his cute face pop around the corner as your eyes get used to the sudden flash.

“Tiny is here?” The man you know as Woo follows behind Yeo with a wide smile on his face.

“What are you doing here so early?” He jumps up to you and lays on the couch, nuzzling his head onto your lap, the action sending a rush of butterflies into your body.

“I finished early, sorry for not letting you guys know I was coming.” You apologise, feeling bashful for intruding in their personal space without their knowledge.

“It’s okay, you are always welcome here.” Yeo smiles as he says quietly and makes his way over to you and Woo on the couch.

Smiling back at him, you observe as he pushes Woo’s legs to the side before sitting at the other end of the couch.

“So what are you doing here?” Woo asked from underneath you.

“Oh I just needed some peace to read my book, this is the only place I actually feel calm.”

“I also have that.” Yeo exclaims, a bigger smile on his face, “when we are here it feels like the outside world doesn’t even matter.”

“Exactly.” You smile at him, his relatable statement causing your chest to swell for some odd reason.

“I’m going to sleep, school was far too much today.” Woo's announcement about his exhaustion draws a soft giggle from you, a gentle sound that fills the room with a sense of warmth. He snuggles further into your lap, seeking comfort after a long day. His actions create an intimate moment that's both endearing and heartwarming.

The soft giggle that escapes your throat is like music to the ears of the two men beside you.

“Where do you guys go to school? I’ve never seen you at mine.”

“Oh we go to the one just around the corner, only Hwa goes to your school.”

“I see.”

Gazing down at Woo nestled in your lap, a fond smile graces your lips. Your feelings for him have also grown deep, and his flirtatious nature has become both endearing and exhilarating, adding a touch of excitement to your interactions. His playful personality has woven a unique bond between you, one that's filled with affection and a sense of familiarity.

With a tender touch, you reach out to brush a stray strand of hair from Woo's face, your fingers gentle and caring. The small gesture elicits a soft grin from him, a silent acknowledgment that your action made him feel delighted.

Turning your attention to Yeo, you find yourself captivated by the subtle details that make him unique. His gaze, focused on the two of you together, holds a certain warmth and depth.

Yeo and yourself engage in a quiet conversation, and you find yourself relishing this rare opportunity to connect with him on a personal level. In the larger group, he often keeps to himself, a quiet presence in the midst of the lively discussions. It's exciting to finally have a one-on-one conversation with him, a chance to peel back the layers and get to know the person behind the reserved exterior.

The hour or so that you spend chatting is a revelation. You discover a shared interest in books, a passion that he's clearly enthusiastic about. Yeo's eyes light up as he shares recommendations from his personal reading choices, and you're captivated by the depth of his knowledge and his love for literature.

As the conversation flows, you delve into the world of books, exchanging thoughts on favourite authors, genres, and memorable reads. The exchange of recommendations feels like a treasure trove of new adventures waiting to be explored. It's a conversation that transcends the boundaries of the room and opens a door to a shared passion that you both cherish. In this moment you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu, as if you have been in this position before, or have yet to be in this situation.

During this intimate moment, you realise that beneath Yeo's quiet demeanour lies a wealth of knowledge and a genuine enthusiasm for the things he loves. The connection you share through your shared interest in books is a testament to the richness of human connection and the beauty of discovering common ground with someone you might not have expected. It's a reminder that there's always more to uncover about the people around you, and that even the quietest among us can hold hidden depths waiting to be explored.

Immersed in the creative haven of your bedroom, you find comfort in the rhythmic strokes of your pencil against the textured paper. For the past week, you have poured your heart and soul into a meticulously crafted drawing of your eight friends, their features coming to life with each delicate line and shading. It has become your labour of love, a tribute to the cherished connections you've formed with each of them. As melodic tunes echo through the room from a speaker perched on your desk, the dulcet melodies provide a gentle backdrop to your artistic activities. The song, suggested by Woo himself, serves as a bridge, connecting your creative energy with the vibrations of the soundscape. You find yourself instinctively bobbing your head in time to the rhythm, your body swaying with harmony.

However, the tranquillity is abruptly shattered as the front door slams shut, the unexpected noise jolting you from your reverie. Your heart skips a beat, a surge of both dismay and fear coursing through your veins. The unmistakable thudding of footsteps echoes up the stairs, sending a shiver down your spine. It is your father's arrival, a presence that always harbours an air of tension and unpredictability.

With nimble urgency, you reach over to the speaker and swiftly silence the music, plunging the room into a weighted silence. The absence of melodies only amplifies the unease that lingers in the air, adding an oppressive weight to the atmosphere. Your sanctuary, once filled with the joyous sounds of music, is now stifled by the solemn hush that envelops it.

A palpable tension fills the room as you desperately hope for a stroke of luck, silently pleading for your father to bypass your closed door, his footsteps continuing down the hall to his own room. In the stillness of the moment, you remain frozen, your very breath restrained in anticipation.

But, as fate would have it, luck turns a deaf ear to your silent wishes. The door creaks open, swinging inward with a reluctant motion, revealing the formidable figure of your father standing on the threshold. His presence alone fills the room with an air of trepidation, his imposing stature and crossed arms creating an impenetrable barrier that demands attention.

Struggling to maintain his balance, you notice the slight wobble in his stance, a sign of the tumultuous emotions that brew within him. His arms remain tightly folded over his chest; a physical shield that matches the sternness etched onto his face. The weight of his gaze, intense and unyielding, seems to pierce through the silence, weighing heavily upon the room and those within it. A mixture of apprehension and anxiety coalesces within you, causing your heart to race in your chest. The air hangs heavy with unspoken words as if any attempt at conversation might trigger an unexpected tempest. You hold your breath, awaiting the next move, your entire being poised on a precipice of hesitation.

“What are you doing?” He questions, his voice slurred and unclear.

“Drawing,” With a sense of urgency, you respond hastily, your words chosen carefully to minimise any potential escalation. The desire to avoid the volatile whirlwind of his unpredictable moods propels you to seek a rapid conclusion to the interaction, hoping that your brief responses will prevent the conversation from lingering any longer than necessary. The burdensome weight of the situation and the fatigue that grips your spirit urge you to retreat, seeking solace and respite from the tumultuous presence of your father. You are caught off guard by your father's presence and the disconcerting aura surrounding him, you find yourself yearning for a swift end to the interaction. Your own emotions, a mix of weariness and apprehension, compel you to seek an expedited resolution. The weight of his unpredictable and volatile emotions, amplified by the telltale signs of his consumption of alcohol, looms heavily in the room, intensifying your desire to disengage from the conversation.

“When are your exams?” The man asks as he stumbles into your room, clearly fumbling around on his feet, unable to find balance on his feet, very clearly a side effect of the heavy consumption of alcohol.

“Next month.”

A wave of unease washes over you as your father's brow furrows once more, his expression shifting into one of annoyance. The subtle creases on his forehead deepen, forming a stark contrast against the lines of tension etched upon his face. At that moment, your heart sinks, a heavy weight settling in the pit of your stomach. The intensity of his displeasure, evident in the way his features contort, sends a surge of apprehension through your veins. Your own emotions waver on a cliff, poised between a desire to appease and a need to protect yourself from the potential fallout. As his annoyance penetrates the room, you brace yourself for what may come next, keenly aware of the precarious nature of your current situation.

“Then you should be studying.” He booms, his voice echoing off the walls of your small bedroom.

“I was going to study when I finish this.”

“Do not back talk to me.” The sound of your father's voice reverberates through the room, amplified by the alcohol coursing through his veins, causing you to flinch involuntarily. Avoiding direct eye contact, you shift your gaze downwards, unable to bear the intensity of his drunken rage. The urge to roll your eyes at his exaggerated and unjustified behaviour becomes nearly irresistible, as you struggle to comprehend why he is directing his anger at you for such a trivial matter. A sense of exasperation builds within you, fuelled by the stark contrast between the magnitude of his reaction and the insignificance of the situation at hand. The weight of his misplaced frustration leaves you bewildered, questioning the logic behind his anger. It feels like an unwarranted attack on your being, leaving you grappling with a mix of resentment and confusion. Yet, mindful of the volatile nature of the situation, you tamp down your instinctive response. Instead, you silently navigate the treacherous waters, attempting to maintain composure and seeking a swift resolution to this senseless confrontation.

“I’m sorry.” In a desperate attempt to defuse the escalating tension, you respond, your words laced with a mix of pleading and a longing for tranquillity. Your desire to return to the serene solace of your artistic endeavours intensifies, fuelling your efforts to restore a sense of calm. However, your heart lurches upward, lodging itself in your throat, as your father takes a step closer, intruding upon your personal space. A shiver snakes its way down your spine as his hand reaches out, settling heavily on the back of your neck. The weight of his touch feels oppressive, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that engulfs you.

Fear dances within your veins, mingling with a sense of vulnerability. The boundaries that should protect you have been violated, leaving you acutely aware of your powerlessness at this moment. Your instinctive longing for escape intensifies, urging you to seek refuge from this dangerous environment and the touch that sends chills down your spine.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here.” Your father's whispered words cut through the air, a chilling undertone accompanying them, as his nails dig into the delicate skin of your neck. The sharp pain shoots through your body, an unwelcome reminder of the power imbalance in this unsettling encounter. Tears gather in your eyes, threatening to spill over as a mixture of pain and anxiety churns within your chest, constricting your throat. A knot of fear tightens in your stomach, intensifying the overwhelming sense of vulnerability that envelopes you. The weight of his grip and the raw discomfort that courses through your body serves as a stark reminder of the control he applies, amplifying the helplessness that grips your being. You yearn for release from this distressing moment, desperately seeking an escape from his oppressive presence and the escalating pain that continues to coil around you.

A lump forms in your throat, constricting your voice as you manage to summon a weak response, uttering a subdued, "Yes, Dad." The weight of fear and anxiety threatens to overwhelm you, making it difficult to find the strength to speak or express yourself fully.

The knowledge of past experiences with your father looms in your mind, serving as a reminder of the potential consequences that could follow even the slightest provocation. The disparity between the magnitude of his reaction and the seemingly insignificant trigger leaves you confused, the fear of setting off his anger further stifling your genuine thoughts and feelings. The urge to voice your true thoughts, to stand up for yourself, simmers within, but the fear that accompanies it serves as a heavy muzzle, silencing the words you long to say. In this suffocating atmosphere, you decide to bite your tongue, for now, choosing self-preservation over the risk of inciting his explosive rage.

“What is this shit?” Your father's voice cuts through the air with a biting edge, his disdain is evident as he questions the worth of your drawing. His harsh gaze fixated upon the paper on your desk, the discarded pencil serving as a silent witness to his disapproval.

“Just something I’m working on.” In an attempt to diffuse the situation, you reply with a hint of defensiveness, your words laced with an eagerness for him to cease his interrogation and retreat from your sanctuary. The desperate plea for him to leave you be, to preserve the sanctity of your safe space, hangs heavily in the air between you.

As he snatches the sketchbook from the desk, your nerves intensify, your pulse quickening as his scrutinising eyes peruse the paper. The tension in the room becomes almost suffocating, amplifying your anxiety to new heights.

“Who is this?” His bitter and slurred voice reverberates, the words barely coherent.

Fear floods your veins, and knowing the truth would lead to misunderstanding and potential danger. Hastily, you weave a web of lies, your words rushed and unsteady, hoping to divert his attention away from the genuine connection you share with the boys.

The man's anger escalates, his words morphing into a piercing yell that reverberates within the confines of the room. The intensity of his outburst pierces your ears, each syllable hammering into your consciousness. The weight of his disdain for your artistic talent lands heavily upon your heart, his belittlement serving as a painful reminder of the limitations he imposes upon your aspirations.

Panic grips you as your father's hand inches closer to the paper, and a sense of dread fills every fibre of your being as you realise his malicious intentions. Frantically, you reach out in a futile attempt to stop him, but your efforts prove futile as he ruthlessly rips the page from the book, tearing it down the middle. Tears well up in your eyes as a profound sense of disappointment and pain courses through your body, your hard work treated with callous disregard, tossed aside as if it were nothing. With a surge of determination, you rise from your chair, driven by an instinct to protect what remains of your creation. However, your resistance is met with ruthless force as your father forcefully pushes your body, causing you to crash onto the floor, the impact jolting through your hip and radiating pain throughout your entire being. The anguish of your shattered artwork pales in comparison to the physical and emotional pain inflicted upon you at this moment.

As you lie on the floor, a broken mess of tears and anguish, your father's rage reaches new heights. He towers over you, his face contorted with anger, grabbing the back of your head painfully once again. The proximity of his enraged face leaves you trembling, his piercing scream reverberating through your ears, assaulting your senses with an intensity that feels unbearable. In this horrifying moment, you are forced to confront the painful reality of his control, the overwhelming weight of his anger eclipsing any semblance of safety or peace.

“If I ever see you sketching again, I will not be as forgiving.” Spit flies from your father’s mouth, his breath reeking of alcohol, making you even more disgusted. Tears fall freely from your eyes as you try to maintain your composure, so as to not enrage the man even further. Your father continues his words, “Clean this mess up. I’m going to sleep.”

With an abrupt exit, the man stumbles out of your room, his unsteady footsteps resounding on the wooden floor, echoing the turmoil that lingers in his wake. You can only surmise that he retreats to his own bedroom, likely collapsing onto the bed in a drunken slumber. The abruptness of his departure offers a temporary respite, but the emotional scars and residual fear remain, haunting the air within your room. Weeping silently, your trembling hands pressed against your face, you struggle to contain the overwhelming surge of emotions that threaten to overcome you. In the midst of your despair, you survey the scattered remnants of your destroyed drawing, yearning for a miracle that would restore it to its former glory. Each torn piece becomes a painful reminder of the shattered gift intended for your only friends.

With shaky resolve, you begin the arduous task of collecting the fragmented remnants, moving them from the floor to the bin next to your desk. Each movement brings fresh waves of tears, your heart aching at the irreparable loss of the heartfelt gesture. The realisation that the memento meant to convey your appreciation and friendship now lies in ruins only amplifies your sense of devastation. As you meticulously dispose of the torn pieces, your tears fall even harder, tracing a sorrowful path down your cheeks. The weight of the ruined gift presses upon your soul, a profound sense of loss mingling with the lingering pain of the recent encounter. In this moment of vulnerability, you find solace in your tears, allowing yourself to grieve the destruction of your artistic expression and the shattered connection it represented.

As the silence envelops the house, you breathe a sigh of relief, realising that the man who instils such terror within you is finally lost in the depths of sleep. Drawing strength back into your trembling legs, you hastily slip on your shoes, a desperate urgency compelling you to escape the confines of the place you dread most.

Stealthily, you navigate the familiar hallways, your movements shrouded in silence, driven by an intense need to distance yourself from the haunting presence that lingers within those walls. The weight of your fear propels you forward, guiding your steps towards an uncertain destination.

In your frantic search for solace, you find yourself stumbling upon the empty warehouse, its vast expanse providing a sense of respite and comfort that you yearn for. Though devoid of human presence, you know deep within your soul that the very atmosphere within this cavernous space will envelop you, granting a momentary reprieve from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you.

Stepping into the familiar warehouse, the sound of the large metal doors scraping against the concrete floor reverberates through the cavernous space, creating a symphony of echoes that dance along the walls. The rhythmic noise seems to announce your entrance as if beckoning invisible spectators to witness your raw vulnerability. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness, the absence of your friends accentuates the solitude that envelops you, amplifying the bittersweet comfort of this cherished sanctuary.

Staggering towards the worn-out couch, its faded fabric hinting at the countless memories shared upon its cushions, you allow your body to collapse into its familiar embrace. The soft cushions yield beneath your weight, conforming to the contours of your tired form. You lay down sideways, finding comfort in the familiar haven that holds so many cherished moments. The tears flow freely from your eyes, tracing glistening paths down your cheeks, as if the very fabric of the pillow beneath your head absorbs the weight of your sorrow. Every sob that escapes your trembling lips reverberates within the expansive metal room, each one a witness to the depth of your pain. The echoes reverberate through the space, intertwining with the ethereal remnants of laughter and friendship that have painted the walls with a subtle warmth. The traumatic event that has left you bruised and broken resonates within the vastness of the room, its hollowness a haunting backdrop to your vulnerability.

Time becomes a fluid concept as you lose yourself in the catharsis of your tears. The exhaustion weighs upon you like an invisible burden, the weight of the world pressing down upon your weary shoulders. Each sob drains your energy, leaving your eyelids heavy and your body craving a respite from the relentless ache. Gradually, the exhaustion takes hold, its grasp tightening around your consciousness. The drowsiness seeps into every fibre of your being, your mind and body surrendering to the lullaby of weariness. As the golden rays of the setting sun filter through the cracks in the metal walls, casting an ethereal glow upon your tear-stained face, sleep claims you, offering a temporary escape from the harsh realities that haunt your waking hours.

As the coils of sleep begin to loosen their grip on your consciousness, you are jolted awake by the sensation of being gently shaken. Blinking groggily, you try to push away from the source of the disturbance, a low groan escaping your lips. To your surprise, the sound is met with a soft chuckle, a deep voice calling your name with tenderness. A hand comes to rest on your head, its touch gentle and soothing, patting you in a comforting rhythm.

Startled, your heart skips a beat, your body tensing at the unexpected touch. The fear of encountering your father floods your mind, sending waves of anxiety coursing through your veins. In a swift motion, you sit up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders, your eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings of the warehouse. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, and when it does, you realise that you are still in the familiar confines of the warehouse, resting on the worn-out couch. The realisation washes over you, relief mingling with lingering fearfulness.

Peering around, you notice that darkness has descended upon the space, replacing the golden hues of the setting sun with a blanket of shadow. It dawns on you that you must have been asleep for several hours, the passage of time slipping by unnoticed as fatigue overcomes you. Your gaze then falls upon the source of your awakening, the boy known as 'Yu,' crouched on the floor before the couch. His soft grin illuminates his features, his dishevelled brown hair partially hiding his eyes, his cheeks adorned with a gentle blush.

“Are you okay? What are you doing sleeping here?” Yu asks, looking you tenderly in your eyes, causing your heart to flip in circles.

“I needed to get away from some stuff.” You answer truthfully, not being able to find the strength to lie to the boy in front of you.

As Yu's concerned gaze meets yours, the worry etched on his face, the smile that had adorned his features fades away. The depth of your distress is evident to him, and he can sense the heaviness that weighs upon your weary soul. It's as if he can see through the facade you wear, peering into the depths of your eyes to witness the pain and exhaustion that lies within.

At this moment, any trace of anger or frustration that had accompanied him to the warehouse dissipates entirely, replaced by a newfound tenderness and empathy. He is drawn to you, compelled to offer comfort and relief in the face of your evident struggle. Moving closer, his larger hand finds its way to rest gently atop yours, a gesture that sends a cascade of butterflies fluttering within your stomach. The warmth of his touch seeps into your skin, offering a respite from the coldness that had entered the warehouse. It's a simple act, but it carries a profound weight, communicating a silent message of support and understanding. In this shared moment of vulnerability, you feel a glimmer of hope and connection, as if a lifeline has been extended to you in the midst of your despair.

“What happened, Tiny?”

The nickname was bestowed upon you by the boys when you first joined their group, a playful teasing inspired by the absolute height difference between you and Yu. It quickly became a term of endearment that all eight adopted, using it to address you with affectionate familiarity. However, at this moment, as Yu's tenderness envelopes you, the meaning behind the nickname takes on a new layer of complexity, evoking emotions that elude your grasp. It's an unfamiliar sensation for Yu to display such genuine care towards you, considering his infatuation with another girl that has kept him at a distance. Yet, at this moment, you can't help but yearn for his tender presence to be a constant, for him to act as if no other girl holds his attention. The conflicting emotions swirl within you, torn between the desire to keep this fragile connection intact and the fear of revealing the recent traumatic events that unfolded hours ago, uncertain of how Yu would react.

Your attention shifts to where your hands meet, and your heart lurches at the sight of gashes and blood staining Yu's knuckles. Concern overtakes you, the worry carved upon your features as you contemplate the cause of his injuries. Questions buzz in your mind, begging to be asked, but the fear of intruding upon his personal struggles holds you back. The realisation that pain has marked his hands, mirroring the pain that has scarred your own being, intensifies your sense of worry and empathy.

In this delicate moment, a silent exchange of emotions hangs in the air, unspoken words lingering between you. The weight of unspoken truths and shared vulnerabilities creates a bond that is both fragile and powerful, leaving you uncertain of what course of action to take next.

“What happened to your hand?” you inquire, pulling his hand into your lap, and observing the wounds on his pretty hands.

Peering up at Yu, concern etched across your features, his heart skips a beat, an unfamiliar sensation stirring within him. It's a feeling he struggles to decipher, a gentle tug that seems to pull at the depths of his being. His eyes lock with yours, and at that moment, time seems to stand still as he finds himself captivated by the curiosity and vulnerability reflected in your gaze. There's a tenderness in Yu's eyes, an almost loving quality as he studies your appearance. His gaze lingers on your swollen eyes, evidence of the tears you've shed and the burden you've carried. The worry radiates from him, manifesting as a protective instinct that seeks to shield you from further pain. It's a sentiment that surprises even him, the depth of his concern far surpassing the bounds of friendship.

In this silent exchange, a subtle shift occurs within Yu, as if the barriers he had carefully constructed around his emotions begin to crumble. The walls he had built to guard his heart start to crack, allowing a glimmer of something deeper to emerge. Though he may not fully understand the extent of his own feelings, the way his gaze lingers on you with tenderness and compassion speaks volumes.

In this moment, a connection forms, the unspoken understanding between you deepening. It's as if a silent agreement is forged, promising support and comfort amidst the challenges you both face. The weight of unspoken words and shared empathy fills the space between you, laying the foundation for something more profound and transformative.

“Have you been crying?” His voice is gentle and calming, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable by the inquiry, wishing for you to answer.

“Why is your hand hurt?” you retort, his hand still resting in your lap, you trying to wipe away stray pieces of dirt in the cuts. Your hand lingers atop Yu's, a gentle touch that he usually guards against, he finds himself pleasantly surprised by the ease with which he allows you to maintain the contact. It's a rare occurrence for him to let others freely touch him, his personal boundaries carefully shielded. Yet, at this moment, he feels a sense of comfort and acceptance in your touch, as if a barrier he didn't know existed has been effortlessly breached.

The surprise intensifies as he realises that he enjoys the sensation of your hand resting upon his, the warmth of your touch bringing a sense of connection that he hadn't anticipated. There's a certain serenity in your presence, a quiet assurance that draws him in, inviting him to let down his guard and allow himself to be vulnerable. His gaze remains fixated on you, his attention solely focused on your interaction. The world around him seems to fade into the background as he becomes absorbed in this shared moment, his own emotions swirling within. It's unfamiliar territory, one he hadn't expected to find himself in, yet he can't deny the pull that you exert upon him, the magnetic force of your presence.

In this newfound vulnerability, Yu begins to question his own reservations and the walls he has built around himself. Your touch, your unwavering attention, opens up a space where he can explore and discover a different side of himself, one that embraces connection and allows himself to be seen. Hands remaining touching, a silent understanding passes between you, unspoken words painting the canvas of this intimate moment. The depth of your connection holds the promise of something extraordinary, an exploration of emotions and possibilities that neither of you could have foreseen.

“I asked first.” Yu teases, trying to lift the mood, wanting to see the smile he has grown to adore appear on your features.

“I don’t want to bother you.” You reply, your voice shaky and quiet, answering truthfully, not sure if he would be able to handle the information you so desperately need to disclose to someone.

“You never bother me,” As Yu contemplates his next move, a surge of courage courses through him. Without hesitation, he uses the hand that rests in your lap, gently interlocking his fingers with yours. He takes care to avoid smudging his dried blood on you or your clothes, a subtle gesture of consideration that doesn't go unnoticed.

The unexpected act of affection catches you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise. Heat rises to your cheeks, a blush betraying the fluttering emotions that swirl within you. You meet Yu's gaze, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that resonates deeply. A small smile graces his lips, a wordless reassurance that speaks volumes. In this simple gesture, he communicates a willingness to bridge the gap between you, to traverse the uncertain territory of shared vulnerability. It's a brave step forward, an offering of trust and a declaration of his sudden growing feelings.

“It’s okay, ___.” Yu whispers, his eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly as his words become more serious, “You can tell me anything.”

Sighing, you decide maybe it is okay to confide in one person.

“It’s my dad.” You admit, looking down at the hand that Yu has gripped gently in his own, his fingers wrapped around your smaller hand. Yu gives you a puzzled look, not sure what your father could have done to make you so upset. Noticing his confused expression, you continue speaking, “It is dumb, but I was working on this drawing, and he came in drunk out of his mind and started yelling at me for not studying,”

“Hold on, he was drunk?” Yu questions, starting to feel anger build up in his body.

“Yeah, but when is he not.” You attempt to joke, yet the look on Yu’s face doesn’t look amused, causing you to sigh gently, “he ripped up the drawing in front of my face and said if he ever sees me drawing again, he ‘won’t be as forgiving’, whatever that means,” you mumble, the weight of vulnerability settling upon you, you become highly aware of the depth of the information you have just shared.

A sense of unease and apprehension begins to gnaw at your insides, uncertain of how Yu will react to this newfound revelation. The silence that follows is deafening, and you can't help but lift your gaze from your intertwined hands to meet his eyes.

What you see takes you by surprise, an expression of absolute disbelief etched across Yu's features. His eyes wide, his lips slightly parted as if struggling to find the words to respond. The moment hangs suspended in time, the tension thickening the air between you. Questions swirl in your mind, uncertainty threatening to unravel the fragile connection that has been forged. Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over the vulnerability you have exposed. You find yourself questioning the wisdom of sharing such intimate feelings, fearing the potential repercussions it may have on your friendship. In this charged moment, the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for Yu's reaction. The uncertainty weighs heavily upon you, your heart pounding in your chest as you anxiously await his response.

Preparing to question the impact of your confession on Yu, your words catch in your throat, suspended by the sudden movement of his embrace. In a swift motion, he pulls you towards him, enveloping your body in a tight hug that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your head is gently guided to rest in the crook of his neck, the warmth of his skin against yours sending shivers down your spine. His hand finds its place on the back of your head, his fingers tenderly stroking your hair with a soothing rhythm. Yu's sensitivity to your tense form prompts a fleeting hesitation within him, a flicker of uncertainty about having crossed a boundary or making you uncomfortable. But when he feels your entire body relax and melt into his embrace, a surge of emotions courses through him. His heart pounds rapidly in his chest, swelling with a feeling akin to absolute adoration. It's a moment of defencelessness and connection that surpasses words, forging a bond between you that almost feels unbreakable.

In response to his comforting presence, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace. Nestling into the curve of his neck, you revel in the sensation of being held, the touch of his skin against yours grounding you in the present moment. Yu adjusts his position, rising to sit on his knees and drawing himself even closer to your body. Your chests align, rising and falling in synchrony, as he positions himself between your legs. His grip tightens around you, afraid that you might vanish from his embrace.

In this intimate cocoon, it becomes clear that you weren't the only one in need of a hug. The mutual longing for comfort and reassurance binds you together, transcending the complexities of your individual experiences. In this tender moment of shared vulnerability, the world around you fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence, the solace of a genuine connection, and the promise of healing.

Basking in the comfort of Yu's embrace, time seems to suspend, creating a sanctuary where worries and troubles momentarily fade away. However, your heart sinks when you feel him slowly pull away, a pang of disappointment seeping through your being. Yet, his hand continues to stroke the back of your head, his touch lingering, serving as a reminder of the tenderness you experienced.

Meeting his gaze, locking eyes with him, and at that moment, the connection between you deepens. It's as if the world around you dims, leaving only the intensity of his brown eyes that seem to hold a universe of emotions. Every fibre of your being is drawn to him, falling deeper into a feeling you've been trying to resist.

A hint of reluctance lingers in Yu's actions as he clears his throat, a signal that the intimate moment must come to an end. He slowly removes himself from your embrace, settling back into his previous position. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on you, unyielding and intense, as if he's afraid to look away, afraid to lose the connection that has formed. You find yourself lost in his gaze, a swirl of feelings and unspoken words passing between you. There's a magnetic pull, an unspoken understanding that something profound has transpired between you. It's a delicate dance of emotions, a dance that neither of you can fully comprehend but are unwilling to let go.

In this halted moment, the air crackles with anticipation, as if the next words spoken could alter the course of your relationship forever. The intensity in Yu's eyes speaks volumes, a testament to the depth of the bond that has formed between you.

“If something like this happens again, please let me know,” Yu says, breaking the silence, his voice serious, needing to protect you from whatever your father could possibly do in the future.

A meek smile graces your lips, an expression of gratitude that conveys more than words ever could. Deep within, you carry the weight of unspoken pain and secrets, understanding that some experiences are difficult to share, especially the ones involving your father. You appreciate Yu's offer of support, even though you know you can't burden him with the full extent of what you've endured.

In this moment of silent acknowledgement, you convey a deep sense of gratitude for his presence, for the solace he has unknowingly offered. It's a silent understanding that goes beyond words, a recognition of the unspoken connection between you. Despite the barriers that may exist, you find solace in knowing that there is someone who cares, someone willing to extend a helping hand.

“Now your turn.” You exclaim, causing Yu to give you a confused look, “Your hand. What happened?”

Yu lets out a sound of realisation, his expression matching it. Looking down at the gashes in his hands, Yu makes an expression similar to embarrassment.

“I got in a fight,” Yu explains, his cheeks heating up, realising you might be disappointed in him.

“Another? Why now?” You question, your voice is soft and caring, making him realise you aren’t upset at him, just worried, making his heart warm slightly, despite the war and heartbreak going throughout his entire body.

“The girl that Yeo and I used to like… she has said some stuff, some stuff that isn’t true. It’s tearing us apart, all of us.” Yu’s voice is shaky, and you can tell he is deeply affected by the circumstances.

Immediately, your interest is piqued, and concern envelops your being, you can't help but wonder what could have been said by the girl to have such a profound impact on Yu and the entire group. The realisation that her words have caused a collective breakdown weighs heavily on your mind, triggering a surge of curiosity and a deeper level of concern. Thoughts whirl through your head, seeking answers and understanding. What could she have revealed that shattered their spirits? What truths or revelations could have struck a chord so deeply? You can't help but ponder the significance of her words and the implications they hold for your friends and their emotional well-being.

In the midst of your thoughts, a mix of emotions floods your being, concern, empathy, and a deep desire to alleviate their pain. The bond between you and the group becomes even more heartrending, a reminder of the connection of your lives and the importance of standing together in the face of adversity.

“What did she say?” You question, your hand coming to rest on his like he did earlier.

“She said we laid our hands on her, we hurt her, physically, sexually. But I swear on everything, I have never put my hands on her, on anyone. None of us have, we have only ever acted in self-defence. I don’t know why all of a sudden, she is making up these stories. It is tearing us apart. Every single person believes her, they are coming after us, with their fists. Someone tried to come at Captain and I with a baseball bat, and it’s terrifying us, we don’t know what to do.”

“Wait what?” Your voice trembles with a mixture of shock and disbelief as you contemplate why this girl would suddenly feel the need to falsely accuse the boys you have grown so close to. In the time you've spent with them, you have come to know each of them as kind-hearted individuals, devoid of aggression or abusive tendencies. Your experiences with them have left a deep imprint, and you find it unfathomable to believe that any of them would ever lay a hand on someone, especially a woman.

The weight of this accusation hangs heavily in the air, and you struggle to reconcile the image of your friends with the words that have been spoken. It feels like a betrayal, not just to them but to the bond you have formed, as your faith in their character and integrity is steadfast. The disbelief fuels a surge of protectiveness and a fierce desire to defend them against these baseless accusations.

When Yu raises his gaze to meet yours, the shimmering tears threatening to escape, your heart aches with empathy and compassion. The vulnerability etched across his face mirrors your own inner turmoil, as you share a profound connection and a shared understanding of the gravity of the situation. At that moment, your heart breaks for him and for the rest of the group, as you witness the weight of their pain and the unjust burden they must bear.

“I don’t know why this is happening, or why she said it was all of us. Only Yeo and I have spent time with her, she has never even met the boys. Plus, we haven’t seen her in over two months, she said it happened last month. It makes no sense.”

“Yu, if it’s not true then you do not have to worry about anything. It will get sorted, okay? You are innocent.” All you can do is bring the man into your arms once again, this time letting him weep into your shoulder, his body limp against yours. It breaks your heart to see him so vulnerable, so broken because of deadly rumours.

“We will get this sorted, Yu. I promise.”

------

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asumofwords · 10 months

Text

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. Mentions of gore and blood. Smut.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello my babies, thank you so much for your patience! I really needed a day or two or three to rest and relax! I was just doing the maths, and since I have combined some of my chapters to make them longer (and tbh might do it again) there is 110 chapters of SFA! So we have 10 left!! ( I do have plans for an epilogue planned after as well) HOLY SMOKES! Thank you all so much for your love and support and kind words AS ALWAYS! I fucking adore you guys. Anyway, enjoy! <3

Chapter 100: The One-Eyed King

King Aemond, First of his Name, took you atop the Iron Throne more times than you could count, plunging into your wet heat whilst the body of his brother lay cold on the stones behind you.

By the end of your passionate embrace, you knew that you would be aching for days to come, and when you finally removed yourselves from the throne of melted swords, it was done with a gentle hand on the small of your back and a passionate kiss.

You made your way down the steps, eyes locked onto the corpse of Aegon, the blood around him soaked through the stones. You paused as you looked at him, at his body, at the way the blood had trickled from his gaping mouth.

You thought of how he had raped you.

How he had mocked you.

Hit you.

Usurped the throne from your mother, and been the catalyst for your brothers death.

You thought, in that moment, of everything he had done to you and to Aemond.

How he caused you to lose your child.

Anger rolled through you, rage simmered, chest feeling impossibly tight.

But Aegon was gone.

And he could hurt you no longer.

He could touch you no longer.

You reared your head back, swirling your tongue and for the final time, spat onto his corpse, leg shooting out to kick the head that lay on its side forcefully with the toe of your boot, Aegon's skull skidding across the stones, wet sticky blood leaving a trail behind.

The hand on your back pushed you forward, a soft, 'that’s enough' whispered into the shell of your ear. You heaved angry broken breaths, inhaling deeply once to calm yourself before you moved forward, head held high as the King, your King, walked you towards the Small Council chambers.

The walk was swift, and it still felt as though your mind had not fully caught up to everything that had happened. But you would have to deal with that later. Right now you needed to be present.

Or as present as you could be.

As you came up the stairs, you could hear the voices of those inside, bickering amongst each other as they waited for you to arrive. The doors were opened by the guards stationed at the doors, and a hush fell across the room.

You walked in together, and all bowed towards you.

All except Alicent, who hissed from across the room, eyes red and tear tracks staining her cheeks, as she raced across the room, all fury, towards her son.

It reminded you of the night Aemond lost his eye.

“You have killed your own brother!” Her eyes darted back and forth across his face, horror, and anger, and disgust on her features. But what was more, beneath it all, there was fear.

Alicent was afraid.

Aemond simply looked down at his mother and hummed, lips pursing forward in thought.

The hand moved through the space faster than anyone could have reacted, striking Aemond across the cheek with a loud slap. Alicent’s chest heaved, and Otto came behind her to drag her backwards, whispering into her ear to try and calm his daughter.

Aemond’s head had barely moved, not a hair was out of place, nor had he flinched when she struck him. As though he had been expecting it to come. As though he expected nothing less of his mother. As though it had happened, once, twice, three times before.

And it had.

Your husband chose to ignore his mothers rage filled glare, and moved towards the head of the table, your own feet slowly trailing after him. Aemond held open a hand to the table, ordering the men to be seated, and then he looked to you.

You were still standing beside him, and with a shift of his palm, and an almost imperceptible nod of his head, you were directed to the seat beside him.

A seat at the Small Council.

Before you on the table was your council stone, round and seated within its dish.

You had a place in the council.

Alicent Hightower however, did not sit, her seat now filled by you, and her fury rolled off of her in waves that crashed against the dark oak of the table. Her hands shook, and as you watched her, you could see that she was merely holding on by a thread.

It was the first time since the night of Aemond’s eye where you had seen her so shaken.

The King's cold gaze lifted to his mother, and with a soft and careful voice, he told her to sit.

The Dowager Queen’s hands shook at her side, clenching and unclenching, hair wild and out of place, and it wasn’t until that moment as you watched her did you noticed the small stains of blood against the green of her gown. The dried coppery substance had stained her fingertips and hands as she had held the corpse of her son.

Alicent did not sit, lifting a hand to her mouth, pressing it roughly into her skin with worry as she looked to all the Lords who followed Aemond’s command without question.

It was hard to not feel some sort of pity towards her, some sort of empathy, because despite everything, she was still a woman who had lost so much. Three of her children to be exact. And you knew there to be no greater loss in the world than a mother who mourns their child.

The King sat straight in his chair, and addressed the men at the table, "As you were all aware, Aegon was to set the realm to ruins. Rebellions had begun in Riverrun, and more and more of our support had begun to turncloak. His lack of action has made us quick enemies.”

Lord Jasper Wylde nodded in agreement from across the table.

Aemond continued, “He was to bring the realm to war again. Aegon's inability to listen to the council’s recommendations for Flea Bottom had caused uprisings from the small folk down in the slums. Our Kings Guards and Gold Cloaks have been working day and night to keep them at bay.”

You shifted in your seat at the mention of war and the rebellions.

“My time in Harrenhal proved to be an enlightening one. Our men who reside there were ready to erupt into battle with Rhaenyra’s allies. But hers are larger in numbers, and with the North at her side, she is a formidable foe. My uncle Daemon would torch the realm, allies or not. He has no care for the lives lost if that meant crumbling our power.” The Maester played with his council stone before him in thought, the chain of his tunic shifting, “This disruption to the dust that we had once settled, caused trade from the Golden Tooth to halt, and thus our reserves and coin have dwindled.”

Their coin has dwindled.

They’re losing power.

Gods be good, the tides are shifting.

The old Maester leant forward on the table, holding his sphere, “I had received word from the Red Fork that the Blacks, after the commandeering of their small folks trading ships, have doubled their fleet power with Lord Corlys’ warships to block any exit or entrance for our men.”

Your eyes skimmed over the table, and landed on a pair of dark brown eyes.

Larys Strong was watching you.

And he was smiling.

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Law, picked up his sphere to speak, “Perhaps if we make a distinction that our purpose at the Red Fork is mere-“

“-Have you gone to madness?!” Alicent shrieked, charging towards the table on the opposite side of Aemond, hands slamming onto the wood as she sneered at her son, “You have slain your brother, the King, and now you move forward with business and trade?!”

“Aemond is King.” Your voice floated across the table, looking up at the woman through your eyelashes.

The Hightower woman’s face darkened, “You have willed him into slaying his brother. A manipulation most foul! How much more must we all fall prey to your-“

“Quiet.” Aemond’s voice cut across the room, and Alicent’s lips snapped closed, “For years you have defended Aegon and his actions, and it has become our ruin.”

His voice became deeper, louder, and more grating, “Tis I the younger brother who studied history, philosophy, and is trained with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should have been put forth for the crown, not that useless wastrel I called my brother."

Aemond shifted, leaning forward towards his mother as he looked up at her, "Aegon never took interest in his birthright and duty, whoring and drinking and serving his own interests which set ours back for miles. I have done what needed to be done. What should have been done. I wear the Conquerors Crown. I ride upon Vhagar, the oldest and largest of dragons, Queen Visenya once rode. I am the King.” His eye did not blink once, staring down his mother, who’s anger bled from her face, and fear resurfaced in its place.

Aemond turned to look out at his Councilmen, meeting each and every eye, “If anyone dare question my authority, I shall have you removed from these chambers and the council.”

You blinked.

And the world came crashing back towards you, as though you had been plucked from the sky once more, and tumbled down to earth. Because the reality was far more than what you had realised. Far more than what you had even had a chance to feel.

Aemond was King.

King.

And what did that mean for the treaty?

A small piece of anxiety began to worm its way through your bones, nipping at the tips of your fingers, down to the heels of your feet, burrowing under your skin with an insistence that you could not ignore or push down. Your mouth felt dry as you looked out at the table, looking at all the Lords, who gazed back, before you finally turned to face your husband.

His eye was already on you.

With hands that shook, you lifted your sphere from its place, the weight of it stopping the uneven movement. It was heavy and smooth, and as you look down at it and turned your hand, you found the courage to speak, placing it gently back into its spot, rolling it within its small bed.

“What does this mean for the treaty?” You questioned, fingers pressing into the sphere far harder than needed.

Aemond’s eye flickered in recognition, but settled quickly, grazing over your face and down to your hand. The rest of the Lords at the table waited with bated breath.

It was clear that all wondered what was to come now after the death of Aegon.

What would become of the treaty?

The treaty had been made with Aegon, not Aemond.

Aemond’s jaw clenched, holding your gaze for a moment more whilst your stomach spun and flipped. Blinking, he looked away, turning to his Small Council, “You are dismissed. We shall reconvene on the morrow.”

You frowned, continuing to stare at him as the men shuffled out of the room silently, Alicent being all but dragged out by her father Otto Hightower.

It was then, that anxiety truly settled in your bones.

“Go to our chambers, I will be there with you shortly.” Aemond spoke to you softly.

“But-“

“-Now.” Aemond commanded, tone clipped.

His word was final.

And after today, you did not wish to push his luck. The blood of his brother was still dried upon his face, having not been washed away. Evidence and proof of just how far he was willing to go. And if anyone knew the extent of his wrath, it would be you.

You swallowed thickly and stood on shaky legs, bowing your head to your husband as you left the Small Council chambers, and headed for your own.

The walk was swift, nervous energy carrying you quickly to your shared quarters, where you paced before the fire place in wait.

What did this mean for the treaty now?

What would Aemond do?

Was your family in danger?

Would he renew the terms?

Was war to come?

You spent the better part of what felt like an hour, walking back and fourth, thoughts tumbling through your mind like jagged rocks, scraping against the sides sharply. Your fingers coming to your mouth where you bit the nails down until they bled.

When the doors finally opened, you spun on your heel, facing Aemond as he entered, crown still atop his head. His fathers blade was now at his side, which he leant against the chaise, and he moved quickly towards you, one hand coming to cup your cheek.

His movements were sharp, and at first you had been frightened, but as you leant into the warmth of his palm as he stroked your skin, you looked into his gaze and saw it.

Lust.

Swallowing your anxiety, and pushing all your questions to the back of your mind, you dropped to your knees for a second time that day, willingly, the skin bruised and protesting, but hands that shook making quick work of his breeches as he looked down at you, eye half half lidded with desire.

For it would be better to broach these questions when he was disarmed.

When you pulled him from his pants, he was half erect, and so you worked him with your hand, and the tip of your tongue until he was hard and heavy in your own palm. Your fingers wrapped around him as you took him into your mouth, the muskiness of his own taste spreading across your tongue, as well as the subtle tang of your own release on his length from earlier.

Aemond groaned from above, hand smoothing your hair from your face as you bobbed your head along his length, hollowing your cheeks and feeling his tip press against the back of your throat. The King gripped your hair and pulled you down his length, the hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nose as you gagged.

Your husband guided you up and down his length, before pulling you off of him with a pop.

Lifting you up towards him, Aemond crashed his lips against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth as you gasped in his grip, his hands spinning you around to push you forward over the table. Your hands splayed out, knocking over an ink pot that sat on the surface, its dark ink spreading across the wood and parchment.

The skirts of your dress were hiked up your thighs and pushed onto your back, revealing your wet, and leaking centre to the room. Aemond knelt behind you as anticipation swept through you.

You felt his sharp nose press into the flesh of your ass as he gently bit the skin causing you to whimper, before moving down to part your folds with one long swipe of his tongue.

You moaned loudly, pushing your hips backwards to meet him as he continued, lapping at your wetness, and his seed which leaked from you from your coupling on the Iron Throne. Pleasure wound its way through you, bud and folds overestimated and sensitive from the day of fucking, and before no time at all, Aemond brought you to your peak.

You cried out against the wood, hands digging into it as he stood, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you with a harsh grunt. Your breasts were pressed against the wooden surface, sensitive and aching as they rubbed against the hard table top.

Your body jolted against the table with every thrust, hip bones pressing painfully against the edge of the wood, which only added to your pleasure. Aemond rutted into you in a frenzy, grunts and curses coming from behind you as he gripped your hips roughly, each stroke brushing against the spongey spot within you.

You cried out, watching as the ink seeped into the wood of the table, nails digging into the surface.

It looked like the stones did.

How Aegon looked.

How his blood seeped across the floor before you.

Thick and inky-

“Fuck.” Aemond grunted, “Squeezing my cock so tightly.”

You moaned loudly, hand reaching beneath your skirts so that you could press your fingers to your pearl. You rubbed neat circles into the sensitive nerves, sighing as you did, your release rapidly climbing once more.

“Killed that fucking cunt for you. Killed my brother for this fucking perfect cunt. Fuck. Going to give you an heir.”

Each clap of his hips was bruising, and soon the both of you tumbled over the edge together, the King pushing himself to the hilt inside of you, cock throbbing as it spurted his seed deep within.

You collapsed, face resting against the wood, small strands of your hair having gotten wet by the ink that had been spilt. No doubt joining the blood that stained your hair too. You breathed heavily, letting your release to spread through you warmly.

Aemond rested his cheek against your back, hot breath fanning across your skin as he came down from his high, before he slowly pulled out of you with a groan.

In a tangle of limbs, the two of you stripped each other, the crown sitting beside the bed, as you crawled beneath the sheets facing him, spent from the days events, spent from his cock, and spent from the anxiety that continued to linger in the back of your mind.

The both of you lay on your sides, looking at one another as he smoothed a hand over your shoulder and down your arm in a repetitive motion. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

His eye danced over your face, a finger coming to brush against your cheek where you felt a dry flake fall away.

A dry flake of blood.

Aegon’s blood.

Aemond was lost in his thoughts.

“Skoros issi ao otāpagon, ñuha jorrāelagon?” What are you thinking, my love? You whispered to him quietly, watching as his eye flicked back and forth on yours.

“Olvie hen mirre.” Most and all, Came his quiet reply.

You shifted, moving closer to him, hand pressed against his chest, “Gaomagon daor ōregon ziry isse. Ȳdragon ziry” Do not hold it in. Speak it.

You watched as your husbands chest rose and fell, a static quiet around the both of you. He leant forward, pressing a kiss against your forehead, and then another against your cheek.

“Ānogar kessa ropagon naejot nūmo se rūklun, se mazilībagon se vējes hembar." Blood will be spilt to seed the garden, and set the future sway, “Iā pāletilla vēttan hen ānogar.” A crown forged of blood, Aemond whispered, “Issa hae vestas.” It is as she said.

“Issa.” It is, You agreed, pausing before you spoke again, “Aemond?”

Your uncle’s gaze was locked on a strand of your hair that he brushed gently with his fingers. He hummed, raising his eye to you.

“Sir bona iksā Dārys, kostagon jān naejot ūndegon ñuha lentor?” Now that you are King, can I go to see my family?

Aemond watched your face closely, hand stilling in your hair before it dropped to your shoulder heavily.

You breathed in, and out.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

His hand started to move again. Up, down, pause. Up, down, pause.

Up, down, pause.

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You questioned again, “Kessa ao ivestragī nyke ūndegon ñuha muña?” Will you let me see my mother?

Up, down.

Pause.

“Kesi jorrāelagon naejot ȳdragon nūmāzma se treaty ēlī.” We will need to speak about the treaty first.

But there was no treaty now following the death of Aegon.

Now the prospect of war returning was a real one.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat, you lifted a hand, brushing your fingers against his cheek and scar, fingers delicately tracing it.

It was jagged and not as smooth as you would have thought when you first saw it. The closer you were, the more you could see the small little dotted scars that lined it, courtesy of the Maester’s stitches.

“Kostilus, gaomagon daor ōdrikagon zirȳ. Gaomagon daor ōdrikagon ñuha lentor. Hae aōha ābrazȳrys, aōha jorrāelagon, nyke epagon ao, kostilus.” Please, do not harm them. Do not hurt my family. As your wife, your love, I ask you, please.

Aemond hummed and leant forward to press another kiss to your forehead.

He did not answer your plea.

Up, down, pause.

Where Aegon had anger, Aemond had wrath.

Where Aegon stewed, Aemond seethed.

Where Aegon saw reason, Aemond saw vengeance.

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hyunfilms · 9 months

Text

blue side of the sky (lmh) | eleven.

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: waking up after 3 months with no recollection of your past, your friends do what they can to help you remember. except, they omit an important piece to the puzzle - afraid you would remember the heartbreak and hurt all over again.

—pairing: lee know x f. reader

—genre: (18+) exes to lovers, bestfriends to lovers au | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut

—word count: 4.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, a little look into mrs. pak and oc's relationship at work, mentions of cancer, flashbacks - one is just a random little moment with friends and the other is more oc x minho centered.., oc x san content, most of this is centered on oc's feelings 🥺

"So, are you seeing your friend today?" Mrs. Pak turns to you while you stand at the register, smiling as she puts a small bouquet together next to you.

"San?" She nods. "Yes. We're just going to eat and catch a movie."

"Sounds like a date?" You giggle.

"Nooo." You elongate your response. "We're just friends, Mrs. Pak."

"Have you guys hung out before?"

"Every now and then, we'd see each other for a meal or to walk around. Nothing too extravagant." You chuckle. "We talk almost everyday."

"That's sweet. Do you enjoy his company?"

"I do. He's very nice. I feel comfortable around him, and I feel like that's been hard for me post-accident." You look at her. It hasn't been long since you've started working with Mrs. Pak, but she was easy to confide in. You opened up to her about your accident, losing your mom and not remembering those details— losing every bit of you and not remembering things before the accident. You told her you felt like you were finally settling in in this world, this new chapter, new reality. It's been very difficult, but you were starting to feel comfortable and at ease.

The same thing goes for Mrs. Pak, as she's had help come and go in the shop. But, she's never felt so.. content and happy with your presence. You could simply walk into the room and Mrs. Pak feels like she'd never be alone. For awhile, she's felt alone— especially after she suddenly lost her husband to cancer.

But now, you're here and she feels better. Happier. More alive.

And she's not sure how you do it, but she is grateful. She is grateful you are helping, she is grateful you care. She is grateful you are here.

"That's good, no? It's important that you surround yourself around good people." You smile.

"Yeah. I agree."

"What if he likes you?" You raise a brow and shake your head with a small giggle. "I mean of course, you can always be friends. But, what if?"

"Then, I'm not so sure. He's very sweet. I just don't think—" You let out a breath. "I don't know—" Pause. "Maybe I'm not ready?" But, before you can follow up with an explanation, Mrs. Pak is jumping in.

"I don't think it's that, love. I think you'll be ready when the right time comes." She smiles. "I think you have your mind set on someone else." You blush.

"W-what? No."

"I can see it in those lovely eyes of yours, dear." She giggles as you look back down to your hands, remembering the time you've been spending with your friends, with Minho— times at the studio, his café, random kick-its in the city.

Most importantly, you think about how Minho started to feel more and more like your bestfriend. But lately, he's felt a little warmer, a little closer. He looks at you a little differently, keeps you close a little differently.

Like you are his bestfriend,

Like you remind him of love— a certain memory, probably a certain form of love.

☁︎ FLASHBACK | HANGING OUT AT THE FOODIELAND NIGHT MARKET A COUPLE OF NIGHTS AGO

"Dude, dude, dude!" Jisung excitedly calls out. "I need to try those garlic noodles with the lobster. Ooh, and the bungeoppang?!" Jisung starts to point in every direction. "Wait, the ramen burgers—"

"Can we just make our way around?" Seungmin pushes him aside.

"Why, do you plan on eating the entire night market?" Jisung tries to be sassy with his response.

"Yeah, maybe?" Seungmin snaps back, making Chan shakes his head.

"Okay, shut up. Let's just walk." Chan starts to lead the way by walking backwards. He shoots a smile at you before asking: "What about you though, Y/N? Anything catch your eye? We'll go there first."

"Hm, I'm not sure yet. I'm kinda down for whatever." You shrug a bit, tugging at the ends of your sweater sleeves while Minho stands next to you.

"Garlic noodles it is!" Jisung says with a little dance, causing Seungmin to smack him upside the head as the group starts to make their way over to the food booth.

"Are you okay? Are you cold?" Minho looks down at you with concern.

"A bit. I probably shouldn't have left my jacket in the car, huh?" You giggle and he nods.

"Have to say Jisung was right for that one." He does a slight head tilt before he's removing his zip up and placing it over your shoulders. "Better?"

"Oh, Minho. You don't have to, you're in a t-shirt—" He shrugs.

"It's okay, Y/N. I can live." He chuckles a bit. "It's not too bad for me. I'd rather you be comfortable than not." You slip your arms into the sleeves.

"Thank you." He smiles.

"Yeah." He continues to remain by your side as the group falls in line at the first food vendor. Jisung is venting about his coworker to Seungmin and Chan, his eyes subtly falling on Minho's jacket that you're currently wearing.

"You shouldn't have left your jacket in the car, cielo." Jisung does a slight pout. "Do you need me to run back and—"

"No, it's fine! Minho's will do." You look up at Minho and he nods in agreement.

"It's fine? Why stress?" Minho furrows his brows at him, making Jisung shrug.

"Okay then. Don't come crying to me when you get cold." He points at Minho.

"Why on earth why I do that? I wouldn't, even if you were the last person here."

"Good, I don't wanna help you anyway." Jisung spits back, making you roll your eyes and shove him forward."

"Pachi, the line is moving." He inches forward with another shove from Chan.

"Why is everyone fucking pushing me today?!"

"Because we can literally lose our spot in line!" Chan says with a low groan. "I knew this was gonna be a headache." He continues to go on while him, Seungmin and Jisung stand in front of you and Minho. The line continues to move until your group is at the front, with Chan offering to pay for everyone to make it easier.

Afterwards, the group decides to make their way around to get drinks and dessert— you opting for some sugarcane juice and bungeoppang that you'll share. You slide yourself onto the top of the picnic table, with Minho standing next to you; Jisung, Chan and Seungmin occupying the rest of the space on your opposite side.

"This was really good." You set aside the noodles and sip on your juice.

"See, what'd I tell you?" Jisung smiles. "So good. I think I'm gonna go around some more."

"For what?" Seungmin asks.

"I wanna try some other stuff." Jisung stands. "Anybody wanna come?"

"I'll go." Seungmin joins him.

"Pass." Chan adds. "I'm actually going to check out that booth really quickly." He points at one of the retail vendors, stretching as he stands and gets ready to head over.

"I'm good." You say with a small smile.

"Same." Minho says before sipping on his drink.

"Party poopers." Jisung says. "Cielo, text me if you want something else." You nod, watching as they turn and start to walk back towards the food booths, Chan already at the retail booth he was eyeing.

"You sure you don't want anything else?" You shake your head and raise the bungeoppang up to Minho.

"No, this will do me some good. Split this with me?" He nods, taking the bungeoppang as he sits next to you and makes an even split down the middle. You smile as he hands you your piece, gobbling it up quicker than expected. Minho smiles just as you finish up, wiping your hands on the napkin by the table. You miss some crumbs at the corner of your mouth, and he's suddenly having to force himself to not reach. Though, it feels like the worst internal battle and he knows he's going to lose this one the moment you look back up at him. "W-what?" You look at Minho staring at you, confused. He smiles and laughs a bit before he takes his thumb to the corner of your lip and wipes away at the lingering crumbs. You watch, blushing as he takes his thumb away and wipes it on his napkin. "Oh."

"All good."

"You sure?" You ask and he chuckles.

"I think so." He tilts his head to the side to quickly scan the other corner of your mouth. "Yeah, you're good."

"Thank you." You smile toothlessly at him and he wants to scream. God, you're so cute. Why was he such a fucking dumbass? "You're taking care of me a lot tonight."

"I'm happy to."

☁︎ END

You look down at your hands, unsure of what to say. Because Mrs. Pak is probably right— no, she is. You're just not sure what it means for you, or him.

He is your bestfriend.

Why do you feel much more for him?

Why do you feel connected at a much, much deeper level?

Too attached, almost.

"I hope you know that it's totally okay. But maybe, it's something you'll need to confront earlier than later. To keep your friendship with San?"

"You're right." You tell her with a small, pursed smile. "If it comes up tonight, I'll just.. be honest with him."

"It's the only way to do it, hun." You nod in agreement before shifting your attention to the couple that just walked in.

The rest of your shift goes by rather quickly, with you cleaning around the shop and helping make one last bouquet before San strolls in. He has a huge smile on his face, waving to you just as he makes his way closer.

"San, hey." You giggle as he makes it to the counter, eyeing the single roses off to the side.

"Hey! Sorry, am I bit early?" You shake your head as you wrap up the bouquet you were working on.

"No, I'm just finishing this up!" At this point, Mrs. Pak comes out from the back of the shop after rearranging the pre-ordered bouquets for tomorrow.

"Hi." She smiles at him. "You must be San."

"And you must be Mrs. Pak." He reciprocates the smile and shakes her hand. "I've heard a lot about you! Good things."

"Oh, good. I'd hope so."

"Is it okay if I steal Y/N away for the remainder of the evening?"

"Of course." She winks at you as you undo your apron and hang it on the rack behind the counter. "Please keep her safe."

"Absolutely." He says. "It was really nice to meet you, Mrs. Pak. I hope to see you more often."

"Likewise." You bid your goodbye to Mrs. Pak, ensuring she'd be okay to close up before leaving. You throw your jacket on as you walk out of the shop, following San out onto the street— the sun heavily beaming down, giving its last burst of energy before it slowly sinks below the horizon. You quickly glance over at Sunday Morning, then shift your attention to San. "How was work today?" He asks as he leads you down to the main street.

"It was good! A bit busy, but nothing too bad." You continue to look up at him as he walks alongside of you. "What'd you do today, Sannie?"

"Hm, I worked out this morning, did some groceries and cleaned my apartment."

"Sounds like another good, productive day."

"It was. I like it when my days are good and productive." You laugh.

"So, where are we going first?"

"Well, I thought we should try out this place a few blocks down that is popular for their unagi." He smiles. "Hm, then there's Peace Piece nearby that has some good pies. I really like their drinks too."

"That sounds yummy."

"Yeah?" He laughs. "Good to know. Hopefully it'll be Y/N approved once we eat." You giggle and nod, reassuring him that you'll find any place he takes you to delicious. The walk is nice at this time of day, some streets busier than others, but it's nice. It's not long until you get to the restaurant, where San has already made a reservation to avoid the long wait. You're immediately seated in the far corner of the restaurant next to the windows, with San pulling out your chair first before settling himself in. They serve water and tea while the both of you skim through the menu, with San voicing out his recommendations and what he thinks would be good to order.

At this point, you're hungry and you agree to his plan. Everything on the menu looks amazing, and you trust San's taste.

You spend some time talking about your days and how things have been, and San has been unloading some of his work drama while you eat away. He talks about how he wants to travel again soon, but this time with JJ and their friends— whenever they all are ready and can align on schedules. Which, turns the conversation to his time away and how scary it was for him at first. San has always openly talked about being away and how different it was, but he's never really had a chance to touch up on his feelings about the entire thing. You're glad he's comfortable confiding in you, because you feel the same way. You feel like you could be honest with San, and you genuinely find a true friend in him.

As promised, he takes you to Peace Piece after since there's time to kill before the next plan. The both of you share a big, hefty slice of banana cream pie to top everything off. Afterwards, San takes you to the movies since this is the only weekend they're holding a special Studio Ghibli event. Surprisingly, you don't run into anyone you know being that the theater is located in a popular plaza.

At least to your knowledge.

Too bad Minho was around with some friends, and he does catch you with San— even though you're a good couple of feet away from him. He sees you holding onto San's arm, the two of you engaging in a lively conversation that has you laughing and smiling at him on your walk over to the movies.

And his heart breaks.

No wonder you hadn't been so responsive today. Maybe you really did like San, and Minho needed to accept it. Because he's been unfair to you before, and he'd hate to do that again. You deserved to be happy; whatever that happiness looked like to you.

He would never get in the way of that.

"Dude let's just go to the restaurant down the street, I'm hungry." Hyunjin says to one of their other friends, beginning to lead the way. "—Coming or what?" Minho barely catches onto his last question because he's too focused on watching you and San walk into the theater. It pulls him out of his thoughts enough to respond with a silent nod and a pursed smile.

Long fucking night ahead for him.

San bought two tickets for Spirited Away, selecting seats in the middle section of the theater. You plop onto the comfy, recliner chair, watching as San props his feet up and also gets comfortable. He leans over to ask if you want anything to snack on, but you tell him you'll pass as you're still feeling stuffed from dinner and dessert. Shortly after, the theater fills up and the movie is off to a start.

You're enjoying the movie so much that you miss the way San glances over at you from time to time, softly smiling at the way your eyes light up at every scene, how you're so focused and full of curiosity. Your hand rests on the middle console and San feels like such a silly little boy for even having the thought, but he acts on it anyway— resting his hand on the console right next to yours, hand slightly twitching, aching, to pull yours into his.

You don't really notice it though, at least not right now. The movie brings these small bits and feelings of nostalgia, and suddenly, you miss your friends.

Minho.

Not that San was bad company, but you kinda wish he was around.

You're pulled out of your thoughts when you feel San's hand brush over yours. You look at him and he politely asks for permission through his eyes. You give him a tiny smile and he proceeds to lace his fingers with yours. His hand is warm, and it doesn't make you uncomfortable. It feels nice, but it also doesn't feel right.

In a way where you think your hand belongs in someone else's, how your fingers are meant to be laced with another's.

Warmth felt from another's hand.

San holds your hand for the rest of the movie, even as you walk out of the theater and out to the car. He opens your door like the true gentleman he is before hopping in his seat and driving off to another location. He mentions the small beach near your house and you nod, going along with his plans since he's been great the entire night. You like spending time with San, there's no question about it.

But, you know why he wants to take you to the beach.

You know why he has that look in his eyes, you know why he looks at you the way he does.

You have to be honest, it's the only way.

Arriving at the beach, there's only a few cars parked in the lot with people walking along the sand or sitting to watch the waves under the night sky. San puts the car in park, but he doesn't get out. The car is still on, just to have the soft music playing in the background.

Thank god, it can at least fill the void when you tell him the truth.

You are nervous.

"It's so pretty tonight. The sky is so clear."

"I know, isn't it?" You lean forward to get a better view of the moon, and the way its light hits the surface of the water. "I don't remember if I used to come here often, but I hope I did. It's perfect."

"I'm sure. There's no way you'd let the opportunity pass." You both chuckle. "I.. actually wanted to talk to you about something. I figured this would be the perfect setting for it, especially before ending the night." He settles into the driver's seat before looking at you. "I honestly don't even think it's a secret anymore, but it doesn't even matter." He says with another nervous chuckle. "I wanted you to know that my feelings for you have grown." He looks at you, genuinely and truly looks at you. And it breaks your heart that you don't feel the same, that you can't be this person for San even though part of you kinda wishes you could be. "I can understand if you're not ready or anything, I don't want to rush you. But, in the amount of time we've gotten to get to know each other and hang out, I've come to care for you. A lot. We get along really well, and it's been awhile since I've felt this way with someone. Since I've felt so comfortable. And, this might sound like a stupid line but I really think you're perfect. I mean that. "

"San." You say in a gentle tone as you grab his hand and caress the top with your thumb. "You're seriously the sweetest. It's really flattering to hear that, and I'm really glad I can make you feel comfortable and everything. I really am happy that you were able to open up to me." You let out a small, shaky breath before subtly biting your lip and fiddling with your fingers. You gain more courage to look at him again, eyes wide and full of worry. But, the longer you take to respond fully, the more he begins to understand, the more he knows where this is going—

And he should've prepared for it. He should've expected it. But, it still stings a bit.

You will always be his.

You will always be Minho's.

"I—" You start but San shakes his head. "I just don't want to ruin what we built. You know? As friends. I really am grateful we've gotten close."

"You don't have to explain, Y/N." He gives off a small laugh.

"No, but, I'm just afraid. I'm.. not sure I can be the person you need me to be, San. You're amazing, you're good at everything, you're incredibly sweet—" You sigh. "I'm re-learning how to exist and I don't even know where things will take me." Truthfully, you didn't think he would be able to understand you, understand this— all of you. And you didn't want to be that pressure for him, that time-consuming, that much of a responsibility.

Because you know you will be.

"I understand." He says with a soft smile. "But, you are doing great, Y/N. Don't ever discredit yourself. You've gone through a lot and you haven't given up. Plus, look at you. You're getting back into the things that you love."

"I'm sorry, Sannie. I really am." You say, close to a whisper. "I wish I could be that person for you, but I'm still trying to figure myself out. You deserve someone who can give you their all and be present with you throughout everything and anything. I'm so sorry." You repeat.

"Don't be." He lifts your chin with his finger and gives off a tiny chuckle. "Don't be, okay?" He repeats. "I promise you everything is fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." You give him a reassuring, toothless smile. "But, Y/N?"

"Hm?" You hum.

"You should tell him." You furrow your brows at him with a slight head tilt.

"But—"

"I can just tell." He chuckles a bit before starting the car. "I'm sure he wants to talk to you about it, too."

☁︎ FLASHBACK | THE OTHER EVENING

"Hi." You race to your phone in the kitchen after showering and getting ready for bed, noticing it's Minho on the other end.

"Hey. Sorry, didn't mean to bother." You chuckle.

"I'm just at home, Minho. You're not a bother at all. Are you okay?" He sighs and nods, even though you can't see him.

"Yeah, kinda. I'm just really tired. I wanted to drop by and hang out with you for a bit, but I can barely keep my eyes open." You look at the clock and notice how it's barely 10pm. Minho must be exhausted lately.

"It's okay. You can always swing by on other days." You plop onto your bed after shutting off your lights, though you opt to keep your christmas lights on even as you settle under the sheets.

"Yeah." You can hear him yawn a bit before shuffling in his bed. "How was your day?"

"It was alright. I just went to the pottery studio before my shift at the shop."

"Cute. What did you make today?"

"I attempted to make a Kirby planter for my succulents." You chuckle. "Keyword is attempted. I hope it turns out okay because I need to re-pot my succulents soon."

"I'm sure it'll turn out great." He smiles a bit.

"Did you have a busy day?"

"Very."

"Why don't you sleep?" You softly ask him as you lay on your side, exhaustion slowly hitting you as well.

"Mm, I wanted to hear your voice." He responds. "I didn't get to see you so I— I thought I could at least call you and talk to you." You giggle.

"But, you're tired. Are you sure that's it?" Minho thinks about your question because no, that's not it. Not at all. He wants to tell you how much he misses you, and how much he's been thinking about you. How he wishes he can hold you and kiss your cheek, your hand. How he always gets butterflies when he sees you because he likes you—

No, loves you.

Because he does love you.

He fucked up.

He loves you.

"Minho?" You call out for him. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry."

"I thought you fell asleep."

"No. I was thinking about something."

"Like what?"

"Stuff." You chuckle.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I hope you know you can always talk to me about anything."

"I know. I just.. nevermind." He sighs and shuts his eyes. "I need to sort out my thoughts first, that's all."

"Hm." You hum. "Okay." It's obvious Minho is holding back from whatever he needs to say, but you will never force him until he's ready to.

"You might hate me for it." He suddenly says, close to a whisper.

"Why would I ever do that? There's nothing wrong with sorting through your feelings." You say in a way that's so innocent and so.. caring, that his heart does flips in his chest. It aches. "I couldn't hate you even if I tried." It's this statement that makes Minho's heart officially crumble into pieces because even though it's reassuring to hear—

He knows there is a possibility you will.

"I don't know." He chuckles a bit. "I'm just tired I guess, I'm kinda going off the rails now."

"Go to sleep soon. I'll sleep too."

"Okay." He pauses. "Y/N?"

"Yes?" He pauses again. You patiently wait on the other end even as your eyes shut.

"I—" He lets out a breath. "I hope you rest well." He deflects.

"I hope you do, too. Will I see you this week?"

"You will."

"Try not to think about it too much now, okay? I don't want you to go to bed upset." You sleepily say.

"Hm." Minho hums. "I'll try to."

☁︎ END

⇢ 11.5 [cloud days]: here

♡ taglist: @ppiri-bahng @jihanlovic @meloncremesoda @sweetlikecherry @asjkdk @hoes4lino @skzddicted @skzho @edgaralienpoe @harui-zen @bestleeknowstan @havenwithleeknow @septicrebel @heesdazed @borahae-reads @yoontaethings @pearbunny @bintificreads @lukeys-giggle @ajxreads @everglowdaisies @allaboutsan @endzii23 @leeknowsramen @heres-your-ramen2000 @morningstardada @mal-lunar-28 @downbadreading @lilysophie @feelikecinderella @urmomma0324 @ddazed-lhs @djeniryuu @melanctton @i8rsie @maru-matt @sleepyleeji @taerifin @nattisbored @jisunglyricist @m111nho @drhsthl @nixtape-foryou @arminseas @guiltycoco @syuuji @sulkygyu @cadihyo @reianagarcia @leeknowyah @smndjdufuehr @dprkbyn @xxibreinaxx @mxnsxngie [bold = can’t tag 😭]

#lee know series #lee know fanfic #lee know fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids series #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids x reader #lee know angst #lee know fluff #lee know smut #lee minho angst #lee minho fluff #lee minho smut #hyunfilms: blue side of the sky

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 2 months

Text

Dark Moon | Chapter Fourteen

Pairing | yandere!Jimin x Reader

Word Count | 4,5k

Warnings | +18, yandere themes, Stockholm syndrome, fluff, smut, slight panic attack at first, body worship, pussy worship, pussy eating, face riding, fingering, nipples licking, couch fucking, vaginal sex, intense orgasms and devastating emotions, soft yandere Jimin, mentions of ruined childhood

This fanfiction is yandere, if you don't like the genre, don't read and if you are not of age, don't read.

I don't want to hear any complaints in the comments, thank you.

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | She just wanted to escape her past, take charge of her life and break out of her steel cage, praying in God for a miracle that could change her life for good.

And her prayers were heard, but it was not the Divine that answered her.

That was certainly the devil in the guise of an angel, she thought as those corrupted and empty eyes searched her soul with extreme voracity.

He turned a sweet, false smile on her, before pushing her into the abyss.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! 🥰❤️

Hope you are happy with this update! This one is a bit longer than the others! Always let me know your thoughts, you make me very happy ❤️

PS: Forgive me for the mistakes, it was not an easy week for me and I did not have much time 😭❤️

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @dragons-flare, @m00njinnie, @seokjins-luigi, @pjmsneverland, @jimincrystal, @ajkwww, @ungodlyjoon , @hecateslittlewitchling , @namjoonsbuspass , @darkuni63 , @xicanacorpse , @jiminismine4ever , @btssimpjaneth , @antisocial-mochi267 , @reallygenerouskoala , @velvet-stardust2002 , @angelicsmilesworld

Taglist is open!

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"I finally found you," huffed Seokjin in front of Choi Minhoo, the man had been tied to a wooden chair, only Minho, Seokjin, Jungkook and Namjoon were present in that warehouse. The latter were just waiting for Jin's order to act; they were vibrating with fury.

"Be careful, Jin! My family members won't be happy about this!" he ranted with foam at his mouth, as frightened and rabid as a rat in a trap, Jungkook growled at those words, put his hand to his gun that he faithfully kept in his pocket, but a glance from Seokjin froze him in place.

"Uh, that's scary," put on a fake pout Jin with those beautiful rosy lips of his, "Now I'm going to shit my pants, look."

"Take the piss out of me, they're going to destroy you anyway," he growled, but that only made the man in charge of the Bangtans smile more broadly.

"That slut of a cousin of yours hurt Jimin when he was just a little boy, the result was that her body was dismembered by my dogs, and she was still alive while they ate her, you kidnapped and raped his woman, which amounts to another member of my family now," he began as he walked toward Minho, before grabbing the collar of his torn jacket, "I'm tired of having to pick up the pieces of what you and your damn family break, I will kill you all, child or adult, I will eradicate you from this world as the haughty and arrogant scum that you fucking are," he hissed, tightening his grip so tightly that the tendons in his wrists trembled before he pulled away.

Inhaling before recomposing himself, Namjoon and Jungkook looked at each other with a smirk-that was Jin.

"Jin! Jin! Kim Seokjin, stop!" shouted Minho after him as the man walked away, giving way to his bodyguards, "You said you were interested in politics, right! I can introduce you to the prime minister!" he finally shouted desperately, but Seokjin ignored him expressionlessly.

Neither he nor Jimin would have soiled themselves for such a being. He had deliberately decided not to tell Jimin about Minho's capture, knowing him he would have wanted to kill him with his own hands, but he wanted him to spend more time with Y/N.

He knew that sooner or later Jimin would fall into the arms of a woman he would love with sincere passion, that was what was needed for a troubled soul like his.

They needed to be done with the Choi family forever, all of them.

For days there had been a tense air in the house, Jimin was not there-according to him he had vital research to do-and in his place Taehyung had arrived to keep her company. He did not even use the guest room, preferring the living room sofa to Y/N's dismay.

The living room was her favorite place to read and eat, with Taehyung having conquered that piece of the apartment by now she could always be found hanging around it and disappearing.

Taehyung on his part tiptoed around when she was present, feeling uncomfortable.

He had endangered her with his indifference, plus he had also seen her in an extremely delicate moment, where she was weak and naked in every way.

He always peered at the girl with a pout, undecided how to start a possible conversation, she was not helping him at all in this, she was always so quiet and on her own....

With a snort he saw her head for the kitchen for a snack. He had to do it now.

"Y/N" when he reached her the woman gasped slightly, she had not expected him to come and talk to her, they had ignored each other so peacefully until now, inside she regretted leaving her room.

"Yes?" she huffed slightly, turning away.

At first glance Taehyung looked like a man of integrity, serious and good at his job, but at that moment he was showing his face full of emotion. He seemed nervous about something.

"I ... would like to apologize to you," he said with a note of embarrassment, the girl's eyes widened.

"To me?"

"Yes, it was my fault that they managed to catch you that day. It was my responsibility to control and protect you, I broke my word and for that I apologize" Taehyung bowed respectfully, Y/N was simply stunned.

They had never treated her with that much respect, why now?

Something told her that Jimin's hand was present.

"It's not totally your fault, I attacked your friend and you were reasonably pissed off, I apologize for making you worry about Jimin's condition.... I lost my mind in that instant, I did the only thing I thought was right so I wouldn't suffer anymore," she explained with regret.

"You did what anyone would have done," Taehyung replied, "My anger aside, Jimin was not behaving well with you and you did what you thought was right, that doesn't mean I would allow you to do it again, but I can still understand and yes, it remains my responsibility what happened to you, there won't be a next time."

Y/N nodded a little embarrassed, the determined expression in those languidly slitted eyes put her slightly in awe.

"Um... would you like some strawberry tea? I've made too much for myself," she said turning slightly toward the full teapot, with a small smile Taehyung agreed.

"I love strawberries."

Jimin came home with such a serious look on his face that it made Y/N guess that it was better to turn away from him.

Taehyung had left ten minutes earlier and the idea of being alone with a Jimin in that state unnerved her, she did not want to think that the boy would attack her again for his frustrations, so it was best not to pull the cat's tail too much.

The boy in question noticed the girl's strange attitude, she was moving in a hurry to wash her dishes, she wanted to run to her room and this would have been clear even to the least empathetic person in the world.

"Y/N" the sound of his voice uttering her name so quietly made her freeze suddenly, the water continued to flow in the sink without any more purpose and she did not move to stop it, "Can you come here please?"

She closed her eyes with a soft, inaudible sigh, counted to three before turning away with a slight smile.

She left everything in the sink and turned off the water, then walked over to him who sat at the table staring at her with predatory, glittering eyes, one rings-decorated hand tapped on his thick, muscular thigh, the elastic fabric of his pants wrapped around it beautifully and she found herself swallowing, "Sit here."

She did as she was told and the boy's arms soon wrapped around her at hip level, Jimin buried his head between her neck and shoulder, inhaling her sweet scent.

Y/N felt herself flaring up, the sensation of Jimin's warm breath warmly caressing her made her heart, already swollen with unexpressed emotions, throb.

"Jimin?"

"I've missed you," he repeated the words with which he had returned her the day he found her, Y/N instantly relaxed noticing that Jimin did not mean to hurt her in any way.

"I missed you too," she returned the hug, sinking her face into the soft locks of the man who smiled broadly in response.

"It's been especially stressful to handle things today."

"Are you looking for Minho?"

She asked quietly, not giving away how much even mentioning his name destabilized her, but Jimin knew her well by now; in fact, he sent her a reproachful look.

"Don't ask things you don't want to know, baby," he softly stroked one cheek still marked by a light bruise.

"I just wish you would confide in me, you keep everything inside and then you get sick."

"I won't be sick if you're with me," he replied seriously, peering longingly at her, his eyes lowered to her sugary lips and he closed his eyes, trying to hold himself back.

"Jimin...."

"Y/N." he stopped her by pronouncing her name firmly, "I want to make love to you."

A delicious twinge of pleasure made her intimacy throb, the arms she held tightly around the boy's neck trembled, "Jimin, I don't know if..." she felt so confused.

Fuck, she wanted him. She wanted him with all her heart, but she didn't want to be reminded of Minho, or his henchman hitting her repeatedly as she and Jimin lost themselves in their moment.

"Let's try it," she narrowed her eyes at the man's pleading tone, it was a new side of Jimin she never thought she would see, perhaps he had never begged any woman to fuck, the idea that she was the first one he begged even for a kiss appealed to her, "If anything happens I will stop immediately."

After that reassurance she found herself nodding with soft legs, Jimin kissed her with transport, savoring those sweet lips that tasted of tea and strawberries, fuck, it could become his new favorite taste.

Y/N reciprocated more calmly, trying to keep up with the man's voraciousness that did not just stop at her lips, but sank into her mouth languidly seeking the woman's tongue, gently intertwining in a perfect dance for them.

In a way she found it touching how tender Jimin was in squeezing her hips without hurting her, she had never experienced such intimacy with a man before, she liked it, and she did not want it all to end and go back to the dry old normal.

When they parted a few tears escaped from the young woman's eyes, Jimin stepped back slightly wiping the path they traced along her tender cheeks.

"Should we stop?" he asked sympathetically, but Y/N denied it immediately.

"No, it's just... I liked it, I've never done it like that," she said.

"Like that?"

"So intimate, with someone who loves me" she pulled up with her nose crinkling her eyes.

Jimin's blood froze in his veins, not that he had been a saint, but those words punctuated how much the childhood of the girl he was holding in his arms had sucked.

He kissed her again, feeling in his mouth the salty, lukewarm taste of her small tears that broke his heart, yes, Park Jimin now felt sorry for a past that did not belong to him, but love did that and more, it changed people and Jimin fit perfectly into that category.

He loved her and would get anything that made her sad out of the way, he slid into the neckline of her blouse, kissing every available flap of skin before he himself pulled off every single button that separated him from that body that drove him crazy. From the first time he had seen her, he knew he would desire her every hour of every day, sometimes it hurt so much it was unbearable.

When he freed her from that restraint he found himself face to face with the young woman's bare breasts, he inhaled wordlessly at the sight, god how much he had missed this, even as Minho's now superficial footprints on that divine temple made him growl.

Then he frowned, "Were you bra-less the whole time with Taehyung around?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, "It hurt..." she mumbled embarrassedly, referring to the bruises clearly, the bra pressed painfully against them.

Jimin inhaled softly, again bridging the distance between the two of them with yet another kiss of the evening, lulling her gently with his breath, his hand slipped over a rosy little button, teasing its tip, which rose turgidly under Jimin's expert touch, which descended to gently lick the areola before gently biting the tip of the sensitive nipple.

Y/N in response pushed her chest into Jimin's mouth, sighing in sweet waves of desire.

The man pulled away only long enough to effortlessly pick her up and carry her to the sofa in the living room, Y/N held back a surprised sob, and she watched the man's playful smile.

"Will we do it here?" she asked curiously, Jimin chuckled.

"We'll do it everywhere, sweetheart," he sighed, attaching himself to the girl's neck with his mouth, sucking and kissing her soft neck to leave his personal mark; he wanted to remove Minho's presence everywhere from her, "And I'll make you feel sensations you never had a chance to experience."

"Mh..." she squeezed her eyes shut under the weight of Jimin descending lower and lower, marking a glowing trail of wet kisses and bites all along her belly, with his hand he passed the barrier of her panties and barely grazing her pubis he sank his hand into her intimacy, gathering between his fingers a large amount of transparent essence that had already left her throbbing slit. It was the first time he had felt her so soaked for him; it felt like a dream.

"Fuck," he cursed excitedly, quickly slipping off his pants with his free hand, giving his big, hard cock some relief.

He went back to sucking one of her turgid nipples as his fingers began to play between her folds, Y/N moved her hips willingly against his hand, in her mind the only thing present was the idea of Jimin taking her on that couch.

"How do you feel?" he asked blowing hot air on one nipple, Y/N's clit twitched seeking attention.

"It feels good... so good," she whimpered, her thighs trembling, "And I want to feel you inside me, Jimin."

The latter smiled, amazed at the woman's stance, before a more wicked grin furrowed his cheeks.

He leaned closer to the girl's ear before murmuring, "And I'm going to come inside you with my cock and my fingers, soon my cock will be the only thing you'll feel between now and tomorrow, baby doll," he ignored the girl's faster breathing and continued licking her earlobe between his lips, "But first I want you to feel what my tongue can do, I'm going to lick your pussy so well that you'll cry for it," he took off his shirt as well, showing off his well-delineated and strong abs, a deep V went down to below the layer of his boxers that he hastened to carelessly throw on the floor, the sight of his swollen cock already moist with precum made her swallow without any more saliva.

She simply spread her legs for Jimin, but the position reminded her of the one they had forced her into and she stiffened.

"Jimin..." she closed her legs again shaking her head, Jimin immediately reached for her.

"Hey, hey...what's going on, baby?"

"I can't do it like this, I'm sorry" she still couldn't get over her trauma, she was about to have a panic attack and didn't want to disappoint Jimin, but the boy hugged her again.

"There are many ways to do it," he chuckled lightly trying to make her calm down, "Don't feel wrong, you're not."

"R-Really?" she looked at him curiously, wanting to have sex with him, but other than missionary and doggy style she had not tried anything else, ever.

The man nodded, "Give me some space, love."

She did as she was told and saw Jimin lie down in her place, she stood looking at him confused.

"What should I do now?" she asked innocently, Jimin gave her a smug look.

"Sit on my face."

The woman widened her eyes, what was she to do?

"I ... are you serious?"

"Trust me, we'll both like it," he replied biting his full lips, making Y/N's legs tighten.

She sighed slightly and listened to the boy, with some difficulty due to her inexperience she found herself with Jimin's face at the height of her soggy core, she found it incredibly awkward, but that feeling of imprisonment was gone.

From his side Jimin gazed in ecstasy at her wet intimacy, licking his lips he opened her folds with a gentle thrust of his fingers, before leaving a long, slow streak of saliva with his tongue, until he stopped at her swollen and needy clitoris, Y/N widened her eyes and collapsed onto the man who did not complain.

With her nose pressed against the young woman's pubis, she sucked conspicuously on that sweet trembling pearl, Y/N cried out in shock at those strange sensations she had never experienced before, Jimin's soft tongue enveloped her softly, but the pleasure was intense, it was all so terribly beautiful and hard at the same time that she began to shake her hips trying to escape from the continuous strokes of Jimin's fast tongue. The boy seemed to love eating her.

"Fuck, oh... oh! Jimin!" she shrieked breathlessly, the man held her thighs tightly preventing her from escaping, sinking his tongue into her hot and wet entrance, Jimin's eyes rolled back at that sweet taste, he could drink Y/N's essence all his life, she would never be enough for him, his cock trembled releasing thick whitish liquid, he could have easily come that way, his balls throbbing painfully with every moan or scream the girl let out without any more reins.

"Please, please stop!" she cried as she felt something coming, something powerful and devastating.

With the tip of his tongue Jimin again played with the shiny, quivering clitoris, finishing with a light bite that made the young woman stiffen, locking her in the grip of a powerful and strong orgasm, breathtaking in places, her first fucking orgasm.

She began to tremble and weep, no longer even able to bear the gentle caresses of the man adoringly wiping away all her pleasure that had soiled the inside of her thighs down to Jimin's chin.

She rolled to the side clutching her legs and wincing again, Jimin lying on his side wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck and shoulders, gently brushed one thigh and invited her to raise one leg, "That's it, baby girl... let me feel how good I did," he chuckled as he aligned himself with her entrance, lightly pushed the massive tip of his cock already lubricated with his own cum against her ultra-sensitive slit, Y/N gasped slightly with blurred vision, but let him.

Jimin pushed himself into the sublime depths of her pussy with a delighted sigh, tried to be gentle and delicate, but her almost impossible to groove intimacy soon made him lose his mind, the girl's previous orgasm had made her walls more perceptive and consequently also tighter, each thrust was an immense rush of pleasure and stun for the boy, who pounded hard until his swollen balls popped against the girl's sweaty skin, who opened her mouth wide, feeling a stunning mix of enjoyment with a hint of pain that made her lose her mind, pressed her mouth against the back of the couch to keep from screaming, Jimin gasped against her ear.

It was different from all the other times, she was experiencing pleasure, those thrusts were delicious, not painful, Y/N was simply happy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You hold me so tight, my love," he sang lost in his daze, his swollen shaft began to quiver and tremble over and over again, he was coming, "Aaahh... Oh, my-! Fuck, Y/N!" he growled her name like a prayer, quickly sank his cock deeper, touching her cervix again and again, causing the woman to tremble wordlessly as she reached for the man's hand to clasp it between hers.

"I'm coming!" he exclaimed without now a breath, the girl nodded.

"Me too, oh God, me too," she replied without any more concern for her moans, Jimin smiled proudly and taking the young woman's chin in his hands he forced her to look at him.

"Open your mouth" he grunted with dark eyes, Y/N obeyed already knowing what was about to happen and accepting it with pleasure, Jimin spit into her oral cavity and before giving her time to swallow he kissed her, mixing their flavors and tongues, that was enough to make the young man's cock throb, whose pleasure exploded in violent spurts of white liquid in the girl's lap, over and over again he pumped himself into her, who came in an orgasm more intense than the previous one, she could not even find the strength to scream, she just stood there taking the man's seed in spasms.

Jimin waited for her to calm down before leaving her with his now soft and satisfied cock, he lay down beside her more comfortably and kissed her many times, wiping her face of tears with his lips and and gifting her affectionate gestures that even he did not know he was capable of.

He was fucking in love with her.

"I have a surprise for you," he murmured in her ear.

Y/N turned to him with a joyful smile, it had been two weeks since that intense and wonderful evening, Jimin had woken her up the next morning with a series of sweet kisses and breakfast in bed, he was so different from the man who had kidnapped her and that helped her fall in love with the boy even more.

"Really?" she asked trying not to appear too excited, Jimin nodded softly.

"Close your eyes," he said, but the girl looked at him suspiciously.

"Is this perhaps another one of your wild sessions that see your mouth eating me, Park Jimin?" she said with a raised eyebrow, Jimin at first had spent so much time telling her that he would never give her pleasure with his mouth, she still could not believe how much the boy liked to use his tongue to fuck her over and over again, he seemed almost obsessed. She obviously did not complain.

Jimin grinned slyly, "That one later, love," he chuckled, confirming the girl's thoughts, but Y/N stopped at that affectionate nickname, he always called her "love".

She smiled with a warmed heart once again and closed her eyes, when Jimin was satisfied he moved on to the next step.

"Now open your hands."

Y/N puffed slightly, but listened to him once more, something very light and rectangular was placed on her palms.

"Open your eyes."

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in front of an emerald-colored letter. It was beautiful, little gold leaves were drawn around the edge, intertwining, but still she did not understand what the boy was getting at.

"You wrote me a letter?" she laughed softly, but Jimin shook his head.

"Open it..." he said simply, and there Y/N could see all his nervousness.

She looked at it again, opening it slowly and pulling out a parchment-colored wrapper, she unwrapped it too and her breath caught.

She brought a hand to her mouth and sobs immediately escaped her control, Jimin held her by the shoulders to prevent her from falling.

In her hands were two photographs, the first depicted her sister smiling in the arms of a man with western features, it had been taken at a park well lit by green trees and sunlight, she looked so happy and healthy.

In the second she always had a big smile on her face, but in her arms she held a small bundle that she looked at with eyes full of love.

"She's alive," she sobbed against the chest of Jimin, who nodded relieved to have seen no negative reaction.

"Yes, she ... was bought by a wealthy american, he wanted to give her to his son as a birthday present, but he didn't expect that his son would fall in love with her and decide to marry her, she is fine and lacks absolutely nothing, Y/N."

Y/N lifted his flushed gaze into that of the boy, "Thank you, Jimin.... I know you shouldn't have investigated a client, but you did and I thank you," she hugged him as if he was her only pillar of support, which he really was.

But the boy did not look happy, shortly afterwards he sighed.

"There is also another thing in truth."

Y/N broke away slightly.

"I know everything, I know why you ran away from your family, I know why you changed your name, everything."

The woman froze.

She began to shake her head, trying to pull away, but Jimin held her back, "How did you… no, why?" she was lost, why would Jimin do such a thing? She wanted to forget her past!

"How long have you known?"

"Since you disappeared, the last words you said to me… I had to understand, Y/N."

"No! You shouldn't have done-"

"Your uncle met the end he deserved to meet," he said suddenly.

The implication was there, heavy in both their minds.

They looked at each other a few moments, then Jimin hugged her out of the blue.

"I love you, I love you, I love you," he began to repeat like a mantra with his lips pressed to her temple, "He won't hurt you anymore, baby," he whispered, Y/N snuggled softly against him.

"Never again?" she made in a tiny little voice, as if the child self was asking for reassurance from the man who had become the center of her world.

"Y/N, I haven't changed," he said, the steel in his eyes confirmed to the girl what she had suspected. Jimin had not changed, he loved her and treated her well, but the killer behind those half-moon eyes that smiled at her was always there, ready to snap at Kim Seokjin's every command, and to tell the truth that realization calmed her, "I made him pay for every single disgusting thing he did to you and I made sure he will never do anything like that to anyone else ever again," he concluded, returning his mind to the moment of capture.

It had not been easy to track him down, it had turned out that he was a loan shark under the command of another Korean Mafia family, that was what got him a lot of money unlike his brother and sister-in-law.

"He played us, he said he was going to help our family," she trembled with her eyes glazed over and grainy, looking at Jimin with sadness and sorrow, "Instead it was just an excuse to..." a gasp of vomit blocked the words in her throat, Jimin brushed a light kiss against her forehead.

"That bastard got the punishment he deserved, now you're with me, that's what's important, okay?" Y/N nodded quickly, seeking comfort in his arms. Little Y/N cried bitterly in the mind of the now adult girl, seeing her mother giving in under her father's pressure, the man feared losing her brother's favor and ending up on the street.

"Do you really love me?"

"More than my own life," Jimin replied immediately, Y/N licked her lips.

"Good, because I love you too, Jimin," she whispered dimly, but the boy heard her anyway, smiling relieved he still cradled her with his chin resting on her head.

"I'll take care of you, I won't let you lack anything," he promised, Y/N closed her eyes letting him carry her to bed like a cute little doll.

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shadowynn · 1 year

Text

| in love and lore | eight |

pairing: ateez x fem reader

genre: fantasy/daemon/soulmate au

warnings: some cursing, mentions of death and violence

summary: the daemon king and his seven black generals. names and faces of these eight had changed over the years as each new king was crowned, but their reputation as the most powerful daemons always remained the same. upon hearing the rumors one of the seven led the charge of the nearby battle, you should have stayed close to the encampment. you should have never wandered out on your own. but you did, and your life would never be the same again. good or bad, you would just have to wait to find out.

“There’s no need to be afraid, angel.” His words were a breath against the side of your neck. “You’ve done so much for us, let your king now return the favor.”

wordcount: 14.5k

| seven | eight | nine |

a/n: ahhh, it's finally here and so much longer than i originally planned. when i first started this chapter, i planned on it covering the entirety of their travels back to the daemons' kingdom, but here we are, and you'll come to see that journey will be for the next chapter and we're still outside maehwa by the end of it. oops. but i am super happy with how this came out. don't really know how it did or what possessed me, but it did and it's here. so i hope you all enjoy. :)

also, taglists will be moving to reblogs as i think you guys are so awesome and cool, a singular post can't contain you all so those will be following here in a few moments after this posts.

"May I sit with you?"

You glanced up from the pen and paper in hand at the voice that spoke above you, though it was done more out of habit than to see who it was. You already had that piece of information, having felt his gaze on you for the past half hour.

You had done all you could to avoid Hongjoong and his generals over the past few days, but any success you had found hadn't been on your part, but their own attempt in giving you the space you desperately craved. While you had woke up early and spent the past hour curled up next to the barrier to watch the sunrise by yourself, you had been well aware of Yeosang's nearby presence and wondered if he would ever make a move.

You met his eyes briefly before turning back down to the paper before you, simply shrugging your shoulders instead of bothering to verbally answer his question. You didn't quite have it in your heart to refuse him, but you did hope the defensive stance your body had taken at his presence would have been enough to deter him. It didn't, not that you had really expected it to, and he simply took your silent response as an excuse to sit down on the ground next to you. Not quite close enough to be touching, but close enough for you to shift your stance a bit before busying yourself with the paper you had been doodling on in an attempt to clear your mind. It had worked well enough up to this point, but his new proximity to you caused your anxiety to spike once more.

He had to have wanted something. While your attempts at completely avoiding them had been futile, none of them had approached you in the manner Yeosang now did. Any interactions with them had been brief and awkward. There was much they wanted to say. Either to apologize or convince you in some manner, but they held their tongues, fully knowing you didn't want to talk about it at this point.

The constant guard from before had been dropped from that night, and though you had more time to yourself than you had ever had since they had brought you here, you found little relief in the matter. Not with the barrier you had run across that first night remaining up and present. They had claimed it was simply an added precaution to keep you safe after the incident at the masquerade, but you weren't an idiot. You knew they had simply exchanged one guard for another. The thought of running had crossed your mind more than once since that first night, though not in the way they were worried of. Part of you did want to run and escape this fate that had been placed on you, but you knew it wasn't something you could or would succeed in. And even if you did, where would you go? You had nowhere to go or anyone to run to. But the fleeting thoughts you had made of it must have slipped over in their minds as well, and the barrier was the needed precaution they had taken to keep it from happening.

Honjoong had claimed they could only read the thoughts you outwardly projected, and only then when you were within a certain proximity of them, but without any other explanation of the process, you struggled to understand what exactly he had meant by it or how you could control it yourself. Based on your past experiences, you were certain things had slipped through, but without knowing which thoughts had or hadn't, it was impossible to tell just how much they had gleaned from you in the meantime. And with the way you struggled to control the panic that took root in your stomach each time you saw one of them, you had the sinking suspicion they knew more than they let on. The glances they sent to each other when they thought you weren't looking was all the evidence you needed of that fact.

"Hongjoong has informed us that the treaty talks have come to a conclusion."

You tensed at the mention of him, shifting your position against the barrier you had been using as a backrest. And though your eyes stayed focused on the sketch in your lap, you caught the way Yeosang's body extended past the barrier out of the corner of your eye, a fact that had your grip tightening its grip on the pencil in hand.

You hadn't seen Hongjoong since that night.

Wanting nothing more than to be alone, you had strayed near the edge of the camp long into the night, contemplating over everything he had told you. You had run through everything he had said over and over, and yet, you still struggled to make sense of it all to this day. No matter which way you wrapped your head around it, parts of it would still not make sense. You couldn't have been his mate. Not when you weren't a daemon. Not when you were someone who should have never been born. And then, if it was true, and you truly were his mate, then he shouldn't have been fine with the fact as much as he seemed to, not with the giant gap between statuses. Not when he was a king.

As much as you knew you should, you had yet to divulge the information to Soomin or Hyunwoo. You were well aware telling them could perhaps give you some much needed advice or reassurance, but the courage always left you the moment you opened your mouth. You didn't know how they would react or whether or not they would hate you for it. And you could already hear the teasing statements Hyunwoo would make from it, only serving to fuel the flustered state the knowledge left you in already.

The two of them had taken the occupancy of a nearby tent after the masquerade, Jongho's statement of them being brought back with you proving true when he had allowed you a brief visit before your talk with Hongjoong. It was there that you had returned to that night once your tears had finally dried up, unable to go back to your own tent at the prospect of being forced to see him again. Neither one of them had been asleep when you had slipped inside and had been quietly conversing on the edge of one of the cots when you had appeared.

Your sudden presence had surprised them, as well as the state you were in, but they hadn't tried to press for anything more than whether or not you were safe for the time being. They were curious as to what had happened and the meaning behind their behavior, that much was obvious, but you hadn't had the courage to tell them. So when Hyunwoo offered up his bed instead of pressing you further, you had nodded your appreciation and curled up inside it without another word.

But as much as you had wanted to hide inside that tent forever, it was impossible. Despite never telling them where you had gone off to, Mingi had still been waiting for you outside the tent when you had woken up the following afternoon, chatting idly with Hyunwoo. Though he had made no mention of anything that had occurred the night before or why you had retreated into your siblings' tent, you had felt the concern he extended towards you all the same, and it had been impossible for him to completely hide the care that had laced his tone each time he had spoken.

You had never been entirely comfortable with any of them before, but this... This threw away any sort of progress you had made towards it since you had met them. You didn't know where you stood with them anymore - not that you really had before - let alone how to act around them now. The revelation of your newfound relation to them hung heavy in the air each time you were forced to interact, leaving you feeling more vulnerable than ever. It was impossible to look them in the eye, let alone stop the blush that came creeping up the back of your neck whenever they referred to you by those damned nicknames of theirs. Each use of 'angel' or 'pretty' only now served as a sharp reminder of how you were now stuck here with them, sealed to a fate you had no control over.

You had been right when you had told Seonghwa how harsh reality could be at times that night so long ago, and though you had hated how clueless you had been before, you almost wished you could have your ignorance back, almost preferring the anxiety it had brought over the anxiety the truth brought with it.

"We'll remain here for a few more days to ensure everything is properly instated, but preparations for the journey back to Taeyang have already begun." If he noticed your discomfort, he didn't show it, continuing on with his previous train of thought as he gazed upwards at the city's walls. "If you wish, I can escort you back to the city and help you gather anything you might wish to take with you."

"How generous of you," you murmured, "allowing me the time to grab a few comforts of home before stealing me away."

Up to this point, no one had explicitly mentioned what was to happen now, and if Hongjoong had been going to, you had left before he got around to it. You weren't completely clueless, however, and were able to read between the lines. If Hongjoong really had told you the truth, and you really were their mate, and they really intended to act upon this fact, you knew you wouldn't be staying here. You knew you would be left with no choice but to go down south with them, and the casual mentions the others had made of this had all but secured this fact for you. And yet, despite fully aware of what was coming, it did little to lessen the blow upon finally hearing it.

"Would you prefer to stay here with the humans, then, and continue the life you had led before? A life where you were overworked, insulted, and hated?"

"No," your body tensed, "but that doesn't mean I wish to go with you either."

"Then where do you wish to go? What is it that you wish to do if it's neither staying here and continuing the life you had before nor a new one with us?"

"I don't know," you shrugged, "somewhere..."

"Somewhere you could open up your own shop? A place where you could do whatever you wanted on your own terms and no one else's?" he answered for you, the corner of his lip tilting up. "We could give you that you know? Perhaps not in the exact way you always imagined, but we could give you anything you needed to grow and brew whatever it was you desired."

His words were a reference to a time that now felt like a different lifetime altogether, a time where you had been clueless to his true identity and in awe of the attention and kindness he had extended your way. A time where you had thought him nothing more than a concerned human who had truly seen you for who you were and not for the blood running through your veins.

Upon first discovering he was a daemon, you had originally thought it had been nothing more than an act. Something to get you to drop your guard and pin the murder of Hak Seongmin on you. But now that you knew exactly what was going on, the weight of his actions hit in a different way. And the implication he had made when he had mentioned what it was he yearned for if things had been different hit you hard in this moment.

You had thought his wish had been odd at the time. The idea that someone like him could never settle down and find someone to marry had seemed impossible with his attractive features and suave personality, but now you understood. For the majority of his life, he had been told a mate and family was something he would never have. That he had been born with the sole purpose of serving and protecting his king. And yet, everything had changed when Hongjoong had been crowned and the bond between them had snapped in place. Unlike you, the life he had craved was now at the tip of fingers.

"Was anything you said that day true?"

With all motivation to draw thrown out the window, you dropped the pencil you had been fiddling with into your lap and exchanged it for a loose strand at the edge of your sleeve.

"I know how it might seem from your view, but let me assure you everything I told you that day was true." His gaze was trained on you, but you refused to meet it. "The only thing I hid from you that day was the fact I wasn't human."

"And what if," you found it hard to speak, afraid of the answer to the question that had been burning in your head for days now, "what if I wasn't your mate? Would you have treated me with the same kindness you had shown me that day? Or would you have turned the other way like everyone else and simply let me die?"

Ever since you had gotten over your shock and come to accept everything Hongjoong had told you was very well true, the question had haunted your thoughts. What if you hadn't been their mate? What would have happened then? Would they have treated you with the same kindness they had shown you by your deeds as the Black Angel and the people you had saved, or would they have killed you where you stood when Seonghwa had revealed your identity? Was the only reason they were kind to you and treated you like everyone else simply because you were their mate and nothing more? And if things had been different, would you even still be alive?

Yeosang was silent for a moment, brows furrowing as he mulled over his answer to your question. Each moment that ticked by only serving to further fuel your insecurities, telling you what you had known all along. That things would have been different.

"You're right on the account that things would have been different, but not in the way you're assuming."

This time you did look up at him, eyes narrowing at the way his reply ended up being a response to your thoughts and not the question you had verbally asked him.

"Sorry." He had the decency to look ashamed for a moment, fingers digging into the ground beside him as he frowned. "It's just, without any proper training, you're akin to an open book. The heightened emotions from the past few days has made your thoughts and emotions overflow to the rest of us whether you mean them to or not, and sadly, we have very little means to block them out."

His apology felt sincere, but it didn't stop you from pulling your legs in closer, feeling more embarrassed than you had before now that you knew just how much they must have gathered from you. The pitiful looks they had sent you the past few days now worse than before.

"It won't always be this way though. We can teach you to control them, if you'd let us. Though you would probably excel the most with Mingi. Out of us all, he's always been the best at maintaining his thoughts."

"You said things would have been different," you replied, returning the conversation back to the question Yeosang had avoided earlier. "Different how?"

"Well, you did save Seonghwa's and the others' lives, so we would have happily followed through with our promise to repay you for your deeds and ensured your safety through the war's end. After that, well, it's a bit hard to say what Hongjoong would decide, but I imagine he would have extended an invitation for you to come back to Taeyang with us and hired you as a healer based on your natural talent and daemon ability."

"Forgive me when I say I have a hard time believing that." He might have said he had yet to lie to you, but that didn't mean he hadn't hidden things from you before, and you had a hard time believing he wasn't hiding something now when his claims of truth seemed so far-fetched. Perhaps they would have extended an offer your way, but you doubted you would have been given a choice in the matter, and would have only landed yourself in a similar position to the one you had before with the humans. Only this time with daemons calling you names instead of the humans. "And even if you are telling the truth, and you would have kept me alive to the end, would you have still done it if I had no healing capabilities? Or would it have just been a way for you to get a hold of my blood and use me as the humans have?"

"I understand how it might all appear from your view and I'll be the first of us to admit your worries do not come completely unwarranted. The daemons have not always been kind to those without a pure lineage and hundreds, if not thousands, of people have suffered and died under this obsession they've had. For it was the daemons who hunted down and killed the half-daemons when the war began and not the humans. And it would be easy to blame that occurrence and any similar one on the former king and his growing paranoia, but it was from centuries of prejudice that carried those acts to fruition and nothing I say or do will ever make up for it."

"You hunted them down?" It was hard to keep your voice level at the wave of disgust that coursed through you. You had known the daemons often killed your kind for no other reason than their hatred for your existence, but hearing how they had actively been hunted down for something they had no control over was something else altogether. "Why?"

"Hongjoong's father was not a nice man, and he craved power more than anything else. And the more time went by, the more his lust for it increased, and with it, came paranoia. He was afraid of anything and everything that could challenge him for it, including Hongjoong who he kept under a strict watch. He knew Hongjoong had the power to overthrow him, just as his father had overthrown his grandfather, so he did everything he could to ensure that would never come to pass." Yeosang's body had become tense as he spoke, his previous relaxed state hardening. "So, when the war began and he heard the humans had decided to gather up as many half-daemons as they could for the war efforts, the order to hunt and exterminate any and all half-daemons was given. It's the reason why the war hit the borders so hard in the beginning; the daemon troops under orders to burn them all to the ground, no matter whose side they were on."

"And you wonder why I was thankful to have been born among the humans," you retorted, voice full of bitterness.

"Things are changing though. Hongjoong is not the man his father was. When he heard what his father was doing, he recruited us to do everything we could to save as many of his people as he could, but there was only so much we could do before it was too late. There were only so many people we could save."

"And why's that? Why did he care? Why did any of you care?"

"Now that is a question that requires a long and rather complicated answer, one that I am unable to fully answer myself, but I will do my best to explain to you what I can." His head tilted, black eyes catching yours, and for the first time since he had appeared you didn't look away. "Has anyone explained to you or mentioned what my ability is?"

You shook your head, wondering what that had to do with the topic you were just discussing, but you knew better than to question him on it. After all, you did hold some curiosity to what his and the others' daemon abilities were.

"I can create illusions, making those around me see, feel, and hear whatever it is that I wish them to. Take this butterfly for example." A hint of a smile reappeared on his face as he reached his hand out for the insect, allowing it to take rest on his finger. "It's not real; simply an image I'm projecting inside each of our heads at the moment." To prove his point, he raised his opposite hand to swipe at the bug. To your surprise, his fingers ran through it as though it was only air, causing the image to ripple for a few seconds. "Believe it or not, it took years of training for me to pull off tricks like this one. Tasks such as changing my appearance or disappearing from view entirely took little more than innate talent, but mimicking another living being to where it was believable was something much harder altogether."

The butterfly's wings extended, taking off from Yeosang's hand to make the short trek over to your knee. You eyed it closely, in utter disbelief to discover it wasn't real. That it was nothing more than an illusion the man next to you had created for you to see. Everything about it felt real, down to the way its wings fluttered in the breeze to the way its feet tickled your skin as it moved along the back of your left hand.

"It's the same guard ability your father had."

"You knew my father?" Your lips twisted, teeth pulling at the bottom corner of your lip, unsure of just how this revelation made you feel. On one hand, you had no desire to learn about the man who had destroyed your family when he had killed your mother, especially not that you now knew just what sort of man he had served, but another part of you was curious. Curious to know if he really did match the rumors or if perhaps there might have been a chance there was some truth behind Soomin's hazy memories of the man.

Yeosang nooded. "When the new members of the guard pop up, the current members devote quite a bit of time training them up and teaching them how best to utilize their abilities. Since I shared the ability of you father, we spent quite a bit of time together in my youth and we were quite close before he was sent to Maehwa." He paused for a second, and you could feel the way his eyes had traveled back to you. "Did you know your brother looks just like him? So much so, it took me by surprise the first time I saw him, and for a second, I thought it might have actually been him until I saw his eyes." The butterfly on your hand vanished then, causing your eyes to lock on his for a split second. "But I see now that you were the one to inherit them instead."

You struggled to control the way your stomach twisted at his words and were quick to divert your eyes. The light expression on his face showed he hadn't meant anything negative by them, but that didn't stop the wave of insecurities that hit you as he commented on the one feature you had spent years wishing you could change and the reason behind them.

"You're a lot like him, you know?" Yeosang's voice softened and a hand was placed on top of your shoulder. "A little stubborn, maybe, but incredibly selfless and kind. Someone who could see beyond the status of daemon and human. He would have absolutely adored you."

"Just like he adored my mother?" you rebuked his statement, pulling back far enough to cause his hand to drop.

"It's not that simple."

"What do you mean? He killed her, didn't he? What more is there to tell"

"It's... complicated." You were quick to see the way Yeosang had tensed up again, dropping his gaze back to his lap. "And though I played a small role in an attempt to stop the events that occurred that night, it's not my story to tell. If you wish to hear what happened, you would need to speak with Hongjoong. It's his story to tell."

"No, you can't leave it at that." You shook your head, forcing him to meet your eyes. You weren't going to play that game again. You weren't going to let them keep their secrets from you and brush off your questions. "He was my father and it was my mother, so I think I have a right to know. So, tell me, did he kill her?"

"I'm sorry, angel, truly, but I shouldn't be the one to explain that night to you. Trust me when I say you need to hear it from Hongjoong. After everything he went through to get here, he deserves to be the one to tell you." And despite the way his words frustrated you, you could see the desperation in them, as though he truly believed it would be best if you heard it from Hongjoong. "But something you should know is that your father was a good man. He knew I wasn't fully daemon, and yet, he never once treated me differently for it. And it was him who helped me gain the courage to finally tell the others."

You couldn't stop the sharp inhale his words brought, eyes widening as you process what he had just said and wiping away any remaining thoughts you had about the conversation before for the time being. He had mentioned it so casually, that you had almost missed it, caught up in figuring out what it was he had hinted about.

Yeosang wasn't fully daemon.

Yeosang, one of the Seven, and one of the highest ranking daemons in this part of the world, wasn't even fully daemon.

"My father was full-blooded, but my mother was a half-daemon like yourself. Because of that, it's not something anyone would be able to know unless they tested my blood for it, but still enough to where many daemons would shun me if they knew. So, when my horns and eyes turned black on my thirteenth birthday, I was shocked to say the least. The thought of being a member of the Black Guard had never once crossed my mind due to my lineage, so I was certain a mistake had been made. Why would the maetha choose me? Someone the daemons considered impure? And I was terrified. I knew what it was like in the capital and what they thought of those like me, and I was terrified of what they would do to me if anyone found out." He shifted, pulling his right leg in towards him and wrapped his arms loosely around it. "So, when I discovered I had inherited the guards' illusion ability, I used it to hide the new color my features had taken and prevented myself from being sent away."

You struggled to wrap your head around what he had just revealed to you, barely hearing the words that followed as your brain was too busy repeating the fact Yeosang wasn't fully daemon. More daemon than you were and with enough of their blood running through him to easily pass as one, but none of that changed the fact he was just like you in some ways. Someone who didn't quite fit into the status quo of the world.

"But they found you?" You straightened up, taking in his figure next to you in a whole new light.

"No," he shook his head, "in the end, I went to them on my own accord."

"Why?"

"Out of spite and a broken heart," he huffed, but a hint of a smile once again appeared and the slope of his shoulders relaxed. "There was a girl in my village that I fell in love with when I was around sixteen, making me more motivated than ever to continue keeping my identity hidden. For if I did, I would be able to stay there and live the normal unassuming life I craved. But, you see, she had only ever been stringing me along. She thought I was sweet, but could never see beyond the fact I wasn't fully daemon and thought I was someone beneath her. She craved a life outside that little village, so when someone else came along that she thought could fulfill her needs, she broke things off with me in the cruelest of ways. At the time, it nearly broke me, and I couldn't stand to be there any longer, so I left to fulfill the destiny that I had denied for so long. Any concerns I had previously had before didn't worry me anymore. If I ended up dead because of it, then so be it. I didn't care anymore."

"I'm sorry." It was you who reached out for him this time, resting your hand on top of his as a wave of empathy rolled through you. You may have never had your heart broken before, but you understood exactly what it was like to be rejected and turned away based on something you had no control over.

"I'm not," he shook his head, smile widening as he looked at the hand on top of his own. "If I had stayed where I was, I would have been miserable. At the time, I didn't understand why I was chosen, and perhaps a small part of me still wonders why the maetha chose me of all people, but ever since you showed up in the picture, I think I've finally begun to understand."

"I wish I could say the same." You retracted your hand, pulling it back around your legs as his words brought you back to the reality that surrounded you, reminding you just who it was you had been comforting. "No matter which way I run through things in my head, it just doesn't make any sense. A little over a month ago I was just another half-daemon trying to survive in this crazy world, and now I'm being told I'm the mate of the daemon king and his seven generals. It's just a lot in a small amount of time, and I'm having a hard time processing it all."

You stuck your chin against the top of your knees, looking up once more at the walls that had been your home for the past twenty years. There had been a time when you had yearned to leave them behind, but not like this. Not when your path only led you to another prison. A different city, but with the same walls that had tormented you as a child.

"My whole life I've been seen by nothing more than my status as a half-daemon. It's dictated my entire life, telling me what I can and can't do because of it. And not once has anyone ever taken the time to see what lies beyond it. To see me, the real me. Not the half-daemon y/n. Not the Black Angel with the magical blood. And not your stupid mate. Just me. Just y/n. And lately," you took a deep breath, shaking in the exhale, "I've been wondering if she's even still there."

You hadn't meant to tell him any of that, but the words had fallen out before you could stop them, fueled by his earlier revelation and you could feel his gaze on you as you finished, heavy with unspoken sympathy.

"You mentioned you were here to escort me back to the city, right?" You spoke up before he had a chance to reply, not wanting to hear what his response might have been. "I don't like it, but if I'm left with no choice in the matter, then I do wish to take you up on that offer. I don't have much, but there are a few items I would rather not part with."

"Of course."

If he wanted to push you further on the matter and prod your brain for what exactly you had meant by any of your earlier thoughts, he didn't. Instead, he followed your lead and pushed himself back up to his feet, stretching out the muscles in his back. When the action caused his shirt to lift and reveal the toned surface beneath, you immediately turned your gaze unable to stop the heat that rose up inside you.

What the hell was wrong with you?

It wasn't like you hadn't ever seen a shirtless man before, let alone other more intimate areas. So, maybe, it wasn't in that specific context before, but rather in the numerous injuries you had healed in your lifetime, but never once had you felt that rush through you before and you only hoped it hadn't leaked through the bond. The last thing you needed was for them to realize a part of you was physically attracted to them and use that to their advantage. You didn't think you could survive if they did.

"Just give me a second to get the barrier down." If Yeosang noticed, he did a hell of a job hiding it, rolling out his shoulders once more before turning to the barrier behind you.

"This was you?"

He shook his head. "No, the barriers are all San's doing."

"It's his daemon ability?" you asked, head tilting as your hand brushed against the invisible wall.

It seemed so obvious now that you knew, the feel of it beneath your skin strangely familiar to the daemon you had danced with so many nights ago. The energy in which it thrummed feeling distinctly of him, and the only explanation you had for the strange phenomena was the bond that now tied you to him-

- Maybe that was also the explanation for the way you had reacted to Yeosang earlier and the reason your heart was still beating just a smidge too fast. Yes, that had to be it. Why else would you have felt that way?

"How does he maintain it? It's been up for days." And you would know, having snuck off more than once the past few days for no other purpose than to see if it was still there or not.

"Barriers of this scale and complexity require the use of his blood to create and maintain, but if you're still curious about it, you should ask him. He could explain it all better than I would be able to and says he would be more than happy to give you a demonstration as well."

"He says?" You looked back at Yeosang as your hand dropped back down to your side. "You're talking with him right now? How?"

"Through the bond," he replied. "It ultimately stems from Hongjoong's ability to speak with us at any distance, though the bond limits the rest of us to a certain distance. With a little training, though, not only can you learn to control those thoughts, but you can also learn to direct them to certain individuals instead of everyone within distance."

"Is that all it does? Just sort of link everyone's mind together?"

"No, it affects each of us in different ways, and some more than others."

With the barrier now down, Yeosang motioned for you to follow him. You paused for a second, tentatively reaching out with your hand and half-expecting him to be lying to you. But your hand wasn't stopped this time and merely slipped through the air. Whatever barrier had held you back the past few days was finally down.

"Take Seonghwa for example. His ability only allows him to teleport to places within a certain radius around him, but the bond gave him the ability to also teleport directly to anyone else he's attached to, no matter the distance," he continued, guiding you in the direction of the city's gate. "That's why it was so devastating when it was him who had been injured in Binna. If it had been any of the rest of us, Seonghwa could have gotten them back to the rest of us, but it just had to be him. And by the time we realized just how severe it was, he had already lost too much blood. If he had tried to teleport to one of us, he likely would have died. Our only chance of saving him was keeping him there on the off chance you would show up. And you did." He looked back at you, gaze softening. "I know things have been rough for you since that night and things might have happened in ways they shouldn't have, but if you only knew what it had been like for us. To not only have Seonghwa alive and safe, but to have finally found you. It was... overwhelming to say the least. Enough so, that even Mingi lost his grip on his mind for a moment."

"And now that you've found me," your arms wrapped around your body, finding it hard to control the shiver his words elicited, "what do you plan on doing with me?"

It had been a question that had plagued you since your emotions had finally settled down and you had regained a grip on your mind once more. In your initial panic, you had left Hongjoong as quickly as you could, needing time and space to process the overload of information he had just dumped on you. And it was only once you had calmed down that you realized the amount of question you had for him now that you were thinking logically once more. He had claimed you were their mate, but he had never gotten around to stating what it was they intended to do with you because of it. Did they plan on accepting you and forcing you to play the dutiful mate? Or did they plan on rejecting you for something as trivial as your mixed blood?

Hongjoong's words and actions from that night had all but confirmed acceptance, and the others' only then served to reaffirm this thought. But you felt no relief from it, instead you wished the opposite would have been true. It might have hurt to have been rejected, knowing full well it had only been because of your lineage, but it wasn't anything you hadn't been through before. It wasn't anything you couldn't have handled.

It would have hurt, yes. You may have faced enough rejection over your lifetime to have become used to it, but that didn't mean it still wouldn't have stung in some ways. But it would have made sense. He was the daemon king and you were just a halfbreed. Just a mutt. Your father might have been someone of a higher class, but you weren't. And you never would be.

That was why you were so confused as to why each of them seemed so intent on accepting it. How each of them thought it was normal for someone of their status to be with someone of yours just didn't make any sense. Not when you were someone history had dictated would never belong in their world, and just because they seemed fine with it didn't mean the others would. You hadn't been around many daemons in your life, but you knew the reaction it would pull. You knew they would never accept you as one of them. Because you weren't. The sooner they came to realize this small fact, the better.

"Well, you are our mate," Yeosang replied, and you were unable to control the shiver his words brought this time. "We were hoping you would accept it. Accept us."

"And what if I don't? What if I say I don't want any of this? That I don't want any of you?" It was hard to speak, throat tightening on you as the inevitable hit you once more. "Would you accept my refusal and let me be?"

Your answer was in the silence which followed your question. The length it took him to come up with a suitable reply all but telling you what you had already known to be true. That there was no way out of this. It didn't matter what you wanted. It didn't matter what you thought. They had decided your fate when they had bonded you to them. The only choice you had in the matter was whether to try and fight it or just give in and accept it.

"Is that what you want?" Yeosang did his best to keep his response level, but you heard the way his voice still wobbled, hinting at the emotions that wavered treacherously beneath his carefully calculated expression.

"I don't know," you sighed, "but it would be nice to be given a choice. To have time to process everything and come to my own conclusion without you all butting in and deciding it for me."

"And if we had, would you have accepted us then?"

This time it was your silence that answered his question. The uncertainty of the situation making you pause for a second as he turned the table towards you. If things had been different, and it hadn't been forced on you in the manner it had, you honestly didn't know how you would have responded, but you had an inkling it would have been similar to how it was now. While you harbored strong frustrations towards each of them for taking your choice away from you, that wasn't why you were so hesitant over it all. That wasn't why you were so terrified at the prospect of being their mate.

If you were able to put your insecurities and frustrations aside, you thought things might have been different. There was no mistaking the physical attraction you felt towards each of them, the earlier incident evidence of that, nor the inward pull that had you yearning to get in close and stop avoiding them. Whether this was because of the bond that Hongjoong had put in place, the fact you were mates, or something else, you weren't sure. After all, you had felt some sort of connection to Seonghwa before the bond had taken hold, left in awe of the man before you.

You still remembered the strange pit that had formed in your stomach when he had drank of your blood. Of all the times you had proffered it to heal another, it had never felt like such an intimate act as it had that night. At the time you had just assumed it was your nerves, terrified of the man in front of you, but what if it had been something more?

And though you didn't know them, not yet, at least, the attentiveness and kindness each of them had shown you during your time with them had been nice. You would never admit it out loud, but you had enjoyed that time with them more than you ever had with the humans. Having plenty of time to rest and recharge, being treated as a normal person, it was more than anyone had ever given you before. Never in your life had anyone ever treated you in such a way before. To have looked beyond your slit eyes or the lack of horns on your head and treated you kindly. It would have been the best week in your life if it hadn't been for the fact your life had hung in the balance.

And yet, there had been a reason they had chosen to look past what others had been unable to. They hadn't seen you as either daemon or human, but they hadn't seen you for who you truly were either. No, they had simply seen you as their mate and then treated you accordingly. And that singular fact hurt more than it would have if the opposite had been true. If they had simply treated you as the halfbreed you were.

"I'm aware that all of this is probably normal for you, that finding out your someone's mate is a more joyous occasion, but nothing about this is normal for me. It's foreign, confusing, and more than a little overwhelming. Having and finding your mate might simply be a way of life for you, but it's not the way I grew up where who we end up with is a choice rather than something decided by fate. And though it might be a bit different for you than most daemons, Hongjoong has known about me my entire life and has had two decades to think things over and make a decision. And I didn't get any of that. I had it forced upon me before I even knew what was happening, so forgive me, pleasse," you took a deep breath, hands clenching at your sides and causing the nails to dig into your skin, "if I seem to have some reservations about it all."

"Which are perfectly valid, however hard they might be to hear." As you neared the city's entrance, Yeosang reached out to you, pulling you to a stop next to him so that he had your full attention. "And though it may be wrong of me to ask this of you after everything that's happened, could you at least give us a try? Things may have started off badly, but is there nothing we can do to redeem ourselves? If it's time you need, we can give you that. All we ask, all I ask, is that you give us another chance before throwing it all away. Please, angel, I'm begging you."

The desperation in his voice caught you off guard. The way his eyes pleaded with you in that moment made your stomach twist and you were unable to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds as the feeling of vulnerability hit you once more. Here was one of the Seven, one of the most powerful beings in your world, all but begging for your forgiveness for the wrong he had done you.

You didn't know what scared you the most in that moment. The raw emotion buried within his words, the way he was looking at you as though you were the only thing that mattered, or the fact it was working.

You didn't want it too, still hurt and bitter about what they had done to you, but goddammit, he was right. As someone who had grown up helping others, you had grown up believing that everyone deserved a second chance at life, no matter what they had done. It was why you had been so willing to save the injured daemons. It was why you had been willing to save Seonghwa. Because who were you to decide whether or not they died? People made mistakes all the time and these mistakes were bound to hurt others, especially the ones closest to them. So, who were you to deny them that second chance when they seemed more than willing to change? When they were all but begging for you to let them redeem themselves?

"You said you can give me more time," you spoke slowly, trying to keep your own emotions under control. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

Yeosang straightened up, the grip in which he held you with tightening at the hopeful prospect your response elicited. "In whatever way you needed. We would ask that you still come with us to ensure your own safety and wellbeing, but we won't rush you into anything that you're not comfortable with. We can do things on your time if that's what you so wish."

"My time," you echoed his words, letting the implication of them hit. It wasn't ideal. Not since you had been forced into this whole ordeal to begin with, but it did offer you some small comfort knowing that the way things could and would proceed from here on out could be done at a pace and way you were comfortable with. "And all of you would be okay with that?"

"Of course. Anything you may need or want, we'll do. All you have to do is ask."

None of it truly changed what would happen, and you were fully aware that despite how you felt, you would still be going with them. It all just boiled down to whether you would go willingly or by force.

And yet, there was still some relief in knowing you now had time. You may have very well been in the same position you were before, having no real say in whether you got to stay or go, but there was some ease of mind knowing you could do things on your time, that you had some time to sort through your thoughts and feelings and not be forced into anything else you weren't comfortable with. There was peace in knowing you had some of the power in your hands, in knowing you still had some control over how exactly your fate would play out. It wasn't much, but it was more than you had before.

"Okay," you took another breath, doing your best to stop the blush that was creeping up the back of your neck at his words. You knew he didn't mean they would do absolutely anything for you, not if it meant losing you, but it still made your stomach flop. "I'll think about it."

Do you need something?

You jumped at the voice that rang out in your head, breaking the inner monologue you had been mulling over for the past twenty minutes in your attempt to decide whether it was a good time to approach him or not. Looking up, you saw Hongjoong had stopped sparring for the moment to talk with a daemon soldier, but his gaze had turned in your direction, brow raised as he awaited your response.

Can we talk?

To your surprise, he nodded. You hadn't known what exactly you were doing when it came to talking to him through the bond, but it seemed as though whatever you had done had worked and gotten through to him.

You had little time to celebrate your accomplishment, quickly noting the way he grabbed a nearby towel and wrapped up his conversation with the lesser daemon before making his way over. After talking with Yeosang the day before, you had spent the majority of that day and night thinking over everything he had said and what it had meant for you. And the more you pondered over it, the more you came to realize what your next step would have to be. Talking with Yeosang could only do so much. If you truly wanted to hash out what was to happen with you now and set the boundaries you wished to set, you were left with no choice but to speak with all of them. But first, you needed to clear a few things up with Hongjoong.

It had taken you nearly an hour to gather the courage to go through with it once you realized it was the next reasonable step for you to take, and then another once you had narrowed down his location in the camp. When you had seen what he was up to, you very nearly retreated then and there, especially since Wooyoung, San, and Jongho had also been there. This wasn't the first time you had found them here, often catching sight of one or two out in the fields on your way to some corner of the camp. And though you often diverted your eyes and hurried along, that hadn't stopped you from sneaking a few peaks as you did, especially today.

You had retreated to a nearby tree, doing your best to shroud your body in shadows as you attempted to wait him out before fully giving up. And though your eyes had done their best to focus on the sketchbook in hand, it hadn't stopped them from peaking over the cover every so often. You had told yourself it was to check and see if Hongjoong was free yet, but the excuse never covered the way your eyes lingered for a few extra seconds before returning to your lap.

You knew they were skilled, but it was still something else seeing them in action. Even if they weren't using their full potential against each other, it was still clear to you why none of them had ever been stopped before. Your eyes had struggled to keep up with their movements, not just from the speed in which they moved, but the way their muscles had rippled, eliciting a very similar feeling to the one with Yeosang before.

"C'mon, why don't we go somewhere a little more private?"

You jumped once more at his approach, quickly shutting the sketchbook in your lap and hoping he didn't take notice of the fact it was him who you had been drawing. Only once it was safely tucked away did you take the hand he extended towards you and allowed him to help pull you to your feet.

You struggled to get a read on him, taking quick note of the distance he had put between the two of you since the last time you had talked. He was guarded, more so than he had been the last time, and you were quickly reminded of the way things had ended between you. Of the last words you had said to him. And though they had been the truth, you still began to regret them in that moment, fully aware of the way they had cut him and how you would have never dared to say it if it hadn't been for your own heightened emotions.

"I'm sorry if anything I said or did that night hurt you," you started once he had led you back to the place where it had begun between you. "It's just, everything happened so fast and nothing you said or did could have prepared me for what you said and I panicked."

"You have no reason to apologize. You were right in what you had said. I never should have bonded you to us then. Not without your consent, and in doing so, I had hurt you." He leaned against the table that took up the center of the room, looking everywhere but at you. "It was just so overwhelming finally seeing you after all that time that I didn't think. I was terrified of losing you, and after everything I had been through to finally get to this point, I acted on impulse to make sure I never would. It might not feel this way from your view, but I did it for you. Everything I did was for you. To ensure your safety. To ensure your happiness. And yet, I've already failed."

You sunk down on the edge of the bed, the effect his words had on you making you unstable. The intimacy in his tone making you all the more uncomfortable, even more so since it was coming from him. Even with all the time you had spent processing everything, to not only be in his presence, but at the end of his concern, was still so strange. You weren't used to this type of attention, this care and concern they all seemed to shower onto you, and it only added to the insecurities that had plagued you since he had revealed you were their mate.

"What you did wasn't right, and I'm still struggling with my frustrations towards you all for it, but after talking with Yeosang and thinking over some things myself, I think I might be willing to give this all a chance, but," you raised your hand before he had a chance to respond, "I still need to clarify a few things with you and the others first. And then, if I'm comfortable with the answers you give me, maybe we can work something out. Or at least make me more willing to go with you."

"Of course. Please, ask away."

He did his best to contain the reaction your response gave, but you still felt a shiver of excitement roll through you in that instance. And though you didn't know exactly how you knew it, you were fully aware that emotion hadn't been your own, but the man's next to you. His emotions momentarily leaking into you through the bond that linked you.

"In a minute." You shook your head. "Not only do I think that it would be best if everyone was present for them so I can hear from you altogether, but there's still something I need to discuss with you before we can move on to that."

"Your father," Hongjoong answered for you. "Yes, Yeosang said you would probably come asking about it."

"I need to know what happened. If he was innocent, and someone else is to blame for my mother's death," your breath shook, the thought of finally discovering what had gone down that night was nearly overwhelming, "I think I deserve to know."

"I'll tell you, but," he lifted a finger to stop the rebuttal that began to claw its way out of your throat at but, "it won't be easy to hear. And I don't doubt you'll wish to be alone once the story has been told in full. If you wish to talk to us about making things work, I doubt you'll feel much like talking once we're done here."

You took a deep breath, the ominous message behind his words making you shiver. Yeosang had said things were more complicated than they seemed from the surface, but both had hinted at the truth being hard to hear. And why was that? Because they had allowed the thought of your father actually being a good man to bloom? And to hear he had still snapped and killed your mother would only serve to make it worse for you than it had been before?

"Then I guess you'll just have to wait." You set your face and nodded your confirmation. Hard to hear or not, this was something you still needed to know. Especially if the rest of them had also played a role in it all.

"My father was not a kind man, and he did many terrible things during his reign as king. He craved the power his position held and did everything he could to gain more, no matter the cost. He loathed the fact that I was stronger than him, that I could take everything away from him if I so wished, so he did everything in his power to ensure I kept my place beneath him." His words mirrored a similar sentiment Yeosang had held towards the the former king and you were quick to notice how they elicited a similar response from him. "And as time went on and the daemons became less happy with his rule, his paranoia became increasingly worse and only served to add to the cruelty he showed them. It was clear that someone needed to put a stop to it, and that I was one of the only daemons who was able to stop him, but I didn't know how. I was stronger, but he knew my weaknesses and played them to his strengths. He knew how close I was with my own guard and had no shame in exploiting it. He may have been no match for me, but my guard was not and they were the ones who suffered whenever I stepped out of line."

"He hurt them?"

It was just as much a statement for yourself to process just exactly he was hinting at as it was a question to him, absolutely appalled. When Yeosang had mentioned the previous king had been cruel, you had expected a cruelty akin to the rumors you had grown up hearing about daemons as a whole. You hadn't expected to hear of a man who was so jealous of his own son and the power he held, that he actively hurt others to make sure he did exactly what he wanted him to.

"My father took great pride in the ability he obtained from my grandfather, the one that allowed him to take control of another person's body so long as some of his blood had entered their system. For reasons we never did quite understand, it did not work against me, nor was I able to use it against him, so all I could do was stand and watch as he made them enact his cruelty on them, themselves." Hongjoong shuddered, and despite everything he had done to you, it didn't stop the wave of sympathy that filled you in that moment. "They always insisted it was fine. That it wasn't my fault, but how was it not? If I so much as questioned anything he did or showed the slightest ounce of disobedience, they were the ones who suffered for it."

"But they were right." You stood up from your seat on the bed, cautiously approaching him and placing your hand against the one he had braced against the table behind him. "It wasn't your fault. That blame lies on your father. Not you. And no matter what he might have said to convince you otherwise, he's wrong."

"Thank you." He seemed surprised by your presence, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he only leaned further into you, shifting his body closer towards yours. "That means a lot coming from you, even if I don't quite believe or deserve it. But, you didn't come to me to hear about my past, but what happened to your father." He paused for a second, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You see, your father may have been one of the king's guards, but he hated the man he had become. He refused to stand by and allow the cruelty to continue, so one day he approached me when my father was out of town. He told me what he had been thinking and proposed a plan to assassinate my father. It was a good plan if done perfectly, one where no one would end of being killed, but before we could follow through with it, it fell through. Despite the precautions we had put in place, my father still somehow received word of something going on. And I swear, if it wasn't for your father or Seoyun, all of us would have probably died that night."

You shook at the wave of fear that coursed through you in that moment, tightening your hold on his hand as you blinked back the tears his sorrow caused. The pain and anguish that filled him was nearly overwhelming, and it was only a fraction of what he had felt that night.

"Angel, I'm so sorry." His frown increased when he looked up to see the tears that lined your eyes, suddenly aware that he had slipped and allowed his emotions to flow over into you. "I didn't-"

"It's okay." You shook your head, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze to tell him it was fine. "I don't mind. I mean, can I really complain after the hell I've probably caused you to go through because I can't control mine yet? You don't have to worry about keeping them locked away, at least not for my sake."

He nodded, though you still felt the emotions pull back from you in the moments that followed. "Seoyun was able to settle his rage before anything got too out of hand, and to ensure something like this never happened again, he sent Minsu away to the humans. And for the next fifteen years, I didn't dare step another foot out of line; at least not until you suddenly appeared in my life."

"This Seoyun you mentioned, who is she?"

"A... childhood friend and someone who's saved our lives more times than I can count. You see, she's one of the daemons who have seemed to slip through the cracks of the spell and was born with a unique ability. Without her ability to influence others' emotions, we never would have been able to quell my father's rage when he got worked up."

You nodded, wondering why he had paused in mentioning his relation to this woman and if it meant what you thought it meant. You didn't care. Really you didn't. You knew Hongjoong was your mate, but that didn't mean that you wanted him in that way. At least not yet. And if he had past relations with other women, you didn't care.

"But, like I said," Hongjoong continued, pulling your thoughts from Seoyun and what might have occurred between the two of them before, "your father was sent to observe the humans and I didn't dare to try anything else until my first vision of you appeared. Even to this day, I can still see it clearly. Of Minsu's face staring down at you as though you were the most precious thing in the world. If the shock of you finally being born wasn't enough, it was knowing you were Minsu's daughter. And unfortunately for all of us, I wasn't able to hide my emotions well enough and it wasn't long before my father found out."

"He killed them, didn't he?"

You had known it was coming, but it did little to lighten the weight of it as the realization sunk in. You had never known either of your parents; at least not long enough for you to count knowing them, but knowing the truth still hurt because it changed everything. You had had your suspicions over the years through Soomin, but knowing that he had truly loved her, had truly loved you, sent you reeling.

"We tried to stop him. Once I recieved word he was traveling to Maehwa, Yeosang and I raced after him, but we were too late to save your mother. Fortunately, Minsu had some warning, as you and your siblings were gone by the time my father arrived. And to ensure he didn't spend the next weeks hunting you three down, Yeosang used his ability to fake your deaths."

You were silent, fighting the wave of emotions that soared through you. Hongjoong had been right when he said the truth would be hard to hear, but not in the way you had expected. Hearing your father was actually a monster would have been easy to hear compared to this. Compared to the knowledge his and your mother's deaths were all because of you.

"No," Hongjoong shook his head, hearing the direction your thoughts had taken. The hand under yours slipped out, reaching for your chin and forcing you to look up at him. "It wasn't your fault. If anyone's to blame, it's me. If I had done a better job at hiding it, he never would have found out and your parents would have never died. It's my fault, angel. Not yours. It's my fault for not standing up to my father when I should have. So if you have to put the blame somewhere, put it on me."

It was strange; mourning people you had never even known. Mourning a life that had never been yours and yet, could have if things had only played out a little different. For years, you had kept everything bottled up inside, hiding the pain behind a mask of anger. And now that the anger was gone, there was nothing to stop the sorrow that had built up all those years.

You're a lot like him, you know, Yeosang had said. He would have absolutely adored you.

At the time you had hated those words, hated him for comparing yourself to your father, but now, now they sent a wave of warmth flowing through you.

"I won't lie, a part of me wants to, but I can't and I won't." You closed your eyes, understanding now why Hongjoong had warned you about hearing the truth and why Yeosang had insisted it was him you hear it from. "Because it's not true. It's not right. Your father's sins are not your own and he's the only one we have the right to blame here, however hard it may be."

"Angel." The word was nothing more than a breath and before you knew what was happening, he had pulled you flush against him and into a tight embrace.

You tensed, fully aware of just who was holding you as though his very life depended on it. But at the soft, mumbling "Thank you," that followed, you allowed yourself to slowly sink into his touch, wrapping your own arms around him. After everything the both of you had gone through to get to this point right here, this was something you both needed.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have." Hongjoong was the first to pull back, stepping fully away. "Do you wish to be alone?"

"No," you shook your head, "You may stay if you wish. I... I might have more questions for you in a moment."

"Of course," he nodded, "whatever you need."

He guided you to back to the bed and you sank down along the edge with little resistance, giving your legs some much needed rest before they collapsed on you. He sat down beside you, far enough away that you had enough space to be comfortable, but close enough to know he was there if you were to need anything.

"You came after me. You could have just left me and the others to die, but you didn't. Why?"

"Because you were my mate. I would have done anything and everything to keep you safe."

“But I was a halfbreed.”

"Perhaps when I was younger I might have cared. I'm not proud to say that I viewed half-daemons differently then and I could blame it on the way I was raised and the community I grew up in, but I should have known better. I should have known that one's lineage or blood had nothing to do on their character." He took a deep breath, carefully gauging your reaction out of the corner of his eyes. "It was your father who helped to change my view, as well as other members of my guard who had spent their first few years of life differently than I. So, when it came to be known that Yeosang wasn't fully daemon, I realized everything my father had told me was wrong. They weren't a pest or scourge so many daemons liked to claim. They weren't any less than those pure of blood. For how could they, when one of them had helped to save myself and the other guard members from my father's wrath so may times?

"And never once did I ever think negatively of you for your lineage. In fact, I cherished it. Because I knew through you, change might finally come."

"I think," you spoke after a few moments of silence, "I think I'd like to have that talk with you and the others now."

"Are you sure, angel? You don't have to, we can-"

"No, I'm sure." You nodded. "Knowing the truth of what happened to my father might have been difficult to hear and it might be a while before I can fully take in what happened, but there is also great relief in it as well. I'll now mourn for them and the life that could have been, but knowing that my father was innocent has lifted a weight on my shoulders I didn't even know was there. And for the first time in my life, I'm... I'm proud to say he was my father." Tears pricked at your eyes, the weight that was lifted at admitting those words causing another wave of emotions to course through you. "And after everything you've just told me, about him and the others, there are other questions I wish to ask, but feel as though it would be better if everyone was here."

"If that is what you wish, then I will call them."

"Thank you," you replied, doing your best to wipe the last of the tears away and to straighten yourself up before the others arrived.

At no surprise to you, Seonghwa was the first to arrive, teleporting next to you mere seconds after Hongjoong had informed you they were on their way. You had expected him to pull such a move, wanting to beat the others to you, but you still jumped when he suddenly appeared beside you.

Mingi and Yunho were next to arrive, whispering between themselves as they entered the tent. Their words fell away when they saw you sitting in between Hongjoong and Seonghwa on the bed, and they each sent a reassuring smile in your direction alongside their greeting.

San, Wooyoung, and Jongho followed closely after, the dust scattered across their clothes and the hair that clung to the back of their necks and face showing they must have continued sparring throughout your conversation with Hongjoong.

The last to arrive was Yeosang, and his appearance quickly brought back everything Hongjoong had said about him. How he had saved your life when he used his ability to make the former king believe you to already be dead and how he had also used it to save the others from him as well.

Just what had they gone through before? Hongjoong mentioned no specifics when it came to the way his father had punished each of them, but the pain you had felt through Hongjoong was all you needed to know. The suffering they had gone through at his hands was something you could never fully understand, but it didn't stop the burst of sympathy that came through you or the sudden urge you had to comfort them. To tell you how sorry you were for the pain they had endured and how you wished you could have been there to ease it.

But that would have to wait. Now was not the time nor place for it, and if you wanted to get to that place, you would need to secure your footing with them now. You couldn't afford to let yourself get pulled into their lives when you were still wondering just what your place with them was.

"I called you all here because I've done quite a bit of thinking these past few days," you began, eyes trained at the hands fiddling in your lap, "and despite things starting off rather badly, after talking with Yeosang and Hongjoong, I think I might just be willing to give this whole thing a try. To give you all a try, but I do have some final questions for all of you before I make my final decision. The first being what exactly would it look like if I were to accept?"

"I should think it would be obvious," Hongjoong began when the responsibility of the answer fell on him. "You are my mate, and through the bond that now binds us all, you are also theirs. Each of us are in agreement to treat you as such. You'll be taken care of, given anything you may require or desire, and when the proper time comes, you'll become queen."

"And you're all okay with that?" Your voice shook, unable to ignore the fact Hongjoong had just explicitly stated he had full intention of making you his queen when the time came. But you pushed it aside for the moment, choosing to focus on the more important topic at the moment; the one that your fate balanced upon. "This whole sharing a mate thing, I mean. You're all okay with it?"

"It was a bit strange at first, sure," Mingi was the one to respond first, beating Hongjoong. "I don't think any of us were expecting it to happen when Hongjoong was crowned and the bond reached its full strength, but you have to understand the bond between mates is unlike anything else, and many consider it to be the most sacred aspects of the maetha inside us. As someone who had never experienced this feeling until a few years ago, I'll be the first to attest that it's not something you can just easily push aside. And the additional bond that ties us all together only further intensifies those feelings."

"It's not very often mates end up rejecting one another, and there's good reason for it," Yunho continued. "You might not feel it quite as strongly as us due to your human side, but I'm sure even you can feel it to some extent, especially with our other bond. A yearning that starts in the pit of your stomach, growing stronger with each passing moment you spend together and subconsciously pulling you in closer, filling you with a desire that becomes harder and harder to ignore. And then that terrible aching in your chest when you're apart from each other, growing worse the longer you're away. Not enough to kill you, but enough to drive you to near insanity."

"It's why the Black Guard are born without mates." Seonghwa added at your side, and you were quick to note the truth behind Yunho's earlier words. At some point in the conversation, Seonghwa had placed his hand down on the bed behind you and you found yourself slowly leaning back into it, nearly closing the gap between you. "To neglect them of a bond that powerful would be torture and they would never be able to fulfill their roles and put the king before any and everyone else. Hongjoong knew this, so when we discovered what had happened when we each saw the vision of you on your eighteenth birthday, he wasted little time in deciding what would happen and that we would all just share you."

"It might be strange, but we've almost spent a century together at this point. Our entire lives have been spent leaning and trusting on one another. The idea that we would now all share a mate felt more natural than any of us had expected. And as someone who's always yearned to experience a relationship such as this, it was like a dream come true." Jongho's face tinted pink at his confession, and the sincerity in which he looked at you in that moment almost caused you to blush.

It was the very same sincerity that traced each of their features, all but ensuring each of them were speaking the truth. As crazy as it was to you, none of them seemed bothered by the fact they would be sharing you, nor show any trace of jealousy, at least at the moment. Not even Hongjoong, who made no motion to rebuke any of the their statements, caring more about them and their own wellbeing than being upset by the fact he would be sharing his mate with each of them.

"I'll admit you've each put up a pretty convincing argument," you began after a few moments of silence, "but you're all skipping over a rather important piece of information, especially if you're convinced of treating me the way you claim you will. How are the other daemons going to respond to this? This bond between us and your history with my kind might have made it easier for each of you to accept me, but what about the others? What will you do when my presence causes an uproar? Because believe me, it will."

“If anyone were to speak ill of you or attempt to harm you in any way, they’ll be dealt with accordingly-”

"In which case you don't mean murdering them, right?" You quirked a brow over at San, knowing exactly what the hand of justice looked like to the daemons. Hongjoong might have not been his father, but his past actions had shown he was just as willing to kill for the right reason. "You can't just go around killing anyone and everyone who has wronged me in some way. Not only is that a terrible way to foster a better relationship between daemons and my kind, but it makes me feel terrible," you continued, stopping him or anyone else who tried to rebuke your sentiments. "And besides, if you did, then just about everyone in this world would be dead, including each of you."

"You make a valid point, but," Mingi responded, elbowing San in the side to get him to shut up before he said anything else that might have upset you further, "if anyone dared to threaten your life or safety, none of us can guarantee that we would be able to reign in our wrath the way you might want us to. We're not quite as merciful as you are, angel."

"Not that anyone would ever be able to make it that far though," Wooyoung piped up. "None of us would ever let anything happen to you. Your safety and happiness are our top priority."

"Perhaps there may be times when death is unavoidable, but I hope you would only act on it if my life was actually in danger and there was no other choice. Otherwise, I would prefer not only for you to not kill them, but to let me deal with it on my own. I may not be very capable in a fight, but I can handle a few nasty words thrown my way. I've had my whole life to practice, after all," you sighed, already fully aware of the chaos your presence was going to cause and wondering what the hell you were thinking to consider willingly subjecting yourself to it.

"Which leads me to another important note. If this is going to work, you're going to let me do things my way and on my own time. I'm still beyond frustrated at you all and the way you forced me into this. And though coming to learn your actions might have been done with a pure intent, that doesn't excuse them or change the fact they still hurt me. For weeks I was left confused and terrified for my life. I thought I was going to die, and then you dump this crazy, fucking mess on me, leaving me even more confused and terrified than I was before." You paused for just a moment, catching your breath. "My whole life I've been told I'm nothing and that I'll amount to nothing. I've been called any and all the names for a person of my status and have been rejected because of it more times than I can count. And sure, you learn to ignore it after a while, otherwise you'll drive yourself insane, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt. Each and every insult and rejection slowly chipping away at me." You pulled your knees up to your chest, burying your chin in between them. "And when everyone around you holds that same sentiment towards you, it only takes so long for it to start creeping in. You can only tell yourself it's not true for so long before you start to fall for their lies. Before you start to believe it yourself. So when you tell me something completely different than what I've been led to believe my entire life, it's... hard. And it hurts. It hurts because..."

I know if I wasn’t your mate, none of you would have made a passing glance in my direction.

You didn't dare voice it out loud, not quite ready to bare yourself that much to them, but at the way Seonghwa's arm tensed behind you, you knew you had just done it again and each one of them had heard the words that had just rang through your head.

"And believe me when I say I don't blame you for it. After all, why would you?" Your words were soft, muffled against your legs as you sunk further into yourself. "I mean, you're the fucking daemon king and his seven generals; the most powerful men in this part of the world. And I'm what? Just someone who was lucky to be born. So why would any of you have ever given me a passing thought if it wasn't for the fate that now ties us altogether?"

"Angel-"

"No," you shook your head, cutting Yunho off. "I didn't tell you any of that to gain your sympathy or pity, so please don't give it to me. It'll only make things worse for me. I only wish for you to understand why I reacted in the way I did. To understand why I hold so many reservations towards it all and why we have to do it my way for things to work. Because if we continue down this road you've started, it's not going to end well for any of us."

“Take any and all the time you need, angel,” Wooyoung responded. “We’ll be here waiting whenever you’re ready.”

“Even if it takes years?”

“We’re daemons, remember, pretty?” Seonghwa doesn’t miss a beat beside you. “Once you start nearing a century, a few years is nothing.”

“And what if it was a century?”

“I’ve waited that long already, what’s another one?” Hongjoong returned. “Especially now that I’ve finally found you.”

“If that’s what you believe, then you’re crazy,” you huffed, but a hint of a smile tugged at your lips. “No one is worth that long of a wait.”

“Then I guess we’re all just crazy,” San hummed from across the room. “Because I, for one, think you are more than worth the wait.”

At the murmur of agreement that traversed the room, you found yourself burying your head in your legs once more. No longer from an attempt to comfort yourself, but from the way their words left a blush to bloom across your face. Never in your life had anyone expressed this sort of sentiment towards you, and you struggled to control the way your stomach flipped at the thought.

And for the first time since you had met them, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this life wouldn’t be too bad. If maybe the fate that had tied you to them wasn’t the end of the world. That maybe, just maybe, a part of you was almost happy to be their mate.

a/n: taglists will now be in a reblog :) thanks for all your love and support

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extralively · 2 months

Text

Bringing You Home

Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character NSFW 9,268 words (jfc) Also posted on AO3 Summary: After leaving a boring clan event, Satoru brings Yura with him to his private quarters on the Gojo Estate. Yura gets to snoop a bit in what is essentially Satoru's childhood bedroom, before the two of them actually get started with the, ahem, after-party...

Here's the new oneshot in the Under the Cover of Shadows series! It takes place immediately after chapter 1 of my fic Deeper in the Dark, but it could also be read as standalone. This was also supposed to be just smut, but then I got carried away playing with my headcanons as to what Satoru's childhood was like lmao and it ended up turning into a bit of a character study for him. Also there's smut.

Anyway, enjoy another accidentally long-ass oneshot! I know you guys were asking for this one, so hopefully I can deliver hehe

“Satoru, where are we going?” Yura asked as he tugged her along by the hand. The sounds of the clan event kept getting further away, which—good. Satoru already had enough dealing with annoying clan people for the night, so he was more than looking forward to just being him and Yura alone, and no one else.

“We’re going for a walk,” Satoru told her, shooting her a grin.

Yura had commented a couple of times about finding the Gojo Estate beautiful to look at, and Satoru supposed he couldn’t deny that fact—although, spending most of his childhood confined to this place did little to endear him to it, since for the longest time he simply couldn’t wait until he was free of all this.

He could, however, see the appeal in taking Yura out for a walk around the Estate, especially when there was no one else around. As the head of the clan, the Estate was something that could be considered unequivocally his territory, and there was an odd giddy feeling inside of him at being able to share it with Yura.

“Just for a walk?” Yura asked, an amused glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. She still kept her hand in his as they walked side by side.

“...For now,” Satoru replied, a sly grin of his own spreading across his face. “Let’s just take the scenic route for a little while.”

Yura only hummed in response, looking back to the front. Satoru was guiding them through a covered outdoor pathway, mostly due to the snow piled up on the ground. Small snowflakes still floated down from the sky every now and then, coating everything in a layer of white, and Satoru briefly lamented that the scenery around these parts was usually prettier during the spring.

Well, he would just have to bring Yura here again some other time, he thought to himself.

A chilly gust of wind passed by, and he felt Yura shiver next to him even if she was wearing the new coat he’d given her. She ended up stepping closer to him then, probably seeking more warmth—even though he was a little disappointed when her hand left his, he couldn’t complain much when she grasped his arm instead, first with one hand and then with her other one. And for the second time that night, Yura was clutching at his arm as she stayed glued to his side, and Satoru couldn’t help the smile that made its way onto his face.

They continued walking almost mindlessly through the outdoor paths, passing by several of the buildings that made up the Gojo Estate. Yura seemed to be curious about everything, asking him what each building was for—mostly different residences, he’d answered, although there were a couple of shrines scattered throughout. Most of the non-residential buildings were in a different area... and he supposed that he would just have to show her to those some other time.

“How many people live on the Estate?” Yura asked, still leaning against his side.

“Uh...” He stopped to think. “I’m not sure, actually. Mostly everyone with the Gojo name—you know, my uncles and aunts, their kids, their kids’ kids, some further apart cousins, the live-in employees and servants...”

“...Everyone except the clan head himself,” she replied with an amused smile, and she wasn’t wrong there.

Satoru nodded. “Yup.”

He’d had his family breathing down his neck for the entirety of his childhood and then some; this time, he wanted some actual freedomto live his life without their annoying meddling, thank you very much.

Yura let out a sigh, nodding slightly as she leaned against his side again. They continued walking some more, chatting sometimes, and sometimes just staying in comfortable silence. Satoru was too busy enjoying Yura’s presence there to worry about anything else.

But then her voice interrupted yet another stretch of quiet. “Satoru,” she called, and he turned his head to her. “This walk is going great and all... but are we getting somewhere soon? These heels are really starting to bother me...”

As Yura slowed down to a stop, pulling him with her, Satoru ended up getting a bit of déjà vu. That’s right—one and a half years ago, when Satoru had last brought Yura to the Estate with him, he’d also taken her on a walk like this after they’d left the event. He wasn’t exactly sure why he had decided to do that; he had simply grabbed her hand to pull her away from the stuffy ceremony they’d been forced to attend, and then... she just hadn’t pulled her hand away. So he’d just kept walking, until Yura had complained that her kimono had been a little too tight after all the food they’d eaten.

Satoru snorted. “Why is it always something when we go on walks like these?” He shot her a crooked grin. “Why must you interrupt this lovely atmosphere we have going on?”

Yura stuck her feet out, jiggling her shoe. “You were the one who got me these way too high heels to wear. It’s your fault that my feet can’t handle all this walking.”

Well, that was true. But she did look fantasticwith the heels on, along with the dress he’d gotten her for this event.

Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, fully turning to face her. “Fine. We’ll go,” he said, but then he got déjà vu again as he stared at Yura in front of him.

...Ah. That’s right. That night, he’d also come this close to kissing her—this close. If Yura hadn’t looked away, he would have definitely done it. Back then, he had tried rationalizing it away as a momentary fluke—the way she had sat by his side in front of his entire clan as his wife had certainly done a number on him, and something inside of him had gotten a little too comfortable with the idea as they’d played along.

But to be honest, he now knew that calling it a fluke had only been him lying to himself, because he had also come this close to kissing her multiple times before and after. As it turned out, he had just really wanted to kiss Yura.

His lips twitched up.

And he could do that now, couldn’t he?

Without a word, Satoru simply leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. When he pulled away, Yura was blinking up at him in surprise, slightly taken aback.

“...What was that for?” she asked, a little amused.

Satoru shot her a small grin. “Just ‘cause I can,” he told her.

Yura gave his chest a light slap, even as she was trying to bite back a smile.

“Alright, come on,” he eventually said, stepping closer to her. And just like last time, he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her body unnecessarily close to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, feeling her own arms wrap around his torso, before he teleported them both away.

---

Yura was a little confused when they reappeared somewhere still in the Gojo Estate and not in front of his car, like she had expected. They were in a hallway, in front of a closed sliding door, and it did look a little familiar... though Yura wasn’t exactly sure where they were.

“...Where are we?” she asked, stepping away from Satoru as his arms dropped from around her.

Satoru grinned as he moved toward the door. “Why, the party isn’t over yet,” he told her, sliding one side of the door open. “Or better yet, you can call this the after-party.”

As Yura peered inside the room, she suddenly remembered what this place was. These were Satoru’s private quarters inside the Gojo Estate, the ones he rarely used because, well, he didn’t really spend much time around these parts. He had brought her here once, some seven years ago on her first visit, saying that it was the one place where he could be free of his family when inside the Estate.

...Yura suddenly had an inkling as to what Satoru had in mind for this after-partyof his.

“I wasn’t aware there would be an after-party,” Yura said, even as she took off her heels before she stepped inside the room. “That wasn’t on the invitation.” ...There hadn’t really been an invitation.

Satoru was still grinning. “A surprise after-party then,” he said, starting to take off his own shoes. “But, really, you should have seen this coming.”

She really should have.

They both moved inside, Satoru turning on the lights before he helped her take off her coat, hanging it with his. Yura ended up getting a little distracted admiring the place again—this was essentially Satoru’s childhood bedroom, wasn’t it? Well, it was a little more than a bedroom—Yura was only familiar with the main sitting area where she and Satoru had had tea that one time, but there was still one doorway leading to what she knew to be the bedroom, and also another one that she wasn’t sure where it led to. It was almost like he had a whole apartment of his own inside his house, and Yura wondered how much time he would spend in here alone, given everything that he’d told her over the years...

“Young master?” a voice came from outside, following a knock on the door. The voice was familiar—that was Hanae, wasn’t it? Satoru’s old caretaker (read: babysitter), and probably the one person inside the Estate that he actually liked.

“Yeah?” Satoru replied, turning to the door and sliding it open again. Sure enough, Hanae was standing outside, and she gave him one deep bow in greeting before she spotted Yura, shooting the younger woman a warm smile and bowing to her as well.

“It’s good to see you again, Yura-san,” Hanae called, and Yura gave her a similar bow in greeting.

“You too,” Yura replied. She had first met Hanae on her first visit to the Estate, but they had definitely run into each other a few times in the years since. Mostly in Satoru’s apartment, since Hanae was the one coming in to tidy up his place every week; and since Yura had started spending more and more time over at Satoru’s... she had definitely begun to run into the older woman more often in the past year or so...

“I’m sorry to interrupt, young master,” Hanae said, bowing her head down to Satoru again. “But I’m afraid the head of the Kamo clan has requested your presence.”

Satoru’s mood suddenly did a one-eighty, and he let out an aggravated sigh. “Seriously? I’m busy—We can talk some other time.”

Hanae pressed her lips together for a moment. “...I’m afraid that this might be some official business,” she eventually said. “They stressed it was important—I believe it is regarding a possible marriage match between the two clans.” She shot him an apologetic smile.

Satoru was silent for a moment before his shoulders sagged. “Fine,” he caved, and Yura had to wonder if they’d sent Hanae here to fetch him because she seemed to have a way of talking him into things. Yura supposed that the other woman just had plenty of practice dealing with his difficult kid self. “But this’ll have to be quick—I don’t need to be involved in this...” he finished by grumbling out the words. He grabbed his coat with an exaggerated sigh, before he suddenly turned back to Yura and pointed a finger right at her face. “You. Don’t go anywhere,” he said in mock-seriousness. Then his face shifted into a grin. “The after-party is still on.”

Yura was trying to bite back a grin as she pretended to be bothered. “Just don’t take too long,” she said, setting a hand on her hip. “...Also, I can’t promise I won’t snoop.”

Satoru continued grinning as he slipped his coat back on. “Snoop away,” he said.

Satoru eventually left with Hanae, leaving Yura alone there in his private quarters. And as she turned away from the door, looking over the place, her urge to snoop was strong.

To start off, she shot the living area a long cursory glance as she gave the place a once-over. Not much seemed to have changed since her first visit—much like the rest of the house, this room was also elegantly decorated in mostly traditional Japanese décor, with a low table (a kotatsu, actually) in the center where she and Satoru had drank tea last time, a couch against a wall, and a few bookshelves scattered throughout. There was, however, a very modern TV on top of a console against the wall, but otherwise, this place could have passed as something from another time entirely.

And there also wasn’t much Satoru from what she could see, nothing that would really indicate this place as being his. She wondered if that was because he’d long since moved out and had probably taken most of ‘his’stuff with him—but Yura also remembered Satoru mentioning that he hadn’t actually been allowed to redecorate as a child, hence why he ended up going nuts decorating his dorm room after he’d moved into the school.

Yura strolled across the room, glancing at the books on the shelves as she moved past them to peek through the doorway that led to the bedroom. She flicked the light switch on as she walked through the door, taking in the sight; again, there wasn’t much there. A low bed against a wall, a couple of dressers on the other side (even though she was pretty sure one of the western-style doors in the room also led to a closet), a smaller low table with some seats on the far end of the room, and another TV on the wall—nothing very distinct. Was this really how his bedroom had always looked, or had this been redecorated after Satoru had grown up? The bed was way too big for one single kid, although the thought of a kid Satoru sleeping sprawled out on the king-sized bed was pretty amusing—and very on-brand. He did like to spread out; when she would sleep next to him, he would often use her as a mattress instead.

...Or maybe he just liked spreading himself on top of her.

For a little while, Yura busied herself examining the room, peeking in through the western-style doors (one a bathroom and the other, yep, a closet), and then deciding to indeed snoop by opening the drawers on Satoru’s bedside tables. Now this finally felt more like Satoru—mostly normal stuff like phone chargers, a tablet, some candy (she snorted—yep, that’s him); just regular stuff she knew he also kept by his bed in his own apartment. Opening the bottom drawer, however, finally revealed something that seemed more childhood-like: it was an old handheld game console, with a few game cases carefully stored next to it. Yura knew that Satoru must have had multiple different game consoles throughout the years (a few of which she’d seen him using back in school), and that he hadn’t actually kept most of them—so she had to wonder why this one. Maybe it had some kind of special significance, she theorized. She would just have to ask him later.

(She also found a box of tissues and, ahem, lotion, in one drawer, and Yura’s lips tugged up; now, was that a recent Satoru thing or was that a remnant from his teenage days, she wondered...)

Tired of snooping in the bedroom, Yura made her way back to the main sitting area and walked to the unknown closed room, her curiosity not yet sated. This unknown room turned out to be nothing more than some kind of study, or so she guessed—it also had a low table in the middle, but this one felt more like a desk, with the handful of papers and writing implements scattered on top of it. The number of bookcases spread around the room also helped give it that study feeling.

Yura moved further inside as she examined things with a careful eye, briefly noting that a lot of the books on the shelves actually looked more like textbooks. That’s right, Satoru had been largely homeschooled, hadn’t he? At least before going to Jujutsu Tech. Yura looked over at the desk, suddenly trying to picture child Satoru sitting there and studying diligently—and she snorted. Somehow, she had doubts—but he was infuriatingly smart regardless of how much time he had actually spent studying at school, so who knows. Maybe he’d just had a verythorough education beforehand.

As the picture of a young Satoru studying in this room stuck in her mind, though, Yura looked over the room again. Had this been where he’d studied—where he would take his lessons? Satoru had complained several times during school about the amount of time his family had forced him to spend studying (‘And so I can afford to take it easy now,’ he would tell her, much to her indignation as he simply skipped regular classes), but she would have expected his private quarters to have some kind of toy room attached to them, instead of this somber study room. And she somehow didn’t think it was because this room had been cleaned out since he’d moved away...

Yura sighed, looking around.

To be honest, the more she thought about Satoru’s childhood, the more it seemed oddly lonely. Sure, he was the strongest; sure, he had enough money to buy anything he could have possibly wanted... but what good did it do when he could only enjoy it all alone?

Satoru had told her all about his family keeping the fabled Gojo heir confined to the Estate for the entirety of his childhood—‘for his protection,’ they would say. Yeah, that was a reason, but that just meant that Satoru had grown up isolated—if not deliberately being kept away from most people, then just by virtue of being who he was. No wonder he had been such an asshole when they’d first met—that had been his first actual foray into the ‘real word’, hadn’t it? Aside from all those times he had snuck out as a kid (see, that’s what you get for being so overly controlling: you end up with a strongest sorcerer with a rebellious streak instead). It was honestly no surprise that he had been such a spoiled brat with poor social skills when he’d first come to Jujutsu Tech.

And it also shouldn’t have been so surprising to see his quarters so bare, so devoid of personality, considering the controlling nature of his family. Even his current apartment usually seemed a little too clean for someone like Gojo Satoru, so that was definitely a habit that seemed to have been forcefully developed during his childhood regardless of the rebellious nature he had grown to have since then.

...But then as her eyes stumbled upon a figure propped up between a few books, Yura had to smile. Finally, she thought. There he is. That was Digimon, wasn’t it? At last, a little splash of personality inside the otherwise nondescript room, and Yura looked fondly at the worn-out toy that suddenly reminded her of a time when Satoru would sit her down to watch this anime whether she liked it or not.

‘It’s so much better than Pokémon!’ he would insist. ‘I must bestow you with good taste.’

Yura eventually continued looking over the many shelves, her eyes roaming over the titles of all these textbooks. She was kinda impressed at all the advanced reading that pre-high school Satoru had been doing, even though she knew that Satoru was smart-smart... despite acting like an idiot most of the time. But then she stopped in her tracks again.

There was a picture frame on one of the middle shelves, the only photo frame in this whole place. Yura knew that Satoru didn’t have the habit of hanging up pictures in his place, despite them taking many photos together on their phones—so this photo frame in particular immediately piqued her curiosity. She bent down, picking it up—and it surprised her a little, even if it was exactly what she should have expected.

There were two people in the photograph, one that Yura clearly recognized as being Satoru’s father—looking much younger than now—and the other one a boy... who Yura took a couple of seconds to recognize as Satoru himself. The white hair and blue eyes should have been a dead giveaway, but it still took her a moment; maybe it was the fact that Yura had never seen any pictures of Satoru as a kid, or maybe it was the unusually serious expression on his face. And not just serious—scowling, like he didn’t want to be there... which she guessed was probably the case. Both father and son were standing next to each other, facing the camera, his father’s hand on his shoulder in what clearly looked to be an ‘official’ photograph of some kind.

Yura studied the photo closely; this was actually her first glimpse into what Satoru had looked like as a kid. He looked young—very young—but she couldn’t be sure how old he was in the picture, so she couldn’t tell if he’d always been that tall or if he ever used to be of a normal height. His hair was shorter than when she’d first met him, almost choppily messy despite the fact that he was wearing what looked like a formal kimono along with his father, and he also wasn’t wearing any sunglasses at this time. His cheeks were round with baby fat, far different from the Satoru she knew today but not that different from the fifteen-year-old Satoru she had met over a decade ago, and, well... he kinda looked adorable.

She could just squeeze his chubby, grumpy cheeks.

And speaking of which, Yura started to feel the man in question approaching long before she ever heard him open the main door.

“Yuraaa,” she heard him call, moving towards where she was standing. “Where are you snooping...”

Satoru popped up in the doorway, shooting her a grin, and Yura bit back a smile. “You done with... whatever they wanted you for?” she asked.

Satoru let out a sigh as he approached her, stopping right behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “It was dumb,” he replied, pressing his face to her hair. “Some far-removed Gojo clan member and some even more far-removed Kamo clan member were trying to arrange a marriage between themselves, and apparently they needed the clan heads’ approval for that.” He suddenly dropped his chin to her shoulder, grumbling, “Just get married, don’t drag me into it...”

Yura huffed out a laugh, leaning back against him. “Do you need to approve every marriage in the clan or something?”

He shook his head, even as he kept it pressed against her shoulder. “No, just between the three major clans,” he replied. “Something something not wanting a clan’s inherited technique to fall into another clan’s hands. Blah.”

That definitely sounded like something that would be taken seriously by the three clans, but trust Satoru to treat it with the same seriousness as stepping on gum.

“So,” Satoru started again. “Whatchu got there?”

Yura smiled. “You,” she answered, turning the photo toward him. She tapped his face on the photograph with a finger. “You look so grumpy here.”

Satoru let out a sigh. “Official photo time was always boring,” he said, and she wasn’t surprised. He buried his face in her neck again, almost whining against her skin as his glasses poked at her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a photo of you as a kid,” she told him. She grinned. “Look at your chubby cheeks.”

Satoru huffed out a laugh against her neck. “I know, I know, I was adorable.”

She half-heartedly rolled her eyes. “An adorable menace, I’m sure.”

“I mean...” Satoru heaved out another breath against her skin, shifting slightly behind her. “Are we gonna keep talking about kid me or are we gonna... get to the good stuff?”

And as if to make a point, she felt his lips press against the crook of her neck, and Yura tried biting back a grin. Of course.

---

Satoru felt a little... odd.

It wasn’t like Yura had never visited his private quarters in the Gojo Estate before, but something about having her there now was throwing him for a loop.

These days, there was a very clear distinction between what he considered to be clan life and his regular day-to-day life. It’d started many years ago when he’d left for Jujutsu Tech, finally able to break away from the suffocating grip his family had on him—and over the years, he’d been able to keep both parts of his life fairly well-separated. It wasn’t entirely intentional on his part; it had simply happened that way. His family didn’t bother him when it came to his job, and he usually only had to deal with clan-related business when he visited the Estate.

And this division extended to the people in his life as well—his family tended to stay away once he wasn’t around the Estate, and the friends he’d made after leaving for school didn’t usually get involved in clan matters nor frequent the same places his family did.

Which was probably why having Yura there, in the room he grew up in, felt so odd—like two worlds colliding entirely.The only person that had straddled the line between the clan and non-clan parts of his life had been a certain someone that would not be named—the only other person from outside that had ever visited his quarters here.

...But that couldn’t be the reason for this weird feeling in him, could it? At least not entirely. He had brought Yura here once, many years ago, and they’d had tea in his living area—and yeah, sure, it had felt a little strange back then too, but not thisstrange. This was a similar kind of feeling to what he’d felt when he took Yura with him to that clan ceremony a year and a half ago—seeing her there next to him, surrounded by his family and his clan...

It was... odd. Like he had just slotted her in an entirely new place in his life, where she fit... a little too well. Odd, but not a bad kind of odd.

So he decided to just ignore that weird feeling and busy himself by pressing his lips to her neck instead.

“Is this the only reason you brought me here?” Yura asked, amused. He vaguely noticed her placing the photo frame back on the shelf before she tilted her head to the side, giving him better access to her neck.

He’d truly made a wonderful choice picking this dress for her. With her entire neckline bared to him, he was able to trail his lips up and down an unbroken expanse of skin, going up her neck then down to her shoulder and back again. There was only the delicate chain of her necklace in the way, but he hardly minded it considering how she always wore it anyway. “Couldn’t exactly do this in front of everyone...” he replied, letting his teeth gently scrape the side of her neck, and he felt Yura shiver against him. “Even though I kind of wanted to.”

He heard Yura huff out a laugh. “Well, at least you behaved.”

He grinned against her neck—time to finally misbehave, then.

Satoru’s hands had been resting on her waist, and he let them drift further forward. His palms slid over Yura’s stomach on top of her dress, enjoying the way the softness and firmness of her body felt against his hands. As his thumb brushed over the underside of a breast, he was a little disappointed to find that she was, in fact, wearing a bra... but oh well. That would come off soon enough. So he pressed his nose to the side of her throat as he let his hands slide up to squeeze both of her soft mounds, and Yura laughed again.

“Someone’s getting handsy,” she said, letting her head fall back against him. His other hand drifted down again, splaying his fingers open over her stomach to press her body back into his... maybe only proving her point further. His lips pressed a kiss underneath her ear, feeling her sigh against him, and he kissed her there again—if he was getting handsy, then did this mean he was getting lipsy as well?

He grinned some more, but his grin ended up falling when Yura pulled away from him. He straightened himself up as he looked at her in confusion.

“Maybe we shouldn’t get handsy in your... study room,” she said, but she had a smile on her face as she stepped closer to him, her hands resting on his chest as she pressed her front to his.

His grin came back. “Why not?” he asked. His head dipped closer to her, his lips approaching hers.

But Yura pulled away before he could reach her once again, a mischievous look on her face. So she was in a teasing mood huh? Well, at least her hands took a hold of his as she stepped back, pulling him with her, and he let her lead him along.

Yura guided them back into the living area and then tugged him into the bedroom with her, and Satoru’s grin widened. Yura was still holding on to both of his hands, so once they were both sufficiently inside, she simply tugged his body to hers, pressing their fronts together again.

“This feels like a better place to start the after-party,” she said, her head tilting up towards his.

He was still grinning as he nodded. “That’s fair,” he said, and finally lowered his mouth to hers.

A sigh escaped him as they locked their lips together, his hands coming up to cup her face and bring her closer—he’d been wanting to do this all night. Maybe even in front of everyone—his family, the Kamo clan, the Zen’ins, all the elders and higher ups in attendance—he had been wanting to pull her to him and kiss her so everyone would see. He had refrained from doing that, of course, as Yura probably wouldn’t have appreciated it, so he’d had to hold himself back all night instead.

But not now. Now he could let his tongue taste her lips as he wished, enjoying the way her own tongue reached out to brush against his own. He could tilt her head slightly so he could kiss her deeper, feeling her hands tightening on his shirt against his sides as she pressed herself closer. He could just... get lost in her, just like this.

Satoru’s fingers slipped into her hair, enjoying the softness of the strands as he kept her face as close as possible. Yura herself was pressing her body tightly against his, and he could feel her pushing herself up on her toes to get even closer. See? This was why he’d gotten her those heels—Yura was pretty tall herself, but those heels would have helped them get on more even ground.

...Although, to be fair, she wasn’t likely to wear heels in the bedroom. Ah, well.

Yura’s nose bumped against his sunglasses as their mouths moved together, and it prompted her to pull away from him. She herself raised her hands to pluck the glasses off his face with a grin, but instead of tossing them somewhere else, she only folded them back up and slipped them between her breasts, leaving it hanging off the front of her dress.

His eyes, of course, followed along, and his gaze was immediately stuck to her cleavage.

Yura really needed to wear strapless tops more often...

“So,” Yura started, and Satoru had been so entranced by the way her breasts looked in that dress that he hadn’t noticed she was actually stepping away from him. “This is your childhood bedroom.”

Satoru’s eyes finally left her chest, and when they did, the sight suddenly struck him.

The four walls of this room were ones he was intimately familiar with; this was where he’d spent most of his childhood before he was able to break away from all of it and build his own life for himself. To be honest, most of his happy memories had taken place outside of here—even now, after all this time, this place still felt as stifling as it used to be when he was a kid, so he usually avoided it as much as possible.

But having Yura there with him now—why was it making him feel... something?

“What?” she asked, a confused smile on her face at his prolonged silence.

Satoru stared at her for another long moment, taking in the sight of Yura standing right there in his childhood bedroom, before he mentally shook himself out of it. “Nothing,” he replied, stepping closer to her. “Just thinking that you should really let me buy you dresses more often.”

Yura rolled her eyes even if she still had a smile on her face, and before he could get his hands on her again, she turned her back to him. “Well, now you’re gonna have to help get me out of this dress instead,” she said, handing his sunglasses back to him over her shoulder.

Satoru grinned, taking the glasses and slipping them into his pocket. “Happy to oblige.”

The first thing Satoru did was brush her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her back to him. He let his hands linger on her bare skin above the line of her dress, tracing the faint scars there; as much as the sight of her bare legs drove him crazy, he had also developed a fondness for the line of her shoulders, the contours of her collarbone, the movements of her shoulder blades...

Satoru lowered his lips to the crook of her neck again, pressing a soft kiss to her bare skin. He let his hand trace down the dip of her back until he reached the edge of her dress, fingers finding the zipper there and slowly tugging it down. His mind briefly wondered how she had put it on without any help, realizing with an amused laugh that she must have used her own technique to do so. But any other thoughts on the matter were quickly wiped away once he had fully undone the zipper, letting the dress slide down her body to pool at her feet.

Yura was wearing a similarly pale pink matching underwear set, and Satoru had to pull away slightly to admire how the strapless bra and panties hugged her curves just right. He let a hand slide down her back, briefly brushing over her ass as she turned around, facing him; she had an almost knowing smile on her face, but then she once again pulled away from him as she let her smile turn into a sly one.

“You’re overdressed, by the way,” she said as she stepped towards the bed. She sat down on it and then shuffled back towards the middle, and Satoru could only stare once more.

Yura, in her underwear, sitting on his bed at the Gojo Estate—

How many times had he laid on his back on this very same bed, staring up at the sky through the ceiling as he wondered if there was more to life than just lessons, lessons, lessons. If there was anything actually interesting out there for him, away from the Gojo Estate somewhere. Something fun and exciting, something he could look forward to—

Oh, there was definitely something alright, he thought. And it was currently sitting on top of that very same bed, looking up at him curiously.

“You’re really spaced out today,” Yura commented, and he was suddenly brought back to the present. No more getting distracted, he thought to himself.

“Well, you know,” he started, letting his eyes focus on Yura’s bare skin, the fabric of her underwear hiding the most interesting bits from him... for now. “I’ve just never had sex with anyone in here before.”

Yura looked at him with amusement in her eyes, tilting her head at him for a moment. “I mean, you’re not gonna be having any sex if you just stand there like a doofus,” she said. Satoru had to admit that she had a point. “So, strip.”

And to emphasize her point, Yura reached behind her and unclasped her bra, promptly tugging it off to throw it at him.

Ah, fucking hell... what a sight.

The garment smacked him on the face as Satoru kept staring, his eyes completely focused on her bare chest. Then he immediately startled himself into action, quickly pulling off his sweater and undershirt in one go before reaching down to undo his belt. His pants felt tight as he pushed them down his legs, tossing them off to the side as he rushed towards the bed, his eyes set on one singular goal—and he didn’t waste a second as he moved towards Yura, finally landing face-first on one of her wonderfully soft breasts.

Yura gasped as his mouth closed over one of her nipples, sucking on it and letting his tongue swirl around the hardened bud. One of her hands slipped into his hair as she leaned back but still pushed her chest forward, and Satoru hummed in approval—definitely a better angle for him to delight himself there. He could never get enough of the way she felt in his mouth, how it felt when he sucked the bud and some of the softness inside before releasing it and tasting her skin with his tongue. And he couldn’t just focus on one, that just wouldn’t be fair—so he removed his mouth from her before quickly capturing her other breast instead.

This was a much better end to a boring clan event, that’s for sure. This might just be the most fun he’d ever had in the Gojo Estate—ever.

And Satoru could have stayed there on Yura’s chest for hours—if Yura herself hadn’t gotten impatient, grabbing his head and pulling him up to hers. Their mouths met again and Satoru couldn’t complain, and as Yura’s hand found his own chest, sliding over his skin and making him shiver—he could complain even less.

Yura ran her hands over his muscles, squeezing at his skin, briefly pinching his own nipples and making his breath hitch. But Yura wasn’t satisfied with just that, no; as their tongues brushed against each other, her hand moved lower. Satoru’s mind was definitely paying close attention to her scorching touch, but still—as her hand finally squeezed him over his underwear, he almost jumped in surprise, grunting against her mouth at the feeling.

Yura pulled away from him then, and he didn’t have to open his eyes to see the cheeky grin she was sporting. But his mind was otherwise preoccupied, as her mouth had left his but not her hand—she was still massaging him over the fabric of his underwear, and if Satoru hadn’t been painfully hard before, he definitely was now.

“Satoru,” she called, and he eventually opened his eyes to meet hers. Her hand continued her ministrations down below, and his hips were almost rolling into her touch. “You said you had never had sex in here before, didn’t you?”

Satoru only vaguely hummed an agreement, letting the hand that had slipped into her hair slide down her front, absentmindedly squeezing one of her breasts.

Her grin widened. “What about a blowjob?”

Satoru suddenly froze. His eyes opened wider as he stared at her.

Yura, Yura, Yura...

Why was she always so good to him?

Yura’s cheeky grin never wavered as she pushed him back, sadly removing her hand from him, but he still throbbed nonetheless at the thought of what was to come.

What was to come—heh.

Hopefully him. And her. And her again. And them both—

Yura guided him to sit back down at the edge of the bed, rotating his body along with her as she stepped back onto the floor. She shot him a look as she stood in front of him, although Satoru got a little distracted by her bare chest right in front of his eyes. But when she bent down, tugging his underwear down his hips, Satoru eagerly assisted with its removal—almost dazedly watching as she finally knelt down between his legs, her hands on his thighs.

And when she finally grasped his member in her hand, he went a little crazy. Then she took him into her mouth and he almost went full insane.

Truly, he could never get tired of this. Actually, Yura only seemed to be getting better and better at this kind of thing every time she knelt down between his legs—she ran her tongue over him just right, she sucked him in just the right amount, her mouth and hands working in tandem to make him fully lose it.

Satoru threw his head back, one of his hands slipping into her hair but still letting her do whatever she needed to do—she sure didn’t seem to need his help. But then his eyes opened, lowering his head back down to take in the sight between his legs—and he instead ended up catching sight of everything instead, his brain once again struck by just where they were, and who he was with. He had so many memories of this place, of this room, most of them not particularly happy or fun; and now, Yura was there. In the middle of all of it. Her presence warming up this cold room... in more ways than one. (His body sure was getting very hot.)

Yura was bobbing her head up and down on him, and the feeling of him sliding in and out of her hot mouth was definitely getting him close. Too close, but also not close enough—something inside of him wanted to bury himself in her completely, so this wouldn’t do.

Yura shot him a questioning look as he pushed her back, still keeping him in her hands. But he didn’t say anything as he surged forward, wrapping an arm around her torso to tug her to him as he hitched one of her legs over his hip. Her arms came up to hold on to his shoulders as he maneuvered them both around, swiftly depositing her on the bed and positioning himself between her legs.

Satoru had to stop for a moment to admire the sight again, of Yura in this bed, his bed—in this room. It brought a weird, warm feeling to his stomach that Satoru couldn’t quite name, so he decided to push it all aside as he lowered himself on top of her to capture her lips with his own again.

It felt both strange and familiar, being with Yura like this here. Comfortingly familiar was when he let his hand slide down her body, squeezing a soft breast in the process, and found the waistband of her underwear; strange was when he pulled back briefly to tug the undergarment down her legs and caught sight of Yura sprawled out bare in the same bed he’d spent the first half of his life in.

His once home—his clan home. The place he’d thought he would only ever bring his eventual wife to, for... well, this.

Yura’s hands started groping his chest in the best way possible as he lowered himself back down to her, locking their lips together again. Their mouths were sloppy against each other, hands all over the other’s body, and Satoru couldn’t take it anymore—he wanted to be back in her, now. Not her mouth, this time; instead, his hand slid down to grab at his own member, Yura letting out a small gasp as he immediately pressed his length against her, slipping between her folds. He rubbed himself up and down there, coating himself in her wetness, letting the head of him slip down to briefly press against her entrance before sliding back up, rubbing himself against her clit before sliding down again. It was only a tease, really; even as Satoru was feeling a little impatient, his body craving more of her heat, he wanted to make sure it would be a... smooth ride inside, one might say.

But it seemed that Yura herself was also growing restless; every time that he slid down on her folds, pressing against her entrance, her hips would roll up against him as she almost urged him in. And who was he to continue denying her?

So the next time he slid down and found her entrance, he finally notched himself inside and pushed into her.

His forehead dropped to the bed next to her head, the feeling of being continuously squeezed by her walls incomparable to anything else. She felt so hot and so tight as he slowly sheathed himself inside, feeling her fingers pressing down on his back and urging him in further. Which was what he did—he kept pressing in, feeling her walls stretching open to accommodate him. His free hand eventually slid down to grasp at her hip and angle it up, allowing him to finally slot himself all the way inside; and as his hips met hers, feeling himself fully encased in her, he let out a shuddering breath against her ear.

There truly was no other feeling like this in the world. It was like sliding home; not just the way her tight heat wrapped around his member, but the way she was wrapped all over him—her legs bracketing his hips, her chest brushing against his with every breath she took, her hand digging into his back as her other hand slid down to grasp at his buttocks—it was almost like all of her was trying to urge him in even deeper.

So he obliged. He shifted his hips even closer, feeling himself push in just a tad bit deeper.

He really could stay here like this forever, couldn’t he?

Satoru breathed in and out against the side of her head, just basking in the feeling.

...Okay, so he could stay here forever, but maybe not stay still—his body started craving more, so he eventually started to move his hips slowly. He pulled himself out, then slid back all the way in, his nose pressed against the side of her head, nuzzling in as he breathed in her scent. Satoru was enjoying himself a little too much feeling the ridges of her walls drag over his length almost painfully slowly, but somehow just right.

He wasn’t going to continue with this pace all night, of course. There was more fun to be had.

His hips started moving faster, thrusting down into her. Her touch began drifting all over his body as he moved himself in and out of her with increasing speed, and her hands managed to leave both shivers and a scorching trail in their wake. It only drove him further, his hips thrusting into her faster, the continued squeeze and release of her walls around him making his muscles tense as he craved more. More heat, more speed, more space to move—the hand that had been grasping her hip moved up to her leg instead, urging her thighs to spread wider for him, and she wordlessly obliged. Something in his stomach coiled in pleasure as she gave him full unrestricted access to her heat, and he took full advantage of that to thrust into her unimpeded.

Satoru’s mind had long disconnected from the situation, letting his body’s natural impulses drive him along. As his hips kept moving, his nose and lips continued trying to press themselves closer to her, nuzzling the side of her head, his lips finding a combination of skin and hair and more skin as his face brushed against her. As Yura’s thighs fell open completely and he no longer had the need to hold them that way, he was able to free up his hand to happily start exploring her body with his touch... immediately finding her breast again and squeezing her softness in his hand once more.

There was nothing else at that moment but him and her, together. And Satoru would have liked it to stay that way—so when he sensed a familiar energy approaching, his Six Eyes glancing through the walls to the outside on instinct alone, he suddenly snapped his hips into her with an annoyed grunt and stayed there.

Yura, in turn, let out a gasp at the sudden roughness, her walls squeezing him briefly and making him realize just what he’d done. Oops would have been his thought if it hadn’t actually felt good.

“What?” Yura breathed out, half confused and half dazed at the feeling. “What... is it?”

Satoru’s eyes briefly glanced at the figure of his father standing outside of his quarters before sliding his gaze away (this was not what he wanted to be looking at in the middle of sex). But when he raised himself up slightly on his elbow to meet Yura’s eyes—the sight of her flushed face as he stayed buried inside of her had him pause for a moment.

“Just...” he eventually said. “An annoying visitor. He’ll go away soon enough.” Satoru had long made sure that his family were not to go inside his quarters without permission, so his father would eventually just leave once he got no answer.

Yura glanced up in the direction of the bedroom door before looking up at him. “...You don’t think they can hear us, can they?”

“Probably not,” Satoru answered, and immediately snapped his hips into hers again, making her bite back a gasp. He grinned.

Yura shot him a mock-annoyed look, but when he thrust into her again, she definitely looked like she was enjoying it.

He wasn’t worried about anyone overhearing them—his quarters were at the far end of this building, and there was still the whole living area between the bedroom and the outside... even if the walls weren’t really all that thick.

“Besides,” Satoru said, his voice coming out a little breathless as his hips continued the harsher thrusting into her. “I told you... my family would probably throw a party... if they knew what we’ve been doing.”

Yura’s face was scrunching up in pleasure as she tried keeping her eyes open to look up at him. “I don’t think... I don’t think it’s the sex part... they’re interested in.”

“No...” Satoru agreed. His mouth was slightly parted as he stared down at her flushed face, and he was pretty sure his was the same way. “They just want the resulting bit.” And he thrust himself into her again.

Yura’s eyes met his, a strange look passing between the two of them. “...That does have to come... from somewhere,” she said, her voice amused.

And when he thought of where that somewhere might be, it made his hips immediately snap into her without his permission, his head suddenly spinning.

Following this new pace, Satoru’s hips continued moving in rough, deep thrusts, while he still kept himself raised slightly above her in one arm. This meant that his eyes never left hers, despite their occasional fluttering, that same strange look still lingering in the air.

“So...” Yura let out, her eyes fluttering more and more as he increased his pace. “Is that what they would think... that we’re doing?”

“Yep,” he replied, his eyes never wavering from her face as his mouth worked on its own, seemingly disconnected from his brain... “That this is me putting a baby in you.”

When the words finally registered in his own ears, his hips suddenly snapped into her harder. Well, shit.

And it took him a second to register the fact that Yura’s own hand had drifted down her body, reaching the nub there and rubbing. Her eyes had fluttered closed, but she managed to force them open as she stared up at him. “...Well, you can try,” she breathed out, her voice a mix of amusement, defiance, and a simple statement of a fact.

It drove Satoru insane, and his hips only matched the state of his brain.

Yeah, he could try.

Satoru’s gaze locked on the golden flecks of her eyes as he pushed himself into her, the only thing going through his head was her name on repeat like a mantra going Yura, Yura, Yura—

He only vaguely noticed her hand increasing speed between her legs, as her face started to shift and scrunch up more often. He matched her pace with his hips, driving himself into her again and again and again—

Until when Yura suddenly cried out, throwing her head back and arching into him. The sight, the sound, the feeling—it was all too much, immediately pushing him over the edge, and he drove himself in as far as he could go with a cry of his own. His hips were pressed flush against hers as his climax hit him, and he finally released himself fully inside of her.

As waves of pleasure crashed over him, Satoru buried his head against the side of her neck again as he curled himself into her. He could feel himself spilling deep inside of her, her walls spasming around him and milking him for all that he’s worth. The head of his length was definitely pressed against something inside as he tried to push himself in even further, and if he knew enough biology, considering what they had just been saying—

Well, the thought of his release slipping into her womb was already getting him ready for round two.

(...If it weren’t for birth control, his family would have definitely already gotten that heir they want so much.)

But for the moment, Satoru allowed his muscles to relax.

The way their chests moved against one another as they both caught their breaths was almost hypnotic as he came down from his high. His senses were overwhelmed with Yura—all Yura.

...He wasn’t complaining. He only pressed a kiss against her jawline when he had finally recovered enough.

“That’s... one hell of an after-party,” she eventually breathed out, and Satoru had to huff out a laugh as he raised himself on one arm again.

“Much better than the party itself,” he added, peering down at her. Her cheeks were still flushed, her hair wild around her head, and he raised his free hand to brush some stray strands away from her face.

“I mean...” Yura looked up at him, her lips tugging up into a cheeky grin. “That’s not saying much...”

Satoru’s mouth widened into a grin of his own. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the after-party lasts as long as the actual party did,” he said, and to punctuate his words, he rolled his hips against hers, feeling him move inside of her still.

Yura huffed, amused. “Of course,” she said. Her legs came up to wrap themselves around his waist, locking him in.

This was, one hundred percent, the most fun he’d ever had inside his family home.

End notes: So, what we've gathered from this oneshot and the previous one (Movie Night) is that yes, both Satoru and Yura have developed breeding kinks. Yes, that is his family's fault for bringing up heirs so much. No, they're still in denial over their own feelings even though it was staring at them right in the face.

Anyway, I really like exploring Satoru's character, and I really like writing smut lmao. Best of both worlds! Throw in a lot of Satoru completely glossing over his own feelings and we've got a wining combo here!

I did have to rush to get this out before I could post the next chapter of the main fic, because the vibes...... might shift a bit in the near future in the main story. So the main fic will still take me a little more time, but have this as a treat until then!

#gojo satoru #jjk fic #gojo x oc #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoyura #my fics

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

Note

Leah babe. Whenever you’re ready we’re here patiently waiting for the next update of TH&TH.

THIS TOOK ME FUCKING FOREVER TO WRITE!! And as promised, an earlier update as the Masterlist received 1’000 notes!! Ahhh. Anyway—here’s the next chapter. Also the Masterlist for those who need to catch up. We're getting closer and closer to the end of what I'd say would be series finale of season one of TH&TH. But a series two would be on the cards.

Jake Seresin never thought he’d fly for the Navy, he had every intention of joining the airforce from the day he knew what a plane was. The white walls of his childhood bedroom were plastered with air force propaganda posters spanning decades, yet they all told him the same thing. That planes were cool and that someday he’d fly one. He remembered as he sat in his F-18 Super Hornet that the longer he sat staring at the walls he littered with his dreams, his passion—the more he wanted it. A common denominator however for a lot of Jake Seresin's teen and adulting life choices had been one thing and one thing only. You.

As Jake took his only shot at saving his colleagues' lives as they gained altitude towards the sun–like a modern day version of Ikaris themselves, Jake thought back to the moment he thought maybe the Navy wouldn't be such a bad career choice after all.

“You wanna do what?” Sitting on your best friend's bed you told Jake that you were starting to think about a career in the Navy. “Say it again for me real quick, I don't think I heard you correctly.” He teased as he spun around on his desk chair, flipping the pen he’d been doing his homework with through his fingertips.

“I said, I was talking to Sarah the other day and she said her older brother is a clearance diver and loves it.” You explained as you sat with your History book open on page one hundred and forty nine. Reading about the social and political constructs of the highly controversial and deeply divisive ruler—empress Wu. “Been thinking about it a lot actually–seemed pretty neat.” You couldn’t really focus on her rise from common concubine to empress when Jake was staring into your soul from across his room though.

“You know if you go into the Navy and I go into the Air Force we can't be friends anymore right?” Jake taunted before you threw his own pillow his way. “What!” He gasped. “I'm just saying–it's kinda like a given thing that the branches all kinda hate each other.” It was your senior year of highschool so the reality of the real world was starting to kick in. You'd both been giving a lot of thought into what you wanted to do after school. If a gap year was on the horizon or if college was a possibility. Or for you maybe it was the Naval Academy and for Jake it would be the BMT.

For now though, you and Jake both worked down at the local pizzeria after school–it was supposed to be your way of being able to spend more time together. But when the big boss had noticed that the two of you barely got anything done when you were both rostered on together? He made sure to end that real quick.

“Doesn't the Navy have like, Naval Aviators or something?” You sighed, not realising just how much of a spark it lit inside Jake as he watched you return to your work. “If we both enlisted maybe we might be able to take on the world together?” You weren't putting all that much thought into what you were saying, simply making light hearted conversation with your best friend as you both did whatever homework you both had due the next morning. You History and Jake Mathematics–always the maths guy. “Who knows, But hey–if you do go into the Air Force and fly those stupid planes that cost way too much money I guess you already have a callsign.” Smirking, Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the chest.

“Oh no. No way would I ever use Hangman as my call sign.” Jake huffed as he shook his head. “It's stupid.”

“It's who you are, idiot.” You reminded him, all those moments where he’d hung around his locker waiting for the right moment to talk to you only to be left hanging had the namesake sticking to him like super glue all through high school. Like fuck was Jake taking that shit with him into his adult life. “Besides, it suits you.”

The pad of Jake's thumb hit the trigger for his missile lock system the moment he’d been drawn back into the present by the tone he’d locked on the fifth generation fighter pilot. He watched as the jet exploded into a thick black fiery cloud that surely had to be lethal for whoever had been sitting in the cockpit. Knowing that he was coming home to you and whoever he’d just shot down wasn't. That would be his second air to air kill. You hadnt taken well to the first one–he wondered for a moment if you'd love him any less now that he had two.

“Good afternoon ladies and gentleman, this is your savour speaking.” Jake put on his usual persona of the guy who everyone just couldn't stand as he came racing through the plume into vision of Chaos and Rooster. “Please fasten your seatbelts, return your tray tables to their locked and upright position and prepare for landing.” He watched as Chaos looked his way and smacked her first twice against the side of the cockpit, laughing behind her mask. He couldn’t really tell from this distance how fucking close to death she really was.

“Hey Hangman, you look good.” Rooster commented from the back seat, not his usual position on a fighter jet. All things considered though it probably still had a pretty good view. Jake nodded peacefully in response, he was going to say something about how he wanted to throw up over the fact he’d left you like he did to get here. Crying, screaming his name, yelling at him that you needed him. He wanted to mention that it killed him to know he left you heartbroken in his best friend's arms because he just put his colleagues above you and even more so above his own safety. Or that if he’d listened to your direct orders to stand down Rooster and Chaos may very well not be alive right now. He wouldn’t ever say that to you—ever.

Jake didn’t say any of the aforementioned things, he couldn’t. The words failed him when he tried to convey the right things to say—they always had, but in this very instant he knew his worry and utter agony was written in the lines on his face.

Jake just nodded and laughed with them.

“I am good Rooster, I'm very good.” He paused as he broke right and turned back to head towards the carrier. He wondered if the girl who sat on his bed that one time and said you could both take on the world together would still want to charge at it head on when he landed or if you’d throw your hands up and finally say enough's, enough. “I'll see you both back on deck.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“You’re okay Hawkeye, I got you.” Javy rocked with you as you clung to him in utter heartbreak. There was no sense of time anymore, you didn't know if you'd been left on the runway for two minutes or two hours as you cried out in utter heartache loud enough for anyone walking the flight deck to hear. “Jakes gonna bring em home.”

“You don’t know that–what if he never comes home.” Javy wasn't about to tell you that he had that feeling too, he wasn't about to break your heart any more than Jake had already done so in order to go after Rooster and Chaos. “He's the love of my life Javy–” Javy felt his own heart shattering as he held you a little tighter, sitting with you between his legs in the middle of the runway. His arms encapsulated you like he was shielding you from the world around you. Not wanting you to ever be hurt again. “What am I supposed to do without him huh? What does he fucking want from me!?”

“He doesn't want nothing Hawk, he probably just knows by now that you love him enough to know that whatever happens, good or bad–he had all the right intentions.” Deep down you knew Javy was right, you did love Jake enough to know that a year ago–or even just a few months ago for that matter, he never would have done this.

Levi ‘Elvis’ Macarthy was a terrible person and an even worse influence on your husband. He was the very dictionary definition of superficial. There wasn't a person you loathed more than Jake’s current Wingman. You knew Levi wouldn't hesitate to leave Jake in the dust if things went wrong, but what scared you so much more was Jake had become the very same.

“Oh my god—“. You just couldn't hold it in any more, your marriage had fallen to shambles around you before there was anything left to salvage. Your grandmother always used to tell you like because and you love despite. But with Jake? Over the last few months nothing seemed worth it. “You're worse than Levi.” You had just been discussing Jake's latest deployment, he hadn’t bothered to tell you until three days out. “Levi, he’s a selfish superficial asshole but he can’t help it, Jake–but you? You could be a good person but you wanna be an asshole! You are so obsessed with getting promoted and becoming the best of the very best that you’re choosing to be a piece of shit—“ It would be your last fight, the fight that drove you over the edge, the one you couldn't come back from. The fight where things were said that you couldn’t take back no matter how badly you wanted to. It was the fight that put all your others to shame.

“Okay stop pretending this is some moral dilemma!” Jake hadn’t told you about his next deployment because he knew that you still weren’t over his last. He didn't know how to tell you without starting a fight. Which inevitably happened anyway.

“It is a moral dilemma! You’re pushing everyone away to chase a fucking pipe dream!” You were so proud of Jake and everything he’d accomplished, but the idea that you were the only one who was didn't sit right with you. You knew he lived for the applause, but you couldn't cheer him on from the bleachers alone. “You’re a lieutenant! God isn't that enough for you at this moment? Revel in it a little before you chase the next rank!”

“Oh you wanna go there?” Jake scoffed as he took strides towards you, crossing the distance of the living room. “You—“. Jake spat, his voice laced with venom as he spoke to you like he hadn’t been in love with you since the very first time he saw you let alone spoke to you. Pointing his finger into your chest. “You’re afraid to climb the ladder.” He barked. “Tell me love.” The term of endearment made you weak in such a heated moment. “When was the last time you actually did something you were proud of? You spend all your time worrying about me and what I'm doing and what I'm supposedly becoming because you're too fucking scared to fucking apply yourself, you're scared that even if you tried just a little goddamn harder that you'd still be told you're a crap analyst!” He didn't mean any of it, he just wanted to hurt you the same way you hurt him. But Jake? Well he couldn't attack your person, so he went for your job, your career. He knew you held a little self doubt about your position in the Navy, unlike himself who just oozed confidence in every aspect. “Always a Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral.”

“You go on this deployment, I won't be here when you get back.” This time you weren’t messing around. The idea had crossed your mind a time or two when things had gotten really bad, when you thought it would be easier to run than to stay and figure it out.

“What?” Jake had suddenly lost all his male bravado. “What the hell are you talking about?” Although you’d thought about it, you’d never said it out loud. Never mentioned the idea to anyone. “Baby–” His eyes were soft and suddenly full of regret, had he gone too far this time?

“You heard me Jake so help me god if you go, don’t expect me to fucking be here when you get back.” You thought your love for Jake Seresin could outlast any challenges you faced, but when he was the challenge himself? What else was left to do.

“You know I have to though—you know better than anyone that I can’t just not go?” His eyes took in the entire expanse of your face, every small mark and imperfection that made you perfect to him in every way. Cupping your face between his hands. “Wifey, we’re okay, we don't have to do this.” You ignored Jake's words as you focused on the first statement that slipped past his lips.

“Seems like an inevitable outcome then doesn’t it?” You continued, only to pull away and turn on your heels. Holding back the flooded dam that threatened to break if Jake made any attempt to keep you here. Stop you from leaving–.if he asked you to stay you knew it would be all the more harder to go, without question. You loved him so much.

“Baby don’t leave me.” You left in the middle of the night that same night.

He never would have put the lives of his fellow aviators above his own and he most certainly wouldn't have defied direct orders to risk his life in order to save another. The version of Jake Seresin that you almost served divorce papers to was long gone. Dead and buried. Replaced by the very best version of himself you knew he could be. The version you fell in love with during highschool. The version who asked you to marry him one random night in July under the stars as waves lapped around your ankles. The version you saw a future, a present and had a past with. It didn't hurt any less though, knowing that the outcome of all his soul searching may end up with the same outcome you’d left him over in the first place.

You'd' still receive that folded flag, you’d still cry as his coffin was lowered, only now you knew for sure that you wouldn't be the only one to mourn him.

“GET HER OFF THE DAMN RUNWAY!” Pete Mitchell could be heard screams from the barricades that you jumped over to reach your husband in time, to no avail. You’d fallen into a heap in Coyote's lap, inconsolable and crying as your heart raced at the thought you’d never see Jake again. Clutching at Javys flight suit, the nornex not doing much at all to dry your tears. “COYOTE! GET HER UP BEFORE YOU TWO GET RUN OVER BY A GODDAMN F-18!”

“Someone tell my wife I'm coming home.” Jake had radioed back to the tower all the while you and Javy had been sitting on the flight deck. He had started making his way back to you the second he wasn't needed, he saw no need to string out your obvious heartbreak. He couldn't wait to get back to you, tell you how sorry he was, how much he loved you, how much you meant to him and how badly it broke his own heart he had to leave you behind like he did–but he knew Rooster and Chaos needed him just a little bit more in the very moment. Jake also couldn't wait to let you know how idiotidc it was to stand in the middle of a goddamn runway. How endearing and brave and oh so stupid he found it. He knew that you were going to tear him a new one about his actions, that was his only leg to stand on. You were miss prim and proper, he was reckless and foolish–the better halves of each other. “Someone tell Y/n I’m okay, for the love of god someone tell her I'm alright.” It was a plea that fell on somewhat deaf ears though, no one could get to you to relay the message and Pete Mitchell certainly wasn't about the scream that crossed the flight deck of the carrier.

“We gotta move Lieutenant Commander–” Javy cooed as he tried to lift you up. Deadweight against his arms, you didn’t budge for love nor nothing. “Hey, Jake’s coming back, surely.” Pointing over your shoulder to the black dot in the distance headed straight for the carrier Javy tried his best to break through whatever haze had begun to cloud your better judgement. “You see that speck? That's Jake, so unless you wanna get railed by the cord that's gonna come at us at about a hundred miles an hour I suggest we move and the second he lands, I'll let you go? Deal?” You didn't believe Coyote as he tried to be the voice of reason, but as you watched the speck get a little closer, a little more defined, it sparked a hope inside you that you wanted to believe in. That it was Jake and he was coming home.

“Shit–” You scrambled to your feet, dusting your uniform off as Javy took your hand in his, one hand behind the small of your waist as he guided you over to where the rest of the group stood. Phoenix, Bob, Fanboy, Payback, all desperately awaiting the return of Hangman, Rooster and Chaos. “You really reckon it's him?” You asked as you approached Maverick, he hated the look in your eyes. Despair. Your eyelashes were wet and your cheeks were stained but none of that really mattered when he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and nodded, bringing out a haphazard smile across your face for the briefest of moments.

“It's him Hawk, it's all of them.”

***~***~***~***~***~

It was the smoothest of landings Jake had ever pulled off. Everything had gone according to plan. When the tail hook caught on the catcher cord, slowing Jake's Super Hornet to nothing, he could finally breathe again. There wasn’t a lot that confronted Jake Seresin, but when he took off from the carrier, leaving you behind? He’d never felt such a fear in the back of his throat. It resonated with him until he leaned.

The cheers roaring out from his colleagues and fellow Naval men and women were enough to have him popping his canopy, holding his helmet in his hand as he fist bumped the air. Ravelling in the moment, the glory, the praise. Jake Seresin lived for the applause—and for the almost good enough but not quite worthy Dagger Spare, he thought he’d done pretty well for a guy who hadn’t made the team.

“You’re insane!!” Phoenix beamed as she tapped Hangman on the shoulder three consecutive times. “And I’m not gonna tell you you’re great, but well done.” He barely acknowledged her, his eyes catching you in the crowd. The roar of success faded as he handed Bob his helmet—without taking his eyes off you. A smirk crept across his face when he saw you falter for a mere moment. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were utterly and wholeheartedly relieved he was safe. But for a split second as the crowd cheered and separated just enough for Jake to barge his way to you—you couldn’t not let the happiness consume you.

“Hi wifey—“ Is all Jake manages to say before you’re barreling at him. Running full speed into his arms. With a jump and a graceful lift, your lips are connecting with your husbands as he catches you in his strong arms. Hands on your ass as he kisses you back. Your arms thrown around his shoulder as he deepened the kiss you thought for a while there you’d never get to experience again. “I’m so so—“ You didn’t let him finish as your open palm slapped against his cheek.

“Don’t you ever leave me like that again, do you hear me?” It wasn’t harsh enough to actually hurt, but it was still with enough force that took Jake aback. “Hangman—do you hear me?” Eyeing off the little gold heart he wore with so much pride.

Jake couldn’t stop himself from beaming at you. He loved you, oh so much. Kissing you again with haste as he nodded against your lips. “So stupid, I can’t believe you do that! Never again okay?” You pleased as Jake kissed you, talking into his mouth as teeth clashed together and tongues danced. Cupping his face to make sure this was real. That he was back and he was safe. “You hear my baby? You got nothing to prove.”

“Loud and clear ma’am, loud and clear.” Mumbling into your mouth as he held you up by your thighs. The cheering of the entire crew around you made it all the more remarkable. Jake Seresin was a hero, and a beloved one at that. “You’re not off the hook either, pretty girl.” Jake smirked against your lips. “Jumping barricades and barrelling up runways.” It was true, it hadn’t been your finest moment, but you did it all for love. “So stupid wifey, you know that right?” You knew, so the only dignified response you gave was a silent nod.

“I thought you weren’t coming back—“ You mumbled just shy of a whisper as you let your forehead rest against Jakes as he slowly put you down. Bending over with you to chase your lips again. He couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

“I’ll always come ba—“ Again, you slapped him again. This time a little harder as he trapped your hand in his. Making sure you couldn’t slap him again. “Okay, you gotta stop slapping me.” Jake poked his tongue against the inside of his slightly throbbing cheek as you eyed him off.

“Sorry, I just needed to make sure you were listening.” Racing past the bridge of the carrier where both Admiral Beau and Admiral Bates stood. Chaos flew low and close as you looked up overhead. She held her finger up to the glass. Giving the admirals the bird before her right engine cut out. “But I’m so proud of you Jake—you brought them home.”

“So I’m off the hook?” Jake asked as he raised an eyebrow, cocking the corner of his lip slightly as you shook your head. Laughing.

“Oh, oh no—no no no Jacob, you are most definitely not off the hook.” You called him Jacob, he knew he was in shit when Jacob slipped past your lips. “But for now I think you deserve to have your moment.” You gestured to the crowd around you now cheering on Chaos and Rooster as they landed in the barricade. “Go celebrate your victory Lieutenant.”

“I love you, Wifey!” Jake beamed as he stepped back, immersing himself in the crowd around him. “Love you to the moon and back!” He grinned before turning around, finding his way to the two people he risked it all for.

“I love you all that much more.”

***~***~***~***~***~

It had been a few weeks since the Uranium mission had come to its completion. The Admirals had made it abundantly clear that the ragtag team of aviators who had grown to be more like family than just colleagues could have a few precious weeks of unrestricted leave for their duties and sacrifices. Bradley Bradshaw and Robert Floyd had chosen to stay in North Island; They weren’t leaving until they knew for sure that Chaos Kazansky was going to be okay. For you and Jake? Things had mellowed out, settled down and you were both working through the underlying issues that were still plaguing whatever future you were both preparing to have with one another.

Like today for example, you were both about to find out the paternity results of the DNA test Jake had taken for Marissa. He knew it wasn’t his kid, but he knew you needed that in writing.

“Okay ladies cough up.” The Miramar Base Hospital smelt of sterile everything but the nurses station? They smelt of that Ariana Cloud Perfume and whatever food had been on offer in the cafeteria that day. “Who owes me what?” You teased as the three ladies sitting behind the glass fished out their wallets and all handed you a ten dollar bill. Much to their own displeasure. You smirked, collecting your earnings with no sympathy.

“Much appreciated ladies—“ You winked. When Jake had first started doing the rounds for Chaos, you’d gone with him one time early on. The ladies at the front desk had mentioned Jake would always stop and have a chat—nothing malicious, nothing sinister behind it. He just enjoyed the praise he received. And you saw nothing wrong with that—but you’d started an underground betting ring not three days later with the nurses. If your husband was gonna act the foot? The least you were gonna do was make some extra money off him. “Someone ask him about his call sign next time he stops by, if he says anything else besides the fact he was left hanging by a girl he had a crush on in highschool he’s a liar—“ You picketed the cash as you turned on your heels. “Fifty Bucks ladies, take it or leave it.”

“You look rather nice today Commander?” One of the nurses cooed as she hollered down the hall after you. You weren’t really sure what she was on about to be honest, you were just in a pair of old jeans and a sweater. Maybe it was the brown hair you now wore with pride. Jake had been right, Blondes did have more fun and you had certainly had your fair share during your time back at Miramar. You weren’t meant to be a blonde. So back to your roots you went. “Anything in particular got you all dressed to the nines?”

“Just enjoying the rest and relaxation ladies, nothing else to it.” You smiled back at them before making your way further into the hospital—running into your husband and Bob shortly after. “I was just coming to see Chaos? How is she?” You asked Bob as Jake took you under his arm, pulling you closer to his side as he kissed the top of your head. It still smelled of brown box dye. He’d helped you colour it back a few nights prior. That in and of itself should have been a mission he had taken more seriously.

“Awake, she wanted to be with Rooster for a little while.” Bob explained softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee, do you want anything Commander?” You still weren’t all that keen on everyone calling you commander, shaking your head softly you sighed as Bob stood before you with tired eyes.

“I’m good, and would you please just call me Hawk if anything Bob? Even Y/n’s totally fine—you guys are family. I don’t want you calling me Commander if we’re not on duty or working together.”

“Yes ma’am, I’ll see you guys a little later.” Bob was tired, he walked the halls like a ghost of his former self. He and Rooster had been tag teaming for weeks and you knew Jake was worried about them both.

“God I feel awful.” You mumbled into Jake's shoulder. “We should do something for them.”

“Only thing we can do is just be here for them.” Jake kissed the top of your head before making a cheeky remark. “Commander Seresin.” He expected the elbow he copped to the ribs but it didn’t make it hurt any less. “Ohh—“ He doubled over for a moment as he stilled in his tracks, watching as you kept walking down the hall. “Okay, I definitely deserved that.”

“Bet you thought it was gonna be you who made commander first, didn't ya hot shot?” You teased over your shoulder as your husband caught back up to you. “What was it again? Always the Lieutenant Junior, never gonna make it to Rear Admiral?” Quoting the remark Jake had made during one of your more heated arguments. “I’m sure you’ll catch up, Lieutenant.”

“I liked you better when you were just a lieutenant commander—“ Jake taunted as you both rounded the corner. Laughing you just shook your head. “So cocky now—someone better tap you on the head before you fly too close to the sun there, Icarus.”

“You know I don’t fly, Flyboy—“ You taunted back as you reached for Jake's hand, walking side by side towards the office of Dr. Sanders—she’d called you earlier that same morning to confirm the results of Jake's paternity test had come in and as had your fertility checks. “And before you say anything, no—I’ve seen the way you fly, I’m not getting in one of the tin cans with you.”

“Javy said he’d take you up if you wanted to?”

“Oh fuck off—“ You couldn’t hold back to scoff. “You know I’m terrified of flying, never in a million years would you ever get me up in one of those things.” It had always been something you’d pushed to the wayside, but even when you flew commercially, you needed anxiety callers to keep you from panicking. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Ah, there’s the lovely couple!” Dr. Sanders greeted you both with a wide smile as you approached her door. “Come on in, we have a lot to talk about.”

“All good news I hope?” Jake questioned as he let you enter first and pulled your chair out for you. A kind but almost jarring gesture. The look on Dr. Sanders' face said it all though—it wasn’t. Fuck.

“Mr Seresin, how sure were you that this child wasn’t yours?” She asked and for a moment there you forgot how to breathe. Holy shit, was Jake actually a father? To another woman’s child?

“Fairly certain I could back my entire career on the matter, why?” Jake still expressed so much confidence in the matter at hand, he never once wavered from his standpoint. It was almost admirable. He sat beside you, reaching out for your hand because he knew if anyone was freaking out right this second it was you—running the pad of his thumb across your palm.

“Remind me to never second guess your better judgement, you’re not the father Jake—I’m not sure whether to say congratulations or my condolences but biologically speaking no, that child isn’t yours.”

“That’s exactly what we wanted to hear.” Jake smiled as he turned his cocky attitude towards you fully. “Never doubted it for a minute.”

“I’ve already informed the other party, she sends her best wishes.” Dr. Sanders sighed before she opened the tan folder on her desk. “Now—onto you little miss, what am I going to do with you.” She sent you a soft smile. This was never an easy part of her job, but education was key.

“Lay it on me doc, I can take it.” Your hand squeezed Jakes just a little tighter as you shifted in your seat. Knowing whatever Dr. Sanders was about to tell you was going to knock the wind from your lungs.

“Y/n, you have blockage in your left fallopian tube, that means that when sperm are trying to make their way to an egg the blockage is stopping them before they can fertilise.” You really didn’t know what to say as you sat shocked in silence. “It doesn’t necessarily mean a natural conception isn’t possible, it just means that the chances are less likely and if you do ever decide to have children, prenatal vitamins and hormone treatments will aid in the process. And hopefully whatever sperm does make the journey, they take a right instead of left.”

“Is there anything we can do to remove the blockage?” You asked softly, there was a small part of you who didn’t want to know the answer. But you asked regardless.

“There’s surgical procedures we can schedule you in for—but they're all quite major and can lead to even more pressing complications like infertility overall.” Dr. Sanders explained. “It’s better to leave well enough alone and hope that the one you still have can come through, otherwise? There’s IVF treatments, adoption—“ Dr. Sanders made it abundantly clear to both you and Jack in her office that you were, in fact, not broken. She’d seen too many women come through her doors that wore the same face she was currently looking up. “You my dear are not broken, you just need to take a few extra steps.”

“I’m—uh, can we take home all the information you have on all the options please?” Jake could hear it in your voice how scared and upset you truly were. All he could do in the moment though was reassure you that he was there, right beside you. Squeezing your hand to keep you grounded in reality. “We’ll go over everything at a later date.”

“Of course, and if you ever need a consultation you know where to find me.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“When are you gonna go up with Hawk?” Coyote smirked at you through the mirror of the free weight section of the base gym. Finishing your set of lateral raises, you huffed out a groan when you placed the weight down. It’s a bad dream by Good Charlotte played through the speaks as you looked at Javy through the mirror. His smugness rubbing you the wrong way immediately.

“Who told you I ever would?” Two more weeks had passed since the events of the uranium mission and new postings were starting to trickle in. You’d yet to receive yours, but Jake had reciprocated his. A full time position here in North Island. If he wanted it. He’d get to accept—waiting to see what would come of you.

“Uh, your husband?” Javy sent you a look as if to say who else would’ve told him that. “You two seem good these days?” He asked, still standing behind you in the free weight section, looking at you through the mirror. “Seem happy?” It was no secret to anyone that knew you and Jake that you had your demons, but over the last few weeks, amongst everything else going on—you’d seemed to work a few things out.

“I think we’re gonna do a few couples therapy sessions but yeah, we’re good.” You smiled over at Jake who’d been doing some boxing with Payback. “I’ll never find a better part of me Javy, and honestly I’m starting to think that I'd rather be here for him than anywhere else in the world for myself.”

“He loves you.” Javy smirked softly as you turned to face him. “I remember there was this one time I had to really reel him in from going fully off the rails just after you’d left.” You’d never heard Coyote speak his truth on the matter before. “He was fucked Hawk—he knew he drove you away but was just too stubborn to admit it to anyone around him let alone himself.”

“I wasn’t innocent in the whole thing—“ You added as you let your eyes linger back over to Jake, he’d lost his shirt somewhere along the long as he held the pads for Payback. A thin sheen of sweat covering him head to toe. “But you like because and you love despite.”

“You did what you had to do.” Javy added, only to change to conversation seconds later back to his original question. “Come in Hawk, one ride—come up with me for service checks?”

“I dunno Coy—“ You tried to protest, your fear of flying all consuming. But it was to no avail.

“You can’t be a commander without having flown once—“ You’d technically made Commander rank four weeks ago, but the official ceremony wasn’t until January. It wasn’t a question you could keep avoiding any longer, both Jake and Javy pestering you to no end about this joy flight. Were you particularly interested? No—but if you had to do it once to get them off your back it seemed as though the answer had to inevitably be a yes.

“Honestly? What's the worst thing that could happen?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @justanothermagicalsara @alexsisrebekah @stinkyjax @starkleila @luckyladycreator2 @love2write2626 @shanimallina87 @dempy @mintellaine @kiarabellerum31 @abaker74 @shadowsndaisies @haworldwidefunnyguy @peakascum @ssprayberrythings @averyhotchner

#to have & to hold // jake seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin angst #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman seresin x reader #hangman x y/n #hangman seresin #hangman x you #hangman #hangman x reader #top gun hangman #hangman imagine

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waitimcomingtoo · 9 months

Text

hoax ~ p.p

chapter six: deja vu

series masterlist

The next morning, you felt like you were walking on air as you walked onto campus. Hearing Peter promise to love you as long as you wanted him to made you feel whole inside. You knew you didn’t need any man to complete you, but you also knew how special it was to be loved. Your life was feeling more and more like one of those romantic movies you loved and part of you couldn’t help but wonder if things were too good to be true.

“Someone looks happy.” Kate commented when you sat down at the library table.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said with a coy smile.

“Oh my God.” Gwen gasped. “You saw his face, didn’t you? You found out who he is?”

“He wanted to show me. But I said no.” You admitted.

“Excuse me? You said no?” MJ raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t want to disrupt our perfect night. If I saw his face, I’d just be left wondering why he didn’t show me sooner. And then I’d be focusing on that instead of the fact that I’m in the middle of a fairy tale romance with a guy I’ve been crushing on since MJ was still “straight”. Right, MJ?”

“I’m sorry, but when was MJ straight?” Gwen laughed and looked at her.

“Freshman year of high school.” MJ admitted. “I hadn’t figured it all out yet. And we had a very androgynous French teacher that looked good in his jeans.”

“Oh yeah! Mr. Andrews.” You gasped when you remembered. “He was so cute. I don’t even blame you. We all had a crush on him.”

“And now you’re in love with a man in tights. Isn’t it crazy how things work out?” MJ said sarcastically.

“I know you’re teasing me, but you’re actually right. It is crazy how things works out. I can’t believe I’m in love. I honestly never thought that would happen for me.”

“Aw. Why not?” Gwen frowned and rubbed your arm.

“It just didn’t seem in the cards for me that someone would fall in love with me and stay in love me once they really got to know me. No one ever really had crushes on me growing up. That kinda fucks with your head and makes you feel undesirable. So the fact that I’m in a loving relationship with someone I can trust and be myself around without fear of scaring him off is amazing to me. I guess it’s just still hard to believe sometimes.”

“Aw.” Kate gushed. “I’m happy for you, girl. I’m happy you’re in love. And that it’s with a nice, trustworthy man.”

“Those are rare.” MJ agreed. “Even though I’m still pretty firm on my stance that no man is to be trusted. Not even one’s that can shoot webs.”

“I wonder if he can shoot webs out of his butt.” Gwen thought out loud.

“He can’t.” You sighed. “Believe me, I asked. He said he makes his own web fluid so they can only come out of his wrists. No butt webs.”

“I guess that’s kinda a good. I was honestly really worried that he could shoot webs out of his penis. Because what if they grabbed onto your guts and yanked them out of you? Imagine how horrible that would be.”

“That can’t happen.” You laughed. “Oh shit. Wait, can it?”

“You better make sure he can’t shoot webs out of that thing because I do not want your guts all over our dorm room floor. It’s carpet.” MJ reminded you.

Ned and Peter came and joined the table, having no idea what conversation they were walking into. Peter looked at you and felt his heart ache in his chest. After everything you promised each other last night, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you hello and hold you in his arms. He’d never trusted a person more than you and he hated that he had now had to sit across from you and pretend that was some other guy.

“What are you guys talking about?” Ned asked when he noticed the table had gotten quiet.

“The trials and tribulations of Y/n getting her back blown out by Spiderman.” MJ said simply. Peter started choking on his water while you gave MJ a look.

“Great. Now you’ve killed Peter.” You sighed and clapped Peter on the back to help him out. He gave you a weak thumbs up as he wiped away the water that had come out of his nose.

“What kind of trials and tribulations?” Ned asked Peter.

“Wait, why did you look at Peter when you said that?” Gwen wondered and you nodded in agreement.

“Because Peter…” Ned trailed off when he saw Peter motioning for him to stop. Ned sighed and gestured to Peter.

“Why don’t you tell them why I looked at you, Peter?” Ned said pointedly. Peter gulped and looked between you and Ned as he scrambled for something to say. Everyone turned to look at Peter in confusion while Peter blushed all the way to his ears.

“Because I have feelings for you.” He blurted. “And Ned knows so he didn’t want me to hear this conversation.”

“You do?” You asked him.

“Woah. Plot twist. That every single one of us saw coming.” MJ said sarcastically.

“I mean, I guess I kinda had a feeling.” You admitted. “That’s really sweet though, Peter. I’m sorry you’ve had to hear me talk about my boyfriend so much. I wouldn’t have been saying all that stuff if I knew how you felt.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about me.” Peter forced a laugh and waved his hand in dismissal.

“Really, dude? That’s what you’re going with?” Ned said in disappointment.

“Ned. Please. There are things you don’t understand.” Peter whispered to him.

“I think I understand plenty. I gotta go.” Ned sighed and left the table. Peter felt his heart sink as he watched his best friend walk away. Keeping this lie up might end up costing him the two most important people in his life.

“Well that was odd.” MJ noted.

“What’s his damage?” You asked Peter.

“Maybes he’s in love with Peter so Peter confessing his love for Y/n was too much for him to bear.” Kate shrugged.

“Or maybe he’s in love with Spiderman and was he was devastated to hear that Y/n stole both his men.” MJ added.

“Stop it guys. This is serious. Do you think I should ask my boyfriend if it’s possible that he could accidentally pull my guts out with his penis webs?” You genuinely asked your friends. Peter burst out laughing when he heard this in a way no one at the table was expecting.

“Woah, Peter. I’ve never heard you laugh like that.” You smiled at him in surprise.

“Sorry. It just caught me off guard.” Peter said sheepishly.

“Hm.” You faked a smile as your mind began to wander. Peters laugh sounded so familiar that it gave you a sense of deja vu. Even the way he threw his head back when he laughed was familiar to you, despite the fact you’d never heard Peter laugh like that before. He noticed you staring at him curiously and gulped. When you looked into Peters eyes, something you didn’t normally do, you felt something stir inside you.

“You have really nice eyes, Peter. I never noticed that.” You said to him with a look on your face that Peter couldn’t quite read.

“Wild thing to say to a friend who just confessed their feelings for you.” MJ mumbled.

“Oh, uh, thanks. They’re just brown.” He shrugged and stopped making eye contact with you.

“They’re a real nice shade of brown, though. Very pretty.” You continued as you titled your head to the side. You felt like you had seen those eyes before, and not just from being in the same friend group as Peter.

“Um, what’s happening?” MJ laughed uncomfortably. “Are you trying to get Peter to join you and Spidey in a throuple?”

“No. I just never noticed his eyes, okay?” You shrugged and stopped staring at Peter. Peter relaxed when you stopped interrogating him, but you weren’t done yet.

“So are you dating anyone, Peter?” You asked him, making him freeze.

“Yes, actually. I have a girlfriend.” He answered honestly. He needed to get through this conversation with as many honest answers as possible if he wanted to keep you as a girlfriend.

“Wait, really? Since when?” Kate asked.

“A few months ago.” Peter replied, still being honest.

“And you never said anything?”

“You never asked.” Peter shrugged.

“He’s right.” Gwen realized. “Sorry, Pete. She’s a lucky lady.”

“Not really. I’m not that great.” Peter sighed, still telling the truth. He was keeping things from you, and that made him less than a good person.

“Aw. Don’t say that.” You pouted. “I’m sure she’s very lucky to have you.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” He said sincerely.

“No problem. And I mean that. Don’t doubt yourself and get all insecure. That’s never good in a relationship. You’re cute, smart, funny, and very surprising at times. Don’t start doubting what you have to offer. Because you’re a great guy.”

“Wait, you really think all those things about me?” Peter asked in surprise. He knew you felt all those things and then-some about Spiderman, but he didn’t think you ever even noticed him as Peter.

“Of course I do.” You said simply. Peter smiled and nodded his head, feeling more confident in telling you the truth now.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize you thought I was cute.” Peter said as he stared at your from across the table.

“Is cute all you got out of that? I said a lot of other things too.” You said with a coy smile.

“I know. But that one stood out.” He mumbled shyly and looked down at his lap.

“Woah. Sparks are flying. Throuple is growing imminent.” MJ snorted and you kicked her under the table.

“You’re totally cute.” You insisted. “I happen to love brown eyed boys. And the whole curly hair thing mixed with your soft preppy style is so in right now. I’m actually not surprised at all that you have a secret girlfriend.”

“Oh great.” MJ groaned. “Y/n fell in love and now she’s giving out compliments like she’s Mother freaking Theresa.”

“Me next. I want compliments.” Gwen sat up and clapped her hands. Peter tuned out the praises you showered Gwen with and sat deep in thought. Hearing you say you found him attractive meant there really was no excuse this time. Tonight, you were seeing his face no matter what.

After study hall, you waited outside Gwen’s locker while she put her books away so that you could walk to your next class together.

“Tonight’s definitely the night. I’m gonna find out who he is.” You decided.

“What if he says he’s still not ready?” Gwen asked as she shut her locker.

“He doesn’t have a choice anymore. I deserve to know. And if he still can’t trust me after all this time, he’s gonna have to find a new girlfriend.” You decided. Gwen smiled and wrapped an arm around you.

“Good for you, girlie. We can practice how you’re gonna ask him instead of listening in class.”

“You get me.” You chuckled and followed her into your next class.

That night, you had every intention of asked Peter and he had every intention of telling you. But both your plans were sidetracked when Peter had to postpone coming over to deal with an armed robbery at a bank. The robbers ended up being three times Peters size and wearing something Peter had never encountered before, brass knuckles. He got beaten up pretty badly but still managed to swing over to your parents place where you agreed to meet. He was too weak to use his hands so he knocked on your window with his forehead. You excitedly threw the window open but your smile immediately dropped when you saw the state Peter was in. He stumbled through your window and slumped into your chair.

“Oh my God. What happened to you?” You asked as you went to get your first aid kit. He pulled his mask up over his nose to gasp for air before hanging his head and starting to drift off.

“Me? You should see the other guy?” He smiled weakly and started nodding off again.

“Oh God. Don’t smile. Your really cute smile is full of blood.” You laughed and started to clean up the blood around his nose and mouth. His head was flopping around like a dead fish and you knew you didn’t have long before he passed out from the pain.

“You think I’m cute?” He teased you as you pressed the button on his suit to take it off.

“I do. Even with this busted lip.” You humored him as you cleaned the wounds on his chest and arms.

“It doesn’t even hurt that badly.” He slurred and lazily waved his hand before wincing from the pain of the hydrogen peroxide you were using.

“Sorry, baby. I meant to warn you. It’s gonna sting.” You apologized and kissed his knuckles.

“Oh God. Your knuckles look awful. Did you at least win the fight?” You asked and started to clean his bloody knuckles.

“Psh. Always.”

“The police had to pull them off of you before they could kill you, didn’t they?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m not even entirely sure I’m not dead right now.” He answered honestly.

“You’re not.” You chuckled. “You’re with me. I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Don’t you worry.”

“You’re so good to me. I love you so much, Y/n.” Peter said as he head slumped backwards.

“I love you too…” You said and trailed off when you realized you didn’t know his name and therefore couldn’t use it to tell him you loved him.

“It’s Peter. Peter Parker. From school.” He slurred, but you didn’t make out a word of it.

“What? I can’t understand you. I need to rinse your mouth out.” You said and poured some water into his mouth to rinse out the blood. After Peter spit, you could understand him better.

“I should’ve just told you right away. Ned was right.” He said apologetically as he cupped your face.

“Told me what? Did you say Ned? Like my friend?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just wanted you to like me.” Peter started to cry as his head slumped back onto his shoulder.

“Like you? What are you talking about? I love you.”

“I know. But I’m scared you won’t anymore after…” Peter trailed off as he finally lost consciousness from the pain.

“After what?” You asked desperately. You tried to shake him away but he was out cold. Your disappointment returned as you realized you’d missed your window to ask him about his identity. As you stared at him, you felt tempted to just rip the rest of his mask off and finally see the rest of his face. It would be so easy to just reach over and pull it off, then all your questions would be answered. He’d never even have to know. You reached out and and touched the wend of his mask, about to pull it off when you stopped yourself. You withdrew your hands and sighed. It wasn’t right to do it when he wasn’t awake. Especially not after everything you said about it needing its own special moment. So instead, you held back some tears and fixed up his wounds before carefully moving him into your bed. You crawled in bed beside him and held him until you fell asleep.

When Peter woke up the next morning, his suit was on your bedroom floor but his mask was still on. He sighed in relief and felt around the bed for you, but you were gone. In your place was a little note with your handwriting.

“Had to go to class. Sorry I couldn’t be there when you woke up! Call me when you’re awake. Love you <3” You had written. You didn’t know that Peter had the same class, which he slept through by now. He noticed you had redressed his wounds and left him a cup of water with some ibuprofen beside it before you had left. He smiled at the gesture, then felt his guilt return. He was supposed to tell you everything last night but instead became your patient. He downed the water, threw his suit back on, and swung home so he could make it to his next class. He didn’t see you until study hall that day, and rushed to sit down when he saw you in the library. He put his hand on your shoulder and felt you relax under it before putting your hand on top of his. You looked up smiling but your face dropped when you realized it was Peter touching you. Peter then realized that he shouldn’t be touching you because you had no idea he was your boyfriend and yanked his hand away.

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.” He quickly lied and sat beside you.

“It’s okay. I thought the same thing.” You laughed awkwardly. His touch had felt just like your boyfriends, but that felt weird to say. Peter suddenly felt eyes on him and looked up to see that you were staring at him like he had ten heads. Peter felt a panic grow in his chest and turned to you.

“Is everything okay?”

“What happened to your lip?” You asked him, making his blood run cold. He touched his busted lip, the one he had completely forgotten about, and forced a smile.

“Oh, nothing.” He said and turned away from you. You couldn’t stop staring at the cut on his lip. It was shaped like a “c” and on the bottom left of his mouth, the same place your boyfriends was last night. Peters busted lip looked much more healed then the one you had cleaned last night, but it was still bizarre to you that you were seeing your second busted lip in the past 24 hours.

“That’s a pretty bad nothing.” You said as you continued to access Peter. He was in long sleeves, despite the hot weather, and had another cut just above his eyebrow.

“I tripped and bit my lip.” He lied. “Hey, do you have the notes from class this morning? I wasn’t there.”

“Yeah, sure.” You handed him your notes without breaking eye contact. You had a feeling he was trying to change the subject, making you want to stay on topic all that much more. When he took your notes from you, you saw that his knuckles were completely busted.

“You busted your knuckles too?” You gasped and looked into his eyes.

“It was a bad fall.” He said quickly and hid his hands as soon as possible.

“Hm.” You hummed and nodded your head, but you didn’t believe a word. The rest of your friends soon joined you but you did not contribute much to the conversation. You were too busy thinking about the magnet on Spider-Man’s fridge for your college and how he never mentioned that he or someone he knew went there. Or how his parents died the same way Peters did, and at the same age. Or how he never texted you back during school hours. Or how he took you on specific dates that you dreamed of going on but never told him about. Or how looking into his eyes for the first time didn’t feel like it was the first time.

You looked over at Peter and watched his curly brown hair fall into his eyes as he laughed at something Ned was saying. You knew that laugh. It all started it feel like too much to be a coincidence. You got up from table and left without saying a word. Everyone was confused and debated who should go after you, but Peter convinced them to give you space. He had seen the look on your face when you saw his busted knuckles and he knew you were off somewhere, connecting dots. He tried not to panic and anxiously waited for study hall to end so he could change into his suit and walk you home. He’d tell you right away, before you had a chance to figure it out.

As he was throwing his books into his locker after study hall had ended, Peter’s phone rang and he picked it up.

“Hello?” He asked as he shut his locker and went to bolt out of school to see you.

“So it’s true?” Your heartbroken voice sounded in Peters ears. But your voice wasn’t just coming through his phone.

It was coming from behind him.

Peter slowly turned around and saw you standing there with your phone pressed to your ear. Tears were streaming down your face but you never broke eye contact. Peter hung up the phone and reached for you, but you pulled away.

“How could you?” You whispered.

“Wait, please. I can explain.”

🖤🕸️🖤

Tag List 🏷️

@miwagila @gidgett11037 @hoetel-manager @deffnotnia @uncle-eggy

@freakofmusic25 @loveleesthings @katerinaval @tom-hollands-wifey

@helen-on-earth @amberpanda99

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x y/n

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silenzahra · 13 days

Text

The content that I'm bringing next ✨

I thought I could give you a hint of the content I'm preparing in order to bring it during this week and next month! I'm taking my time to create it all, so that's why it's not gonna be posted right away, but I hope you'll like to read everything as I share it! 💖

I'll start with some regular posts and then I'll focus on my writing 🥰

-Get to know me. I mentioned a while back that I thought it'd be fine to share a little bit of myself with you so you can get to know me a bit better, and I'm currently working on this one and trying to think of as many things as possible so as to make it, you know... interesting? 😅 I don't really know how to describe it, but in any case, it's in the works!

-A masterpost. Just like the first one, I also mentioned that I'd like to create one at last, as I've posted a few stories and two headcanon posts already, and I want you guys to find them as easily as possible whenever you'd like to. This is gonna take a bit longer, because Tumblr's search tool doesn't work very well 😬 But I'll manage! 💪

-My pending asks. This is a bit embarrassing... I've had some asks waiting for a reply for months now and I'm so sorry that I've kept you waiting for so long 😅 Here's a promise: as soon as I've posted at least one of my pending fics (more about this below), I'll start gradually and slowly answering all the asks that I have left. I wanna give each and every one of you the proper replies you deserve, which is why I warned that I'd take some time, but that's one thing. Taking forever is very different and I'm truly so sorry 😅

-May and June calendars. Don't know if you've seen some of my calendar posts, but I happen to have two Nintendo calendars for this year and I've been showing them since January (here's the February one since I can't find the others lol), but sometimes I simply forget to share the one for the new month and it gets delayed... Shame on me again 😅 I intend to show May this week since it's technically still May, and I'll make sure to not let many days of June pass before I show the ones corresponding to that month 🥰

-Tons of reblogs! I've already started doing this actually, as I've been tagged in a lot of amazing content, and even if I'm slow, I wanna see everything and leave proper feedback when I have the chance 🥰 Thank you again to those of you who tagged me! And for your patience as well 🫂💖💖

And now... let's talk about...

✨📝 MY WRITING 📝✨

-My Kitsune/Tanooki story. This one is coming soon, and when I say soon, I mean this week! 😁 I would've liked to post it mid May, but life wouldn't let me, but hey, better late than never! 🥰 I'm now in the process of editing and I intend to start translating tomorrow, and that usually doesn't take long, so you can expect this one at the end of the week 👀 Hope you'll like it! 💖

-Anything for him: Chapter 3. As I've mentioned a few times, this last chapter is long overdue and I'm ashamed that I'm taking SO long to finish it as I know very well what's going to happen! 😅 Still, once my Kitsune/Tanooki fic is up, this is the next thing I intend to fully work on, and even though I'm not sure to give a specific date, I would like to post it in June at last. Wish me luck in achieving this! 🤞🤞🤞

-Post-nightmare cuddles fic. Okay, it's been a few months already, but... anyone remember this writing prompt? I happened to receive a couple of suggestions in my inbox, and even though I wrote and posted the first one back in March, I wasn't able to finish the second one as I wasn't in the mood for angst when I first tried. But that's changed! 🤩 I'm CRAVING to write some angst, so this is gonna be the third thing on my writing list, and, again, I'd like to post it in June. I'll let you know if I succeed! 🤞🤞🤞

Also, if you're curious, you can read the other prompt here 👇

-And last but not least... did anyone say...

... an AU? 🤔

Yyyyyyes! That's right! 😁 I've recently started working on my very first AU and I am SO happy 🤩 I'm really SO excited about this one! I don't know yet how long it'll take until I'm ready to start posting it, but this is the thing that I mentioned yesterday that I keep getting new ideas for almost every single day 🤩

I'm not gonna say yet what it's based on, as I want it to be a surprise when I finally start sharing it with you guys, but it contains EVERYTHING that I love and that many of you love as well, so... I believe you'll like this one when it's ready 🤭 Maybe when I work a bit more on it and see a release date coming closer I'll go and tell you what it's about, but for now... I'll just keep working on it and enjoying every single word that I'm writing 😁

I really hope you'll like all of this once I start sharing it! As you see, I'm a big fan of making lists 😂 That's the way I usually organize everything that I have to do every day and such, and I thought that maybe sharing this, I'll have it a bit easier to focus and really bring all of it to this blog, even if I'm slow. Still, just know that I'm truly enjoying the process of creating not only the written fics (and the AU 🤭), but also the posts that I wanna bring soon 🥰

If you read everything, thank you! I know I tend to talk a lot lol, so I really appreciate it! Love you so much! 💖💖💖

#future content #the posts that I'm bringing #the fics I'm working on #new story coming this week #new fic coming this week #my very first AU #an AU is coming soon!#I'm seriously so excited 🤩#I hope you'll like it! as well as the fics and the posts that I'll bring!#thank you again if you read everything #I talk too much 😅#hope you're looking forward to all of this though!#super mario bros #new mario content coming soon #my fics #my writing #silenzahra

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seoll3miwrites · 1 month

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Doing Time | Criminal Minds

Chapter 2. Night Crawling

Back to Masterlist

Hana didn’t think a link to her past would come up so quickly. Now, she’ll have to address her past with her potential boss in order to help solve the case. I mean how exactly do you tell your ‘not quite’ boss you used be an assassin? Chapter Title: Night Crawling by Miley Cyrus ft Billy Idol

Hotcher's was busy reading through his files for the other interview candidates, when Hana Fedorov swung open the door and marched into the room.

"Agent Fedorov we finished your interview already, I also don't appreciate you barging into my office" Hotchner chastised as he looked up.

"Giuseppe Montolo"

"Excuse me?"

"Your unsub is Giuseppe Montolo" Hana stated plainly.

"What do you mean?"

"He's been betrayed before." Hana explained before continuing, "What your unsub is doing is exactly what he did to the last contract that tried to double cross him"

At this point had Hana had taken the same seat in front Hotchner she had during the interview. "Montolo's also the only one who'd know anything about a fucking pullycella, or whatever that dude called it."

"He told you?"

"We know each other," She finally admitted, "Suppose you could call us ex colleagues."

At this point, it was clear that she had Hotchner's full attention, he'd closed the file he was looking through and his eyes were solely focused on her. "This wasn't in your file Fedorov."

"It wouldn't be, I was a minor the record was sealed."

"And what would that record say?" He leant forward, and Hana realised this conversation had shifted; she was being interrogated. She figured it'd be easier for to tell the truth by this point.

"The Black Lion." She answered immediately.

"I presume this is what was happening in Russia?"

Hana nodded.

"My father is Grisha Fedorov."

Hotchner couldn't control his expression at that, his eyebrows shifted slightly up in surprise. Which was to be predicted, Hana had just told him she was raised by a man on the FBI's most wanted list.

"Follow me." His voice left no room for argument.

So, she followed the imposing man into the bullpen where the other team members were waiting, Morgan and Reid were on speaker phone as they had just finished saving another potential victim. Hana caught the tail ends that it involved a grenade. Montolo was getting frustrated.

After the two had entered, Hotchner pulled out his phone before dialing and placing it on speaker. "Garcia you're on speaker."

"What can my magical hands do you for you?" A feminine voice replied unperturbed by her superior's formal tone.

"What can you find on a Giuseppe Montolo?"

"I was just about to call" The voice replied, as she began to explain her own research. "Ok, so, a week ago, this guys stumbles into the Atlantic City E.R., having been shot in the jaw. Can't give them his name 'cause of the whole shot in the mouth thing."

"But his fingerprints lit up the Rome police database like a Christmas tree."

"Italian. That explains the pulcinella influence." Dr Reid chimed in from over the phone, followed by Morgan.

"Yeah. They were able to get a name Giuseppe Montolo, which by the way weird you already knew, but anyway by the time Jersey P.D. got there, Montolo had been patched up and made his escape."

"And now he's on some type of payback gig."

"He has no idea who double-crossed him, so now he's killing every customer that he suspects might have done it."

"I tried to use Al's username and password to flush out other clients, but they don't call it the Darknet for nothing."

"Might not work anyway, most clients were instructed to use internet cafes or other public computers" Hana stated simply causing those in the room to turn towards her. "Can't link the IPs to an individual."

"Who was that?!" Garcia exclaimed from the phone, curious if this who had been chosen for the team.

"Garcia." Hotchner chastised.

"Right sorry, not the time." Hana could hear the faint sounds of Garcia typing away on her keyboard.

"We'll have to catch him another way, Morgan Reid you guys keep on the scene see if he's made a mistake. Garcia, keep searching we need everything you can find on him and any potential victims." With that Hotchner ended both calls before turning to Hana.

"This isn't his MO, I've never seen Montolo do anything like this before. He's getting desperate."

"Then we need to make sure we find him."

Hotchner then quickly left the room most likely to give orders to all the bodies still working hard in the bullpen, leaving Hana standing in the conference with the other agents.

"Must say kid, you're quite young for someone who knows how to hire a hitman." The older man, Rossi stated to Hana.

"Let's just say past experience?" She replied with a slight inflection to indicate her sarcasm.

"And the reason you know our unsub." Agent Morgan queried with his arms on his hips.

"Family acquaintance."

At the agents look at her in amusement, and suspicion. Unfortunately, it was clear to Hana that her secret was not going to be possible to keep. At least not with this team. Sighing she leant against one of the chairs around the circular table before continuing.

"I'll explain to the whole team once we catch Montolo."

"I think that's a good idea kid." Rossi stated before making his way out the door, "Now let's catch this son of a bitch."

"I like how you talk Agent Rossi." Hana replied as she followed him out.

He smiled at her, "You can just call me Rossi."

"Just Rossi, got it."

The bullpen was still a flurry of movement she notice a lot of the interviewees were dotted around on phones likely speaking to all the local law enforcements possible. She noticed Hotchner speaking to small group of officers, and began to approach him.

"Sir?" He broke from the group and turned towards her, "Where do you want me to be?"

"At the moment, I want you to wait." Hotch began, "You have history with Montolo which while useful could still be a conflict of interest."

"I understand sir." Hana nodded.

"But..." He continued, "When we catch him and he’s secured in prison I may request you visit him for an interview."

"Really?! Why me?"

"You might catch him off guard." He stated before turning away and continuing to speak to the group of people from before.

So, Hana waited in the BAU for the next couple of hours and watched as the case was solved. Even Tara got involved by pretending to be someone's wife, which impressed Hana. Being a able to analyse someone's speech and copy their inflections was definitely something that she was interested learning, maybe she should ask Tara about it.

Eventually though the bullpen got the confirmation, Montolo was now in custody. In hospital, but still they’d got him. Hana could breathe a sigh of relief that at least one of them was going behind bars. She stood from the seat she’s taken and once more approached the Unit chief.

“I wanna thank you sir for listening to me, I’m glad you guys got him.” She smiled brightly at him.

“And I appreciate your input,” he replied before continuing. “Rossi also told me you plan to tell the whole team about your history but that’s not required of you.”

“I know but I realised it would probably be easier to work with people if everything was put in the open,” it was then that Hana realised she hadn’t been offered a job, “I mean if I’m still a candidate.”

“Well I offered the role we were looking to fill to Dr Lewis for her work today,” Hana nodded although still slightly disappointed. “but, I’ve convinced our Director for allow some extra budget for another agent, if that network of hitmen is still active it would be in our best interest to have someone with previous knowledge.”

“Oh my god!” She could help but shout, “I mean thank you so much sir, I make sure to work hard.”

The corner of the unit chief’s mouth raised slightly into a small smile at her burst of excitement. He gestured for the young agent to follow him and led her towards the small conference room.

“First of all I wanna say a good job to the team, the case was difficult but we got the guy and as soon as he cleared by the hospital he’ll be heading straight to a cell.” Hotchner began, “I’d also like to welcome our two newest agents Dr Lewis and Agent Fedorov, who will both be joining the team.”

“But I thought we were only adding one?” Garcia queried.

“That was the initial plan, Dr Lewis is taking the original position,” he then gestured to Hana. “I believe Agent Fedorov has some incite that will prove useful for future potential cases.”

At this the team turned towards Hana, and she took a breath before fulfilling her promise and explaining; everything.

“How many of you know Grisha Fedorov?”

Dr Reid chimed in with mini rant of information. “Grisha Fedorov born in Russia sometime in the mid 1970s, he rose to the most wanted by the FBI in the early 2000s after he was linked to the assassination of a prominent political figure in Bolivia. After that we were able to link him to a total of 78 deaths globally, but there are probably more. Also, no arrest has ever been made as he’s lived completely off the grid since the age of 23.”

For a moment Hana was silent in surprise that someone knew so much about her father.

“Don’t worry he’s like this a lot.” Agent Morgan reassured before allowing her to continue.

“Right okay,” she nodded before explained further. “He’s my father, adoptive clearly I mean I doubt a full blood Russian could ever produce a fully Korean kid. But anyway, he found me when I was 5 years old and took me under his wing, he also trained me.”

“Trained you in what exactly?” Rossi asked in suspicion.

“How to kill.” She stated plainly, “From the ages of 13 to 17 I was an active assassin for hire, my young aged allowed me to avoid suspicion. I was the best, they called me The Black Lion which is cheesy but it sounded cooler in Russian.”

She was attempting to add little jokes in her explanation to relieve the intense amount of anxiety building inside of her. If her dad had left her with anything it was the incessant need to be liked by the people close to her.

“Eventually, I was caught by Interpol. They gave me choice I could surrender and give them any information they thought useful to catch my father, or I’m charged as an adult in Russia. I obviously took the deal and they let me move to the US where I was placed with a foster family given a social security number and then the rest is history.”

“Hell of a life kiddo” Rossi stated before standing from his seat, “We’ve all got past here but it doesn’t effect out work and neither will yours”

“I have a question?” It was Dr Reid again who, to Hana’s amusement, had actually raised his hand. “If you have the full information for Grisha why was he never caught.”

“Oh he left Russia as soon he saw I got caught, no idea where is now.” She stated apathetically. “I may consider him my father but I was just a protégée to him, I’m sure he’s already found another to manipulate.”

“What do you know about the Dirty Dozen?” Morgan asked.

“It rings a bell, but all I know it was someone or a group of people that not many of the Hitmen I was acquainted with like all that much, pretty sure the Dirty Dozen is on their personal kill list.”

“Well hopefully with you on team might make things easier.”

“I hope so, I’ll help as much as I can.”

After this Hotchner stepped forward and addressed the room, “Now that’s all cleared and out in the open, I want you all to head home and relax, I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

At this everyone gathered all their things together, and made their way into the elevator and heading down to the car park. Here everyone said their goodnights before going their separate ways and each to their own vehicle, except Garcia who Hana noticed joined Morgan in his car.

She approached her car and took a moment in the driver’s seat to think. She had no idea what was going to happen next, and she couldn’t wait to find out.

Prev Chapter // Next Chapter

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #original character #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #fanfic #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds oc #the bau team

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ramjam · 3 months

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i just know you're cooking up something crazy with the jericho stuff

maybe i will talk about it. i just haven't been too in-depth about my theories because being potentially catastrophically incorrect about this would be SOOOOO embarrassing LOL but i'll put my foot in the ring here. i wanted to wait until i caught up with the new episodes to see how the anime adapted the scenes but i'm bored, so.

the idea that's been floating in my brain almost since those chapters dropped is that she's under some kind of mind-manipulation. we do know arthur has that capability, he's been using it to control the people he makes work for him.

since the main villain is literally "chaos", choosing to use her as a tool in such a traumatic and destructive way like this would just make a lot of sense. and could serve a lot of purposes for arthur. theory is a bit long so it's going under the readmore.

i'm currently under the belief that he warped her mind this way for one (or all) of these possible reasons.

to generally just cause chaos. it's implied that jericho and lancelot were investigating the chaos knights and this would be an insane way to get back at her/mess with her life for it.

to push lancelot away from guinevere. he may be aware that lancelot and guinevere's fates are connected to each other. he wants guinevere for her power, he can't let an opposing force connect with her.

arthur may believe that fighting this lancelot guy is crucial to his own destiny and goals in some way? so he did something to cause him to hate him. he acts quite smug about this when they first meet officially. it seems like he's asking a question he knows the answer to. more-or-less indirectly saying, "yeah. i did something to piss you off."

arthur didn't know that lancelot was one of the four knights, but he recognized his name and had a strong reaction to it. he's also seen his face before, but didn't connect that significant name to this boy. maybe it's because jericho's future vision of lancelot is explicitly really, really feminine (interesting choice, nakaba...) he looks nothing like lancelot, basically.

you could say he's just aware of him because of jericho, but this response comes across like the name has importance to him, and not just simply him recognizing lancelot as jericho's former student. hearing "lancelot" nearly stopped arthur in his tracks. this is before arthur officially abducted guinevere, too.

i'm under the belief that arthur was clued into the fact that guinevere has been searching for lancelot-- she's been doing this for years, investigating at random trying to find him by her own words. if arthur has been tailing her, there's no doubt that he'd have heard lancelot's name come up.

okay please stick with me i have to do a brief analysis on her introduction with guila in order to elaborate on my point here.

something else that i believe supports this is the fact that during guila and jericho's introduction together in the sequel, guila's mini-arc with gowther was brought up for the first time since chapter 168 of the original manga. ie: when she was brainwashed to love gowther for his own selfish experiments/motivations.

throughout the series, guila and jericho tend to parallel each other a lot. even when they're separated, their arcs often coincided. in the end of the original manga, it concluded with their epilogue being "together." their introductory scene in the sequel put heavy focus on the fact that they parallel each other. the way they couldn't land any hits on each other because they know each other's bodies and movements so well.

despite jericho being full villain mode, she still didn't want to hurt guila. there was a softness here. she refused to harm her unless guila did first, she gave her many chances to leave so it didn't have to come to that. jericho is lancelot's teacher, older sister, and supposedly in love with him. but her introduction is all about her fated connections with guila and the care she has for her, even when she has to face her as an enemy.

if jericho's relationship with lancelot was truly meant to be genuine, i feel like nakaba would've introduced jericho in the sequel by fighting lancelot instead, and not guila. but he doesn't. we have this multi-chapter fight with heavy emphasis on her relationship to guila and the way they always find each other again after falling apart.

two sisters-in-arms, fire and ice, forever linked together. her fight with guila is actually a direct callback to her introduction with fighting ban in the prison, too. which is um... an interesting comparison to make, all context considered.

the title of this chapter refers to the sudden reveal that guila managed to master some kind of body horror ability with the latent demon power she has in her. but in my opinion, it refers to both of them. so how has jericho "transformed" in such a way that can be directly compared to guila's shape-shifting?

and despite the significance behind the plot-twist with jericho and lancelot, the databook that released doesn't reflect this at all. jericho's main quote here is when she's speaking to guila. the japanese text is the line she's saying in the panel i'm adding alongside it. the line nakaba chose to represent 4kota-jericho is her telling guila that she'll be forced to kill her if guila isn't backing down. nothing to do with lancelot at all.

(guila's quote on her databook page is when she tells jericho that she has a duty to uphold as a holy knight, so she can't back down. they're directly speaking to each other. just to further emphasize this.)

meanwhile, the panel about loving lancelot is a tiny blurb. not even her personality description mentions it. it's just kind of a side detail. ultimately, she's still being centered around her dynamic with guila, like she always has been. i think this detail is fascinating and important.

anyways, jericho also had a really sudden shift in personality the moment lancelot entered the scene and touched her, like it triggered something. i'm really curious to see how the anime handled her voice-work at this moment.

circling back to the gowther situation being randomly brought up. the fact that jericho was being more like her old self (although a bit villainous, like her arc one personality) with guila and then having a sudden personality change when lancelot engages with her, reminds me a lot of this.

(edit: i'm dying, i forgot the punchline of this scene was that jericho became disturbed since she knows guila has no men in her life besides her little brother and couldn't think of anyone she'd be referring to. more emphasis on how jericho is very much not for predatory behavior.)

in the original series, jericho's presence seemed to have temporarily disrupted gowther's brainwashing, only for guila to suddenly have this insane shift in demeanor the moment gowther appeared again and she was forced to question her memories. this is also the first time the audience is clued into the fact something is deeply wrong here. it's so similar that it's difficult to ignore.

this panel in particular when guila first brings up lancelot reminds me of guila's reaction when jericho questioned her about how she managed to survive unscathed. like their true memories were getting mixed up after suddenly having to question reality.

kudos to my friend ren for this next observation: guila and jericho have also strongly paralleled hendrickson and dreyfus respectively as early as the original manga. guila suddenly having demon powers is a reminder of that. if you recall, an aspect of hendrickson and dreyfus' dynamic is the fact dreyfus ended up being a corrupted figure in power because he was having his mind tampered with in an extremely similar way.

so not only is jericho's current situation possibly reflecting what happened to guila before, it may also be further connected to dreyfus.

in regards to what i mean by the "shift" in personality: before lancelot directly makes contact with her, she's still in her smug-battle state.

the chapter where this reveal drops is called "a burning, freezing heart" which still draws more connection to her dynamic with guila than lancelot. the title is very much a reminder of their relationship-- especially after that huge focus in the battle where jericho froze guila's fire-- and not really necessarily about lancelot at all.

despite lancelot showing up-- this boy she supposedly loves-- her focus here is on guila more than anything else initially. her dialogue here in japanese is less "no hard feelings [from me]" and more her asking guila, "please don't hate me for this." but once he engages with her to save guila's life... something shifts.

there's even this notable focus on her gasping at the contact. all attention on her delicate relationship with her friend and partner shatters in an instant.

nakaba also visualizes this by having lancelot touch where the brand arthur left on her body is. and now all of a sudden, her demeanor became wildly different. it feels unnatural.

especially with the entirety of jericho's character in mind. she's exceptionally good with kids, acts as an older sister to both zeal and lancelot. one of the films also dedicates a scene to how good she is with children, when she's on patrol with guila and they encounter some kids playing in the street. she's an honorable knight with a strong moral code.

the two-parter movies also back this idea up, in my opinion. they take place about a year before the sequel manga begins. jericho is still watching over lancelot from a distance and behaving like her usual self.

nakaba could've used this point in the movie to set-up the whole "secret admirer weirdo" thing, but instead it's just her being the cool level-headed sisterly master that she was to him. sometime between then and now, she was taken in by arthur as a chaos knight and began to act a lot differently.

the one-shot has a moment that i feel serves as a red-herring for this plot point. out of context, you'd think it supports the idea that her words to lancelot are 100% legit and serious. in-context, it's not inherently weird and even elaine says so herself after the fact. she's literally just doting on him. lancelot only initially interpreted it as weird because he was just told the same thing by someone who had ill-intent with him. i think this scene exists to create doubt.

not to mention the fact that if jericho had been harboring these feelings for the three years they were spirited away, lancelot would know. he's a fairy, he can read hearts. he does it a lot, almost constantly using it so he's clued into everything around him. lancelot was doing it in that scene i just posted, too. he would've known. but he had no reason to suspect this was supposedly happening.

because it... probably wasn't! this is likely a new development manufactured by arthur for some villainous motivation, to create tragedy and conflict. this is not jericho's first run-in with being dragged into a cult and manipulated to behave in ways that go against her moral codes. she's a professional at this point.

the reason jericho up and left lancelot (if the version she tells turns out to be a fabrication) remains a mystery. i think it's possible it had something to do with his well-being. especially if she was looking into arthur, and we know arthur was aware this mysterious lancelot guy is a detriment to his goals with guinevere. i think it's possible she also could've made a deal of some kind but things got out of hand and she became a pawn, kind of like what happened to her in the first series.

if i'm wrong i'm going to be so embarrassed that i jump into traffic.

#nnt #4kota #nnt analysis #jericho #lancelot #guila #okayyyy

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azucarmorena97 · 6 months

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Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.6)

Pt.5 || Pt.7

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: When you both sit back down, Jungkook is quiet- like he's lost in thought. "So...who's Lisa?" You ask, pretending to be completely oblivious. "She's...just a mutual friend between Rosé and I." Again, it seems like a topic he'd rather avoid. "Alrighty..." You say, pursing your lips.

- You look down at your hand and can't help but smile. Oh, how easy it is to get carried away and forget that none of this organic....but is it so bad to dream?

You slept the most solidly last night than you have in months- even before you came to Korea, you had horrible insomnia from just how much stress you've been under. As you fell asleep, you played and replayed the events of your evening frame by frame, reliving the fun conversation and laughters...and even that strange moment between him and that girl, Rosé. He seemed so...evasive when you asked him who Lisa was. You quickly shoved it to the back of your mind, not really wanting to let it spoil the great evening you had with Jungkook.

You're awakened by your phone buzzing against your bedside table, though you aren't bothered at all the way you usually would be. Residual contentment from last night, you suppose. You look at the screen to see who it is and your joy only grows when you see it's B/f/n. You answer the facetime with a big smile, "Heeeeey." "Wait a minute, you're not grumpy this morning or crabby. What's going on?" She asks, a knowing smile on her face. You don't respond, you simply lift up your left hand and show her Jungkook's ring. Her eyes widen and she begins cheering, "NO FREAKING WAY. Did Jungkook give that to you?!" She asks. You nod, "Yes. Last night- it was after dessert, we were in the car-" "Wait, after dessert!?" "Yeah, After dinner we got dessert at-" "DINNER!?" She gets more and more excited with ever passing second, "One day without a call and I miss all the good stuff!" She whines, causing you to laugh. "I know- I gotta tell you, this guy is way different than I thought." "Is he fabulous? Are you falling in love?" She asks, propping her chin up on her hand. "I- I wouldn't say that..." You blush, feeling very vulnerable with that question. You've only known the guy for about a week- you're definitely not in love with him...but you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't kind of starting to...warm up to him considerably.

"Ugh...I wish you could just be here so I could tell you everything in person," You sigh. She purses her lips as though she wants to say something but won't spit it out. You narrow your eyes at her, "Wait- what is it? What are you not saying?" "I'm not at liberty to say," She say, looking around the room she's in to avoid direct eye contact. "B/f/n," You say sternly, "Spill it." "Okay fine," She caves (without very much effort, as per usual) "Your parents are traveling to Seoul tonight," She says excitedly. You don't even know how to process what she's just said- your parents? South Korea? You can't imagine how that'll go, considering the fact that your dad won't even look at you on a video chat. "M-my parents?" How are you going to survive another week here with them also being here. "Yes, and guess what else..." Oh God, you can't even imagine what bomb she might drop next. "...what else..." You ask, pursing your lips to prepare yourself. "THEY INVITED ME TO COME ALONG!!!!!!" She exclaims. Your eyes widen and let out a little scream, "NO WAY!" You celebrate with her.

With her here, the trip will go much smoother. She'll be like a buffer between you and your parents. Surely the won't act up as much with guests around, right? "It was supposed to be a surprise but- I mean, clearly they don't know me at all if they thought I could just keep that to myself," She sighs. "You don't even know how happy you've just made me," You sigh, "It's just too bad you won't be here in time for Jungkook's party tonight. I'm gonna be in a sea of people I don't even know." "Ugh, I know. But think of it this way, tomorrow is completely ours." "You're right- I'll just hold on to the promise of tomorrow," You sigh dramatically. "Please do. Alright, my lunch break is almost over- I'll call you tonight when we're on our way to the air port- don't tell your parents I told you!" "Of course not, scout's honor. Bye!"

When she hangs up, you toss your phone next to you and sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You think about what your parents might say when they see you, what you and B/f/n might go do to pass the time, and before you know it, you're drifting off back to sleep for just a little longer.

Your head hangs upside down as you blow dry your hair, trying to hurry before the car arrives in an hour. You'd been lazy all day, opting not to do any of the items on your itinerary that your dad had planned out for today. This is the most rest you've gotten all year. You finish up with the blow dryer and then move on to thoroughly combing and straightening, then to your makeup. Before you know it, 50 minutes have gone by. As serene and calm as you were feeling this morning, now you're a ball of nerves. You've never been great in super social situations- you usually pop in, pop out, go home. Would Jungkook have an issue with you doing that with his party? Surely he wouldn't be bothered- then again, he isn't just some acquaintance or casual friend; he's literally your fiance. What are the rules? DAMMIT, WHAT ARE THE RULES!? You stand in front of the mirror and take a deep breath, "Everything's gonna be fine."

You can hear the music from a block away from the club where the party's being held, and you see a sea of cars lined up outside; men and women all dressed and ready to leave their inhibitions at the door. You feel very out of place already. "I'm sorry ma'am, I think I'm going to have to drop you off here because of all the traffic." "Oh, no worries. I can walk," You assure the driver, grabbing your purse and stepping out of the vehicle. The night air is chilly and lifts the hem of your dress ever so slightly. You walk down and get in the long line, praying it'll move quickly.

After five minutes or so of the line not movie, you hear a slightly familiar voice coming from the direction of the door. "Hey, it's you!" You turn and see the drunk guy from the ice cream parlor- Seokjin. You swallow, feeling shy. You're not really used to conversing with strangers out of the blue. "How are you?" He asks. You give a fake smile, "I'm-I'm good. Uhm, Seokjin, right?" "Please, call me Jin," He smiles back. Again, he smells like alcohol and cologne, but this time, he seems to be very coherent and lively. "Alright," You say, crossing your arms over your chest in slight discomfort. "What was your name again?" "Y/n." "Y/n, right...what a beautiful name," He says, stepping closer to you. You feel your cheeks getting hot and you want to tell him to give you some space, but it's like your voice is stuck in your throat. It's not that Jin isn't attractive- he's actually quite handsome and looks to be a sharp dresser, but you've never been one for men to approach you like that. You're more of a friends-first kind of girl. You also remember the girl who went to pick him up: the fire in her eyes, the venom in her tone- you'd hate to be at the other end of that. "Thanks," You try to keep it short, not wanting to entertain his flirtatious advancements any further.

"You really shouldn't be out here waiting. If you want, I can help you cut the line," He says, completely lacking self awareness as he casually throws his arm around you. You shake your head, "No, that's okay. That wouldn't be very fair." "Oh come on- what's not fair is Jungkook making you wait in freezing cold. What are you to him, anyway?" "I-" "She's his fiance," Namjoon steps in plucks Jin's arm off from your shoulders, letting it fall. Everyone turns and watches the exchange. Jin's eyes widen, and he turns to look at you and then back at Namjoon, "Fiance- what- I had no idea. I'm so sorry," He bows profusely, cheeks as red as yours were a second ago. You want desperately to hide behind Namjoon- relieved that he got there just in the nick of time. Namjoon rolls his eyes, "You should be apologizing to your girlfriend, ass wipe." Jin's eyes widen even more, "Please don't tell her." Namjoon waves him away and turns to you, "Sorry about that, Y/n. Follow me," He holds his arm out a good distance from himself for you to grab on, which you gladly do. You pass all the people of the line, and they all watch as you cut past them. Some have scowls on their face, some intrigue, but all watch.

"This way," Namjoon says, taking you up a staircase to a balcony that oversees the entire club. From up top, you see people upon people: dancing, drinking, and even some blatantly doing...other substances, out in the open. There's quite a few people on the balcony, though nothing close to all the bodies down on the lower level. "Oh, I guess he's down there mingling," Namjoon says, looking around and not seeing him. Some people glance at you, though they don't seem to care about your presence; they're too preoccupied with their own drinks and merriment. "Guys, this is Y/n," Namjoon says when he gets to a circle of seats in the far corner. Everyone turns and gives polite smiles, followed by a series of hello's. "What are you drinking?" Namjoon asks after you sit down. You shrug, "A beer would be great," You sigh, already feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Be right back." He leaves you with the people who'd been there first. "How do you know Jungkook?" One of them asks: a guy with slightly long lazily slicked back hair and high cheekbones asks. "I- uhm, I'm a family friend." "Oh, okay...I'm Hoseok, by the way." You nod, "Nice to meet you." "I just saw 'Kook a minute ago," A guy next to him says, "I think he went to go make a request for the DJ." It really does seem like everyone Jungkook knows is attractive because this new guy has like, the smoothest skin ever. His face is almost angelic, with beautiful eyes and brown shaggy hair- soft features for as deep of a voice as he has.

"Your drink," Namjoon says, walking up and sitting next you. You bow, "Thanks so much." You take a sip and continue looking around, trying to relax. While you really would like to drink something harder, you don't like the idea of being out of control in such an unfamiliar environment. "I- I didn't expect to see you here," You say to him. He chuckles, "Yeah, well, I- I'm not just Mr.Jeon's assistant. I'm also Jungkook's babysitter." "Ah, I see," You laugh. "A lot of people here. Jungkook seems to be very popular." "He's always been a bit of a social butterfly, I guess." "Have you known him long?" "Oh yeah, since high school. We were never friends or anything but I did know him. Plus, I've been working for his dad since I was nineteen or so." "Wow, long time." "Tell me about it," He snorts, taking a sip of his own drink, "Don't get me wrong- at his core, Jungkook's a good guy. It just takes digging through all that...horse manure to really find it." "Well, how sweet of you to say," Jungkook interrupts, walking up to you both. Namjoon doesn't even batt an eye; completely unfazed by Jungkook's literally being his boss' son. "Y/n," Jungkook says with a smile, "You should've let me know you were here." You shake your head, "No, no. I wouldn't want to distract you from your party-hosting duties. Plus, Namjoon was already keeping me company." "Oh, I'm sure," Jungkook side-eyes Namjoon.

"You gonna get out there to dance?"Jungkook asks, raising a brow at you. You're quick to shake your head, "I'm definitely not drunk enough for that." "Oh, come on. I bet-" "Jungkook, Yoongi's asking to speak to you really quickly. Need me to come along?" Namjoon interrupts, looking down at his phone with his brows furrowed, scrolling up and done intently. Jungkook sighs, "I'm sorry- he's one of our partners at the company. Do you mind?" "Not at all, go ahead," You smile. "Okay, I'll be back in 15 minutes. Start counting!" He quickly gets up and pats Namjoon's shoulder to follow him. You then take the opportunity to go downstairs and make your way to the bathroom that you'd spotted a few minutes ago at the very far corner of the club. Surprisingly, the bathroom is relatively empty, save for a couple other occupied stalls- you're glad because you have to piss like a damn racehorse. You sit down and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

As you're finishing up, you hear the main door to the bathroom open and close, with the voices of two people echoing against the tile- one of which you recognize. "He's definitely looking more mature these days," It's Jin's girlfriend- Rose, and then a voice you've never heard before, "I know. I'm glad- I thought I'd have to wait forever for him to grow the fuck up." "Wait- but what about that girl they were saying he was with right now?" "What about her?" The stranger scoffs. "I mean, Jin did say she was his fiance..." "Oh, please. That relationship isn't real. Jungkook's just being forced into it by his family so he can inherit the company. He even told me he'd back out of it if I asked. And it looks like that time is coming soon." "Damn, Lisa. You're stone cold." Lisa? THE Lisa? "I promise I can be nice- I just don't like the idea of him not being there for me anymore, you know?" "Yeah, it'll be a huge change. He's so used to following you like a little puppy." Your heart is pounding; you can't believe your ears. The boldness and disrespect- the way they're talking about him is...blood boiling. You open the stall door and walk right up to the sink. At first, they pay you no mind, that is, until you make a point of sliding off the precious engagement ring that Jungkook had given you and place it on the ledge at the bottom of the mirror so that you can wash your hands. You can practically see the moment they notice; the way Lisa's mouth falls open is priceless. "That's...a nice ring," She says. You know she recognizes it, but you act dumb, "Thank you," You say, plastering a fake smile on you face before grabbing a paper towel and drying your hands and then walking out the door.

While it was definitely a delicious moment, you couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness. What she said wasn't completely untrue; he was bullied into this engagement by his parents, just like you were. It isn't the way a natural relationship would go, sure...but that doesn't make the rest of what she said okay. There has to be a line somewhere. You go back upstairs and find that Namjoon is sitting right where you were before he was whisked away by whatever impromptu business meeting. "Hey, where'd you run off to?" He asks. "Had to find the ladies room- is Jungkook not back yet?" You sit down next to him again. "Nope. Went off somewhere right after. You know, to tell you the truth, I hate these things." "What things?" "Parties, They suck. If it weren't because Mr.Jeon specifically asked me to come, I'd be at home right now." "What does he do at these things that requires so much supervision?" "What doesn't he do? I mean, for gosh sakes. Nineteenth birthday, he ran up his parents card buying drinks for himself and his friends, and for the rest of the damn bar. Twentieth birthday, completely trashed the banquet hall- he's lucky it was at his parents' hotel, otherwise he would've been totally arrested. But none compares to his twenty-fourth party, right after Lisa broke up with him-" Namjoon catches himself, stopping mid-sentence and looking away, "I mean- he- he just gets really wild at these functions..." "Namjoon," You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at him, "Give me the tea."

"I don't know what you're talking about," He take a drink from his cup and surveys the bottom floor, "I think I'm gonna go dance-" He tries to get up, but you put your hand on his shoulder and force him back down, "Namjoon, I'm gonna be spending the rest of my life with this man. I gotta know." You look at him with pleading eyes, desperate to just be let in somehow. He sighs, "Fine," He looks around to make sure everyone is still off socializing and paying no attention, "Jungkook met Lisa during their first year of high school. They became pretty close pretty fast- he was definitely in love with her very early on but she friend zoned him pretty hard until right after their last year of high school. They were pretty inseparable and..." He trails off, biting his lip as though contemplating whether or not to continue. "Namjoon, please." "...and they even talked about getting married. He was getting ready to confront his parents about being with her and wanting to void your guys' marriage agreement, but the week before he could, she dumped him." Your heart is beating hard in your chest. So she was the one who got away... Great. Perfect. "Was it bad?" You ask, trying not to show your worry. "It was horrible. Dude went off the rails. It was like nothing I've ever seen before. During that time of his life, he was fighting some demons like you wouldn't believe. His parents had to send him to rehab because he'd picked up a nasty coke habit- I literally watched him snort off a model's ass cheeks once." "What the hell," You furrow your brows, trying to imagine Jungkook doing something so wild. Of course, you've only reconnected with him now, but even from what you've seen, he seems a lot more controlled than that.

"Why'd she do it?" "Do what?" "Break up with him." "Oh, I think she told him...it was because he needed to grow up. He was immature and irresponsible. It truly crushed him. But the rehab helped a lot and now...you," He smiles gently. "Me?" "Yeah- I mean, that's the very reason why his parents wanted this for him in the first place. He needs direction." "Direction, right." Me? I'm the direction? "Do you think he still loves her?" You ask, not even sure if you want to hear the answer yourself. He furrows his brows as though deep in thought, "I...I don't know. It's hard to tell with Jungkook. I mean, they're still friends. She's here tonight, by the way. I know they've kept in touch but I think he kind of lost hope for that relationship, honestly." You replay Lisa's words from earlier in the bathroom; how he sounded so sure she'd just up and leave...and maybe she's right. Maybe he would leave it all behind at the drop of a hat. Maybe this isn't where you belong after all. You're brought out of your pensive state when you feel your phone buzz in your bag. "Sorry," You say, taking it out and seeing a text from B/f/n.

𝙱/𝚏/𝚗: 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚠! 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞!!!!!! 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝙶𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚗𝚊𝚖? 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 :)

You smile, feeling your stress momentarily replaced with joy at the thought of finally having a friend of your own here. You look around and don't see Jungkook anywhere, so you pull his number up in your phone.

𝚈/𝙽: 𝙷𝚎𝚢, 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚗. 𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚞𝚝?

You put your phone down and sigh, "Thanks for telling me all that, Namjoon. I...I really appreciate it." "Yeah- but if Jungkook asks, Jin told you." You laugh and nod, "Deal." "Do you need me to walk you out?" He asks. You shake you head, "No, I'm okay. Jungkook will do it." "Alrighty- well, if you excuse me, I think I'm gonna go get myself another drink." "No problem. 'Night!" And with that, he's down the stairs and lost in the sea. You look at your phone and see no reply, though you do see that that the message was seen 4 minutes ago. He should be on his way shortly, then.

Half an hour goes by and nothing. Not a single word. Every passing minute, you're getting more and more annoyed. You finally stand from the couch and look out form the balcony to see if maybe you can find him yourself- but then you see him. In the far side of the club, right by the DJ booth, Lisa is throwing her head back and laughing at something Jungkook is saying, her hand lightly hitting his chest. He's laughing too, and you see his arm gently resting on her shoulders, holding her just too close for comfort. Your heart sinks and you're pretty sure your face was visibly crestfallen. But now you know where his heart truly lays, don't you?

You calmly sling your purse over your shoulder and make your way down the stairs, passing all the people you'd met when you first came in who hardly even notice you pass. This isn't your world and you don't even know what you're doing here in the first place. Can this agreement even work? Are you just gonna pop out a few kids and then he and Lisa can go and ride off into the sunset? "Y/n?" You hear someone call your name but you can't be bothered to see who it is- the room feels like it's spinning and you just need a second to breathe. That's it- just some air. Just a little bit of air.

"Y/n..." You hear your name being softly called, but you can't even will your eyes to open. The darkness is just too comforting. "Y/n..." The voice calls again. You tense your face, slowly coming to. "Mmm," You whine, finally feeling a throb in your forehead. You open your eyes, taking a few blinks to adjust to the brightness of the room, and you're surprised to see Namjoon standing over you, along with...B/f/n- and your parents. You quickly sit up, though it only makes the throbbing worse, "What- what's going on?" "Oh, goodness, you're awake-" Your mom says, tears in her eyes as she practically throws herself on you. "M-mom- too tight." You look at your dad who looks relieved, though he doesn't say anything. "Finally, dude- you had us worried sick!" B/f/n says, sighing loudly. "What happened?" You ask, looking around and realizing you're in a hospital room. Namjoon steps forward a bit, "Well last night, you were leaving the party but you seemed totally out of it. Your eys looked totally glazed over like you weren't mentally present. I called your name but you ignored me- I managed to catch up to you when you got outside but you passed out right then and there. "Last night? What time is it?" You've been knocked out all night? "12PM," Your dad answers. "I told you ladies don't get drunk," Your mother hisses, though you let it slide because you know she's only worried. "I wasn't drunk at all," You say, "but why does my head hurt?" "Oh yeah, you banged your head on the concrete. Got a concussion," He added, "I didn't know what to do so I just called 112. The ambulance picked you up and they called your family. I called the Jeons right after you got to the hospital." "You called the Jeons?" "Yeah- Mr. and Mrs.Jeon were here all morning but they had to go into some meetings. They said they'd be back in a few hours," Namjoon assures you. "I don't want to see Jungkook." You say, looking away. Your parents, B/f/n, and Namjoon all look at each other, and it's a long moment before anyone of them speaks. "He's...in the bathroom right now," B/f/n says. "What?" You whip your head toward them, wincing at the pain. "Honey, he's been here all night. Why wouldn't you wanna see him?" You mom asks. You look at Namjoon who just looks down knowingly. "I just...don't want him to see me like this." Liar.

"Oh honey, he wouldn't care about how you look- you're his fiance for crying out loud," She says, trying to reassure you, "Right, F/n?" She turns to your dad, wanting him to step into the conversation but he just looks at you, eyes narrowed. You squirm under his gaze and try to ignore him. "Namjoon, just tell him to go rest." He nods silently, knowing not to challenge you right now. "I'm going to go to the ladies room," Your mom says, leaning over to give you a kiss. "I'll be back, Y/n. I gotta take a piss too." "Language," Your mom hisses. You can't help but give a little chuckle as they walk arm and arm out of the room, leaving just you and your dad. You twiddle you thumbs, regretting having sent Namjoon out now. "What's up?" You ask, unable to take the silence. "You're acting strange," He says, a suspicious expression on his face. "Uh, yeah- I mean, I am concussed." "What did he do?" He asks bluntly. Your heart picks up in your chest, "What did who do?" "Don't act dumb." Your dad was never on to mince words. "Dad, I don't know what you're talking about. Everything's fine." "Hm." "Dad, you know if you came all the way here just to be a pain in my ass, I'm sorry but you'll have to go," You snap, feeling frustrated at his lack of warmth. He sighs, and it's like you can visibly see his body loosen up. "I-I'm sorry, Y/n. I know that I've been very cold to you the past week and a half." You're shocked.

"You're sorry?" "Yes. I am... I guess, when it came down to it...I was too afraid to come to terms with the fact that I was losing my baby girl." "Afraid of losing me? I thought you were angry about the contract." He shakes his head, "No...I knew I was settling for so little. I suppose I was more upset that it was clear that you didn't really need me anymore," He reaches out and carresses your cheek, "I'm sorry for making you feel like this. I'm sorry for putting all these pressures on you at such an early age. You deserved to live life the way you wanted." His words bring tears to your eyes, and if it werent for the pain invading your entire brain, you'd have leapt into your fathers arms- but for now, a hand squeeze will have to suffice. "Now, I know you may not want to talk about...whatever it is that happened between the two of you, but just know that your mom and I are here. And even B/f/n... that girl really never stops talking, does she?" You laugh, "Nope."

The hospital discharged you around 2pm and now you're on your way back to the hotel. Your parents got a lovely master suite, while B/f/n opted to room with you. Though the doctor told you to rest, the two of you are already planning what you're gonna do while she's here. She takes her clothes out of the suitcase and transfers them over to the dresser below the television. You'd kept the conversation light while you were in the car with your parents, but as soon as you got to the room, tea was spilling left and right. You told her about the dinner, Jin and Rose, the ring, Jungkook's birthday party. It was so cathartic to relive everything through retelling- and seeing her reaction to everything is the icing on the cake. "Ugh, that guy's such an asshole...although, you did not prepare me for just how hot he is," She says, fanning herself. You chuckle, "Oh, please. He's alright..." "Girl, he is much more than alright. More than fine, even. If I were you, my hands would be connecting to Lisa's left cheek so quick," She pretends to box the air, "I might just do it for you." "Trust me, I wanted to...but at the end of the day, I have to remember there are no feelings involved in this process. I knew that coming into the agreement and I shouldn't expect it to change just because I was starting to..." "To...?" She asks, a smug expression on her face. "Nothing." "Starting to...like him?" "I said nothing." She shrugs, "Alright...you know, I will say- he sat at your bedside the majority of the night, and he looked really concerned. But no feelings, right?" "Right. No feelings." Your phone buzzes on your nightstand and you pick it up.

𝙹𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔: 𝙷𝚎𝚢 𝚈/𝚗- 𝙸 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝𝚊𝚕. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐? 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞… 𝙲𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎

Your heart flutters in your chest, though you force your face to remain without expression. No feelings.

The Jeons invited you all to a charity banquet being held at their other hotel location tonight, and of course, your mom had gone out beforehand to get you and B/f/n gowns for the occasion. B/f/n's was a lovely powder pink, velvet, body con dress with silver detail and she looks absolutely stunning. "You look beautiful!" "I know, right? But where's yours?" She asks, a puzzled expression on her face. You purse your lips, "I...don't think I'm gonna go." "Why?" She asks with a pout. You shake your head, "I just don't feel well, you know? Head still hurts." "Your head? Or...your heart?" She exaggeratedly puts her hand to her chest and gives you that stupid therapist face she likes to put on. You roll your eyes, "My head only." "If you don't go, I'm not going," She says, turning to look in the mirror, a disappointed expression on her face. "No, no. You should go. This is your first night in Seoul- you shouldn't be locked up here on account of me. Besides," You walk up behind her and fix her hair, "You could be meeting the male lead to your love story tonight." Her eyes light up at the possibility. She's truly a hopeless romantic at heart- you wouldn't want to kill her delusions now. "Are you sure?" "Mhm. Positive." "Alright, fine. But the second you say you need me, I'm coming back and we're watching movies and eating junk food." "Sounds like a plan." She excitedly goes into the bathroom and begins doing her makeup and hair, humming to whatever tunes she has playing in her air pods. Meanwhile, you're laying in bed, hair up and out of your face, buried in the white covers.

"Alright, we're all going now," B/f/n says, putting her earrings on, "You sure you don't need me to stay?" "I'm positive. Go get laid- I mean, go find the love of your life." She laughs, "Oh shut up. Text Jungkook back. Don't sulk." You don't even look at her, just wave her away while your eyes stay glued to the TV. "Bye bye!" She says once more before closing the door behind her. And then there was one.

An hour goes by, and then two. Your phone buzzes every now and then: texts from Jungkook. You put your phone on DND, save for your parents and B/f/n. You go on instagram and see B/f/n's story; the hall full of people at grand tables, lavishly decorated with ginormous vases full of long stemmed roses, chandeliers sparkling in the background. Part of you wonders if most of the money being donated is just to cover the absolutely ridiculously expensive decor. B/f/n is smiling and showing herself having fun- even Namjoon makes an appearance in one of the videos...as well as Jungkook. You purse your lips and look over at your gown, draped over the back of a chair nearby. No, no. You're not in the mood to be around all those people. What would you even talk to anyone about? What would you say to Jungkook? No, you won't even entertain the what if's- you're not feeling well and that's that.

Ah shit. You shoot up out of bed and start stripping off your clothes, flinging everything every which way as your hurriedly try to shimmy into your dress. It's a pretty, dark red gown with a deep plunging bodice; your cleavage isn't exactly on 'display' per se, but it's definitely not hidden behind that little mesh panel in the middle. It accentuates your hips in just the right way, and you already feel the difference in your attitude when you put it on. You check the time: 8:30PM. You try to hurriedly do your hair and makeup, though you can only go so fast while recovering from a concussion. Suddenly, you hear thunder in the distance. No. NO. You run to the window and, lo and behold, rain begins pouring down out of nowhere. Oh great. You're gonna step out into the rain and get all messed up. "I"m still gonna go," You say to the sky not wanting to let it think it won. You run over to put the last touches on your appearance. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Is this some kind of sign from the universe!? You grab your clutch and then hurry to grab your phone. You didn't even book the fucking car. "Ugh...Uber it is-" Knock. Knock. Knock.

You snap your head up from your phone to look at the door. They're back already? No, it can't be- she just posted fifteen minutes ago about barely being served dinner. Knock knock knock. You hesitate for a moment, but ultimately decide to open the door- only to reveal a very disheveled and sopping wet-looking Jungkook. "Jungkook," Your shocked expression is no match for the expression on his face: serious yet gentle eyes, lips parted slightly as he catches his breath, leaning lightly on the door frame. "What are you doing here?" You ask. He bites his bottom lip and just stares at you for a second, "You didn't come tonight." "You never came back last night," You say, not missing a beat. He nods, "I know..." You rest your hand on the door for a bit, considering whether or not to let him in. "Come in," You say finally, stepping aside to let him in past you. You suppose the rain can wait for you...

A/N: Hey everyone, I hope you're all enjoying this series so far- I'm having a lot of fun writing it. I feel like I get pulled into this world of fantasy and am so addicted to it. My asks are always open so feel free to request anything please please please <3 Or give me a writing prompt and I can make you a piece for a specific member of your choice! Interactions give me motivation :) :*

#bts #jungkook #jin #suga #jhope #namjoon #jimin #bts imagine #bangtan sonyeondan #angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook arranged marriage #bts fanfic #bts fanficition #kpop ff

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