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yutaholic · 2 years ago

Text

smells like teen spirit (M)

PAIRING: Jeno (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Jeno keeps getting on your last nerve, but you still end up in his arms with your tongue down his throat.

WARNINGS: strong language; some drug use; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 8.6k words; this is part two of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Chicago, 1991

A tale as old as time. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

That was our life that summer. Some of us in different doses than the others.

You sat on the bed with your legs bent, resting the notebook against your thighs as you scribbled out another page of the band’s escapades.

Though there was a connection with Mark, we agreed to keep things simple for the rest of the summer. Nothing could be allowed to interfere with the band. God forbid we earned a reputation like Fleetwood Mac’s.

Unfortunately, this agreement caused some awkwardness and I handled that the way I always did - with distance. If Mark couldn’t help but complicate things, then I would do him a favor and give both of us the space we needed.

It felt like shit, but I was used to being the villain.

Turning the page, you kept writing in the eerie quiet of the van. Haechan was bouncing his leg up-and-down at a mile a minute, thoroughly annoyed by Jeno’s delay. Mark was dozing in his seat, trying not to fantasize about you and the fucking heaven between your thighs, but he couldn’t help but watch you jotting down your feelings, your grievances, your hopes and your dreams.

He prayed that he was part of the latter.

The silence broke when the van door opened loudly, followed by a disheveled Jeno stumbling inside. “Goddamn, I am getting so much pussy on this trip,” he huffed, running a hand through his overgrown and severely damaged blond hair.

“Jeno, I swear to god,” you barked, scratching out the compliment you had given him at the top of the page. “If you give me an STD this summer, I will set your drums on fire.”

“You would destroy my child?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Jeno grumbled something under his breath about how you always rained on his parade of pussy and shut the doors. “Let’s get on the road,” he said irritably, shooing Haechan out of the driver’s seat and jerking the van in gear.

“We’ve been waiting for you, dumbass,” Haechan sniped. He’d been getting so annoyed and impatient he threatened to leave the bastard drummer behind and never look back. That bitch can walk, he’d declared moments before.

Mark stayed quiet in the passenger seat, sluggish with sleep. He looked to you again, watching you write in your journal and wondering what you were saying about him.

About all of them.

Jeno drove fast, but not a soul complained. The gig in Chicago was the most highly-anticipated of the trip.

The van hurtled down the highway, not stopping for several hours until you begged for a bathroom. After a quick gas station run, you put some fresh snacks into the cabinet and wrangled your hair into a bun on your head.

Jeno came in with a bag in hand and said, “I bought more condoms.”

“Good for you,” you deadpanned, wrinkling your nose.

“Although I heard Mark didn’t have to wear one,” Jeno added, tsking his tongue. “One of the few perks of being innocent and pure, I guess.”

Your voice was razor sharp. “Careful, Jeno.”

Both pleased and annoyed by your tone, Jeno asked roughly, “Did you at least remember to get your birth control?”

You wanted to shoot daggers into his face with your eyes, but refusing to afford him any looks was better. “Yeah. I got my Depo shot two days before we left.”

“How long does it last?”

“Three months.”

Jeno smiled wryly. “Well, isn’t that convenient.”

“That’s the whole point,” you mumbled. He was trying to get a reaction out of you, prodding at your buttons, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

There was a pause. “I’m ready when you are,” Jeno flirted, wiggling his brows at you.

“Who said I even wanna screw you?”

“You did. Many, many times.”

True, but no longer relevant. All things considered. You returned to your notebook and said, “That was before you became a penis petri dish of death and disease.”

“Ouch.”

My relationship with Jeno could best be described as rivalry. He never gave an inch and neither did I. It was my job to keep him humble.

And damn, what a full-time thankless job that was.

Jeno had been going out of his way to rile you up after your night with Mark. He couldn’t stand seeing you sulky. Mark’s pouting was beyond remedy, but yours could be managed with well-placed jabs.

He had you down to a science. Lighting a fire under your ass was all Jeno knew how to do. The more he prodded at you, the more flames escaped. And when you were angry, you couldn’t be sad.

Because there was nothing Jeno hated more than seeing you cry.

“Can you try to stay on beat this time?” Jeno chided, spinning a drumstick nimbly between his fingers.

Having been testing the microphone, you whipped around and snapped, “Fuck you, Jeno.”

An argument swiftly ensued, petty and heated. No surprises there. Mark and Haechan stood with their guitars and watched the back and forth with no end in sight, even as people poured into the club.

“Those two are going to kill each other,” Mark said under his breath.

Haechan scoffed. “Or make a ton of babies.”

Mark almost choked on the lump that shot into his throat.

You stomped over to Haechan, pointed at Jeno and said, “I can’t deal with this douche canoe anymore!”

To which Jeno shot back, “Just shut up and sing, ice crotch!”

Your eyes went wide with rage and you spun in Jeno’s direction, ready and willing to claw out his eyes. Haechan grabbed you by the arm and steered you back over to the microphone, officially sapped of all patience.

“In ten seconds, me and Mark are going to start playing,” he said hurriedly. “And both of you are going to look like losers if you’re not ready.”

You huffed a swear or two under your breath and gripped the microphone as Mark and Haechan got into position. Then you heard the tapping of drumsticks behind you followed by the roar of Mark’s electric guitar.

By the time the show was over, you were utterly exhausted. Between Haechan and Mark, your arms draped across their shoulders, the three of you sang tiredly along to one of your songs as the boys essentially dragged you down the hall toward the back door for some well-earned sleep.

Turning the corner, you saw Jeno with two beautiful blondes. You bristled with annoyance. They were giggling at every little thing he said like they were getting dick after, which you quickly realized was the case.

Not on my watch.

“Let it go,” Haechan said, but he knew it would make no difference.

Jeno did not deserve pussy after how badly he stressed you out. You wriggled out of Haechan and Mark’s arms and made a beeline for the drummer.

“Oh my god,” you said in a loud, obnoxious voice, greeting the girls as you cuddled up to Jeno and patted his chest. “You guys look so cute! But unfortunately, Jeno is only halfway through his chlamydia treatment.”

Wide-eyed, the girls looked at you in horror before sending vengeful expressions at Jeno, who set his jaw and bristled with anger.

You held your hand beside your mouth, pretending to whisper a secret, “Very contagious through bodily fluids.”

The pair of blondes scurried off. One of them gave Jeno the finger.

“I hate and despise you,” Jeno hissed, trudging down the corridor.

You were hot on his heels, ready to resume the argument from earlier. A moniker like Ice Crotch was not going to be forgotten. “Haven’t you had enough threesomes?”

“There’s no such thing as too many threesomes,” Jeno replied, heated. “And I’ve only had four.”

Haechan asked curiously, “You keep track?”

Jeno snorted. “Don’t you?”

“One is easy to remember. I wasn’t into it.”

Mark fell in line beside them and said, more so to himself, “I have questions.”

“I don’t,” you spoke up, backhanding Jeno’s burly arm to get his attention. “Jeno, you’ve got pussy brain and you fucked up the tempo.”

Jeno went quiet, which was the last thing you expected.

Everyone was tired and raw. We were a well-oiled machine, steaming ahead like a freight train, but with time, gears start to grind. When gears grind, they tear through flesh and bone.

I know my boys. It sounds cliche, and I agree, but I know them. We’ve been friends for so long and crossed hundreds of lines of intimacy reserved for soulmates. They can’t hide anything from me.

Especially the things they intentionally try to hide from me.

You knew you had struck a nerve, but you weren’t sure which one. You dug your heels in regardless, but you were miffed when Jeno said nothing and made for the door.

“Did he just storm off?” Mark questioned, equally bemused.

“He never does that,” Haechan said softly, turning to you.

You didn’t hesitate to stomp after him, and Mark and Haechan didn’t follow this time. When fire fought with fire, it was best to keep a distance to avoid getting burned.

The cold of Chicago’s night was bitter on your cheeks when you stepped outside and you pulled your jacket tightly round you. Jeno hadn’t jumped into the van yet. He was lingering in the lot, scraping his shoes across the asphalt as he puffed on a cigarette.

Closing the distance, you called, “The hell is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” he replied, avoiding your eyes and blowing out smoke.

“You’re out of sync and you’re acting weird.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes at you. “We were all out of sync tonight. Why am I the only one getting called out on it?”

As usual, no matter how angry he made you, your first instinct when things were too tense was to smooth his feathers. His surface was rough, but at his core, Jeno was tender. You brushed your hand down his arm and said sweetly, “Because you’re the rock…”

"We’re all built on," was going to be the end of that sentence. Unfortunately, I never got to say it.

Jeno cut you off. “I don’t want to be your rock,” he lashed out, hissing your name. “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me all the time?”

You recoiled like you’d been slapped and that was when you noticed his eyes. They didn’t belong to the Jeno you knew, but to the monster that stole his mind and would eventually give him back by morning.

Wrapping your arms around yourself in comfort, suddenly much colder than before, your breath pillared into the night like the smoke from his mouth when you whispered, “I didn’t. Until you said that.”

Jeno blinked, realizing too late that he’d hurt you.

That was the thing about me and Jeno. We both thought the other to be fearless and unbreakable, but also knew who we were at each other’s cores. I was his mirror image and he was mine. The broken kids; the kids that just wanted to be loved. The pair everyone knew to be demons, but never stopped to think how we became them.

The fallen angels.

Anger faded from his face in an instant. “I didn’t mean it,” Jeno started, flicking away the cigarette and reaching for you.

You stepped back, not wanting to be touched. “You’re at your most honest when you’re high, baby,” you said sternly, fixing him with a look that rooted Jeno in place. “Don’t lie to me now.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. How could you always see right through him?

You wiped the tear that spilled down your cheek and escaped into the van, your safe place, your little haven. Jeno ran a hand down his face and cursed, “Fuck,” for hitting you where it hurt.

The rest of the night was tense and awkward, only slacking when sleep took hold. Everyone was painfully exhausted. Chicago had exceeded expectations and pushed all limits. The show was insane. The energy was incredible. I would remember that performance for the rest of my life.

Me and the boys may have been a little out of sync, but each of us gave it our all. We left nothing on the floor and held nothing back.

Haechan curled around you in the bed, keeping you warm. You claimed the bed together more often than not. Mark slept like a vampire, on his back on the floor with his arms at his sides. It was the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, but it worked for him somehow. He slept like a baby, the whistle of his snores filling the van.

Jeno sat in the driver’s seat, looking up at the stars, exhaling the smoke from a joint. He was wide awake, couldn’t sleep. An unfortunate side-effect of the shit he took to get high. The marijuana wasn’t simmering him down as hoped. He’d probably stay up all night and sleep the day away.

Glancing over his shoulder, seeing your pretty face made him smile. You looked even cuter when you slept, but it was frustrating as hell.

No one else noticed he was high but you. Did you really know him that well?

Of course she does, Jeno thought. You were his better half. That’s how it worked. He could never escape you. There was a point of no return when it came to intimacy. Not so long ago, you and Jeno soared past that point. Two reckless teenagers, young and wild, that found all their highs and lows with each other.

Jeno propped his legs up on the dash and closed his eyes, watching the memories like a movie in his head. Mark shredded the electric as if his life was on the line; probably to vent his sexual frustration. Haechan was a whirlwind of energy despite playing that boring ass bass. And you, beautiful you… Mark wasn’t kidding when he said you were a god on stage.

Chicago delivered on the show, but not the after-party. Instead of drinking and fucking the night away, Jeno was in the stuffy van watching the stars go by when he wasn’t stealing glances of you. He wanted to be in your arms, needed you to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay.

You were the fix he craved most of all.

In the time it took him to blink, dawn broke. The sun shone across Jeno’s face. He lifted a hand, shielding his eyes. He grumbled a little and turned in the seat to get comfortable, cursing at the awkward angle his back was in.

Your hand touched his shoulder gently and Jeno lurched in surprise, peering up at you. He’d never looked so weary and drained, but you could see the animal was gone from his eyes. “You’ve been up all night?” Your voice rang with compassion, and Jeno felt utterly undeserving.

He nodded, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to keep them open any longer.

You tugged at him, getting Jeno to his feet and ushering him to the bed, where he basically collapsed onto the mattress. Mark and Haechan were up, crawling around in search of coffee like a pair of zombies. Meanwhile, you let Jeno situate and draped the blanket over him, tucking him in, and brushed some of his hair back from his face.

Jeno took your hand and laced his fingers through yours. “Tell me you love me,” he said in barely a whisper.

“I love you,” you replied without hesitation, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing his knuckles. You stayed propped over him, wanting to be close so you could be sure he finally drifted off. You left a chaste kiss on his brow and coaxed, “Go to sleep, baby.”

Mark turned away. It wasn’t jealousy he felt, just longing. Seeing you so gentle with someone you were viciously fighting with the night before made him want you more. No matter what was said and done, there was too much love in this cramped little van.

When Jeno’s breathing leveled out and his hand went slack in yours, you finally relaxed. You’d be damned if he went days without sleep. There wasn’t much you could do, but the boys had their limits and you did your best to make sure they weren’t crossed.

Without another word, you clambered into the driver’s seat and turned the key, driving out of the club parking lot and onto the main road. You found a shopping center where Mark and Haechan could run errands while Jeno was out, and you pulled in.

Jeno slept well into the afternoon, stirring when the smell of hot food filled the van. Haechan used some of the gig money to splurge on delicious Chinese takeout.

You pulled out a foldable table from behind the cabinet and stood it up on the floor. The four of you sat around it and ate in silence, stuffing your faces until your bellies were full. You and Haechan gabbed a little, but not much. Mark and Jeno didn’t mutter a single word, both of them stuck in their feelings.

A far cry from how they would be that night.

One last show in Chicago. You were back on the same stage as before. It was the first time the band would perform an additional night at a club.

Jeno and Mark were squabbling, which was a rare enough sight to see. The two generally didn’t like to fuck with each other. It always resulted in fists flying and both were surprisingly really good at scrapping.

You looked to Haechan and rolled your eyes. Your best friend was smiling, on the verge of a laugh.

“We’re doing the third set,” Jeno said firmly.

“She can’t,” Mark replied, anger rising. “Her voice is fried from last night. The third set could knock it out for weeks and we’ll have no singer.”

Jeno shrugged. “She can take it.”

You were thoroughly annoyed. “She’s standing right here,” you spoke up, folding your arms. The audacity they had. It made you bristle, because you knew it had nothing to do with your voice and had everything to do with your body.

“What do you want to do?” Mark asked, softening his voice for you.

Jeno cut in, “Don’t ask her. You have to push her.”

You shot him a nasty scowl. “Stop pushing me.”

“Or what?” He smirked.

You shivered with irritation crossing dangerously toward rage.

“I don’t think you can do the third set,” Jeno said, challenging you, his smirk deepening. “Prove me wrong.”

“I’m not falling for that reverse psychology bullshit.”

“Coward.”

A smug look washed over your face as you hissed, “Don’t you feel pathetic leaning on me?”

The smile fell off Jeno’s lips. “I said I was sorry.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t care,” you snapped, but you definitely cared. The wound was still fresh and stung.

Haechan tilted his head when you looked at him. He was always your anchor in the rough seas of Mark and the violent winds of Jeno. “I’m with you, whatever you choose,” he said.

If I ever walked off that stage, my boys would follow. No questions asked. They would follow me into hell and back. Though the four of us would probably just live there indefinitely.

You straightened your shoulders and your tone left no room for argument. “We’re doing the third set.”

Jeno beamed victoriously. Haechan nodded. Mark gave a look mixed between concern and awestruck.

You sang until you were spent; brutally, wholly, and everything in between. Your legs felt like jelly when you walked off stage and your chest ached, lungs taut. The adrenaline, like a performance-enhancing drug, had run its course and you were officially on empty.

It wasn’t unlike you to push yourself to the absolute limit. You loved the stage. You worshiped the power that surged from your voice when you sang into the mic. Pipes for days, Haechan always said.

The dressing room was a sight for sore eyes. You dropped heavily onto one of the sofas and let your head fall back, closing your eyes. Your throat felt like you’d swallowed razors.

“Try not to talk,” Haechan said, holding up his hand when you shot him an irritated look. “I’m not telling you to be quiet. I’m suggesting you let your voice rest.”

You nodded and sunk back into the sofa again.

Mark was vibrating, the energy of the show still pulsing through him. Brimming with energy (the excess turning into courage), he walked over to you and bent down, pressing a lingering kiss to your brow.

You smiled, knowing it was Mark without opening your eyes.

Jeno finally deigned to grace the rest of you with his presence, bursting into the dressing room and exclaiming, “Holy shit, you killed it!”

“And this is where you take all the credit,” you rasped, wincing at the sound of your own voice.

“I’ll wait till you go to bed and then I’ll take all the credit.”

You lifted your head and narrowed your eyes at him. “Don’t you have some ass to chase?”

Jeno licked his lips. “Nah. I only got eyes for you right now.”

“Pluck them out for all I care.”

“You wanna fuck me so bad you look stupid.”

You waved him away, settling down and closing your eyes again, and wheezed, “Have fun with your hand.”

Haechan sat beside you, picking up your legs and draping them over his lap. “I’ve never seen you so mad at him.”

“He just doesn’t stop,” you huffed. “You know when to leave me alone. Mark never pushes my buttons. Jeno just keeps fucking digging.”

Haechan chuckled. “That’s all he knows how to do.”

“Whatever.” You shrugged, feigning indifference.

Mark suddenly asked, “Do you love him?”

You sighed. “I love all three of you. He’s definitely my least favorite though.”

Mark gleamed proudly at Jeno, who scowled back.

“So, if we were drowning, who would you save first?” Haechan asked mischievously.

“Mark. Obviously.”

Mark’s grin widened, while Haechan gasped and put a hand over his heart like it was the ultimate betrayal.

“You can swim,” you said, patting Haechan’s arm over your legs. You opened your eyes and gave Jeno a vicious sneer. “Jeno’s the only one drowning.”

Jeno’s lips squared into a frown.

“What’s that mean?” Mark asked curiously, but Haechan stayed silent. He knew.

“Leave it,” Jeno warned, darker than ever.

The three of you did. Unlike Jeno, you knew when to quit.

Some people did drugs. Others did rock music. A few did both.

The boys dispersed momentarily. You were relieved when the dressing room was empty, leaving you to your thoughts and the searing pain in your vocal chords. Rubbing at your eyes, smearing your makeup, you didn’t hear someone come back in as you muttered to yourself, “God, my throat fucking hurts.”

“It’s probably raw as shit,” Jeno said, making you jolt. And roll your eyes. He cleared his throat and switched his tone to add, “Speaking of raw…”

“No.”

“You let Mark in raw,” he whined loudly.

You cut him a glare. “I wouldn’t let you raw me if you were the last man on earth.”

Jeno pouted. “Ow.”

With a scoff, you decided to turn the tables on him. “Why are you so hard for me the past few days? I can’t even brush my teeth without you humping the air around me.”

There was no shame to be found in Jeno. “I haven’t had you in weeks,” he groaned.

Your lips parted in surprise. “You’ve had every other girl in the country.”

“It’s not the same.”

You stood and crept close to him, close enough to ghost your lips over his mouth. Jeno went boneless, every inch of him fixated to you and what you would do next. He wanted you so bad he couldn’t see straight. So, you decided to yank the metaphorical rug out from under him, sniping, “You’re pathetic.”

“Are you really going to hold that against me forever?” Jeno asked, tensing.

No. It was just easier to be mad at him. That was the only way I could have some defense against the power he had over me.

“I’ll make you a deal,” you said, sliding your hands over his shoulders and winding your fingers into his hair. “Answer one question for me and I’ll forgive you.”

Jeno was one more breath away from kissing you. He knew it was a trap. You were luring him in and he was happy to swallow the bait. “Fine,” he replied in a husky voice, eyes on your lips. “Ask your damn question.”

“What are you taking?”

“What do you mean?”

You hardened your gaze on him and tugged on his hair. “Don’t play that with me. I know better.”

Jeno studied you a moment. You would keep yanking this thread until it unraveled. He pushed, you pulled. The two of you could play tug-of-war with each other’s heartstrings forever. Jeno decided it was better to rip the bandage off and get it over with it.

He reached to the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out a bag, and handed it out to you.

You took a split-second look at the bag and your jaw dropped, your arms falling as you snatched it quickly. “Cocaine? Are you fucking kidding me, Jeno?”

Jeno stole the bag back in the time it took you to blink, returning it to the safety of his pocket. “We’re supposed to do drugs,” he defended, rather unconvincingly. “We’re rockstars.”

“We’re teenagers that just graduated high school with barely enough cash for fuel and chips!”

“How I spend my cut of the money is my business,” Jeno shot back.

“This isn’t about the money.” You folded your arms, scolding him like a mother would a child; oscillating between angry and worried. “You know how dangerous that shit is.”

Jeno shifted his approach too, ever your mirror. “It’s the only way I can perform, babe. If I don’t have it, I can’t focus and I get too nervous.”

You softened even more, like Jeno knew you would. “We can get you something else,” you said gently. “Something better. Safer.”

He scoffed. “With our gas and chips money?”

You sighed, accepting a temporary defeat, but you pressed, “You’re doing it to get high. Not to concentrate.”

Jeno went slack, equally defeated, and reached for your waist. “I’m just trying to have a good time. We know this won’t last. We’re going nowhere.”

You lowered your head. “I know.”

The summer was half over and we hadn’t been scouted. Hope was replaced with disappointment and eventually, disappointment would flip to resentment. We never put it into words, but it was like a cloud following us, day and night.

Jeno took your face in his hands and tipped your chin up until you met his eyes. “Let me have this summer,” he whispered sadly. “Mark got you. I got this.”

Something inside you broke a little.

Yes, when the summer was over, you were Mark’s.

But the summer wasn’t over.

Jeno smiled in surprise when he felt the warmth of your lips on his, but he didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you and deepen the kiss. Feeling the heat of your body against his was what he’d been craving, wanting you to burn him alive.

My first instinct always was to comfort him. I would chip away at myself and give him every piece if it meant he could use them to stitch his wounds.

Believe it or not, Jeno was my first love, but a first love at fifteen means nothing in the grand scheme of things. He was my first everything, but we just didn’t work. No matter how hard we tried. There was a mad and intense connection between us, inseverable, but in the confines of a relationship, we were wild animals forced together in a cage.

I know few will understand us. Hell, even I don’t understand how I could have so much passion and fire for someone that stretched me thin and forever kept me at the brink of insanity.

But I was beyond questioning it.

Jeno slipped his tongue in your mouth and you grabbed his hips, pulling him flush against you. His kisses were surpassing hungry and landing somewhere near ravenous. The intensity must have scared him, because Jeno suddenly parted from you and took a step back.

You rubbed your lips bashfully, not realizing you were panting until it was the only sound in the quiet dressing room. And Jeno was breathing just as heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Jeno shook his head. “I want you so bad.”

You snickered. Here you were on a silver platter and he was the one that put distance between you.

Though you opened your mouth to say something snarky, Jeno spoke up, “But you’re going to leave me.”

Your heart sank. It dawned on you; this summer was the end to a lot of things. Youth was ending. The band was ending and with it, all of your dreams.

And the tie between me and Jeno would have to finally be severed so my life with Mark could start.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured. You didn’t want to think about Jeno and his broken heart. Or that the drugs you scolded him over were what he used to fill the void you left behind.

Jeno respected the hell out of you for having the strength to leave him. He never could walk away from you even though he knew it was for the best. You would spend your whole life trying to fix him while he would always use you as a crutch.

It wasn’t fair to either you or him.

“Mark is good for you,” Jeno said in barely a whisper, his eyes glistening.

You shook your head. “I don’t want to talk about Mark.”

Jeno swallowed the lump in his throat. Seeing his pain reflected back at him on your face was too much. “Get high with me.”

Your eyes went wide. “Why?”

“You’re my person,” he said, vulnerable. “The only one I’ve ever wanted to do it with.”

This was what you struggled to put into words - the hold this boy had on you. He was bottomless ocean depths.

“It’s always you and me. We do everything together,” Jeno continued, reaching for your hand and leaving a kiss on your knuckles.

You let him pull you back into his arms and asked, “What if I die?”

“I’ll bring you back,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your brow that completely melted you.

“What if you die?”

“Let me go.”

Your eyes suddenly shone with the threat of tears. “Never.”

Jeno leaned into you, stealing a kiss from your lips. “Just this once, babe.”

You paused, thinking it over. Everything inside you screamed, “Yes!” Jeno never failed to bring this side out of you - the reckless, starved one that didn’t give a damn about consequences. You always feared if that was the real you, the true you. “Just this once,” you said quietly, closing your eyes as Jeno sealed his lips to yours again.

The idea of getting high reached out to you with gentle, caressing fingertips, promising to banish the pain and numb the hurt.

Tearing himself away from you once more, Jeno walked over to the door and locked it.

Yet another first time with Jeno to add to my list.

You were caught off-guard at how fast the high kicked in and never before had you noticed how tense your body was until it wasn’t anymore. Your mind was even lighter. There was no more torment. You could feel that it was there, but it didn’t ache any longer.

The sensation was indescribable. You were whole, perfect, immortal and invincible all at once.

And that was how you found yourself on the couch with Jeno, pawing at each other like animals in heat.

“Jeno?”

“I know.”

You sucked in a breath as he nipped at your neck and asked weakly, “Am I going crazy?”

“Babe,” he said, meeting your eyes with a smirk. “You been crazy.”

You laughed and the sound was music to Jeno’s ears, making his smile widen.

Time blurred together. It could have been the next day or the next year for all you cared. All you knew was this moment with Jeno and how it lasted a lifetime.

You sank deeper into the sofa beneath Jeno’s weight. Your thighs were hooked on his hips, hands roaming his taut, muscly back. Both your shirt and his tee were somewhere on the floor, along with your bra.

Jeno kept grinding into you, each movement rougher than the last. “Fuck,” he swore, lips brushing your ear. “I just know you’re getting so fucking wet right now.”

He wasn’t wrong.

A wanton noise of pleasure escaped you and Jeno ate it up. You were burning by a thousand degrees, it was almost painful. You had never craved someone’s body on such a primal level before.

With Mark, it was love, but this? This was lust running wild with abandon.

The doorknob wiggled. You didn’t hear it over the loud thumping in your ears and neither did Jeno, who was far too busy bruising your neck whilst he kneaded your breasts, pinching your nipples to make you squirm. Haechan didn’t need to try the knob again to know what was going on. He turned to Mark, who was coming down the hall, and led him away.

“They’re working out their issues. Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said hurriedly. Mark hesitated, but didn’t argue. He was none the wiser. With the way you and Jeno had been at each other’s throats, it never crossed his mind that you would fuck him.

Meanwhile, you were discovering new uncharted levels of arousal, undulating beneath Jeno, trying to match his movements, which were getting faster and harder. The drugs in your system made everything feel more intense, all-consuming. There was no tension, no insecurity, just instinct and pleasure.

Jeno was definitely waiting for you to give him the green light, and you were enjoying keeping it from him, but the throbbing between your legs was unbearable.

You planted your hands on his thick chest and pushed, making Jeno prop over you and look into your face. “Wanna fuck now?” you asked sheepishly.

His pupils dilated. “I thought you’d never ask.”

You whined when Jeno clambered off of you, standing next to the sofa and unfastening his pants. Before he drew them down his thighs, he pulled condoms from his pocket and dropped them on your lap.

“Two?” You snorted. “My lucky day.”

“One for each girl. You know, the ones you chased away from me.”

Licking your lips as his hard cock sprang into view, you grabbed him by the hips and purred, “I called first dibs on that dick years ago.”

Jeno chuckled, but his expression changed on a dime when you leaned in. He watched you drag your lips over his abs, kissing and nibbling along his happy trail. His breaths stuttered as he said, “Whenever you want it, it’s all yours.”

You peeked up at him hotly. “I want it now.”

While Jeno fitted himself with a condom, you shimmied out of your pants and underwear, and the moment they were on the floor, you turned onto your knees, braced yourself on the arm of the sofa, and arched your back, sticking your ass in the air.

He wouldn’t be able to resist it for a second.

“Fuck you,” Jeno hissed, getting into position behind you and raking his cock between your folds, gathering your slick from tip to base.

You wiggled your hips. Your brain was clouded with lust and drugs, and something purely hungry for Jeno. Like he was your favorite meal. “Gimme it,” you huffed, glancing over your shoulder. “What the fuck is taking so long?”

Jeno gave your ass a smack, making you squeak. “You need to calm down,” he chided with a grin, still sliding his length between your slit. He was so riled up his hips jerked against you involuntarily.

You reached between your legs, getting a hand around his dick and steering it into your aching pussy. Jeno let you, biting his lip and smirking at how goddamn horny you were for him.

The head of his cock pressed into your entrance and you grasped the arm of the sofa with both hands as Jeno began thrusting forward, working himself inside until he impaled you on every last inch of his girthy cock. You buried your face in the couch, biting down on the stressed leather.

Jeno gripped your waist tight and drew you to him until he was balls deep in your tight heat, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around his length. The drugs amplified everything about you; your warmth, your scent, your sounds. He barely noticed the condom at all.

When he drew back and shoved his cock back into your cunt, you lifted your head and cried, “Fuck!”

“You’re so wet,” Jeno growled, sinking in and out to hear your slick pussy welcoming him back.

You whimpered. “Fuck you and that big dick,” you mumbled, but you didn’t mean a word of it. You weren’t sure how much you could blame the drugs anymore. You wanted him to plow the living shit out of you until there was nothing left.

Jeno took that personally. As a challenge more than anything. He squeezed your waist in his hands and smacked his hips into your ass, driving his cock into your core and giving you something to really whine about.

It was all you could do not to scream as he took you for all you were worth. You fisted the couch in your hands until your knuckles ached and you threw yourself back to meet his strokes, a noise escaping on your hoarse throat with every rushed breath. Sex was a drug all its own. It just felt too damn good.

Jeno kept his hard pace, making sure he landed flush against your heat every time, and brushed his hands up your body to wrap them around your throat and tip your head back. “Yeah, that’s my good slut,” he taunted, the smack of his body colliding with yours getting louder. “She’s taking all that dick, huh?”

The sounds you made were humiliating, but they only made Jeno harder. His grip on your neck had you slack-jawed, your eyes winched closed. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!

It wasn’t fair that he had that kind of power over my body. With him, I felt desired and powerful, and between that - untainted. Unbroken. Jeno never saw me for the damaged goods that I was. To him, I was always perfect. He completed me. No matter how unhealthy it was, I wanted it.

I didn’t need drugs. Jeno’s love was my high.

“Don’t stop,” you choked out, his hands heavy on your strained vocal chords. “Don’t ever stop...”

Loving me. Though the words wouldn’t come, Jeno knew them.

“Never, baby,” Jeno said, releasing your throat in favor of your waist, draping himself over you and burying his face in your neck. His hands wandered your breasts as he plunged in as far as he could go and stopped, leaving a few scattered, reassuring kisses across your shoulders.

Your body trembled when he bottomed out, aching with need and overstimulation. You swallowed to wet your throat, panting for air, and asked, “Why are you…?”

“You’re so fucking high, baby,” Jeno crooned, touching you gently and affectionately. “Just trust me.”

He was right. You were high on drugs and his body. You were a nerve laid bare, every brush of his hands enough to make you shiver. Your body pulsated, like you were being dangled over the edge, the pressure becoming too much to bear.

You held yourself up on hands and knees, tortured by the fact he was no longer moving inside you, but his hands playing with your breasts and his lips on your neck had your attention. The stimulation was sending more shudders across your skin, making you lean into his touch as your core throbbed for him.

“Part of you will always be mine,” Jeno whispered into your neck. “I know you’ll pick him over me, but part of you will always miss me.”

You tensed with unshed tears and cried, “I know.”

“I need you to know it’s okay,” Jeno said, turning your head and kissing you with so much pain and pleasure it knocked the wind out of you.

You kissed him back, reaching up to thread your fingers into his hair. It was a cruel curse - to love someone so deeply that was bad for you.

Jeno broke the kiss and rocked gently into you, staying in deep and lilting his cock inside your walls, the head of him kissing your cervix. Normally, you would have pushed at his hips for some mercy, but the high made you impervious to pain.

Suddenly, he thrust in hard but slow, arching his hips. You staggered out a moan and reached out to steady yourself, almost knocked off balance by his strength.

He did it again and again.

Tears pricked at your eyes. Jeno was hitting you with those drawn-out, domineering strokes, making you feel every inch of him slam against your sweet spot. He may have agreed to never hold you choosing Mark over him against you, but he was going to give you one final reminder of how absolute his control of your body was.

“I’m coming,” you warned, his name a mantra on your tongue as you took all he had to give. You were grateful for the roar of music coming from the other side of the wall, drowning out your cries and Jeno’s moans.

Jeno fisted a hand in your hair while the other still tugged and rolled your nipples. He kept his pace, hips slapping into your ass at a perfect rhythm, knowing you were on the edge of orgasm with the way your walls clamped down on his cock.

“Fuck!” Another brutal thrust sent you into ecstasy. You shook and swore, trying to crawl away from him, but Jeno was on you, shoving you into the couch and riding out your high.

“Good girl,” Jeno hissed, watching you writhe beneath him. He went still and tipped his head back, letting out a tiny moan.

You blinked to clear your eyes. You could feel the bruises forming in your skin as Jeno pinned you to the couch. It only turned you on more. When you realized he was still hard, that he hadn’t come, you mumbled under your breath. He was supposed to finish with you.

Jeno’s eyes flickered. Another moan escaped him as you rolled your hips, desperate for friction. He drifted his hands to your hair, gathering it all in his fists.

You sat up and went to work, fucking him as best you could in your position. Despite the condom, your pussy wanted to milk every drop of cum out of his dick. Post-nut clarity hadn’t set in. Either the drugs or the orgasm made you even more feral for this dumb boy.

“Oh, fuck,” Jeno groaned, watching you throw it back, bouncing your ass on him, taking him like a fucking champ. His abs tightened as he tried not to pound the fuck out of you. Instead, he reeled his hand back and slapped your ass, goading you.

“Come for me, baby,” you said darkly, the room echoing with the loud, wet clap of your bodies meeting.

Jeno growled a low curse in this throat. Suddenly he was on the edge, driven by your command and that tight fucking cunt.

You shrieked in surprise when he flipped you over roughly, the sound devolving into a moan when he steered his cock back into your pussy, grabbed your waist, and drilled into you like he would never get the chance again.

He didn’t last long at that pace. Jeno threw his head back and came, one moan after another tumbling from his pretty mouth, each one more ragged than the last as he emptied himself into the condom.

You brushed your hands over his thighs and hips, whispering little nothings as he came, feeling him shake like a leaf as he buried himself inside you. Once Jeno settled down, you touched his chest and asked, “Holy shit. Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” he wheezed, voice cracking, all the air knocked out of him.

Biting your lip to fight a laugh, you failed to hide the smug grin taking over your face.

“Don’t,” Jeno said weakly, rubbing at his eyes.

“You just came so hard you cried,” you teased, pinching his nipple for good measure.

“Don’t make fun of me.”

Feeling him about to pull out, you reached for his waist and held him there, joking, “I will remember this, forever and ever, and I will bring it up every time you get on my nerves.”

“You’re the worst.” He sobered, leaning in close. “And you’re the best I've ever had.”

You smiled as he kissed you, sealing his words on your lips. Then you giggled as his mouth traveled over your chest, sucking on a nipple. Your buds were still stiff and Jeno couldn’t resist.

“I see how easy it is to get addicted,” you said when Jeno got up to discard the condom. “That shit is intense.”

“Told you.”

Sitting up, you ran your hands through your messy hair. You could only imagine how you looked; makeup smeared, glistening with sweat. “You know you have to stop,” you told him, making your voice gentle.

Jeno afforded you no looks. “Eventually.”

You were too tired to argue, sore and spent in the best ways. When Jeno returned to the couch, you welcomed him with open arms, pulling him close and steering him to lay his head on your naked chest. You stroked your fingers through his hair and over his broad shoulders, and whispered, “I’ll never let you die, Jeno.”

He stayed quiet.

“You’re not allowed to leave me.”

“Stalker.”

You snorted back a laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I do.” Jeno lifted his head and nuzzled your cheek, teasing, “I just think it’s cute how obsessed you are with me.”

You kept touching him. His skin was just so hot beneath your fingertips, like caressing an open flame. “Are you really okay with dying?” you asked after a moment.

Jeno shrugged. “It’s unavoidable. I don’t see the point in sweating over it.” As he spoke, Jeno kissed at your neck slowly, curious if he could get you riled up again.

Your lashes fluttered and you shifted underneath him. Though he left you more than satisfied, the longer he kissed over your pulse and palmed your breasts, the quicker the ache in your core came back, ready to be filled up again.

Jeno reached down to cup your sex, running his finger over your swollen clit and swearing under his breath when he felt your soaked entrance, thinking how easily he could slide right back in and make you feel good. Both of you.

“If you died,” you stammered, struggling to form words as he touched you. “I don’t think I would ever smile again.”

Jeno was caught off-guard. He stopped pawing at you to look in your eyes, wondering if you realized just how heavy a thing that was to say. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” he told you innocently, kissing the corner of your mouth with affection.

It was the first time you’d seen him so serious. Not hiding behind his usual humor.

Jeno was surprised when you pushed him away and reached for your pants on the floor. He watched curiously as you rifled through your pocket and withdrew a balled-up piece of paper and handed it to him.

“For the memoir?”

You nodded, watching him unfurl the page, your heart thumping harshly in your chest. “Yeah, I’m constantly jotting stuff down.”

Jeno’s eyes drifted over your words.

I can’t stand him. He infuriates me. He makes me crazy. But Jeno is the one person that knows me - the good and the bad, and accepts them both.

I love my boys, but he’s the one I don’t think I could ever live without.

Jeno peered at you with glassy eyes, shining with tears. “Damn it,” he groaned, crashing his lips on yours.

As expected, you made use of that second condom.

Jeno hooked your legs in the crooks of his arms and thrust languidly, staring down at you. Your eyes never parted as he gave you release once more, knowing when the summer was over, he would never get to touch you again.

When all was said and done, the two of you slumped into opposite sides of the sofa, soaked with sweat. Once you caught your breath and Jeno returned from tossing the condom, it was your turn to clamber on top of him, using his chest as your pillow. You rested your head on his shoulder and traced senseless patterns over his collarbone with your fingertips.

Jeno said your name. “I want you to be happy. That’s all I want, but I know I can’t give it to you. I tried.”

You closed your eyes. It would keep the tears at bay. “I know.”

“I feel sorry for you, loving all three of us. It can’t be easy.”

“It’s what I was made for,” you said softly, tightening your arms around him, lest he fly away from you and never return.

Jeno changed subjects before it broke him. “I’ve never felt so self-aware of how it feels to be young. And how it doesn’t last long.”

You nodded slightly. “This time is precious.”

“I wouldn’t say precious. Definitely fun though.”

You snickered, relieved to hear his humor coming back, but a somber feeling rushed over you. “Do you think we’ll ever get tired of it?”

“Of what?”

“The performing, the fucking, and… the drugs.”

Jeno paused. “You mean each other.”

You sighed tersely. There was no hiding it from him.

My biggest fear was that my boys would hate me. That I would be a bitter reminder of what could have been, how close we were to our dreams before crash landing back on earth, broken and bruised forever from the fall.

Jeno brushed his fingers up and down your back, and kissed the top of your head. “I don’t think we’ll resent each other if this fails, babe,” he said in a low voice. Some things just aren’t meant to be, he thought sadly. Like you and me.

“If that happened, I think I would die,” you whimpered, burrowing your face in his chest.

“Don’t talk like that,” Jeno said, running his hand mischievously over your thigh. “But stop being so afraid of death. You’ll waste your life running from something that is going to catch you no matter what.”

You tipped your head back to kiss him. “I just know the devil dreads meeting us. We’ll steal his throne.”

Jeno kissed you back hotly. “Hell yeah. I can’t wait to fuck you on it.”

You laughed.

Hard to steal something that already belongs to you, Jeno.

#nct #nct smut #jeno #jeno smut #nct dream smut #jeno x reader

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starlightkun · 7 months ago

Text

⇢ word count: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions, a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places ⇢ extra info: this is the second part of a two-part fic, you need to read the first part to know what’s going on! this was released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) ⇢ author’s note: and here’s part two! ⇢ part one

“What did I say before, hm? Finders keepers,” you declared, grabbing his other hand. “You’re not going to die as long as I have something to say about it.”

The screen of your phone lit up from where it sat on the dashboard of Jungwoo’s spaceship, and you immediately grabbed it. It was Donghyuck, and at this point, you would’ve taken your bestie ‘SPAM LIKELY’ to get you out of here.

“Hey, it’s Hyuck, you got it here?” You asked Jungwoo, already on your feet.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” Jungwoo confirmed, eyes momentarily leaving the screen to meet yours.

You clambered out of the hatch with haste, taking off into the trees. Hastily sending Donghyuck a text that you’d call him back in a minute, you practically bolted back up the cliffside to get to the road before doing just that.

Hyuck picked up before it could even ring once, not wasting any time, “Hey, how’s our pet alien?”

“He has a name,” you retorted, still out of breath.

“He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him that.”

“He probably doesn’t understand how derogatory it could be. His language might not have a direct equivalent for the concept.”

“Yeah, whatever, how is he?”

“Fine. All of his wounds have healed.”

Your friend’s tone immediately shifted. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You insisted.

“Y/N.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

And so after explaining your situation to Donghyuck to the best of your ability, you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Oh my God, he’s going to lay his eggs in you,” he gasped.

“Hyuck! Gross!” You hissed, half-ready to hang up right then.

“I’ve seen enough alien movies to know where this is going.”

“Or watched too much weird porn.”

“You didn’t laugh at my joke, clearly you’re in crisis, sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.

You sighed, staring down into the trees below you that you knew contained a spaceship and spaceman that weren’t from here, that didn’t belong here. “I mean, he’s still fixing his ship to leave…”

“What if he plans on abducting you and taking you with him?”

“Stop it!” You scolded him again. “Jungwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“You seriously think he’ll just leave his mate behind?”

“You are way too comfortable saying that word.”

“This is not about my nighttime proclivities.”

“If I told him to, yeah, I think he would. He’s been super respectful, all things considered.”

“Okay… whatever…”

You were worried. Jungwoo had continued fixing his ship, but with each passing day, you swore he was looking worse again. He said his wounds had completely healed inside and out, but the pallor of his skin didn��t look right, he was moving slower again, and he didn’t eat as much at meals. You took a risk and took him there during the day today, not wanting to risk drawing out his stay on Earth any longer than necessary.

Just getting him down to the ship today was perilous, as he tripped going down the last of the hillside. A rock had cut his arm, thankfully not very deep, but the sight of the deep blue blood did nothing to calm your anxious mind. He let you take a second to use a first aid kit in the ship on him, but then was right back to business as usual, fixing his ship.

“How’s it coming along?” You asked, hovering over him worriedly as he sat on the floor, working on a panel under the control console.

“It’s almost done,” he informed you quietly.

“Jungwoo, you don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Is it the hydrogen? Or something else that you can’t get on Earth?” You went to press the back of your hand to his forehead. It was sticky with sweat, but simultaneously cold and clammy. “Shit, dude, you feel awful.”

“I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to get back to-to Galaria.”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s get you back. You said it’s almost done. What else do you need?”

“One of your friends is a mechanic?”

“Yeah, Yuta. He fixes cars.” You were slightly alarmed that he apparently couldn’t remember which one.

Jungwoo held out a long, thin black tube to you. “Could you ask him if he has something like this? Twice as long?”

“Of course! I'll go right now!” You took the tube from him. “You stay right here. Rest, okay?”

He nodded, leaning against the panel and shutting his eyes.

You ran into Yuta’s auto shop, skidding to a stop and nearly crashing into a bench and toolbox, drawing the attention of everyone in the shop. Every head whipped over to look at you, and Yuta pushed himself out from under a truck on the far side of the shop.

“Yuta!” You dashed over to him, ignoring the attempts at conversation from his coworkers as you ran by them.

“Off-limits, assholes!” Yuta yelled back at them before focusing on you again, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Jungwoo, he needs something like this, but double the length.” You held the tube out to him. “Do you have anything like it? I’ll pay for it.”

Yuta inspected it with a furrowed brow, and you dropped your voice even lower as the sounds of the auto shop rose again.

“Please, he’s-he’s really not doing well. I don’t know how much longer he can be here, Yuta. Something about Earth, it’s not good for him. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, I would be if I were you.” Yuta handed the tube back to you, then crossed his arms over his chest. “I gave him a part just like that two days ago. He said it was the last piece he needed.”

“What?!” Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“I gave him a new brake hose two days ago. Unless he blew it up again, this isn’t it.”

“I’ve got to go.” You took off towards the door of the garage. “Bye, Yuta! Thanks!”

“See you around!”

Something wasn’t right. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach as you looked down at the brake hose in your hands. You could feel it in the deep rumble of the pavement under your feet as you ran down the shoulder of the highway back towards the ship. You could feel it in your lungs as you sucked in air that smelled oddly smoky. There was no caution in your movements as you took the familiar path down into the trees. Sirens followed behind you from all directions, converging on the same place as you. But you had gotten there before them.

The ship pulsated with an energy you had never seen before, no longer dull dark metal, but thrumming with power, colorful bursts of light jumping from panel to panel. The reactors at the back that you had watched Jungwoo rebuild with his own two hands roared to life.

No friends to grab you and hold you back now. It was only you.

You lunged for the button that you knew would extend the ladder, throwing the hose to the ground so you could have two free hands to scramble up the side of the ship. At the cockpit, you held onto the top rung of the ladder as the ship jerked and lifted off the ground. You desperately hit the other button to open the glass hatch, dropping into the cockpit and pulling the dome shut with you.

Jungwoo was crumpled in a heap on the ground in front of the controls, not even in a seat. Thankfully, he took a small, shallow breath. The ship accelerated, throwing the both of you across the cockpit. You swore as your head impacted with the wall, and Jungwoo grunted as he hit another panel.

“What the hell is your problem, Jungwoo?” You chastised him as you rolled him over. “You tell me you’ve imprinted on me, then send me off on a wild goose chase so that you can leave without saying goodbye? And then you fucking pass out?”

“Y/N?” He mumbled, slowly blinking a couple times as he looked up at you. “That’s… you?”

“Yes, you dumbass,” you scoffed, pulling his head onto your lap as you were truly just relieved to see his eyes open again. “Now come on, don’t fall asleep on me again.”

“Mm… yes… it’ll be nice… I think… to die in your arms.”

“Christ, you’re so dramatic,” you rolled your eyes to not give away how fast your heart was beating, how sweaty your palms were, or that your hands were shaking with nerves. “You’re not going to die. You hear me? It looks like you’ve already put in directions back home, right? To Galaria? Please tell me this thing has autopilot.”

“Yes. Provided… there are no… unexpected emergencies…” He took several uneven, short breaths. “The ship… will take care of it…”

“Awesome. How often are there unexpected emergencies in intergalactic travel?”

Jungwoo was out cold.

You hung your head, letting out a deep sigh. “Cool. Great. Nice one, Y/N. Stuck on a spaceship that you don’t know how to fly. In space. With a half-dead alien. Stellar life choices, as always.”

You had no clue how much time had passed since you’d left Earth. There were no clocks—at least not ones that you could read—in Jungwoo’s ship, and your spaceman stayed knocked out, never coming close to consciousness. You got hungry at some point, but you couldn’t find any food, or least anything that you would risk eating this early. Maybe if it really felt dire. You hadn’t stocked Jungwoo up with supplies yet, you thought you had more time. Was he really planning on leaving like that?

A pleasant dinging came over the speakers of the ship eventually, reminding you of the sound that played over plane intercoms when an announcement was made. A computerized voice said something, but you realized you couldn’t understand it. You couldn’t make out a single word or syllable. It must be speaking Galarii. Nothing was flashing red, hopefully it wasn’t anything that required your assistance.

It felt like the ship was slowing down. You held onto Jungwoo’s lifeless body tightly to brace the two of you. He was still warm, and you took a small comfort in that.

With another jerk and cacophonous rattle, the ship touched down. You were pretty sure. The hum of the reactors died down, and it felt like the ship had finally stopped. Jungwoo let out a weak sound of pain in your arms, and you were on your feet.

You slammed your hand against the button to open the hatch with none of the grace that you’d seen Jungwoo use dozens of times. Tugging the transcoder off his neck, you put it on yourself before wedging your shoulder under his, planting your foot on a seat cushion, and heaving upwards with as much force as you could. Either the gravity on Galaria was different, you were having an adrenaline rush, or both, as Jungwoo’s body actually moved with you. You jerked both of you up onto the ladder, yelling in between deep breaths.

“Help!” Shove. “Help us!” Heave. “Help! Somebody!” Push. “Help!”

After the next jump, your head poked out of the cockpit. Immediately, you were met with winds that whipped your hair around and chilled you to the bone. You took as deep of a breath that you could, the frosty air feeling like knives in your lungs, to let out another cry, “Help!”

The lilac sky was barely visible through the snow that flurried around your face, sticking to your skin and hair. Two figures appeared through the snowstorm, approaching the spaceship, and you readjusted your hold on Jungwoo to lean his weight back on you to free up one arm to wave at them fervently.

“Over here!” You screamed. “Help us! Please!”

Jungwoo coughed, blue blood dribbling out of his mouth.

“Oh god…” You cupped his cerulean-stained cheek, panic flooding your heart as you saw the two figures stop in their tracks.

Heaving the two of you over the side in the quickest way you knew to get down, you slid down the ship, the fresh snow that had piled up breaking your fall about as well as Donghyuck had before. The impact rattled up your feet and knees, and you swore under your breath as you definitely heard something pop that had never popped before. Wrapping Jungwoo’s arm around your shoulders, you started dragging him towards the two figures.

“Hey!” You yelled out at them, glaring against the snow and wind. Tears streamed down your face as the wind battered your eyes, and your teeth were already chattering. “What the hell are you doing? He’s fucking dying! Help him!”

This finally spurred them into moving again, the figures rushing towards you once more. As they got closer, you could see that they were human-like—Galarii, presumably. They were bundled up for the weather, goggles and cloth masks obscuring much of their faces from you, but as they reached to take Jungwoo from you, a sudden fear seized you, and you jerked back from them at the last second, tightening your hold on him.

They must have been able to guess what spooked you, as one lifted up his goggles and pulled down his mask to let you see his face as he addressed you.

“I’m Kun. That’s my aide, Dejun,” he indicated to himself, then to the other Galarii. “I’m Jungwoo’s brother. Please.”

You looked between them for a moment, then nodded. They moved to each take one of his arms and loop it around their shoulders. You stayed close as they trudged through the snowstorm with him, your worried eyes staying on Jungwoo. Your feet were entirely numb, and you didn’t register when one of the caught on something under the snow until you were already catapulting forward face-first. Your hands were tucked under your arms, and you couldn’t get them out fast enough to break your fall. Kun thankfully had faster reflexes than you, and managed to catch you by the arm, leaving you suspended above the snowbank for a perilous moment. He jerked you back until you got your feet under you again, and you mumbled out a thank you that was muted by the winds. Looking over your shoulder, your knees nearly gave out again when you saw the trail of blue drops that Jungwoo was leaving behind.

Kun once again grabbed your arm, and you looked at him inquisitively, coming to a stop as they did. You were in front of a cliffside by the ocean, which was in fact a cotton candy pink, no buildings in sight. The sea spray stung your eyes, made them water up, and you did your best to cover them without entirely obscuring your vision.

Dejun approached the rock wall as Kun took on all of Jungwoo’s weight. You heard a faint groan, and you weren’t sure which of them it came from, but you moved to take over where Dejun had just been. Jungwoo was no longer warm.

Dejun touched his own pendant to part of the stone, and you swore you saw something glow, but that could’ve been the refraction of light off the waves into your pupils, you couldn’t be sure. An opening formed in the cliffside, and Dejun ushered the three of you in. As soon as you stepped in, it didn’t feel like you were underground, or inside a cliff. It just seemed like you were indoors. Sure, it was dim, but pleasantly so, like it was evening. It was also warm, which you were glad for. You readjusted your hold on Jungwoo, pressing your hand against his chest for some stability, the right side of his chest, desperately hoping that maybe you could feel his heartbeat finally. You couldn’t.

Dejun didn’t request to take Jungwoo back from you though his hands hovered around you uncertainly, as if he were about to. You weren’t sure if you would’ve let him this time. Instead, he simply led the way through the sprawling home you had found yourself in. You didn’t pay attention much to your surroundings, only enough to make sure you weren’t going to trip while you carried Jungwoo. Finally, you made it to a bedroom of some kind, and Kun motioned for you to put him down on the bed there.

Kun took off some of his outer layers, letting you see his face again for the first time since he found the two of you at the ship. Dejun reentered the room—you didn’t realize he had left—also no longer in his thick parka and carrying what must be a first aid kit, handing it off to Kun.

“What’s your name?” Kun asked, his eyes focused on the materials in his hands.

At first, you couldn’t talk, your throat too dry from the cold air outside. You desperately swallowed and coughed, then hoarsely said, “Y/N.”

Dejun poured you a glass of something from a jug in the corner, and you looked it over. It looked like water to you, and you remembered that Jungwoo didn’t seem put off by what water looked like on Earth. You took a tentative sip. Tasted like nothing. It soothed your raw throat a little bit, and you drank some more.

“My name’s Y/N,” you reiterated, then faltered as you looked at Jungwoo. “I’m… Jungwoo’s friend. He crashed on Earth, we were helping him get back. But then he started getting like this. You can help him, right?”

Kun gently tilted his brother’s head back and forth, the prevalent frown on his features only deepening. “Dejun, some help?”

The aide came over, and the two of them lifted Jungwoo’s shirt up over his head. You gasped when you saw some bruising on his back and side, presumably from when he hit the wall when you took off from Earth. But the two Galarii didn’t focus on that. Their attention was on his shoulders instead, having a hushed conversation between themselves.

“Is his shoulder okay?” You asked. “Is it broken or something?”

“His joint is fine,” Dejun reassured you.

“Oh, good.”

“Y/N,” he said your name quietly, eyes focused on your leg. “You’re bleeding. I think.”

You looked down at your still-numb extremities, registering for the first time that you had apparently been cut by something outside. Bright red dripped down the side of your left leg, and you held back the instinct to touch it in disbelief.

“Oh. Sorry.” You apologized, as you noticed a spot on the floor. “Uhm, do you have a band-aid?”

“Follow me, we’ll get it cleaned up and give you some new clothes.”

You looked at Jungwoo anxiously, where Kun was still tending to him. “I’m fine.”

“He’ll still be here, Y/N,” Kun promised. “I’m sure my brother would want us to take care of his friend too.”

Reluctantly, you went with Dejun into an adjoining room. After getting your cut washed out and a bandage applied, he fetched you some warmer clothes.

“Thanks, Dejun.” You wrapped your arms around yourself. “Can I go back?”

“Sure. I’ll bring you some food.”

Stepping back into the room, you saw Kun cleaning up Jungwoo’s face and chest where his blood had begun drying.

“Can I help?” You offered tentatively.

Kun waved you over. “His head keeps lolling around. Can you keep him still?”

“Of course.” You sat on the corner of the bed, gently rearranging Jungwoo to cradle the back of his head with both your hands in your lap. Brushing some of his hair from his face, you took comfort in watching the shallow but steady rise and fall of his chest. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“His iridophores don’t look right.” You stated, able to see the reflective patches on his cheeks and shoulders from this angle. “That’s what you’re worried about, right?”

Kun nodded. “Yes.”

“They’re… dull.” You kept your hands where they were. The realization did nothing to soothe you. “What does that mean?”

“I can’t say.”

“What can it mean?” You asked insistently, eye boring holes into the top of Kun’s head as he was bent over focusing rather intently on one spot. “On Earth, one symptom can mean a lot of things. What can dull iridophores be a symptom of?”

“We won’t know anything until he wakes up,” Kun reiterated, soaking and wringing out the washcloth one final time. His eyes met yours, his own iridophores glinting in the lights. “Please, I don’t want to speculate before then.”

“Fine. Okay,” you relented for now.

The Galarii’s gaze fell to the pendant around your neck. “That’s Jungwoo’s transcoder.”

You looked down at it as well. “Yeah. I figured I needed it more than him right now. You know, considering…”

“Has he explained to you how it works?”

“Telepathy. Which he told me is apparently very scientific to you all, and definitely not witchcraft,” you snorted.

Dejun entered, a plate of food in his hand. Kun nodded towards it for you. “Eat.”

You sighed, pressing your hand to Jungwoo’s cheek once more. He wasn’t ice cold anymore, but still felt clammy to the touch. Maneuvering his head back to the pillow, you moved over to the table where Dejun had set the food for you. It all seemed food-like, and if your attention wasn’t so focused on your spaceman, you were sure you would be much more enthralled by eating alien food right now. But you could barely even taste it as you wolfed down a few bites, then a few more when Kun was still carefully watching you. When he seemed satisfied that you were fed, you pushed the plate away.

“Full,” you mumbled. “Thank you.”

Dejun and Kun exchanged a look, but didn’t say anything.

“Do you know when he’ll wake up?” You asked. “Don’t you guys have like, doctors or something? Healers? I don’t know, any sort of healthcare?”

“His iridophores… doctors can’t help with that,” Kun explained, obviously choosing his words very carefully. “We have to see if Jungwoo will pull through on his own.”

“That’s it?!” You spat back, wide-eyed. Maybe your tone was a bit harsh, but you couldn’t believe that they apparently didn’t even need a real doctor to examine him to give a diagnosis like that.

“Y/N—”

“But he’s—He was fine just a few days ago…” You stared at him in disbelief. “We got ice cream…”

“I’ll have Dejun make a room up for you, Y/N,” Kun said, gently patting your shoulder as they moved towards the exit.

“Kun.” You grabbed his arm before he got too far. He turned around to look at you inquisitively. “I’m sorry. He’s your brother, this must be painful for you too. Really, I’m so sorry.”

He offered a melancholy smile, nodding. “Thank you.”

You couldn’t sleep that night, kept up thinking about Jungwoo. Finally, after too much restless tossing and turning, you got out of bed. Wandering down the halls of whatever cave house you were in, you turned your phone on. Of course you didn’t have service inside a cliff in another galaxy. Coming to a stop in some sort of open living space, you sat down onto something that you were going to call a loveseat, which overlooked a small pool of water that seemed to glow on its own. You stared at your zero bars, thought about Jungwoo dying, being on a planet in a galaxy far away from your friends and family, and for possibly the first time in your entire life, felt so lonely you could cry.

Pulling your knees to your chest, you buried your face in them, feeling so small and wanting nothing more than someone bigger than you to come in and make everything okay again. You dialed Johnny’s contact on your phone, just to hear the dial tone as the call didn’t connect, then dropped and hung up on its own.

You got the feeling that somebody else was there, and turned around towards the entrance. It was Kun, and he ducked his head sheepishly.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” He surmised.

“No.” You scooted to one end of the seat, offering up the empty space for him to join you.

“I can alter your device, to communicate with Earth,” he offered, gesturing to your phone, the screen of which was still lit up in your hand.

“You think so?” You asked hopefully.

“Yes. It will keep my mind busy, too.”

You placed it in his waiting palm. “Thank you!”

He looked at the glowing pond in front of the two of you. “Do you have places like this on Earth?”

“Kind of?” You said. “I think? Maybe? Is it some kind of uh, bioluminescence? Some bacteria or something that glow?”

Kun smiled. “Yes, exactly.”

“Cool. Funny, we have pink oceans too. Like, our whole ocean isn’t pink, but there’s small lakes and stuff that are pink like yours.”

“What color are your oceans, then?” He tilted his head curiously.

“Blue, like our sky,” you informed him with a grin. “Or, sometimes a greenish blue.”

“A blue sky…” He muttered, clearly trying to picture that. “I’m sure that fascinated Jungwoo.”

“Hey.” You looked at him inquisitively. “Is it really true that you don’t know who’s older?”

Kun chuckled. “It’s different on Earth, then?”

“Very.”

“Yes, Galarii children aren’t raised being called the older or younger child. Most families have their children very close together, so unless you remember your sibling being born, you typically won’t know which of you is older.”

“And school isn’t organized by age either.”

“No.”

“Huh.”

“Do you have a sibling?”

“An older brother, kind of,” you said fondly. “That’s who I was trying to call.”

Kun furrowed his brow. “He’s ‘kind of’ older, or ‘kind of’ your brother?”

“‘Kind of’ my brother.” You laughed. “Definitely older. We know that on Earth. And even if we didn’t, he remembers me being born, so…”

“Ah, you’ve known him for a while?”

“Friends for my whole life, yeah. He always knows what to do. Which is usually pretty annoying, but this time, I really need that.”

The Galarii with you nodded in understanding. “I don’t know everything, but I will do my best to let you speak with him.”

Kun rose to his feet.

“Kun.” You stopped him from leaving. “When humans are in comas, people say that they can still hear you. Is Jungwoo like that right now?”

“I think it will benefit him for you to spend time with him,” he agreed. “I’ll bring you your communicator once it’s ready. You should try to sleep tonight, Y/N.”

You offered him a smile. “Thank you, Kun. For everything.”

“Thank you for bringing him home.”

When you woke up, you couldn’t be sure if it was morning, but it was definitely brighter in the hallway outside your room. You were sure they had the lights set to mimic whatever the rhythm of Galarian days were like.

Jungwoo looked the same as when you left him yesterday, which was both comforting and disconcerting. He hadn’t gotten any worse overnight, but he wasn’t getting better. You pulled up a chair next to the bed, wringing your hands over your lap.

Feeling a little silly as you looked around the otherwise empty room, you said quietly, “Uh, hey, Jungwoo…”

He didn’t stir, and you poked your tongue against the inside of your cheek as you contemplated continuing. Eventually, you did. “I don’t… know what to say. My grandpa died when I was seven and when my mom took me to his headstone after, I never knew what I was supposed to say to it. Not that you’re dead, obviously… I-I was kind of relieved when I got older and my mom stopped taking me with her to visit him. I think that’s bad. But it felt like I always had to pretend to be as sad as her, which didn’t feel right to her.”

You readjusted how the covers settled on Jungwoo. “I wish you were awake, so I could ask you what sort of funeral traditions you have on Galaria, or if your grandparents are alive, or about your mom. I guess I could ask Kun that kind of stuff, but it wouldn’t be the same. I-I want to know about you.”

Time passed like that, you having a one-sided conversation with Jungwoo. Dejun sometimes stopped in to bring you meals and check on Jungwoo. After your second meal of the day, Kun entered the room, holding your phone out towards you. It looked the exact same as before, and you went to pocket it.

“It’s fine, Kun, don’t worry about—”

“Try it,” he urged you.

“Wait, you fixed it?” You took it back out, looking down at the screen. It looked normal, except you realized that that now it indicated that you had full bars. Honestly, you were expecting some kind of alien technology to be appended to it, and for the endeavor to take much longer. “That was fast.”

You once again tried to call Johnny, entirely unsure and uncaring of what time it was on Earth. This time, it rang.

“Y/N?!” His voice was a mixture of disbelief and fear when he picked up. You gave Kun a thumbs-up and darted from the room to properly take the call.

“Hey, Johnny…” You were already braced for the scolding of a lifetime, certain that he was well aware of where you were. Somehow, he always knew. Who knew how long you have been gone from home at this point.

“Y/N…” He took a deep breath. “Just come home safe.”

“I will, I will!” You promised hurriedly.

“I sprinkled into conversation with your parents your destination bachelorette trip already. So when you get back, you’ve got to figure out which one of your friends is getting married.”

Not if, when.

“Thank you, thank you.”

“Put Jungwoo on, I need to talk to him,” he demanded sternly.

Your throat nearly closed up as you thought of the scene you had just left, Jungwoo still passed out, his iridophores fading, untreatable even by Galarii doctors. “I can’t, he’s-he’s really bad. I don’t know what—I don’t know.”

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. Deep breaths with me now, alright, kid?” Johnny’s tone immediately softened, and he led you through a few deep breaths over the call. Once he seemed satisfied that you were a little calmer, he continued with the same soothing voice, “He’ll be alright. He’s back where he belongs, where people who know how to treat him can treat him. He’ll be fine.”

Tears spilled over your cheeks as you shook your head desperately. “They can’t, John. They can’t treat him. He’s—He’ll either get better or he won’t.”

“What?!” He asked incredulously. “He’s not a lame horse that needs to be put down. Who told you that? Put them on the phone.”

“I—” You sniffed and wiped your eyes. “Why do you care so much?”

Johnny sighed again, lowering his voice. “Look. You are stranded God fucking knows where. And as far as I’m concerned, Jungwoo is the only alien there that is going to want to get you home. So he can’t fucking die.”

You shuffled back into the room, thankfully spotting Kun still in there. “Do you have a transcoder?”

“Yes, is there something wrong with yours? I can understand you just fine.”

“No, uhm, Johnny wants to talk to you.” You indicated to your phone.

Kun raised his eyebrows, gesturing to himself. “Your brother wishes to speak with me?”

“Yeah. He’s a… doctor,” you half-fibbed. “He helped take care of Jungwoo when he crashed before. He wants to know how he’s doing. Will it work over the phone? The transcoder?”

Kun gestured for you to wait, then left the room for a moment, returning with a necklace similar to yours around his neck. The pendant was of a similar construction, but a slightly different shape and angles.

You quickly informed Johnny, “Okay, uhm, this is Kun, Jungwoo’s brother.”

The Galarii accepted the phone, and you helped him hold it correctly before he stepped out to take the call like you had. You kept your ears peeled for the worst, hoping Johnny stayed on his best behavior.

“Jungwoo, I hate this,” you kept talking to your spaceman in the meantime. “I hate not being able to do anything for you. I hate just having to wait, feeling useless.”

After some time, you heard footsteps outside the room, and quieted down before Kun reentered, holding your phone out to you.

“So… what did you guys talk about?” You asked hopefully.

“There may be one more thing we can try for Jungwoo,” Kun said, and you immediately got to your feet.

“Well let’s do it!”

He held out a hand to calm you. “It’ll have to wait until nighttime, I’m afraid.”

“What? What is—?”

“In the meantime, Johnny did mention that human bodies don’t naturally make the same painkillers that Galarii do. I apologize for not being aware of that.” Kun bowed his head apologetically. “Are you in any pain?”

“It’s fine.”

“He said you would do that as well, and to ask again. Are you certain you are not in pain? You cut your leg yesterday.”

You sighed, refraining from rolling your eyes at the man who really was just trying to be kind. “Fine. My head hurts a little, and my leg. And sort of everything.”

“Come with me, I can prepare you an injection. Johnny explained proper dosage and administration for humans.”

Reluctantly, you left and followed Kun to another room in the house. It appeared to be another bedroom, and he gestured for you to take a seat at a small desk. Papers were in neat stacks, and you looked around with both interest and eagerness to get this over with so you could get back to Jungwoo.

“Is this your room?” You asked as Kun pulled up a chair and opened a first aid kit of some kind.

“Yes.”

“Is that Jungwoo’s room that you have him in?” You watched him roll up your sleeve to wipe down your arm first. “Does he live with you?”

“When he’s on Galaria, yes.” Kun then brought out a small, clear bottle and syringe that looked remarkably like the ones back on Earth. “His ship is more-so his home.”

“His actual ship, right? The one he took this time was yours.”

The Galarii filled the syringe with a very small amount of medicine. “Yes. He doesn’t spend enough time here to necessitate having his own place.”

“So did you finish your paperwork?”

He nodded to the stacks on the desk next to you. “Does it look like I did?”

You laughed, and he reached for your upper arm. “Just let me know when you’re going to do it. My friend Yuta wanted to be a piercer in high school before he was a mechanic, so I have a lot of practice being stuck.”

“I already did it,” Kun informed you, holding a small piece of gauze to the site.

You looked down in disbelief. “Seriously?” And sure enough, there was an empty syringe on the table too. “Damn, I didn’t feel a thing. You’re good.”

Kun took the gauze off the injection site, a small drop of red blood on it. “You know, has anybody ever said that is a very alarming color?”

“I think that’s the point,” you chuckled. “To get your attention.”

“I see…”

“So what’s the other thing to help Jungwoo?”

“I have some work to get done before it.” He gestured to the papers again with a remorseful look. “How about you sit with him for now? I’ll let you know once we can get started.”

You bit your tongue to not take your frustration at the situation out on your host. “Alright. Thanks, Kun.”

Back in Jungwoo’s room, you froze when you were greeted by two big brown eyes blinking at you from the bed. Jungwoo seemed equally in shock as he rubbed his eyes, squinting at you uncertainly.

“Hey, you’re awake,” you breathed out in relief, feet finally coming unstuck so you could dart over to his bedside.

“Y/N?” He groaned and tried to push himself up into a sitting position.

“Easy, easy,” you murmured, urging him back down.

“That’s… really you?”

You offered him a smile, hoping he couldn’t tell how nervous you were. “Yeah. Crazy déjà vu, huh?”

Jungwoo looked down at his own hands. “I’m alive?”

“Yeah, you are. It was uhm… kind of scary for a while there,” you admitted quietly, taking his hand. Putting some pep into your tone, you added, “But I told you, remember? I said you weren’t going to die.”

“I thought I was hallucinating and dying,” he deadpanned.

“When? On the ship? You could’ve been, I don’t know. What did you see?”

“You. I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you.”

“Oh. No, I’m real.”

His mouth was set into a hard line as he asked, “Why are you here?”

“Because your ship’s autopilot worked and didn’t crash us into the ocean,” you teased.

But he didn’t even smile. “What…? Why would you do that?”

The smile dropped from your face as you turned confused. “Because I didn’t want you to die? Why are you… pissed at me? Is that it? You’re pissed?”

All the happiness that was bubbling in your chest had been soured with the unexpectedly hostile reaction you’d received from Jungwoo.

“You’ve never been in space— I—” He took a deep breath, once again trying to push himself up and succeeding this time as you didn’t stop him. You dropped his hand, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched him carefully, still concerned with how weak he’d be after not eating or drinking for so long. “What if the ship had crashed? Exploded? What if it flew at speeds unsafe for humans? What if my ship didn’t protect you against radiation deadly to humans because it was built for Galarii? What if Galarii had much longer lifespans than humans and something that was a short trip for me was longer than your entire life? What if we made it here and you couldn’t breathe our air? What if—”

“None of that happened,” you insisted.

“There were any billions of things that could have gone wrong, that you didn’t know and you—”

“They didn’t,” you reiterated emphatically.

“What if they did? Because of a choice you made for me?”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, putting some distance between the two of you as you felt anger start simmering under your skin. “It wasn’t really a choice. It was… I don’t know, I just did it. But it was fine, so just stop, alright?”

“Why did you come with me?” Jungwoo asked knowingly.

“Why did you try to leave me like that?” You shot back.

He suddenly couldn’t look you in the eye. “I was dying, I had to get back home.”

“I know, I was trying to help you get back home,” you scoffed. “I mean, why did you trick me into going to ask Yuta for a part that you already had, so that you could leave me without saying goodbye? I was ready to let you go, Jungwoo—”

“Because hearing you say that would’ve actually killed me!” His chest heaved after his outburst, his eyes were a watery red as he continued, “And you… that would’ve hurt you. And I couldn’t stick around just to selfishly enjoy another moment of your time if it meant doing that to you. I figured the confusion wouldn’t have been as bad as watching me die.”

The two of you stared at each other for several tense, choking seconds as his words hung in the air. You clenched your jaw, chewing on your next words, ruminating on them, before you swallowed them back down, sharp and bitter.

“I need to take a walk, because if I stay in here, I’m going to say something nasty that I don’t mean,” you spat out instead.

Kun found you by the bioluminescent pond again, a normal-looking water feature by day. You were crouched by the water’s edge, listlessly watching the water lap at the cold stone floor you were sitting on.

“Jungwoo’s awake,” Kun said, standing just behind and to your right side.

“Yeah.” You swallowed. “You heard us fighting, I’m guessing.”

“I didn’t hear what was said, only his voice. The only way I could get him to stay in bed was by promising that I would check on you.”

“Jungwoo’s been out for a while, he should get something to eat, and drink—”

“Dejun is getting him food and water now.”

“Good,” you croaked, wiping at a tear that had collected at the corner of your eye. “God damn it…”

Kun sat down beside you. “You’re more than his friend, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I guess. I don’t know.” You picked at your fingernails to avoid looking at him. “He… you know…”

“Imprinted? On you?” The Galarii’s voice betrayed his awe.

“Yeah. I know it’s a big deal, like the big deal for you guys… but I don’t do that, so…”

“It’s been awkward.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“Do you have a… partner on your planet?” He asked sympathetically.

“Oh, no, it’s not that bad, thankfully,” you sniffled and laughed. “It’s not that I don’t like Jungwoo, or that I can’t see myself, you know… falling in love with him or whatever. It just feels like I’m at Point A and he’s already at Point X waiting for me to catch up. Like there’s this huge gap.”

“He’s not in love with you, if that helps,” Kun informed you.

You stared at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Ah, exactly what I thought. Jungwoo didn’t explain imprinting very well.” Kun nodded to himself. “It’s not… instant infatuation, or love, or anything like that. You’re aware, in the back of your mind, that theoretically anybody in the universe could be the person you spend the rest of your life with, right? There may be near infinite numbers of people that you could be attracted to? Hypothetically?”

“I haven’t really thought of it like that, but I guess, yeah.” Without Donghyuck here unhelpfully joking about eggs, you found the conversation much easier to process. Or maybe you were just becoming desensitized to the idea, you couldn’t tell.

“Jungwoo doesn’t feel that endlessness anymore. His infinity is just you now. He’s not in love with you, because he doesn’t know you very well, but he knows that the only person he could ever fall in love with for the rest of his life is you.”

“So I’m at Point A and he’s at like, Point G, not Point X.”

“If your analogy is translating correctly, yes.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, mind turning over one part of his explanation. “‘Could.’ You used the word could, unless the transcoder is being liberal with nuance here.”

“Well, yes. I don’t think this is getting muddied in translation. It’s not definite that he’s going to fall in love with you.” He tilted his head. “I think that’s what is making you anxious, right? Feeling as though you have no choice, something has already plotted your life for you?”

You nodded. “Yeah… I think it brings some people peace, doesn’t it? On my planet, a lot of people have a god of some kind that they think has a divine plan for them and their life. That… freaks me the fuck out.” You let out a breathy, nervous chuckle, wringing your hands. “I’ve never liked feeling trapped.”

“You could leave the planet. If Jungwoo knew it was your choice to leave him, I don’t think he would follow you. He would let you go,” Kun offered. “We have more ships. I would go with you, personally guarantee your safety.”

“Do Galarii have religion?” You avoided answering his question, the intensity of his gaze, looking up at whatever was creating false light in the cavern, unable to pinpoint its exact origin past the hazy glow above you. “Jungwoo never mentioned any sort of religious figure, or prayed or anything when he was injured… That’s kind of when humans would’ve. Prayed for their God to give them strength.”

He took your conversation shift in stride, “We have enduring superstitions, traditions, but no sort of organized religion, no.”

“So this imprinting, it’s not any sort of divine plan, or divine will? To you all? It just… is?”

“One of the superstitions we do have is that of the finder’s intuition.”

“What’s that?”

“If you’ve found something, whether you realize it or not, you found it for a reason.”

“Jungwoo said something kind of like that about imprinting,” you recalled. “He said that humans choose their partners, but Galarii find them.”

“Yes. So for him to have been in that ship in the first place, which was not his, so far from home, and crashed due to circumstances outside of his control, on your planet, only to meet you, and it just happens that he imprints on you…”

“I found him.” You let out a choked laugh, covering your face at the insanity of it all. Of course Jungwoo had no reason to doubt why he had imprinted on you. You practically told him it was meant to be without even realizing it.

“I’m sorry?” Kun obviously had no context as for why you were laughing.

“I found his ship after he crashed and pulled him out of it. I found him,” you were still laughing as you explained, wiping at a stray tear that eked out. You didn’t know if it was from humor or misery at this point. “I literally told him ‘finders keepers’ talking about why he was staying at my apartment.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Oh…”

“Why was Jungwoo… so bad? When I brought him back?” You still needed some kind of answer. “You made it sound like you weren’t going to be able to help him at all.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“No.” You answered immediately. It was the same thing that made you get into his ship when it was taking off. Not imprinting, and not love… yet.

“I thought he was dying of a failed imprint,” Kun answered without hesitation.

“He can die from that?! And you were going to just let me leave?! Not just that, personally escort me out of the galaxy?! He’s your brother!” You shot to your feet, once again in utter disbelief at the conversation you were having.

“I never believed that you wanted to leave,” Kun replied simply. “I understand this is not entirely fair to you. But I do believe that you should understand the gravity of your situation. Again, he seems to be fine now.”

You ran a hand through your hair. “I mean—What the hell?! If we were to even like, be together in the future, if we had a fight he could die?! That’s fucking crazy!”

“No,” he reassured you. “The initial phases of an imprint are the rockiest. If it doesn’t take, a Galarii can die.”

“What causes it to… not… take?”

“Emotional turmoil, physical distance from the person they imprinted on, stress, any number of things.”

“But he’s fine now? You said he’s fine now?” You double-checked.

“Yes.”

“So it… took?”

“I believe so.”

“Okay, good.” You let out a sigh of relief.

Kun looked conflicted as he added, “I have a confession.”

You blinked at him. “…What now?”

“The injection I gave you, it wasn’t just for you,” he admitted. “I of course didn’t want you to be in pain, but for Galarii that have imprinted on non-Galarii, it’s been known for their physiology to sometimes mimic their non-Galarii partners. Johnny described to me how Jungwoo healed while on Earth and reacted differently to substances than he would have on Galaria. More human-like, from my understanding. And when he returned with a human…”

“That made you suspect that he had imprinted on me,” you finished. “But you injected me, not Jungwoo—And Jungwoo hates needles, and always knows where I am, so you thought he would’ve sensed me being in danger in his coma and woken up to protect me? Is that even how this thing works?”

“It’s not exact, what Jungwoo can sense… I doubt if I even injected you now, that he would know. Just, the feeling that something wasn’t right. An instinctual need to check on you.” Kun rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, his ears flushing red. “I wasn’t sure if he had told you, and if I was wrong about the imprint, that would’ve been—”

“A horrible situation for all of us to be in, yeah, I understand.” You stared out at the water, thinking about how the one that you were in didn’t seem much better in that moment.

“You two have both been through a lot. I’m sure you’ll come to understand each other.” The Galarii stood up. “I’m going to check on my brother. Take your time, Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Dejun found you by the water again later in the day. He was carrying a tray of food, meaning that it must be dinnertime already. You hadn’t budged from your spot after your conversation with Kun earlier, thinking way too much about everything.

“Dejun, hey.” You held your chin up with the palm of your hand, still staring out at the water. “Nobody’s looking for me, are they?”

You didn’t specify who would be looking for you.

The aide approached, handing you a plate of food. “Jungwoo asked if you’re alright.”

“I wanted to give him and Kun time alone,” you fibbed. “You know, they’re brothers, it’s been a while since they’ve seen each other.”

“Kun had state matters to attend to, he took his dinner to his room.”

“Of course, right.” You nodded. “Dejun, can I ask you something? And feel free to tell me if it’s way too personal by Galarii standards.”

He arched an eyebrow curiously, but acquiesced nevertheless. “Sure.”

“Are you… Have you… imprinted on someone?”

He smiled just the tiniest bit, and shook his head. “No, not yet.”

“Okay, thanks.”

With that, Dejun nodded his head politely and took leave of the room. You could only eat a couple bites of the food before you let out a deep sigh and stood up. You found your way back to Jungwoo’s room easily, knocking at the open doorway hesitantly. He was sitting at the table eating, and you were happy to see that he was well enough to get out of bed.

Jungwoo looked over from his food, sitting up straighter when he saw that it was you. “Y/N.”

“Hey.” You gestured to the table with your full plate of food. “Mind if I join you?”

“Of course not.” He motioned to the chair across from him hurriedly.

You sat down, studying him under the lights as he went back to eating. “You look a lot better. Your iridophores… You look better.”

“Thanks.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m sorry for getting so upset earlier. I could’ve expressed my concerns in a more… productive way.”

“You just woke up from a coma, it’s understandable you weren’t all there,” you replied graciously. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for making sure I got back safe,” he said strongly, putting a hand on your forearm. “Kun told me what he knows, and I believe I’d be dead without you. Their sensors recognized that something that wasn’t Galarii had landed on the planet without permission, so they went out to investigate and found us. We landed in a snowstorm, and I was unconscious. If you weren’t with me, not only would they not have found us at all, but I would’ve frozen to death out there.”

“I was why you were dying in the first place, though,” you pointed out. He seemed to be at a loss for words, and you added, “You should have told me, Jungwoo. Back on Earth, you should’ve told me what was going on.”

“You’re right. You kept talking about wanting me to leave with good memories of Earth, I wanted to do the same, leave you with only good memories of me.”

“If you had really left me like that, I would’ve been worried sick for the rest of my life not knowing what happened to you,” you told him harshly. “And now that I know that you apparently were doing that knowing that you were just going to die… I don’t get it. I don’t get you, and I’m really trying to.”

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. You’re not so… careless. I don’t know how I could have ever thought that.”

You took another bite of food, listening to the sounds of both your breaths in the quiet air. “Could you hear me? When you were out? I-I was talking to you, I couldn’t do anything else, and it’s supposed to help humans who are in comas, so…”

“Nothing in particular, at least not that I can remember now.” Jungwoo shook his head, but there was still a pleased smile on his face. “But I don’t doubt that having you nearby helped.”

“So you also don’t know why you woke up?” You asked tepidly. “It wasn’t a… choice somehow?”

“I remember being on the ship on Earth with you, and then I woke up here. Everything in between… I don’t recall.”

“That’s okay.” You both had finished your meals, and you stood up from the table. “I should let you rest some more.”

Jungwoo surprisingly agreed to this, the exhaustion visible in his features. “I wish we could talk more…”

“Tomorrow,” you promised, offering your hand out for him to take. “We can eat breakfast together again.”

He stood up on shaky feet, and you shuffled back over to the bed with him, helping him back under the covers.

“Could you sit with me? Until I go to sleep?” He requested, gently grasping your hand.

“Of course.” You sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing a few stray pieces of hair out of his eyes.

“Your hands are even colder on Galaria, I think,” he commented, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Well shit, maybe it’s the frozen tundra outside,” you retorted.

“I… don’t mind…” he hummed, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Sleep well, Jungwoo,” you murmured, stroking your thumb over the back of his hand.

You ate breakfast with Jungwoo as promised, happy to take part in this one little thing with him again.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, sitting with him at the table. He was already there with two places set when you entered.

“Better than yesterday, not as good as tomorrow,” he told you brightly. “How did you sleep?”

“Good, good.” You continued watching him carefully as he ate. “You really feel better?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Then do you think… do you think it took?” You pushed some food around on your plate awkwardly. “Would you even know that?”

Jungwoo set his utensil down, easing back in his chair slowly. “Yes, I think it took. How does that make you feel?”

“I’m happy you’re okay,” you answered honestly. “The rest… Like I said, I’m trying to understand you, but I just don’t get it.”

“Ask me anything you’d like. Please.”

“I mean, doesn’t it seem unfair? That I’m apparently your soulmate, but you’re not mine?”

“Unfair to who? You or me?”

You faltered. “What?”

“I do understand how this would seem unfair to you—That I know that you’re my soulmate, but you don’t have that certainty about me,” he shook his head sorrowfully. “Yes, that must be terrible.”

“No, I meant unfair to you. You’re stuck with me. You don’t get a choice. But I do, I don’t have that sort of obligation to you,” you pointed out, shifting forward in your chair. “Doesn’t that make you… anxious?”

“Ah, I get it now.” Jungwoo nodded, a thoughtful look on his face as he too sat up. “Galarii find, humans pick. I wouldn’t want to take that choice away from you. I… understand now, how important it is to you. So, if you do pick me, that’ll be the happiest day of my life. And every day after that that you wake up and pick me again, will be the new happiest day of my life.”

He held his hand out on the tabletop between the two of you, palm up, a soft smile on his face as he looked at you. Not urging, not impatient. You knew he would withdraw it if you turned away.

“You’re really…” You kept looking between him and his hand, keeping your tone curious. “Finding was good enough for you?”

“Good enough?” He chuckled, not derisively but fondly. “It was even better than I imagined.”

“You were half-dead, when I pulled you out of that ship,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Galarii find, humans pick,” you repeated. “Just like you wouldn’t want to take my choice away from me, it would be wrong to force a choice like that onto you… But isn’t inaction just as much of a decision?”

Jungwoo’s smile only grew. “If it is, it’s one that I already made. I hope you can respect that, just as I’ll respect whatever you choose to do.”

You placed your hand atop his, offering him a hesitant smile. “This is me choosing to try this out. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.” He squeezed your hand gently. “Thank you. Once I’m better I’ll take you home and take you on real dates there. I promise.”

“So Galarii date too? I thought you guys would’ve just gone straight to moving in,” you joked, taking a bite of your food.

“No. I watched movies with Taeyong and Doyoung,” he explained. “Galarii spend quality time with their mate, yes, but the concept of going on ‘dates’ like humans to figure out if you’re compatible… we don’t have anything quite like that.”

“Of course those two took you to some sappy romantic movies,” you snickered. “I don’t need any big romantic public gestures, Jungwoo. Falling out of the sky and almost dying twice was plenty, I swear.”

“Your friends all said something similar.”

“They were giving you tips on how to flirt with me?”

“Yes. It seemed they were aware that I cared for you in some way…”

You burst out laughing, covering your face in embarrassment. “Oh God, I’m so sorry about them. Forget everything they said, whatever it was.”

“So, carnations aren’t your favorite flower?”

“Hold on, that’s real advice, who told you that?”

“Taeyong.”

“Okay, you can trust whatever Taeyong told you, and probably Doyoung, and maybe Jaehyun,” you counted them off on your fingers. “But forget everything that anybody else told you.”

“I will,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Some of it didn’t seem like very sound advice anyway.”

A couple days later, and Jungwoo was well enough to leave his room finally. The two of you walked around the house arm in arm, chatting about this or that.

“This is the longest I’ve been on Galaria in quite some time,” he mused.

“Kun said that you don’t stay for very long, so you don’t have your own place,” you said. “Don’t you get lonely? Not being around your friends or family?”

“Have you seen either of us have any visitors while you’ve been here? Aside from Dejun?”

“Well, no.”

“We don’t see other Galarii much during snow season,” he explained. “It’s less lonely out doing runs, actually. Interacting with customers, going to markets, busy cities… crash-landing on planets and being pulled from the wreckage by a beautiful human and her friends.”

“Smooth,” you giggled, bumping your shoulder into his as he smiled down at you. “But seriously, you guys don’t have tunnels connecting your homes or something?”

“Galaria’s crust is very thin compared to other rocky planets. We wouldn’t have the depth to build an elaborate system like that. At least not a very efficient one. Any transport that happens needs to be on the surface.”

“How do you all communicate during snow season then? Do you have phones too?”

“We have similar communication devices, yes.”

“How long is snow season?”

“Approximately half a Galarian year.”

You looked up at him curiously. “So what do you call the other half of the year, then?”

“We have two more seasons: Snowmelt, and newgreen.”

“I think I can guess what happens in each of those…” You joked.

“Do tell.”

“I think the snow melts, and then new green stuff grows.”

He chuckled fondly. “That’s the basics, yes.”

“But do you not have something between newgreen and snow season? Like a-a fall of some kind?” You were having a hard time wrapping your head around it. “We have four seasons for the most part: Spring, everything grows, kind of like newgreen I think; then in summer, it gets hotter but pretty much everything stays alive; then in fall it starts getter colder and things start dying off; then we have winter, and everything is dead or hibernating. Then it’s spring again and everything starts all over.”

Jungwoo listened with interest to your explanation before answering. “Snow season comes very rapidly each year. All the plants freeze at once in the first blizzard. There’s no time for a gradual decay like you’ve described.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you able to predict when the first blizzard is? Do you have like, meteorologists or something?”

“Yes, we’re able to narrow it down rather precisely and prepare.”

“And do most Galarii live alone like Kun?” You asked quietly. “I feel like if I was going to be stuck underground for half the year, unable to visit anybody, I might live with more than just one or two people.”

Jungwoo put a finger over his mouth, then nodded towards his room that the two of you had unwittingly looped back around to. He shut the door behind you, and you sat at the table together before he continued with your conversation, “Do you remember how I said my brother is controversial, not for any policies, but for something in his personal life?”

It felt like a lifetime ago, the first conversation you ever had. You nodded. “Yes.”

“Kun is very dedicated to his job.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“He doesn’t take many breaks, or attend social functions that are not required by his job, or, as you’ve pointed out, live with anybody except his aide and me, sometimes. Galarii typically do live in larger social centers during snow season. There’re no tunnels connecting these niches to each other, like I said before, but some can fit up to twenty or thirty people.”

“And you, Kun, and Dejun just have your own house,” you reiterated. “How would that make him so controversial that somebody would want to kill him?”

“Some Galarii see him as isolationist. Refusing to allow opportunities to find things. They believe it reflects poorly on his ability to lead.”

Your face screwed up with confusion. “But if you’re looking to find something, that’s no longer serendipity, that’s choice. That’s action. I thought the whole point was the inaction. Of you finding something when you weren’t looking?”

“Galarii have different interpretations of finder’s intuition, and what it means to ‘find’ something,” he sighed. “It’s a very small minority that see this as a flaw of his, but those that do feel very strongly about it.”

“Strong enough to try to kill him?” You felt like you were losing your mind trying to comprehend this.

“Apparently.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before giving up. “You know what? Humans have definitely killed for much less; I don’t have any ground to stand on here.”

“That reminds me—I believe I’ll be well enough to take you home in two more days. I’m excited to show you my ship.”

“Really?” You focused him with a doubtful gaze. “I don’t want you pushing yourself for my sake, Jungwoo. I can wait.”

“Thank you. I assure you I’m being sincere. If I’m not at my best, that can pose a hazard to your safety.”

You sighed and put your head on his shoulder. “While I wish the reasons were a little more concerned for your wellbeing too, I appreciate the honesty.”

Jungwoo gently rested his head against yours. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Wanting me to live,” he said softly. “When you found me on Earth, when you brought me back to Galaria… Thank you.”

You picked your head back up to look at him incredulously. “What? Why would I want anything else? Why would I want you to die?”

“It’s very rare for Galarii to imprint on other species. And those who do, there haven’t been very many that take…”

“They died?”

“Yes.” He looked down at his hands, fidgeting with the material over his lap. “It’s even a common subject of Galarian stories. It’s… tragically romantic, to die so your mate can be happy with whoever they’re really in love with.”

You could feel the deep frown on your face as you listened to this. “But those are just stories. Characters live or die to explore narrative themes and emotions and societal concepts, not to be an example for real life.”

Jungwoo chuckled lightly, tracing a fingertip over one of the lines on your forehead, encouraging you to relax your face again. “That’s why I’m thanking you. You chose a different fate for me than the one I had accepted.”

“What did I say before, hm? Finders keepers,” you declared, grabbing his other hand. “You’re not going to die as long as I have something to say about it.”

“Immortality here I come,” he joked, caressing your cheek with the back of his fingers, then even lower, your jawline, your neck, until he picked up the transcoder from where it rested on your chest. He stared at it in wonder, as if it wasn’t his own piece of technology.

“You don’t mind, right?” You looked down at the pendant as well. “That I took your transcoder? I figured it would be easier for me to wear one than expect everyone else to…”

“No, of course not.” He dropped the jewelry again. “I’m just… very happy that it works for you.”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“They have to be specially made for the Galarii who is going to wear it. Galarii can’t borrow each other’s transcoders.”

“Does it have something to do with the telepathy?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’ve never seen someone be able to wear someone else’s transcoder successfully.”

“Not even Galarii that imprint on each other?” You asked curiously, habitually gracing your own fingertips over the device.

“No, not even then.”

“Maybe it’s a human thing.”

“Maybe,” Jungwoo hummed noncommittally.

Two Galarian days later, and you and Jungwoo were ready to go back to Earth.

“Thank you so much, Kun,” you hugged your host goodbye. “Please stay safe.”

He looked confused as he released you from the hug. “Aren’t I supposed to be telling you that?”

You patted his arm. “I mean it.”

“Very well,” he relented with a smile. “Thank you, and the same for you.”

After you and Dejun had exchanged your goodbyes, you saw that Kun and Jungwoo were still embracing, and stood off to the side to wait patiently. Kun seemed to be half-hugging and half-lecturing Jungwoo, cuffing him by the ear to pull him down to his height as he spoke on and on seriously, and Jungwoo nodded or gave a joking whine every so often.

“Kun’s older,” you leaned over to whisper to Dejun.

“You’re guessing?” The aide whispered back.

“You can call it a hunch, yeah.”

Finally, Kun let Jungwoo go, and he straightened up, fixing his clothes with the help of his brother. You and Jungwoo didn’t have very much in terms of luggage to take—Jungwoo kept his personal belongings on his ship, and you came with nothing but your clothes and your phone. Kun and Dejun had given you more appropriate outer layers for the tundra outside, as well as food and supplies for the flight back to Earth, but really your only souvenir was your now extraterrestrially-modified cellphone.

“Ready?” Jungwoo asked you, carrying the small knapsack of supplies on his back.

You pulled your goggles down over your face and gave him the best thumbs-up you could with the thick gloves you had on. “Ready!”

You caught just a glimpse of his eyes crinkling with a smile before he too put his goggles on. Jungwoo clasped your hand as Dejun reached out towards the smooth face of the front door. This time you were able to properly see as he touched his necklace to a small panel that reminded you of the buttons on their spaceships, and a small yellow glow emanated from where they connected. Then, the door slid aside, into the cavern wall. You and Jungwoo stepped out together, the door shutting silently behind you.

Keeping a tight hold to Jungwoo’s hand and arm, you followed him through the snow that had continued building up. There was none actively falling now, giving you a much clearer view of the lilac expanse above. Despite the sameness of the landscape, Jungwoo seemed to know exactly where he was going. You didn’t realize you had arrived anywhere specific until Jungwoo suddenly stopped at one specific hill, brushing aside some snow on a post. You couldn’t read the writing on it, but he seemed satisfied, pulling it down. A small hatch opened in the snow in front of you, and he quickly ushered you over to it. Gesturing for you to wait a moment, he dropped the pack down first, then climbed down after it. From the bottom, he waved you down. You slowly started lowering yourself down as well, Jungwoo waiting right there for you.

Buried under who knows how much snow, your eyes had to acclimate to the darkness again. You had found yourself in the rear of Jungwoo’s ship, and he closed the hatch back up after you before pulling you towards the cockpit at the front. It was a two-seater like the one that he had borrowed from Kun, but you could immediately tell there was a lot more of a personal touch to this one. It was sleeker, the controls looking newer than the other, and you saw the occasional knickknack, notepad, or even piece of clothing strewn about the cockpit. He moved a jacket that had been hanging off the co-pilot seat then gestured to it for you.

You sat down as Jungwoo started preparing the ship for takeoff, still thinking about the mounds of snow atop you. Taking your goggles and mask off like he had, you asked, “What about all the snow?”

“The energy generated from the ship’s reactors melts it by the time we take off,” he explained, continuing to flip switches and push buttons.

“Wow.” You watched him work with a practiced ease and focus.

Finally, he turned back around to you, leaning in close as he dug around in the seat for your seatbelt. He grinned as he buckled it up and tightened it for you. “Can’t forget—Precious cargo.”

You just shook your head and smiled as he laughed and sat in his own seat. After getting himself situated, you two were ready for takeoff.

Jungwoo looked over at you, offering his hand out to you. “Ready?”

You grabbed it, squeezing it tightly as you nodded. “Ready.”

“Let’s go!” He cheered, joyfully slamming his hand down on a button. A countdown started on the monitors and from the speakers, and this time you could understand the announcement. It counted down from 10, and on 1, the reactors changed from a thrum to a full-on blast, and like when you took off from Earth, the ground lurched out from under you again. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when you left Galaria, though, only when the reactors cooled back down to a hum.

You looked back over to Jungwoo expectantly. He unbuckled himself, a bright grin on his face. “We’re out of Galarian space.”

“Cool,” you breathed out, looking around the ship with wide eyes.

The Galarii started unbuckling you as well, pulling you to your feet. “Come on, I’ve got to show you around my ship!”

Maybe it was because you were in a different ship, maybe it was because you were no longer fearing for Jungwoo’s life, you couldn’t be sure, but the trip back to Earth felt a lot shorter than the trip to Galaria. This time, you directed Jungwoo to land on Johnny’s family farm just outside the city. Johnny’s parents were older and no longer kept livestock in one of the barns on the property, making it the perfect place to hide Jungwoo’s ship while it was there.

It was nighttime when you arrived, and Jungwoo effortlessly landed in the far-off field that you had been to many times when visiting Johnny’s grandparents growing up. He maneuvered into the open barn, and you were buzzing with excitement as he powered down the ship.

This time, he let you exit the hatch first, and you looked around eagerly, immediately spotting your two friends by the now-closed doors. You waved to Johnny and Jaehyun, sliding off the side of the ship to land easily on both feet.

“Johnny!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around him first.

“Y/N, oh my God,” Johnny breathed out, crushing you to him so tightly the air was knocked from your lungs. “God damn it, kid, don’t do that again. Okay?”

“Okay, okay,” you coughed out your agreement, rubbing his back reassuringly.

“You’re late, you know that?” He continued scolding you even as he cradled the back of your head. “You said five days, we’ve been waiting here for two more days. I tried to call.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I tried to guess as best I could. The days must be more different than I thought,” you mumbled into his shirt. “My phone died when we were coming back. I’m sorry for worrying you. Thank you for waiting, John. Thank you.”

When he finally let you go, you were grabbed in a bear hug by Jaehyun. “I’m glad you’re okay, Y/N. We both are.”

“Thanks, Jae,” you let out a sigh of relief at being able to breathe a little better. “I missed you guys.”

“How are you doing, Jungwoo?” Jaehyun turned to the Galarii next. “Johnny said it sounded pretty bad, but you’re looking alright to me.”

Jungwoo nodded, the transcoder now dangling from his neck. “I’m healed now. Thank you, Jaehyun.”

“Good to hear, dude.” Jaehyun hugged him too. “Good to hear.”

“Thanks, Jungwoo.” Johnny offered his hand out for Jungwoo to shake. “I’m glad you pulled through. Really.”

“What did you tell your parents?” You asked Johnny nervously. “About the barn?”

“I said one of my friends was going to keep a boat here for a few days. Their knees aren’t good enough to come all the way out here, they won’t come looking.” He then looked at you pointedly, “You should make an appearance, Y/N. While you’re here.”

“Are they up now?”

He looked at his watch. “Yeah. Your parents are actually over right now.”

You grimaced. “Really?”

“Really.”

“So I get back from my destination bachelorette trip that I didn’t bother telling them about and have enough time to help move a boat into storage but not see my parents—Daughter of the year,” you muttered regretfully.

“You did this to yourself, kid.” Johnny patted you on the head.

“I know, I know.”

Entering the Suhs’ living room where your parents were playing a game of cards, you went around to give everyone hellos, your parents first, then Johnny’s. Jungwoo was introduced as a friend of Johnny and Jaehyun’s, and lingered in the darkness by the doorway. Jaehyun had provided him a ballcap to help hide his iridophores in the shadows as much as he could as you tried to keep your conversations with your families short and quaint.

“When did you get back, Y/N?” Your mom asked.

“Earlier today—It’s been crazy, sorry I didn’t text you, Mom,” you immediately apologized, kissing her head quickly.

“We picked Y/N up from the airport and got distracted with the boat,” Jaehyun rescued you, flashing a charmingly dimpled smile at the parents. “Our bad, sorry, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Who is getting married?”

“Uhm, Chaeyoung.” You quickly picked a friend that you had met in college to guarantee that your mom didn’t know their parents and therefore wouldn’t try to congratulate anybody behind your back.

She nodded. “Ahh…”

“Whose boat did you say it was, Johnny?” Mr. Suh questioned his son next. “It’s not Yuta’s, is it?”

“Oh, he’s been talking about getting one since high school, hasn’t he?” Johnny’s mom laughed.

“Yep, it’s his,” Johnny nodded along.

Your dad appraised the four of you. “And he couldn’t even help you all?”

“Well, it’s mine too,” Jaehyun once again came in for the save. “We went in halfsies on it after my promotion. He was busy tonight, so I just went ahead and moved it.”

“Jungwoo, isn’t it?” Mr. Suh called out to the Galarii.

“Yes, sir.” He hastily gave a polite bow, fidgeting with the ballcap under the older man’s gaze.

“How did you get roped into their three-ring circus?”

“Yes, it’s better to stay out of the line of fire, especially where our kids are concerned,” your dad chuckled.

“I don’t mind helping, really,” Jungwoo replied, gaze hesitantly skittering over to you. You gave him an encouraging smile.

Johnny’s mom patted your cheek then. “I’m sure our Y/N must be tired after that trip. We’ll let you all go.”

“Thank you, Auntie,” you said appreciatively, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well as you tried to escape with the other guys.

Before you could fully retreat from the room, however, your mom caught your hand. The two mothers exchanged a look as they gestured for you to stoop down to their level. You obliged.

“Keep an eye on that new one, sweetie,” Mrs. Suh rather obviously pointed to Jungwoo even as she whispered.

“He couldn’t take his eyes off you this whole time,” your mom added, just as hushed as her friend.

“Goodbye, Auntie.” you purposefully ignored their statements, giving them final hugs and kisses goodbye. “Goodbye, Mom.”

As the four of you walked from the front door to Johnny’s waiting car far down the dirt driveway, Jungwoo sidled up to you.

“May I uh… May I know what that was about?” He asked quietly. “When they pointed at me?”

You giggled, stopping to pull on his shoulder and bring his ear down to you. “They were warning me about you. Said you couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

Jungwoo chuckled breathily. “An acute observation.”

“They said I should keep an eye on you.”

“That makes me sound dangerous.”

“Well—”

“Hey!” Johnny called out from the end of the drive, standing at his car and spinning his keys around his finger. “Are you done?”

“I’ve got class tomorrow!” Jaehyun added, though the teasing was apparent in his tone.

“Coming!” You chirped back, starting down the driveway again.

Johnny easily navigated back to your apartment, drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel to the melody playing over his speakers. He finally broke the peaceful quiet in the car as your building was approaching.

“So how long are my parents going to be housing the boat?” He asked dryly.

“Oh, uhm,” you and Jungwoo looked at each other uncertainly. “I’m not sure yet. A few days, maybe more. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine. Just let me know when he’s going back.”

“Right. Yeah.”

He put the car in park and got out to give you one more hug on the sidewalk in front of your building. Your friend let out a deep breath with you still in his arms. “I’m really glad you’re back, Y/N. I’m serious.”

“I know, John,” you replied, hugging him back. “Thank you.”

Waving to Jaehyun through the window, you and Jungwoo headed inside. Thankfully, you hadn’t missed your rent payment while you were gone, so you still had an apartment to go back to. Looking at the day on your phone, you realized that you’d normally have work tomorrow.

“I wonder if I’ve been fired,” you snickered to yourself, closing your front door behind Jungwoo. He looked back at you, clearly worried, but you waved his concern off. “I hated that job anyway.”

The Galarii peered out past your curtains at the full moon in the sky. “It’s late. You should get some rest.”

“I’m not tired,” you admitted. “I think Galarian days are longer or something.”

“Do you remember what you were going to say? In the driveway at Johnny’s parents’ home?”

“Hm? Oh, when you were asking me about what our moms said?” You stretched your arms above your head. “You were confused because they made your interest in me sound dangerous. You almost died because of it, why are you confused about that?”

“I understand how it can be dangerous to me, but that doesn’t happen to you.” He stepped closer to you, cocking his head in confusion.

You sat down on your couch, gesturing for him to sit with you. “To humans, it still can be. Falling in love with the wrong person, exposing yourself like that. It can get you hurt, physically or emotionally. Sometimes they’re a bad person, or sometimes you’re both good people with the right intentions, but it still goes wrong.”

Jungwoo’s eyes widened. “And you still choose to do this? Over and over?”

“Yes, we do,” you laughed. “What other choice do we have?”

In the late afternoon, after you and Jungwoo had finally woken up and eaten breakfast, you went out for a walk at the seaside. Taking a deep breath in, you reveled in the feeling of the warm rays of sun on your skin again.

“Look at that blue sky,” you beamed up appreciatively. “Actually, I think I’m just happy to see any sky again.”

“Really?” Jungwoo prompted you.

“After being underground for so long? Yeah, being in a wide-open space feels good.” You did a big spin with your arms open. The beach was relatively empty in the middle of the week with most everyone at work. “Don’t get me wrong, it was cool to see where you’re from.”

“I like it here too,” he agreed with a smile as you returned to his side, lacing your fingers with his.

“The guys want to get dinner later, by the way,” you informed him. “They’re also happy you’re not dead.”

“That’s kind of them.”

Up ahead was a familiar area of damaged palm trees and brush, slowly beginning to grow back. You pointed to it with a grin, “Look, it’s where we met.”

Jungwoo squinted against the sun, looking at the foliage with interest. “It is?”

“Yep. Looks a bit different in the daytime, huh? And without a spaceship in it?”

“And I don’t think we ever approached it from this side.”

“And there’s no cops.” You pointed out a nearby firepit as you passed it. “That’s where we were all hanging out when you crashed. We thought you were a shooting star at first. Hyuck told everyone to make a wish.”

“Is that a human custom?”

“Superstition, yeah. You’re supposed to make a wish on a shooting star.”

“What did you wish for?”

You grinned. “If you tell, your wish isn’t going to come true.”

“Ah, I see. My apologies.”

“But mine already came true, so there’s no harm in saying, I think.”

Jungwoo looked at you curiously as you continued.

“I wished for something interesting to happen,” you admitted with a knowing smirk. “And the interesting things haven’t stopped since.”

He burst into laughter, halting your leisurely stroll as he clutched his stomach. “S-Seriously?”

“Seriously.” You began listing them off on your fingers, “Alien spaceship crashing right next to us, alien inside spaceship being almost dead, alien declaring I’m his soulmate, alien almost dying again, going to alien’s home planet to keep him from dying, alien getting better and taking me back to Earth. Been pretty interesting.”

He was still laughing, squatting down to try to compose himself.

“So maybe it wasn’t an assassination attempt that made you crash,” you said humorously. “Maybe it was my super powerful wish.”

“But-But I was already crashing when you made that wish,” he pointed out through giggles. “You used my-my crashing spaceship to make your wish.”

“Ah, technicalities.”

Jungwoo stood up on shaky feet, and you offered him your hand to steady him. “I’m starting to think that human choice is a more powerful force than gravity.”

“Really?”

“Or at least your choices.”

You sighed, grabbing his face with two hands to look him in the eye. “Jungwoo, you can’t just say shit like that.”

“Why not?” He asked, eyes carefully watching your expression.

“Because you just called me a cosmic force and that’s definitely the most romantic thing anybody’s ever said to me.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Because it makes me want to kiss you stupid on this public beach.”

His breaths trembled in the space between you. “There’s nobody here.”

“You make some good points.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, stopping before your lips met. “Jungwoo.”

“Hm?” His hands had settled on your waist, where they had been when you were dancing together.

“Is this okay? Can I kiss you?”

He swallowed, his eyes on yours as he hurriedly nodded. “Yes.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, slotting your mouths together finally. Jungwoo let out a hum of delight in the back of his throat, the curl at the corner of his lip apparent. His smile only continued to grow with each passing moment as you made good on your promise, bringing a hand around to cup his cheek.

When you dropped back onto flat feet again, he was standing there with a dazed, content smile on his face. His iridophores were no longer just glinting in the sun, they were fully pulsing with a soft, glowing light from under his skin, like a little heartbeat. You reached a hand up towards his cheek, and he stayed still as you traced over them in fascination. After a few moments, the glow faded away, and they were back to their normal reflective state.

“What was that?” You whispered breathlessly. “Are you okay—”

“I’m great,” he promised, taking one of your hands and kissing the back of it. “They’ll do that sometimes. When I’m really happy.”

“God, okay,” you relaxed. “It was like I really did have a fallen star in my hands.”

“If you say something romantic back, does that mean I get to kiss you stupid?”

“This is a concerning precedent I’ve set, isn’t it?”

“It’d only be fair.” He pouted.

You looked around, finding the beach still vacant of other patrons. “Alright, alright.”

After getting dinner with your friends, you and Jungwoo declined any rides offered, taking the long way back to your apartment.

“The guys were happy to hang out with you again,” you said brightly.

“Yes, it was nice to see them all,” Jungwoo replied.

“I can’t believe Hyuck asked you if you had tentacles though, honestly,” you shook your head. “He needs to keep that between him and incognito mode.”

“I take it he wasn’t being scientifically rigorous?”

You snorted, “No.”

You looked up at the navy blue sky, dotted with so few stars.

“What does the night sky look like on Galaria?” You asked Jungwoo. “I didn’t see it while we were there.”

“Many more stars,” he answered quietly. “I think because we don’t have any permanent light fixtures on our surface.”

“Ah, no light pollution. Must be nice.”

“It is.”

There was a comfortable lull in conversation, cars passing by and the distant sounds of city life continuing around you.

“You said once that you wouldn’t be happy behind a desk now that you knew that aliens existed,” Jungwoo recalled. “Since you’ve been to space and have come back home… Do you feel the same? Do you want to stay here?”

You tilted your head back and forth as you thought, still looking up at the stars. Finally, you answered, “While I was on Galaria, I needed to come home, to make sure everyone knew I was okay. And now that I’ve done that, I keep thinking about what we could’ve done on that trip if you hadn’t been, you know, dying.”

His voice was guarded as he prompted, “So you…”

“So if you’re asking me to come with you, Jungwoo, the answer is yes.” You looked over at him knowingly.

“Oh!” His iridophores were glowing again as he wrapped his arms around you tightly, vibrating with energy. “There’s so many places I can take you! You’ll love Irwon, and the lagoons in Til-Wyn, and I need to check that the Nightbringer’s Festival hasn’t happened yet!”

“Sounds like a date,” you grinned, hugging him back. “Several, actually.”

“And we’ll come back to Earth whenever you want. Say the word, and we’ll come right back for you to stay and see your loved ones for as long as you wish.”

“Thank you.” You took his hands as he let you go, catching his eye to tell him sincerely, “And I want to learn Galarii, too. So we can actually communicate, without one of us wearing your transcoder. Even if I speak with a silly human accent because I’m missing a flap or whatever.”

On top of the pulsing iridophores, you saw Jungwoo’s eyes get misty, a tear spilling over on one cheek as he was absolutely beaming down at you.

“Jungwoo are you crying?” You asked in disbelief, wiping at it with your thumb as another fell from his other eye.

“I think I am, yes,” he nodded, feeling at his damp undereyes.

“Tears of joy, I hope?” You continued dabbing at his cheeks as you tried to comfort him through his apparently bewildering situation.

“Do humans do that?”

“Sometimes, yeah.”

He smiled and nodded. “Then yes, that must be it.”

“Oh God, come here.” You pulled him back into your arms. “Seriously, what am I going to do with you?”

He sniffled, then supplemented, “Keep me?”

You giggled and pressed a kiss to cheek, right on his glowing iridophores. “I guess so. Finders keepers, after all.”

⇢ masterlist

TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @giirlfriendd @ppddpjdr @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01 @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

#jungwoo x reader #nct x reader #jungwoo #jungwoo imagine #bjnet #nct imagine #nct #kim jungwoo #jungwoo imagines #nct imagines #f: finders keepers #f: losers weepers #writing #text #mine #wooloved #bias tag #i: jungwoo #*100

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captain-bubble-wrap · 6 months ago

Note

Stardew + Quinn! Go!!!! Pleaseeeeeeeee ❤️

Quick! Grab the mayor's shorts!

You were on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket cocoon and living your best cozy life. Quinn was away at the Canucks morning skate, so it was your time to just be a complete loaf with no fear of judgement. Now, Quinn would never judge you for taking time to yourself or doing whatever it was that you wanted to. There were times where you felt guilty because he was so active and regimented, but he wasn't the type to guilt-trip. Today was your day off and you had decided you weren't going anywhere.

The holidays had drained you. With so much pressure to buy gifts, go to dinner parties, and constantly spread holiday cheer, by this point and time, you were just done. Done with everything. Done with stupid sweaters, done with constant glitter stuck to your skin, and done with saying "happy holidays" to everyone you parted ways with. You weren't trying to be a scrooge, but this year, the season just felt heavy. That's why today was going to be a lazy day.

Leftover sushi you had made the night before sat on a plate on the coffee table alongside a glass of tea. The lights were off, all but the twinkling of the fairy light wrapped Christmas tree in the corner. The Stardew Valley title song was filling the whole apartment with a whimsical feeling as you dug around your blankets for your PS5 controller. It never failed that as soon as you were ready to play, that damn controller was nowhere to be found. Eventually, you'd find it, somehow a foot under the sofa; the bright blue LED panel giving away its location.

You loved this game! Loved the little things like picking crops and making friends. You always married Sebastian, but this time you were holding out, hoping Quinn would want to play and then you could marry his character instead. However, whenever you wanted to play with him, he was either on the road, had a home game, or just never seemed interested. at the time. For his birthday, you had bought him a copy for his Switch, but he had never mentioned starting it, so you weren't sure he even cared. But it was fine, you enjoyed it enough for the both of you.

With your save file loaded, you tried to remember what you were working on the last time you had played. It was Winter, your third year already, and you were bouncing back and forth from the desert and the island. The game moved a lot slower, playing solo, but you felt that just meant you could enjoy it longer before you ran out of stuff to do. For sometime you had a farm with your best friend, and co-op mode made everything fly by! You were always on farm duty: growing crops and tending to the animals; she did the fishing and the mining. It just worked so well with that system. Now, everything was your job to do and it was a lot!

It was easy to lose track of time. The plate of sushi, sitting beside you on the sofa cushion was half gone, but all the ice had melted in your glass. Your phone had gone off a few times; Quinn letting you know he had made it to the practice arena safely and that he loved you. You understood that whenever his skates were on, it was work time not text time. Those check-in messages meant more than one-hundred from anyone else. The fact that he cared enough to let you know he was okay always gave you butterflies.

When the apartment door opened, you paused the game and looked over you shoulder. Was it time for him to be home already?

"Hey, baby," he said, once he walked in, seeing you under about ten pounds of blankets. "I figured you had taken a nap."

You looked at him, slightly confused by this statement. "A nap? Nope, just been farming!"

"I messaged you," he chuckled, taking his backpack from his shoulders. "You must have been too in the zone to notice."

"What? Really? I didn't hear it go off!" Frantically, you begin patting your lap, realizing now that your phone has been the latest victim of the blanket monster. "I'm sorry!"

He just grins, still looking at you from across the room. "It's alright, babe. I was just letting you know I was heading back, was all. It was nothing important."

Quinn throws his coat aside and kicks off his sneakers before he makes his way to you, while you still try to find out where your phone had gone.

"Looking for this?" He asks, seeing it on the coffee table.

"Oh my god... I don't know how I missed your message. I'm sorry, baby!"

Quinn sits down beside you, slips his hand beneath the blankets to find your thigh. "It's okay, really. Seriously, I thought you were just asleep. No need to stress." He gives you a kiss, melting away any upset about missing his text. "How goes farming?"

"Good! I'm just getting everything ready for Spring! I'm ready to plant, so I did some farm remodeling." Your voice conveys nothing short of pure joy. You were so happy that he had asked you about it.

"You're cute." He smirked, his hand squeezing your leg. "Aren't you hot?

"I... I'm comfy!" In truth, yes, you were a little warm but you wouldn't concede that you were too warm. It was December after all and the apartment was always a touch on the cooler side. Quinn ran a lot hotter than you, and it was his apartment after all.

"I can turn the heat up, sweetheart. You don't have to bury yourself under every blanket I own." He gave you a wider smile now, chucking at your ridiculous, adorable nature.

"I'm okay! Really! How was practice?"

Quinn leans back into the sofa, stretching his legs. "Not bad, I feel a little stiff in the back but I'm alright. I think I just slept wrong."

"Aw, that's not good!"

"I'm alright." He pulls himself up to then lay his head in your lap, his back flat to the cushions. "I'll lay here and watch you play. Maybe it will decompress enough before tonight." Quinn looked up at you, his soft eyes looked tired. You couldn't help playing with his hair for a few moments until he closed his eyes. "Play your game, baby. Don't let me hinder you. There are crops to be grown." He laughed.

"Are you sure? I can rub your back if you want?"

"I'll be okay, really, but thank you. I'm not that bad, not yet anyway. Ask me tonight when I get home and I might take you up on it."

"Okiee~"

"I still need to play this with you sometime," Quinn remarks, turning his head to look at your backpack menu, full to the brim with items. "It looks cute."

"You're cute," you reply, not missing a beat and it makes him laugh.

"Smooth," he jokes, his eyes falling closed once more after you finally unpause the game. He sneaks moments of watching you run around from time-to-time before he finally falls asleep altogether.

It was fun to imagine life with Quinn, having a little farm of your own outside the city. Maybe one day you could be so lucky. For now, you'd settle for living that life with him in the game.

#💌Maven's Love Notes #I LOVE STARDEW SO MUCH #this probably wasn't exactly what you had in mind #but I hope you still like it!#farmer Quinn makes my heart happy!#might have to do a follow-up post!#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x reader

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lanaroff · 7 months ago

Text

Unwanted- Part 5

Paring: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Y/N is an enhanced SHIELD agent who is forced to work with the Avengers. What happens when they discover that she’s not alone?

A/N: I actually don't know where this series is going. But I have so many ideas. Feels good to be back!

"So how does it work?" Peter asked while he was playing with his fingers looking around.

"How does what works?" You confusingly asked without taking your eyes off the road.

"The thing with the alien, you know V..."He stared saying. However, he was cut by the sound of the breaks stopping abruptly the car.

"Don't" You said sighting. "Don't say it's name when I'm driving. We trained it to come out at the mention of its name. You don't want to see it crashing the car, do you?"

The young boys eyes were full of both wonder and fear. You didn't own him an explanation about why the name should not be mentioned under certain circumstances, but you knew what kind of kid he was, and how talkative he could be.

"Sorry, Miss Y/L/N. I didn't know." He said it with an apologetic look on his face.

The ride back to your apartment was normal. You were aware that he was late for school, and probably would end up in detention for it. But you both agreed to go to your apartment first if he could go on the passenger seat right next to yours.

After a long, long, long trip, where Peter talked about his suit, his friends, his projects, how cool Stark was, and how cool working with the Avengers was, you finally made it out to your apartment. Sure, the trip wasn't thaaat long, but to you it felt like ages.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." You said as you walked inside your apartment.

You enter your office looking for your safe box. You knew that maybe leaving important files was not the best thing, so you were more than in a hurry to find them. Once you stood in front of the box, you entered the password and opened it. As you took your files, you heard steps coming from your living room. Immediately you turn to Venom and prepare yourself in case you needed to kill someone.

However, the moment you stood foot in the other room, a loud sound stunned you, and suddenly the feared creature was no longer in control. Turning yourself back, you dropped to your knees and cried the pain in your head. You were fighting to keep yourself conscious; you couldn't give up. As you were about to stand on your feet, someone pushed you back to the floor.

"You know, we were expecting it to be more difficult. I guess you are just weak." A man that stood in front of you stared saying. "You are a hard fish to catch, let me give you that."

"Go. Fuck. Yourself." You said between groans. Your head was killing you, but your mind was too busy thinking about how to get out of there.

"Oh yeah, I will. After I get paid for delivering you to the boss." He said between laughs.

How did these people knew about Venom's weakness? Only you and some man at SHIELD knew about it, as it was supposed to be confidential information. Only you, Fury, Natasha, Hill, and...

"Rumblow." You said, looking straight into the man's eyes.

As you waited for the main man to give you any kind of confirmation that in deed it was Rumlow behind it, another man came into the room.

"Sir, we found a kid trying to enter the apartment. What do we do with him?" He said as a brunette man followed him with a sacred Peter Parker.

Peter's head was being held by the man's arm, and a gun was being pressed on his skull. You immediately tried to stand on your two feet; however, your body betrayed you, making you fall once again.

"Kill him." He said, as he saw your reaction upon seeing Peter being held. You could let the kid die; otherwise, you were dead. They will never forget you if Peter dies. How would Wanda look at you after realizing that it was your fault?

"NO!" You screamed as you finally pulled your body out of the ground to tackle the man standing in front of you. "PETER RUN NOW!"

And he did as you said. Peter quickly used his strength to pull himself out of the man's arms to run towards you. Immediately you stood up and grabbed Peter so he was behind you.

"Listen to me carefully, Peter. I'm going to need you to run as fast as you can. Did you hear me?" You said it without taking your eyes off the intruders.

"But Miss..."

"No. They can't know what you are capable of doing. Now do what I say and leave. Don't look back; don't come to get me; just run and find Stark." You finished whispering so only he could listen to what you were saying.

The truth was that you knew that Peter could take them down. But if these people wanted to take you to where Rumblow was, then you were more than eager to let yourself be taken.

With a nod that confirmed you that he understood his assignment, Peter ran as fast as he could towards the living room window. Guns were fired at him while you stopped one of Rumblow's men to follow him. As soon as he reached the window, he jumped, and you were once again on the living floor in pain. But relived knowing that he was no longer there.

"You bitch! You are going to regret that" Was the last thing that you heard as you were hit with the back of a gun, leaving you unconscious.

You woke up really hot. And not in the nice way. Your body felt as if you were on fire, as in you were being burned from the inside to the outside. The moment you opened your eyes, you saw yourself chained to a stretcher, and the heat came from right underneath it.

"Rise and shine." You heard a voice saying. Immediately you clench your jaw as you recognize who's voice was.

"You know, you should've told me that you had a sunbed. I would've wore my bikini." You said spitting his face.

"Keep that attitude, and you know how it will end." Romblow said wapping his face.

"I'm counting on it, dumbass." You said with a big smile on your face.

The truth was, you loved it. Not the burning pain that you were feeling. But being so close to Rublow. Knowing that he actually was scared. Because boy, you had all the time in the world, but he? He knew the clock was ticking and that he had a few hours before S.H.I.E.L.D. would know your location.

"I could kill you right here right now." The man in front of you said grabing you by the hair.

"I know, but she won't allow you, will she? You are scared of her, I can see it." You replied.

"You are right. But that's the thing. I'm not going to kill you. Nah!" He said as he walked next to a table full of surgical instruments. "I'm going to destroy every hope you have of taking down Hydra." He grabbed a scalpel with one hand and, with the other, grabbed the back of your head. "I'm going to kill your new friends, so you have no one." He said while pressing the blade down your head hard enough to make you bleed but not enough to cut you too deep. "And after that, I'm going to free it, and then they will see you as their threat. And when you realize that you are alone and hopeless, then I will take you to HER. She can't wait to see you and continue with the work she started. You will be all hers!"

"Fuck you!" Was all you dared to say. You couldn't go back to her. You had come so far to be back at that place. Sure, you hated S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avangers, but deep down you knew that they were the only path to revenge. You needed them; you needed Venom. And he knew it.

"Bring Dr. Ackermann. Now!" Romblow said to one of his soldiers.

Back at the compound, the things were not better. Peter had come burst through the door screaming for help, alarming the whole team.

"Hey kid, slow down, what happened?" Tony asked him.

"It's... um... It's miss Y/L/N... We were at her place, and some guys came over, and they... um, they took her. She is gone." He said

The team shared the same worrying expression. You were supposed to take Peter to school; how could something like that happen? But most important, who would do something like that?

"What do you mean she is gone Peter?" Natasha asked.

"They had this device that was emitting some sound that hurt her. And she couldn't move. She asked me to come to you guys. We need to help her." Peter said. Upon hearing what Peter said, Natasha sent him with Bruce to the medbay to see if he had any injuries.

"You know something, don't you?" Wanda asked the spy. She knew something bad had happened. Maybe something related to your hatred thowars Hydra? She didn't know. All she knew was that she had to help you, just like you did with her.

"Y/N has a bomb in her head." Natasha said. The team were left speechless. Wanda couldn't comprehend why. Why would you have that on you? You were not a bad person; she was sure of that. You just needed someone to take care of you. Why would someone put that device on your head?

"What do you mean?" Tony asked.

"When S.H.I.E.L.D. got their hands on Y/N, she was unstable. She couldn't control Venom, in fact, it controlled her. So Fury decided that the best thing to do was to build a device that could control Venom, since she couldn't do it. It turns out that loud sounds and fire are one of it's weaknesses. They built a device that emits piercing sounds straight to her brain." Natasha explained.

Inmediatly, Wanda understood the events of the first night that she encountered the alien. That ringing noise that she heard, the way you twisted in pain, how Venom froze. You were just trying to protect her, and in doing so, you were hurting yourself.

"Okay, and what does this have to do with the bomb?" Bucky asked.

"One time while we were training, she lost control of her body to Venom. It was a disaster; four agents died that day. Venom just tear them apart. So she asked Fury to put a bomb in her head, so if she ever loses control again, she will eliminate Venom before it harms anyone."

"And by that, you mean that'she will eliminate herself'?". Sam asked. As soon as those words left Sam's mouth, Wanda had to leave the room. She just felt like it was too much for her. She felt nauseous.

She had to get out of there.

Wanda run to your room. It was the first time since the incident that she actually got to see it. It was almost empty. There was nothing that really reminded her of you. And that showed her how little she knew you. When she first came to the Avengers Towel, she felt lost. She had just lost Pietro, and she was all alone. Like you. You both had lost so much. She was determined to help you. She wanted to help you. Who knows, maybe one day you two could grow up and be friends, she thought. All she knew was that she couldn't leave you like that.

She came back to where she had left her teamates with another set of thoughts. "What's the plan?" Wanda said.

"I just talked to Fury; he has her location. She has a tracker, just in case something like this happens" Natasha said.

"Alright team, suit up." Said Steve.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel #reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff x female reader

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moonchildstyles · 2 years ago

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thyme

rosemary part five: harry's tired of hiding. y/n is there to listen

wordcount: 11.4k+

—————

The next time Harry saw morning light, he knew it was real with the way he could actually breathe under the rays. His eyes ached from the amount he had cried the night before, the memory of his nightmare having drained out along with every tear.

Only a slice of light made it through the tightly drawn shades over the window, the sun bright enough Harry could only begin to assume how long they'd slept in. But, he wasn't going to argue with the hours; after his nightmare had cleared, that was the best sleep he'd had in years. With every blink of his heavy eyes, he gained more and more clarity.

There was a part of him that wanted to be embarrassed about the way he had acted. The other night when she had tried to comfort him before was nothing compared to the way he had reacted last night. With her tucked carefully under his arm, her breathing even and eyes shuttered, he figured he could quell that awaiting shame for a little while longer. He didn't need to don his facade when she wasn't even awake to witness it.

Moving cautiously, their shared pillow under his head shifted as he looked to her. That crack in the curtains allowed a splash of light to spill over his chest, leading the ray to fall over her eyes. The divine ribbon of light highlighted the curl of her lashes, the slope of her nose, and the delicate skin of her eyelids. The shadows he had seen under her eyes were now replaced with the reaching lengths of her lashes over her cheekbones. Baby hairs were wild around her face, messed from the way he had reached and grabbed for her the night before. Her hands were still tightly clutching his shirt in her palms, the fabric wrinkled and stretched in her direction.

Looking at her like this, Harry realized he hadn't ever stood a chance, had he?

This whole thing—his facade, his over-nurtured walls, his control—all turned to dust the second she tapped his shoulder and asked about cookies. He should have known then that things were going to shift, even if he never thought it would turn out like this.

All because of a gorgeous girl with a ribbon in her hair.

Seeing her at peace for the first time in days, Harry knew that girl didn't deserve this—this dusty motel, this impromptu road trip, this much deception.

He couldn't keep doing this to her. She had a life that he'd torn her from, all so he could drag her to different diners and gas stations, dank motels, and a cramped car for hours on end. She had friends who loved her, a job she woke up every morning happy to do, and a sweet little home that deserved to have someone like her live in it.

It was Harry's mistakes that had caught up with them, and (Y/N) was the one being truly punished by them. She had to sleep in strange places, shower in less than five minutes if she wanted warm water, with questionable food waiting for her at every stop. Her nails even had chips in the paint, something he'd never seen before he tugged her into his mess.

She didn't deserve this motel or his hands all over her when she didn't even know who she was sharing a bed with.

He couldn't keep doing this to her. He was running out of money, and (Y/N) deserved to sleep in her own bed and be safe while she did.

This all had to stop. Today.

Yesterday's close call told him he wouldn't have to wait around very long for them to find him again. He didn't want (Y/N) to be in the middle of it when that happened.

There was a plan to be made. Today was the day his past would have to catch his present if he wanted any kind of future.

—————

"Are we leaving now?"

(Y/N)'s tired eyes watched as Harry cleaned up the morning's breakfast (it was closer to lunch by the time she woke up, but it was still breakfast in his eyes). While she seemed to actually gain some real rest, her gaze was still tired and a little glassy as she followed him about the motel.

She hadn't said a single word pertaining to what she had seen the night before, even though he could see those soft bits floating in her irises every time she matched his gaze.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her packing up her bag like she did every morning, ready and willing to follow him anywhere. Harry knew he was making the right decision.

He couldn't be scared anymore. Not for her.

"We're not leaving today."

Her hands paused, buried in the bundle of clothes she had packed in her duffle, eyes wide as she looked at him. "What?"

Taking in a deep breath, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. He dropped his chin into his hands, his elbows propped up on his knees. "We're not running anymore."

(Y/N) stood to the full of her height, awkwardly fiddling with her fingers. A pinch creased the space between her brows. "I-I don't think I understand."

That lance of guilt found its way to a soft spot inside him, stabbing through every layer. He had kept her so far in the dark, and she still trusted him as if he deserved it.

She didn't look away when he matched her eye contact, his own gaze unwavering as he spoke, "I don't want to run anymore, (Y/N)."

"Okay," she drawled, gaze darting down as she tried to process what he was saying, "Um, are we going home then?"

Harry's throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly around his tongue. He had to tell her. He almost wanted to tell her, even. This was the first time the story had ever banged against his chest, fighting to be let out.

She deserved to know who she slept beside last night.

"Can I tell you something?"

(Y/N) stepped towards him on cautious feet, as if she were approaching a wounded animal. She took the spot on the bed beside him, looking at him through furrowed brows and worried eyes.

"You're scaring me," was her whispered response, hands a nervous knot in her lap.

A tick appeared in his jaw then. That was what burned him the most; he dreaded the fact that he was more than likely going to hear that from her again soon.

Nonetheless, he wet his lips before taking in a deep breath, the story unraveling from his tongue.

"When I was twenty, m'sister started her master's program at a new university, so we moved to the city—me, my mum, and m'sister. My mum wanted to stay close to her, and I didn't really care. I was willing to go wherever they were. But, a few months into her classes, m'sister got this boyfriend." He tried his best not to spit out the title through gritted teeth. Keeping himself in check, Harry settled enough to sit with his eyes on his fisted hands with knitted brows.

"I...He wasn't a good guy, I knew that jus' from the couple of friends I'd made even before he and m'sister got together. It wasn't like I hadn't believed it, but when I saw how he treated m'sister and the way she tried to hide it, I knew it was all true—everything I'd heard." He steeled himself as he felt his throat grow thick. He'd never said any of these things out loud. He was hearing the story for the first time just like she was. "He was... hurting her. Me and my mum didn't know what to do; any time we brought it up to Gemma she'd get really angry, or ignore us. We didn't know how to help. It was really hard for a while.

"But, she had stayed the weekend at his one time, and she came home with these bruises all over her neck. She tried to cover them and hide them with her sweater, but I saw them. I lost it." His hands pulsed in his lap, remembering the way the rage had bubbled in him like it was yesterday. "I had never been so angry in m'life, and Gemma was trying to calm me down but I was too far past any of that. I ended up going to her boyfriend's house that night, telling her and my mum I was seeing a friend. I don't think Gemma believed me but she didn't stop me.

"I don't even know what I thought I was going to do when I got there, honestly. I just wanted him to stop hurting my sister. He answered the door when I got there, and I jus' barged in and started yelling at him. I was telling him that he was going to stop hurting my sister or I was going to do something about it." He shook his head with a humorless laugh spilling from his lips, curls spilling across his forehead. How silly he had been; if only he'd known then what he knew now. "This guy—Trevor—, he laughed at me. I don't blame him now—I was some random kid running into his house threatening him as if I could actually follow through with any of it. But back then, I remember just getting so pissed. I couldn't believe he was going to laugh at me when I was telling him to stop beating m'sister. So, I tried to hit him."

(Y/N), who had sat silently with her gaze stitched to Harry's face, had let out a soft gasp at his words. Harry's knee began to bounce, his sightless eyes never straying from the outlet in the wall he'd chosen as his focal point. "'S almost funny to think about how quickly he'd knocked me on my ass after that. It was then that I saw that there were a few other guys in the room with us, jus' watching the whole thing. I'd been too mad to see anything other than him when I got there, but now they were all sitting around laughing at me like this whole thing was a joke. I was so embarrassed, I didn't know what to do. I just sat there.

"I remember he got in my face after that. He told me that if I ever tried to have a problem with him again, it would be very easy for something to happen to m'sister and my mum. I don't even know what I said back, but apparently it was funny enough to get everyone laughing again. I remember him looking around at all his friends, he said he liked me—even if I was a little stupid. The next time he looked at me, he told me that he did have something I could do for him if I really wanted him to leave Gemma alone.

"I had jumped at the idea. I thought whatever it took, right? I jus' wanted to have m'sister back and my mum to have her daughter. I'd do anything. I must have been especially funny that day, because when I told them that, they all laughed again. He started walking around then, like he was looking for something but didn't really care if he found it or not. He was telling me that he liked me; I had to be brave if I jus' walked into his house and started yelling at him and tried to punch him. Trevor said he had the perfect job for me—if I really wanted to help m'sister anyway."

Harry's mind lingered on the next images the story conjured up. This was the moment everything changed for him. "I don't even know if I said anything to him after that, but I remember him pulling out a gun then, and handing it to me," Harry's throat felt too thick as he tried to swallow, "There was someone that needed to be dealt with, and if I did it for him, he'd stop calling m'sister. I don't think I said anything, but I remember I didn't take it from him right away, just sitting there staring at his hand. I guess I wasn't fast enough because he said if I didn't want to kill for him, he'd jus' get Gemma instead. It didn't make any difference to him."

From the corner of his eye, he saw (Y/N) go still. "Harry," she whispered, her voice thin and wavering.

Keeping his eyes forward, Harry shook his head. He couldn't look at her if he wanted to finish this story. He'd crumble if he saw her.

"I don't really remember what happened after all that well. I think I told him okay, and he showed me how to use the gun, but that was it. They gave me an address and told me to get everything cleaned up by tomorrow morning." Harry's lungs felt heavy as he tried to find enough breath for the words he knew were coming next. That night turned into the first nightmare that followed him for years. He closed his eyes, squeezing his lids shut. "I waited until my mum and Gemma were asleep before I went to the address with the gun. This... The guy, he—uh—he owed m'sister's boyfriend a lot of money, apparently, and he wasn't planning on paying it back anytime soon. They wanted me to kill him because of that. And, I did."

Behind his closed eyes, Harry saw in too great detail every moment in that dark apartment. His hands shook now just as badly as they did then. His stomach turned at the memory of blood splattering back on his face from the force of the bullet through his skull. He had been standing too close, he knew that now, but he wasn't as good of a shot back then to be much farther away. He forced himself out of that memory, his reality shifting the longer he lingered there.

"The whole thing was a mess. I don't know how I didn't get caught. The whole time I was jus' thinking about my mum and m'sister, and how I wanted to keep them safe. That was all I was doing; I wasn't brave like Trevor had said. I was jus' stupid, but I didn't have a choice, right?" Shaking his head, Harry moved on. "I went back to Trevor's right after, and I threw up on his lawn twice before anyone realized I was there. When they did, I remember them laughing and asking me if I really did it. I jus' threw up again. By the time I had it together, I remember him telling me that I did a good job—that he was proud of me. He had sent someone after me to make sure everything was taken care of and I didn't tell anyone I shouldn't, and he said I couldn't have done a better job. I think I stopped listening then; I didn't want to be there when he said things like that after I knew what I'd done.

"I had thought then that that was it. That I would always remember that night and would have to learn to be okay with it, but it was done and now my family was safe. I started thinking about whether or not I could convince them to move away, and that I'd probably need to start looking for a therapist. But," he choked out, feeling far away as he remembered those early plans, "I couldn't leave after that. He said he liked me."

The heat of (Y/N)'s gaze never wavered from where it was stuck to his profile. He felt sick thinking about what could be hiding in her pupils as she listened to him. He feared to think she saw him for who he really was now: a rotten, disgusting, awful murderer.

Forging on, Harry swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat. "He wanted me to keep working for him. He said that no one would suspect someone like me to be working those nights like that. He wanted to take advantage of that—even if I was messy and still a little stupid, he said. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to, anyway; they had too much on me. Jus' the one job would get me locked up if they wanted—or worse if they didn't want to wait that long to deal with me trying to get away.

"It wasn't until the second job was done that m'sister stopped coming home with bruises. She started smiling more and talking to my mum again. She said that she broke up with her boyfriend and wanted to be serious about school again. It was like everything was almost normal, again." These were easy times for Harry to recall. He liked to remember his family like that. "There were times I had to get... closer to m'jobs than jus' with a gun. Those days were hard, but I'd come home and they'd be watching a movie or drinking wine together, and I'd tell myself it was worth it. It had to be. That's why I kept doing what Trevor wanted.

"They had to know there was something going on, but they never asked any questions. Even if they did, it wasn't like I ever gave them anything clear. I jus' told them I was tired and working too much. It was like that for a really long time. I blocked a lot of it out, but it wasn't anything I ever saw a way out of; every plan ended with m'family or me dying, or otherwise getting really hurt. I did what I had to do and... got over it as best I could."

Looking down at his hands, he flexed the stiff joints. Thin scars marred his skin, creases from years of work that took a toll on him. The inked cross in the pocket between his thumb and forefinger was fading. Harry cataloged every detail of his own hands as he fought to stay focused amid the sickening pit forming in his stomach.

"A few years ago, there had been a rumor going around that someone had plans to take out the head—Trevor's dad. I had heard that it was a rival, but a few of the guys had said it was coming from someone on the inside—someone who thought they could run the whole thing better. I didn't really believe it, but it was the first time anything like that had gotten any of them talking. There'd been threats before, but this one felt more real than any of them with the way a couple of the guys were even planning on what to do if something changed.

"It gave me hope, honestly. If it really was true, then there was going to be a night that was so chaotic and everyone's attention would be focused elsewhere enough that no one would notice if I disappeared. So, I started making plans. I saved any kind of money I made, and made arrangements for my mum and sister and tried to get everything taken care of that I could get away with. By the time I heard something was actually happening, I had everything in place for us. Trevor's dad was in the hospital, and probably wasn't going to make it out.

"It was all chaos after that. Everyone was either trying to find whoever did it—planned it—and everyone else was with Trevor and his dad. No one was keeping track of anything or anyone. It was exactly what I'd hoped for. I went home that day and told my mum and sister that we needed to leave. Something bad had happened and to keep them safe we all needed to leave right then. I didn't have time to tell them what was going on, but I remember I told Gemma it had something to do with Trevor and I knew she knew. She helped me get my mum out after that; packing as much as they could carry and grabbing the essentials. I gave them the cash I'd saved, and they left."

This was a night Harry had never revisited. Previous jobs of his always showed up in nightmares or ran on a loop when he couldn't sleep, but the last time he saw his family was a place he never allowed his brain to go. He didn't even realized he was tearing up until he felt the pressure behind his eyes and the knot in his throat.

"My mum asked me if I was coming with them, and I had to tell her no," he murmured, "Her and m'sister would be going together, but I had to go somewhere else. It was the only way they'd be safe. I would be the one that Trevor would go after, so if I stayed away then they wouldn't get dragged into it if I was found. I had everything planned out for them: a different car, a place for them to stay, and enough money to last until they figured something else out. It was all taken care of. I—" Harry choked on the lump in his throat. "That was the last time I saw them. I don't know where they are.

"That was years ago, though. I've been going through different towns since then, jus' hiding. This is the first time I've ever been found."

Silence fell over the motel room as Harry took in a deep breath, his shoulders squaring as he tried to center himself. He felt distant from where he sat on the edge of the bed. It was surreal hearing his story in his own voice instead of living the worst parts of it in dreams every night. It was even worse this way.

A lull passed, the weight of his words a heavy third entity between them. The static of (Y/N)'s presence prickled at his side. His knee kept bouncing, his body restless the longer his story hung in the air. He hadn't considered the aftermath being so quiet; he had imagined shouting, screaming, (Y/N) running away from him. He didn't know what to do with this.

"Harry?"

He didn't make any move to acknowledge her.

"Harry? Will you please look at me?"

Her voice wavered as she pleaded with him. He couldn't ignore her like that, not when he could already picture the tears sparkling in her eyes.

His movements were stiff as he turned to look at her. He wasn't sure what he was going to find when he saw her (his predictions ranged from mortified, to terrified, to a punch to the face in hopes of incapacitating him long enough for her to run), but what he found wasn't on his list of ideas at all. She was looking at him with big, watery eyes, the irises glittering with softened edges. Her features were melted into sympathy-drawn lines, curving and gentle with a wobbly bottom lip and downturned brows.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," she whispered to him, matching his eye contact just as earnestly as he.

Listening to her, his brows pinched in the middle. "I-I don't—" His voice cut off, shaking his head as he floundered over his words.

With a soft touch of her hand grazing over his shoulder, (Y/N) didn't pay his half-hearted denial any mind. "I-I'm so sorry that happened to you," she murmured, her voice as soft and thin as the tears in her eyes, "I can't even imagine, I don't—"

Tears spilled over the rim of her eyes then, her voice breaking off. Her breathing came in shaky puffs, her hand on his arm tightening until her fingers were curled around his forearm. Sincerity filled her gaze as she looked at him, words failing her despite every soft sorrow in her eyes for him.

This wasn't the kind of reaction he had been anticipating, not even a little. This worried him more than any other bout of anger or fear he had initially expected.

"(Y/N)," he started, his voice low to match her own secretive tone despite the lack of others in their room, "I don't think I understand... I did really bad things, (Y/N), don't—I... Don't feel bad for me, yeah?"

He could see her retaliation form on her cry-swollen lips, but before a single word could broach the air between them, she was cut off by her own whimpering cry. In a moment she had crumpled into him, dismissing the boundaries between their bodies as he was wrapped in a hug with her arms around his neck.

Harry hesitated, his hands hovering over her back as his breathing stilled. She must really not understand the full breadth of the horrors he committed if she was still willing to touch him after learning his story. It was overwhelming in a lot of ways; this wasn't at all the kind of reaction he had ever thought anyone could have after finding out the kind of man he is, let alone someone like (Y/N). It was confusing.

After a moment, he settled, reciprocating her hug and being that anchor for her if only for a few more moments until realization dawned. She buried her face in the brunt of his chest, his shirt growing damp from her tears and the heavy puffs of air that fanned out from her lips. Harry held her, petting his hands down her back and brushing her hair from her face the longer she melted against him.

Soon enough, she pulled away from him, wet eyes glistening with a sniffly nose as she gazed up at him.

With gentle graze of a hand he hadn't trusted in years, Harry brushed baby hairs out of (Y/N)'s face. She looked at him like she really believed that she should feel sorry for him, console him as if he were one of the many families he tore apart through the many jobs he worked.

"(Y/N)," he started, voice more gentle than he thought he could manage with a lump in the back of his throat, "I don't think y'understand what I did."

A fresh batch of tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, the hairs he'd just brushed out of her face now returning. "N-No, Harry, I do," she insisted, gaze genuine between the fluttering of her lashes as she blinked the tears away, "I know you wouldn't have d-done any of that if you'd had a choice—I know that. I-I'm so sorry that they took ad-advantage of you, and that you've been so a-alone." Her voice cut off then, a harsh breath just a hair away from a sob exhaling from her in a shudder. She could only manage a whisper when she recovered, "You don't deserve that."

She broke down once more, falling into Harry's chest again. He was prepared this time, ready to hold her steady and snuggle her against him. He just hoped the hammering of his heart behind his ribs wouldn't disturb her.

Harry's breathing came in stiff pulls as he tried to process what she was telling him. While he knew he wouldn't have done the things he did had there been another option for him—had he had the knowledge he has now, he would have done many things differently back then. He knew that, but that wasn't something he ever expected another to understand. He never thought he would have the courage to share his story aloud, let alone earn this kind of response from a listener.

(Y/N) treated him as if he were the tragedy, not the villain.

His own eyes began to burn, gaze going watery with the walls of the motel going mushy and melting in with the carpet. He couldn't remember the last time he cried for himself; he'd cried from fear from his nightmares and missing his family, but nothing to mourn the kind of life he could have lead had he known himself better.

"I—" he started, the lump in his throat blocking his words before they had a chance. Harry's throat bobbed as he tried to swallow around the bundle, voice thick, "I hurt people, (Y/N). I killed them." His breathing caught around the harsh word. He just wanted (Y/N) to know, be clear with the kind of person she was snuggling against. "I ruined families jus' because I wanted to save mine."

(Y/N) only held him tighter. "I can't blame you," she whispered against his throat, the words melting into his skin, "You were in an impossible situation. It was either you or someone else, and there was never going to be a right choice. I-I can't imagine..."

Harry didn't say anything back, instead just holding her as she did the same for him. He wanted to listen to the things she was saying, make sense of them in the reality he had accepted as his for years now. But, it felt... unsettling.

In his own head, in his heart, Harry knew he was put in a situation that no one should ever be in—make a decision that was more than just unfair. But, the longer he sat with himself, especially after finishing those jobs, he couldn't imagine that anyone would ever see it that way. It was easier to believe he was a monster when he figured the rest of the world would agree. He never saw himself as the one to be consoled, that he was too selfish a creature to have earned that kind of experience.

"I'm a monster, (Y/N)," he murmured into the crown of her head, strands of hair muffling his words.

"No, you're not," she immediately argued, "You're Harry."

All those tears that had been funneling into his eyes from deep in his chest somewhere he never allowed to be free finally spilled over. Tracks were made down his cheeks, heating his skin and leaving sticky trails of salt. His breaths came out heavy and warm, uneven with he pulls through his nose. Squeezing his eyes shut, he cried silently into (Y/N)'s hair, allowing her to hold him while he took his turn crumbling.

There were still pounds of guilt and trauma sitting in the bars around his heart, but this was the first time those burdens hadn't felt so heavy.

Sunshine through the windows could be felt on his back, bleeding through the t-shirt (Y/N) had latched within her grip the longer she held him.

"Thank you," he sniffled into her hair.

(Y/N) planted a delicate kiss to the column of his throat in response.

The shadows in the motel room shifted the longer they sat bundled on the end of the bed, the sun journeying through the sky through the window. Harry didn't know how long they sat together with tangled limbs, leaking eyes, and sniffling noses, but he could have stayed there a lot longer had he been given the chance. He could barely remember the last time he'd had an actual hug before (Y/N) let alone a cuddle for at least an hour.

But, he couldn't stay there forever. He told her that story for a reason. He couldn't abandon his plan now.

Harry peeled away from her fist, her embrace around his neck staying firm enough to keep him from going too far as she gazed up at him. His eyes felt raw as he matched her contact.

"I have to go, (Y/N)," he crooned, voice crackling.

Her arms looped around his neck shifted with her hands settling firmly on the back of his shoulders. "What? Why?" she panicked some, clinging to him, "No, I don't want you to go, Harry."

Petting her hair back, he tried to soothe her as best he could despite his clumsy movements. "But, we're not running anymore, remember? I need to deal with this."

(Y/N)'s eyes rounded out as she gazed up at him. "I thought you meant we were going home."

Shaking his head, Harry stayed gentle with her, "We can't yet—not while they're still looking for us. They all know about home now, and we can't go back when I know they'd follow us. I have to take care of them here. Before we do anything else."

She looked uneasy now, gaze dropping down the planes of his face. "What do they want from you?"

"I don't know," he shrugged as much as he could with her still wrapped in his arms, "They might want me to come back, or"—Harry steeled himself at the second prospect—"I might know too much to be left running around everywhere."

Color drained from (Y/N)'s face as she listened to him. "Y-You think they might kill you?"

Harry only shushed her, a tender hand on the back of her head guiding her back to her hiding space in the cubby of his neck when he saw fresh tears glimmering in her eyes. He didn't know what to say to something like that; confirming the horror didn't seem like a good idea, but he didn't have it in him to start lying right after coming clean like he has. His fingers threaded through her hair, blunt nails scratching at her scalp in soothing runs as she whimpered in his neck.

As much as he might have wanted to stay just where he was, cuddling and hushing her as if her tears were the worst of his problems, but he couldn't push off the inevitable for much longer.

Using his grip on the back of her neck, Harry pulled her away from her hiding place. He was greeted with swollen lips and red eyes he worried he wouldn't ever see normal again. He hoped against it all that he'd get to see her smile at least once more.

"I need you to listen really well, okay, (Y/N)?" he asked her, thumb running a circuit of comforting circles on the side of her neck.

She hesitated before she nodded. "But, I don't want you to leave."

Despite it all, a genuine smile wriggled its way onto Harry's features. What a sweet thing she was, even in the face of everything he'd laid out for her. The first smile he'd made in days being offered to her.

Harry kept silent to her protest, instead untangling himself from her hold. He stood to the full of his height, offering her his hand. With her palm pressed against his, she followed suit to stand beside him, their fingers laced together.

He led them around the bed, inching towards the bedside table. With his free hand and (Y/N) behind him in the narrow channel between the bed and the wall, Harry pulled the drawer open. Inside, the black handgun he had stowed away rattling against the laminate.

Swallowing, he took the firearm and turned to face her. He schooled his features into something stern and stoic. He wanted to be strong like he knew she needed him to be, especially when she saw what he was offering.

"I need you to use this if someone comes looking for us," he told her, his voice even and low.

(Y/N)'s eyes widened when she realized what she was looking at, her immediate. reaction coming in the form of her shaking head. "I-I don't—I'm not—"

"I know," he cut her off, squeezing her hand in his, "I want this to be a last resort." Walking her back away from the side table, her brought her to the end of the bed, his back facing the window in case anyone decided to peek through the sliver between the curtains. "Hide first," he explained, "And, I don't want y'answering the door for anyone after I leave. Even if it's me, I have a key. Don't let me in even if I ask, I should be able to let myself in. Don't answer the door for anyone, especially if y'don't recognize the who's on the other side. Jus' hide, okay? Y'can hide in the bathroom if y'want, but if anyone gets in and tries to do anything to you, I need y'to use this and protect yourself."

(Y/N) could have gone cold the way she was frozen still in front of him; if not for the heat of her hand in his, he would have assumed as much. She stared at the gun he was offering towards her as if a gift, the weapon sitting in his hand between them.

"Can I show y'how to use it?" he asked her, gently trying to ease her into the non-option she had of protecting herself.

"Harry..."

"I know," he said, "Please, (Y/N). I jus' need to be able to know that I won't be leaving y'to get hurt without a chance to protect yourself."

Looking up at him through the fan of her lashes, he could see her resolve crumble away piece by piece. He hated to think about her having to use something like this as much as he was sure she did, but that didn't change the fact that someone was looking for her and wouldn't hesitate to hurt her if given the chance.

"Okay," she peeped out, her hand in his slowly loosening as she grabbed for the gun.

Her grip was loose and shaky as Harry tried to show her the basics. With the barrel aimed at the ground, he showed her how to switch the safety, something he only mimed as he didn't want to scare her more. He encouraged her to wrap both hands around the grip, finger curling around the trigger.

"It's heavy," she said, her voice a quiet whimper as her hands continued to shake.

"I know," he told her, adjusting her hold to ensure the recoil didn't harm her any more than a bone's rattle. If she had to use it, anyway.

Silence settled over them as he ensured she would be as safe as she could be while he was gone.

"Both hands, okay?" he told her once more, her grip steadying the longer he allowed her to get used to the weight. "Every time y'pick it up, the barrel needs to be facing away from you. Even if the safety's on, I don't want y'aiming it anywhere near yourself."

"Okay," she said, another repetition of the small word through his instructions. She swallowed, her features twisted into something too scared for Harry's heart to not break over. "This is a last resort right? I-In case of an emergency."

Harry's jaw ticked, hearing the waver in her voice. He hated knowing he was the reason she was preparing for an emergency like this. "Only in case of emergency, yeah."

Taking the firearm out of her hands, he left it on the bed to (Y/N)'s relief. She wiped her hands off on her pants as he rifled through his duffle bag, finding the wad of cash he'd been using to fund their run. Taking the bundle to her, he pushed it into her empty hands.

Before she could have a chance to shoot off a round of questions, Harry steeled himself. "(Y/N) look at me for a second."

That tremor of fear she'd gained after dealing with the gun remained as she looked up at him with watery eyes.

Shoving the cash into her hand, Harry ensured she was listening before he spoke. "If 'm not back by the morning, I need y'to leave. 'M going to leave the car for you, and you're going to take all of the money I have left, okay? Jus' get home. Don't wait for me or try to look for me, only worry about getting back home."

Before he could even finish speaking, (Y/N) was shaking her head, protests on the tip of her tongue. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," he insisted, unwilling to hear her argument, "I promised y'when we left that y'would make it home and be safe. This is the only way I can make sure I can keep that promise, even if 'm not the one taking y'home." When (Y/N) began to push against his hand with the money, he stayed solid where he stood, matching her eyes with unwavering contact. "I don't want to argue with you on this, (Y/N). This is final."

Her gaze softened, matching the refractions in the tears pearling on her waterline. "Okay," she peeped after a pause, her voice barely above a whisper.

With the bills wadded in her hand, Harry disregarded the space between them as he pulled her into a hug. She melted into his hold that was becoming familiar, burrowing her face into his neck with her hands around his middle. He curled himself around her, the tip of his nose buried in the hair on the top of her head, his eyes falling closed as he pulled in a deep breath. His arms around her pulsed, his heartbeat rattling in his chest.

"'M sorry, (Y/N)," he murmured, lips brushing the crown of her head, "'M sorry I got y'involved in this."

(Y/N) shook her head, "It's not your fault."

While Harry couldn't accept that answer, he gave his own in the form of a kiss pressed to the top of her head. "I need to go now, okay?" he told her, voice muffled in her hair.

"Where are you going?" she asked, voice small to match his.

"Not too far, I don't think, since I want to leave y'the car," he said, trying to stitch together the details of his plan after such a vulnerable start to his day.

Drawing away, she looked up at him with questioning eyes. "You think they'll find you? How?"

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. "'M sure they already have an idea of where 'm hiding."

It was clear (Y/N) didn't enjoy his answer, but she didn't ask any more questions. Instead, she followed him quietly as he readied himself to meet his fate. While it wasn't a new feeling for him—accepting the fact that this outing might be his last—it was different knowing that someone would be waiting for him, knowing exactly what happened if he didn't make it back. It felt a lot more final this way. An omen—one he couldn't decide was good or bad.

With everything ready, and a plan to grab the gun he had packed in the car, Harry moved towards the door. (Y/N) stopped him with a soft hand on his biceps.

"I'll see you tonight, right?" Her eyes were pleading as she looked up at him.

"I'll try m'best." His gaze lingered on her. She still looked at him with softened eyes and wonderous gaze despite all the ugly secrets she now knew about him. His heart ached in his chest. "Thank you, (Y/N)."

He placed his hand on her's where it was resting on his arm. He curled his fingers around her own, giving her a small squeeze before he peeled her touch away.

All the way out the door, he could feel her eyes on him. He couldn't look back.

—————

(Y/N)'s legs felt cramped, the last six hours of having been curled up in the bathtub now showing in her aching muscles. Despite that, she didn't even think about stretching out, keeping herself bundled with her legs against her chest and arms looped around her shins.

The sun had gone down hours ago, wiping away the final slice of light that was draped through the main room. The gun Harry had given her laid untouched, safety clicked, at her feet. Her breathing was the only sound in the silent room.

Every time she could hear a set of feet trudging past the front door, her ears perked, trying to find any evidence that it might be Harry. Every time she came up with the opposite answer, her heart dropped an inch more.

As much as she wanted to hear someone familiar, for a pair of those heavy footsteps to stop in front of her door, a sense of panic filled her whenever they drew too close. But, she still felt hopeless every time they moved on without a lingering second. She didn't want to be alone, but she feared what having the opposite would mean if she wished a little too hard.

The otherwise silent room left her too much room to think about what Harry had told her today.

She knew he didn't think of his story as much of a tragedy as it was. She didn't think he even realized just how terribly he was taken advantage of and convinced he had no choice but the most evil one.

He was a victim, too.

(Y/N) knew Harry. Despite all the walls he presented and maintained, she'd gotten glimpses as to who he was at his core through these last months and especially this past week. There was always an assumption that he had a few secrets hiding behind his barricades, but she never would have guessed them to be something of this nature. She couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to carry something like that around, no one there to support him.

There was no way to comprehend what it would feel like to be in Harry's shoes. Doing everything on his own for so long before running into her, allowing a small smidge of himself to show to her, only for them to land in dirty motels with tear-stains on a floral bedspread.

Harry thought he was a monster, but (Y/N) could only consider him brave. He was the strongest person she knew.

There would be no way he wouldn't return to her, then, right? He was the strongest, smartest, most capable person she knew. Their teary cuddling couldn't be the last time she saw him. Right?

Another set of voices—three different ones, this time—interrupted (Y/N)'s spiraling. Her hands clenched around her knees, her breathing pausing as she tried to listen as best she could through both the cracked bathroom door and the bolted room door.

Soon enough, the volume peaks. They were right outside the door. (Y/N) could almost clearly make out the words through the thin walls.

A beat later, not a second of lag, the voices began to retreat, the volume lowering until nothing but muffles were heard. They'd walked past. It wasn't Harry, none of them.

Closing her eyes, (Y/N) knew she had to believe that Harry would come back. She couldn't see herself leaving here without him, even if time was something they were running out of.

But, he promised her. He promised her he'd make sure she was safe.

She knew Harry, and he wouldn't break his promises.

That was how she knew he would come back to her.

—————

Despite the sore in her muscles and the exhaustion tugging at her eyelids, (Y/N) went stiff when she heard the doorknob jiggle. Not once in the hours since Harry left had anyone even lingered outside the door, let alone try to breach the lock. Her breathing stuck in her throat when the incessant noise continued. In lethargic movements, her hands held a tremor as she reached for the gun at her feet.

She swore her heart stopped when the jiggling stopped, a muffled curse being heard from the other side of the door. The voice sounded familiar—the timbre, the tone, everything sounding like the one person she'd been waiting for. (Y/N) wanted to run to the door and let him in, her instincts pushing her to abandon post. But, she had to remember: Harry had a key, he'd let himself in.

Though, a creeping argument in the back of her mind started, what if he lost his key? What if he was hurt, bleeding and aching for her help? What if he couldn't use his key and she was going to leave him to die out there all because of a flimsy rule he'd made before walking into battle?

Her hands shook that much harder, her loose grip on the gun wavering.

Over the roar of her heartbeat in her ears, (Y/N) heard the jamb give away, the sticky lock finally opening. The door was pushed open, whiny hinges creaking. She heard the door be closed after a set of heavy footsteps made their way into the motel, the lock being bolted into place once more. Only the sound of labored breathing replaced the sudden racket in the silent room.

Please be Harry, please be Harry, please be Harry.

She tried to steady her hand on the firearm the longer the silence dragged on.

"(Y/N)? Are you still here, love?"

Tears sprung into (Y/N)'s eyes at that voice, relief flooding her system. She let go of the gun at her feet though her hands still shook as she stayed stuck in her pose in the bathtub.

"Harry?"

Those heavy footsteps that introduced him to the motel started again, the pace much faster as he crossed the room to her hiding spot.

The second he appeared in the doorway, (Y/N) knew she was supposed to be scared of him. She was supposed to be at least wary of the swelling bruises beginning to form on his face, fingerprints denting the skin of his neck. Stray scratches littered his arms, specks of blood marring his skin. His hair was a mess, strands sticking at odd angles. The worst of it was blood that was clearly not his, staining his shirt, splatters reaching as far as his cheeks. The red looked especially vivid beside the green of his wild eyes and the creamy tone of his skin. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, his shoulders seeming wider in the doorway with his fists clenched at his sides.

But, even with every cue telling her she should keep cowering away from him, her heart still lurched in her chest at the sight. Under all the mess and core, that was her Harry. She knew him, she trusted him, and he came back to her. How could she be scared of that?

Following the bruising beats of her heart, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she was leaping out of her hiding place. Disregarding the stiff set of her muscles and the weapon left in the tub, she jumped through the bathroom before landing in his arms.

"Harry!" she bubbled, clinging to him in a tight hug. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, with her arms around his neck with her cheek pressed to his. "Oh my god, you're okay, you're okay, Harry."

Her tongue felt like mush in her mouth the way she could barely form a coherent thought before she was dissolving to babbles. She didn't even realize she was crying until she could taste the salt of her tears. At least that explained the sticky lump in the back of her throat, too heavy to talk around.

Harry held her just as tightly, a strong arm supporting her underneath her thighs while the other roped around her waist. She could feel every breath he made, every ripple of his muscles; she even thought she could feel the thump of his heart.

Pulling away from his neck, (Y/N) reared back just enough to see his face though she didn't go too far. Shifting her hold on him, she pushed his hair out of his face, his features watery and distorted through her tears. Smears of blood stained her palms, but (Y/N) didn't care; she could be grossed over the blood later, right now all she could see was Harry. Everything she had hoped for, for the last handful of hours had actually come true, how could she focus on anything else?

Eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom, Harry looked up at her reverently. "'M here, (Y/N)," he murmured to her, voice broken. The longer he looked at her, that glimmer in his eyes rose until it was a shimmer of overfilled tears. "God, (Y/N)."

Holding his cheeks in her palm, she nodded her head, understanding the overwhelming feeling she was sure he felt bloom in his chest. "What happened?" she whispered, voice thin.

Shaking his head, those same curls she had brushed out of his face fell over his forehead once more. Some strands were darkened with blood. "'S over," he told her, his own tone small to match her own, "'M out. They aren't going to bother me anymore. 'S really over."

(Y/N) swallowed. "H-How?"

His jaw tensed under her hands. Another shake of his head was granted. "I-I don't want to—I can't talk about that." With the way his eyes darted from her own, falling down her features in a glazed trail, she knew this wasn't something to push him on. "B-But 's done—(Y/N), 's over."

Something in him snapped then, as if he heard himself for the first time. Harry crumbled then, his features twisting and flushing as rivers of tears fell from his eyes. He cried the way he did after his nightmares—heavy and nonstop.

Harry clutched her to his body as he sobbed into her neck, having shielded himself in her hair once his breath started shuddering in his lungs. He murmured over and over It's over, it's over, it's over, into her skin, the mantra slicking her skin like the tears that ran down his cheeks. (Y/N) held him even as his grip gave out, sliding down his body until she was planted flat on her feet, her fingers running a soothing circuit through his dirty hair.

Pressing her lips to the side of his head, (Y/N) felt her own voice thin as she spoke, "You did it, Harry. You're done."

His arms around her pulsed, her body flush against his with his fingertips denting into her back from how tightly he held her. Hesitantly peeling himself away from where he was cuddled into her neck, he gazed at her with bright green eyes, bloodshot and tired.

"I-I want to shower," he murmured to her, the first thing he managed to utter other than his disbelieved mantra.

A gentle smile touched at (Y/N)'s cheeks, a breathless laugh exhaling through her nose, "Yeah?" When Harry nodded his head, his tears slowing though he didn't share in her amusement, she brushed her hand through his curls once more before beginning to separate from his hold. "Okay, just let me... I left your gun in the tub, then I lea—"

The second she tried to shake off his grip and take her own touch away, Harry resisted with a shake of his head and his hold tightening. His arms were a rope around her waist, tying her to him. "No, no, no," he bubbled, desperation sinking into his eyes, "I-I don't want to be alone. Don't leave."

(Y/N) paused where she stood, her eyes matching his watery gaze. His irises swam, softened and scarred as if she left the room, he would never see her again. She couldn't say no to him.

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. "I-I can stay, it's okay," she soothed him, "Did you—You want me to get in with you or stay in the bathroom?"

As much as it felt odd to ask if he wanted her to shower with him despite the fact they'd never been more intimate than a few kisses over a week ago, (Y/N) felt like there were no longer lines between them given their circumstances. The things Harry shared with her and the time she spent adhered to his side were more intimate than sex.

Nodding his head sent a few curls she had pushed back back over his forehead, some strands sticky and darker than the rest. "Get in with me," he rushed out, looking entirely too fragile for someone who just defended himself against any number of people out to get him, "Y'can say no, I-I jus' need you. Y-You make me feel okay, and-and—"

She cut him off with a nod of her own head, her hand landing on his shoulder with a light squeeze to the cuff. It hurt seeing him try to explain himself when he didn't even seem to have fully processed the last day. "Okay, okay, I'll get in with you," she told him, eyes wide and matching his so he stayed with her, "I just... I don't want anything else happening."

It was almost frantic the way he was quick to reject her thinking. His hands on her back pressed her closer to him. "Of course not. I jus'... I need you."

After Harry let her break away from him, he still stayed close to her as clothing began to be dropped on the floor. Despite the static of his presence behind her and spying his bloody clothing from the corner of her eye, she didn't feel the warmth of his gaze on her skin as more and more was revealed. Even in the small space, he kept his back to her, eyes kept to himself even as his hands shook, aching to have the comfort of her touch.

Down to her underwear, she saw Harry step into the bathtub first, the gun being plucked out of the basin and left on the countertop. From her peripheral, she saw him hesitate, as if he were afraid to both touch and let go of the firearm. Moments later, he stepped into the tub, twisting the temperature knobs with the kitschy mermaid curtain pulled closed.

Letting out a breath, (Y/N) dropped the remainder of her clothing to the floor. While she was sure Harry had too much on his mind to be worrying about the appearance of her body, there was still something that felt unsettled knowing that this would be the first time he saw her naked. Before they'd even shared a handful of kisses, he was going to see her bare. If not for the fragile air around them, (Y/N) would have thought it was funny.

Tugging back the curtain just enough, she stepped into the tub behind Harry. His back faced her as he wet his hair under the cold water, neither having the patience to wait for the stream to heat up like normal. More tattoos were revealed to her now that his arms were covered, along with scars that dotted his back she wished she didn't have to know about.

At the sound of her joining him, Harry looked over his shoulder at her, hair dripping wet with pink tinted drops hitting the tub. His gaze didn't stray from her face as his eyes softened that much more just before he turned around to reach for her. He didn't pay any attention to her bare skin, every curve and dip being forgotten in favor of the comfort her touch could offer.

His hands cupped the soft of her hips as he tugged her to his chest, fingertips denting the soft flesh. His skin was cold as he rested his forehead on hers, her body flush against his while the water showered from overhead. (Y/N)'s eyes fell to his chest, watching the way the water swirled the rusty drain in a cyclone of blood-stained water. Spots across his body showed more injuries than she previously noticed in the form of bruises and angry slashes.

Harry didn't pay any of the pain he may have felt any mind, instead letting his eyes fall closed as he breathed her in. His hands on her hips shifted to loop around her waist just the way they had been before they stepped into the shower. His muscles relaxed further when the water began to warm, the spray beginning to fill the bathroom with steam.

This felt more intimate than sex even to (Y/N). She had never just been held like this, with no implication of something more coming.

He held her under the warm water as his breathing evened into steady paces, (Y/N) running her hands through his hair and his shoulders. She couldn't reach much of him with the way Harry held her, but she washed him as gently as she could with the places she could reach, allowing him to calm in her hold. Every now and then, his features twisted into something painful, silent tears falling from his eyes. She worried that she might be hurting him, but when he only held her tighter, she figured he had other things on his mind in those moments.

Despite those moments when his fragility peeked out higher, this was the most calm she had ever seen him. Water ran down his body in cleaning rivers, taking away every bit of armor he had donned for the last however many years, leaving all of the soft bits behind. (Y/N) was used to see him stoic, clean from any kind of messy feeling or interaction, but that didn't mean she didn't still pick up on his restless hands, anxious gaze, or the constant need he seemed to have to be aware of everything at all times. She'd never seen him allow his brain to turn off like he was now. She hoped the only thing he felt now was relief.

She was sure he was going to find a way to make this all his fault, that he should never be forgiven for the things he was forced to do today, but, if even for the next twenty minutes, she hoped he'd take this relief and comfort; she hoped he'd realized just how much he deserved to be treated gently.

After the bathroom had sufficiently been filled with steam, the humidity clinging to every surface despite the still open bathroom door, (Y/N) asked, "Is it alright if I wash your hair?" Her fingers glided over his shoulders, touch as tender as her whispered voice.

Harry hummed a cracked confirmation, his features giving that tell-tale twist as a slew of tears dripped down his cheeks. "Thank you," he breathed.

Blinking his eyes open, Harry watched as she reached for one of the bottles he'd left on the ledge from his morning shower. It was an odd angle she had to work with, seeing as he didn't let her move very far away, out she'd work with it if this was all he wanted to feel more at ease.

Ducking his head, he allowed her to lather his strands in the off-brand apple scented shampoo he'd purchased on sale a month prior. Suds formed between the waves, bright and sparkling against the dark color. Some bubbles popped up a pink hue, but (Y/N) didn't try to focus on what tinted them.

Instead, she scratched her nails soothingly along his scalp, letting him sink into her that much more. "I love your hair, Harry," she murmured to him, words a secret only for him to hear.

A watery voice piped up over the beating of the shower, "Yeah?"

With a small smile touching the corner of her lips. He was cute like these, even if the circumstances were devastating. "Mhm," she hummed, "Your curls are perfect, especially since they've gotten longer. And, the color's very pretty with your eyes."

His breathing labored just that much more as he listened to her, his grip on her tightening with her chest flush against his. "Me and my mum have the same eyes," is all he shared with her, his voice delicate enough to be blown away with the steam.

"Really?" (Y/N) pushed, hoping he'd talk more about his family. She hoped the memory of them would comfort him.

"Mhm," his hum came out on the whinier side, "Me, her, and m'sister."

"I remember that picture you had" she told him, rinsing her hands of the suds before urging him towards the spray, "You're all very beautiful."

Harry fell silent, allowing the water to wash away the blood that had stuck in his strands. The hot water had pushed a deeper flush onto his cheeks, making his eyes that much more green even if they did look a bit broken.

(Y/N) didn't push him for more as she reached for his conditioner in a matching scent. He kept his grip tight on her as she massaged the cream through his curls, using this as more of an excuse to give him tender care as opposed to clean him.

"What did your sister get her degrees in?" (Y/N) asked, thinking of the graduation picture he had displayed in his home. The only piece of decor he had.

His gaze softened some as he thought about his family. "She did a lot with English and psychology," he started, "She wanted to be a writer at first, but before we left, I remember she had talked about wanting to do something to help people. She started looking into things for—um—mental health and people who had gone through trauma. I-I don't know what she's doing now, though."

Listening, (Y/N)'s lips thinned. She didn't bother trying to push anymore after his last statement. She didn't want him focusing on the fact he didn't know what his family was doing, or even where in the world they were.

Pushing him to rinse once more, Harry stepped out of the spray free of any blood on his body with his injuries clean and muscles softened under the warm water. His body didn't seem so heavy now, only tired.

"Feel clean?" she asked, her own hair dripping wet against her back though she had no plans to wash the locks.

He gave her a quiet nod, a sniffle scrunching his nose.

For the first time since stepping into the shower, Harry's gaze strayed from the decent area of her face and the wall behind her, dropping down her body. She wasn't sure what he saw that had him scrunching his brows and his eyes turning sad once more.

Before she could say much to distract him, Harry's hands began to shake on her back. "I don't deserve to touch you," he whispered, voice just small enough so it wouldn't break under the weight of his feelings, "Not after what I've done."

His expression shifted with watery eyes and downturned lips. A cinch appeared between his brows. His lungs rattled in his chest though he didn't make any move to keep his hands off of her.

Evening her breathing, (Y/N) did her best to keep a cap on her own feelings. She wanted Harry to feel like he could break down, be honest about his feelings, without worrying about her. She knew that if he cried any, he would take it as validation to his words, or push whatever he felt to the side in favor of doting over her.

"Don't say that, Harry," she argued gently, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. She used the leverage of her hold to pull him down, their gazes matching. "You did what you had to do to protect yourself. Today, and every other day."

Shaking his head, Harry's bottom lip wobbled with his tears mixing in with the water dripping down his face. "I-I—Don't—I...," he cut himself off with a deep breath being sucked in, his eyes squeezing closed as he continued, "'M disgusting—I don't deserve to touch you."

Sweeping in a deep breath (Y/N) did her best to stay composed as she pulled his arms from the loop they made around her body. Blinking his eyes open, he looked defeated as if he really believed he had convinced her of his delusion and this was the punishment. Instead, (Y/N) pulled his palms to her face, her own hands guiding him. She held him steady as she puckered her lips and pressed kisses to his palms, the tip of her nose skimming his fingers as she spied him through the gaps. Finishing, she pressed them flat against her cheeks, her guiding hands staying atop to keep him from leaving her.

"I love your hands," she told him, allowing him to catch the view of her willingly holding them to her skin, "They took care of me and kept me safe as much as you did. Be nice."

A fresh batch of tears began to flood out of his eyes. Harry didn't say anything as he rested his forehead on hers. His hands on her skin turned solid on their own accord as he clung to her.

They stayed under the spray long enough for the water to run cold, clinging to one another.

—————

thyme represents courage; facing the past

eeeeep only one part left and now you know all the things about him!!! thank you so much for sticking w me for this! so sorry fi theres any mistakes and if you have any ideas or requests or anything please send them in!

#writing #harry #harry styles #harry one shot #harry imagine #harry blurb #harry angst #harry x reader #harry au #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles x reader #love on tour #harrys house #pleasing #as it was #satellite

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short-honey-badger · 3 months ago

Text

Shore Leave 6

Pairings! John 117 x Female Reader

Summary: You and John go to the zoo and then get a little handsy behind the bathrooms like a pair of teenagers

Shore Leave Masterlist

The zoo trip doesn't go exactly how you wanted it to go, but John seems to be having fun, and that's all that matters to you. You're still heated about the earlier interaction with the Major, but you do your best to shove your upsets down. It wouldn't do anyone any good if John picked up on how upset you still were about it.

Instead, you focused on just how excited John seemed to be. Well, you assumed he was, anyway. The big man had excellent control over his facial features, so you really had to watch his face and eyes for hints. The two of you have visited almost every exhibit, and John had even bought you an overpriced lemonade that came with a souvenir cup in the shape of a giraffe.

He holds your hand as the two of you lope up a tall hill that will eventually bring you to the new exhibit, and you ramble about everything and nothing to fill the silence. Johnson would be proud of him, he thinks.

John watches you out of the corner of his eye, and his lips quirk up in a soft smile as he listens to you talk. He's never been one for conversation, so he doesn't mind listening to you go on and on about the animals the two of you have seen so far. He cuts in at the appropriate times, sharing his own soft opinions and matching your small smile when the two of you watch a young girl beg her mother for an ice cream.

“Do you want one?” John asks when he catches your eyes lingering on the flavors. His thumb strokes over the back of your knuckles. He wants to buy you things, make sure you want for nothing. You've done so much for him already.

“Hmm. Yeah, why not? We can share if you want.” You offer. You've already had the lemonade, and too many sweet things make your stomach hurt. “What flavor are you thinking?”

John rakes his eyes over the list, and his blue eyes linger on something called rocky road. He murmured his choice, and once he had your agreement, the super soldier loped over to stand in line. You can't help the snort that leaves you when he comes back. The ice cream cone looks comically small in his huge hand, and he quickly hands it off to you once he is close enough, then frowns down at his sticky hand.

However, he is soon distracted when he catches you licking up the melted ice cream, your tongue scooping up the sweet liquid as you make a soft sound of appreciation at the taste. John swallows harshly, and his blue eyes go dark and stormy in arousal the longer he watches you.

His palms begin to sweat, and his mind begins to wander in a direction not appropriate for such a setting. What would your tongue feel like on him? Your lips in places other than his own? John knows how soft your hands are; he'd held them long enough to start to memorize each knuckle and scar on your flesh. His body buzzes in arousal, and he knows you see it in his eyes when you look up and catch them. The spartan watches as a blush blooms across your face, and you laugh nervously at his gaze.

But you don’t look away from him. Instead, you swipe your tongue over the sweet treat again, eyes half lidded as you watch John suck in a sharp breath and shift on his booted feet. You hear him say your name softly, almost like a curse, and then you are being drug away from the crowd and to a shaded corner. John glances around and then takes your ice cream, tosses it in the nearest bin, and then he is on you, lips pressed against your own and tongue sweeping across your lips to taste the sweet treat.

You make a sound of delight in the back of your throat, eyes shuttering as you open up under his assault. John kisses you like it's going out of style, big hands cupping your cheeks and angling you up just the way he wants. Your hands find his shoulders, and you hang on for dear life, chest heaving from the display of public affection. You hadn’t thought that the big man would go this far with so many people around.

As quickly as he had swept you away, John released you, realizing that the Zoo, of all places, wasn’t the best place for this sort of thing. You step back after a lingering kiss to his cheek and grin brightly up at him. His face flushes to the tips of his ears, suddenly embarrassed about his lack of decorum.

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have done that,” John murmured, but you are quick to snort and shake your head and take his big hands in your own.

“Don’t say sorry. I like it when you do things like that,” you say easily, and John deflates at your uncaring attitude. You smirk, lips teasing and cock your head to the side, “But you do owe me another ice cream later.”

John laughs, the sound deep and husky. You can't help the way your thighs rub together at the attractive sound. You shove the need to end the trip early away and tug his hand, tilting your head in the direction of the new exhibit. “Ready?”

“Let’s go,” John intones, and the two of you continue up the trail. Despite being surrounded by animals of all shapes and sizes, the chief only has eyes for you, that blue gaze burning with something he didn’t know the name of. He understands that it might seem a little odd to be so attached, so longing for a civilian woman that he met just the other night, but John couldn’t bring himself to care. Lasky had ordered him to relax, and you were the best thing for that.

The new exhibit is crowded, but thanks to John’s height and bulk, the two of you are able to get through the crowds pretty easily, even if he may have stepped on a couple of toes along the way. You press yourself close to the edge of the railing, squinting your eyes to try and see the animal hidden within. John, with his improved vision, spots it far before you can. He presses close to your back, bending so that he can lower himself closer to your height, his chin grazing the top of your head. He points into the habitat, and you follow it.

“Can you see them?” John asks softly, his tone a low rumble that has a shiver wracking down your spine. You try your best to focus on the pair of Siberian tigers slinking through the tall grass inside the enclosure, but having John pressed so close is very distracting. But once you are able to focus on the big cats, you are reminded heavily of the man behind you.

Major Baroque had told you John was a Spartan, a man created for the purpose of war - a predator among the other men and women of the UNSC. All lean muscle and heightened instincts, honed from decades of fighting the Covenant. John was a dangerous man, just like the tigers stalking the grass below you.

“They’re beautiful,” you murmur and press yourself that much closer to John. He obliges by wrapping an arm around your waist, a big hand splayed across your side as he holds you close. You hear him hum his agreement, but when you look at him, you find John isn’t looking at the tigers but at you.

His eyes burn with a fire that matches the one in your own. A silent agreement passes between the two of you, and John is leading you through the crowds the next moment, arm tight around your waist to keep you close. He scans his surroundings for the best place to hide away from prying eyes within milliseconds, pulling you behind the building for the bathrooms and pressing you up against the wall.

You gasp at being lifted, but get with the program quickly and wrap your legs around his thick waist, anchoring yourself by slinging an arm around his broad shoulders. John leans down, and you meet him halfway, lips pressing against his own in a heated kiss. Your free hand cups his jaw, holding his face as you drop your mouth and lick across the seam of his lips.

The groan John makes is borderline animalistic, and he presses into you, wanting to feel that teasing heat between your thighs. His cock aches in his jeans, and John can’t help but grind into you with a low breath through his nose.

You give just as good, nails biting into his muscled shoulders and holding him as close as you can, hips jerking and gyrating against the thick length you can feel hidden behind his slacks. You feel tiny, doll-like in his arms, but you find that you like the vulnerable feeling that this beast of a man brings about in you. Especially when you know that John would never let anything happen to you, not when he was around.

You suck in grateful lungfuls of oxygen when John breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t stop there. He hefts you higher, his lips finding the column of your throat and laving the sensitive flesh with sweet kisses and kitten nips with sharp teeth. You cling to John, lip trapped between your teeth as you bite back the low groans and sounds of pleasure. You would hate to have someone catch you like this.

John’s free hand slides under the loose shift you wear, rough fingertips crawling along your skin until he reaches your bra. He cups your breast, tugging at the cup until he feels the hardened peak of a nipple graze across the pad of his thumb. John can’t wrap his head around how soft you are, all gentle curves and delicate skin. The Master Chief feels like a giant compared to your smaller stature, but he likes how he can handle you so easily.

John wanted to hear every little breathy moan and suppressed sigh that you made, wanted to bark an order for you to stop holding back, but the zoo wasn’t the best place to keep going at this pace. He begins to slow to a stop, trailing up kisses to your lips, where he lingers a moment longer before he reluctantly pulls away.

“I know we haven’t seen all the animals yet, but can we go now?” You ask, and you don’t try to hide the desperate whine in your voice. You want to keep touching, want to keep being touched.

John can’t help but huff a laugh, but he is setting you down and fixing your shift so that it falls naturally once more. Once more, he can’t help but think that Avery would be proud of him.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

#halo x reader #halo tv show #halo #halo 4 #john 117 x reader #john x reader #master chief x reader #shore leave

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lilhealthybean · 1 year ago

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teacher's pet

"If I'm so special, why am I secret?"

tags: jjk and suguru geto

note: au, teacher!geto . want to clarify, you are at college, 21 years old, and he is 26. also this seems more like a hatefic towards him, so sorry, i really love geto.

Bell rang, everyone sighed as they dropped their pens on the table. Suguru stood up from his chair to gaze at all the students, pausing longer on you than on others.

"Class dismissed, please leave now, and I will collect your essays," Suguru said nonchalantly.

Everyone obeyed and exited the classroom.

"Don't leave, y/n, I need to have a little chat with you," he said as you walked past him.

You froze in place, staring at the floor. When you were alone, he approached you, and you could barely move.

“You didn’t answer my call last night,” Suguru said calmly as he gathered all the papers.

You began to assist him.

“I was studying for your exam,” you replied. He chuckled.

The truth was that you were tired of him and the relationship you both had. This affair between you began almost six months ago, when he became your literature teacher for the remainder of the course.

Initially, you were unaware of him, but unfortunately, he was not unaware of you. The moment he walked in and saw you, he knew you would be his and only.

Before you knew it, he orchestrated situations to spend more time alone with you. Just weeks later, he had you under his control.

How could you resist? He was charming, always treating you well. Unlike others your age, he knew how to keep you delusional with his words and actions. Showering you with gifts, weekend road trips, afternoon promenades… Was he even real?

From that point on, you became the teacher’s favorite. Always eager to answer his questions, volunteering for anything he requested, and studying diligently. You craved his approval, no, you depended on it. You were a submissive, manipulated student, and he was well aware of it.

“Darling, you know I couldn't give you the exam; that would be cheating,” he said, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

You despised how, at first, you mistook his actions for romantic gestures. It dawned on you that they were manifestations of your submission to him and his thirst for power. Avoiding his gaze, you sighed. When did this relationship devolve into a manipulative game devoid of genuine emotion? You cursed your naivety, realizing too late that Geto's feelings for you were shallow, driven solely by a desire for control.

Escape eluded you not due to threats, but because of his cunning ways—his knack for twisting situations, gaslighting you, and ensnaring you in his deceptions. Despite recognizing the situationship, you felt lost without his guidance. Not only lost but you felt alone, since you believed his lies about your college companions inadequacy and your need for his supposed superiority in age, intellect, and greatness.

"Why are you acting like that?" he teased.

"I'm not sure," you replied, distancing yourself.

"I think I know why you resent me," he murmured, grasping your hand. "Is it because of the tutoring session with someone else? You're not like them; you're special."

"If I'm so special, why am I a secret?" you blurted out, instantly regretting it.

Despite his transgressions, you remained attached to him, berating yourself for your foolishness.

"Are you upset because I kept you hidden?" he inquired, taken aback.

You nodded, consumed by humiliation.

"Darling, you're a secret because you're too good to be true," he murmured, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "If the authorities found out about us, it would spell trouble. It's not just me who'd suffer; you'd risk expulsion. Is that what you want?"

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze.

"Expulsion would tarnish all your parents' hard work," Suguru continued, his tone persuasive. "Let's face it, you enjoy this arrangement the most, right? Dating someone of your league, not like those monkeys you have as classmates, reaping good grades. It's your call, my dear. Shall we go public and sacrifice all that you and your family have built, jeopardizing your future? Or shall we keep it between us, ensuring your academic success and our continued lovely relationship?"

You swallowed hard, meeting his intense gaze. His captivating appearance clashed with his manipulative ways, momentarily leaving you speechless.

"Perhaps you would consider ending things with me, but then you'd lose the privileges I've granted you in my class. Do you truly believe your grades solely reflect your hard work?" Geto's condescending tone pierced through.

Trapped without an exit, you harbored resentment.

"Let's keep it a secret," you conceded, defeated.

How much longer would you endure this? Until his interest waned?

"You show such maturity for your age; that's why you're my favorite student," Geto remarked. "Now, be a good teacher's pet and leave five minutes after me. Tomorrow, I'll pick your for dinner so dress up decently, alright?"

#jjk #jjk oneshot #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk au #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu geto #geto suguru #jjk suguru #suguru x reader #geto x reader #jujutsu angst #suguru geto #geto imagines

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ichasewaterfalls · 2 years ago

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CAR OMORASHI.

By reading this, you verify that you are 18+ years old, and understand the content you’re about to read is considered NSFW and omorashi-linked, and therefore unsuitable to minors.

I tried to keep the heightening urge to pee in the back of my mind as we sped down the highway towards the mountains. We’d only been driving for an hour or so, and I didn’t want to inconvenience Jake just yet. I was sure that I had a good few more miles left in me before it escalated to emergency status. I’d turned down the initial toilet break before we left, confident in my holding ability and wanting to keep to our strict schedule in order to get to Jake’s parents house before Christmas Eve.

Dismissing the thought from my mind, I instead scrolled the plan I’d written for our trip. Itineraries for each day, special activities for us all, and even a family photoshoot for the entire group. I’d taken joy in planning every family reunion since Jake and I got married 4 years ago. Admittedly, I’d also taken control the 2 years we were engaged, and the 3 years of dating. So with 9 years of planning under my belt, I was confident I knew how to create the perfect festive bash.

That wasn’t the only thing under my belt. My bladder reminded me of its existence as Jake merged rapidly into the left-most lane, and I shivered randomly as a wave of urgency fell down my spine.

‘What the hell? You’re supposed to be in the right lan-‘

Before I told him off for his directional mishap, I looked up quickly to see the lane was blocked off, a massive spill of hay all over the road. Should’ve thought of this as a possibility, since we were just passing the thresholds between country farms and mountainous ranges. My bladder seemed to be passing a threshold too, between uncomfortable and urgent.

‘We’ll have to go the back way. It’ll be about 45 extra minutes added to the journey.’

I sighed with frustration, 45 minutes? Not only did it throw us off schedule, it meant longer for me to hold my increasingly aching bladder.

‘I’ll text your mom.’ I scoffed, quickly shooting the group chat a text to let them know we’d be a bit late. As I put my phone down again, I crossed my legs and placed my hands on my lap, preparing myself to have to place a hand or two between my legs to hold myself.

I must have been shaking without notice, but Jake obviously did. He always did.

‘You alright there? Need a bathroom break?’

‘N-no, I’m fine. I- Yes I need a bathroom break.’

‘I’m not sure where the closest facility is on this road. I don’t normally drive the backroads to mom’s. I’m sure we’ll figure it out babe.’

The drive continued, and so did my need for a bathroom. I now had one hand between my legs, and another hand scanning Google Maps, trying to find any relief stops near us. But of course, rural mountain roads aren’t the most reliable source of internet connection. I thought about asking Jake to stop so I could get out and go, but since everyone was diverted, like us, we had cars in front and behind us. And with narrow, slippery roads, there wasn’t enough space to stop and pull over, or safely get off the road. A sinking feeling set in. My sense of chivalry was no longer important to me, he was my husband after all.

‘Jake it’s getting worse, I need to find relief ASAP.’

‘I don’t know how to help babe, I’m trying.’

He was obviously noticing the severity of the situation, as he placed his foot on the gas, going up to the safest speed limit for these roads. I watched him stare at me anxiously as I shoved both hands inside my pants, trying to hold back the pee from escaping.

As the car climbed higher into the range, my need for a bathroom reached a breaking point, and the urgency in my voice became palpable. "Jake," I gasped, my face contorted with discomfort, "I really can't hold it much longer."

"I know, Clara," Jake signed, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization or a restroom. "Just a little longer, okay? Let's try some deep breathing together."

He reached over, placing one hand on my shoulder to guide me through deep, calming breaths. "Inhale deeply...hold it for a moment...now exhale slowly," he coached, trying to keep his voice steady despite the rising panic.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the seatbelt tightly. "It's not working, Jake," I whimpered, my voice trembling with desperation.

But as the minutes ticked by, my resolve wavered. I clutched the dashboard, my face flushed with embarrassment and defeat. "Jake," I whispered, tears forming in her eyes, "I can't...I'm so sorry."

Before Jake could respond, the inevitable happened. My efforts to hold it in proved futile, as the pee rushed out of me, soaking my jeans and the car seat beneath me.

For a moment, silence filled the car, save for my muffled sobs and Jake's stunned expression. The weight of the situation hung heavy between us.

"I'm so sorry, Jake," I managed to choke out, tears streaming down her face.

Jake took a deep breath, reaching over to comfort me. "It's okay sweetheart," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy and understanding. "Accidents happen. We'll figure this out together."

#female omo #omorashi #bladder control #omutsu #omo kink #pee kink #piss kink #bladder desperation #piss desperation #pee holding challenge #omo story

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lazyneonrabbitt · 2 years ago

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Feral for you Pt.2

Daryl Dixon x Reader | SMUT | Pt.1

After Daryl learns you two are the same you separate from the group together at the first full moon. Daryl finally gets his share of 'getting dirty in the woods'.

🐺 🔞 🐺

After the events at Terminus you were back on the road again. The whole group was reunited and soon enough the first full moon was around the corner again.

"It's okay to split from the group, right?" You had been getting anxious the last few hours, not knowing how the rest of the group responded to non-humans. Neither you or Daryl had shown any signs in front of the group except for Rick and Michonne.

"Yer fine." He reassured you. "We can split as soon as yer startin' ta feel like changin', yeah?" It was clear you still weren't convinced and he sighed.

"Come on, this is serious!" You whisper-yelled at the man beside you, quickly looking around if it pulled the group's attention onto you.

"Aight, we're leavin' righ now." A large hand grabbed your arm and yanked you off the path and into the deeper end of the woods.

You heard a voice call after you. "Why're you taking her? Shouldn't you be alone?" It was Carol's voice to which Daryl responded without even consulting you. "Ask Rick, he'll tell ya."

Your face burned a deep scarlet as he called back to his friend while dragging you along into the thick greenery.

“What was that comment about?” You snapped, clearly already feeling the effects of the moon after opting out of shifting and preferring to hide away instead the last couple of months.

“Yer clearly forgotten he saw ya murder that guy.” You enjoyed that a little too much, getting to kill the guy that had threatened to hurt Daryl.

“We really need to get further away from the group..” your strained voice had Daryl on high alert, not only having to keep himself in check but you as well seeing you weren’t as in control of your beast as he was under the influence of the moon.

“Ya gotta hang on a bit longer, can ya do tha’ fer me?” His arm went around your shoulder to steady your swaying figure, now panting and growling as the beast started taking control. “Hnngg… no-“ with a gasp you dropped to your knees in agonizing pain. You had tried to keep the change from happening as soon as the sun had set but you couldn’t keep it away any longer. He let out an angry growl as he let his own beast take over fast enough to keep an eye on you.

He nuzzled you and pawed at any part of you that hurt. His claws skillfully tearing your skin at your spine to help your tail grow and lapping at your cheeks as your jaw snapped forward and grew into a full muzzle. You rolled over and curled into yourself as you clutched your stomach, feeling the skin change underneath your arms.

Daryl had never seen a female wolf change before and stuck his snout right between your arms, right into your stomach that had a soft layer of lighter colored fur covering the skin now.

You mewled as it hurt, pushing his snout away, rolling him over on his side with ease. He laid down flat on the ground next to you, staring as the pain seemed to fade and you finally relaxed again. You laid on your side and stared at him. His eyes still holding that same deep blue color as his human form did, showing you he was still fully in control. Then again, luckily so where you.

Daryl rose off the ground and stepped over you, nudging you as he passed. You snorted and grabbed at his hind leg, pulling and tripping him so you got he upper hand but only for a second until he had thrown you off him and rolled around until you both hit a tree. You took the opportunity to run but were quickly caught again, grabbed at the hips and shoved aside. Toppling over again you managed to kick at one of his legs to make him lose balance giving you the chance to take the upper hand again. As you stood above him he was caught of guard by your form hovering above him. Instead of fighting back he took the chance to take in your beauty as he let out a content purring noise.

You returned his actions and took in his appearance as well. The broad muscles littered with scars and the dark markings where his human form carried tattoos all made him unique.

But as your gaze wandered on across his thick, muscled frame something else entirely caught your attention. He stood at full attention, entirely unsheathed and knot already swelling. You looked back up at him and shamelessly plopped your hips down on his, sitting down on top of his cock and wiggling your hips to get comfortable.

You bent forward, giving him a prefect view of your chest before licking his muzzle and trying to shove your tongue between his lips as you rubbed your slick all over his length before reaching down and positioning his tip at your entrance and sinking down in one fast movement letting out a pleasured howl.

Daryl’s large paws grabbed at your hips to steady you, keeping a slow pace to get you adjusted to his size but soon letting go so you could let yourself enjoy him at your own pace.

Your claws dug into the plush of his chest as the skin broke underneath your fingers and your hips bounced on him at a fast and rough pace. You whined out as you fucked yourself on his cock, chasing your release. It wasn’t long before you were clenching around him as you came, catching your breath for a moment which gave Daryl the chance to take the upper hand again.

He grabbed you by the wrists and rolled you over, pulling out and moving his muzzle to harshly bite down on your chest, leaving bloody marks all over it before lapping at the nipples that adorned your stomach. He moved even lower to lap at your folds before shoving the entire length of his tongue into you. His teeth brushed your cheeks and lower stomach as his entire jaw fit around you while his tongue worked itself in and out of you in a sloppy way. When he felt like he had enough he pulled away from you to lap all over your chest again before flipping you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up to meet his eager ones. In a swift move he had his cock buried deep inside of you again and fucked into you at a brutal pace. One of his paws held your chest pressed against he ground as the other held your hips up to meet his with every thrust making you howl out every time his knot threatened to slide into you. The pleasure started building up again quickly as he kept up his aggressive rhythm and your howls morphed into mewls and long winded whines, begging him to let you come. Deep growls and grunts joined your whines signaling he was getting close as well, moving his body closer against yours as he pressed in even harder. His loud groaning sounds right at your ear pushed you over the edge as your walls tightened around his cock and sending him over the edge with you as he snapped his hips impossible harsh against yours and filled you all the way, his hips flush against yours and stuck as he knotted you, spilling directly into your womb with a loud howl echoing through the air.

You both laid down panting, tongues out and wide grins on your faces. You let out a loving hum which he happily returned as you yawned loudly.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around you and pulled your body tight against his as he held you close to help you sleep.

You dozed off quickly and when you awoke the next morning you were human again. Daryl was clothed already and holding you against him. “Did you sleep at all?” You rubbed your eyes tiredly as you rolled over, feeling how sore you still were from last night’s activities.

“Passed out right after ya.” He smiled at you as he handed you your clothes. You thanked his as you got up and dressed, readying to track down the group again. “We should do that way more often.” You mention it casually as your arms cramp while trying to clasp your bra behind your back.

“Yeah, we aint’ doin’ this fer a long while.”

His rejection felt like a stab to the heart and a lump formed in your throat. You looked up at him with watery eyes which had him quickly reassure you he didn’t mean it in a bad way and pointed down at you.

You followed the direction of his fingers and looked down at yourself, flattening your chest with your hands to look down at your stomach which, even after shifting back to your human form, was adorned with your wolf form’s teats.

“Oh, well.. Yeah no we’re not fucking for a while then.” You looked back up at him and couldn’t hold back the grin that spilled all of your inner thoughts. You took your top and pulled it back on but before the hem reached your hips Daryl's hand had wrapped around you and pulled you against him. With your back pressed against him he had a hand splayed out over your stomach, lovingly caressing it and pressing kisses to your temple.

"I thought we had to go track the group?" You playfully ask as you turn around in his grasp.

"Can't help mahself, seein' wha I did to ya. It took so easily."

You kissed his jaw, and then his lips as you imagined yourself in a couple of months and couldn't help but get turned on just as Daryl was, thinking about it.

Snapping twigs caught your attention as your group appeared from behind the trees.

You and Daryl broke apart and gave them a weird look. "Thought we were supposed to find you guys, not the other way around?"

Carol let out a giggle at your confused looks. "Wasn't hard to find you when you're so goddamn loud, sweetie." She had the kindest smile on her face which managed to terrify you even more than Daryl first did when you met him.

You looked down and back at Daryl who scratched the back of his neck and apologized as he ducked his head down.

"We'll leave sooner next moon, so we're furrher away from you guys." The group nodded as Daryl shook his head, putting a hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

"Yer stayin' inside the next few moons. Can't have ya change in yer condition." You gave him an understanding look and nodded in agreement. "You're right. I didn't think about that." You smiled up at him to make sure you were okay with how he was making decisions for you.

"I guess it's time to go look for a home, then." You kissed Daryl's cheek and joined your group, ready to head on.

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: As it turns out, when I write a non-smut Were!Daryl fic people will ask me for a smutty part two so hey ho lets go!

Come in and welcome into the den of monsterfuckery. This is a safe space and I love you all ♡

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon smut #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #the walking dead imagine #twd smut #werewolves #werewolf #monster fucker

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icycoldninja · 1 year ago

Note

Dude I absolutely adore your Sephiroth angst fics, they're such good reads! I was wanting to request some angst with him around the Nibelheim Incident, his s/o accompanies him but ends up on the fire and he realises at the last second if thats a decent idea. Thank you again for all the quality fics :D

Thank you so much, it's always awesome to hear ppl lovin' them! I'm so psyched that people are finally requesting more Sephiroth 😁 Here you go and please enjoy.

Hold on (Sephiroth x Reader angst)

You had arrived at Nibelheim far later than Sephiroth and the others as Shinra, for some reason, had decided to put you in a separate truck and send you to join them at a later date. That, combined with the fact that the truck was overrun by monsters halfway through the trip, delayed you even furter, though that didn't stop you from coming up with a way to turn a disappointing situation into a happy one. You intended to surprise Sephiroth with your unexpected arrival, but unfortunately, you happened to set foot past Nibelheim's gate at the worst time imaginable.

You couldn't believe your eyes when you got there; the entire town and the woods surrounding it was on fire. Tall, bright orange and red flames shot up from the treeline, iluminating the sky with an ominous amber glow, meanwhile, terrified villagers ran out of their smoldering homes, scrambling for the path that led down to the road where they hoped they would be safe. Others were desperately trying to escape exhausted militiamen trying to guide them to safety, their terrified minds fixated on freeing a trapped or long dead family member crushed under the rubble.

As you beheld the scene, your mind grew frantic and began to spin with questions. What happened here? Where did this massive fire come from? Where were the SOLDIERS? Why weren't they helping the civilians? More importantly, what about Sephiroth, was he alright?

Panicking, you raced into town, ignoring the loud warnings of the rescue volunteers as they tried to keep you from rushing into your doom. You sped through the village, leaping over crackling logs and ducking falling planks of wood. The billowing gray smoke stung your eyes and burned your lungs, drying out your throat and making the simple act of breathing very difficult. Choking and hacking, you continued further into the blazing town square, soon arriving in the center of the smoldering village, where you were met with a collapsed water tower that burned just as brightly as the many crumbling homes around you.

"Sephiroth!" You screamed, voice hoarse and cracking. "Where are you?!" Shouting was a grave mistake. Your already irritated throat burned with the effort, causing you to double over, coughing so violently, you saw stars.

The flames were rising even higher now, to the point that the world seemed to be trapped in a cage of red and orange streaks. It would have been beautiful, had the smoke emanating from these flames not been choking you to death.

You were starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy and your knees were quivering fiercely, a sign you wouldn't last much longer. You were now faced with two choices: you could either stumble back out of town, and join the fleeing civilians, or continue onward in your search for Sephiroth.

Of course you chose the latter; how could you live with yourself if you didn't?

"Sephiroth!" You cried, again, still pushing forward despite your shaking knees. "Where are you?!" You suddenly tripped over a rock, hitting the dirt much harder than you expected. Your bones ached; they were probably badly bruised now, but that didn't stop you from continuing to claw at the dirt in a vain attempt to stand, key word being "attempt". Your limbs, which felt like wobbly twigs, gave out without much resistance. You crumbled to the ground once again and lay there as scorching hot walls of fire spiraled out of control all around you.

There was so much smoke now, it made your stomach churn and breathing painful. You knew you weren't going to last much longer, but what could you do to save yourself? You couldn't even move. Tears began to well up in your burning eyes and slide down your cheeks as fear and worry overwhelmed you. It didn't matter what happened to you; all you wanted was to know Sephiroth was safe.

As if the universe were answering your plea, you faintly caught sight of a pair of black combat boots slowly trooping across the scorched ground.

"Sephiroth?" You rasped, voice barely audible over the crackling of burning wood.

"This cannot be...Y/N?" The pair of black boots hurried towards you with speed you'd never witnessed before. In seconds, the silver-haired male was at your side, strong, gloved hands gently lifting you up and turning you over. Your hazy, smoke-clouded eyes blinked at him slowly as you struggled to focus on his worried face and those beautiful, yet strangely sad green eyes that were so intently focused on you.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. The longer you looked at him the more you realized how different he seemed. There were dark shadows under his eyes; shadows you don't remember seeing. There was also a strange, almost insane gleam to his eyes, like a light shining at the end of a dark hallway.

"Sorry I'm a little late," You chuckled, coughing. "Surprise."

"You fool." Sephiroth mumbled, shaking his head at you. A few locks of his long, soft hair fell over his shoulder and cascaded onto the ground, the shimmering silver a stark contrast with the dark, scorched ground.

"Why did you come all this way? You should have remained at the entrance, or left. You know it isn't safe." You shook your head, smiling.

"I...wanted to...make sure....you're...ok..." You reached up and gripped his hand as tightly as you could; your head was getting lighter and lighter and you needed something to ground you.

"You...were concerned? For me?" Sephiroth sounded as if he couldn't believe you cared about him, which was odd because you always showed and told him you did.

"Of course..." You replied, realizing how hard speaking was growing. "I love you...why...wouldn't I be concerned?"

"Don't you know what I am?" Sephiroth asked, shaking you slightly. "Do you not understand with whom you are conversing?"

"You're...the love of....my life, Seph...that's...good enough...for me..." You punctuated your words with another series of violent coughs. Sephiroth could see your already labored breathing was worsening and could tell by the way you were squinting that your eyes burned so much you couldn't keep them open. When he felt your grip on his hand loosen, he felt true fear for the first time in his life.

"No, no, no, no, no, don't let go. Do not let go. Hold on to me. I...I will get you to safety." He was breathing heavily himself, his heart pounding in his hands. This wasn't supposed to happen. You shouldn't have come here. He couldn't lose you, not here, not anywhere. He refused to lose you. He was the Chosen One, come to reclaim the Planet, and you--you were to be his beloved bride. He couldn't lose you here, he refused to even consider the possibility!

"I can't hold on," You whispered, shaking your head weakly. "I...I'm slipping..." Your vision blurred, but you were vaguely aware of something warm and wet falling onto your face--tears, perhaps?

"Please...don't go...I need you," Sephiroth said, voice brittle, grip around your hand tightening. "Hold on. Please."

"I can't," You repeated, feeling consciousness starting to fading away; the sensation akin to falling asleep. "I'm sorry...I...just...want you to know...I love...you."

Your entire body had gone numb and cold now; you couldn't see and your throat hurt too much for you to even talk. It was a good thing your vision had left you, because it meant you couldn't see the horrified, pained expression plastered on Sephiroth's face as he desperately tried to keep you awake--but his efforts were in vain. You were gone.

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deterweek · 6 months ago

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Deter Week 2025: Themes Announcement!

Hey y'all! Somehow, it's that time of year again. 2024 is rapidly coming to a close, and with that comes the prompts for the upcoming Deter Week event in March 2025 (10th - 16th).

We've got two prompts again for each day - this time a dialogue prompt from this wonderful blog and general thematic prompt. Use one, try to tie in both, or ignore them entirely! The idea of the prompts is just to get those creative juices flowing for whatever type of fanwork you're interested in creating. You can participate on any or all days of the event (and I always toss in a grace period right after as well). There are no signups or participation requirements - we just want to see more Deter creations in the world!

There are no content restrictions for the event, either, with the exception that no AI-generated works of any kind are permitted. This means you can create (but are not limited to) art, fic (including remixes), moodboards, playlists, podfics, bookbinds, and more. The central pairing of any creation should be Derek Hale/Peter Hale - that's it!

Without further ado...

Day 1: March 10th, 2025

Changes - Aging, going to college, moving away "I know you well enough to know when you're upset."

Day 2: March 11th, 2025

Photos - Old family albums, holiday pictures, first photos together "Don't look at me like you're sorry. You're not sorry."

Day 3: March 12th, 2025

Travel - Road trip, camping, flying "I had it under control! I had a plan!"

Day 4: March 13th, 2025

Spice - Hot foods, kink in the relationship, reading smutty books "You lied. You lied again and I fell for it."

Day 5: March 14th, 2025

Classic Tropes - Only one bed, coffeeshop AU, enemies to lovers, fake dating, porn star AU, tattoo shop & flower shop "Let's just stay in bed, like this, a little longer."

Day 6: March 15th, 2025

Eras - Old Western, Noir, Regency, Roaring 20s "Was any of it real?"

Day 7: March 16th, 2025

Influence - under the influence (drugs/alcohol), sex pollen, alpha orders, controlling family members "Hate me all you want. You know I'm right."

Please share these prompts and go ahead and start brainstorming! If you have any questions or anything is unclear, please feel free to reach out and ask at any time!

When the time comes, you can add your works to the Deter Week collection on AO3, and if you post your works or links to your works on Tumblr, be sure to mention @deterweek or tag Deter Week 2025 so that I can reblog your posts!

Happy New Year, and happy creating!

#deter #peter hale #derek hale #teen wolf #halecest #fandom events #deter week #teen wolf event #deter week 2025

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starlightkun · 7 months ago

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finders keepers ⇢ teaser 2

⇢ teaser word count: 948 | full fic: 37.8k total (22.7k & 15.1k) ⇢ genre: sci-fi/science fantasy au, soulmate au, alien!jungwoo, human!reader, slow burn, fluff and angst ⇢ warnings: blood/injury mentions (but like, alien blood, if that makes a difference?), a couple needle/injection mentions, if u get secondhand embarrassment this one might hurt in places, a couple crude jokes about alien stuff iykwim (reader’s friends r kind of the worst), this fic is just a rlly sweet soulmate au i swear idk why these tags look horrendous 😭 ⇢ extra info: this will be released in two parts bc of tumblr’s 1000-block limit that was put in place to hurt me personally :)) BUT both parts will be released on the same day ⇢ estimated release: saturday, november 30, 2024, 3:00 p.m. eastern time (sign up for my taglist here)

“Hey, it’s Hyuck, you got it here?” You asked Jungwoo, already on your feet.

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” Jungwoo confirmed, eyes momentarily leaving the screen to meet yours.

Hyuck picked up before it could even ring once, not wasting any time, “Hey, how’s our pet alien?”

“He has a name,” you retorted, still out of breath.

“He doesn’t seem to mind when I call him that.”

“He probably doesn’t understand how derogatory it could be. His language might not have a direct equivalent for the concept.”

“Yeah, whatever, how is he?”

“Fine. All of his wounds have healed.”

Your friend’s tone immediately shifted. “You sound weird. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” You insisted.

“Y/N.”

“Promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure.”

And so after explaining your situation to Donghyuck to the best of your ability, you waited with bated breath for his response.

“Oh my God, he’s going to lay his eggs in you,” he gasped.

“Hyuck! Gross!” You hissed, half-ready to hang up right then.

“I’ve seen enough alien movies to know where this is going.”

“Or watched too much weird porn.”

“You didn’t laugh at my joke, clearly you’re in crisis, sorry.” His apology sounded sincere.

“What if he plans on abducting you and taking you with him?”

“Stop it!” You scolded him again. “Jungwoo wouldn’t do that.”

“You seriously think he’ll just leave his mate behind?”

“You are way too comfortable saying that word.”

“This is not about my nighttime proclivities.”

“If I told him to, yeah, I think he would. He’s been super respectful, all things considered.”

“Okay… whatever…”

You were worried. Jungwoo had continued fixing his ship, but with each passing day, you swore he was looking worse again. He said his wounds had completely healed inside and out, but the pallor of his skin didn’t look right, he was moving slower again, and he didn’t eat as much at meals. You took a risk and took him there during the day today, not wanting to risk drawing out his stay on Earth any longer than necessary.

“How’s it coming along?” You asked, hovering over him worriedly as he sat on the floor, working on a panel under the control console.

“It’s almost done,” he informed you quietly.

“Jungwoo, you don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m—I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I just need to get back to-to Galaria.”

“Okay, yeah,” you nodded. “Let’s get you back. You said it’s almost done. What else do you need?”

“One of your friends is a mechanic?”

“Yeah, Yuta. He fixes cars.” You were slightly alarmed that he apparently couldn’t remember which one.

Jungwoo held out a long, thin black tube to you. “Could you ask him if he has something like this? Twice as long?”

“Of course! I'll go right now!” You took the tube from him. “You stay right here. Rest, okay?”

He nodded, leaning against the panel and shutting his eyes.

“Yuta!” You dashed over to him, ignoring the attempts at conversation from his coworkers as you ran by them.

“Off-limits, assholes!” Yuta yelled back at them before focusing on you again, grabbing a rag to wipe his hands off. “Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“It’s Jungwoo, he needs something like this, but double the length.” You held the tube out to him. “Do you have anything like it? I’ll pay for it.”

Yuta inspected it with a furrowed brow, and you dropped your voice even lower as the sounds of the auto shop rose again.

“Please, he’s-he’s really not doing well. I don’t know how much longer he can be here, Yuta. Something about Earth, it’s not good for him. I’m really worried.”

“What?!” Your heart fell to the pit of your stomach.

“I gave him a new brake hose two days ago. Unless he blew it up again, this isn’t it.”

“I’ve got to go.” You took off towards the door of the garage. “Bye, Yuta! Thanks!”

“See you around!”

TEASER TAGLIST

@bee-the-loser @ppddpjdr @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

#jungwoo x reader #nct x reader #jungwoo #jungwoo imagine #nct imagine #nct #kim jungwoo #jungwoo imagines #nct imagines #f: finders keepers #writing #text #mine #wooloved #bias tag

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serendipdipity01 · 5 days ago

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xiv. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲

mary on a cross - yellowjackets ♱ CHAPTER FOURTEEN series masterlist

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲

[ ₂₀₂₁! ]

By the time Annie Jo got home from school, the sky had gone flat and gray, the kind of gray that smothered shadows and made every edge feel blurred. The air tasted like metal. Her heels clicked a hollow rhythm across the foyer tile—too sharp, too clean, too alone. The smell of roasted carrots and rosemary lingered from dinner prep, but the warmth didn't reach her. Her head throbbed from fluorescent light and the sharp echo of Natalie's voice.

You never asked me to.

You were supposed to come with me.

You still owe me this.

The words had been echoing since she left the art wing, since she slammed her classroom door behind her and leaned against the cold cinderblock wall like it might hold her upright. They clung to her skin, her coat, her steering wheel. They pulsed through traffic. Through the silence of her car parked in the driveway. Through the door of the home she'd built over a life she thought she'd buried for good.

The living room looked almost staged—like she'd walked into a picture of some sort of domestic calm. Rowan lay belly-down on the rug in front of the TV, slack-jawed and focused, a controller gripped tightly in his hands. Esme sat curled in the green armchair by the window, a book splayed open on her lap, though she clearly wasn't reading. In the kitchen, Thomas wiped down the counter in slow, precise circles, even though it was already clean.

She paused in the doorway long enough to kiss the top of Rowan's head. "Hey, baby."

He didn't look up. "Hey, Mom."

Esme glanced over the rim of her book, her eyebrow raising. "You're home late."

"Yeah." Annie's voice came out softer than she meant it to. "Long day."

She crossed to kiss her daughter's temple, the gesture automatic, familiar. Her hand lingered just a beat longer than usual.

Then she turned toward the stairs.

She was halfway up the stairs when her phone buzzed.

Unknown Number: Pack a bag. Weekend road trip. We'll be there at 9 :) Unknown Number: It's Misty :)

Annie stared at the screen.

She stopped mid-step.

For a second, she just stared at the screen. The text glared back at her like a dare. She exhaled sharply, thumb frozen above the reply.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she muttered, jamming the phone back into her pocket.

She climbed the rest of the stairs faster, her hand skimming the banister like a tether. As soon as she hit the bedroom, she yanked the door shut behind her, as if that could hold the rest of her life at bay.

"Of course Misty found my number. Of course she uses emoticons," she said aloud, yanking open the closet with a clatter. "Of course this is happening now."

The hangers scraped against the rod. Hoodies, jeans, hiking boots she hadn't touched in years. What did you even bring for a road trip with Misty fucking Quigley and Natalie Scatorccio?

A crucifix? Gloves? A Bible? A bottle of wine?

"Jesus Christ," she mumbled, rubbing her forehead. "What the hell am I doing?"

She groaned and dropped to her knees, reaching for the dusty overnight bag on the bottom shelf. But as she pulled it free, something shifted in the corner—something heavy that thudded softly against the floorboards.

A box.

Just an old, ordinary box—creased at the corners, sealed with yellowed packing tape that curled like brittle petals. She didn't remember putting it there. But something about it made her stomach flip.

She dragged it out carefully, set it on the edge of the bed, and just... stared at it for a moment.

Then she peeled the tape back.

Inside: a photo strip from a booth, two girls crammed cheek-to-cheek, both of them blurry from laughter. A flyer for a concert she didn't remember attending. A folded napkin with a love note.

And under all that, half-buried like an afterthought—

The jacket.

Natalie's jacket.

Black leather, crumpled and cracking at the seams. A smear of something like old wax on the collar. One cuff matted with dirt so deeply it looked like it had grown there. It still bore the shape of a body.

And it smelled like her. Not just Natalie, but that whole forgotten version of her—of them. Smoke and winter pine and rain on gravel. The scent hit her so fast it stole the breath from her chest.

Her hand hovered above it, unsure. Then she reached out—slowly, reverently—and touched the lapel.

The world narrowed to the texture beneath her fingers.

She lifted it.

Folded it against her chest like it might keep her warm again. Like it might hold a heartbeat. Her arms wrapped around it instinctively.

God, it was heavier than she remembered. She hadn't realized she was shaking until she felt the tremor in her jaw.

The grief came all at once, quiet but furious. Her knees curled beneath her, and she sank onto the edge of the bed, rocking slightly. She didn't sob. She didn't wail. But tears slid down her cheeks, hot and soundless, and she didn't wipe them away.

"I didn't leave," she whispered, the words slipping out like a secret. ""You never asked me to stay."

But even as she said it, the memory was already shifting. Natalie's voice, brittle and raw.

You never asked me to.

You were supposed to come with me.

You still owe me this.

A knock on the door jolted her upright.

She shoved the jacket behind her, fast and clumsy, like a teenager caught sneaking a cigarette out the window. Her pulse jumped. Her mouth tasted like rust.

The door creaked open a second later.

Thomas.

He stepped in like he already knew what he was walking into. The soft click of the door behind him felt final somehow—too gentle to be innocent. He still wore his button-down from work, sleeves rolled to the elbow, his wedding band glinting under the overhead light. His shoes were off. His face was tired.

His eyes swept the room—open closet, the bag half-packed on the bed, the mess she hadn't bothered to hide.

And then they landed on her. On her red-rimmed eyes, the jacket-shaped lump she was very clearly sitting in front of.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked. His voice was quiet, but it held shape. Steel under cotton.

Annie straightened without meaning to. Her throat felt tight. "Yeah. Just the weekend. Girl's trip."

He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. "Girls' trip?"

She forced a breath out through her nose. "Misty invited me."

Thomas's brow twitched. "Does this 'girls' trip' involve Natalie Scatorccio?"

Annie hesitated a second too long. "Why would it?"

He lifted his chin slightly. "Because Misty Quigley doesn't go anywhere without Natalie Scatorccio anymore."

"It's harmless," she said.

Thomas crossed his arms. "You're not a teenager anymore, Annie."

"No." She stood now. Taller. Sharper. "I'm a grown woman. Who doesn't need permission to leave her house."

His jaw tightened, but he didn't flinch. "You're still married."

"To you, yeah. Not to the past."

He pushed off the doorframe and came into the room, slow but purposeful, like he was trying not to step on broken glass. "You think this is just the past? That it doesn't still live in your bones? That it won't bleed into everything you've built?"

Annie's chest rose, breath clipped.

"You think the kids don't notice?" he continued. "When you go quiet? When you start slipping?"

"I'm not slipping."

"You're shaking." She didn't respond, slipping off her heels and putting on tennis shoes. Thomas moved around the bed, into her field of vision. "You're being reckless."

"I'm being honest."

"You're being you again."

That landed like a slap.

She turned to face him, full. "You mean when I start remembering?"

"I mean when you stop pretending." His voice cracked, but he didn't back down. "You came back from that place a ghost. You didn't talk for weeks. You wouldn't eat unless someone gave you permission. Your slept on the floor parents said you slept on the ground instead of a bed until she showed up. And then—" He stopped himself, then pressed forward anyway. "And then after we got married, and you got pregnant, you wouldn't even hold Esme the first few days we brought her home. You said you were afraid you'd drop her. Afraid she'd cry and you wouldn't hear her. That you'd forget she was real."

Annie flinched like it hit her physically.

"You still wake up checking the locks," he said, quieter now. "You still sleep closest to the door... when you do sleep in the room."

Her voice was thin when it came. "You think I don't remember?"

"I think you're forgetting why we agreed not to talk about it. Why we never told the kids."

"That was your idea."

"You didn't fight me on it."

"Because I didn't want to shatter them," she snapped.

Thomas's voice rose—louder than she'd heard it in months. "And what, you think this won't? You think walking out that door with her won't open everything you've been trying to bury?"

Her hands balled into fists. "Maybe it should."

His face went rigid. "You think they deserve that kind of pain?"

"They deserve the truth."

"And what about me?" His words landed heavy. "What do I deserve?"

Annie stared at him. "You think this is about you?"

He stepped forward, not touching her, but close enough that she could smell the soap on his skin, the coffee on his breath.

"I know what she meant to you," he said.

Her stomach dropped.

"You don't—"

"I do." He swallowed hard. "I always have."

The silence that followed wasn't quiet—it was a ringing, vibrating kind of absence.

"You never said anything," Annie whispered.

"Because I thought I could be enough."

She blinked. Her throat burned.

"But you're still chasing her," he added, softer now.

Annie's mouth opened. No words came.

"I'm not chasing her," she finally said, voice shaking. "I'm... answering her." She took a step back. "That's different."

Thomas's expression collapsed in on itself. Something tender and furious. Something broken.

Then, suddenly, he grabbed her wrist.

"Don't do this," he said, low and desperate. "You're making a mistake."

Annie yanked her arm free. Her breath was shaky but her grip on the bag was steady.

"No," she said. "I made the mistake twenty years ago. When I stayed."

Downstairs, the horn blared. One short, smug honk.

Thomas turned to the sound like it had physically struck him.

Annie didn't move. She adjusted the strap on her shoulder. Then walked right past him.

Rowan was still on the floor, still deep in whatever pixelated world he was controlling with his thumbs.

Annie crouched beside him, reached out to touch his shoulder. "Hey. Keep an eye on your sister, alright?"

"She's older than me," he said, distracted.

Annie kissed his hair. "Exactly."

Esme stood near the front door now, arms folded like she'd been watching for a while. There was a question in her face. One she already knew the answer to.

"You're going?"

Annie nodded. "Just for the weekend."

"With her?"

Annie hesitated. "With some old friends."

Esme narrowed her eyes. "Your bible study group. That one lady...is she the one from your drawer?"

Annie stilled.

Esme didn't wait for an answer.

Annie stepped forward, brushing hair back from her daughter's face. She pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Be good. I'll be back Sunday."

Then she reached for the door.

"Annie—" Thomas called from the stairs.

She didn't turn around.

The porch light snapped on as she stepped outside.

And there she was.

Natalie leaned against Misty's blue Fiat like she'd been carved into it. Same cocky stance, same half-smirk curling beneath tired eyes. Her hair was shorter now, and brown. There was dirt on her boots. A cigarette was tucked between her fingers.

Her jacket was the same.

Everything else was different.

"You're late," Annie said.

Natalie shrugged. "You're lucky I didn't send Misty up to knock. She brought cookies."

That pulled a smile. Just a little one.

Annie descended the steps slowly. One foot in front of the other.

"So?" she asked. "Where exactly are you dragging me?"

Natalie flicked the lighter, lit her cigarette, and exhaled. Smoke curled like ribbon between them.

"We're going to visit some old friends," she said, turning to look at the woman. "Molly and Travis."

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

Three hours into the drive, the sky had turned into to that particular blue that looked almost electric in the light. The road stretched endlessly ahead, slicing through a thicket of pine and bare-limbed birch like a scar. The world outside was silent—nothing but trees and mist and the rhythmic hum of tires over cracked asphalt.

Natalie drove like she always had—one hand on the wheel, one arm slung out the window. Her cigarette was long gone, but her fingers still tapped against the door in idle memory. Every now and then, her eyes flicked to the passenger seat.

Annie Jo was asleep, head tipped slightly toward the window, her mouth parted just enough to fog the glass.

Natalie took her in.

Her hair was different now—dyed a warm, nondescript brown that dulled the edge of her face—but Natalie still knew that face by heart. The sharp ridge of her cheekbone, the faint scar above her eyebrow, the way her mouth twitched in her sleep like she was bracing for bad news.

She looked older, sure. Worn in the way that meant she'd built a life and let it grind her down a little. The glint in her eyes was dimmer, like someone had turned the brightness down years ago and never turned it back up.

But she was still Annie.

The real one—the one who used to laugh loudest by the lake, who made lopsided snowmen with twigs for arms and held Natalie's hand under the blankets at night when the wind screamed through the trees.

God, she still slept with her hands curled into fists.

From the back seat, Misty had been talking nonstop since they passed mile marker sixty-two.

"—and I found out late that he was stealing office supplies from his job. And I'm not talking about just, like, staplers. And then there was hiking guy—"

Natalie didn't answer. She kept her eyes forward, except when they darted back to Annie again.

"—but afterwards he asked me for my socks. And he still never called, but—"

A beat passed. Another.

Misty leaned forward, her arms draped over the seat like a nosy little sister. "You still love her, don't you?"

Natalie blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

Misty grinned, eyes wide and glinting. "I said, you still love her. Annie."

Natalie scowled, her mouth tightening into a hard line. "Jesus, Misty."

"What?" Misty asked, all too innocently, tilting her head. "It's not like it's a secret. She was your first love."

There was something dangerously wistful in her tone — not mocking, not even invasive, just... sincere. Dreamy, almost. Like she was flipping through an old scrapbook no one else remembered. "I used to think you two were gonna get married one day," she added, like it was obvious. "Before, you know... everything."

Natalie didn't answer. Her hands tensed against the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, jaw clenched so tight she could feel it in her ears. But her gaze, involuntarily, flicked over to Annie again — still curled against the window in the passenger seat, breath fogging the glass, hair mussed from sleep. The collar of her shirt had slipped to one side. Her necklace glinted faintly beneath it — the silver cross. Laura Lee's.

"You still look at her the same way," Misty said softly, quieter now, almost like she didn't mean for it to be heard. "That has to mean something."

Natalie's stomach twisted. She forced her eyes back to the road, like looking too long would betray her. She wanted to tell Misty to shut the hell up, to stop poking at things buried long ago — but there was a pulse beneath her ribs now that hadn't been there in years.

And Misty wasn't wrong.

Then, as if someone had flipped a switch inside her, Misty sat up straighter. "Oh—turn left up here," she chirped, bright again. "We're here."

Natalie eased her foot onto the brake and turned off the cracked two-lane highway, tires grinding against gravel as they passed between towering trees. The road narrowed, branches clawing at the sky above like fingers closing in. The air seemed heavier here. Still. Like the trees were holding their breath.

Annie stirred as they bounced over a pothole, her hand twitching against the door. She blinked groggily, eyes adjusting to the dimming light. "Where the hell are we?"

Natalie reached across the console, brushing her knuckles gently along Annie's arm. Her skin was warm — real. Present. "Rise and shine. We're at Molly and Travis's."

Annie sat up slowly, her spine unfolding with a quiet crack. She pushed her hair back, blinking toward the trees as the car crept forward. "So this is where they went, huh?"

Her voice was hoarse from sleep, but there was something else layered beneath it — disbelief, maybe. Or a dull ache that came from realizing you were only ever meant to be part of someone's before.

Misty leaned forward again, practically vibrating with commentary. "Middle of nowhere. Creepy house in the country. Feels like the start of a true crime podcast," she said brightly. "We're the cold open."

The gravel drive opened into a clearing choked with weeds and brambles. And there it was.

The house sat at the far end of the lot like it had been dropped there and forgotten. One of the awnings had snapped clean off, lying in the grass like a broken rib. The windows were layered with curling newspaper — yellowed, brittle, faded headlines from a world that had kept turning without them. There were no lights. No smoke from the chimney. No vehicle in sight.

It didn't look abandoned. It looked erased.

They got out of the car slowly. Everything around them was so quiet it buzzed, thick with the sound of nothing. Not even birdsong. Not even wind.

Natalie stepped forward first, boots crunching against the gravel. Her flannel was still loosely tied around her waist, the sleeves swinging as she walked. Misty bounced beside her. Annie hung back for a beat, eyes narrowed as she took in the house — the hollowness of it. Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, like she was holding herself together.

"You should've brought your rifle," Misty remarked offhandedly as they approached the porch.

Natalie stopped and turned toward her, eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I mean, come on. We haven't seen either of them in twenty-five years," Misty said with a little shrug.

"They wanted to rebuild their lives," Annie said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Can you blame them?"

Misty tilted her head, trailing behind. "No, but it's a little weird, isn't it? Moving out to the sticks? Changing their names?" The small group walked up the wooden porch steps, approaching the door. "It's got Unabomber written all over it."

Natalie rolled her eyes and stepped up to the door. She knocked once. Then again, harder. The sound echoed, too loud in the silence.

No answer.

She hit the door harder, her knuckles stinging.

Still nothing.

Leaning forward, she squinted through a thin space where the newspaper had peeled back from the glass. "Looks empty."

Annie wandered to the side of the porch, peering through the shadows toward the clearing. A rusted swing set stood crooked near the edge of the trees, one chain missing. "Molly took her car when she left Wiskayok," she said, her voice soft. "I don't see it."

Something shifted behind her — fast, sudden, too close — and Annie flinched, her whole body tightening as she whipped around.

Misty stood there, barely an inch away, hands clasped behind her back like a child trying to look innocent.

"Jesus Christ, Misty."

"Sorry," Misty chirped. "Just reporting my findings. No car. Very mysterious."

Annie was still glaring when she turned toward the front door — just in time to see Natalie pulling her flannel off her arm and wrapping it around her fist.

Annie's stomach dropped. "Wait—Nat—"

But it was too late.

Natalie drew back her arm and punched the glass beside the handle. It shattered in a sharp, crystalline burst, spiderwebbing outward as shards rained to the porch floor.

Annie winced. Misty clapped.

"That works too!" Misty beamed, already stepping forward to peek through the hole.

"Natalie... I don't know if this is a good idea," Annie said warily, inching closer as Natalie reached through the jagged opening.

"Relax," Natalie muttered, reaching through the broken pane. Her fingers found the lock, twisted, and the door creaked open.

Misty slipped inside first, humming to herself. "Adventure time!"

Natalie followed, shaking glass off her flannel. Annie lingered on the threshold for half a second longer, listening. But there was only silence. Heavy and thick like it was watching her.

Then she stepped in.

The air inside was cool, tinged with pine cleaner and something fainter — dust, maybe. Or the lingering smell of wood left to rot in stillness. The house wasn't trashed, but it was wrong. The wrong kind of empty. No photos on the walls. No keys in the bowl. No mail stacked on the counter. Not even shoes by the door.

Just... nothing.

"Yikes," Misty said lightly, nudging Annie with her elbow as she wandered into the hall. "Someone could use a trip to Tuesday Morning."

Annie ignored her. She was already walking faster, moving past the empty living room and down the narrow hall. In the kitchen, she stopped.

A bottle of whiskey sat on the counter. Two glasses. One empty. One full.

"Guys—" she started.

But Misty cut in, sing-song again. "You know, it's never a good sign when suspects live like hermits. We see this kind of thing all the time."

Natalie and Annie turned at the same time.

"Who is we?"

"Aren't you a nurse?"

Misty sniffed, flipping open a drawer. "It is common knowledge that the less a suspect owns, the creepier they turn out to be." She rummaged around with no concern for boundaries, humming as she rifled through cutlery and old takeout menus.

Then—"Oh!"

She held something up triumphantly.

A photograph.

Travis and Molly. Older. Standing in front of this very house, the pine trees stark behind them. Travis had a beard, his hair falling on his shoulders. Molly wore a faded denim jacket, her hair longer than Annie remembered, falling in soft waves over their shoulders. They were smiling — not at the camera, but at each other. Molly's arms rested low, covering her midsection, and Travis's hand curved protectively around her side, fingers splayed wide, his eyes fixed on her like he was memorizing the moment.

"Aw. Cute," Misty said, handing it to Annie before continuing on.

Annie froze.

The picture felt strange in her hands — warm from Misty's fingers, cold from time. She stared down at it like it might say something. Travis's eyes were harder now. Molly looked tired. Older than she should've been.

They didn't see each other at the hospital, and she hadn't even seen them leave the plane once they came back. Just glimpses. Stretchers. Flashes. Photographers shouting their names. Annie had tried to keep in touch. Letters. A few phone calls. But eventually, even Molly's voice had started to sound like an echo.

Behind her, Natalie stepped close.

Her arm ghosted around Annie's waist, fingertips grazing the small of her back as she leaned in to see.

Annie's breath caught. Her chest didn't move.

"You okay?" Natalie murmured.

Annie turned her head — slowly — and their eyes locked. For a moment, everything else receded. The walls. The photo. Even Misty's presence.

Natalie opened her mouth, like she was about to say something—

—and then Misty slammed the drawer shut.

Natalie flinched and stepped away fast, muttering something under her breath before walking over to the other woman. "Hey, Misty?" She said a little too loudly. "Can you check the trash out back? I saw a can."

Misty's face lit up. "Oh, that's a really good idea! You know, you can learn so much about people by going through their personal refuse." She beamed at Annie. "Be right back!"

She disappeared through the back door with a little bounce.

Natalie exhaled hard, walking to the whiskey glass Annie had noticed earlier. She picked it up, sniffed once, then frowned.

"Someone was here recently," Annie said, still watching her.

Natalie didn't reply. She was still listening. Not just to the silence — but for the thing beneath it.

Annie turned toward the fridge and opened it.

Stale air drifted out. One takeout container. A jar of mustard. Half a lemon.

"It's... kind of empty in here."

Natalie quirked an eyebrow. "You're starting to sound like Misty."

Annie shut the fridge with a soft thunk. "I'm just saying. You don't think something happened, do you?"

For a long moment, Natalie said nothing.

Then she turned toward the hallway.

Annie followed — footsteps quiet, heart loud.

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

The hallway stretched narrow and dim, paneled in cheap, peeling wood that bowed slightly in the middle — like the house was tired of holding itself together. The floor creaked beneath their steps, old boards groaning as Natalie led the way, her boots deliberately quiet. Annie followed close behind, hands at her sides, heart rising in her throat with every door they passed.

Each one was closed.

Each one felt like it could contain a secret too large for the frame behind it.

They stopped at the end of the hall. The bedroom.

Natalie reached out and turned the knob. The door swung inward with a slow, dry groan.

The room was spare. A bed — unmade. A flannel tossed across it, rumpled, still holding the shape of a shoulder. A nightstand. A half-drunk bottle of water. An old book face-down on the floor, its pages splayed like wings.

Natalie stepped forward, picking up the flannel. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers, frowning. She didn't say anything more.

Annie lingered in the doorway, gaze flicking around the room. A shiver crawled across her arms — not from the cold, but something harder to name. Presence, maybe. Or absence trying too hard to stay hidden.

Then something caught her eye.

Across the hall, just barely visible through a cracked door: a flicker of pink.

Her breath caught.

"I'll be right back," she murmured, stepping away from the bedroom. Natalie glanced over but didn't follow — not yet.

Annie pushed open the door gently.

It was a child's room.

Smaller than she expected. The walls were painted with faded butterflies and clouds, the brushstrokes shaky and uneven — like someone had done it by hand. A cracked plastic dollhouse stood in one corner. A unicorn nightlight was still plugged into the wall. The air inside was different somehow — softer, but more haunted.

The bed was small. The covers a tangle of cartoon horses and glittery pink thread. A bookshelf leaned crookedly against the far wall. On the pillow sat a plush toy.

A bear.

Worn, pale gold. One of the ears had come halfway unstitched. The stitching was pink.

Annie's legs gave out before she realized she was moving.

She sank to the floor beside the bed, her hands trembling as she reached out and touched the bear. Her fingertips traced the fabric, and something inside her cracked open like a fault line.

Laura Lee.

Laura Lee had a bear just like this — not identical, but close enough that it slammed into Annie like a punch to the ribs. She could see her sister's small hands wrapped around its body during long church sermons, see it tucked under her arm as they tread through the forest. See Laura Lee's smile, warm and stubborn and full of hope, holding it before she stepped into the plane.

Annie drew in a shaky breath.

Her vision blurred.

She wasn't prepared for this.

Not the room. Not the bear. Not the reminder that some parts of them — even the best parts — had stayed buried long after they clawed their way out of those woods.

She didn't hear Natalie's footsteps until they stopped just outside the door.

"Annie?"

Her voice was quiet. Gentle.

Annie didn't move.

Natalie stepped inside. Her eyes swept the room, landing first on the dollhouse, then the bear, then Annie crouched on the floor, her shoulders hunched like she was trying to fold herself into nothing.

Natalie's voice softened further. "They have a daughter?"

Annie looked up. Her cheeks were damp, but she hadn't noticed when she started crying.

She nodded. Slowly.

Natalie took another step closer. Her hands hovered at her sides, like she didn't know what she was allowed to do — didn't know if comfort would be welcome, or if it would undo them both.

Annie sniffed. She brushed at her face, wiping the tears away with the heel of her hand, then gently placed the bear back on the pillow like it was sacred. Like it still belonged to someone who needed it.

Before either of them could say anything else—

Footsteps. Sharp. Clumsy. Coming fast.

Misty rounded the corner with a triumphant grin, holding a crumpled paper in her hand.

"Well, Travis and Molly definitely haven't been getting their vegetables," she announced. Then she paused, her eyes widening as she caught sight of the room. "Well. Holy hell."

Annie stood quickly, trying to compose herself, trying to fold the grief back into her bones where no one could see it.

"What's that?" she asked, nodding to the paper in Misty's hands.

"Travis's pay stub," Misty replied, beaming like she'd won a prize. "Looks like he's been working at a place called Willow Brook Ranch." She peered around the room again with exaggerated curiosity. "And it looks like we know why Molly doesn't have one."

Natalie stepped past them both without a word, brushing Annie's arm as she went. The touch was light, but grounding.

She walked back into the kitchen, her gaze catching again on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter. Her brow furrowed.

"That's a $200 bottle."

Misty whistled, mock-impressed. "That's expensive taste for someone with a kid and a minimum wage job."

Annie stepped in behind them, her arms wrapped tight around herself.

"Or someone trying to forget something," she said quietly.

Natalie turned, looking at her. She didn't smile. But her eyes softened.

The moment hung — strange and still — until all three of them jumped at the sound of footsteps outside.

Fast.

Boots on the porch.

Natalie's body shifted instantly. She stepped in front of Annie, protective, her shoulders squared as the door creaked open and a man in a sheriff's uniform entered the kitchen.

Gun drawn.

"Freeze," he barked.

Natalie didn't flinch. Annie froze. Misty lifted her hands in the air, slowly, like she was expecting this and a little thrilled by it.

The officer's gaze swept the room, landing on each of them like he was taking inventory. "Hands where I can see them."

Annie's heart stuttered. She raised her arms, voice trembling. "We're not— We didn't mean—"

"Don't say anything," he snapped, then pointed at her. "On your knees."

Misty dropped immediately, her palms up like she was posing for a mugshot. Annie followed, slower, her knees pressing into the linoleum.

She glanced at Natalie, who was still standing.

Still calm.

Still not raising her hands.

"Lady," the officer said, voice tight, "I will shoot you."

"Natalie, please," Annie said, her voice small and shaking.

Natalie looked down at her — and something in her face changed. The hardness cracked. She let out a breath, slow and resigned, and finally raised her arms.

"There," she said dryly, lowering to the floor beside Annie. "Like that?"

Her knee brushed against Annie's.

It was the first time they'd knelt together in years.

And the first time Annie felt like the past wasn't quite done with them yet.

‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧

This was not the first time Annie Jo Chambers had been arrested.

The first time had been with Natalie.

The last time, she'd been nineteen, barely holding it together.

Natalie was brunette, not bleaching it ever again once they got rescued. She had a cigarette tucked between her fingers. Annie had just started painting again, desperate half-formed things in rust and red that made her mother cry when she found them.

She and Natalie had stolen a six-pack of cheap beer they didn't even want, but needed for a 7-Eleven—and sprinted into the night like the world might forgive them if they could just outrun the grief. They were both drunk off something stronger than beer—off the heat of summer, off the ache of pretending they weren't broken. Post-crash, post-funerals, post-rehab attempt number one for Natalie, and still they'd told themselves they could be normal. That the world hadn't changed around them.

They'd barely made it half a block before the red and blue lights lit up behind them. Annie remembered the cuffs, the metal seat of the cruiser, the sour smell of the holding cell. But more than that, she remembered Natalie—beside her, grinning like it was all a joke.

And she remembered laughing with her.

Not because it was funny. But because it felt like something solid. Like proof they were still alive. Like maybe if they laughed loud enough, the world wouldn't hear them scream.

Annie didn't feel like laughing now.

She sat beside Misty on the cold metal bench, arms crossed, her eyes locked on the speckled linoleum beneath her shoes. Natalie leaned against the far wall of the holding cell, silent, but Annie could feel her gaze.

Misty clapped her hands once, cheerful as ever. "The ol' slammer," she said brightly. "It certainly smells the way I thought it would."

No one responded.

Undeterred, she leaned in between Annie and Natalie, stage-whispering just loud enough for the bored deputy nearby to hear. "I bet he thinks we're hookers."

"Oh my God." Annie slid her hands down her face. "You have got to be kidding me."

Natalie exhaled sharply. Not quite a laugh. More like disbelief, worn thin at the edges.

"I shouldn't even be in this situation," Annie muttered, dragging her hands down her face and glaring at the bars. "How the hell did we get here?"

"She stole my battery cable," Natalie said coolly, pushing off the wall, walking toward Misty.

Annie's head snapped up. "What?"

"Misty, why would you fucking do that?"

Misty blinked, all wounded innocence. "I wanted to come with you, and I didn't think you'd let me. Was I wrong?"

Annie opened her mouth to say something—she wasn't even sure what—but then the officer appeared, keys jangling, his face a mask of disinterest. "Phone calls."

The woman let out a long breath and leaned back, fingers pressing against her lips. "I can't call Thomas," she muttered, mostly to herself. "He's already pissed. If he finds out about this, after..."

She cut herself off.

But it was enough.

Natalie turned her head toward her, interest piqued. Annie could feel the weight of her attention again—quiet, steady, knowing.

The officer unlocked the door and glanced at his clipboard. "Scatorchio first."

Natalie rolled her eyes as she stepped out. "It's Scatorccio."

Annie watched her go, the cell door clanging shut behind her. Silence settled.

"I know who to call if her person doesn't work out," she said lightly, tapping her fingers against the bench.

Annie turned her head, suspicious. "Who? Are you with someone?"

Misty just smiled, pulling a card from her back pocket with a little flourish. "Not with anyone at the moment," she said, handing it to Annie. "But I like to keep options open."

Annie turned the card over. Her eyebrows shot up. "Kevyn Tan? As in—Natalie's Kevyn? From high school?" Annie gaped at her. "You're not serious."

Misty just winked.

Annie stared at her. "You're dating Kevyn Tan?"

"Texting," Misty corrected. "Back and forth. Witty banter. Light flirtation. He thinks I'm her."

Annie's jaw dropped further. Misty plucked the card from her hands, winked, and slid it back into her pocket. "Are you out of your mind, Misty?"

"I never said I wasn't!" Misty chirped, tucking the card back into her pocket.

The cell door buzzed open.

Natalie stepped back in like a storm cloud—shoulders tight, jaw set, her eyes sharp with fury that hadn't found a place to land yet.

Annie straightened instinctively, furrowing her brow as the guard shut the door behind her. Natalie didn't say anything at first. She just stood there, like she was trying to burn a hole in the concrete floor.

"Who'd you call?" Misty asked, too brightly, swinging her legs like she was waiting for recess.

Natalie didn't look at her. "Someone I thought was a friend," she muttered. "But I guess I was wrong."

She sank onto the bench beside Annie, exhaling like the fight had drained out of her the second she sat down. Her thigh brushed against Annie's. She didn't move away.

Misty stood and dusted off her skirt theatrically. "Guess it's my turn, Annie." She smiled, just a little too pleased with herself, and pivoted toward the door as the officer opened it again.

Annie didn't reply. She was still reeling from the whole Kevyn Tan situation. Her thoughts tangled around Misty's grin, the card still hot in her pocket.

But that all slid to the background when she glanced sideways.

Natalie was sitting still. Staring ahead. Her hands clenched into fists on her lap.

"Who'd you actually call?" Annie asked, voice low.

Natalie didn't answer right away. Her jaw worked. Then—"Taissa."

That name landed like a stone dropped in a quiet room.

Annie blinked. "Wait. Taissa? As in our... Taissa?"

Natalie gave the barest nod. "She was paying for my rehab."

Annie's mouth opened, but nothing came out. The word rehab echoed in her skull, and the rest of the room dropped into silence, like someone had shut the door on everything else.

Natalie glanced over, lips pressed into a thin line. "I just got out. Two days ago."

That landed like a blow to the chest. Annie didn't even notice she was holding her breath until it stung her lungs.

"You—wait." She leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "You told her where we are?"

"Yeah." Natalie's eyes flicked down to the floor. "She told me to go home."

Annie swallowed hard. Her pulse thundered in her throat. "You were in rehab?" she asked again, softer this time. "You went... back?"

Natalie gave a small, humorless shrug. "In and out. Last couple years."

The words hit like slow-moving debris—one after the other, stacking until Annie could barely breathe under them. She looked down at Natalie's hands. The same hands that had once held hers under blood-orange skies, beside firelight, in the raw, terrifying quiet of the woods. They looked older now, thinner. But still—familiar.

Still hers.

Annie's voice cracked when she tried to speak. "Nat... I should've—I should've been there. I shouldn't have just left you like that."

Natalie turned to her. Her face wasn't hard. It wasn't bitter. It was... tired. Sad. Open.

"You think I should've let you leave?"

Annie blinked. She could still see it—Natalie on the street that day, cigarette trembling in her fingers, her voice flat when she'd said, "If you want to go, go. You should have left a long time ago." Like it didn't kill her to say it. Like she hadn't already died once, in those woods.

That memory had haunted her for years.

She looked up at Natalie, but Natalie didn't look at her. "I didn't think you'd stay if I asked you to. And if you had... I probably would've broken you, too."

Their eyes met. And for a heartbeat, there was no air in the world.

It was like the wilderness came rushing back all at once—the weight of snow, the reek of smoke, the taste of blood and pine sap and something sweeter, something only they knew. It all came back in the way Natalie was looking at her now.

Annie reached out before she could stop herself. Her fingers found Natalie's—just barely. One brush. A pause. Then Natalie's hand turned, slow and deliberate, and their fingers laced together.

She didn't squeeze.

She just held on.

Annie stared at their joined hands. It felt too warm. Too familiar. Like a part of herself she'd buried under the concrete of a quiet life was stirring. Crawling back to the surface.

She blinked hard. Her thumb twitched.

And then she pulled back—not fully, not enough to break the touch—but enough to draw a line.

"I have a husband," she said, her voice as thin and brittle as old paper. "I have kids."

"I know."

Natalie didn't flinch. She just said it. Quiet. Certain.

"I know," she repeated. "But that doesn't change the way I felt."

Annie looked at her, throat aching.

Natalie's voice broke, soft and rough all at once.

"It doesn't change the way I still feel."

Annie froze.

There was no accusation in her tone. No bitterness. Just truth. A devastating, irreversible truth that had been living in both of them for twenty-five years, feral and silent.

"I never stopped," Natalie added, breath catching. "God, Annie. I never fucking stopped."

Annie closed her eyes, her chest pulling tight like it might cave in.

"I wanted you to ask me to stay," she whispered. "That day. I waited for you to say something. Anything."

"I know." Natalie's voice was a rasp. "I wanted to. But I thought I'd already ruined you."

Annie's breath came fast and shaky. She couldn't look at her.

"I built a life," she said. "I built this whole life because I thought it would make the wanting go away."

"Did it?" Natalie asked.

Annie didn't answer. She couldn't.

Their fingers brushed again. This time, Annie didn't pull away.

But before she could say what she was thinking—before she could shatter completely—the buzzer rang, and the cell door clicked open.

Misty's voice cut through like a splash of cold water. "Your friend phoned a winner," she sang.

The moment shattered.

Annie jerked back. Natalie stood slower, rubbing her hands on her jeans like she was trying to scrub the moment off her skin.

Annie stood. Natalie did too, slower.

"What?" Annie blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yup!" Misty chirped, spinning on her heel. "Let's go, ladies."

Natalie narrowed her eyes. "Who did you call?"

Misty grinned. "Oh, just someone I thought was a friend. And it turns out I was right." She tossed a glance at Annie, who was giving her a look. "Okay, Mom. Fine, it was Kevyn Tan," Misty said, chipper.

Natalie stopped walking. "Kevyn?" Her voice cracked. She looked at Annie, eyes wide. "You—knew she had Kevyn's number?"

Annie looked like she'd been caught holding a knife. "She didn't tell me the whole story."

"Well," Misty said, breezing ahead, "he thinks I'm you. It's a long story."

Natalie blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"

Misty chuckled, turning down the hall. They reached the processing area—fluorescent lights, plastic bins, a bored deputy behind a plexiglass window. Natalie muttered a few choice words under her breath as Misty happily skipped over to retrieve her purse.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Natalie asked.

Misty turned to grin at her. "That I'd be useful."

Annie took a few steps away, trying not to get dragged into whatever explosion was coming next.

And then—

"I don't give a damn what your protocol is—what do you mean you're not going to tell me who broke into my house?"

The voice cut through the air like a whip.

Annie turned, her body freezing. That voice.

It was louder now, clearer. Female. Frustrated. Sharp-edged, but familiar under all that fire. She took a few steps around the corner—and saw her.

She took a cautious step toward the sound. Her breath caught.

There was a woman at the front desk, arguing with the deputy, arms crossed, eyes blazing. She wore scuffed boots, dark jeans, a battered flannel with the sleeves rolled up. Her hair was shorter than it had been, darker, tangled at the ends. There was a little scar above her left eyebrow that Annie didn't remember.

But the curve of her mouth. The line of her shoulders.

Annie's knees locked.

She took another step. The world narrowed around her.

Natalie and Misty followed, slowing behind her.

"Annie," Natalie asked, her voice wary. "What are you—"

The woman at the desk went still.

Her shoulders lifted, rigid.

Slowly, she turned.

Their eyes locked.

The floor dropped out from under Annie Jo Chambers.

"Molly?" she said, voice breaking.

Molly's mouth parted. Her face shifted in an instant—anger draining into something like shock, then disbelief, then grief, all tangled together.

"...Annie?" she breathed.

And for one long, raw second, the room disappeared.

It was just them.

And twenty-five years of silence rose like a tide between them, threatening to drown everything that had come after.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Time really is fake in emotional crises.

Thank you so much for making it through this one. This was our first adult timeline-only chapter, and honestly, it was a lot.

And I know I threw a LOT of information at you guys, haha.

Thank you for letting me take my time as I pull Annie Jo back into the wreckage she thought she'd buried. I promise, every part of this is intentional. Every silence, every flash of memory, every cigarette, every terrible Misty monologue... it's all building to something.

But since I threw a lot your way... let's break it down, shall we?

Part One: Annie Jo walked out of the life she built — a carefully managed illusion of safety and control — and straight into Natalie's passenger seat. Thomas said the quiet part out loud ("you're still chasing her"), and Annie said the even louder part right back ("I made the mistake twenty years ago. When I stayed."). And then Natalie shows up on her porch like a ghost in a leather jacket. The moment Annie chooses to go with her and Misty? That's the real beginning of this chapter.

Part Two: Nat has a confession. Misty playing third-wheel therapist with zero shame?? Iconic. The house they arrive at? More memory than architecture. A place built by two people trying to erase the past and failing. (Also: the flannel punch-through-the-glass moment lives rent-free in my head.)

Part Three: The child's room. The bear. The flashback to Laura Lee. The grief Annie Jo has. The photo. The whiskey. The unraveling. And then that final image: three women kneeling on a kitchen floor, side-by-side, twenty-five years too late. The past isn't just knocking anymore. It's already inside.

Part Four: Arrested. Again. (Natalie and Annie were always a little too good at making bad choices together.) It comes out that Misty flirts with Kevyn Tan via stolen identity, not creepy at all. Natalie's been in and out of rehab. Annie's been hiding behind motherhood like it's a shield. They hold hands for the first time in decades. It's gentle. It's world-ending. It's too much and not enough.

Molly. Molly.

All it takes is her voice. One glimpse. And everything Annie's built — every wall, every mile, every lie she's told herself about who she is and who she loved — starts to crack. Years of silence. And now they're face to face.

Like I said at the beginning of the book, I'm gonna kind of change some things from the adult timeline plot, because there are just so many dang plotholes. But please don't let that stop you from reading, I have a plan for this book, and so far (I'm hoping) you guys are enjoying it!

This chapter was Annie Jo and Natalie finally cracking—really cracking. Years of silence and longing and grief shoved into one tiny metal bench. They still love each other. They never stopped. But life happened. Time happened. And now they're both sitting in the wreckage of the lives they built apart, still reaching. Still afraid.

If this chapter made your heart ache, or your jaw drop, or your brain scream "WHAT?!" feel free to let me know in the comments. I live for your reactions, and they help me keep this story going strong. If you're enjoying the fic, don't forget to vote and add it to your library! It helps so much. Even a quick "I feel unwell (affectionate)" makes my day.

Question of the Chapter - I actually don't have one! I was hoping that you guys would like to ask me questions in the comments? They can be about the story, characters, this chapter my writing in general, etc. I know a lot of you are wondering about some characters and like their relationships and friendships and headcanons! I promise you I have answers!

Until next time!!

#yellowjackets x oc #yellowjackets #yellowjackets oc #natalie scatorccio x oc #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellowjackets x reader #travis martinez x oc #natalie scatorccio #fanfiction #wattpad #oc #original character #shauna shipman #travis martinez #jackie taylor

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