#tw; brief violence (but very mild) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

depravitycentral · 6 months

Text

Muzan Kibutsuji General Yandere Profile

Yandere! Muzan Kibutsuji x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, stalking, mentions of non-con, violence, graphic gore, mentions of cannibalism, verbal and physical abuse, murder, one brief mention of throwing up, brief mention of Muzan slutshaming you, mild sexism, verbal abuse, mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, mentions of low self esteem, fem reader, MNDI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy!

WC: 10K

DARLING PROFILE:

Human

Muzan is not one to easily develop feelings for others in any positive context.

He’s a selfish, cruel being, utterly bent on his own self-preservation with no regard for the lives of others.

He’s self-centered to the extreme, and as such, if he develops feelings for someone (especially romantically), it takes a very, very long time and can only be achieved under specific circumstances.

His darling has to be someone intelligent, quick-thinking, perceptive, ambitious, charming, and a whole list of other things that are almost impossible to achieve.

And yet, the biggest, most glaring trait they must possess is their humanity.

It’s strange and a juxtaposition to Muzan’s own inhumanity, but there’s just something that draws him in about the idea that his darling is so very flawed by the very nature of their being and yet so alluring and tempting and intoxicating.

It enrages him, quite frankly, but his darling must be a human in order for these feelings to form. He initially only feels a mild curiosity towards them – mixed with irritation and contempt, of course, but there’s this nagging feeling urging him to learn more about them, to interact with them, to understand why his pulse picks up ever so slightly when they’re around.

He likes the fact that his darling is so weak; he’ll never tell them, of course, but it only reaffirms his own superiority complex, convincing him that he’s the strongest, and his darling is the weakest.

They’re a pet, in a lot of ways, but Muzan finds himself oddly intrigued – his human is so complex, the emotions they feel and their motivations something he’ll never fully understand, but as time passes he finds himself hating their presence less and less, sometimes even desiring to touch them – a notion that makes his skin crawl in both disgust and a strange, potent sense of desire.

It’s frustrating and confusing, but Muzan’s darling will be a human – though not for long.

Intelligent

It’s no surprise, really, that Muzan is absolutely incapable of handling a darling that doesn’t possess above average intelligence.

They don’t need to be a genius, but his darling must have a strong grasp of both academic and social intelligence.

Where these intelligences lie is flexible; he’s equally impressed by a darling that can recite complex physics formulas and one that can analyze some of the most classical literature ever written.

It doesn’t really matter where the smarts lay, but his darling must be able to showcase at least some level of critical thinking in their daily life; Muzan is enticed by someone who can come as close as possible to being his equal, and as a creature that views himself as smarter and superior to all others, his darling must be something special, too.

(Of course, his darling will never truly be an equal – he’s still the most magnificent, perfect creature, tireless in his search to become immune to human constraints like sickness and aging, but there’s something endearing about a darling that can entertain some of his conversation, who can at least follow some of his logic when he’s feeling generous enough to include them in his plans. Besides, and he’ll never admit to it, he’s fond of hearing his darling’s opinion – he’ll continue with what he thinks best, of course, but if his darling present sound reasoning, Muzan will often entertain the notion for a bit, distantly surprised if his darling has considered an idea he hasn’t yet, or if they present a line of argument that manages to stump him.)

And so, in order for Muzan’s interest to be piqued, his darling must be intelligent and must be unafraid to showcase this – but as his attention is initially fickle (it does not remain this way, however), they musn’t be too proud of their intelligence.

Pride is a sin only he can indulge in, not some lowly human.

Perceptive

Muzan is, unsurprisingly, easy to upset.

Being in his presence is akin to walking on eggshells, with the repercussions of a single step out of line costing a life. And while he won’t ever kill his darling, but it’s still very much in their best interest to learn his triggers and what makes him particularly angry or calm.

His darling must be able to analyze others and understand them quickly – a certain level of empathy is needed, and while he’ll never admit that his darling can read him like an open book, in order to survive they must be able to.

He’s attracted to the idea that his darling understands when to speak and when to stay silent, when to approach him and when to give him space, even when to refer to him as my Lord rather than his actual name.

(He always prefers his actual name, as the way the syllables sound rolling off his darling’s tongue is heaven and sends shivers down his spine, but he must maintain a certain level of control over them and forcing such a title is a good way to highlight the difference in power between them.)

And so, a darling that’s able to pick up on these silent cues and patterns is immensely attractive to him – he has very little patience for idiotic people, and he already harbors enough resentment towards his darling for catching his attention that they must be able to navigate the treacherous waters he places them in.

Besides, there’s something indescribably pleasing when his darling knows exactly what he wants, able to predict his desires often before he can express them or realize them himself.

It makes him feel good, his ego getting stroked and relaxation spreading throughout his entire body, and of course, it only makes his feelings for his darling grow, taking root in his gut and twisting and turning these roots until they’re wrapped so tightly around his heart it may strangle it.

And while Muzan likes to think he’d never let someone hold such a grip on him, he’s simply in denial of how truly dependent he is on his darling’s presence – he’s in much, much too deep.

Quiet

Muzan himself is not a particularly talkative man – even during his human years, his voice was reserved mostly for complaints, yells, with a scowl sprawled across those pale pink lips of his.

He’s not one for idle conversation, and while he can force a pleasant smile and white lies and it suits his purposes, he generally doesn’t desire being in the company of those who talk incessantly.

It’s annoying, frankly, and Muzan isn’t exactly understanding or patient once he’s deemed someone irritating.

And so, a darling who is naturally less talkative is incredibly attractive to him – he likes that they’re quiet, that they only really speak when they need to, if only because he enjoys silence.

A more selfish part of him also enjoys the knowledge that a less talkative darling means a significantly lower chance of them interacting with other men – they aren’t likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger on the street, barring them from potential danger and potential suitors.

His darling’s quietness is pleasing, yes, but there are times when Muzan becomes annoyed by this particular trait, however; his darling should be quiet but still talk to him, when he desires it. They should be silent around others, sure, but they should still respond eagerly and enthusiastically when he initiates a conversation with them.

He wants to see them smile at him and treat his every word as if it were gospel, as if it were something precious and important and cherished.

And so, while his darling should watch their tongue around others (and around him too, really), they should be actively engaged when speaking with him.

But not too much – Muzan can tell when they’re forcing themselves to be eager, and it bruises his ego a bit to know that his darling isn’t being totally honest when they compliment his latest strategy in finding the blue spider lily or the Ubuyashiki manor.

It makes a wave of insecurity settle in his gut, a feeling he resents possibly more than feeling weak – it infuriates him, so it’s best to avoid laying it on too thick.

Really, being his darling is just one big balancing act – they’ve got to keep him pleased and happy, a task that could quite literally result in life or death.

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Possessive

In general, your existence absolutely infuriates Muzan.

It takes an incredibly long time for his feelings to form, and even then, he’s entirely unsure of why he even likes you – you’re plain, weak, boring, worthless compared to him. Why is he wasting his time with you? You’re simply one human in a sea of them, all doomed to slowly wither away and die some miserable death, inevitably suffering and growing weaker with every day. Why would he ever find himself even remotely interested in a creature with such a glaring flaw?

How could he allow himself to ever hold even a flicker of intrigue towards a being with such obvious limitations?

Centuries and growing power have left Muzan with such an extreme level of arrogance that he’s equal parts enraged and in denial of his interest in you – early on, he tries his best to simply pretend that you don’t exist. Perhaps he’s having to live in human society for whatever reason, and you’re a neighbor or a woman he occasionally sees near his home.

Regardless, he’s making a point to not speak to you, to not even look at you, fully not acknowledging your presence all in the hopes that the weird, scratching feeling in his heart will go away and he’ll no longer be plagued by this weird, horrible awareness of you.

Except, while he likes to think that it works, the moment he sees another man look at you or converse with you, his nails sharpen and veins sprout along his temples, a new kind of irritation coursing through him. He doesn’t like the way you make him feel, but he likes this even less – this man, this human, who’s standing so very close to you and has absolutely no reason to.

The feeling is strange – it’s envy, he thinks, something he’d felt often back in his human days, but this is different. There’s something else, something sharper, something that’s twisting and burning, something that makes him grit his teeth, that gets his feet moving before he can really even think about it. He’s quick to separate you and the stranger, physically separating you with his body between yours, his breathing a bit uneven and strained, those blinding red eyes of his trained directly at the stranger.

He has enough self-control to not immediately slaughter the man (you’re in far too public a setting – killing every human in the crowded plaza square wouldn’t be hard by any means, but it’d certainly be a hassle), but he’s only brought back to reality out of the angry trance he’d been placed into when he hears your small, irritating, alluring voice saying the human name he’d flippantly told you.

Immediately he’s scoffing, glaring at the man for a final moment before turning on his heel, quickly sauntering away from you while trying to figure out why the fuck he’d just unconsciously rushed to your location. He’s unsettled, quite honestly, and angry, of course, but more than that he’s worried – he'd done that without his control, his body not waiting for his permission to approach you, to interrupt whatever that human had been trying to do.

(He personally raids a small village that night, slaughtering every human he can find in ways that leave blood pooling across every floorboard, his pretty, pressed clothing stained red and feeling wet and heavy against his skin.)

And even once Muzan eventually realizes that what he’s feeling for you is attraction – and, dare he say it, fondness – this possessiveness doesn’t subside. If anything, it grows worse. Because now, rather than simply being uncomfortable and angry with other men (and women) approaching you, he’s angry because they’re approaching something that’s his – you’re his human, his woman, his plaything.

And why do these stupid, irrelevant humans think they have any right to look at you, to steal your time and attention, or god forbit touch you? He’s overwhelmingly possessive, and while there is some part of him that feels something loosely resembling love for you, his feelings akin you much more to a beloved object rather than his partner. You are not an equal with him – he is in charge, and he’s the one who decides your fate.

And even once he’s stolen you away this feeling persists – he’s not loving, and he doesn’t really make any attempts to hide how he views you. He’s not particularly expressive, so there’s a very good chance you won’t be aware of his romantic intentions towards you until later into your captivity, but you’ll know that you’re below him from day one. H

e’s constantly verbally reminding you that he’s superior, that any efforts you take to escape, disobey him, rebel, or call for help can and will be dealt with accordingly – often with a few lives lost. He’s possessive and selfish, genuinely believing that you have no reason to interact with another living thing on Earth besides himself – you’re his partner, his woman, and although you’ll never be an equal, he should be absolutely everything to you.

So, you’d better get good at acting.

Obsessive

While Muzan never fully comes to terms with the level of his obsession with you, his actions speak much, much louder than his words. He may speak to you like you mean nothing to him, but if you knew the extent to which he’d stalked you, watched you, and collected information about you prior to kidnapping you, you’d become even more terrified of the demon.

He’s not particularly subtle about his emotions, but he keeps a very strict barrier between the two of you. He holds every ounce of control in the relationship – he knows everything about you, but you know very little about him.

You only know his name (and only Muzan, not Kibutsuji), that he prefers the small home he keeps you in to be extremely clean, that he doesn’t enjoy physical touch (at least, you don’t think he does – if you knew the extent to which he imagines touching you or the things he’s imagined doing to you, you’d never enter the same room as him).

You don’t know a lot of basic information about him that you really, really wish you did – why did he kidnap you? What is he? Does he want to kill you? Questions swirl in your head constantly, but the same can’t be said of Muzan – at least, not in the sense that you’re a complete enigma to him.

On the contrary, he understands you almost scarily well – courtesy of the extent to which he watched you before kidnapping you. Because he was so angered at himself for developing an interest in a human woman, he found himself desperately hoping that by finding out more about you, all of his interest would fade and vanish, allowing him to simply kill you and continue on with his life.

And so, he took to watching you – you’re remarkably weak, he finds out. You live in a home that’s very, very easy to break into, the locks on your doors hardly putting up a fight before budging under his strength. He scoffs at this information, though it does make a small sense of envy eat away at him – has any other man done this before? How often do you get visitors in the night? Are you secretly whoring yourself out to other men?

He finds himself digging through every corner of your small, modest home – every drawer is opened and searched, every cabinet thoroughly analyzed, every closet and shelf picked over in extreme detail. He’s noting each and every thing he finds, his eyes narrowing or his eyebrow cocking up because wow, there is nothing even remotely remarkable about you.

You don’t have any particular wealth, nor do you have any supply of medicine, nor do you even have any particularly enjoyable artwork or cooking materials. He’s disappointed, but as he moves towards your bedroom and slowly slides open the door, his breath catches. You’re laying on your back, the small gap in the window letting in moonlight that shines across your face, your eyes dancing rapidly behind your eyelids.

He frowns, his nails digging into the wood of the door, irritation settling deep in his gut. You aren’t supposed to have this affect on him. He isn’t supposed to lose himself momentarily just from the sight of you – you, who has absolutely nothing to offer in the face of his power, wisdom, and resourcefulness.

And yet, here he is – staring at you like some sort of lovesick fool, his eyes unable to stop detailing the curve of your nose, or looking at the very vague outline of your chest from underneath the blanket. He leaves, that first night, finding an innocent to slaughter and only feeling marginally better. He’d hoped that one visit would be enough, trying to focus his mind on the fact that you’re so painfully average, that there’s nothing remarkable about you – but for every negative thought he has, a glimpse of your voice or the sound of your voice overpowers it.

And eventually, he convinces himself to return to your humble home, this time going directly to the bedroom. You’re asleep again, this time on your side, with strands of hair framing your face. Your soft breaths make his brows crinkle, and a sudden, fleeting thought runs through his mind – you’re so vulnerable in this moment, he could kill you with very, very little effort.

And soon his nails have grown sharp, and his elbow is cocked, adrenaline surging through his veins because if he could just kill you, perhaps this whole stupid infatuation could be done with. But the elbow stays cocked, doesn’t move, even as his eyes stay staring at you, not blinking, every nerve in his body screaming at him to end your life.

He can’t.

And that realization is the most upsetting of all – he can’t bring himself to kill you. Him - Muzan Kibutsuji, the Demon King, can’t bring himself to murder a sweet little thing like you. It’s comical, really, and although it infuriates Muzan, it represents a turning point in his feelings for you.

After that night, he no longer tries to force himself into forgetting about you or ignoring you – instead, he pushes himself to learn more about you, becoming fascinated with understanding why you of all people have caught his attention.

And really, this is where his more obsessive traits come into play. Suddenly he’s making a point to watch you sleep every night, always staring and watching your chest rise and fall, marveling at what power something as weak as you has over him. He’ll thumb through your closet, pulling each article of clothing out and appraising it, deciding if he likes it or not.

(Those that he doesn’t like are taken away with him, thrown into the trash and discarded so that only what he chooses actually adorns your figure, just as it should be. Later on into your ‘relationship’ this will still be true – he’s choosing what clothing you wear around the cabin, even what undergarments you wear. He’s particularly fond of silk and satin, liking the luxury feeling of the texture on you and the way it feels against him when he’s pressed up against you.)

He’s following you every night, walking around as your shadow and keeping a watchful eye on you, noting with disdain when you stumble or when you spend too much money on a snack or when you aren’t aware of your surroundings.

He’s especially stuck as your shadow when your period comes about – he’s on you like fucking glue, even going so far as to carefully pull back the sheets and spread your legs as you sleep, kneeling between your knees and pressing his face a few inches away from your clothed cunt, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhales, smelling you you you.

(Masturbating feels beneath him, but the first time he smelled you while you’re menstruating, he’d decided his pride was worth sullying if it meant getting the release his body was desperate for – desperate enough to have soaked a visible portion of his slacks with precum.)

So really, while he’s an arrogant, narcissistic creature, your presence is his one weakness, his one guilty pleasure that allows himself to indulge in – if only just understand how the hell someone like you managed to snag the attention of someone as powerful and important as him.

Controlling

Muzan doesn’t see you as an equal. You’re a possession of his, something that he has full control over and can dictate every part of their life. He’s so much stronger than you, literally able to kill you with just his pinky alone, and this power dynamic is certainly not a secret to you. You’ll be very, very aware of just how liable you are to what he wants.

Even before he kidnaps you, you’ll be aware of the presence of something in your life – to you, Muzan is simply a loose acquaintance. You don’t know each other well, but he always seems to show up at the strangest of times – with excuses of just passing by, wanting to catch up, or some other innocent, plausible explanation.

And so, when he’s telling you at the fruit stand that pears really aren’t the best for your health, consider apples instead, you simply nod and thank him for his insight. (Of course you don’t know that he wants you to eat the apples instead because he can’t stand the smell of pears, and to have you reeking of the fruit would be a serious deterrent his experience of watching you for the rest of the day.)

When you decide to be bold one day and wear the pretty, colorful kimono you own, Muzan happens to run into you and comments on it, telling you that you look so lovely in more neutral colors, don’t you think? (You don’t need to know that he wants you to be wearing less flashy things so that others won’t notice you as much, so that you won’t draw too many eyes, so that you won’t be lusted after and pined after by so many men – you wouldn’t their blood on your hands, now would you?)

He’s subtle about it, never making you believe that you’re being swayed one way or another, but that changes after he’s stolen you away. Once you’re in his clutches, you’ll become very, very aware of just how much Muzan inserts himself into your daily life.

He’s obviously chosen where you’re to live, forcing you stay with him and keep you isolated from everyone else on Earth, just so that your dependence on him will grow, just so that no one else can see you, just so that he becomes your entire fucking world, just as he should be. But he chooses more subtle things, too – things that border on uncomfortable, things that really should be solely your choice.

He instructs you on which clothing to wear each day – giving you a specific outfit, telling you to style your hair in a particular way.

He’ll tell you whether to bathe that day, and the order with which you should clean yourself – always hair first, then arms, breasts (this is part that he’s most fervent about watching, claiming that you don’t do a good enough job and he must be present to ensure that you’re truly clean), stomach, back, legs, and between your thighs.

(He’ll allow you to privately clean yourself there at first, but as time passes he stops allowing you to turn your back to him, instead standing over the washing tub and scrutinizing your technique with his eyes, insisting that you haven’t thoroughly spread yourself, that you haven’t pressed inside yourself deeply enough. And, once you’ve begun having sexual relations, he’ll insist that you aren’t capable of being fully clean unless something else helps clean out inside of you, too – something clean and meticulous and cared for like what’s between his legs, of course. So let him settle into the bathing tub and seat yourself on him, allowing him to maneuver you to really, thoroughly clean you.)

He’s even instructing you on what order to eat your meals – vegetables first, then protein, then carbs, those watchful eyes of his like a hawk’s making sure that you follow his commands to a tee. It gives him a sense of control, like a palpable sense of superiority over you – sure, you make him feel emotions that he has no control over, making his body respond in ways he despises, but at least he controls you. It’s a weak ploy at maintaining his ego, but it’s effective – because as time passes, slowly you’ll forget what it was like to live a life where your every decision wasn’t made for you, and the thought will honestly scare you – how did you survive? How were you able to stomach the thought of so many small decisions, so many unknowns, so many things that could’ve gone wrong?

And Muzan will feed these delusions – commanding you with a firm, almost bored voice and following it up with an weak women like you shouldn’t be making too many choices, you’ll always choose incorrectly. You wouldn’t have survived without me, don’t you agree?

Which connects to another key aspect of his controlling tendencies – Muzan is extremely manipulative. He’s a selfish creature motivated by his own personal gain, and he is gifted at deceiving others in order to get what he wants. He’ll never explicitly lie to you, but Muzan has no qualms with warping your world perspective a bit, feeding you delusions, forcing you into believing that you truly are nothing without him, that you truly need him in the way he claims that you do.

And it’ll work – all those comments about you being beneath him and unable to take care of yourself will eventually become a mantra for you, and while you’ll still be terrified of the demon, you’ll start slowly depending on him.

You’ll start needing him in a way that makes Muzan smug – because now, he’s not the weak one, right? You need him much more than he needs you. (This isn’t true, but Muzan convinces himself of it – it has to be true.)

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Quite honestly, it’s rare that you find yourself in a situation where another physical person is around you aside from Muzan. He’s very, very possessive over you, treating you more akin to a pet or prized possession rather than a partner. And because of this, he’s able to easily control the people who interact with you – who they are, when they see you, how long they’re permitted to be in your presence, even what words they say to you.

Generally speaking, if he’s feeling kind, you’ll be permitted to see the Upper Moons, but even then it’s in extremely sparing quantities.

He doesn’t like the way Douma touches you, clinging onto you like some sort of leech and getting his filthy hands all over you.

He doesn’t like the way Akaza bends to you as if you have some sort of power over him, as if you were equal to Muzan himself – it makes some part of him smug to think that his underlings recognize that you’re his, but it still bristles his ego to think that you’re even remotely close to his status, even if you’re objectively higher than other demons.

He doesn’t like the way Hantengu sneaks glances at you that Muzan very much notices, just the mere act alone making him scowl and slice off the demon’s neck, sending him squealing and scampering away.

He doesn’t like the way Gyokko is always complimenting your beauty – you’re gorgeous, true, but only Muzan is allowed to admire you. Only he is allowed to take in the curves of your face and body, the softness of your skin, your alluring smell, the gentle lull of your voice. Besides, only Muzan is allowed to compliment you – even that alone is a huge, huge struggle for him, if only because positive affirmations of anyone aside from himself is a foreign concept, and he simply cannot have Gyokko undoing all the hard work Muzan has undergone to break down your confidence and build it back up himself.

He doesn’t like the way Daki insults you, because although Muzan doesn’t want anyone to compliment you, it’s almost more offensive to have an underling openly mock and ignore you – can’t she tell that you’re so, so much more important than she’ll ever be?

He doesn’t like the way Gyuutaro openly stares and leers at you, licking his lips like some sort of animal – as if he’d ever let such scum touch you. Your body is his to touch and fuck, and for the other demon to even briefly entertain the notion of being intimate with you makes bile rise up the back of his throat and his nails to sharpen without his permission.

The only demon Muzan is somewhat likely (emphasis on the somewhat, because he still rarely ever lets you interact with anyone besides himself) is Kokushibo, simply because Muzan knows that the Upper Rank 1 will keep both himself and you in line. He trusts that Kokushibo, ever loyal to his leader, will not entertain any inappropriate thoughts or actions towards you. He also trusts that Kokushibo won’t allow you to step out of line, his punishing hand swift as he ties you up and forces you to await Muzan, the one who will give you your real punishment for nervously playing with your fingers.

(That’s unwomanly of you, Kokushibo will tell you, all six of his eyes glaring down at you. A woman capable of standing beside Muzan should be regal and confident, you are not worthy of him.)

And so, you effectively will have no interaction with another soul aside from Muzan – but before his obsession pushes him to the extreme of stealing you away, he was certainly no stranger to envy or jealousy.

It's an innocent thing, really – the man in the gray kimono was just trying to keep you from falling. The lantern chain you were trying to hang on the ledge of your roof wasn’t too complex, but the stepstool you were precariously balancing on was another story. Reaching high over your head to attach the chain to the wooden beam was extending your limbs to their furthest ability, leaving you wobbly and liable to fall at all any moment.

And, of course, you did – suddenly you were falling backwards, the lanterns slipping out of your hands and a yelp slipping past your lips. Squeezing your eyes shut, you brace yourself for impact on the hard ground below you, but the air is knocked out of your lungs by a pair of arms slipping underneath your legs and below your back rather than the cold Earth below. The man carefully helps you stand up, laughing sheepishly as you profusely thanked him, rubbing at the back of his neck.

You’re smiling, Muzan can see from his spot at the end of the street, his gaze fixed on you even over the buzz of life at the nighttime market.

Your shop is easily one hundred feet away, but he can still smell you clear as day, your scent alluring and musky and rich, only now tinged with the slightest bit of embarrassment, appreciation, and attraction.

Muzan scowls, his dark brows drawing inward so tightly that wrinkles were sure to form. His fist curls in on itself, sharp nails already slicing into his palms and letting blood drip onto the ground below him. Every muscle in his body clenches, taut with anger, anticipation and the uncontrollable urge to do something, veins standing out against the paleness of his neck and forehead.

That man was touching you.

Helping you.

You, who was stupid enough to get on a ladder and hang up those incessant lanterns – you, who was careless enough with your own miserable, misfortunate human life as to potentially throw it away for some measly lights. Anger clouds his every thought, but he forces himself to stay still, to not immediately jump onto the man and tear him to pieces bite by bite until he was screaming and sobbing and begging –

Soon the man is on his way, leaving you behind as you disappear into the depths of your shop, the man tucking his hands into his pockets with a smile curling on his lips that makes Muzan’s self-control snap, his legs finally pushing him into action.

It’s not hard to snatch the man by the throat, his claws digging against the soft, thin skin and dragging him away to a deserted back-alley.

It’s not hard to hold him in the air, his feet not touching the ground as desperate fingers clumsily grope at Muzan’s, unable to break the inhuman grip the demon has on his neck.

It’s not hard to watch the man’s face slowly turning purple, his actions getting weaker and weaker, and it’s only once the man is right on the verge of losing consciousness that Muzan lets go, throwing him to ground and hearing a sickening crunch noise as the man wheezes. Muzan’s lips curl, his eyebrows still furrowed, his expression looking halfway between pained and exhilarated.

You worthless human. His voice is full of disdain, hatred seeping into every word as he kicks the man in the stomach, the action causing him to cough up blood, more wheezes and desperate heaves filling the back-alley.

Who gave you permission to breath? Who gave you permission to touch her? Who gave you permission to touch what’s mine? He kicks him again, the curl of his lip deepening.

The man is curled up into a fetal position, blood flowing onto the dirt below him. Muzan scoffs. Pathetic. You must think you’ve done a very heroic deed, saving her from falling.

Muzan’s smile drops. You did nothing. You are just a weak, useless human. What could you offer her?

He waits for a moment, just to see if the writhing mess of a man before him wasn’t as pitiful as he appeared, and his brows cock up ever so slightly when his wheezing, strained voice asks, then why didn’t you save her?

And with that, Muzan slices his head clean off, only the smallest of whimpers ringing in his ears, followed by the dull thud of the now decapitated head falling to the ground. Muzan’s chest is heaving, his red eyes wide, a few curls knocked out of place at the exertion, and for a moment he’s frozen.

There’s genuine rage swimming through his veins, and the sheer amount of that man’s blood staining his clothing makes him pause. Why had his words effected him so? He’d quite literally lost control of his body once he heard the question – why didn’t he bother to save you? Why had he only watched, allowing this other man to step in and keep you from cracking your head open on the ground?

Muzan’s scowl deepens, and soon he’s turning back to the body, sharp nails ripping and slicing at the man until all that remains are scraps of clothing and a face so disfigured that identifying him would be impossible.

And even then, Muzan doesn’t feel the sense of satisfaction that killing someone who insulted him would normally bring – instead, the rage is calmed ever so slightly by a strange feeling that makes his fingers tremble, his throat feel swollen, and his heart race in his chest.

And when he returns to the busy streets of the night market, inhaling over and over and over, he’s quick to catch your scent, trailing behind you with those red eyes trained on your form.

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Because Muzan is in denial about his feelings for you for most of the beginning of his obsession with you, kidnapping you isn’t the first thing that comes to his mind. He tries to ignore you for as long as he can, holding out and believing that whatever it is that you’re making him feel will eventually go away if he doesn’t pay attention to it.

Except that it doesn’t, and as time passes he becomes more desperate to see you, to hear your voice and speak with you and be in your presence and – god forbid – touch you. And so, while not seriously considering stealing you away in the beginning, once Muzan comes to terms with the fact that his infatuation isn’t going to simply go away on its own he decides that keeping you by his side permanently is the only acceptable solution. It’s the only solution where he won’t lose his mind, honestly.

He grows so dependent on the idea of you that it starts affecting his daily tasks and life – he’s distracted, every moment he has to himself filled with idle thoughts of you and what you could be doing in that particular moment.

Are you eating enough? He knows humans have to eat more often than demons, and you have to be careful about balancing your nutrition and portion control – he’s sure he could a much better job at managing your dietary health than you can.

Are you sleeping enough? Demons don’t have to sleep, and as a result it’s been centuries since he’s had a full night’s rest, but he knows that you spend over a third of your day asleep – a massive waste of time, as far as he’s concerned.

(This doesn’t stop him from stopping by the measly apartment you call home, however, standing at the end of your bed with an unreadable expression on his face as he watches you sleep. Sometimes he’ll even get closer, kneeling beside you so that he can see your face better, perhaps even ghosting a few fingers over the curve of your cheek, your bedroom so silent he can hear his own breathing falling in time with yours.)

Are you with other people? Are you speaking with others? Are you wasting your time and energy on all of those ridiculous ‘hobbies’ of yours? Muzan wants to know – needs to know, and as time passes he simply can’t stand not knowing every single thing that you’re doing at all times.

And it’s not like kidnapping you would be hard – you’re practically defenseless, your reaction time not nearly fast enough to even pose the smallest fight against him. And so, it’s easy to scoop you up into his arms one night, picking you up out of your bed and taking a moment to lean down closer to your neck, his curls brushing against your jaw as he slowly, deeply inhales, the moment of vulnerability passing just as quickly as it occurred as he gulps and stares for a moment, only to immediately take off running towards the cabin he’s prepared to keep you in.

The cabin itself is in the middle of nowhere – in the countryside, at the base of a mountain, with tall trees and no trails leading anywhere. The cabin is wooden, with a fireplace and a meager dining area (only you’ll be using that dining space, of course, but Muzan grows fond of watching you eat – if only to comment on how pathetic it is that you need to sustain yourself with food so much more often than he does). A futon has been placed in the corner of the cabin – it’s big enough to fit two people, but thankfully he hasn’t tried to share it with you yet, not that you’re confident he will.

(You’ve woken to see him sitting beside you on it, however. He was still fully clothed, with an expression on his face that you’re not sure how to describe, but he’s never actually joined you in bed. Thank god.) t’s not horrible, per say, but your life within the cabin will far from idyllic.

Muzan is not a kind man. He’s not even a man – and this becomes apparent to you very quickly. It’s not unusual for him to return home from long periods of time away with blood staining his clothing, that familiar sour look on his face as he stares knowingly at you, expecting you to grovel at his feet and thank him for finally returning to you.

You’ve never seen him eat – he doesn’t touch the food he brings to you (and it’s good food, too – nutritious and surprisingly delicious, making you wonder exactly how he obtained it), and almost seems disgusted when he has to touch it.

You know there’s something wrong, but multiple things bar you from ever asking why his nails grow so long in such short intervals, or why he’s so inhumanely strong, or how he can be so silent when he moves – those things being the many silent, unspoken rules he has laid out for how you should act. He’s controlling in every sense, and although he doesn’t communicate exactly what he expects of you, you’ll quickly learn that he's picky, and he won’t settle for any behavior less than perfect.

Most of these rules revolve around the fact that you aren’t allowed to escape or disrespect him. Attempting escape is a rebellion against being his woman, and just as an owner does a dog, he will punish your ill behavior and pulling your metaphorical leash much, much further than you should.

Plus, your attempts to escape are a form of rejection in his eyes – he never makes it explicitly clear that he’s romantically interested in you, but he feels that you should just know this, and thus your insistence on getting away from him feels like a personal slight against him, like a slap in the face designed to hurt him in the most acute, intimate way possible.

Of course you don’t know this, but after each escape attempt, he’ll punish you, then promptly return to his office (a small, adjoining room in the cabin that you’re strictly forbidden from entering), sitting on his leather couch and letting his head sit in his hands, taking deep breaths and willing himself to stop letting such stupid, weak, human emotions affect him so.

The only thing that works, though, to calm his heart is to once again watch you as you sleep, allowing himself to get close to you, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, perhaps even holding a shirt in his hands and imagining the way your skin would feel against the fabric. It’s a reminder that although you were disobedient and tried to leave him, you weren’t successful – you’re still here, with him, as you should be.

Disrespecting him is also, of course, a severe infringement of the unwritten code he expects you to follow. He has to maintain some sense of superiority over you, and the moment you disrespect him either with words or actions, this fragile hierarchy is threatened, and you come dangerously close to the uncomfortable truth – that despite all his grandiose talk about you being beneath him, he would be absolutely nothing now without you.

He would be a mess, unable to function, unable to find purpose in avoiding death and sickness, unsure of how to move forward with a life that now no longer seems worth continuing. And so, as long as you avoid those two major triggers, most of your time spent in the cabin will be passed with Muzan simply sitting in your presence, those red eyes watching you like a hawk and making you beyond nervous. He scares you – he’s a monster and you know it, he’s stolen you away from your life and forced you into some strange, pseudo-relationship of roommates, though his intentions are much more sinister than you can imagine.

The one silver lining of being stuck with Muzan is that his crippling fear of rejection bars him from making any sort of sexual advance on you. Of course, he very, very much wants to fuck you (thought the thought shames him, because you’re a human woman, and the idea of touching a human and being touched by a human makes his skin crawl), but the idea of you not being as passionately and needily engaged and eager as him is enough to stop him from attempting anything.

This has an unfortunate side effect though, which is that he channels this anger and fear of being rejected by you into meanness directly at you – comments of how you’re clumsy or loud or irritating slip past his lips. And although he doesn’t often mean them, the venom in his voice will get you shutting up, fearfully and self-consciously staring down at the floor.

He feels the smallest pang of guilt when this happens, because although he’s a sadistic creature, seeing you upset isn’t nearly as pleasing as he’d expected. But it’s a necessary evil in the larger scheme of things – he has to keep you in line, and by stealing you away so that he can keep constant surveillance on you and control your meal times (he decides when you eat, even if you’re not hungry or don’t want the meal he’s brought), how often you bathe yourself (often he’ll watch the process, those red eyes raking up and down your figure, making sure to wear loose bottoms so that you don’t see how the sight of you wet, soapy, and embarrassed effects him), and make sure you interact with no one, he’s ultimately fulfilling a self-serving goal: preserving you, and keeping you all locked up and safe for him to enjoy.

And only him.

PUNISHMENTS:

Despite Muzan’s strange fondness for you (or, more accurately, his dependence on your presence), he’s by no means a gentle lover. He’s cruel, demeaning, incredibly strict and harsh with you, with expectations that he never clearly communicates with you. It’ll leave you guessing in the dark, hoping and praying that your every action, word, and even thought won’t trigger some sort of negative response from him. He’s fickle, his mood changing quicker than you keep up with, and because of this, Muzan finds himself angry with you much more often than he’d care to admit.

He was resistant to developing feelings for you at first, embarrassed, disappointed and frustrated with himself for stooping so low as to develop an attraction with a weak human like you, but as time passes he finds himself growing less resentful and more desperate. He’s still angry with himself, ashamed that he’s allowed himself to let you become his one weakness, and because of this he’s a bit trigger-happy with punishing you.

He’s always looking for reasons to belittle you, to put you down in order to make himself feel better. He’s an egotistical, narcissistic creature, and just because you’ve managed to worm your way into his heart doesn’t mean that you are exempt from this aspect of his personality.

He’ll find ways to twist your words and actions into somehow being displeasing to him, whether by being disrespectful to him, or an attempt to escape.

You’re quiet and avoid speaking with him or looking at him? Sure, you’re scared, as you say, but this could also be an attempt lulling him into lowering his guard around you, like you’re waiting for the right opportunity to try and run or hurt him. (Just the thought along is laughable – as if you could ever do serious damage to him.)

So, he’ll force you into speaking simply by threatening any remaining family you have. That’ll get you spluttering and talking, he’s sure – your weak sensibilities and this absurd devotion to your family that you seem to possess is perfect to exploit. (Plus, it’ll get you to stop ignoring him, something that makes his heart feel like a knife is twisting inside him, making every part of him ache and bile rise in the back of his throat. But you don’t need to know that – he’ll never admit it.)

You’re refusing to eat the food he’s brought for you? You ungrateful thing – he’d gone so far as to get the best quality, fanciest food he could find for you – things that he could imagine himself stomaching back when he was a human. Things that – despite you being below him – you deserve as his pet. He’ll merely scoff, throwing the food off to the side, before returning a few hours later with something warm and wet and fresh – blood is dripping off the pretty white plate he’s dished the human heart on, his face carefully neutral aside from the smallest of smirks while he tells you to eat up, you wouldn’t want an ended life to be in vain, would you?

It’s cruel and it’s evil and it’s horrible, but pinning your compassion and disgust at him murdering innocent people because of your rebellions against you is the most successful and effective tool he could use to keep you in line. It works – every single time.

And Muzan has no qualms with using every possible resource at his disposal – sure, you may be angry at him, perhaps even hate him, but he’s confident that with time, you’ll realize that he’s all you have left. You’re weak and incapable and you’ll never, ever be rid of him, so why won’t you just obey him like you, as the inferior life form, should?

Your fingers are trembling as he nears you, that same unearthly silence to his steps that makes every muscle in your body stand at attention, your fight or flight instincts begging you to run as fast as you can away from the monster in front of you.

There’s nothing in his hands, but that doesn’t make you feel better – you know what he can do with those hands, and you curl up tighter against the corner you’ve sat yourself in.

Muzan’s got a half-smile on his face – it’s the closest he can get to a genuine smile, you think, but it still makes your skin crawl, unease and dread eating away at your gut. He stops in front of you, crouching down so that he’s at eye level with you. His curls sit around his face, the casual white dress-shirt he sports perfectly pressed and rolled up at the elbows.

Hello, how are you faring? He asks, and immediately you grow suspicious – this is unusual. He never directly asks you about yourself – he normally talks about himself, only occasionally dropping a comment or two about you that lets you know he recognizes your presence in the room.

What is he playing at? How do you respond?

I’m okay… you start, nervous that he’s looking for an answer that you don’t know. At your response, he makes no noticeable change, but instead stands once more. He’s still staring down at you, those red eyes feeling heavy and piercing.

Come with me.

And then he’s walking, and you’re scrambling behind him to keep up with his long strides. He settles down onto a leather couch in his study, and for the briefest moments you hesitate at the threshold, having never been allowed in this room.

He notices your resistance, and rolls his eyes slightly. Come here.

You do as you’re told, and carefully, tentatively sit down on the other end of the leather couch. It’s silent for a few moments, before Muzan breaks it, his voice a bit deeper than before. Come here.

Confusion settles over your features, but you slowly scoot over a bit, so that you’re an inch or so closer to him. Muzan’s still staring at you, you can see it out of the corner of your eye, and a frown sits on his lips.

You scoot over a bit more, continuing when he doesn’t say anything until there’s just the smallest sliver of space between your bodies. You can hear his breathing, having never been so close to him before. He’s still looking at you, but you focus your gaze on your hands in your lap, trying desperately to not visibly show your nerves.

Are you afraid of me?

His question startles you, and you stiffen up, peeking at him for just a moment. Unsure of how to respond, you merely nod, your voice small as you murmur yes. Muzan hums, and suddenly there’s a hand sitting on your thigh, his skin cold and dry, the weight feeling heavy. And although you try to stop yourself, knowing the consequences will be anything but pleasant, the unforeseen physical contact makes you jump, scooting away from him ever so slightly.

The room is still for a moment, before you hear his sharp inhale, literally seeing his face morph into one of rage. He’s breathing hard as he gets to his feet and practically storms out of the room, his steps still nearly silent. You’re still frozen, trying to process what you’ve just done – you rejected him.

Obviously you don’t want him, but this surely must be one of the unspoken rules you’re supposed to follow – surely such an arrogant man wouldn’t appreciate being you being so blatantly repulsed.

Unsure of what to do – does he want you to leave his study? Stay? – you stay in place, every part of your body shaking in fear and horrible anticipation at your punishment for such a grave offense.

You don’t have to wait for long – ten minutes later he’s barging through the door, dragging a woman by her hair into the space. She’s already stained with bits of blood, her hair matted with it and her pretty clothes darker than they should be.

Muzan’s staring at you, a wild look in his eye, his hair a bit messy and a few more buttons of the dress shirt undone. He throws the woman to the ground, and you notice how shallow her breathing is – she must be on the verge of death.

Muzan’s voice is deep, husky in a way that stills you to your very core as he growls out you will never, ever reject me. Do you understand? You have no place or authority to reject me. You are nothing. I am the only worthwhile thing in your life. Do you understand?

You nod, over and over, eyes flashing between his piercing gaze and the woman who’s slowly trying to get to her feet. Every time she gets close, Muzan pushes her back to the ground, the tears clouding your lashes just barely letting you make out the way her face twists up in pain.

You are nothing. You are nothing.

Muzan is repeating it to himself over and over again as he picks up the woman, forcing her to face you. Briefly, you’re shocked – you’ve never seen this woman in your life, but something about her seems oddly familiar, like you’re looking in a mirror.

Her hair is remarkably similar to yours – the same texture, the same color, just a different length.

Her nose is similar to yours, her skin color, even her eye color.

Her body is similar, too – a similar build, proportions, and suddenly you’re sick.

This woman is you.

Muzan’s still breathing hard, his face contorted into that ugly scowl, and without a word, his hands are tangled in the woman’s hair again, pulling and yanking upwards until a wet squelching noise fills the room, and suddenly her body falls backwards, limp, with her head still held in the air, his forearm flexing.

You can’t stop yourself from vomiting, the sight and sound too much for you to bear. Muzan watches with pursed lips, his eyes still wide and barely blinking. You look pitiful like this – shaking like some sort of scared mouse, staring at him like he's a monster, like he’s the Devil himself.

And as he stares down at you, something pleasant settles in his gut, because while he’d prefer your adoration, the way you’re looking at him now is good, too. Because you’re looking at him, giving him the attention he was craving earlier.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have tried to be kind in his approach at initiating physical contact with you. After all, it’s not as if you really have a choice – it’s such a strange, human desire to want to touch another, and really, isn’t it your fault that he’s feeling this urge?

(Isn’t it your influence and doing that he wants to touch you, to feel you, to be inside of you?)

He bares his teeth, an eyebrow cocking up. Do not reject my advances. Your death will not be as merciful as hers.

And to that, you simply nod.

OVERALL DANGER:

10/10

Muzan is, undoubtedly, a nightmare to have infatuated with you. He’s so deeply in denial in the beginning that he forces himself to stay away from you, only for that to make him crave you more, to realize that his feelings for you aren’t simply going to go away.

He’s possessive and controlling, seeing you as his in every sense of the word and feeling completely justified in taking over every aspect of your life.

He’s paranoid, always keeping an eye on you because being this emotionally tied to another living thing is incredibly nerve-wracking, your weak human body and disposition making him nervous that even the wind will send you knocking on death’s door.

And even then, he doesn’t express this worry in any healthy way – he’s not afraid to verbally degrade you, using harsh words as a shield so that you don’t see just how pathetically deep his obsession and attraction to you is.

It’s demoralizing, embarrassing to a degree that forces him to treat you like a pet of sorts – punishing you with threats, stealing you away to be stuck in some remote cabin in the woods where not a soul will dare near the home, smelling both him and the scent of death strongly in the air.

He’s so emotionally out of touch, and as a result your life with him will be a constant series of walking on eggshells around rules and expectations you don’t even know about. It’s difficult, and frankly you’re viable to find yourself quickly losing your sanity.

But don’t worry too much – Muzan may not act like it, but he does care about your health and safety, and you’ll be in capable hands to help reshape and remold you into the perfect little human partner.

Perhaps you’ll even become a demon – a very, very likely event, considering the fact that as a demon, you have to obey his every command.

(Just the thought of you completely obedient and submissive makes him smile, his eyes narrowing a bit and his nails tapping on the nearest surface, those slacks of his feeling a bit too tight.)

He wants you to be his, and a man as selfish as him knows no bounds. So really, get ready – you will be his, and will never escape him. Lucky you.

#yandere kny #yandere demon slayer #yandere muzan #_lee's profiles #_kny #_muzan kibutsuji

279 notes · View notes

temporary-tats · 1 month

Note

Hey I'll take you up on that offer of a list of your favourite Bees fics 👀👀👀

Always looking for more. I feel like I've barely scratched the surface though. And if they're half as good as the Midnight Bees fic then yes please!

Oh Anon do I have a list for you.

A Note Before We Begin: Most of these Bumbleby fics are lengthy, multi-chapter pieces, often coming in at 70k+ words. The majority of these recommendations are not light reads because I am a sucker for emotional journeys full of ups, downs, and angst. If you're looking for more lighthearted recommendations, then I am unfortunately too much of an emotional masochist for you! (But, considering you've come here as a fan of MM, I have a feeling you'll enjoy these)

I'll also be updating this post with new fics occasionally, and to update my Top 5! So if you ever need something new to read, come back and check out this recs list :]

~ 💛💜 Now, let's begin 💜💛 ~

My Top 5 Favorite Bumbleby Fics (as of April 2024)

Paring down this list is Incredibly (TM) difficult, but these are 5 fics that brutally obliterated me, emotionally, physically, spiritually, etc.

when I dream of dying I never feel so loved by lescousinsdangeroux - Mature; 73k Words; Alternate Universe - Edge of Tomorrow/RWBY Fusion (Sci-Fi, Time Loop, Grimm, Semblances); TW: Repeated (Temporary) Major and Minor Character Death and Mild Gore

I Know You by Monochrome_Gray - Mature; 238k Words; Alternate Universe - Witches; Semblances as Magic; Clairvoyance; Poly Raven, Summer, and Taiyang; Slow Burn; TW: Minor Character Death, Depression, and Minor Dysphoria (NB Yang)

hear her in the wind by lescousinsdangeroux - Mature; 109k Words; Alternate Universe - The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild/RWBY Fusion (Remnant = Hyrule, Maidens = Champions, Adam = Ganon; Yang = Link and Blake = Zelda; Grimm) TW: PTSD

Gunslinger by pugoata - Mature; 218k Words; Alternate Universe - Western; No Semblances; Sheriff Yang; Politics; TW: Intense Faunus Racism (it's 90% of the plot), Public Execution, Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Abuse

you're a mountain, full of glory by lescousinsdangeroux - Explicit; 111k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern/Snowboarder and Skier; No Semblances; No Faunus; Friends with Benefits; Found Family; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse

The Hall of Fame

These are fics that, at one point, touched the Top 5 list. They may have been nudged out by another work, but they're still top tier.

They Can't Steal the Love You're Born to Find by timeespaceandpixiedust - Mature; 101k Words; Alternate Universe - Courtroom, Childhood, College/University; Non-linear Timeline; Adam on Trial; Very Emotional Conversations; Healing; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Brief Depictions of Violence, PTSD, Depression;

Compass by pugoata - Mature; 74k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern, Roadtrip, Soulmates; No Semblances; Hitchhiker Blake; Tense Tai and Yang Relationship; Healing; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse;

Shelter by pugoata - Mature; 73k Words; Alternate Universe - Farm; No Semblances; Runaway Blake; Farmer Yang; GOATS; Healing; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Brief Depictions of Violence, PTSD;

Brighter by y8ay8a - Explicit; 212k Words; Alternate Canon; Events from Volume 2/3 - Beginning of Volume 7; Very Emotional Conversations; Blake and Yang in the Before and Healing Through the After; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Depression, PTSD;

let you see my wilder side (if i can see your bones) by explosivesky - Explicit; 107k Words; Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Rockstar and Movie Star; Actress Yang; Rockstar Blake; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Brief Depictions of Violence;

take it from your grave by explosivesky - Mature; 48k Words; Alternate Universe - Gothic Horror; Monsters; Curses; Forbidden Romance; Forbidden Found Family; TW: Brief Depictions of Violence, Depression, PTSD;

Other Amazing Works

Didn't quite reach the Top 5, but these fics were still phenomenal.

Midnight Menagerie by Kaelidascope - ONGOING; Explicit; Currently 289k Words; Alternate Universe - Future Dystopia, Sex-Industry, Crime Syndicates; No Semblances; No Faunus; Bartender Yang; Dancer Blake; Street Racing; Gritty Fic, but with Lots of Fluff; Slowburn; Gunning For the Top 5 Once Finished;

NOTE: This fic tackles VERY emotionally intense and gritty topics. While done (in my opinion) very masterfully and with great care, please proceed with caution. TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, R@pe/Non-Con, Human Trafficking, Past Abuse/Assault of a Minor, Death, PTSD, Emotional Manipulation, Physical Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts;

Praeludium and Allegro by yangsbandana - Mature; 68k Words; Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Conservatory; Viola/Violin Blake; Cello Yang; Healing; TW: Depictions of Abuse, PTSD;

Best Laid Plans by Sawrin - Teen and Up; 10k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern; Dog POV; Fluffy;

Expecting by Sawrin - General Audiences; 8k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern; Best Laid Plans Part 2; Dog POV; Baby on the Way;

From the Heart by Softlight - Mature; 77k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern, Bakery; No Semblances; Baker Yang; Bookstore Owner Blake; Healing; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse, Brief Depictions of Violence, Depression, Grief

what if it's all just a black abyss (and lips that kiss you) by lescousinsdangeroux - Teen and Up; 30k Words; Alternate Universe - Star Wars; Force Bond; Found Family; Smuggler and Pilot Yang; Runaway Sith Apprentice Blake; TW: Brief Depictions of Violence;

it's not living (if it's not with you) by explosivesky - Mature; 10k Words; Alternate Universe - Pop Punk/Rock Band; No Semblances; No Faunus; No Angst Just Fluff;

Crash Landing by kienava - Mature; 43k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern, College/University, Text Messages; No Semblances; No Faunus; Crack but with Serious Moments; Slow Burn; TW: Implied/Referenced Drug Use;

roads that lead you home by lescousinsdangeroux - Teen and Up; 15k Words; Alternate Canon/Future RWBY; Weiss POV; Bumbleby Included but Not the Full Focus; Found Family; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse;

you've got me seeing stars by explosivesky - Mature; 25k Words; Alternate Canon; Beacon Never Falls; Happy and In Love Bees; Pining; Partial Sun POV;

shake us together like a snow globe by explosivesky - Mature; 34k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern, College/University, Fake Dating; No Semblances; Home for the Holidays; Mutual Pining; More Emotional than Angsty; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse;

Mixed Melodies by EmpressOfEdge - Mature; 25k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern, Rock Band; No Semblances; Drummer Yang; Bassist Blake;

Waiting (on You) by Mikotyzini - Teen and Up; 133k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern; No Semblances; No Faunus; Ultimate Slow Burn; Yang is Oblivious;

You and Me, and One Hot Summer by EmpressOfEdge - Mature; 98k Words; Alternate Universe - Modern; No Semblances; Summer Romance; Ultimate Wingman Sun; TW: Implied/Referenced Abuse;

#bumbleby fic recommendations #fic rec #bumbleby #a03 #rwby #rwby fanfiction #a03 link #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #alternate universe #alternate canon #temp tats top 5 bumbleby fics #emotional destruction imminent

42 notes · View notes

meguwumibear · 9 months

Text

a continuation of this piece tw vampire!sukuna, biting, blood, mild violence, brief descriptions of injury, implied dubcon/noncon, and as always let me know if ive missed anything!

The first bite is a warning.

The creature—Sukuna, he’ll tell you later—has whisked you away to his home or rather to his nest. To the beast’s credit, he had style. And money. Or at the very least he had the power to take whatever his still heart desired. Including this gaudy mansion. Including you.

He thinks you should be grateful. He could have sunk his teeth into you in that dingy, dirty alleyway. He could have bled you dry while he had you pressed against that dilapidating brick wall. But, determined not to disappoint you, he’d taken you home instead. He’ll fuck you in every room in his mansion twice before he lets you die. Maybe you wouldn’t be so disappointed then.

You haven’t stopped fighting him. It’s amusing really, that you think your cute little fingernails can do any real damage. Tomorrow maybe he’ll rip them from you one by one so that you are nothing but a weak, defenseless sack of cartilage. Tonight however, he savors each and every bite.

By the time he’s pinning your wrists to the mattress—another thing you should be thankful for really; you’re not only in his home, but in his well kept bed—your fingers and covered in his blood: all ten digits wet and cherry red from the substance. He vaguely worries about the silk sheets the two of you are about to ruin, but hey, he can always just steal more.

The first bite is a warning, but it draws blood.

You try your best not to whimper, so the resulting sound is a cross between a yelp and a hiss. His fangs may be razor sharp but they sting when they pierce the flesh of your neck. The blood that bubbles reluctantly to the surface is thick and metallic. Sukuna wastes no time pressing his tongue against the wound to stymie the flow. He’s reward with the bitter coppery taste of you.

He’s going to kill you slowly…if he kills you a all. He could keep you around for a year or two, teetering between this world and the next. Fatigued and half mad from blood loss. Desperate to die but unable to as he nurses you back to health only to drain you again and again and again.

The two hands not securing your wrists have your hips pinned to the mattress. He lets you struggle beneath him for a while, enjoying the way your body jerks around, back arching, veins puckering and straining against your vain, hopeless efforts to free yourself from his clutches. You’ll tire yourself out eventually. They always do.

The second bite is cruel.

He’s worked up quite an appetite watching you squirm. The bite is sudden and quick. Two needle-like fangs sink deep into your jugular, and this time you scream as he carelessly opens you up for him. Hot tears well in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision. When the first one falls, he wipes it away with a thumb.

You tense under the pressure. Muscles tightening in both pain and fear as he feasts on you. The sensation of being fed on is unnatural. After the initial bit of blood is pumped out of your body, the stream slows to a trickle, trying and failing to clot. Sukuna has to suck hard around the opened vein to keep his mouth full of your lifeblood.

In some stories, a vampire bite is accompanied with a release of venom into the human’s body. The toxins are supposed to make the human calmer, more receptive to the feeding. It’s supposed to dull the senses. Lessen the ache. The sensation should become enjoyable, even. Blurring the lines between pleasure and pain. Making the human want more.

If vampires actually possess such a venom, Sukuna has no intention of using it on you now. There’s no pleasure or high to accompany the hurt. Just the burn of your blood’s unnatural path. Sucked out of your body instead of pumped through it.

It doesn’t take long for your body to register the loss. Your mouth begins to dry and your head begins to throb, telltale signs that the monster before you cares not if you live or die. You try to take deep breaths as your vision begins to go fade.

“Aw, tapping out already, sweetheart?” Sukuna coos, nosing at your no doubt bruising neck. “Guess I’m not so disappointing after all. Shame the same can’t be said of you.”

He can feel your pulse weakening. If he doesn’t stop now, you won’t make it through the night.

“I-” you pant, breathless from blood loss, “I expected nothing more than this from you. It’s still me who’s disappointed in the end.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. The monster on top of you snarls as his grip tightens. There’s a searing white pain in your arm followed by a disembodied crack. Vaguely, your brain registers that Sukuna has broken your wrist. Both of them.

In pain and in tears; humans never look more beautiful. Sukuna watches sob after sob wreck your body. He licks at the crystalline drops that spill from your eyes savoring the salt of them. His own tear ducts are no longer capable of producing the substance. A part of being human he doesn’t miss.

“Poor thing,” he tuts, brushing his knuckles against your jaw. Your mouth is open, inviting as you cry, and he can’t help but stuff two of his long clawed fingers into it and rub them along your flat, omnivorous teeth.

Your face scrunches in disgust at the invasion. You visibly gag around the digits as he slips them further into your hot mouth, fingering the bumpy muscle of your tongue with the pads of his too cold fingers. The difference in your body temperatures is another dead give away that Sukuna is something more than dead but less than alive.

As the drool begins to dribble down the corners of your mouth, he arches an eyebrow at you as if to ask just what you’re going to do about the intrusion. And in response,

You bite.

#i have vampires on the brain #irl bestie is live texting me her thoughts on true blood #i think it's time for a rewatch #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #tw blood #tw injury #tw noncon #<- to be safe #but i should stress nothing beyond biting happens in this #though the biting is nonconsensual so

88 notes · View notes

climbthemountain2020 · 2 months

Text

Flame of Autumn - Chapter 2

Part 3/25 Also on Ao3!

*Mild TW for extremely brief violence.*

Eris

He hated the Hewn City. And more than that, he hated the fucking Night Court. Rhysand and his worthless “inner circle” as he dubbed them. Pretentious assholes who paraded around like they were better than everyone else, despite leaving their very court to its own ruinous spirit.

Of course, Eris made the effort to be cordial, if not somewhat aloof. Sometimes. Eris knew the importance of keeping Rhys and his bat collection in his favor. Their alliance, though fraught with taunting and toeing the line, was vital to him one day overthrowing Beron and becoming High Lord. Truthfully, he could admit to himself and only himself that he was somewhat jealous of Rhysand.

Eris knew that Rhysand wore the same mask he did. A cool, cruel demeanor allowed him to keep things in check, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the High Lord of Night was not that way with his family. Eris could see what his life might have been like if he had people he truly trusted, a family who loved him. He shook the thought out of his head as that trained voice taunted him: No weakness. No consequences.

He straightened his coat a final time as he waited in the stone-walled room for Rhysand and his party to arrive. It wouldn’t do to have him thinking such thoughts once they arrived. Though his mental shields had been honed for hundreds of years, Rhysand could easily tear them apart if he felt particularly cruel. Best to not tempt fate with any sort of redeeming thoughts about the great bat and his gang of merry followers.

He rapped his long fingers against the table in front of him, and only years of training his reactions stopped him from flinching when the massive stone doors abruptly burst open.

Always so theatrical.

Rhysand arrived with Feyre, Cassian, and Azriel in tow. No Morrigan. Not unexpected. Perhaps she’d still tell them one day of the truth behind their encounters, but until she was ready to face that truth herself, he would play the villain. He was a natural.

“So Eris, I hear congratulations are in order.”

How in the fucking cauldron could news have possibly already traveled here? Inwardly he rolled his eyes and outwardly he projected a bored demeanor.

“For?” He refused to give an inch, ever, where the Night Court was concerned.

“We hear a wedding is coming up. A lovely Autumn bride for the fireling.” It appeared Rhysand and Feyre had not told their warriors. They worked quickly to school their shock, but Eris registered it anyway.

“Yes, I’m told she’s wonderful. About the reason I am here today–”

“What? Not excited for your own wedding, Eris? I would think this betrothal is already going much better than your last.” He fought to not grind his teeth, and he watched Azriel tense visibly across the table. So, no truth yet, then.

“My betrothal is going fine. I am not here about that.”

Cassian smiled. “You were certainly willing when you were propositioning my mate.”

Gods, were they ever going to let this go?

“As I have said before, and will say again, I saw her power, and I thought it would be usefully honed in Autumn. I have offered my congratulations to you many times since.” He projected as much exhaustion with the topic as he could into his voice.

More like I saw that your High Lord would mistreat her then hone her into a weapon, but I digress. Seems to have worked out fine.

“I’ve found traces of stores of what appear to be faebane in the oceanside manor.” This stopped them. He had known it would. “The stores were no longer present, but they left behind traces of the stone used for shackles and the powder dusted on arrows as were used in the war with Hybern. I don’t have any ideas where they might have been moved to, but I haven’t seen traces of them within the Forest House.”

The males nodded, then Feyre spoke up. “Do you think Beron is hoarding them with a purpose in mind? His own safety, or an attack on others?”

“My guess would be that he is keeping them to keep tabs on them, as he does all of his belongings. I think if he wanted to use them, or had any use for them, he would have already done so. I would wager he thinks if he keeps them close, that no one can use them against him.” Feyre nodded.

“You’ll keep tracking them and let us know if and where they resurface?” He nodded. He far preferred working with Feyre. Despite their history, she had softened to him after the war, after becoming a mother.

She was young, but practical. She displayed a haughty aura in situations that called for it, but she wasn’t unnecessarily cruel in the way Rhysand could often be. He respected her more for the things she’d been through, even as a human.

“I will. Are there plans in place yet for an attack on Beron?”

Rhysand responded this time. “Our spies tell us that this is not an ideal time for an attack. I must agree. If he is staying close to the Forest House and hoarding faebane, it would be prudent to wait until circumstances change to move forward with any planning.” Eris tried not to deflate visibly. It was the same every time for the past few years. One step forward, two steps back. He took the opportunity to stand.

“In that case, that concludes my business here.” Rhysand stood and smirked at him wickedly.

“See you at the wedding, fireling.”

Matilda

This region of Autumn was stunning, the leaves changing like fires racing through the trees as they passed in the carriage. The ride had been very bumpy, so she hadn’t been able to sleep. Not that she’d felt comfortable enough with her uncle to sleep near him anyway. She wished she’d been able to stow away a weapon or two for her journey. Indeed, she’d planned to, but the servants burst in before dawn’s first light today to shove her into embroidered dresses and rip at her hair until it sat in a coronet upon her head.

She sighed lightly as she looked again at the passing scenery. At least she would be seeing new parts of Autumn. She hadn’t been to the Forest House since she was very young, perhaps in her late teens. She remembered the gaggle of rowdy redheaded boys, all roughly around her age and younger, and the sad, eternal eyes of the Lady of Autumn. She recalled with vivid clarity the savage and cold face of Beron Vanserra.

“You’ll be on your own tonight. I will be expected to eat with the family of the High Lord, and you won’t be welcome.” She snorted.

“A female? Unwelcome in Autumn? How unexpected.” His hand shot out to slap her and she reared back, still unfamiliar even after two years with a male raising his hands to her.

“Enough of that, you wretch. You’d better get your tongue in check before you enter the Forest House. Eris and any other member of the family will have you killed for speaking in such a way.”

“Why will it matter to you?” She sneered. “You’ll have your coin and be gone, spending my father’s money.” For a second he looked like he might hit her again, but instead he settled for calling her an ungrateful bitch beneath his breath and turning back to look at his letters.

“Once I am gone, you’ll have no one to protect you.” She fought every single impulse to roll her eyes at her uncle’s feeble claim to have ever protected her from anything. “You’d better hope you can spread your legs and produce an heir with your mouth shut. Otherwise, I’m sure Beron will find a more suitable use for you.”

She winced at the implication. She knew she needed to rein it in before arriving. She truly was being dumped into a den of snakes, and she easily could be killed for a slip of the tongue.

She looked back to the beautiful woods.

I wonder if I might be able to wander the woods here. Will he even let me outdoors?

She let her thoughts wander again to what he might be like.

Would they share a bed? Would he hit her? Ignore her? Pretend she didn’t exist at all?

She had the vaguest recollection of Eris from her visit long ago. He’d been impeccably mannered and quiet for the shortest bit of time he was even there, and then he had been sent off only a day into her trip. While the other boys had been running wild, Eris had sat at the table and displayed incredible etiquette for a fae of no more than twenty. He’d walked with an almost undetectable limp, and she remembered that his hair was a beautiful shade of Autumn red–she’d even been jealous of the wine red color against her auburn orange.

She wondered if he might have grown to be handsome, or if he would now bear the vicious features of Beron as an adult.

As she rested her head against the window to watch the passing trees, she couldn’t get the haunted eyes of the Lady of Autumn, shining starkly in her memories, out of her mind.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #vanserra brothers #flame of autumn #arranged marriage #allies to lovers

21 notes · View notes

lveclouds · 1 year

Text

fic preview

↬ pairing/characters: hockey player mingyu x figure skater reader x figure skater sunghoon, other members will make appearances/be mentioned, some ocs

↬ genre/aus: fluff, heavy angst, enemies to lovers, song au, mutual pining, slowburn, college/university au

↬ summary: in which trying to deny any ounce of attraction towards the captain of the hockey team proves to be more difficult than you anticipated.

↬ rating(s): pg15, nc17 (see warnings)

↬ tw: heavy swearing, mentions of alcohol/heavy alcohol consumption (the characters all get a bit drunk in this fic), mutual pining, heavy kissing/clothed touching, a little suggestive (but not nsfw), mild violence (nothing too graphic i promise), mentions of injuries (brief), mentions of horrible parents (very brief), mingyu seems like an ass but he’s actually a huge softie <3, unrequited love (im so sorry), oh and sunghoon is nothing like a*ron carlisle from icebreaker, he’s actually a decent human being and not toxic <3

↬ wc: 2.9k (in drafts) preview wc: 453

↬ note: this fic literally came out of nowhere lmao i got inspired to write it during a late night sprint with my besties @adulttoast and @skyjoong <333 i’m also reading icebreaker by hannah grace atm, and thus hockey! player gyu is now a thing :) also LOOK AT THE GORGEOUS BANNER @skyjoong made for me !!! ITS SO SO PRETTY AND LIKE A MILLION TIMES BETTER THAN ANYTHING I COULD EVER MAKE <3

+ the title of this fic comes from ‘perfect places’ by lorde and is slightly based off ‘im fakin’ by sabrina carpenter :) also, just a little disclaimer, i know very little about hockey, so i apologize there are any inaccuracies. also yuna in this fic is NOT yuna from itzy just a little disclaimer

prologue

kim mingyu. the very mention of his name was enough to make your blood boil. he was arrogant, smug, and a pain in the ass. the day that your coach, yuna, had informed you that you would have to share the rink with the university's hockey team, you knew it was bound to be a disaster. he had shown up on that dreaded monday morning, bright and early, the punctual asshole he was, dark hair mussed and that smug grin you despised plastered on his face.

you were in the middle of tying your skates when he'd walked by, deliberately standing in front of you. fighting the urge to tell him to fuck off, you finished your task and stood to your full height, trying and failing not to notice how the long-sleeve shirt he was wearing clung to every muscle. "what is it, mingyu? i have a very busy day today." you said cooly, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact. mingyu merely smirked, the smug bastard he was.

"nothing at all, y/n, i was merely admiring my view." you felt your cheeks grow hot. smug, arrogant asshole. "has anyone ever told you that you're a pain in the ass?" mingyu chuckled lowly. "everyday." "well, i hope you don't mind hearing it again." before you could brush past him, a warm hand caught at your wrist gently.

"let me go, mingyu." you said calmly, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your tone. "what are you going to do about it if i don't?" he drawled. "let me go." you repeated, ignoring how your traitorous heart skipped a beat.

then, before you could even blink, mingyu wrapped an arm around your waist with his free hand, pulling you into him, and you gasped as your body met a soild wall of muscle.

mingyu let go of your wrist, and you let your hand dangle awkwardly in the air, completely and utterly frozen. then, he gripped your chin gently, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. his light hazel eyes glinted dangerously in the low lights of the rink, nearly caramel in the early morning sun streaming in through the massive windows.

then, mingyu leaned in, brushing his lips against your cheek, the touch feather-soft and barely there, but you shivered all the same. "do you even know what you do to me?" your pulse quickened, and heat pooled in your stomach, but you chose to ignore it.

"no idea, kim, please enlighten me." mingyu's eyes darkened. "are you sure you'd want that?" he asked, lowering his voice to a whisper, the grip around your waist tightening, and you knew, right then and there, that you were irrevocably and utterly doomed.

tagging: @playmetheclassics , @skyjoong , @adulttoast , @taeyo95 , @joonminshua , @seokmins , @shuashong + anyone else who would like to be tagged <3

#mine #mingyu x reader #seventeen #fic preview #teaser: graceless night #IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS FIC AHHHH #hope y'all love hockey! player gyu <3

61 notes · View notes

aikoiya · 8 months

Text

LoZ: TotK - Meeting One's Match (Overall Story Summary) Part 1

TW: Mentions of past rape & child enslavement (though, it's only mentioned as past trauma & is acknowledged as disgusting); panic attack; mention of death of loved ones, multiple, both canon & non-canon; mentions of child abandonment; brief sexual intercourse, but it's between 2 consenting adults; mention of pegging & strap-on use; mention of concubines, both male & female; mild violence; intrusive thoughts & pseudo-possession; mentions of kinks, but really only mentions; mentioned child sacrifice & implied torture of a minor, very bad, horrible stuff; possible others that I can't think of off the top of my head rn.

Just because they are in the story does not mean that I condone it.

And, I am very open to criticism so long as it is constructive in nature & presented politely. In fact, I encourage it!

Also, very long post.

Before reading, I'd recommend going here first: Nemma Masamuna Profile & Personality

MOM Part 1 & MOM Part 2.

And, for the rest of my Meeting One's Match stuff, go to my LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist.

---

This is Masamuna Nanema (正むナ凪音真), typically referred to as Nemma or Nema (音真, sound of truth), my Sheikah Fem!OC.

She is the most powerful woman in all of Hyrule. At least, based on pure skill, strategy, & martial prowess. She could likely even take on both Sonia & Zelda given enough time.

For what Nemma wears throughout the story, look at Nemma's Attire.

Her paternal grandfather was a Sheikah blacksmith, her paternal grandmother was an ex-Sheikah warrior who retired & opened a little restaurant, her father a member of the Royal Guard, her mother was a half-Sheikah/half-Hylian warrior, & her maternal grandmother was a Hylian. Which is where her eye color comes from as most Sheikah tend to have brown, gray, or black eyes naturally.

Her grandfather, unfortunately, died 2 years before the beginning of this story. However, Nemma's grandmother, Ayamay, is still very much alive.

She is the most powerful woman in all of Hyrule. At least, based on pure skill, strategy, & martial prowess. She could likely even take on both Sonia & Zelda given enough time.

For what Nemma wears throughout the story, look at Nemma's Attire.

Her paternal grandfather was a Sheikah blacksmith, her paternal grandmother was an ex-Sheikah warrior who retired & opened a little restaurant, her father a member of the Royal Guard, her mother was a half-Sheikah/half-Hylian warrior, & her maternal grandmother was Hylian. Which is where her eye color comes from as most Sheikah tend to have brown, gray, or black eyes naturally.

Her grandfather, unfortunately, died 2 years before the beginning of this story. However, Nemma's grandmother, Ayamay, is still very much alive.

After Nemma was born & it was revealed that she was a girl, her father had left to be a guard to King Rauru & her mother had left her not long after. So, she was raised by her grandparents. Her father, Masashai, still came back occasionally, but it was obvious that he'd wanted a son as he did not show much fatherly interest in her. However, she never saw her mother again.

Nemma was mostly raised by her grandparents; her grandfather, Takka, having taught her the ins & outs of blacksmithing. While his wife, her grandmother, Ayamay, taught her all she knew about cooking & toxins.

She comes from a long, ancient line of Sheikah blacksmiths, their techniques passed down over thousands of years, & this is a very important part of her identity. Her grandfather, Takka, having been one himself & taught her everything he knew about the craft. He has since died 2 years before the start of the story due to lung cancer as a result of improper safety when handling the forge. (His skin was actually blue due to working with iron so much without proper safety gear. It's due to this that Nemma is diligent in using protective gear.)

She is a smithing prodigy & while she is able to make damn near anything that can be forged from metal, what she's most interested in is weaponsmithing, specifically bladesmithing. Part of the reason being that it's at the intersection of most of her interests. The primary ones being blacksmithing & being a Sheikah warrior. Thus any weapon she makes does not degrade with use as she always makes sure to keep them well-maintained & sharpened. She also always has Advanced Rocktorok Wax on her at all times which automatically restores her weapon if it breaks. Just in case.

She dreams of creating a series of weapons that fully harnesses the power of the elements. Which is partly why she's become so interested in the Gerudo style of magical gemstone infusion or Zennō.

Anyway, the Toketa Hōseki Shita-Kitae (Molten Gem-Folding) & Kaijū-Hone Yakin (Monster-Bone Metallurgy) techniques are ones that she created herself, being 2 separate, but connected attempts of hers to do so. The Hōseki Shita-Kitae being an evolution of the Hachi Shita-Kitae (Eight-Folding) technique, which has been passed down among Sheikah blacksmiths for several thousands of generations.

The elemental weapons series from BotW (Flamespear, Flameblade, Great Flameblade, Thunderspear, Thunderblade, Great Thunderblade, Frostspear, Frostblade, & Great Frostblade) were actually inspired by her work. Though, she had never taught anyone her techniques during her original time period, so the series was more so an attempt to replicate her techniques.

More than anything though, she wants a husband who can, if not outright beat her, then at least match her as a warrior.

Despite her seemingly masculine interests, beyond that, she's actually considered to be an almost perfect image of Yamato Nadeshiko (大和撫子, the personification of the idealized Sheikah woman, meaning "the epitome of pure, feminine beauty"; poised, decorous, kind, gentle, graceful, humble, patient, virtuous, respectful, benevolent, honest, charitable, faithful, intelligent, & most of all, dangerous) by her own people's estimates, & actually wants to be a wife & mother very badly. Furthermore, upon becoming one, she plans to focus mostly on her family, specifically her children, while still maintaining her skills as a warrior. Is quietly eager to teach them their family & tribe's traditions. Cannot wait to bond with them through activities such as cooking & hunting like she did with her grandparents. They hold some of her fondest memories.

I know that we've been hearing the term "strong, independent woman" a lot lately, but the thing about Nemma is that not only is she legitimately strong & truly independent, but she feels zero need to tell people this. She is thus not due to herself declaring herself as such, but because she displays such qualities outward. Not to mention, she also 100% appreciates the work that men do & values them for that work, which is why she wants to be a wife & mother someday.

She wants to take on that spouse & caregiver role.

Though, sometimes, Nemma wonders in the back of her mind if she's accidentally backed herself into a corner by training so hard, because she wants a strong man, but due to having trained so much, so hard, for so long in order to prove that she didn't need her father's approval, she's afraid that she's become too strong to find a man who could protect her.

Because even though she's more than capable of protecting herself right now, she also knows that she can't do that forever. Especially not if she plans to carry children.

Other than that, she's just become so bored with Kakariko. There have been several attempts by Sheikah men for her hand, civilian & warrior alike, but none of them could even come close to meeting her expectations. Even quite a few Hylian & Ovelian men had tried their hand, but none measured up. This results in her worrying if her expectations might be too high.In her spare time, she plays a Shinobue (篠笛) to relax. A Shinobue being a horizontally-held Sheikah-style bamboo flute. She is actually pretty dang good.

— Undefined Parts of the Story & Other Little Details That Would Likely Show Up In The Story, But I Don't Know Where To Put:

Because even though she's more than capable of protecting herself right now, she also knows that she can't do that forever. Especially not if she plans to carry children.

Nemma will probably end up having beef with Zelda. Not on a personal level, more so just due to what she represents. Nemma just doesn’t trust technology that’s too advanced & honestly sees the way the Zonai & the future Sheikah’s tech uses magic in a similar way to how many view heavily processed American cheese. She believes that there should be a more defined balance between progress, technology, nature, & tradition.

Believes that weapons should remain manual, so she’d be horrified by the Guardians & the Divine Beasts & would likely see how Calamity Ganon managed to turn them against Hyrule as validation of her distrust of them.

The Sheikah Slate would grind her gears a bit, due to its use of automatic sealing magic, but not to nearly the same degree as other things.

She wouldn’t really mind the Purah Pad though, as it appears to be mostly for navigation, picture-taking, & cataloging. Though, she’d mind it even less if it had more icon options & a way for her to apply personalized notes to those icons. Like, you have to tap on the icons to get those notes. (Would likely still prefer Pictoboxes, though, considering they can instantly produce pictures while the Sheikah Slate & Purah Pad seem to need an entirely different machine to do so. I mean, if Pictoboxes still existed. Knowledge of them, let alone their creation methods, seems to have been lost.)

Surprisingly, sees the teleportation function as quite useful in case of emergencies, but also sees how ready access to such would likely cause overreliance & laziness.

Another reason why Nemma doesn’t trust the Zonai or Sheikah tech is how… frankly unreliably disposable they tend to be.

Moving on, on the day she left Kakariko, she cut off her hair at the nape. In Sheikah custom, this had 2 symbolic meanings depending on the context. When someone else does this to them, specifically a higher-ranked Sheikah, it symbolizes that the one getting their hair cut is dishonored & has shamed both themselves, their family, & the Sheikah as a whole. However, if a Sheikah does this to themselves, it is a symbol of cutting off ties with the Royal Family & becoming a Ronan.

The reason being that in the old days, long hair was considered a symbol of loyalty to one's king. (This is inspired by Japanese custom & tradition. At least, as far as I've learned of it.)

Her hair has since regrown itself down to her shoulders, but the fact that her hair is as short as it is, would mark her back then as an outcast amongst the Sheikah of her time.

She's still growing it out more, possibly to ass-length, but the ends of her hair will likely always have that straight-edged cut when let down.

She didn't do this due to having anything personally against the Royal Family themselves. More so, she did not wish to be anyone's puppet.

Though, she admits that it's possible that her father's rejection of her in favor of spending 97% of his time in service of the Royal Family may have influenced her somewhat minor dislike of them.

She actually used to dislike them a lot more before her kidnapping as a child, as learning that Rauru sent people to rescue her smoothed over a lot of her dislike of them.

As a side-note: She has a surprisingly dry, deadpan wit that will sometimes leave Ganondorf in stitches. It's a rare occurrence, so when it happens, it tends to come as a shock.

Also, despite how stoic Nemma normally is, she's actually very expressive with her hands & arms. As a result, when she's around people that she doesn't trust, she tends to keep her arms folded over her chest, or by her sides, or hands planted on her hips, or folded together behind her back in order to keep them still.

But with someone she trusts, she uses her hands to gesticulate. Part of the reason being due to her fluency in Shadow Hand Speak (SHS). It's not an official Hyrulean sign language, nor do many even know about it to begin with, being mostly used by Sheikah & sometimes Yiga as a means to communicate with each other quietly on stealth missions.

She doesn't always use SHS when speaking, but almost out of habit, it feels unnatural to talk & not have her hands doing something. So, she still unconsciously uses her hands to get her meanings across or for emphasis.

It's just a bit of a quirky thing she does around those she trusts with her life. And one she honestly finds a bit embarrassing.

Ganondorf thinks it's effing cute. Sometimes, he tunes her out to see if he can figure out what she's saying just by watching her hand gestures. Which sometimes gets him in trouble when Nemma realizes that he isn't listening.

It annoys her a little bit when he does it, though she can never be 100% sure that he isn't listening because he always seems able to respond as if he had been.

Also, whenever out & discussing business or sensitive information, she tends to fold her hands over her mouth in a natural position to dissuade lip-readers. Likewise, she too can read lips.

Nemma also has a teeny tiny bit of a mischievous streak in her. It doesn't show itself often or explicitly, but it does show.

Specifically, when Ganondorf doesn't know she's entered the room.

In such situations, she'll sometimes pad up to him using her stealth training & wait till he notices her, then not react when he jerks in surprise.

Sometimes, she'll even shadow him playfully, making him slightly paranoid about being watched before suddenly letting him see her.

It frustrates him slightly, but he also can't find it in himself to hate it as he quite likes the playful light in Nemma's eyes & the slight uptick at the corner of her lips.

At most, he'll roll his eyes at her uncharacteristic impishness & maybe grumble slightly.

Though, he also takes it as clearance to mess with her as well.

---

Nemma will likely be invited to help the Gerudo huntresses catch a Cobra Shark at some point. Cobra Sharks are basically sandy-colored sharks (resembling Zebra Sharks, but with stripes instead of spots) with no eyes, & an enzyme in its saliva that can cause terrible infection when bitten, thus giving it its name. They live in the loose, flowing sands around the desert. The best method for killing them is luring them to the surface & stabbing them with spears. However, they’re also very vindictive & can jump onto the more solid sand & follow you for a decent distance before they inevitably become sitting ducks.

---

Whenever Nemma is hired for an assassination, she always hides her face behind a Mask of Truth.

She enjoys her anonymity as it allows her to go about her day without worry.

Her policy is that she must be paid half up front & half after. She finds that this makes it so she guarantees she'll be paid, while ensuring her client that she will provide. In a lot of ways, she is much like Shelly de Killer from Ace Attorney in the way she operates.

She has very few lines that she will not cross & those lines are always made 100% clear to her clients.

She will not in any way harm a child.

She will not be complicit in slavery or any form of sexual abuse.

If, at any point, she finds that her client has violated any of these rules or has lied about such, she reserves the right to make them her next target.

And if they are in any way connected to a group or organization that participates in such activities, even unknowingly, don't be surprised if the members of said group begins to mysteriously disappear over time.

Nemma has exactly zero qualms with killing if she views it as necessary so long as it isn't kids. That is her one line.

Slavers, rapists, kid killers, & pedophiles are at the top of her list of people to kill immediately. They are not people to her. They are what amounts to a dangerously invasive species of animal that are directly harming the ecosystem & need to be hunted down like rabid dogs. Pests to be exterminated. A blight upon the land that she would wipe clean with her own hands. Living, breathing targets. Prey. If she ever meets anyone with such sinful habits, don't expect them to be an issue for long.

Absolutely revels in causing such individuals inordinate amounts of pain before eventually killing them. Especially those who have actually acted upon those desires. She's actually done some pretty damn heinous things to people like that, though she feels no shame or guilt for such.

The reason she bears such virulent hatred of these individuals is partly due to having been kidnapped by slavers as a young girl. She'd been... It doesn't matter. Her first kill had actually been one of those same slavers, which had resulted in severe punishment. She had only been there a week when her grandparents, several Sheikah men, & a group of Royal Soldiers, including her father, had come to save her as well as the other slaves.

You see, while slavery hadn't been legal in Hyrule even before the Zonai came, that didn't stop some very sick-headed individuals from getting their jollies off on exerting power over others. As such, the Hyrule Royal Family had been on a campaign to fully end it since Hyrule's known inception. It's one of the few things that she agrees with the Hyrule Royal Family about.

And, it turns out that, while yes, Masashai did come to help save her, he'd actually been ordered by Rauru to aid the group that had been planning to raid the slavers' base.

And, while he did show momentary concern, sympathy, & even pity for his daughter, it didn't seem to be enough to change his neglectful ways towards her.

That was when Nemma realized that she'd never be enough for him & just entirely stopped trying. Even stopped writing to him altogether.

She became absolutely determined to prove to him that she didn't need him or his approval in any way. That she'd become a great warrior without him.

Though Nemma doesn't know it, while Masashai hadn't ever opened any of her letters or even replied, that didn't mean that he just threw them away. Though, he had actually begun to burn her first couple of letters, thinking it best to cut her out of his life so that he could focus on his duties as a royal guard, but had admittedly felt guilty for it & put the fire out before too much of them could be consumed. He then instead opted to keep them in his bedside drawer at home.

There is some part of him that actually has some form of recognition for her as his daughter. It's just that he doesn't care enough to make an actual effort.

Back to Nemma, before being kidnapped & taken advantage of, she was actually a very happy & expressive kid with a love for adventure & could even be a bit rash at times. Oftentimes not even really planning things out or taking into account the consequences of her actions. Back then, she often waved off her grandparents' advice, thinking it was just old people talk. Though, she'd always wished to be a proud Sheikah warrior & blacksmith like her grandfather, even back then.

Due to her trauma, not just from the overload of emotional stress from being trained as a certain type of slave, but also from her having finally realized that her father had abandoned her & likely wouldn't have even helped save her if not for King Rauru, Nemma developed alexithymia. Which is a difficulty expressing one's own emotions, specifically in identifying their thoughts & feelings.

It's something that she's been dealing with ever since. She's definitely gotten better, but it… well, it's rough on her. This is partly why she's become so stoic.

Of course, it isn't the whole reason, but definitely part of it.

However, since then, Nemma has become more stoic, serious, reserved, careful, & calculating as a result of her traumatic experience & taking her grandparents' words into more consideration as she had begun to seek them out for comfort more often. Having also grown to hate slavers & those who harm others, especially children, for their own personal gain & is always on the lookout for them. Fully prepared to end their lives at a moment's notice.

In this way, while generally level-headed, she can be a bit unhinged & even vindictive at times. At least, in these situations.

As such, she'll definitely have issues with the Gerudo once she learns of their Vo'màzren (concubini, otherwise known as male concubines) & Vàsitulïxan, dominatrixes paid specifically to break in & train male concubines via domination. One such method involving the use of what is, essentially, magical strap-ons that are embedded with magically enhanced Amethysts, which are known for making connections between things, specifically the mind, spirit, or body & something else. (These are known as Stolkén.)

While the possibilities of such gemstones & their uses fascinate Nemma, to do something like this without one's consent chafes her majorly.

Even still, it is something that has just been a part of the Gerudo lifestyle since the Sûl'si Nàshàlay'è (literally, the Curse of Castration. Referencing the female-only curse) befell them nearly 40-50,000 years ago. (Not that anyone remembers this fact.) As such, the Gerudo back then had a good amount of them, though only the higher ranked Gerudo had full, legit harems & not even many of them did. Such individuals included the captain of the guard & the 3 Vaen, who worked at a place known as a Surré Qasrehs (Pleasure Palace; though it's really just a very big tent before the timeskip), but were very high-ranked individuals. There could only ever be 3 Vaen at a time. If you want to know more about them, then go to my Vae & the Spring of Talthïrï post. Warning, it's weird.

Likewise, the sex industry there, specifically prostitution where Vo'màzren also worked in the Pleasure Palace alongside the 3 Vaen & often were trained by them, tended to entirely revolve around unowned Vo'màzren, which were referred to as Hra'tàkdham Vo'màzren (Free-Use Concubini), & they weren't even really paid. Instead, their rewards tended to be food & lodging, though the most well-behaved were treated better & the best, most talented, or most experienced tended to be showered with luxury & finery. It was very much not a good thing.

Admittedly, there turned out to be a handful of Vo'màzren who seemed to "come around" to their new lifestyles, some even taking to it like a fish to water. And those were often referred to as Nebdhàhi Vo'màzren or golden concubini. But the truth of the matter was that this generally happened due to them sort of brainwashing themselves into enjoying the lifestyle, even beginning to believe that they didn't deserve a better life. Admittedly, some truly did enjoy it, but those were few & far between.

Disgustingly, this Pleasure Palace tended to have 2 draws. Sexual gratification & the right to be bred. And repeatedly purchasing a free-use Vo'màzren for the night to breed with could be much more costly depending on the skill & quality of the Vo'màzr. Though, that could be avoided by rather than renting them for one night, instead purchasing them outright as one wouldn't need to buy multiple sessions as the man would be theirs. At the same time, those Vo'màzren who fathered children, while considered fathers, were still thought to be part of the lowest class & not given the authority or respect that they were due as the one who helped to facilitate the child's existence.

Anyway, this Pleasure Palace was the backbone of the sex industry within Gerudàn culture & was where Vo'màzren were trained & where those that were purchased as a private slave were prepared for their new mistresses. It really was a truly rotten experience. The only chance that such men had of a decent life was through romancing their mistresses & eventually becoming their husbands, which would elevate him to normal citizen status & would thus grant him rights as a free person.

Luckily, the enslaving of children is strictly forbidden or Ganondorf would have absolutely zero chance, but the fact that male slaves & even harems of abducted men were still a thing for their culture, would still be a point of contention for Nemma. If Ganondorf has any hopes of gaining her favor & keeping it, he'll have to change that. Though, hearing Nemma's story, her experiences, & her perspective on it will likely help in this.

As mentioned above, though, even after Ganondorf abolished it, there were a handful of men who chose, for one reason or another, to remain doing that sort of work. As such, while Vo'màzren were freed, the industry still managed to survive so long as they treated the men with rights & actually paid them.

While Ganondorf & Nemma generally get along very well. One thing they will consistently fight over is the practice of Pàras’éda Vaivàq al’Eabū (Making Womanous the Enemy).

You see, due to the Gerudo being a female-only race besides Ganondorf & the fact that the Gerudo currently have a bad relationship with Hyrule as a whole. The Gerudo are forced to find ways to create the next generation. You see, due to the Gerudo being a female-only race besides Ganondorf & the fact that the Gerudo currently have a bad relationship with Hyrule as a whole. The Gerudo are forced to find ways to create the next generation. This way tends to be either the use of the Vaen, Vo'màzren, or the act of raping their male enemies.

So, since Vo'màzren were much reduced & they wished to prevent as much inbreeding as possible, Pàras Vaivàq al’Eabū became a near necessity.

It was also something that has been a necessity for millennia & if a Vai especially liked a conquest, she'd often keep him.

This was how the Gerudo sex industry initially began.

Over time, the availability of Vo'màzren due to the industry allowed for Pàras Vaivàq al’Eabū to not happen quite so often, but now that there aren't nearly so many Vo'màzren available, it's caused the price for their services to skyrocket.

This, however, forces Gerudo with lesser means to have to find their own men, which, inevitably, resulted in Pàras Vaivàq al’Eabū becoming common again.

It's very much not something Nemma is okay with. However, her logical mind & hatred of delusion forces her to acknowledge that the Gerudo really & honestly don't have very many options.

Especially since Ganondorf abolished slavery.

At the same time, sometimes… sometimes she struggles with her morals.

And she'll get frustrated & snap sometimes.

The fighting never lasts because Nemma knows that the Gerudo are in no place to be picky.

As such, she sees it as a necessary evil. One that she loathes & would readily drop at a moment’s notice.

---

Also, I'm giving Ganondorf small Orc-like tusks & slightly pronounced upper canines, which results in him having a tiny bit of an underbite. The upper canines being much less pronounced than the tusks. Not anything too terribly noticeable until he steals the Secret Stone & becomes the Demon King. But before that, you can tell they're there when he's talking or smiling or just has his mouth open.

I'm sort of just making this a male Gerudo thing.

He also likes to nip, bite, & lightly nibble Nemma playfully using those very tusks & canines. Whether it be her neck, shoulders, ears, the tips of her fingers (often with a playful little smirk before kissing the pad), or something else.

His kisses will also tend to tickle her due to his beard, which causes her to smile if not giggle on occasion.

Which always gets him to smile. Partially because she just doesn't laugh often & partially because her laugh is just so delicate & feminine, like tinkling bells, compared to how she normally is & the juxtaposition is simply breathtaking to him, often causing his heart to flutter.

Ganondorf will sometimes even rub his chin against her skin just to make her laugh.

As a matter of fact, Nemma loves Ganondorf's beard, thinking it looks very rugged & manly. She just has a huge thing for masculinity.

And as an aside, I think Ganondorf is a bit touch-starved, though he's initially unused to & uncomfortable with non-sexual physical affection. However, he wouldn't put up a resistance & once he gets used to it, he'll crave it like a dying man in the desert craves water.

I also think that Ganondorf would find this fact embarrassing if he ever realized it.

Also, the fact that Nemma refuses to go anywhere without some form of weapon, even to royal affairs, is something that Ganondorf would both expect of her & would deeply respect. Especially when he doesn't even have to mention said expectation.

This would only further cement his belief that the little Sheikah was the perfect queen, born to rule at his side. It'd warm his chest in an unusual way that he'd still be unfamiliar with.

He also tends to get up at the crack of dawn every morning to practice with his weapons. He finds it meditative.

Nemma initially avoids joining him as she believed it was his “me time” & she didn't want to invade that, so she did her morning routines elsewhere. It wasn't until he inquired what she did in the mornings & she said that she had easy morning workouts. He then asked why she didn't join him & she replied that she didn't want to intrude. But then he offered & she quickly begins joining him, not seeing any reason not to.

I'm also gonna have him eventually take up the Sitàr, which will seem to pair quite well with Nemma's Shinobue playing. It'll create a type of sound that is very interesting, but harmonizes in a unique way.

He'll have never considered the idea of taking up an instrument before meeting Nemma, having seen it as a waste of time when one could instead spend that time on something more productive.

However, Nemma will ignite within him a deeper appreciation for music & cultures in general. Especially his own. He'll find it to be yet another meditative experience that he quite enjoys.

His tunes tend to flow lazily through the air as, much like Nemma, he tends to play it to relax & unwind. Doesn't really go into it intending to create songs, but that's what he ends up doing.

Turns out that Ganondorf is actually quite gifted & creative when it comes to music.

---

Anyway, Nemma fights using swords with her favorite being Namikaze no Odori, which is a Katana that she forged herself using the blacksmithing techniques that her grandfather taught her. However, she generally only uses it in emergencies as it is extremely overpowered & if there's one thing she loves, it's a challenge.

Most other times, she has a pair of Sheikatō (canonically called Eightfold Blades) & Kodachi that she can use. Two Sheikatō sheathed at her hips, two Kodachi strapped to her thighs, & her Namikaze no Odori sheathed across her back. Normally, she'll switch between different combinations of them depending on her opponent. Sometimes, she'll use both Sheikatō, sometimes she'll use both Kodachi, & sometimes she'll use one Sheikatō & one Kodachi.

The ones she uses, while exceptional quality due to her having made them herself, really aren't that special beyond the fact that they are made of a Zoridium steel alloy. Zoridium being what Zora weapons are generally made of & what lets said weapons boost attack when wet.

For specifics on how Nemma made the Namikaze no Odori, what it's made of, ect. Go to my Namikaze no Odori post.

She's actually learned that when in a pinch & no water was available, blood works just as well as water. So, when she needs an extra boost, but doesn't want to use her best weapon, she will just run a blade across her own palm. Though, when in a fight with things that bleed, including monsters that aren't almost purely made of evil magic, she doesn't even really need to do that & all she has to do is land a good hit on them.

As a swordfighter, she is proficient in both Iaidō & Yadome no Jutsu. Iaidō being a style of withdrawing one's sword from its scabbard swiftly & efficiently so as to attack with a flick, flicking blood from the blade, before returning it to its scabbard. This is an art that demands total situational awareness & control. Meanwhile Yadome no Jutsu is the somewhat legendary military skill of arrow-cutting or blocking. It allows one to either cut or deflect arrows from the air with your sword.

Her training in Kenjutsu involved things that bring to mind the Flurry Strike, Extra Attack, & Opportunist feats from DnD, with further training depending on specialization.

For instance, Nemma specializes in the Daisho style of Kenjutsu. Or dual-wielding Wakizashi or Sheikatō. Which allows her to perform techniques like Dual Blades, Dragon Blades, & Whirlwind Blades, from DnD.

When she gets old, Nemma plans to start using a Shikomizue (仕込み杖, Prepared Cane) because she likes the idea of surprising bandits who think she's an easy target. Her grandpa actually did that quite often when he was out delivering his work to customers. While not a dedicated fighter himself, that didn't mean that he couldn't defend himself &, in fact, he was very good at taking attackers by surprise & finishing them off quickly.

Then, there's Kaihi Tanren (回避鍛練, Evasion or Avoidance Martial Training) which trains the body in things like Uncanny Dodge, Evasion, & Elusive, again, from DnD. (I'm taking a lot of inspiration from a 5e homebrew for a Ninja class, here.)

There's also Shinjun Tanren (浸潤鍛練, Infiltration Martial Training) which eventually lets her perform what amounts to Infiltration Expertise, Acculturate, & Imposter, once again, from DnD. Which, Acculturate is actually extremely useful to her as it allows her to be able to learn any language from any place she goes to in a very short amount of time provided she studies how those around her speak it for at least an hour each day for a month or so. She'll most likely use it to learn the Gerudo language too.

It'll likely stun the Gerudo too.

She is, likewise, exceptionally skilled in Kiridō, both Kirijutsu & Santoku, which are 2 different types of knife styles. Kiridō being the overall use of knives, whether for fighting or for cooking. Kirijutsu specifically being the martial or self-defensive branch of Kiridō while Santoku refers specifically to the use of the kitchen knife. Santoku translates to either "three virtues" or "three uses." Which refers to the 3 uses for kitchen knives: slicing, dicing, & mincing. While one can learn Santoku separately from Kirijutsu if they so desire, it is thought in Sheikah culture that in order to get the full understanding of all that a Hōchō (kitchen knife) is capable of, one must also know how to defend oneself with that Hōchō. Which, while Hōchō are not designed with the thought of fighting specifically in mind, they are designed to be able to be used in such a way & be effective at it if necessary. This is due to it being said that the best knifefighters know how to use a Kiri to cook just as easily as to fight. Interestingly, the best Sheikah chefs are also skilled in knifefighting.

Nemma tends to not only enjoy, but actually thrive when learning such multipurpose concepts as it scratches that practical part of her brain quite nicely & in a very satisfying way.

While on the road, she really only brought with her a Gyuto-Bōchō & a Honekotsu-Bōchō. A Gyuto-Bōchō is a Chef's knife & one of the most versatile, being able to do the 3 Virtues of the kitchen just as easily as a Santoku-Bōchō, plus much more. And a Honekotsu-Bōchō is, quite simply, a butchery knife able to cut through heavy meat & bone just as easily as it can do fine, detailed meat-cutting work such as fileting, depending on whether she sharpens or dulls the blade before use. Which is useful when she has to prepare her kills when she goes out hunting. (The Honekotsu-Bōchō is technically a fusion of 2 real world bone & meat kitchen knives: Honesuki-Bōchō & Hankotsu-Bōchō. This is just my attempt to condense things a bit.)

She avoided getting any others or even making herself any as a full Kamado Nakama (Kitchen Companion, a kitchen knife set of Sheikah make) would take up a lot of space in her pack, especially a Mamena (diligent) set. Not to mention, that it was tradition for a woman to get her first Hōchō-Kaku (basically a knife block for the kitchen) when she marries & settles down. Typically as a gift from her husband for their first home together. And usually, it was a Katei-Yō or Home Kaku which generally aren't as fully-stocked as Mamena Kaku tend to be unless the man is either marrying a chef or is a chef himself.

---

And while her preferred weapons are swords or knives, she's also very skilled at using a Jōhyō (chain kunai or rope dart). She tends to wear a Jōhyō Han Kote when on a job, which is actually a very practical, traditional multipurpose Sheikah weapon that doubled as a convenient way to make travel more efficient & sort of inspired the Hookshot. Its most well-known purpose is as a weapon, being capable of working like a regular Jōhyō or a Hidden Blade in combat. Basically, having a dual-use as both a long-ranged weapon & short ranged one. When using it for combat, she can either just let the kunai blade out to use it as a short knife, shoot it out like a clawshot to stab someone, or uncoil it so that she can whirl it around at her side much like WW Link does with a grappling hook & either swing it at anyone who gets too close or throw it at someone farther back.

It can also work as either a Hookshot or a Grappling Hook depending on how it's used.

She also has a secret compartment in her Jōhyō Han Kote where she can put poison, which much like in Assassin's Creed, she can use to covertly assassinate targets, injecting them with it, without drawing attention. It also has what amounts to brass knuckles or Tekkō (鉄甲) built in much like her other Han Kote. Though, it's less actual Tekkō & more so metal studs welded to the knuckles of the Han Kote.

For reference, this is what I mean when I say a Jōhyō Han Kote:

Though, with a guard around the back of the hand. It's a very versatile & useful tool. Also, not my art. I DO NOT claim it as such. If I could underline the "do not" there, I would.

She also keeps a Phrenic Bow on her at all times & is a deadshot (excellent for when she has to make a hit from afar & not get seen), but she'll eventually find that she prefers a Gerudo Bow as their design allows for higher accuracy & more power. Though, not so much the golden hue as it increased visibility. However, she may eventually find that she's better with a double-limbed bow.

Though, a bow isn't her preferred weapon. She typically uses it when she can't get up close & personal with a hit. At the same time, she generally prefers to use it for hunting animals. She remembered hunting with her master growing up.

She wishes that she knew more about bowyering as she gets tired of having to carry around so many different types of arrows. She's just never been very good with woodwork, though she was learning & was determined to be able to one day match her grandmother's skills at it as well as with general woodwork. She can currently fletch & carve figurines okay, but not much beyond that. If she were any good, she'd try to make a sort of spellcaster's bow that would use her magic to infuse regular arrows with elements.

As it stands, she has to buy specific elemental arrows & she doesn't know the Zonai's Weapon Fusion rune. She's been trying to learn to replicate the effect using Sheijutsu or Fūinjutsu, but it's slow going. Once she does though, she'll likely begin carrying around a pouch of arrow-compatible monster parts. Though, she'll tend not to use eyeballs much as she prefers not to rely on them to make her mark & will really only use them when necessary.

---

As mentioned before, Nemma also always has some form of weapon on her & is simply not comfortable unless she has some tangible way to defend herself on hand.

The Kôgai (笄, Hair Sticks) she's wearing? Their tips are made of metal & sharpened to points, thus allowing them to be used as daggers in a pinch. If she wears heeled slippers, then she needs them to be specially made with blades in the heels &, if she can get it, metal reinforced toes.

She always has a pouch full of Deku Nuts on hand, whether for a distraction or what have you.

---

When she learns of them, she'll think most of the Yiga are pretty pathetic, at least compared to herself, & that the entire Kohga line was full of lazy buffoons & wastes of space that refuse to work. (Which, the first time Ganondorf hears this, he actually gives a mighty, hearty guffaw; a full belly laugh that rumbled like storm clouds in his chest.)

She fully acknowledges that she isn't normal & that the Yiga are legitimately dangerous to the untrained & even some of the more well-trained. They are, after all, bandits & are known to ambush Sheikah & blond individuals, robbing & even killing quite a few people.

But that doesn't stop the fact that she'd only consider someone like Sooga a decent fight if they ever, hypothetically, met. Maybe. Depends on how badass the writer wants to make him. I still don't think she'd lose to him, though. And even on the slim chance that he did win, he'd have to catch her completely off-guard & use his superior male strength against her right out the gate & take her out as soon as possible. No testing the waters.

Though, even then, the next time they'd fight, she'd be able to counter him. However, considering that she gives Ganondorf a run for his money, I just don't see him getting the upper hand.

In this way, I consider the 4 strongest fighters to be, from best to least best to be: Link, Ganondorf & Nemma (in different areas), then Sooga.

---

Actual Story:

Ganondorf & Nemma meet when she came to the Gerudo Encampment to learn their Dawallahan style of forging scimitars & then use Dawasaaq steel (basically the Hyrule equivalent to Damascus steel) from the Gerudo Highlands to remake the Namikaze no Odori's blade, starting by infusing Zoridium into the Dawasaaq steel, which is ideal for blade creation. This wouldn't increase the Katana's base attack by much, just by 5, making it a base of 115 & 230 when wet, but would instead greatly increase its durability, which means she wouldn't have to be quite so religious in its upkeep & the blade itself could take more abuse before being overtaxed.

During which, she caught sight of the behemoth of a man training with his soldiers & noticed the weapon he was wielding, recognizing the Katana (刀, Two-Handed Sword) he was using.

Well, she supposed that it was more a Wakizashi (脇差, One-Handed Sword) in his hands than a Katana.

Turned out that the Sheikah who Ganondorf had commissioned it from had actually been Nemma's grandfather & that she remembered him making it as well as the others in the Shōki (瘴気, Miasma) series. Shōki being the name that Takka gave to the Gloom series of weapons as the weapons were designed to be able to channel Ganondorf's Malice or On'nenmaryoku (怨念魔力, magic power that is fueled by a mix of hatred, grudement, malice, vengeance, & resentfulness that can consume spirits & make them furious or malicious & evil spirits even more so).

Initially, he was suspicious & asked her what the other weapons in the series were as only the Katana was present. As he did so, he eyed her subtly, admitting inwardly that she was very attractive. If her words were correct, he wouldn't mind a one-night fling with the tiny Sheikah woman. It's not like a Hyrulean would matter much when he only intended to fuck her & be done.

He could also see how she tried to hide how her own eyes roamed his form in return, which caused him to smirk internally. The giant of a man knew that he was a prime specimen, not just by Gerudo standards, but also by Hyrulean ones. Though, if she turns out to be any good, he might consider making her one of his Vamàziahen.

And, indeed, the Sheikah did observe him. Taking in his masculine features. His rippling muscles under taught, slightly greenish dark skin. His long, russet hair pulled into a topnot. His striking golden eyes like the piercing gaze of an eagle. His strong features & aquiline nose. And especially his incredible height, around 9-10 feet.

The guy was ma-hoo-sive!

Nemma thought a moment, her nose scrunching ever so slightly, before replying that one was a Naginata (薙刀, Polearm or Spear), & then there's the Daikyū (大弓, Samurai War Bow) & Konbō (棍棒, Club, Stick or Cudgel) that were made as a collaboration between her grandparents as her grandmother was the woodworker & bowyer in the family.

Ganondorf's brows rose nearly to his hairline in surprise, then interest. That was quite the coincidence.

He then commented that her grandparents' work had served him quite well, but then he expected as much from the famous Masamuna forging clan of Kakariko. And proceeded to ask for her name.

To which, she replied "Is it not normally considered polite to introduce one's own self before requesting the name of another?"

Though a tiny bit miffed, Ganondorf hummed & admitted the truth in that & did as such, introducing himself as Voe'attàr Gánōndōrfè Gárorrzïr of the royal Gerudo house of Drāgamīr, Son of Gàlaaqkōba, King of the Gerudo, specifying that the Hyrulean transliteration of King Ganondorf Dragmire would suffice if she struggled to pronounce the Gerudàn pronunciation of it. (Though, he says it with a bit of a sneer, as though he weren't expecting much.)

Then, requested her name once more.

Honestly, the tiny Sheikah should be grateful that not only was he in a good mood today, but that her grandparents' work was so exceptional, as otherwise he would've simply demanded her compliance.

However, rather than apologize for her slight against a king as he expected, she simply bowed in greeting & introduced herself as "Masamuna Nanema," stating that it was an honor to make his acquaintance.

They chatted for a bit before, feeling oddly charmed by her, Ganondorf then invited her to observe his training with his soldiers, hoping to impress her & get a good fling out of it, which Nemma thanked him graciously for the offer, but rejected.

Ganondorf was shocked by the audacity, then stunned further when she, rather cordially, challenged him to a duel to prove to her that he still deserved to wield her grandfather's work.

Part of him was insulted at the idea that he wouldn't be, while the other admired her courage & gall to actually challenge a man, a king, one twice her size.

Chuckling at the very idea of losing, Ganondorf asked what she planned to do if he lost.

To which she replied, "I will then be retrieving the Shōki series from your possession." The large Gerudo frowned at the idea of her stealing from the Bandit King.

"Do not misunderstand. I do not intend to rob you. It was a legitimate business transaction after all. However, please understand that I cannot allow one unworthy to wield my grandfather's work. If you have not proven your worth by the end of the battle, then I will simply appraise them & reimburse you for the loss."

As fair as that was, logically, he did not like that she wished to take from him something that he'd commissioned personally. Especially when they were so reliable.

He accepted her challenge, looking to stamp out the assumption that he "might not be worthy" but was quickly taken aback by the mesmerizing skill with which she handled her own weapon when, the very next instant after the fight had begun, she struck out quick as lightning, drawing her Sheikatō from her sheath in a technique he'd only heard mention of before (an Iaidō), most likely to try to debilitate him quickly.

If he had not been himself, then she would've likely won in just the opening encounter, but he was Gánōndōrfè, King of the Gerudo, Vah Gela damnit! He wouldn't be taken out that easily! So, with a fierce glare, he deflected her strike before it could land.

He held her gaze for a moment, measuring her up & found something odd.

Her expression, where once she was stoic to a fault, now her face bore a look of shock upon it, before turning to intrigue.

As the fight progressed, he noticed in her a sort of energy. An aura of growing excitement.

She was incredibly strong too, as well as quick on her feet, & an obviously brilliant strategist as she had not only struck him many times, but had also caused him to faulter & stumble more than once. But he would not be bested!

Even still, Ganon knew that she was holding back on him. She was obviously an extremely skilled Sheikah Warrior, thus she must be trained in her tribe's sorcery.

So, he taunted her to try & get her to do so, but she simply gave a tiny smirk before continuing.

Anyway, she & Ganondorf continue to fight & I imagine that it'd become similar to the punch-cute from Shang Chi: Ten Rings, between Wenwu & Ying Li, but with swords.

In the end, Nemma loses, at which point, her expression turned briefly to awe, then a clarifying realization before evening back out into stoicism.

For his part, Ganondorf was exhausted, but in that really satisfying way after accomplishing something extremely difficult, but worthwhile.

She was impressive. Damn impressive in fact. He hadn't been so challenged by a fight since he was a boy. The experience was a very fulfilling one that left him wanting more.

Nemma then stood up somewhat unsteadily & bowed deeply to him in a way that indicated deep respect & the sight made the man's chest swell with pride & his blood run hot. He knew that he'd earned her respect & the knowledge of one so strong, acknowledging him as the mighty warrior that he was & had always been, was pleasing to him & stroked his ego.

The fact that she was quite the beautiful one certainly helped. He found himself regarding her once more, though this time, he recognized the scars that litters her body & the defined muscle definition & could not help but think that they somehow enhanced her appearance as they were the marks of a survivor.

The woman thanked him graciously for the opportunity to test herself against his sword & said that she was honored that one so skilled was wielding the Masamuna family's work & that the Katana of the Shōki series was his. She went on to say that it was a relief to know this & offered her services as a weaponsmith should he ever need the Masamuna's talents in the future, though she warns that she had only just begun to learn bowyery & was likely to damage the Daikyū that her grandparents made for him. And, though she was an acceptable whittler, she also wouldn't recommend requesting her skills in them to make Konbō either as she was a perfectionist & was still learning from her grandmother.

G: "So, you have followed in your clan's footsteps?"

N: "Yes, Gánōndōrfè-sama."

G: "You are… incredibly skilled with your sword. It's hard to believe that you'd expect everyone who'd ever purchased your grandparents' work to overcome such a... daunting challenge."

N: "I don't. I merely expect them to prove they are above average at using the weapons they bought. Which, I will need to confirm your mettle with the other weapons in the Shōki series. Further apologies for the inconvenience, sire. Though, I suspect that there is no need for worry, I still require confirmation to settle my own."

Ganondorf nodded, unconsciously leaning closer to her, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. He warmed ever so slightly at not only having been referred to as a king by one who was not his subject, but also at the obvious, yet strangely genuine flattery, then paused in confusion, a look of scandal upon his face.

G: "You only consider yourself to be above average?"

N: "Oh, no, sire. I knew you were worthy after the moment that you blocked my first strike."

Ganondorf settled, then took a moment to process that even as his ego inflated at the fact that he'd proven himself so quickly.

G: "... Then why continue?"

N: "... I have not been truly challenged in a very long time, Gánōndōrfè-sama."

G: "Gánōn is fine. I believe that you've earned that tiny amount of familiarity. Warriors get to know each other quite well by fighting, yes?"

Nemma paused before relaxing slightly with a nod & a slight uptick at the corner of her lips.

N: "Gánōn-sama then. If that is the case, then may I humbly request that his highness refer to this one as Nemma?"

G: "... You may... Vànda Nemma..."

That slight uptick seemed to twitch, briefly turning it into the tiniest smile that the voe had ever witnessed. Yet, somehow, despite its unassuming scale, it somehow managed to propagate until it just barely lightened her sapphirine eyes.

Though, as to whether or not she recognized the title as the honestly bold flattery that it was, he wasn't sure. However, his guard very much did, judging by how her brows rose briefly before immediately returning to a neutral position. She'd better not gossip about it if she knew what was good for her.

N: "Gomen ne or... A'nï sàreq'so, Gánōn-sama. Is that how it is said?"

He could practically feel his own smirk soften ever so slightly at the edges at her slightly slow vocalization of the words, indicating a degree of unfamiliarity & care in the pronunciation of the expression of gratitude. The only significant mistake within her use of the eucharism, appearing to be the lack of vocalization of the ‘Khamza.

G: “That is correct.”

To which, she nodded slightly in polite understanding & demure appreciation.

It was odd, Ganondorf had always believed that he'd be annoyed with the politely submissive & overly meek disposition that Hylian vaien were known derisively among the Gerudo for, as he'd believed that it'd be a flagrant display of weakness. And if there was one thing that he couldn't stand, it was weak women. Yet, though the yà'vai’làra (little warrior woman) very much did display such outward traits, there was also an aura of refinement & elegance that almost seemed to cast an illusory veil over such a notion as “weakness.” Honing it, instead, into an almost imperceptible sharpness that primly & politely stated, ‘you may underestimate me if you so desire. However, in so doing, you may also find yourself paying the price for such an egregious & arrogant error at a later date.’

It honestly brought to mind the stories of Sheikah vaien pretending to be courtesans. Fluttering their fans in front of their faces for some pompous weakling of a voe who was pathetically unaware of the wickedly sharp blades hidden within the fan's delicate silk.

The very image of elegant lethality.

As Ganondorf had grown into himself, he'd come to believe that such stories were fantasticized for the purposes of Hyrulean fearmongering. However, the tiny Sheikan vai's demeanor when paired with the wonderful display of skill she just gifted him with; he wasn’t quite so sure anymore.

If he were being honest, it heated his blood in quite the pleasant way. He very much looked forward to further duels in the future. Even ones that consisted mainly of witticious verbal engagement.

N: "As I was saying, I wished to further test your majesty's martial prowess, though for my own sake. For that, I apologize. I… wished to see what you were capable of. As is apparent by the results of our duel, the answer would be 'quite a good deal more than I had anticipated.'"

She then turned & bowed.

N: "Please accept my apologies for having acted without decorum. I will excuse myself to deal with my own injuries, if that is acceptable to you, sire?"

Ganondorf was suddenly reminded of his own injuries, the aches settling in rapidly as the adrenaline faded from his system & quickly took the out that she had so graciously given him by confirming that it was acceptable.

Though, before he left, he turned back & implied that he wouldn't be averse to another bout. Which, he hoped that she'd use more of her arsenal when they met in battle once more, because he planned to use more of his as well.

She paused for a moment, her eyes briefly lighting up with anticipation before flushing slightly & nodding her acceptance.

Upon leaving her sight, Ganondorf would stumble, clutching his ribs as blood dripped from his lips, his hand shooting up to take hold of a wall & steady himself. He'd barely won that fight by just a sliver. That, more than anything, just put a Hylian Pinecone on the fire of his swiftly growing desires.

The fact that he'd beaten such a capable & skilled woman excited him beyond measure.

He grinned manically as the thought of making her his first crossed his mind.

That's when his obsession with one Masamuna Nanema first sprouted.

—

They'd duel several more times over the next couple weeks. And each fight, she'd show him something new, whether it be her knifework, dual-wielding, her use of the chained dart vambrace (Jōhyō Han Kote), her skill with a bow, her acrobatic athleticism, or her skill with Sheikah spellwork (Sheijutsu), that made him want her more with each passing day.

It also helped that she was so interesting & a surprisingly great conversationalist.

And each time, Ganondorf would win just barely & with each fight, he became more determined to court her.

He also began using her evaluations of his skills with the other Shōki weapons as excuses to show off to her & prove himself to be the best possible choice for a match. And judging by how she'd eye him up whenever she thought he wasn't looking, it was working.

He soon found himself getting… *cough* excited during their fights & after adjourning, he'd be forced to retreat to a secluded area to uh… "work off his leftover energy."

—

He just had to ease his suspicions first.

G: "You… wouldn't happen to be another of your King's messengers come here to convince the Gerudo King to come bask in Hyrule's glory via temptation, or perhaps a very attractive assassin, now would you?"

N: "Rauru is not my king & I wasn't aware that he had made such a nuisance of himself especially to one that I surmise that he wishes to become allies with. Though, I am flattered that his highness finds me so enticing. The feeling is mutual, m'lord. And, if I were sent here to assassinate you, you'd already be dead."

Ganondorf snorted derisively at the idea of being allies with that old goat, but couldn't hold back his smirk at the reciprocated compliment even though he very much doubted that that last part was true. (Poor fool has no clue.)

Though, he became suspicious of the denial of Rauru as her king as well as the informal way in which she referred to him.

He leaned in, looming over her, looking down his nose at her, trying to determine if she was deceiving him. He decided that if she was, then she was very good.

Nemma sighed & lifted her hands, beginning to untie her topknot. Her hair fell much shorter than any Sheikah he'd seen before. To her shoulders & the ends were cut straight. Something about it seemed to tickle his memory, but he couldn't quite grasp it yet.

N: "When I first left Kakariko to travel & become a monster/bounty hunter & mercenary, I used my Kodachi to cut my hair off at the nape."

Ganondorf's eyes lit up as the memory finally connected.

G: "I believe that I read once somewhere that in the Sheikah culture, it is considered a sign of cutting off one's ties with the Royal Family. You made yourself a Ronin. A Sheikah with no master."

N: "That is correct. You are quite knowledgeable. You find my culture intriguing, yes? I see the haori you wear."

Ganondorf sputtered, embarrassed that he'd been caught, but then again, he'd never seen a reason to hide it. Though, he couldn't help the sense of pride he got from being seen as knowledgeable in such things.

G: "I suppose that… in some ways, the Sheikah remind me of my own people, but in others, they are entirely alien to me. I find it interesting that two cultures that have only infrequently interacted can be both so similar & so different. You do not find the mimicry insulting?"

Nemma smiled.

N: "Not at all. Imitation isn't only the most sincere form of flattery, it's also the most sincere form of learning. Though, & pardon my audacity, but it appears that you've tied the obi incorrectly."

The Gerudo man jerked slightly at that, embarrassed once more that all that practice had gone to waste.

N: Do not fret, Sire. You have done far better than most others who were self-taught & the mistakes are minor as well as simple to correct. It is more than apparent that you paid an admirable amount of attention. I am more than willing to aid you in refining your technique if you so wish. Honestly, I too tend to see the Gerudo similarly. I admire your warrior spirits & traditions."

Ganondorf smirked with pride at her recognition of his & his people's efforts. As well as of the fact that he'd done his research.

G: "Likewise &... It would be ungentlemanly of a voe to turn down such a generous offer from a vai as lovely as yourself."

N: "You flatter this unworthy one, m'lord."

She hid her tiny smile & the slight (genuine) flushing of her cheeks behind her delicately closed fist, not even noticing how she unconsciously fluttered her lashes at him in a coquettish manner. If she had a Himitsu Tessen (秘密鉄扇, war fan disguised as a Sensu or courtier's handfan), she'd be fluttering it daintily in front of her lower face as she'd been taught to when flirting amongst the elites on a mission. (Though, she still wasn't confident in her Tessenjutsu technique.)

N: "I also quite admire how you've managed to integrate Gerudo textiles, colors, & patterning into the haori's design at the same time. I may have to inquire as to who made it. I may wish to request their services. It's strange, but… the two styles seem to meld together oddly well?"

Her praise & it's obvious, seemingly hopeful, insinuation to the parallels in their own possible future relationship made a fluttering, hesitant feeling of excitement bloom inside Ganondorf's chest.

G: "They… do seem to be quite… compatible, yes…"

Sheikah culture had always fascinated him. Coming from a warrior culture himself, he especially admired their traditions as fighters. Though, the fact that most were so loyal to that cowardly, peace-loving Rauru & his wife tended to sour that impression.

If not for that, he'd actually be quite the fan.

—

G: "I was wondering. That opening strike you performed in our first duel? How do you do that?"

Nemma giggled, the sound like tinkling bells to his ears.

N: "That was an Iaidō. It is a very difficult thing to learn. Why? Would you like me to teach you?"

Almost too quickly & with too much enthusiasm, Ganondorf said yes before clearing his throat & folding one of his arms over his chest, the other going up to cough into his closed fist as he looked away to hide the flush of embarrassment on his face.

G: "That… would be appreciated."

Nemma let the corners of her lips tug upwards only slightly.

N: "I'd be happy to."

---

Finally, after he'd proven himself capable at wielding all of the Shōki series, Ganondorf went to ask, but they ended up speaking at the same time, pausing when she offered to let him speak first.

At which point, he asked for her permission to court her, to which her eyes lit up in surprise before softening.

N: "It was my intention to ask you the same."

Ganondorf laughed, "Then, would I be correct in assuming that that is a, yes?"

N: "You would be correct."

And so, they began to court after tiptoeing around each other for weeks.

As time passed & they got more comfortable around each other, Nemma began to slowly become less formal with him.

---

The last of their deciding duels would end up being climactic. Downright epic. It'd be the one where she'd stop all pretenses & take out the Namikaze no Odori & really show him what she was made of. Not just physically, but as a battle mage as well.

Either Ganondorf had still managed to win or it ended in a tie, but either way they'd both need medical attention.

(Though, all throughout the fight, they had been making bedroom eyes at each other.)

That'd be when they both decided simultaneously, "this is who I'm going to marry."

Admittedly, Nemma would be somewhat frustrated at the fact that she hadn't won a single fight, but in the end, it would only encourage her to train harder.

Neither would posit the idea of marriage until at least another month or two of courting, but by then they'd both be completely committed.

Side-Note: While Ganondorf doesn't by any means gush, he does hum when he's in love & thinking about her. He also has a tendency to praise her, whether when speaking of her or to her.

Once he's ready, he'll take out a box, take her hands in his, flush slightly & avoid her eyes for a moment, suddenly feeling like a teenager again. Before shoring up his courage, placing the decorative box in her hands, opening it to present a crudely-made platinum ring with a moonstone set inside it, & looking her in the eye to declare, "Kàvt shïchïso yūg nï’jï." Which means, "Bind your soul with mine." It is a Gerudo proposal. Of course, by then, Nemma will only know the literal translation of the request (demand, really), but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out his intent. As a result, she will be somewhat mischievous by asking him if it is similar to how the Sheikah propose. Ganondorf would deflate somewhat, thinking that she was deflecting the conversation to avoid hurting him & would reply that he did not know & would ask how the Sheikah did it.

To which, Nemma would retrieve a little box from her bag & place it in his hand. At which point, he'd look at her in confusion, who would return the expression with one that said "open it."

Upon doing so, he'd lift the tiny lid to reveal the petals of Silent Princesses & Sweetheart Orchids. On top of which would be a strip of paper with the kanji, "結婚して下さい." (Kekkon shite kudasai.) Which is the formal way to ask someone to marry them. She'd tell him as such & then wait for it to register in his head what it meant that not only did she have that prepared, but that she'd given it to him. (A Sweetheart Orchid is a beautiful white flower with a pink, heart-shaped outline said to be favored by Karina, the Goddess of Love & Passion. They can be found in Faron & sparsely in Necluda, but they grow well on Tuft Mountain & Ebon Mountain.)

When he does (it didn't take long, barely even a second), Ganondorf's eyes will light up with realization & then soften with relief & joy before chuckling fondly & commenting that they were quite the pair. To which, she'd agree, taking the ring he'd gifted her & sliding it onto her ring finger to admire it. Though unrefined, it was obviously made with a lot of love & careful attention. The Gerudo King lit up at the sight of her officially accepting his proposal, then bent his head down & captured her lips in a kiss, which Nemma would return eagerly.

After proposing, they decide to wed at the beginning of next spring in celebration of Vah Kàvtrïna (or Kariaina-no-Mikoto to the Sheikah). Which was one of the few deities that both pantheons had in common.

---

Anyway, I just wanted to clear something up real quick. In a one-on-one fight, Ganondorf absolutely wins. No question.

However, the fact that not only a woman, but one so much smaller than him (damn near half his effing size, even) is able to consistently get so close to winning each time?

That's actually more of a credit to her own skills as a fighter than to his. Because by all accounts, he should effing body her, but he doesn't.

If she were born a Gerudo Vai & went through the same training that she had in her current life, she'd beat his ass! Because I tend to come at this from a perspective of Gerudo Vaien being, on average, about as strong as male Hylians, Sheikah, & humans. And that's largely due to their greater height & body weight than their non-Gerudo counterparts. A well-trained 7-foot dude could likely take a well-trained Gerudo Vaien of average height.

Back to Nemma though, if Ganondorf were one of her targets, she'd likely have taken the fact that he was male into account, as well his height & weight class & would instead have assassinated him rather than taking her chances in a one-on-one fight.

In such a situation, he'd be dead. Like, holy shit, he wouldn't stand a damn chance.

He might survive the first 2 attempts with steadily increasing paranoia, but the third would see him in a body bag.

Basically, he wins… provided that he can see her coming.

Which... now that I think of it... That could be a very interesting scene for him, just as a way to humble him a bit while still allowing him to maintain his dignity, as the fact that she's only able to consistently manage such a feat when she doesn't take him on one-on-one, would likely sooth whatever bruises his ego might take.

As such, it's the sort of thing he'd be able to take very early in their relationship.

As a result, he'd be able to look passed the initial sting of defeat & his ego to her as a person & the sheer amount of skill & dedication to her training it would take to become so strong as to put him on his ass even once, let alone consistently even if it is under a specific caveat.

And he'd be insanely turned on by it.

Like this:

Ganondorf & Nemma sat chatting idly one evening after dinner in his palace (it was really more of a rock pueblo, honestly) when he suddenly went silent, his eyes widening slightly before they began to dart around the room.

N: "Judging by the panic in your eyes, I suspect the poison has begun taking effect by now."

His eyes snapped to his fiancée in shock & betrayal. Wrinkles had formed on his forehead & his jaw had gone slack inside his mouth. She could even see the little muscle underneath his left eye twitch slightly with anger.

In response, she reached across the table to caress his cheek fondly.

N: "Now, now. I do not plan on killing you, Koibito. I simply got tired of your boasting. Holding the fact that you won all our fights over my head. The poison will wear off in about an hour & you'll be none the worse for wear."

His eyes softened with relief. The wrinkles evening out, then scrunching slightly with curiosity.

The beautiful little Sheikah woman let out a quiet, bell-like giggle. She got up & began to walk around the table. The Gerudo's eyes following her as she went.

N: "My dear, handsome Gerudo King, you may overcome me in a direct confrontation..."

Upon arriving at his side, she turned him towards her & leaned over him, her eyes hooded as she examined his face.

N: "But... if you were a target... you would be long dead by now..."

She saw his apple bob minutely in his throat & his pupils widen ever so slightly. A small smile formed on her lips as she took a seat in his lap sidesaddle, causing his thigh to twitch at the contact, & began to stroke his chin.

N: "Just know that if I wished you dead... you would be."

With that, she kissed him tenderly. Then, she pulled back & fluttered her eyes up at him as her voice floated across her lips, light as a feather.

N: "And you wouldn't even know what caused it. It wouldn't have to be poison. I could shoot you with a bow from a distance away, & I might even use one of your own soldier's bows, instilling thoughts of treason. I haven't missed a shot in years. Or I could sneak up behind you while your back was turned &..."

She fisted the back of his haori & rubbed her nose against his, his lip quivering slightly.

N: "Plunge my Sheikatō into your back... Or I could slip quietly into your room in the middle of the night while you sleep &..."

Her finger traced over his heart & she smiled innocently at how he shuttered, chest heaving beneath her fingertip.

N: "Stab you through the heart... I could even..."

*Riske Content Warning*

Nemma then adjusted herself so that she was straddling Ganondorf. She rocked against his growing bulge, causing his throat to work & his thighs to twitch as he tried to gasp even though he could not open his mouth, his breath being sucked in sharply through his nostrils. The Shadow Warrior then whispered the rest of the sentence against his lips.

N: "Smother you with my womanhood & simply not let you up for air, though I doubt you would resist too terribly hard against that particular end."

Fuck, Ganondorf wasn't even sure if she was wrong on that. The large man's eyes were heavily lidded, pupils blown wide with lust, & Nemma could feel how he panted against her bosom. How he strained against his sirwàl.

N: "There are quite a lot of ways that I could go about it... but you need not worry… I wouldn't kill you unless you did something remarkably idiotic & unforgivable. Which, I think you're much too intelligent for."

She then pulled out a small glass vial from her pocket, unplugged it & took a swig.

The little Sheikah woman then leaned forward & kissed him, her mouth prying his lips open to deposit the fluid inside, his eyes closing as she did so, her tongue caressing his own as she tilted his head up, & her fingers massaging his throat so that he swallowed. Even after he'd done so, she lingered there for a few seconds longer.

*End of Riske Content*

The man let out a little whimper as she backed away.

N: "That was the antidote. It'll start working in a minute or so."

Then, she pecked him on the lips once more, got up, smirking minutely at the rosy tint to his cheeks & hazy, lustful look in his eyes as they followed her movements before sauntering off. Fingers running up his chest & over his shoulder before disappearing out the door.

Ganondorf was left alone to process how effing hot that was & unable to relieve his excitement until the antidote kicked in.

That was definitely a new kink.

---

Anyway, I see Ganondorf as the sort who'd try to manipulate Nemma into loving him rather than kidnap her or force himself on her. At least, not unless she outright rejected him repeatedly in the beginning, which obviously doesn't happen. But in the process, he'll inevitably become obsessed with her.

However, in the process of making Nemma fall in love with him, his obsession, while persisting, begins to be outweighed by a genuine care, affection, & later even love for her. At which point, he would no longer be able to bring himself to do such things to her because, then, her happiness would be legitimately important to him.

He'd still be obsessed with her, as well as possessive & protective of her, but by that point, it'd be fueled by his love for her.

Even more than that, I want him to eventually come to value & respect her in a way that I'm not sure we ever see him do.

I want her to be important to him on several levels.

I also don't see Ganondorf being able to corrupt her unless something big & tragic happened to her personally. Like, her entire race was killed off & she was the only one left levels of big & tragic. It'd be an intense desire for revenge that would do it, but if it ever did happen, he might not like the monstrous stranger that would become of her because of it.

The thing is, she has a deep sense of honor & nerves forged from steel. So, without that tipping point, any of Ganondorf's attempts to corrupt her would be met with her softening him with her genuineness &, at first hesitant, affection without even trying to.

This could either end up being a boon or could cause a problem between them because never once will Nemma try to change Ganondorf, but he could very well try to change her. And depending on the story & if she ever realized this, she might just leave him for it.

I mean, she wouldn't ever go against him unless he did something genuinely stupid like disrespect her family's legacy or kill her grandmother or harm children, but she definitely wouldn't help him either after realizing that he tried to change her without her permission. The fact that he'd try something like that would result in an uncharacteristic insecurity & the first seeds of self-doubt.

Nemma is an innately self-assured individual, toughened by her own, hard-earned, sense of self-worth. So, it would take someone extremely important to her doing something like this to damage that.

As a result, this might force Ganondorf to learn to apologize & swear on his life that he'll never do that again. (I'm thinking about that one arc in Tale of Two Rulers.)

—

In some ways, Nemma very much confuses Ganondorf. One of her level of skill & ability should've been able to take over Hyrule quite easily. Especially with her skills in subterfuge.

---

During the time that Nemma was in the desert to learn the Dawallaham technique, her & Ganondorf would begin to court & figure their way around each other.

At some point, the 6th Tear Memory from TotK would take place, then the 7th, both with Nemma there as well, as Ganondorf introduces her as his fiancée. The pair even being seen wandering around together, seemingly on dates. Then, afterwards, they would return to the desert, with the large man eager to continue courting his future queen. (Courting, specifically, as they both went into this with the intention of seeing if the other is a good match for marriage. Dating is much more casual.)

I think that Ganondorf would wait to strike at Sonia when it was least expected. Which would require time for the Hyrulean Royal Family to let their guards down. Which could take anywhere from a few months to a year.

Either way, by the time he kills Sonia, Ganondorf & Nemma are already married.

However, they actually went to Hyrule a week early so that Nemma could show Ganondorf her home village.

Almost as soon as she arrived, they were overrun by little Sheikah children all excited to see their old cooking teacher back.

It warmed the giant man's heart to see how readily children gravitated to his fiancée & how easily she handled them.

She introduced him as her fiancé. The man she was going to marry & it made his chest swell with pride.

He did find it unusual how he only really got a couple of curious glances from the residents.

Not to say there wasn't at least one racist asshole, but the real surprise was how quickly those in the village came to his defense despite only really knowing of him as Nemma's rather large intended.

Though, the looks he got from the warriors were far & above more suspicious. Not necessarily judgmental so much as cautious & knowing in a way that was different from the ordinary civilians.

Despite this, he actually got several hostile glances & he'd believed that they were judging him based upon his race. Imagine his surprise when he realized that it was only other men who did so. Ganondorf was actually somewhat embarrassed that he hadn't realized sooner that their hostility was fueled by jealousy rather than racism. Which actually caused quite the pep in his step.

Anyway, Nemma took him to her childhood home at the Rikoka Hills just north of Kakariko then introduced him to her grandmother, Ayamay, who was… spunky for an old gal. He was then taken to the graveyard to meet her grandfather, Takka, where he made an offering. Though he had met the man twice long ago, once when the elder man was interviewing him for the types of weapons he wanted & again when the gentleman delivered the Shōki series to him. But addressing him now somehow felt... different.

It was odd. Ganondorf remembered the old man requesting that he spar with some of his subjects so that he could get a good read of his capabilities & had then asked him to share a drink with him afterwards. The Gerudo had been confused, but the elderly blacksmith had simply said that he wanted to better understand what he was all about.

It'd been the first & only time that Gdorf had had a male drinking buddy. Of course, he didn't loosen up until several drinks in, but by that point, Takka had begun chatting about his family. Ganondorf remembered quite distinctly the man expressing a type of warm pride in his granddaughter. (The King had been internally nervous, but actually found it... nice...)

Ganondorf wondered... had the elder known that the Gerudo king would be marrying that same granddaughter, would he have approved?

Anyway, his stay in the village was… strangely pleasant. Though it was, indeed, quite slow there & he could see where Nemma's concerns lay.

Many of the younger generation were uninterested in the ways of the Shadow Warrior & instead showed the trademarks of inventors & researchers. Which, while admirable professions, it was also honestly quite depressing. He'd be greatly disappointed if this trend continued. (He couldn't even imagine the dread that would fill him if he noticed the same trends in the Gerudo.)

However, it was also fun to be able to practice his Sheikah with someone other than Nemma despite how wonderful of a conversationalist she was.

As for their stay at the capitol, Ganondorf was high-key racist against the Zonai & even Hylians to a degree & this fact becomes very evident to Nemma during their week visiting Rauru's palace upon the Great Plateau.

For all Ganondorf's belly-aching about entitled Zonai & Hylians, Nemma had only experienced such things around the upper class. Particularly, some of her least favored clients. In truth, much like with any other race, the common Hyrulean was fairly humble & easy to get along with. Though, again, that was fairly standard. Most of the higher-ups among the Gerudo were also quite entitled, just in a different way to those in Hyrule. Being more brash & blunt about it.

Though, in many ways, Nemma admitted that she honestly preferred the Gerudo elite's blunter & more honest, if rude, entitlement over the more snake-like, conniving egos of Hyrule's own wealthy elite. At least entitled Gerudo were straightforward when they thought themselves better than you &, the warrior race being what it was, if one of them said something that the Sheikah couldn't tolerate, it was at least considered perfectly acceptable to challenge whatever Vai insulted her to a duel. This is due to their Might Makes Right philosophy.

Such was not the case within Hyrulean society. Especially amongst the upper crust.

Anyway, surrounding the palace was a very small town where several Hyruleans lived.

(Insert some things they do during their stay at the capitol.)

---

I think their first real argument would happen while visiting Hyrule for Ganondorf's ruse. He'd have gone with her upon her hearing of a nearby Silver Lynel that was attacking a tiny hamlet. (While the Shrines of Light took care of most of the monsters in Hyrule, they couldn't seal away the more powerful ones. Nor the ones that weren't made of pure evil magic.) While not an innately altruistic individual, Nemma values children as a society's greatest treasure. To be protected at all costs. So, upon hearing how one of the Lynel's victims was a little girl, she'd dropped everything & ended the beast.

She & Ganondorf had returned to Castle Town where she was selling off the guts & half the hooves when Ganondorf made a quip about her serving the goat now & she'd rounded on him furious.

This would be witnessed by the Hylian Guards, who'd later inform Rauru, which would lead to him making some incorrect assumptions about Nemma's loyalties.

---

Anyway, the argument eventually loses steam once Nemma admits that the reason why she was so quick to take out that Lynel, was because she'd heard that it'd trampled a little girl to death.

To which, Ganondorf goes quiet. That, yeah, that made sense.

Lynels always were vicious...

Awkwardly, he draws close to her & places his massive hands upon her shoulders. Still not quite used to positive physical interaction.

"I..."

His mouth snapped closed. Why couldn't he do it?! It was just 2 simple words! Yes, apologizing was beneath him, but Nemma wasn't as she'd proven to him repeatedly! So, why couldn't he give her the slightest comfort??

He quickly buried the tiny voice in the back of his mind that said, ‘because no one has ever comforted me before; I don't know how…’ as it set his stomach churning.

Suddenly, the yàyai'làra (little warrior woman) places a tiny, callused hand upon his own.

"It's alright. I understand. You don't have to say it."

Ganondorf was suddenly flooded with a strange sensation of relief & a warm feeling that he still couldn't quite identify, but he was quickly beginning to associate it with the small woman. The sensation bloomed in his chest.

But that feeling was also followed by shame at not being able to say such simple words.

---

However, Nemma will also begin to expand Ganondorf's understanding of reality by unobtrusively questioning his beliefs.

N: "I suppose that I simply don't understand your fixation with Hyrule."

G: "Don't tell me that you actually agree with that old goat that peace is best."

Nemma would hum doubtfully before replying.

N: "Honestly? I don't think either of you are truly correct in whole."

This caught Ganondorf's attention.

N: "I believe that you are correct that the strong are forged in fire. After all, you can only forge a sword by pounding it into shape. However, I don't necessarily believe Rauru to be wrong for wishing for peace as well."

N: "Think of it this way, you as a warrior like I, know how a body becomes strong, yes? You train, but you don't train at all hours. To become strong, we cannot be expected to be forever in conflict. If we were, we would quickly lose stamina & die. Our muscles can only build upon themselves if we allow them the time to repair themselves. The same is true for everything. To become all that we can be, we need balance. Does that make sense?"

The Gerudo King hummed curiously as he took in her words. No one had ever explained it like that to him before.

When spoken like that, it made sense.

N: "Everything has its place, even chaos. I believe that by choosing just one, you both blind yourselves & begin to disregard the uses of the other. There is merit in chaos, but there is also merit in order. Life is in a constant state of flux & change. To behave otherwise would be to invite stagnation & entropy. So, if one were to always be at war, would that not also invite its own form of stagnation?"

G: "So, you see peace as a moment's rest between conflicts. A calm in the storm if you will."

N: "Something like that, I suppose. In a way, I think that war strengthens the body, peace hones the mind, & both refine the spirit, simply in different ways. You need both to be truly strong in more ways than just physically."

Her logic was sound… but it went against everything he'd ever been taught. A part of Ganondorf was resistant to the idea, but… he also couldn't fault her thinking.

He'd… have to think about this…

Normally, Ganondorf wouldn't even entertain the idea that peace had a place in his vision of a new kingdom. He is only really considering her words because, by now, he knows her to not be the sort who'd deceive him.

It seemed to him that she'd thought about this subject before.

An unfortunately familiar sense of anxiety settled into his stomach.

G: “But… How does one find purpose during such a calm when all one has ever known is conflict & struggle? What are warriors who have no war left to fight in?”

That was when he felt a hand gently placed upon his own. Starting for a moment, he looked down to see the magnificent, confusing woman's paradoxically strong, yet delicate hand upon his own. And he couldn't help how his own hand turned over to grasp hers in a loose grip almost automatically.

N: “Does the moon stop being the moon when it is daytime?”

G: *a small huff of a laugh* “I suppose not…”

In a way it was comforting.

N: “Correct. You & I, we will likely always have that warrior spirit within us, but it is not a cage that traps us nor chains that bind us. It is simply one aspect of our overall selves. And when that aspect is no longer of use for the moment, we become free to indulge in other aspects of ourselves & discover new ones.”

N: "Of course, that doesn't mean that we leave behind the other, for it is as much a part of us as anything else we unearth about ourselves."

Ganondorf was silent. Unusually contemplative. He'd have to think about this.

---

Anyway, during the course of their courting & engagement, I think that a small group of Gerudo will become jealous & try to find ways to get rid of Nemma, but it will always end in defeat. Some of which likely having been previous flings of Ganondorf's, or possibly even some of his Va'màziahen (concubines), which he'd let go not long after they became engaged.

But, even when these Vaien resort to poisoning her food, it'll fail as Nemma is a Dokuso Shokushei or Toxin Mistress. Which are Shadowfolk trained in the art of Dokusojutsu, including the creation, identification, & various uses (whether it be to kill or create medicines) of deadly toxins.

And one of the requirements for becoming eligible for taking the test to become a Toxin Master or Mistress is to complete toxin immunization training. This involves slowly ingesting small amount of toxic substances over time until you build up a resistance & immunity to them.

This is the tattoo that you get when you become recognized as such:

Not only is Nemma a certified & recognized Toxin Mistress able to quickly identify the signs of poison, but she has created a type of nail polish that reacts to the presence of toxic material by chemical reaction. As a result, it's become habit to swirl the tip of her finger in her drink & check her nails.

Even if she accidentally forgot to do this, in order to kill her, it'd have to be horrifically deadly & insanely fast-acting to actually kill her. We're talking cyanide levels of toxic & fast-acting here.

Otherwise, she'll be able to identify it almost instantly by a combination of smell, taste, & symptom, then manage to create an effective antidote very quickly.

Even then, if she identifies the poison as being something she's completely immune to, she'll likely just ingest it anyway as a sort of message that she isn't going anywhere before subtly being on the lookout for who exactly did it to begin with.

And when these Vaien outright challenge her, she very soundly beats them all. Which, honestly, Ganondorf finds effing hot. He quite enjoys watching Nemma absolutely destroying challengers to establish dominance, as well as her right to be at his side permanently.

And, as per the yandere trope, any Vaien (women, as in plural) who manages to survive through Nemma beating them, Gdorf later kills himself.

He can't have some surmúta (slut or harlot; a gender-neutral term) who wants his future wife dead running around, now can he?

(Just for reference, I see concubines & one-night stands being considered fine in Gerudo culture so long as you aren't married. The reason being that I see the Gerudo, just as a race, as being very exclusive with their romantic relationships & decently exclusive with who has access to their bodies. To them, infidelity is considered a taboo, right up there with pedophilia or beastiality or most other gross things that only mentally disturbed people do & is punishable by death. And open relationships are just an absolute no. Poly relationships do exist, at least technically to an extent. But only really in the form of throuples & even just having 2 partners is considered pushing it & such relationships are looked upon unfavorably. And, while there have been cases of quadrouples, it is extremely rare & very, very, very frowned upon. Not to mention the subject of ridicule. As such, the Gerudo's name for such relationships reflects their beliefs of how many people are acceptable as they are referred to as Zay’tzèxad’úl Màtu or “Two-Handed Love.” Meanwhile, ones with more people involved than that are referred to as Nïsavashorqīs Màtu meaning “Self-Destructive Love” or Harnī Múta meaning “Mad Lust” or Vashorqīs Múta meaning “Destructive Lust” or Dōrkàvt Múta meaning “Bondless Lust.”)

(And in Gerudo custom, when you begin courting, you are expected to get rid of your concubines/concubini. Period. End of story. If they aren't gone by the night before the wedding, you can expect some serious side-eye & many an unsavory rumor. Whenever the line of succession for the position of Gerudo monarch or chieftain was changed, a lot of the time, it was due to a revolt from the people after it came out that either the chief or one of the monarchs was unfaithful to their spouse.)

(Now, divorcing wasn't common & not something the Gerudo considered a good thing, but it was far & above preferred compared to infidelity. And courting & getting married again after a divorce or the death of a spouse, is considered totally fine & even natural... so long as it isn't too soon after...)

—

At some point, Nemma learns that the Gerudo's Spirit Temple seems to possess Mind's Eye adjacent iconography as well, & she later learns that Priestesses of the Gerudo Moon Goddess, Vah Amàhrta, are trained in the way of the Mind's Eye as well.

Knowing that there is someone who actively knows what they're doing in regard to such things, Nemma pleads to be taught. Which comes as to a surprise to both the Priestesses & Ganondorf.

It's only after she explains her fear that her people are losing their identity & that the Mind's Eye is part of said identity that they think on it before finally accepting.

Though, the Gerudo refer to the technique as the Euyinen al'Màh'è (Eyes of the Moon).

—

Later, I want a Keaton, whom I'll name Satoshi, to appear before Nemma & better teach her how to open her Mind's Eye due to how promising of a Sheikah warrior she is. As that is part of my hc about the Mind's Eye, the Keaton being sort of like guardian spirits to the Sheikah.

The reason it's necessary is that there are just some slight differences in how the Mind's Eye & Eyes of the Moon work.

For one, the Sheikah method revolves more around meditation, including philosophies such as IRL Kiko (basically the Japanese name for Qigong), Tummo, Aiki-Jūjutsu, yoga, activating the Chakrahs, & just overall spiritual growth & maturation. Which, Nemma won't initially vibe with, just due to how rational & practical she is, but she is determined to do this regardless.

She will end up finding merit in things like yoga, Tummo, & Aiki-Jūjutsu pretty quickly though as yoga promotes flexibility, Tummo teaches one how to control your own body temperature through meditation & controlled breathing, while Aiki-Jūjutsu blends together the styles of the passive, more spiritual, harmony, & healing focused Aikidō & the more harder hitting & aggressive style of Jūjutsu. In other words, promoting a balance. It also includes the art of Aikidō Atemi, which is pressure point striking & is something that Nemma would be very interested in as well as the Jūjutsu portion of the training.

Though, she'll initially have mixed feelings about learning Aiki-Jūjutsu as she'd never really learned any hand-to-hand, being more weapon-oriented. At the same time, she'll definitely see the merit in learning it. In all honestly, she's somewhat nervous about not doing well due to her inexperience.

That isn't to say that she will slack off or disregard the other parts of her training, but she will definitely show more vim & vigor when training in these specific parts until she's reached a point where she begins to truly appreciate the more spiritual aspects of the training.

The reason being the discovery that the reason why the Sheikah had begun to lose their warrior identity recently is, in part, due to losing their spiritual center as the Sheikah, just as a people, were created with a deep connection to the spiritual world. So, by losing that core aspect of themselves, they essentially lose themselves as well.

Even the ascetic training that Moz Koshia is currently going through has lost quite a lot of the old traditions by being more heavily influenced by Zonai/Hylian theology. The realization of this makes Nemma look at the ascetic training differently & begin to apply more seriousness to it.

For a while, she becomes bitter towards the Royal Family until Satoshi informs her that this spiritual degradation in the Sheikah's culture wasn't something that was done intentionally. It's just the way of things that cultures become influenced by other cultures & results in consequences. Some of said consequences can be very good, while others can be very bad. His point in informing her wasn't to discourage intercultural relations or hatred of the Hyrule Royal Family or Zonai, but rather awareness & an understanding of why some traditions come to pass.

In fact, not all traditions are good & some can even become very detrimental to the society & its people, thus needing to be abandoned for the sake of the overall culture. It was, in fact, the consequences of one of the Gerudo's own ancient philosophies that originally resulted in their female-only curse. Which very much interested Nemma, but Satoshi seemed to think that he said too much on the subject & promptly clammed up on her.

Anyway, she wouldn't necessarily need to reach enlightenment to activate the Mind's Eye but would at least need to open the Ajna Chakrah to master it. Which is good because, just as an individual, she wouldn't be able to let go of all earthly attachments anyway.

(For a more in-depth idea of the Mind's Eye, go here.)

There's also her needing to know how to teach these things to others in order to help keep her culture's traditions strong.

As Satoshi trains her, she'll be introduced to one of the Sheikah's ancient tasks: putting to rest the souls of the dead. This can be done either by playing the Song of Healing, which he'll teach her, or by "killing" them with a weapon forged with ancient Sheikah weaponsmithing techniques & inscribed with ancient Sheikah Fūinjutsu runes used specifically for this, known here as Sheishin Fūinjutsu (Spirit Sealing Method), taught to the Sheikah by Sheikaku, the old, forgotten god of death, spirits, & the moon who created the Sheikah several thousands of years ago. (Which you can see examples of Sheishin Fūinjutsu featured on both the Depths Set & the Dark Clumps in TotK.)

Afterwards, it was necessary to go through an ancient & sacred ritual on either the night of the Full Moon, New Moon, or either the Waning Crescent Moon or the Waxing Gibbous Moon &, if your work pleased Sheikaku & your prayers were honest, then he would bless your weapon.

In fact, he said that it was best to make the weapons in an actual forge considering how they are such holy places. Which caught Nemma's attention. She'd always known that there was something special about her home, but she'd never heard that it was holy. This led into a discussion of the spiritual aspect of swords in the ancient Sheikah culture.

But that's for later. Anyway, when a Poe Soul (the non-combative Poes you find in the Depths of TotK) gains too many potent negative emotions, it will rise from the Depths & manifest a body of pseudo-flesh made out of pure evil magic fueled by On'nen (怨念, a mix of hatred, grudement, malice, vengeance, & resentfulness that can consume spirits & make them furious or malicious & causes evil spirits to be even more so). That's what the Dark Clumps are. Solidified On'nenmahō (怨念魔法, on'nen magic) or On'nenmaryoku (怨念魔力, on'nen magic power), which is a part of a very specific, very evil branch of Yōki, called Jaki (邪気, evil energy).

And those strips of paper on them are sealing tags using Sheishin Fūinjutsu to keep the flesh from reconstituting into another problem.

These Enemy Poes can only be beaten by Light/Twilight or Spirit magic with a weapon blessed by a death a/o spirit god, which Sheikaku was both.

These same methods are also effective against other dead or undead enemies such as Stals, Redeads, & Gibdos, as well as Akuma (evil entities that are fueled by On'nen; basically, the non-animal monsters of the games such as Darknuts, Iron Knuckles, Lynels, ect).

Either way, Nemma will be excited to learn damn near all these things as they are right up her alley.

She'd reforge her Sheikatō for the purposes of having them blessed.

And, upon going to sleep after seemingly failing the ritual, Nemma woke to find herself on a grassy cliff overlooking a vast forest, looking up at the full moon.

Beside her sat a… being. He was very large (like, as large if not larger than Ganondorf), with silvery-white hair like her own, blue & red facial markings & four glowing silvery irises.

He gazed up at the moon before gazing down at the duel swords in his hand.

It was the Sheikatō that she'd forged & prayed for Sheikaku to bless.

He then turned to her & began to speak to her in SHS.

S: "It has been a long time since anyone has asked for me to bless a weapon. You did well."

S: "You… remind me of my sister, Karina… You even fight using similar weapons... I… miss her…" His expression seemed to become distant for a moment as he seemed to see something in her than she didn't know. Then his face shift to one of loss before returning to stoic.

S: "Use these Sheikatō to bring peace to those who are unable to obtain it on their own."

S: "We will meet again. However, you will not know that it is I & I will not know that it is you. Be safe &... I wish you good fortune with your other half…"

She then woke to find the Sheishin Fūinjutsu on her Sheikatō glowing faintly in rhythm like slow, dual heartbeats.

—

Nemma sometimes just marvels at how ridiculously tall all the Gerudo are, especially Ganondorf. She only reaches his elbows when standing with his arms at his sides. And it wasn't just his height that stunned her, but also his overall girth as a result of obviously intense training. He could probably crush a Hydromelon between his thighs!

Ganondorf, of course, noticed her staring fairly quickly, but didn't initially know why. It isn't until later when he overhears a conversation that Nemma had with her new yaidja (guardswoman) friend, Tïsàla, that he learns why.

He already has a bit of a size kink, so hearing the target of his attentions commenting, in awe, of his height gave him a bit of an ego boost. Then to hear her take notice of how much hard work he put into his body, left him positively preening.

He nearly laughed at the Hydromelon comment & wondered what she'd do if she actually saw him do that.

Either way, after hearing all that, he begins to make a bit of a habit of showing himself off around her whenever he notices her staring. Not to mention tending to make the effort to emphasize his full height & intentionally loom over her. The expressions she makes never fail to stroke his masculine pride & make him chuckle.

---

As mentioned above, I also see Ganondorf having a major size-difference kink. Gerudo Vaien are already taller than Human, Hylian, & Sheikah men, who themselves are taller than their feminine counterparts, so Gerudo Voen are even more so. As a result, Nemma would appear to be just so incredibly tiny & delicate to him. Almost like a porcelain doll that he could break without noticing if he wasn't careful.

Then, to learn that she was combat proficient enough that she nearly beat him in a one-on-one fight? It'd create the most satisfying juxtaposition in his mind. Small, but mighty. ♡

And he'd be the first she'd ever chosen to give herself to?

Whoo! It would thrill him to no end!

However, I don't think that it'd start out as being a very healthy relationship. A main focus of the story is the 2 navigating around each other & learning to be a legitimately functional & healthy couple. Gdorf specifically learning how to let her in & be someone other than the King of Evil with her. Which is difficult for him to do as that's who his adï'vàman (adoptive mothers) raised him to be.

Which... I see them having issues with each other... Kōme & Kotake because I get the impression that they're just effing racist as shit as well as not liking the fact that this girl seems to be softening their boy up & Nemma because they seem to have beef with her & she's also getting distinct trauma bonding vibes from their & Ganondorf's relationship that really rubs her the wrong way.

Eventually, Nemma becomes one of the only people that Ganondorf is gentle & kind with. She becomes his soft spot & his safe space all-in-one.

Kōme & Kotake both seem to realize this & become determined to be rid of her. Which will eventually end up pitting them against Ganondorf.

---

Nemma has very spartan tastes, is independent, self-sufficient, & practical, as well as not generally being very materialistic or greedy, so she's not overly enthusiastic about jewelry unless they happen to double as something functional & isn't gaudy. (If she has to wear jewelry, she prefers the pretty, yet classy sorts.) Like rings that work well as knuckledusters or an earring with a Gossip Stone in it to communicate with someone long-distance or jewelry that uses crystomagy (gem enhancement infusion magic such as the Gerudo's Zennō style) to help with environmental obstacles such as heat or cold or heeled shoes that have blades for the heels or Kôgai that double as daggers like the ones she generally wears.

Ganondorf seems the type to try & shower her in expensive, extravagant, yet ultimately frivolous, gifts such as fine silks & ostentatious, glittering jewelry, which she'd find pretty, but rather worthless. She wouldn't really be impressed.

While she does enjoy pretty things, fashionable clothes, nice patterns, dressing up, & looking nice, she far & above prefers utility, practicality, & functionality over something that just looks nice. Clothes that are both fashionable & functional, even more so. So, to really impress her, Ganondorf would have to get her gifts that strike a balance between expensive, high-quality, & beautiful, as well as useful & battle ready to really get her attention. Not because she demands expensive things, but because Gdorf refuses to give her anything less than that. (He's got a lot of pride like that & can come across as sort of a snob as a result.)

As such, this might cause a tiny bit of friction between them initially. Nothing too serious, but it'll be there. It's just one of those things that they'll have to work around.

Anyway, once he's learned her preferences, Ganondorf will still give her extravagant gifts in public. Things like decorative vases, bejeweled tiaras, those sorts of things. However, those are more for the sake of keeping up appearances & Nemma knows this, so she doesn't mind. Doesn't necessarily understand, but she doesn't mind. He has a reputation to uphold after all.

However, the really important gifts that actually mean something, he tends to give to her in private. This is due to Nemma tending to do this as she doesn't really see a need for so much fanfare. Nothing she gives Ganondorf is for purely presentation, but rather it is always something she genuinely believes that he'll enjoy or, at least, will mean something significant to him. Which was a strange concept to him as most of the gifts he's ever been given were frivolous or superficial in nature.

Such gifts he'll give in private will include cookbooks, calligraphy supplies (which, Sheikah & Gerudo use similar tools to write, that being brushes instead of quills like many in Hyrule tend to), new weapons, maps, jewelry with gemstones that have been infused with magic to either act as a magical focus or to help overcome an environmental hazard, or better tools. Hell, even high-quality forging materials such as uncut gemstones & Dawasaaq iron from the Highlands Mine tends to get a giggle of excitement from her. Just things that she'd use or be interested in.

By the time they're married, he won't really make much of a fuss over clothes or extravagant jewelry anymore though. Rather, he'll just quietly switch out her clothes for the same thing, but with higher quality materials. Though, only if the higher quality would improve their usefulness.

Nemma is initially confused, if pleasantly surprised, before she notices her partner's curiosity, as though wanting something. She then quickly realizes what he'd done & proceeds to kiss him sweetly before thanking him. To which he smiles, an uncharacteristic tenderness in his eyes.

Anyway, she actually likes dressing up so long as she's still able to move freely, if it's not super extravagant to the point where it isn't practical or gaudy, & always has access to weapons, but if she has to dress very fancily, then she'll do it begrudgingly if the one asking her is someone she cares about. But she'd still require access to weapons. She refuses to go anywhere without some form of protection.

She'll likely have difficulty getting used to the Streshibpen (Gerudo-style heeled shoes with wing-like protrusions on the sides, as worn by Urbosa), but she's willing to give it a shot. However, she does require that the ones she owns have blades in the heels & steel toes so that if anyone sneaks up on her, she can show them what a bad idea that is.

Actually, has excellent taste in fashion & enjoys looking nice despite not indulging in her more feminine traits often. Mostly due to her father's rejection of her because of her sex. This resulted in her having a somewhat negative view of femininity even though she's aware that her opinion is likely influenced by her father. Living in close proximity to Gerudo will likely help her to become on better terms with her own femininity.

Nemma has also begun to take up lapidary so that she'll always have access to the right gem.

And, while she's not an extremely jewelry-focused girl (though, she'll always take time to admire high-quality work), she knows that jewelry is a symbol of many things amongst the Gerudo, from financial power to luxury to status & even just good taste, so she likes to make Ganondorf little things every once in a while. Which, she finds it funny that he likes jewelry more than her & sometimes teases him about it.

However, she didn’t know that gifting your significant other with jewelry that you made yourself was actually the traditional way for Gerudo to propose until she gave her then husband at the time one. At which point he’d looked at her oddly then inquired if she understood the significance of the action, then informing her. Of course, being the somewhat mischievous individual that she was, she’d then spun the situation around on him by telling him that, “well, I’m honestly not particularly inclined to cease such habits, so perhaps it’s time to expand upon such a tradition?”

The king looked at his queen rather curiously. Nemma gave him as rare smile, “simply receive it as my way of informing you that ‘I would marry you all over again if I could.’” At which point, the large man’s heart leapt in his chest, a flush dawning his cheeks as she leaned in to give him a sweet peck on the rosy flesh before promptly walking off. As though she hadn’t just melted his cold heart with a single sentence. A minute or 2 after she’d left, he clutched the piece in his hand, looking at it before his surprised expression melted as warmth filled his chest.

And true to her word, the Sheikah woman had continued to make him jewelry & each & every time, he found himself recalling her words & cherishing them just a little bit more. It’s due to this that her semi-joke actually became grounded in reality as even 10,000 years later, Gerudo Vaien have continued to follow her example (though, somewhat altered by time) by giving their husbands handmade trinkets as not all Hylian men seem fond of jewelry. And when faced with a problem, you adapt. So, now, handmade jewelry is for proposal, but handmade items, clothes, & trinkets are now also used to showcase a reaffirmation of love.

Anyway, back to the story, the jewelry that Nemma makes for him is never anything excessive or too overly fancy, but it manages to strike that perfect balance between ostentatious, dashing, & classy.

She likes to practice all the Gerudo patterns that she'd learned, sometimes even mixing on a few Sheikah patterns as a subtle way of staking her claim on him. Which Ganondorf absolutely notices & it always makes him smile seeing the little Sheikah iconography adorning his regalia. It became a tiny bit of a game between them: Find the Sheikah symbol.

(A/N: Which there really doesn't seem to be much of beyond the various iterations of the Mind's Eye pattern.)

He likes to wear the jewelry she makes for him & one of his favorites is the brow ornament that she made. It had runes engraved in the back that allowed it to stick tight to his forehead, which made it less intrusive in battle. This was part of why he generally didn't wear a crown as he didn't like the idea that an opponent could take advantage of that.

But this battle crown of sorts erased such a possibility, so he found himself wearing it regularly.

It was quite the attractive work. Made of gold & in the shape of the sun with a large Sunstone embedded in the center.

(A/N: I changed it slightly so that the flowers along the basket matches the colors of Ganondorf's haori's lining. And, while you can't see it, the circles around that basket as part of the "S" border pattern actually have tiny little Sheikah eyes inside them. They're so small that, if this were a real piece of jewelry, you'd likely have to use a magnifying glass to see them, but they're there.)

(See? It isn't really something that's important, so much as I just wanted to put it in there. Also, it'd mystify the hell outta Ganon as he tries to puzzle out how the absolute eff she managed to do it.)

---

During their courtship, the most useful gifts that Ganondorf gives her is a well-trained horse, a well-trained Sand Seal, & a well-trained Sand Cat or Gel'gàtï.

The horse is actually one of Rauru's white stallions. Ganondorf stole it. Nemma jokingly named him Old Cabrón, which Cabrón is a triple-layered joke. It's a Zonai name meaning "goat," but Zonai often use it to call each other asshole.

The fact that she named one of Rauru's white stallions this after it was stolen, is a pretty obvious & cheeky jab that has Ganondorf breathless with laughter when it clicks. (And a little bit of a sassy take that. Though I don't see Rauru as the type to get offended. In fact, I see him doing a spitake before laughing heartily. Even appreciating the well-thought out pun. We stan dad joke-loving Rauru in this house. Though, he might keep the fact that his people had more in common with felines to himself in order to avoid ruining the joke.)

Old Cabrón is mostly only for the Royal Envoy. Ya know, presentation. When she's in Hyrule for an actual bounty or hit job, she uses her grey dappled mare, Mira, meaning "beautiful storm." Her coat is a stormy grey with lighter grey dappling & muzzle.

While Old Cabrón is well-trained, at least as a show pony, he really doesn't do well in conflict.

Mira, however, while not specifically a war horse, will let herself be lead across water to ford rivers & won't immediately run in the presence of monsters. So, that makes her more valuable as a mount, but her appearance isn't the best impression as far as royalty.

The pair usually end up staying at the Canyon Stable with Ganondorf's steed, Jawàrik. Named after an old Gerudo god of war.

I do think it'd be funny if Jawàrik & Cabrón ended up fighting each other over Mira & she ends up mating both & having a pair of heteroparental colts.

All that special breeding, wasted because of one dapple gray mare! XD

Anyway, Nemma would still use Mira fairly often when completing bounties in Hyrule.

The Sand Seal is a sweet & happy bull that Nemma names Yukio, to mean "joyful boy." It turns out that he's from the same litter as Ganondorf's own Sand Seal, Gàlondo. Named after another old Gerudo god of war. This one, theologically speaking, having been the son of Jawàrik. (Gdorf quite enjoys mythology in case you haven't noticed. Specifically, the mythology of his own race. Though, he's also become rather interested in Sheikah mythology as well lately.) Gàlondo is quite a bit quieter & more stoic than his younger brother. He's also somewhat bigger. Their dynamic is basically quiet, aloof cat & silly, happy, affectionate cat. Gàlondo tolerates his brother's antics.

Ganondorf's final extremely useful gift was a sweet, yet sassy little Sand Cat that Nemma names Chika, for intelligence & wisdom.

Sand Cats are very small, even compared to most house cats, but also deadly hunters & trackers. Making them useful for hunting & are also very wonderful, affectionate, if sassy companions. Their size & unusually long claws allows them to perch easily upon the shoulders of Gerudo even when sand surfing. They are mostly a sandy color with white underbellies & spots not unlike that of a cheetah in real life. Chika ends up being sort of Nemma's silent bodyguard & goes damn near everywhere with her when out of the palace. She can often be found either perched on Nemma's shoulder with ears & eyes alert or curled up in her lap.

This makes Chika & Yukio the ideal companions for Nemma whenever she wishes to explore the desert.

Ganondorf also goes along with Nemma whenever he gets the chance. Partly to keep his skills sharp & party to keep his love safe. He wouldn't be able to do it always, but he'd try to do so whenever he could & he was always welcome.

Mira, though, is gentle & sweet with a surprisingly strong will. Jawàrik is stern & grumpy, as well as being well-trained as a war horse. As for Old Cabrón, he's... a little bit of a diva, but isn't difficult to deal with otherwise. Imagine if Maximus had Eugene's personality. (Both from Tangled.)

So, Nemma definitely has quite the menagerie going on at this point.

Nemma also already has a carrier hawk named Dantey that she's been using to correspond with her grandmother back in Kakariko & had been training as a battle hawk. He & Chika get on surprisingly well. At the same time, Chika & Yukio also get along very well, while Dantey was initially somewhat put off by the large seal's enthusiasm, but much like Gàlondo, will eventually begin to tolerate him before learning to like him & even fuss over him.

Not that Ganondorf gives her all these animals at once.

—

One of Nemma's many duties as queen will involve dancing & it's especially important for her wedding day. However, dancing just isn't something she'll have ever even thought about before beyond for festivals. At the same time, due to it being part of her responsibilities, she'll put her all into it as she is an extremely responsible individual who takes duty very seriously.

While, initially, she won't be very quick to learn, that will change once Tïsàla, her guard friend, brings up the idea of al'Tàrren'è al'Saadïdjéda (the Guarding Dance of the Crescents), the Gerudo style of self-defensive scimitar swordfighting that utilizes dance in its movements. She'll naturally gravitate more towards al'Yusréda'vùnen'è al'Dïnatàrr style (the Crescent Dance of the Rushing Winds), which involves dual-wielding scimitars, rather than al'Forzumàh'è al'Dïnatàrr style (the Crescent Dance of the Moonflower), which substitutes one scimitar for a shield.

Upon being able to correlate dancing to fighting, she goes from struggling to excelling as though everything suddenly clicks into place inside her head. After which, she quickly begins enjoying herself & is able to apply those same ideas to her regular dance lessons. Though, she'll always be most comfortable with a weapon in her hand, she does grow to appreciate regular dancing as well.

Already she was beginning to think of how she could integrate the fighting style into her pre-existing one, which she believes will grant her more fluidity, flexibility, & dynamism as Sheikah Kenjutsu tends to be very direct, much like herself. She quite likes the dervish-like movements.

After getting confident enough with dancing on her own, Ganondorf is brought in to help her learn to dance as a pair.

It's now something they both very much enjoy doing together.

---

Nemma has a do-it-myself-personally sort of attitude & this results in her being seen as a lone wolf type. When something needs to be done & everyone else is too busy wasting time trying to figure out an over-complicated strategy to deal with it, (if she deems it necessary) she'll just go & deal with it herself.

That isn't to say that she's rash or doesn't think. Quite the contrary, she's extremely intelligent & strategic, but she's also best at on-the-fly planning & is just an overall decisive individual.

99.99% of the time, her missions end in success even if she comes back somewhat injured.

However, this will tend to stress Ganondorf out quite a bit because he, just as an individual, is very controlling & worries about her.

This will end up being their second real argument.

Regardless of how the argument ends, Nemma will have to learn to trust & work together with others more & Ganondorf will have to learn to be less controlling.

---

One way that Nemma does this is by cooking for & with others as this was one of her most fondly remembered ways of bonding with her grandmother. She actually gets along well with the cooks & though shocked that their king's fiancée was gracing them with her presence, they respect her do-it-myself attitude. They are also extremely interested in the many, many different recipes she's learned from all over & some are even interested in hearing the history & cultural significance behind those dishes. She quickly makes friends with one of the chefs, Nīra.

Ganondorf, despite having initially been against her cooking her own meals, believing it to be the work of servants, he quickly shuts up upon actually trying her cooking.

He ends up loving it & begins to try to cook with her to bond. But it turns out that he's terrible at it. (Which he's honest enough with himself to recognize.)

However, Nemma is patient & encouraging with him. Teaching comes naturally to her as she used to teach the Kakariko children how to cook as well as about the history behind certain dishes & which ingredients give the best results.

One of her great joys is learning new dishes from where she travels, as well as the history behind them. The Sheikah refer to it as Bunka Bishoku. In real life, it is called cultural gastronomy.

Nemma now cooks for them almost every night. Though not during royal functions, of course.

---

While, normally, the Dai Kaiten Giri (Great Spin Attack) is a mobile spinning attack with great reach when using most swords.

Nemma finds that when utilized with the Yusréda'vúnen'è al'Dïnatàrr style & Shim'tàrren (scimitars), the attack's aura extends upwards into a cone-shape much like a tornado.

The attack is still mobile, but this way is much more controllable than what is normally expected of the usually indiscriminant attack.

This is an extremely rare & difficult technique to master as it requires fighting & killing 20 Darknuts & obtaining their Knight's Crests. In Gerudàn, it's called Dāgàl'zôba Ūsub (Great Sand Tornado Technique).

—

As for the wedding, if you think that grandma wasn't invited to the wedding, then you are sadly mistaken. (Nemma's father & mother definitely weren't. Even though she has insecurities revolving around them, she's long since stopped agonizing over them or trying to gain their favor. Seeing them as not worth the effort.)

The first time she visited, no one knows how, but that little old lady managed to put the fear of the Goddesses into Ganondorf without even making a single open threat. All done with a passive aggressive, yet sharp, clipped tone & subtle, but targeted insinuations as to what would happen to him & his family jewels if he ever broke her grandbaby's heart. After all, where did he think Nemma learned about toxins?

(She also sees the green tint to his complexion & knows what it indicates for a Gerudo. The young may have forgotten, but stories of such practices still persist in the form of grim ghost stories.)

(She knows that the man & those 2 horrid crones all 3 practice the dark arts. She doesn't know whether or not they do so now, but she knows they at least did at one point in their lives. Black magic just leaves a sort of stain on the body, as if to warn those around them. Much like how poisonous frogs come in vivid colors to show that they are dangerous. Of course, it manifests differently within Hyruleans. Causing them to go a deathly pale. Much like corpses. Which causes her to wonder, albiet briefly, if Gerudo turn green in death rather than white? If so, she wonders what causes it.)

(And while she's never fought Gerudo witches or warlocks, she's had to kill numerous Hyrulean ones.)

(Ayamay never thought that her grandbaby would ever meet one after the purges so long ago, but here they were. It's a good thing that she'd had that seal applied to the dear at a young age just in case. If nothing else, it'd keep all but the darkest & most powerful of black magics from taking hold. Which she may need if she's to live with a pair of witches who obviously despise her.)

(Looks like she was moving to the desert.)

After she left the room, Ganondorf glanced subtly at the cup in his hand before dumping its contents into a nearby plant pot. Until he's granted the old woman's favor, he's hyper aware of food & drink. What he doesn't know is that she'd never dream of poisoning anything her grandbaby made. The last time she did that, Nemma had been so upset! (Not that the young man needed to know that. A bit of squirming might do him some good. She could tell that he was pretty big in his britches.)

Best part is, Ganondorf couldn't even confront her on it without looking like a paranoid idiot because, as I said, she was very subtle.

Even though Nana's a homemaker, she was actually a Sheikah warrior herself when she was in her prime. And quite the formidable one at that. (She's also the one who taught Nemma how to use a Jōhyō as it'd been her main weapon of choice. Though, the Jōhyō Han Kote that the younger generation (including Nemma) prefers was never something she could figure out for whatever reason.)

(Never could figure out where her idiot son had gotten such dumbass ideas into his head either, but Sacred Realm knows he regretted it when she got her hands on the boy! Also, she may or may not have hunted down her daughter-in-law like a dog & threatened her to either go back & be an actual mother or to start running far, far away & praying to Hylia that Ayamay never sees her near her grandbaby again, because if she did, there wouldn't be enough left of the woman to fill a knife box!)

Anyway, later Ayamay ushered Ganondorf to the side & informed him of the Hōchō-Kaku (knife block) he was expected to gift her grandbaby. To which, he was surprised, but hearing of the tradition, he asked how one was expected to obtain such an object. She then began to teach him how to whittle, which was a task in & of itself. While he could've simply had one commissioned from a Kakariko woodworker, he appeared determined to do this himself. He knew that, as a craftswoman, Nemma would appreciate the effort that would go into the creation of such a traditional item.

That was when the old woman first decided that she liked this boy. She was fairly competent at woodworking herself, though not professional. Ayamay recommended that he make it a Mamena-Kaku (knife block for a professional chef) & line the compartments with whetstone. Either way, the next time she visited, she brought the schematics for a Mamena-Kaku with her & Gdorf spent the next several months until the wedding learning how to work with wood & build this knife block.

In the end, it was pretty damn decent & the outside seemed to be somewhat decorative featuring a melding of Gerudo & Sheikah designs, though he never wanted to do that again. Luckily, there weren't any other such marriage traditions for the Sheikah.

The little old lady had since moved out of Kakariko to live with them. Which honestly shocked Ganondorf, as he figured the aged woman would quickly die of heatstroke, but Ayamay's a tough old biddy. Besides, it wasn't like she had anything left for her in Kakariko besides her good-for-nothing son & her husband's grave, which she could still visit 2 times a year. Once on the anniversary of her husband's death & once in fall for the Sheikioku Festival. (A Sheikah festival that's a mix of a Tsukimi Festival, Obon, & Dia de los Muertos. It's a week of basking in the beauty of the night & celebrating life so that the spirits of their ancestors do not worry for them & linger longer than they need to, but the final night, always on the last lunar bookend phase of the season, whether the full moon or the lunar eclipse, is dedicated to visiting the graveyard, paying respects to one's ancestors, & leaving them offerings of foods & drinks that they'd enjoyed in life.)

Funnily enough, Ayamay ends up becoming bitter enemies of Ganondorf's adoptive mothers. Outwardly, they're the sort that results in cutting remarks & snippy, backhanded comments. Like actual old ladies.

(But behind closed doors, the 2 witches plot ways to kill both Sheikah women with Ayamay foiling their every course of action via old witch-hunting tricks.)

They despise each other.

And in many ways, Ganondorf eventually finds a real mother figure in her. (Once she realizes that he's every bit as much of a victim of Kōme & Kotake's crimes as anyone, that is. Doesn't stop him from being Ganondorf & making rotten decisions, but Ayamay hopes that by providing him with what he'd needed growing up, a loving mother, she might be able to gray him more. She always was the more conniving one in their little family.) One who's only expectation of him is to treat her granddaughter well. Which... is oddly comforting... & in a lot of ways, he has difficulty figuring out what to do with that. (Not that he shows it ever. He just isn't a very well-adjusted individual & was sorely lacking in a father figure growing up, which doesn't show itself often, but when it does, the sheer absence of positive male role models in his life will become extremely apparent. It must've been remarkably isolating & very confusing to grow up as a boy in an all-female society.)

---

As for Ganondorf's wedding attire, go here for a rundown.

And to learn about Gerudo wedding traditions, go here.

---

The Desert Gerudo tend to tell stories through dance & it is tradition for a married couple to give a brief dance performance detailing their journey to marriage during the festivities after the actual wedding.

Due to the unusual way that Ganondorf & Nemma got together, they opt for a just as unusual wedding dance by choosing to start off with a Sàl'dïnatàrr Zaydahànt (a performative scimitar dance duel) which is normally reserved for portraying epic battles.

They managed to portray both fierceness, curiosity, romance, & eventual lust with appropriate nuance & even subtlety in the case of that last part.

Then, they'd sheath their swords to begin a normal Zayda (sort of a pas de duex). They showed themselves seeming to tiptoe around each other while also testing the waters. Not necessarily stumbling, but (purposefully) catching each other by "awkwardly" stepping on each other's feet or "accidentally" kicking the other in the legs. All while still managing to appear graceful.

But they quickly settle into easy fluidity before performing more complex & romantic steps that require more cooperation & synergy. And they even find themselves getting caught up in each other.

It's a delight to behold.

---

One other thing of note was that the Sheikah use dye to imprint the wife's first steps into her new home after marriage. Which she did.

---

Anyway, Nemma's wedding gift to Ganondorf was a custom 2-handed sword, designed for his specific size, that she made herself using the same techniques that she'd used to make her own as well as the ones that she'd learned while in the desert.

Though, instead of Zoridium-Dawasaaq steel like what she used to replace the blade of the Namikaze no Odori, she used pure Dawasaaq Steel from the Gerudo Highlands as the steel from the desert doesn't seem to be nearly as pure as that from the Highlands. Again, Dawasaaq steel is the best for blade creation. Though, for some reason, it's only the iron & titanium deposits that have this problem. Everything else mined in the desert, especially the jeweler's metals, are very high quality. Gold, silver, platinum, & even copper are all extremely pure.

Anyway, then she melted a Silver Lynel Saber Horn as well as a Flame Gleeok Horn into the metal, then folded liquified Ruby into the blade just like she did with the Emeralds to make her own blade's ripples. The blade itself was thinner, wider, & more curved than a traditional katana with a darker color & the crossguard was based on a shim'tàrr'jï (scimitar's) design & made of a titanium-gold alloy with the Gerudo writing for Hellfire, "Fa'gáron," decorating the blade's edge & had polished Onyx or Black Pearl for the pommel. There was also the image of either Volvagia, Dinraal, or Dragondorf (I can't decide which) etched into the side of the blade along the false edge, stretching from hilt to point with the tail pointed towards the hilt. The image will start small at the hilt & slowly get bigger at the point, its mouth opened wide to show off its teeth. Finally, the grip was of katana design, if curved like a shim'tàrr'jï, & wrapped with Shadow Lizalfos leather. (Think of a mix of a Scimitar & a Dadao. And Shadow Lizalfos are just something I made up. They're basically just Lizalfos with a darkness element.)

This is how it looks, just minus the dragon etching:

It has 165 base damage & with a one-word command, the edge of the blade would be lit ablaze with shadowy flames.

It was based on the blueprints of a traditional Gerudo weapon that she'd found in the massive ruin of what was, unknown to her, the ancient Temple of Spirit, dedicated to the worship of the Goddess of the Sand, while exploring the desert. The closest that she'd seen to it were their shim'tàrren (scimitars), but this would be too large to hold with only 1 hand the way that shim'tàrren were, even for a large man like Ganondorf, but not so large that he couldn't wield it with 2. So, it was likely meant for 2-handed combat much like the katana & Golden Claymore were. Yet entirely different & made for more fluid movements than a Golden Claymore would allow. True, she'd made a couple of personal additions, but that was more to improve the sword's overall capabilities. Over 90% of the blade's design remained faithful to the image she saw.

It was really a work of genius. She wondered who originally came up with the design.

She'd only just begun learning Gerudo, but she'd at least memorized their codex. The sword was called a "shim'shïr." (The name being based on a Shamshir, but the form being more in line with, as mentioned above, a Scimitar & a Dadao.) Nemma thinks that this could be an ancient, lost Gerudo weapon from long before the arrival of the Zonai.

Back to Gdorf, they both revealed their gifts, Nemma's the sword & Ganondorf's the Mamena Hōchō-Kaku. Upon initially receiving the sword, he'd been... stunned... While receiving gifts was no unusual thing for him as a king. Those tended to be with the intent of receiving his favor or showcasing their own gift-giving prowess.

It was the genuineness & obvious hard work & dedication behind the gift that gave him pause. The painstaking quality of the work itself was simply exquisite & he knew that such a work of art comes from a place of deep passion & love for what one does. Such dedication makes their work positively sing.

Yet, instead of presenting it to him in front of his court, which would have surely gained her accolades, she simply gave it to him in their chambers alone & had seemed rather flustered, even nervous which despite the short time they've known each other, he already knew was unusual for her. Though, she held it together well & remained mostly stoic, she couldn't hide it from his keen eyes trained to find & exploit weaknesses. The barest dusting of rose had bloomed delicately upon her tanned cheeks. Which he was forced to admit, was a very attractive color on her.

The blade, her work, meant a lot to her & in a way, she was giving him power over her simply by showing him that his opinion mattered to her. (Whether she's in love by this point or not is up to the writer, but she definitely at least has a major crush.)

Quite simply, she is obviously hoping that this marriage could eventually come to be built on something he wasn't yet sure he was capable of giving her.

And, for the first time in his life, he did not wish to exploit the power he'd just been given so freely & readily, as his instincts willed him to. He... He respected her... And when was the last time he could say something like that?

"I respect you too & thank you. Sheikah iconography, but in a Gerudo style. They seem to synergize oddly well. And the whetstone interior was a clever touch."

Snapping back out of his daze, their eyes met, contact made. He must've said that out loud. Then what she said registered & Ganondorf suddenly felt bashful watching her fondly trace the etchings he'd carved into the knife block's surface with so much care.

He hadn't felt so awkward since... well, puberty. How could he handle such genuine honesty?

Nàkah (fuck), his face was heating up... Gdorf quickly turned away to hide the evidence of his emotions. He was glad that she liked his gift though...

Upon inspection, the blade channeled his magic wonderfully & was much more fluid in its use than the Golden Claymore. Not to mention, much deadlier. While his main weapon was a Katana, this sword was…

The blade quickly became his favored weapon. He named it Fa'gáron'jï Bojaqàr'è. Or Hellfire's Shadow.

---

That night, Ganondorf & Nemma were to bathe together in order to get used to each other's body. It wasn't uncommon in Gerudo society for new couples to experience their first times together while bathing.

However, this particular pair managed to hold off until they were clean & got to bed.

That night was full of tender passion. While this would be their first time fully committing the act together, they've made out & engaged in heavy petting before.

And have certainly caused each other to discharge, but this would be different.

*Riske Content Warning*

It took some serious stretching, but she took him wonderfully. And they ended up both seeing stars despite Ganondorf being far more experienced.

Honestly, he really shouldn't have fit at all, yet somehow he had. Ganondorf suspects that his little bride might have a hidden talent for sex magic, which is an extremely rare magic to begin with. Otherwise, he would've likely only fit about half to 2/3 of the way.

At some point, he finds himself caging her in, her nails & heels digging into his back in a way that heated his blood. She wailed as her core fluttered around him, her hips arching up to meet his own.

Before it finally came to a shuddering, climactic end, hips stuttering as he bit deep into her shoulder to keep himself from screaming too loudly.

*End of Riske Content*

It left them both panting & sweaty as their highs deescalated.

Of course, that would only be the first of many rounds that night.

---

This isn't to say that their sex will always be this tender & sweet. Both can be very rough & sometimes crave more force.

Sometimes, they can get downright wild.

Nemma especially knows when she's in for a wild night when Gdorf looks at her like a predator stalking its prey.

The sharpness in his eyes, like he's going to eat her, always gets her going.

And, for whatever reason, Nemma loves being chased by him. Sometimes, she'll see that look in his eye & playfully run off, out of the encampment, beckoning him to pursue. She could easily lose him (though, not for long), but most times, she just wants a bit of cat & mouse before the main event.

Most times, she'll let him catch her.

But when she's really looking for some fun, she'll put him through his paces & make him actually track her down. May even have him fight her & wrestle her to the ground. Oftentimes, during those fights, she'll take moments to cop a feel & get him even more riled up.

Those times always end with the most hedonistic sex that has them filling the desert with sound until sunup.

---

Once she's managed to gain enough experience, Nemma will eventually be able to find ways to legitimately dominate Ganondorf both subtly & overtly. Especially with all the advice given to her by Tïsàla & Nīra.

Not that this is the sort of thing that would happen often. But even Ganondorf could admit that the wanton pleasure & the sight of his bride so dominant over him, was worth letting go of a little power for just a bit.

At first, he was surprised, then uncomfortable. Not that he was ever unaware of the sorts of things that his subjects got up to with foreign men when outside the Gerudo Encampment (as the only one of the Gerudo with a permanent home was Ganondorf, while the rest had tents).

He was also aware of Tïsàla's... reputation as a born vàsitulïxàmba (a vai who is a dominatrix, but it isn't her job & she does it for fun & always with consent). Before vo'màzren & their vàsitulïxan were disbanded, he had been contemplating forcing her into the position of paid vàsitulïxa as she'd always rejected the offer when asked.

Now, though, it seemed that her talents had landed herself a voe who, while traditionally masculine by Hyrulean standards, was a switch & didn't seem to mind the rough play or the use of stolkén. (Don't ask.)

The very idea that Nemma could... use that... on him? He... he'd never really thought about it before...

He... wasn't sure? Just the thought of it seemed to heat his blood, but he couldn't help the shame that painted his face red at the idea of letting anyone have so much control over him.

It makes him feel hot in the "this is so wrong, but so effing hot & I kinda wanna try it once" kind of way.

---

Also, brushing each other's hair & bathing together are very relaxing & intimate bonding experiences for them. It is a Gerudo tradition for married couples to bathe together & wash each other.

Funny enough, they both secretly adore & admire each other's hair for different reasons, wishing that their own was like their spouse's. Ganondorf often compares Nemma's to spun silk that he could spend hours running his fingers through despite the split ends that he regularly finds at the beginning of their marriage. Meanwhile, Nemma admires how easy Gdorf's is to work with, not to mention how much volume & body it has, while also managing to be thick & strong much like the mane of a horse. (Though, Gerudo hair oils seem to be doing wonders for her own & living in one spot allows her to take better care of her hair. So, no more split ends!) She loves gently pulling all his hair into a long, thick braid before bed.

As for Ganondorf, he absolutely frickin' loves the feel of his wife's hands in his hair. Her fingers gently scratching his scalp does wonders for his stress levels & once he's grown to completely trust her, then if he's not careful, he's liable to fall asleep in her arms, an oddly content little smile across his lips as he snoozes.

I also hc that the Sheikah have a war strategy game that's basically Pai Sho from Avatar & that it's one way that they end up bonding.

---

Anyway, as they grow closer, it'll come to Ganondorf's attention that Nemma actually has a knack for ruling & he finds himself able to delegate some of his duties to her without worry, which takes a great deal of weight off of his shoulders that he hadn't realized was there before. Though, she's admittedly much more merciful than him. While both rule with iron fists, hers is sheathed in a silk glove. This results in the Gerudo quite liking her.

They begin to refer to her as their Vàmàh Vai'àtta, or Moon Queen. Some even speculate that she may be the vessel of Amàhrta, the Gerudo Goddess of the Moon, Mirrors, Dreams, Visions, & Prophecy. (It's bs, but there are certainly quite a lot of coincidences that end up perpetuating the rumor even though it's false. As a result, her subjects have gifted her with silver & moonstone jewelry & moonlight scimitars of varying qualities.)

---

I also think that they'd love sparing fairly frequently. Literally the highlight of their week. Though, it's sort of like foreplay to them & tends to end rather... carnally...

The first time Nemma had him on his back, the sharpened edge of her Sheikatō pressed to his throat, he shivered. Her steely, indigo stare shifted for but a moment in disbelief before shifting back to that battle-hardened glare.

Ganondorf's heart suddenly skipped a beat. What was this feeling?

Of finally finding an equal?

On the one hand, he was angry at having been bested, even by his own wife. On the other, he'd never been harder in his entire life. It was like finally meeting someone who was truly on his level. He had... never felt more seen before...

What was this thrill of meeting one who could catch him so off guard, yet does not see him as less?

This humbled awe? Is this what Nemma had felt when he first bested her?

If so, then he could see now why she had so readily agreed to marry him.

Finding someone that he could fight at his best & would give the same in return.

Who saw both his virtues & his flaws, yet did not turn away in disgust or fear or hatred.

It was… intoxicating…

Ganondorf decided then, that this woman was worthy of his weak moments. Worthy of not seeing him always at his best.

He wanted her. Hotly & with relish.

Then, the white-haired yailàra (warrior woman by trade or occupation) leaned down & Gdorf knew that she was claiming her prize. He gave a shuttering breath just before their lips met in a searing kiss.

*Riske Content Warning*

Her hips ground against the bulge in his sirwàl.

Even as she rode him, hard & fast, her blade remained pointed at his throat. Ganondorf couldn't help the thrill he got at being forced to remain still & just take what she gave him.

Of course, it'd taken damn near everything in her to pin him down even once in a straight one-on-one fight & that was mostly due to catching him off guard. She won't get many more chances like this, so she endeavors to relish it while she could. She made sure to milk him dry. Thoroughly.

*End of Riske Content*

They both knew that he could break away or escape at any moment, but he obviously didn't want to.

—

After a long day of work, Nemma likes to lay on Ganondorf's chest & relax. He'll often have his arms wrapped loosely around her & hum quietly as he runs his fingers over her back.

She'll frequently respond in kind & proceed to snuggle into him. Sometimes they'll even take short naps like that.

---

At some point, in order to show that she's trying to be better about trusting others & working with them, Nemma will make a pair of Gossip Stone Earrings, giving Ganondorf 1 while she keeps the other. This is her way of trusting him. So that if she ever runs off like that again, he'll always be able to reach her.

Here they are. Not sure which ones I prefer.

Yes, he can absolutely see a tactical advantage to making a large number of these earrings & giving them to his soldiers, but at the same time, he is a selfish man & this was his wife's attempt at making things right between them. He wanted to keep this special.

They never take their respective earring off. Ever. Period.

It's just... such a comfort to have their spouse's heartbeat in their ear at all times.

---

Nemma knows what her husband wants to do, knows he wants to conquer Hyrule, but before that, she brought up the idea of using Hyrule's resources to put his tribe in a better place beforehand.

This seems to make Gdorf smile slyly & complement her on her deviousness.

From this moment until the time that Ganondorf chooses to steal the Secret Stone, they will be utilizing Hyrule to build the foundations for what will become Gerudo Town later on.

By the time that he kills Sonia, the palace (with 2 thrones specifically), outer walls, aqueducts, sewers, training ground, the shelter, & a forge will be finished. However, the rest of the town, such as homes & businesses will not be built until much later. As a result, the rest of the Gerudo tend to sleep in the shelter at night & use the empty space in the walls for important work tents such as the food tent, weaving tent, medical tent, etcetera.

This way, the Gerudo have a permanent place to take shelter.

Beforehand, the Gerudo would use a canopy tent to forge their weapons, jewelry, & armor & despite their skill at making weapons, this made forging reliant on the weather. At least, even more so than normal.

As soon as the forge was finished, Nemma began to work. One of many things that she made was a Gyuto-Bōchō for Nīra & the other cooks each, having been teaching them the basics of Santoku. They were all absolutely thrilled as they'd all heard of the incredible versatility & usefulness of such Sheikah kitchen knives.

You haven't lived till you've seen a small group of 7-8 foot tall women hopping up & down & shouting with joy like a bunch of teenage girls. It's fucking adorable!

Also, Ayamay had begun to help out in the cooking tent too. (After retiring from being a warrior, she'd opened up a small restaurant that served homecooked meals.)

---

At some point after their wedding, they return to Castle Town more for the sake of diplomacy than an actual desire to, as Nemma is the Gerudo Queen now & there's something of a celebration being held in honor of their union. All the major powers in the Great Hyrule Alliance were going to be there; the Zora Royal Family, the Rito Elder & his family, the Sheikah Cheiftain & his family, & the Head Foreman of Gorondia & his sons. As well as several other important families.

(It was absolutely Rauru trying to draw them out so that he could get Nemma alone to try & convince her to side with Hyrule & while neither Nemma nor Ganondorf knew this, they both sort of looked at each other skeptically.)

They'd arrive there the night before, would stay in the Palace (on the Great Plateau as the Castle & Castle Town we know of didn't exist then), relax & enjoy the sights the next day, & that evening, the celebration would begin.

Anyway, at some point during that celebration, some rich asshole makes a snide remark about Nemma being so thoroughly armed & it being unseemly of a queen.

To which Ganondorf would basically tell the bastard to 'square up, bitch.' Using his full height to loom over his target & assert dominance.

He'd assert that she is more than just his queen, she is also a warrior & will not be disrespected in his presence!

Meanwhile, Nemma is used to such comments about her lifestyle & would normally prefer to defend herself, but... she admits that it feels nice to have her honor defended & to be treated as the warrior she was & always strived to be. Also, that height & the aura of pure dominance he exuded then? Meow! XD

Later, Nemma would be herded to an isolated area (which she'd recognize immediately & she'd certainly lead the guards on a merry chase; not by causing an altercation, but more so by managing to blend in with the crowd simply by changing her posture & aura, which would result in Rauru having to use his own Sheikah guards, including her father, to do so; not that Rauru knows of their relation at this time). Where Rauru would try to convince Nemma to help him convince her husband not to make any rash decisions. Nemma would quickly realize what he was actually asking her due to a mixture of her own intelligence & her skills in Yomijutsu, & being the blunt & straightforward individual that she was, she'd just state as such outright.

"You want me to choose Hyrule over my husband should things go sour between our kingdoms."

Rauru would sputter & try to reiterate it more delicately, but Nemma would have none of it.

She sees past the bs & she'd tell him that if he wanted her to even consider anything he has to say, then he'll be candid & quit pussyfooting around the topic.

Regardless, she'd say that she wouldn't encourage her husband to attack them, but she wouldn't be Rauru's yesman either. In the end, Rauru's attempt to have her side with Hyrule would inevitably fail. In fact, I feel as though Nemma would be insulted at the idea that she'd ever consider betraying her husband.

Either way, she'd return to her husband's side with a lesser view of Rauru & proceed to inform Ganondorf of everything that'd happened & what the King of Hyrule had asked of her.

Which would cause the man's yandere tendencies to flare & his plan to kill Sonia to solidify.

If Rauru hadn't done this, Ganondorf would've elected to simply steal the Secret Stone from Sonia as Nemma & Ayamay had softened him to such a degree, but this would spark possessiveness & paranoia in the Gerudo. Even though he knows, logically, that it's not likely & he trusts Nemma implicitly at this point (especially after having told him everything so directly & without pretense, which he's always appreciated about her), he can't help the little voice in the back of his head telling him that Rauru wanted to steal away his beloved wife for himself.

And while having a second spouse was not necessarily unheard of in Gerudo society (though never a third), it wasn't encouraged & infidelity was treated as a heinous taboo worthy of stoning.

—

However, despite this, I don't think that Rauru would attempt to actually kidnap Nemma until after Ganondorf had killed Sonia & stolen the Secret Stone & it would partly be done in retribution.

---

Before leaving to take the Secret Stone, Gdorf had removed the brow ornament, which he taken to calling a Nīkôz Khepnïsut (literally, "victory brow ornament), & wrapped it up before placing it in his jewelry chest along with any other jewelry that his beloved wife had crafted for him. He did not want to risk it being damaged if it chose one of them & ended up damaging one of her gifts. As much as he wanted to be proudly adorned in her gifts, logically, he didn't want to damage them.

When the new Demon King returned home, he was a horror to all beheld him.

Nemma was horrified by his state, but was not afraid of him. Rather, she was afraid for him. But when she ran up to meet him & went to touch his cheek, she was burned & this seemed to snap Ganondorf out of his sadistic trance.

Before, he'd been in a sort of battle high fueled by blood lust that had taken hold of his mind similar to a pair of spindly hands curling their fingers around his brain, marveling at the power he could feel flowing through him. He felt like he could do anything, be anything! It was intoxicating!

But hearing his wife scream, her hands burned at the mere touch of him, he was suddenly very aware of each & every drop of Miasma that dripped from his skin as though blood from a fatal wound. The black in his schlera seemed to retreat like shadows into grey & his expression dropped in grim realization.

His first instinct was to hold her & examine her injury, but remembering what'd just happened, he folded his arms over his chest to keep from touching her & ordered his guards to see to her injuries. (Several of them noticed how the mark of a shell began to glow faintly upon her brow, though only briefly, the light seeming to beat back Ganondorf's Miasma. However, they were far too harried to make comment & they quickly forgot about it in the rush of the war that followed. Ganondorf himself was also much too worried & panicked for it to really register.)

Ganondorf ended up buzzing around her much like a worried bee & made quite the nuisance of himself in the medical tent. Nothing his staff did seemed to fix it or even slow it down & he could only watch, trembling, in terror as the Miasma from his own body seemed to slowly creep over more of her skin. He seemed to fall into a panic. His mind repeating the words "you did this!" Then, Ayamay rushed in, got a good look at the injury (mentally noting the glowing mark, but putting away for later), & something seemed to click inside her head. She then ran back out & a few minutes later returned with a very familiar, golden flower. Blessedly, it worked. (Ayamay silently contemplated how the light kept Son-in-law's dark power at bay & shivered with dread as it hit her that without that light, Nemma might've died before she could retrieve the Sundelion. The old Shadow Warrior sent up a quiet prayer of thanks to Kariaina-no-Mikoto for protecting her grandbaby as she recognized the mark as being that of the goddess of love's in origin.)

It doesn't escape Ganondorf's notice, the irony that what had harmed his beloved wife had been the very power he had sought so ardently & the only cure ending up being something so heavily associated with the very queen that he had just killed in order to obtain it. Perhaps this was karma?

Later that night, Ganondorf & Nemma talked about what to do moving forward in their quarters.

Nemma isn't a traditionally good person, being more morally gray than anything, & has taken more than her fair share of lives, but she's also a logical & reasonable individual. And she didn't support her husband's actions. If anything, she very much advised him against it.

She warned him that there would be more consequences for his decision & that if he wasn't careful, the cost might end up being more than he was willing to give.

She never had any issues with Sonia, herself, & honestly mourned for her & Rauru's daughter who had been made motherless that night. But, at the end of the day, if he was absolutely sure that this was what he wanted & he chose to go through with his plans, then so long as he spared the children, if there was no enslavement, & if he spared those who stayed out of his way, then she would support him. She wouldn't fight with him at his side in this, but she would be there for him at the end of every fight if he'd allow it.

An intrusive thought broke into Ganondorf's mind to punish the woman for her insolence. Normally, he'd just bat it away like a pesky fly. But since he'd taken the Secret Stone, the thoughts became louder & more intrusive. In the past, the invasive thoughts were never things that he'd ever consider doing, but were also not things he was totally against. At least, until tonight.

Now, they seemed to whisper dark promises into his mind. The sort of things that made him recoil. Things to hurt Nemma. To take advantage of her. To fuck her into submission. It made him feel sick inside. Perhaps if this had been just after having met her, then he would've considered it, but now? Now, just the idea of doing something like that to his beloved wife made him want to vomit.

And the fact that there was ever a time when he would've considered doing such to his wife? It shames him deeply…

And, if Ganondorf were being reasonable, her demands were fair. Especially considering what he'd just done to her. Albeit, inadvertently. Most would've taken the first chance they got to escape him afterwards, but she was still here & still loved him. Disappointed in him, but still loved him.

In that instant, he was nearly overwhelmed with the need to hold his wife tight. And his arms rose on instinct before he flinched.

As mentioned above, Ganondorf is quite touch starved & he relished in his wife's affection. He craves her touch like a suffocating man does air.

So, after having her to satiate that previously unknown need, only to now be unable to indulge in it at any time he wished? Unable to feel her skin caress his or confirm that she was alright by examining her with his own hands, he suddenly felt trapped in his own skin. Almost confined by the very prize he'd pursued.

It was very uncomfortable. In a lot of ways, it turned the Secret Stone & the power it bequeathed into more of a double-edged sword than he thought they'd be. One that he'd, unknowingly, eventually have to decide whether or not it was worth it.

Ganondorf took a moment & thought... Then, with a lot of mental resistance, he removed the Secret Stone from his head. And, suddenly those dark whispers were dulled back to a quiet buzz & his mind was much clearer, though still slightly fogged.

Instantly, Gdorf raised his hand, the appendage stopping for a moment as if unsure, the pad of his thumb rubbing over the pads of his pointer & middle finger as if in worry, before his beautiful bride raised her own & laced their fingers together.

His heart fluttered & he took a deep breath. His eyes tearing up a bit, but not falling, as he pulled her gently into his lap & embraced her, his face tucked into the crook of her neck.

And he apologized & said that he understood. That he wouldn't make her do anything & that having her with him was enough.

However, much like an addiction, Ganondorf would find himself looking back at his ill-gotten prize & find himself craving that feeling of raw power again.

He'd end up adorning the Secret Stone again the next day. And while he wore it, he'd keep his arms folded when near his wife. As it'd become habit to rest his hand on either her hip, her shoulder, or lower back whenever they stood together & the last thing he'd allow was her to be harmed by his own hand again.

---

The next time Ganondorf saw Ayamay, she was giving him the side-eye & he knew that he was in trouble. He'd... never felt ashamed like this before... For the first time since he was a small voevï (boy), he couldn't meet someone's gaze.

She narrowed her eyes & seemed to come to a conclusion.

"Listen well, boy." He flinched. "If you never take any other advise from me, you better take this to heart. Power corrupts, but absolute power corrupts absolutely. You better figure out what it is you're willing to sacrifice for such lofty pursuits or you'll end up loosing something you weren't willing to give."

There was that phrase again. Something he wasn't willing to loose.

Beforehand, he'd have said that he wasn't willing to loose his power or his control... but was that really true anymore?

He didn't know...

---

Anyway, Gdorf would pillage & run roughshod through Hyrule on Jawàrik, who was transformed as he was, into a nightmarish unicorn that would skewer victims with his jagged horn. The haze of blood lust & power flooding his mind in a red cloud. Murdering those who got in his way, but never a child or those who avoided him. Oh, he'd come close, but he'd always manage to stop before that. And whenever he heard of one of his Lynel minions taking advantage of the enemy for unwanted carnal pursuits, he would have them killed. However, his vaien were allowed to take from any men they defeated in battle.

And upon returning to his room at night, he'd remove the stone to indulge in the tender affections he'd been deprived of throughout the day.

However, every time he did, he'd find it more & more difficult to take the stone off. Not physically, but mentally.

(Imagine it as if 2 diametrically opposed addictions were battling in his head. He can't indulge in both at the same time & he has to choose which one is more important to him at a given moment. Resulting in him creating a sort of loose schedule for when he can indulge in one or the other. It's difficult to keep to as he desires both, but he knows that Rauru will retaliate at some point & he refuses to not be prepared.)

Upon seeing his wife once more, thoughts had slowly begun invading his mind. Whispers of ravaging her body while still under the influence of the Secret Stone, specifically reveling in the pain it caused her. But he'd push them away furiously. The very idea of harming her in pursuit of his own personal pleasure while disregarding her own was disgusting & shameful to him. Though, they'd only come as brief flashes & half-formed thoughts normally.

Then, one night, Ganondorf had a depraved nightmare.

Of raping his wife. Of watching her be consumed by the Miasma that leaked like a bloody gash from his body. Of rutting her violently as she screamed in agony, her body being twisted by his dark power into a perfect little, obedient fuck toy. Over & over again until she begged him to stop, but he'd continue until she passed out.

Ganondorf bolted upright in bed. A cold sweat coating his skin in a fine sheen. He gasped for air, finding it difficult to breathe as he turned to look for his wife. She was sound asleep, but seemed to be stirring.

The Gerudo King covered his mouth to keep from waking her as he panicked silently only to discover that he was crying. He hadn't cried since he was a child.

Ganondorf didn't tell Nemma about his dream the next day or ever. He was terrified that she'd leave him. The dream disgusted him, absolutely repelled him, & he thought himself a demented beast for having it in the first place. He'd often been called a beast in battle, but never had he thought of it in such a way. He found that he no longer took pride in it.

For all his stature & power, he could be quite the coward when he was truly afraid. He'd known this since he was a boy. That'd been part of why he initially desired power so much. To exert control over his own life & rid himself of his fears. So why was it that even now that he had so much power at his fingertips & Hyrule's subjugation on the horizon, was he more afraid than ever?

---

Though, the stone didn't seem to only fill him with bloodlust & non-consensual thoughts of sex, thankfully, but also of the more consensual, yet rough nature.

As the Demon King, he lusted after his queen to an unusual degree, even for him. Just the thought of her would send his mind spiraling into thoughts of breeding her full of his heirs. The thought of children having only briefly crossed his mind before & had initially been brushed off as a "not yet" sort of thought as he never pegged Nemma as the sort to be interested in them. Until he learned that she would often teach the vaivïn (little girls) how to cook or about her village & its customs with the same patience as she would him. How gentle, yet firm when necessary she was with them.

After which, the idea would send his heart fluttering with want as he realized that maybe children were a much closer possibility than he previously thought. Though, obviously not until after this was all done with. Last thing he wanted was their prospective vehvïn (babies) in danger. Which was unusual, as Gdorf always previously desired a world where only the strong would survive & thrive, but with the possibility of children in his life, he suddenly felt overwhelmingly protective over someone who wasn't even yet a twinkle in his or his wife's eye.

Anyway, often at the end of battles, his bloodlust would be replaced with a carnality of equal severity. Which regularly lead to him sneaking off & masturbating to thoughts of his wife.

The invasive thoughts would at times be less repulsive, the scenes more consensual. Which, by Vah Gela, did he prefer that so much more.

He couldn't deny, though, if not for the harm that this form caused vayfu (his wife), he would've likely rutted her raw all that night to celebrate his success, glorify in his newfound power, as well as their next successful step towards ruling Hyrule as king & queen. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to begin speaking so lewdly through the earring as he pleasured himself the first time he did it, but it certainly seemed to catch Nemma's attention & often resulted in some... interesting conversations between them. These desires often persisted even long after removing the stone & resulted in some very long nights of repeatedly consummating their marriage in the eyes of Vah Kàvtrïna.

Truly, she must have blessed their union.

---

(Honestly, he'd never thought of heirs beforehand, having been taught how to use his black magic to basically live forever. However, the dark ritual that it involved had always left him feeling uncomfortable. He'd only ever performed a variation of it once as a young teen when sealing his pact with the dark entity that his mothers' worshiped. That poor kid... He still sees the boy's face in his nightmares. It was the most traumatizing thing that his mothers had ever had him do. Luckily, he'd only been required to kill the boy, but the things that his mothers did... They chilled him to the core... Things that they'd told him that if he wished to live forever, that he'd need to learn to be strong enough to do. The idea curdled his blood even then. But after knowing Nemma & Ayamay, he just didn't think he could do it. He had yet to tell either of the women of the memories & he was honestly terrified to, afraid that they'd be disgusted with him. He didn't know if he ever would tell them. He hates the idea of disappointing them.)

—

Anyway, I think that I'm going to make Nemma's capture a result of Kōme & Kotake's attempts to be rid of her as they don't appreciate how "soft" Ganondorf is becoming because of her. As in, they heard Rauru's attempt to persuade Nemma & then later informed him of her routines, which enables one of his Sheikah Warriors to kidnap her.

I think I'll make it Nemma's father, Masashai, who steals her away, just to really drum up the drama. He's one of Rauru's best & he even offered to do it himself as she was his spawn. Which, the use of such a word to describe one's own offspring had caused Rauru's eyes to narrow as he'd never speak of his own daughter, now 3 years old, thusly. But he was nothing if not strategic, so he'd let it slide for now.

(The toddler princess was hidden far away, outside of the Demon King's reach for now. Rauru was doing this for her.)

Masashai saw Nemma's dalliances with his king's enemy & his queen's killer to be deeply shaming & he wished to correct the girl's behavior.

At the same time, Rauru would recognize in Nemma the complete absence of a desire for power that wasn't something that she, herself, had earned, as well as the qualities of a true & wise ruler & a noble, honorable warrior. As such, he wouldn't kill her, instead choosing to seal her away.

---

To Be Continued...

And that's where this part ends. I'll continue with the rest in Part 2 because this post has gotten so long that I can't even edit it on my phone anymore. XD

---

LoZ My Fanfic Masterlist

#loz #legend of zelda #totk #tears of the kingdom #ganondorf #yandere ganondorf #fem oc #sheikah oc #ganondorf x fem!oc #long post #nsft

10 notes · View notes

itsnotaphasemomitsanobsession · 11 months

Text

Top fav fics of all time

✨ Otherwise known as the fics that need way more love and attention ✨

Way down we go (T): Not only is this such a cute story, but the characterization is perfect and the subject matter (while heavy) is charming and fluffy. Features werewolf Harry Potter and a down and out Draco in Alabama of all places. I've read this 7000 times and I will continue to reread this until I am blind, and then I'll get my partner to read it to me until they go blind.

Lovesick(T): A really cute and fluffy one shot featuring healer Draco and perpetually love potioned Harry.

A Big Black Sky(M): TW: domestic violence, sexual violence, depression. Right up front there is a brief mention of mpreg in this fic, normally it is not my cup of tea (but I don't ick anyone's yum) so fair warning. It's very mild, but the story is SO good and Harry and Draco's relationship in this is very sweet. Scorpius is a sweet baby in this and the love Draco has for him is so special.

Make Yourself(E): TW: nonconsensual drug use, abuse, depression, agoraphobia. This is one of those fics that has changed me as a person. Harry uses Grimmauld place to house all his friends, they live comfortably in his home and Harry is happy. With a habit of collecting strays, Harry brings Draco along for the ride.

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the run(T): This fic was the right amount of silly and endearing and lovely for a lazy afternoon read. Harry is never found and never goes to Hogwarts so it's up to a couple delinquents to make sure Harry knows how to magic. Draco in this is so funny and Harry is so snarky and Hermione is just trying her best.

Thermodynamic Equilibrium(T): Harry is always too hot and Draco is always too cold. Together they find they are the perfect temperature. Cute two chapters of fluff, some angst and falling in love.

Two to Lie and one to Listen(E): Hermione breaks up with Ron, Harry is confused. Hermione starts dating Draco, Harry is very confused. Fake dating fic between a closeted gay Draco and a sweet and loving openly trans Hermione. The whole fic is amazing and the angst from Harry is top tier!

Dragons Don't Talk(T): TW: depictions of panic attacks, abuse, mutism, depression, and death. I literally only just read this, this month, and I loved it so much. Harry struggles to speak at the end of the war, Draco simply cannot stop talking, together they make the perfect duo.

✨ Remember to leave a comment and kudos on the authors work if you liked their fic! ✨

#drarry #drarry fic recs #drarry fanfic #harry potter x draco malfoy #i love these fics so much

7 notes · View notes

this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 2 years

Text

fluffy romances

Colors by PrincessGemma12 @princessgemma12 - A collection of stories for Multiamory March, primarily fluffy except for 4 and 8, and possibly 6 (tw mild sexual content, implied underage sex, unexpected pregnancy, vomiting, tcest, misunderstandings, darker warnings for underage noncon and forced abortion in the other stories)

and maybe it'll be clear when we get there by leones @leonsi for This_world_of_beautiful_monsters - Multiamory March stories; a very good gift from a very good friend (tw for brief references to past rape and csa, implied sexual content, mental health issues, implied self-harm, self-hatred, tcest)

“Baby, I’m Dancing In The Dark With You Between My Arms” from Creatures Lie Here, Looking Through the Window by Gemma Winchester (PrincessGemma12), PrincessGemma12 @princessgemma12 - Raph and Lavinia have a very good time together and cuddle afterwards (tw tcest, very explicit sexual content, pregnancy, much heavier warnings for the other stories in the series so read the tags)

i can feel your eyes stare (and i'm not gonna lie, i get a little bit scared) by leones @leonsi - A sweet collection of Leosagi drabbles centered around the steps towards intimacy (tw past rape/noncon, implied sexual content, but mostly our fluff)

Theories and kisses by sonicsora - A tale of four Capritello kisses

Say My Name by LeeontheNeonv - Casey is desperate for smooches, and he’ll use dirty tricks to get one

kids by Hyakkei - Yoshi asks Leo and Mikey a gentle, but important question (tw sort-of-turtlecest in a human AU, discussions of pregnancy)

Mine by Bees_and_Turtles - Four turtle brothers after the end of the world encounter two strange humans (tw violence, panic attacks, sexual content, mental health issues, apocalyptic imagery)

The Violence in These Delights by Sundayeyes - A pair of linked BDSM with sweet endings (tw tcest, explicit sexual content, discussions of violence, some family dysfunction)

A Mission For Mistletoe by CrimsonSai - Mikey schemes for a Christmas kiss (tw tcest, jealousy, family dysfunction)

Wood for Wood by PrincessFreak for Anomalae - Donnie discovers Mikey’s secret (tw tcest, self-doubt, internalized kink shaming, BDSM, deception)

O Monster, let me into your heart by orphan_account - Snapshots from Casey and Donnie’s love story (tw explicit sexual content, self-doubt, existential angst, implied violence, underage masturbation, crises)

My Nightlight by squishyturtlefuckfics - Raph comforts Mikey after a nightmare (tw tcest)

Close Shave by squishyturtlefuckfics - Mikey and Raph blow off steam after a mission (tw tcest, explicit sexual content)

Chruściki! by leones @leonsi - A magnificent collection of Christmas stories (tw PTSD, pregnancy, bad parenting, family dysfunction, implied child abuse, poverty)

Sweet by Swirl_O_Whirl - Slash and Mikey head out on the town for Halloween night

Pretty Boy by sleepingseeker @sleepingseeker - Raph tries to help April with her water (tw mild sexual content, self-doubt)

Through the Looking Glass by PrincessGemma12 @princessgemma12 - Leo learns to accept his desires (tw implied BDSM/sexual content)

Masterpiece by NiefThing - Mikey incorporates Donnie into his artwork (tw explicit sexual content, tcest)

Quotes by what_should_i_post_here - Collection of oneshots based around various sentence starters (tw explicit sexual content, tcest, grief, loss)

lover(s) by cxlesstial for HeyAssbuttImBatman - Moments from a Capritello relationship (tw trauma, injury, implied violence)

december 17th: caught between the moon and new york city by watergator - Woody and Mikey find their way back together (tw separation)

still new york by cxlesstial - Human AU where the Hamato family still live and love together (tw grief, past violence)

Kiss From A Rose by Chandrakantya - Human AU where Leo falls in love with Karai on the bus (tw mental health issues)

Betrayal by orphan_account - Karai, Leo, and Shini explore bondage together (tw explicit sexual content, possible incest)

Warm Fuzzy Feelings by PrincessFreak - Donnie finds unusual ways to express his gratitude (tw tcest, explicit sexual content)

hands under blankets by obsceno - Donnie sees Leo’s worries (tw tcest, implied sexual content, self-doubt)

a crow’s murder, a jay’s party, and a magpie’s parliament. by Werepirechick for guide_to_the_galaxy - Human AU where Casey, Donnie, and April are a badass ghostbusting throuple (tw violence, possession, injury, past death)

10 ways to say i love you by orphan_account - What it says on the tin, in magnificent array (tw injury, past violence)

Sleepy Bunny by StupidBolts - Usagi wakes up, safe and warm, besides someone he loves

Leaps and Bounds by blazichu - Casey offers Donnie a parley, and something more (tw implied sexual content)

Ivy by SuuriSakara - A Jonatello songfic of revelation and reinvention (tw alcohol, self-doubt, past bullying)

Mixed Signals by ladycyon - Casey and Raph find themselves in a veritable comedy of errors (tw implied sexual content, injury)

Fever by Lexifer - Donnie needs someone to take care of him and April is happy to help (tw sickness, implied neglect)

speeding through red lights into paradise by orphan_account - Donnie’s on edge and Mikey knows just how to pull him back (tw codependent relationships, tcest, implied sexual content)

Operating Under a Different Set of Rules by orphan_account - Mikey and Woody go to the park together (tw drug use, explicit sex)

Lava Cake by orphan_account - Mikey and Raph figure each other out through food (tw tcest)

By Arrangement by theherocomplex - AU where Donnie and April are caught in a reluctant arrangement to save the world from the Kraang and end up stumbling into love (tw forced marriage)

Could We Maybe Talk About This Never by dubpubs - April and Donnie try to work through Donnie’s insecurity over his body (tw body image issues, self-doubt, sexual content)

Here we are again, nothing new, everything new. by Werepirechick - Karai and Shini fall for each other after Karai comes home from America (tw sexual harassment, past violence)

Baby It's Cold Outside by Werepirechick - A Christmas story with Capritello at the center

A Collection of Raph & Casey Shit by coffeeandcream - Raph and Casey live and love in countless gentle ways (tw implied sexual content)

Jump by Swirl_O_Whirl - Slash would do anything for Mikey, even going along with one of Mondo’s more embarassing ideas

Gravid Problems by Gemi for Blackdragon - Raph and Leo deal with a revelation (tw tcest, implied sexual content, unexpected pregnancy)

Release by Blackdragon @blackdragon-sama - Leo and Raph provide each other with what comfort he can at the farmhouse (tw PTSD, tcest, injury, past violence)

Tension by butterballturkeyofficial - Leo’s brothers help him relax (tw explicit sexual content, tcest, mental and physical health issues)

31 notes · View notes

meltotheany · 2 months

Text

hi friends! happy spring and happy april! i hope you are doing well and being gentle with yourselves! i feel like i am a little all over the place with wrapping up march, getting my first quarterly post of 2024 ready, prepping for some kpop comebacks, and just getting back from a wonderful vacation! but first things first – i need to talk about the eight books i read in march! (spoiler alert – i feel like i was handing out four star ratings left, right, and center this month haha!) down below will be mini reviews, some with links to full reviews, with content and trigger warnings! ✨ ✨ Bride by Ali Hazelwood ⭐⭐⭐⭐ ARC provided by the publisher via Netgalley “I would take anything she chose to give me—the tiniest fraction or her entire world. I would take her for a single night knowing that I’ll lose her by morning, and I would hold on to her and never let go. I would take her healthy, or sick, or tired, or angry, or strong, and it would be my fucking privilege. I would take her problems, her gifts, her moods, her passions, her jokes, her body—I would take every last thing, if she chose to give it to me.” i feel like all my friends who also loved this one, were all by my side here on goodreads, back in the early 2010s, reading all the paranormal romances known to man (or that our moms kept on their bookshelves). the nostalgia for books like riley jenson, black dagger brotherhood, kate daniels were so very felt. yet, this book completely stands on its own and is a really good book that i highly recommend. content warnings from the author (please use caution for potential spoilers): death of several people within the context of a war between different species (vampires, werewolves, and humans) is mentioned, several mentions of blood, kidnapping, mild violence, poisoning and attempted murder, attempted kidnapping/harming of a child (she is unharmed), death of a parent (off page in the past and off page in the present), explicit and graphic sexual content, knotting (the mmc’s apparatus is not quite human?), cursing and vulgar language other trigger + content warnings i found while reading (ali’s books really do have such good tws – i am always so thankful and impressed): missing friend, mention of sickness of child (she is fine), spider mentions, brief mention of death during childbirth, brief mention of loss of a partner in past, mention of vomit, parental abuse and neglect, and violence ❤️ full breakdown review HERE ✨ The Prisoner’s Throne (The Stolen Heir Duology, #2) by Holly Black ⭐⭐⭐⭐ 1.) The Stolen Heir ★★★★ “I need no protestations of your feelings. Love can be lost, and I am done with losing.” let me just start this mini review with a big preface: you all know holly black is one of my favorite authors of all time, and her world of faerie is one of my favorite settings of all time, so just reading a new world by her, and being in this world again, was truly a joy to me and will be one of my favorite reading experiences of the year. in the first book in this spin off duology starring oak, we get to go on a quest line adventure alongside him and Suren, while they both are contemplating the person they want to be versus the person their birthright is trying to lead them to be. i really enjoyed it and could not wait for this second book, especially because we all know holly black loves a good cliffhanger ending. yet this second and final installment, despite picking up right where book one left off, felt so unlike the first book in this duology. i feel like a lot of people picked up the stolen heir wanting more of jude and cardan’s story, and were a little upset when they were given something completely different. and i almost feel like that sentiment was very heard, therefore this book feels way more like a continuation of jude and cardan’s story with oak struggling to be the main character alongside the plot that ultimately felt like a new set up for what is to come. and i don’t really know if this is a complaint or praise, b...

View On WordPress

#2024 #ana huang #Book Blog #Book Blogger #Book Review #Book Reviewer #book worm #carrisa broadbent #hafsah faizal #meltotheany #Reading Wrap Up #robin hobb #Sarah J Maas #Throne of Glass #Wrap Up #yona of the dawn

0 notes

cinnamonest · 3 years

Text

Exsanguination

Yandere “Escape Attempt” prompt - Xiao

-----------

I made a HC a while back about Xiao darling being hemophobic + the whole "escaping but being forced to call out for him" post, yeahh those two concepts kinda conjoined to make this

TWs:

- fem reader, dubcon, attempted noncon (like reader almost gets gang-raped kind of thing, please be mindful of that), derogatory language, cum bulge, kinda stockholm-y

- Hemophobia, violence (mild/brief on reader, mostly on others) death, reader is mentioned as being hemophobic, potential emetophoibia trigger (just mentions of nausea), some gore, lots of blood, it's not exactly bloodplay bc it's not sexualized itself, but there is a lot of third-party's blood present, including during the fucc, there's context I promise

- And finally note that I'm not trying to be insensitive to anyone with phobias -- I have a phobia myself, and I realize exposure does not actually cure or decrease phobias, but this is fiction.

WORDS: 12.3k

---------------------------------

Pale, blueish moonlight poured into the room. There was a slow creak.

"I'm here."

You were uncertain why he felt the need to announce it every time. It wasn't as if there was any way you wouldn't know. It was one small, windowless room, devoid of anything but a very few bare necessities of furniture. When it was not lit – when he was gone – you were left in near total darkness, save for whatever little trickle of light seeped underneath the singular door. Likewise, when the room suddenly lit up, waking you from sleep, you could predict those two words would be said within seconds of the illumination.

There was never any variation. Always the same two words. You yourself frequently responded with the same words yourself.

"I know."

You didn't turn your head as you spoke, still facing the wall away from him that the bed was pushed up against.

The only reason he even opened the door, rather than just appearing in the middle of the room, was for your own nerves, having given you quite the sudden startle on so many occasions that you had asked to have some sort of forewarning, rather than suddenly materializing in front of you.

You sat up, grimacing as the movement overcame you with dizziness and ache. Your eyelids were heavy, a swollen feeling of puffiness around them from your perpetual state of rest.

He had something in his hand, obscured by the way the light from behind him formed a silhouette, disappearing entirely as he shut the door behind him, leaving the room in near-total dark once again. But as soon as he entered, you heard his footsteps move across the tiny room, over to the corner, as he stooped down to the floor. After a moment, another source of light ignited, sending a faint, dull yellow light that illuminated the room enough to make out everything more distinctly. The oil lamp was a foreign import – you recalled seeing them sold in the harbor by merchants in unfamiliar garb – that ignited with the turn of a metallic knob on the front, rather than necessitating lighting it on one's own. You had had to beg and beg for it to be obtained, complaining that it was too dark for you to see anything for ages until he finally caved.

You reached your hands up, rubbing at your temples.

Your head hurt. It always did. A slow, dull ache, each time the beat of your heart sent a rush of blood around your skull and back again.

Long ago, you wouldn't have been able to fathom such a physical state of being as the one you now lived in. It wasn't something a normal person could. It wasn't an experience most would ever live. It was not like a headache or nausea or any other experience almost universally had. It was not necessarily worse, as you had had far more painful headaches.

Rather, it was the perpetual state of the ache, the continuous persistence and presence, the drain it had on your entire being, that the average person would never come close enough to experiencing to be able to even understand. You had had times in life before where you'd slept for too long, felt lethargy and a dull ache in the head, only now magnified tenfold.

The lethargy kept you down. Your body felt as if it were concrete or iron, a heavy weight, immovable.

It was beyond ache and exhaustion – your head felt as if it were full of water, heavy and unbalanced, a perpetual cloud of fog that hung over your head, dense and murky, with an intensity you couldn't overcome. Unlike such feelings in the past, you could not rid yourself of it merely by walking around for a short time; now it would only diminish the feeling in the slightest, but never entirely disappear. Every waking moment felt like a dream.

And it may have been. Sometimes you didn't know which you were in. Your daily dreams had originally always shifted to visions of home, fantasies of the outside world and the people you loved – but each time your dreams drifted off to such matters, they would suddenly come to a halt, disappearing into a grey nothingness, which you would then float around in until you woke again.

You knew what the cause of the phenomenon was. Such dreams of hopeful things were, you assumed, too problematic in how they might influence you, or perhaps merely sparked a sense of bitterness and jealousy. Therefore, they had to be purged, consumed directly from your mind as you slept. You had known better than to ever bring it up.

Now, they had long since ceased to have substance, to provide a reprieve, however brief, into a world of color and life movement, pulled from the recesses of your memories. Your mind was so deprived of stimulus, your world had become so dull, that your dreams often matched your waking consciousness: a dark, still nothingness, silence so intense you could hear your own heartbeat.

Routine. Set in stone. Day after day. Your eyes and ears were as familiar with the routine as you had once been with the rise and fall of the sun and moon.

His footsteps moved over to you. He extended his arm out, holding a bundle of something wrapped in cloth. You saw it out of the corner of your eye, but didn't bother to actually turn your head, head hanging down as you tried to blink away the fog.

"For you."

Food from the inn, right on time for the regular interval at which you were fed, you were fairly certain. You supposed you did need to eat about now. You never really knew, these days. You ate less often than you used to, you rarely felt truly hungry. You supposed your body didn't need all that much food and nutrients to sustain itself when it wasn't doing much of anything at all.

You reached your hand up – arm aching with the motion – and let him set it into your palm. As you pulled your arm back down and held it in front of you, you grimaced at the color that ran off onto the edges of the cloth. Distinct, finger-pad-shaped dark spots on the otherwise green fabric.

You put in the effort of slowly tilting your head, craning your neck to look up at him. You made a face, mouth pulling taut. Your shoulders bunched up.

"You didn't wash off."

He blinked once or twice before tilting his own head down, seeming to only now notice the sizeable red blotches all over his clothing and flesh. A thin red sheen covered most of his face. His hair was clumped together in some spots where the fluid had caused the strands to stick to each other as it dried into a crusty substance.

"Oh... I forgot.” His tone was flat, no trace of any concern about the matter. “I'll take care of it later."

You clenched your jaw. It was better not to say anything more. You didn't have the energy to handle him being frustrated today. The days where you did have said energy were now only once in a blue moon, whereas you'd once been ready to bicker on a daily basis... but while that realization left creeping sense of worry in the back of your mind, you sensed he rather appreciated your gradually increased complacency.

You let the corners of fabric fall down, revealing something contained in its center. Your eyes settled on it.

Normally, you didn't bother to even think about what you were seeing. You didn't bother to process the taste. You merely stuffed whatever it was into your mouth, chewed, swallowed, satiated any faint pain that would have come from an empty stomach.

But in recent days, you told yourself you had to try. Bring your body and mind to awareness after having long since adjusted to an eternal waking sleep. An active effort that you had poured every last bit of your willpower into for a short while now. Perhaps it was because you wanted it so badly, perhaps it was because you had to have something to focus on lest you lose your mind in the boredom.

And because it was necessary to reach that mental clarity, if you were ever going to get out.

What had sparked it, you weren't entirely certain either. You couldn't remember the exact moment the idea came into your mind – every moment you spent in this godforsaken place was a blur, every single second melded into one long stretch of emptiness. Perhaps it had been at some point when your eyes had flickered around the room, stared into the flames of the wick in the lamp. The idea had slowly formulated in your head. And with it, perhaps a faint glimmer of hopefulness and willpower that had been snuffed out had reignited again.

And it had simply occurred to you, one day, that the lamp was encased in a thick glass. The realization had felt like a spark that lit up your insides.

You had waited a long time since then. That one thought kept you going, kept your sense of self and consciousness from slipping away entirely. The thought had been all you could fixate on. The anxiety of the matter had held you back, but with each passing day, you had felt your will slowly begin to ebb away at the nerves, override the reluctance.

You had decided on a set of conditions before finally attempting. One, you needed to eat more a few days beforehand. You didn't know how weak your body had become.

Two, you would have to begin immediately after he left.

Even with the effort to pay attention, your eating was still mechanical and habitual, an instinctive motion. But when you closed your eyes, you took in the taste. Savory, salty. You focused on the feeling, the sense of taste was a reminder that you were even awake to begin with. Soon, whatever you had eaten was gone. You set the cloth on the tiny bedside table, otherwise bare aside from a glass of water.

You could see his eyes focused on you, having at some point sat down on the edge of the bed, making no effort to pretend to be doing anything but staring directly at you, silently watching you as you finished eating. Waiting for you to be done, as per routine. And by that same routine, as soon as you reached over, set the cloth down, and returned to your half-resting position, he rested his hand on your shoulder, pushing just ever so lightly, a quiet instruction to move over. Which you did, shuffling over towards where it was pressed against the wall, and laid your body back down.

He peeled his gloves and shoes off, but otherwise left on the rest of his clothes, despite the visibly not-yet-dried stains. There were no words exchanged as he shuffled over on his knees on the mattress before slowly lying down beside you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you down with him.

When the flesh of his arm made contact with the sheets, some of the blood not yet dried instead latched onto the fabric as fluids did, spreading out across the fibers and soaking in, staining what remained of the off-white areas of the sheet with a dark color. It joined the existing, duller spots that dotted all across the sheet from similar exposure to the substance in the past, a myrid of washed-out reddish orange stains.

The sheets needed to be replaced again soon, you thought to yourself. You always had to nag until your request was met, when it came to that.

He squirmed his way forward a bit more until your bodies touched, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you in close.

You felt him let out a heavy exhale, and with it, the tension left his body, he went relaxed and limp against you, closing his eyes. You didn’t make any move to pull back or squirm away. Instead, you too closed your eyes.

You remained like that for a few minutes. Silent and still. Part of the routine. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest. When you turned your head, the side of it pressed to his chest, you could hear the soft beating of his heart.

You almost fell asleep again. Such a familiar thing, something that consumed so much of your time. You were always so tired, no matter how much you slept. A perpetual fog over your brain, your muscles ached to even move.

You felt yourself begin to drift off. Minutes passed by, maybe fifteen or twenty or so.

And then, his body stiffened. He sat upright and, after a moment, quickly climbed out of bed, turning back to you as he pulled the shoes back onto his feet.

“I have to go. I can sense something I need to deal with. I’ll be back.”

You nodded. Your heart began to beat faster once more. You were still nervous of each step of your plan, fearing suspicion, but you had to force yourself through it. You had to. You told yourself so, over and over.

You had already put it off several times. You had had it in mind for a few weeks now, but every time you tried to muster the courage to put the plan into action, you found yourself going quiet, unable to force the words.

But not today. You had to do this.

Nonetheless, you felt that same tight feeling of nervousness in you chest as he turned his gaze over to the lamp. It would be extinguished when he left as always, leaving you in total darkness. You swallowed.

"Can you keep it lit?"

Unfortunately, you needed to be able to see it to get to it quickly. You would prefer to scrape your body against the concrete as little as possible attempting to get it, which would be impeded if you had to feel around for it in the dark.

He turned his head back to you, eyebrows slightly raised in inquisition. His eyes darted over to the flame, then back to you. He shook his head.

"If you were to get the blanket in the flame, it would catch fire. You could be burned."

You let out a heavy breath, both out of frustration and nerves. "Why would I do that? It’s all the way over there. And it’s only got an opening at the very top.”

"You could do it by accident. Or in your sleep." He folded his arms. The flame behind him left an orangish hue where it cast light onto his face. "Humans can die if they breathe in a large amount of smoke, too.”

"I know."

"If the fire spread to the mattress—"

"Then I'll call for you to come help me."

He was quiet, looking over at the wall as if contemplating the matter, but his expression was mildly displeased. Such a trivial matter, something that would be perceived by virtually anyone else as a perfectly reasonable, normal request.

But everything was a battle with him. Obtaining the slightest of allowances to do or have virtually anything was a privilege that usually took convincing, and multiple times of asking, gradually wearing him down over the course of days. Everything was dangerous to you, everything would kill you by some incredible leap of logic or absurdly unrealistic scenario.

But it wasn’t a hard no, so you might as well try to push it. "I have no reason to go near it," you continued. "I just don't like being in the dark."

You bit your lip. Your voice was beginning to sound frustrated, and that would be no good. If you sounded irritated, he would only get defensive, and it would escalate and you would certainly not get what you wanted. Instead, you took a deep breath, letting the tension leave your body.

You shuffled closer to the edge of the bed to where you could reach out to him, extending your arms before wrapping them around his narrow waist in a gentle embrace. You tilted your head so that it rested against his chest, nuzzling the side of your face against him in a faux gesture of affection. You forced your voice into that sort of high-pitched, feminine softness you had perfected over time, often needing to rely upon it to get anything you wanted.

"Please?"

He was taken off-guard by the gesture, eyes widening. You could feel the muscles in his torso go tense.

“I…” And then, he sighed, shoulders falling back down from their tensed-up position. His voice grew quieter, he turned his gaze away from you. “…Fine. Just be careful.”

“I will.” You nodded. You released your hold on him, coming back to rest on the bed.

He was quiet again for a moment.

“…Alright. I’ll be back.”

And then, in a moment, he was gone.

...It worked.

Your heart beat heavily in your chest.

It worked.

It was only the beginning, only the very first few steps, but it worked.

The room was not very big. The oil lamp was pushed all the way against the opposite wall, but the distance was only maybe the length of one-and-a-half 'you's', if you were laying flat on the ground. It cast a pale light against the wall, softly flickering, the shape of the lamp itself forming a shadow against the light. It illuminated the pale grey that made up everything around you. Cold concrete floor and walls.

The challenge was getting it over to you. It was not by coincidence that the table was also pressed to the far wall. You were left with nothing at your disposal intentionally.

Your legs ached when you swung them over the side of the bed. The concrete was cold and rough on your skin as you lowered yourself down, crawled forward, extending your arm outward. You grunted in exertion as you just barely managed to hook your fingers around the edge of it, and pulled it back with you, little by little. You reached up to place it on the table as well, before climbing back into the bed. That was the next step, done.

You sat upright. You pulled your legs towards you, so that your knees were up against your chest.

The chain connecting the cuff to the wall was metallic, but the clasp it connected to around the ankle was made of leather. That had not been the case at first. You didn't like to think about the metal cuff. It was horribly uncomfortable and often left bruises, and only frequently complaining about it had earned you this new one.

The strategy, as you had devised it, was that you were going to burn and cut off the leather. That being said, you knew leather was notoriously fire-resistant, but you didn't exactly have a wide variety of options to choose from.

The leather was cheap, though, without any finish, which would hopefully make it easier. And for that matter, you knew that even poor quality leather was supposed to be maintained, or else it would become dry and brittle, losing a good deal of its flame-resistant properties – something you were certain your captor was unaware of, as he had never bothered to do so.

You had waited and waited. Each day, you ran your finger over the material, feeling it become dry and brittle over the course of time, losing the oily moisture that made it a strong and reliable material to begin with. You’d often spent the hours – otherwise mind-numbing, with quite literally nothing to do – harshly rubbing it against the concrete wall, if in some faint hope to wear it down. You’d let your fingernails grow long, scratching in a straight line at the surface.

Whether or not those things actually helped to any significant degree, but it was something to do, at the very least. In fact, though, you were fairly certain it did have some success, seeing as the rubbing against the harsh surface had gradually led to the tiniest of lines you could feel when you ran your finger over it, the material just barely coming apart. The thin line of material that was exposed now was dry, coarse, and frayed, and it looked very, very flammable – or at least you hoped.

If you were wrong – if you failed at any point – you’d pay a price you preferred not to even think about.

Of course, on its own, you would be unable to do it without burning the flesh of your ankle. But there was a slight gap between the flesh and the leather; if you pulled it taut, it was enough that you could stuff a few fingers in between the leather strap and the flesh. You had contemplated soaking the cloth that had been around the food in the cup of water by the table, but didn’t want to risk getting the material itself wet. You’d just have to bear it.

Cautiously, you tapped the glass to the wall, making sure to hold it far over the bed so the glass didn’t fall onto the sheets. Harder and harder, gradually so, not wanting to hit so hard the glass flew everywhere. After a few strikes, it cracked. And with another, a portion of it shattered. You winced at the sound, making sure to make a mental note to not step on the shards when you got up.

You found the largest of fragmented pieces still barely together, pulling on one until it snapped off, setting it down, and then resuming your effort, knocking off the rest until the flame was exposed.

You tilted the handle, holding the lamp at an angle, and moved it closer, so that the flame made contact with the strap, which you pulled taut with your other hand.

Your eyes widened.

The tiny string-like pieces that frayed off the leather began to glow at the tip, just barely visible to your eyes. And then it spread. Slowly, slowly.

Too slowly. You felt the heat against your flesh, not touching, but enough that it would likely leave a stinging burned spot later on.

You grinded your teeth in an attempt to handle the pain of the flame getting too close to your skin, impatience and anxiety swelling in your chest. There was no way of predicting how long a given absence would take him. Sometimes he was gone for nearly a full day, sometimes he was gone for a few hours, and there had been plenty of times he was gone less than a half-hour. There was no consistency in the timing. And while the adeptus was admittedly rather gullible at times – you had determined this through a great deal of experimentation over time – there was no excuse that even he would believe to explain why you were sitting there holding fire to the restraints, nor would you be able to reposition the objects in the matter of moments it took for the door to swing open.

The material did not catch on fire itself, but you saw a black color begin to spread across the surface. Individual frayed pieces seemed to glow, shrinking back with the flame. You waited. You could feel your heart pound.

More frayed pieces seemed to snap and come undone, gradually shrinking. The band of material grew thinner and thinner, and blackened in color.

After a few minutes, you pulled the flame back, cautiously setting it flat on the bed. The leather was smoldering, but you could see how thin it was, now that some layers had been burned off.

Resorting to the same method you’d used to wear it down over the course of weeks, you shuffled over to the wall, pressing your leg to the surface, pushing your fingers beneath the band, and roughly moved the material back and forth. The black char wore off onto the wall. You could feel the grainy texture of the concrete through the material, it was so thin, wearing thinner by the second.

Your heartrate grew faster still.

You pulled your leg back, and this time, grabbed the large shard of glass, careful to not slice your hand open. You pressed it to the worn down material, holding it taut with the other hand, and began to make a sawing motion. More pieces frayed. It grew thinner.

And then, it snapped.

You inhaled a hiss through your teeth as the glass nicked your calf, grimacing before setting it down on the table with a trembling hand.

For a moment, you merely sat still, staring down, as if unable to even comprehend it. The perpetual feeling of the material was gone. You weren’t certain when was the last time you weren’t aware of its subtle presence against your flesh.

It was gone.

Your breaths grew rapid.

It’s gone.

Your body trembled, but you forced yourself to snap out of your stupor, shaking your head and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You had to leave now. Every second you remained here was a risk.

You grabbed the blanket off the bed, wrapping it around your nude body to the best of your ability. You’d gotten so accustomed to nakedness, you’d almost forgotten you would need it.

You shuffled over to the door. You stumbled as you grew close, falling forward, catching yourself on your hands against the door. After a moment of heavy breathing, you latched onto the handle, flinging the door open.

Your hurried steps rustled in the grass, but you stumbled several times within a short distance. You had to slow down. Admittedly, even in all your desperate planning, you hadn’t considered just how much the state of your body would impede this process.

You walked sometimes. You had had a long conversation about the human body with your captor, explained that if you never got out of bed, your muscles would atrophy and you would be rendered essentially lame. This had not seemed to strike him as a problem, but once you said that the perpetual stillness could go on to affect the rest of your body and cause you great harm (you used everything you could think of, that you'd get bedsores that would get infected, you claimed that your heart would stop working, various other concerning notions both true and lies, but it scared him enough nonetheless, and he believed it). And thus, you were taken out into the "yard" of the abode somewhat regularly, allowed to walk around in the artificial moonlight.

You knew this place was not the real world. If the whole floating island thing didn't give it away enough, the fact that it was perpetually nighttime, that the moon remained perfectly at the very center of the sky, certainly made it obvious.

The small island network was as barren and empty as the inside, the singular tiny rectangular slab of concrete that composed your prison. Nothing but empty grass.

Except for the pillar of light. Off in the distance, the only other of the floating slabs of rock, connected by a wood-and-rope bridge. It had intrigued you. You had asked what it was.

Nothing. It's just there. It doesn't do anything.

You weren't certain which aspect of lying he was worse at, creativity or execution. His facial expression and the sudden unease to his voice had cued you in enough, but the lack of ability to come up with something to dismiss it as, and thereby insisting it was nothing at all, made it obvious it was in fact something, and that whatever it was, he did not want you knowing.

Which, of course, meant it was something advantageous to you. If it was merely dangerous, some sort of ray of death that was lodged in this place for whatever reason, he wouldn't have any reason to hide that from you, and would rather most likely warn you.

But you were able to easily connect that occurrence with another piece of information: you had never seen him leave this realm. You knew he did leave for extended periods of time, but he always left you in the room first. You imagined that maybe his simple ability to rapidly move from one location to another did not apply cross-realm, and that thus, to actually exit this realm, there had to be some other means of leaving. Seeing as the landscape was completely and entirely barren outside of the concrete slab you were imprisoned within, and the singular pillar of light, it surely had to be the only way.

Your steps were heavy and slow as you approached. You reached a hand up, outstretching your arm. Your fingertips brushed against the light.

It felt cold. Like ice to the touch, setting your nerves alight.

You took a step forward.

The sudden brightness – after who knew how long of being stuck in darkness and dimness, never anything more – was blinding. The sudden sting to your eyes made you inhale a sharp breath, you squeezed your eyes shut, taking a step backwards, disoriented and startled.

Your heel caught on something. You lost balance. Your weight tumbled down to the ground, earning a rough grunt as you hit the solid earth beneath.

Your head spun and throbbed. You groaned as you reached a hand up to it, blinking slowly as you looked up into the sky.

There was something obscuring your vision of the night sky, a dark silhouette, an indistinguishable shape that swayed in the slight wind.

Wind?

Yes, a tree branch above your head, swaying in the wind. Your eyes moved to the side. Sure enough, there was a tall tree to your left. You had never seen a tree, nor felt a breeze, in the abode realm.

You were out.

You bolted upright, scrambling up onto your feet again, nearly falling over once more in your attempt to do so, your legs were so weak. Your head jerked around back and forth, eyes blown wide open.

There was a dirt path cutting through the grass. There was a tree, wind, the Jueyun peaks visible in the far distance.

You were truly, actually out.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest, you stood still and motionless. You had always thought that this moment, if it ever finally came, would be overwhelmingly joyous, but now, you were almost in disbelief, it all felt unreal, numb even.

…And something about it all felt… uneasy.

There was a discomforting feeling in your gut. Like it was all too unfamiliar, too frightening. Like you shouldn’t be here. It felt like too much, excess stimulation after so long in the nothingness of a static, empty existence.

For a moment – if but a split second – you almost felt the urge to step back, as if you could reenter the abode realm, as if you wanted to go back to the comfort of that nothingness, away from all the substance of the world.

No, no. You shook your head.

This was one thing you had always tried to watch out for. You knew that, over time, it would all begin to have an effect on your psyche. You had heard of such things before, where people became complacent in captivity, but you’d sworn you would guard against it, had spent a good deal of time taking various measures to try to prevent mental deterioration from setting in. You weren’t about to succumb to such a thing now. At the very least, the fact that you were still self-aware meant that you were still sane, and had to keep it that way.

You did your best to shut off the feeling of fear, the desire to run back to the comfort. Even if it was frightening, this was your only chance to go home. The ground felt odd on your feet. You curled your toes, taking in the physical sensation. It was grass, cool and wet with dew, individual blades forming a specific textured feeling on your skin.

The grass in the abode, which you assumed was artificial in the sense that its life was sustained by some mystical energy rather than any normal means, was always free of any water, while remaining perfectly green still. It occurred to you that shoes would probably be useful right about now, but even if you had had anything of the sort available, you imagined it had been so long that the feeling of wearing shoes would now feel odd to you, too. You looked around with wide eyes. …You were outside. Outside on the ground. Outside in the human realm.

You took in a deep breath through your nostrils, the sensation sending a nearly euphoric shiver down your spine. Like the grass, the abode could not accurately recreate the smell of fresh air, something you once took for granted, and longed for the entire time you were deprived of it.

It all felt too sudden to be real. As if your brain was jolted from a waking sleep, thrusted back into reality in a single moment that left you standing dizzy, disoriented, and numbly blinking out at the landscape before you. As if it took a moment to put the pieces together, the thought slowly emerged from your brain. It actually worked. You held your hand out in front of you, verifying that you weren’t dreaming, that you could actually feel and see the world around you, that you were actually in your world. You turned your hand around in the moonlight, and then, the awe jolted into disgust as you grimaced at a particular sight. You had always had an aversion to blood. You supposed it was natural, some human instinct, telling you to get away, a survivalist part of your brain that reacted to the sight. At one point, the very sight of blood would make you nauseous, feel faint. And for that reason, at the start of your captivity, you’d had some adverse interactions. Or perhaps that was an understatement. In contrast, blood didn’t seem to bother your captor at all, in fact, you were fairly certain he forgot it was there. You’d been a firsthand witness many a time to the fact that he could easily walk around for hours with blood coating his entire person, unbothered. It soaked through his clothes, dried on his face, clumped his hair together, stained his skin.

It must have gotten on you earlier, when you ate. You sighed as you lowered your hand. You’d be able to wash it off later. For now, you had to actually get somewhere. For all you knew, he could come to this very area soon, and you couldn’t afford to run into him.

You were never certain, at any particular interaction, if the blood all over him was the blood of a demon, a creature, a person – you never asked, you preferred to not know, and always told yourself it was one of the former two. You weren’t certain how it got everywhere, but you supposed it had something to do with the movement of combat itself, that that was how it the substance managed to end up on every inch of the boy’s body, from head to toe. Splatters on the face, soaked into the clothes, drying and clumping hairs together, forming a congealed, sticky sheen over the flesh. You could have understood and tolerated the conditions better perhaps, if it weren’t for the reluctance to get it off, the exasperated sighs and groans and growls you got as a response to your insistence. There will just be more in a while, anyway. There’s no point in washing it off yet. You’re overreacting. And for that reason, it was a constant presence in your living space. Traces of footprints on the ground, traces of handprints on the wall. When you went to light a lamp, there was a reddish stain and a stickiness on the handle. There were streaks and stains on the sheets. It was an inherent part of the way he lived. Everyone had a uniqueness that signified their presence, became a part of them, a familiar sign of their existence. Like the old men in the outer regions of Liyue that smoked from various sorts of pipes, always speaking in a hoarse voice and carrying a lingering hint of the smell. Like the farmers and their grime, the miners and their dust. And for yakshas, it was blood.

It made you recall, back home, the village butcher – he, too, always reeked of blood and rot. You remembered way his wife had always shrugged when people mentioned it to her – don’t you ever get bothered by it?

She would sigh, shake her head. You get used to it, she had always said.

You weren’t certain how. Those words, her voice, frequently popped in your mind these days. Perhaps you were just very different people. You, unlike her, had never gotten used to it, no matter how much time passed. Or perhaps it bothered you less than it used to, maybe… you weren’t certain. You just knew it still made you feel sick to look at.

And no matter how much you tried (after being allowed occasional access to cleaning substances that you’d insisted upon), you could never get rid of all those traces. Just when you thought you had a blood-free living space, you would inevitably find more. Granted, some effort was made to do better. There was simply a disconnect, on his end a numbness and desensitization that kept him from understanding you discomfort in the first place, and as a result, said effort was not always effective, or even logical.

It’s fine, my hands are clean.

So he’d say, holding them in front of your face so you could see, a clear line dividing the stained skin and the clean skin. Otherwise covered in so much gore it stained his entire face and body aside from the appendages, but if the hands were clean that was all that mattered, or so he’d managed to conclude. He’d tried to develop a habit of washing his face and hands off in a river or the like before returning to the realm, hoping it would appease you. Or, it’s not human blood, you won’t catch a disease, so it doesn’t matter if it gets in your mouth. Or, perhaps the most memorable experience, since blood usually soaked through his clothes to the parts and skin below, having to explain why blood getting in your insides would cause some sort of infection, so that, too, was now intentionally washed off before coming back.

It’s fine, see.

Such attempts to reassure and calm you down usually had the opposite effect. And worst of all, you were not exempt from the list of objects that would be marked by it. Sometimes you would run fingers against your hair and feel a familiar crusty clumped patch and cringe. Sometimes you would look down and see specks and splotches where it had transferred to your skin, sometimes you would touch your face and feel a stickiness. You used to hyperventilate, cry, squeal and squirm and desperately run to get it off. You were constantly aware of it, always searching yourself for it. You cringed when you felt it and would scrub and scrub until your skin was raw. These days, you sighed and slowly made your way to wash it off, knowing full well there would be more later. Sometimes you went hours without noticing. You had stopped really noticing the ever-present metallic smell entirely. And now, as you looked down at your hands in this new pale moonlight, you noticed a darkness under the edges of your fingernails, too. At one point you might have felt nauseous. You resolved to try and scrape it off later – right now, you needed at least one hand to hold the blanket. You fiddled with said blanket wrapped around your frame, shivering as yet another cold gust of wind blew underneath the delicate fabric and directly onto your bare skin. You had had no other choice, the blanket was the only thing available. You hadn’t worn clothes in… well, you’d lost track of how long it had been. The only clothes you had had were torn in the initial move-in process, and you’d been told there was no need for you to have any – it’s not like you’re going anywhere anyway, you were told. Thus, you never received any. This blanket was the only one small enough to be carried around your body so perfectly, and it had, with time, become a sort of comfort object for you. Perhaps because it was obtained with you in mind, so you recalled.

You said this was your favorite color.

That was what he’d told you at the time of bestowing it upon you. The kindnesses and the cruelties often came side-by-side like that, a bizarre balance, an unexpected duality that often didn’t make much sense, but then again, not much about your situation nor your captor did make sense. You had spent so much time trying to rationalize it all, to find explanation for that which had none, but had realized the futility of such thoughts long ago. Your mind was blank with awe, but the cold sparked a bit of conscious awareness. There was some excitement. You were very aware there should be more. You should be ecstatic, out of your mind with joy, but it was severely diminished. Still present, nonetheless, but not quite the jumping-for-joy levels of excitement you might have expected would come crashing down to you when you had your routine escape fantasies while you tried to sleep. If anything, a creeping sort of fear spread throughout your chest. You looked from side to side, as if expecting any moment to realize this was fake, that you were hallucinating, that you were being watched, but then you curled your toes again, and once more felt the grass. It was real, and just like you so faintly remembered. …And what now? You’d so often thought about the part already past – how you would find a way out, how you would return to your own world, that you’d not had too much thought about what came after. You were at an impasse. There was only a path. You had no way of knowing which way home was, as the mountains appeared on both sides of yourself in the distance. You had no way of knowing what was around you. And, as a soreness set in, as you looked down to see trembling legs, you remembered that you were not in the best physical condition for walking any long distance.

You felt a creeping unease. Had your legs deteriorated that much?

In truth, you very often were struck with the unpleasant, concerning realization that your body was undoubtedly suffering long term damage. There was no way the prolonged lack of movement was anything but awful for your body, your organs, your muscles.

When you looked at your hands and arms, you could see the vibrancy was gone. The various reds and blues and yellows that comprised the undertones of a healthy person’s flesh had disappeared, leaving only a sallow greyness, like a corpse.

You had been aware of the possibility of muscular regression, though, and had hoped to counter the onset of atrophy by simple leg exercise you tried to work into every day, but it wasn’t enough. You probably could not get too far without succumbing to exhaustion. Even walking around the abode was strenuous, on the occasion you were allowed to do so. In fact, you took one step forward on the uneven ground and immediately stumbled, falling down to your knees, pushing yourself back up on shaking hands before taking more cautious steps forward. As you looked out again, eyes now fully adjusted, you looked back at the dirt path, which you quickly – well, as quick as your walking speed would allow without falling – made your way to the edge of. You stopped and looked to the left, then the right. You still had no idea which way was north or south or east or west, and even if you did, you had no idea where you even were, no idea which way would take you home. No coins to flip to make your choice for you, no one to ask for directions, nothing. You took a deep breath, and decided at random to go… left. All you could do was start walking and hope for the best. That went on for a while. Slow, heavy steps. Grass. More grass. More road. More nothingness. The spot where your leg had been exposed to the flame’s heat began to faintly throb. You shut your thoughts down in an attempt to numb the ache in your legs, only walking forward. But you couldn’t help the growing sense of despair as nothing changed, no signs of life or civilization came into view, and more importantly, your teeth chattered in the cold, cold wind swept under the blanket and onto your goosebumps-covered skin, your legs ached and the intensity of the pain increased with each step.

What season was it? Was it winter, and that was why it was so cold? Or was the cold due to altitude, or just your lack of clothing? You had no idea. And what year was it? There was so much you didn’t know, so much against you, and the only thing you could do was walk forward and hope for the best. Maybe if you sat down, let your legs rest, someone, a traveler, a merchant, might find you…? No, you couldn’t do that, for that very reason. Someone else might find you, the last person you wanted to find you, and that would be, for lack of better terms in your tired brain, very, very bad. And that thought made an odd series of sensations rise up, a bit of panic in your gut. You had been preoccupied with how you’d get anywhere that you hadn’t thought about what was happening on the other end. It was only a matter of time before your absence was discovered. What then? You imagined the exit led to the same spot you’d landed in. Or was it randomized? Or did it lead to where the user wanted to go? You hadn’t thought of that at the time, perhaps it dropped you off at a random spot because your mind had been absent as you touched the light. Maybe if you’d thought of home, it would have dropped you off there. But if it led to the same spot, it would not be hard to sweep the area, not for someone who could travel extensive distances in virtually no time at all. It would only take a very short time to find you. You forced your aching legs to move faster. You were aware of a growing sense of unease in the back of your head. Different from the dread of being found, different from the worry about finding civilization. Something deeper, more of a subtle, shallow feeling in your gut, something you were barely aware of. When you took a step into the grass, it felt odd against your feet. Wrong. Like it burned. As if your skin and body were repulsed by and repelled from the feeling itself. The wind felt wrong, unnatural. You tried to push the feeling back, whatever it could be was not as important as finding help. At the same time, there was a feeling beneath the unease, the final feeling that sparked from the prospect of being taken back. Perhaps a warmth. Admittedly, in your unease in this place, so unknown and uncomfortable, the prospect of familiarity, of safety, had an appeal to it, even if it meant failure. You tried to shove that feeling back as well, telling yourself that home – your real home – would be even more comforting, even more familiar, than the thought of going back to captivity. After some time, time that could have been minutes, hours, anything, you squinted at a speck in your field of vision. Off in the distance, a bright, burning glow. A campfire. A campfire meant… people. You felt yourself halt in your steps. You would have thought that, presented with such an opportunity, you’d be immediately bounding towards its source in excitement, that the prospect of seeing another person, no matter whom, would spark a joy so strong it would override any exhaustion or fear. And yet, you felt almost hesitant. Discomforted. It felt… wrong. The same feeling from the grass and the wind. A discomfort. Some sense that something was not as it should be. How long had it been since you had last seen a human being? You had eventually stopped counting your days, once you ran out of spaces to put notches on the whatever wood and tools you could acquire. Not that you had a very good gauge of a day or night, but you went off of what seemed to be the start and end to something of a routine you managed to perceive. You’d run out… somewhere upwards of six-hundred. And that felt like forever ago. So it had been what, now, two years? More? It didn’t even feel real. It seemed such an eternity, yet it was such a repetitive, uneventful, monotonous existence that it all blurred together as one occurrence, as if it was a single day. Freedom felt like yesterday, yet ages ago.

You couldn’t even remember who the last human person you spoke to was. Could you even speak to someone now? The very idea felt strange. And yet, your feet resumed their movement, forward little by little, steps trembling and uneasy. It occurred to you that you undoubtedly looked horrible, unkept and sickly. You hoped you weren’t going to be mistaken for some kind of crazy drunk hermit. Your hair had grown out, nor did you have access to combs or anything other than your fingers. And you were fairly certain that a year or more with no sunlight was not very good for your skin. The grass was soothing on your feet as you walked off the trail, cool and wet compared to the dusty road, and the dew wiped the dirt off your feet. You felt your breathing quicken as you came closer and closer, the light grew larger and larger, and you begun to make out what sounded like male voices laughing and talking. You saw horses tethered to a single withered tree a ways away. They could help you. Your entire body was trembling, and tears filled your eyes. A warmth spread throughout your chest, a long-extinguished flame you might have never expected to feel again, a hope. This was it. You were going to go home. These guys could help you and you could go home, and then you could run far, far away from Liyue, you could be free, you could live a normal life, and it would be all thanks to these people, whomever they may be. You were, of course, consciously aware that all you had was a blanket, which you wrapped more tightly around your body as you walked closer, now enough to see the outlines of figures against the light of the fire. You opened your mouth, but only a scratchy, choked sound came out, imaginably from not using your voice in the last few hours. You coughed and sputtered as you cleared your throat and tried again. “H…Hello….” You coughed again. “H-Hello!” You used the arm that was not clutching the blanket around you to wave up in the air. “O-over here! Hey!”

The chattering stopped, and although you couldn’t quite see their faces very well, the heads of the figures visibly turned. Five of them, all rather large, bulky men, a hunting party or some miners, likely. One figure held his hand flat over his eyes to block out the fire light to see and muttered just within your earshot. “…The hell…?” You stumbled on a rock, drawing a sharp breath as you nearly dropped your blanket, stuttering as you fixed it. “H-hey, I, I um…” You hastened your walk a bit, finally coming close, they sat only a few yards away. You felt a little bit of unease as they came into view – they were rather… rugged looked men. Muscular, huge, covered in scars and tattoos and grime, and you now recognized what was clearly treasure hoarder emblems on their clothing. Nonetheless, they were just thieves, not crazy murderers or anything, and you really were not in a position to be picky about your choice of help. “Are you… headed towards a city?” The men exchanged some glances. One chose to respond. “…Yeah, what’s it to you?” “I…” You took a deep breath. How do you even start? You supposed blunt honesty was the best option. “Um… I-I know this sounds, um, strange, but I, I need your help, I…” You tried to keep your voice calm, but couldn’t help the stuttering, and your voice came out rushed, speaking fast out of nervousness, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’ve been, h-held as a… captive for a long time, a-and I just got out a while ago, and I’ve been walking down this road a long time, and, and, you’re the first people I’ve come across, so… so…” You swallowed, opening your eyes and clasping one hand over the one that clung to the fabric, holding them close to your chest. “P-please… can you help me? I, I have money back home! I can pay you, if you take me to the harbor, I…” You trailed off, trying to steady your breathing. “Please…” There was a silence. They didn’t mutter among themselves, seemingly surprised by your words, but one chose to answer. “Harbor’s in the direction you just came from.”

Of course, just your luck. You opened you mouth, but another spoke again, muttering more to the man beside him than you. “Is that… blood on her neck?” You jolted, reaching up and grasping at your neck, feeling a crumbly, dried texture. You grimaced, and rubbed at the spot. “I, I don’t know, that’s – that’s not… it’s not mine. I’m fine.” You shook your head. “I need to get out of here, you’re… going somewhere, right? It doesn’t have to be the harbor, just… just…” You ran out of words, trailing off into shaking breaths. “Anywhere….” He shrugged. “Anywhere, huh… Sure, we can help you.” His tone was amused, as if joking, an odd smile on his face, but it filled you with a burst of joy nonetheless. You saw the men exchange a glance. Smirking. “Thank you!” You felt tears leak out of your eyes, your mouth pulled into a trembling grin as you bowed your head. “Thank you, thank you, I, I promise, I’ll pay you back as soon as we get there, I promise-” “Oh, no need for that.” One of them, a particularly rugged-looking individual, stood up. He moved towards you. Something about the look on his face made you take a step backwards. Cold unease spread through your body. Your smile dropped. “…Don’t want your money.” Another one followed suit, walking towards you, moving a bit to the side, as if to close in on you from both sides. Like prey. They exchanged amused glances. Another stood up. You stumbled back, grip tightening on your blanket. You felt your pulse pounding in your chest. “O-ok, never mind, I don’t- I’ll be on… my way…” You turned on your heel, summoned whatever strength remained in your legs, and you ran.

No pretenses of misunderstanding, no pretending to not be less afraid than you were – every muscle moved in panic as you bolted in the opposite direction in pure instinct. Your steps were uneven, stumbling as you sprinted, and the slightest misstep would be enough to bring you to the ground. You didn’t even make it a few seconds.

A hand latched around the cloth you held together with one hand, and although it was ripped from your grasp, the resistance made you fall, hitting the ground awkwardly, and, to your horror, very much completely exposed – the first man that had stood was holding your blanket in his hand, blinking with wide, surprised eyes, stopping where you were and exchanging similar glances back at the others, who had also come to a halt. You scrambled to your feet, instinctively wrapping an arm over your chest. Tears began to form in your eyes. “Give… give that back…” Your voice was strained. You made no move to lunge for it, couldn’t risk actually getting close to him, you took a step backwards and sniffled. He laughed. “You a hooker or something?” He turned back to the others. “You seeing this?” Your brain desperately sought a solution in your panic. You could run, keep running, hope to encounter someone else. Nudity was nothing in comparison to whatever you might face.

But you also knew it was futile. The first time had been a pure instinct, but you now realized there was no way you could accomplish anything by trying to run. The best you could do was plead. “G-give it back!” In your tears, your face contorted with anger, a last-resort bravery borne out of desperation. “You… give it to me you asshole!” And perhaps what kept you from running the most, was that you wanted your blanket.

Running away would mean leaving it with them, letting them have it. That wouldn’t be right. They didn’t deserve the only source of comfort in this unfamiliar terrain, the only familiar thing you had.

You were effectively trapped, anyway, as the other flanked around you. Frustration and desperation took over your fear and you lashed out like a cornered animal, lunging, latching a hand around the fabric. “I said give it back!” A hand latched into your scalp, tugging at whatever hair it could grasp and pulling you forward. You cried out at the pain, muffled by the hand that immediately latched over your mouth. He twisted you around and trapped an arm behind your back, another person’s hand grabbed at the other arm. You jerked your body, muffled strained cries escaping your throat. “Fuck, hold her still.” You kicked out, but they were all behind you, and you couldn’t land a blow. You thrashed, and nothing happened, the grip was too strong and you only hurt yourself as it pulled more hair from your scalp. A hand grabbed at your inner thigh, and you felt your entire body freeze up. It felt wrong. Wrong like the grass and the wind and the prospect of interaction. The same repulsion that it sparked in your stomach and chest, as if your entire body was electrocuted or burned. The hands were large and the fingers were meaty. Not small, not slender. It was too warm, the callouses were in the wrong places. You inhaled the scent of them through your nostrils, the scent of smoke and horses. Unfamiliar. Foreign. Not the scent of stone and sun and blood, the faint hints of wood and incense from the atmosphere of the inn, that wove their way into the clothing of whoever would stand there for any extended time. Wrong in a way you didn’t understand. Wrong in a way that was different from the feeling of violation. Violation was a feeling you were well-acquainted with. But something about the feeling of the hand, the flesh on your flesh, sparked a repulsion, a nausea in your gut, like a spike of ice through your entire body. A hand latched around your breast and squeezed. Not the right way. Maybe too soft, maybe too hard, you weren’t certain which. Your breathing broke into panicked gasps, rapid hyperventilating as much as you could manage under the hand, your body shivered and jolted uncontrollably. Your mouth was released and you were shoved onto the ground. You fell flat on your face, but more hands grabbed at your shoulders and flipped you over with force. You squealed and kicked and thrashed, your legs were grabbed, not pinned down, but pulled each to a side. You struggled, with every last remainder of force you could. “Get off me!” You reached a hand out and clawed at whatever you could grasp. One figure, the one that had stripped you of your blanket, looming over you, recoiled with an angry, pained hiss. When he leaned back, you saw a red streak across his collarbones. Blood. It dripped down his chest. There was blood under your fingernails, this time fresh, bright red. You didn’t feel overwhelmingly sick at the sight, but you supposed adrenaline and fear could override the aversion. “Bitch scratched me.” Pain exploded in the side of your head as a fist connected to your jaw. Your vision spun, you were pretty certain you blacked out for a solid second. Tears came out harder and you gasped at the pain. Your resolve to be strong broke, your body wracked with a pain, scared sob. “Get off me…” This time, your voice was weak, a whimper. A coppery taste filled your mouth as you spoke. You were very familiar with it, even if it was usually not your own. The pain left you dizzy and disoriented, and you weakly lashed out again, but your hands were slammed down and pinned above your head. You thrashed once more, summoning all your strength and will as you took a deep breath and let out the most bloodcurdling scream you could manage, just hoping, praying someone heard you. Nothing happened. “She’s just gonna keep screaming.” “It’s fine. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one’s gonna hear her.” Hearing that, despair set in. Defeat. You went limp, slumping down onto the ground, panting. Why me? It was a question you had asked yourself many, many times before. What had you ever done? Why did all of this happen to you? Was there some grave sin you’d committed and never realized? What could you have done that deserved this? No one’s gonna hear her. It ran through your mind again and again as you closed your eyes, tuned out their words, shivered at touches to your skin. It struck you so suddenly and with such a feeling of obviousness that your eyes snapped wide open. That wasn’t true. The thought brought you a sudden sense of comfort. Safety. Your instinct was to reach out to that comfort, what seemed like a natural and logical act, as if you were drowning when the surface of water was merely one stroke away. It would only take one easy action, and then, everything would be fixed, and you’d be okay. But you banished the thought, or you tried to. You couldn’t do that. Not after coming so far. If you went back, you might never end up in your realm ever again. You couldn’t. One of the men dropped to his knees and shuffled in between your forcibly spread legs, looking down at your body. It felt so, so wrong. You whimpered and thrashed, but he grabbed your hips and pushed them down. Your entire body was effectively restrained. You trembled and breathed in ragged breaths. The man repositioned your limp body and drew you closer. He grabbed your hair and pulled the upper half of your body up a bit as you hissed in pain, but still loomed over you, so you were staring directly up at him. He smirked and spoke to you in a mocking, degrading voice. “Come on, be good and look at me.”

It was wrong. The voice was too deep and too loud and so forceful and it wasn’t the way it should be. The only voice you should hear was quieter, gruff and dry yet gentle all the same. It was foreign to your brain and body, it sent discomfort where you so desperately wanted comfort. And that sparked such a spike of panic and adrenaline that your mouth acted on its own. You didn’t actually think before you did it. If you’d had time, maybe you would have contemplated the action more, maybe you would have considered if you had any alternative. But you didn’t, only closing your eyes – squeezing them shut as tight as your could – and opening your mouth. You didn’t even process your mouth moving or your voice, you weren’t certain if you screamed or whispered or whimpered it out. Volume wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

Just the same word, the same name, over, and over, and over.

Ironic, really. The very same resort that, after you had found yourself in danger and used it one time too many, had led to the decision to drag you away from your life, your home, and lock you away.

I have to keep you safe. This is for your sake. You will understand that soon.

And here you were, falling back on that protection once again. The process was not technically instantaneous. It wasn’t like the releasing of an arrow or the throwing of a stone, where the action you committed was itself the origin of momentum or the direct root of the consequence, but rather, an indirect action. And as a result, there was a split second of nothing, just one. Just enough time for you to take a single breath, a breath to brace yourself. The first sound was difficult to describe. A sharp but deep sound, impact, ripping. Something warm splattered on your face from above, and your face contorted with grimaced disgust. You heard a choked, gurgling noise, the gentle tapping as the sound was followed by more splattering on your face, your neck. Then a squelching, an inverse of the first noise – removal of the object that had pierced its way in. Awful noises. Noises that you’d heard before, they haunted your mind at night. Even as your tolerance for the sight and smell grew, you never got the noises out of your head, and they were as haunting, as disgusting, as repulsive as the first time you’d heard them. With your body being limp, your bodyweight was dragged back by gravity when the hand on your hair released, and your back slammed into the ground with such a force that it knocked the breath out of you. The collision of the back of your head to the hard ground left your head spinning, but your eyes shot open. You were looking straight up. Lots of stars dotted the night sky, no longer obstructed by faces looming over you. You could feel the ground under you, yet it felt far away. Everything was unreal, distant and distorted. The sounds were muffled, and you saw nothing but sky. You laid on your back, body limp and numb, remaining where you’d fallen. There was no point in doing otherwise, in trying to run or even stand, and trying to stop the process that had already begun would be futile. Your trembling hands instinctively moved to the feeling on your face, where blood pooled around your eyes and mouth, wiping without much thought. You closed your lips taut so none got in your mouth. You wiped it off the part of your face near your eyes and mouth, at least what you could manage. And then, your hands fell limp at your sides again. More coated your forehead and cheeks and neck for sure, but numbness had set in, and all you could do was look up, breathing.

Sounds came from your side all the while. A few confused or frightened yells, but that was normal, that didn’t really bother you as much. It was the other sounds that made your skin crawl and your stomach churn. The one you couldn’t describe, no known words that you were familiar with, a nameless sound, sharp and somewhat fluid, sometimes accompanied by more of a pop, sometimes with more of a squelch, sometimes more of a crunch, but the primary sound itself had no name. Metal to meat. Penetrative, tearing. And you felt the presence of a mass beside you where the primary assailant lay. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear it, you sensed it, felt it, so close his warmth radiated to your flesh.

The sound from him, though, was equally awful. You gritted your teeth and your body shook with a sob, but you couldn’t look, keeping your gaze at the stars. Nightmarish images from years ago already haunted you, clear as if you were starting at them right at that moment, and you couldn’t bear the thought of seeing such a thing ever again. The sounds from the mass beside you, the man that had been leaning over you, were closer than the sounds off to your side. You weren’t sure which was worse to focus on. The stars twinkled a bit, and the moon was bright. You tried to focus on how pretty they were. Not the gargling, the choking. Ragged breaths contaminated by a fluidness in the lungs. Like a sick, congested person’s breathing, a wetness to it, except laden with audible panic. The breaths grew quicker, more panicked, and as they grew faster, they grew more garbled, more choked. A coughing, a shifting of the body in its last summoning of strength to move, a desperate attempt to rid his airway of the fluid pooling within it, and the gory tissue being sucked further into his own throat with each attempt at a breath. When he moved, you recognized the sound of more blood hitting the ground as he spat and choked and delayed the inevitable.

You could see it in your head without needing to look, the memories of all those past incidents were clear in your mind. Grabbing at the gaping hole in his neck, as if it were possible to save himself. You could picture his eyes blown wide, desperately grasping at his chest as if it would do anything. Then – yes, there it was, the sound of collapsing back to the ground as his arms gave out. The last weak, heaving breaths, defeated. And then, no more sound came from him. You tried to determine what phase the moon was in. There was a very blunt impact sound, a snapping of bone and a strangled choking. It was one of the crescent shapes, but was it waxing or waning? A coughing, copious amounts of fluid spilling onto the ground. Waning, you were pretty sure. A loud impact again, then squelching, choking, garbling. One by one. You weren’t one-hundred percent certain though, the crescent shapes kinda looked the same. And it had been a long time since you’d seen the moon anyway. You’d forgotten how nice it was. A very faint thought occurred that you might not see it again, so you savored the moment, even if looking up at it had just a hint of the same feeling of wrongness as the grass on your back and the wind on your skin. The sounds grew quieter. Your hands shot up to your ears and held them closed as hard as you could to drown out what remained. The last one left was always pitiful. They realized their situation and begged to live, they always did, for a mere few seconds that they had. Covering your ears let you drown out the words, and that made it at least a bit more bearable, but even without hearing the specific words, you heard the strain of the voice itself, a desperation and fear that made your skin crawl and nausea grow in your gut. You braced yourself for it, but still cringed and whimpered and shook with a sob at the loud, squelching thud that cut the voice off. But as much as you hated the sounds, you also hated the silence that was left. And if it had been a slow transition next, you could have summoned a sort of hatred. If he sauntered over to you with anger or immediate violence, or taunted you, mocked you, as you were certain some people would do. Then, at least, you could summon full-blown resentment, you could lash out with the same fiery spirit with which you’d stood your ground just minutes before. But the footsteps were few, immediately materializing in front of you, dropping down to his knees in one movement, and your shoulders were grabbed, you were pulled to sit up. It was a rough movement, yet not out of anger. Not like the roughness from minutes earlier, a roughness of malice and disdain. With this, you could feel panic. Through your barely open eyelids, you could see the striking yellow of his own eyes. Wide open, filled with worry. His shoulders seemed to fall and expression return to a more neutral state, exhaling with relief as he saw you make eye contact, realizing you were conscious and, based on a quick sweep of the eyes over your body, mostly uninjured. His hand reached out and lightly brushed over the side of your face, and you felt the soreness in your jaw with the pressure. You held your own hand up to the spot and felt the swelling from where you’d been punched. “I’m okay.” Your voice, breaking the silence, was hoarse and quiet, but you hoped it reassured him enough. He held out something in his hand, your eyes trailed down to it. He had your blanket in his hand. It was somehow spotless, he used finger and thumb to hold onto it. He draped it over your shoulders, with a sort of cautiousness, watching your face, as if trying to gauge that you found it satisfactory. You realized, then, an intentional effort was made to keep it free of blood in the process, for your sake. How, you had no idea, but it was in perfect condition. And you understood the extent of the contrast, as you opened your eyes fully and got a full view of him in moonlight, you grimaced as you made out the dark splotches all over the skin, dripping off his hair and face. His eyes widened a bit at your reaction, seeming to realize why you’d made such a face, and he leaned back, wiping his hands over his face, effectively smearing blood and bits of tissue over his skin, creating dark streaks rather than specks and splotches of it, then rubbing his hands onto his shirt, staining it with red. It wasn’t exactly any better, but you realized that he didn’t even really comprehend the nature of your aversion in the first place, and was, for lack of better words, trying his best. Even if he didn’t exactly do a very good job of it. You had to admit he tried to be considerate, albeit in the most morbid of ways, of your sensitivities, even if, again, the attempts often did not quite reflect an actual understanding of the issue. And then you, too, realized the remaining fluid on your face, your eyes widened and you inhaled sharply as you felt it running down and dripping, the blood that had been coughed up on you from the initial blow. You whimpered as you touched the spot with trembling hands, retching as you pulled them back and stared at the dark fluid on your skin. But you didn’t want to use your blanket. You looked around for anything else, but fabric firmly pressed to your skin interrupted the attempt. It was the clean part of his sleeve, bunched up and wiped over your face. Not in the way you’d expect from any normal person – a regular human, a person who understood gentleness, might have lightly dabbed at your skin, soft touches that absorbed the blood into the fabric. Not quite the same roughness of grabbing your jaw in one hand and intensely scrubbing at your face.

Yet, over time, you’d come to understand these actions were at least attempts at gentleness, trying to communicate affection and care. For someone for whom any concept of comfort or softness were foreign, even something that might feel like a rough motion to you, was effort to show a gesture of care. Trying his best. And maybe, by now, such gentleness that anyone else might have given you would feel wrong. Everything else – the grass, wind, the people – felt wrong. The same wrongness that had been an increasing unpleasant sensation in your chest, in your gut. Everywhere was open space. It went on and on and on, it was open and endless and wrong. There were no walls to protect you, no floor and ceiling for you to feel safe. The blanket had been your only comfort in the vastness – perhaps that was why it had felt so awful when it was stripped away. The wrongness of everything, of the touches – the touches. It had been the worst thing you’d felt in your life. The memory of hands on your skin burned. It burned, it burned, and the wrongness of it all became overwhelming. Much like the initial calling out, you didn’t process your movements, body acting on its own. You threw yourself forward and latched on tight. The action earned a soft surprised grunt, but no movement was made to pull you off. His skin was sticky. You could feel the sheen as the blood was halfway to drying, the slickness of the fluid. And perhaps a long time ago, you would have thrown yourself back, been repulsed by the sensation. But it was tolerable, simply a necessary condition to obtain the comfort of familiar skin, the familiar scents of mountain winds and blood. Slender but strong arms wrapped around your body.

Your body wracked with sobs. You felt a burning on your eyes as you so slightly opened them – the base of the sky was beginning to turn a sort of pinkish color, there was the faintest hint of sun on the horizon. It was unnerving. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t something you were supposed to see. You shouldn’t be able to see it. The world was open and wide, the grass and the road stretched for so long, out beyond your field of vision, and it felt so, so wrong. You caved to the craving for the familiar, for nothing more in that moment than the comfort of four walls, a tight enclosed space, dim light. Xiao opened his mouth again to say something, but was interrupted by a sound that caused you both to startle – a groan. Both of your heads snapped in the same direction, to the figure on the ground you’d long since thought dead. The one you had avoided looking at, and now, you realize that you had been right to do so. There was more or less nothing but a gory, gaping hole where his throat once was, skin torn and blood pooling onto the ground with bits of tissue throughout. His slack, open mouth leaked foaming drool onto the dirt. The body spasmed, eyes franticly darting around, blood pouring out of the mouth and nose and gaping wound, bubbling with strangled attempts to breathe. His fingers weakly clawed at the dirt.

Your body froze up at the sight, eyes wide as shock and horror replaced your comfort. The numbness would have been better. Now, you felt sickness quickly rise in your stomach and you retched, jolting as your stomach lurched and you desperately tried to keep the sickness down, latching a hand over your mouth as tears filled your vision. You were in such a state of shock that you didn’t close your eyes in time.

A pointed metal tip slammed into the side of his skull at the temple, your eyes shot wide open and you froze completely as it crushed the bone, flattening the front of the face. A second time. A third time. There was nothing of the face left, no recognizably human shape, only a mass of meat and bone. Blood and brain matter seeped out between the fragmented pieces of skull. You couldn’t look away, eyes wide and staring as a whimper escaped your throat. He had an irritated glare as he raised the polearm to skewer the head a fourth time, but turned back to look at you at the sound, face falling with realization. “… Sorry.” You shook your head, sniffling, tears spilling down your face as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. It was too much. Your body trembled beyond your control. “T-take me back…” You whimpered. “I wanna go home…” For a moment, only your sniffling broke the silence. You supposed it was odd of you to say you wanted to return, especially as if you had a choice. He took several moments to actually process your words. “…Ok. We can… go back.” He paused, turning his head and surveying the area to the side, taking in the scene that remained.

Being considerate of you. Taking into account your discomforts, the things that bothered you that did not bother him, intentional effort to recognize how you might process and be affected by it all. “… You should close your eyes.” You did so, closing them and burying your face into his neck. You folded your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, he locked his arms under your thighs and, with awkward maneuvering, stood up. Your head fell forward onto his chest and you felt a firm beating pulse against your face, could hear its low thumping. And that meant you were safe. Protected. Nothing more to fear.

When you thought about it, perhaps that was the unease that the surroundings had given you, the odd feeling of your skin crawling as you had traversed. Fear of the world, an unsafe place where you were all on your own and unprotected.

A few steps taken. You retched and cringed at the squelching of viscera under his feet, which did not go unnoticed, mumbling another apology. There was a shuffling and a clamoring sound. Behind your closed eyelids, the light around you disappeared, and you were once more surrounded by darkness. Comforting. The smell around you was familiar – where that of the grass and fresh air had created such unease. You felt like you could breathe again, letting out a deep exhale. The unease and discomfort settled and were replaced by a warmth. The next footsteps you heard were that of the familiar flooring, making their way only a short distance to the room where you’d come to spend the majority of each day.

He bent at the knee ever so slightly to put you down on the bed, letting go of your body once you were touching the mattress. You fell backwards with a grunt, then pushed yourself back up on your hands to sit upright.

You at least had the consideration to silently toss the little blanket to the side of the bed – if you didn’t, it would certainly be about to get messy.

“…”

A few moments of quiet passed. He stood quietly next to the bed, crossed his arms, mouth pulled taut in a displeased expression. You saw his gaze move to the size, glancing over at the chain connected to the wall, the snapped leather anklet that sat at the end of it, the glass on the floor along the wall. He placed what remained of the lamp onto the table, turning the knob. It still lit, only now was more like a candle, having no frame, a weaker flame. He turned back towards you.

“You tricked me.”

You grimaced at his cold tone. “I know. I won’t… I won’t try that again.”

You didn’t have the energy to begin an argument, and it wasn’t as if there was anything you could say to contest that anyway. Still, if you said you were sorry, it would be met with a ‘no you’re not’ and likely an even worse reaction, based on your own experience. For whatever reason, he disliked outright apology like that, tended to take a simple ‘I’m sorry’ as insincere.

“…I won’t fall for it again anyway. And don’t complain about it being dark. You chose that. I’ll keep it out of your reach from now on.”

You curled up into yourself, but nodded. The weight of the words should have felt like a blow to the chest, and you knew that, but in your exhaustion, you couldn’t bring yourself to express the despair, only let yourself wallow in the melancholy.

And yet, perhaps part of the reason for your lack of response, too, was that being back was comforting, in its own way. Your failure crushed your heart and destroyed your hopes, but it also brought a sense of relief. No more walking around in the wilderness, no more worry. No more panic. You could just accept it and be at peace.

You had asked to come back. You had given up so easily. Because even if you wanted to return to your life before – even if it had consumed your thoughts for so long – taking the steps to get there was scary and hard. The comfort of failure was easier.

A quiet hung over the room for a few moments before he finally spoke again, a bitterness in his voice.

“I give you plenty of food and water. And a bed to sleep in.”

“…I—”

“I got you the light, too.” He sighed, increasing frustration in his voice. “And all of that is still not enough for you to be content. You are impossible to please.”

In a different frame of mind, you might have snapped at him. But now, the absurdity of the implication that that all should be enough to earn your complacency didn’t faze you. You just wanted it all to be over. You were tired. So, so tired.

“No, I… I’m grateful for it. I’ll be better. I won’t – I won’t… I’ll be good from now on… I promise.”

Likewise, the lack of any spiteful or sarcastic reply on your end seemed to soften his demeanor. At your quiet, hurt-sounding voice, the tension in his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. He looked down at the ground, but your pitifulness was not enough to fully overwrite his own feelings.

“I’m not falling for that either.” His voice was a quiet mutter, grumpy, almost petulant. Isolated from the circumstances, on its own, there might have been a time you’d think it was amusing, cute even. “You’ll just do this again as soon as you get the chance.”

“No, I won’t…” You shook your head. “Promise.”

He didn’t give an immediate reply. The room was always so unbearably quiet in moments like this, lacking even in the static sounds of wind or outside commotion you would get in even a quiet room in the real world.

“You’ll have to prove that over time.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, voice still a quiet, bitter mutter.

“I will.”

“And if you try this again—”

“I won’t.”

Another round of silence. So quiet you could hear him breathe.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

It was in those words, low and quieter still, that you could hear the crack in the gruffness, sense the emotion beneath it. There was shakiness from what must have been intense worry, and more notable, some vague betrayal, a genuine hurt. You felt a twinge of guilt.

Guilt?

For trying to go home, to get away from this place you never agreed to be in to begin with.

You really had not done as good of a job of maintaining a sound mind as you’d thought you had. It had begun to rot away without you even noticing.

“…”

He moved to climb onto the bed again, but unlike earlier, did not push you to get you to move to the side, instead crawling to loom over you. You didn’t fight anything. There was no need to tell you. You went on instinct, the motions felt mechanical, routine, practiced, pulling your thighs apart and up to your chest on your own. The reminder that this was the same position you’d been in shortly before made a spike of discomfort rise in your chest, a phantom feeling of hands grabbing your thighs. But new hands, just quickly degloved, grabbed at your thighs, and this time they felt right. Small, slender, callouses in the right places. It settled the unease. This sort of thing always progressed quickly. You were more or less always in a state of undress, and you had learned a long time ago that foreplay was, well, something that was not necessarily intentionally neglected, rather, that the concept did not exist within adepti minds at all. Or maybe it was just him. You never brought the matter up. And consequently, there was always some pain. The process was always repeated in the same way, and so frequently that you were to some degree in a constant state of soreness, constantly rubbed raw from premature friction on only barely-wet flesh. And that friction caused irritation, which caused soreness, which only served to create more pain when the cycle repeated.

But it felt right, in its own way. Anything else would be uncharacteristic, foreign. This was familiar. The only pause was to peel blood-wettened clothes off, which took only a moment, and as soon as that was accomplished, the bed creaked with shifting weight and you were more or less pounced upon, and, without any other action preceding it, you felt firm, warm flesh (bloodless, to your relief) prodding at your slit. And due to said quickness of the process, it never went in all the way on the first thrust, there was always an awkward maneuvering, catching the slightest amount of slick and making each following thrust easier and deeper than the last. The first got the head in, pulled back ever so slightly, and the second movement pushed half in, which was where you would always draw a hissing inhalation at the sting of dry friction, and the third usually more or less got the rest of the way, at which point, thankfully, your body always began to actually get wet and provide easier, smoother movement. You gasped in a slightly pained breath as it slid in to the hilt, feeling your walls clamp down. His breath hitched, you felt a shiver run through his body and into your own. Your fingernails clawed at his back to alleviate both the soreness and the spark of pressured heat the feeling of fullness created, some difficulty gaining grip as the skin of his back was coated in sanguine fluid. You realized, as a passing thought, that must be how it kept getting under your fingernails. And much like the flesh of your entrance, the insides themselves were sore and bruised, more so from, well, overuse. The tip of his cock hit a bruised part of your insides with a sharp thrust, it stung with a lingering sore pain. The poor spot had already been abused mere hours earlier – and once before that, a few hours prior still. And before that, a few hours prior, and before then, a few hours prior – so on it went. You whimpered, instinctively pulling your hips away.

But his fingernails dug into the flesh of your sides. “Hold still.” You complied.

The pain didn’t stop it from sparking pleasure, nonetheless. A little sound, a soft mm! escaped your throat and you felt yourself clench. After a few jerking movements as your bodies adjusted, earning gasps and whimpers from you, and then, without any real buildup or pacing, he latched his fingers onto your hips and slammed in and out of your body at a brutal, forceful pace. You yelped, a shrill little sound and your body convulsed and spasmed from the sudden sparks of pleasure so intense you gasped and your eyes went wide, wrapping your arms and legs around him out of pure instinct. He never talked much. You supposed one didn’t need to talk during such an act, there were many things said in ways that didn’t involve words, many things felt and heard and sensed. His breathing was ragged and panting, it matched your own well enough, but on your end, you couldn’t stop the wanton noises. His eyes would move all around, never staying in one place. Now was the same way, they moved from one part of your body to the next. Staring at the bouncing of your chest with the movements, looking down at where your bodies connected, with an entranced, mesmerized gaze. Until he leaned in more, wrapping arms under your body, pressing the fronts of your bodies together and burying his face against your neck, moving in you in more of a rolling motion than a rough thrusting. It rubbed at a different part of your insides, the same intensity as the last. And the movement was far easier than it would have been, perhaps, for anyone else in any other scenario, as your stomachs and chests were easily made to slide against each other rather than causing a rough friction – the slick lubrication of the blood took care of that. It spread from his body to yours, warmed by the body heat and the momentum. Everywhere your bodies touched, you felt the transfer, it soaked into your flesh. It wasn’t as though you weren’t aware of it, of the feeling, or that it didn’t trigger some part of your brain in disgust and fear, but more that your brain couldn’t focus on such a thing. The disgust and any horror the sensation should have ignited was overridden by the overwhelming heat that jolted and shocked your body and consumed every thought you could possibly have, your mind was wiped blank and unable to process anything else, not even the words you spoke. “I’m sorry,” your voice was strained and cracking. “Please, please, please…” You weren’t certain what to follow the word with, a million possible thoughts briefly spun through your barely functioning brain. Please, please. It kept spilling out of your mouth as one hand clawed against his back still as the other reached upward and latched into his hair. It was wet in some strands, clumped and scratchy in others, depending on how dried the blood it was soaked in was. Your fingers clenched and held onto it, pulling inward. One of his hands grabbed the underside of your thigh and pressed it as close to your chest as it would go, trying to do the same – close in whatever slightest distance kept your bodies apart. Still, your grip was weak. It always was, he said every part of you was, frequently reminding you there was no point in physical resistance in any form to anything. It was easy for him to pull his head up and out of your grasp. He grabbed your jaw, pulling your head backwards, exposing your neck. You barely had time to brace yourself before teeth sank down into the flesh of your jugular, gasping at the sudden sharp pain. It lingered for a moment, then alleviated, then struck again, in a different spot than before. Not harsh enough to break the skin – just barely – but sinking in and leaving indents on the flesh that stung, you whimpered with each bite. Sucking at the flesh before pulling off with a pop and repeating the process. The pain was intensified by the fact that the movement of his hips didn’t stop all the while, each thrust into you pulled your skin against his teeth. Each time he pulled away, you shivered at the cold that air on the wet spot created. Tears spilled down the side of your face, still flowing despite how many you had already shed. Pain, maybe. It mixed together, the feelings in your body and brain, becoming all one sort of same feeling. Your body was compliant enough, only tensely clinging and not creating any resistance of its own, that the entire bed moved with the force, and you simply took the sensations in. He let go of your neck, tightened his grip on your jaw, and latched your mouths together. There was an instinctive response, despite it all, it was the one thing that finally brought your sense of disgust to the substance back to the forefront of your mind – you were certain your stomach lurched when the taste of copper filled your mouth, and you instinctively tried to pull your head back, but couldn’t even budge. It consumed your sense of taste from where his tongue kept pressing onto yours. The disgust blurred. The feeling overrode again. And became stronger. Stronger, stronger, heat pooled in your core and your body began to quiver.

He seemed to sense it, letting go of your mouth, somewhat sitting up and looking down at you with half-lidded eyes that quickly widened with realization, and, the action apparently being possible, fucked into you harder than before, grabbing on to your hips. Not with any technique or skill, but not needing any – as with most things, he would simply substitute whatever was needed with brute, rough force and somehow, it worked out. You whimpered when you came, shivering and spasming, feeling your muscles clench down on the fullness and raking your nails down his back, hips bucking upward. There was the softest of grunts, as if trying to stifle the sound, and his hips thrust harshly forward one more time, stilling as his fingernails dug into your hips. Semen spilled into your body, far more than a human could ever output, in such great volume that you couldn’t not feel the warmth and the swelling sensation it created. There was a moment of quiet, shivering, cold of the air against sweaty skin setting in, before he tugged his hips backwards and slid out. Excessive semen flowed out and drenched the sheet underneath your body. You’d always wondered why that… feature, function, whatever one would call it, was a trait he had, but it was only one of a thousand questions you would probably never know the answers to. Cold set in. So cold. The surrounding air was not good for your body, coated in sweat and blood. Your teeth chattered with a shiver. You almost reached over for the blanket before remembering its spotlessness. It was sacred in its own way. So instead, you reached out and grabbed at the body before you. Warm. There was a silence as you took into account the appearance of it all. Even in the room’s dim lighting, you could see the results of your coitus; both your skins had a coating of a reddish stain, thicker splotches in some places, a thin orangish sheen in others. The sheets and blankets of the bed had splotches and patches here or there, streaks where new red joined dark, long-lasting stains. “…Don’t leave this place ever again.” You almost jolted at the sudden interruption of silence. It was a similar phrase as those times you had had other pathetic attempts (never getting beyond the door), some vague variant warning of telling you to never repeat your attempt, but something threw you off about it. It was not usually said so early. There was a process to these things. A routine. Breeding you in what you assumed was some sort of possessive instinct was part one, the warning was part three, whereas now, part two – some form of consequence – was oddly skipped in entirety. That, and the unusual tone in his voice. It was normally gruff, frustrated, growling. Now it was quiet, barely audible, spoken with an unusual softness. “You’re not….?” You paused. You took a moment to sit upright. He looked at you with a flat expression, tilting his head. You swallowed. “You’re not gonna… do anything to me?” He looked down, seeming to actually ponder the question. For a moment, you nearly feared that perhaps the question was being taken as a suggestion. Most people could either give a sentimental answer, or an answer intended to make you afraid, or demand an apology, or threaten to do worse, but he simply responded, as he did with all things, in a very genuine, bizarrely honest way. “Later.” It certainly was not comforting, but he didn’t seem to intend it to be the opposite, merely stating what he thought. Still, it confused you, and despite the dread, you questioned. “Why later?” He reached up to his face and pointed at the equivalent spot where your own was swelling. “It’s… Bruising.” You couldn’t see your face at the moment, but you had no trouble believing that, as it throbbed and, as you reached your hand up, felt slightly swollen. “If I do something, it’ll be all…” He shook his head, huffing in frustration over a seeming difficulty finding the right words. “It’ll be mixed together… bruises from them and me. That would feel… strange.” He looked down a bit. “I want marks like that on you to be… just from me. So I’ll wait. Until you heal from that.” He looked at your neck, where you felt the lingering sting of indents to the flesh. A different sort of marking. It occurred to you that it was far more bites than normal. Compensation, you assumed, for the inability to create any other sort. “… Even seeing that…” he looked back up at your face, “and that at the same time is… I don’t like it.” Reasonable enough, you guessed. It made as much sense as anything else did. Which wasn’t a lot, but it was something. The silence was long and tense. There was something in his body language – he fidgeted, you thought you saw him almost open his mouth. He had something to say, so you waited. But when he did open his mouth and finally spoke, it was not as long as you expected. “And because… I’m less upset than I should be.” He gave a determinate nod, as if mentally confirming the thought. You breathed softly, eyes half-open, voice empty. “…Why?” “…I don’t know." More hesitation. He shuffled forward a bit, moving closer to you, and slowly, hesitating, as if you might jolt and pull away, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around you. Even if you had any will to fight the action, there would be no point, and it was far, far too comforting to your weary body and mind to resist. You reached your own arms around him and did the same, hoisting yourself up on your knees, settling down so you were sitting on the lap of his now cross-legged posture, and only then did you catch the sensation against your body, nearly like vibrating, it was so rapid. And at first, you thought it was your own body, aftershock of orgasm or panic subconsciously taking over, but one harsher shiver made you realize it was his, not yours. He shivered and trembled against your embrace, eyes dull and empty, staring down. "I think…” he started, voice hoarse yet quiet, “it’s because you… I would have thought you would rather just let… rather that than… I didn’t think that you’d…” he trailed off, huffing in frustration. Leaned his head down and forward onto your shoulder, “…but you did, and…” his arms seemed to tighten around you. “I’m… glad.” The trembling continued for a while. You didn’t move nor respond, kept your arms around his frame, until it slowly subsided. It took a few minutes, quietly breathing in and feeling the warmth radiating from the other’s body. Both bodies limp and unmoving. Tiredness set in, and you were so, so sore, sore in every muscle, every inch of your body. Your arms and legs from the incident, your neck, your face that still throbbed, your insides that still dripped with cum, your mind and heart from a rush of panic, fear, shock, so many overwhelming feelings you’d felt so intensely earlier, a difficult contrast when you had grown so used to uneventful monotony. Sore and spent. You crawled backwards, tugging at his arm and falling to your side, soon followed, the bed beneath your creaked a bit with the shifting weight. “Do you…” He seemed to struggle for words. “Want to go… wash it off?” Trying to remember for your sake. You should have, characteristically speaking, leaped at the chance. “…I’m tired… it’s already on everything anyway.” Yes, the stickiness was there, all over your skin, it was drying on your hair and face, it coated your flesh. Your stomach churned a bit at the thought, ever so slightly, but the exhaustion was far more overwhelming than anything else. He nodded. “Alright.” Of course, it wasn’t as if it bothered him. It was just a matter of trying to go along with your wishes. You laid your head down on the pillow, thankful that the bruising was on the other side. It hurt, but to some degree you hoped it stayed that way for a while. The longer it took to heal, the longer you could evade whatever you’d face for your transgression. Still, you didn’t feel the fear that the thought of the impending consequence should probably have. It couldn’t be worse, you concluded, than what you would have faced otherwise. …Would it have been worth it? For the possibility of being freed after, and then being able to go home? You shook your head a bit and decided to not think about such a thing. It was already over. Thinking about it would do nothing now. Feeling the stickiness of his skin on yours when your bodies were pulled together didn’t seem to ignite any reaction, the wet spots where it soaked into the sheets was not noticeable enough for you to feel any need to get up. It was all tolerable. You supposed you did, to the extent you could, get used to it.

#yandere genshin impact #atml

692 notes · View notes

kodiakwhiskey · 3 years

Text

Domestic Bliss

Domestic Bliss//////Spencer x Fem!OC

Summary: Spencer figures out that Aria's relationship has turned abusive and starts trying to help her (First person)

Tw: domestic violence,physical abuse, mild description of gore (anything else that can be applied to the show lol)

I see the bruise, I see the truth

I see what he's been doin' to you

Blood on the shoes, what's his excuse?

He say he doin' some new kung fu

You always use his bullshit excuse

But I see what he's been doin' to you

There was no point in trying to hide it anymore. No matter how many different techniques I knew about makeup, this was still there. Raw, fresh, and now very irritated. It was getting harder to hide this and I couldn’t do it anymore. So why can’t I leave? Why am I at my job so early in the morning when I know he’ll lose his shit on me when I get home for not being there. I tried my best, but I settled for a bandage instead. I can just make something up. I’m already accident prone. I start on some paperwork, trying to take my mind off things.

I technically wouldn’t have any issues leaving. Think about it realistically. I literally work in a department to help these kinds of situations. It would be so easy to just tell Hotch or Rossi and go into witness protection. I could stop my checks so he wouldn’t be able to use my card. I wouldn’t have a home… My mother won’t take me back; she loves him more than me.��

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear Spencer setting a cup of coffee down next to me.

“Hey… Donovan… what happened?” I shook my head at him.

“I burned it with a straightener.” No. You were so close to telling him that bastard put his cigarette out on your face. About how he… No. Not now if Spencer’s here it means everyone else will be.

When everyone got there and Hotch pulled everyone in for briefing I breathed a sigh of relief. It was a case, all the way in Colorado. I sat and listened to anyone, but had nothing to offer, opting to just take notes instead. I called him on the way to the plane, knowing he wouldn’t answer.

“Please leave a message after the tone”

“Hey, Kev. It’s me um. Our case is out of state so I’m going to be gone for a few days. Reception might be spotty but I…” I choked a little. “I will call to check in when I can.” I hung up and turned my phone off as we pulled up to the jet. I felt Spencer’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t dare meet them. I just took my usual seat in the back corner, tucking myself against the window. Even if this was only for a couple days it could really give me the break I need. Maybe that’s what we both need. He’s much nicer after I’ve been gone for a while. It reminds me of the first couple years we were together. Back when he still called me pet names like, sugar or bunny. I shut my eyes, trying to get some rest. Everything would be fine.

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why'd you go back for that kiss?

Maybe it tastes like him

When you got tears in your lips

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why don't we pack and leave this?

Why do you smile when he cries?

Why do you cry when he wins?

**********************************************************************

Third pov

Spencer set his things down, in his usual seat next to Aria, and moved to sit with the group at the table.

“So is anyone else going to acknowledge it too?” His voice was quiet and everyone else had solemn expressions on their faces.

“Look… as much as I want to do something, you know as well as I do that getting involved before she’s ready could be even more dangerous.” Rossi’s voice was quiet, anger lacing his words.

“We’re going back to her hometown. Her mother is there, we could-” Derek cut him off.

“Reid. This is a part of keeping her safe. We can’t corner her like that; she'll associate it with whatever he’s doing at home and slip into a trauma response.” Emily stayed silently, Looking over at her, sleeping and tucked away under Spencer’s cardigan.

Hotch had been in the opposite corner, watching the team. “We do have a ‘No Profiling’ rule on each other.” Spencer’s face fell, guilt ridden in his eyes. “But we can bend the rules a little. Her behavior has indicated it’s only getting worse. It’s a matter of time before he snaps and kills her.” Hotch knew the severity of the situation all too well. Derek had seen his sister go through that and now he was seeing another sister hide it.

“It would be best if Garcia approached her about it.” Everyone looked over at Emily, who had been quiet until now. “The two of them are close and she’s the only one out of us who's actually spent time around him.” She was trying to sound rational, but she knew Penelope had a tenderness they didn’t quite understand.

***************************************************************************************

Aria

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder, and opened my eyes to see Reid’s dark red cardigan on me, his touch gentle.

“Hey we landed.” He grabs my bag, along with his, and gets off the plane with everyone else.

I got off and slid into the passenger seat of the car Hotch was driving, Spencer climbing into the seat behind him, he had such a cute clueless expression on his face. Poor thing never really liked change.

“Hotch, I need a favor to ask of you.” I kept my voice low, but I knew Spencer and Derek would hear it anyway. Hotch titled his ear towards me, the silent indicator that he was listening. “Since we’ll be in town, I’d like to take a couple hours for some personal business.” He nodded knowingly, like he always does.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

“That’s okay. But I want your head in case at all working times.” You nodded, and settled in for the long car ride from the airport to Granby Ranch.

I did attempt to call Kevin when we arrived, but the cell service had always been awful out here.

When we pulled up to the ranch, the first thing I noticed was the sculpture at the entrance had been damaged. We got out of the Jeep and Hotch went directly to talk to the County police. I stepped towards the crime scene, taking a look at everything. Right in the edge of the woods. Man this was getting creepy. A voice behind me registers as Spencer’s but my mind is racing. There was blood everywhere. The trees were lined, reaching as high as 6 feet. I step further, slipping on a pair of gloves before I stop dead in my tracks.

“Hey… Um… did they miss a body in the initial report?” It was like a bad car crash. I couldn’t look away from her mangled body. This was definitely not a wild animal. I doubt any Elk or bear could make a clean cut like that. The world started spinning the longer I stared and just as I was expecting to hit the hard ground I felt something soft and warm.

You got balloons

New flowers too

Last one's dyin' in your bedroom

He's squeezin' you

Blame-blaming you

Mama just usin' her red perfume

“Donovan. Hey, hey you have to wake up.” Spencer's voice is warm above me, nurturing almost. It doesn’t take long for my ears to ring and for my hearing to drop.

When I’m fully conscious, there’s a bright light in my eye. I blink slowly, trying to shield my face.

“Oh Aria, thank god.” Rossi is above me, putting the flashlight away, and I feel a warm hand on my cheek. I tilt my eyes and realize I’m in Spencer’s lap, furiously blushing. “Do you know where you are right now?” Spencer’s voice is soft above me and I wrack my memory. The second I close my eyes I’m looking at that poor woman’s dismembered head again and I stifle a scream. “Hey, hey take it easy. You need to move slowly.” Spencer’s hand on my shoulder is a warm reminder. I’m okay. Rossi and Spencer slowly helped me up. Hotch sent Spencer, Derek, and I to the police station in Frasier, where they had set up shop. With me driving, we pulled up in 15 minutes. Granted, they both were pale, but they weren’t dead.

Eventually we started piecing everything together. It was 8 pm when Kevin called me.

I answered, putting him on speaker so I could continue working. “Hey Kev.”

“Don’t fucking Hey Kev me. Where are you?” I was really glad Derek and Spencer had left the room.

“I called you earlier before we left but it went to voicemail. Did you not get my message?”

“You know what I’m fucking asking you. Don’t be a bitch to me.”

“I’m in Wyoming in the mountains.” Lie. Don’t give yourself away. “Kevin, I have work to do.”

“Fine but don’t expect anything from me when you get back. Lying bitch.” He spit the words at me like venom before the line clicked off. I closed my phone. Whatever God or Gods existed in this universe surely wouldn’t let me stay like this… but it had been 3 years now. I had to do it myself. I couldn’t rely on anyone else.

Domestic bliss

I know how bad you wanted it

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why'd you go back for that kiss?

Maybe it tastes like him

When you got tears in your lips

Why'd you put up with that shit?

Why don't we pack and leave this?

Why do you smile when he cries?

Why do you cry when he wins?

“Aria?” Spencer’s face had fallen. I didn’t realize I was crying. “Hey… is everything okay?” He slid into the seat next to me, his hand on my knee. I shook my head, and just leaned into him. “I’m here for you. You know that right? You’re not alone.” I didn’t say anything, just letting myself sink further.

“I don’t think you’re much help like this Donovan.” Derek put his hand on my shoulder. “Why don’t you and Reid go get checked in. I’m sure everyone will follow shortly.” I nodded, walking out of the station with Spencer, and climbing into the passenger seat of the SUV, letting him take the helm. I closed my eyes and rested against the window of the door.

I think I vaguely remember him getting a bag of food on the way, but I couldn’t pay attention. There was too much going on. Spencer woke me up gently, letting me get my bearings before heading inside.

“Here’s your room keys. You’ll both be in 117.” My jaw almost fell to the floor. Crap there was no way this would end out okay. He’s gonna find out and he’ll get hurt trying to help me.

Spencer thanked her, and we went to our room, The door clicking softly behind us.

“Aria… I need to talk to you.” I sat on one of the beds, staking my claim, taking my shoes off. “I know Kevin is abusing you.” I stared at him for a minute, unblinking. His voice was soft, and he knelt in front of me, wiping away the tears that came. “I need to know how to help you. Please. I can’t see you like this anymore.” The floodgates opened and I threw myself around him, his hands lacing into my hair.

“Please… Don’t make me go back. I can’t do it anymore.” I feel his hand push down my sweater, the various bruises and scabs littered my collarbone and his face fell.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

“Aria… I’m going to kill him.” I’ve never seen him this upset. “He won’t get away with hurting the person I love like this.” He met my eyes realizing he said that out loud.

“Spencer…” He pulled me into him for a kiss, sweet and tender just like him. “I love you too…”

Spencer’s hands never left me, pulling me into bed with him, pulling me close. He littered my back and shoulder with kisses, being extra careful around my bruises.

The next morning we wrapped up the profile, my phone staying off. Spencer never left my side.

It took another day or two to catch the guy. He’d been dating all the victims and playing them off of each other. I hated that I drew the comparisons to Kevin, and now that the case was over, I had to face him again…

Spencer and I packed our hotel room, and he agreed to come with me to see my mom

I knocked on the door, and he squeezed my hand quickly, letting go as the door opened.

“Hi mom.”

“Oh baby hi. What are you doing here? Where’s that sweet Kevin.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Can I come inside?” She stepped aside to let us through, pulling out the coffee mugs and pouring us both a cup from the freshly made pot.

“What’s going on honeybee?” She leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee.

“I don’t know how to tell you this so I figured I’d just show you.” I shrugged my jacket off for the first time in days around someone, the bruises covering almost every surface of my arms and shoulders, various scabbing in areas.

“Oh honey. I told you you need to quit this job. You’re hurting yourself.” I tried not to sound too annoyed.

“No ma. It’s Kevin… He’s been abusing me for 3 years now.” Her eyes widened.

“Aria you will not lie in this house.”

“Ma’am it’s not a lie.” Spencer spoke to her, not even introducing himself. “If you heard the things he says to her over the phone, you would know she isn’t lying.”

“You both need to leave.” Mom stood up and snatched the mugs away retreating to the kitchen. “You’re a disgrace.” I sighed, and grabbed Spencer’s hand, walking to the door.

“I guess that makes two of us. Have a good life mom. I hope you’re not so lonely with Kevin in it.” I closed the door without another word, basically running with Spencer to the SUV.

My God, I'll be right in

A trickle of lighting

I knew before I heard

I felt in my skin

My God, I'll be right in

A trickle of lighting

I knew before I heard

I felt in my skin

The phone call with Penelope was rough. She was crying more than I was, but within minutes she confirmed there was now a protection order in place, and that the police were detaining him for the night so I could gather my things.

“You can stay with me.” Spencer’s hand was soft on mine, and I nodded, falling asleep on his shoulder on the jet ride home. All of the guys insisted on coming with me to my old apartment, on the off chance he was still there, so as soon as we finished the last bit of paperwork, Rossi, Hotch, and Derek all followed me over. It was quiet when we entered, my cat trotting over, meowing at me.

“Looks like he trashed the place before they took him.” Derek flipped over a cracked photo frame, and Spencer picked up the black fluffy void, her purring as loud as a lawn mower. Rossi helped me pack my clothes in a bag, and Hotch grabbed various things of mine from the shelf for a box, everything he deemed important, while Derek stole all the batteries out of the electronics, and took all the food and alcohol out of the cabinets, leaving behind only sugar, flour, and ketchup.

Spencer helped me gather the cat’s things and helped me take them to the car. When we got back up I heard Kevin shouting. Spencer pushed me behind him walking into the living room.

“You have no right to be packing her things. She can’t leave me, I'm the only one she has left.”

“Obviously that’s a lie.” Spencer’s comment made everyone stop and stare at him. “She has 4 people who are here to clearly collect her things and protect her from you. Where is your support Kev?” I never heard him speak like that, my hands were gripping his cardigan so tightly my knuckles were white. Rossi and Hotch pushed past him with the last of my boxes, Rossi taking me by the hand and leading me out.

Spencer turned and Derek put the final nail in the coffin, knocking a photo off the wall, while making eye contact with him.

He didn’t try to come after me. He didn’t acknowledge my existence, and he let me leave.

The guys dropped everything off at Spencer’s with me, Birdie immediately making herself at home on his sofa, her face buried in her long black fur.

Fight for me

We can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Go to Hawaii

Fight for me

Said we can leave, I'm beggin'

Please, on my, on my knees

Hawa-hawaii

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid fic #glass animals #songifc #domestic bliss #dreamland

17 notes · View notes

lveclouds · 3 years

Text

↬ break my heart (what’s wrong with secretary kim au)

↬ pairing/characters: vice chairman knj x secretary reader x ceo jungkook (the other members will also make appearances), some ocs

↬ genre: fluff, heavy angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn (slower than flash the sloth from zootopia), kdrama au, mutual pining, strong denial of feelings from both joon and reader, love triangle (i’m so sorry bc it’s going to be very messy)

↬ tw: mentions of childhood trauma (as seen in the show), heavy swearing, joon is kind of a jerk in this fic oops- and there may or may not be a love triangle in this, and oc drinks with two of the members (slight alcohol content) , mild physical violence (oops) , and the use of the word w**** but no nsfw content is involved, mentions of child neglect, mentions of depression (very brief), mentions of death in the family (very brief) , dysfunctional family (namjoon’s parents are jerks and so is his brother), mentions of a toxic relationship)

↬ disclaimer: i do not own the original story! all rights go to the original creator, jung kyung yoon and the writers at tvn + jimin , taehyung and jungkook are around the same age and hoseok and tae live together

↬ rating: m, ec21 (see trigger warnings)

↬ wc: 47k (idek how my one braincell managed to write this much)

↬ summary: “why would you care if i’m struggling or not?! you’re nothing but a narcissistic asshole who cares only about himself! i do everything you request of me, even if i’m near passing out from exhaustion, even if i have to lose sleep because of a meeting!” you hissed, fighting back frustrated and angry tears. namjoon had the audacity and the nerve to look appalled. “what? surprised that i’m not confessing my love to you?” you sneered. “do you really think that?” think what?” “that i don’t care about you? that you’re just my secretary and nothing more?” his voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, sad even, but you refused to buy into his act. “yes, yes, i do.” namjoon’s light brown eyes glimmered with unshed tears. “then maybe you should just leave, if you really hate me that much.”

↬note: hi my loves, so this is officially the LONGEST fic i’ve ever written. when i was first drafting it, i did not plan on making it this lengthy, it just kind of happened? the word count kept increasing every time i worked on it lmao anyways i hope you all enjoy it regardless! + i’m sorry that this took a million years for me to post, school’s been a pain and then i had a small case of writers’ block:(( also, shoutout to my friends at bangtan university, heartsforbts, bangtan inn, etc. i love you all so so so so so so so much and thank you all so much for encouraging me to write this monster of a fic:’) + thank you to my irl friend for all the boosts of serotonin, for blasting kpop with me and for sending me random videos throughout my day, (this fic is dedicated to you, ilysm!!) + also this fic doesn’t exactly follow the original plot of the drama, so things might turn out different ;) + this fic has taken me a million years to write lmao and i’m thinking of writing a sequel to spare y’all the reading lmao + this is the first fic in my bangtan and kdramas series!!

p.s. this fic does have a playlist, and you can listen to it here: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1H30ku0nQPdiraPgaG2Unp?si=4cd27a68505a4e5a (p.s. thank you to @kithtaehyung, @sugakookcafe, and @ddaechwita for sending me songs ily angels sm<3) also this fic may or may not have references to other dramas hehe <3

march 15th, 2019

you loathed parties, and yet, here you were, standing amidst a sea of people in a massive banquet hall, already feeling drained. light chatter and soft laughter filled the air, and soft pop music was playing. you felt extremely uncomfortable in the long rose-pink dress that was a loan from your older sister, and the pearl white heels you were wearing were making your feet ache. you had spent hours on your makeup and hair to look presentable, but after stepping inside the banquet hall, it became clear to you that your efforts were only in vain. you sighed, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, taking a light sip of your second glass of champagne, the taste of crisp apple and sugar lingering in your mouth.

this social event, or banquet, as the media called it, was to celebrate the partnership of kim holdings, the most prestigious business in seoul with a prominent company in spain. but in hindsight, it was just an excuse for seoul’s rich and famous to mingle. and while most would kill to attend one of these exclusive events, you would do anything to stay away from them. attending a party with the rich and famous wasn’t all glitz and glamour. it meant dealing with the countless rumors and whispers, about what family you came from, what your family did for a living, and vice versa. you were no stranger to such things, for the moment you started working for one of the most famous figures in seoul, kim namjoon, rumors surrounded you.

“is she the vice chairman’s girlfriend?”

“look at her, she looks like she’s pretending to be someone she’s not, poor girl.”

“she’s probably going to be fired soon.”

you paid them no attention, for you knew none of them were true, but they did sting sometimes. according to various news outlets, namjoon was infamous for changing secretaries, which was why it was such a shock that you had become a permanent presence by his side for nine years. those nine years were difficult and there had been times where you felt like giving up, but because you didn’t want to disappoint anyone, you worked your ass off to get to where you were now.

the air inside the hall was a bit stifling and smelled strongly of perfume and men’s cologne, and you could already feel a headache coming on. you heard soft footsteps approaching you, and you turned to address them, a plethora of pleasantries forming in your brain. but upon seeing their face, you immediately relaxed, feeling the tension in your shoulders loosen, just a bit. “jungkook, it’s nice to see you!” said male grinned, a friendly smile gracing his handsome features. “it’s nice to see you as well. how are you?” “i’ve been better, work’s been keeping me busy.” “hope namjoon’s not overworking you.” you scoffed. “when does he not, honestly?” jungkook winced slightly. “i’m sorry.” you waved off his apology. “i’ll live, anyways, enough about me. how are things?” “the company’s doing well, and-” “no, i mean, how are things with jieun?” the smile on his face fell slightly. “we broke up.” “oh, i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have asked.” you apologized. jungkook shook his head. “it’s okay, you didn’t know.” “why did you end things, if you don’t mind me asking?” a sad smile tugged at jungkook’s lips. “she decided we’d be better off as friends, and honestly, she’s probably right. we were having some problems anyway. besides, i can now focus more on work.”

jungkook was one of the youngest people to enter business and to have singlehandedly built his own establishment from the ground-up. not only that, but he was as humble and gracious as the media portrayed him to be. “where’s jimin?” park jimin was his hard-working and often clumsy secretary, who was usually by jungkook’s side. “i let him take the day off, he’s been overworking himself too much lately. it took some convincing, though.” you laughed softly. “i bet it did.” jimin was also notorious for being extremely stubborn and would’ve refused to take even a single day off, even if he was near exhaustion.

“how’s your love life?” you scoffed. “non-existent.” “oh, come on, you mean to tell me no one has caught your eye yet?” you shrugged. with constantly having to fulfill namjoon’s every request, you hadn’t had time to start dating, nor had you really given it any thought.

“i don’t have time, i’m practically married to my job at this point.” you sighed, taking another light sip of champagne. “i’m thinking about quitting.” jungkook’s chocolate brown eyes widened at that. “what?” “work’s been a pain in the ass lately, and honestly, i’ve been enjoying it less and less these days.” “that bad?” you nodded. “he’s an asshole for overworking you all these years.” “yeah, well, i kind of signed up for it when i became his secretary.” you mumbled.

“well, you know, if you wanted, you could always come work for me. there’s always an open space for you.” you shot jungkook a grateful smile. “thanks kook, maybe i’ll consider your offer.” “well, if you do, just say the word and the job is yours.” “are you threatening to take my secretary away from me, jeon?” an all too-familiar voice said from behind him, tone void of any emotion. you fought the urge to roll your eyes as namjoon walked up beside jungkook, his tall and lithe figure towering over the younger, light brown eyes cold and unforgiving. “of course not, sir, i was simply talking with miss y/n, there was no threatening of any kind.”

namjoon said nothing, only raised an eyebrow in question. then, he turned to you, expression unreadable as always. “let’s go.” you bid jungkook goodbye with a small smile and followed after your boss, annoyance coursing through you.

the silence in the limousine was stifling, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “something on your mind?” namjoon asked. “yes, i actually meant to bring this up earlier, but never got the chance.” he gestured for you to elaborate. “ah, well, i was thinking of quitting. it’s been an honor to work as your secretary, but since i’m so busy, i don’t have time for anything.” “and what would that be?” “i want to date, get married, have kids one day, and i can’t do that if i have a job that requires me to be away from home for long periods of time. i can’t go on business trips for three weeks if i have kids, i have to be home to take care of them.”

the tension in the air thickened like fog, and after a long pause, namjoon’s gaze slid towards you, lips pursed tightly. “you want to quit?” you nodded, subtly wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. “i mean, i’ve been working for you for nine years, surely you’re sick of me. so, i think it’s time you start looking for a new secretary, my replacement, i mean.” namjoon didn’t say a word the entire ride back to his house, and as the chauffeur pulled out of his driveway, you couldn’t help but feel as if things were never going to be the same again.

(a month later)

it’d been nearly a month since that awkward talk in the limousine, and namjoon hadn’t bothered to bring up the subject of you quitting. naturally, you still worked just as hard as you did when you first got hired, making sure that his schedule was organized, and fulfilled every request namjoon had, even if it meant running around downtown seoul like a madwoman, clutching two cups of coffee and a box of the expensive pastries he liked. your feet always ached afterwards, but you couldn’t complain, after all, it was your job, and you could at least prove to him that you were capable.

you sighed, ignoring the painful ache in your neck from staring at the computer all day, sending out emails to other companies, setting up appointments and meetings for the coming months. “are you okay?” jung hoseok, the chief section head asked, worry creasing his brow. “i’m fine, just exhausted.” hoseok frowned, the expression unusual for his usual sunny demeanor, but didn’t press further. “well, let me know if you need anything.” you shot him a grateful look, which he returned with a bright smile, and waved goodbye to you as he disappeared around the corner.

ignoring the now dull ache in your neck, you typed furiously on the pristine white keyboard in front of you, determined to finish the email you’d been drafting to the ceo of a well-known company in france for hours now.

namjoon leaned back against his gray office chair, letting out a tired sigh. he’d been in and out of meetings all day, and he was sure he could’ve gotten carpal tunnel from typing for nearly six hours, sending a stern email to an incompetent employee. for the first time in years, namjoon let his mind wander, exhaustion taking over his will to continue work.

namjoon thought of the talk he had had with you in the limousine a month ago, where you had explained to him that work was getting in the way of you having a “normal” life, and that you were wanting to quit. he hadn’t known what to do or how to react when you’d suddenly blurted it out to him, out of nowhere. and as a result, namjoon had barely gotten any sleep that same night, wondering what had made you decide to stop working for him.

you hadn’t mentioned anything besides the fact that you simply wanted to date and get married, and despite his intelligence, namjoon couldn’t figure out if there was something you were hiding from him. “i think it’s time you start looking for a new secretary, my replacement, i mean.” as soon as those words left your mouth, namjoon was rendered speechless. you had worked alongside for so long that he hadn’t even considered the prospect of hiring a new secretary.

how am i supposed to find a replacement on such short notice? she’s the most competent secretary i’ve ever had, and she has the nerve to suggest that she leaves all because she wants to date? “ridiculous.” namjoon mumbled, sorting through the thick file of papers on his desk, scanning them carefully, pushing away the thought of you leaving from his mind.

some thirty minutes later, there was a soft but firm knock on his door. “come in.” he called, not bothering to look up from the report the resources team had sent his way. namjoon heard the all too- familiar click of heels on the marble tiled floor, and immediately knew who it was.

“vice chairman, you have an appointment regarding the acquisition of the department store at three. and here are the files you requested about the company in madrid.” you said, placing a thick manila folder on his desk. “do you need anything else?” namjoon shook his head, and you gave him a small smile, bowing slightly before turning to leave the room.

“would you accompany me to the appointment?” surprise flashed across your face, but it was brief, and namjoon barely caught before you recovered and smiled politely, nodding. “of course, sir.” and with that, you turned and walked out of his office, heels clicking with each step.

namjoon sighed, tossing the report he’d been reading to the side of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. it wasn’t even lunch, and he could already feel a migraine starting to form.

“did the vice chairman scold you again? you look like you want to be anywhere but here.” taehyung asked, resting his chin on his hand, cerulean eyes glinting with amusement. you gave him a half-hearted glare, which made the former chuckle. taehyung was the head of the resources team, and was also in charge of ensuring that all the reports they made were accurate. “he’s making me go to the appointment with the department store.” “ah, seriously? he can’t just make someone else go with him, like his driver?” you sighed, arranging a loose pile of papers on your desk, stacking them neatly. “beats me. i would’ve said no, but he’d probably throw a fit or something.”

taehyung laughed, running a hand through his thick, curly hair, which he’d started to grow out a bit more. “did you get a perm?” “yeah, hoseok hyung told me i look like a poodle.” “well, you’re a handsome poodle, at least.” taehyung rolled his eyes. “yeah, tell that to my mom, she also insulted me when i came home looking like this, she’s so cruel sometimes.” “i love your mom, and for the record, i think she’s just being honest.”

taehyung gasped in mock disbelief. “y/n, how could you? i thought we were friends.” you bit back a laugh at how dramatic he was being. “i’m sorry tae, i didn’t mean to offend you.” he sniffed, pretending to wipe tears from his eyes. “you’re forgiven if you go out for drinks with hoseok hyung and i.” you sighed, knowing that if you went, you would be the one dragging their drunk asses home. “fine, but if you two drink too much, i’m leaving you and hoseok to rot on the curb.” taehyung pouted. “you’re so harsh, y/n.” “well, i wouldn’t be if you two weren’t such lightweights.” “we are not lightweights! we’re just carefree.” you laughed. “keep telling yourselves that.”

the appointment was fairly boring, and you were sure you had zoned out during the entire thing, but no one seemed to notice, not even namjoon, who was usually very perceptive and observant. on the way back to the company, you noticed that namjoon kept rubbing at his temples, as if he had a headache. “everything alright, sir?” said male nodded. “just exhausted, it’s been a long day.” you hummed in agreement, avoiding his gaze and turning towards the window, city-goers and pedestrians blurs of color as the limousine glided down the street. the silence in the car was a bit uncomfortable, and you fought the urge to fidget, instead folding your hands neatly in your lap, trying to keep them from shaking.

you had no idea why you were so anxious, for accompanying namjoon on his business meetings was a normal occurrence. maybe it was because the last conversation you had with him, it had ended quite abruptly, and namjoon hadn’t bothered to express his thoughts towards you wanting to leave. the silence stretched on for the rest of the way, and you fought the urge to talk, swallowing against the bile in your throat.

“you look awful, was the appointment really that bad?” hoseok asked, concern furrowing his brow as he handed you a bottle of water, which you took with a grateful smile. “i don’t even remember half of it, i spaced out the entire time.” you mumbled, taking a another sip of water.

hoseok frowned. “are you sure you’re okay? if you’re not, taehyung and i can cover for you.” you shook your head. “i really appreciate that, but it’s not necessary. i’ll be fine, besides, i’ve gone through worse before.” hoseok didn’t look too convinced, but eventually just sighed and nodded. “okay, but if you change your mind, just tell me.” “besides, taehyung will probably start having a mental breakdown if he’s at work for too long.” hoseok scoffed. “please, he’s just trying to go home as early as possible. once he starts whining and moping about the same damn thing for the next thirty minutes, it’s over.”

you chuckled, ignoring the painful throbbing in your head, and leaned back into the comfy leather of your office chair, closing your eyes. “y/n, seriously, i think you should take the rest of the day off.” “you know i can’t do that, hoseok.” “why not?” “do you honestly think the vice chairman will let me do that?” “he should! if he’s so intelligent and observant, he should be able to recognize when one of his employees is overworked, let alone his own personal secretary.” hoseok huffed, sitting down at his desk a few feet away.

suddenly, the phone on your desk rang, shrill and loud, causing you to almost fall off your chair as you scrambled to answer it. “secretary y/l/n, you’re needed in my office.” “y-yes vice chairman, i’ll be right there.” you said, trying to keep your voice as even as possible.

hoseok mouthed “good luck” as you nervously made your way to namjoon’s office, trying not to trip on your own feet in the process. you gave him a grateful smile over your shoulder. you took a deep breath before knocking softly on his office door. once you heard the authoritative “come in”, you braced yourself before stepping inside, making sure to close the door as gently as possible behind you.

“you called, sir?” namjoon addressed you with a slight nod, and you exhaled softly before making your way over to his desk. “i wanted to talk to you about your behavior in the car earlier.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “i’m not sure what you mean, vice chairman. i told you, i was just exhausted.” “why did you avoid eye contact then? did i do something to make you uncomfortable? was the drive unpleasant?” you shook your head. it’s nothing you did sir, i just didn’t get enough sleep the other night, so i am a bit exhausted. i apologize for the misunderstanding.” namjoon’s light brown eyes narrowed, as if he doubted that you were telling the truth, but merely pressed his lips together and nodded. “that’s all, then.”

you inclined your head in thanks before speed-walking out of his office, not bothering to look back. hoseok looked up from his computer, worry evident on his face, and you managed a small smile, hoping it was reassuring enough to convince him that you alright, and slumped onto your office chair, feeling even more exhausted and defeated than before. “was it bad?” hoseok asked, voice hesitant and soft, as if he were afraid someone might overhear. you shook your head. “he asked me why i was acting so strange earlier.” hoseok’s brows furrowed in confusion. you sighed, explaining how you had purposefully avoided eye contact with namjoon, all because you had been reminded of the time when you tried to talk to him about quitting.

hoseok’s hazel eyes went wide. “you were thinking of quitting? what’d he say?” “nothing at all, which is why i’m always on edge, i’m scared he’s going to bring up the subject again and then i’ll be forced into an awkward conversation with him. again.” hoseok gave you a sympathetic smile. “well, at least he hasn’t fired you yet?” “not helping,” you hissed. “sorry, i just don’t know what to tell you, you really put yourself in quite the situation, huh?”

you groaned. “no need to remind me, i’m very much aware.” “what she’s trying to say is that she’s doomed.” taehyung supplied cheerfully from the other side of the room, earning a glare from hoseok. “tae, shut up and quit being a pain in the ass.” you shot hoseok a grateful look, and he returned it with a soft smile.

though taeyhung had been joking, he was right, in a way. you would now have to avoid every possible circumstance and situation in which you would be forced into having a conversation with namjoon, and as his personal secretary, that would be nearly impossible.

you sighed heavily, feeling your migraine worsen by the second, and buried your face into your hands. work was going to become even more awkward and unbearable, all because you had been so adamant in quitting all those months ago.

you still stood by that, however, quietly filling out applications for other jobs when the vice chairman wasn’t looking over your shoulder, and keeping them in a locked drawer near your desk. the conversation you had with jungkook at the banquet still lingered at the back of your mind, and you kept wondering if deciding to work for his company would be the best decision for you. jungkook was kind, humble, unfailingly polite, and actually let his employees come and go as they pleased.

you knew the work environment would be much better, but your heart always ached at the thought of leaving hoseok and taehyung behind, who were the only friends you had at the company, for they had never thought of you as someone who was trying to sleep with namjoon, unlike the rest of the assholes that occupied the six-story building that overlooked the entirety of seoul. you ignored the ache in your neck and the migraine pounding at your skull and set to work for what seemed like the millionth time that day, all an attempt to distract you.

hoseok yawned softly as he stretched, feeling all the tired muscles in his body pop. “i’m ready for drinks, work has been a pain in my ass all day.” taehyung mumbled, gathering the stuff on his desk and shoving it into a worn leather bag. hoseok hummed his agreement, shrugging on his gray suit jacket and sliding his backpack over his shoulders.

“y/n, are you ready to go?” “mn, i’ll meet you two there, i have some things to finish up for the vice chairman, so you two can go ahead.” taehyung huffed. “seriously? that asshole can’t give you one night to yourself?” you reached out and smacked the former on the arm. “could you be any louder? you’re going to get our asses fired.” taehyung scoffed. “please, i could easily find another job with a decent boss anywhere.” hoseok rolled his eyes, but he knew the former wasn’t lying. taehyung’s father, who happened to be the ceo of a major electronic company in daegu, wouldn’t have to do as much as lift a finger in order to find taehyung another job.

he had many connections within seoul, all of whom were prominent figures, so hoseok doubted that taehyung would have a hard time searching for work elsewhere. hell, the man could even work in switzerland if he wanted, all he had to do as say the word.

“damn these rich people.” you grumbled as you gathered the pile of documents on your desk, placing them in a navy blue folder. “i’ll just run these to him and then we can leave.” and before hoseok or taehyung could respond, you got up and swiftly walked to namjoon’s office, knocking firmly on the door.

as soon as you disappeared inside the office, taehyung sighed. “what’s with you?” “i’m worried.” “about what?” “about y/n. she hasn’t been sleeping or eating properly, and i’m scared that the vice chairman is overworking her again.” hoseok frowned. “speaking of, have you seen her eat anything today?” “besides gulping down a water bottle in less than two seconds, no.”

hoseok pinched the bridge of his nose. “this girl is driving me crazy.” that earned him a slight shove to shoulder, and he glared at taehyung. “what was that for?” “you’re still hung up on her, aren’t you?” hoseok felt his face flush. “s-shut up, i am very much over her.”

during their freshman year of college, hoseok had had a huge crush on you, and had spent the remaining four years helplessly pining, too afraid to make a move. taehyung rolled his eyes. “you know you’re the worst liar in the world, right?”

hoseok huffed. “i am not.” “yes you are, you always go into a state of total denial and your eyes get super wide.” he turned to see you walk out of namjoon’s office, an amused smile tugging at your lips. “whatever, at least i’m honest.” you laughed, quickly organizing the things on your desk before shrugging on a light beige sweater and sliding your purse over your shoulder.

“let’s go!” taehyung cheered as they walked out of the building, cerulean eyes near- glowing as the night greeted them, cool and inviting.

minutes later, you were seated at a table towards the back of your favorite barbeque place, the smell of meat and alcohol filling your senses. you poured yourself another shot of soju and gulped it down, feeling it burn your throat. “ah, i’ve missed this.” taehyung declared, finishing off his own shot of soju, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “missed what? drowning our sorrows in alcohol?” hoseok mumbled as he turned over a piece of meat on the grill. the former rolled his eyes. “if that’s how you want to put it, then yes.” you huffed a laugh, reaching over to grab a pair of tongs, the metal cool against your skin, and went to help hoseok grill the meat.

“y/n, what’s the deal with you and the vice chairman anyway? everyone in the office keeps whispering about you two, as if you’re sleeping with him or something.” out of the corner of your eye, you saw hoseok tense, grip tightening on the pair of tongs he was holding, and tore your gaze away after a few seconds. “nothing is going on between us. he’s the most arrogant and selfish person i’ve ever met, and hardly takes others’ feelings into consideration. his rotten personality ruins his good looks.” the corner of taehyung’s lips curled into a slight smirk.

“oh, so you admit he’s attractive?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. you felt your face flush scarlet, reaching over and smacking taehyung on the shoulder. “shut up.” you hissed, causing the aforementioned male to burst out laughing. “i hate you.” you mumbled, and felt hoseok pat your shoulder sympathetically as taehyung’s cerulean eyes danced with amusement. “aw, love you too, y/n.” “whatever.” you huffed, fighting the urge to smile.

all the stress and fatigue from work seemed to fade into nothingness as you downed shot after shot of soju, not caring if you wouldn’t be able to remember anything the next day, nor the migraine that was inevitable, especially from the amount of alcohol you consumed.

by the time you stumbled out of the bar, arms wrapped around hoseok and taehyung, feeling as if the world was spinning, the streets were filled with the usual late night pedestrians, loud laughter filling the air. luckily, you had been conscious and aware enough to text jungkook, who had become somewhat of an emergency contact everytime you went out drinking with your friends.

sure enough, jungkook’s sleek black sports car pulled up at the curb some ten minutes later, looking almost invisible in the dark of the night. jungkook stepped out, casual in a black leather jacket, loose, white shirt, dark jeans, and chunky boots. his blond hair, which was usually styled to perfection, was messy and windswept, as if he’d ran around the block. jungkook greeted you with a small wave, a fond and exasperated smile tugging at his lips. “did you idiots really go out drinking? and on a work day, no less?” he scolded half-heartedly, chocolate brown eyes glittering with amusement. “no one likes a nag, jeon.” taehyung slurred, eyes nearly fluttering shut as he spoke, dark lashes brushing his sharp cheekbones.

jungkook rolled his eyes, but made sure taehyung didn’t fall flat on his ass on the curb as he helped the very drunken male into his car after making sure that you and hoseok were in safely as well.

you couldn’t help but sigh in content as jungkook lifted you into his arms with ease, the silver bracelets on his wrist clinking with the movement. “thanks for taking me home, i’m sorry you had to drag my drunk ass all the way back here.”

you felt jungkook chuckle softly as he unlocked the door to your small apartment, gently nudging the door open with his foot. “it’s fine, i don’t mind. besides, it’s not as if i have anyone waiting for me at home, despite these looks of mine.” though his tone was light, you couldn’t help but frown, despite your drunken state. “you’ll find someone, kook. any girl would be lucky to have you, you’re one of the sweetest guys i know.” color crept onto jungkook’s cheeks, and a shy smile tugged at his lips. “thanks y/n, you’re the best.” you waved your hand dismissively. “no need to thank me, jungkook.” you muttered, and felt the world go dark as you finally passed out.

you woke the next morning to a pounding headache and the loud ringing of your alarm, which made said headache even worse. groaning, you rolled over and scrambled to turn off your irritating alarm, burying your face in your pillow and exhaling softly. drinking with hoseok and taehyung entailed one of two things: getting insanely drunk and stumbling in the streets, or having to drag said males home.

you didn’t get intoxicated often, as you were usually the designated driver, but when work got too stressful, you tended to let go completely and drown in alcohol. while it wasn’t the best decision, you never regretted it, as doing so made you forget about your asshole of a boss and the veritable mountain of paperwork you had to complete each day.

sighing, you reluctantly got out of bed and trudged towards your bathroom in order to try and get rid of any evidence that you’d been out drinking the previous night. after a quick shower and changing into your usual clothes for work, which consisted of a gray pencil skirt, a white blouse, and a pair of simple nude heels, you headed to your small but cozy kitchen to make a cup of coffee before heading out.

you sat at one of the many stools that occupied one side of your small kitchen island, sipping on your coffee, and letting your mind wander. last night had definitely helped take some of the stress you had been bottling up inside fade away, even if said feeling was temporary. the bitter smell of coffee invaded your senses, and you took one last sip before putting the mug in the sink. it’s going to be a long day, you thought as you headed upstairs to retrieve your bag.

taehyung loosed a sigh as he typed furiously on the expensive desktop that took up a third of his desk, ignoring how his head pounded. “tired much?” hoseok quipped, scanning over a report at his own desk across from him, tone light and teasing. “shut up, you were drunk off your ass last night too, don’t act like you weren’t.” the older male scoffed. “i never said i wasn’t, i just recover faster than you.” “and yet you got tipsy after a single shot.” taehyung shot back. hoseok rolled his eyes, carefully putting the report he’d been reading off to the side. “you can insult me for my low alcohol tolerance later. you should focus, because if the vice chairman sees you slacking off, he’ll be pissed.”

taehyung glared at hoseok, and said male just plastered on a cheerful smile. “have you seen y/n?” the smile on the older male’s face faded a bit. “no, why?” taehyung shrugged. “no reason, i was just wondering if she got home safe.” “i don’t know, i was too drunk to even think of texting her.” hoseok admitted, color staining his cheeks. “i mean, i wasn’t much better.” taehyung chuckled, turning his attention back to the report he’d been typing.

minutes later, you walked in, looking surprisingly refreshed for someone who’d been stumbling in the streets hours prior. “hey losers.” you beamed, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. taehyung and hoseok merely glared in response, which managed to get a soft, fond laugh out of you. “hungover much?” “my head’s been killing me all morning.” taehyung whined, rubbing at his temples. “felt a little dizzy when i woke up, but that’s about it. i guess i didn’t drink as much as i thought. you?” hoseok asked, sifting through a pile of papers.

you hummed thoughtfully. “had a little bit of a headache, but i guess it’s worn off.” suddenly, taehyung and hoseok shot up immediately, bowing their heads. “what’s going-?” “good morning.” you froze. shit, you thought as you stood up, trying not to trip on your feet as you did, inclining your head in greeting. namjoon’s handsome face was expressionless and cold as usual, and he only nodded in acknowledgement as he walked to his office, shutting the door firly behind him.

as soon as he was gone, the three of you practically collapsed into your chairs, breathing sighs of relief. “i swear, that man is scarier than death itself.” taehyung shuddered. hoseok nodded his agreement. “tell me about it, he scares the shit out of me. i swear, my lifespan shortens everyday because of him.” you scoffed. “if that isn’t the understatement of the year.”

namjoon had been trying to go over the final plans for the department store for the past hour, but he couldn’t seem to focus, no matter how hard he tried. to make matters worse, his head and neck were killing him. namjoon groaned and leaned back against his chair, the leather almost comforting against his back. he’d never had days where he couldn’t focus, especially if it regarded work, but they seemed to occur more often nowadays, and would rather give up his entire fortune than admit it.

he sighed, gaze drifting to the massive window that occupied the entirety of the right wall, and felt himself frown. you were laughing about something that jung hoseok, the chief section head had said, eyes crinkling at the corners. he felt a slight surge of anger, and immediately scolded himself for it. stop getting angry at useless things, get it together. namjoon thought, clenching his jaw in frustration. he had never felt any sort of romantic attraction towards you, so why did the sight of you laughing with hoseok frustrate him so much?

you were in the middle of drafting an email to the ceo of a well-renowed phone company in japan when your phone rang, cutting through the seemingly impenetrable silence of the office. cursing under your breath, you answered it, not bothering to check the caller id. “hello?” you said, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible. “y/n?” “jungkook? what’s wrong?” he chuckled. “does there have to be some tragic event going on my life for me to contact you?” you felt your face flush scarlet. “no, i just- you don’t usually contact me.” “fair enough. anyways, are you free? after work, i mean.” “i think so, why?” “could you come by my house later?” he blurted, and you felt your eyes widen in surprise.

“well, that was very abrupt.” you teased. “ah, sorry about that, i didn’t mean to startle you.” jungkook said, tone apologetic. “it’s okay, kook, i was just joking. sure, i’d love to, i’ll head over as soon as work is over.” “great, i’ll send you the address. see you later, y/n.” “see you.” you mumbled, ending the call and tossing your phone back into your bag.

taehyung looked up from his computer, cerulean eyes bright with curiosity. “who was that?” “jungkook, he asked me to come by his house after work.” the corner of his lips curled up in a small smirk, and you felt color rush to your cheeks. “what?” you hissed. taehyung had the audacity to look smug. “nothing , nothing, just happy for you. I mean, you’re going to the house of one of the most eligible bachelors in seoul, that’s all.” “taehyung, how many times do i need to say that i’m not looking to date right now?” said male pouted. “y/n, you’ve been single for six years now! isn’t it about time that you start looking for love?” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “tae, i know you mean well, but i just don’t feel like i can handle a relationship right now, especially with work constantly holding me down.” “i’m sorry, y/n, i shouldn’t have said anything.” you shook your head. “it’s fine, tae, really. besides, you are right about me being pathetically single for nearly five years now.” you joked, turning back to your computer, trying to focus on the email you’d been drafting for hours.

“jungkook is a great guy, and i would’ve considered dating him, but he just got out of a relationship a month ago, so it wouldn’t be fair to him if I pursued him romantically.” you added, sighing in relief when you finally sent the email, falling back against the soft leather of your office chair.

“fair enough, besides, he’s got a lot going on right now, with the company and all.” hoseok interjected, flipping through a file. taehyung scoffed. “please, if jungkook has enough time to pick our drunk asses up from the sidewalk, then he can date whenever he wants. he just chooses not to.” you rolled your eyes at their incessant bickering, and start to sort through the pile of papers on your desk.

you waved goodbye to hoseok and taehyung as you walked out, the cool night air washing over you. a small smile tugged at your lips as you jungkook leaning against his car, scrolling through his phone, the light emitting from the device illuminating his handsome features.

“jungkook!” you called, causing jungkook to look up, and within seconds, a bright smile etched his features. “y/n!” “you didn’t have to pick me up, you know. i could’ve taken a taxi.” “it’s late, and i figured it wouldn’t be safe for you to be out alone.” he mumbled, color flushing across his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but laugh fondly at the sight. jeon jungkook, one of the most influential figures in seoul, was blushing. “you’re the sweetest, kook, seriously.” you said bemusedly, reaching out and ruffling his hair affectionately.

“chivalry isn’t dead after all, huh?” you teased as jungkook immediately opened the passenger door for you before you could, and that adorable blush colored his cheeks once again, and you smiled. “thank you, kook. you put other men to shame.” “i-i’m flattered, but i’m really not that g-great of a guy.” “jeon jungkook, you are one of the sweetest and most respectful guys i have ever met, and don’t you dare think otherwise.” you reprimanded gently, and jungkook’s eyes widened, and you couldn’t help but think of a deer caught in headlights.

“thank you?” you laughed, feeling the stress from work fade away as you climbed into the car, shutting the door gently, jungkook following suit. the ride to jungkook’s house was a comfortable one, and you enjoyed the soft pop music that played in the background while you talked to him about how work was stressing you out, and just how much of a piece of shit namjoon was.

jungkook frowned when you brought up namjoon, eyebrows furrowing with worry. “are you sure you still want to work for him? the offer i gave you at that banquet still stands.” you sighed, leaning back against the expensive leather of your seat. “i know, and i would love to work with you, but hoseok and taehyung are there, and i don’t know if i can just leave them behind so suddenly.” jungkook hummed thoughtfully. “yeah, that’s fair. if i was working with you or any of my friends, i wouldn’t want to leave either.”

hoseok sat slumped on taehyung’s couch, the latter sprawled out next to him, eyes fixed on the huge flat screen in front of them. a movie had been playing for the last hour or so, but hoseok hadn’t been paying any attention to it. all he could think about was driving over to jungkook’s house and seeing just what the hell he had called you over for. not that he didn’t trust jungkook.

hoseok knew that jungkook would never hurt or harm you in any way, and he also knew that you would probably kick his ass if he tried anything. he sighed deeply, which caused taehyung’s gaze to shift over to him, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “you okay?” hoseok shook his head, and the former sighed. “it’s about y/n, isn’t it?”

hoseok exhaled softly. “yeah, how’d you know?” taehyung scoffed. “we’ve known each other since high school, i can read you like a book. so, what’s wrong?” “honestly? i’m not sure.”

“are you jealous that jungkook invited y/n to his house something?” he slumped farther on the couch in defeat. “maybe.” he mumbled, shifting his gaze towards the tv, not wanting to see the smug look on taehyung’s face.

“hyung, look, i know that i’ve told you this a million times already, but you can’t keep pining after her from afar. you might as well just confess, you know, get it out of your system. i mean, you’ve had a crush on her since college, and you never told her how you felt. don’t you think it’s time to do that?” taehyung suggested, voice gentle. hoseok sighed in defeat, as he knew that his friend was right. he needed to stop pining after someone who would never reciprocate his feelings.

you were sprawled out on the massive couch that took up one side of jungkook’s spacious living room, a bowl of popcorn in your lap. jungkook was next to you, looking impossibly soft in an oversized black hoodie and sweatpants, digging into a cup of ttteokboki, doe eyes fixed on the massive flat screen, which was currently playing kimi no wa, a japanese animated film you adored. “how’d you know i love this movie?” you asked. out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the blush that crept up jungkook’s cheeks, and smiled.

“taehyung may have emailed me an entire list of all your favorite things when he was drunk.” jungkook mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. you shook your head, laughing softly. i’m so going to kick taehyung’s ass later if he told you any of my deepest, darkest secrets.” jungkook grinned, chocolate brown eyes twinkling with mirth.

“why, do you have any secrets i should know about?” he asked, voice light and teasing, raising a perfect eyebrow in question. “you’ll have to find that out for yourself, jeon.” you winked, and jungkook laughed, practically falling back against the couch.

“i’’m glad we got to do this.” jungkook beamed, the smile on his face growing impossibly larger. “me too, it feels like old times.” you agreed. when you were in high school, you and jungkook would sneak out to each other’s houses and binge watch movies all night, forgetting about any responsibilities. “also, it’s jimin’s birthday this weekend, and i was wondering if you would want to go.” you smiled. “of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“you can bring hoseok and taehyung with you, i’m sure jimin would love it if they attended.” “i’ll let them know. and thank you for the invite, kook.” said male shrugged. “well, as i am the one who’s in charge of organizing the whole thing, it seems fit that i would make sure my friends are there.”

you smiled, giving his shoulder a slight nudge. “you’re the best, kook.” said male returned your grin tenfold, the soft glow from the tv casting shadows on his sharp cheekbones.

“cat got your tongue?” yoongi asked, as he took a sip from his glass of red wine. namjoon didn’t bother to respond, just glared at him in return, and the asshole just smirked. min yoongi was the president of his company, and also happened to be one of his only friends. “seriously, joon, what’s going on? i haven’t seen you this pissed off since freshman year in college when some moron tried to pick a fight with you.” namjoon sighed, swirling the red wine in his glass. “it’s my secretary.” yoongi raised a dark eyebrow in question. “what about her?” “a month ago, she told me she wanted to quit.” yoongi blinked, the only sign that he was the least bit shocked. “i’m sorry, she what?”

namjoon sighed, draining the rest of his wine and setting the glass on the table in front of him. “it also took me by surprise when she told me. at first, i figured it’s because her salary wasn’t enough or that the workload was overwhelming, but now, i’m not so sure.”

yoongi hummed thoughtfully. “maybe she’s finally gotten tired of you, i mean, she’s worked for you for what, nine years?” namjoon looked at his longtime friend in disbelief. “are you trying to help me or irritate me?” the former held up his hands in mock surrender. “it’s just an assumption, no need to get pissy about it. don’t worry, you’ll figure something out, you always do.” yoongi reassured him, and namjoon just sighed in response and poured himself another glass of wine.

you woke up to unfamiliar surroundings, slowly sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. well, for starters, you were lying in what was the comfiest bed known to man, with navy blue sheets that were velvet soft, and the rest of the room was significantly bigger than your entire apartment complex, and probably cost more than your entire life savings.

the next thing that registered in your brain was that you were wearing nothing but a light gray sweater so large that it was practically a dress on you and came up to about mid-thigh, leaving your bare legs on display. you blushed at the realization that you were probably wearing jungkook’s clothes, and quietly slipped out of bed, making your way downstairs.

you padded to the kitchen, which had a modern but chic style, and found jungkook standing at the stove, making pancakes, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hung low on his hips, humming softly. you felt your face burn at the sight of jungkook’s bare torso on full display, and tore your gaze away. “m-morning.” you stammered, and mentally slapped yourself for sounding so flustered. jungkook looked up, his handsome face breaking out into a smile that you’d seen countless times, but the sight was still heart-wrenching.

“morning, did you sleep well? i hope you don’t mind that i’m making pancakes.” jungkook beamed, waving the spatula in his right hand enthusiastically. “i did, the bed was very comfortable, felt like sleeping on a cloud.” the blond male chuckled as he flipped over a pancake. “glad you liked it, the sheets were a gift, by the way.” “oh, from who?” you asked, sitting down on one of the stools that occupied the large kitchen island.

“my mom. she gave them to me before i left for college, thinking that i would need the most expensive sheets for my dorm.” jungkook went on, laughing amusedly. “at least she gave you something before you left, my mom was so eager to finally be able to kick me out.” you mumbled. “well, if it makes you feel any better, my dad was the same way.” jungkook said sparingly as he placed a plate full of pancakes down on the counter.

you couldn’t help but stare at his toned torso and the tattoos that covered the entirety of his right arm, a colorful array of words and drawings. “y/n?” jungkook asked, snapping you out of your trance, and you felt color rush to your cheeks as you avoided his gaze, focusing on the plate of fluffy pancakes in front of you.

you heard jungkook chuckle in amusement as he settled down on the stool in front of you, reaching for an empty plate, the silver bracelets on his wrist clinking with the movement. “c-can you put on a shirt or something?” you muttered as he handed you a plate with two pancakes on it. the amused smirk on his face made you want to punch him as he shook his head. “it’s hot, and i sweat easily.” before you could protest, he gestured towards your plate of pancakes. “eat it before it gets cold.” he grinned, and you just glared at him before digging into your breakfast.

taehyung hummed softly to himself as he typed up an email to send to his fellow team member. out of the corner of his eye, he saw you make a beeline for your desk. “y/n?” he called, and you froze in your tracks, like a deer in headlights. “are you alright?” he asked, fighting back the laugh that was threatening to burst out of him at your startled expression. “i’m fine, just tired.” hoseok raised an amused eyebrow as he stacked a pile of papers together.

“how was your date with jungkook?” taehyung asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. you rolled your eyes and shot him a half-hearted glare. “first of all, it was great, and second, it wasn’t a date.” you mumbled, plopping down on your office chair, sighing. hoseok scoffed. “you really expect us to believe that jungkook inviting you over to his house wasn’t a date?”

taehyung bit back a laugh at your baffled expression. “uh, yes?” hoseok rolled his eyes. “please, that guy definitely wants you.” you glared at him. “jung hoseok if you don’t cut that out i wil strangle you.” said male just grinned. “kinky.” you groaned and threw your hands up in exasperation. “i can’t believe i’m friends with you morons.” taehyung chuckled. “but you love these morons.” you shook your head. “sure, keep telling yourselves that.”

“all jokes aside, did you get home safe?” taehyung questioned, and hid a smirk at the blush that colored your cheeks. “i-i might’ve spent the night.” out of the corner of his eye, he noticed hoseok tense, as if he was bracing himself for the worst. taehyung thought nothing of it, though. “oh, i see. so, what happened?” your face flushed scarlet at his suggestive tone. “nothing happened you pervert, we watched a movie, i fell asleep and he carried me to one of the guest rooms. that’s all.” taehyung huffed. “seriously?” you threw your hands up in frustration. “i told you nothing happened! now, can we please drop this and start working before our boss yells us at us?” you hissed, and taehyung rolled his eyes. “fine.” he mumbled, turning back to his email.

namjoon tried not to roll his eyes at the blubbering employee trying to discuss further plans for the department store. the meeting had dragged on longer than he’d liked it to, and so far, namjoon had felt that it was a waste of his time. everyone attending,he noted, were beginning to nod off in their seats, and for once, namjoon couldn’t blame them. if he didn’t have a reputation to uphold, he’d probably be dozing off in this bore of a meeting as well.

thankfully, the employee finally finished their rambling, and namjoon sighed. “i think that’s enough for today, you’re all dismissed.” he announced , and turned to walk out before anyone could say anything. yoongi, who looked as if he was going to doze off at any second, followed suit, as if he couldn’t wait stand to be around them for much longer.

“that meeting was a fucking disaster.” yoongi grumbled. “that’s the biggest fucking understatement of the century.” namjoon agreed, fighting back an amused laugh. “i have never wanted to pull my own hair out more than when i decided to attend that pointless meeting.” yoongi lamented, letting out a tired sigh. “tell me about it, that moron didn’t know what he was talking about.” namjoon grumbled, inclining his head in greeting at the employee who greeted him with a polite smile as he walked to his office.

“i’ll see you later, joon, my secretary’s calling, he’s dropping off some documents i need to look at.” namjoon nodded as yoongi gave him a slight wave before turning around and disappeared down the hall. the former sighed and stepped inside his office, already dreading the amount of paperwork he needed to look over and approve.

hoseok sighed, taking the file from the blushing mess of the girl before him, who had approached him with the most obnoxious smile he’d ever seen. “can i help you?” hoseok asked nonchalantly, opening the file he’d been handed, feigning interest in the papers inside. “i-i was wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me?” she asked, voice lilting, and hoseok groaned inwardly.

“i’m flattered, but i have a girlfriend.” the lie slipped easily off his tongue, and hoseok ignored the uneasiness that pooled in his stomach and gave the girl a polite smile. said girl looked a bit embarrassed, cheeks flushing red, mumbled something under her breath that hoseok couldn’t quite catch, and walked away, heels clicking on the smooth tiled floor.

hoseok loosed a breath and leaned back in his office chair, feeling even more exhausted than he had that morning.

you took a deep breath to soothe your nerves as you knocked softly on namjoon’s office door, ignoring the way your palms were getting clammy. you had no idea why you were so nervous, you had gone into namjoon’s office many times. maybe it was because you were going to attempt to talk to him about that conversation a month ago. after thinking it over, you knew that there was no point in avoiding the subject forever, and knew that the memory of the conversation would probably eat you up inside.

the firm “come in” could barely be heard through the thick wood of the door, but just loud enough for you to hear, and you stepped inside, steeling yourself for what was about to happen. namjoon sat at his desk, which took up little space , considering how spacious the office was, typing away at the large desktop. you envied how calm and collected he seemed, even after several hours of work.

“is there something i can help you with?” namjoon mumbled, not bothering to make eye contact with you, the soft clicking of his keyboard practically echoing in the large room. “i-i wanted to discuss something with you.” you blurted, and felt your cheeks grow hot at how blunt you sounded. “well, as you can see, i’m quite occupied at the moment, can it wait?” namjoon sounded bored, dismissive almost, and you fought the urge to leap across the room and deck him in the jaw.

“i’m afraid it can’t, its urgent.” you said, swallowing down your annoyance. namjoon sighed, clicked a few keys on his computer, and finally looked up at you. “out with it, then.” he muttered, leaning back in his chair.

“do you recall the conversation we had almost a month ago, after the banquet?” namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “vaguely, why?” “well, i wanted to talk to you about what i said.” “regarding?” he asked, drumming his slender fingers on the smooth wood of his desk.

“my working here.” namjoon raised an eyebrow, as if daring for you to elaborate, and you would’ve liked nothing more than to punch him in his irratingly handsome face. “i know that i said i wanted to quit-” “get out.” namjoon’s cold and icy tone cut you off abruptly, making you jump back in shock. “i-” you started, but the cold stare namjoon was giving you told you that it was better if you just did what he said.

you mumbled an apology and practically ran out of the room, stomach churning with anger and pure annoyance. you must’ve looked furious, because as soon you reached your desk, hoseok’s hazel eyes were wide. “what?” you hissed, immediately regretting it as the former flinched, as if you had slapped him.

“judging by the fact that you look as if you’re going to snap my neck, the conversation with our boss didn’t go well?” hoseok inquired, raising an eyebrow, and you sighed, practically collapsing onto your chair, managing a weak nod. “he was such an asshole about it, too.” taehyung, who had been not so subtly eavesdropping on your conversation, scoffed. “what did you expect? our boss may be successful, but he’s always been a complete prick.”

you huffed a laugh. “and how would you know that, tae?” aforementioned male shrugged. “my dad’s been in meetings with him before, and his opinion on our beloved boss is quite negative.”

“well, i now know that your dad’s opinion is quite accurate. he really just told me to the get the hell out of his office.” you seethed. “jungkook’s job offer doesn’t seem too bad after all.” you mumbled, and taehyung and hoseok’s eyes went wide. “he offered you a job?” hoseok asked, stunned.

you nodded. “yeah, he actually brought it up during that banquet i attended last month, and i told him i would consider it. and, at first, that was a lie, because i thought, working here isn’t all bad, but after the confrontation i had with that asshole today, well, maybe i should just take jungkook up on his offer.”

“so, you’re really leaving us?” taehyung asked sadly, and your heart ached. “not yet, i’m planning on staying here for just a few more months, and then i’ll leave. besides, it’ll give me a chance to spend time with you losers before i transfer.” at that, taehyung’s expression brightened, his usual boxy smile tugging at his lips. “be prepared to spend every waking minute of every hour with us.” said male singsonged, cerulean eyes twinkling with mirth.

hoseok rolled his eyes half-heartedly and started to rearrange the things on his desk, humming softly to himself. “so, with that being said, are you two up to watch a movie tonight at my apartment? you know, just like old times?” you suggested, and felt a smile tugging at your lips when taehyung and hoseok nodded, their expressions eager.

jungkook sat at his desk, absentmindedly twirling a pen between his fingers as jimin, his clumsy but ever loyal secretary, rattled off his schedule for the next few weeks. he was only half-listening, as another part of his mind was wandering off. “sir? are you even listening to me?” jimin asked, and jungkook hid an amused smile at the slight whine in his voice. “sorry, mr. park, i lost focus for a second.” he teased, and his secretary just rolled his eyes in response.

“first, are you sure you’re alright? you’ve been spacing out all day. second, how many times do i need to tell you that i hate being called mr. park. you wound me, sir, i had thought we were close enough to drop the formalities.” he huffed, and jungkook couldn’t help the soft laugh that rose out of him. “i’m alright, just exhausted. and sorry, it’s a habit.”

jimin sighed in defeat, pushing his glasses up with an index finger. “alright, well, if you don’t need anything, i’ll leave you to do whatever it was you were doing before i came in here.” “wait, jimin?” “yes?” his secretary asked, looking over his shoulder. “can you send an email to y/n for me?” jimin raised an eyebrow. “kim namjoon’s secretary? why?”

jungkook’s face grew hot at the knowing smirk that was curling at the corners of jimin’s mouth. “i-i need to meet with her today. it’s important.” and before jungkook could insist that there was no romantic intentions involved, jimin just nodded, that stupid smirk still on his face, and walked out of his office, closing the door gently behind him. jungkook groaned and buried his face in his hands. he had a lot of explaining to do later.

your eyes widened in surprise when you saw that jimin had emailed you. curious, you clicked on the email and scanned over it.

good morning, miss y/n. this is secretary park, from golden closet inc. i just wanted to inform you that my boss, jeon jungkook, wants to meet with you today if you have some time to spare. please let me know as soon as possible.

p.s. jungkook’s a coward because he had to ask me to email you instead of texting you, you know, like a normal person.

you laughed at the formality and the added message at the end, and began to type out a reply.

good morning, secretary park. i have some time to meet with your boss today, specifically around 10:30 or so. thank you for letting me know!

p.s. jungkook’s always been a coward

you bit back a smile as you hit send, leaning back in your chair. “did you find hoseok’s middle school photo again? that always makes me laugh.” taehyung asked as he got up to make copies of a document. hoseok, who was making himself a cup of coffee on the other side of the room, turned to glare at said male. “do you ever just shut up?” he hissed. taehyung’s answering grin was anything but apologetic. “nope.” hoseok just rolled his eyes and mumbled something under his breath that none of you could quite catch, and walked back to his desk, coffee mug in hand.

jungkook rocked back and forth nervously on his heels, ignoring the blatant stares from the employees at the sight of their ceo in the company cafe, of which he seldom went to. he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous, for this wasn’t the first time you were meeting him outside of work. jungkook sighed and pulled out his phone, turning it on and scrolling absentmindedly through instagram, in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

suddenly, a quiet hush filled the air, and jungkook looked up to see you walking towards him, radiant in a gray pencil skirt and a pale purple blouse that tied at the front, pearl white heels clicking on the smooth tiled floor. jungkook ignored the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, and plastered a bright smile on his face, hoping you couldn’t tell that he was a nervous wreck.

“hey, jungkook, why’d you want to meet up? not that i mind of course, any opportunity to get away from work is a blessing in disguise.” you beamed, and jungkook huffed a laugh.

“i’m going to have to report you to your boss and tell him that his secretary is slacking off.” he teased, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “please, his ego is too inflated for him to even notice that i’m gone. besides, we had a disagreement today, so i doubt he even wants me around right now.” what’d you fight about? jungkook wanted to ask, but decided that it was none of his business, and you seemed like you didn’t want to talk about it anyway. “should we go?” jungkook asked, offering his arm for you to take.

you smiled, and hooked your arm through his. “lead the way, jeon.” jungkook rolled his eyes at the use of his last name, which caused a laugh to rise out of you. “what?” “you’re the worst, you know that?” your smile only grew. “but you love me anyway.” you singsonged, eyes twinkling with mirth, and jungkook sighed.

“why is everyone staring at us?” you asked, voice dropping to a low whisper, and jungkook shrugged. “beats me, i guess it’s because it’s not every day they see the ceo of their company just hanging around the company cafe.” you laughed softly. “i see.”

a blushing girl with bright, pink hair shyly walked up to you, head dipping in greeting. “h-hi, i was wondering if you’re dating him?” she asked, and before jungkook could politely tell her no, you cut in. “i’m not, don’t worry. but, if we were, wouldn’t we make a good couple?” you winked, and the pink haired girl’s blush deepened as she managed a small nod.

you beamed. “thank you.” and with a small wave, you tugged on jungkook’s arm and practically dragged him away. “what was that about?” jungkook asked once they were out of earshot. “you looked uncomfortable, so i decided to be nice and spare you the awkward conversation.” jungkook chuckled. “thanks, i guess.” “don’t mention it, it’s the least i can do after you’ve had to drop my drunk ass off at home countless times.” “do you really think we’d make a good couple?” jungkook teased, and bit back a laugh at the way you blushed profusely. “no comment.” you mumbled, and jungkook smiled as he was led to the elevators.

jimin looked up from the pile of paperwork he’d been sorting through, and saw jungkook walk out of the elevator in the hall that led to the office, arm in arm with you. he noticed that jungkook was looking at you with an expression on his face that he’d ever seen before, and hid a smirk.

he looked utterly fond and smitten, and jimin couldn’t wait to tease jungkook about it later. jimin plastered a casual expression on his face as you stepped inside the office, jungkook not too far behind. jimin inclined his head in greeting, and you smiled, waving.

“jimin! it’s so nice to see you!” you exclaimed, and jimin couldn’t help but smile back. “hi y/n, it’s good to see you too. how’ve you been?” “ah, well, work’s been keeping me busy, as usual. what about you? jungkook being a pain in the ass?” you teased, eyes twinkling with mirth. jimin snickered. “you know it.”

“i’m right here, you know!” jungkook huffed, nearly whining like a petulant child, and you laughed, reaching out and ruffling his hair affectionately. “sorry, kook, you’re just so fun to tease.” said male rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, whatever you say.”

with that, jungkook turned and walked to his office, and you and jimin watched as he left, giggling softly to yourselves. “he’s really petty, huh?” jimin remarked, though his tone was fond.

you scoffed. “that’s an understatement. jungkook may be one of the most famous figures in korea, but he’s still a big baby trapped in a grown man’s body.”

“anyways, i should get going before the baby throws a tantrum. see you later, jimin, and let me know when you can have lunch with me so that we can catch up on things.” jimin smiled. “i’d love to.” “great! i’ll let you when and where, obviously. it was nice to see you!” you beamed, matching his smile with a grin of your own.

jimin watched as you bid him goodbye and walked to jungkook’s office, unaware of all the envious eyes of the female employees that were watching. he rolled his eyes at what they were probably thinking. they probably assumed that you were a golddigger or simply someone who had been successful in flirting with one of the most prominent figures in seoul.

jimin scoffed and glared at the crowd of female employees that had gathered near the door of jungkook’s office. “ladies, if you all have time to eavesdrop and wait for something that’s never going to happen, then you can get back to work. now.” he snapped, and almost immediately, they all scrambled back to their desks, mumbling apologies under their breath.

jimin rolled his eyes and turned back to the veritable mountain of papers on his desk, sighing. here’s to another late night, he thought glumly.

“wow, i guess being a rich ceo does have its perks. this office is gorgeous.” you gushed, taking note of the large glass desk, the couch that took up a third of the space, and the bookshelf that was lined with all kinds of novels, from classics to science fiction. “i didn’t know you were a fan of classics, jeon.” you joked, and hid a smirk at the color that stained jungkook’s cheeks.

“you never asked.” he muttered, and plopped down on the chair at his desk, sighing. you huffed a laugh and sat down on the couch, leaning back against the pristine leather.

“so, why did you want to meet with me today? you usually never call me during work hours. is something wrong?” you asked hesitantly, for you were a little nervous of what his answer would be. “i’m not sure, honestly. i guess i just wanted to see you.” he mumbled, color staining his cheeks once again, and you smiled amusedly. “aw, did you really miss me that much?” you joked, and jungkook’s blush deepened. “s-shut up.”

“but all jokes aside, i’m glad you called me out of work. my morning has been shitty.” at that, jungkook straightened up in his chair a bit, concern flashing across his face. “why? what happened?” you sighed, feeling defeated and exhausted. “my boss happened.” “what did that asshole do this time?” he asked, and you nearly flinched at the uncharacteristic coldness in jungkook’s voice. “well, i tried to have a civilized conversation with him over the conversation i had we had over a month ago, and he practically dismissed me immediately and told me to get the hell out of his office. i mean, he could’ve just said outright that me talking to him was going to be a waste of his time.” you laughed bitterly, feeling your face grow hot.

suddenly, you felt yourself being pulled into a warm embrace and you practically melted into jungkook’s arms, feeling your body go pliant as he held you, rubbing comforting circles on your back as you sobbed softly. “i feel so pathetic for crying over him and for not having the courage to speak up for fear of losing my job. my mom-” you blubbered, burying your face into jungkook’s firm chest and bunching the fabric of his expensive suit in your hands.

jungkook didn’t seem to mind that you were potentially wrinkling it, as he just shushed you and held you tighter. “it’s ok, y/n. and you’re not pathetic, not in any sense of the word. none of what happened is your fault.” he whispered, and you nodded, loosening your grip on jungkook’s expensive suit jacket, but didn’t pull away. jungkook’s heart ached as he listened to your soft sobs and held you as if the world was ending.

thirty minutes later, you were wrapped in a warm blanket and a warm cup of coffee was being pressed into your hand, and you managed to shoot jungkook a grateful smile as said male sat next to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “i’m sorry for just breaking down like that, i don’t know what came over me.” you blurted, and he shook his head. “don’t apologize, you must’ve been shaken after what happened.” “still, i-” jungkook cut you off with a look that said ”if you don’t stop apologizing, i’m going to be pissed” and you immediately shut up.

“seriously though, thanks for comforting me.” jungkook smiled. “of course, i’m always here for you, you know that, so don’t hesitate to call me.” “thanks kook, you’re the best.” you said appreciatively, and jungkook’s grin widened, color dusting his cheekbones.

jimin smiled at the sweet sight of you asleep on jungkook’s shoulder, and quickly sent an email to hoseok and taehyung to let them know that their friend was okay, but would probably be taking the rest of the day off, and leaned back on his chair. “everything alright?” a voice asked, and jimin jumped in surprise as he saw jin standing in front of him. “how long were you standing there?” said male shrugged nonchalantly. “not long.” he said, tone casual, and jimin fought the urge to roll his eyes at the blatant lie. “to answer your question, everything’s fine, jungkook wanted to meet with a friend of his, that’s all.” jin’s light brown eyes narrowed in suspicion. “what?” he asked, quite bluntly at that, and jimin mentally winced at how bitchy he sounded.

“nothing, it’s just that i’m not sure if you’re lying to me or not.” “lying about what?” jimin asked, mind wracking for lies he could tell to protect you and jungkook. “are jungkook and that girl dating? they seem awfully close.” “they’re just friends from what jungkook told me. and why does that matter, anyway?” his tone must’ve been a bit too defensive, because jin raised his hands in mock surrender. “calm down, i’m not going to go to the press if that’s what you’re worried about. i may be obnoxious, but i’m not stupid.” jimin sighed in relief and ran a hand through his messy hair. “sorry, i didn’t mean to get all defensive.” jin waved off his apology. “it’s fine, i’m not going to press charges or anything.” he laughed, and jimin rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, now stop bothering me.” jin scoffed. “please, you know that you enjoy my company, everyone does.” and with an overexaggerated wink, he walked away, humming softly to himself.

jimin smiled fondly, shaking his head in mock exasperation, and went about sorting through the files on his desk. suddenly, a quiet hush fell over the office, and jimin frowned as he looked up to see what had everyone so silent. he froze once he saw what, or rather, who it was that caused everyone to shut up. kim namjoon, the vice chairman of kim holdings, was standing at the entryway of the office, and he looked furious. shit, this isn’t good. jimin thought, a shudder of fear coursing through him as he practically scrambled off his chair and went to greet namjoon.

“h-hi, sir, what brings you to the office at this hour?” he asked, plastering on what he hoped was a friendly smile, and namjoon just glared at him, light brown eyes glimmering with pure annoyance and anger. “where is she?” “who are you referring to, sir?” the former just chuckled darkly. “don’t bullshit me park, you know exactly who i’m talking about. where the hell is my secretary?” before jimin could reply, he heard a small voice say ”vice chairman? what are you doing here?” he froze at the sound of your voice, which was slightly hoarse, and jimin mentally winced as he realized that you’d been crying.

before he could say or do anything to prevent a scene from breaking out, namjoon had already stormed over to you, grabbed your wrist, and started to drag you out of the office. “ let me go!” you exclaimed, eyes filling with tears, and jimin’s heart broke at the sight.

“hey! asshole! she told you to let go, are you deaf or something?!” jungkook yelled, and the expression on his face was one that jimin had never seen before, one of pure fury and hatred. “i don’t remember asking you to interfere, jeon. this is a matter between my secretary and i. now, run along and leave us be.” namjoon leered, and turned to walk away, and before jimin could even blink, jungkook had leapt forward and grabbed ahold of your wrist. “i said, let her go, you prick.” he hissed, chocolate brown eyes glittering with malice.

namjoon was unfazed as he laughed patronizingly. “what are you going to do about it, jeon? call your dad and make him press charges against me?” he taunted, and in a flash, the older of the two fell onto the floor, grunting in pain, grip loosening on your wrist, and you immediately ran over to jungkook, throwing your arms around his neck and sobbing.

jungkook returned the embrace, but glared at the tall male sprawled out on the tiled floor, pinching his now bloody nose, dark eyes gleaming. “get the fuck out of my company, you’re not ever welcome here.” namjoon clenched his jaw in anger and looked like he’d rather strangle jungkook for giving him a direct order as if he was his boss, but just slowly stood up, turned, and stormed out.

jimin ran over to you and jungkook, unsure of what to do, hands hovering in the air awkwardly. “a-are you two okay?” “i’m fine, but she’s not.” jungkook breathed, scooping you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. “i’m going to drop her off at her house and make sure she’s okay. if i’m not back in an hour, tell everyone to go home.” jimin barely managed a nod before jungkook walked out of the office with you in his arms, and he felt the tension in the air loosen a bit, and jimin let out a long, shaky breath. he wasn’t sure what he had just witnessed, but jimin knew that things weren’t going to be the same after today.

you sat pale-faced on your couch, tucked into jungkook’s side, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “i’m so sorry you had to witness that.” he mumbled tone apologetic, and you shook your head. “it was shocking, to say the least, but not unexpected. i mean, he’s always been like that.” “like what? a complete asshole?” you let out a soft laugh, despite your current state. “yeah, that, but he’s always been weirdly protective of me, in his own way.” jungkook scoffed. “yeah, if you count forcibly dragging you out of my company protective.”

“yeah, we’ve always had a weird relationship, i guess.” you murmured, snuggling deeper into jungkook’s side, resting your head on his shoulder. “do you mind if i take a little nap? i’m a little exhausted from today.” jungkook shook his head. “no, i don’t mind, go ahead.” his pulse quickened at the small, grateful smile you gave him before closing your eyes. “ok, but don’t blame me if your shoulder hurts later.” you laughed, and a few seconds later, you were fast asleep, and jungkook finally allowed himself a small smile.

you woke to a worried hoseok and taehyung, who immediately pulled you into a hug. “we were so worried! don’t you fucking dare do this to us again! you nearly gave us a heart attack!” taehyung scolded half-heartedly, while hoseok nodded in agreement. “i’m sorry, i didn’t have a chance to call you.” you apologized, and said males just ruffled your hair affectionately.

“it’s ok, y/n, just don’t do anything like that again because if you do, we will have no choice but to stalk you.” taehyung declared, and hoseok rolled his eyes. “can you be serious for one day in your life?” the former shook his head. “nope, it’s not in my vocabulary.”

hoseok ignored him. “so, what happened, exactly? we tried to ask jungkook, but he said that we should hear that from you.” at the mention of jungkook’s name, you perked up. “jungkook? where is he?” you asked, looking around for said male, and hoseok handed you a folded piece of paper. “he told us to give you this once you were awake.”

you carefully unfolded the paper, and saw that it was a note to you, written in jungkook’s elegant but slanted scrawl.

hey sleepyhead, if you’re reading this, you’re probably awake by now, which means that i have gone home. i’m sorry i didn’t leave without saying goodbye, but i felt like you needed to be alone for today. and besides, i can’t leave jimin alone for very long, or he’ll start freaking out, you know how he is. i texted hoseok and taehyung, and they’ll be here to look after you later. don’t hesitate to text me if you need anything. please take care of yourself for me, ok?

jungkook

sighing, you folded the letter and placed it on the coffee table. “well, jungkook had jimin email me that he wanted to see me, and so i did. then, a few hours passed and then he showed up.” “who showed up?” taehyung asked, cerulean eyes glimmering with curiosity.

“the vice chairman showed up, tried to drag me out of the company, and then he and jungkook started arguing, and then the next thing i knew, jungkook was hugging me and our boss had a bloody nose.” taehyung and hoseok’s eyes widened. “jungkook punched him?” they asked in disbelief, and you nodded, wincing at the memory. “he did, and then told our boss to the get the fuck out of his company.” taehyung let out a low whistle. “damn, jungkook’s got guts.”

“more like a death wish. if everyone weren’t so afraid of our boss, there’d probably be a video of him getting beat up on the internet right now.” hoseok mumbled, tone grave. “well, i’m just glad that no one got seriously hurt. who knows what our boss would’ve done if there weren’t any witnesses.” you shuddered, and taehyung shot you a sympathetic look.

“how the hell am i going to show my face at work? the vice chairman was so pissed when he saw me, and i can’t imagine what he’s going to say if i continue to show up at work. i mean, i’m his secretary for fucks sake, i can’t just avoid him!” you groaned, burying your face into taehyung’s shoulder, and said male patted your head, as if in comfort.

“well, on the bright side, he hasn’t fired you yet.” taehyung chirped, and you smacked his shoulder gently. “cut that out!” hoseok reprimanded, and the former just pouted and started to rub comforting circles on your back.

“you could call in sick?” hoseok suggested, but you shook your head. “there’s no way he’d believe that. i’ve never called in sick in the nine years i’ve worked for the guy, and not once have i ever taken a sick leave.” “maybe you should?” taehyung interjected. “i mean, this could be the perfect opportunity to finally get some rest.” hoseok nodded. “i agree with tae, you haven’t gotten proper sleep in months, so you could really use this time to relax and try to get your mind off work.” you hesitated. i don’t know, i mean, where would i even go? i can’t just crash anywhere here, the vice chairman will know immediately.” hoseok threw his hands up in exasperation. “seriously? what is with this guy and his stalker-like ways of keeping tabs on you?”

“do you know anyone who would be willing to let you stay at their place for a while? i mean, hoseok hyung and i would be happy to let you stay with us, but that’d probably the first place that the vice chairman would check, he knows you’re friends with us.” before hoseok could voice his agreement, you held up a hand, stopping him from doing so. “look, guys, i appreciate you two trying to find a way to wipe me off the face of the planet, but if i run away, won’t that show that i’m a coward? i know that working there from now on won’t be easy, but i don’t want him to think that i’m someone who runs away when things turn upside down.”

taehyung let out a dramatic wail and buried his face in the crook of your neck.“ you’re so brave!” he fake sobbed, and you laughed, patting his back gently, and hoseok looked on with a fond yet exasperated smile on his face.

jungkook braced himself before knocking firmly on namjoon’s office door, ignoring the voice in the back of his mind that was screaming at him to run away. he felt shitty for lying to you about his whereabouts, but what namjoon had done was a new low, and jungkook knew that he wouldn’t be able to forget it until he properly confronted said male about it.

when he heard the authortative “come in”, jungkook wasted no time in swinging the door open and slamming it behind him. namjoon looked up from the files he’d been scanning over, and almost immediately, a look of pure annoyance flashed across his face, and jungkook resisted the urge to smirk. “what the hell are you doing here?” namjoon hissed, eyes glittering with hatred.

“i’m not here to gloat or do whatever it is you think, i just want to talk.” jungkook replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender, and namjoon scoffed. “you really expect to believe that? after you gave me a bloody nose?” “look, i didn’t mean for things to get so out of hand at my office, but i let my anger get the best of me, and i apologize for that.” jungkook placated, mentally wincing at how genuinely apologetic he sounded.

namjoon let out a long, suffering sigh. “very well, let’s “talk”. he gestured for him to take the seat across from him, and jungkook did just that, making sure to lean back and cross his legs as soon as he was seated, in an attempt to seem nonchalant.

“can you explain to me why you gave me a bloody nose?” jungkook bit back a laugh at the pure venom in namjoon’s voice, and shrugged. “beats me, perhaps you should ask that inflated ego of yours.” jungkook said coolly, and the older male glared daggers at him.

“watch your tongue, jeon.” jungkook rolled his eyes. “what are you going to do? cut it off?” he taunted, and namjoon’s scowl deepened. “if you’re not going to be serious, then you can show yourself out of my office.” he seethed, and jungkook inwardly sighed. “okay, fine, i honestly don’t understand why you were so pissed off when you found out where your secretary was.” he blurted, and namjoon raised an eyebrow at his sudden boldness.

“if you’re implying what i think you are, then you must have a false sense of reality. y/n was supposed to be at work, and instead, she was spending time with you, of all people. i had a right to be angry, after all, i am her boss.” jungkook curled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to lunge forward and give namjoon another bloody nose at the utter contempt in the latter’s voice.

“as correct as that may be, you had no right to barge into my company uninvited and nearly injure your secretary from how tight you were holding her wrist. you could’ve snapped it in half.” jungkook snarled, blood boiling at the way namjoon rolled his eyes.

“please, she doesn’t seem that fragile, and even if i did break her wrist, maybe it’d teach her a lesson for choosing to fuck around with the ceo of a rival company instead doing what she’s supposed to.” jungkook couldn’t take it anymore. he practically leaped out of his chair, lunging forward and slugging namjoon in the jaw, causing the latter to fall to the ground with a loud thud.

“how dare you insult her? she’s practically your slave! she works around the clock for you, with no complaints, and yet you still have the nerve and the audacity to look down on her? even after all the bullshit that you make her do? she’s fucking exhausted and overworked, and yet you still overlook all she’s done for you? if i were her, i’d want to get the hell away from you too. i mean, no one can genuinely enjoy working for you, right? as smart as you are, you can be quite dense, you know that? don’t you dare lay a finger on her, for i will see to it that she’s transferred to another company, and don’t think i won’t hesitate to do so. go fuck yourself, kim namjoon, and i can’t believe i used to look up to a pretentious asshole like you.” jungkook growled, and not bothering to spare his former friend a second glance, turned on his heels and stormed out of the room.

namjoon sat on the floor of his office, holding his jaw, shocked from what had just happened. jeon jungkook, the entitled brat, had the nerve to show his face in his office and punch him, of all things. he gritted his teeth in anger, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his jaw at the action, and managed to brace himself onto his chair.

he wasn’t sure why his body felt so numb, for he’d only been punched in the face, but the hit had taken him by surprise that he’d fallen to the floor in an awkward manner and had just barely managed to sit up. namjoon rubbed his now aching jaw and made a mental note to make jungkook’s life a living hell.

suddenly, his phone buzzed, and namjoon sighed, pulling it out of his suit pocket, and answering it without a second thought. “hello?” “joon?” he sighed in relief at the familiar voice. “yoongi?” “thank fuck, joon, i’ve been trying to get ahold of you for two hours now. where the fuck are you?” he asked, evident concern in his voice, and namjoon sighed.

“i’m in my office.” he mumbled. “then why the hell haven’t you texted me, or called me to let me know that you’re not, i don’t know, lying dead in a ditch somewhere?” yoongi scolded, and namjoon just let out a defeated sigh. “i was occupied, jeon jungkook came to see me.”

yoongi barked a laugh. “jeon jungkook? the ceo of golden closet inc? came to see you? why?” “i’d rather not talk about this over the phone.” namjoon griped, and he could imagine yoongi smirking over the line.

“alright, fine, i’m on my way.” he said, and then the call ended. namjoon closed his eyes and slumped against the cool leather of his chair. he was fucking exhausted and in dire need of a nap.

jungkook ignored the stares he was getting as he sauntered into his office, closing the door behind him. he sighed and buried his face into his hands, feeling a wave of regret crashing over him. he was the biggest idiot of the century, if not of the entirety of korea for barging into kim namjoon’s office uninvited, and for physically harming him. if the media caught word of what he’d done, they’d never let him live it down. jimin is going to kick my ass, he thought, wincing at the image of his secretary yelling at him, and trudged over to his desk, nearly stumbling as he sat on his chair, mind swimming with thoughts.

a soft but firm knock sounded at his door minutes later, and jungkook exhaled deeply, knowing immediately who it was. jimin didn’t wait for an answer, for he swung the door open, his expression unreadable, and jungkook braced himself for the lecture he was about to receive, as if he were a student who had just been caught vandalizing school lockers.

“jungkook.” he said, and while his tone held no visible anger, jungkook knew jimin well enough that that tone meant he was beyond pissed. “jimin.” he gulped nervously. “i-i can explain.” jungkook stammered, which earned him a glare from the former.

“how could you be so reckless?! do you have any idea what would happen if the press found out about this? your reputation would be ruined and cameras would be following you everywhere! you would have to wear ridiculous disguises in order to not be recognized or some bullshit like that! for fucks sake jungkook, can you just not play the hero for once? i know you care about y/n, but punching her boss in the face twice isn’t going to help anything!” jimin was practically fuming, and the tips of his ears were red, and if jungkook didn’t feel so guilty, he would’ve thought that steam was coming out of them.

“i’m sorry, i know it was stupid of me-” jimin scoffed. “that’s the biggest fucking understatement of the year, jungkook. you fucked up. big time. and since you got yourself into this mess, you’re going to get yourself out of it. fix this, or i will kick your ass. and don’t think i’m not capable. i didn’t train in kendo and taekwondo for eight years for nothing.”

jungkook swallowed against the bile in his throat, feeling dread pool in his stomach, very well aware that despite his short stature, jimin could easily (and would) kick his ass if he wanted to. with one last icy glare, his secretary stormed out of his office, turning on his heel and making sure to slam the door behind him, the noise echoing in the spacious room.

jungkook groaned and buried his face in his hands. how the hell would he get himself out of this one? suddenly, his phone rang, shrill and obnoxiously loud, and jungkook sighed as he answered it. “hello?” he asked, not bothering to sound enthusiastic. “kook?” almost immediately, his heart warmed at the sounded of your voice. “y/n, hey, how are you holding up?” “i could ask the same thing about you.” you mumbled, voice impossibly soft, and jungkook felt his heart ache with regret and guilt.

“you heard what happened, huh?” he asked sheepishly, and heard you laugh softly. “yeah, i did, hoseok and taehyung are in the company group chat, and everyone was talking about it there.” “y/n, i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, i let my anger get the better of me, and i already got yelled at it by jimin.” he rambled, and felt his face flush with embarrassment. “it’s okay, i know you were just trying to protect me, in your own way.” you sighed, and jungkook could imagine you running a hand through your hair.

“look, just promise me that you won’t go to the company anymore? if we’re going to see each other, it’s going to be at either your house or mine. i know it’s still risky, but i’m not going to let this situation affect my friendship with you.” you sounded determined, and jungkook, despite himself, smiled. “so rebellious.” he teased, and bit back a laugh when you scoffed. “jeon jungkook, you have the worst timing, you know that?” you scolded, but jungkook could hear the amusement in your voice, and laughed. “i’m aware.”

“i have to go, hoseok and taehyung are attempting to make me dinner in the kitchen and i have to make sure they don’t burn my apartment down.” jungkook laughed at that, knowing that the possibility of that actually happening was unlikely, for hoseok and taehyung were actually good cooks. “okay, talk to you later?” “yeah, see you, jungkook. take care, alright?” jungkook felt his grin widen. “yeah, you too.” after the call ended, he leaned back against his chair, feeling a little better then he had just minutes ago.

you tried not to roll your eyes as hoseok and taehyung bickered about whether or not cucumbers belonged in kimchi, and shoveled a spoonful of fried rice in your mouth, chewing thoughtfully. the day had been exhausting, and you were more than ready to crawl into bed and enter dreamland as soon as your head hit the pillow.

“do you think cucumbers belong in kimchi? tell hoseok hyung he has no taste for thinking they don’t.” taehyung asked, snapping you out of your trance. you shrugged, gulping down your glass of soda. “i don’t really care either way.” you said, and taehyung pouted. “you wound me, y/n, i thought you would take my side after all we’ve been through together.” he fake sobbed, and buried in his face in hoseok’s shoulder, who just rolled his eyes and patted the former on the head. “there there, it’s not your fault that y/n likes me more.” hoseok teased, hazel eyes twinkling with mirth, and taehyung only sobbed louder.

you shook your head, smiling fondly, and went to wash your dishes. before you could even put soap on the sponge, a warm hand caught at your wrist, and you looked up to see hoseok. “let me do that, you’re clearly exhausted. i’ll take care of taehyung, you just go and get some sleep.” he said softly, and before you could protest, the sponge was pulled out of your grip and were being gently shoved to the side. you sighed in defeat and shot hoseok a grateful and reproachful look, and he just smiled in response.

after a quick shower and changing into a loose, white shirt and gray sweatpants, you crawled into bed, sighing in relief when your head finally hit the pillow. the day had been truly exhausting, and you were so glad that it was finally over. you felt yourself slowly drifting into dreamland, and before you knew it, sleep took over.

taehyung took a long sip of the coffee hoseok had made for him, lost in thought. yesterday’s events had felt like a fever dream, and he was still in disbelief that they had even happened. he leaned back in his chair, watching the office bustle with activity, and the soft whirring sounds of the printer and copier in the background, as well as the rustling of paper and typing of keys.

despite the chaos that took place just twenty four hours ago, everyone was acting as if it had never happened, going about their day as they normally would. taehyung supposed he should do the same, after all, what had happened didn’t involve him in any way, nor had he been there to witness it, but from what you had told him, it wasn’t pretty.

our boss is probably fucking pissed, taehyung thought, wincing inwardly at the image of the vice chairman barking orders at them. the coffee he’d been drinking suddenly tasted too bitter, and taehyung set his mug down on his desk with a sigh. he looked longingly towards your empty desk, wishing that you were there to talk to him, but earlier that morning, you had decided to take the day off and would come back to work the next day.

taehyung couldn’t blame you. the company was probably the last place you wanted to be, especially after the disaster that occurred the day before. he stretched, feeling his joints pop with the movement, and set to work in an attempt to distract himself.

hoseok kept sparing a glance at his phone every few seconds, waiting for a text which otherwise never came, and bit his lip anxiously. even though he knew that you were safe at home, hoseok couldn’t help but worry. after all, you were pretty shaken up from yesterday, and he hadn’t wanted to come into work, but you had shoved him and taehyung out the door, along with a threat to strangle them if they didn’t get “their asses to work.”

hoseok knew that you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and there was a small part of him that was screaming at him to forget about you and focus on work, but he just couldn’t. not when there was a possibility that the vice chairman could drop by at any moment. hoseok shook the thought from his mind as he feigned interest in the papers on his desk.

silence fell over the office, and hoseok ignored the slight chill that coursed through his body as he forced himself to look up. the vice chairman didn’t bother to acknowledge anyone as he strode right for his office, closing the door firmly behind him, and hoseok let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding.

you sighed and wrapped the blanket taehyung had lent you before leaving for work tighter around you. your day had been absolutely miserable and unproductive, with you lounging around in the house in your pajamas and binge-watching dramas. and because you had no pets or a significant other, you were all alone, and that simple fact made your spirits deflate a bit.

you wished taehyung and hoseok were here, and you regretted forcing them to go to work, and you wished that you could call jungkook to keep you company, but you felt that you had caused him enough trouble, especially after the fiasco of events that happened yesterday.

though the weather was quite pleasant today, cloudless and sunny, your mood hadn’t improved. you slumped down on your couch and closed your eyes, deciding that a nap would be the best thing for you, and soon drifted off into dreamland.

namjoon drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to quell his annoyance. you hadn’t bothered to show up today, and instead, it had been one of the interns who had covered for you, and they had done a terrible job, messing up the reports twice and lying about his schedule. and because his patience had worn thin, namjoon had just told them to take the rest of the day off, and that he would handle things himself.

so far, things had gone surprisingly well, and he had been on time for all his meetings, thanks to yoongi having the memory of an elephant’s. despite that, though, namjoon was still irritated that you hadn’t bothered to message him personally to let him know that you wouldn’t be coming into work today, instead of just calling the receptionist.

he pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation just as yoongi sauntered in his office, laughing in amusement. “what’s bothering you now?” namjoon glared at the former as he plopped down on one of the chairs, crossing his legs and raising a questioning eyebrow, as if to say ”well, are you going to tell me or what?” namjoon sighed. “have you ever had your secretary not bother to show up for work?” yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “i’m not sure i’m following.” yoongi trailed off, and namjoon resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“she didn’t show up for work today.” namjoon blurted, and yoongi just looked at him in disbelief. “i’m failing to see how this is an issue, joon, i mean, you literally work her to the bone on the daily, don’t you think she deserves some time off?” namjoon narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “are you defending her?” he asked, and the accusatory tone in his voice, yoongi blanched, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

“i’m not, i barely know her, but i’m just saying that getting pissed over something like that is kind of… well… pathetic.” namjoon pursed his lips tightly, resisting the urge to yell at him, but deep down, he knew yoongi was right. why the hell was he getting so worked up over something so trivial? besides, this was the only day you had ever taken off of work, and namjoon supposed he could give you a pass this time.

namjoon exhaled softly, feeling defeated and overall exhausted. “you’re right, i’m being pathetic.” yoongi’s expression softened slightly at how weary his friend looked. “hey, don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? i’d be kind of annoyed if my secretary took off without notice.” he admitted, and namjoon gave him a grateful look.

as the taxi rumbled down the street, hoseok leaned his head against the glass of the window and sighed, skyscrapers and neon signs blurs of color in his vision. “what’s with you? worried about y/n or something?” taehyung asked, and hoseok fought the blush that threatened to creep onto his face as he scoffed, turning slightly to face the former. “no, i’m sure she’s fine.” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but taehyung just laughed. “hyung, please, it’s alright to admit that you’re worried about her, you know, i am too.”

hoseok sighed in defeat. “ok, fine, i’m worried about her. happy?” even in the darkness of the taxi, he knew that taehyung was probably sporting the most smug grin in the world. “yes, yes i am, actually, thanks for asking!” he beamed, and hoseok rolled his eyes.

“i know it seems like all i do is think and talk about her, but after what happened yesterday…” hoseok trailed off, unsure of what to add, and luckily, taehyung just hummed in agreement. “yeah, i get it, i mean, she’s probably still shocked over what happened, and honestly, if i was her, i’d be too.” hoseok gave the latter a grateful look and turned to look back out the window.

you watched as raindrops splattered against your window, sliding down the glass like tears, and clutched the steaming mug of coffee in your hands tightly. it’d had started raining a few minutes after you had woken from your nap and decided to make yourself a cup of coffee, and the change in weather had only worsened your mood.

you turned away from the window, taking a slow slip of your coffee, the bitter taste of the drink lingering on your tongue as you padded over the couch, gently settling down on one of the cushions, sighing. you had just set your mug down when a soft but firm knock sounded at your door, making you jump in surprise.

“who is it?” you called as you practically dragged yourself over to the door, feeling extremely worn out. “if i say my name, i might get mobbed.” a voice said, teasing and familiar, and your heart skipped a beat upon realizing who it was, and went to unlock your door.

sure enough, jungkook was standing in your doorway, a plastic bag full of takeout boxes in one hand, and a stuffed shiba inu in the other, and immediately, you felt your spirits lifted. he was still in a suit, which meant that he must’ve come straight from work, and his blond hair was messy and damp from the rain.

“surprise!” he exclaimed, lips widening into a bright grin, and despite your current state, you couldn’t help but match his grin with one of your own. “jungkook, what are you doing here? and what’s with the food and the stuffed animal?”

“oh these?” he asked, gesturing to said items in his arms, grin widening. “these are for you, thought you could use some cheering up, you know, especially after everything that happened yesterday.” color bloomed on his cheeks, and you fought back an amused smile as you took the food and stuffed animal from him.

“thank you kook, this is so sweet.” you beamed, walking over to place the bag of food on the kitchen counter. jungkook’s blush deepened and he fidgeted nervously in the doorway.

“are you going to come in or do i need to drag you?” you teased, and jungkook laughed. “i felt like i was invading your privacy by showing up here unannounced.” he said sheepishly as he stepped inside, shrugging off his shoes and placing them neatly on the mat outside.

you scoffed. “please, you know that you are always welcome here, invited or not. also, did hoseok and tae put you up to this by any chance?” you asked curiously, and jungkook shook his head, padding over to the couch and plopping down on one of the cushions.

“they don’t even know that i’m here.” he sing-songed, and you rolled your eyes. “so what, you just decided to show up to my house out of the blue like some stalker?” you teased, and jungkook laughed. “i just wanted to make sure you were okay.” he mumbled, and you felt your heart warm.

“well, if im being honest, my day has been quite disastrous.” jungkook’s brows furrowed in concern. “why?” you shrugged, hugging the stuffed animal to your chest. “i guess it’s because of what happened yesterday. i know i sound like a broken record at this point, but somehow it’s affected me in a way that i honestly don’t understand. i mean, i wasn’t physically harmed, but for some reason, i feel like that what happened was partially my fault.” you admitted, cheeks flaming with half-embarrassment and shame, and jungkook’s expression grew irrevocably soft.

“i’m not the best with words, but all i want you to know is that what happened between me and your boss was all because i was reckless and so caught in my anger that i took it out on him, and while he may have gotten mad on your behalf, i don’t think that anything was your fault, so please don’t blame yourself.” jungkook said, tone impossibly gentle, and you felt your heart swell with an overwhelming sense of gratefulness. you truly didn’t deserve jeon jungkook as friend.

“thank you, kook, and honestly, that’s one of the kindest things someone has said to me in the last twenty four hours, so i really appreciate what you said.” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

jungkook returned your grin with one of his own, eyes crinkling at the corners. “so, do you want to break in the food? or?” he asked, and you giggled, moving to take the take out boxes out of the plastic bag they’d been stored in. “you read my mind, jeon.”

yoongi observed his friend, eyes narrowing in suspicion at the almost awkward way namjoon was carrying himself, and the tense set of his shoulders as he rattled off commands to the resources team, who were hanging on his every word and hurriedly jotting down notes, as if namjoon was reciting some philosophical quote. he frowned, wondering if it was because of the absence of a certain secretary, or simply because the older male was just plain exhausted.

yoongi quickly schooled his features into neutrality as namjoon’s gaze shifted towards him, and feingning interest in the files that had been placed in front of him nearly an hour ago. the meeting regarding investments had dragged on for longer than he’d liked it to, and he was trying not to nod off during the presentations. he’d never been one for attending said meetings, but since namjoon insisted that yoongi be there, well, the younger male couldn’t exactly refuse. after all, the older was his boss.

once the meeting was over, yoongi tried not to show that he wanted to get the hell out of the room, and casually sauntered over to the door, eyes shifting to the side to make sure namjoon wasn’t looking, and sure enough, the former was deep in conversation with a female employee, and yoongi took the opportunity to slip out of the room, unnoticed.

as soon as he was in the safety of his own office, yoongi let out a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding, feeling his shoulders relax a bit, and practically collapsed onto his chair, completely drained. trying to avoid awkward confrontation was harder than it looked, and yoongi felt put out from the ordeal.

he sighed, racking his brain to try and find a way to talk to namjoon without it being awkward, and came up with nothing. yoongi leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes, deciding that perhaps a nap would help him.

namjoon smiled tightly as the employees filed out of the conference room. as soon as the door closed, he sighed in relief and flopped down onto an empty chair, feeling his neck throb with a dull ache. the day had been quite long, and while namjoon knew it was inevitable, as it came with the job, but it never failed to drain all the life out of him.

yoongi had been acting strange the entire day, not bothering to drop by his office as he usually did, and purposefully keeping his distance at the meeting. namjoon rubbed at his temples, feeling a migraine starting to form, and breathed a long, suffering sigh.

you braced yourself before stepping inside the office, preparing for the worst, and made it over to your desk without anyone whispering or looking at you, and as soon as you reached your desk, hoseok looked over at you, concern evident on his features.

“you ok?” he asked in a low voice, and you nodded, giving him what you hoped was a convincing smile. hoseok didn’t look too convinced, but he didn’t press further, instead wordlessly handed you a bottle of water. “just in case.” he mumbled, and you shot him a grateful smile.

“where’s tae?” you whispered, noticing that the raven haired male was nowhere to be seen. “that idiot will be running late today. he forgot to make the powerpoint that’s supposed to be presented at the meeting two hours from now, so he’s probably scrambling to get it done as we speak.” hoseok grumbled, rolling his eyes, and you bit back a laugh.

“also, jungkook dropped by my apartment yesterday.” you said nonchalantly, and the corner of hoseok’s lips curled into a small smirk, and you felt your face grow hot. “not like that you asshole, he came by with food and a stuffed animal to check up on me, that’s all.” that stupid smirk never left his face as he sifted through a pile of papers on his desk. “whatever you say, y/n.” he sing-songed, and you glared at him.

“you’ve been hanging out with taehyung too much.” you chided, and hoseok chuckled softly, shrugging. “it just kind of happened you know?” “yeah, yeah, whatever.” you griped, and hoseok’s grin just grew wider.

the meeting went by fast, and taehyung was sure he was rambling about pure nonsense, but his boss’s expression never changed, save for the slight furrowing of an eyebrow here and there, but no reaction whatsoever, and taehyung took that as a sign that the powerpoint that he had thrown together was decent enough.

taehyung exhaled softly, relieved that the meeting had somehow gone smoothly, despite his last minute powerpoint, and turned to walk out the door, eager to get back to his desk, but froze when his boss finally spoke.

“kim taehyung?” he said, and taehyung ignored the pounding of his heart as he turned to face his boss, plastering on what he hoped was a convincing smile. “yes, vice chairman? is there something i can do for you?” taehyung mentally winced at how much he sounded like a kiss-up, and awaited for the older’s response.

time seemed to trickle by slowly, and namjoon finally cleared his throat, breaking the silence at last, and taehyung tried to school his features into neutrality, trying to seem as composed as possible. “you’re close with my secretary, correct?” namjoon questioned, and taehyung tried not to show any signs of shock on his face at the sudden question.

“correct, sir, y/n and i have been friends since college. why do you ask?” “i was just curious, you can go.” he said, waving his hand dismissively. taehyung blinked, the only sign that he was the slightest bit confused, and quickly mumbled something under his breath before fleeing the room.

he must’ve looked surprised because as soon as he sat down at his desk, you looked over at him, eyebrows furrowed with concern. “tae? are you alright? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“i just got out of a meeting with the boss, and he asked me if i was close to you.” your eyes widened by a slight fraction, and hoseok looked on curiously. “what? why?” taeyung shrugged. “beats me, he didn’t explain why.” “that’s so weird, i wonder what he’s putting in his coffee lately.” hoseok chuckled, gulping down the water bottle on his desk.

“yeah, and he hasn’t called me in his office at all today.” you added, and twirled the pen in your hands absentmindedly. “well, whatever the reason is, let’s just be thankful that he didn’t fire you right on the spot.” taehyung mumbled, and you scoffed. “yeah, i’d like to see him try to function without me around. i mean, the man can’t even organize the stuff on his desk, i have to do everything for him. i feel like a babysitter more than a secretary sometimes.” you sighed, and ran a hand through your hair.

hoseok frowned. “so what, he just orders you around all the time?” you laughed softly. “well, yeah, i mean, that’s kind of his job?” “yeah, but he goes overboard half the time.” taehyung added, reaching for a file on his desk.

namjoon chewed his lower lip nervously as he drummed his fingers on the smooth wood of his desk, mind swimming with thoughts. he wasn’t sure what prompted him to ask taehyung such a pointless question. why did he care if he and his secretary were close or not?

he sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair in frustration. namjoon wasn’t sure what was wrong with him lately, as he usually wasn’t this scatterbrained. yoongi had also noticed that he’d been acting weird, and namjoon knew he was probably holding back from saying anything to avoid stressing him out more.

get your shit together, namjoon, investors from spain are going to be visiting the company tomorrow, and you need to make sure they walk out knowing that they won’t regret investing in the company. namjoon thought to himself, feeling put out from the long day, when the phone on his desk rang, causing him to let out a long, suffering sigh.

“yes?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “sir? someone is here to see you, is now not a good time?” you said, and namjoon could hear the slight nervousness in your tone.

“i’m not particularly busy right now, so, who’s here?” there was a slight pause, and before namjoon could say anything, you blurted, “well, erm, it’s jungkook?”

namjoon froze in his seat, and felt his blood run cold at the mention of the younger male’s name. “why the hell is he here? give him the phone.” he hissed, and heard slight rustling on the other end.

“hello namjoon, bet you weren’t expecting me just to show up uninvited, huh?” jungkook taunted, and he could hear the smugness in his former friend’s tone. “i think we should skip pleasantries, don’t you?” namjoon said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, despite the anger that was bubbling in his stomach.

jungkook chuckled lowly. “i think that would be best. so, do you have time to talk to me, or are you too busy busting people’s asses for not getting their work done?” now it was namjoon’s turn to laugh. “very funny jeon, and just for that, say what you need to and leave.” “what, right now? what, you’re too scared to talk to me face to face?” namjoon curled his hands into fists at the younger male’s mocking tone. “no, i just think that seeing your face will ruin my appetite, i’m getting dinner after this, you know.” he smirked, and could imagine jungkook’s eyes glimmering with annoyance.

“fine.” he griped, and then mumbled something that namjoon couldn’t quite catch. “do you remember the banquet and the brief confrontation we had?” namjoon clenched his jaw as he hissed, ”vaguely, why?” “oh no reason, just thought i’d let you know that i offered y/n a position at my company.” jungkook said, and had the audacity to sound casual about it, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb in namjoon’s life. “you what?” he seethed, grip tightening slightly on the phone.

“geez, no need to get so worked up about it, she didn’t accept, but did consider it. anyways, that’s all i wanted to tell you, have a nice night!” jungkook exclaimed with fake enthusiasm as the line went dead.

namjoon practically slammed the phone down back on his desk, anger crashing over him like a tidal wave. how dare jeon jungkook show up, uninvited and unprompted to his own company, and then proceed to mock him like some entitled brat? namjoon resisted the urge to slam his hand down on his desk in pure anger, and instead took a deep, bracing breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“what did you just do, kook? he’s not going to forget that, you know.” you said, surprised at how even your tone was. said male scoffed. “believe me, i know. your boss is the type to hold grudges for a long time.” taehyung’s cerulean eyes narrowed in suspicion. “how would you know that?” jungkook sighed, the tension in his shoulders loosening a bit. “we used to be friends, a long time ago.” you could’ve sworn the noise in the room got sucked out at the sudden revelation.

“what?” you blanched, while hoseok and taehyung just looked on curiously. jungkook’s lips curled up in a bitter smile. “it’s shocking, i know, me being friends with an asshole like him, but before our falling out, your boss wasn’t all that bad, i guess.”

“care to elaborate?” taehyung blurted, and hoseok smacked him lightly on the shoulder. jungkook bit back a laugh, shaking his head slightly.

“it’s okay, hyung, i don’t mind, besides, you guys are my friends and deserve to know what happened between your boss and i years ago.”

jungkook took a deep breath, exhaling softly before he spoke, ignoring the racing of his heart as he began to relieve memories that had been lingering in the back of his mind for years.

spring 2013

jungkook bounced nervously on his heels, awaiting his interview. he adjusted his tie for what seemed like the millionth time that hour, making sure not a strand of his hair was out of place, and that his blazer and button down weren’t wrinkled, even though he knew his mom had ironed them to perfection.

they’d just moved to seoul two weeks ago, and after things had gotten settled at their new house, his mom insisted that he start at the local academy as soon as possible. jungkook was beyond nervous, as he’d heard that the students at the academy were extremely intelligent. jungkook was scared that he wouldn’t live up to their expectations and be kicked out immediately, but since the school had called him for an interview, he hoped that there was a chance they’d consider him for enrollment.

suddenly, the door to the nearby classroom opened, causing jungkook to jump in surprise, and a tall male stepped out, who looked no older than nineteen, dressed in a school uniform that was well-tailored, as the pants molded to his long legs perfectly.

said male greeted him with a polite, friendly smile, and jungkook couldn’t help but notice the dimples that were indented in his cheeks. “you must be jeon jungkook, correct?” he asked, and his voice was deep yet soft.

“y-yes, that’s me.” jungkook stammered, bowing awkwardly. “nice to meet you.” the tall male chuckled, waving off his politeness. “there’s no need to be formal, after all, i am not that much older than you. how old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“f-fifteen.” the male smiled, dimples indented in his cheeks, humming in acknowledgement. “ok, jungkook, follow me.” he said, and jungkook took a deep breath before following the male into the classroom.

the classroom was spacious, with desks arranged in neat rows, and the chalkboard behind the tall male was pristine. the room also had a bookshelf in the corner, full of classics and even romance novels. at the front of the room, a large desk took up a third of the space, and the male who’d greeted him was sitting behind it, in the process of slipping on a pair of glasses, which made him look even more intelligent.

“i’m so sorry, i realized that i had forgotten to introduce myself. i’m kim namjoon, but you can just call me namjoon if you like.” namjoon smiled, dark brown eyes kind, and jungkook felt the tension in his shoulders loosen.

“n-nice to meet you namjoon.” jungkook mumbled, hating how meek and soft he sounded, but namjoon didn’t seem to mind, as he just laughed softly.

“there’s no need to be nervous, i know that the school looks a bit intimidating, but once you’re actually a student, it’s not as bad as you think.” namjoon’s smile was so open and reassuring that jungkook couldn’t help but return it with a grin of his own.

“wait, so you went to the same high school?” you blurted, and jungkook nodded, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “yeah, we did, and that’s actually how we became friends. he interviewed me when i came in for the admission interview, and two days later, i found out that i got accepted. when we first met, he had this aura about him that just screamed reassuring and friendly, and i guess i got fooled by that. we were close for a while, a year at most, and then i met jieun, and when i went to tell namjoon that we were together, i thought he’d be supportive, but he-” jungkook’s voice cracked, tears welling up in his eyes, and you immediately ran over, throwing your arms around him and rubbing comforting circles on his back as jungkook’s body shook with soft sobs.

you shushed jungkook and stroked his hair gently, heart aching at the broken sobs that emitted from him. you felt a small surge of anger at namjoon for making jungkook feel this way, and hugged the latter tighter, while hoseok and taehyung looked on in concern.

after jungkook’s tears had subsided, he gently pulled away from your embrace, sniffling and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “sorry for getting tear stains on your shirt.” he croaked, chuckling softly, and you waved off his apology. “it’s fine, kook, don’t worry about it.”

“wait, so caused the falling out, if you don’t mind me asking, that is.” taehyung mumbled, color blooming on his cheeks, and jungkook smiled weakly. “it’s alright, like i said, you are my friends and deserve to know what happened and why we are constantly at each other’s throats.”

you carefully sat jungkook down on your office chair, to which he gave you a small, grateful smile, and exhaled softly.

fall 2014

jungkook felt his heart pound rapidly against his chest as he bounded up the stairs to the school. jieun had finally admitted that she liked him back, after a semester of mutual pining, and now they were happily dating, and jungkook couldn’t wait to tell namjoon the great news.

he found said male at his locker, in the process of shoving textbooks into his backpack, and jungkook couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face as he drew closer.

“hey hyung!” he beamed, and the older male turned to look at him, chuckling amusedly. “why are you so chipper today, kook? something happen?” namjoon asked as he slid his philosophy textbook, which was about half the size of a dictionary into his worn blue backpack.

“jieun and i are dating! last week, she finally admitted that she likes me back! isn’t that great?” jungkook blurted, and immediately, the warm smile from namjoon’s face faded, quickly replaced with one of disbelief.

“what did you just say?” namjoon said, voice deadly calm, and jungkook furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, wondering why the older didn’t seem as happy as he thought he would.

“jieun and i are dating?” he repeated, and jungkook flinched as the older nearly took his locker door off its hinges as he slammed it shut.

“how could you?” namjoon hissed, and jungkook immediately felt dread pooling in his stomach. “i-i don’t understand, why are you being like this?” namjoon laughed bitterly. “you know, for someone so smart, you can be quite dense sometimes.” jungkook’s heart was pounding wildly against his chest as namjoon just looked at him with unreadable eyes.

a blanket of silence fell over them, and jungkook’s mind raced for an explanation as to why his friend was acting so strangely. then, after some agonizing seconds, it hit him like a punch to the solar plexus. “y-you like j-jieun, don’t you?” namjoon clapped in mock admiration, chuckling darkly.

“glad you finally realized it, jungkook.” namjoon sneered, and jungkook flinched at the uncharacteristic coldness in the older’s voice. “i-i can break up with her, i-” he was cut off my namjoon shaking his head, a bitter smile spreading across his face.

“don’t bother jungkook, because i know you, and you’re just going to crawl back to her anyway because you’d feel guilty about hurting her.” and with that, namjoon slung his backpack over his shoulder and without looking back at him, turned on his heels and walked away, leaving jungkook with a heavy heart.

“seriously? the guy got so worked up over you dating the girl he likes? i know it sucks, but you can’t get all that you want in life, doesn’t he know that?” hoseok grumbled, throwing his hands up in exasperation, and jungkook laughed softly.

“i don’t blame him for reacting the way he did, i mean, if i were in the same position as him, i’d probably be pissed off too.” jungkook admitted, and leaned back against the chair, body slumping in exhaustion. “but he could’ve also tried to be supportive instead of turning on you immediately like that.” you seethed, and jungkook reached over and placed a calming, reassuring hand on your shoulder. “it’s ok, y/n, please don’t go after him. i can’t risk you losing your job because of me.” he mumbled, and your heart ached at the sadness in his voice.

“but he-” jungkook shook his head, cutting you off abruptly. “it’s not worth the risk.” “and you wanna know the sad part about all of this? even though i resent him for lashing out at me, some part of me is still holding on to the slight hope that we’ll be able to reconcile one day.” jungkook confessed, smiling sadly.

you threw your arms around jungkook again, pulling him into a fierce and tight hug, to which he leaned into, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder. “i’m sorry for dumping all my baggage into your lives like this.” jungkook sniffled, voice slightly muffled by the thin fabric of your blouse, and hoseok and taehyung shook their heads. “kook, we are your friends, dumping baggage into each others’ lives is what we do.” taehyung said, slight humor in his tone, but you could tell that he was sincere, and you looked at him over jungkook’s shoulder and gave him a grateful smile.

jungkook stumbled into his apartment hours later, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. he felt so relieved and almost at ease for finally telling his friends the truth about why namjoon and him hated each other so much. and while it’d been painful to relive the painful memories, he was glad that his closest friends knew.

jungkook sighed, undoing his tie and throwing it onto an empty chair, his gray suit jacket joining it, and padded over to the bathroom to take a much needed shower.

minutes later, jungkook emerged from the bathroom, feeling refreshed and more comfortable in a loose shirt and sweatpants, drying his hair with a towel. he hung it on the hook on the bathroom door before practically collapsing onto his bed, sighing in relief.

the day had been exhausting, more so than usual, and after he’d spilled his heart out to his friends just hours ago, jungkook was in much need of sleep.

his phone buzzed, snapping him out of his thoughts, and jungkook groaned tiredly as he reached over and grabbed it from the nightstand, squinting slightly as his eyes adjusted to the bright screen in front of him.

his heart skipped a beat when he saw that he’d gotten a text from you, and immediately scolded himself. stop acting like a middle school boy with a crush, he thought.

hey, i just wanted to make sure that you’re okay, you know, after all that happened today.

i’m fine, he typed, just a little tired, that’s all.

get some rest kook. also, can you come over tomorrow?

jungkook ignored the way his heart sped up at that, and typed out a reply.

yeah, of course. is everything ok?

everything’s fine, i just thought we could have a movie night again, you know, like last time.

jungkook felt his face grow hot at the memory of you falling asleep on his couch, and when you had emerged from the guest bedroom in nothing but the sweater he’d lent you, it had taken all the self-restraint in him not to blush.

ok, sounds great! want me to bring over some chicken and beer?

hell yes! you know i’m always down for chicken and beer :)

jungkook chuckled softly, sent a smiley emoji in response, and carefully placed his phone back on the nightstand. yawning, he crawled underneath the covers and drew them tight around his body, feeling sleep overtake him.

namjoon was still reeling from the day’s events when yoongi knocked on his front door. sighing, he went to answer it, not bothering to say hello as the younger moved past him, clutching a bag full of takeout from that restaurant not too far from his house, along with two bottles of soju.

later, when the food was laid out on the massive coffee table that took up a third of namjoon’s living room, yoongi finally asked him why he’d been acting so strange lately.

namjoon carefully laid his chopsticks down before replying. “it’s jungkook.” yoongi’s dark eyes widened almost interceptibly, the only sign he was surprised. “what about him?” he said, shoving a handful of rice in his mouth, causing namjoon wrinkle his nose in slight disgust.

“he showed up at the company today, unannounced and told me that he offered y/n a job.” yoongi nearly choked on a piece of samgyeopsal. “what?” he coughed, and namjoon held out a bottle of water that he’d grabbed from the fridge earlier, and yoongi took it immediately, uncapping it and taking a long swig.

“he had the nerve to say that to me, over the phone, of all things.” namjoon grumbled, picking up his chopsticks and shoving a piece of pork in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“are we talking about the same jeon jungkook? that wide eyed kid who practically worshipped the ground you walked on in high school?” namjoon sighed, managing a small nod.

yoongi let out a low whistle. “damn, this kid’s got some guts.” “more like a death wish.” namjoon muttered, taking a long sip of soju, letting the bitterness burn his throat. “how long has it been?” yoongi asked, downing the rest of his soju. “i don’t know, five years?” namjoon pondered, and then leaned back on the couch, sighing.

“it’s been nearly five years, joon, i mean, know what happened sucked, but the kid isn’t together with her anymore. besides, don’t you think you two have been at each other’s throats for too long? it’ll take time, but jungkook’s a good kid, he’s just trying to figure out how to cope with the pent up hatred he’s habored for you for years, that’s all.” yoongi said that last part casually, shrugging nonchalantly, as if he’d just talked about the weather. namjoon didn’t reply, just reached for his abandoned bottle of soju and downed the rest.

taehyung munched happily on his bowl of popcorn as goblin flashed across the flat screen that had been bought with hoseok’s first paycheck, heavily engrossed in the drama. the latter, however, seemed distracted, as per usual, and because he didn’t want to pry, taehyung pretended not to notice how hoseok barely touched his popcorn, not bothering to focus on the show at hand.

finally, after a long stretch of silence between them, taehyung, without looking away from the tv, awkwardly cleared his throat. “something on your mind, hyung?” hoseok jumped, as if taehyung had bit him, and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “ah, it’s really not that important.” he mumbled, and taehyung rolled his eyes, reaching for the remote and reluctantly pausing his drama, turning to look at the older male.

“alright, what is it?” hoseok sighed, as if knowing that trying to hide his feelings was useless. “i don’t know, honestly. what jungkook told us has been stuck in my head all day. i feel like he left something out.” taehyung resisted the urge to roll his eyes. instead, he said as gently as he could, “what do you mean?” “well, i don’t know, i guess i just have an inkling that jungkook didn’t tell us the whole story, like he left some parts out. like how did he realize that our boss liked his ex? or that he was even interested in her? or why didn’t namjoon say anything to jungkook about liking her?”

taehyung let out an amused laugh. “what?” hoseok muttered, color blooming on his cheeks, and the former grinned. “do you want to interrogate him or something?” “n-no, i just feel like there’s more to what jungkook told us, you know?” taehyung hummed in agreement. “yeah, i see where you’re coming from, i mean, jungkook’s a private person, so he usually keeps things like that under wraps. i bet it was difficult for him to tell us what happened, so maybe jungkook left some stuff out because he didn’t feel ready to reveal the whole truth.” he added with a shrug, and hoseok just slumped down onto the couch, feeling defeated.

jungkook braced himself as he walked into work the next day, hoping jimin wouldn’t strangle him or worse, and hesitantly made his way over to his secretary’s desk, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously.

jimin didn’t bother to look up from the pile of paperwork on his desk as he greeted him. “good morning, sir.” he said, tone unfailingly polite as always, but jungkook could hear the slight annoyance in it. “look, jimin, i’m sorry for the way i’ve acted lately. i know it was reckless and i let my anger get the better of me. feel free to yell at me or whatever. i know i deserve it.”

jungkook waited for the stern lecture and harsh words, which otherwise never came. instead, jimin merely sighed, finally looking up from the papers on his desk, dark brown eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “you’re right, you do deserve it, in fact, i should yell at you right now. but, i guess i have to apologize to you too.”

jungkook felt his eyes widen in shock. “apologize for what?” he asked, sounding as confused as he felt, and jimin took a deep, bracing breath. “i overheard the conversation you had with y/n and her friends.” jungkook blanched. “what? how? you weren’t there.” jimin shook his head sadly. “no, i was, you just didn’t see me.” “you followed me?” jungkook breathed.

“i was just making sure that you weren’t going to something reckless again, and you did!” jimin was yelling now, and thankfully, the rest of the employees pretended not to notice, feigning interest in their daily tasks. “why the fuck did you call namjoon and threaten him like that, with witnesses of all things! do you know how much the media would love to report on shit like that if word got out? your reputation will be tainted, and i will have to try and save your sorry ass. i will have to spend all night calling every single news station in korea to beg them to not publish the articles and talk about it! do you know how much stress i’m under as your secretary? i feel like a glorified babysitter half the time because i’m so worried that you’re going to fuck up again! i hate seeing you suffer, so why do you make it difficult for me?” jimin sobbed, tears streaming down his pale cheeks, and jungkook felt like the biggest asshole in the universe at the sight.

“i know you were trying to protect y/n and all, but you should’ve just let her go with namjoon. it would’ve saved me the headache.” jimin went on, managing a bitter laugh through tears, and jungkook winced.

jungkook hesitantly walked over to jimin, swallowing against the bile in his throat, and placed a hand on his shoulder, causing the latter to flinch, but he didn’t try to brush it off.

“look, i know i’ve been quite the asshole lately, and i’m sorry for that. my emotions have gotten the better of me, and going after namjoon was the last thing i should’ve done. but i couldn’t have let y/n go with namjoon, god knows what would’ve happened if i did. i’m sorry for always making you look after me like child who can’t go two seconds without doing some stupid shit. you’ve put up with me all these years, and i’m so grateful for all that you’ve done for me.” jungkook placated gently, and jimin sniffled, looking up at him with watery, puffy eyes.

“why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” jimin whispered, voice slightly shaky, and jungkook gave the former a sad smile. “you’re probably going to hate me after this, but i’m-” before he could finish, jimin had flung himself into his arms, causing jungkook to stumble back a bit as he tried to steady himself.

“don’t you dare finish that sentence, jeon jungkook, or i swear to god i will break your legs.” jimin scolded half-heartedly, and jungkook chuckled softly. “does this mean you forgive me?” jungkook whispered, hugging the other male tight, he felt jimin let out an amused laugh.

“of course, you asshole, why do you think i’m putting my pride behind and hugging you?” he joked, and jungkook rolled his eyes. “then let go then.” jungkook mumbled, and jimin looked up, shooting him an icy glare. “jeon jungkook, shut the fuck up and let me hug you, and if anyone thinks you’re gay after this, i will personally walk up to them and politely inform them that you are by far the straightest male i have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” jimin hissed, wrapping his small arms around jungkook’s waist, hugging him tight, and the latter huffed a laugh at his empty threat.

“even though you’re a pain in my ass, the thought of working for someone else is well-” “unbearable?” jungkook grinned as he handed jimin a water bottle.

jimin snorted as he took a long swig of water. “in you dreams, jeon.” he mumbled, and jungkook laughed. the former sighed in mock exasperation. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have to go through a shit ton of documents.” jimin gave a mocking bow as he sauntered out of jungkook’s office, and the latter rolled his eyes.

you practically fell back against the soft couch cushions of jungkook’s living room couch, trying not to spill the bowl of popcorn in your lap as you laughed. jungkook was telling you about the way jimin had started yelling at him, crying, and then practically threw himself at him, as he put it, and you had burst into a fit of giggles as you imagined the sight.

“that’s so cute, so he just pulled you into a manly embrace after he yelled at you?” you teased, and quickly dodged the piece of popcorn that jungkook threw at your head. “shut up, there was nothing manly about it, he was like a weeping teenage girl who’d just broken up with their ex.”

you snorted. “jimin’s always been the one for dramatics, you know.” jungkook huffed a laugh. “tell me about it, i nearly cracked my head open when he suddenly hugged me like that, i could’ve hit my head on his desk.” he muttered, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth, causing you to wrinkle your noise in slight disgust.

“what?” jungkook asked through a mouthful of said popcorn, and you playfully shoved him on the shoulder. “you’re so gross, you know that? did you parents teach you, i don’t know, manners?” you scolded half-heartedly, and jungkook rolled his eyes. “please, my parents were too busy trying to keep the company from going bankrupt that teaching me proper decorum was the last thing on their minds.” “did you just say proper decorum?” you asked, letting out a disbelieving laugh, and color bloomed on jungkook’s face.

“yeah, and? what about it?” he said sulkily, and you bit back a smile as you reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, the strands soft against your skin, causing jungkook to stick his tongue out at you like a little child.

“no reason, you just sounded so pretentious.” you joked, and jungkook pouted. “i am not pretentious, you take that back.” he whined, and you couldn’t help but laugh. “i’m sorry kook, it’s just so fun to mess with you.” jungkook pretended to dry a fake tear, slumping down onto his couch. “you wound me. y/n, i thought we were friends.” he sobbed, and you rolled your eyes in mild exasperation.

“ok, ok, you big baby, i was just teasing you.” you placated gently, wrapping an arm around jungkook’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you. said male sniffled and leaned his head on your shoulder, soft blond hair tickling your neck, and you smiled.

the next day, you took a deep breath before knocking softly on namjoon’s door, bracing yourself as you swung it open and hesitantly stepped inside. you hadn’t spoken to him in days, and constantly avoiding him wasn’t going to help anything, and thus why you were now standing awkwardly a few feet away from his desk, fidgeting nervously with the thin gold bracelet on your wrist.

“y/n, what brings you to my office? i don’t think i asked anything of you.” namjoon said, tone neither angry nor sarcastic, just deadly calm, and that alone made you even more nervous.

“i’m well aware of that sir, but i just wanted to apologize.” one of namjoon’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose in question. “what for, exactly?” he asked, and you were taken aback by how genuinely curious he sounded, and waved the thought away. don’t be ridiculous, you thought. he’s probably just trying to get a rise out of you, like he always does. you reminded yourself as you exhaled softly, squaring your shoulders.

“for not informing you of my sudden absence a few days ago and for everything that happened afterwards. i’m sure i caused you a lot of stress, and i apologize sincerely for that. it won’t happen again, and i’m sorry for how imcomptent i’ve been.” you atoned, the words tasting bitter in your mouth, but you forced what you hoped was an apologetic smile on your face, awaiting namjoon’s response.

the silence in the room was deafening as the minutes seemed to trickle by slowly, and you couldn’t help but rock back and forth on your heels, fidgeting nervously with the thin chain of the dainty necklace that dangled at your throat, the metal cool between your fingers.

finally, after an unbearable amount of silence, namjoon awkwardly cleared his throat, snapping you out of your trance. “i’m glad that you had the decency to apologize.” immediately, you felt that familiar surge of anger course through you at how condescending he sounded. “excuse me?” you croaked, and namjoon rolled his eyes. “you didn’t bother to show up for work, then you practically avoid me, and worst of all, you left work to go fuck around with that brat.” he snarled, and you curled your hand into a fist, knuckles turning white.

for the past nine years you’d worked for him, you had always refrained from speaking your mind in fear of getting fired. you hated not speaking up for those poor employees that got yelled at for a small mistake or even for just looking at him, hated that you’d been so scared of an asshole like the man in front of you.

you hated how he’d talk down to other businessman as if they were lesser than him, and the way he’d practically look down on certain people. most of all, you hated the way he was currently referring to jungkook, who was the sweetest, most loving guy you’d ever met, unlike the complete prick sitting before you.

fuck this, fuck him, you thought, anger coursing through you. you’d held back from saying anything these past nine years, but enough was enough. “don’t you dare speak him of that way.” you hissed, and felt your blood run cold at the patronizing laugh that rumbled out of namjoon’s throat.

“oh? and why shouldn’t i? he’s not your boyfriend, is he?” he sneered, and you gritted your teeth in annoyance. “no, he’s not, and even if he was, does that matter?” namjoon had the audacity to scoff. “it doesn’t, but that doesn’t mean i approve of you fucking around with the brat.”

“i am not sleeping with him or whatever it is you’re implying. do you really think that lowly of me? that i’m some whore? is that what you see me as?” you seethed, trying to keep your voice as even and calm as possible. the smugness on namjoon’s face quickly turned into one of genuine surprise, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit satisfied.

“i hate to disappoint,” you drawled, tone dripping with fake politeness. “i’m not the whore you think i am. jungkook and i have never been romantically involved, and even if we were, it is none of your business. i’m fucking exhausted of having to look after your pathetic ass all the damn time. for fucks sake, you can’t even tie your shoes properly! you know, for someone so intelligent, you do seem to be lacking in the manners and personality department.” you sneered, and couldn’t help but smirk in satisfication at the way namjoon’s face paled slightly.

“jungkook is my friend, and i will not tolerate you slandering him. how dare you talk about him like he’s some spoiled brat? you don’t even know how hard he’s worked to get to where he is today. you, on the other hand, grew up with a gold spoon in your mouth,am i right?” you taunted, and saw namjoon’s jaw clench slightly.

“now, if you’ll excuse me, i have important things to attend to, sir.” you snapped, and before namjoon could do or say anything, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, not bothering to look over your shoulder to see his reaction.

as soon as you reached the safety of your desk, you reached up and clutched at your chest, letting out a deep breath, trying to soothe your pounding heart. hoseok looked over with wide, curious eyes, mouthing, “what happened? are you okay?” you gave him a small, confirming nod, and gestured that you needed water.

said male immediately got up and snatched a bottle of water from taehyung’s desk, ignoring the cry of protest from the latter, and handed it to you. you gave taehyung an apologetic look as you uncapped the water bottle and took a long swig of it.

“i finally confronted him.” taehyung’s cerulean eyes widened. “you what?” you sighed, leaning back in your chair. “it’s kind of a long story. i decided that avoiding him wouldn’t solve anything, and when i apologized, he insulted jungkook and i, and i couldn’t take it anymore, so i might’ve snapped.” hoseok let out a low whistle. “well shit, y/n, i never thought i’d see the day.” he admitted, and taehyung nodded in agreement.

“me too, i mean, i remember when you were still an intern and could barely make eye contact with him.” taehyung mused, and you felt your face flush scarlet. “shut up, it was my first day and i was a nervous wreck. besides, i didn’t even think he’d consider me as his secretary.”

“so, what are you going to do? did he fire you?” taehyung blurted, and hoseok smacked him lightly on the shoulder, hissing at him to shut up, and you couldn’t help but laugh in amusement. i’Ill just continue to work here until he decides that he’s had enough of me.” hoseok reached out and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “well, just know that tae and i are always here for you.” you gave him a grateful smile in return.

yoongi eyed his longtime friend curiously, looking for any signs of distress, and the only telltale sign was the slight clenching of his jaw. “what’s gotten your panties in a twist today?” he asked nochalantly, and namjoon let out a long, suffering sigh. “you seem to be more on edge than usual.” yoongi commented, and the aforementioned male winced slightly.

“yeah, is it that obvious?” yoongi shrugged, taking a long sip of red wine. “not really, i just noticed because you know, it’s not like we’ve been friends for almost eleven years or anything.” he mumbled, and namjoon rolled his eyes at the slight sarcasm in his voice.

“it’s y/n.” he said finally, and yoongi raised a curious brow. “really? again?” “she’s been inconveniencing me these days.” namjoon grumbled, and yoongi bit back a smirk. “how so?” the former sighed, crossing his long legs over the other as he swirled the wine in his glass.

“she’s been avoiding me, and today, we had a little disagreement.” namjoon mumbled, taking a long sip of his wine, and sat back in his armchair, shoulders tense. “little? from the way she stormed out of your office, i don’t think it was just some petty arguement.” yoongi said thoughtfully, and namjoon sighed in exasperation. “i hate that you can tell how i’m really feeling.” yoongi let out a light chuckle, despite the situation. “yeah, well, when you’ve been friends with someone for nearly eleven years, you tend to pick up on a few things.”

“i’d never seen her that upset. sure, she’s gotten stressed over running late to a meeting or an email, but she just….” namjoon trailed off, gently drumming his fingers on his wine glass, a soft tinkling echoing in the living room, and yoongi titled his head, considering.

“snapped?” yoongi interjected, and namjoon gave him a small nod. “yeah, i guess, in a way. she yelled at me, even.” yoongi hid a grin at the thought of you yelling at the latter. though he’d never formally met you, he’d always admired you for constantly putting up with namjoon’s bullshit, and found it amusing how stubborn you could be.

“so, what, she just yelled at you for no reason?” yoongi asked, clearing his throat awkwardly to hide the amused laugh that was threatening to burst out of him, and namjoon winced.

“well, not exactly, you see, i may have insulted her and jungkook.” yoongi groaned in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. “are you kidding me, joon? can you really not be nice for like five seconds? what’d she even say that made her get all pissy at you anyway?”

namjoon grimaced as he recalled the harsh words he’d uttered you without a second thought, as he’d been blinded by his anger and annoyance at jungkook. “she actually came into my office to apologize for her sudden absence and for not informing me about it, and then i accused her of skipping work to hang out with jungkook, and i-i may have, called her a whore, without even meaning to.” he mumbled, barely audible but just enough for yoongi to hear, feeling his face grow hot with embarrassment.

at first, yoongi said nothing, and the silence in the room was deafening. the raven haired male simply reached for the half empty bottle of wine on the table next to him, pouring the rest of its contents into his glass. yoongi swirled the contents inside for an agonizing minute or two, and namjoon fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, the leather cool against his bare arms.

after what seemed like forever, yoongi calmly finished the rest of his wine, setting the now empty glass on the table next to him, regarding him cooly. “so, let me get this straight, you practically insulted your secretary and jungkook, and then she yelled at you?” namjoon fought the embarrassed blush that threatened to creep onto his cheekbones, and managed a weak nod.

yoongi sighed, sounding merely exhausted, and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “joon, i know that this is probably the last thing you want to hear from me right now, but you can’t just say things like that and expect her to just ignore it. i know you and jungkook aren’t exactly the best of friends, but it’s obvious that y/n is super close with him. so, honestly, i think the best thing to do would be to apologize, and then try and go a little easier on her, yeah? i mean she’s worked for you for you nine years, can’t you give her a little leniency?”

namjoon pursed his lips tightly as he pondered yoongi’s suggestion. while that was the last thing he wanted to do, it seemed like the most practical, and he did consider himself to be a practical man. he sighed, knowing that this was a battle that would never end unless he put a stop to it somehow.

“i-i don’t know how to apologize.” namjoon admitted, feeling his face grow hot with shame, and didn’t dare look yoongi in the eye, instead focusing on the white carpeting of his living room. yoongi sighed. “do you really not know how to say sorry to someone?” namjoon shook his head, feeling as if he were to shrink into himself at any moment, and after a few beats of silence, yoongi said “i’ll help you”, and namjoon barely felt himself nod in acknowledgement as he stared off into space.

you sat curled up with hoseok, taehyung, and jungkook on your living room couch, feeling defeated and a little exhausted from the day’s events. hoseok had cooked kimchi fried rice and ordered samgyeopsal to go along with it, and the three of you were now lounging on your couch, lost in thought.

“why does everyone look so exhausted?” jungkook asked, concern furrowing his brow. hoseok sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “namjoon happened.” he mumbled, and immediately, jungkook’s expression morphed into a mixture of annoyance and anger.

“what’d that prick do this time?” he hissed. as hoseok filled him in on what happened, you watched as jungkook’s shoulders tensed with every word, and resisted the urge to run over and throw your arms around him.

“what an asshole. he really has no consideration for others.” jungkook seethed, curling his hands into the leather of the couch. his dark brown eyes softened as he fixed his gaze on you. “i’m so sorry he said those things to you.” you waved away his apology. “it’s fine, i’m honestly used to him being an asshole on the daily, so how he acted didn’t surprise me in the slightest.”

taehyung huffed, slumping further down on the couch. “still though, it doesn’t excuse the fact that he practically insulted you and jungkook.” said male scoffed. “please, it’s not the first time i’ve been called an entitled brat or whatever insult he comes up with.”

“still, though, why does he have to be so……” hoseok trailed off. “condescending? jungkook supplied, and the former nodded. “exactly.” “did your relationship with jieun really affect him that badly?” taehyung asked, and jungkook laughed bitterly. “i guess, since he got pissed off enough to end our friendship and push me out of his life.”

you glared at taehyung, who immediately held his hands up in mock surrender, cerulean eyes alight with fear, and you sighed, shifting your gaze to jungkook, who just looked plain exhausted, and gave him a sympathetic smile, to which he returned with a small grin of his own.

hoseok, sensing the tension in the room, clapped his hands, the loud noise echoing in your small apartment, and plastered a bright smile on his face. “so, how about we forget about all this depressing shit and get drunk off our asses instead, yeah?” jungkook smiled, a real, genuine one this time, eyes crinkling at the corners, dark brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “why not?”

hours later, jungkook was close to getting a migraine, head pounding, and very much tipsy, insides practically buzzing with soju, stumbling slightly every time he took a step, struggling to stay upright. he knew that the hangover the following day would be hell, but at the moment, jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care. he usually didn’t drink, especially on a work night, but after the day’s events, all jungkook wanted to do was drink until his mind felt numb. while it was the least practical thing to do, the last thing he wanted to be right now was practical.

jungkook stumbled into your small kitchen, barely managing to keep his eyes open as he did, gripping the marble counter next to him tightly, willing the world to stop spinning. out of his peripheral vision, he could see hoseok and taehyung passed out on the couch, soft snores escaping their mouths, and you were passed out on a nearby armchair, cheeks flushed.

he groaned and forced himself to walk over to the living room, blinking back exhaustion, and somehow collapsed onto the blue carpeted floor, feeling his body practically sigh in relief at the soft surface underneath him, jungkook let sleep pull him under minutes later.

taehyung woke up with a migraine and to the bright sun shining in his eyes, causing him to groan and bury in his face in one of the couch cushions. his body felt like jelly and the migraine that was currently pounding in his head was going to bother him all day.

sighing, he looked up from the cushion, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and looked around the room. hoseok was passed out next to him, clothes and hair rumpled, snoring softly, jungkook was curled up on the floor, suit jacket thrown to the side carelessly, his feet bare, and you were asleep on a nearby armchair, blouse and skirt wrinkled, dark hair a wild mess.

taehyung winced as he forced himself to sit up, ignoring the pounding headache he was currently sporting, and bent down to retrieve his suit jacket, which he’d probably removed at some point during the night, and shoved it on.

he got up and padded over to the kitchen, legs feeling like concrete, and managed to pour himself a glass of water and finding the painkillers. taehyung groaned, opened the painkillers, popped one in his mouth, and gulped down the glass of water. after carefully putting the glass in the sink, taehyung trudged over to the living room to wake up his friends.

taehyung started with hoseok, who was surprisingly easy to wake up, and made sure that his friend was up and taking painkillers before going to wake you. you groaned, fidgeting around in the chair, and taehyung couldn’t help but smile fondly.

“y/n” he sing-songed, shaking you gently, and your eyes slowly fluttered open. “huh?” you mumbled sleepily, and taehyung chuckled. “headache?” he asked gently, and you shook your head slightly. “surprisingly, i don’t. there is a slight ache, but it’s nothing close to a migraine.”

taehyung smiled, reaching out and ruffling your hair affectionately, telling you to go and freshen up, and you shot him a grateful smile as you disappeared up the small staircase that led to your room. sighing, he padded over to jungkook’s curled up form, nudging him slightly with his foot.

“kook?” he whispered, and said male grunted in response. “get your ass up and take some painkillers. you look like shit.” taehyung joked, and jungkook slowly sat up, hand immediately reaching up to press at his temples, groaning. “how much did i drink last night? my head’s killing me.” taehyung shrugged. “beats me, i passed out before you. but judging by your current state, i’m guessing a lot?” jungkook sighed. “remind me never to drink again.” he mumbled, carefully standing up and awkwardly shuffling towards the kitchen to take some painkillers. taehyung rolled his eyes half-heartedly and went to prepare breakfast.

hoseok sat at the kitchen island with you and taehyung on either side of him, and jungkook sitting at the very end, shoveling the pancakes that taehyung had made earlier into his mouth. you grimaced at the piece of pancake that stuck to his mouth afterwards, and hoseok rolled his eyes playfully. “didn’t your parents teach you, i don’t know proper table etiquette?” you joked, looking surprisingly refreshed for someone who’d just drank seven bottles of soju last night, and hoseok glared at you half-heartedly.

“i’m hungry, okay? leave me alone.” hoseok grumbled, cheeks flushing with color, and taehyung giggled. “ah , you’re so cute hyung!” he beamed, and hoseok glared daggers at the younger. “call me cute one more time or i’ll cut your dick off.” he growled, and taehyung just smiled smugly in response.

“would you two stop being at each other’s throat for at least a day? i swear, you idiots can’t go five minutes without wanting to bicker about the stupidest shit.” you scolded, but your tone held no heat, and taehyung snickered. “it’s how we show our love for one another.” hoseok supplied cheerfully, and you rolled your eyes. jungkook only looked on in amusement, holding back his laughter as he gulped down his glass of orange juice.

“remind me to never drink that much again.” jungkook muttered as he gently set down his now empty glass and headed for the bathroom to freshen up, and hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “do you need more painkillers?” taehyung called after him, and jungkook waved a dismissive hand. “i’ll be fine.” he said over his shoulder, and disappeared into the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

as soon as he was gone, taehyung immediately leaned in, bracing his elbows on the counter, lowering his voice as if he were afraid someone would overhear. “so, what’s going on with you and jungkook?” you felt your cheeks burn as you scoffed. “tae, would you quit that? there’s nothing going on between us.” said male pouted. “but y/n, this is your chance to find true love!”

you rolled your eyes fondly. “look, i appreciate that, but i don’t think he’s ready for another committed relationship, especially after jieun. besides, even if he was, i don’t think jungkook likes me in that way, and i’m not sure if i do either.”

hoseok scoffed. “you two are the most oblivious people i’ve ever met. do you even know how jungkook looks at you? how smitten he looks?” you blanched. “i-” aforementioned male just held up a hand, cutting you off and sighing. “i get that you don’t want to pressure jungkook about him dating again, but i mean, it’s not like you’ve flirted with him or anything. you’ve respected that he was in a long-term relationship and gave him time to heal. and he’s also not trying to make any moves on you. and like taehyung said before, it’s been a while since you’ve dated y/n, i mean, you deserve to be happy, you know?”

your heart warmed at how sincere he sounded, and moved forward to hug him. “thank you.” you mumbled into the soft fabric of his t-shirt, and hoseok chuckled softly, returning your embrace. “just telling the truth, no need to thank me.” after you pulled away, you let out a soft yawn and stretched. “i’m going to go get ready.” you mumbled and disappeared up the small set of stairs that led to your room a few seconds later.

as taehyung moved to put his plate in the sink, hoseok blurted, “what was that about?” the former’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. “what?” hoseok sighed inwardly. “why’d you ask y/n if there was something going on between her and jungkook? you know there’s not.”

taehyung rolled his eyes. “oh that? you know i was just messing with her, right?” hoseok blanched. “i-” the former held up a hand, cutting him off. “look, i know that you don’t exactly approve of y/n dating a conglomerate or whatever, but jungkook’s a great guy. he’s sweet and would treat her the way she deserves. i don’t see why you’re so against it.”

hoseok felt his face flush. “i never said i didn’t approve! i just…” he trailed off, and taehyung raised a curious brow. “just what?” hoseok sighed. “it’s nothing.” he mumbled, and taehyung didn’t look too convinced, but he didn’t press further, only gave a philosophical shrug and disappeared down the hall. hoseok, left alone with his thoughts, buried his face in his hands and groaned.

namjoon didn’t bother to look up from the veritable mountain of papers on his desk, even as you placed yet another dictionary sized file in front of him, clearing your throat awkwardly. “do you need anything?” he shook his head minutely, and heard you bow slightly and walk out of his office, heels clicking on the smooth floor, the door closing softly but firmly behind you.

as soon as you were gone, namjoon sighed, tossing the report he’d been reading off to the side of his desk, rubbing at his temples. his last conversation with yoongi had been all he could think about lately, and had gotten little to no sleep because of it. the older male had never been one to sugarcoat anything, as he was usually blunt and spoke his mind, which namjoon appreciated.

however, though, yoongi’s advice this time around had been confusing and to namjoon, a little out of character for him, as the younger wasn’t usually one to have “deep” conversations and often took namjoon’s side when it came to disagreements. in fact, his advice had made him even more confused and conflicted than ever.

unfortunately, yoongi was the only friend he had, as most of the people he interacted with usually thought of him as a conceited asshole and extremely intimidating. then, there was the irrevocably doomed friendship with jungkook, who had also made it clear that he had no intention of forgiving him for what occurred in the past. finally, there was his family, who he usually avoided contacting when he could help it.

his parents weren’t exactly the worst, but they weren’t the best either. his mom had tried to be there for him, especially when he’d gotten kidnapped at age six and had had suffered from trauma, but had gotten too busy with work and often neglected him. next was his father, who hadn’t even made any attempts to have any sort of “normal” relationship with him, as work was the only thing he seemed to care about these days.

then there were his siblings, who he hadn’t spoken to in years. aera, his older sister, was the head of an airline company in singapore, and had somehow managed to establish some sort of presence in said country, despite not being a native. she was kind, or at least, tried to be, tending to namjoon’s wounds when he’d fall from the swings at the nearby park, or when he’d trip and fall on his face, due to his clumsy nature. then, she’d gone off to college in europe, and had never come back. for all he knew, aera was probably lounging on the beach somewhere, sun-tanning.

finally, there was his older brother, sung-ho, who he’d always had a rocky relationship with. when they’d ended up going to the same middle school, namjoon had always felt as if he were living in his brother’s shadow, coming in second during spelling bees or scoring lower in tests, teachers favoring sungho over him, always praising him with sweet words that dripped from their mouths like honey.

on top of all that, his parents seemed to dote on him the most, making sure the best doctors took care of him when he’d get sick, and constantly fussing over him, giving him second helpings of food, and other things that namjoon longed for his parents to do for him.

they might as well have acted as if namjoon was a complete stranger instead of their biological son, for he felt invisible during his entire childhood, and could only rely on himself. no one seemed to care that he was crumbling and that the trauma from that awful kidnapping had affected him greatly. namjoon blinked back tears as he curled his hands into fists, knuckles turning white, and wished he could just will himself away.

that awful day still haunted him, and the terrible memories still lingered in the back of his mind, no matter how much namjoon tried to forget the incident entirely. namjoon took a deep, bracing breath, willing his hands to stop shaking, and finally let his tears fall.

jimin sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he typed out another email to the electronic company in spain, the text on his sleek computer screen a jumble of words.

companies had been emailing him all day, demanding to know whether or not golden closet inc was going to invest in their products, and jimin was trying to assure them that their contracts would be sent to them soon, and that they only needed a few more days.

jimin sighed tiredly and leaned back in his office chair, feeling his body practically wilt like a malnourished flower, and felt the ache in his neck pulse slightly. he was beyond exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to rush home and fall asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

unfortunately for him, jungkook had several meetings scheduled today, and as his secretary, jimin had to be there for all of them. and while he knew that jungkook would let him have the rest of the day off, no questions asked, jimin also knew that a part of him would feel guilty for leaving jungkook to deal with the narcissistic assholes that often attended said meetings, and would try to rush back to work anyway.

jimin ignored the now dull ache in his neck as he stood, grabbing the thick manila folder of reports on his desk and heading to jungkook’s office, fighting back exhaustion. this time, he waited for the soft yet authoritative “come in” before swinging the door open and letting himself inside the enormous yet somewhat cozy space.

jungkook was sat at his massive desk, flipping absentmindedly through a report, eyebrows scrunching together in concentration, a thin black pen in between his fingers. his blonde hair was a little disheveled and wind-swept, but the perfectly tailored gray suit he had on fit him like a glove.

jimin sighed, walking over and placing the file he’d been holding gently on the desk. jungkook looked up from the report he’d been reading, a gentle smile tugging at his mouth. “morning, jimin.” he beamed. jimin narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the strangely chipper tone in the former’s voice.

“why are you so hyper today?” jimin blurted, and bit back a smirk when color bloomed onto jungkook’s face. “i-i might’ve gotten drunk last night and was trying to play it off as if the hangover i’m currently going through isn’t killing me.” the latter mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, and jimin huffed a laugh, reaching into his pocket and placing some aspirin on his desk.

“i could tell, you seemed really out of it this morning. i mean, you almost tripped over your own feet when you went to make some coffee earlier.” jungkook’s blush grew deeper as he grabbed the mug with said coffee in it and took a small sip. “shut up.” he muttered, and jimin chuckled softly.

“where’d you even go last night anyway?” jimin asked nonchalantly as he put a pile of papers in a neat stack on jungkook’s desk, humming softly. “y/n’s apartment. and before you ask, it wasn’t just the two of us. hoseok hyung and tae were there too.” the latter supplied, and jimin gave a small nod in acknowledgement.

“well, at least you’re still a pain in the ass, i guess.” jimin teased, and received a half-hearted glare in return. “get out.” jungkook scolded, but his tone held no anger, and jimin resisted the urge to burst out laughing as he gave a slight bow and exited the room.

jungkook downed the rest of his coffee, grabbing the water bottle that he’d stolen from y/n’s apartment, popped some aspirin in his mouth, and grimaced as he gulped down said water bottle. wincing at the dull ache in his head, he threw the water bottle into the empty wastebasket beside his desk and sighed heavily.

drinking in excess last night had proved to be one of the stupidest things jungkook had ever done in his life, aside from punching his former friend in the face twice. jungkook groaned as he remembered that he had a fuck ton of meetings that afternoon, and ran a hand through his hair, not caring if it got messier than it already was. he sighed inwardly and reached for the report he’d been reading. today’s going to be a long fucking day, jungkook thought miserably.

you ignored the curious stares of your fellow employees as you went to make copies of the financial reports that namjoon had requested, the soft whirring of the machine filling the otherwise quiet room, and drummed your fingers softly on the table, humming softly.

you weren’t sure why people had been giving you strange looks all morning, whispering to each other as if they were gossiping about a celebrity scandal, but you just chose to ignore them, for the matter was probably unimportant.

you grabbed the copies off the printer and walked back to your desk, ignoring the hushed voices of everyone around you. hoseok shot you a concerned look, mouthing “everything ok?” and you nodded, giving him what you hoped was a convincing smile.

hoseok didn’t look too convinced, however, but didn’t say anything, even as you got up and made your way to namjoon’s office, schooling your features into neutrality. once you were given the go ahead to come in, you swung the door open gently and shut it firmly behind you.

you placed the copies on his desk, bowing slightly and moving away from it, making sure to put distance in between you and namjoon. said male scanned over the copies, expression unreadable, and gave you a slight nod, as if to say “thank you for not fucking this up.”

you fought the urge to scoff as you turned on your heels and started to walk away, but stopped in your tracks when you heard a soft “wait.” “yes?” you asked over your shoulder, making sure to remain as nonchalant as possible. “i wanted to apologize.” namjoon blurted, and you sighed inwardly as you turned to face him.

“for what, exactly?” “for how i’ve acted lately. i’ve been immature and rude and the things i said to you was not justified. i’m sorry for insulting you as well, that was extremely rude and out of line.” his tone seemed sincere, but because of how he’d treated you of late, you couldn’t help but feel extremely doubtful.

you scoffed, and namjoon had the nerve to look hurt. “with all due respect, sir, you realty expect me to believe that your apology is not half-assed?” “i’m confused, what are you trying to say?” you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “as intelligent as you are, you’re really dense sometimes, sir.” you drawled, fake politeness coating your voice, and namjoon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“did you forget about how i’ve worked my ass off for you all these years? and how you practically dismissed me after i tried to have a mature conversation with you? and then you practically insult me and one of my friends. you expect me to just forgive you after all of the shit you constantly put me through?” you tried your best to keep calm, curling your hands into fists tightly, knuckles turning white.

namjoon looked utterly speechless for once, and you bit back a satisfied smirk at the sight at the small victory. “have you been struggling? i know i’m not the best boss in the world, but you can let me know if you’re struggling or not. is the workload too much? or is the salary not enough? i can increase it-” “why would you care if i am or not?! you’re nothing but a narcissistic asshole who cares only about himself. i do all the bullshit you make me do, even if i have to lose sleep because of some stupid meeting!” you hissed, fighting back frustrated and angry tears. namjoon had the audacity and the nerve to look appalled. “what? surprised that i’m not confessing my love to you?” you sneered. “do you really think that?” think what?” “that i don’t care about you? that you’re just my secretary and nothing more?” his voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, sad even, but you refused to buy into his pathetic act. “yes, yes, i do.” you declared, refusing to break eye contact with him.

namjoon’s expression was unreadable, and you could’ve sworn you saw unshed tears glimmer in his light brown eyes. “then maybe you should just leave, if you really hate me that much.” he suggested, tearing his gaze away from you and focusing on the pile of papers on his desk instead.

you pursed your lips tightly, resisting the urge to get the last word in. instead, you turned on your heel and sauntered out of namjoon’s office, slamming the door behind you. you rushed over to your desk, shoving your belongings into your purse, frustrated tears stinging your eyes.

out of the corner of your eye, hoseok and taehyung were looking at you with utter despair and worry on their faces, and you gave them what you hoped was a convincing smile, and didn’t bother to look back as you rushed out of the office, eager to get some fresh air.

jungkook stretched, feeling his tired joints practically sigh with the movement, and slumped onto his office chair, mentally and physically from the long meeting he’d just endured. it’d been nothing but a waste of time and an excuse for asshole investors to complain about the simplest and most trivial things.

jimin had tried his best to move things along quickly, politely telling the stuffy executives that jungkook still had other meetings to attend. they all responded with irritated glares, and jungkook wanted nothing more than to throw a chair at them. luckily, he’d been able to end the meetings earlier than expected, and thus no chairs were harmed.

suddenly, his phone rang, interrupting him from his thoughts, and jungkook didn’t bother to check the caller id as he fished said device out of his suit pocket and put it to his ear. “hello?” he mumbled tiredly. “jungkook?” it was taehyung, and he sounded uncharacteristically serious.

“is something wrong? why do you sound so worried? did something happen?” jungkook asked, and he heard his friend take a long, slow breath before replying. “ let’s just say that when y/n went to drop off some files to namjoon, well, it didn’t go well.” taehyung mumbled, and jungkook immediately sat up straight, exhausation gone. “what’d that jerk do this time?” he inquired, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, despite the anger that was pooling in his stomach.

taehyung sighed, and jungkook could imagine the worried look on the former’s face. “he tried to apologize to her, and apparently y/n just… snapped. she started yelling at him and ran out of his office with tears streaming down her face. after that, she ran out, grabbed her stuff, and disappeared. i don’t know where she is, nor where she could’ve gone, and hoseok hyung and i are really worried. we assumed that she’d go to you, but judging from how you didn’t know what happened, i’m going to guess that you also don’t know where she is.”

jungkook cursed softly under his breath, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, and told taehyung that he’d try and find you before hanging up quickly, along with a promise to text him if he was successful in doing so.

he called jimin into his office, pacing back and forth while he waited, biting his lip anxiously. jungkook hoped that you had at least gone to a cafe nearby or something, and that you weren’t lying unconscious somewhere, or worse.

he shook off the thought with a shudder, mentally scolding himself for thinking of worst-case scenarios almost immediately, and looked up as the door to his office swung open, and a confused but smiling jimin walked in.

“did you need something, sir? you usually don’t call me at this hour, you’re usually sleeping or something.” jungkook ignored the light tease, and went on to explain what had happened, including the phonecall with taehyung, and jimin was pale-faced by the end of it.

“i-is she okay?” he managed, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible, but jungkook could hear the slight undertone of worry and fear mixed in, and sighed. “i don’t know, not even hoseok hyung and taehyung know where she went.”

jimin let out a soft stream of expletives that would’ve made his mother proud, and jungkook fought the urge to slump onto his desk and cry. “so, are you going to look for her? or do you want me to send out a search party?” jungkook fought the urge at the pure seriousness in jimin’s voice, for he knew that his secretary would do exactly that, with permission from him, of course. jungkook shook his head. “jimin, she didn’t get kidnapped, or at least , i hope she didn’t.” jimin winced slightly at that, and threw his hands up in exasperation.

“then what the hell are we supposed to do now, then? wait for her to show up at your door or something? god, jungkook, what if she’s lying in a ditch somewhere or something?” jimin mumbled worriedly. jungkook took a deep, bracing breath. “here’s what we’re going to do.” jimin’s eyes lit up with hope and curiosity, and grumbled, “this better not be one of your stupid, risky plans or i will karate chop you.”

you ducked into a cafe as soon as it had started raining, sighing as you stumbled into the warm space, the bitter smell of coffee and the sweet smell of pastries invading your senses. you seated yourself at a booth towards the back, smiling politely as a waitress came by and gave you a cup of fresh coffee.

you quickly rattled off your order to her when she asked for it, and as soon as the waitress was out of earshot, you buried your face into your hands and let out a soft sob. the soft pop music playing in the background did little to improve your mood, as the lyrics were melancholy and depressing.

you weren’t sure where you were, for you had just hailed a cab and told the driver to take you to the farthest cafe he could find, and when you stumbled out of said cab with what felt like an hour later, you realized that you didn’t have a fucking clue where the driver had taken you.

it was pathetic, you knew, to just run away like that, but you just couldn’t stand being in the same room as the guy you absolutely loathed, and the last words he said to you were still lingering in the back of your mind.

you sniffled, removing your face from your hands and drying your tears with a napkin, just as the waitress came back with your order, which was a blueberry muffin and another cup of coffee. you managed to give the sweet-faced waitress a small smile, to which she returned with a bright grin of her own before she walked away and took her place behind the counter again.

sighing, you dug your phone out of your purse and cursed softly under your breath when you saw all the missed calls and plethora of texts from hoseok, taehyung, and jungkook. they were all extremely worried and wanted to know where you were or if you’d been kidnapped, and you couldn’t help but laugh in slight amusement at their dramatics. your heart sunk down into your stomach when you thought of how worried and anxious you made them, and you carefully slipped your phone back into your purse with trembling hands.

the soft chatter of the patrons in the small yet cozy cafe filled your ears as you sat back in your booth and let your mind wander. running off like that was guaranteed to get you fired, at most, and honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. your boss was a piece of shit anyways, and while the pay was decent, there were a ton of opportunities that offered a lot more.

however, the thought of leaving hoseok and taehyung stopped you from making that thought a reality. they were your only friends and some of the only guys who you trusted to take care of you when you drunk or tipsy, knowing that they would never try to take advantage of you. hoseok and taehyung were also some of the only people in your life who knew some of your deepest secrets and the sole witnesses of a dark time in college, when your professors were being pieces of shit and the assignments were getting to you, and they had comforted you, bringing you all your favorite snacks and watching all the cheesy rom coms with you.

in short, you didn’t deserve their friendship, and while they constantly reminded you that it was the other way around, you knew that such was true. hoseok and taehyung had been there for you when no one else was, especially when your dad had passed away during you sophomore year of college, and you had spiraled immensely, and they were there to comfort you and hug for you hours on end, reminding you that you were brave and strong and that you would get through that period of grief. you smiled sadly to yourself as you remembered the late nights with the countless cartons of ice cream and takeout boxes, of the stupid jokes you’d shared and the shitty movies you watched.

jungkook ignored the way his now ruined suit jacket clung to him as he ran through the torrent of rain. he decided to not take note of the pedestrians who were staring at him, probably wondering why one of the most influential figures in seoul was running, without an umbrella, no less, through a torrential downpour.

nothing mattered, all that did was finding you. after what seemed like hours, jimin was able to find your location, which was at a small cafe an hour out of seoul, and jungkook had wasted no time running out of his company and down the stairs that led to the parking garage, hopping into his car, starting it, and practically gunning it down the streets as he drove like a madman.

jungkook broke three traffic laws, ran two redlights, and let out a stream of expletives that would’ve made jimin proud, and barreled down the streets of seoul, heart pounding wildly against his chest. all of that led him to his current state, soaked to the bone, expensive suit ruined, running through the streets like his life depended on it.

his heart leapt with relief when he caught sight of you in the cafe window, seated in a booth towards the back, sipping calmly on a cup of coffee. jungkook practically tripped over his own feet as he went to open the door, and seconds later, he was standing at the cafe entrance, dripping wet with rain and breathing heavily, as if he’d ran a marathon.

you stood up, eyes wide with shock, and jungkook wasted no time in marching over to you and pulling you into a tight embrace, wet clothes be damned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the sweet smell of your perfume.

“don’t you dare scare us like that again, jimin nearly had a heart attack when i told him what happened.” he grumbled half-heartedly, and felt you chuckle, your warm breath fanning out against his skin, the scent of coffee filling his nose. “i’m sorry kook, i just needed to get away from him.” you muttered, returning his embrace, ignoring the coldness of his soaked suit on your skin.

jungkook squeezed your shoulder gently before pulling you, smiling sheepishly at you at your black blouse, which was now a little damp with rain, and you laughed, waving off his apology. “it’s fine, kook, don’t worry about it.” and said male grinned in response, shaking the water out of his hair softly.

you huffed a laugh at jungkook carding his fingers through his hair as if that would get rid of the water entirely, and snagged a paper napkin from a nearby table, patting his hair dry. jungkook blushed profusely as you dried his hair, simply because of the close proximity.

after all of that, you sat jungkook down at the booth, waving down the same waitress from before, asking for yet another cup of coffee, and this time, said waitress gave you a knowing smirk and hurried off before you could protest.

your face flushed scarlet as you took a long sip of your now cold coffee, avoiding jungkook’s eyes, and said male huffed a laugh across from you. “what’s gotten you so flustered?” he teased, and you fought the urge to throw a napkin at him. “that waitress thinks we’re dating.” you grumbled, picking at your blueberry muffin, and jungkook chuckled. “is the thought of dating me really that horrible to you?” his tone was light, teasing, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty.

“n-no, not at all.” you stammered, still refusing to meet jungkook’s gaze, and shoved a piece of blueberry muffin in your mouth, chewing slowly, cheeks burning, and said male just laughed in amusement and thanked the waitress, who placed his coffee on the table, smiling, and briskly walked away.

jungkook downed the rest of his coffee, setting the now empty mug on the table, and studied you carefully, looking for any signs of distress. he’d saw how surprised you were to see him, as if you had doubted that he would be able to find you, and his heart had soared with half relief and worry. relief that you were safe, and worry that you were trying to pretend that you were okay.

you seemed composed and calm, with your back ramrod straight and sipping your coffee carefully, but jungkook noticed that your hands were trembling slightly as you placed the mug down. he narrowed his eyes, considering, and schooled his features back into neutrality when you turned to him, expression unreadable, and sighed.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant and casual as possible, and you smiled sadly, shaking your head softly. “nothing, really, it’s just…. how am i going to tell hoseok and tae that i’m planning on leaving them?” jungkook swallowed against the bile in his throat at the thought of said males looking at you with sad eyes, and gave a philosophical shrug in response.

“i know i’m not super close with them, but i think they’d respect your decision, at least, they would understand.” he supplied, and you ran a hand through you hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. “leaving them was what exactly held me back from handing in my letter of resignation.” you mumbled, slumping in the booth seat across from him, looking utterly defeated.

“for what it’s worth, you’ll hopefully have a better boss and have more days off?” you laughed, reaching across the table and ruffling his hair affectionately, and jungkook felt his face grow hot, color blooming across his cheeks.

“also, i’m sorry for running off like that without contacting any of you first, i guess i wasn’t thinking straight.” you admitted, and jungkook waved off your apology. “y/n, never think that you’re at fault.” ‘but-” you started, but were cut off by the aforementioned male with a half-hearted glare in warning.

“i know that you’re going to try and continue to blame yourself, but none of what has happened, including the incidents with namjoon have never been your fault.” jungkook reassured you gently, and you gave him what you hoped was a convincing smile, despite the fact that you secretly disagreed.

in fact, all of what happened had been because of you in one way or another, and you hated being a burden to your friends, who you knew you didn’t deserve in the slightest. but since you knew arguing was futile, you just gave jungkook a grateful smile and reached for his hand across the table, squeezing it gently.

“thank you, kook.” you mouthed, and when he beamed at you, eyes crinkling at the corners, and you ignored the guilt eating away at your heart.

taehyung sighed in relief when he got the text from jungkook, confirming that y/n was alright, and that she had merely run off to a cafe an hour away from the city. when he’d broken the news to hoseok, said male had burst out sobbing, grumbling about how he was going to yell at you the second he saw you. taehyung could only laugh in response, knowing that the older would do the exact opposite.

after hoseok had calmed down a bit, taehyung had handed him a bottle of water, of which the older male took gratefully, downing its contents. “she really knows how to give someone a near heart attack, huh?” hoseok chuckled, voice hoarse from crying, and taehyung rolled his eyes fondly. “she sure does, but we love her anyway.” he added, and hoseok nodded in agreement.

taehyung sighed, slumping tiredly against the worn leather of his living room couch, and let his eyes flutter shut. he wasn’t sure what time it was, nor did he want to know. he was beyond exhausted, and let himself drift into dreamland.

you nervously walked into work the next day, worried of the rumours that would befell you, as you knew you had caused such a scene yesterday. taehyung and hoseok, who had insisted on driving you to work today, stood protectively on either side of you, your arms looped through theirs, and taehyung mouthed “keep your chin up, you’re better than they are.”

you allowed yourself a small smile and adjusted your posture, raising your chin slightly, refusing to look at your fellow co-workers as the three of you sauntered into the office, not daring to break stride until you reached your desk. you gave hoseok and taehyung grateful looks, and they beamed back at you, eyes twinkling, and you couldn’t help but smile back, despite how nervous you felt.

namjoon had yet to arrive, and you were dreading it, to say the least. you had practically yelled at him yesterday, and that fact alone was enough to make your stomach churn. he was probably going to fire you on the spot, and while that was what you had wanted before, you were planning on at least staying for a couple months before deciding to leave entirely.

but because of the fiasco that you alone were the sole cause of; you doubted your role as his secretary would last any longer than it had to. you tried to distract yourself by working on a long overdue email to a corporate company, but to no avail. however, there was that petty part of you that felt satisfied at what you had said to namjoon, for he had done little to make your work life pleasant.

he was narcissistic, cold, unforgiving, unsympathetic, and arrogant. all of the executives who’d been unfortunate enough to meet him had nothing but harsh words to say, but were too afraid to voice such opinions out loud, for namjoon held enough power in the business industry that he could end their careers with a single phone call. you shook off the thought and tried to busy yourself with work.

namjoon sauntered into his office, not bothering to make eye contact with anyone, hoping that the dark circles under his eyes weren’t too visible. he’d barely gotten any sleep the previous night, due to the last words you said to him lingering in his mind.

he was infuriated and confused that such words had affected him so greatly, or rather, why his own secretary was making him lose his mind. namjoon had never had any close, intimate relationships, despite his handsome looks, as people usually told him that his personality was his downfall.

namjoon had also never known what it was like to love and to be loved, as his family was dysfunctional and didn’t give two shits about him. and because namjoon was expected to carry on the family business, romance was the last thing on his mind. intimacy and love scared him, and he wasn’t sure if intimacy was something he wanted. then again, there were the women who desperately pined for his attention, all lipstick wearing and low cut dresses, but he had remained indifferent to all their attempts.

thus, namjoon deemed relationships, or romance for that matter, as a waste of time, and threw himself into his work instead, committing to the arduous hours, paperwork, and meetings. he’d never been one to fantasize about such trivial things either.

then, namjoon met you. you were hardworking, stubborn, quick-witted, and slow to anger. you took his criticism in stride and always did your best to improve. you were also one of the first girls who didn’t try to seduce him, or rather, know who he was.

you were aware that he had power and status, but not to the scale it was now. thus, you were hired as his secretary, and had remained as such for nearly nine years. namjoon was certain that your position was permanent, but that terrible night just a month ago had proved him wrong.

when you had informed him that you wanted to quit, he hadn’t known how to react, and instead had lashed out, which probably only fueled your hatred for him. namjoon knew that you absolutely loathed him, for the look in your eyes was unmistakable whenever he made eye contact.

while he was used to getting dirty looks and loathful sneers on the daily, it had never affected him this much. usually, namjoon would roll his eyes and smirk, but all of that seemed to vanish when you were looking at him with enough contempt and malice to make him shiver slightly in fear. for the first time in his career, you were one of the only girls who didn’t flirt with him, remaining indifferent but unfailingly polite. namjoon had never met someone like you before, so it took him back a bit.

namjoon wasn’t sure why he would get annoyed at seeing you with jung hoseok and kim taehyung, smiling and laughing like there was no tomorrow. not to mention that his blood would boil whenever jungkook was with you. he had the gall to injure him, twice, in fact, and then threaten to hire y/n, knowing that you were one of his most competent employees.

sleepless nights became more frequent than usual, with constant tossing and turning, and namjoon had begun to get frustrated and confused of why such things were happening to him, and tried to ignore that strange, aching feeling in his heart. even yoongi, who usually kept quiet about most things, at least, when it came to namjoon, spoke up about his strange behavior. namjoon’s mind was constantly swimming with thoughts, and he was sure he was going to get a migraine at any time now.

namjoon didn’t bother to look back at anyone as he swung the door open to his office, stepping inside and closing the door firmly behind him. he plopped down tiredly on his chair, sighing heavily, and turned to the sleek desktop, powering it on and then proceeded to check his emails.

namjoon scrolled lazily through his inbox, deleting the ones that were from executives he knew were two-faced and had no intention in actually keeping their promises to him. scroll, click, delete. scroll, click, delete. this went on for what seemed like forever, until his eyes burned from looking at the screen.

he feigned interest in the papers on his desk, organizing them into a neat stack on the side of his desk, and then picked up the financial reports, flipping through the thick packet. as per usual, everything was the same, and his company was doing well, so namjoon just set said reports off to the side after a few minutes.

a soft knock sounded at his door, and namjoon muttered a barely audible “come in.” you stood awkwardly in the doorway, hesitating. he ignored the familiar ache in his chest at the sight of you in a loose, white blouse that tied at the front with a beige skirt that showed off your long legs, and schooled his features into neutrality. “i have the weekly reports from the resources team, if you’d like to see them, of course.” you said, that overly polite tone making an appearance, and namjoon fought the urge to frown at the sound of it.

“set the file on my desk.” he blurted, and mentally winced at his sharp and blunt tone. do you always have to sound like such a condescending asshole? namjoon thought frustatedly. you simply nodded and moved to gently place the thick folder that he hadn’t noticed until now on his desk.

you stepped back, as if afraid that he’d lash out at you, and namjoon felt his heart sink down to his stomach. sure, he wasn’t exactly the nicest person in the world, but he wasn’t heartless, contradictory to what others usually said about him.

“y/n, can we talk?” he asked, trying to sound as cordial as possible, and didn’t miss the way you hesitated before replying, biting your lower lip nervously. “what could you possibly want to talk to me about? i don’t think we have anything to talk about, especially after what happened yesterday. you’ve made it very clear that you hate me, and not to mention you practically dismissed me the first time i tried to have a civilized conversation with you.” you seethed, and namjoon flinched at the coldness in your voice.

“but, since you asked so nicely,” you drawled, “i’ll listen. you have five minutes, sir, and don’t waste my time, i’m a very busy person, you know.” namjoon sighed internally. “you’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” you shook your head. “nope.” you beamed.

here goes nothing, and don’t fuck up this time, namjoon, he thought, clearing his throat awkwardly before taking a deep bracing breath. you stood a few feet away, looking almost bored, examining your nails. “well?” you asked, raising a brow, and namjoon resisted the urge to scowl.

“i know i haven’t been the greatest boss, i’m well aware of that. and i’m also aware that i can come off as a bit arrogant and uncaring.” you scoffed, not bothering to look over at him. “that’s the biggest fucking understand of the year. anyways, continue.” you muttered, waving a dismissive hand.

“i also insulted you and jungkook, without knowing how close you were with him.” at this, you rolled your eyes. “i mean, i thought it was blatantly obvious. oh, and i know the history between the two of you, and to be honest, i thought it was kind of shitty that you decided to just drop your friendship with him entirely all because of some girl. i mean, i know that it hurts to find out that your best friend is dating the person you like, but you could’ve at least tried to be happy for him, at least, that’s what a decent person would’ve done, instead of cutting him out of your life completely. that’s a new low, even for you.” you chuckled darkly, and namjoon shuddered internally.

“what will it take for you to forgive me?” namjoon demanded, unable to hide the anger and frustration in his voice, and you just let out a harsh laugh. “i don’t think anyhing you could say or do could make me forgive you, especially after all these years. although, maybe you could od me a favor by finally letting me go.” namjoon sighed, feeling defeated.

“if i agree, will you stay for one more month?” there was a long stretch of silence before you sighed heavily. “fine, but if you cross the line again, i’m staying for two weeks.” you replied, voice curt, and before namjoon could reply, you turned on your heels and walked out of his office, firmly closing the door behind you.

namjoon sat numbly in his chair, stunned. he wasn’t sure what response he’d been expecting, but it definitely had not been that. he sighed a long, suffering sigh, and ran a hand through his hair. you had made it clear that you were less than willing to forgive him for what he’d done, and now he had to think of a different approach.

you were practically fuming when you took your usual seat next to hoseok during your lunch break, and said male looked over at you, concern furrowing his brow. “did he piss you off again?” he asked hesitantly, and you nodded, pursing your lips together tightly. taehyung looked on curiously, shoving a piece of sushi in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

“he tried to make the shittest apology ever, which, by the way, was worse than those youtubers that do horrible shit and are forced to make an even shittier apology video.” taehyung grimaced. “that bad?” you scoffed. “even worse. i swear, that man doesn’t have an ounce of empathy in his body.”

hoseok sighed next to you, turning towards you, and you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under said male’s eyes, as if he hadn’t gotten much sleep at all. “look,y/n, i know that our boss isn’t your favorite person in the world and that he’s kind of an ass, but this whole cat and mouse game that you two have been playing has been quite exhausting to watch.” you looked at him in disbelief. “what do you mean by cat and mouse game?” hoseok rolled his eyes. “please, don’t act like you don’t know.” “know what?” you demanded, not bothering to hide your exasperated tone. “i hate to say it, but i think you like him.” you nearly choked on your ramen as the words left his mouth. “w-what?” “you like him, don’t you?” hoseok asked slowly, and you shook your head vigorously.

“don’t be ridiculous! why would i be ever attracted to someone like him?” you cried, throwing your hands up in exasperation. taehyung shrugged. “hoseok hyung kind of a has a point. i mean, yeah, he’s an ass sometimes, but a crush is a crush.” you felt your cheeks flame. “shut up! i am in no way attracted to that prick!” you hissed, and taehyung and hoseok just gave you shit-eating grins. “whatever you say, y/n.” they sing-songed, and you fought the urge to whack both of them with your chopsticks.

yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation as namjoon told him of the day’s events. “joon, you’re one of the most intelligent people i know, but how can you be so stupid?” said male refused to meet his gaze, cheeks flushed with shame. “you’re really shit at apologizing, huh?” he mumbled, and reached for his half-empty glass of whisky, downing the contents and setting it on the coffee table.

the strong liquid lingered in his mouth as yoongi contemplated on what to say next, eyes shifting around the room. after a moment, he sighed a long, suffering sigh. “namjoon, things are probably going to get worse if you keep acting like a domineering asshole.” said male sighed. “don’t you think i know that?” he groused, and yoongi rolled his eyes.

“all i’m saying is that you need to find closure with her or something. also, didn’t you not want her to leave?” at namjoon’s flushed cheeks, yoongi bit back a smirk. “she’s the most competent secretary i’ve ever had, that’s all.” he mumbled, and yoongi fought the urge to scoff at how utterly obvious his friend was being.

yoongi tsked. “well, at least if you do fuck up again, which, at this rate, i’m sure you will, you can always hire a new secretary, i’m sure there are many people willing to take y/n’s place.” namjoon scrunched his nose in disgust. “no one could ever replace her, yoongi. no one.” he muttered, and this time, yoongi couldn’t help the amused laugh that tumbled out of him.

“you really like her, don’t you?” color spread across namjoon’s cheeks as said male refused to meet yoongi’s gaze. “don’t be ridiculous, you know i think relationships are a complete and utter waste of time.” he grumbled, and yoongi just sighed in exasperation.

jungkook nearly crushed the water bottle he’d been drinking as hoseok filled him in on what had had happened earlier that day between you and namjoon, blood boiling. he clenched his jaw so hard it felt as if it would break, but jungkook could’ve cared less if it did.

“that asshole really thought he could just woo her over with that pathetic attempt of an apology?” he seethed, and hoseok shrugged philosophically. “i dunno. besides, who knows what the hell goes through that guy’s head?” jungkook took a deep, bracing breath, practically slumping on hoseok’s couch, and said male patted him on the shoulder, as if in comfort.

“kook, i know that this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but maybe you should apologize to him?” hoseok asked, voice hesitant, and jungkook felt his entire body tense at the suggestion. “why should i? he’s the one who pushed me away all because of some girl.” he grumbled, and this time, it was hoseok’s turn to sigh.

“like i said, i know that it’s the last thing you want to do, but-” “there’s no way in hell i’m apologizing to that jerk. if anything, namjoon should apologize to me, ruining our friendship over a girl, for fucks sake.” jungkook snapped, and immediately regretted it when he saw sadness and hurt flash across hoseok’s face.

the latter just gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. and before jungkook could blurt out an apology, something to fix what’d he’d done, hoseok got up and walked away, not bothering to look back as he disappeared upstairs. jungkook heard a door close firmly, and then utter silence. jungkook felt his face grow hot and buried his face in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. why do i always have to fuck up everything? he thought miserably.

you had just slung your bag over your shoulder when taehyung ran up to you, breathless and panting, as if he’d just ran a marathon. normally, you’d start teasing him for being unfit, but as soon as you saw the tense and worried expression on your friend’s face, that thought completely vanished from your mind.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, trying to sound as calm as possible, despite the erratic beating of your heart. after letting taehyung catch his breath, said male filled you in on what had had happened, and by the time he was done, you felt your heart sink down into your chest.

“where’s jungkook now?” you managed to say, despite yourself. taehyung shrugged. “i don’t know, but we should probably head out now before one of the most prominent figures in seoul becomes roadkill.’’ you glared at taehyung as you rushed out of the building, him on your heels.

hoseok sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair, trudging over to the dirty mirror that was propped up against a pile of books, wincing at what he saw. his eyes were red and raw from crying, dark circles prominent, and his hair was practically a bird’s nest from how messy it was. he shrugged off his now wrinkled work clothes, of which he hadn’t bothered to change out of earlier, and put on a loose shirt and sweatpants.

after he looked somewhat decent, hoseok hesitantly made his way downstairs, where he’d left jungkook after their small argument earlier in the day. his heart sunk at what he saw. jungkook was sobbing uncontrollably, face buried in the crook of your neck, and your arms were wrapped around him firmly, rubbing his back in smooth circles, as if trying to soothe a crying child.

taehyung was standing awkwardly a few feet away, expression unreadable. hoseok grimaced at the tense atmosphere, and quietly ran back to the safety of his room like the coward he was. as soon as the door closed behind him, hoseok plopped down onto his bed and let out a frustrated sigh. i really need to stop running away from my problems, he thought, burying his face into his pillow, resisting the urge to scream into it.

after jungkook’s tears had subsided, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “are you okay?” you asked, heart aching at how red-rimmed jungkook’s eyes were. aforementioned male shook his head. “i’m fine, at least, now i am.” he croaked. “i didn’t mean to snap at him like that, i was just so frustrated about what happened between you and namjoon-”

you felt your blood run cold, and jungkook seemed to realize that he’d messed up, because his eyes went wide, resembling a deer caught in headlights. “how did you know about what happened between us?” “i-” “it was me.” a voice interrupted, and causing you both to jump in surprise, turning to see hoseok standing awkwardly a few feet away, light brown hair disheveled. “you told him?” you blurted, trying to fight the angry tears that were threatening to spill.

hoseok nodded softly, not bothering to hide the slight grimace on his face, and you felt your heart was going to spilt into two. you weren’t sure how to feel, for one part of you knew that he was just trying to look out for you, while the other was slightly angry that jungkook had found out. you just didn’t want to worry him, for you felt that you had troubled him enough these days.

“i’m sorry for telling him, but he would’ve probably found out eventually.” “so what? you thought that it would be a good idea to tell jungkook without asking me first?” you hissed, feeling your face grow hot, and immediately regretted it when pure hurt flashed across hoseok’s face.

“y/n-” he started, but you shook your head, squeezed your eyes shut, as if the sight of him was too much to bear. and without so much as a word or a glance back, you slid off the couch, grabbed your bag off the coffee table, and ran out the front door, slamming it behind you.

you didn’t know where you were going, but all you knew was that you couldn’t be around anyone right now, not even jungkook, who had done nothing wrong. you felt hot tears slide down your cheeks as you ran, wiping them away hastily with the back of your hand.

you hated feeling such an immense amount of guilt, for lashing out at hoseok, who was only looking you for you, and for being such a burden to everyone. the namjoon fiasco, or rather, fiascos, had been a constant occurrence, and you knew that all of your friends had been going through so much shit recently, all because of you.

and because you loved your friends to pieces, maybe the best thing was to distance yourself for a while, and maybe, just maybe, things would get better. you couldn’t stand to trouble them any further than you had.

taehyung dialed your number for what seemed like the millionth time in the past thirty minutes, running a hand through his already messy hair. and when the call went to voicemail yet again, he buried his face in his hands, trying to fight back worried tears.

he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, as if in comfort, and felt himself relax, just a bit. “it’s ok, tae, just give her time.” hoseok said gently, and taehyung sighed, removing his hands from his face, sighing deeply. “i know, but i can’t help but worry about her.” he murmured. hoseok just gave the younger a sympathetic look and went to make coffee.

you softly knocked on the door of your older sister’s apartment, wrapping your arms around yourself, trying to keep warm from the bitter cold seeping through your bones. it’d started to downpour as you got out of the taxi, and in a pathetic attempt to keep yourself dry, you had raised your arm over your head and ran as fast as your four inch heels could take you.

your sister opened the door dressed in a worn college hoodie and sweats, a look of surprise that immediately turned to one of concern when she took in your soaked through blouse and skirt, along with your now ruined heels.

“y/n, what the hell happened to you?” she asked as she ushered you inside, immediately grabbing a nearby kitchen towel and draping it over your shoulders. “hold on, i’ll get you a better one.” she said, and before you could say anything, she rushed off.

you stood awkwardly in the middle of your sister’s living room, trying not to get water on the expensive rug she’d purchased with her paycheck last summer, wrapping the gray kitchen towel tighter around you. when your sister returned, she practically pulled said towel off of you, replacing it with a blue one that smelled like her shampoo, citrus and sweet.

“what the hell happened?” she demanded as soon as you’d showered and changed into fresh, clean clothes. you took a long sip of the warm cup of coffee she’d made you a few minutes ago, sighing. “it’s a long story.” you murmured, setting the mug down on her coffee table, and your sister rolled her eyes. “i have all night, so start from the beginning.” she said, crossing her arms over her chest, raising an expectant eyebrow, as if to say, ‘well, go on, explain.” you took a long, bracing breath before you told her everything, including the events of the past few weeks.

by the time you’d finished rambling for what seemed like three hours, malhee regarded you calmly, fingers playing with the worn sleeve of her hoodie. “so?” you asked nervously, and after a long stretch of silence, your sister let out a low whistle. “fucking hell, y/n, what kind of shit have you been through? and your boss sounds like a complete ass.” you winced, reaching for your now cold cup of coffee and taking a small sip.

“work’s fine, i promise, my boss is just….” “an inconsiderate piece of shit?” malhee finished, clear disgust in her voice. “i-i guess.” “do you need me to give this asshole a piece of my mind? because i will beat the shit out of him if you want me to.” she seethed, and you grimaced at the image of your older sister punching one of the most influential figures in seoul.

“please don’t, we don’t have enough money to bail you out of jail.” malhee sighed in defeat. “i hate when you’re reasonable. ”she grumbled. “anyway, enough about your boss, how are those guys you’ve been hanging out with?” she asked, eyes glittering with mirth, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“whatever you think is happening between us, it’s not like that.” malhee scoffed. “please, you mean to tell me that you have attractive men around you and you’re not dating one of them?” “malhee! what the hell!” you scolded, cheeks burning, and she rolled her eyes. “what?”

“ i am not dating with anyone, nor do i have any plans to.” “seriously, y/n?? not even that jungkook dude you’re always hanging out with?” you blushed furiously. “no, not even him. besides, he just broke up with his girlfriend a month ago, so i doubt that he’s up for any dating right now.” malhee let out a long, frustrated sigh. “it’s been longer than that, surely he’s over her by now?” you just shrugged philosophically. “i haven’t asked, and honestly, i’m not sure he is, i mean, he really liked this girl.”

malhee opened her mouth to protest when there was a knock at her door. she sighed and got up to answer it. you followed after her, curious as to who was knocking at your sister’s door at this hour, and you couldn’t help the look of surprise when you realized who it was.

“vice chairman?” said male was standing awkwardly at your sister’s doorstep, fidgeting nervously with his hands, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “h-hi, i’m-” “i know who you are, you’re the asshole who’s been making my sister’s life a living hell.” malhee said cooly but you could hear the evident disgust in her tone. you immediately rushed over, gripping her shoulders tightly, trying to pull her away.

to your dismay, your sister didn’t budge, instead, she stood her ground and looked namjoon dead in the eyes, expression hard as steel. “what the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, and the taller of the two visibly flinched at the coldness in malhee’s voice.

“i-i wanted to apologize for-” malhee scoffed, cutting him off abruptly. “apologize my ass. you really think you can just muster up some bullshit apology and expect my sister to fall at your feet? she’s been working her ass off for her you nine years, and not once have you ever shown that you’re grateful. all you do is take advantage of her, you don’t even deserve her as your secretary. i’m surprised she hasn’t up and left yet.”

she barked a laugh, the sound cold and unforgiving. “what? cat got your tongue?” malhee sneered, and namjoon said nothing, just bowed awkwardly, turned on his heels, and left. as soon as your sister had slammed the door behind him, you removed your hands from her shoulders, pacing back and forth anxiously.

“are you insane?!” you whisper-yelled, and malhee rolled her eyes yet again. “what? that asshole had the nerve to show his face and so i got rid of him for you, you’re welcome, by the way.” you ran a hand through your hair, letting out a deep sigh. “look, i know he’s an asshole and all, but he’s still my boss, and he can fire me whenever he wants.” you reasoned, and malhee simply said nothing, just marched past you into her living room. sighing, you followed after, wondering if she had just cost you your job.

jungkook had drunk all of half a bottle of soju when his phone rang. he knew exactly who was calling before he picked up. “what happened?” taehyung sighed heavily. “she ran away again, to god knows where.” “fuck, i hope she’s okay.” he grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

down the snow-white table, hoseok arched a brow, his silver earrings shifting with the movement. jungkook sighed and set the bottle down. he should’ve ran after you, done something, anything to keep you from running away again. but deep down, jungkook knew that trying to convince you otherwise would be useless, for once you set your mind on something, there was no going back.

jungkook asked, “do you have any idea of where she might’ve run off to?” “i’m not sure,” taehyung admitted. “but,” he added, “she does have an older sister who has an apartment somewhere here. i’ve never been there, but i think hoseok has. ask him. is he there with you?”

as if he’d overheard, hoseok arched a questioning brow, and jungkook held up a finger. wait. the older male nodded, pulling out his phone and tapping away on it, the blue light from the device illuminating his sharp features. “yeah, he is.” jungkoook said softly, and after promising taehyung that he’d call him once he knew something, he hung up swiftly.

“so, what’d taehyung say? where’s y/n?” hoseok demanded, but his voice held no anger, only immense worry. “he doesn’t know for sure, but he mentioned something about y/n having an older sister.” to his relief, hoseok’s light brown eyes lit up with recognition. “malhee?” jungkook nodded slowly. “yeah, do you know her?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

hoseok nodded. “yeah, i do. y/n invited me over to her apartment for christmas one year, and her sister was there. she’s nice, though i didn’t really get to talk to her much, since she was holed up at work half the time i was there.” “what does her sister do?” “oh, she’s a nurse down at a local hospital.” jungkook hummed in acknowledgement. “she sounds cool.”

hoseok shrugged. “yeah, i guess.” “have you ever been to y/n’s sister’s apartment? taehyung mentioned that she has one in the area.” when the older shook his head, jungkook tried not to look disappointed. “although, i might have an idea of where it might be, but i can’t make any promises.” for the first time that evening, jungkook felt his spirits rise, just a bit. “it’s better than nothing.”

hours later, hoseok, taehyung, and jungkook stood in front of your sister’s apartment door, breathing heavily, as if they’d ran a marathon. they were near-exhaustation, half from searching all night and the other from running around the streets like madmen, asking random strangers if they’d seen you.

and, just a few minutes ago, a short old lady with kind eyes informed that she had seen you run towards an apartment with a blue-painted door, and the three males had never ran faster in their life as soon the words left the lady’s mouth. so, here they were, standing in front of said door, contemplating on whether they should knock or leave.

after a long stretch of silence, taehyung murmured “fuck it” under his breath and went to knock on the door. hoseok and jungkook held their breaths for longer than they should’ve, and the door opened to reveal a tall, dark-haired female wearing a worn college hoodie and sweats.

“who are you guys, and why the hell are you standing near my door like stalkers?” she demanded, dark eyes glinting dangerously, and jungkook gulped nervously. though he had never met malhee, from the look in her eyes alone, he knew that the female promised hell if anything happened to you.

“malhee? do you remember me? y/n invited me over for christmas one year? i was the guy who spilled hot chocolate all over myself.” hoseok blurted, cheeks coloring, and the look in malhee’s eyes softened, just a bit, twinkling with amusement and recognition. “yes, i do, you’re hoseok, right? and the two of you must also be y/n’s friends.”

taehyung and jungkook waved awkwardly from where they were hiding behind hoseok, and malhee moved to let the three males inside. “i’m about to make dinner, do any of you want anything?” before any of them could reply, a familiar figure shuffled into the room.

“malhee, who’s at the-” you broke off at the sight of your three friends standing awkwardly in the living room, looking sheepish. “what are they doing here?” you blurted, and it came out harsher than you meant it to, because hoseok winced slightly at your tone.

“they were standing outside the door like creepy stalkers and i recognized hoseok, so i let them in. they’re those friends you keep talking about, right?” you nodded weakly, and malhee smiled, oblivious to the tension in the room, and went to make dinner.

“we were so worried about you! why did you just up and run like that?” hoseok began, clear distress and relief in his voice, and you sighed. “look, i know it was a shitty thing to do, and i’m sorry. i’m also sorry for lashing out like that, i guess i was just so worked up over what happened with namjoon and i that i took it out on all of you. i’m sorry for always causing trouble, i-” you broke off as a soft sob escaped your mouth, and almost immediately, strong arms were around you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

you sobbed, burying your face in the crook of taehyung’s neck, breathing in his rain and cedar scent, and felt him rub comforting circles on your back. hoseok and jungkook looked on sadly, moving to help malhee with dinner.

after you had calmed down and your tears subsided, taehyung led over to the kitchen, sitting you down at one of the stools at the island, and you managed a small, grateful smile. before you could say anything, jungkook cut in, saying, “if you’re going to apologize again, then don’t say anything. we’re your friends, y/n, no matter how much shit we put each other through.”

at the sincerity of jungkook’s words, you felt like crying again, for you didn’t deserve friends like them. within the past few weeks, you had put all of them through so much, and no matter how much you tried to apologize, they refused to accept them, insisting that you had nothing to be sorry for, much to your protest. you gave jungkook a grateful smile, to which he returned with a bright grin of his own.

malhee cleared her throat awkwardly, setting down plates of pancakes, bacon, and cups of fresh coffee, snapping you back to reality. you felt your cheeks warm as you grabbed a piece of bacon and chewed on it thoughtfully, refusing to look at anyone.

breakfast was a flurry of friendly and warm conversation, with hoseok nearly upending his plate from laughter, and malhee scolding him half-heartedly. you avoided prying questions from malhee about your love life, with hoseok, taehyung, and jungkook wincing.

“will you quit asking me about my love life?” you hissed, cheeks burning, and malhee gave you a knowing smirk. “why not? i’m your sister, i’m allowed to be curious about these kinds of things”. you huffed in frustration. “fine, since you’re so curious, work has been too much of a pain for me to even consider dating, let alone a relationship. and even if someone did catch my eye, they’d probably start running for the hills when they find out that i’m a secretary for the kim namjoon. or maybe they’d stick around, thinking that i’m paid millions and try to leech off of me.”

hoseok gave you a sympathetic look from across the table, and jungkook reached for your hand, squeezing it gently, as if in comfort. “i just- i’ve never had any luck with guys, let alone love. and, honestly, after all that’s happened these past few weeks, it just goes to show that i am not cut out for a relationship, at least, not now.”

malhee nodded in agreement. “i’m sorry i’ve been so invasive.” you shook your head, waving away her apology. “it’s okay, you’re just worried about me, in your own way.” your sister’s expression turned deadly serious as she said, “if any guy tries to fuck with you, i’ll kick his ass.” jungkook, hoseok, and taehyung let out non-committal grunts in agreement, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes at their protectiveness. “thank you.” “no need for thank yous and sorrys between us, y/n, we just don’t want to see you get hurt.” you felt your heart warm and ache all at once, and felt lighter than you had in weeks.

hoseok and taehyung bid their goodbyes as they left your sister’s apartment, promising to text you later, and as soon as the door closed behind them, you whirled to face jungkook, who was sitting on the living couch, looking slightly nervous.

“kook? what are you still doing here? shouldn’t you be heading back to get ready for work?” you asked, shuffling into the kitchen to clean dishes. malhee had had to run off to work as soon as breakfast had finished, and so that meant you were on cleaning duty. you didn’t mind, for you often cleaned up after your sister, despite her being the oldest.

“i know, but i wanted to tell you something, and i wanted to wait until we were alone to do so.” he mumbled, cheeks warming, and you bit back a smile at how flustered jungkook was. “oh, okay, uhm, is it something i should sit down for?” you asked, carefully putting the plate you’d been about to clean back in the sink. when jungkook nodded, you exhaled softly, and seconds later, sat down on the couch opposite him, wringing your hands together nervously.

you felt your eyes scan jungkook’s face, looking for any signs of a smile, wondering if this was all some elaborate prank, but to avail. said male’s expression was unreadable, but you could see the nervousness and wariness in his eyes. jungkook ran a hand through his dishevled blond hair, sighing deeply.

“promise me one thing?” he asked, and you nodded. “anything, what is it?” “promise me that you won’t hate me after this.” you blinked back your shock at the bluntness in his tone, but promised that you could never do such a thing. “you might not say that after this.” he muttered, and you felt your heart slamming against your ribcage.

jungkook took a deep, bracing breath, and you braced yourself for what was about to come. “I know this probably isn’t the best time to tell you this, after all the shit that has happened recently, but i just can’t keep this to myself anymore.” “kook, you’re scaring me, what is it?” you asked, trying to keep your tone as even as possible, though the frantic beating of your heart said otherwise. jungkook’s dark brown eyes glittered with sadness as he looked up at you, and your heart ached at the sight. “i hope that this changes nothing between us, i-i can’t imagine my life without you in it.” normally, you would’ve grimaced at the cheesy and overused line, but jungkook sounded so sincere and genuine that you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“you know how i told you that jieun and i broke up so that i could focus on work?” jungkook asked, voice shaking, and you nodded solemnly. “yeah, why?” jungkook reached for your hands, holding them gently, as if they would break at any moment. the pad of his thumb brushed across your knuckles, and you felt your heart flutter stupidly at the gesture.

“i may have lied.” you felt your eyes widen. “what? then why did you two break up?” jungkook hesitated, and you gestured for him to elaborate. “i-i realized something.” he stammered, and you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “realized what?” “that i like you.” jungkook blurted, and you felt your hands go limp.

“y-you what?” you managed, swallowing against the knot in your throat. “i like you, i realized i like you. jieun saw that i acted differently around you, and after she confronted me about it, our relationship was over. she said that there was no use in being with someone who won’t even give her the time of day.” “but you liked her.” you croaked, and jungkook smiled sadly.

“i did, but then i realized that my feelings for you were more than platonic.” “h-how long?” you asked, voice sounding faraway and distant, refusing to look at jungkook. “since freshman year of college.” jungkook admitted, color settling across his cheekbones.

you felt confused and overwhelmed. confused as to why jungkook had lied to you about his reason for breaking up with jieun and how he’d developed feelings for you, and overwhelmed at his sudden confession. most of all, though, you weren’t sure how to feel. after all, your past relationship hadn’t been the best, and since then, pursuing an intimate relationship was the last thing on your mind.

“y/n? talk to me, say something, please.” jungkook pleaded, and you slowly pulled your hands out of his grip, head swimming with thoughts. “i- i need some time to think.” you mumbled, and without looking back, you ran away.

jungkook watched helplessly as he watched you go, heart aching. he’d just poured his heart out to you, and you’d told him to give you time. time for what? he’d wanted to say, but couldn’t bring himself to. it’d taken all the self-restraint in him not to run after you, to explain further, but because jungkook didn’t want to overwhelm you further, he let you go.

he bit back tears, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down. jungkook wasn’t sure how he felt, for his emotions were all over the place. ignoring the aching of his heart, he managed to get off the couch and stumble out your sister’s apartment door, mind jumbled.

you buried your face in your pillow and sobbed as soon as you heard the front door close. i can’t lose him, you thought despairingly, clutching the soft fabric of your pillow like a vice. jungkook was one of the only friends you had, save for hoseok and taehyung, who had always been there for you. he’d been there when your shitty ex, kangdae, had cheated you not once, but twice, and then turned around and claimed that he loved you. that relationship had ended with you kicking him out of your then shared apartment, and you running over to jungkook’s dorm, which happened to be less than five minutes away.

that night, he had comforted and held you while you cried into his chest. the next day, jungkook emailed your professors to let them know that you wouldn’t be coming in for classes, and to send all your work to him. while you sulked around his dorm, practically drowning in sorrow and self-pity, jungkook took it upon himself to complete your assignments.

when you’d found out through an amused email from your arts professor, which stated that a “an attractive young man took your seat in class today and then proceeded to paint a masterpiece of a painting”, you confronted jungkook about it, telling him to stop, and the male had refused.

“y/n, let me do this for you. you’re healing.” he’d protested, and you had scoffed. “kook, i just broke up with my shitty ass boyfriend.” “so? i just want to help” he’d whined, pouting up at you with those god-damned doe eyes, looking as innocent as a young child. you smiled sadly at the memory, and resisted the urge to grab your phone, which had been thrown off to the side of your bed, to call jungkook and tell him that you felt the same. however, you knew in your heart that that wasn’t certain, and the last thing you wanted to do was pretend to love jungkook, only to rip his heart out in the end.

you would never be able to forgive yourself if you did such a heinous thing, shuddering at the thought. all you needed to do was figure shit out, to know for certain if you really had feelings for jungkook or not. and if you didn’t, you would have to find a way to break it to him gently. sniffling, you reached for your phone, unlocking it and sending a quick text to jungkook.

i’m sorry for running off like that, you didn’t deserve that:( jungkook’s reply was almost instantaneous.

it’s ok, besides, i was kind of an asshole for dumping my feelings on you so suddenly, especially after the shitty day we all had. i understand if you need time to think things over, don’t feel as if you have to rush, take all the time you need. i hope that nothing will change between us. like i said, i can’t imagine my life without you. i know that’s cheesy and cliché or whatever, but it’s true. you’ve been an amazing friend and person to me, and i honestly don’t deserve you either way.

you felt tears spring to your eyes at his words, and hastily wiped them away with the back of your hand. jungkook always told you that he didn’t deserve you as a friend, but you always thought it was the other way around. no matter how many times you fucked up, jungkook always forgave you, never blaming you for all the shit that had had happened. sniffling, you typed out a response, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

i feel the same way, you’ve always forgiven me for stupid shit that i’ve done, and i honestly don’t know how you’re not fed up with me yet. his reply made your heart flutter stupidly, and you cursed under your breath at how easily you were swayed.

i don’t i could ever be “fed up” with you.

that simple text was enough to make your cheeks warm, and you rolled over, burying your face in your pillow, screaming silently into it. why, oh why do feelings have to be so complicated? you thought frustatedly.

taehyung hummed softly to himself as he sifted through the thick pile of papers on his desk, eyes skimming over the colorful bar graphs that the resources team had put together. sighing, he put the papers aside and ran a hand through his hair. it’d been extremely difficult to focus, especially since just a few hours ago, shit had gone down, literally and figuratively.

he rubbed at his temples, willing for the headache that was beginning to form to go away, when his phone rang. taehyung cursed silently under his breath, and, after making sure no one was watching, he answered it.

“hello?” he asked, not bothering to hide the exhaustion in his voice. “tae?” it was jungkook, and he sounded tense. ‘’what’s wrong?’’ the latter sighed. “i might’ve told y/n something i shouldn’t have.” taehyung resisted the urge to groan in frustration. “what the hell did you do?” he ground out, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible. “i might’ve told her that i like her.”

the phone nearly slipped out of taehyung’s hands at jungkook’s words, and he managed to stutter, “y-you did what?!” he could picture the latter wincing on the other end. “yeah, i know, i fucked up, but what else is new? i feel like that’s all i’ve been doing lately, making things even more complicated than they already are. i know it was the last thing i should’ve done, but i-i just wanted to get a little closure, i guess. but that still doesn’t excuse the fact that i practically shoved my feelings in her face like that.” jungkook rambled, and there was no mistaking the distress and guilt in his voice.

taehyung exhaled softly, pinching the bridge of his nose in mild exasperation. “kook, i honestly don’t know what to tell you. but, i do have one question for you, what did she say? i mean, did she reject you? accept your feelings?” there was a long stretch of silence on the other end, and before taehyung could think of something else to say, jungkook awkwardly cleared his throat.

“well, not exactly, she said she needs time to think things over.” jungkook mumbled, and taehyung hummed in understanding. “i see, so what do you think she’s going to do?” the former sighed. “i’m not sure, but whatever the outcome is, i have to be ready for it, whether my heart gets broken or not.”

taehyung felt his heart sink down into his stomach at the utter sadness in his friend’s voice, and promised to text him later before hanging up. he sat in his office chair, bewildered, and tried to make sense of what had just happened.

hoseok frowned at you and taehyung, who had been working quietly at their desks for what seemed like forever. they’d been acting strange the entire day, extremely fidgety and on edge, as if they were afraid that there was an impending storm or apocalypse.

“are you two okay? you’ve been acting weird all day.” at that, your head turned to face him, and you gave him the most unconvincing smile ever. “we’re fine, hoseok, don’t worry, we’re just exhausted.” you reassured him, turning back to your paperwork, and taehyung let out a noncommittal grunt in agreement.

“you two don’t look okay” he argued, noting the dark circles under his friend’s eyes. “we’re fine.” taehyung said, and it must’ve come out harsher than he meant it to, because he winced as soon as the words left his mouth. “shit, i’m sorry hyung, i’m just exhausted, i didn’t mean to snap at you.” hoseok waved off taehyung’s apology. “don’t worry about it, i know you didn’t mean anything by it.” the latter gave him a grateful smile before turning back to his plethora of papers on his desk, and hoseok let his shoulders slump slightly.

jimin knocked softly on jungkook’s office door, hesitating slightly as he carefully pushed it open. he tried to grimace at how haggard the latter looked, blond hair a tangled mess, dark circles prominent under his eyes, and the way his shoulders seemed to slump.

“are you okay? you look like shit.” jungkook laughed, the sound broken and a bit hoarse. “well, no, i’m not, today’s been quite the shit-show. first, i snapped at hoseok hyung, then had to go on a wild goose chase for y/n yet again, found her at her older sister’s place, confessed, and-” “wait what? you did what now?” jimin asked in disbelief, and jungkook merely sighed.

“yes, you heard me correctly, i confessed to her, you know, told her how i felt, can’t live without her, all that cliché shit.” “and then what?” jungkook let out yet another broken laugh. “she didn’t exactly reject me, but didn’t say she returned my feelings either. in short, she told me that she needed time to think things over, whatever the hell that means.” jimin blinked, the only sign that he’d heard, and tried to process what jungkook had just told him.

“and, to top it all off, i have another meeting in like two minutes. that’s the seventh one today.” jungkook groused, hastily fiddling with his hair, trying to make it look somewhat presentable. “i gotta go, see you later, jimin.” he said, and before jimin could reply, jungkook was gone.

jimin stood, disbelieving in jungkook’s office, staring into space. the latter had just walked away as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb into his life. jungkook had confessed. now, jimin had had suspicions and a sort-of gut feeling that his boss liked you, but decided not to get his hopes up about anything, for he also knew that the two of you were close friends.

however, at least, for jimin, jungkook wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings either. he noticed it in the way the latter would look at you as if you were the only star in the sky, as his mother would say, and how a simple gesture such as handing her a plate of food seemed so intimate.

jimin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying his best to ignore the dread pooling in his stomach as he walked out. he had a feeling things would ge even more complicated than they already were.

yoongi sat on the edge of namjoon’s desk, a leg crossed over the other, idly twirling a pen between his fingers as the latter rambled to him yet again, about how you hadn’t forgiven him yet, and that his attempt at apologizing had failed.

yoongi sighed a deep suffering sigh. “didn’t you already tell me this?” color stained namjoon’s cheeks. “i did, but-” “but what? you forgot? or you’re pissed at the fact that she’s not falling at your feet like everyone else does?” namjoon scowled half-heartedly. “why would i be angry about something like that?”

yoongi gave a philosophical shrug. “don’t know, you tell me. y/n seems to be all you can talk about these days. not once have you come to talk to me about how that business deal with those investors that visited a while ago has gone.” namjoon waved a dismissive hand. “it’s going well.” yoongi fought the urge to roll his eyes. “joon, seriously, do you have feelings for her or not?”

the male in question’s shoulders visibly tensed, and yoongi hid a smirk, for he knew namjoon well enough to know that that was a “yes.” “you know, it’s okay to have feelings for someone, it’s normal.” yoongi began, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, and namjoon scoffed, though the blush on his cheeks said otherwise.

“who said i have feelings for her?” “no one did, i was just curious.” yoongi added quickly, and namjoon rolled his eyes. “well, if you must know, i don’t have feelings for her.” yoongi fought the urge to pull his hair out from frustration. “whatever you say joon”, he said instead, not wanting to deal with the former’s stubborness.

you loosed a breath before knocking firmly on namjoon’s door, clutching the thick manila folder in your hands, willing yourself to act natural and keep calm. as soon as you heard the authoritative “come in”, you stepped inside the big space, keeping your gaze on the floor, refusing to make eye contact as you neared namjoon’s desk.

“here are the financial reports from the finance team that you requested.” you said, trying to keep your tone as cordial as possible, setting said reports on his desk, stepping back a few feet afterwards. “anything else?” you asked after a long pause of silence. “no, that’ll be all.” namjoon said finally, and you let out an internal sigh of relief.

you bowed slightly and turned to leave, letting the tension in your shoulders loosen a bit, and managed to slip out of the room before namjoon could put another word in. exhaling softly, you walked back over to your desk, giving hoseok and taehyung a reassuring smile before practically collapsing onto your chair.

“tired?” taehyung asked, eyes skimming over the paper on his desk, and though you knew he wasn’t looking, you nodded. “i’m exhausted, even though he’s barely given me any work today.” you mumbled, and hoseok shot you a sympathetic look out of the corner of your eye.

“i guess the events of the last few weeks have really taken a toll on me.” you murmured, and taehyung looked at you with sad eyes. “i’m sorry you’ve been having a shit time lately, i feel like it’s partly our fault.” you shook your head profusely. “no, if anything, it’s my fault that you guys are constantly running around like chickens with your heads cut off.”

hoseok glared at you half-heartedly. “y/n, seriously, none of what has happened was your fault.” “but-” you began, and the former cut you off with yet another glare. “even if what happened was your fault, which it wasn’t, stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control, like with what happened with namjoon. it’s not your fault the guy was born with a spoon in his mouth, and that he constantly has a stick up his ass, but that’s besides the point.”

you snickered at hoseok’s slight jab at namjoon, and started to arrange the pile of papers on your desk. “yeah, i guess you’re right, i just feel like that everything that happened was so sudden, you know?” taehyung nodded his agreement. “yeah, these past few weeks have been quite the shitshow.” hoseok snorted. “understatement of the century there, my friend.”

jungkook pulled the black cap he was wearing down over his eyes, not wanting to be seen by any of the people in the company cafe, milling about, casual chatter filling the air. he fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it in an attempt to distract himself.

jungkook must’ve spaced out at some point, because he barely noticed namjoon walking towards him, and how the chatter was reduced to quite whispers. he looked up and immediately tensed at the sight of the tall male sitting awkwardly in front of him.

jungkook pocketed his phone, crossing his arms over his chest, giving the older male a once-over. “what the hell are you doing here? shouldn’t you be running a company?” he hissed, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice. “i could say the same about you, jeon.” namjoon said, regarding him calmly.

he resisted the urge to deck the older male in the jaw, and instead gave namjoon a tight-lipped smile. “but i assume you’re not here to talk about me, are you?” when the latter didn’t reply, jungkook knew that he was correct. “you’re right, i’m not here to talk about you. i’m here to talk about y/n.” jungkook tried not to let his anger show as he asked,”what about her?”

“she’s been acting strange lately, and i can’t seem to figure out why. i thought you might know, since you’re so close to her and whatnot.” jungkook couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief. “are you fucking serious?” namjoon’s shoulders visibly tensed. “yes.” he mumbled, cheeks coloring with shame, and jungkook fought the urge to pull out his phone and take a photo because holy shit, one of the most influential conglomerates in seoul, was blushing.

“as smart as you are, you’re the most dense person i’ve ever met. why the hell do you think she’s acting strangely?” jungkook seethed, unable to hold back the anger in his voice. namjoon had the nerve to shrug. “hell if i know, maybe it’s because she’s finally realized what a piece of shit you are.” jungkook laughed, the sound cold and unamused. “that’s hilarious, namjoon, because i think it’s the other way around. i mean, i don’t make her a glorified slave all the time.” jungkook shot back, and reveled in the way the older male flinched.

“i may not be the best guy in the world, but at least i’m not an arrogant asshole who thinks the world only revolves around him and uses his secretary to do practically everything for him, since he’s not capable of doing so himself.” jungkook added, giving his former friend the coldest glare he could muster.

before the older male could say anything else, jungkook stood up, ignoring the blatant stares of the people around him, gave namjoon one last glare, and walked away, seething.

his phone buzzed once he was out of earshot, and jungkook answered it immediately, phone to his ear as he walked to the parking garage. “yeah?” he asked, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. “kook?” your voice was hesitant, as if you were afraid that he’d yell, and jungkook felt all his anger vanish immediately. “y/n?” he asked hesitantly, and heard you exhale in relief.

“kook, where the hell did you run off to? jimin’s been running around like a chicken with his head cut off.” jungkook winced at the image of his secretary and friend being disappointed in him yet again. “i didn’t go anywhere, i just went to the company cafe. i’m downstairs.” he whispered, and heard you sigh again on the other end, this time, a frustrated one.

“kook, before you decide to run off like that and give jimin a heart attack, the least you could do is tell him. and i know that i don’t exactly have the right to tell you this, as i’ve done exactly the same thing, but i just don’t want anything to happen to you, you know?” jungkook’s heart ached at your apologetic tone. “don’t apologize, it was stupid of me to just run off like that. i guess we’re both pretty dumb, huh?” he teased, despite himself, and couldn’t help the grin that tugged at his lips when he heard you laugh softly.

“yeah, i guess we are. the biggest dumbasses on the planet, that’s you and me, kook.” you laughed, and jungkook failed and tried to hide his amused smile. “see you soon? drinks at my place?” “yeah, see you, kook.” you said softly, and then the line went dead. jungkook tried to hide the smile that was tugging at his lips as he walked to his car, feeling a bit lighter than he had before.

“god, you two are practically made for each other.” taehyung groaned once you filled in him on what had happened, and hoseok merely grunted in agreement. you felt your cheeks burn. “would you two cut that out?” “cut what out?” taehyung asked, feigning innocence, cerulean eyes widening, as if he’d been caught vandalizing a building.

you glared at him, and taehyung just smiled, eyes turning into crescents. “love you.” he sing-songed, and you rolled your eyes. “jungkook invited us over for drinks, wanna come with?” you asked, and when hoseok and taehyung nodded, giving you a thumbs up, you laughed, shaking your head slightly, as you knew they couldn’t refuse drinks.

jungkook bit his lip anxiously as he waited for jimin to pick up, hoping the latter wasn’t too pissed off with him. jimin picked up after two rings, and jungkook held his breath. “park jimin speaking.” he said, voice pleasantly and unfailingly polite, and jungkook winced, as the tone the former was using was one he used when talking to other businessmen, friendly, but firm.

“jimin?” jungkook asked hesitantly, and aforementioned male sighed, the sound almost resigned, exhausted, even. “what, kook?” he asked, tone exhausted and nearly exasperated, and jungkook grimaced. “i-i know i messed up again, and i didn’t tell you where i was going, and-” “jungkook, listen to me, okay?” jimin said gently, cutting him off abruptly. “when i found out that you snuck out again, like some rebellious teen, i was angry. angry that you went somewhere without telling me first, but then i realized that maybe i’ve been too harsh on you. i’m always nagging at you, like some mom with a stick up her ass, but it’s because i’m constantly worried about you. we’ve been working together for years now, and not only are you my boss, but you’re my friend, and while you’ve been a pain in my ass at times, you hired me, no questions asked, and gave me opportunities i otherwise would’ve never had. you’ve also been the best friend i’ve ever had. so, that being said, despite how much you’ve fucked up recently, i can’t bring myself to cut you completely out of my life. it’d be boring without your annoying ass.”

jungkook let out a soft laugh, tears springing to his eyes, wiping them away hastily with the back of his hand. “so, i’m having drinks with y/n, tae, and hoseok, and since we don’t have work tomorrow, do you want to join us?” he heard jimin chuckle softly on the other end. “i’d love to.”

jungkook was trying not to stare. you had swapped your blouse and skirt for a loose shirt that was two sizes too big, and sweatpants, hair tied into a messy bun atop your head, and he thought you’d never looked so beautiful. you also happened to be wearing one of his shirts and his pair of sweatpants, and though he’d lent you it, jungkook regretted doing so the minute you walked out of the hallway bathroom.

he felt like such a cliche, practically losing it at the sight of you in his clothes. you weren’t even dating him, and yet the sight looked so domestic, so real. jungkook felt his cheeks burn and took a long sip of soju, trying to will himself to calm the fuck down.

luckily, hoseok, taehyung, and jimin were too busy bickering over what ice cream flavor was the best to notice that jungkook was a complete mess beside them, and you were watching them, an amused smile on your lips. “how the hell can you like mint chocolate, jimin? you might as well be eating toothtpaste!” hoseok was saying, cheeks red from the alcohol in his system, clearly drunk, from the way his speech was a bit slurred. “shut up hyung! It’s not my fault i have taste.” jimin huffed, pale cheeks rosy.

hoseok snorted, taking a long swig of soju, wincing at the taste. “whatever you say, jimin, just don’t come crying to me if you get attacked for liking the atrocity that is mint chocolate.” aforementioned male just rolled his eyes, downing the last of his soju.

jungkook had barely taken a sip of his own drink before he winced and set it down on his coffee table. ever since he’d gotten piss drunk, jungkook decided to abstain from drinking heavily. you were currently scrolling through your phone, the soft blue light illuminating your features, and jungkook felt his cheeks burn, forcing himself to look away.

get it together, jungkook, you can’t keep staring at her like some creep. besides, she hasn’t even told you if she feels the same. he thought, toying with the thin silver bracelet on his wrist.

you snickered at the stream of messages your sister had sent you earlier that evening, ranting about her stuck up boss, slipping your phone back in the pocket of the borrowed sweatpants you were wearing.

sighing, you snuck a glance at jungkook, who was staring off into space, fingers idly toying with the thin silver bracelet on his wrist. for some odd reason, you felt your heart clench at the sight of him, all tousled hair and light brown eyes. jungkook was attractive, he always had been, even when he was a doe-eyed freshman in college, but even more so now that he was much older.

you’d always had a tiny crush on him, but it was never anything serious, as jungkook had started dating jieun come sophomore year. though you’d never spoken to her, she seemed nice enough and made jungkook happy, so you cheered them on from the sidelines.

everyone had thought that they’d grow old together, but that had proved to be wrong when their relationship abruptly ended the start of senior year. your heart ached as you remembered the day jungkook showed up at your dorm, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, practically falling into your arms, sobbing uncontrollably. that night had been spent comforting him, binging his favorite movies, of which included kimi no wa.

seeing jungkook irrevocably heartbroken was heart-wrenching, and said male had spent at least a week at your dorm, moping and stuffing his face with food. he’d apologized profusely later, even going as far as to buy you groceries. you’d accepted them, but not without saying that he didn’t owe you anything at all.

a warm hand touched your shoulder, bringing you back to reality, and you turned to see jungkook, eyes twinkling with mirth, gesturing for you to look at something. you followed his line of sight and nearly burst out laughing at what you saw.

hoseok, taehyung, and jimin were sprawled out on jungkook’s living room floor, legs thrown over one another, and you stifled a laugh. “they’re definitely going to regret that tomorrow morning.” jungkook whispered, trying not to laugh. “definetely.” you breathed, trying to will the laughter that was threatening to come out away.

“I don’t know about you, but i’m exhausted. you can sleep in my room if you want, i’ll take the guest room.” you smacked his shoulder gently as you followed him quietly down the hall. “i’ll take the guest room.” jungkook shook his head. “it’s really okay, y/n, i promise. i’m not going to kill you if you spend one night in my room.” you sighed, the sound resigned and exhausted. “fine.” you mumbled, and jungkook beamed.

later, as you were about to turn off the lamp on the bedside table, the door to jungkook’s room opened slightly, and said male poked his head in, a sheepish expression on his face. “sorry, did i wake you?” you shook your head, and jungkook stepped inside, and your breath caught in your throat. his bare torso was on display, and black sweatpants hung low on his hips, and you felt your cheeks burn, tearing your gaze away. “kook, what are you doing here?” you mumbled, refusing to make eye contact.

jungkook furrowed his brows in confusion, wondering why you were so flustered, and then realized as soon as he felt a slight chill on his skin. he felt his cheeks burn, crossing his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling shy. usually, jungkook paraded around his house shirtless all the time and thought nothing of it, for he was usually alone.

jungkook was in the middle of getting dressed that he suddenly remembered that he needed to tell you something, and rushed out of his room, not bothering to put on a shirt. “s-sorry, i guess i forgot to put one on. i’m sorry if i’m making you uncomfortable.” he mumbled. at that, you turned to face him, eyes wide. “no, of course not! it was just unexpected, that’s all!” you rambled.

“a-anyway, i just wanted to say goodnight.” he muttered, and ignored the way his pulse quickened at the way the corners of your lips curled into an amused smile, dark eyes twinkling with mirth. “goodnight, kook.” you laughed softly, reaching over to turn off the lamp on the bedside table.

despite the darkness, jungkook could see you curling up underneath the covers, pulling the duvet up to your chin. before he could stop himself, jungkook walked over to you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss on your forehead. “goodnight, y/n.” he mumbled, and walked out before you could react.

after jungkook had left, you laid in the darkness of his room, head spinning from that damned forehead kiss. to make matters worse, you were sleeping in his room, on his bed, practically surrounded with his scent. the faint smell of cologne and citrus had filled your senses as you’d laid down, dizzying you.

because of his sudden confession, you hadn’t gotten much sleep since. a part of you felt like screaming into the void due to frustration, while the other was fantasizing about what a relationship with jungkook would be like. you felt your cheeks burn at the thought, mentally scolding yourself to get your shit together, and willed yourself to sleep.

jungkook couldn’t sleep, not after what he’d done. he screamed inwardly, running his hands down over his face. what the hell were you thinking, you idiot, she probably hates you now. he didn’t know what had came over him, nor knew what had led him to do so. jungkook just hoped that you wouldn’t feel uncomfortbale around him after what had had happened.

jimin woke up the next morning, legs tangled with hoseok and taehyung’s, head pounding. groaning, he carefully untangled himself from the still asleep males, ignoring the headache that was currently pounding against his skull.

he trudged into the kitchen to find jungkook already up, flitting around the space. normally, jimin would’ve laughed at the sight of the latter in a frilly white apron, if it weren’t for the seething migraine in his head. “morning, jimin, did you sleep well? it looked like you were comfortable.” jungkook teased, waving the spatula in his right hand.

jimin scowled and took a seat at the kitchen island, nearly slamming his head on the counter as he put his head down, the granite cool against his forehead. “rough night?” jungkook asked nonchalantly, and jimin groaned. “shut up, kook, you were the one who suggested we drink.”

he could practically imagine jungkook rolling his eyes. “yeah, but you were the one who decided to accept the offer to drink, so that’s on you, park.” jimin looked up, glaring at the former, who just gave him a shit-eating grin before turning back to whatever food he was cooking.

“it’s eight a.m. and you idiots are already bickering?” a voice said from the kitchen doorway, and jimin looked over to see you standing there, rubbing at your eyes. he nearly missed the way jungkook’s eyes seemed to light up when he saw you. “y/n, did you sleep well?” jimin hid an amused smirk at the way the former’s voice grew impossibly soft and fond.

“i did, thank you kook. by the way, you really didn’t have to give up your bed for me, you know. i would’ve been perfectly fine sleeping on the couch.” jimin nearly raised an eyebrow at that. for the nine years he’d known jungkook, the male had never given up his bed to anyone, not even him. what an interesting development, jimin thought amusedly, hiding his smile behind the warm mug of coffee that jungkook had placed beside him at some point, taking a small sip.

jungkook pouted. “but i wanted to, and besides, i would’ve felt bad if i let you sleep on the couch. that shit’s uncomfy.” you sighed, moving to give the former a hug. jimin watched in amusement as jungkook returned the gesture, wrapping his arms tightly around your small frame, reaching around to turn off the stove and place the spatula he’d been holding down.

jimin felt his face grow hot at the scene, for it seemed so intimate; the way jungkook tucked his chin on your shoulder, closing his eyes in contentment and the way you buried your face in crook of his neck. not to mention that you were quite literally wearing jungkook’s clothes.

he tore his gaze away and feigned interest in the iron chandelier dangling from the kitchen ceiling, admiring how the crystals twinkled in the early morning sun, casting rainbow light on the smooth, white walls of jungkook’s home.

“jimin?” jungkook asked, bringing him back to reality, and he felt his face flush in embarrassment. “y-yeah?’’ he blurted, and said male raised a questioning eyebrow. “are you okay? your face is as red as a tomato.” “ah, i’m fine, just a little hungover from last night, that’s all. i think it’s the alcohol.” jimin winced internally at his shitty excuse, but it seemed convincing enough to jungkook, as the latter didn’t press further.

“so” you asked, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, “anyone have anything going on today?” jimin shook his head. “nope, and neither does jungkook. i’m not sure about hoseok hyung and tae though.” you laughed softly, taking a small sip of your coffee. “well, since they happen to work at the same place that i do, i happen to know their schedules.” jimin felt his face flush scarlet from embarrassment. “i’m obviously free, since work is the last place i want to be. i’m surprised he hasn’t fired me yet.” you joked, and saw jungkook wince, just slightly.

“what about a night in? i know we kind of had one last night, but no alcohol this time.” jimin let out a relieved sigh at that. “thank fuck, i was worried that i would be hungover as shit again.” jungkook snorted, shoving the former’s shoulder lightly. “says the guy who drank like six bottles last night.” jimin rolled his eyes. “it was three, you idiot. did you ever learn to count in school?” “i did, thank you very much.” jungkook shot back, glaring playfully at his secretary.

“are you idiots already arguing? at this hour?” a voice said from the doorway, and the three of you turned to see taehyung and hoseok standing there, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes. said males trudged into the kitchen, half-asleep, plopping unceremouniously next to you and jimin on the bar stools.

“you both look like shit.” jungkook snickered, handing both of them cups of newly made coffee. taehyung sighed, flipping the former off as he took a long sip of his coffee. “shut up jeon, it’s too fucking early for this.” he mumbled, and jungkook just rolled his eyes. “tae, it’s 9 a.m.”

“jungkook, i swear to god, shut the fuck up before i strangle you.” taehyung growled, but it held no heat. “kinky.” “kook i’m this fucking close to shooting you.” said male shrugged, piling pancakes onto a plate. “go ahead.” hoseok smacked taehyung lightly on the shoulder, causing the latter to cry out in protest. “cut it out, you shits are giving me a headache.” he grumbled, pressing his fingers against his temple. “hyung, do you need aspirin?” jungkook asked, already striding over to his medicine cabinet before the older male could reply.

“i’m fine, kook, really.” hoseok started, but the younger male cut him off with a look that said”you better take some medicine before i shove it down your throat”, and the former managed a weak nod. next to him, taehyung sighed and practically collapsed onto the counter, pillowing his head on his arms. you stifled a laugh and patted said male on the shoulder. “everything okay?”

taehyung shook his head, mumbling something under his breath that you couldn’t quite catch. “do you need medicine?” you asked, and the former shook his head again. “i’ll be fine, i probably need to just take a nap or something.” taehyung muttered, and you rolled your eyes at his stubbornness. “kim taehyung, take some medicine before your headache gets worse.” “fine.” he huffed, standing up and shuffling over to jungkook, who just wordlessly handed him an aspirin and a glass of water. you shook your head, hiding an amused smile, and went to get ready for the day.

namjoon drummed his thin fingers on the smooth wood of his desk, lost in thought. the morning hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, just the same meetings and paperwork to approve and sign. for the first time in a while, he’d finally had had time to himself. namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair, which he hadn’t bothered to style properly that morning. he considered calling yoongi, but he was probably stuck in some boring meeting, and the last thing namjoon wanted to do was annoy him further than he already had.

the last conversation namjoon had had with you still lingered in the back of his mind, no matter how much he tried to forget it by throwing himself into his work, busying himself with boring meetings and the like. then there was that strange feeling he had, one that he couldn’t quite place. if it was guilt, or even contempt, namjoon couldn’t tell.

the one thing namjoon did know was that yoongi was right, but that not he’d admit such a thing out loud. he was a massive idiot for even trying to deny the possibility of having romantic feelings for someone, especially if said someone was his secretary. however, namjoon knew that trying to deny it was futile at this point. he’d tried to brush his feelings away, throwing himself into work, but the attempt was only in vain.

it was undeniable; the dread pooling in his stomach, the anger that surged through his veins whenever he’d see you with anyone, especially jungkook, and the way his seemingly cold heart seemed to thaw, slowly, but surely, whenever you were around. but because he was a fucking moron, namjoon tried to deflect those feelings by being his usual asshole self.

he’d been the sole cause of the angry and frustrated tears that had streamed down your face that day, for your pain, and namjoon would be lying if he didn’t feel an immense amount of guilt after you had stormed out of his office. for the first time in years, namjoon let unshed tears fall, and buried his face in his hands. how was he ever going to try to love someone, when he couldn’t even love himself?

namjoon’s body shook with broken sobs, and he wrapped his arms around himself, as if doing so would protect him the cruel reality he was living. his mother’s last words to him rang in his mind. you’re a failure, completely useless, you’ll never be like your brother. no one will ever love you.

a/n: AHHHH ok this fic is finally done!!! however, the story itself isn’t over! i decided to make a sequel fic!! i feel like the ending of this was shit but i hope you guys like the fic regardless! and i had so much fun writing it! i feel so bad that i held this fic off for so long, i was working on this fic for MONTHS+ anyways, i hope all of you are staying safe, and thank you for always supporting my stories<3 and i cannot wait to write the other fics in the kdramas and bangtan series!!

tagging: @kithtaehyung , @suhdays , @ddaechwita , @sketchguk, @wwilloww @writtenwhalien , @sunshinejunghoseokie , @codeinebelle , @lovetrivia , @papillonsgf , @arcticguk , @jtrbluv , @honeyj00ns , @jungkooksbroski , @jksmoongf , @rapmooni, @ughseoks-main , @cafemiya, @monvante @sweetheartjeongguk , @imyourhobiii , @blushingkoo , @kooksmos , @lurejoon , @bangtanhome , @joyfulhopelox, @mochi-molala , @kithtaehyung , @lovetrivia, @joonsrack , @nomseok , @taeyo95 , @missgeniality , @balenciaguks , @hobipaint , @ressjeon , @kookskingdom + anyone else who wants to be tagged<3

#mine #long fic #over 30k #i also gave up on formatting sjksjdf #this fic TOOK ME FOREVER to write!!#dedicated to all of my joon and wwsk fans<3 #and all of my moots ofc<3 #AHHHH ITS OUT OMG #fic: break my heart

202 notes · View notes