railleriee - Tumblr blog

railleriee · 13 days ago

Text

yes

JUST TRUST ME ── j.wy

synopsis ; you were in the woods one day when you came across an injured wooyoung who was being chased by hunters. he had expected you to turn him in, but to his surprise, you didn't; you led them away before offering to help him. however, this was only going to be the beginning for you and him.

pairing(s) ; wooyoung x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 12.8k ☆ ── genre ; hybrid!au, fox hybrid!wooyoung, human!reader, angst, fluff, smut ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, blood, mentions of guns, cussing, wooyoung has severe trust issues with humans, reader stitches his wound, mentions of abuse, familial issues, violence, petnames (sweetheart, baby, babydoll, love, my love...), kissing, rough makeout, unprotected sex, breast play, bulge kink, breeding, creampie, knotting, biting/marking, fingering, cum eating, clit play, overstimulation, cockwarming, mentions of war, wooyoung is unsure in the beginning, mentions of a rut, teasing, big dick!wooyoung, reader has trouble sleeping, lmk if I missed anything!

The air was crisp as you sat against the rough trunk of a tree, the bark digging into your skin through your thin jacket. You didn’t seem to mind, though; your attention was far too sucked into the book that was in your hands. You hummed softly as you turned the page, not realizing that you were almost already finished with the book.

A loud gunshot rang through the air, causing you to jump, the book falling from your hands as you scrambled to your feet. There weren’t supposed to be hunters in this area of the woods. The birds squawk loudly overhead, and you start to panic.

Completely forgetting about your book, you rushed in the direction in which the gunshot had come from. You smacked a few branches out of your way until you came to a clearing, yet what you found shocked you.

A man hunched against a tree, his hand clutching his side. Yet that wasn’t what caught your attention; no, it was the ears that sat on top of his black hair. The fox hybrid ears that you had only seen a few times, seeing as the species tends to keep to themselves.

Sensing your presence, he looked up, meeting your shocked gaze with wide eyes. He hadn’t expected there to be another person in the woods. Were you with the hunters who were after him?

“Are yo–” You started to ask, taking a step closer to him when you noticed the crimson liquid that coated his hand, but he quickly shushed you. Confused, you opened your mouth once more but quickly closed it when you heard rushed footsteps.

“Hey!” A voice shouted, causing your head to snap over to a group of hunters, all of them holding rifles, aiming directly at you. Your heart leaped into your throat, and your hands shot up in surrender. You could tell by their appearance that they weren’t just any regular hunters. No, the insignia they wore on their coats was from a very prominent hybrid hunter organization.

You could see the fox hybrid from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t dare glance over, not wanting to give them any hints as to where he was because you were sure that he was who they were after.

Swallowing thickly, you opened your mouth, “can I help you?”

“Did you see a fox hybrid run by here?” One of the men in the front asked, his rifle still aimed at you, and your nerves spiked seeing how close his finger was to the trigger. These people were ruthless and would kill just about any and everything that got in their way.

Wooyoung, in turn, watched you, his heart pounding in his chest at the mere thought of you throwing him under the bus for your own safety. It's what every human does, after all. So he started to rack his brain for any possible ways to get out of this alive. That was until he heard you speak, his ears twitching slightly in shock.

“N-No, it’s just been me out here.” You spoke as your heart hammered against your ribs the longer he held you at gunpoint. The hunter looked at you skeptically as he took a step in your direction, and you quickly spoke again to keep him from coming any closer and finding the dark-haired male. “But I did hear scuffling in that direction on my way over!” You spoke quickly, pointing in a different direction, and the hunter raised an eyebrow, staring you down for a moment, waiting for you to show any signs of lying, but he thought you would have to be some kind of idiot to lie while you had multiple guns pointed directly at you.

“Thank you.” He nodded curtly before lowering the rifle, which in turn resulted in the others lowering theirs as well. You offered a meek smile, your hands still in the air as you watched him motion the others in the direction you pointed them in.

The air around you was silent as you watched their retreating figures, your heart beating so loud you could hear it through your own ears. Then, when they were far enough away, Wooyoung let out a groan, which pulled you out of your daze.

Without much thought to it, you rushed over to make sure he was okay, but as soon as you reached out to him, he growled, bearing his teeth at you, “Don’t touch me.”

He looked at you, a mixture of pain and fear pooling in his dark eyes, and you felt your heart drop. Swallowing thickly, you shrugged off your jacket, not caring that the cold air nipped at your bare arms, and held it out to him.

“I just want to help; I promise I’m not here to hurt you.” You spoke softly, meeting his eyes once more, and he looked between you and the jacket you were holding out. Reluctantly, he took the clothing, his fingers brushing the palm of your hand, sending a flurry of sparks along your skin. “My cabin isn’t too far from here, I can tend to your wound, and you can go after that. I just want to help.” You reassured him, keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you.

Wooyoung looked at you skeptically for a few long moments, weighing the pros and cons. He could either send you away and risk bleeding out in these very woods before he could get home, or worse, the hunters find him again. Or he could swallow his pride for a bit and allow you, a human, to help him and then he’d be free to go on his own way.

“Fine.” His tone was cold as he pushed himself off of the tree, and you stepped forward but stopped short when he let out a low growl.

“You need to add more pressure to it.” You stated as you took a step towards him despite the warning in his eyes and his ears flattened against his head. All signs that you should back off, but you pushed the fear to the side and walked towards him until you were just inches away.

He watched you with a keen gaze as you moved around him to wrap your jacket around his torso and then tie it. You jumped when a pained hiss left his lips, and his hand grabbed your wrist tightly, mumbling an apology as you finished tying off the knot after he released your wrist. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do until you got back to your cabin.

You wanted to offer to help him walk, but judging by the way his ears still haven’t relaxed and his tail is tucked down, he wasn’t going to let you do more than just lead him. Stepping away once more, you noticed that he relaxed a little bit when you weren’t so close, so you took the chance to point in the direction of your cabin.

“It’s just this way, if you need help let me kn–”

“I can walk on my own," he growled. You quickly nodded, backing off and allowing him to follow you.

–

It took a little bit longer to get to your cabin than you originally thought because Wooyoung had twisted his ankle while running, so he lagged behind. You wanted so badly to help him, but you knew not to overstep any boundaries for your own safety. But the two of you made it inside without too much of a problem, and as soon as you shut the door, you pointed towards the couch.

“You can sit there; I have to grab my first aid kit," you told him before turning and walking down the hall, leaving Wooyoung standing there.

He looked around the living room, expecting to find any sign that you might be with those hunters. Yet all he found were paintings of various nature elements and a few photographs of you and two other girls, one he knew was a cat hybrid the moment he saw her ears.

Surprised wasn’t even the word that he would use. After the war that broke out between humans and hybrids, he was sure that no other humans treated hybrids with any semblance of respect. Moving further into the house, he was met with a strong smell of vanilla and cashmere, but your scent overpowered everything else. It was sweet like cherries, but with a hint of vanilla and sage as well—a scent he had never smelled before.

Unbeknownst to him, Wooyoung’s tail started to wave softly behind him, and his ears relaxed a bit more as he picked up on the sound of you in the other room. Even when the place felt safe, he couldn’t help but keep his guard up, knowing he’d fallen into the same trick before, which cost him severely.

After finding the first aid kit, you walked back into the living room, finding the fox limping around the room as he looked at the decorations on your walls. Letting out a small cough, you caught his attention, and he looked over at you. He then walked over to the couch that you had pointed out earlier and sat down, a groan falling from his lips as he did so.

You walked over and sat the first aid kit next to him, and he suddenly froze at how close you had gotten, a low growl reverberating from his throat. You looked over at him, finding his upper lip twitching slightly, and you took a small step back, a huff leaving your lips.

“If you want me to help, you need to let me near you.” You stated, and Wooyoung glared at you but stopped growling, and you took that as a sign. Retaking your spot in front of him, you started to reach for the knot of the jacket but stopped short; he started growling in warning once more. Titling your head to look at him, your breath hitched in your throat when you realized just how close you were to him. Your eyes trailed along his features, the sharp eyes, the beauty mark that was right under his eye, then to the few scrapes he had on his cheek and jaw. His dark eyes bore into you, captivating you, and something about his closed-off nature pulled you in.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you ignored his growling and undid the knot of the jacket sleeves before carefully pulling the blood-soaked cloth away. Once it was off, you threw it to the ground to deal with later. Then, without another thought, you dropped down to your knees in front of him, causing Wooyoung to look at you in surprise, the growling suddenly stopping.

“Now you can either lift your shirt or take it off; either way, I need to see the wound, "you told him as you looked up at him, missing the red that dusted his cheekbones.

He looked down at you, his hands hesitantly reaching for his shirt before pulling it up just enough to reveal his lower torso. You had to stop yourself from gawking at his toned abdomen, but that didn’t stop your heart from accelerating.

Shaking your head softly, you rose up to your knees to look at the wound, and you could tell instantly that it was a gunshot wound, which didn’t surprise you. However, you hoped that it was all the way through because you didn’t have the means to remove bullets. Without a word, you peeked around his torso to look at his back, and a sigh left your lips.

“So good and bad news,” You started, moving to sit on your heels once more to look up at him, “good news, I’m pretty sure it missed anything vital, and it went completely through, so there’s no bullet for me to take out.” You told him, and he just looked down at you, not uttering a word, “Bad news, I’ll need to stitch both the entry and exit wounds, which are going to hurt because I have nothing to numb the pain.”

“If you’re worried about me passing out, don’t. I’ll be fine, so just get on with it.” His voice was gruff as he glared down at you, and you nodded before reaching for your first aid kit.

Not a word was spoken between the two of you as you started to clean the area around the wound. When you started to clean the wound itself, Wooyoung let out a pained hiss, and you apologized before blowing on it to try and alleviate some of the pain.

Wooyoung watched you in curiosity; he had never been treated this kindly by humans. Most of the ones he’s met were assholes, to put it lightly, only wanting him to show off to their human friends like he was some kind of prize. Then, the one human he thought he could actually trust turned out to be just as bad, if not worse, than the others, and some of the wounds from then were still healing.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn’t even realized that he had been staring or that you had even said anything until you waved a hand in front of his face. He blinked a few times before focusing on you once more, the same hard gaze returning to his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.

“I need to clean the other side.” You told him as you stood and sat on the couch next to him, but he didn’t move.

Unease settled into his bones at the thought of turning his back to you, knowing that he would be defenseless if you were to attack him. As if you sensed his unease, you offered him a small, reassuring smile.

“I promise I’m just going to clean and stitch it.” You told him, your hands sitting in your lap as you held his eyes.

He stared at you for a few moments more, contemplating, but there was something in the back of his mind telling him that he could trust you. So, with slight hesitancy, he shifted on the couch with a pained groan until his back was to you.

You covered your mouth to muffle the shocked gasp that fell from your lips at the sight of his scarred skin. Most of them were healed and scarred over, but there were a few that were still fresh, meaning they had just happened recently. You reached out, your fingers brushing over the skin, but you were quick to pull away when the dark-haired male growled, his narrow eyes glaring at you from over his shoulder. Muttering an apology, you focused on the task at hand and started to clean the exit wound, repeating the same process from the other side.

You had heard from your friend that some hybrid owners would whip them, and at first, you couldn’t believe it because there had been laws in place before the war. Yet, looking at these wounds, you were sure that they had come from a whip. You then started to wonder if the person who had done this called the hunters to go after him. It pained you to know that humans could be so cruel, and you wanted nothing more than to wash away his pain, but for now, you could just help him with this one.

Goosebumps littered the male's skin when your warm breath met his skin as you blew on the wound once more. His tail twitched before laying itself across your lap, causing your eyes to widen, but you didn’t say a word, scared that it would scare him off again. Once the wound was clean, you grabbed your suture kit before sitting back to look at him.

“I’m going to stitch the exit wound first, but if you need me to stop at any time, just tell me.” You explained this to Wooyoung, and he turned his head to look at you, a dark gleam pooling in his brown iris.

You let out a sigh when he didn’t say a word before moving to sit at a better angle to stitch up the wound. As soon as you started, his hand that wasn’t holding his shirt up gripped the back of the couch, his knuckles turning white. Pain struck your heart seeing him in pain, but you knew you needed to get this done, so you focused unless he told you to stop, but he never did. After you finished off the last suture, you grabbed some bandages and covered the wound before moving away completely.

“Okay, one side done.” You told him, and he turned his body back around, watching as you knelt down on the ground in front of him once more. His eyes were on you the entire time that you started to wipe some of the fresh blood off. As you brushed over the wound again, his body jerked, causing you to lose your balance, and your hands flew out to steady yourself. However, your breath caught in your throat when you realized that it was his leg that you had used, your other hand on the couch next to his hip. Embarrassed, you fumbled over an apology as you moved away, and Wooyoung just shook his head, eyes averting your gaze as heat flushed over his face.

He would never admit it openly, but the feeling of your hands on him was nice, your skin was soft, and your scent was intoxicating, more so the closer you got. Swallowing thickly, he turned his head as you got to work stitching him up.

Once you were finished, you moved back, packing up your first aid kit before turning to look at the fox, his head still turned. “I’m all done. You’re free to leave, but you’re also more than welcome to stay here.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything before you scurried out of the room and towards the kitchen. Wooyoung just watched as your figure disappeared into the other room, his mind fighting with him.

He knew that he was going to leave, but why was he so hesitant about doing so? Shaking his head, he stood to his feet, a pained groan falling from his lips as he did so. He then walked around the couch and towards the door, yet when he reached for the door handle, he felt a tug at his being.

‘Don’t go.’

The voice in the back of his head became clearer than ever, the tugging growing by the second. He retracted his hand to look down at his palm. There was no way he was going to trust another human in his life, but why did he feel such a pull towards you?

Looking out the window, he saw that the sun had already set, and he gritted his teeth. He wasn’t going to be able to make it back home safely at this time. So he let out a huff, deciding that it would be best to just stay here for the night and leave first thing in the morning.

You stood in front of the stove, waiting for the kettle to finish warming up, your mind going back to the whip marks on the male’s back. Wondering who would be so cruel to do that to another person, but in this day and age, you knew that that answer would be hard to get because almost ninety percent of the human population saw hybrids as mere toys or prey for their sick games.

Wooyoung followed where you had gone, finding you standing before the stove. His ears could pick up the steady beat of your heart, and your scent once again invaded his senses. Scrunching up his nose to try and alleviate the overpowering smell, he walked towards you, the question that had been on the tip of his tongue finally falling from his lips.

“Why do you care so much?” His voice broke the silence causing you to nearly jump out of your skin, having not heard him walk in. You turned to look at him, thinking about his question for a moment.

“No one deserves to be treated like that.” You spoke softly as you looked at him, and you could clearly see the suspicion in his eyes, which you didn’t blame him; your kind wasn’t exactly the best to his, “after the war broke out, I vowed to help as many hybrids that I could which in turn got me into trouble, but I didn’t care as long as they were safe.” You explained to him before turning around to pull the screaming kettle off of the stove, pouring some of the boiling liquid into a mug with a tea bag.

Wooyoung just looked at you in confusion. He could tell by your steady heart that you weren’t lying, but he was still perplexed at the thought of you genuinely caring about hybrids. No human did, especially if it meant they would have to leave their normal lives.

“My parents ended up kicking me out after they could get me to change my mind.” You told him, answering the question that was biting at the back of his mind. You let out a sigh before opening a cabinet and pulling out another mug and tea bag, not sparing him a glance as you recalled your parents' methods to ‘persuade’ you. “My best friend is also a hybrid, but she only comes around when it's safe.” You tried to change the subject a little bit as you set the kettle back on the stove after turning it off.

The room then fell silent as you finished up the tea before you turned with both mugs, offering one to the taller male. Wooyoung looked at it skeptically but took it from your hand nonetheless, his fingers brushing against yours, and he could have sworn he felt a shock of some kind.

“I never caught your name.” You spoke as you took a small sip from your own mug, your eyes never leaving his. He mulled over whether or not to give you his name, but in the end, he didn’t see any harm in it.

“Wooyoung.” He told you curtly, and you smiled; it fit him, really.

“I’m y/n.” You introduced yourself before the room fell into a semi-comfortable silence.

You watched as Wooyoung took a sip of the tea, and you laughed softly at the disgust that twisted on his face as soon as the liquid touched his tongue. He looked down at the mug as if it had offended him, his ears twitching slightly, and you couldn’t help but find it cute.

“What is this?” He asked as he sat the mug down on the counter and looked over at you as you took another drink from your own mug.

“It’s chamomile tea," you told him with a small laugh before grabbing his mug and setting it next to the sink. "It helps calm the nerves.”

“Well, it’s gross as hell," he quipped as his nose scrunched, causing you to smile endearingly. At the sight, Wooyoung felt his heart speed up under his ribs. Clearing his throat, he ran his fingers through his hair, but the pain that shot through his abdomen caused him to hiss, and you quickly looked back at him.

“Are you okay?” You asked, taking a step towards him, but that same warning gleam in his eyes from before stopped you.

“I’m fine. Is the couch free?” he asked, and you looked at him with scrunched eyebrows. Had he not expected you to let him use the bed? Seeing your expression, he let out a huff. He knew you were too good to be true. " Forget it. I’ll sleep on the floor.” He then turned and started to walk out.

Panicking a little, you sat your mug down, not caring that some spilled before you rushed forward to grab his arm, stopping him. He looked back at you, and he half expected you to tell him to sleep outside, but your words caught him completely off guard.

“I have a guest room; you don’t have to sleep on the couch or the floor.” You told him as you released his arm, taking a tentative step back as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. Interlocking your fingers, you looked up at him. “I can show you the room. I think I have some of my brother's old clothes in there that might fit you if you want to change them.” You told him hesitantly because you had heard about how male hybrids could be about other males' clothing; it didn’t matter if they were human or not.

He stared at you for a moment, trying to figure you out. Running his tongue over his teeth, you felt your heart leap at the sight of his elongated canines, your fingers tightening around each other. Once he agreed, you led him to the spare room, opened the door, and let him walk in.

“Make yourself at home, be wary of your stitches, and don’t get them wet until the twenty-four-hour mark passes.” You told him as you watched him walk into the room, and you noticed that he wasn’t limping anymore, which wasn’t too much of a surprise, seeing as hybrids have heightened healing. “Um, I’ll leave you to it. The clothes are in the wardrobe, and if you need anything, I’m just across the hall.” You pointed over your shoulder, and the dark-haired male nodded as he looked over at you. You offered a small smile before turning and leaving, closing the door behind you.

Wooyoung stood in the middle of the room for a few more moments before his gaze traveled over to the wardrobe, his lip curling in disgust. He would much rather sleep in his dirty clothes than wear anything that’s been near another male. So he walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. He started to bend down to pull his boots off, but the pain stopped him.

Growling in annoyance, he pulled his leg up to unzip them, kicked them off, and lay down in the bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was met with your scent once more. It seemed like no matter where he went, you followed, but this was your home after all, so he shouldn’t be too surprised. Rolling onto his uninjured side, he tried to sleep, which wasn’t too hard after the long and exhausting day he had.

The loud rumbling of thunder woke Wooyoung dead out of his sleep, his body jolting upwards. His face twisted in pain as his hand covered his wound, pain erupting from the area. Looking around the room he noticed a digital clock sitting on the dresser that sat on the other side of the room.

‘3:47am’

Throwing the blankets off his legs, he stood from the bed and made his way towards the door. Opening it, his ears twitched as he heard movement from somewhere else in the house. Peeking out, he noticed the lights on at the end of the hall, where the living room was. Listening closer, he tried to see if he could hear anything, but the padding of the rain outside made it hard.

Carefully, he walked out of the room and down the hall with light on his feet in case it was an intruder. However, when he turned the corner all he found was you sitting on the couch, a book sitting in your lap. The dim glow of the lap that sat on the side table next to you cast a faint glow upon your skin. He couldn’t tell if it was just his sleep-fogged brain or not, but you looked breathtaking to him, and he hated that he saw you in that kind of light.

Swallowing thick, he turned to leave, not wanting to bother you or be close to you and your intoxicating scent just in case it got to his head. Yet when another clash of thunder vibrated the house, he grimaced, his hands reaching up to pull at his ears.

Hearing the floorboards creak, you looked over and found Wooyoung standing there, messing with his ears. You knew that they had sensitive ears, so you were sure that the thunder was hurting them. Putting the bookmark back into your book, you closed it before setting it down on the coffee table.

Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, Wooyoung looked over to see you standing and walking towards him. He wanted to back away and tell you to not touch him, but he could force the words off of his tongue. You stopped just a few feet in front of him, looking him over. His hair and the scruff on his ears were all messy from his sleeping, and you took note that he was still wearing his clothes. Looking back up to meet his eyes you could see the borderline fear and pain swirling in his chocolate orbs.

“Why don’t you sit down? We can watch a movie until the storm passes.” You told him as you motioned to the couch. As much as he would like to tell you to screw off, he found himself nodding and following you to the couch, taking the empty space next to you but leaving a good amount of space between the both of you.

After you both got comfortable on the couch, you found a movie and pressed play before turning the volume up just enough to drown out the sound of the rolling thunder outside. You handed him the throw blanket after noticing that he was starting to shake slightly, but otherwise, you left him alone, not wanting to push any limits.

The room was quiet, except for the sound of the movie playing through the speakers. You sat with your legs curled underneath you as you played with the loose threads on the couch arm.

“Why are you awake?” His voice caused your heart to jump into your throat, startled by the sudden noise before you glanced over at him.

“Couldn’t sleep.” You told him before turning your gaze back to the TV, your racing heart starting to calm, but Wooyoung’s eyes never left your form.

“Because of the storm?”

You took a moment to respond, mulling over what you should tell him. "Yeah… " It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to burden him with your problems.

Wooyoung could tell that you hadn’t told the full truth, but he wasn’t going to push for answers, so he just left it at that and went back to watching the movie.

About an hour and a half later, the storm finally calmed, and Wooyoung had fallen back asleep on the couch. You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up, so you just left him after making sure that he was completely covered.

Grabbing your phone from the coffee table, you looked at the time and saw that it was a little bit after six. So you stood and made your way back to your room to change, trying to stay as quiet as possible. You were going to run to the store to grab a few groceries as well as a change of clothes for Wooyoung, something that you knew he would wear and that wasn’t already worn by someone else.

–

Wooyoung woke up with a groan, his arm covering his face from the harsh rays of sunlight. After a few moments, he lifted himself up and looked around the living room. Had he fallen asleep in here last night? His eyes then fell on a pile of folded clothes that sat on the table, a piece of paper sitting on top of them.

Reaching over, he grabbed the note, thinking that you had just laid out more of your brother's clothes for him to change into. However, as he read the note, his eyebrow raised.

‘I went to the store this morning and got you something to change into; I wasn’t too sure about your size, so I hope they fit. There’s food in the fridge, and if you need anything, I’ll be in the backyard.’ - y/n

He found it hard to believe that you actually bought him something, but as he grabbed the T-shirt, he found that the tags were still attached, and the only scent he could smell was the faint aroma of the store. His eyes then shifted to the backdoor that he could see through the doorway of the dining room back to the shirt in his hands. He was surprised but grateful nonetheless, so he gathered the clothes before heading back to the guest room to change.

When he was done changing, he went to hunt for you, which wasn’t too hard, seeing as he could hear you humming to yourself through the open window in the kitchen. So he opened the back door and found you sitting on a swinging bench with yet another book in your hands.

At the sound of the door opening, you moved your gaze away from the page you had been reading. A small smile tugged on your lips at the sight of him wearing the clothes you had bought. Closing the book, you sat it to the side and gave him your full attention.

“Do they fit alright?” you asked, and he nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment as he noticed the dark bags that had formed under your eyes. You then remembered his bandages and stood to your feet, “Have you changed your bandages yet?”

“No, I was gonna ask you where they were.” He told you that the hairs on the back of his neck stood tall when a gust of wind blew past him, and he shivered. “Why are you out here when it’s this cold?” He wasn’t even sure where the question had come from, but he wanted to know the more the chill settled into his bones, and he started to shiver.

“It’s not that bad as long as the wind isn’t blowing," you explained before grabbing your book. "Now, let's go change your bandages.” You walked back to the door and opened it before walking in, Wooyoung close behind you, ready to get out of the cold.

As you were bandaging his stitches, you started to wonder why he hadn’t left when he looked like he was ready to run out that door any moment yesterday. Unknowingly, Wooyoung was wondering the same thing to himself. He was sure that he would just leave after waking up. Yet he once again found himself being tugged back to you, wanting to stay in your presence. It was annoying as hell.

When you were done, you threw out the old bandages and left everything he needed to change them sitting on the dresser.

“I’ll leave these here for you if you leave, so you have something,” you told him as you made your way to the door. But he quickly caught your wrist in his hand, the skin tingling at the contact. Shocked, you looked back at him with wide eyes, but he kept his gaze averted, his ears folded back.

“Could I stay here?” He hated to ask because the last thing he wanted was to be stuck with a human, but his ‘home’ was merely just an abandoned factory that was on the outskirts of the city that he had made himself comfortable in after escaping the last human he was with.

As if his reaching out to grab you wasn’t shocking enough, his asking to stay here after making it seem like he wanted nothing to do with you shocked you even more. You blinked at him a few times, trying to find the words, but Wooyoung took that as a sign that you didn’t want him there, so he started to let go. At the loss of contact, the shock instantly wore off, and you grabbed his hand, catching him off guard.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask that, but yes, you’re more than welcome to stay here.” Your words came out rushed, worried that he would try to stop you if you didn’t speak fast enough. Wooyoung looked at you in shock for a moment before his eyes fell to where you were still holding onto his hand, noticing his gaze you quickly let go with an apology, sticking your hands into the pocket of your hoodie. “Uh… I’ll be out back again if you need anything!”

Wooyoung couldn’t help the small smile of amusement that spread on his lips as you tucked tail and rushed out of the room, and he definitely didn’t miss the faint blush on your cheeks. He let out a breath of air before turning and going back to the bed.

Something about you kept pulling him to you, and he wanted to figure out what it was. However, he was also worried that if he opened up too much, it would just be a repeat of last time. So, he decided to keep a good distance between the two of you so he wouldn’t run the chance of trusting another human.

It couldn’t be that hard, right?

The first week that he was there, it was easy to avoid being around you too much unless you were helping him change the bandages on his back. However, the longer he stayed with you, the more that he found himself drawn to you, and it became hard to avoid you.

Even now, as the both of you sat on the couch watching TV, the empty dinner plates were sitting on the coffee table. He sat close to you, wanting to soak in the warmth that you give off, yet he was hesitant about it, but even in the short amount of time you’ve known him you knew what he was wanting. So carefully, you reached over and grabbed his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers together. His breath hitched in his throat as his eyes landed on where your hand sat in his, but you didn’t say a word nor look at him.

As much as he hated it he could feel the walls he had built up around him start to crumble the longer he stayed near you. He didn’t really hate it. He just wasn’t sure if he could trust you.

“We can take your stitches out tomorrow morning.” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked over at you, offering him a small smile. That’s when he noticed that the dark bags under your eyes had gotten worse, and his eyebrows scrunched up, causing you to laugh softly. "What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”

“Have you been sleeping?” His question caught your off guard and you looked at him with wide eyes.

Was it really that evident that you haven’t been sleeping well? You were sure that you had managed to cover the eyebags, just maybe not good enough. Letting out a short laugh, you reached up and rubbed the back of your neck as you turned your gaze away from him.

“Is it really that obvious? I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but it's been worse here lately.” You explained to him, releasing his hand, and he watched as you laid it on your lap. He started to worry that it had something to do with him, but you were quick to catch on, looking back over at him with a small smile. “It’s not because of you, it’s just…” A part of you wanted to spill everything to him; something about him just drawing you in like a string that was attached to your soul, but you didn’t want to overstep any lines that would make him uncomfortable.

Against his better judgment, Wooyoung reached over and took your hand back into his, interlocking your fingers together once more. Surprised, you looked down at your intertwined hands before looking up to meet his gaze. Then, despite all of the warning bells that were ringing in his head, he opened his mouth and spoke softly.

“You can tell me.” He reassured you, and you felt your heart leap at the sincerity in his eyes.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to trauma dump.” You tried to laugh it off, but he squeezed your hand, pulling your attention back to him. His gaze alone told you that he wasn’t going to let you go until you talked about it, so you just slunk back into the couch with a sigh. “My parents used to um… hit me to put it lightly back when everything was happening with the hybrids. They would wait until I was asleep in bed to come in and drag me out.” Your voice shook softly as you started to explain, averting your gaze to your and Wooyoung’s interlocked hands, watching his thumb brush the back of your hand. “Even after they finally kicked me out, I would wake up from night terrors. They got better after a while, but sometimes they get bad again, and I just can’t bring myself to sleep. I’m still petrified at the thought of them barging into my room again, so I just stay awake. Better safe than sorry.”

After you finished explaining, Wooyoung just looked at you. Even back then, you would rather take those beatings from your parents than turn against his kind. He started to see you in a new light, and he found himself even more drawn to you.

He squeezed your hand once again, catching your attention. As your eyes met his, you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. You quickly apologized as they started to fall, turning your head to wipe them away, but he caught your chin and turned you to look back at him. He brushed his thumb over your cheekbone, wiping away the tears before he spoke again.

“As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about anyone hurting you like that again.” His eyes scanned your face, and he could tell that you were on the verge of breaking down. He wiped a few more tears away before pulling his hand away and you couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. “You need to sleep; you look exhausted.”

You let out a small sigh, but you knew he was right. It was only a matter of time before something went wrong if you kept yourself awake any longer. So you made yourself comfortable on the couch, propping your arm up to rest your head on the couch, eyes watching the TV.

Wooyoung watched you for a few more moments before turning to look back at whatever movie was playing on the TV. Before too long, he looked over to find that you were fast asleep. Your lips parted slightly, and he couldn’t help but stare. Until he noticed your eyebrows scrunching together, and you started to mumble something.

Releasing your hand, he did the first thing that came to mind: He wrapped his arm around your body and pulled you into his. As soon as your head met his chest, the soft thumping of his heart was heard under your ear. He watched for a moment as your features relaxed and his body went rigid, his ears standing tall when your arms wrapped around his torso. After a few moments, he relaxed, his arm snug around you as he continued to watch TV.

–

When you woke up, you weren’t sure what time it was. Lifting your head, you wiped the sleep out of your eyes but became acutely aware of the body under yours. Moving slowly so as not to wake the male, you reached for your phone and turned the screen to see the time pop up on the screen.

‘2:19am’

Your eyes widened as you realized just how long you had been asleep and without any nightmares at that. Looking back at Wooyoung, you grimaced at the way his head was cranked backwards. Curling your lips inward, you reached out and shook him softly.

“Wooyoung… hey, wake up, Wooyou–” You gasped when he jolted awake, his hand wrapping around your wrist, his eyes alert, and his ears folded back. However, once he realized it was just you, his ear relaxed, and his grip loosed.

“Sorry,” He apologized before releasing your wrist to rub his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after two, you should go to bed; you looked uncomfortable.” You told him, guilt creeping up your spine when you realized that he was like that because you were laying on him.

He looked at you for a moment, then said, “If I’m going to bed, then you should, too.”

You wanted to protest, but the stern gleam in his eyes told you that you weren’t going to win this fight even if you tried. So you nodded before standing and turning the TV off, Wooyoung not too far from you.

When you got to your door, you paused for a second, unsure if you would even be able to sleep again. Noticing your hesitance, Wooyoung stopped turning the door handle to his room to look over at you.

“Are you okay?” You jumped at his voice before looking over your shoulder at him.

“I’ll be fine; I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to sleep again.” You told him honestly, but you waved him off quickly, not wanting to bug him further. "Don’t worry about it. Good night, Wooyoung.”

Before he could utter a word, you disappeared into your room, the door shutting softly behind you. He let out a huff, his tail waving behind him, matching his annoyed state. Walking into his room, he decided that it wasn’t really his place to push you, so he just left it be.

You crawled into your bed after changing into a pair of pajamas, but as soon as you lay down and closed your eyes, flashes of those nights came back, and you quickly opened your eyes. Turning onto your back, you stared at your ceiling for a few moments before trying to sleep once again. However, you kept tossing and turning, either too uncomfortable, or fear etched itself in your head as soon as you were about to fall asleep, waking you right back up. With a huff, you started to give up on the idea of sleeping when you heard a knock at your door, nearly scaring the life out of you.

You slowly climbed out of bed and walked over to the door, opening it just enough to look out. Your eyes widened when you found Wooyoung standing there.

“What are you–”

“I can hear you moving around in the other room; I can’t sleep.” He cut you off, and your face dropped. You hadn’t meant to keep him awake. You started to apologize, but he just shook his head, his ear twitching slightly. “You seemed to sleep better when I was with you on the couch, so…” He really didn’t want to spell it out for you, and thankfully, you caught on to what he was saying.

“You don’t have to, I don’t want to trou–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he pushed past you into your room, kicking the door closed behind him and pulling you towards the bed.

“Just be quiet and lay down.” His snarky tone was something that you had grown used to over the past two weeks that he’s been here, so it didn’t bother you. No, what was getting to you was the thought of sleeping in the same bed as him. Hearing the sound of your heart rate pick up, he flicked your forehead, causing you to yelp, “We’re just sleeping. Get your head out of the gutter.”

“I– you–” You stumbled over your words in embarrassment, causing the fox to smirk. Your face was a bright shade of pink, and you thanked the heavens that it was dark so he couldn’t see it; at least, you hoped he didn’t. With a pout, you turned, walked over to the other side of the bed, and laid down, your back facing him.

Laughing softly, he took the empty space next to you, pulling the blankets over his body. The room then fell silent as you both laid there, you could already start to feel yourself drift off. Then before too long you had fallen asleep just as Wooyoung thought you would, he then laid his head back down and started to drift off. However, he was jolted from his slumber when you suddenly turned and moved closer to him, your hand brushed against his side as you moved. He stayed still for a moment until you practically curled yourself against his side before he let out a sigh and went to sleep.

–

The next morning you woke up before Wooyoung, a yawn escaping your lips as you went to sit up only to find Wooyoung’s arm draped over your body. Heat crept up your neck as you realized just how close the two of you were, his soft snores filling your ears.

Carefully untangling your body from his, you climbed out of the bed and grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the bathroom attached to your bedroom. Shutting the door behind you, you walked over to the sink and looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Snap out of it, y/n; he’s just trying to help because you’re bothering him. Don’t let it go to your head.” You sighed, turning on the tap to splash cool water over your face.

“You’re not bothering me.” You jumped at the sound of his voice, a small yelp falling from your lips as you looked up, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror.

“When did you…?” You turned to look at him with wide eyes; you hadn’t even heard the door open.

Wooyoung didn’t say a word as he stalked closer to you and you tried to back away only to be met with the counter. He then trapped your body between his and the countertop, leaning down until his warm breath washed over your face.

Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips that were merely inches away from your own and you swallowed thickly. Wooyoung wasn’t sure what had washed over him or if it was just that his rut was coming up, but that pull he felt towards you was stronger than ever this morning.

His hand then found your waist, pulling you against him, causing a soft gasp to fall from your lips. His head then dipped down, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, “I can hear your heart hammering in your chest, sweetheart.”

“Wooyoung…” You breathed out, your hand pressing against his chest, and you could feel his own heartbeat against your palm.

The fox hummed as he moved away from your ear to look at you, his tail brushing against your bare thigh. His gaze was intense as he stared down at you, his grip on your hip tightening. You wanted to push him away, but you couldn’t, and neither could Wooyoung as he finally captured your lips with his. Your breath hitched in your throat at the feeling of his plush lips against yours.

Any hesitance you felt moments before flew out the window as you melted against him, returning his eager kiss. Your arms snaked around his neck as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. You didn’t give him much of a fight as you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. A soft moan fell from your lips when he gently bit down on your bottom lip, and Wooyoung could feel his pants grow tighter.

His kisses grew hungrier as his hands started to roam your body, fingers slipping underneath your shirt. Your brain started to go foggy as his lips trailed from yours down your jaw before finding purchase on the sensitive skin of your neck.

“W-Wooyoung.” You choked out as he started to leave hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping every now and then, causing your body to shiver. His eager hands found the back of your thigh, hoisting you onto the counter, eliciting a small yelp from you.

“You smell so good.” He groaned against your skin before his hands slipped under your shirt, squeezing at the skin. “Fuck I need you, baby, so bad.”

You moaned softly at his words, your hands gripping his shoulders, “We can’t… your stitches.” You told him, trying your best not to lose yourself in the feeling of his hands on your skin and his teeth grazing your neck.

“It’s fine, they’re coming out today. You said so yourself.” He told you, pulling away from your neck to look at you. The dark lust that pooled in his eyes made your arousal grow tenfold, and you could feel your panties growing wetter.

His fingertips then brushed the underside of your breast, and his eye flickered down to your shirt at the realization that you hadn’t been wearing a bra. With quick movements, he pulled the shirt over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. His eyes then fell on your bare breast, drinking in the sight with his eyes.

You felt so exposed under his intense gaze, goosebumps littering your skin before you started to cover yourself. However, he was quicker, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into another bruising kiss. A muffled mewl left your mouth when he cupped your breast in his hand, squeezing the soft fat.

“Don’t hide from me. You’re too pretty to hide.” His voice was hoarse as he pulled away from you; his head then dipped down. His lips latched onto the skin right above your breast, and you could feel your sanity slowly slipping away from you.

Your nails dug into his shoulder as he pressed his hips against yours, allowing you to feel how hard he was against your clothed cunt. A gasp fell from your swollen lips when he latched onto one of your nipples, teeth nipping at the sensitive bud.

“B-Bed.” You gasped out when his hand traveled down your stomach to your clothed heat.

Wooyoung let out a low growl, not wanting to waste time, but he detached himself from your breast nonetheless before picking you up. A small yelp fell from your lips as your arms wrapped your arms around his neck.

Walking back into the bedroom, he dropped you onto the bed, a small huff leaving your lips as you fell. Wooyoung didn’t leave you alone for too long, though, quickly discarding his shirt before crawling over you, his lips finding yours once more.

His hands then found the hem of your sleep shorts, fingers wrapping around the waistband, but he stopped and pulled away from your lips.

“Can I?” He asked despite the overpowering need to have you fully, not wanting to push any boundaries there may be. Your eyes fluttered open to look up at him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him back down to you.

“Please,” You spoke softly, pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips, and that was all he needed before he hastily pulled off both your shorts and underwear. The way his eyes were devouring you had you pooling even more, your thighs rubbing together to try and alleviate some of the pressure.

Wooyoung’s head dipped down to your neck once more, nipping at the skin softly as his hand traveled down your body. He pulled your thighs apart before his fingers met with your soaping core, and he groaned against you.

“Fuck I could smell how wet you were, but I wasn’t expecting you to be this wet babydoll.” He groaned against your skin as the pad of his middle finger found your throbbing clit. The sinful sound that left your lips nearly made him lose all sense of control, and he tried his best not to bite down on your collarbone.

“W-Woo–” You were cut off by a moan when he slipped a finger into your tight walls.

“Shit baby, you’re so tight,” He chuckled darkly as your eyes rolled slightly when he curled his fingers after adding a second finger. There was no way he was going to be able to hold off for much longer before he lost it, so he sped up his pace, his thumb pressing harsh circles on your clit.

“F-fuck!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed and against him. Your mind was starting to shortcircuit when he brushed over your sweet spot, and a broken whine fell from your lips.

Wooyoung leaned up latching his lips on yours once more, stealing the air right out of your lungs. Your hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him close to you as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. He bit at your lower lip, enough to draw blood before he started to suck on it; the mixture of pain and pleasure sent you toppling over the edge.

“Wooyoung!” You cried out as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, prolonging your orgasm for a few moments before finally pulling them out of your twitching cunt.

You watched with hooded eyes as he stuck his fingers in his mouth, licking your essence off of his digits. The sight was enough to make your need grow all over again, especially with the way his eyes bore into you. Once he was sure he had licked every last drop of your sweet nectar off of his fingers, he leaned back down over you, pressing his lips against yours again. You mewled at the taste of yourself on his tongue mixed with the tangy, metallic taste of your blood from your lip.

“Next time, I’ll have you cumming on my tongue.” He growled against your lips, and you were sure your brain was turning to putty at the thought of him between your thighs, lapping at your cunt like it was his favorite meal in the world. “But for right now… I need to be in you.”

He moved back far enough to pull the string of his sweats loose and pushed them down his legs. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of his cock, the tip already glistening with pre-cum. He was big, way bigger than anyone you had ever been with before, but for granted, you’ve never slept with a hybrid. You then started to wonder whether or not it would fit, swallowing nervously.

Sensing your unease, Wooyoung crawled back over your body, drawing your attention back to his face. He pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before whispering, “Don’t worry, I’ve got you, baby, I promise.”

You gazed into his eyes for a moment before nodding softly, licking your lips, “o-okay, I trust you.”

Wooyoung smiled softly before pulling you into another kiss as he grabbed himself at the base, teasing your folds with his tip. You let out soft gasps every time he bumped against your clit that slowly turned into needy whines the more he continued to tease you. Tears from the overwhelming need started to brim in your eyes, and the dark-haired male could have sworn he’d bust right then and there.

“P-please, Woo… I need you, please.” You whined as your fingers tangled in his hair at the nape of his neck, tugging gently.

“Alright, my needy baby.” He cooed before lining his tip with your entrance and slowly pushed into you.

The stretch was like nothing you’ve ever felt before, and your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as he continued to fill you. “Ah, focus on me, love,” Wooyoung whispered softly, coaxing your eyes open, and you looked at him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes. “Good girl.”

You moan at the praise, his length still pushing you until he finally buried himself to the hilt. Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape from the feeling of being stuffed full. Wooyoung groaned as his face fell to the crook of your neck; you were squeezing him so tightly that if he were to move right now, he’d cum.

“W-Woo…” You gasped as he unintentionally rolled his hips against yours. He quickly apologized before stilling his hips, his hand finding yours to interlock his fingers with yours.

Your shallow breaths fanned against his ear as he pressed kisses along your chest, and he groaned at the feeling. Even through your foggy haze, you could notice the effect it had on him. Your free hand moved to the top of his head, your fingers brushing against his ear, and his whole body jolted.

“Fuck baby, don’t do that.” He groaned, moving his head up to look at you and you just looked at him with doe eyes, a small smile tugging on the corner of your lips. You reached up to touch his ear once more but he caught your wrist, a small growl reverberating from his chest. The sound went right to your pussy causing you to clench around him. “I’m trying so hard to not lose control babydoll, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

A choked moan tore from your lips when he rolled his hips into yours, pleasure washing over you in waves as he hit all the right spots in one single stroke. Wooyoung released your wrist and hand to grab your hips when you gave him the green light to move.

Stars danced across your vision as he pulled out before snapping his hips right back into yours. Your fingers dug into the sheets from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck look at you.” He groaned as he continued his rough pace; it was almost animalistic if you will. His eyes then fell down to where his cock disappeared into your soaping cunt, and he felt himself grow harder at the sight of the small bulge that formed in your lower tummy every time he pushed into you.

“Shit, Woo– fuck!” You cried out as he pushed down on your stomach, making you feel him even more as he fucked into you. Tears spilled from your eyes now as your whole body felt as if it were on fire, your legs trembling around Wooyoung’s waist.

“Are you gonna cum baby?” He cooed down at you as he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours, stealing the air from your lungs once more as his tip kissed your cervix at this angle. A loud pornographic moan tore from your lips when one of his hands slid between your bodies, pressing against your clit. “Cum for me, babydoll, please.” He pleaded like he was the one more desperate for your orgasm, but with a few more strokes, you felt that coil in the pit of your stomach snap, and your release gushed out all over his length.

A mixture of his name and broken moans fell from your lips as he continued his fast pace, never slowing down and throwing your body into overstimulation. Your eyes squeezed shut at the overwhelming feeling, pushing more tears out, but Wooyoung was quick to kiss them away.

“Just a little bit more; you can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?” He whispered into your ear before leaving a flurry of kisses along your skin. His tail brushed along your leg, the feeling of the soft fur sending a shiver down your spine. “‘M gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna get you pregnant with my kits; you would like that, wouldn’t you, my love?”

You mewled at his words, your mind too far gone to truly understand what he was saying to you. Your fingers then found their way back into his hair, your fingertip brushing against his ear, and his whole body shuddered.

“Please Woo– I can’t–” You whined as your hips rolled to meet with his thrusts. Every nerve ending in your body felt like it was on fire.

“Shit.” He groaned as he felt his high nearing, and his hips snapped wildly into yours, making your vision turn white, nails digging into his neck. A mixture of a groan and a whimper fell from his lips as he completely buried himself to the hit once more as he came.

“W-Woo!” You cried out when you felt something stretching you even more, and it sent your third orgasm washing over you. Wooyoung buried his face in your neck as you milked his cock for all it was worth.

Once your orgasm subsided, you opened your eyes, blinking away some of the tears before looking over at Wooyoung as he pulled his head out of your neck.

“What is that?” Your voice shook slightly and the fox male just smirked down at you before pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

“It’s a knot, sweetheart. It’ll go down in a bit, but for now, try not to move too much.” He explained to you, and you let out a huff, and your head fell back, but you were sitting there for too long until Wooyoung flipped the both of you and pulled you on top of his chest. “You’ll probably be more comfortable like this.”

You let out a soft laugh before tilting your head to look up at him. "You better hope your stitches didn’t bust.” You huffed before laying your head back down on his chest as he chuckled. He ran his fingers through your hair before gently squeezing the back of your neck. Before too long, both of you had fallen asleep once more.

–

A few hours later, you were in the kitchen with Wooyoung, sitting on the barstool as you took out his stitches. He hadn’t even bothered to put a shirt on after the both of you woke up, seeing that it would be pointless.

“See, I told you they’d be fine.” He teased you as you removed the last stitch from his abdomen, and you glared up at him before raising back up.

“Yeah, and it's probably thanks to your enhanced healing.” You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged on the corner of your lips when he wrapped his hands around the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. “Woo, I need to get the stitches in your back.” You went to pull away, not missing the pout that formed on his lips or how his ears drooped.

The room then fell silent. The only sound was your soft humming as you worked on removing the stitch from his back. Once they were out, you couldn’t help but brush over the scars, and this time, Wooyoung didn’t growl or even move away; he just let you do as you please.

“They’re from the last human I was with.” His voice startled you, and you looked up, but he didn’t turn his head to look at you. You laid your palm flat against his back as you listened to what he was telling you. “She was the first human that I thought I could actually trust. She treated me with so much kindness and lured me in with false promises. Then, when she had me in her grasp, that nice facade faded, and her true colors showed through.” You could hear the slight tremble in his voice as he explained, your heart aching at the thought of the betrayal he must have felt. “She was… evil, and that’s putting it lightly. Even an inch out of line, and she’d have that damn whip in her hand.” He growled lowly as he recalled all of the painful nights he had to endure in the cold cage that she would keep him in.

You stepped closer to him, your arm wrapping around his chest, and he leaned back into you. He let out a content sigh when you ran your fingers through his hair, smoothing the scruff on his ears.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all of that, but I promise that you will never have to go through that again, "you promised as you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple. He hummed softly, soaking in your warmth because, for once, he actually believed your words.

You both stood there in silence, enjoying each other’s company. That was until the sounds of loud engines interrupted you. Both of you froze, unsure what that sound was. Quickly pulling yourself away from him, you walked with a light step towards the front of the house, peeking out of the front window. What you saw made your heart jump in your throat.

“Shit!” You cursed lowly as you turned back to the dark-haired male who had just walked into the living room.

“What is–”

“Wooyoung, listen to me; in the closet in the guest room, there’s a crawl space. I need you to go and hide in there, NOW!” You rushed, pushing him in the direction of the room, but he fought against you. “Dammit, Woo, go! It’s the hunters, so please go and hide, and for the love of god, do NOT come out no matter what you hear.” You pushed him towards the room once more, and Wooyoung’s heart dropped at the thought of the hunters being here again.

Reluctantly, he did as he was told, rushing into the guest room and shutting the door behind him. Opening the closet door and looking up, he found the crawl space you were talking about. Looking around, he found a bucket and quickly turned it over so he could use it as a step stool.

With a few pushes, the piece of the ceiling gave way, and he quickly pulled himself up, kicking the bucket away in the process. Once he was inside, he replaced the panel before sitting there, trying to calm his racing heart.

His ears twitched as he picked up on the sound of voices from the other room, and he prayed to god that you would be okay and the hunters would just leave when they couldn’t find what they were looking for.

The hunters had practically busted their way into the cabin and you prayed the Wooyoung made it to the crawl space in time. You jumped when the door collided with the wall roughly, and the group of three men, all wearing the same insignia, walked in.

“You can’t just barge in here.” You stood your ground, glaring at them, but they just looked at you, and the front guy smirked.

“Well, if it isn't the pretty lady from the woods.” He stepped towards you, but you quickly took a step back, keeping a good space between you. “We got word that the fox hybrid was seen in this area.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; there hasn’t been anyone but me out here.” You stated, heart hammering against your ribs as he signaled for his men to start searching, “hey you can’t just–”

In the next second, your body hit the ground, pain burning on your cheek, and tears stung in your eyes. Looking up, you glared at the man, holding your face.

“See, we would believe that if our sources hadn’t said they saw him right here with you.” He then crouched down in front of you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back, causing a pained cry to leave your lips. “So if you wanna live to see the light of another day, you better start telling the truth.”

Your hands balled into fists as you spit at him, “There is no one but me here, douchebag.”

Another cry of pain fell from your lips when he backhanded you, the metal of his ring busting your lip. Tears welled in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall as you met the man’s gaze once more. Your eyes narrowed into slits as he leaned towards you.

“You’re quite feisty; I wouldn’t mind keeping you.” He reached toward you, but you quickly knocked his hand away in disgust.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You growled, heart beating frantically the longer the other two men were out of sight. You prayed that they were dumb enough to just look in the obvious places and not give the crawl space a second thought.

Wooyoung could hear the commotion in the living room, but as soon as he heard the pained cry fall from your lips, he wanted to give up his spot so he could make sure you were okay. However, he knew that he would only end up hurting you more, so he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the shuffling from underneath him.

Eventually, it stopped, and the footsteps retreated back towards the living room.

“We couldn’t find anything, boss.” Both men walked back into the room, and you had to fight the urge to let out a relieved sigh.

“Fucking hell.” The man in front of you growled before standing to his feet and looking down at you with a faux smile, “Sorry about the commotion, ma’am.”

You couldn’t help but scoff as they walked out of the house, slamming the door shut in the process. You didn’t dare move until you heard the sound of their engines fade off into the distance.

“Y/n!” Wooyoung called out as he got out of the crawl space, saw the mess the hunters had left, and quickly made a beeline to the living room.

You were just getting back onto your feet when he rounded the corner, and he felt his shoulders relax when he saw that you were okay. That was until you turned to face him, and he saw the blood dripping down your chin from the cut on your lip. And his vision turned red.

“Wooyoung, wait!” you called out to him as he made a beeline for the door, quickly grabbing his arm. “Wooyoung, stop; you can’t go after them!" you exclaimed as you tugged him back until he turned to look at you.

“Look at what they did to you; they need to pay.” He growled as he cupped your face in his hands, his thumb gently swiping over the cut, causing you to hiss.

“I’m fine, but you can’t go after them. You alone are no match for all of them.” You explained, and he let out a defeated sigh, knowing that you were right.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling away and grabbing your hand. "Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He then dragged you to the kitchen, sitting you on the same stool that he had been in just a while ago, the first aid kit in his hands.

You watched him endearingly as he cleaned up the blood from your busted lip before putting a plaster over the cut. After he was done, he wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, pulled you into his chest, and you instantly wrapped your arms around his torso.

“They shouldn’t bother us again, at least not for a long time, if they don’t want to get in trouble for harassing a human.” You told him as you rested your chin on his chest, staring up at him. He looked down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

“That's good because I can’t promise I’ll just sit idly by if they show up again.” He growled, and you knew he wasn’t joking, so you hoped they wouldn’t show their faces again.

You sat in his hold for a few more moments before pulling away and offering him a small smile "Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll make lunch?”

Wooyoung couldn’t help but smile, but he also wasn’t quick to leave your side just yet, so he refused, staying with you in the kitchen while you cooked. His playful remarks and teasing nature almost made everything feel normal once again.

But nothing fully dissipated until you were curled up on the couch with Wooyoung, watching some random movie while the both of you ate, enjoying each other’s company.

In the weeks after, there were no signs of those hunters, and you couldn’t be happier. You and Wooyoung were more than content with each other's company, even if his cockiness and teasing drove you to your wit's end.

The both of you were happy, and that was more than enough for you.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

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railleriee · 1 month ago

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because he had to

because rin had to obey his family, he agreed to marry you—yet as you, who had quietly loved him for years, found yourself falling even deeper, you began to wonder if the way he stayed, listened, and chose you in the quiet moments meant he wasn’t with you out of obligation... but because he wanted to be.

starring. itoshi rin x fem!reader

genre. romance, angst, domestic fluff, slow burn, emotional healing, arranged marriage au, slice of life.

wc. 12.5k

cw. generational trauma, misogynistic comments, toxic family dynamics, emotional repression.

author's note: i actually wrote this since i can't sleep and this prompt has been sitting in my drafts for a while now

You first saw Itoshi Rin when you were around ten years old, at a grand charity gala your parents insisted you attend. You were still small enough to get away with hiding under buffet tables or sneaking extra dessert plates, but that night, something made you pause.

He was sitting at a corner table, not quite sulking but clearly not enjoying himself. His older brother, Sae, stood just a few feet away, surrounded by adults clapping him on the back, heaping praise for his early success in football. Rin sat stiffly, watching in silence, his small hands clenched in his lap. He must have been only a year or two older than you, but already you noticed the way his shoulders curled in—like he was used to shrinking himself down beside Sae’s spotlight.

What stuck with you wasn’t Sae’s fame. It was the subtle way Rin glanced at his brother—part admiration, part resignation. He looked like he was used to being second. But Sae didn’t look pleased either. In fact, the older boy was barely masking his annoyance, his lips in a tight line as though the attention was more exhausting than flattering. And in that strange moment—amid clinking wine glasses and adult laughter—you realized both brothers hated being there, just in different ways.

You didn’t talk to Rin then. Just observed him from behind your parents’ tailored clothes. And then you kept seeing him.

At more events—charity auctions, fundraising banquets, community celebrations that tied your two influential families together. Sometimes it was just a nod, a glance from across the ballroom, a shared glance when the grown-ups talked too loud or said the wrong thing. One time, at your cousin’s wedding, you didn’t realize your dress zipper had broken. You were too busy helping with the reception program when someone placed a warm jacket over your shoulders. You turned around in surprise, and there he was—Rin. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod before walking away. That coat smelled like mint and laundry detergent, and you remembered thinking how quiet boys always noticed the important things.

You ended up attending the same prestigious high school, though you were in different classes. Rin was already well on his way to stardom—dedicated to football, almost unreachable in his discipline. You found your own rhythm in the science labs and student council meetings, pouring yourself into volunteer work, biology papers, and late-night cram sessions.

Your family came from a long line of doctors—all men, all top of their class. You were the first daughter in generations to pursue medicine, but no one discouraged you. In fact, your parents were unusually supportive, proudly calling you their “game-changer.” Medicine wasn’t just a family legacy to you—it was your choice, your dream. You wanted it more than anything else. And after years of sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled revisions, and anatomy charts tattooed behind your eyelids, you had finally graduated.

You were now a first-year resident, newly transitioned from the chaos of med school into the grueling hours of internship. It was hard. No one romanticized the truth—thirty-hour shifts, patients coding, seniors snapping, hands that trembled from exhaustion. But you loved it. Every messy, sleep-deprived, adrenaline-filled second of it.

Rin’s trajectory wasn’t any less impressive. His family, known for producing world-class athletes and ruthless business tycoons, had high expectations—and Rin met every single one. He dominated the Japan Football League like a silent storm, precise and terrifying in his technique. Off the field, he ran training camps for aspiring athletes, managed a string of sports clinics, and co-owned a retail chain of elite gear stores. Rin wasn’t just a star player—he was building an empire with the same laser-sharp focus he had as a child.

You had accepted that your paths would always run parallel. Close, almost intimate, but never crossing.

Until the day you dragged yourself home after a brutal twenty-four-hour hospital shift, having juggled emergency rotations and review materials for your upcoming internship exams, and your parents sat you down at the dinner table.

They looked too calm. The kind of calm that came right before life took a sharp, irreversible turn.

“We have something to tell you,” your mother said gently, folding her hands.

Your father smiled, as if this was good news.

And then they said it.

You were engaged—to Itoshi Rin.

You didn’t complain—you saw this coming.

You had prepared yourself for it years ago, the possibility always lingering quietly in the back of your mind like a shadow at the edge of a doorframe. And truthfully? You didn’t care. Not in the way that made most women your age spiral into panic or daydreams. You had already built a life for yourself—a solid, hard-earned future that didn’t depend on anyone else.

You were a doctor now—first female in your family to make it past the impossible bar set by generations of male predecessors. You graduated with honors, fought tooth and nail through sleepless nights and clinical rotations, survived condescending mentors and soul-crushing shifts. You were already enough.

So if your name was to be tied to Itoshi Rin’s—if your future was to include a man chosen not by your heart but by obligation—you’d manage. Like always.

After all, you came from a long line of women who did the same.

Arranged marriages were practically tradition in your family—your mother included. But hers was the rare kind that bloomed over time. Your parents' marriage became something beautiful, built on mutual respect and unspoken understanding. What started as strategy became a sanctuary—resulting in a home filled with love, quiet strength, and two children who never once doubted what affection felt like.

Maybe, somewhere in your heart, you hoped yours would follow that path.

And to be fair—you liked Rin. Even before this engagement was proposed.

He was familiar to you. You’d seen him at social events growing up—quiet in the corners, head slightly bowed, posture straight, always watching. Always listening. You went to the same prestigious high school, though his reputation preceded him. Stoic. Calculated. Intimidatingly brilliant. You were never close, but your paths crossed often enough that his name never felt foreign in your mouth.

And now—it was bound to yours.

The engagement was announced the way everything in Rin’s world was—polished, pristine, and press-ready. A curated image for the public to consume. His family handled the release—a glossy photo of the two of you, a generic caption about love and legacy. It was posted to official pages, picked up by sports blogs, and spread across gossip forums before the ink on the paperwork even dried.

You didn’t even mind. You were used to pressure. To scrutiny. To people making assumptions about your life without knowing a single thing about it.

And that’s how you found yourself standing at the entrance of a penthouse—high above the city, luxury wrapped in glass and marble—gifted by Rin’s parents as a pre-wedding gesture. A shared space for a shared future.

You arrived first—boxes filled with textbooks, surgical clogs, and two dozen mugs from med school. You picked the guest room to unpack in, unsure if it was too soon to claim the master bedroom. Not that Rin would have cared.

He moved in two days later—silent, efficient, meticulous. No questions. No expectations.

Rin wasn’t cold—not the way people thought.

He was quiet. He was reserved. But he was also the kind of man who paid attention in the softest, most deliberate ways.

He cooked dinners on the nights you came home late, even if it was already past midnight. He didn’t complain when you were too exhausted to eat properly, instead placing a warm bowl in front of you, murmuring, “At least a few bites. I’ll warm the rest later if you want it.”

And when you had to study for your internship exam, Rin was there. Not in a loud or flashy way, but present in the little things. He brought coffee to your desk without asking, sometimes with a post-it stuck to the mug that read, You’re doing great. I’m proud of you.

“Don’t fall asleep on your notes,” he’d say, gently tapping your forehead with a knuckle when you dozed off mid-sentence.

You passed, and Rin celebrated it the way he knew you’d prefer. No huge party, no surprise announcements. Just him, standing in the kitchen with a cake—your favorite flavor—and a spread of greasy takeout food you craved after every long shift. He looked almost smug when you smiled at the sight.

“Thought you’d like this more than people clapping in your face,” he said, opening the plastic containers.

“You were right,” you murmured, leaning on the counter beside him. “This is perfect.”

After that, the transition into your residency was brutal. The hours were longer, the responsibilities heavier, but Rin was always around. Despite training for upcoming matches, juggling press conferences and overseeing his sports brand, he still found time for you. He’d text when he was on the way, and true to his word, he’d be there—waiting at 2am by the hospital’s parking lot in his car, music low, headlights off, eyes tired but patient.

“You should’ve gone home,” you’d tell him as you slid into the passenger seat.

“You looked like you needed a ride more than I needed sleep,” he’d reply simply, hands steady on the wheel.

Sometimes, when your shifts required staying overnight, Rin would send food—carefully packed, with your name scribbled on the lid in black marker. He’d even send two sets if he thought you forgot your lunch too. And when you finally returned home after days of being on call, he’d pull you into a hug so firm it threatened to break you.

“You smell like antiseptic,” he’d mutter against your shoulder.

“You smell like overpriced cologne,” you’d say back, muffled into his chest. But you never pulled away.

At home, you often ended up sprawled on the couch with your head on his lap, recounting the chaos of your day. Rin would run his fingers gently through your hair, pausing only to smooth the strands when they tangled.

“One of my patients coded and came back after six minutes,” you told him once, eyes wide with leftover adrenaline. “It was surreal. His eyes opened and he asked for water like nothing happened.”

Rin blinked, then tilted his head. “So he technically died?”

“Technically, yes.”

He let out a soft whistle. “You guys are scary.”

You laughed, breathless from the high of saving someone’s life. “You play in front of fifty thousand people. I think we’re even.”

Rin hummed. “Yeah, but no one flatlines on the pitch.”

Moments like these painted a picture of something gentle, something bordering on intimate. He remembered what snacks you liked after a long day. He learned how to recognize when you needed to talk versus when you needed silence. He was always there, always attentive, always kind.

But underneath it all—behind the small comforts and shared routines—you knew the truth.

He only agreed to the engagement because it was expected of him.

Because his parents arranged it. Because you were a match that made sense on paper—two heirs from reputable families, both successful in your own rights. Because this was how your world worked.

And you accepted that.

Because that was how it always went for women in your family. Because your mother had once told you that love wasn’t the foundation, but rather something you learned—if you were lucky.

So you stopped hoping for anything more than this quiet companionship, this respectful co-existence.

Because he had to.

And you would learn to be okay with that.

Okay with letting go of the little things—your favorite flowers not making the bouquet, the venue being in his family’s preferred country club, the gown being selected before you even had time to breathe. You would learn to nod when asked a question, even if the answer had already been decided for you.

Most of the wedding planning was orchestrated by his family. You quickly realized that your presence in the room was more ceremonial than necessary. It was his mother and aunts who ran the show, voices firm and faces practiced in subtle smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes. They had a vision, and you—well, you were just expected to fit into it.

You said yes a lot. Yes to the menu, yes to the flowers, yes to the dress his mother thought would “balance out your shoulders.” It didn’t matter if you liked it. It was easier to agree than to fight a battle you were never going to win.

And always, always, their comments had a certain edge to them. Not loud enough to cause a scene, but sharp enough to cut.

“She’s always so tired, isn’t she? I suppose that's what happens when you're running around in a hospital all day,” his mother would murmur with a sip of wine.

“You’d think someone in medicine would have more time management,” an aunt said once while flipping through the guest list. “She nearly missed the cake tasting last week.”

Another chimed in, almost sympathetically, “Well, it's not easy balancing a career and a wedding. I suppose it’s admirable she’s trying at all.”

You smiled through it. Every time. You bit your tongue until it hurt and you smiled. Because you weren’t just marrying Rin. You were marrying into all of them. And after all, wasn’t this what they wanted? What your parents wanted? What was expected?

Rin wasn’t there for most of it. He had flown to Spain with Sae for a training camp. The timing couldn’t have been worse—or maybe it was perfect, depending on who you asked. His mother had taken it as a sign to step in fully. You, on the other hand, simply tried not to crumble.

But Rin... Rin still tried.

He would call you whenever he could—between practices, at odd hours when he knew you’d be on break or walking home from the hospital. His voice was steady, a little tired, but always laced with quiet concern. He didn’t say much, but he always asked if you were holding up, if things were too much, if you were eating.

And in those small, private moments, you felt seen.

You didn’t tell him everything. You never told him how his aunts would make you feel like an accessory instead of a bride. Or how his mother always looked at your hands like they weren’t delicate enough for a wedding band. Or how every time they brought up your job, it was as if it were a phase rather than the result of sleepless nights and years of sacrifice.

Still, Rin had this way of hearing what you didn’t say.

Maybe it was the way your voice dropped when you said “the venue’s fine,” or how long it took you to answer when he asked if you were okay. Maybe it was just Rin—ever quiet, ever watching.

And though he wasn’t there in person, though he couldn’t shoulder any of it physically, his presence still anchored you in a way no one else could.

You were drowning in table settings and fitting appointments and judgment disguised as advice—but whenever you heard his voice, even for a minute, something in you eased.

Even if you were exhausted. Even if your opinion didn’t seem to matter. Even if this wedding felt less and less like yours.

The engagement party was even more of a handful than you imagined.

It was hosted in a hotel ballroom—expansive, gilded, meticulously dressed in white and silver. On paper, it was flawless. But it wasn’t what you wanted.

You had hoped for something small, intimate. A quiet dinner maybe, a celebration with just the people who mattered most. Something you could actually breathe in. Something that wouldn’t feel like a PR move or a corporate gala in disguise.

But your preference didn’t come up.

Or maybe it did—but no one really listened.

His mother had already booked the venue before you were even asked. His aunts handled the guest list. Your own parents said it was “better this way.” You were told to wear the dress already selected for you and show up on time. So you did. Because what else could you do?

Guests arrived in waves—politicians, business partners, executives, hospital board members, distant relatives you’d never met before but were somehow still addressed by their titles.

You recognized none of their names. None of them were there for you.

You stood under the chandelier lights, in heels you didn’t pick, offering polite smiles to people who kept asking if you planned to stop working after the wedding. Some didn’t even know what your job was.

And the worst part?

You had just come off a 24-hour shift at the hospital.

You’d barely made it back in time to shower at the penthouse and lie down for two hours before hair and makeup arrived.

You were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

But you smiled anyway. Because you had to.

When you finally slipped away from the banquet hall, your legs ached and your throat was dry from talking. You found yourself out on the balcony, away from the lights and the noise, leaning on the railing just to keep upright. The cool air stung your skin, but it was the first real breath you took that day.

You weren’t alone for long.

The glass door slid open behind you, and quiet footsteps padded closer.

“Thought I’d find you here,” Rin said softly.

You turned your head slightly, exhausted eyes meeting his. He looked handsome as always in his suit, tie slightly loosened, dark strands falling into his eyes. He had only just returned from Spain a few days ago. You hadn’t even had the chance to really talk.

His gaze swept over you, taking in the curve of your shoulders, the subtle tremble in your arms, the way your back was turned just slightly—like you were too tired to keep your guard up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice gentler than usual. “Are you holding up?”

You blinked slowly, the sting behind your eyes threatening to spill over.

“I heard you came straight from a 24-hour shift,” he added. “You barely slept, didn’t you?”

“Two hours,” you admitted, voice rough. “If that.”

He exhaled, jaw tightening. Not in frustration at you—but at the situation.

“This party... wasn’t what you wanted, was it?”

You gave a tired laugh, low and bitter. “What I wanted never really mattered.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just moved a little closer, enough that you could feel the heat of him next to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve pushed back. I should’ve been here.”

You shook your head, eyes fixed on the city lights beyond the balcony.

“They wouldn’t have listened to you either, Rin.”

“Maybe not,” he murmured. “But I still should’ve been beside you.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

And in that sliver of silence, the music from inside dimmed, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses faded, and it was just the two of you. Just like before—before the pressure, the plans, the politics.

Your eyes fluttered shut, just long enough to feel the weight of his words settle on your chest.

“I’m trying,” you whispered.

“I know,” he said.

And even though everything else felt staged and suffocating, this moment—with just him beside you—was the first time in weeks that felt real.

You tried. God, you tried to be the perfect little daughter-in-law they seemed to want.

Always coming presentable, showing up to their dinners with practiced poise and a strained smile, wearing soft-colored dresses and modest heels, even if you had to change in the hospital locker room. You’d sit through evenings with people you didn’t even know—CEOs, donors, investors, polished women who never broke a sweat, let alone a 30-hour shift—smiling through the remnants of a breakdown you barely had time to feel earlier that day.

Because earlier that day, you lost a patient. A young one. Cardiac arrest. And no matter how many times you ran the rhythm check or how many rounds of epi you administered, they never came back. You washed your face with cold water and shoved your grief into a neat little box so you could go to his family's dinner.

Because you didn’t want to be the disappointment. Not after everything. Not when you were the first female doctor in a long line of men. Not when their entire family had planned the wedding. Not when you still held that flicker of hope that maybe—just maybe—someone at that table would see you for who you were.

But alas, everything has a boiling point.

Yours came at a dinner held in Rin’s childhood home. His entire extended family was there—your own parents, too, sitting stiffly at one end of the long, polished wooden table, like two pieces of fine china that didn’t quite match the rest of the set.

You had just come off a 30-hour shift, the last 13 hours of which were spent inside an operating room after the lead surgeon collapsed mid-procedure. You were the one who stepped up. Held the scalpel. Led the team. Saved the patient.

And then, running on half a protein bar and caffeine that burned your gut, you let Rin pick you up straight from the hospital. He offered to cancel the dinner, but you shook your head. “I’ll be fine,” you lied, pinching your cheeks for color in the mirror of his car.

You should’ve known better.

Because the moment you stepped into that dining room, you felt the eyes—judgment dressed as concern.

“She’s paler than the daikon,” one of his aunts said with a light chuckle as she sipped her soup. “Are you sure you’re eating enough, sweetheart?”

“You poor thing,” another aunt added. “Do you even have time to do your hair? You’re always so… busy.”

You tried to breathe through it, through the tightness in your chest, through the taste of iron at the back of your throat. Rin glanced at you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—but he didn’t speak. Not yet.

And then came the real blow.

“Well, I suppose it must be difficult,” one of Rin’s uncles said, swirling his wine like he was about to make a toast. “Being the only female doctor in your family. That’s quite the burden. But you’ll quit when you start a family, won’t you? I mean, no husband wants a wife too tired to care for the kids.”

Laughter followed. A low, agreeable chuckle from the end of the table, and a few muttered “true”s and “just saying”s that felt more like daggers than conversation.

“I mean, sweetheart, you’re just a resident—not even a full physician or surgeon yet at this point.” One of Rin’s uncles leaned back in his chair, lips curved in amusement like he was giving sage advice and not dismissing years of your hard work with a single sentence.

“He’s right,” another aunt piped in, her voice laced with faux sympathy, the kind that dripped more venom than concern. “You’re better off as a housewife.”

There was a beat of silence before another relative added, as if it were the most logical conclusion in the world, “Do you even know how to cook or clean?"

A few more chuckles followed. You weren’t sure if they were laughing at their own cruelty or at the look on your face, but either way, it made your stomach twist.

You sat there frozen.

Your hands rested in your lap, fingers curled so tightly into your palms that your nails bit into your skin. You looked at Rin—stiff and silent, jaw clenched, eyes cast low. Your heart pounded in your chest, not from embarrassment, but from the growing storm inside you. You mentally begged him to say something. Anything.

You silently begged him to look at you. To speak up. To make them stop.

But he just stayed silent.

"Excuse me," you said, your voice low and trembling as you stood up from the table. Your chair scraped softly against the hardwood floor, far too gentle a sound for the chaos building inside your chest.

You had barely taken a step when one of his uncles laughed again and muttered, “Overreacting, aren’t we? Must be the hormones.”

Something in you cracked.

You turned around.

"I followed everything you asked me to do," you started, voice shaking, but louder now. "I swallowed my pride and played the part you all wanted me to play. I stayed quiet while you planned a wedding I didn’t even have a say in. I smiled through every dinner, every meeting, every fitting—even when I felt like I didn’t belong."

You paused. Your throat burned, but you refused to cry yet.

“I stayed silent every single time you belittled my career. I worked ten—no, more—years of my life for those two letters after my name. MD. I missed birthdays, holidays, sleep, my youth, to earn that. And you all reduce me to a glorified housewife with no ambition—like I'm some accessory to Rin’s life and not someone who has her own.”

More silence. Their smug expressions turned neutral, uneasy. But Rin still said nothing. You turned your eyes to him—pleading, searching—for something. Anything.

Nothing came.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips.

“You know what? I don’t want this anymore,” you whispered, the words tasting like blood in your mouth. “You can find someone else who’s fine being your doll. Someone who’ll smile and nod and cook and clean and never talk back. Because I sure as hell am not her.”

Your voice cracked.

“You can talk shit about me all you want—I’ve gotten used to that. But you don’t get to talk down on what I worked my entire life for. I’ve poured every ounce of my being into becoming the woman I am. And you all sit there laughing like I’m nothing but a joke.”

Tears burned in your eyes. You didn’t want to cry in front of them. God, you hated crying in front of them. But it was too late now.

You looked at Rin again, and this time, your voice broke as your gaze locked with his. “And you. You saw how hard I worked. All those nights I called you from the hospital. All the times you told me I was incredible, that you admired me. You knew how much this meant to me. And you let them tear me to pieces right in front of you.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t move. Didn't reach for you. Didn’t say a word.

“I loved you,” you said, the final blow. Your breath hitched. “All these years—I loved you. Even before this stupid engagement. Even when we were kids and you barely looked at me at those family events. I loved you.”

Silence.

Your heart felt like it was collapsing inside your chest.

You reached up and slid the engagement ring off your finger. Your hand trembled as you placed it on the table in front of Rin.

“It’s over,” you whispered, voice hoarse and raw. “I’m calling this off.”

Then you turned around and walked out the door—this time, no one dared to laugh.

The tension that lingered in your absence was suffocating. It clung to the ornate walls of the dining room like smoke, thick with the remnants of mockery, judgment, and something worse—entitlement. For a moment, no one moved. Then, the silence was broken by a scoff. Rin's mother.

"Honestly," she said, dabbing at her lips with a cloth napkin, her voice dripping with faux exasperation. "I was just being polite, but I always knew that girl didn’t quite fit in with us. I have another girl in mind to continue this engagement. Someone better suited for this family. With better pedigree."

"Better breeding," muttered one of the aunts with a knowing smirk. "Not just some overworked girl playing pretend as a doctor."

One of the uncles snorted. “Her family’s money might come from hospitals, but it’s nothing compared to the legacy of the Itoshi name. A few doctors in white coats don’t hold a candle to generations of status.”

"All that effort," another chimed in with mock pity, swirling wine in his glass, "just to end up being a glorified caregiver in a glorified clinic. That’s not ambition. That’s settling.”

Rin had been staring at the ring the whole time. The one you'd taken off and left in front of him—gently, without a word, without drama, just the way you always did things. Quiet. Graceful. Strong. His fingers twitched.

Then—

“Shut the fuck up. All of you.”

The room snapped to attention.

Rin stood slowly, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His voice was steady but laced with the kind of fury that burned from the inside out.

“She just got off a thirty-hour shift. Thirteen of those hours, she was standing in an operating room after the head surgeon collapsed. And you have the audacity to sit here and laugh at her? Call her unworthy? She saved lives last night while you all drank champagne and polished your fucking heirlooms.”

He looked at each of them, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

“She is more admirable than any of you—than any of your wives who haven't lifted a finger for anyone but themselves. Who’ve never touched anything real other than a wine glass or jewelry they wear to cover up their loveless marriages and affairs.”

One of the uncles opened his mouth, “She’s just a glorified caregiver—”

“She’s a fucking doctor,” Rin barked, slamming his hand on the table, the plates rattling violently. “A better doctor than you ever were a father, or a businessman, or a fucking man, considering the only thing you’re good at is gambling away your inheritance and chasing women young enough to be your daughter!”

Another aunt tried to speak, but Rin cut her off too.

“And don’t you dare talk about her family like they’re beneath us. At least they earned their name. They built something from compassion and service—not from exploiting people or stepping on others just to climb higher.”

Sae stood then, trying to place a hand on Rin’s shoulder, trying to calm him. “Rin—”

“Don’t,” Rin snapped, brushing his hand off without looking at him. “Don’t try to stop me. You’ve done that our whole lives. Let me say what I need to say.”

There was something feral about him now, like he had been caged his entire life, and the bars were finally breaking.

He looked at his mother.

“You knew my only condition for this arranged marriage,” he said, voice low and raw. “You knew that the only reason I agreed to it was because it was her. I told you from the start—if it wasn’t her, I wasn’t going to go through with it. You knew that. And now you're throwing her away like she was disposable?”

“She overreacted—”

“No,” he snapped. “She endured. For months. She endured the cold stares, the snide remarks, the condescending tones from all of you, just to make this family proud. And I—” his voice cracked for the first time, pain flickering behind his rage, “I let her. I stood here and let all of you chip away at the one person who saw me for me.”

He reached toward the ring that sat untouched in front of him. The heirloom. The same one you left just moments ago with trembling fingers.

Rin picked it up and walked toward his mother, standing in front of her like a final act of rebellion.

“I don’t need this anymore,” he said. “This ring, this entire charade—you can keep it. Because I already had something made for her. Something I designed. For a proposal I planned. After all this bullshit was over. Something simple. Something real. Something hers.”

His mother looked horrified. The uncles murmured, but no one dared to interrupt again.

“I loved her,” Rin continued, quieter now, as if the rage was slowly hollowing out into something else—grief. “Since we were kids. I didn’t even realize it at first. But every time I saw her at those childhood events, every time she smiled at me like I wasn’t just the second son of a cold empire, I loved her. And now she’s gone. All because this family couldn’t stomach the idea of someone good being part of it.”

He took a shaky breath and looked back at the table one last time.

“And you—” he pointed at one of his uncles, “—talk like you're above everyone when you’re the one who couldn’t even stay faithful to your wife.”

"And you," he turned to another, "have the nerve to comment on love and worth when your own children won’t even speak to you."

He stepped back. “I stayed in this because I wanted to please all of you. I did everything you asked. Soccer. Branding. The name. But I set one condition—and you broke it. So now I’m done. I’m not marrying anyone else. I won’t play this role for you anymore. I won’t be your pawn.”

Rin turned and walked out, the weight of everything crashing down on his shoulders. He didn’t look back.

A sharp silence fell over the room in his absence—like all the air had been sucked out. Everyone was too stunned to move, to speak. The engagement ring Rin had left behind sat untouched in front of their mother, its presence colder than steel, heavier than gold.

Sae leaned back in his seat, dragging a hand down his face. Then he exhaled long and slow, like this entire dinner had been rotting from the start. His gaze swept across the room, not rushing, but resting—unforgiving—on each of their faces.

"You know," Sae started quietly, "I used to think keeping quiet was the best way to keep peace in this family. Smile through it. Swallow the poison and call it dinner."

His voice dropped a little lower, his tone chilling. "But after what I just witnessed? I think it's time someone tells the truth—no matter how ugly."

Their mother straightened, eyes narrowing, as if bracing herself. But Sae didn’t flinch.

"You sit there acting like Rin’s ungrateful. Like he's immature. But what I saw just now? That wasn’t a tantrum. That was someone finally realizing he’s done bending over backwards for people who only want him when he’s compliant and silent."

There was a shift in the room. An invisible thread pulled taut.

Sae laughed bitterly. “You all act so concerned about appearances. Your image. Your status. Your legacy. And yet behind all that, do any of you even remember how to care for your own blood?”

He looked at their mother now, sharp and unwavering. “You want to lecture Rin about duty? When all you've ever done is try to mold him into a version of himself that you could show off like an accessory at fundraisers.”

She opened her mouth—maybe to protest, maybe to defend herself—but Sae cut her off.

"You think I didn’t notice what you did to him all those years? How every time I tried to take on the pressure so Rin wouldn’t have to, you just redirected it harder on him? I left to shield him from this circus. I took the heat, the spotlight, the expectation. And somehow, you still made him carry it alone."

Sae paused, his jaw tense. “And I regret that. I regret leaving him with people who were supposed to love him, but instead made him feel like love was a transaction. Like he had to earn it.”

His father’s fingers clenched lightly around his glass. His mother said nothing, but her stare was steely, unrepentant.

“You wonder why Rin and I grew apart? Why he never wanted to follow in anyone’s footsteps?” Sae scoffed under his breath. “Maybe it’s because he grew up watching two people stay in a marriage out of obligation and image instead of love.”

His father’s lips thinned. “Watch yourself, Sae.”

“No,” Sae said sharply. “No more watching myself. That’s what we’ve all been doing—watching this family crack and rot under the weight of pride.”

He stood slowly, every movement deliberate, controlled, but beneath it all simmered an anger older than the silverware on their polished table. “You all just saw the girl Rin loves walk out of here with tears in her eyes. And instead of reaching out, you judged her. That’s the girl he’s talked about for years—told me how she’d find him at every function, how she actually listened when he spoke. How she made him feel seen.”

Sae’s voice dropped. “Do you even understand what that means? Feeling seen? Because Rin’s spent most of his life feeling like a shadow in this house.”

Another beat of silence.

He shook his head. “I’m going after him. Because clearly, none of you will.”

And without waiting for a reply, Sae turned and walked away—out the door, out of that godforsaken room with its stifling legacy and empty crystal glasses.

The air was cool that evening, the kind of soft breeze that carried old memories with it. Rin sat alone on the edge of the small football field behind their family home—one they used to play in as kids, back when the world was simpler. His cleats dug into the grass, half-forgotten as he leaned back on his hands, eyes turned toward the soft dusk sky.

He didn’t turn when he heard footsteps approach.

“You always did like brooding out here.”

Rin exhaled, almost amused, before glancing sideways. “And you always liked finding me when I did.”

Sae stood beside him, hands tucked in the pockets of his coat, eyes scanning the empty field like it still held echoes of their childhood laughter. “I didn’t come to pick a fight,” he said quietly.

“I didn’t think you did,” Rin replied, patting the grass next to him.

Sae hesitated for a second before sitting down. Silence settled between them—not heavy, but thoughtful.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sae said, “about how things turned out. And if… I ever made you feel like I was too far away from you. Not just physically. I mean… everything.”

Rin’s lips tightened. “I know you didn’t mean to. But yeah,” he admitted, voice softer, “it hurt. You were always the one I looked up to. And then suddenly, it felt like I couldn’t reach you anymore.”

Sae’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should’ve done better. Should’ve been better.”

Rin shook his head, staring down at his hands. “We’re here now, I guess. That’s something.”

“It is.” Sae looked over at his brother. “You know… I’m proud of you. For not giving up on her. For fighting for the love of your life.”

Rin’s brows furrowed, eyes flickering to his brother. “Why are you saying that like it’s something you couldn’t do?”

Sae smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because it’s not something I did. I let her go.”

There was a long pause.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” Rin said. “You always told me life’s too long to carry regrets.”

Sae chuckled, low and self-deprecating. “Might be already too late, Rin.”

“But you never know.”

The older Itoshi brother looked up at the sky, eyes distant. “Yeah… maybe.”

Then, with a sigh, he stood and dusted his pants off. “Go to her.”

Rin looked up.

“Go,” Sae repeated. “She’s still your home. And I think she’s still waiting for you to find your way back.”

Rin didn’t hesitate. He stood, nodding once. And within the hour, he was in the car, heading toward the penthouse they’d shared since the engagement.

He entered quietly, hoping he hadn’t missed her by seconds. But the moment he stepped in, his heart dropped.

Everything was still in place. Her shoes by the door. Her favorite mug drying on the rack. Her coats still hung beside his.

But she wasn’t there.

He checked every room, calling out softly. Nothing.

The silence was deafening.

He didn’t want to assume the worst. So instead, he respected the quiet. He sat down in the living room and looked around—remembering all the nights she fell asleep on the couch waiting for him, the mornings she’d leave notes on the fridge after another night shift, how their life had slowly started to blend into one.

But he also remembered something else: the old apartment near the hospital. The one she used before everything—before the chaos of the engagement, before they were a unit. She hadn’t been there in months. Not since she moved in with him.

And though he didn’t know the exact address, he knew it was close to her work. He could call. He could search. But he didn’t want to push. He didn’t want to chase her too hard, not when she was still hurting.

So he stayed back. Waited. Gave her space, even if every part of him itched to go find her.

Meanwhile, in the quiet familiarity of the old apartment, you curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap, the cup of tea on the side table already cold and untouched. The walls still smelled faintly of old books and eucalyptus—home. Comfort. A scent you always loved.

It was quieter here.

No press calls. No stylists or wedding planners asking you to adjust your schedule. No constant reminders of the version of yourself you were supposed to become just to fit neatly into another family’s idea of what a wife should be.

Here, you didn’t have to smile politely when someone talked over you. Or pretend their backhanded compliments didn’t sting.

The doorbell rang, cutting through the silence. You hesitated, then stood, dragging the blanket along with you. When you opened it, your parents stood there—your father with his hands deep in his coat pockets, your mother’s shoulders slightly slumped but her eyes sharp with worry.

Neither of them said anything at first.

They stepped inside like it was instinct, like it would always be their place too. The door clicked shut behind them, and despite the air being still and thick with unsaid words, the apartment felt warmer just by their presence.

It was your mother who spoke first.

“What was that all about earlier?” she asked, voice softer than usual, but disappointed all the same. “You walked out of that dinner like you were setting fire to the table.”

You looked away, your throat tight. “Because I was tired of pretending.”

Your father sat down on the armrest of the chair across from you. “Pretending what?”

You swallowed hard. “That everything they said didn’t bother me. That I could just keep sitting there while Rin’s aunts looked me in the eye and made jokes about how I’m ‘too smart for my own good’ or that I should ‘take off the lab coat and put on an apron’ once I marry into the Itoshi family.”

Your mother’s lips thinned.

“They insulted me, right in front of everyone,” you continued, voice cracking now. “They mocked our family—said we were only good for hospitals and surgeries and wondered how someone like me, who works graveyard shifts in an ER, would ‘entertain’ a man like Rin.”

You laughed bitterly. “Then why did you even arrange this in the first place?”

There was a long pause. You looked between the two people who raised you—taught you how to stitch your first wound, taught you to never fold under pressure.

“We agreed to the engagement because we thought you would be happy,” your mother finally said, her voice quieter now. “Because we knew you liked Rin. You’ve liked him for years, even if you never admitted it. And when the Itoshis approached us, it… it felt like it made sense.”

You closed your eyes. “They don’t like me.”

“They don’t know you,” your father said. “Not the way we do. You’re a hardheaded girl, you always were. You never let anyone tell you what you can or can’t do. You broke every expectation the family had because you believed you could do better—and you did.”

You opened your eyes again, blinking through the haze.

Your mother took a step closer. “If you’ve made up your mind… if you want to end the engagement, then we’ll support you. And if you want to leave the country for a while, take some time to breathe, we’ll support that too.”

You looked at them both—your parents, tired from the dinner, from the expectations, from the tug-of-war between two families—but still standing here, with you. Choosing you.

“You’re not alone in this,” your father said gently. “You never were.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but this time, they weren’t from humiliation or exhaustion. This time, they came from the warmth that bloomed quietly in your chest—the kind only home could bring.

And that’s what you did—booked a one-way ticket from Tokyo to Tromsø, Norway.

No return date. No itinerary. Just your passport, one suitcase, and the aching exhaustion of trying to please everyone except yourself.

You had mentioned it to Rin once. A few months ago, back when the engagement had just been announced. When the two of you were still learning how to exist around each other—not quite strangers, not quite lovers. Just two people trying to navigate a decision made on their behalf.

It was during a quiet evening at your family’s countryside villa. The air was crisper there, and the sky spilled stars in a way Tokyo never could. You had both slipped away from the formal dinner after too many toasts, your head light from the wine and the pressure. Rin had found you sitting at the edge of the garden steps, your heels discarded in the grass.

“I read about this place once,” you said as he settled beside you, hands resting loosely on his knees. “Tromsø, in Norway. Far north. They say in the winter, the sun disappears for months. But the Northern Lights come out like a dream.”

Rin tilted his head. “Sounds freezing.”

You laughed softly. “It is. But kind of beautiful, right? A place where it’s dark all the time, but something still dances in the sky.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the kind that didn’t demand to be filled. Then Rin murmured, “Is that where you want to go when it all becomes to loud."

You glanced at him, surprised. Then you nodded. “Someday. I don’t know when. But I’d like to.”

He hummed. “Let me know when you do. Maybe I’ll go with you.”

And you had smiled at that. Silly, hopeful thing that you were.

But now, as the final plane descended onto the snow-dusted runway of Tromsø Airport—twenty-four hours later, red-eyed from layovers, your limbs stiff and heavy from travel—he wasn’t here.

The cold was immediate when the terminal doors opened. Icy wind kissed your cheeks as you stepped out, the kind that bit into your skin and made you feel alive all at once. You pulled your scarf tighter, breathing in frost and something like freedom.

You had booked a small cabin on the outskirts of the city, tucked near the fjords. It wasn’t much, just one bedroom and a stove that needed coaxing to warm, but it was quiet. Untouched. A world away from Tokyo’s blinking lights and bitter dinner parties.

You dropped your bags by the door and stood in silence, listening to the hush of snowfall outside the window. No phones buzzing. No family expectations echoing in your ears. Just the whisper of wind and the possibility of healing.

And as you sank into the unfamiliar bed that night, the aurora just beginning to shimmer faintly through the glass above your head, you wondered—

Would Rin still remember the way you said his name that night?

Would he still remember Tromsø?

You hadn’t left a clue. Not a note. Not a word to anyone. No paper trail, no last-minute phone call. Just the hiss of your apartment door closing softly behind you before the early flight from Tokyo to Tromsø took off into the violet-gray dawn.

This wasn’t supposed to be permanent. You didn’t come here to disappear.

You just needed somewhere quiet—somewhere that didn’t expect anything from you. Somewhere far enough to think, but not so far that it felt like running away.

He wouldn't remember.

That’s what you told yourself again and again. Not when you only ever mentioned it once, months ago, at the beginning—when everything between you and Rin was new and strange and teetering between civil and chaotic. When the engagement was still fresh and everyone expected you to smile, to bend, to be proud and graceful and agreeable in the way your parents always expected you to be.

He wasn’t supposed to remember. But part of you had hoped he would.

You’d been in Tromsø for just under a week, staying at a quiet rental near the harbor, surrounded by pale wooden homes and snow-dusted rooftops. The kind of town where the wind moved slower and people remembered your face after just one visit.

You hadn’t done much—read in bed, walked along the water, bought groceries in awkward English. And every morning, you stopped by the same small café just down the street. It had yellow doors, always warm inside. They already knew your order now: black coffee, two sugars, and a cinnamon roll with extra icing when the ache in your chest got too heavy.

And today, you were walking there again.

Boots crunching softly against a thin dusting of fresh snow, scarf wrapped tightly around your mouth. The clouds overhead looked like they hadn’t moved all morning—gray and full, like something was waiting to break.

You turned the corner. The café was up ahead.

But you stopped.

Because you saw him.

You blinked hard, then again, wondering if your mind was playing tricks on you.

Tall frame. Dark green hair, tousled and damp at the ends from melting snow. He was bundled up in a black wool coat, a thick navy scarf tucked neatly around his neck. He stood near the flower stall beside the bookshop, talking to someone—one of the local vendors, it seemed.

You ducked slightly behind a parked car, your breath catching.

His voice floated through the space between you.

“…Ah, I see. Thank you,” he said, bowing his head politely before taking a small step back.

The way he spoke—it was soft. Controlled. Like he’d said the same thing to several people already. You couldn’t hear what he’d asked, but the pattern was clear now that you were listening.

He was asking around.

You felt your stomach twist.

Rin was here.

In Tromsø.

Looking for you.

He moved to the next person, expression composed but weary. There were shadows under his eyes, even from where you stood. A tension in his jaw. His hands kept clenching inside his pockets like he wasn’t used to this—like he wasn’t used to not knowing where to find you.

And he looked like he hadn’t slept well in days.

Your heart kicked against your ribs, faster now, almost panicked. You hadn’t expected this. You didn’t plan for this.

What were you even going to say?

But then—he turned his head.

Slowly. Searching the street.

And then his eyes found you.

Your breath stopped.

You didn’t know what expression you wore, but whatever he saw on your face was enough.

Because Rin moved.

He started walking—fast, like he was afraid you might disappear if he looked away. Then he broke into a run, boots kicking up snow, scarf flying out behind him as he crossed the narrow road.

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

Until he reached you.

His arms wrapped around you without hesitation, pulling you into his chest like you were something precious he thought he’d lost. He held you with both arms around your waist, his gloved hands gripping your coat tightly, like if he loosened them even a little, you’d vanish again.

You hadn’t cried since arriving.

But something about the way his chin tucked over your shoulder, how he let out a shaky breath like he'd finally exhaled after holding it in for days—that undid you.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, voice low and rough and uneven against your ear. “For two days.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

His eyes were glassy, rimmed with red from cold and exhaustion. His brows furrowed as he studied your face, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.

“I didn’t know if you were actually here. I wasn’t sure if… if you even meant it,” he murmured. “I started thinking maybe I was stupid for trying. That maybe I’d misunderstood.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“I was already starting to lose hope,” he confessed, his voice softer now. “That maybe you weren’t in Tromsø at all. That maybe you picked somewhere else. Somewhere I couldn’t guess.”

He paused. His hands clenched at your sides again.

“But I still came. I still looked,” he said, voice steady now with something unshakable. “Because… you said it once. That if things ever got too heavy, you’d come here.”

A heartbeat passed. Then another.

“And I had to believe you.”

You swallowed. Your chest felt painfully full.

All this time… you didn’t know if he even cared. You didn’t know if your absence would be met with relief or indifference. You were bracing yourself for silence. For more cold.

But here he was.

Breathing hard. Shaking. Still holding you like it physically hurt him to let go.

He remembered.

And he came.

Not because anyone told him to. Not because he had to.

But because he wanted to.

Because it was you.

And just like that—

The tight knot in your chest began to loosen.

Your hand came up to his cheek, thumb gently brushing against the skin that was chilled from the northern wind. You didn’t even notice your breath catching until it came out as a shaky whisper.

"Rin… why are you here?"

He leaned into your touch like he had been starved of it—like this small gesture grounded him, reminded him that you were real and not some cruel trick of the cold.

“I came for you,” he said quietly. His voice didn’t waver, but his eyes—those storm-colored eyes that always guarded too much—were softer now, less composed. “Because I remembered.”

You didn’t move. Couldn’t. You were still standing on the cobbled path, the faint crunch of snow beneath your boots the only other sound besides the rush of your pulse in your ears. Tromsø had been your quiet escape, the place you once said you'd go if life ever got too heavy. A passing comment from long ago, half-laughed over in bed or under the sheets of a rainy afternoon. You never thought he’d hold on to it.

"I didn’t tell anyone," you murmured. “No one knew.”

“I know,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t.” He looked around—at the rows of snow-covered rooftops, the quiet hills that framed the town like a secret. “But this place… I remembered how your eyes lit up when you talked about it. So I came here. Just hoping.”

Your chest tightened. You hated how well he knew you. You hated that even after all the tension, the silence, the weight of everything between you—he still knew how to find you. That he remembered where you’d go when you needed peace, even if it meant chasing you halfway across the world.

"I didn't think you'd actually—"

"I didn’t come to make you leave," he said, cutting through your doubt like a blade, his forehead leaning gently against yours. “I just needed to see you. To make sure you were okay. You don’t have to say anything. You don’t even have to forgive me yet. I just… I had to be here.”

The wind blew again, sharp but fleeting. Still, all you felt was him.

“Rin…” your voice cracked, just a little, and his arms tightened around your waist.

“If it’s space you need, I’ll give it. I’ll wait in whatever way you need me to,” he said, breathing in like he was memorizing the scent of your jacket, your skin, your quiet presence. “But I’m here. And I’m not letting you go again without knowing what you want.”

And just like that—his words unhurried, unpolished, but honest—your resolve, already thin and frayed, began to slip through your fingers like snow melting in your palm.

You ended up inviting him to the cabin where you were staying—half out of instinct, half out of something deeper that your heart hadn’t yet found the words for. It wasn’t much. Just a small wooden place tucked at the edge of a forest clearing, the kind that smelled of pine and silence and something safe. You had rented it without any intention of being found. Yet here he was—standing in the doorway, snow still caught on his lashes and his scarf damp from the wind.

He stepped in carefully, like he didn’t want to disturb whatever fragile peace you had built for yourself over the last few days. You didn’t speak much at first. He helped you take off your coat, set your gloves by the small heater near the door. The only sound in the cabin was the low crackle of the fire in the corner and the slow, nervous beat of your heart.

He sat across from you at the small dining table, elbows on the wood, hands clasped together like he needed something to hold onto.

“There’s something I should’ve told you sooner,” Rin said, finally breaking the silence. “That night. At the dinner.”

You looked at him, your expression unreadable.

“After you left,” he continued, eyes on yours, “I didn’t just sit there.”

He swallowed, jaw tight, as if replaying the memory still made his skin burn. “I told them off. My parents. My relatives. I told them they didn’t know a damn thing about you or what you’ve been through. That you’ve done more with your life—more good, more meaningful work—than any of them sitting around that table.”

Your breath caught, but you didn’t interrupt. He went on, voice lower now, more careful.

“I told them about your residency. How hard you’ve worked. The way you’d still show up to shifts even when you were dead on your feet. How you’d tell me stories about your patients like they were the brightest parts of your day. I told them you weren’t just my wife because our families wanted it—you’re someone I’ve always admired. Someone I’ve always cared about.”

The silence that followed was heavier than anything the snow outside could ever weigh down.

“I should’ve said it in front of you,” he admitted, voice cracking the smallest bit. “I should’ve defended you before you walked out. I’m sorry I didn’t.”

You stared at him—really stared. For the first time in a long while, his walls weren’t up. His apology wasn’t rehearsed. It was real. Raw. The kind of vulnerable honesty Rin rarely let anyone see.

You rose from your seat slowly, the soft rustle of fabric and the crackle of the fireplace filling the silence between you. Your eyes never left him.

Rin was seated at the edge of the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands loosely clasped. His jaw was tight, shoulders tense, as if he were bracing for a storm you hadn’t started yet.

You approached him with quiet steps.

When you reached him, your fingers reached out for his—hesitating only briefly—before you threaded your hand into his. He didn’t pull away. If anything, he looked like he was holding his breath.

His gaze flickered up to you, vulnerable in a way you’d only seen a handful of times in your entire life. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hope.

“Rin,” you said, voice low and steady. “What do you want to come out of this?”

He blinked slowly. Once. Twice. Then you felt his grip tighten around yours.

“I want…” he started, then faltered. “I want this to be more than just something we agreed to.”

You stared at him, heart climbing to your throat.

“I want you,” he said, firmer now. “I’ve always wanted you.”

The world seemed to quiet.

You barely managed to breathe. “What…?”

“I only agreed to this engagement if it would be with you,” Rin confessed, finally looking at you with eyes that burned straight through your disbelief. “That was my only condition. I told my parents—if it’s not her, I’m not doing it.”

You could feel your pulse in your ears.

“I didn’t know if you’d ever say yes to me if I asked on my own. Maybe because I’m not good with this—” he gestured vaguely between you, “—with feelings. With words. But even when we were kids, it was always you. Every year. Every time I saw you at those stupid events.”

Your heart stuttered. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Rin’s voice was steady. “You were the only one who ever looked at me like I was more than Sae’s shadow. Like I was worth listening to. You’d tell me about your dreams, your stupid high school stories, your patients, your rounds… and I remembered everything. You made the world feel bigger, and for the first time, I wanted to be part of it.”

You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“I kept it all to myself because I didn’t want to mess it up. And then when our parents brought up the marriage, I told myself… maybe this was the only chance I had. Maybe it wasn’t perfect, but if it was you—” he looked up at you, earnest and exposed—“I’d take it.”

He let go of your hand for a moment, and your fingers instinctively reached to keep the warmth of his touch. But he was already moving.

Down.

Onto one knee.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I wanted to do this right,” he murmured, reaching into the inner pocket of his coat. “Even if it came late.”

He opened a velvet box.

Inside was a ring with a pale pink diamond, delicately set in rose gold. The band was slim, elegant—simple in design, but breathtaking in execution. A custom cut. No gaudy flare, no excess—just quietly stunning. Just like everything Rin did when he cared.

“I had it made when I found out pink was your favorite,” he said, almost shy now. “Not because of the engagement. Because I thought maybe… one day, I’d get to ask you for real.”

Your hands flew to your mouth, lips trembling.

“Marry me, for real this time,” Rin whispered. “Not because they said we should. Not because it’s expected of us. But because you want to. Because I’ve always wanted you—and I’ll keep choosing you. Every time.”

Tears blurred your vision, spilling freely before you could stop them.

You fell to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face in your hands, shaking with disbelief and something deeper—years of silent longing finally catching up to you.

“You idiot,” you breathed, laughing through the tears. “You should’ve told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

“And you think a pink diamond makes up for years of me thinking this was one-sided?” you teased, eyes wet.

He smirked, just a little. “It’s a start.”

You didn’t say yes.

You just kissed him—full, deep, and desperate like you were trying to make up for every day you had convinced yourself he didn’t feel the same. Like you were claiming him now.

And when you finally pulled back, forehead pressed to his, you whispered:

“Yes, Rin. For real this time.”

And in that quiet cabin, surrounded by snow and history and everything unspoken finally laid bare, Rin Itoshi smiled like he had everything he’d ever wanted.

Because he did. He had you.

And in that quiet cabin tucked beneath layers of snow, with logs crackling in the fireplace and the silence finally settling between confessions, Rin Itoshi smiled—not the kind of smile reserved for cameras or curated dinners, not the kind honed for politeness or worn like armor. This one was different. This one was unguarded and whole. It touched the corners of his eyes, curved his mouth in quiet reverence, and melted years of silence he didn’t realize he’d been carrying.

It was the smile of a man who, for the first time in a long while, felt like the weight of his world had finally found a place to rest.

Because in that moment, with your hand tucked safely in his, he had everything he’d ever needed. He had you.

There was no urgency to return to Tokyo. Rin stayed. Even when his agency called, even when his schedule threatened to snap back into its usual pace, he stayed. The world outside moved on, days bleeding into nights, but in Tromsø—between snowdrifts and coffee steam and the rustle of flannel sheets—time moved slower. Kinder.

He made you breakfast each morning, sometimes a little too burnt on the edges, sometimes just right. He kissed the sugar off your lips when you sweetened your coffee too much. He walked with you down the frozen paths, fingers laced in yours like he was afraid to let go. You shared memories like secrets under blankets at dawn, laughed in low murmurs, kissed in doorways, in the middle of cooking, while brushing your teeth. You held each other like you had all the time in the world. And maybe you did. Maybe time—this time—was finally on your side.

Rin never rushed. Never demanded. Never asked for more than what you could give. He simply stayed close, inching his way into the tender cracks of your heart until you forgot what it meant to be alone in love. Slowly, gently, he made you believe again—both in him, and in the life you could finally build without fear.

And Rin, in turn, began to free himself.

You noticed it in the way his phone calls grew shorter. His tone sharper. He started saying no—firmly, clearly. He turned down meetings without guilt, ignored messages that once would’ve sent him spiraling, and spoke less and less of the family that had always spoken for him. He didn’t rage or rebel. He simply… let go. Of expectations. Of appearances. Of people who didn’t see your worth or his. And in their place, he reached for something real. For you.

Then one night, the sky changed.

It was late—past midnight—and the world outside was quiet, blanketed in snow and silence. You were nestled together under a thick knit blanket when Rin nudged you gently, the air fogging in front of his mouth as he whispered, “Come outside.”

He didn’t say why, but his voice held something sacred, something childlike and awed. You slipped on coats and boots, fingers brushing as you stepped out into the night.

And above you—the heavens bloomed.

Green and violet streaks painted the sky, shifting like silk across the stars. It looked like magic. Like something out of a dream you forgot you had. The aurora shimmered, moved, danced across the canvas of the night like a prayer being answered.

Your breath caught, soft clouds puffing into the cold air.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, voice reverent.

Beside you, Rin didn’t look up.

His eyes stayed on you, unblinking, unwavering. The light from the aurora caught in your eyes, casting your skin in hues of emerald and lilac, making you look like something ethereal. Something made to be worshipped in silence.

“Yes,” he murmured, almost too soft to hear. “It is.”

You turned, a smile playing on your lips, but when you met his eyes—you knew.

He wasn’t talking about the lights.

Your breath hitched.

He didn’t look away. And in the middle of the snow and starlight, in the hush of the north, Rin Itoshi leaned forward—like the moment was too full, too sacred to speak through—and kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t performative. It wasn’t for anyone else.

It was just for you.

His lips found yours slowly, like he was memorizing the way you felt all over again. The cold air melted between your mouths, the warmth of him anchoring you even as the sky spun. It was a kiss that unraveled years of silence, a kiss that didn’t ask questions because it already knew the answer.

A kiss that promised he was here. Not because he had to. But because he wanted to.

You melted into him, hands tangled in the lapels of his coat, his arms wrapping around your waist. The aurora danced on, painting the snow with light, but the most beautiful thing in that moment wasn’t the sky—it was the boy who’d spent a lifetime chasing perfection finally choosing something messy, something soft, something real.

Choosing you.

And when he pulled back, his forehead resting gently against yours, he whispered—not to convince you, not even to convince himself, but simply because it was true—“I’m not going anywhere.”

In that sacred stillness beneath the stars, with snowflakes catching on your lashes and his breath mingling with yours, you finally believed him.

You believed every whispered word against the shell of your ear, every trembling syllable that carried years’ worth of emotions Rin never learned how to say until now. You believed it in the way his hand stayed wrapped around yours even as the cold numbed your fingers, in how his voice cracked when he said he never stopped looking—never stopped loving, in his own way.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Because the silence between you had never been empty—it had always been full of the things you never dared to say out loud. And now, the distance had crumbled into snowflakes between you.

When you both returned to Japan, not much had changed externally. The world kept spinning, your hospital still buzzed with chaos, Rin’s practices still ran long and grueling. Your lives didn’t magically transform overnight. But something had shifted. Everything was the same—but it felt softer now. Lighter.

He would still wait for you in the hospital parking lot, just like before. Except now, instead of sitting coldly in the driver's seat with a silent phone on the dashboard, he’d get out of the car the second he saw your white coat approaching through the night fog. And instead of you slipping in quietly after a long shift, he would meet you halfway, arms already open. He would pull you close into his chest, lifting your tired body slightly off the ground, and press a long, gentle kiss on your temple—or sometimes, directly on your lips, not caring who saw. “Missed you,” he’d murmur. “You look tired. Let me take you home.”

You teased him once—called him clingy, even—but all he did was hum and kiss your cheek again. “Don’t care,” he said. “I like being around you.”

At home, Rin became a lovesick fool. You’d catch him smiling—actually smiling—at the sight of your pink Crocs kicked off beside his neatly lined cleats by the genkan. It was such a small detail, yet it never failed to tug at something deep in his chest. Every time he came home from training, weary and sore, the moment he saw them, he knew: You came home to me.

There were nights he’d come back later than you, only to find you dozing on the couch, still in scrubs, medical textbook open on your lap and an empty mug of coffee nearby. He never woke you. He just sat beside you carefully, one arm around your shoulders, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, “Mrs. Itoshi,” like a secret he never thought he could say out loud.

You blinked awake once after hearing it and laughed, hoarse from exhaustion. “You’re using that now?”

He looked at you with soft, sleepy eyes and said it again—this time with a small smile that only ever appeared when you were around. “Yeah. Gotta get used to it, don’t I?”

Planning the wedding became its own kind of comfort. It wasn’t a spectacle the way both your families had once envisioned it—this time, it was yours. Just the two of you. There were late-night Pinterest boards open on his iPad, your fingers twined with his as you discussed outdoor venues and minimalist themes. Rin always let you speak first, nodding at your ideas, occasionally chiming in with, “I think you’d look good in that,” or, “I want it to feel like us. Simple. Real.”

You'd share clips of wedding playlists while brushing your teeth together, dance barefoot in the kitchen while you cooked dinner, and giggle in bed about guest lists and seating arrangements. And even when you argued about flower colors or dessert choices, it was Rin who’d pull you into his arms and kiss your forehead. “As long as it ends with you walking down the aisle to me—I don’t care if we serve onigiri and water.”

You often ended your days curled on the couch, your head in his lap as you recounted your patient cases, the rare ones that left you in awe or the difficult ones that tugged at your heart. Rin listened—really listened—his fingers gently combing through your hair as he asked questions. “What ended up happening to the kid from the ER the other night?” “Was that rare infection what you thought it was?” He may not have understood everything medically, but he understood you, and that was enough.

Sometimes it was the other way around—Rin lying on your lap, scrolling through plays or stats while you reviewed case notes, highlighters in hand. He wouldn’t speak much, but he'd glance up at you every now and then with this completely smitten look, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real and his.

On weekends, when you had a day off together, he'd bring you breakfast in bed—badly cut strawberries and burnt toast sometimes, but you never complained. He tried. And that effort? That was Rin Itoshi’s way of screaming he loved you.

“I like seeing you like this,” he once said while you were in your pajamas, hair messily tied up, glasses on, bent over your laptop. “All soft. All mine.”

You chuckled, not even looking up. “I’ve always been yours, idiot.”

That night, he pulled you close as if vowing never to let go again. “Mrs. Itoshi,” he whispered again, lips against your bare shoulder.

“What is it, Rin?”

He kissed the skin just below your ear. “I’m so in love with you, it’s fucking embarrassing.”

You didn’t laugh. You didn’t tease. You just turned in his arms, kissed him back slowly, and whispered, “Me too.”

Because you were. And for once—it wasn’t out of duty, or pressure, or family expectation.

It was because you wanted to be his.

And this time, so did he.

Not because he had to—but because he wanted to.

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