#what happens when you make a boba without understanding why and how boba is the way he is

[fire-on-fuel]

getting irrationally angry over how boba fett exists in the extended filoniverse like a normal well adjusted person

[igwb]

Blue & Grey.

"where is my angel? the end of a tiring day, someone come and save me, please."

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader (depressed!jk x editor!oc)

genre: established relationship au, angst

summary: when you met jeon jungkook, he never hid his depression from you. he wore it like a shadow, heavy and constant, and somehow, you felt the need to help him, to take on his burdens as if they were your own. but in the process, you realized something. love isn’t a miracle—it can’t magically erase someone’s pain. you wished that it could, but the truth was, the only one who could truly heal him was himself.

word count: 24K (one shot)

warnings: angst, fem!reader, fight against depression, mentions of; self-harm, self-degrading, suicide talk, bad mental health, blood, jungkook is suffering, having to see your loved one struggling, mentions of; sexual contents (no actual smut!), road to learn how to love yourself & mesuring the importance of your own life♡

playlist: i always wanna die (sometimes), uncomfortable, heavy, shot glass of tears and blue & grey

Neither you nor Jungkook can pinpoint exactly when or why it happened. However, you remember vividly the moment he revealed his feelings to you, about the demons he’s been struggling with since childhood.

At that time, you were both in university, and your relationship was still new. For you, it wasn’t anything too serious—just the warmth he offered. His head rested in your lap as you ran your fingers through his soft, dark hair, and that’s when he opened up.

“I’ve been diagnosed with depression for four years,” he said. Your hand froze, and your eyes widened. It wasn’t at all what you were expecting. The night had been going so well—you were laughing, kissing, and slowly exploring each other’s bodies without any rush.

At first, you didn’t know how to respond or what he expected from you. You’d never been in this position before. Of course, you’d heard of depression, and as a literature student, you’d read about it—it was a recurring theme for many authors.

But reading about it didn’t mean you truly understood it, especially now that it felt so real. So close.

When Jungkook felt your hand freeze, he immediately sat up and looked at you with wide, chocolate eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly, a hesitant smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on the tiny mole beneath his lip, because if you looked into his eyes now, you were certain you would burst into tears. You’d always been a romantic, always searching for beauty even in the most difficult moments, and always absorbing the weight of emotions when someone close to you seemed so vulnerable.

“I—” you began, your breath catching in your throat. “It’s not like that, it’s just—”

Jungkook let out a soft chuckle and gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. He felt the need to see your face, to make sure you weren’t hiding behind your hair as if you didn’t know him anymore. He hadn’t meant to scare you, not at all. He just wanted to confess because he felt safe enough with you to do so.

“I really like you,” he began, his voice soft and sincere. “And I feel like this is something I wanted you to know before I ask you out for real,” he confessed, his gaze drifting to anything but you, a shy smile playing on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed at his sudden confession, and you couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face. Maybe Jungkook wasn’t just some fleeting warmth you sought on some days and not others. Maybe he meant something more, because you could already feel your heart stuttering in your chest.

“It won’t change anything then,” you said softly, finally meeting his deep, boba-like eyes.

Maybe you should’ve learned more before diving headfirst into what Jungkook had implied.

Maybe you should’ve taken the time to understand depression, to go beyond what you found on the internet or the romanticized portrayals in the books you read.

Because now, standing in front of it, you didn’t know what to say or do. Your mind felt completely blank, and in that moment, you felt like the most useless person alive. There you were, watching your boyfriend of seven months—someone you cared deeply for—slapping himself roughly across the chest. His sobs echoed through the dorm room, his hair tangled from the way he had been pulling at it before you arrived. His face was flushed, red from the tears and the screams, and you had no idea how to help him.

“Kook,” you said softly, unsure if he even heard you over the intensity of his sobs. “Baby—” you repeated, trying again as you knelt in front of him, but he immediately shoved you away, shouting for you to leave him alone.

It had been two weeks since he started acting differently. In the beginning, your relationship had been perfect. He was nothing but caring, gentle, and loving. After that night at your apartment, he hadn’t talked about his depression because, honestly, he was feeling good—he felt like he was in a better place.

But he had been fighting this battle for four years, and even longer before the diagnosis. If he thought that life could be like one of those romance novels you loved, that somehow, with a miracle—you, his demons, and the dark thoughts would just disappear, he was wrong. So deeply wrong.

Because now, here he was—sitting on the cold tiles of his bathroom, his chest bare and exposed, falling apart in front of the one person he wanted to protect from his pain.

From an outside perspective, Jungkook might seem terrifying right now. Violent, even. His eyes were dark, wild, as if he were ready to lash out at anything that dared to come too close.

But for you? For you, he was the guy you fell in love with. He was the guy who held your hand while walking, always choosing the side closest to the road to protect you. He was the guy who brought you chocolate every month on the date you officially became a couple. Because he said your anniversary shouldn’t be just once a year—it should be celebrated every month, because he was so grateful to have you in his life as his girlfriend, even after just seven months together.

He was the boy you held at night when his body tensed in his sleep, as if haunted by nightmares he never spoke about. And in the morning, you pretended not to notice the dried tears on his cheeks, too afraid of the truth—afraid that when the time came, you wouldn’t be ready to face it.

But the time had come. And you had to be there. Right now.

“Come on, Kook,” you murmured, reaching for him again. You shifted, setting your bag on the cold floor so you could use both hands to hold him. “I’m here.”

His mind was a blur, his ears suffocated by the voices screaming at him—telling him he was broken, unlovable, incapable of love. That he was everything and nothing. That he didn’t deserve happiness.

And worst of all, they told him he would hurt you.

He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t pretend he was okay while those words poisoned his thoughts. That’s why he ran to the shower, hoping the water would wash them away. But it did nothing.

And then suddenly, you were there. Crawling in front of him, your shaky hands settling on his bare shoulders, whispering in that soft voice only you had, telling him you were there.

And the voices stopped.

Because he heard three words. A raw confession. Vulnerable. A moment that would be etched into his memory forever.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you sobbed, holding him tighter, as if letting go wasn’t even an option.

Since that day, you never wanted to be far from him again. The sight of him breaking down had shattered your heart, and some nights, when you were alone in your apartment while Jungkook was in his, his sobs still echoed in your mind.

You even found yourself wandering through the medical university’s library, pacing between shelves, searching for anything that could help you understand him—help him better.

You left with five different books on depression, mental health, and other topics that felt too overwhelming to even think about.

It had been a month since Jungkook’s first outburst, yet somehow, you still felt like you hadn’t done anything to truly help him. And you hated that feeling. The next time it happened, you wanted to be ready. You wanted to do things right.

When you saw him approaching, his eyes immediately found yours as he pulled out one of his AirPods. He almost ran to you, a playful, childish smile on his lips—the one you fell in love with. The one that made him look like a soft bunny you just wanted to kiss.

But suddenly, the weight in your arms felt unbearable. You were scared to admit why you were really there, scared that he’d feel like some kind of psychological case you were trying to study. Guilt crept in as you clutched the books tightly against your chest, hoping he wouldn’t notice the bold black letters on the cover: How to Understand Depression?

“Baby,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around your side carefully so he wouldn’t crush the books you were holding. So considerate. “What are you doing here?” His gaze flickered to the medical building behind you, curiosity lacing his tone.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” he added, raising his eyebrows in a way that made him look so silly—yet so adorable that you swore your heart might burst.

It wasn’t unusual for you to visit him at his faculty whenever you had a break, but it was unusual for you to show up unannounced.

“Surprise—” you offered weakly, forcing a semblance of a smile.

He didn’t question your odd behavior, but when he tried to peek at the books in your arms, he immediately held his hands out.

“They must be heavy, give them to me,” he said without hesitation. You instantly refused, tightening your grip. “Why not?” he scoffed, frowning.

“I’m an independent woman, I can handle it,” you blurted, quickly finding the perfect excuse to ease the tension.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes but let it slide, falling into step beside you. After a moment of silence—filled with him insisting on walking you to your faculty—he finally asked,

“What are you reading that made you go all the way to the medical library?” His voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying curiosity.

He walked a little behind you, clearly annoyed that both your hands were full—because it meant he couldn’t hold yours.

“Some… stuff,” you muttered, swallowing hard, your throat tightening around the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say—depression, mental health, coping mechanisms. Anything would have been better than the lie that left your lips next.

“I have to write a poem,” you added hastily, grimacing at how terrible it sounded. “And I thought… medical stuff could help.”

Jungkook’s brows lifted in amusement. “You could’ve just asked me,” he said, his hands settling on your shoulders as he pulled you closer. If he couldn’t hold your hand, he’d at least keep you near somehow. “Your wonderful boyfriend studies psychology, and you didn’t think to ask him?”

His smirk was dangerous—the kind where the right side of his lips lifted just slightly more than the left. The kind that made you feel like if you looked at him too long, you’d spill the entire truth.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” you mumbled, eyes dropping to the ground.

A terrible decision.

Because the moment you did, a cyclist came speeding toward you. You barely registered the rush of wind before you stumbled back, losing your footing. The books tumbled to the ground, and you followed right after them, landing hard on the pavement.

“Hey!” Jungkook’s voice was sharp as he immediately knelt beside you, glaring after the cyclist. “Watch where you’re going, idiot!” His tone was filled with irritation, muttering curses under his breath. “Stupid guy…”

But then his attention snapped back to you. His gaze softened as he saw you wince, your hand gripping your shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “I swear, if I see that guy again—”

He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes flickered downward, locking onto one of the fallen books.

And that’s when he saw it.

The bold, black title staring back at him.

A strange chuckle escaped Jungkook’s lips, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes—like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“What is that?” he asked, his voice eerily calm as he pointed at the books scattered across the pavement.

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you rushed to gather them back into your arms, clutching them tightly against your chest.

“Nothing,” you blurted out, suddenly deciding that the slight pain in your shoulder wasn’t worth acknowledging anymore.

Jungkook sighed, saying your name in that warning tone—the one that made your heart clench. His soft eyes searched yours, silently pleading with you not to lie to him.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “And not you… trying to study my terrible condition?”

You dropped your head in defeat, your gaze landing on one of the books—The Five Stages of Depression.

One of them was anger.

And that was the last thing you wanted Jungkook to feel toward you.

“Jungkook—” you started, ready to fall to your knees and beg him to forget about it, to tell him you were sorry for being intrusive. But before you could even utter another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm, his head burying into your shoulder. His soft hair tickled your neck, and you felt the warmth of him seep into you.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw, almost fragile. “But I don’t want you to overthink this. You being here is enough.”

His warm breath ghosted over your skin before he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. Then, he pulled back slightly, his fingers tilting your chin up, his eyes serious now.

“Or,” he said more firmly, “you could just ask me—instead of reading stupid stuff like that.”

You couldn’t admit you were scared—because admitting it would mean acknowledging that, in that moment, Jungkook had scared you. And you never wanted him to think he was capable of hurting you in any way.

So you just nodded, offering him a small, reassuring smile.

“I will,” you murmured.

One day.

One day, when the thought of your boyfriend shifting between light and dark no longer unsettled you. When you finally accepted that this was just a part of him—something you had to learn to hold without letting it slip through your fingers. Something you had to handle on your own.

Jungkook could pinpoint the exact moment he fell in love with you. It happened long before you even acknowledged his existence.

There was something about you that drew people in—he could see it in the way boys looked at you, admiration laced in their gaze, and in the way girls gravitated toward you, eager to talk, to compliment, to be near you.

For someone like Jungkook, who had spent most of his life blending into the shadows, erasing himself so others wouldn’t notice the weight he carried, it was impossible not to be drawn to someone like you—someone who seemed to shine effortlessly. Someone who had light in places he never thought to look for in himself.

And yet, it was ridiculous how the moment he truly fell for you wasn’t during some grand event or breathtaking scene—it was on an ordinary day. A simple moment.

You had come to the medical faculty, apparently looking for a friend. The sun hit your face at just the right angle, making your round brown eyes squint slightly against the light. And for a second, Jungkook could swear it wasn’t just the sun making you glow—it was you.

He watched as you wandered through the campus, searching desperately for whatever—or whoever—you were looking for. And he just stood there, too shy, too caught up in his own darkness to even think about stepping into your light.

He swore he wasn’t some creep, but it was almost pitiful how consumed he had become by thoughts of you since that day. It wasn’t just a passing attraction—it was something deeper. He learned that you were often on campus, meeting friends, and all he could do was watch from afar, unable to tear his gaze away as you smiled. Your white teeth gleamed, and your laughter rang out, deep and genuine. Your entire being seemed to radiate pure happiness.

And there he was, stuck in the shadows, unable to even imagine what it would feel like to be a part of that world you lived in.

Jungkook could only dream about it—about you.

And yet, somehow, your paths crossed.

Jungkook sat quietly, as usual, engrossed in a psychology book that made him chuckle under his breath. Sometimes he thought he was a masochist for choosing a major like that, especially when he couldn’t even fully understand himself. But there was something about it—the need to understand why he was the way he was—that drew him in.

He was reading when he heard the familiar sound of giggles nearby—one of them unmistakably yours, and the other from someone he didn’t care enough to acknowledge. He glanced to his left and saw you, standing with one of your friend. The girl—who wasn’t you—immediately turned away, her cheeks flushed, playfully nudging you before disappearing.

Before he could even process what was happening, you were standing right in front of him. He instinctively started to close his book, preparing for his usual retreat, but then you spoke, and he froze.

“Jeon Jungkook, right?”

It was the first time he had ever heard your voice up close, and in that moment, he realized he had been right all along—it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He didn’t even ask how or why you knew his name; before he could, you answered for him.

“My friend over there,” you said, pointing to the girl who was now hiding her face behind her hands, “really likes you.”

Jungkook’s heart dropped straight into his shoes. It wasn’t what he had hoped for—not even close.

You looked at him with a playful smile on your plump lips, your eyes locked onto his as you batted your long eyelashes.

Jungkook knew he wasn’t always the best at handling things delicately, and before he could even think, he blurted out, “Not me.”

Your smile immediately faded, and you raised your brows at him, clearly taken aback by his bluntness.

Later, you’d admit to him that you didn’t even know how your friend could like someone like him when your first impression of him had been so off-putting.

But right now, Jungkook found himself asking the same thing. How could someone like you—someone so full of light and warmth—ever care for someone like him?

Jungkook watched you from afar as you spoke with some of your colleagues about the book that had just been released, and how you were the one editing it for the first time. They congratulated you, hugged you, and the sight warmed his heart. It had been a long time since he had seen you smile that genuinely.

Not because he was the one who caused it, but because it was simple colleagues—literal strangers to Jungkook, people he didn’t even know the names of—who made you smile like that. People you’d met only five months ago when you found your job at the editing firm.

And it stung. Not even your boyfriend of five years could make you smile that way anymore.

Jungkook set the champagne glass on the table as he saw you walking toward him. The moment you were no longer surrounded by your colleagues, your smile faded, and he couldn’t help but notice the distance between you.

He reached out his hands, asking if you were ready to leave. You nodded without a word, walking in front of him, ignoring his hand completely.

You entered the car silently, letting Jungkook settle into the driver’s seat. He started the car without saying anything, and the silence between you two was deafening.

It had been like this for a couple of years now—everything you did had become mechanical. It wasn’t the same as it had been before, and both of you were aware that this shift was expected after so many years together, living in the same space and spending every day side by side.

But it hurt. It hurt so much because you could see it—the way Jungkook had slowly sunk deeper into his own dark thoughts, day by day. And you couldn’t reach him anymore. He wasn’t pushing you away on purpose; it wasn’t that he didn’t want things to improve—it was that he simply didn’t have the strength to fight for it anymore.

And it was breaking you, because you knew him. You saw how he was disappearing, and you could do nothing to pull him back.

It all started two years ago when Jungkook decided to drop his psychology studies. You tried to convince him not to, but he was determined, as he always was. He just wanted to let everything go, except for you—somehow, you were the one thing he held onto.

Then, it was the way he started falling asleep at odd hours, like 5 AM, and waking up only at 2 PM, as if the world had no place for him.

And the most noticeable change—he stopped leaving the house. He just stayed there, letting the days slip by, waiting for time to pass him by without any real intention.

You knew it was bad again, but this time, it was worse. He wasn’t even trying anymore. He had given up, and you felt it in every quiet moment between you.

It almost felt like a miracle that he agreed to come to the small party your colleagues had thrown for you. But he came, even though you could tell his heart wasn’t really there. You could feel it in the way he distanced himself, sinking into the background, staying silent and observing from a distance. He wasn’t participating, just existing in the space, a shadow of the person he used to be when he’d engage and enjoy those moments with you. The gap between you both grew with every passing minute, and you could feel the distance pulling at your chest.

“Jungkook,” you said softly, your voice heavy as you stared out the window at the passing scenery. “What if you start therapy again?”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles going white at the suggestion. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t bring himself to be angry with you for trying.

“I’m scared,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the road ahead, his voice flat. “It’s always the same shit over and over again. I’m done fighting.”

Hearing those words felt like a blow to your chest. It was the first time the truth between you both had been laid bare, no beating around the bush anymore. It should’ve been said long ago, but you never had the strength to bring it up, and he… he didn’t have the strength for anything anymore. The weight of his words broke you in a way you didn’t expect.

Over the five years you spent with Jungkook, you slowly learned how to navigate his world. You became attuned to when you could step into his thoughts and when it was better to hold back. You discovered the delicate art of helping him through his darkest moments, though it never made it easier. Every time he suffered, every time the world seemed to crush him, the images of him hurting himself lingered in your mind, haunting you like scars that wouldn’t fade.

But what once terrified you, no longer did. You’d learned how to steel yourself when it all came crashing down. When the despair crept in, you stood firm, your posture a silent promise to him that you wouldn’t waver. You’d keep your chin up, your voice steady, and you’d be the one to remind him that you were there—that you weren’t going anywhere. You would repeat it like a mantra: The voices in your head aren’t true. You’re not broken. You’re wonderful. You’re worthy of love. You’d hold him through the pain, speaking the truth of how deeply you loved him, of how glad you were to have him in your life.

And somehow, after those words, things would get better. For a while, at least. For a few weeks, you’d see a glimpse of the Jungkook you loved, the one who smiled without a weight in his eyes. But it always came back. The darkness would return, the cycle would repeat, and you would find yourself standing tall once more, trying to carry him through it again.

It was a dark, endless loop he had thrown himself into each day, a loop that had become so familiar he no longer fought it as he once did. At first, you fought with him, trying to help him escape the suffocating grasp of his thoughts, but as time went on, you found yourself fighting for both of you. He had stopped trying, worn down by the years of battling with something he felt would be a part of him forever.

For Jungkook, it started at thirteen. He didn’t know why it began, but he couldn’t remember a time when the thoughts hadn’t been there. In the beginning, it was small—denying himself food, punishing his body just to feel something, anything, that would distract him from the noise in his head. As he grew older, the need to escape deepened. He would lock himself in his room, choking himself, holding his breath until the world blurred and the silence in his head was enough to make him forget—if only for a few moments—what was clawing at him. Afterward, he would slip out to join his family for dinner, pretending everything was normal, pretending he wasn’t just on the verge of losing himself entirely.

Then came the sharp objects. He had never meant for it to get so far, but it was like the sharpness against his skin provided a release, a temporary relief from the pressure. And soon, it was a constant cycle, one he couldn’t break free from. The loop tightened around him, and he found himself circling through the same actions, day in and day out, unable to stop. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, it was that he didn’t know how to anymore.

Jungkook had never felt at peace like this before, not in the way he did when he met you. At first, it was as if your light was something he could hold onto, something he could follow with an innocent smile that hid the darkness he had carried for years. It was a brief reprieve, a fleeting illusion that maybe, just maybe, he could escape the spiral that had consumed him for so long. But the peace was always temporary. The thoughts—of dying, of hurting himself—always found their way back, lurking in the shadows just when he thought they were gone.

Your suggestion pulled him from his thoughts, your voice soft, yet hopeful as you looked at him. “What if we go there together?” You asked, your gaze meeting his. You had noticed his hand resting on the gear shift, your fingers brushing over his, and you offered him a way out, a way to face this together.

He hesitated, biting the inside of his cheek as he thought over your words. Therapy had always been something he did alone. He’d been going since he was sixteen, ever since his parents found him unconscious in their bathroom, blood staining his arms from a wound too deep for him to remember. They had been terrified, worried enough to send him to a therapist. Since then, he’d kept it to himself, thinking that no one could understand the things that ran through his mind. Not anyone, at least, who wasn’t a professional.

But with you… you made him feel safe in a way no one else ever had. He felt comfortable with you, like maybe—just maybe—he could open up, share the darkness that still clung to him.

“I—” His voice faltered for a moment as he squeezed your hand around the gear shift. “I don’t want you to be hurt by what you might hear,” he admitted softly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. The last thing he wanted was to drag you into his mind, to expose you to the pain he carried.

You had never pushed him about his therapy sessions. He’d always told you that it wasn’t worth talking about, that right now, all he wanted was to be with you. The intimacy you shared, the quiet moments together, had been enough for you to respect his space, to let the subject fade away when you were lost in each other. A kiss on your lips, making love to you—it was all enough to make you forget about the weight that hung over him.

But now, as you sat in the car, waiting for him to answer, you realized that maybe it was time for you to step into the shadows with him, not as someone who could fix him, but as someone who could walk beside him through it all.

Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly, but his mind was elsewhere. He could feel your gaze on him, could sense the vulnerability in your voice, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. The weight of your words hung in the air, and despite the walls he had built around himself, there was a crack, a small but noticeable shift inside him.

“I have to,” you reassured him, your voice soft but firm, your eyes never leaving his profile. “I know that those thoughts do not define the man I’m in love with. It won’t hurt me, Jungkook.”

The words settled into his chest, lingering there, something tender and almost fragile stirring in him. His heart skipped, and for the briefest moment, he allowed himself to believe it. He stole a subtle glance at you, the gentle curve of your lips, the sincerity in your eyes, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Your words always had a way of reaching him, cutting through the armor he’d built around himself.

Sometimes, he couldn’t understand why you were still here with him, why you stayed when you could have someone else. Someone who could give you more than the broken, bruised version of him.

But you were here. You were still here. And when you whispered those words, so simple yet so profound, it was as though you were offering him a lifeline.

“I love you, Kook,” you said, your voice cracking just a little as your eyes watered. It made his heart tighten, a pang of guilt and gratitude flooding him. You’d always been sensitive when it came to your feelings for him. It reminded him of the first time you had told him you loved him—when he was at his lowest, when everything felt like it was slipping away.

“And I want you to let me truly in,” you continued, your voice quieter now, but no less determined.

He could feel the weight of your love in those words, the unwavering support you were offering him. He wanted to tell you everything, to open up, to let you in fully, but the fear—of burdening you, of dragging you into his darkness—held him back.

But you were already there, weren’t you? You had been all along.

With a deep breath, Jungkook reached over, his hand gently finding yours, the warmth of your skin grounding him. He squeezed your hand softly, as though trying to convey everything he couldn’t say. Maybe it wasn’t the grand confession he thought he needed, but it was the beginning of something. Something that might take time, something that might hurt, but something worth fighting for.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your hand in his, intertwining your fingers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jungkook allowed himself to feel just a little bit of peace.

You tried to convince yourself you were ready for this moment, that hearing whatever Jungkook would say in that room wouldn’t break you, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t.

You took the whole day off, determined to be there for him, to support him in a way you hoped would help. Jungkook told you not to, insisted you didn’t have to come, but you couldn’t let him face it alone. With a soft smile, he kissed your cheek, and that was enough to make you feel like everything would be okay.

Walking through the long, sterile corridor, you felt the heaviness of the walls closing in on you. Everything was white—too white, too clean, too impersonal. Jungkook seemed almost at ease in this space, his steps unhurried as if this place, these cold rooms, had been a part of him for years. And that thought tore at you. He had been coming here for so long, battling his demons alone, trying to make sense of a world that felt too harsh to belong to. You wanted to stop his pain. You wanted to erase it completely, to make it go away, but all you could do was follow him, offering the only comfort you had: your presence.

In the waiting room, you clung to Jungkook’s hand, your fingers interlaced tightly. You read everything on the walls to distract yourself from the sinking feeling in your chest. Messages about caring for your loved ones, numbers to call if the thoughts became overwhelming, tips to prevent the darkest moments from swallowing you whole. But nothing held your gaze like one particular poster.

Every life is precious, even yours.

The words were bold, bright, and so painfully raw. Right beside it was a suicide hotline number, and you could feel your heart freeze. The thought of losing him—of losing Jungkook—was unbearable. The idea that this number was a lifeline for someone who might not be able to see the worth in themselves was too much to bear.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself, but it didn’t help. Your throat tightened, and the lump in your chest felt like it was suffocating you. You didn’t want to think about it. You didn’t want to imagine a world where he wasn’t in it. But the truth was, you couldn’t keep ignoring the fact that he had been on the edge for so long. And the fear of him slipping away from you gnawed at your insides.

Jungkook must have known exactly where your mind had gone, because without a word, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. You felt his warmth, his love, and it was both a comfort and a torment. He was here, right here with you, but you were scared—scared of what he might say in that room, scared of what might happen after.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice soft, yet full of meaning. It was simple, but it was everything.

And in that moment, you realized that despite all the fears, all the doubts, and all the pain, you were willing to face this—whatever it was—together. You were ready to hear him. Ready to be there for him, even if it meant facing the parts of him that terrified you the most. Because you loved him, and in the end, that was enough to hold on to.

You had never imagined this moment would feel so heavy. Everything about the room felt foreign—the warmth, the soft lighting, the gentle atmosphere. Dr. Kim’s office was nothing like the sterile, clinical space you had envisioned for a therapy session. There were no white coats, no cold stares, no judgements. He wore simple, comfortable clothes and smiled with kindness that seemed to erase any tension in the air. His eyes, warm and welcoming, never once made you feel out of place.

Dr. Kim had greeted you with genuine interest, his voice filled with warmth as he asked, “Are you the one Jungkook always speaks about?”

You smiled nervously, a little surprised by his openness. Jungkook had spoken about you to him? He’d told his therapist how much he appreciated you, how grateful he was for you. Dr. Kim even told you about the photos Jungkook had shared, and in that moment, you felt like maybe you were the one who didn’t deserve the love he so freely gave.

The session began smoothly, with Dr. Kim and Jungkook discussing everything from his current emotional state to his recent activities. There were small, easy conversations at first—how his days were going, what made him feel good or bad, how he was coping with his darker thoughts. But then, suddenly, the conversation shifted. Dr. Kim asked a question that seemed so simple but carried so much weight.

“Have you tried anything to hurt yourself? To…,” Dr. Kim hesitated, noticing the sudden tightness in your body, before continuing with a softer tone, “To kill yourself?”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and everything inside you went cold. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick and heavy. You weren’t prepared for this. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction so suddenly, and the words felt like a punch to your gut. You squeezed Jungkook’s hand under the table, your fingers interlocked tightly with his, a silent plea for him to be okay.

You looked at him, hoping, praying that he would say something to reassure you, to make this feel less real. But as your eyes met his, your heart sank. His gaze was soft, almost distant, as if he was ashamed of what was about to be said. His hair fell into his eyes, and he didn’t meet your gaze for long. He was already retreating into himself.

You felt your pulse race in your ears. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t focus.

“Yeah,” Jungkook’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper. But those two syllables felt like the heaviest weight. His words hung in the air, suffocating you.

Everything seemed to freeze around you. The realization of what he had just said hit you with a force you weren’t prepared for. He had tried—he had tried to end it all. The thought of it, of him hurting himself, overwhelmed you completely.

You held on to his hand tighter, as if that physical connection could keep both of you grounded in the moment. You wanted to speak, to scream, to ask why, to fix it, but your throat was tight, your words caught somewhere between your chest and your lips.

You never wanted to hear those words. Not from him. Not from the love of your life. The person who you thought was just… so much more than his pain.

But you couldn’t look away. Because he was still here, with you, trying, and that was enough.

Even if it hurt more than anything.

You couldn’t forgive yourself for not seeing it sooner. He admitted he had tried two weeks ago, and the realization hit you like a wave. It had been so close, yet you hadn’t noticed a thing. You felt a deep, bitter sting of guilt, wanting to slap yourself for being so blind—so naïve about his struggles.

Your boyfriend had tried to take his own life, in your shared apartment, probably in your bedroom or the bathroom. Dr. Kim asked him how and why, his questions clinical but jarring. You hated how necessary they were, even if it was part of the process. They felt like a violation, a raw intrusion into a pain you hadn’t even fully understood.

Jungkook hesitated, unsure if he should say more, especially seeing how still you were, your face pale, and your eyes wide in disbelief. He couldn’t feel your breath beside him, just the tension in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Are you okay?” he asked gently, his voice quiet and concerned as his hand found its way to your knee.

The question nearly broke you. How could he ask if you were okay? You were the one sitting there, shattered, while he was the one who had tried to end everything. His tenderness towards you, so selfless, made the weight of it all feel even heavier. You wished he could see how much he was worth, how much he deserved to love himself the way you loved him.

Tears began to pour down your cheeks, and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, feeling the overwhelming pain rise in your chest. You reached for him, pulling him into you, desperate to hold him, to somehow fix everything.

“I just wish you would’ve told me,” you whispered into his neck, your words a jumbled mess as your sobs came quicker, harder. But through it all, Jungkook heard every word, felt every ounce of your pain as you clung to him.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten as you wept in front of him. His heart shattered into pieces, each of your sobs echoing in his mind, louder than any words he could say. He had never wanted to see you like this—broken, distressed, helpless—and yet, here you were, crying because of him, because of something he thought he could keep hidden.

His hand moved from your knee to the back of your head, gently pulling you closer into his chest, his heartbeat racing with every tremor of your body. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, as if he could somehow absorb your pain, even though he knew he couldn’t. Not completely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t want you to find out like this…”

But the words were too late. You were already drowning in the realization of it all, and the weight of the secret he had been carrying was now too heavy to ignore. You wanted to scream at him, to shake him, to make him understand how much you would have fought for him. How you would’ve done anything to help him, to take the burden from his shoulders. But you couldn’t, and it made everything worse.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you cried, lifting your face to meet his, your voice strained with confusion and anguish. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you try to do it alone?”

Jungkook couldn’t meet your gaze. He looked down at his lap, as if trying to shrink into himself. He couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken. He didn’t want you to see the ugly parts of him, the darkness that he could never escape.

“I thought… I thought it would be easier for you if I kept it to myself,” he said quietly. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want to burden you.”

You shook your head, pulling away slightly, but still holding on to him, your grip desperate as if afraid he might slip away. “Jungkook, you are my burden. But you’re also my love. My life. You’re everything to me. You’re never a burden. I want to help you, not carry this alone… but I can’t do that if you don’t let me in.”

Your voice cracked, and the words you had been too scared to say for so long finally came pouring out. You had always been there for him, always done your best to be the strong one when he needed it, but now, in the middle of this storm, you needed him to let you be strong for both of you.

“I love you,” you whispered, tears still flowing freely. “Please, let me help you. Let me carry this with you.”

Jungkook felt a knot tighten in his throat as he looked down at you. His eyes were filled with guilt, shame, and love all at once. How could he let you love him when he could barely love himself?

But the tenderness in your eyes, the desperate need for him to trust you, finally broke through the wall he had built so high around his heart. His fingers traced the back of your hand, intertwining with yours, his touch barely a whisper against your skin.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice trembling as he pulled you back to his chest. “I never wanted to hurt you. I just… I don’t know how to handle this sometimes.”

You wrapped your arms around him, not wanting to let go, not wanting to lose him to the dark thoughts that had controlled his life for so long.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered into his chest. “I’m here. Always.”

Dr. Kim watched the interaction between you and Jungkook with a scrutinizing gaze, his heart filled with a mixture of admiration and caution. He couldn’t deny that it was a beautiful thing to witness—how you cared for him, how you were there for him in a way that seemed unwavering. It was clear to him that Jungkook had found someone truly special, someone willing to help him pick up the broken pieces that had been there long before you came into his life. The way you loved him, with such purity and patience, felt almost like a dream—an idealized version of what healing could look like.

But Dr. Kim was a professional. He had seen enough cases over the years to know that hope could be a dangerous thing. He couldn’t allow himself to be swept up by the tender scene unfolding in front of him, no matter how deeply it touched him. He had learned long ago that love wasn’t always enough to heal the deepest scars, and that sometimes, when one person relied too much on another to save them, it could lead to devastation.

What worried Dr. Kim, what unsettled him deeply, was the certainty in your voice, in the way you held onto Jungkook like he was your lifeline. He couldn’t help but be terrified that, someday, that light you carried so brightly would be too blinding for Jungkook, making him believe that he was fine, that he was whole, when in reality, the darkness inside him was still there, waiting to resurface.

He had known Jungkook for years—since he was sixteen. Dr. Kim had watched him grow, slowly spiraling deeper into himself, becoming more fragile and withdrawn with each passing year. Jungkook was sensitive, vulnerable, and far more complicated than anyone could see on the surface. His lifeline had become you, but Dr. Kim feared that the way Jungkook’s world revolved around you could become an unhealthy attachment, one that wouldn’t allow him to truly heal.

In the end, Jungkook wouldn’t be able to fully heal if he didn’t learn to love himself first. His life couldn’t continue to revolve around someone else, not in this way. He needed to find the strength within himself to stand on his own before he could fully give his love to anyone else. Dr. Kim couldn’t shake the fear that if this lifeline—this beautiful bond between you and Jungkook—wasn’t grounded in something stronger, something more stable, it could break. And when it did, he feared Jungkook might never open his eyes again.

Jungkook seemed to be doing okay, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe. But who were you to be so certain when you hadn’t even seen the moment he tried to take his own life? You couldn’t ignore the lingering doubt that perhaps you didn’t really know the full extent of his struggles, no matter how hard you tried to be there for him.

Still, those two months after the therapy sessions felt like a fresh start—like the beginning of your relationship all over again. There was something tender about it, as if you both were learning each other anew, slowly rediscovering what it meant to be together.

If Jungkook felt that you were being too suffocating, too invasive, he didn’t say anything. The silence between you both seemed more comfortable now, but it also felt like there was an unspoken understanding. He didn’t push you away, not like before. Maybe it was because he missed you, needed you more than ever, especially since you had been working a lot lately. Even when you mentioned taking some months off to focus on what truly mattered, he didn’t argue. He simply accepted it.

You told him about all the things you wanted to do during your time together, and as you spoke, he didn’t always catch every word. But that didn’t matter, because what he remembered most was how safe and content he felt in those moments, with his arms around your naked body and your fingers drawing invisible hearts on his bare chest as you spoke.

You talked about getting a dog, going on a trip to the mountains, doing body painting, sleeping under the stars—things that felt so simple, so hopeful, so full of life. And as you spoke, you could tell he was slipping into sleep, his breath steady and warm against your skin. But what he didn’t hear—what he had fallen asleep before you could finish telling him—was that you also dreamed of getting married.

In July, you both went to a shelter, your hands tightly intertwined as you walked through the rows of cages. The day felt full of hope, like it was the start of something simple but profound. When you left, you had a small Doberman by your side, its leash firmly held in Jungkook’s hand, the other still wrapped around yours.

Jungkook was surprisingly taken with the little puppy, his eyes lighting up as he playfully interacted with the dog. It was impossible not to smile at how genuine his excitement was, so pure and unguarded. He was practically glowing with joy, and you couldn’t help but let him choose the name for the dog. He was so animated, so childlike in the best way, that it felt like a moment worth letting him have.

After some back and forth, you both quickly agreed on the name: Bam. It felt right, fitting for the little guy. Jungkook explained it with a little chuckle, saying that the name was a reflection of what he wanted to escape—night, darkness, all the things that haunted him. He said that if something as pure and innocent as this dog could carry such a name, then maybe he could start seeing his own struggles differently. Perhaps he could find a way to paint them with something a little softer, a little cuter, just like the brown Doberman that was now bouncing happily at his feet.

And so, Bam it was. The name wasn’t just a label for the dog; it was Jungkook’s small, hopeful way of reclaiming the darkness. A step forward in the way he was learning to face his own battles.

You watched them both from your spot in the garden, the book you had started reading now forgotten in your lap. The sight before you—Jungkook sitting on the grass with Bam, laughing as the puppy showered him with affection—was far more captivating than any story in your book. The reality was better than anything you could’ve imagined, and it made your heart swell in ways you hadn’t expected.

“Are you really planning on teaching him tricks?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips. Jungkook was on his bottom, his hands full of puppy fur as Bam licked his face. The dog was way more affectionate with Jungkook than with you, but you couldn’t blame him. You were just as smitten by those big round eyes, eyes that seemed to hold the whole universe in them.

Lately, you had been seeing those stars in Jungkook’s eyes more often than before. They made your heart ache with a love so deep, it felt as if it might overflow. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly wiped them away, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“I know he can do it,” Jungkook said confidently, turning his attention back to Bam. “Bam! Pow!” He pointed his finger in a playful gun gesture, trying to get the puppy to follow along.

You couldn’t help but smile as you stood up, walking over to them. Gently, you patted Bam’s head, your hand lingering on his soft fur for a moment. “Maybe you could start with the basics first,” you suggested lightly. “Like, ‘sit down’?”

Jungkook shook his head, laughing. “Too boring,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “I want my son to be a smart boy.” He pointed again, shouting “Pow! Pow! Pow!” over and over, but Bam was far too excited, wagging his tail and bouncing around, clearly too distracted to learn any trick.

“If your son is anything like his dad,” you teased with a grin, “then he’ll definitely be very stubborn.” You leaned down to kiss him softly on the lips, then quickly pulled away, running off before he had a chance to catch you.

“Hey! Wait up!” Jungkook called after you, laughing as he scrambled to get to his feet. Bam, of course, was right behind him, barking happily as they both chased after you.

It didn’t take long before Jungkook caught up to you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his slender waist, the proximity so comforting, your heart racing as Bam’s playful licks tickled your feet. But honestly, the whole situation was just a perfect excuse for you to be as close to him as possible.

“He’s truly like his father,” Jungkook chuckled softly, shifting his grip on your legs so you could lift your feet higher to keep them out of Bam’s reach. The playful gesture had you both laughing.

“You’re disgusting,” you teased with a mock glare, squirming a little in his hold. “I’m never letting you near my feet. It’s a Bam privilege.” You glanced up at him, your head settling comfortably on his shoulder as you let out a small, content sigh.

Jungkook’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “How I wish I was Bam right now,” he whispered, his voice full of affection and admiration. The thought of being the one to receive all your love, to be the one you held so close, made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

As your laughter echoed softly against his chest, he thought to himself that if being alive was like this—wrapped in warmth and love with you—he’d be ready to live not one but three lifetimes. One for each moment shared with you, one for every moment of joy, of feeling alive, of building a future together. With you. Always with you.

“You know,” his voice dropped an octave lower as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary. “I remember that night you said you wanted to try body painting.”

Your face immediately heated up as you hid it against his shoulder, a quiet groan of embarrassment escaping you. “I really thought you were sleeping that night,” you mumbled, a shy smile still tugging at your lips.

Jungkook chuckled, shifting slightly so he could look at you better. “I hear everything you say, you know that,” he teased, his fingers tracing mindless patterns on your back.

He laid you down carefully on the soft grass, his gaze never once leaving yours. The sight of you beneath him, surrounded by wildflowers and bathed in the warm golden light of the late afternoon, made his heart stutter. If there was such a thing as heaven, he was convinced nothing could come close to this moment right now.

Bam wiggled his tail excitedly near you, trying to nuzzle into your side, but Jungkook held up a warning finger. “Bam, not now,” he said, furrowing his brows.

The serious expression on his face made you burst into laughter. His round cheeks puffed out, lips slightly pursed, and big doe eyes attempting to look stern—it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

“Look at you, ditching your son like that,” you teased, rolling your eyes before cooing at Bam, scratching gently behind his ears. “You have a terrible father, right?”

Jungkook opened his mouth to protest, but the words never came. Instead, he just stared at you—his mind drifting elsewhere, to places he never used to allow himself to go.

Father.

The word had never been something he imagined for himself. It never felt like a possibility, not when he spent so long unable to picture any future at all. But now, watching you with Bam, your touch so gentle, your voice so full of love—it didn’t seem like such an impossible thought. The idea of something made from the both of you, something so pure and full of love, was oddly comforting.

But would he even be enough?

Before his thoughts could spiral too deep, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck. He felt the way your breath hitched, your body instinctively arching under him when he found that soft spot behind your ear.

“You said you—” Your voice broke off, a sharp inhale replacing your words as Jungkook rolled his hips into yours, his hands firm on your waist.

The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, your fingers tangling into his hair as you pulled him closer, losing yourself in the warmth of his touch.

It had been a long time since you’d felt him this close, since his unpredictable sleeping schedule always kept you apart, since exhaustion weighed down on him so heavily that he barely had the energy to do anything but rest. And you never blamed him for it. You never needed physical intimacy to feel close to him. But now that he was here, fully present with you, touching you, holding you, loving you—it made you feel just like the first time.

That first time had been messy, full of nervous laughter and whispered reassurances, both of you scared of doing something wrong. But even in its clumsiness, it was perfect. Because it was him. Because it was love. And love, no matter how imperfect, was the most beautiful thing you had ever known.

That day, he made love to you with a tenderness that left you breathless, his gaze locked onto yours like he was afraid to look away, afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he did. The only time he closed his eyes was when he got lost in the overwhelming pleasure, his lips parting to release quiet, breathless moans.

Between whispered confessions of love and gratitude, he moved against you with growing desperation—his thrusts deepening, his hands gripping you tighter, as if trying to merge himself with you completely. As if he could disappear inside you, drown in your warmth, and become something whole. One soul. One body. One mind—only yours. Because his own still felt like a dangerous place to be.

He wasn’t sure if he was truly getting better. Some days, he felt stable. Other days, he felt like he was standing on the edge of a crumbling cliff, barely holding on. But with you beneath him, surrounding him, whispering his name like a prayer, he let himself believe—just for a moment—that he was safe.

But if he ever voiced his thoughts out loud—the desperate wish to erase himself, to exist only as a shadow behind your bright light—you would be quick to shake your head, a stubborn crease forming between your brows. Because your love would never be complete without him. Without his pain, his dark thoughts, his flaws, and the jagged edges of his soul.

You had never loved him in pieces. You had always loved him whole.

You may not have done body painting the way you originally imagined—the playful strokes of color across each other’s skin, the laughter, the mess—but in a way, that night became its own kind of art.

The way he kissed your body like it was a canvas, the way your nails traced over his back—not deep enough to hurt, but just enough to leave something of yourself on him, something softer than the scars he had given himself. Marks of love, not pain. It was as if, little by little, you were painting over something broken, turning a dark stain into something beautiful—not by covering it, but by making it a part of the masterpiece.

And when he finally released himself inside you, trembling against you, it felt just like the first stroke of a brush on a blank canvas—a moment of pure creation, something intimate, something new.

It wasn’t the body painting you had planned.

It was something much better.

When Jungkook felt your breath even out against his chest and your body relax completely, he knew you had fallen asleep. Moving carefully, he slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb you. You looked so peaceful, and he didn’t want to take that away.

Standing beside the bed, he let his eyes linger on you—your body sprawled across the sheets, hair still slightly damp from the shower, strands sticking to your cheek. You were wrapped in one of his old shirts, the same one he had given you back when you were still in university. You had never stopped wearing it.

The sight of you like this did something to his heart—something deep, overwhelming, and impossible to put into words. He wished he could carve this moment into his memory, etch it into his skin, so that even when he closed his eyes, you would still be there. And if they were ever to close forever, he thinks he would be okay if this was the last thing he saw.

Yet, beneath the warmth in his chest, something unsettling lurked—a weight, an ache, a feeling he couldn’t quite name.

He quietly stepped out of the room, careful not to make a sound, and slipped into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Jungkook watches his own reflection, his breath unsteady, his fingers gripping the edge of the sink as if it’s the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Just moments ago, he had felt weightless—like he was floating, lifted by you, by your love, by the warmth of your body pressed against his. But now, staring at himself under the harsh bathroom light, he feels like he’s sinking.

His feet are stuck in the mud, his knees buried deeper and deeper, as if the very earth beneath him is swallowing him whole.

The contrast is suffocating.

He blinks at his own reflection, at the tired eyes, the shadows beneath them, the slight redness at the tips of his ears from the heat of your shared moment. He should still feel warm. He should still feel safe. But instead, that old, familiar heaviness presses down on him, curling around his chest, whispering things he doesn’t want to hear.

It’s never enough. You’re never enough. She deserves better.

Jungkook clenches his jaw, shaking his head as if he can physically reject the thoughts. He grips the sink tighter, his knuckles turning white. His heart is still racing from being with you, but now it’s for a different reason.

The high never lasts.

He knows this feeling too well—the way joy is something temporary, something borrowed, and how reality always comes crashing down eventually. How no matter how much love you pour into him, it can’t stop the way his mind works, the way it twists things, turns them into something painful.

His breathing grows uneven, and for a second, he considers waking you up—because you always know what to say, because your voice is the only thing that cuts through the noise.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he sinks to the floor, his back against the cold bathroom tiles, and exhales shakily. He doesn’t want to wake you. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

Not again.

When his eyes met his reflection again, he couldn’t stand the sight. He felt like a stranger in his own skin, as if it didn’t belong to him but to the demons wrapping themselves around his organs, his mind, his muscles—suffocating him. He felt ugly. Disgusting.

His hand lifted to his cheek. He had never liked them—too round, too soft. The only time he tolerated them was when you kissed them or pinched them playfully, adoring them in a way he could never understand. His fingers pressed against them now, as if he could tear them away, reshape them into something else.

Then, his fingers traced over his lips. He hated them too. Hated the words that came from them, hated how they always failed him. He could never seem to say what he truly wanted, never find the right way to express what was clawing at his chest.

His touch traveled to his eyes, and the urge to dig his nails into them, to rip them out, crept up his spine. He despised the way they always looked so full of pain, so childlike, so weak. The thought made him snap. He slapped himself—hard—wishing he could wake up as someone else. Anyone else. Someone stronger, someone more put together, someone worthy of your love.

Because how could you love him when all he saw in himself was filth? How could you look at him with such warmth when the voices in his head screamed that he was unworthy?

The only time he ever felt beautiful was when he saw his reflection in your wide, adoring eyes. The version of him that lived there always seemed better than the one staring back at him now.

He slaps himself again. And again. Until his cheeks burn red, until his breathing turns ragged, until his eyes fall onto something else he despises—his body.

His scars.

They run across his arms, his stomach, his thighs—everywhere. A map of every moment he tried to escape, every time he sought relief through pain. When you truly want to disappear, you find every inch of your body willing to suffer.

Even now, the ghost of your lips lingers on those scars, reminders of the way you tried to love them away. But tonight, even that isn’t enough.

His fingers claw at his arms, nails digging into the flesh, desperate to tear it away—this skin, this body, this evidence of all the times he failed to leave.

He scratches and scratches, until the pain dulls, until it isn’t enough anymore. He needs something more—something deeper, something that cuts through the noise in his head.

And then, his mind goes blank.

That’s when the demons take over. When his body moves without him, when he becomes a passenger in his own skin.

He looks at himself again.

His eyes seem darker, less round, less soft. His chest appears broader, his scars less like wounds and more like the marks of someone who has survived. The voice in his head purrs, telling him he looks better like this—stronger when he surrenders to them.

He teeters between disgust and admiration, caught between fear of the reflection and the temptation to let it consume him.

“Fuck!”

The scream rips from his throat as his fist slams into the mirror, shattering his own image, breaking his skin. Blood drips from his knuckles, seeping into the cracks of the fractured glass.

In a daze, he crawls toward the shards of broken glass scattered across the floor. His fingers tremble as they close around a jagged piece, gripping it so tightly that it bites into his palm, splitting skin, drawing blood. The sharp sting barely registers—almost welcome, almost grounding.

Against the door, he hears Bam barking. The puppy isn’t stupid; he knows something is wrong. He can sense the suffocating weight in the air, the darkness creeping in. Whatever is happening inside that bathroom—it isn’t good.

It’s Bam’s desperate barking that wakes you.

Your eyes flutter open, and immediately, you feel it—the cold emptiness beside you, the absence of his warmth. Your heart lurches. Sleep is forgotten as you throw off the covers and rush toward the sound, toward Bam, who stands anxiously in front of the locked bathroom door.

You try to open it, but it won’t budge. Your breath catches as you press your ear against the wood, straining to hear.

Then it hits you—his ragged sobs, his muffled shouts, the agony spilling from him in broken cries.

Your heart shatters into a thousand pieces.

He’s lost to the voices again.

“Jungkook?” You call again, your voice fragile, barely audible, but laced with desperation. The fear that you might do something wrong, say the wrong thing, sends a tremor through you. You can’t bear the thought of losing him, not like this. “Kook, it’s me, can you open the door, please?” You bang your fist against it, your heart thundering in your chest.

On the other side, Jungkook can’t hear you. The voices—so loud, so demanding—drown everything else out. His mind is a chaotic storm, each voice fighting against the others, battling for control. The noise is deafening, unbearable. His hands, trembling, press against his ears, trying to block out the sounds, the pain, but it’s no use.

He slaps his hands against his ears, but it only intensifies the agony. A piercing, shrill sound claws its way through his skull, making his head throb with such force that he collapses onto the floor. The broken glass beneath him cuts into his skin, but he doesn’t feel it. The pain is a distant echo, overwhelmed by the torment inside his mind.

Frantically, you glance around, your mind racing, trying to find anything that could help you get inside. Your hands tremble as you search the hallway. You spot the spare key to the bathroom, hidden on the shelf above the coat rack. It’s meant for emergencies, but never did you imagine you’d be using it for something like this.

You rush over and grab the key, your pulse racing, a desperate need to get to him consuming every part of you. You push the key into the lock, but your hands are shaking so violently it takes a couple of tries before the door finally clicks open.

With a deep breath, you push the door open, your heart in your throat. The sight that greets you makes your breath catch—Jungkook, collapsed on the floor, surrounded by shards of broken glass, his hands bloodied, his body shaking uncontrollably. He’s not aware of you yet. His eyes are wide, but lost in the chaos of his mind.

You ignored the sharp sting of the glass cutting into your feet, your focus entirely on him—on Jungkook. His cries echoed in the room, and the sight of him trembling, lost in his own chaos, tore you apart. You reached out to him, your hands trembling but determined as you cupped his face, making him look at you.

“Jungkook!” You rush to him—ignoring the sharp sting of the glass cutting into your feet, your focus entirely on him—kneeling beside him, your hands trembling as you gently try to lift him up, wiping away the glass from his skin. You speak his name again, louder this time, your voice full of panic but laced with love. “Please, Kook, I’m here. I’m here. Look at me.”

Your heart breaks seeing him like this, seeing the darkness that still clings to him. You hold him, your arms around him, whispering over and over again, trying to bring him back, trying to remind him that he’s not alone.

You pressed your forehead against his, your hands gently moving to cradle him, holding him as if you could protect him from all the pain and demons that still haunted him. He didn’t react at first, his body still shaking violently, his eyes distant as he clung to his own broken thoughts. But you held on, refusing to let go, even as the blood from your feet mixed with the tears that streamed down your face.

“I love you, Jungkook. I love you, please… let me help you,” you murmured through the pain, trying to hold him steady, trying to remind him of the love that surrounded him, that always surrounded him. The love that was still strong, even through all of this.

After what felt like an eternity, sitting together amidst the broken glass, Jungkook slowly came to his senses, his head pressed into your chest. You held him tightly, your fingers gently running through his hair, brushing away the tears from his cheeks.

“My baby,” you whispered, your chin resting on the top of his head. “If only I could take all your pain away.” Your own eyes brimmed with tears, and they fell silently onto his hair as you buried your face into it, trying to hide the ache in your chest.

The sound of your sobs mixed together as you felt his hand slide to your waist, his body inching closer to yours, as if he needed to be even nearer.

“Why are you staying?” His voice cracked, hoarse from the weight of his sobs, barely audible—but you heard him. You always would.

“Because I don’t think I could breathe without you,” you replied, your voice steady and certain, no doubt in your words. You cupped his face gently, gazing into his eyes. The sight hurt you, but it was still your Jungkook. The love of your life. “And because I love you so much that I can’t imagine a world without you in it,” you continued, brushing your thumbs over his eyes, pushing his hair back so you could see them clearly. “And because you are worthy of everything I can give, I would give you my whole life without hesitation, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s body shudders against you as your words settle into the quiet space between you. He inhales shakily, and despite the rawness of his emotion, there’s a sense of calm that begins to settle over him just from the warmth of your presence, the sincerity of your love.

“I don’t deserve that…” he whispers, his voice a broken whisper that only you can hear. His hand reaches for yours, gripping it like he’s afraid you might slip away.

“Jungkook, don’t say that,” you reply softly, cupping his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you. His eyes are still red, still full of pain, but now they search yours desperately, like he’s trying to find something—anything—to hold on to. “You are worth everything, all the love in the world. You’ve always been. I don’t care about the scars, the pain. You’re worth every single thing, Jungkook.”

You lean in, pressing your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you share the silent comfort of the moment. “We’ll get through this, together,” you murmur.

“But how long? What if I never get better?” he whispered into your shoulder, his voice breaking with uncertainty. “I won’t blame you if you decide—”

You tightened your arms around his back, cutting him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Jeon,” you murmured, a soft smile tugging at your lips despite the heavy, suffocating weight of the atmosphere. You wanted to ease his pain, if only a little. “One day, you’ll see yourself the way I see you. One day, you’ll love yourself as much as you love me. I’ll make sure of it.”

Carefully, you helped him up, your body pressing against the shards of glass, the pain digging into your thighs and bottom as blood began to trickle out, but you ignored it. His well-being was all that mattered now.

“But you have to trust me, okay? Whatever I decide, it’s for your own good.” Your voice wavered as you spoke, though you tried to keep it steady, like you had everything under control. But deep down, there was a thought buried in your chest, one that you had locked away and refused to let surface—something you weren’t sure you could ever say aloud. But what if that was the answer? What if that was what Jungkook needed? The catalyst that would finally push him toward healing, to love himself without needing to love you first?

What if your light was preventing him from finding his own?

If that were the case, you wouldn’t let it continue, even if it meant letting him go.

When you saw Dr. Kim again, you weren’t with Jungkook. You gripped your bag tighter, steeling yourself before you could chicken out and run away. Your eyes fixed on the damn poster on the wall.

Every life is precious, even yours.

Why couldn’t Jungkook see that? If only you could show him.

“Mr. Jeon, it’s your—” Dr. Kim’s voice faltered when he saw not the man he was expecting, but you. His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, more understanding. He didn’t question why it was you standing there instead of Jungkook, just opened the door and gestured for you to enter.

“Come in,” he said gently, his voice welcoming.

You sat down in the chair, unsure of why you were there in the first place. Just that morning, you’d told Jungkook you wouldn’t be long, lying through your teeth when you said you needed to go to work to verify some things. You had kissed his cheek, told him to keep sleeping, and assured him you were fine on your own when he asked if he should come with you.

“I’m guessing you want to talk about Jungkook, right?” Dr. Kim asked, twirling his pen between his fingers, his tone calm and patient.

You nodded quickly, the weight of the moment pressing down on you. His eyes softened, a small understanding smile forming on his lips, dimples appearing as his expression turned empathetic. “How is he?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat thickening before you spoke. “Bad,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew there was no point in lying about his condition now. “Yesterday night he had an outburst.”

You went on to explain everything that had happened, the broken glass, his sobs, and the overwhelming pain he was carrying. Dr. Kim listened intently, writing everything down in his notebook without interrupting.

Dr. Kim’s gaze didn’t waver. His eyes were steady and gentle, yet intense, as if he was pulling something from deep within you that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“And how are you?” he repeated, his voice steady but carrying a weight that made your heart skip a beat. His hands were crossed on the desk, but his presence felt much larger, almost like he was trying to see into the very core of you. It made you feel exposed, vulnerable.

“I—” you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly unsure how to answer. How were you? It felt like such a loaded question, one that you didn’t know how to untangle. What you did know for sure was that you wanted Jungkook to get better, and you were willing to do anything to help him with that. “I’m trying to hold on, but it’s nothing compared to Jung—”

Before you could finish, Dr. Kim cut you off gently but firmly, “No. I’m not asking about Jungkook right now. I’m asking about you.”

Your eyes drifted, avoiding his gaze for a moment as you fumbled with your thoughts. He noticed your discomfort, and with a small sigh, he leaned forward slightly, his voice softening as he tried to clarify his question. “You know that when you spend many years with someone suffering from depression, you don’t realize how it can get under your skin too. You might start carrying some of their weight without even noticing.”

You felt a knot form in your stomach as his words hung in the air. It was like a sudden revelation that you hadn’t fully considered. Could it be? Were you carrying the burden too?

“I don’t see Jungkook as a burden,” you assert, your voice firm, “I want to help him because I love him so much.”

Dr. Kim watched your expression soften as you spoke about Jungkook. Without even realizing it, and without him prompting you further, you began to recount the story of how you first met him, how he asked you out, and the journey that followed. You shared how he never kept his depression hidden from you, and how, despite the pain, it made you love him even more deeply.

The therapist gave a small smile as he listened, but the curiosity in his eyes didn’t fade. He leaned in slightly, his tone gentle but probing. “So, why are you here today? What made you feel the need to come and talk to me?”

He dug deeper, not leaving any stone unturned, until you could feel the weight of his question pressing on your chest, forcing the truth to finally come out.

You paused, your thoughts swirling for a moment as Dr. Kim’s question lingered in the air. It wasn’t easy to put into words what had brought you here. You’d been focused on Jungkook for so long, trying to be strong for him, trying to help him heal, but now, in this room, with Dr. Kim’s calm but piercing eyes on you, the weight of your own feelings became undeniable.

You shifted in your seat, feeling the weight of your words before they even left your mouth. “I’m scared that I’m suffocating him, like maybe he’ll never truly see his own worth because he’s too focused on loving me,” you confessed quickly, wanting to get the burden off your chest.

“And I’m scared that I can’t help him the way I think I can. I don’t know how much longer I can pretend that I’m not constantly on edge, holding my breath, waiting for the next thing. When he has those episodes, it feels like I’m losing him, and when he’s better, I try to be strong for him, but… it’s getting harder. I’m scared, Dr. Kim.”

You took a shaky breath, your heart heavy as you finally admitted what you had been too afraid to say. “I don’t think I can be the one to save him. I think it’s something only he can do.”

Dr. Kim nodded slowly, giving you the space to let the emotions flow. He could see the depth of your care for Jungkook. “I’m glad you’re aware of it,” he said softly, his voice reassuring. “It shows how much you love him, and that’s what matters. Jungkook is lucky to have someone like you.”

You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed with the weight of it all. “But I—” you choked on the words, the sobs breaking free before you could finish your sentence, “I don’t want him to think I’m abandoning him. But why does it feel like it?”

The sight of you in so much pain tugged at Dr. Kim’s heart. Even though he had witnessed similar situations countless times, it didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. He took a deep breath, his tone gentle as he handed you a tissue, his eyes filled with empathy. You took it with a grateful smile, trying to regain some composure.

“If anything,” he said, his voice steady and calm, “you’re not abandoning Jungkook if you want him to focus on himself first. It might feel like you’re stepping back, but that’s what he needs right now—space to heal on his own.”

He paused for a moment, ensuring you understood, and then continued. “Jungkook has always struggled with his self-worth. He’s never truly learned to like himself. That’s the root of his pain. He’s projected the love he couldn’t give himself onto others, and that’s where the cycle of self-doubt and self-destruction comes from.”

Dr. Kim then went into the medical side of things, explaining Jungkook’s depression and self-destructive tendencies with more technical terms, while making sure you understood it clearly.

“He has what we call dysthymia, which is a long-term, chronic form of depression that causes persistent low mood. It’s not always obvious to others because he’s learned to mask it, but it takes a serious toll over time. His tendency to push people away or retreat into himself when he’s struggling comes from a place of deep insecurity. Jungkook’s also dealing with self-destructive tendencies, which means he might turn his pain inward, sometimes even in harmful ways, as a way to cope with the emotional turmoil he feels.”

He looked at you, his eyes softening. “But this isn’t about you not being enough for him. It’s about Jungkook learning to feel worthy of love, and that’s something only he can work on, no matter how much you wish you could fix it for him.”

The weight of Dr. Kim’s words hung heavily in the air, and despite your best efforts to absorb everything, your chest tightened with the painful realization that Jungkook’s journey to healing was something only he could walk alone. You thought about how much you longed to comfort him, to hold him, to take away his pain, but now you knew the truth—no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t be the one to fix it for him. Not unless he found a way to heal himself first.

A soft ache blossomed in your heart as you thought about how desperately you wanted to run home to him, wrap him in your arms, and just hold him tight, feeling his heartbeat against yours. But deep down, you knew that no amount of physical closeness could change what needed to happen inside him. You had told him countless times that he was worthy of love, but he had to believe it for himself. If he didn’t, those words would remain just that—words—falling on ears that couldn’t yet hear them.

“Jungkook needs to find a way to love himself,” Dr. Kim’s voice cut through your thoughts, bringing you back to the present. “Before he can truly give love to someone else, he has to learn how to give it to himself first. He needs to find what makes his heart beat when you’re not there, and learn to be okay on his own, so he doesn’t rely on others to fill that void.”

The pain was still there, the ache in your chest growing stronger as you thought about letting go of him, even if just for a while, to give him the space to heal. It felt like a cruel paradox. You loved him more than anything, but you knew that if you didn’t let him go, he’d never be able to fully heal. And the more you thought about it, the more you realized that you wanted him to be happy, even if it meant not being by his side through every step.

Dr. Kim’s words seemed to settle into the deepest parts of you. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything,” he continued gently, sensing the internal struggle in your silence. “But Jungkook needs to focus on himself first, before he can fully give himself to you. He can’t truly love you if he doesn’t love himself.”

You nodded slowly, trying to let the words sink in, feeling the weight of them. It was hard, but you knew deep down that you couldn’t force him to heal. As much as you wanted to be his everything, you couldn’t be the one to save him. He needed to save himself.

Even if it meant letting him go. Even if it meant stepping back and allowing him to find himself before you could truly be together the way you both deserved.

Your heart ached at the thought of it, but you knew this was the only way forward, for both of you. Jungkook needed to find peace within himself, and you had to learn to give him the space to do that, no matter how much it hurt.

“And if you’re worried about him,” he continued softly, his hand resting gently on yours, “I’ll make sure to be there for him—not just as a therapist, but as a friend. You’re strong. Not everyone could make the decision you’ve made. To give up something you love for the sake of the other’s well-being… that’s a kind of strength not many possess.”

His words seemed to linger in the air, and for a brief moment, you almost felt like you weren’t alone in this, that someone else understood the weight of what you were going through. It didn’t completely erase the pain, but it gave you the reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

“When the time is right, you and Jungkook can find happiness again. I promise you that,” Dr. Kim added, his voice steady and sincere.

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall slowly subsiding, though a faint, fragile hope flickered within you. Maybe things weren’t as broken as you thought. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for everything to be okay again. A small part of you believed it—believed that, despite the hurt, there was a path forward. And even if it was a long road ahead, you knew now that you wouldn’t have to walk it alone.

Talking to Jungkook about the decision you felt was best for both of you was one of the hardest things you’d ever done.

Tears streamed down both of your faces as he clung to you, whispering that he couldn’t bear the thought of you leaving, that he loved you more than anything. You whispered the same in return, trying to be strong, though inside, you were just as shattered as he was.

“Promise me you’ll wait for me,” he whispered into your shoulder, his warm breath brushing against your neck, his tears soaking into your skin.

Without a second of hesitation, you nodded fiercely. “I promise, I’ll wait for you, no matter how long it takes,” you said, taking his face into your hands, making sure he could see your sincerity. “I don’t want to love anyone else. You’re the one I want. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Jungkook.” Your eyes locked onto his, willing him to believe every word.

Jungkook didn’t need any more reassurance. The way you held him, the way you looked at him, told him everything he needed to know. But still, he asked, “And promise me, if I can’t heal, you’ll be happy too.”

That was a promise you couldn’t make. The thought of a world without Jungkook was unimaginable to you. You couldn’t even remember who you were before him; every part of your life had become intertwined with his.

“Baby,” he whispered, lowering his head so he could look into your eyes, his hands gently gripping your cheeks. “Please, I need you to say you’ll be happy,” he pleaded, his forehead resting against yours. “Use your words.”

As much as it hurt, as much as it tore you apart to even think about it, you managed to say, “I will be happy, Kook. I promise.”

Jungkook’s grip on your cheeks tightened, as if he was trying to hold onto this moment, to the love and the promise you made. His eyes searched yours, his expression softening as he processed your words, and though you could see the vulnerability and pain in them, there was something else too—trust.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking as more tears fell. “I just don’t want to lose you.”

The rawness of his emotions tore at your heart, but you did your best to comfort him, your hands caressing his face as you held him tightly. You felt his pain, his fear of losing you, and yet, you also understood the importance of this space. This was something he needed to do for himself, even if it broke your heart to say goodbye, even for a little while.

“I know, Kook,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to lose you either, but I need you to heal. I need you to find yourself again… and when you’re ready, we’ll be together.”

Jungkook pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he whispered, “I’ll never stop loving you. No matter what.”

And in that moment, you believed him. As much as it hurt to part ways, you both knew that love couldn’t just fix everything. It couldn’t heal wounds that were deeper than either of you could touch, but it could be the foundation to help rebuild. You knew that no matter what happened next, your love for each other would always be there, even if you had to find it again in different ways, at different times.

You both decided that you would be the one to leave the apartment. It felt right, especially because you didn’t want to shake Jungkook up any more than he already was. You couldn’t bear the thought of telling him to leave his own home.

You also agreed that Bam would stay with him. It never crossed your mind that you would take the dog from him. Bam had always been more attached to Jungkook than to you, and Jungkook loved him so much. Taking him away would’ve been selfish, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. That small happiness was something you couldn’t take from him.

As you packed your things, Jungkook helped, always asking if you were sure you had everything. There were no angry words, no shouting—just understanding. That’s what your relationship with him had always been, and in some ways, it made leaving feel just a little bit easier.

But as you stood there, packing up your life, you had no idea where you would go next. Where would you live for the next month, year, or even longer? It felt like you were being thrown back into independence again, but this time, it was different.

“Wait!” he shouted from the hallway just as you were about to turn around. You froze, heart racing.

“I love you,” he said, his voice raw from all the emotions that had been building up.

He stepped closer, and without a word, he cupped your face in his hands, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. The kiss started soft, tentative, but soon deepened, passion overtaking both of you. Your tongues tangled, your teeth clashing as you both fought to hold on to each other, not wanting to let go.

You had no idea how you’d live without him. You’d never imagined this moment, and you weren’t sure you were ready to face it. But maybe, deep down, you knew it was what was best for both of you. You’d lost yourself in the process of trying to save him, and now, perhaps, it was time to find yourself again.

For both your sakes, maybe it was for the best.

Jungkook wouldn’t lie, the first five months without you had been nothing but tears, therapy sessions, and him pouring his heart out to Bam, as if the dog could somehow respond with the answers he desperately needed.

But the dog, in his own silent way, seemed to understand. Bam would always settle close to him, resting his head on Jungkook’s lap or licking his face gently, offering what little comfort he could. Jungkook would laugh every time Bam did it, the sound bittersweet. He couldn’t help but remember how you used to say it was gross, but now, in the absence of your teasing, he welcomed it, even if just for the comfort it gave him in that moment.

Honestly, Jungkook hadn’t made much progress. If anything, he felt like he was regressing. He thought about calling you often, his thumbs hovering over your number, knowing that you’d pick up right away. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, not like this. He knew that if he reached out, it would only make things worse, so he told himself he’d wait until he was fully healed, ready to love you again, even though a part of him knew he’d never stopped.

“What about finding something to do?” Namjoon suggested, breaking the silence in the apartment as he sat on the sofa. Over the past five months, Dr. Kim had become more than just a therapist to Jungkook. He had slowly, but surely, become his friend—his only one. And though it didn’t fill the hole in Jungkook’s chest, it did ease his loneliness, just a little.

Jungkook thought about it for a moment, his mind heavy with uncertainty. It had been so long since he did anything other than wait for the days to pass, simply surviving. Since he dropped out of university, he’d felt lost, not knowing what he was supposed to do. If it wasn’t you, then what? Maybe Bam could fill that emptiness, but even that felt uncertain.

His eyes wandered to his dog, who was nestled beside him, gently purring as Jungkook absentmindedly ran his hand through his fur. And suddenly, Namjoon’s voice cut through the silence.

“What about working in that shelter?”

Namjoon shifted on the sofa, his excitement bubbling over like he’d just stumbled upon the solution to everything. Jungkook looked up, and for the first time in a long while, his eyes sparkled. Something about the idea clicked—maybe it was because it involved something tangible, something he could care for without feeling lost in his own head.

He hadn’t realized it until that moment, but it felt like a possibility, a way forward.

“Yeah… Yeah, I could try that,” Jungkook murmured, his voice gaining strength. For the first time in a while, it felt like he was stepping towards something instead of just existing. Maybe this could be the beginning of figuring things out.

The next morning, Jungkook took a little extra time to prepare himself. The usual dark hoodie he’d worn so often lately felt too familiar, too comfortable in a way that made him feel stagnant, stuck in his own thoughts. He switched it for something a bit more presentable—a white shirt you’d bought him for his birthday, paired with some jeans. You used to tell him how handsome he looked when he wore that, and for a moment, the memory of you saying those words made his chest tighten. He could almost feel your arms around him again, the way you straddled him that night after the restaurant, kissing him like you meant every word.

That birthday had been the best one of his life, and the memory of it brought a bittersweet warmth. But he pushed those thoughts aside, not wanting to get lost in them now. He couldn’t afford to get distracted, not today.

He knelt in front of Bam, scratching behind his ears as the dog lay at his feet. “Daddy will leave for a bit,” he murmured softly, his fingers stilling when Bam rolled onto his back, showing his stomach. Jungkook couldn’t help himself; he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Bam’s belly. “Be a good boy,” he whispered before standing up, taking a deep breath. He was about to leave the apartment, the first step towards something new, something unknown, but maybe, just maybe, it could be the beginning of healing.

With a final glance at the apartment, Jungkook stepped outside, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, but with a tiny spark of hope in his heart.

The moment Jungkook stepped out of the house, he couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything outside of his routine—whether it was running errands or heading to his usual therapy sessions with Namjoon. It all felt foreign, but as soon as the sun began kissing his golden skin, a warmth spread through him. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the sunlight wash over him, and for the first time in a while, he felt something close to peace.

He walked steadily towards the shelter, his heart picking up pace with every step. Each one brought him closer to something he wasn’t quite sure about yet, but there was a strange pull, a feeling that maybe this was the right thing to do.

It wasn’t long before he saw the sign: Hope Shelter. It was a small, humble building, but something about it felt right. As he pushed open the door, the soft jingle of a bell echoed in the room, signaling his arrival.

Almost immediately, a familiar face appeared. The boy he had met when Bam first came into his life—his energetic smile wide on his heart-shaped lips.

“Hi!” the boy greeted with a sing-song voice, quickly wiping his hands on his jeans. His eyes locked onto Jungkook, and it took only a second for recognition to hit.

“Wait—” he paused, holding up his finger as if trying to place where he had seen him before. “Bam, isn’t it? The cute Doberman?”

Jungkook’s heart did a small leap at the mention of Bam’s name. He nodded quickly, feeling the tension in his chest start to ease. “Yeah, Bam. That’s my dog,” he said, his voice a little lighter now. The familiar name had broken through the knot of anxiety inside him, making it easier to breathe.

Hoseok’s face twisted with concern, his eyes widening. “Wait— is he okay?” he asked, and Jungkook quickly reassured him that Bam was perfectly fine, his tail wagging happily at home.

“Oh, thank god,” Hoseok sighed in relief. “I was a little worried there.” He paused for a beat, his tone shifting into something more casual. “I’m Hoseok, by the way. I think I forgot to mention my name when you came with your girlfriend.”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped to the floor at the mention of you, the weight of the words hitting him in a way he wasn’t prepared for. His chest tightened, but before he could get lost in the sea of thoughts that suddenly flooded him, Hoseok continued talking.

“Anyway, why’d you come by today? You look like you have something on your mind,” Hoseok asked, his voice kind but direct.

Jungkook hesitated for a second, but something about the easygoing way Hoseok spoke made it easier to open up. “I… I wanted to work here,” he said before he could second-guess himself. “I think I can help.”

Hoseok’s eyes went wide, and his mouth formed a surprised ‘o’. “For real?” he said, a grin quickly spreading across his face. “Wow, it’s like you’re some kind of miracle! I could really use a hand around here,” he added, before stopping himself with a chuckle. “Especially some strong hands.”

The light-heartedness in Hoseok’s voice made Jungkook smile. He hadn’t expected this interaction to be so easy, so natural. It felt good, like he could finally exhale, the weight of the past few months loosening its grip on him just a little bit. The thought of working here, doing something with purpose, felt like a step in the right direction.

“Thanks,” Jungkook said softly, a bit more at ease now. “I think I could do it.”

Hoseok showed Jungkook around the shelter, explaining everything with patience and enthusiasm. He made sure to cover every detail, from feeding schedules to cleaning routines, and Jungkook couldn’t help but notice how easy it was to talk to him. There was something about Hoseok’s energy—he was genuine and approachable, never rushing, always making sure Jungkook understood what he needed to know.

At one point, Hoseok casually mentioned that there were two people working there. “My former assistant left a few months ago,” Hoseok said with a smile, “He followed his dream of becoming a guitarist. Pretty cool, right?” Jungkook didn’t ask too many questions about that. He didn’t want to pry into someone else’s life, especially not when it came to personal decisions. But the fact that Hoseok was willing to share a little bit made Jungkook feel more comfortable, like maybe he wasn’t just an outsider here.

After some time, the conversation shifted to something Jungkook didn’t expect: dogs and their tricks. Hoseok mentioned how much he enjoyed teaching dogs new tricks, and it sparked something in Jungkook. He hesitated for a second before admitting, “I’ve tried to teach Bam some tricks, but… I don’t know. He never really seems to get them.”

Hoseok laughed, a soft and comforting sound, before jumping into teaching mode. “It’s all about patience and knowing how each dog learns. Bam’s a smart dog, I bet you just need to find the right way to communicate with him.” He explained a few simple techniques and gave Jungkook advice on how to approach training. It felt like a small step in the right direction, not just for Bam, but for Jungkook himself.

And then, out of nowhere, the conversation shifted again—this time to you.

“So,” Hoseok started, almost as if he was tiptoeing around the subject, “How’s your girlfriend doing? She still helping you with Bam, or…?”

Jungkook froze for a moment. The mention of you caught him off guard, like a sudden shift in the air. He wasn’t expecting to talk about you, not yet, not in this setting. His stomach tightened, but he didn’t want to seem too distant or closed off, so he forced a small, neutral smile.

“She’s… doing good,” Jungkook replied, though his voice sounded a little more distant than he intended. “We’re not… together anymore.” He caught Hoseok’s eye, not sure how the other man would react.

Hoseok, ever the easygoing presence, didn’t press further. He just gave Jungkook a small, understanding nod, as if he could see the weight of the words without needing an explanation. “It’s tough, man. Breakups suck, but sometimes, it’s what’s best for both people.”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, feeling a little lighter somehow. It was strange, talking about you like this, but it also felt good to say it aloud, to let someone else know what he was going through.

He was about to open his mouth, to argue that it wasn’t exactly a breakup like most people would think, that it wasn’t as simple as that, but something in him told him to keep it in. Maybe, it wasn’t the right time to go into all of that. It felt like it was a conversation for another day, another moment when he wasn’t still sorting out his feelings.

Seeing the way Jungkook’s gaze dropped again, Hoseok quickly tried to shift the atmosphere. “Hey,” he said, a light tone in his voice, “Maybe next time you bring Bam here, we could work together on those tricks you want him to learn? I bet he’s got it in him. Plus, I think a little extra practice might help you too.”

Jungkook felt a small, grateful smile tug at his lips. It wasn’t much, but Hoseok’s attempt to lighten the mood worked. The conversation shifted, the air feeling a little easier to breathe. It was like a fresh start for him, a new focus on something simple, something manageable.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, nodding slowly, “That sounds like a good idea. Maybe Bam will listen to you more than me.”

Hoseok chuckled, a bright, genuine laugh. “I doubt it. But we’ll see,” he said, giving Jungkook an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

For the first time in a long while, Jungkook didn’t feel the weight of his past dragging him down. Maybe this was just what he needed—a small step forward, one trick at a time.

Jungkook settled into the rhythm of the shelter quickly. It had been a month since he started working there, and for the first time in a long while, he found himself genuinely enjoying his days. He wasn’t great with words or socializing with people, but with the dogs, it was different. They didn’t need much from him—just patience, love, and consistency. Those were things he could give without hesitation, and they responded in kind.

Bam, his loyal dog, also adapted slowly but surely. At first, Bam stayed close to him, too shy to socialize with the other dogs, but as the days passed, he began to trust the others. He became more playful, even learning some new tricks. Jungkook smiled as he watched Bam roll over on command.

“Bam!” he called, holding his hands out in the shape of a gun, and said with a grin, “Pow! Pow! Pow!” His fingers mimicked gunshots, and Bam immediately rolled onto his back, playing dead as if he’d been shot.

Jungkook laughed softly, bending down to pet Bam’s soft fur. “We will have to show mommy that you finally learned it,” he murmured, his lips curling into a deep, fond smile. His heart ached a little as he said it, the familiar words slipping out without thought. He knew, deep down, he would always want to share these moments with you.

Hoseok, who had been observing from a distance, saw the exchange and didn’t ask any questions. He understood now, after a month of working closely with Jungkook, that despite everything, Jungkook spoke about you often. It was clear that whatever had happened between the two of you, it wasn’t the end. Hoseok could tell that there was still so much love there, even if Jungkook wasn’t ready to admit it.

So, Hoseok just smiled. There was no rush, no pressure to fix anything. He had learned that sometimes people just needed time to figure things out, and maybe, just maybe, this shelter, these dogs, and the bond between Jungkook and Bam were the first steps on his path toward healing.

Jungkook had learned a lot about himself—things he never even thought to explore before. One of those discoveries was his surprising talent for painting.

“What does it represent?” Kim Taehyung asked, tilting his head as he studied the canvas in front of them. His boxy grin was ever-present, but his eyes held genuine curiosity.

Jungkook met Taehyung at the shelter a few months ago. The guy had been looking for a Pomeranian, and Jungkook introduced him to Yeontan. That day, Taehyung found not only his “dream dog,” as he excitedly called him, but also two unexpected friendships.

The bond between Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok had formed naturally. At first, it revolved around their shared love for dogs, but soon, their conversations stretched beyond that. They talked about everything—music, movies, life. Jungkook never really knew what it felt like to have friends, not like this. Of course, Namjoon was close to him, but their relationship was different. Namjoon knew him too well—sometimes better than Jungkook knew himself. He knew about the depression, the struggles, the darkest parts of him.

But Taehyung and Hoseok didn’t. If they noticed his scars, they never said anything. Maybe they assumed it was something he had struggled with but was overcoming. And in a way, they were right.

Because Jungkook was healing. He realized it when he counted the days—two months since he last hurt himself. Two months clean. It was a long time. It meant he was getting closer. Closer to healing, closer to loving himself, closer to you.

It had been seven months now since he last saw you. Of course, he still thought about you every day. But it wasn’t painful anymore. It wasn’t an aching wound—more like a quiet presence, something that gave him strength rather than pulling him under. He didn’t feel the overwhelming urge to reach for you anymore.

Not yet.

Because he knew he wasn’t fully ready. But one day, when the time was right—he would be.

Jungkook tilted his head, studying his painting as if shifting his perspective might help him understand what his hands had created. He rarely painted with intention—his heart spoke louder than his mind when he held a brush. Sometimes, that meant beauty. Other times, it meant something much darker.

Like this one.

Before him stood a black shadow, its form ambiguous but undeniably human. The face, if it could even be called that, had a wide-open mouth, round eyes, a soft nose, and puffed cheeks. The more Jungkook stared, the more it began to resemble… himself. The shadow looked like it was screaming, dark tendrils spilling from its mouth, like it was vomiting out something toxic. It was abstract, eerie, yet painfully familiar.

It was exactly how he felt.

Taehyung, who had been watching quietly, placed a steady hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. He didn’t ask for an explanation anymore. As a professional painter himself, he knew that sometimes art didn’t need words. And if it did, those words belonged to the artist alone.

So he didn’t press.

“You’re really talented at that,” Taehyung said simply before refocusing on his own painting.

Jungkook didn’t respond, just hummed in acknowledgment as he continued adding strokes to his canvas. While they painted, they shared bits and pieces about themselves—small things, nothing too deep. Jungkook preferred it that way. He listened more than he spoke, occasionally answering or adding a comment, but never giving too much away. It felt good, light, easy.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—how had he found the courage to tell you about his depression so quickly? There must have been something about you, something that made him feel safe enough to spill the parts of himself he usually kept hidden. And when he really thought about it, he almost couldn’t believe he had done that. He had handed you his darkness and somehow still wished you would love him despite it.

And you did.

That was something Jungkook still couldn’t quite understand. Because if the roles had been reversed—if he had been the one hearing all of that from someone else—he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have been afraid.

After saying goodbye to Taehyung and his small dog, Jungkook left, already looking forward to their next meet-up. It made him smile—he was filling his days with things that gave him purpose. His work at the shelter with Hoseok, his painting sessions with Taehyung, and now, his weekly meetings with Namjoon.

It felt strange, in a good way. For someone who once spent his days just waiting for them to end, waiting to get closer to nothingness, he now had things to look forward to. And that realization made him smile.

He didn’t even think of these meetings as therapy sessions anymore. At some point, they had shifted from Namjoon’s office to more casual settings—sometimes a walk in the park, sometimes at Jungkook’s home, and today, a coffee shop.

As he walked in, he spotted Namjoon right away, sitting by a booth with a cup in front of him. His dimples showed as he smiled, watching Jungkook over the rim of his glasses.

“Your banana milk is on the way,” Namjoon said as Jungkook settled into his seat. Jungkook thanked him, a small warmth spreading in his chest. There was something comforting in the fact that people around him knew his preferences—what he liked, what he didn’t. It made him feel seen, like he was no longer just drifting through life. He was someone with his own tastes, his own choices, slowly shaping the world around him rather than just moving through it.

“So, how was your day?” Namjoon asked, his dimples showing as he smiled. Just seeing Jungkook sitting across from him, breathing and present, was enough to fill him with quiet relief. He had known him since he was sixteen, had watched him struggle, fall, and fight his way back up. To see him getting better, little by little, made Namjoon’s chest feel lighter.

“It was good. I spent time with Taehyung—we painted,” Jungkook said before lowering his gaze as the waiter placed his banana milkshake in front of him. He stirred it absentmindedly before continuing, “I painted something kind of dark… but it felt good, you know?”

Namjoon nodded, stirring his coffee as he listened. “That’s the thing about art,” he said. “It doesn’t always have to be pretty to be meaningful. Sometimes, the darkest things we create are the ones that help us the most.”

Jungkook hummed, taking a sip of his banana milkshake. It was sweet, familiar. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up slightly. “Yeah… It was weird. I didn’t even know what I was painting until I was almost done. But when I looked at it, I just… understood.”

Namjoon smiled knowingly. “That’s progress, Jungkook.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly. “How?”

“Because you’re expressing instead of suppressing,” Namjoon said simply, setting his cup down. “Before, you used to bottle things up until they consumed you. Now, you’re letting them out—through work, through painting, through friendships. You’re finding outlets instead of drowning in them.”

Jungkook let the words sink in, stirring his drink absentmindedly. He hadn’t thought of it like that, but Namjoon was right. He was living now, not just existing.

After an hour of conversation—mostly about his feelings, but also lighter topics—Jungkook left the café, feeling the pull to return home to Bam. Socializing was still something he was getting used to, and he found that he needed time to himself afterward. But unlike before, being alone with his thoughts didn’t scare him as much anymore.

Namjoon watched him go, a small smile on his lips as he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed your number. The moment you answered, he spoke.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

At the sound of his voice, you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I just saw him. He’s doing good,” Namjoon reassured you, smiling at the way he could practically hear your relief through the phone.

Because what Jungkook didn’t know was that Namjoon wasn’t just close to him—he had also grown close to you. Before you left, you had insisted on getting updates about Jungkook, checking in on him even from a distance. At first, Namjoon wasn’t sure if it was the right thing for you, but after seeing how much it mattered to you—after hearing you beg—he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

You thanked Namjoon before saying goodbye, finally releasing the breath you had been holding. A small smile crept onto your lips. Even if you didn’t know the details of Jungkook’s progress—how he was healing or what had changed—just hearing from Namjoon that he was doing well was enough for now. You didn’t need explanations yet. You would hear it all from Jungkook when the time was right, when he was ready to tell you himself. And more than anything, you wanted to hear his voice as he shared everything he had discovered while you were apart.

You were preparing yourself for whatever came next—if you ever saw Jungkook again. Because as much as you longed for that moment, a small, nagging fear remained. What if, once he truly learned to love himself, he no longer felt the need to love you? And as much as you wanted him to reach that place of healing, the thought of him moving on from you made your stomach twist.

Then there was another fear, one more grounded in reality—what if, in his journey of healing, he met someone else? What if he found a girl or a boy who fit into his new life, someone who didn’t remind him of his darkest days? What if you became nothing more than a distant memory, a part of his past he no longer needed?

And yet, strangely, you felt ready to accept that possibility. Because if Jungkook was happy—whether it was with you or without you—you knew you could never be angry. You had loved him enough to let him go, and if this was what he needed to heal, then you would find a way to be at peace with it too.

Jungkook didn’t expect to face his depression again—not like this. It wasn’t triggered by his own reflection in the mirror or by the weight of his past pressing down on him. No, this time, it came from someone else.

A man walked into the shelter, his dark hair falling over his forehead, sharp cat-like eyes scanning the room. He carried a guitar case slung over his shoulder and asked for Hoseok. Jungkook could tell immediately—this must have been the former assistant, the one who had left to chase his dreams. There was a familiarity in the way he moved, like he had never really left.

But Jungkook’s attention wasn’t on his face or the way he spoke. It was on his arms. The faint but unmistakable scars running along his skin. Scars just like Jungkook’s.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He had always known there were others like him, others who carried the same marks of pain, but he had never met one. Never seen someone else wearing their past the way he did.

“He—” Jungkook started, his voice slightly shaky as he forced himself to look away. He didn’t want to seem intrusive. He knew how it felt to have people stare like you were something broken, something they didn’t understand. He didn’t want to make this guy feel that way. “He isn’t here right now. Can I get your name so I can let him know you stopped by?”

He reached for a pen, quickly scribbling the name down, but in the process, his sleeve shifted, just enough for his own scars to peek through. The man’s sharp eyes caught it immediately.

Jungkook froze. Their gazes met.

For a second, he felt exposed. Vulnerable. But then, instead of pity or shock, the man simply smiled—a quiet, knowing smile. A smile of understanding.

“Min Yoongi,” he said.

And just like that, another friendship was born. One built on shared hardships. On survival. On the quiet, unspoken understanding of two people who had made it through the darkness.

Min Yoongi fit into their little group with ease. He already knew Hoseok, so getting to know Taehyung and Jungkook wasn’t difficult. But with Jungkook, it was different. It wasn’t just about introductions or casual conversations—it was like they already understood each other without needing to say much.

Jungkook admired Yoongi. He carried himself with confidence, never hiding his scars, wearing short sleeves like they were nothing. Jungkook, on the other hand, was still learning to accept his own. He was starting to love them, to see them as proof of his survival, but he still kept them hidden beneath baggy clothes and long sleeves.

“You’ll get there,” Yoongi said, casually sipping his drink.

Hoseok and Taehyung had left them alone at the table, off at the bar ordering another round. It hadn’t been easy for Jungkook to agree to come here tonight, but Hoseok had insisted—pouty lips, pleading eyes, impossible to refuse. Jungkook still wasn’t sure how he felt about bars. The last time he had been in one, it was with you. He had been anxious, uncomfortable, but you had held his hand the entire time, grounding him. Making it lighter.

Now, he realized with a small smile, he didn’t need your hand.

He finally turned to Yoongi, meeting his steady gaze.

“It took me years before I could show them,” Yoongi admitted, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

It was the first time they had ever talked about it. Their scars. Their past. The silent war they had both fought.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers tightening around his glass, but his eyes softened. He understood. He knew that his time would come, just like Yoongi’s had. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but he had enough hope now to be patient, to wait for the day when he could let go of the shame and embrace what made him who he was.

Jungkook kept track of the days, and today marked one year since he last saw you. He never thought he’d make it this far, but now, a year later, he was proud of how far he’d come. He was better, and with each passing day, he felt himself getting closer to you again.

There were moments when doubts crept in, when he wondered if you’d even want him in your life after everything he’d put you through. But you promised. What he knew for certain, though, was that he still wanted you in his life. He dreamed of the day he’d see you again. He wondered if your hair was still the same, if you still wore that floral perfume, if you still loved fried chicken, and if you were still obsessed with books. He hoped, more than anything, that you were still that same smiling girl he fell in love with.

He was beginning to drift into those thoughts again when a sharp punch to his face snapped him back to reality. “Yah!” a voice shouted. “Jeon, you were daydreaming again,” said the boy with the blonde hair, grinning at him.

Jungkook shook off the daze, now fully aware of his surroundings. He was at the gym, a place he frequented often, having developed a newfound love for boxing and sports.

“Sorry, Jimin,” he muttered, holding his gloves up to his face, ready to get back into it.

It was Namjoon who had introduced him to boxing, suggesting it as a way to channel his anger into something productive. With a little courage, Jungkook had given it a try—and now, it was one of the things that helped him keep going.

Jimin took off his gloves and walked over to the bench, dropping onto it with a loud sigh. Jungkook followed, grabbing his water bottle and taking a long sip.

“What had you so distracted?” Jimin asked, a teasing grin playing on his lips—one that could probably make anyone spill their secrets.

“Nothing,” Jungkook replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. He had been thinking about you, and that reaction felt natural.

Jimin raised his eyebrows playfully. “Is it a girl?”

Jungkook scoffed, punching Jimin’s shoulder lightly before shaking his head, trying to hide the way his cheeks were heating up.

“Shit, I didn’t know you were in love,” Jimin laughed. “I shouldn’t have told my friend you were available.”

Jungkook turned to him, eyes wide. “What?”

“A friend of mine asked for your number,” Jimin explained with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “She said you were the hottest guy she’s ever seen.”

Jungkook felt his heart clench at that. He never thought of himself as someone who could attract that kind of attention. He never saw himself as “hot” or particularly handsome. The only time he ever felt beautiful was when you told him so. But now, knowing that someone else could be drawn to him, his heart pounded louder than he expected.

“I doubt that,” Jungkook said, trying to brush it off, though the confession had shaken him more than he expected. He hadn’t meant for it to affect him, but it did. And it felt wrong. Because he was still waiting for you—because he was going to be there for you. The thought of someone else making his heart react like this felt like a betrayal.

“No, for real,” Jimin insisted, turning his body toward him. “You just have that kind of look that draws people in.” He whistled playfully, flashing a teasing grin. He was like that—lighthearted, fun. Jungkook was always laughing with him when they weren’t throwing punches at each other. “So? What do you say?”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek. He had no idea how to answer that. He didn’t think he could ever give his trust to another girl—to open up, to give himself, his body, and everything that came with it.

“I can’t,” he admitted, staring at his fingers.

“Why not?”

“I have someone,” Jungkook said, then immediately regretted how it sounded. “Well—I mean, not right now, not here, but…” He sighed, struggling to explain the situation without sounding like a madman waiting for someone who might never come back. Without diving into everything that had led him to this moment.

Jimin clapped a hand on his shoulder, his expression softer now. “It’s okay. There’s someone else. I get it.” Then, with a knowing smile, he put his gloves back on, signaling that the conversation was over.

But the thought kept circling in Jungkook’s mind all day. Even as he wandered through the grocery store, scanning the shelves, his mind was elsewhere.

Because now, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what would happen between the two of you.

What if you didn’t want him anymore? What if you had found someone else?

The thought made his chest ache. His grip tightened around the basket handle. He had spent so much time healing, convincing himself that when the time was right, he’d find his way back to you. But what if you had already moved on?

If only he could have some kind of sign. Some news about you. Something to hold onto.

And that’s when he heard it—your giggles.

His favorite sound. The one he could recognize anywhere, the one that used to make his world feel lighter.

But it wasn’t just your laugh. It was that loud, terrible, over-the-top laughter that followed. A man’s laugh. One that was far too comfortable, too close.

Jungkook hated it.

Because what could he—whoever he was—have said to make you laugh like that? The kind of laugh that made your eyes crinkle, the kind that used to be his to hear.

His first instinct was to turn around, to leave before you could see him. To run.

But then—

“Jungkook?”

His feet stopped dead in their tracks, his body frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

And when he finally turned, his gaze didn’t land on you.

It landed on him.

The man standing beside you.

Same height as Jungkook. Same dark hair. But somehow, he seemed… better. His features were sharper, his posture effortless, his presence so at ease beside you.

Jungkook had never felt this small before. And it wasn’t because the man had broader shoulders or a stronger stance.

It was because—

He had you.

“Jungkook?”

The guy said his name like he was tasting it, like he recognized it but wasn’t quite sure yet. Then, realization flickered across his face.

“Wait, the Jung—”

Before he could finish, you shoved your basket into his hands so fast he barely had time to react. And then you were running.

Straight to Jungkook.

He barely had time to process before your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, your face buried against his chest. He felt the warmth of your body, the familiar way you fit against him.

And he knew that with your ear pressed right there against his chest, you could hear how fast his heart was racing.

But Jungkook’s eyes weren’t on you.

They were still on him. The other man. The one who had been standing next to you just seconds ago.

He was watching the scene unfold, but strangely, he didn’t seem all that surprised. Not angry. Not even uncomfortable. Just… there. Observing.

And that only made Jungkook’s stomach churn harder.

Because if that guy was your boyfriend—if you were his—then he was a terrible one.

Because if it were Jungkook, if he had you, if he loved you the way he still did—he could never just stand there and watch while you ran into another man’s arms like this.

His hands hesitated before they found their way into your hair, fingers gently pressing against the back of your head. His body was still frozen, his mind scrambling to catch up.

But one thing was clear.

He had missed you. More than he even knew was possible.

Jungkook’s mouth worked faster than his brain. “Your boyfriend is watching.”

The second the words left him, he wanted to slap himself because you immediately pulled back to look at him, confusion flashing across your face before you burst into giggles. That same sound he knew by heart, the one that had haunted him for months.

“My what?” You turned, pointing at the guy who was now laughing too—the same obnoxiously loud laugh Jungkook had heard from the other aisle. “Seokjin? He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Jungkook let out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding. And without thinking, his hands found your arms again, tugging you back into him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He hugged you properly, arms wrapping tightly around your frame, holding you like he’d never let go.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he murmured into your hair, eyes squeezing shut as he breathed you in.

There was so much to say. So many things left unsaid. So much time lost between you. But none of it mattered right now.

Because he was here. And so were you.

You didn’t want to think about the past, about the pain or the time apart—not when he was this close, not when he felt so different.

You leaned back slightly, taking him in properly for the first time. His hair was longer now, curling slightly at the ends. His chest looked broader, stronger. But what caught your attention the most were his arms.

Bare.

Out for the whole world to see. Not hidden behind layers of clothing. Not hidden at all.

Your fingers reached out before you could stop them, tracing the muscle of his forearm, the skin that had once been covered in sleeves no matter the season.

“I promise I was waiting for you,” you whispered, voice barely audible.

Jungkook swallowed hard, his grip tightening around you, as if grounding himself.

“Me too.”

You left the grocery store together, Seokjin trailing behind—his arms full of shopping bags, huffing dramatically about being ignored. But you barely noticed.

Jungkook was right beside you. That was all that mattered.

As you walked, he learned more about Seokjin—the man he had been so quick to despise in the span of a few minutes. He was your roommate, your colleague. The one who had taken you in when you left. The one who made sure you were okay.

Jungkook immediately bowed to him in gratitude, his chest tight with something unspoken. Because you were safe, and it was thanks to him. He almost felt bad for wanting to punch the guy’s too-perfect face. Almost.

Still, he couldn’t believe this was real. That you were here, walking beside him, chatting like no time had passed at all.

You mostly talked about lighthearted things—Seokjin’s habit of screaming too loud while playing video games, how you had to bang on his door at night to make him shut up.

Jungkook listened as you and Seokjin bickered over who was actually the loudest, letting the familiar sound of your laughter sink into his bones.

And finally, he let himself look at you properly.

All the questions that had haunted him for months—answered in an instant.

Your hair was different. Lighter. And longer too—a quiet reminder of the time you had spent apart. Your cheeks were rounder, fuller. You looked healthy. Happy.

And as the sunlight hit your face just right, illuminating your bright, shining eyes—Jungkook felt something shift.

Because he remembered the exact moment he had fallen in love with you.

And somehow, standing beside you now…

It felt just the same.

You weren’t sure how long you spent getting ready. It had been a while since you took this much time to make yourself look pretty.

Finding the perfect outfit wasn’t easy either. You kept changing, staring at yourself in the mirror, second-guessing every little detail. And maybe you were more anxious than you thought you’d be.

Because tonight, you were meeting Jungkook. And your heart hadn’t stopped racing since the moment you said yes.

“Is this a date, or just an excuse to see your dog?” Seokjin asked, lounging on your bed, watching you pace around the room.

It had been two weeks now of him laughing at you, teasing you endlessly about Jungkook. Ever since the grocery store, you hadn’t stopped talking about him.

You shot him a glare, smacking his shoulder as you crouched to put on your heels.

“I really do miss my dog,” you huffed, even as you swapped your sneakers for heels at the last second. Because heels made it feel like a date, didn’t they?

Technically, neither of you had called it a date. Jungkook had just texted: hi! bam wants to show you the tricks he learned! :) And how could you not say yes?

You had jumped on the opportunity, replying almost immediately that you couldn’t wait to see Bam. (And Jungkook too. But you hadn’t told him that part.)

Seokjin raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “The dog or the owner?”

You glared at him. And yet, you didn’t answer.

Seokjin sprawled out on your bed like he owned the place—well, technically, he did. But still, it was your bed.

“I can’t wait for you to finally go back to your loverboy,” he said, smirking devilishly to himself.

You huffed, throwing a t-shirt at his face. “Shut up and close your eyes, I’m changing again.”

“Again?” he groaned but obeyed, covering his face with a dramatic sigh.

You turned back to your wardrobe, sifting through your options with a frown. “Maybe nothing will happen,” you murmured, more to yourself than to him. “Maybe he doesn’t want me anymore.”

Seokjin let out a sharp laugh. “Uh, he was literally glaring at me at the grocery store the other day.”

You told him he could open his eyes, and when he saw what you had settled on—a plain white tee—he scoffed.

“For real? After all that? Just a boring white shirt?”

You sighed, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. I just… I want to play it safe. And I don’t want to pressure him into anything either.”

For once, Seokjin didn’t have a joke ready. Instead, he nudged your shoulder.

“You’re overthinking,” he said simply. “Just go see him.”

As you knocked on the door that was once your home, you clutched your bag tighter against your side. When Jungkook didn’t answer right away, you seriously considered running away and sending a terrible last-minute excuse about why you couldn’t make it.

But just as you were about to turn, the door swung open.

Jungkook stood there, breath slightly uneven, his hair messily tousled. His shirt was buttoned all wrong, and the sight made you chuckle.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, only to be shoved aside by a blur of brown fur as Bam bolted toward you.

You barely had time to react before the large dog was on you, his tail wagging excitedly as you crouched down to pet him.

“That little traitor,” Jungkook grumbled, crossing his arms as he pointed at Bam, who was soaking up all your affection. “He threw up at the last minute, and I had to clean up everything. Because of him, I didn’t have—”

“Kook,” you interrupted with a smile, looking up at him from your spot on the floor. “It’s okay.” Then, turning your attention back to the dog, you cooed, “You gave Dad a hard time, Bam?”

Your voice was soft, affectionate—the kind only Bam was lucky enough to receive. And for some ridiculous reason, Jungkook felt jealous of his own dog.

“He was probably excited to see you,” Jungkook murmured, more to himself than to the dog.

“I’m sure he was,” you replied with a playful smile, rising to your feet. “I was, too.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed a little, and he stepped aside, holding the door open wider for you to enter. His gaze lingered on you as you walked in slowly, taking in the apartment. It felt so right to have you back there, even after all this time. You’d always belonged in this space with him.

Although the place had changed, Jungkook had felt the need to make a fresh start, switching out the furniture and changing things up so he wouldn’t associate it all with the past. Still, a part of him worried you might not like all the changes.

“You did a great job,” you commented, sitting down on the new dark leather couch and gently bouncing on it as if testing its comfort. “I didn’t know you had an eye for interior design.”

Jungkook smiled softly, though there was something more behind his expression. “Yeah, I guess… I had a lot of help. A friend of mine gave me a hand with it, even though his taste can be a little… unconventional. But it worked out.” He talked about how Taehyung helped him pick out the new furniture for the apartment.

At the mention of his friend, a small smile tugged at your lips. It was the first time Jungkook had spoken about anyone close to him, and hearing him mention Taehyung made you curious. You suddenly wanted to know more about his life, how much he had changed, how his world had shifted while you’d been apart. The little glimpses Namjoon gave you were just the beginning, and you wanted the whole story now.

You laughed as Bam jumped onto you, nearly knocking you back into the couch. You scratched behind his ears, and then turned to Jungkook with a playful glint in your eye. “So, this friend of yours. How did you meet him?”

Jungkook hadn’t expected you to dive right into that, but he didn’t mind. The quicker he told you about everything—from his work at the shelter to his new friends and hobbies—the quicker you’d understand the changes in his life. And maybe, just maybe, he could be yours again. If you still wanted that.

“We met at the shelter a while ago,” he began, sitting down on the couch as Bam quickly shifted from you to him. Some things never changed—Bam still preferred his dad. “He’s kind of… quirky sometimes, but he’s a good guy, you know?” Jungkook smiled at Bam, scratching his head absentmindedly.

“Oh yeah,” he continues, “You remember the shelter we got Bam from?”

You nodded immediately. Of course, you remembered—Jungkook had been smiling so brightly that day, something you didn’t see often, so it stuck with you.

Jungkook’s smile widened, and you couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, I actually work there now. It’s pretty cool,” he continued, his tone casual but there was a warmth in his voice. “Bam comes with me most days.”

Seeing the smile on his face as he talked about his job, how much he enjoyed it because it allowed him to avoid too much socializing, you felt relieved that you had let him take Bam. He clearly thrived in the environment, and it was good to see him happy.

He continued talking, sharing more about his friends and how they had helped him discover what he truly liked and didn’t like. He seemed genuinely happy to have a group of people who cared about him. It made your heart lighter knowing he wasn’t alone anymore.

Then he mentioned his new hobby of hitting the gym, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he showed off some boxing moves he’d learned. You had to admit, he was impressive. You tried to calm your heart as it raced, especially when he casually said you should try boxing with him next time. Next time—that meant he still wanted to see you, and for a moment, everything else faded.

After a long, quiet minute of exchanging shy glances and soft smiles, you finally found the courage to ask, “How are you feeling now?”

At that, Jungkook froze for a moment, clearly thrown off guard by the question. But you knew it was one that needed to be asked, and he knew it too.

“Let’s just say… I want to keep doing what I’m doing,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips.

And in that simple answer, everything was clear. He wanted to continue, to keep living, to keep moving forward. He was happy with where he was now, and that was all you needed to know.

The night unfolded just as you had hoped—laughter, playful teasing, and those light touches that both of you were too shy to take further. Your hands brushed against each other, and yet, it was enough to send your heart racing. Every moment felt like it was building towards something, something you couldn’t wait for.

But you both knew it was important to take things slow. There was no need to rush. Step by step, you’d rebuild what was once lost. You were certain of one thing now—you would be together again, and it would happen soon enough.

As you walked back to your home, a sudden realization hit you, making you gasp. You had completely forgotten about the one thing Jungkook had promised to show you—what Bam had learned.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head a little. You were so caught up in the moment, that you hadn’t even thought about it.

“Come on, punch!” Jungkook commands, holding his hands out in front of you. After a month of seeing each other, you finally agreed to join him for one of his boxing sessions. Now, here you are, gloves on, feeling a little silly as you throw punches into his palms.

“Yeah,” he nods, clearly proud of how well you’re doing. “Just like that,” he encourages, and you can’t help but laugh because you’re so happy to be there with him, doing something he loves.

“Don’t lose focus!” he calls out, his brow furrowed in concentration, and you burst out laughing. “Bab—” he catches himself mid-sentence, quickly swallowing his words. “I mean—don’t laugh! I’m trying here,” he says, looking at you as you collapse onto the floor, exhausted from his rigorous training.

“I know,” you whine, pulling off your gloves. “You’re a great teacher, it’s just… you’re so cute,” you admit with a soft smile.

“How am I cute?” he asks, genuinely confused, sitting cross-legged beside you. “That’s because you still haven’t seen me throw punches and dodge them—I look really cool doing it, you know?” he says with a playful raise of his eyebrows.

You turn your head to him, letting your eyes roam over his face. He looked so beautiful, more than you remembered. You had always thought Jungkook was the most handsome man you knew, but seeing him so happy made him even more stunning. In that moment, you wished time would freeze so you could stay like this forever.

But Jungkook had other plans. He quickly stood up and held his hand out to you.

“It’s not over, come on, stand up,” he said, his voice full of determination.

You shake your head, whining because it had been two hours of non-stop training, and you definitely didn’t have his stamina.

“Please, wait a second, The Rock,” you groan, closing your eyes, exhausted.

Jungkook finally dropped his teacher mode, chuckling at your words. His laughter rang out, and it was so perfect to your ears, you couldn’t help but smile.

And so, it went on like that for a month—the two of you rediscovering each other, starting fresh, but with the comfort of old memories woven into the new ones. The feelings had never really gone away, they had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface, so undeniable and raw that neither of you needed to say a word. Jungkook felt it too, the unspoken connection between you, as if time had paused and everything was falling back into place without effort.

Jungkook couldn’t shake the feeling of selfishness creeping in, a longing that deepened with every passing day. He wanted you, completely—your presence, your touch, your love. He wanted you to come back home, to him and to Bam, to kiss you, to hold your hand, to just be by your side, always. And in that moment, he knew it was time. He wanted to ask you out.

The timing might not have been perfect, but watching you talk to his friends—whom you’d just met tonight, but somehow fit in like you’d known them forever—he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through him. His heart lightened, and without thinking, he reached for your hand under the table, his fingers brushing yours gently. You didn’t say anything, just accepted it, and in that simple, unspoken exchange, he knew you felt the same.

As you both walked to your home, hand in hand, it felt like the world had stopped. Jungkook hadn’t let go of your hand since he took it, and the weight of the moment felt like something precious. Finally, with a nervous but hopeful tone, he asked, “I don’t want to be pushy, but… when will you come back home?”

You smiled, trying to hide the grin spreading across your face, and turned your head away slightly. “I was waiting for you to ask,” you said softly. “You know I will always wait for you.”

Jungkook froze in his tracks, and you stopped with him, turning to face him. His hands found both of yours again, pulling them gently to his chest. “I’m ready,” he whispered your name, his voice low and full of sincerity. “I want you back.”

Looking into his eyes, those doe eyes full of vulnerability and love, you nodded eagerly, feeling your heart race. And before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours—soft, then urgent, then full of passion. His hands found the back of your neck, pulling you closer until it felt like you were melting together.

But with two hearts and two minds. Not just yours, because now Jungkook didn’t feel the need to hide himself anymore.

He wanted to be beside you, walk with you, live with you—not just through you, but as equals, as two people who had found their way back to each other.

an: hiii!! tysm for reading, it really means a lot to me and pls dont hesitate to let me know what you think! :) and always remember that you are loved, no matter what ♡ take care xx

[m1d-45]

snapshot

summary: short, soft moments with your lover, featuring tighnari and neuvillette (separately) in that order.

word count: ~1k composite

-> warnings: big mention of bugs in tighnari's ! none shown but theyre discussed, as are bug bites. none for neuvi.

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

bug bites were common among forest rangers. a special bug repellent was included in every pack, a black bottle with plain instructions. tighnari put effort into making it easy to apply and easier to understand, constantly finding new ways to promote its usage. if gone untreated, even small beestings can become serious. add onto it the fact that he was the one that inevitably had to treat them, and he had every motivation to ensure it was used. he made sure that spares were easily accessible, included demonstrations in training, and emphasized the importance of proper application before every patrol.

so why in teyvat did you keep getting bit?

every time, without fail, you returned from patrol scratching your wrist or ankle or wherever you inevitably got bit. and every time, he had to be the one to drag you to the medical hut. at least if you acknowledged the severity of the situation and brought your injuries to him on your own, that’d be understandable. he understood that the feeling of lotion wan’t bearable for everyone—he was in the process of transforming it into a mist to make it even easier—and he’d be happy to find ways to keep you inside if that was the case. there was no shortage of small chores to be done, and with collei now in full recovery, you could easily take her place.

but no. of course not. that would be too easy. his partner happened to be the most stubborn ranger on the squad, with the worst affinity for bugs he’d ever seen.

“how does this always happen to you?”

you shrug, pulling his mint plant off the shelf and beginning to tear off a few leaves. part of him is proud you at least know the proper treatment, though it’s quickly overshadowed by the angry swelling on your hand. he takes the leaves and nudges you toward the chair, searching his drawers for the rest of the poultice.

“how long ago did you get bit?”

“maybe half an hour.”

“half an-” he twisted open the tin with too much force, sighing. “and you didn’t come back immediately why?”

he can hear the smile in your voice. “it wasn’t that serious.”

“…what color was it?”

“yellow.”

“really?”

“and striped. probably a wasp.”

he didn’t know how you had the energy to be sassy, tearing the leaves into shreds and mixing it into the tin. your eyes were red with tears and you hissed when he spread the medicine over your wrist, clearly in pain. the area around your bite was hot to the touch, and he could feel his ears pull back in worry.

“why do you insist on going on patrol?” why do you insist on getting hurt?

“it’s not a big deal.” i don’t care about my pain.

“it is.” i do.

he wiped off his hands and grabbed a roll of bandages, wrapping your hand. your fingers flinched whenever he pulled it too tight. how could you insist on putting yourself at risk like this?

he taped down the end, holding your hand in his. “if it gets too itchy, come back to me, okay?” will you let me care for you?

“of course i will.” i’ll try.

he brought your hand to his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

maybe this time, you’d mean it.

rain was common in fontaine. gutters lined every road and fountains sprayed wherever there was enough room to put one. carved bricks channeled water out of the plazas, every inch of the city designed with rainfall in mind. steep roofs fell over wide awnings, thick greeting rugs in front of every building. when it rained, it poured, though no puddles lay in the streets. sharp lights cut through the dense fog hanging over ivory walls, lighting up the city even when the clouds blocked out the sun.

but the world did not come to a standstill merely because the weather asked it to. boots were sold covered in waterproof wax, many-layered skirts designed to flick off water in a single twirl. fashion was as beautiful as it was untouchable, the very idea of something being vulnerable to waterlog appalling and confusing. who would create such a thing? who would wear it without an umbrella? and, entirely separate from that: who would ever consider leaving the house without an umbrella?

umbrellas were as vital to fashion as they were to the ever-changing weather. they came in every color and shape, made to match every conceivable outfit one could wear. and if, by some miracle, you couldn’t find one that did, there were a plethora of boutiques offering custom embroidery. the steambird was eager to comment on the shifting designs across officials’ umbrellas, trends flowing in and out of their fashion column like the tide. everyone who worked in the court that had stepped outside on a rainy day—which was about as common as the sun rising—had their appearance meticulously documented; unless they refused being in the paper, of course, in which case other less-reputable sources picked up the story instead.

all were reported on, making the front page if not the headline. all, but one.

the iudex did not carry an umbrella. he also declined to entertain any questions as to why, merely stating that simple fact and moving on with his day. his hair clung to his face, even his suit darker with water. he walked down the less crowded roads so he wouldn’t bump into anybody, seeming entirely unbothered by the rain. sometimes he’d turn a palm toward the sky, as if checking that it was still there, and then continue on his way.

you always hated this habit of his. no matter how many times he insisted that he wouldn’t get sick, it was always worrying to open your door and find your lover soaked from head to toe. no water slips from him to your floors, not even from the soles of his boots, the click of his heels and your worried tone the only sound in the house. it was already late as it was, and there was no point to fuss about details at this hour.

“what happened?”

he shed his coat, suspended droplets hovering in the air around him. “the marechaussee phantom were called to mount automnequi; a melusine was badly injured by a rogue mek, and a fisherman had to pull her from the sea. i paid her a visit after work.”

that would explain things. he lets you wipe off his face, careful not to smudge the eyeliner that never seems to fade. already, the rain was beginning to let up, lightening from a downpour. rain in fontaine was as fickle as it was frequent…

“is she alright?”

“of course. the gardiennage provides excellent doctors.”

“then there’s no need to worry.” cupping his now-dry face in your hands, you pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “she’ll be back in her feet in no time.”

the slightest of smiles crossed his face, his hands keeping yours on him. outside, the skies were clearing, pale blue quickly streaming through the clouds.

perhaps umbrellas would fall out of fashion soon, if rains could cease before they truly had the chance to begin.

[maybege]

The App - Part 2

Summary: You know who your perfect-match alpha is and it is not the guy from The App.  

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 11.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight (loving) degradation, semi-public sex, creampies, size kink, fluff fluff and more fluff

So … this second part kind of exploded which is why it took me so long to actually finish it lol but I hope the wait will have been worth it for you because ngl I am just swooning over alpha!Boba. Also I placed a little Easter Egg in here for another upcoming fic so bonus points to anyone who finds it 👀 Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!  

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It was two weeks – and no phone call – later, that you decided to take matters into your own (nervously trembling) hands.

Boba thought he didn’t have to call you? Great. But you would not let him think that you were not interested, because you were. He was the one who had shown you what it could feel like to be loved by him and you would not let him ghost you without any explanation.

And if you so happened to want to give Josh back his jacket he had forgotten at your place and you needed to visit him at work for that? Well, then it would just be the most fitting coincidence if Boba was there too.

It was your luck that the receptionist, Peggy, recognized you from the few times you had visited Josh at work and simply waved you through to the elevators. No questions asked.

The doors slid open and you were faced with an empty floor and your heart plummeted. You stepped outside, letting your eyes roam over the open office space. But except for a few people you did not recognise, no one was there.

Shit. So much for coincidentally crossing Boba’s path.

You gripped the jacket tighter, fighting the insecure thoughts in your brain. So Josh was not here. That still meant you could leave the jacket and maybe write a quick note for Boba, just to let him know you were here and open to talk.

Maybe it was better this way. What were you going to say when you met Boba anyway? “Hi, sorry to show up unannounced but you said you would call and you didn’t and I’d very much like for you to call me.”? Yeah, no, that would not do.

Josh’s desk was as empty as always, particularly neat and void of anything that would make it seem remotely personal. You scoffed. How The App could have presumed you were the perfect match, you would never understand. You only regretted it had taken so long for you to see it.

You shifted on your feet, unease filling you at the thought when your eyes fell to the office at the end of the room. Just a few desks separated you from the glass-walled office that Boba inhabited during his work days. And that Boba was sitting in, right now, his phone by his ear.

It seemed he had not noticed you yet but your heart started racing all the same. This was your chance, this was the moment you had to use or else you would beat yourself up over it forever. This could give you clarity.

Taking a deep breath, you set a determined pace to the office, only to falter when he suddenly looked at you. You could not hear what he was saying but you could see the way his entire body shifted. How he paused his words, his eyes running over your form before hanging up, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

You opened the door without knocking and Boba stood up, his eyes still on you. He wore a black suit and with the way it clung to his broad frame, you were convinced that it had been tailored just for him.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, “Is Josh here?”

“No,” he said, still standing behind his desk, “He is gone for lunch. They all are.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“I, uh, I brought his jacket,” you said, holding up the piece of clothing as if he would not believe you otherwise.

“I can see that.”

“I, uh, can I leave that here?”

“No.”

You faltered, “No?”

“I mean, you can, just not in my office, please,” he said, stepping around his desk. You could not help but swallow, trying to brace yourself for his proximity. His words did not seem inviting but there was something in his scent, something in his eyes, that had you hoping still.

So you took a step forward, a step closer, and you could see his hand flex and his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened and then he was in front of you, his chest brushing against yours and it was all you could do not to lean into him and beg him to scent you again.

Stars, did you want him to scent you again.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

At this point, you could not have cared less about Josh’s stupid jacket but there was no way you would not use it as a reason to stay. Even if it was just for a minute, for a second, longer in his presence.

“Why?” you breathed, taking in his scent, eyes already half-hooded at the familiar smoky scent.

“Because I don’t want anyone’s scent in here but yours,” he answered, just as quietly, “Omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

The blood was thrumming in your veins and you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him you loved him, you were pretty sure you did. And you wanted to ask him to scent you. And you wanted to tell him about how he was right, that Josh was a horrible match and The App was wrong and maybe he was your match.

No, not maybe. He looked at you so softly, so tenderly, it confirmed what your heart had known all along. He was your match.

But all you got out was a helpless whisper, “Alpha.”

As if it was even possible, his eyes got more intense, boring into yours as if to say I know.

“You did not call,” you said, almost accusatory as you watched his fingers brush over the back of your hand, “I thought maybe – maybe you don’t want me.”

“There is no universe in which I do not want you,” he murmured, his nose brushing your temple and his hand wrapping around yours, “I wanted to give you time. I didn’t … want to force you into something you might not be ready for.”

“I had no way to contact you,” you whispered, “I was so stupid, I just deleted all the groups when I broke it off with Josh and – what?”

“Nothing,” Boba said innocently but when you looked up you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

“That’s not nothing,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“I didn’t know you had broken off things with him,” Boba stated, his smile widening, “Josh may have announced that he was the one who ended things.”

Say what now?

Your displeasure only grew because Boba chuckled again, a deep rumble in his chest that made you feel all warm and tingly and you leant into him, effectively hiding your frown. It was not that you particularly cared about Josh or how the world would see the end of your relationship. But hearing that he was evidently too ashamed to tell the truth about the end of your relationship just made you angrier because it showed the kind of person he had been all along. And you had been too blind to see it.

“I knew it was a lie all along,” he assured you quietly, his warm hand running down your back, “No alpha in their right mind would ever let you go. And I am pretty sure most of the others thought so too.”

“I don’t care what they think,” you answered truthfully and looked up at him. He was so close this way and you could see that he must have shaved this morning because the stubble was almost non-existent and you wondered if you could still feel it if he were to kiss you. “I only care what you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, “You should get that stinking jacket out of here and then come back so I can kiss you, omega.”

“You want to kiss me?”

You hated how surprised you sounded, how eager, but Boba did not make fun of you. His face looked dead serious and your heart skipped a beat. This man wanted to kiss you!

“Actually,” he said, straightening up and looking to the elevator where a few employees had come back from their break. You did not recognize them but you knew it meant it would not be long until familiar faces returned from their break. And you did not want to see them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

You shook your head.

“Let me take you out, then,” he suggested, seeming as put together and in control as always as he quickly went over to his computer and typed something, “Italian sound good?”

The smile appeared on its own on your lips and you felt like your feet no longer touched the ground, you were that happy.

“Italian sounds great.”

*

There was something to be said about Boba leading you through the city with his hand on your lower back like it belonged there. Like you belonged next to each other.

“Table for two,” he had told the maître d’ at a fancy-looking place you never would have considered for lunch. Suddenly you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had dug out your most beautiful winter dress for the day and the boots you had spent a whole movie on cleaning so they looked brand new.

You were sat at a slim booth, facing each other and your heart skipped a beat when you crossed your legs and your foot accidentally brushed against his slacks. You were so close.

Boba rumbled, eyes dark while he looked you over, his gaze lingering suspiciously long on your neckline that dipped a bit lower than what you usually wore. “Thank you for letting me take you out,” the alpha said, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, too,” you mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze by folding open the menu, “Though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met you.”

The laugh he let out made your heart flutter (He sounded so happy!). “No, I hadn’t suspected it either,” he admitted, “If I recall I called myself an old man no one would ever want that day.”

“You are not that old!” the protest slipped off your tongue immediately and you felt your cheeks burn when he raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“I am, though,” he said without any heat, “But at least I can say that it makes me better at some things.”

“Like what?”

He leant forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble that you felt reverberating in your chest, “Like I am better at making you come than all these boys on that app these days.”

All air left your lungs in a woosh and you swallowed harshly, trying to get your bearing and ignoring the sudden urge to press your thighs together. Or open them for him. Both sounded good at this point.

“Oh,” you breathed, your foot landing against his calf. It did not turn into anything sexual per se but the contact was enough to have your heart skip a beat. The tension was palpable between you and you wondered how you could have ever thought he was unbearable when he could make you flustered this easily.

“You probably are,” you replied quietly, your cheeks burning at your confession, “I have never felt like this with anyone. So … so on edge.”

“On edge, hm?” he smirked, leaning even closer, “I really wish I could sit next to you, omega, I want to see how close I can get you by just teasing that scent gland of yours.”

“Me too,” you whispered, taking a sip of your wine in the hopes of cooling down, “I really want you to scent me again.”

Boba did not say anything but demonstratively put his hand on the table palm facing up and open. You followed his silent instructions and put your hand in his, immediately enjoying the gentle skin-to-skin contact.

His thumb brushed over your wrist and your entire body shuddered. This was what you needed.

“Better?” he asked, his voice deep as his thumb carefully ran over your scent gland over and over again. The ones on the wrists were not as sensitive as the one on your neck, they never were, but it was enough, still, to have him gently scent you out here in the open for anyone to see.

You did not know what surprised you more: How much your body seemed to crave his touch or how he did not seem to mind to scent you in public. Your previous partner had always refused to actually scent you – it was just not something they wanted to do. But here was Boba, looking at you with so much tenderness and scenting you in plain sight. Not ashamed of you in the least.

“What do you want?”

I want you to fuck me.

“To eat,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, obviously recognizing the needy look in your eyes, “Because that waiter looks like he is ready to come over and I know how nervous you get about ordering.”

Your heart grew in size. He knew you so well, this quiet man who seemed to notice all the things you needed and was not afraid to point them out to you. But that realization did not help you when it came to the ache between your legs because he knew you so well and you just wanted to have him in your bed to try out all the fantasies your head could come up with.

“The – the pasta,” you finally found your words, your heartbeat picking up at the thought that maybe he would stop scenting you now that a witness would be here, “Please don’t let me go, alpha.”

“Never,” he vowed, “The ravioli, you mean?” he guessed, coaxing another sigh out of you when the pad of his calloused thumb drew a circle over your wrist, “With the cherry tomatoes and the basil reduction?”

You nodded with your eyes closed, completely letting yourself enjoy the way he touched you, the way he caressed you. “Yes, that one.”

The waiter came by and Boba ordered for you both, still holding your hand and the waiter did not even spare a glance at the way he touched you. You had spent so many years afraid of what the world would think when you were so obviously treated as an omega in a relationship. Spoiler alert: They did not care. And it was glorious.

“Now only one question remains,” Boba said with a smile when your food arrived, “Can I take you out for dinner sometime? On a proper date?”

*

A few days later, a knock on your door drove you into a flurry. You counted until six in your head before you opened the door, pretending like you had not waited in the hallway for ages for him to show up. Not because he was late, no, Boba Fett was punctual as always, but because you could not wait for this evening to start.

This date today was something you had looked forward to ever since he had called you and officially asked you out. (“There is that lovely little place down by the river,” he had said, “My friend owns it and I could get us a table with the best view. What do you think?”)

Now, Boba Fett was standing in your doorway, looking even more handsome than usual, in dark slacks and a white button-down with the top button undone, revealing a little bit more of his chest. He looked serious, just as much preoccupied with looming at you as you were with looking at him. Which meant that it took both of you a moment to realise that he was holding a colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Forgive my distraction,” he said, “You look stunning.” He held up the flowers, their scent floating between the two of you, “Here. For you.”

You were sure the smile on your lips could not get any brighter as you accepted them, your fingers brushing, “Thank you. Let me get them in some water. Wanna come inside?”

He hummed, following you into your tiny and cluttered apartment.

You tried not to look back at him and gauge his reactions. You liked to describe your apartment as cosy and homey and, yes, maybe a teeny tiny bit cramped. You had never been one for the minimalistic way of life and your apartment reflected that. There were pictures and books and trinkets everywhere, your fridge was covered in magnets from your travels and postcards from your friends and family.

It was no surprise, in hindsight, that Josh had not liked your place at all and he had not shied away to articulate that out loud. Several times, in fact, until you had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would stay over at his place and your souvenirs would have to live the rest of their lives in storage boxes.

But this was your home. It was you. Which is why it was more important than anything to you that Boba liked it.

Boba was too good a man to criticize your place openly, you knew that. But you still could not resist glancing at his broad form in the living room while you filled the vase with water.

“What do you think?” you asked, hoping to hide your nervous undertone when you set the vase down on your kitchen table. You could not wait to wake up each morning and be greeted with the sight of the flowers your favourite alpha had gotten for you.

“Feels like a home,” he said, running his fingers over a stack of books that had no space in the bookcase, “Feels like you.”

His words were soft-spoken and sincere and you watched as his gaze roamed over your apartment. The couch with the sunk-in cushions where you always sat, the mess of books and notepads and remotes on your coffee table, all pulled together by the singular scented candle you treated yourself to once in a while. The walls were covered with pictures and prints of your travels (or the places you wanted to travel to) and your friends and family peppered in between.

It did feel like you. And when he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“Thank you, alpha.”

His head shot up and, in his eyes, you could see the thoughts he had. If calling someone omega was a love confession, what did it mean to him to be called alpha?

He crossed the few steps that were between you before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle and so full of love it made your heart swell. His scent was in your nose and the stubble on his jaw rubbed over your skin, making you want him even closer.

“Let’s go, omega,” he whispered against your mouth, “Or else we will be late and Paz will have my head.”

“If you say so,” you grinned, “Lead the way, alpha.”

*

Hours later, you still were not ready to say goodbye.

You had talked and flirted and laughed and eaten and now, Boba had driven you home, parking a few blocks away with the insistence that he should walk you home. You had accepted with a smile.

“So,” he started, casually walking alongside you, “How was it for a first date?”

You hummed, pretending to mull over your answer as if it weren’t incredibly obvious. The streetlights illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the profile of his nose, his full lips, and the twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It could have been worse,” you teased him, “I don’t think it was the worst first date I have ever been on.”

Boba chuckled, coming to a stop in front of an entryway that looked like yours. Your heart fell at the thought of having to leave him. If it were up to you, this night could go on forever.

“Not the worst first date,” he quoted you, his grin lighting up his whole face, “I count that as a win. Besides,” he turned, facing you, “The most important thing is whether you would go out with me again. What do you think?”

“I would,” you murmured, entirely too fixated on how close he was and if you could get him to kiss you again, “Of course, I would, Boba.”

The silence between you two was comfortable but you could not feel like time was running away from you two. So you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“Do you want to come up for a coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded you with a little smile, “You told me that tonight, remember?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten about that, “You know I wasn’t really asking you up for a coffee, right?”

“Hm,” he said, stepping closer to you and you did not shy away. His eyes roamed over your form. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looming over you, his breath washing over your face. “You know there is nothing I would love more than to come up for … not coffee”, he winked and you smiled, “But this is our first date and I – I want to do this right and proper. So, no coffee tonight, little one.”

“Oh well,” you pouted, your hand reaching out to tug his hand out of his pocket. Boba smiled and followed your lead, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on your lower back, pulling you against him. “Your good night kiss will have to make up for that disappointment then.”

His nose brushed against yours and the familiar excitement built up again in your belly at the prospect of kissing him. “I guess I will have to work really hard for it,” he joked quietly before he closed the distance between you.

The kiss started soft and gentle, his mouth moving against yours, slowly coaxing you open. But it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. It did not take long before his tongue mingled with yours, his teeth brushing over your bottom lip and one of his hands wandering to your ass, slightly squeezing.

It was when the slightest of moans left your lips that he pulled away from you, your body instantly missing his touch.

“Dinner, then?” Boba asked, his breathing slightly laboured, “Next week?”

*

You did not make it to dinner.

And you hated yourself for it.

But whatever flu had caught you, it had caught you good and as you drafted the text to Boba, cancelling the dinner date you had spent the last week looking forward to, you felt like crying out of pure frustration. But there was no way you were able to leave your apartment today.

So you did the only thing you could. You planted yourself on the couch, curled up with a heated blanket and too many mugs of tea and set your timer to when you could take the next painkiller to keep the migraine at bay. You could not even focus on the old sitcom that you had put on in the background, instead just dozing on and off and trying to find a position that did not make every single muscle in your body ache.

It felt absolutely miserable.

A knock on your door got you up and you trudged to the door, hoping that it was just one of your neighbours with a package that got misdelivered. Stars knew you weren't up to anything else.

“Boba,” you mumbled, completely confused at the sight in front of you, “Did – did you not get my text?”

He stood in front of you, dressed in jeans and a shirt made from a material so soft, your fingers itched to touch it. “I did,” he confirmed, holding up a white plastic bag that smelled divine, “So I brought you some soup.”

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You wanted to tell him that but somehow, your tongue refused to move and the words would not leave your mouth. You just stared at him, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at this alpha who did not seem to be angry at you at all for ruining his plans.

“Will you let me come inside?” his voice was gentle and caring, “I can heat up the soup and make you some tea. And then I can get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you found your voice again, happy that you managed to express at least this one thought, stepping aside to let him in, “Th-thank you for coming, alpha.”

You watched as he set the food down in the kitchen before coming into the living room, taking in the damage. The pity was clear in his eyes and you felt a little ashamed at him seeing you so out of control. Everything was a mess and there were used tissues lying everywhere, your laundry had not been done for a week and the dishes were piling up in your sink. Not to mention that you had not managed to gather the strength to take out the trash which was why your kitchen was currently a No Zone for you.

But none of that seemed to interest him.

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” he asked finally, his brows furrowed as he took in the haphazardly thrown blankets on the sofa.

You shrugged, tugging on your sleeves. You would have to change your shirt soon, the fabric felt unusually scratchy today and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. ”The bed feels cold,” you tried to explain, “And – and the pillows don’t sit right. And I’m too sick to – “

“Make a nest,” Boba realised, his eyes softening, “You’ve been needing a nest all this time, ‘mega?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and bracing yourself for the rejection that you would inevitably see in them. So far, Boba had proven different from Josh in every way, different from all the other alphas in every way. And while you knew that your brain was most probably playing tricks on you, you felt too miserable to stop the intrusive thoughts that tried to tell you that this would be the point where he realised that being with an omega – being with you – would be too much work.

“Do you want me to help?”

Your head shot up and you were unable to hide the surprise on your face. But the look on his face was sincere as he looked at you, expecting your answer.

This was one of those moments, you realized, where you could accept what the universe – Boba – offered you. Even if you had never experienced it before. Careful not to jostle your head too much, you nodded and made your way to your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you.

The curtains were still drawn but with how bright it was outside, one could still see the half-finish nest you had attempted to build on your bed. It just looked sad now, the twisted blanket and the pillows you had half-heartedly thrown on top of it.

But with Boba behind you, it just felt incomplete and you realized what you had been missing. “I – I want it a little bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

Big enough for you to join me.

But the words remained unspoken as you focused on pulling the blankets apart, getting a bigger circle shape to fill out the entire space your mattress offered. If you pulled it just this way, then you could have –

“Do you have some extra blankets I should get you?” Boba asked from where he had been standing on the opposite side of the bed, carefully copying your movements. You liked the look of his big hands touching the materials of your nest, colouring them in his scent. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would stay long enough that his scent lingered even after he left.

You nodded, pointing to the closet next to the door where you stashed your extra pillows and blankets. The kinds that were always freshly washed and soft enough that you endured them even in your heat. Now, you felt hot too, but in a sick kind of way and your head was thrumming with pain.

Deep down, you knew you should rest. You knew it would not be long until the dizziness set in or the itchiness of the fabric made you want to cry. But Boba was there and he had seen the mess and you did not – you swallowed harshly, your hands starting to tremble – you could not bear if he left now.

“Omega,” Boba rumbled upon his return, clearly having noticed your distress, and your hands stilled at the strict tone in his voice, “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t want you to work,” you mumbled as you pushed the circle a little wider, “I promise I'm not that much work.” You looked up at him, your voice earnest and your eyes tearing up and you cursed yourself for how weak Josh had made you, how weak you felt at having to face the fact that Boba Fett meant more to you than you had wanted to admit.

His face fell at your words and you could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The blankets fell into the space of your nest, freshly washed and smiling of your favourite laundry detergent. But you could not focus on them now. Not when he made his way around the bed to you until he was right in front of you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Omega,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face. They felt cool against your skin and sighed in relief, your eyes closing, “You are sick, my omega,” he repeated, “You are not too much work. I want to help you. Please, lie down in your nest and let me help. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated for a second, the demons in your head still whispering about whether or not he was telling the truth. But one look in his warm eyes and you knew he was and you knew you could trust him.

Boba only let go of you once you nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you straighten out the blankets. “Here is what we are going to do,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “I will help you make the nest and then you will lie down and take a nap, okay?”

“And you?” you asked unsure, fluffing a pillow in the corner, already imagining yourself and Boba lying down right there.

“I will take care of a few things and then we will see what you need.”

His voice did not leave much room for protest and if you were honest with yourself, you did not want to protest either. Taking a nap in your nest sounded like a dream and having Boba close by? That was even better.

It did not take long after that before your nest truly looked like your nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged in a perfect circle, high enough for you to lean against them and your favourite blanket was folded inside, too, ready to cover you whenever you needed.

“I will leave you to it, omega,” Boba murmured, his hand gently running over your back before disappearing into the hallway.

Only after you heard him cluttering around somewhere, did you take off your leggings, feeling positive that he would not leave. After a bit of thinking, you took off your panties too. You changed into your sleep shirt, the one thing that felt soft against your skin and it was long enough to cover your ass, too. The only things you kept from your original outfit were the fuzzy socks. Just at first until you could feel the cold leave you.

Lying down in your nest was just as glorious as you had expected and you dozed off in no time. The little sounds from the depths of your apartment and the dimmed sunlight through your curtains paired with Boba’s lingering scent on your blankets resulted in your body feeling relaxed and pliant for the first time in three days.

You did not know how much time passed but by the time you opened your eyes again, you felt much better and Boba stood by your bed.

He carefully arranged the pillows around you, making sure they were as fluffy as possible and you smiled when his hands lingered on your shoulders. “Is that okay?” he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out for him, “Do – Will you join me?”

The large man smiled, his voice still careful as he pulled the curtains closed. “I would love to, omega, what's the dress code?”

“Shoes off,” you ordered with a weak smile, “And the shirt, too. And the belt.”

He hummed and you did not have to see him to know he was smiling. You watched with interest as his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, more and more tan skin revealed to you as he pulled it over his head. It was the first time you had seen him like this and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that maybe it would not be the last time.

“Like what you see?” he joked, his hands going to his belt and you bit your lip, your eyes not leaving his body as he crawled into bed next to you. He pulled a soft blanket from somewhere, covering you both with it and you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

The alpha’s arms went around you, holding you to him so you could tuck your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and enjoying the sheer touch of him against you. While the silence between you felt comfortable and you found yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever, you also could not shake the little bit of nervousness at this new position you found yourself in.

“I have never shared my nest with anyone,” you confessed into the crook of his neck, “I – I don’t know if I am doing it right.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” he asked you gently, his hand holding the back of your neck firmly. You closed your eyes, giving you some relief from the strain behind your eyes. His finger started moving, gently and slowly massaging the back of your neck.

He was right. It did feel right.

“If it helps, it is my first time in an omega’s nest as well,” he replied and you hummed. “No, that’s a lie,” he added after a moment of silence, his hand movement never ceasing, “I was in my mother’s nest a few times when I was very little.”

“A few times?” you asked, remembering how you had spent entire weekends as a toddler with your parents in their nest.

“I have a lot of brothers,” he revealed, “Like a ridiculous amount, really. It was sometimes a fight to get in there, you know? Not that it made me feel any less loved.”

You smiled at the thought of a young Boba toddling around with his brothers in a big nest.

“It sounds nice,” you murmured, running your hand over his chest. You focussed on the warmth of his body, the way his skin felt under your fingertips and how you could feel his heartbeat.

“It is,” you could feel him nod, “Family reunions are a nightmare though. Pure chaos.”

Your laugh got stuck in your throat when his nose brushed over your neck. His breath washed over your scent gland and you could feel how your body attuned to him.

“This is nice, too,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. His nose on your scent gland sent warm shivers down your spine. It was calming and made you feel safe and cosy and like you could finally rest.

“It is,” he agreed quietly, turning your body so he was on his back and you were glued to his side, “Rest now, my omega, I got you.”

*

It was several days of rest until you finally could breathe through your nose again. But when the rest of the flu had dissipated and you felt like you could return to life as usual and Boba asked you out to the opera, you knew it would be even better than the date you had originally missed.

The older alpha took you out to dinner first. To a fancy restaurant by the water where the waitlist was several months long. So long, in fact, that you marvelled at how he managed to get a table there. As it turned out, the small restaurant in question was owned by his friend Paz, a giant of an alpha who came out of the kitchens with a huge grin and a promise to deliver you the best meal you ever had.

And just like Boba, Paz Vizsla was an alpha who kept his word. Paired with the most delicious wine you ever had, you were served a three-course pre-theatre dinner that had you humming with delight.

But the true highlight of the night was not the strawberry pistachio tarte or the seafood pasta, no. It was the man in front of you.

Boba’s eyes never left you. He held your chair for you and had his hand on yours whenever time allowed. He looked so handsome in his black suit with a dark grey dress shirt and you found your eyes straying to the first few undone buttons that granted you a look at his chest.

Stars, you were so done for.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you, “That has to be my favourite colour on you.”

It was a dark green silk dress that was clinging to your body “in all the right places” as your friends had assured you in the group chat. And hearing Boba thinking the same things made you happier than you could have imagined.

“And you look very put together, as always,” you teased him back, leaning forward and not missing the way his eyes flashed to your neckline. If only he knew …

Your alpha smiled at you, then, and leant back in his chair like it. You watched with bated breath as he held his thick hand up and started rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearm to you. First the one, then the other and then he dared to wink at you because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And it was exactly these filthy thoughts that got you into the mess that followed.

Because Boba had a private boy. Of course, he did.

You felt like a princess when he led you up the carpeted stairs through the gorgeous old building to a little room that was reserved just for you. It was hard to look at the steps in front of you when you were so distracted by the painted ceilings, the stucco and the giant chandeliers that, just for a second, gave you the feeling of travelling back in time. But Boba’s hand was right there to steady you, his hand squeezing yours warmly when you heisted before.

The first thing you were greeted with was a set of fancy drinks – your favourite mocktail and a scotch that was older than both of you for Boba. Only then did you take in the room.

For some reason, you had thought that the door would lead immediately to your private seats for the show. Instead, you were standing in a little reception room, furnished with a plush couch and a minibar and looked far fancier than any hotel room you had ever stayed in.

Slow music was playing from a record player and if you listened carefully, you could hear the orchestra getting ready through the thick curtain. It was cosy and private and made you feel like you were far away from everyone and everything.

You sat down on the couch, sinking into the fabric with a laugh and Boba joined you. Sitting next to you, with his legs spread and leaning back against the couch with one hand still holding his scotch, he was the picture of sex appeal. Everything about him made you hyper-aware of the arousal simmering in your core.

“What are you thinking about, little omega?” he rumbled, taking a sip of the amber liquid. You watched his throat move and swallowed with him, wanting to press your lips to his Adam's apple.

“Nothing,” you whispered, slowly leaning forward. Your heart was pounding in your chest, “Just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

The glass of scotch landed on the side table with a clank and he turned towards you, his eyes intense. “We can't have that,” he stated, a small smile on his lips, “C’mere, love, let me remedy my mistake.”

You don’t know who moved faster but his warm hand cupped the side of your face the moment your lips met his. He tasted of scotch and something uniquely him that had you opening your mouth for his tongue.

Desire overcame you and in no time, his hand on your hip held you steady as you climbed on top of him, your knees settling on the couch on either side of his lap as you tried to get as close as possible. He was warm and solid and you just wanted – you needed – to feel him.

The fire in your core was fuelled by the low groans that left his mouth and when your hips stuttered against his and you could feel him hard against you, you wished you were anywhere else but the opera. Maybe your bedroom. Or his bedroom. Anywhere with a bed, really.

You were completely out of breath when you pulled apart. Boba had a lazy smirk on his face, his free hand trailing slowly over your neckline. He ran his finger over the silk of your dress, right over your tit, circling where you needed him most and sure enough you could feel and see your nipple pebble through the thin fabric.

“Tell me,” he rumbled, “What did you think would happen when I realised that you were not wearing a bra and that you are this close,” he hooked a single finger into the neckline, gently pulling the fabric down your skin until your chest was free to the cool air, “to showing me your pretty tits?”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumbled, your ears hot at him knowing how bare you were beneath this dress. You had never done anything like this but Boba – Boba brought it out in you. It made you feel a little dirty in the best way and you knew you had Boba to thank for it.

“That’s one way to say you’d like to skip straight to dessert,” he teased you and you could not help your smile. The tension did not falter though and neither did the movement of his finger circling your nipple but not quite touching it.

You wriggled your hips, trying to get closer to him.

The groan that left him had your pussy weeping.

“How long did you know?” you asked shyly, arching your back so he could touch you freely.

“When you bent over at dinner,” he revealed, his thumb finally brushing directly over your nipple, bringing it to a peak. The feather-light touch was repeated on the other side as well. “Had me rock hard in an instant, princess. I had half a mind to sit you in my lap right there so no one can see how I would bury my cock in your sweet pussy.”

“Alpha,” you breathed. His fingers tightened on your nipples and you squeaked when he gently pulled, the mixture of pain and pleasure making you whine.

“Performance doesn’t start in the next 30 minutes,” he rumbled, his mouth closing over one east and you gasped, “How about we get you out of this pretty dress and I make you come?”

“Boba!” you gasped, “You – We – we are in the opera.”

“That we are,” he agreed, lightly biting the underside of your breast.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Omega,” he said softly, standing up and pulling you with him until you were standing in the middle of the room, “I have you half-naked in my lap, ready for me to devour you. I don’t mind where we are as long as no one sees how pretty you look for me. So what do you say?”

You did not say anything but you shimmied your shoulders until the dress fell down your torso. Boba’s hands were big and warm on your back as he helped it along the rest of your body. The silk fell from your body in a whisper and just like that, you stood in front of him completely bare, in a private room in the opera.

Stars, you never would have thought to do something like this. And Boba Fett still looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“Stunning,” he stated, his dark eyes running over your body. He sat down on the couch again and patted his thighs. You stepped closer, feeling strangely secure and forward – completely bare for this man who made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It’s unfair, though,” you pouted as you ran your fingers over the buttons of his shirt, “You are still fully dressed.”

“Hm, let me enjoy it for now,” he smiled, pulling you against him, his hands immediately finding their way to the soft flesh of your ass, “I want to pay attention to all of this,” he squeezed your ass, “before I get distracted by your touch.”

His words turned you on more than you wanted to admit and so instead, you only squirmed in his grasp.

“Straddle me,” he instructed, relaxing against the couch as you followed his order, “Keep the heels on.”

The feeling of your bare skin against the fabric of his suit was surprisingly erotic and your pussy clenched at the proximity to him. He was warm and strong beneath you, letting you rest your weight on his thighs and the couch.

“I want you to feel how hard I am,” he explained, pushing your hips down on him and your eyes flew open at the bulge you felt pressing against your core. He felt … big. “And then I want you to tell me how you want to come tonight.”

You swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to reciprocate the honesty he was giving you. “On your cock, alpha,” the words felt strange on your tongue, never having been one for dirty talk, but the flint in his eyes made it worth it, “I want to come on your cock.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid that’s not an option, omega. We are in public after all,” he winked, his hand wandering down your cheek and body until his fingers brushed against your folds. You were already soaking wet and you closed your eyes, grinding your hips against him, “You can have my fingers or my mouth.”

His middle finger ran through your wetness before his fingers twitched and he pushed one inside you to the first knuckle. You breathed in sharply, his touch causing everything in your body to stir.

“This okay?” he asked you, his voice rough like sandpaper, “Does my finger in your pretty cunt feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, gasping when his mouth closed over your nipple again, “It feels really good, alpha.”

“Good,” he rumbled, finger moving carefully deeper inside you before pulling out again. With his other hand still kneading your ass, he grinned, “Would you like me to add another finger?”

A whine escaped you at his slow pace. He really wanted to make you work for it.

“That is not an answer,” he mocked, looking up at you. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his stubble rubbed over your jaw and his tongue playing with yours, “Do you want my fingers in your pussy? Yes or no?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Please, alpha, let me come on your cock.”

“Fuck, you're filthy,” he cursed, his hand landing on your ass in a slap, “Who knew my pretty omega could talk this dirty?”

His praise made your cheeks heat up but it did not keep you from moving your hips again. This time, you could feel the tip of him catching against your clit and a thousand nerve endings tingled. Your eyes fluttered with desire and you did it again.

And again.

And again.

Until Boba made you stop with a strong hand against your back.

“Lean against me,” he ordered, “Go on, your chest against mine.”

Following his instructions, you fully rested against him and used the position to your advantage by plating your mouth on his scent gland. It was the first time you properly tasted him – all pinewood and smoked – and it clouded your mind instantly. All you could and wanted to do was follow whatever Boba said.

“Spread your legs,” you did, “Wider, omega.”

You whimpered against him but still spread your legs as wide as they would go. It opened you up to him but instead of slipping his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushed down your back to your ass, until –

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers only barely brushing over the crack of your ass, “I am not here for that now. Soon, though.”

You could feel his finger slowly pushing inside you, its way eased by the wetness coating your thighs and walls. Your eyes widened, completely locked in by his gaze as you felt him slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy.

“Want you grinding against my cock while I finger you,” he explained, voice rough, “You deserve to come, pretty omega.”

He pushed his finger, so much thicker than yours, back in again and you could feel your walls flutter. By the way Boba’s eyes darkened, he had felt it too. Soon, he added a second one, thoroughly stretching you until you were helplessly humping against him.

The sight of you must have been filthy. This older, completely dressed man with an undressed omega on top of him grinding herself against his cock and panting against his scent gland. It turned you on even more and when you licked a stripe up his neck, he groaned too, his hips rocking up against yours and paired with his fingers inside you, you were already so close to coming.

But it was not what you wanted.

“I want your cock,” you pouted, rocking against him. He was heavy and hot and your pussy was throbbing for him, “Don’t make me wait, Boba, please.”

The hand on your ass travelled to your jaw, tilting your head until he could kiss you. “You beg so prettily for me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, “You almost have me reconsidering.”

Spurred on by his words, you pushed your hips back against his fingers, having them go deeper. Trying to keep from gasping, you bit your lip until it hurt.

“Please, alpha,” you breathed, doing your best to put on your most seductive voice, “Please alpha, I want to feel your cock so badly, I – I just know it is going to feel so good, p-please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

He did not reply for a while, simply adding a third finger that had your walls flexing around him. That should have been the sign of your victory but you were too busy grinding your clit against his covered shaft to really register it.

“I am nothing if not generous,” he teased you, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your scent gland, “But I will not knot you. I will only let you sit on my cock and fill you with my come. But I will not knot you. Not yet.“

You could live with that.

He spread you out on the couch before resting over you and it was that moment that you remembered that all that was separating you from hundreds of people were the thick velvet curtains. He seemed to know that too.

“Stay quiet, little one,” he warned you but the devious smile on his lips made you feel like he wouldn’t mind at all if everyone knew what was about to happen. And that just made you feel even hotter.

The sight of him undoing his belt alone was enough to cause another rush of wetness down your thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord, wanting to give him the view he was giving you. Because seeing his cock, big and heavy, had your pussy clenching. There was a bead of precome on the tip that you desperately wanted to taste and when his hands wrapped around his shaft, giving himself a few strokes, it was all you could do not to beg.

But Boba had plans. “One foot on the floor,” he ordered you and you did as you were told. He pushed your opposite leg on the backrest of the couch, effectively spreading you even further and felt a little ashamed, being so exposed to him.

His strong hand continued to pump his cock while he looked at your pussy like he wanted to devour you.

“Alpha,” you whined, growing restless, “Please …”

“We got to be quick, little omega,” he warned you, “We have a show to catch, after all.”

Despite his warning, he pushed inside you slowly, letting you get used to his size. You had known it would be a tight fit from just seeing him but the feeling of the tip alone breaching your walls had your breath catching in your throat. Boba noticed, of course, and his thrust remained shallow until you could finally relax.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Can feel you opening up for me. You’re all quiet now, hm? All you wanted was that big fat cock fully in your pussy, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, his words making your cheeks flush. His body, still dressed, moved above yours expertly while you hardly knew what to do with yourself. You felt full and pleasured and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. All you could do was run your hands over his body, grabbing his shoulders, brushing your fingertips over his scent gland and then to the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Boba, meanwhile … Boba was a rock. He was confident, calm and in control. All the C-words, really. Cocky too, judging by the smirk on his face as he bent down to kiss you again.

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, “How are you feeling with my cock inside you, princess?”

“Full,” you breathed, “So full, alpha. It’s – are you –“

He looked down, his finger circling your clit, making your clench around his firth. “Not even halfway, little one,” he stated and you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna fit in this tight little pussy, no worries.” He continued to circle your clit and you hummed, feeling your walls stretch around him.

“There we go,” he encouraged you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke, “There’s my good girl. So gorgeous for me, feel so good around my cock. Tell me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, trying to shift your hips to get closer but Boba pinned you down with his body weight, shoving the rest of him inside you in the process. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the moan that wanted to break free. His weight on top of you was comforting. You wanted him to have this control over you, having to worry about nothing but enjoying yourself.

“I am the one who moves around here,” he chastised you, fully thrusting inside you again and brushing a spot that made you shiver, “Trust me, omega. Let me take care of you. You just lie here and take it.”

And take it you did.

“Faster, please,” you whispered, “Just a little – oh!”

He adjusted his pace perfectly like he knew exactly what you needed. The size of him inside you made you see stars and you felt dizzy with pleasure. When he angled his hips just so, his cock met that spot again and again until your eyes fell back and your mouth fell open. Thick fingers wrapped around your neck, just under your jaw and you could feel his breath on your skin.

Your toes started tingling and soon the sensation ran through all your muscles until you were spasming around him in the strongest orgasm you had ever felt. Everything felt heightened and with how you were clenching around him, he felt even bigger than he already was.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed into your neck, his hips stuttering, “You are so fucking pretty, omega. Can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, full of my cock and my come. Gonna do this every day, princess, so you remember who you belong to, hm?”

Gasping for breath, your heart still racing in your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Alpha, I –“

“I know, princess,” he groaned quietly, his hips stilling, “I know.”

His cock was so deep inside you, you never wanted him to leave. You wanted to remain like this forever. He came inside you and you could feel it, the strange sensation of him filling you up with what felt like a lot of come, a guaranteed mess between your thighs.

Still, you had never felt as connected with anyone as with Boba at this moment, his clothed body pressing against yours, his breath slowing against your neck.

 “Stars,” you whispered, blinking the sudden tears away.

Boba kissed you softly, his rough hands running over every inch of bare skin. His weight on you was comforting and the way he caged you in made you feel oddly small and safe. He pulled out of you, slowly, and you winced when his come trickled down your tights as soon as he left you.

You watched as he reached for some tissues, gently cleaning you up. He remained silent but gentle, his fingertips brushed carefully over your inner thighs and your already swollen folds.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” you breathed out. Both of you chuckled but the sight of him pocketing your panties had you grow quiet. “Don’t mind if I keep these,” he rumbled, his hands helping you stand before smoothing your dress down your legs, “Want to keep a souvenir of when I filled you up the first time.”

You were completely breathless again and it did not help that you could still feel him inside you. “Thank you,”

“For what, omega?”

You stepped closer to him, planting your hands on his chest. His heart was beating just as hard as yours and you could not wait to later peel the shirt off him and feel his body heat against yours. For now, though, you just pressed a kiss to his neck. “For taking care of me,” you explained, “For making me come,” you kissed his jaw, “For fucking me so good,” you whispered before kissing him softly, “For coming inside me.”

His hands went to your waist, holding you closer and allowing him to prolong the kiss. He was growling when you pulled away and it was easy to admit that he already had a hold on your heart and pussy. But it was your turn to tease now.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “Didn’t you say we had a show to catch?”

Boba grinned, eyes twinkling as he pulled back the curtains for you. “You're gonna be the death of me, little one.”

*

Fortunately, you were not the death of him, though he did like to continue the joke weeks (if not months) into your relationship.

Being with Boba was like stepping out into the daylight after the movies. It was strange at first, getting used to the fact that he was so openly in love with you. That he was not afraid to embrace you being an omega. It led to a few misunderstandings and more than a few serious talks in which you came to the realization that your dating history had impacted you more than just a little.

But Boba was not about to leave you because you were an omega and he was not about about to leave you because you were too high-maintenance.

It took a bit of time and a few in-depth conversations with your friends but soon enough you learnt that you were lovable, omega and all. And Boba was the exact right person to love you.

Your first heat together was better than anything you had ever imagined. He had noticed it before even you had, showing up at your door with takeaway food from Paz’s place, flowers and a bag of his worn shirts. That and his “I took the next few days off, princess, let’s get your nest ready” came just a few hours before you noticed the cramping in your belly.

By the time your heat properly hit, you were already buried in the softness of your nest, cuddled against your alpha’s chest as you watched your favourite movies. You spent three days holed up with him in your apartment, taken care of in every single way from him scenting you to arranging the nicest fruit platter to sitting you on his knot until you cried, whispered the sweetest nothings in your ear.

It was the happiest you had ever been and for the first time in a long time, you were confident that this happiness would remain because Boba gave you every indication that it would remain.

Like when he suggested one winter evening that your flowers would bloom nicely in his garden come springtime or when he took you to the hardware store, getting all the tools to hang your pictures in his – your – home. Or how careful he was to help you pack up all your stuff, making sure everything stayed secure and safe as you made the move from your small apartment into his house that became yours.

Or that time he surprised you with the Merino wool throw blanket for your nest when you complained one December evening that the only thing that could keep you warm was him.

The one moment where it all came full circle though, was when he decided to host his team for another summer BBQ. You already had a ring on that finger (a ring he had put there after an especially romantic evening at Paz’s restaurant) and his house now truly reflected the both of you living there, but the prospect of seeing the man who had triggered it all still made you a little bit nervous.

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, you had tried to avoid Boba and the feelings he caused in you at all costs. And now you were engaged to him and could not imagine your life any other way.

A few guests were already mingling in the garden when you put out the last of the cutlery. Boba followed close behind, carrying the cooler out of the garage.

“Ready?” you asked, smoothing your hands over your yellow sundress. The hem was hitting mid-calf and you loved the little twirl it did. What you loved even more was the way your alpha had buried his head under that dress only a few hours ago.

“Ready,” he confirmed with mirth in his eyes. It would not surprise you if he knew exactly where your mind had been.

A wave of new guests arrived in the garden and you stiffened when you recognized one familiar face. And he recognized you.

“Hey,” Josh greeted you, his voice just as grating as you remembered, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

He did not try to hug you for which you were grateful but he also did not leave. You really wanted him to leave.

“Hi,” you forced yourself to smile, highly aware of Boba standing right next to you. His hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting as you faced the man who once called himself your perfect match.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but, uh,” Josh looked to Boba, questioningly, “Why are you here, exactly?”

You wanted to scoff, you really did. But your body was tight with nerves and you did not like the eyes of the other guests on you. But you should have known that Boba would take care of you. He always did.

“C’mere, omega,” your alpha mumbled with a soft smile and your heart skipped a beat as his fingers gripped your chin and pulled you to him. And then he kissed you in front of everyone. Just a slow peck, nothing more, but you could not help but sigh against him, your hand landing on his warm chest.

He hummed, his scent surrounding you even in the open air and when he pulled away, you were both smiling. Pinewood and smoke were your favourite scents in the world.

Everybody was smiling, really, except for one.

“Do you wanna explain yourself?” Josh demanded, for the first time sounding displeased.

“I don’t think there is anything to explain,” you replied coolly, your hand still on Boba’s chest, smiling at the man in front of you. The diamond on your ring caught the sunlight but it was nothing against the blinding smile on Boba’s face.

Boba, who paid just as little attention to Josh as you, his eyes never leaving yours as he raised his hand to your face. “What can I say,” he grinned, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, “She found her perfect match.”

[midnightfantasiez]

Twisted Love | 다섯 (chp. 5)

SUMMARY: you were certain that you would never find love nor ever lose your virginity throughout university, that is until a man named Lee Sangyeon came into the picture and offered to become your tutor; in exchange for keeping your grades up, and most importantly, teaching you everything you needed to know about sex. it was all just for fun & games, that is until one of you started to develop feelings for the other.

PAIRING: tutor!Sangyeon x afab!reader

GENRE: smut (18+ MDNI!!)

WARNINGS: sangyeon is a jerk 🤕 (but not for long), hakkie is the sweetest ever best friend we all need in life, arguments (reader causes a public scene), lots and LOTS of crying, self-doubt, cursing, slight thriller-ish at one scene so buckle up, kissing, shower sex, sexual tension, dirty talk, petnames (baby, princess), pussy rubbing, breast play, fingering, cum tasting, hair pulling, squirting (like a couple of times actually 😃), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (again, pls be safe irl folks), p in v sex, slight manipulation, rough sex, teasing, some teasing & fluff towards the end

WORD COUNT: 5,579

A/N: and she is finally here!! im so sorry for not updating it for so long (irl has just been a wild ride for me pls understand 😭) yes it is the final chapter of the series, but do read till the very end for a surprise!! 👀

send me an ask/comment to join the series taglist! those in my permanent taglist will automatically be added!

You have no idea how many days have passed since you last stepped outside your apartment. 

The only thing keeping you sane is gobbling up your whole box of ice cream, which you’ve kept in the freezer for months and completely forgotten about until now. You were practically living on your bed, and you refused to step away from your comfort place other than to use the bathroom. 

If it wasn’t for Haknyeon keeping you alive, you were certain that you were going to rot away and not eat anything nutritious for weeks. He has been coming over every single day without fail—from keeping you company, cuddling while watching some Netflix, and just helping you out the best that he could.

You needed that, especially after what went down with Sangyeon. 

Haknyeon was the first person you had contacted when it all happened, and sure enough, he came rushing to the auditorium to find you curled up at the corners, screaming your lungs out. As much as he was tempted to go after Sangyeon and rip the hair off that man, he resisted the urge and decided to care for you first. 

He was able to help calm you down by bringing you to your favourite boba shop right after that. Then, he took you for a little walk in your local park for a good half an hour before he brought you back to your apartment. 

He got you undressed and even prepared a hot shower bath filled with your favourite lavender bath bombs—you were pretty used to that since you had showered multiple times with him as a kid. 

Everything else was a blur after that, and the next thing you knew, you were practically in bed for a week now. 

Sure, you weren’t going to sulk forever, and you couldn’t live on like this. You needed to get back up on your feet, but you didn’t know exactly how. 

That was until Haknyeon brought something up that set off all of the alarms in your head.

“I don’t know if I should be telling you all this, but I think you deserve to know that Sangyeon is leaving for Tokyo in two hours.” 

Your heart instantly stopped the moment you heard those words. You kept repeating it several times to make sure that you had gotten every single word right and that you weren’t hallucinating. 

Without much thought, you quickly grabbed your coat that was hanging by the hooks of your door and blotted out of your apartment. Instantly, you flagged down a cab that happened to pass by your area and told the driver to head straight to the airport as fast as possible.

Why exactly did you do that? Clearly, you were still upset and heartbroken with everything that happened with Sangyeon. 

The rush of adrenaline was the only thing that could explain the situation you were in. Slowly, your chest tightened, and there was this urge just to let it all out towards your tutor—well, ex-tutor, and also the one whom you have had pretty much spent most of your time with for the past semester. 

You needed to clarify something before he left, and there were so many unanswered questions that you felt had to be addressed before it was too late. 

What was supposed to be a half-hour drive from your apartment to the airport felt like six excruciating hours instead. By the time you arrived, you rushed straight through the gates, not caring that the staff were calling out to you to stop.

You only had one goal: find Sangyeon before it’s too late. 

You didn’t even bother looking at the huge screen that depicts which gate was boarded for Tokyo. You just ran through each one, scanning the crowd in hopes of finding the man you have longed to see. 

Sure enough, he was finally at the very last gate towards the end of the hall, carrying a huge backpack with his earbuds in his ears, following the crowd to start queuing to board the plane. 

As you finally calmed down and tried your best to catch your breath, you didn’t even bother waiting till your breathing had finally stabilised for you to scream at the top of your lungs, not caring if you had gotten the attention of almost everyone in the hall.

“You scumbag!!!” 

It took Sangyeon a few seconds to look around and see what was going on until his eyes landed upon you, and you were clearly talking to him. Soon, the rest of the passengers followed to focus their attention on you both—some even taking out their phones to record the entire commotion. 

“What the actual fuck was whatever happened back at the auditorium all about? You really think you’re so full ahead of yourself? Have you not ever considered that there’s more than just you in this whole agreement thing we had?” 

Sangyeon instantly shut his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He knew that a conversation or even a confrontation about his actions back then would most certainly come to light one day. 

To be fair, it was his fault for leaving you on the edge and not explaining the whole situation properly before he made his final decision. Hell, he even left you confused and bawling your eyes out all alone back there, which was something he definitely felt guilty about.

But he didn’t know what to do or say. He felt that it was the best decision to make sure that he would no longer step further beyond the line you both have established: it’s all purely for business and not for pleasure. 

Unlucky for him, you did not reciprocate his feelings. 

With another deep breath, you continued your statement, filled with rage. “Did I not mean anything to you for the past several months? Did you treat me like I’m some sort of rag doll you can play with and toss away whenever you want to? I did my very best for you. I aced in all of my tests, and hell I even made sure that you were happy inside and out.”

With that last sentence, you finally felt your cheeks burning so hot to the point that you felt like you might faint any moment. But you had to press on, especially if you wanted to get things over and done with once and for all. 

“But have you ever checked up on me? Have you ever wondered if I felt the same way? Did you even bother caring and considering my well-being? Or my feelings regarding everything that happened?” 

There were so many moments where Sangyeon felt as if he could interject for a moment to give you his response, but you were not having any of that.

You didn’t need to hear anything from him. You just wanted to make sure that you were the one who was going to spit all the facts and shit into that wrecked mind of his. 

Just when you thought that things couldn’t get any better, tears began pouring out of your eyes, and your breathing became heavy and disrupted as you tried your best to choke back those tears. 

“Why did you even make me agree to all of these, Sangyeon? If you were just going to play with me like that,” you sobbed as you wiped your tears away with your sleeves.

At that moment, a couple of airport staff finally made their way towards you and kindly escorted you to somewhere you could sit down and relax for a bit before you were truly about to pass out from everything that had just happened.

Before you took a step forward to head towards the exit to the next terminal, you turned your head back to have one final glance at the male himself before muttering something under your breath.

“I wished we had never met, and I would never want to see your face ever again.”

A couple of days have passed since that fateful day, and it all felt like a fever dream to you.

The moment you returned to the comforts of your apartment, Haknyeon immediately rushed towards the front door to grab you in his arms before you finally passed out. When you awoke from your deep slumber, you had a little wet cloth on your forehead with a thermometer in your mouth, suggesting that your body was feeling a tad bit hotter than normal. 

Thanks to Haknyeon’s help, he was able to nurse you back to health, and the two of you decided to go about with your normal daily routine. It was finally winter break, so you kept yourself busy with all of the Christmas markets that were up and about throughout Seoul—going from booth to booth to try out all of the latest food trends that Haknyeon had desperately wanted to try since coming back to Korea.

Both of you had a lot planned for the upcoming semester: a more relaxed schedule since you were in senior year (which meant there were more individual study sessions for you both), getting a new part-time job to cover the uprising fees, and planning for the senior year’s graduation afterparty. 

You were grateful that Haknyeon’s schedule was more or less similar to yours and that it gave you both more than enough time to hang out after classes or even during the days when you both would go on with your part-time jobs.

Spending some time at the local pub after a long week would be the way to go for you two to destress and just party till dawn—just a little way to escape from all of the troubles from university. 

However, Haknyeon had just received a call from his family that he needed to get back as fast as he could to help out at the farm, so you decided to send him off at the airport.

You certainly felt a lot of mixed emotions here, and that was mainly why Haknyeon didn’t want you to come in the first place. 

But he should’ve known that you, as his best friend, was not going to say no. You insisted that you were going to see his plane take off, and then you would only return back home.

So he tried his best to make the most out of his time with you while waiting for his flight—finding the best matcha latte in all of the cafes to buying a tangerine plushie from one of the vending machines available throughout the airport (since he convinced you that you could hug it to sleep every night so that you wouldn’t miss him too much). 

Even till the boarding gates, your best friend wasn’t too sure about leaving you all alone back in Seoul, given the events that had happened for the past several weeks. As much as you kept telling him that you’ll be fine all on your own, he wasn’t convinced in the slightest bit.

In the end, the only reason you made him finally pack his bags to leave for the airport was that you promised to FaceTime him every day without fail and reply to his texts as much as possible.

I expect an answer within an hour! I should be your first priority amongst everyone else in your contacts!

Haknyeon kept repeating those words to make sure that you would always have your phone close so that he was certain that you were still alive and well. You gave him a smack on his back before pushing him forward to his line that was slowly boarding the plane.

Right after you both waved goodbye and witnessed the plane finally taking off for Jeju, you finally decided that all was well and it was time to head back. 

The first couple of days weren't too bad. Sure, it definitely felt way too empty and quiet without your loud best friend around, but calling him every day was reassuring, to say the least, that you were able to speak to someone. 

Unfortunately for both of you, Haknyeon soon discovered that he would be a lot busier than he expected, so the most that you both could do for the next few days was just texting one another during the night. There was no way you could blame him—he had to look after his family business, after all. 

However, that eerie silence was slowly creeping into you now, and the nightmares were slowly coming back to haunt you. 

Lee Sangyeon. 

As much as you tried your best not to think about every memory you’ve had with him, they just seem to come crawling back all the time for you. Even if you tried to keep yourself busy with something, that lingering feeling just doesn’t seem to go away in the slightest. 

Because frankly, you could still smell the scent of his cologne every night you slept in your bed. 

And you hated that. You hated so many memories you have gotten with your tutor throughout your entire living space. You could turn to the corners, and you would see you and Sangyeon cuddled up with a blanket.

Or you could turn to look at the couch, and you would picture yourself lying down while Sangyeon is hovering over you, showering you with kisses as a reward for essentially being his best student.

And of course, the bedroom. 

The place where the both of you would be so intimate with one another, the warmth of your bodies as he was pressed against you, and the way his tongue would twirl around yours. 

And that goddamn mango flavour that always lingers on his lips. 

You missed his presence so much. You missed how he would touch you, making you feel loved and safe. Most importantly, you missed all the aftercare he would give you after every session. 

Unbeknownst to you, tears were once again beginning to form at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly rubbed them and told yourself that you were no longer going to let him take control of your life.

You have finally let out everything you wanted to say straight to his face that day, and it was a chapter closed in your books. 

You figured that you probably needed some time away to figure things out and take a break from the bustling city. Instantly, you turned on your laptop and searched for the cheapest available hotels nearby, and you were able to snag the final cheapest room at one of the seaside apartments in Busan. 

It would be a much better place to relax before the new semester kicks off the next week, and you were ready to start anew this time. 

No more sex, and no more absurd contracts. 

With that, you added the bookings to your calendar before you prepared yourself a warm hot bath for the night. 

T-minus 2 days till a solo trip to Busan. 

It was the night before you were going to leave for Busan the next morning. You have sorted out the travel route that you were going to take to reach the city: walk to the nearby station at 5:30am, take the earliest train at 6am and arrive at Busan around 8:30am. 

It was that simple. And you were going to hunt for as much local food in town then. 

You figured that you’re just going to take a long, hot, steamy shower to give yourself that love and self-care for the night before your big trip the next day. So you went on with your normal routine: get in the shower, adjust it to the right temperature, and pump out some of your favourite cherry blossom scented shampoo- 

Thud. 

Suddenly, your entire body froze as you clearly heard the sound coming from the front door. Half of you began to panic, but the other half was anticipating whoever had just entered your apartment. 

If this were anyone else, they probably would’ve freaked out and thought that there was an intruder in the comforts of their home, which would be a fair enough point since it would be alarming to hear that someone had entered your apartment when you knew that you weren’t supposed to be expecting any visitors for the day. 

But your apartment complex had pretty strict security checkpoints, and nobody was allowed to enter on their own and would require you to register them at least a couple of hours before their arrival. The only ones who would be able to pass through with ease without your approval would be those you have registered in the database as “close visitors”. 

The only plausible explanation was that Haknyeon had somehow finished up all of his tasks in Jeju and was going to surprise you with his well-known pork bellies that he had harvested from his farm. Your best friend would always bring back goodies for you after all. 

Taking in a deep breath, the face of horror quickly vanished from your face. You plastered the biggest smile you could possibly get and peered your head out from the curtains in your shower.

“Haknyeon, what did I say about giving me surprises-”

God. 

This can’t be real. Well, it couldn’t be. 

Supposedly, he was gone for good, and you have vouched that you will never see him again. And if you ever did, you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore.

But you should’ve known that after spending the past several months together most of the time, he would’ve been registered in the database as he would often visit almost four to five days a week. 

Instead, the male stares back at you with slightly puffy eyes, suggesting he is in a horrible state as you were a week ago. Gently, he finally mumbled a few words and gave you these puppy eyes that you had always found absolutely hard to resist.

“Can I join you?” 

You just kept your mouth shut. You couldn’t say anything then, and who could’ve blamed you? You were still trying to process the entire situation that was happening right before your eyes while trying your best to not let your emotions get the best out of you. Instead, you duck your head behind the curtains, letting the waters drench your hair as you stare at your bathroom floor.

The male instantly took the silent response as a yes, and you could hear him unbuckling his belt and slowly undressing himself by tossing his clothing all over the floor before slowly pulling the curtains apart and joining you in the shower. 

There was this awkward silence and tension between you two before the male decided to gently place one of his hands on the right side of your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze that made you heave a loud sigh. 

“Y/N…”

No response from you. How could you have said anything? After everything you have said to him at the airport and how you have curled up in bed crying your eyes out for the past several weeks. 

You could hear that the male himself was just as conflicted as you were, especially as you could feel his left hand trembling ever so slightly as he placed it on your left shoulder. 

“I know you probably don’t want to hear my voice, nor would you ever want to see me again. But please, let me do it one last time. At least, let me make things right one more time before it’s too late.” 

You scoffed. “Too late? Haven’t you already ruined everything from the start? In fact, you even have the audacity to show up here again after all that you’ve done?” 

“I know it just doesn’t sit right with me, and this horrible guilt is eating me out, and I can’t bear to think what would happen if I just leave it as it is,” he whispered, and he slowly lowered his head to the point you could feel his breath on your neck. 

This can’t be good, and you embraced yourself for what was to come.

And it turns out that your instinct was right. 

Slowly, he brushed his lips against your wet skin before leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulders and up to your neck. As much as you tried to glue your mouth shut, the heavy breathing definitely gave it away which made him increase the pressure he was exerting as he began sucking your skin. 

No. You promised that you wouldn’t be carried away any more. You were done with making outs and sex, even with other guys out there if you were ever stuck in one. 

At that moment, you hated the fact that deep down, you still craved his touch, and you absolutely missed this so badly. Internally, you want to moan out loud about not wanting him to stop or tell him that he could go on, but you weren’t ready to say it straight to his face. 

Again, he took the silence as a cue to move on, and he moved his hands down to cup your breasts and gave them a little massage. You tilt your head back slightly as you glued your eyes shut, fighting against all the odds going through your head. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have done that because the next thing you knew, he was slowly snaking one of his hands down to your clit, and he began rubbing them gently. With that, your consciousness finally decides to fail you, and you elicit a soft moan as you mumbled his name for the first time in weeks. 

“S-Sangyeon…” 

Just like that, he knew there was a possible gateway to make things right, and he could perhaps talk things out with you. Using what he knew best to take control of your mind and body, he used the hand that was still on your breast to pull your hair back slightly and crash his lips onto yours. 

That was it. It was the favourite flavour you loved so much every time you locked your lips together. 

You wanted more, and this time you were going to make sure that you were going to devour every last drop of it from his lips. Naturally, one of your hands started moving straight up into his hair, tugging it slightly as you pushed your tongue into his mouth, both having a little tug of war to see who would exert their dominance best. 

As he quickened up his pace by rubbing your clit, you moved your remaining free hand to the back to rest it on his cock, stroking it up and down which caused the male to moan into the feverish kiss you both were having. 

Neither of you was backing down, and you prefer to keep it that way. You were going to show him that you wouldn’t give in easily, and so did he. 

It didn’t take long for you both to start panting as you felt that you were about to reach your climax. So when you both finally came and squirted on each other’s hands respectively, Sangyeon responded with a final kiss before turning you around to pin you against the wall before bending down to lick all of the remaining liquids that were flowing down your thighs. 

Immediately, he takes one of your thighs to rest it on his shoulders so that he is able to gain more entry to your clit—sticking up his tongue into your g-spot as he moves in and out quickly. 

At this point, you can no longer control the moans you have held back for so long, and the entire bathroom is filled with so much more than just the sound of running water from your shower head.

Pulling his hair with both of your hands, only turned Sangyeon on more as he inserts two fingers into your pussy, making a knot form in your stomach, indicating that you’re about to cum anytime soon. 

“Y-You’re so…you don’t deserve any of this- AH!!!” 

God, you were squirting so much more than you did before. You always knew that he was the best at pleasuring you orally, but the moment he stood up and pushed your thighs against the wall, you knew that the worst was yet to come. 

The sad-filled eyes from before were replaced with lust, and you stared at him blankly while trying your best to catch your breath. But before you could think of a comeback in your dazed state, Sangyeon places his tip against your clit and starts rubbing it to give you some time to mentally prepare yourself before he pushes it all the way in. 

“Y/N…I miss you so bad,” he panted before pushing it all the way up that instantly made you shed a tear from that motion, giving you a little time to adjust as he gently gave you a little peck on the lips to assure you that everything was going to be okay. 

When your breathing has finally calmed down, he begins his pace slowly, pushing it in and out while you slowly take in his length. 

As all of this was going on, the tears that you had desperately tried your best to hold back began streaming down your face—definitely making it look a lot more dramatic with the warm, hot shower dripping down your face at the same time.

“Y-You don’t love me, Sangyeon…you really don’t…this is all a lie…” You panted in between thrusts as you muttered those words. 

And god, did they sting. 

“How can you be so sure?” He asked while fucking you deep.

“Y-You just- want my body- nothing more-” 

“I wouldn’t have dropped and ditched everything I had in Tokyo if that was the case,” he firmly said it out loud and clear, causing you to finally open your eyes wide to look at the male as he paused, thrusting in and out of you. 

Slowly, he caresses your cheeks, wipes away the tears that were streaming down uncontrollably, and looks at you rather lovingly, if that was the best way to describe the look he has on his face right now. 

It doesn’t seem like he was joking around, and it reminded you so much of when the both of you would end up cuddling on your bed and couch, taking the time to kiss one another slowly, as if neither of you were willing to let go. 

“Y/N, I was a coward. I loved you from the start when we first agreed to this whole contract we had. I was a jerk for not admitting my feelings, or rather—choosing to ignore them instead. My past relationship traumatised me, and I wasn’t sure if you felt the same about me, and I was scared to receive another rejection in life.”

Now that was something you had not expected to hear from your ex-tutor. Him falling for you first before you did? It was crazy to think that all this while you were the one who was in this whole one-sided love affair throughout the whole agreement you both had. 

There was no way. More specifically, you couldn’t accept it. You had to make sure.

“Y-You like me? But I’m just an ordinary university student who knows nothing about sex  and all-”

He shuts you up with another kiss. “The best companion and lover, you mean.”

“B-But why? I’m sure your past girlfriend was a lot more prettier and better and of course more knowledgeable than I ever will be-” 

“Y/N. You are the reason why I think that Seoul isn’t as bad as it was. You’re the reason that has made me the happiest man out there for the past several months. You’re the reason that made me decide that it was worth finding love again. Most importantly, you made me realise how much I actually love you and want you all to myself.” 

You sniffled. “And you think by having sex with me is going to prove all of that?”

He chuckles for a bit before pinching your now red puffy cheeks. “From now on, all of our sexual acts together will not be in vain, and it’ll be something intimate and ones that we will cherish as genuine lovers.” 

That was more than enough to give you the reassurance that you needed. All of these were the words that you desperately wanted to hear, and now that you have gotten them, you are the happiest human being that you could possibly be out there. 

“Well then, mister-know-it-all, give me everything you’ve got,” you mocked, trying to go back to the bickering phase you both once shared back then.

That instantly put a smile back on Sangyeon’s face, but that slowly faded into a smirk instead, turning him on as you challenged the male. “Oh I will, baby. Just like how you used to scream for my name until the entire apartment is filled with your cries and moans.”

Right as he finished his last sentence, Sangyeon pushed his cock back into you and decided that you had more than enough time to take in all of his length and size. The more you tilt your head back and how loud your moans have been increasing, the more he wants to push it in deeper till your legs become all numb.

“God- Sangyeon- Please-” 

“Tell me, baby. Tell me what you want-” he panted. 

“Cum inside…please make me cum…” you pleaded. 

“Beg for me then. Tell me how much you want me.”

Lord, you forgot how cocky he could get when he’s high in all of this. 

“I want you so bad! Please, please make me cum!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. 

That was more than enough to please him for now, and he finally picked up his pace even faster than before, trying his best to reach his climax. It didn’t take that long for you both to come together, slowly catching your breaths as you both came down from your high. 

With that, he lifts up your chin and makes you look straight into his eyes, signalling to you that he has won the game. On the other hand, you were not going to give in so easily. 

If he thinks he is back in my good graces, then he’s completely wrong. 

Making him catch off guard; you were the one who pushed him back against the wall—this time creeping up onto him with this horrible smirk on your face.

“You want it good, Mr. Lee Sangyeon? I’ll show you who’s a much more dominant figure in this relationship. Clearly, you made the wrong choice to come back to me.”

It had been a good ten minutes since the whole chaos unfolded back in your bathroom, and now you were all cosy and snuggled up in bed, Sangyeon cuddling you as if you were like his favourite plushie from his childhood.

He couldn’t stop planting kisses on your forehead and sniffing the cherry blossom shampoo you had just used to wash your hair, hugging you tighter each minute passed.

“Sangyeon, I won’t run away; you know that, right? So stop suffocating me before I elbow you in the stomach.”

“Now, that isn’t the nicest thing to say to the guy who gave you a nice, soothing bath.”

“Correction, you ruined my lone shower routine.” 

“But you wanted me so badly you didn’t even reject my touch, didn’t you?” He smirked.

“Oh my god, since when did you become so annoying?” You ruffled his hair as payback, but it turned out it was the wrong move because the next thing that happened, he pushed you down onto your bed, turned you around, and made you look straight up at him as he hovered over you while pinning your arms right above your head. 

“Say that again, princess. I didn’t seem to hear you the last time you said those few last words,” he growled as if he was challenging and pushing you to your limits.

But you have made up your mind and said your true thoughts back in the bathroom, so you pushed him when he wasn’t looking for a split second to turn the tables around, to the point that you were sitting on top of him. 

“Remember what I said back there? Mr. Lee Sangyeon? You clearly made the wrong move when you decided to book that flight from Tokyo back to Seoul,” you said firmly as you began lifting his shirt to reveal his well-toned abs as you slowly glided your hands up and down.

He chuckled, enjoying this little act you have going on. “So am I back in your good graces, sweetheart?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before a smirk was plastered across your face, completely removing his shirt as you threw it straight to the floor and leaned down to whisper into his ear.

“If you’re able to moan and scream my name out loud this time, then I’ll consider reigniting our contract once again.”

You should’ve known for not testing his limits on how much he would always seem to have a comeback for every single remark you tried to make because what he said next was enough to keep your mouth shut as he began taking a strand of your hair and twirled it around his fingers. 

“Fuck the stupid contract, I’m all yours now, baby.”

A/N: and that's a wrap!! im so happy with this sangyeon series & thank you all again for 100+ followers (reaching 200 soon yay!!) big shoutout to my besties @daisyvisions @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers for giving me ideas, supporting me, and all the encouragement & very necessary dirty talk to motivate me to keep on going 🤠 (esp elena for beta reading from the start till the end!!) 🩷

before we get the tissues out for being sad, nuh-uh the series is not the end yet. bcs i love it way too much (and sangyeon obv) im def planning to write a couple of bonus chapters in the future!! so theres def some short stories coming soon (i don't have a clear schedule update bcs of my irl work, but i guarantee you that i will try my best to upload it whenever i can!!)

again, thank you thank you for joining me for this series!! 😘🫶

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taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @mamuljji @synthwxve @j4edo @serinebsblog @h0mebody-heaven @strayed-quokka @daisyvisions @aimeecarreros @snowflakewhispers (join my permanent taglist here!)

[morbidwires]

My latest before bed daydreams with Din involve the classic amnesia trope (with a splash of age regression). Din utterly confused about his own helmet and casually going to take it off - but forced or persuaded to keep it on by the ally he happens to be with. However it happens, they are all aware this isn't something Din would do in his right mind.

Paz:

If this happens in front of Paz, he's not good at communicating why Din should keep it on - can't come up with a quick lie or excuse as Cobb or Boba could - so, he uses enough brute force to make already vulnerable Din truly panic. Although not literally in the mind of his child self, his mind has latched on to his most memorable and traumatic childhood memory and cannot remember anything beyond.

Paz quickly realizes Din isn't using any of the skills he should know to retaliate Paz's onslaught which strikes him as very odd, but he finds it satisfying to easily pin him down for once. He feels a sense of irony to have to fight Din to keep the helmet on when he'd tried to remove it before.

Luke:

Luke simply uses the force to control Din's mind. He figures a simple "you want to keep your helmet on" would be the gentlest way to navigate the situation. However, it's a far deeper slide into Din's mind than he expected - like using a lightsaber instead of a butterknife. He finds himself with unexpected and total control over Din's mind - in fact, it seems Din won't do much without a command now, hanging on every word. Additionally, he can call forth whatever memories he wants Din to have (real or not) at a moments notice. Luke tells himself pulling forth too much at once would be dangerous, but the truth might be he enjoys having this level of control - the persuasive capabilities of the darkside slipping in.

Paz in particular would be furious to see this level of mind control - a great dishonor to the Creed at best, a way to compromise the covert's security at worse. His personal, jealous feelings are oppressed.

Cobb:

He's clever and charismatic, so he easily enough comes up with an excuse about the air being toxic, pulling up his bandana over his nose. Eventually, Cobb tells Din what little he knows about the helmet's importance, and that he told a white lie. Although Cobb things contacting Din's tribe would be the best route, Cobb has no idea how to do so and neither does Din. Slowly but surely, Cobb is able to work through Din's memories and emotions until he almost feels like himself; however, Din doesn't understand or feel the attachment he knows he should have for his tribe: he wants to stay with Cobb. Wants to remove the helmet for real and fight back the confused dread the idea inspires in his body. When Paz finds him, having been sent to retrieve him, this new desire and conviction becomes an obvious problem. Cobb and Paz fight and Din is torn between the two.

[newpathwrites]

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 4 - The Truth

“No, it’s alright, I’ll tell you,” you said, as you reached up to squeeze the hand still resting across your shoulder. “But then you have to tell me why I’ve never seen you pursue anyone… or even visit a brothel… in the five years we’ve known each other.” You winked, to make sure he knew you were joking.

He did look a bit taken aback by your only half-serious demand but acquiesced with a soft chuckle. “Okay, deal. But there’s really very little to tell - I’m not sure it’s a fair trade of information.”

Summary: Din confesses, and your truth is brought to light.

Note: This is one of my favorite chapters. Din and Cyar’ika will come to understand each others’ ace and aro identities, even if their universe doesn’t have a name for these things, as well as come to terms with their burgeoning sensual attraction.

I took some significant liberties with Mandalorian customs in this chapter.

Warnings: Sexual references, discussion of past sexual abuse/trauma, sensual kissing (not sure if a warning is warranted but just in case), and mild angst.

Read on AO3

————————————————————————

“So, how’s marriage treating you?” Fennec asked, as she helped you unload the tents and cooking supplies from the speeders.  The four of you had embarked on a small mission of sorts to Freetown to assist Cobb Vanth with a small gang of spice dealers that had been causing some problems.  Unfortunately, your trek across the Dune Sea had been interrupted by an incoming sandstorm, and you were all forced to make camp for the night, hoping to finish the journey safely tomorrow after the storm had passed.

  “Quite well,” you mused, with a contented smile on your face.

  Fennec raised an eyebrow.  “Is that so?  Have the terms of your relationship changed then?  Must have been a really fantastic wedding night, huh?” she quipped as she nudged you with her shoulder.

  Your face burned.  “No, no, it’s not like that at all.  We’ve never… there is no consummation for Mandalorians…” you stumbled over your words.

  “No consummation?  Djarin said that?  That’s not what I heard,” Boba interjected, apparently eavesdropping on your conversation.

  You were shocked into silence by his revelation, and Fennec had the good grace to stop her line of questioning at your awkward reaction.

  You filed the information away to discuss later and tried not to dwell on it.  You were in fact quite happy in your ‘marriage of convenience’.  While you had both asserted that nothing would change, the truth was that things had changed, and you weren’t unhappy about it.

  Ever since that night, when you had held Din in his sorrow and kissed him like that for the first time, physical displays of affection had become both more frequent and more natural.  Most surprising, Din had taken to rolling over to face you as you laid down each night, your nighttime conversations now happening face-to-face with arms and legs tangled together, instead of back-to-back facing opposite walls as you’d done for so many years.  Some nights you even slept wrapped up together.  He had yet to broach the topic of kissing again, and that was fine, his newfound fondness for cuddling satisfying your growing desire for physical closeness with him.  You sure did yearn to kiss him again, though.

  —---------------------------

  You both settled down for the night in your shared tent, huddled together by the small fire for warmth, Din’s arm slung over your shoulder under the thick blanket.  The storm had picked up in the last hour, and you were all hunkered down in your respective tents for shelter until it passed, hopefully by morning light.

  Boba’s assertion regarding Mandalorian marriage custom had not slipped your mind, and without much else to occupy yourself with until the storm passed, you figured it was as good a time as any to address it.

  “I need to ask you something, and I want you to be completely honest with me,” you jabbed his ribs gently with your elbow to get his attention.  He tightened his hold on your shoulder in response to your tone and turned his head to look at you directly.

  You steeled yourself, a bit wary of disrupting your typically conflict-free relationship.  “Why did you tell me that Mandalorian marriage doesn’t require consummation?  According to Boba, that’s not true.” You paused and lowered your gaze to the ground in front of you.  “You were so insistent on keeping to tradition, but you intentionally left out that part.  Why?”  

  “Cyar’ika, I promise, it’s not what you think…” he started.

  You cut him off, anger and sadness now ringing clear in your voice, “Explain it to me, then.  You never lie to me, and I just can’t understand why you didn’t tell me the truth that day.”  

  “Okay,” he began nervously, realizing this was the first time you’ve been truly angry with him. “When you asked me about consummation, you looked absolutely terrified.  I didn’t want to ask, but I figured maybe there was some trauma there.  The consummation isn’t what you think, and taking off the helmet is the most important part, so I didn’t want to take the risk that the rest of it might be traumatic for you.  In retrospect, I realize that we could have had a discussion about it and let you decide.”

  “I still don’t understand,” you interjected.  “Is consummation for Mandalorians not… sex?”

  “No, it’s not, in theory at least.”

  “So what is it then?” you asked, somewhat appeased but now curious.

  “I guess it’s what comes before that - the removal of the armor.  I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I was afraid it might trigger something for you with how scared you looked when you asked about it.”

  You were pensive, “But you take off the armor all the time…”

  “Well, it’s more about the intention.  And it wouldn’t be me taking off my own armor - it would be you taking it off for me…” he trailed off, meeting your gaze again and hoping to see forgiveness there.  He’d had the best intentions when he omitted that detail, but he didn’t blame you for being upset about it.  “Are we okay?” he asked, pleading.

  You collected yourself and replied, “Yeah, we’re okay.  But I can handle myself - don’t keep things from me.”

  “I won’t, I promise,” he replied, lowering his forehead to rest briefly on yours, relieved that this didn’t put a rift between you.  “Can I ask you why you were so terrified that day?  You know I would never hurt you… or expect something like that from you, marriage ritual or not… right?”  You hesitated to respond, and he shook his head guiltily.  “I’m sorry, that’s your business, I shouldn’t have asked…”

  “No, it’s alright, I’ll tell you,” you said, as you reached up to squeeze the hand still resting across your shoulder.  “But then you have to tell me why I’ve never seen you pursue anyone… or even visit a brothel… in the five years we’ve known each other.”  You winked, to make sure he knew you were joking.

  He did look a bit taken aback by your only half-serious demand but acquiesced with a soft chuckle.  “Okay, deal.  But there’s really very little to tell - I’m not sure it’s a fair trade of information.”

  You let out a long puff of air and began.  “Well, I’ve really never been one for relationships, never really liked the idea of getting married and having children.  But it was the norm in my village, and my family made it clear that becoming a mother and housewife would be expected.  So I tried to play the part, found a man I could tolerate…” Din chuckled at that.  “...but being in a romantic relationship never felt right to me.  It felt suffocating and unnatural, and acting like I was ‘in love’ was exhausting.  And then the sex issue came up - because that’s what most people in romantic relationships do, I guess.”  You paused, collecting your thoughts.  “I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t particularly enjoy it, either, and I never really felt compelled to initiate it with him or anyone else.  Anyway, my lack of interest ended up being a big problem, and he started trying to make me feel guilty about it, and eventually that turned into blatant coercion.  By that point, I was traumatized and totally repulsed by the whole thing.  I broke it off with him, left my village, and happily lived the lone bounty hunter life for the next twenty years, until I met you…,” you smiled at him as you spoke the last few words.  “I guess the idea of broaching the sex topic again with anyone, even the person I trust most in the galaxy, was a little terrifying.”

  “I’m sorry, cyar’ika.  I wish you hadn’t gone through that.”  He thought for a moment.  “So you’ve never felt attracted to anyone that way?” he asked.  You nodded in the affirmative.  “Huh, we have that in common, then.”

  You tilted your head as if assessing him, “I suppose I’m not surprised.  It makes sense.  How did you come to realize it?”

  “I was a lot like you - I wasn’t really all that interested in having a relationship.  My Mandalorian brothers were eager to find romantic partners, have children, serve the tribe by expanding their clans.  That didn’t feel right to me at all.  It’s one of the reasons I became our beroya.  I could serve the tribe without all that… romantic nonsense…” You giggled at his summation but didn’t disagree.  “Sex was a weird thing for me, too.  It’s all anyone wanted.  It was supposed to be this amazing thing that made you forget all of your troubles.  After Mandalore fell, I had a series of unfortunate flings in an attempt to forget… and it only made me feel worse - it wasn’t really enjoyable at all, just awkward and uncomfortable.  Eventually I realized that I didn’t actually want, like, or need that kind of intimate relationship and resigned myself to a life alone on my ship... until the kid… and then you.”

  “You know, Din, sometimes I really do think we were meant to find each other.  I never imagined there was a man out there who would enjoy my company for so long without any promise of a romantic relationship… or expecting my clothes to come off.”

  He laughed, joking, “Well, you know me - the more clothes the better.”

   “Do you ever feel sad about missing out on something other people enjoy so much?” you asked, clearly reflecting your own feelings.

  “More curious than sad.  I’ll never know if it could be better - if it wasn’t so impersonal, if I could take off the armor… and if I wasn’t worried they’d kill me and steal my beskar while I was in a vulnerable position… You feel differently?” he asked, having recognized that your question reflected your own reality.

  “As much as I am averse to the idea of trying it again, it does make me sad.  It’s a very human experience that I will never enjoy as others do.”  You appeared deep in thought, as you added, “I used to wonder if it could be better… with someone I trusted and some clear boundaries.  It sounds weird to say this out loud, but they would have to just understand and accept that I’m not going to get the same level of ‘enjoyment’ that other people do.  And I would have to lower my own expectations, too - just enjoy the nice sensations, which I don’t deny, and not expect some euphoric experience.  I know - it’s a really strange and specific fantasy…” 

  “It’s not strange,” he interjected, “I’ve occasionally felt the same.”

  You looked at each other then, and you felt the silent question passing between you.  No, you were not in a place to go there… not yet, at least, and quite possibly not ever. But you felt the weight of something else, too - something you’d been wanting to address ever since that night.  It probably wasn’t the right time, but you’d both already opened the floodgates of vulnerability - why not jump right in?

  It took you a few moments to gather your courage, but you finally spoke.  “Din, there’s something I need to tell you.  If it bothers you, just tell me to kriff off, and we’ll pretend I never said anything…”

  Concern marred his features, as he said seriously, “I’m listening, go ahead.”  He gave your shoulder a squeeze to encourage you to continue.

  “Things feel different between us lately - or at least they feel different to me.  It started after we took the marriage vows, but especially since… that night I kissed you… you know, that way.”

  You could see the fear and trepidation in his eyes, as he questioned, “Good different or bad different?”

  “Good different, I think, assuming you feel the same.”

  “It feels different to me, too… in a good way,” he said finally, fear turning to relief.

  You took a deep breath, preparing to get to the point.  “I find I enjoy being physically close to you, crave it even.  And it’s not just because you’re here - I can’t imagine wanting to be this close to anyone else, definitely not to kiss them in that way.  I’m not exactly sure what kind of attraction this is, but I’m feeling it strongly for you these days.”  You exhaled, releasing the butterflies that had gathered in your stomach, and glanced up at him, slightly wincing.  “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

  “No,” he asserted, his gaze now locked on yours.  “I feel the same, and I don’t really know how to handle it.  I’ve never felt this with anyone else, either.”  You smiled, relieved to know this wasn’t one-sided, and he found himself doing the same.  Finally, he got the words out that he’d been holding back for weeks. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Of course,” you responded, surprised by his initiative, but you had put the onus on him to decide when and if to try it again.  “I’d like that.”

  His lips were on yours instantly, and this time he lingered, moving his mouth against yours without hesitation. Stars, this was really good, but it could be even better - if he was ready for that. You proceeded slowly and cautiously, prepared to dial it back if you sensed any hesitation from him.  You registered his shocked reaction as your tongue just barely brushed up against his lips, but he responded without missing a beat.  It remained slow and gentle, never becoming heated, as mouths and tongues moved against each other, hands roaming along each other’s backs and shoulders in light caresses, never straying from respectable places.

  It was sensory overload, and it was wonderful.  You lost track of the time, not wanting this to end, losing yourself in his closeness, forgetting about the storm raging on outside your tent.

  But eventually you pulled away from each other, the late hour and exhaustion seeping into your consciousness bringing the experience to its natural conclusion.

  “Kriff, cyar’ika,” he sighed blissfully as he settled you both on the ground and gathered the blankets, keeping his body tangled with yours.  “That might be the best thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

  You giggled tiredly.  “Same, Din…”, words dying on your lips as you fell contentedly to sleep beside him.

------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading!

Chapter 5

[blissfulalchemist]

Surprise! Because being nosy about folks’ OCs is one of the funnest parts of the creative community, for one OC of your choice:

- How do they take their coffee? If they don’t drink coffee, what’s their favorite drink?

- What song are they listening to right now, and how do they feel about it?

- If they could exist in any movie, which one would they pick?

Can't believe I'm being made to choose just one oc.......and unsurprisingly I am not doing that. I'll just do Tia and Conner though this time though.

- How do they take their coffee? If they don’t drink coffee, what’s their favorite drink?

Conner: For someone that likes sweet things he prefers his coffee to be almost black, maybe just a splash of cream but nothing more. Rarely he'll try some fancy coffee drink and really its when Tia insists he tries it so that she can have some without the risk of hating a full drink.

Tia: She's someone that needs the sweet in the coffee to counter balance the bitterness, but coffee isn't her first drink of choice though. She would much rather have smoothies, green drinks, and boba teas. She finds them much lighter than coffee and things she can make more often on her own as she is someone that would need the fancy home coffee makers to have the kind of coffee she enjoys most.

- What song are they listening to right now, and how do they feel about it?

Conner: Is trying to expand his music library with more modern music beyond the (and I'm dead serious) two Green Day tracks he has on them, and even then they're from the 90's (Coming Clean and Basket Case in case you were curious). Man has no music from the 21st century. So currently he is listening to "Save My Soul" by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, yes they have a lot of covers of music he likes already but it was released after 1999 so it counts. He'll soothe his soul with some Glenn Miller after, starting with "I Know Why (And So Do You)".

Tia: Is listening to some newer music, specifically "You're Gonna Go Far" by Noah Kahan ft. Brandi Carlile and its making her feel very nostalgic about her parents, and some form of understanding of her father. Even though lyrically its not accurate she can't help but feel like its her parents singing to her. It was just her and her mom since she was five and she left to live a life on the road in a van right out of high school, and part of Tia always felt like her mother was a little disappointed in her for not doing college. And her father left his family when she was five because he didn't want the life he grew up with for Tia, he wanted her to be as far from that life as possible, and she couldn't really understand the why of it but in listening to this song she feels like she can understand fully. She'll pick herself back up though with "Stella" by Cereus Bright, something she can dance to and jam out to in her van.

- If they could exist in any movie, which one would they pick?

Conner: He'd pick something set in the 40's to 50's, maybe more something like the musicals of the golden age, La La Land would be something he'd pick. Barring that though he'd also find some joy in the cheesy rom-coms of the 2000's or even Stuck in Love, because god does he wish his only problems were his love life and being incapable of telling Tia how he feels, and not the debt to the mob because a vampire is hunting him and his mother for some reason.

Tia: Well she finds her life to already be a movie, well okay her life on the road as a movie. One of those indie coming of age/life transition movies, there's something freeing about it all. She also though wouldn't mind being younger and put into a movie like The Perks of Being a Wildflower or someone in Into the Wild, she acknowledges that they are on the sadder end but there's a journey of life happening within them that she focuses on.

[notthestarwar]

for the WIP game, can you tell me more about ‘Fox gets a job- quin/ Fox’ 👀👀

thank you for asking!

OK so i know i've talked about this on here before but i love this au so i'm gonna repeat myself a bit probably.

so its set post war, no order 66. The idea is that the war opened everyones eyes to cloning, in a very bad way. loads of half bit criminals are like. free labour? people we can raise to do whatever we want? why don't we give it a try. theres a background of a lot of shitty gangs going about trying out cloning in a way that would horrify the kaminoans really. this is not good science, this is comic book-esque backstreet cloning in order to take advantage of people.

they are largely not successful. the problem isnt that there are loads of gang owned clones around. the problem is that they keep trying even tho they dont know shit about cloning and so vulnerable ppl are getting kidnapped off the streets for gennetic material and in a baby farm type way to grow clones in. its bad.

enter fox. he's drifting after the war. he doesnt really know what too do with his life. he is looking for a job and he says he wants a job but everytime he gets an interview he's overly honest and tells them things like 'yeah i killed my last boss' (palpatine) and 'my greatest flaw? i'm too competent. it makes my bosses feel inferior' and so understandably nobody will give him a job

he doesnt actually need a job. quin is paying all his bills cause theyre in a weird not relationship and wont admit they care about eachother. fox is deadly embarrased about whatever quin funding him and spending all his days off in fox's apartment might signify and so it is a MASSIVE SECRET that must be kept from fox's brothers.

so fox at this point in his life, stumbles on to one of these cloning ops and ends up helping someone. and it becomes kind of addictive. he wont admit it but helping these people, who are being hurt by cloning, settles something in him. maybe it settles the thing in him that he wont admit is so hurt by the cards he and his brothers have been dealt, by what was done to them.

so fox sets up as a private investigator. but because he's a weirdo who runs from intimacy he kind of. doesnt tell anyone (he cant. this is important to him) but of course, his brothers find out anyway and they also find out that he's running the worst business ever because he's not taking money from his clients. because he doesnt feel right doing it.

now where this is building to (and this is the part that i kinda got stuck on) is he stumbles on to a BIG criminall gang cloning conspiracy. one where they are actually succeeding in cloning people. he ends up investigating this one with Boba! which pretty much happens cause at the start before he knows how big this is, he walks in to this lab, and who has also broken in to the lab and is investigating the same conspiracy? BOBA. and its just like. fox and boba stood on either side of this illegal lab like. spiderman meme pointing. looking out of the window of a car as they drive past each other. that vibe.

and the rest of the story is boba and fox on this unwilling team up. neither of them wanting to admit to feelings but having to kind of both admit. yeah. bad things happened to us and i dont like the idea of anyone else being out there with similar stuff happening to them. they also unwillingly get close. then theres the side plot of fox having to admit his feelings when it comes too quin and admit that theyre kinda living like theyre in a committed relationship without the words. and then the other thing thats going on in the background is cody and obi wan, who are living together, in a happy relationship apart from the fact that they never have an empty house becuase one of them is aways inviting some wayward sibling or other to stay with them. cody and obi wan respectively have no shortage of family so its just constant and both of them act like theyre annoyed each time the others do it, but really, its why they love each other and theyre both so big brother coded and yeah.

so i know i've alread shared some bits of this here and here (and possibly theres a third one floating around here as welll? cant find it)

so here are some other snippets from other parts of the au:

and from a bit later on, a quin/fox bit

later on, fox being uncharactaristially honest (it's easier when the person doesnt matter to him)

and finally, fox's thoughts on the cloning problem

and i've shared loads sorry so i'll stop now, but yeah. this is an idea i am very excited about and i am very frustrated that i havent been able to form a conspiracy that fits right for him and boba to investigate

[burnwater13]

Boba Fett flying the Firespray and attacking the gang that attacked the Sand People of his tribe. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 4, The Gathering Storm. Calendar from DateWorks.

Grogu was confused. Were the Pykes the ones who went after the Sand People tribe that Daimyo Fett had been adopted by, or was it Nikto gang members, or was it some other gang that he’d never heard of? He wanted to ask the Daimyo, but he didn’t want to upset his friend. He didn’t want to ask Fennec because she would see it as an opportunity to get him to do work around the palace. She couldn’t trick that way again.

He knew that this was how gangs behaved. It was a tactic they used to support their overall strategy of making credits from confusion. First you blamed whatever you did on someone else. They you offered to protect people from them, although you actually did the thing they needed protection from, then you told the other guys that you were being paid to help the victims and would happily give way, if they paid you to look the other way. Ultimately you got both sides to pay you credits to stop you from manipulating them while you were still manipulating them. 

Ian said that this was just how the galaxy worked, when he and Grogu had that conversation after a particularly annoying lesson on ethics and rules. The lesson was annoying because Grogu didn’t understand why people thought being ethical was hard or confusing. Don’t cheat. Don’t lie. Don’t steal. Those were pretty simple concepts. When you take something that doesn’t belong to you that’s stealing. When you tell someone something is a certain way when you know it isn’t, that’s lying. When you convince someone that something never happened when it actually did, giving you an advantage, that’s cheating. 

Of course, that conversation was a long time ago and Grogu could still remember Ian telling him, ‘Listen Kid, one day you’ll wake up and everything will be different. You won’t have this nice home. You want have all you want to eat. You won’t have friends who look out for you. When that time comes you can tell me all about the ethics of taking an apple because you’re hungry and you have no credits. Until then, well, let’s just enjoy the good things we have. Okay?’

In so many ways, Ian was right about all of that. Grogu hadn’t really understood until then what Ian’s Force powers actually focused on. Then he knew that Ian could see the most likely future. What a horrible ‘power’. Any way, Ian had been right. The first time Grogu didn’t have anyone to provide food or shelter or even companionship, the whole notion of ethics slipped out of his mind like a frog slips into a pond. 

He had found himself taking things that he didn’t pay for. Tricking people into giving him things that they didn’t want to give him. Convincing people that he was not the Jedi they were looking for. Each time he did that he thought about Ian. How had he known how hard it would be to earn your keep? To find and make friends? To learn to do without? Ian was the most happy go lucky youngling Grogu had ever met. 

He was also the most ethically ‘grey’ youngling Grogu had ever met. Ian said he liked being referred to as ‘grey’ because he didn’t think many things were actually black or white. Sure hurting someone was wrong, but defending yourself from a bully wasn’t wrong, right? Sure, the bully might get hurt, but you didn’t really owe them that much consideration, did you? They were hurting you because they could. They volunteered.

Grogu had listened to his dad talk about what it was like to be a Mandalorian bounty hunter and how virtually everyone he ever brought was brought in cold. Some of them had been permanently cold. Like head in a bag cold. Grogu wasn’t sure if you could get much colder than that. Din Djarin told him that when he was a youngling he was told that people who fought Mandalorians chose the time and manner of their death and the least the Mandalorians could do was oblige them. Now that was cold. 

But was that unethical? Or were ethics situational or even cultural? Now that was confusing. 

He remembered talking to Master Beq about that, after his discussion with Ian. Master Beq had sighed and asked if Grogu really wanted to have a discussion like that right after consuming such a large meal. Grogu didn’t understand why he wouldn’t need all that energy to have a discussion that could influence his choices for the rest of his life. 

“You can think of ethics only in terms of what you can’t do, or you can look at them in terms of what you can do. Can you be kind? Can you be helpful? Can you be thoughtful? Can you make amends if you have failed at those things? There may be times when you take something to sustain your life and you have no way to compensate the person you took it from right then and there, but that doesn’t mean you forgot all about them or the debt you owe them. You must find a way to make amends. That is part of being balanced in the Force. Being a good Jedi is not just about avoiding doing wrong. It is also about actively doing what is right. If you keep that in mind you should be fine.  Also, keep in mind, Ian’s life before coming here was not the same as yours. We each bring ourselves to the Force. Bring the good and you will be well served.”

Grogu was glad that Master Beq’s advice was still useful after all this time. He would have to consider what he could do to make Tatooine a better planet. That probably wouldn’t be confusing at all.  

[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Sins of The Father - Chapter 2: Part III

Summary: Din and Boba visit the Mechanic.

Warnings: slight mention of child labour, slight mention of orphans, some name calling

If I have forgotten any warnings, just let me know

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CHAPTER 2 - THE MECHANIC - PART III

Without another word, she headed towards the table, gesturing for them to follow.

Boba gave Din a look, he could almost feel the smirk of the older man, almost saying ‘I told you so’. He said ‘to be careful’, but Din was truly impressed with her, she clearly was a gifted mechanic, as she seemed to have a ton of work on her plate and a steady income, not to mention her kindness really surprised him, it made him wonder why would she want to leave to fly a bounty hunter around?

Before she had fully sat down, Amara called out into the space around them, “Adi! Can you come here?”

Din heard a small crash from one of the corners of the shop, followed by running footsteps, revealing a young teenage boy with disheveled curly hair, freckles and a large grease mark on his jumper. He looked to Amara, before he noticed the two armoured men, he came to a sudden halt as he almost reached the table, “Whoa! Uh, everything okay, Ama?”

“Yes, Adi. Can you watch the shop for me? I’m going to be in a meeting for a while with these gentlemen.”

He nodded enthusiastically, “Yeah, sure! You positive you don’t need ... a … uh, you know, a hand?” He seemed to be trying to be subtle about the message, yet Din knew he’d been referring to a weapon or some kind of protection.

Amara laughed and simultaneously tried to shoo him away, Din noticed how her laugh was genuine, kind, and full of life, “I’m positive. Adi, remember Boba? He’s one of our best customers.”

Adi looked back at Boba and Din, pausing as recognition filtered in, he slowly nodded, but still seemed nervous. Din just nodded back, trying to assure him that he meant no harm to anyone by placing both hands gently on the table, unless of course either Amara or Adi decided to take action first, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case and didn’t seem likely as she had refused ‘a hand.’ 

A few more assurances from Amara, seemed to have calmed Adi enough to walk away, leaving just the three of them. She wasted no time and got right to the point, “So the Great Boba has a friend who is in need of a ship and a pilot. I understand you want to take both from the same garage, however in doing so I would be leaving my shop with a skeleton crew, which frankly sounds like I'm getting the worst end of this bargain.” 

Before Boba could interject, Din spoke up, “I just need a ship. I can pilot it myself. I prefer to work alone.”

“No offence Mandalorian, but you are not taking my ship without me around to make sure you treat it properly. Tell me, what happened to your last transportation?”

A sudden flashback of the Razor Crest blowing to pieces right in front of Din blocks out his current surroundings, in that moment all he can see, feel and hear was the explosion, the subsequent heat, and the ashes from the blast. Even a year later his hands still felt as though they were sifting through the rumble to find the beskar ball the armorer had crafted as a replacement part for the Crest, Grogu’s favourite toy and the beskar spear he received from Ahsoka. The Razor Crest may not have been the best luxury ship or even the best in any way, but it was the first purchase Din ever made with his bounty credits. He was proud of it, it was his through and through, it had been his home for years, when the covert was under too many watchful eyes.  He would never admit it, but the loss of his ship hit him hard and had shaken his steady foundation. 

“It was blown to bits by the Empire.”

“And now you want mine to be blown to bits, as well?” Amara teased. 

It had clearly been a joke from the way her mouth curved into a genuine smirk, but Din couldn’t help feeling insulted. He had lost so much that day and couldn’t do anything to stop the destruction of his home and security, or even the look of pure fear on Grogu’s face when the dark trooper took him.  

“No. I didn’t and don’t want anything to be blown to bits, except the Empire.” 

“Empire’s gone, last I checked, and I have it on pretty good authority. So some remnants of a pathetic excuse for an Empire is or was after you, you know that’s not necessarily a bad thing shows you clearly did something to tick them off, which I will admit is impressive on its own, however it also makes me wonder, what did you do to incur their wrath?”

“I took a job for them.” 

Her eyebrows raised, the smirk that had been on her face melted away, her shoulders tensed, and her spine once again straightened, Din could tell she was about to rip into him, he filled the silence before she had an opportunity to open her mouth.

“I was working for the Bounty Hunter Guild on Nevarro, we weren’t allowed to ask questions until we met the client. When the client provided me with the puck, it still contained little to no information, the only thing that was clear from the client, they were offering a lot of beskar as payment.”

Amara quickly glanced Din up and down making the connection, “Beskar? How did some non-Mandalorian piece of trash get their hands on beskar?” Her frustration was clearly being held at bay.

“I’m not sure, but I couldn’t say no to the beskar, even after I saw the quarry...”

“What was it? What was the quarry?” Amara cut Din off, the tension was palpable and radiating off her, like a Krayt Dragon’s breath.

Boba tilted his helmet toward Din, he knew his answer would make or break him in her eyes, which frankly he didn’t care if she didn’t want to work with him. He didn’t owe her anything, and yet he knew he couldn’t lie, Boba would call him out and that would be much worse than telling the truth right now. He wished he had never even brought Grogu back to the Empire in the first place, but that’s what happened. He couldn’t change the past, no matter how hard he wanted to, Din took a deep breath before answering.

“It was a child.”

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[iloveyoukyra]

6/27/24 10:47pm My Letter to You:

I was advised to write a letter to you since there is so much unsaid. I won’t give you the letter but it’s nice to get out all my thoughts.

I would like to start off by saying wow (wow is a word used when I’m at a loss of words bc of how beautiful you are, lol, I remember that one) . Wow were you quite the experience :D! I cherished all of our moments together both the good and bad. You played such a large role in my life for like what 7,6,5 years??? It’s hard to keep up with. I frequently find myself reminded of memories we made together as I travel our hometown alone. It makes me feel so good, then unfortunately hurt. I smile then I feel a pit in my stomach and gag.

You taught me that there is so much to life. You introduced me to so many things like boba, beans that are not green, calypso blue lemonade, credit cards, skiing, and so much more! I loved learning and experiencing new things with you, even if I decided it wasn’t my cup of tea. I was happy to be by your side trying new stuff. That truly brought me a happiness I couldn’t put into words. You taught me also a lot about myself as well.

The most important thing I learned from you was that I’m capable of love. I never thought I could love someone. Not even romantically, I loved you, I cared about you as someone who happened to exist at the same place and time as me. Even after everything that has happened I want you to be okay and healthy. I feel weird thinking those things. I shouldn’t but I do. I want you to do what you need to do, even if that means without me. You taught me that my intentions were always pure even though I had my poor moments, which I am deeply sorry for. I know my intentions were pure because I still wish the best for you. I still want you to succeed. I never want to wish pain, or anything bad upon you, I just never want to see your success.

You made me feel and think so many things. I was truly convinced for a while I was a bad person, i didn’t love you, I’m evil, I’m not good enough, I’m not attractive, and more. I was in so much pain from your actions and words. Those last couple of weeks where you were hot and cold, and blamed everything on me “expecting” too much really destroyed me. I have never begged to God to put me out of my misery as much as I did those couple of weeks. I just can’t believe how much you’ve changed. Where did the sweet girl I met in highschool go?

You said you had resentment built up, were planning on breaking up for a while, didn’t know what love is? Why would you never discuss this with me? I deserved to know all these things, but you dragged me a long while I thought everything was fine. That is truly disgusting and appalling. You should’ve came to me first when you had doubts. You hurt me SO bad. You could’ve saved me so much pain if you just spoke up. Instead you chose to hurt me over and over and over again, and that is something I will never understand. I don’t care how much resentment you may have had, if you had any respect or cared for me at all in your life time you wouldn’t have done that. That is something someone with no morals would do, and it completely destroyed your character for me. Only you and I know your true character. I just can’t believe you’d stoop so low. I trusted you as a partner and as a friend. It hurt so bad to watch you do that.

Why were we making future plans if you didn’t want that? Why did you want me to sign a lease for a 2x2? Why did you lead me on like that? What is wrong with you?!?! Do you not see how wrong that is to do to someone?

From the looks of it, it looked like you were afraid of being alone. You didn’t really have any friends and once you got them you finally decided to throw me away like you were thinking. You used me to keep you company until you found your group. That’s so wrong. If it wasn’t that then what was it? Maybe you didn’t have the guts to do it and that’s why you cheated. You knew that would get rid of me for good.

I have never been treated so poorly in my life. I won’t go into how I feel at the moment but gosh dang like Brodie ✋😭.

Funny enough, I haven’t felt an ounce of anger, just grief and hurt. Everyone around me tells me how I should feel but I don’t care. I will feel how I feel. I just feel scared and a tad disgusted/disappointed.

This is tough to say. I’m told that loving you was never a waste. It taught me such an important lesson, but I disagree. If I knew the outcome of this I wouldn’t have bothered with you. We have had so many great times together but what you did in the end completely cancels them out. I would 100% choose to forget you, never love you, never date you, never meet you, never be your friend. You have permanently changed me and now I have to do damage control. You didn’t HAVE to hurt me, you could’ve ended things respectfully, but you didn’t and that’s why I feel this way. You were the first person I truly opened up to. I opened up about my past, my insecurities, my deepest fears and I trusted you with them, and you know what you did, you stomped on that shit and threw it back in my face after I thought you cared. That is a type of pain I never want to feel again.

I can’t believe this even happened. What an L. If I ever see you again I hope you’ve changed, if you haven’t then I don’t want to ever again. I never want to experience something like this again, and I thank you for teaching me that. I hope you get what you want in life, truly.

[inthiseternalmoment]

A cashier (maybe?) flirted with me today and I’m trying to understand my heart

Revisiting my belief of romantic love never happening for me and whatever else my encounters with men the past few days has brought up in me

10/2/2023

Walked along the river walk to enjoy the last few warm days of the year and went to go get boba on the way back. The cashier struck up a conversation with me by asking about my watch and I thought he was kind of cute so I enjoyed going along with it.

I don’t know if he was into me or not, but internally I was feeling excited physically at the prospect 🥴

He even offered to give me a free drink the next time I came in (I was with Aprille so I wasn’t sure if he meant for us or just me, but it was still nice either way). It was through a stutter, and I took it as his possible nerves maybe? It was adorable either way, because I know I still get nervous around handsome guys (at my big age, yes). And I’m not going to be ashamed of that.

This interaction coming so close after meeting new people (with one of them physically catching my eye) has got me wondering where I am with all of this. If I actually met someone who was truly into me, how would that go for me?

Even just this little bit of an interaction was a lot for me to handle, I found myself immediately aroused and I haven’t felt that in a while. It was distracting me the entire way home and I don’t know fully what I’m feeling.

It’s almost like this sense of “don’t feel down if a handsome man you meet doesn’t return the feelings, because there’s something more for you in every moment if you realize it.”

I’m reflecting on this as I write.

One thing that sticks out is that the first man was mixed asian and the man today seemed full asian and I wonder if there is a significance there? With my track record being only white men, I got excited these last few days at the prospect of having romantic/intimate experiences with men of color. I have always found them attractive but the opportunity never fully arose and I had my own things to process about my relationship with my own ethnicity.

I’m reflecting now to the time back when I was dating…which is now 4 years ago? That’s a long time to go without any romantic intimacy whatsoever.

So to have a tiny taste of that the past few days has been strange. It’s a little as if I’m back in my college self? The one who dated and was having so many new and different experiences with romance?

And it’s not like I want to get my hopes up, but I saw an intuitive on TikTok talking about how this month could see romantic soulmates coming together. I don’t know. I’ve heard that many many many times before and things didn’t really pan out that way, so I wonder why this would be any different?

…

We’re watching Fruits Basket again for the first time since my awakening. I’ve been crying almost every episode this time, which is a huge departure from how I responded to it the first time.

I bring this up because I want to channel the main character as I process whatever these last few almost romantic have meant to me.

I want to be in gratitude that I can feel physical attraction in this way still. That this part of me wasn’t lost from years of inactivity or neglect.

I think part of me even had a shame or annoyance with it, because I continually viewed it as a nuisance for years.

In a way, I wished for a while that I could just “turn off” my interest in men altogether. I thought that it would make my life easier, because it was so difficult to be drawn to so many men whenever I was out and not have anything “happen.”

I think in that way, I believe that I will never truly experience real love with a man.

The psychic in edgewater even saw I had this belief. The same one who encouraged me to start this journal.

Why do I think this?

…

I think it started young. Looking back, I was always drawn to my male friends in a way that was different to the way I was drawn to female friends. And then when sexual feelings began in adolescence, I think I started to pull into myself.

I knew I was different. I knew I needed to be hidden somehow, because the world that was around me didn’t seem to have space for my confusing feelings.

It might have been then that I started forming this idea that my feelings towards guys would never be reciprocated. I had already began locking part of myself away.

I thought maybe in college that was completely unlocked, because I started to see that my belief wasn’t true. Guys did like me back (at least some of them), and I shared many beautiful experiences with them.

So why is this still coming up?

At least some of them.

What does that mean? Was it that all guys I was interested in needed to reciprocate? No. Maybe it was that the ones I was interested in as people in my social sphere (acquaintances or new friends) were not interested (like back in college when I told guys I was interested and got politely declined).

Maybe there is something there with the idea that my feelings/romance could only be relegated to dating apps, because I bought into the notion that “the world isn’t made for me so these apps are crucial if we want to have these experiences.”

I don’t want to believe that anymore. I actually don’t. So maybe this is some residual hanging around from back in college. I looked at that time with so much love for what it did for my sad gay heart. I finally had gay experiences and that was life changing! But I haven’t had any since then, and I’m still applying my spiritual understandings to any leftover beliefs from that time.

I think I’m onto something about experiencing romance from people I meet and befriend organically as opposed to meeting through a dating app where the intention is just that.

I think I want the experience of befriending people with shared interests – and having one of those friendships expand into a mutual romantic relationship.

…

The cashier today actually had someone (who left before we arrived) leave a note saying “ur cute” and their phone number on a piece of paper. I was processing that happening at the same time I was finding myself interested in talking to him. What is the synchronicity here?

I don’t know that I’ve fully gotten to the bottom of this tonight, but I am still a little shaken from the past few days and what they have done for my (maybe not sad but something else?) gay heart. In some ways my gay heart is a little sad, but my healing has helped mend that in some ways.

And in terms of my life moving forward, it’s not like I have to choose between untethering and romantic love.

I believe they’re the same thing.

[m1d-45]

from soil….

summary: albedo has learned many things, and yet sometimes it feels like he knows nothing at all.

word count: 3.9k

-> warnings: massive spoilers for albedo lore… bottom text

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily

< masterlist > || part 2 >>

as a synthetic human, albedo wasn’t raised as most were. he was ‘born’ fully grown, the shaky knees that let him stand those of an adult. rhinedottir hadn’t wasted any time, immediately beginning his training in various forms of alchemy from the moment he was oriented enough to try and speak.

he was taught the periodic table before he was told the names of colors, he was told how to tell which solvent was best for an experiment before he even understand the nature of his creation. he could recite the best methods for creating hydrogen gas by heart, he knew how to make carbon dioxide go supercritical and even experimented with ferrofluids on the side, but he didn’t know what it meant to be ‘burned’ until curiosity got the better of him and he put his hand over a flame.

he was told not to, like so many other things embedded in his memory, but never why. he knew fire was hot, of course, but.. even as his hand jerked away of its own accord, he found himself wondering what the odd feeling under his skin was.

rhinedottir was disappointed to learn of what he’d done, but had simply given him the instruction of ‘don’t hurt yourself, it’ll set you back.’

‘hurt’. thats what this was?

as he waited for his ammonia to drip into the iron solution, he picked through the many bookshelves in the room. many were scientific texts, with a few encyclopedias, but he wasn’t looking for those.

pulling down the lone dictionary with his now-bandaged hand, he flipped through the pages, keeping an eye on his experiment in his periphery as he did so.

hurt

(v) cause physical pain or injury to

(adj) physically injured

(n) physical injury; harm

how strange…

he shifted the book in his hands, staring at his wound through the bandages. carefully flexing his hand, he stopped right on the cusp of something sharp, the skin of his hand… was hurt.

albedo continued to read through various definitions, his experiment shifting in color to a dark brown without his notice.

why would he divert his attention from something so thrillingly new?

albedo was no longer a stranger to pain.

it took him far too long to realize he should probably be buying borosilicate glass equipment to handle the sort of experiments he was carrying out, only ever noticing when his third watchglass cracked under the heat of manganese heptoxide. his hands were permanently covered in little nicks, each carefully wrapped in bandages as to not get anything into them, some deep enough to scar but most barely enough to annoy.

slowly, he began to learn. he learned the safest ways to clean up shattered glass, he learned how to wrap his dominant hand and had become somewhat ambidextrous as a result. he learned when he needed to stop and take a break before he got a headache, he learned to tell when his hand was cramping from notes and took the time to practice with his other. pain was no longer unfamiliar, but it was still just as strange.

he was learning.

though he didn’t fully understand why this wasn’t taught to him, why he wasn’t told how to make a salve for burns or given a set of gloves to prevent it happening in the first place… he sort of could see why he wasn’t. pain was the result of failure, of a broken piece of equipment or a too-hot burner. it made sense.

did it?

he carefully poured water into a beaker, not paying attention to the conversation behind him. one of rhinedottir’s friends was over, as was becoming increasingly common, and he’d stopped listening once it turned to her daughter. a few compounds caught his attention, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. the ratio of acetone and water had to be just right, and he was nearing the balance point, the solution fizzing less and less with every addition.

“she’s quite the- klee, don’t-”

without warning, something heavy crashed into albedo’s back. the bottle in his hand tipped and jerked, splashing into and over the rim of the beaker. the heater beneath it hissed as the ice cold water dripped down the side, and though he stood quickly, reaching to unplug it, it was too late. sparks flew as the wiring shorted, the red glow of the plate beginning to fade.

something hot and sharp rose in his chest, buzzing in his hands, the air turning thin. his jaw tightened with the feeling, the cord in his hand biting into his palm.

he’d knocked over his stool in his haste, and beside it was a small child, wide red eyes staring up at him. with bright blonde hair and long, pointed ears, it was clear she was the woman’s daughter.

and she had ran into him.

the woman—alice, his mind supplied, though he didn’t quite hear it—crouched besides her, pulling her up and dusting off her clothes, “klee! what did i say about running in the lab? you know it’s dangerous.”

rhinedottir sighed, leaning against the wall and looking at the failed experiment. “another failure…”

the sharp spikes of feeling turned on him in an instant, and the cord fell from his hand in surprise. he didn’t mean to mess it up! it wasn’t his fault klee was running around! why was he to blame?

“gold, it’s not his fault. i should have watched klee closer.”

“nonsense. he shouldn’t have even been using a bottle. pipettes are much more precise, and if he wished to have any sort of credibility to his findings, he should have used those to better track how much he was putting in. ‘add water until it stops foaming’ isn’t much of an instruction, you know.”

alice stood, some sort of response already forming in the draw of her brows, but albedo turned towards his mess. his hands shook as he moved the too-full beaker to a bin, the heating plate heavier than usual. he ignored the increasingly heated conversation behind him, letting his hands go through the familiar motions of disposal. his chest felt heavy, an odd pulse between his ribs reminding him of the reason he was wiping water off his desk.

he didn’t hold it against the girl, of course. she was too young to even be thought of chastised, and… rhinedottir was right. he probably should have used a pipette to add the water, or at least something less volatile than an open bottle. after this long, he should have known.

his vision blurred, the wad of towels in his hand washing into one mass. he threw the towels into the trash, his free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. had vapor gotten into them? that wouldn’t be good if that were the case, but though they stung it wasn’t as sharp as it would be from chemicals.

albedo wiped up the last of the water, absentmindedly wondering why his chest ‘hurt’ if he hadn’t been injured.

alice visited often, usually bringing her daughter along as well. he wasn’t sure why, as she was surely too young to learn much in the way of alchemy, but she evidently had learned not to run in the lab, thankfully. she sat on a stool at her mother’s side, carefully drawing in a small notebook.

albedo stood at the sink, doing his best to focus on removing the caked sediment from his glassware. alice was talking, again, telling a story of a place he’d never been or heard of, and his thoughts admittedly wandered when he wasn’t careful. he’d wonder about the knights she was talking about, the cavalry led by a man in frosted blue, and he glanced over his own outfit. plain white, as typical, but he wondered about the dye that would have been used. he always wore white—“easier to tell when you’ve spilled something,” rhinedottir always said—and his few attempts at making dyes always ended up splotched and uneven. how did they dye clothes? or did they dye the thread first? would that be more or less efficient? was it harder to work with dyed thread, maybe, because it could wear during the weaving process?

curiosity bubbled within him as he rinsed off a stir rod, scraping off the leftover sediment with his nail. it would take too much time and space to try what he was thinking, not to mention that he didn’t even know how to go about it, but…

he turned to put it on a towel and paused, seeing klee looking up at him from her stool. she waved, shyly, pen tucked against her palm, and he hesitated for a moment before waving back. it was small, barely a raise of his fingers as to not draw attention, but she lit up anyway. her feet kicked against the stool in excitement and she hid her smile in her sketchbook, and albedo felt his own begin to form. he felt warm, a gentle feeling starting to rise. he tried to pin it down, running over the list of emotions he’d learned, but it didn’t match. it wasn’t the sharp, white-hot spike from when he’d ruined his hot plate, nor the slow but insistent press of curiosity. he felt… soft, almost, a delicate heat pushing him to smile back, gently-

“albedo.“

the sharp call of his name scattered the feeling like fish recessing deep into a lake, repulsed by the word.

rhine had cut off alice, evidently, the latter’s hands still raised mid-gesture.

“are you finished? why are you looking at klee like that?”

though it didn’t show on his face, albedo felt as confused as alice looked. her hands had moved to her sides, eyes flicking between the two of them with an odd twist to her mouth.

albedo swallowed something cold and bitter, taking a breath. “like what?”

he tried to put as much genuineness into his words as he could, but rhinedottir just shook her head.

“you know how.”

“i-“

“get back to work, albedo.”

she looked away, cutting the conversation short despite the argument still on his tongue.

he didn’t know. she never told him. none of the books in his lab ever described what it meant to be alive, to feel, to grow. he’d read all of them, cover to cover and back again, but none of them described what he wanted to know.

albedo turned back to the sink, wondering if there was a name for the cold pit in his stomach.

the next time alice comes, albedo has the time to look and properly greet her. he doesn’t have anything important or time sensitive going on, simply waiting for a dish to crystallize, and it was clear that the short wave he gave, pencil still in hand, had made her happy.

“hey albedo! what are you working on?”

almost subconsciously, his eyes flick to rhinedottir, searching for her approval, but she’s turned away, inspecting some random report on his desk. his chest feels cold as he lifts his sketchbook in lieu of a response. he’s drawn a cecelia, a kind of flower he saw on his last expedition, only ever growing near the top of a cliff.

he wonders of rhine would be proud of its accuracy, if nothing else.

“oh, a drawing?” klee seems to stand a bit straighter when she registers that the notebook in his hand is for drawing and not for research, and alice chuckles at her enthusiasm. “could we see?”

again, albedo seeks his master’s approval. he doesn’t find it.

he takes a quick look around the lab but knows there isn’t anything dangerous. the only active and open chemicals are the one in the beaker behind him, and that’s both well away from an edge and covered with a watchglass. so he nods, spinning his pen from his hand and into a pocket as they carefully move across the lab. he notes the caution with which klee steps over a fallen pen, the hand not in her mother’s tightly gripping her bag.

he tilts the book up for her to take—his heart had picked up at some point and he can see a quiver where his thumb digs into the binding, when did that happen?—but she just peers down at it from where she is, not reaching. it only takes a moment for something bright to reach her eyes, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome.

“cecelias, right?”

hesitantly, albedo nods. “i was exploring the eastern edge of mondstat, looking for valberries, but… i found these instead.”

she hums with a nod, her expression shifting slightly. “you need to go further north if you want valberries. cecelias grow on starsnatch cliff, and you want to go to stormbearer point.” albedo made a note to ask rhine where that was. “still, this is very impressive! the detail is remarkable despite not having a reference; you must’ve been blessed by the creator themself!”

her eyes glitter in a way that tells him it’s supposed to be something said in jest… but he doesn’t get the joke. behind her, rhinedottir’s head snapped up, eyes narrow, the report long discarded, and albedo takes the risk before his master can speak.

“who?”

alice’s face falls.

albedo looks over at klee for the nth time, checking that she was still happily doodling on her own paper. rhine had been swift to pull alice into a side room after her comment, so it was just them left in his lab. her, on the stool he’d offered her after her mother was pulled away, and him, still on the same chair he’d been for the past few hours. his pen felt cold in his hand despite the fact that he should have been producing more than enough body head to keep it warm, something… uneasy bubbling in his blood.

words pushed to the forefront of his mind, the same as they did every time he checked on klee, and this time he let them go.

“do you know who was alice talking about?”

she stops, the room falling silent as her pencil stills, and he feels oddly exposed in front of her wide red eyes. she reaches up to adjust her hat, the clover on it smudging lightly with graphite. “the creator?”

albedo nods. “rhine never calls people ‘creator’s of things, even masters of k-…. masters of alchemy are simply ‘alchemists’ to her. i’ve never heard of such a title before.”

klee pouts, stuffing her pencil into the rings on her notebook and settling it in her lap. between her fingers, he swears he sees something shaped suspiciously like a cecelia.

“the creator made everything! mama says that they are older than even her, and that they gave klee this!”

the stilted grammar of her words throws albedo off, but not as badly as when she reaches for her bag—nearly falling in the process—and unhooks a large glass-looking jewel inset in silver. it glitters red, a pattern of a flame engraved within, and he finds himself leaning closer. questions spring to his mind—‘how did you get it? what does it do? does it have a name? how is it made? how were you acknowledged by somebody so important at such a young age? is there even a significance to it at all? why doesn’t rhinedottir have one? does alice?’—but she speaks before he can voice them, voice unnaturally cohesive for somebody so young.

“i got my vision after i tried to make the biggest bomb ever!” after she what- “i made a mess out of my station… but mama says it’s okay! she helped me rebuild it and everything, and even stitched back on dodoco’s ear!” she points to a small plush charm hanging off her bag, leaving him with still more questions than answers.

“didn’t your mama teach you about them? why are you asking klee?”

albedo fell short.

was this something that parents typically taught their children? he supposed rhine would technically be his ‘mother’…. but even that was more in the literal sense. she was his mother as in she created him, but she was his master in that she taught him about and guided him through alchemy.

(but was that even for his sake? or was it hers?)

before he could say anything, alice had come back, a crease between her brows and a heavy frown on her face.

“come on klee, we’re leaving.”

klee quickly hooked the ‘vision’ back onto her bag and stuffed her notebook inside, slipping off the stood with a ‘bye bye albedo!’ before he even understood what had happened. her hand folded into her mothers, having crossed the room swiftly, free hand tucked under the strap of her bag.

alice gave albedo a long look, filled with a feeling he couldn’t begin to decipher, before her jaw set and the door opened, a wash of cold air sweeping in as they left.

rhinedottir nearly slammed open the door, shutting it just as harshly behind her, but albedo didn’t flinch from where he was weighing out sodium. she’d been returning from expeditions more and more irritated lately, the domains she’s been searching somehow turning up less clues each time. he’s not privy to her work, so he simply keeps his mouth shut, never offering his advice or help even when he knows it helps to talk puzzling things out.

he tapped his stir rod on the edge of his beaker, knocking off the excess solution, and listened to her go through her routine. boots off, shoes on, coat off, lab wear on. bag down, notes up, then the bang of her door.

he stifles a smile at her predictability. most of her actions are prescribed, a routine she likely follows unintentionally, but it brings him a small bit of comfort. she did the same things when she returned today as she did every other day, no mater the size of her discovery, retiring to her room to review her findings. he learned quickly to shut down any attention-sapping experiments as quickly as possible after she returned to be able to dedicate as much as he could to listening to her ramble, leaving space on his table for her diagrams. he rarely got a word in, but that just made him all the better listener, able to concisely say everything he wanted to in the moment’s space of her breaths.

with all of this in mind, he covered his beaker. the solution would be fine overnight, so long as it was chilled, and he was quite looking forward to tonight’s talk.

albedo stood from his stool and began to clean up, listening to the clock tick down.

a few hours later, rhine returns with a heavy sigh. he hears papers flap in her hands as she shuffles through them, the sound growing louder as she approaches. she sits in the chair he’d set out for her in preparation and drops her papers on the table in a messy pile, various diagrams drawn across them.

she picks out one seemingly at random, depicting a diamond-shaped sigil inset onto a large set of doors. a complex web of patterns wraps around it, ending on eight smaller sigils. below the diagram, she wrote out a quote, presumably the one inscribed across the top of the door, “when seeking those who have lost their faith / there’s not much one can do but wait / you take the swiftest trail at once / and try until your hopes prevail.”

he doesn’t know what it means, but he keeps the words in his mind as she shoves aside the rest of the papers, setting down that one and beginning to talk about how she tried to solve it.

“there’s over 40,000 combinations—i did the math—and i wasn’t going to sit there for however long it took. the geo slime condensate only had enough elemental energy preserved in it to activate all of the sigils twice, and that didn’t account for actually killing the things.”

albedo propped his arm on the table, resting his chin in his palm and staring at the paper. he took in and registered her words, of course, hearing and understanding them, but a majority of his mind was focused on the paper. each of the winding paths started at the center sigil and twisted out, quickly becoming hard to follow- likely due to erosion, since the domain seemed embedded into a cliff face.

still, he pulled at the puzzle, picking at the edges. the inscription played on loop in his mind, producing ideas just as quickly as he shut them down. it couldn’t be that they had to leave to a secondary—or more—location, since six separate places for a domain was too complex and highly unlikely. it couldn’t be that there was some sort of prayer or hymn they needed to follow, due to the same argument as the first. there had to be a simpler solution….

“have you tried activating them in the order of the pathways?”

silence.

he looks up at her lack of response, finding her with her hands raised, clearly mid-ramble.

“i apologize for inter-“

he’s cut off with a wave of her hand as she picks up the paper, flipping it towards her. “dont, you already said it. what do you mean by ‘order’? actually, don’t answer. you can tell me tomorrow.”

just as quickly as she arrived, rhine left, picking up all her papers and leaving with a swish of her coat, her door nearly slammed shut.

albedo’s eyes flicked to the clock. she was barely there for ten minutes.

why? he’d spoken up before… granted, never interrupted, but… surely that wasn’t a large enough offense that she left?

he looked around his desk, empty of any equipment or glassware in preparation for the usual hours-long talk. it was earlier than he normally went to sleep, and though he could in theory return to work…

an unusual hesitation had seeped under his skin, pulling at his hands when he tried to stand. what had he said to make her leave? he’d just wanted to help…

after a moment, he stood, awkwardly pushing in his stool. ‘tell her in the morning’…

something odd and unsettling curled around albedo’s limbs as he went through the motions of preparing for bed. his fingers felt stiff where he ran them through his hair, the sheets on his bed cold despite the fire. an unmovable weight had sat itself on his chest, telling him that he’d done something wrong, but couldn’t tell what.

he hadn’t done anything. he’d just offered his help. she was the one that broke routine.

the weight told him that he was wrong.

he didn’t know why.

[something-tofightfor]

Competing For Christmas Interlude: Under My Tree (Din’s POV)

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,114

Rating: M. Language.

Summary: Din doesn’t know exactly how to move forward - but it seems like you’re going to meet him every step of the way. 

Author’s notes:

Figured it was finally time to see things from Din’s point of view ... and there was no better time to go there.

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open!

Thank you for reading - and for giving me some leeway with being behind on chapters. I’m working on 6 now, so it should be out soon, though this story won’t be finished on Christmas, when I intended. I apologize for that.

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares​ and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Masterlist  / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5.1 / Part 5.2

He woke up before you did the next morning to the sound of the plow going by, Din’s eyes cracking open when it was barely light out. The fire was only embers, but Din was plenty warm, even under the thin blanket you’d draped over the two of you as you laid down. Because she’s still right here.

One of his arms was folded beneath his body, the other draped loosely over you, and he flexed that one, hoping that it wouldn’t jostle you awake. You’d both shifted in your sleep, you rolling over to face him, legs bent and tangled together. When he went to straighten one of his, he heard a quiet huff, his foot making contact with something even warmer than you - and furry. Grogu? 

Raising his head just enough to peek, Din saw the curled up form of the dog at the opposite end of the couch, Grogu’s eyes open and staring at the sudden interruption of his sleep. Sorry, pal. Carefully moving his foot into a more comfortable position, Din looked down at you before settling back against the pillow, fighting the urge to lean down and kiss your cheek or temple. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to - in fact, Din wanted nothing more, but after what you’d talked about the previous night, he knew it wasn’t a good idea. 

He hadn’t meant to tell you everything. 

In fact, Din hadn’t even known what was going to come out of his mouth when he’d started talking as you decorated. But you’d taken it all in stride, though he hadn’t missed the look of anguish in your eyes as he’d confirmed that he was expected to go back to Mandalore and rule, leaving his life in Mistletoe - and you - behind only a few months later. 

He couldn’t blame you for it. He’d let his feelings for you grow too quickly, and that fact had made telling you the truth much more difficult, even though you’d deserved to know. Especially if … if she really feels something for me. He didn’t doubt your affection, and the reaction you’d had to learning his secret had been genuine. He was also certain of you really hadn’t known anything more than what your friends had figured out that morning. And that means she liked me and not … what I am. 

It made everything harder, and as Din settled back down next to you, he closed his eyes, tilting his head forward and listening to the sound of your breathing. 

It was slow and deep, your lips parted slightly, and he risked opening his eyes again to get another glimpse of you. Because this might not happen again. 

It would have been easy to wake you up then, to whisper your name and wait until your eyes opened to say anything else, to offer you breakfast and the opportunity to see how the roads looked. But I don’t want to. It’s too early.

You’d accepted his story without hesitation, seeming to understand that even if he didn’t want it, he had a duty to Boba and to his country, and he wouldn’t abandon it. He wondered why you were taking the situation with him the way you were when you’d explained how upset you’d been with James. That man had been unable to commit to anything past the present, much the same way Din couldn’t give you anything but the promise of a few more months of his presence in Mistletoe. Maybe it’s because we aren’t actually together. Or because I didn’t lead her on. 

Whatever the answer, he was grateful that you’d listened to him, and even more pleased that he’d gotten the chance to wake up next to you at least once - even if all that had happened prior was actual sleep.  

Din wouldn’t be selfish and sacrifice Mandalore’s needs for his own long term, but he knew that a few more hours on his couch with you wouldn’t do any real harm. So he closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath… and willed himself to go back to sleep. 

— 

The next time he woke up, it was because Grogu was whining. He’d left the couch and was standing next to the door, tail moving back and forth. You were up too, shifting in front of him as you yawned. 

“You gotta go outside, buddy?” You pulled yourself out of his arms to stand, and Din watched as you moved across the room, opening the door enough to let the dog through. “Damn, there’s a lot of snow out there.” You stood in front of the glass for a few seconds before you turned back to face him, mouth set into a thin line. “I wonder if they plowed yet.” 

“Heard one go by earlier.” He yawned, too, covering his mouth - but he didn’t sit up. “So they’ve been through at least once.” Din finally stretched as you stopped next to the tree, reaching up to touch a branch instead of returning to the couch. “Come back and lay down, it’s still early.” 

“It’s 9:30, Din.” You almost smiled at that, raising a brow. “That’s not early.” 

“It is for a Sunday.” He patted the open space next to him - still warm from where you’d lain. “Just a couple minutes. Until we need to let Grogu in.” If you said no again, he wouldn’t have pushed, but you didn’t, stepping back toward him and then sinking down onto the cushions, Din lifting the blanket to encourage you back underneath it with him. “See, that’s better.”

“It is. You’re warm.” Sighing, you cuddled up to him, pressing a hand to his chest. “I don’t think I’ve slept that well in … months.” Good. I’m glad to hear that. 

“Me either. It was nice to have you here.” Both of you were silent then, Din looking down and watching as you stared at your hand, one finger dragging slowly back and forth over his chest. “I hope it doesn’t seem like I’m sending you mixed signals.” It came out before he could stop himself, and at your rapid movement - head jerking up so that you could look at him, he winced. “I didn’t mean to lead with that, I just …” 

Cautiously, he settled a hand on your hip while he waited to hear your reply. “What do you mean by mixed signals?” 

“I mean…” He sighed. “You know I have to leave. I don’t want either of us to …” Din wet his lips, closing his eyes. “Get too far ahead of ourselves.” 

“What, you mean like sleeping together on the same couch?” Eyeing him, you pursed your lips and paused. “Or like making out in your kitchen or mine? Or - “

“Yeah, like all of those things.” He laughed then, hauling you closer, and you let him, the two of you laughing together until you cleared your throat and flattened your hand again. Keep going. “It’s not fair to either of us, and I’m not an asshole, even though I’m sure there are a few people that would call me one.” He had no idea where he was going with what he was saying, so Din was thankful when you jumped in - like you had so many times since he’d met you - and spoke up. 

“So what does this mean, Din? No more mixed signals, like … no more touching? No more kissing? No more hanging out outside of the competition? Both of us ignoring whatever this is between us and pretending like last night didn’t happen and you didn’t tell me anything? Because if that’s the case, then …” You tapped on his chest again. “We probably shouldn’t be under this blanket together.” 

“You just …” Dank farrik, she went right for it. “You just got out of a relationship that you ended because you wanted something more permanent. I don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time with me.”

“Din.” You lifted your hand, running your fingertips along the edge of his jaw. “You just said it. I just got out of a relationship. Maybe … maybe knowing something isn’t meant to be long term is a good change for right now.” You chewed on your lower lip in thought and then spoke again. “Maybe it’s what I need. Or, what we both need. You can’t exactly just casually start seeing someone when you’re back in Mandalore, so…”

“Are you…” He blinked, struggling to catch up. “Are you saying that you want that? That you’d go into more of this with me knowing that it has to be casual?” 

“It’s not what I want, no. But if I’ve only got you for a few more months, I don’t want to deprive myself of any time with you.” You shrugged, the motion of your shoulders moving the blanket with them. “Like you said last night, we’re both adults. If that’s what we want to do, why shouldn’t we?”

It was more than he’d expected to hear from you - more than he could have ever hoped for - and he didn’t know how to answer. He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell you yes, that that would be fine with him, that he would spend the remaining few months exploring what he had with you before he had to leave. But instead, he said something much different. 

“We should set some ground rules.” You recoiled slightly, but moments later, nodded, closing your eyes. 

“Can we set those over breakfast? I’m really hungry, and I know there’s pizza left.”

“How about actual breakfast? He sighed. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff - cereal, eggs, pancake mix… I think there might be some bacon in the fridge, too.” Your eyes lit up at the mention of other food, and when you nodded in reply, moving to sit up, Din was relieved - but didn’t let you go. 

“What?”  You stopped moving in his arms, waiting.

“Can I kiss you good morning?” It took you by surprise, but you only bit your lip in response, tilting your head.

“Is that going to be something that’s prohibited by one of these rules, Din?” Your lips curved up into a smirk, and though he’d worried you would deny him, he could tell by the look in your eyes that you had no desire to. “Because if so, sure. Gotta get at least one of those down before you crush my dreams and -” 

That was as far as he let you get, closing the distance between you until he could press his mouth to yours. Your lips were soft and warm, the smile still on them even as he leaned in, urging you onto your back and settling his weight partially on top of you, 

The couch was larger than normal - and it was much more comfortable, too, the two of you sinking into the plush cushions as you slid the hand that had been on his chest around to his back, the pressure between his shoulder blades growing as you urged him to stay close. 

He appreciated the fact that you hadn’t been shy about the fact that neither of you had brushed your teeth before falling asleep the night before and tried to deter him because of your morning breath. And the truth was that Din didn’t mind - if you were allowing it, he was going to take any and every opportunity to kiss you. 

But he didn’t try to deepen it, and when you did, he pulled away, wrinkling his nose and dragging his teeth along your lower lip. “None of that. You said you were hungry.” You groaned, your hand falling away. Even though he didn’t want to, Din pushed with one arm, lifting himself backwards and giving you an out. “I’m going to let Grogu in, if you need the bathroom, you know where it is down here, but if you just want to head to the kitchen, you can do that, too.” 

Blinking up at him, you waited a few seconds to move, gracefully rolling forward and then standing, raising your arms above your head as you stretched. He watched as you reached behind yourself to scratch the center of your back, but without a word, you turned and headed for the steps, diverting into the bathroom before climbing them. 

Once you were out of sight, he scrubbed both hands over his face and groaned quietly. “What the fuck are you doing, Djarin?” He was playing with fire - but a large part of him didn’t care. I came here to live my life while I could, and that’s what this is. 

He stood, too, heading for the door and opening it. Din whistled and then watched as Grogu streaked through the snow, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Skittering to a stop just before he barreled through the door, the dog shook himself, removing the snow that had collected on his fur, and then stepped inside, looking up expectantly at Din. 

“Yeah, I know you’re hungry. C’mon, pal. Let’s get you fed.” It took no time for Din to refill his water and food dishes, but since you were still in the bathroom and he didn’t know what you wanted to eat, he went back into the downstairs area while Grogu ate, opening the gates of the fireplace and kneeling in front of it. 

It felt cozier in the house with the fire going, and so he worked to get one burning, the tiny flames catching quickly thanks to the kindling he kept handy. “Offering me breakfast and building me a fire? What’s it called if you kidnap a king? I think I need to keep you here.”

“I’m not the king yet. And trust me, you wouldn’t be kidnapping anyone.” You laughed, the sound filling the room, and when Din stood and turned to face you, he saw what had taken you so long - you’d washed your face and attempted to fix your hair, though you were still wearing your pajamas. “Your clothes from last night should be dry, do you want them?’

“Nah, not yet.” He heard your stomach rumble before he could say anything else, and you rolled your eyes as you turned toward the steps, Din following close behind you as you passed Grogu and opened the refrigerator. “Want me to make you an -”

“Can I cook for you?” He paused. “I mean, you can tell me what you do and don’t eat, but -”

“Yes.” One hand on the fridge handle, you looked at him over your shoulder. “Yeah, you can. Also, I think my phone died overnight, can I plug it in somewhere while you start?” He pointed to the counter and a spare charging cable, and when you stepped away and toward your bag, he moved into position, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator and cupboards and setting them on the counter. 

He didn’t plan on making anything fancy - just a hearty breakfast since it had been a while since you’d eaten - but as he looked over what he had available, he decided to try and impress you - just a little. You brushed past him to plug the phone in, and then moved over to the other cupboards and pulled out plates and two coffee mugs. Without even asking, you set a pot to brew. 

Neither of you spoke much, though you did make it a point to bend over and scratch Grogu between the ears after the pot had started doing its job, but the silence didn’t bother Din because it was comfortable. 

Like he’d been the first one in your place since your breakup, you were the first woman in his house since he’d moved in, at least in the way that mattered. He’d had a coworker over a few times to work on difficult jobs after hours, and the man had been dropped off and picked up by his girlfriend since they shared a vehicle - but in Din’s mind, that didn’t count. 

It had been a lonely 8 months, but it had given him a lot of time to consider everything that he needed to expect from the rest of his life, and Din wouldn’t have traded the time for anything. Well, except maybe more of this sooner. 

Covering the sizzling pan and turning the heat down, Din turned away from the stove to find you sitting at the table and watching him, your chin resting on one hand. “What? What’s that look for?” 

“I’m just trying to remember the last time someone cooked me breakfast outside of a restaurant.” Tapping your finger against your lips, you grinned. “It’s been a while.”

“James wasn’t a breakfast guy?” He crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. “Or just not a cook?” 

“He could cook, and he was actually pretty decent with the grill, but breakfast …” You hummed, closing your eyes. “I love breakfast, but we’d usually just grab something quick - cereal or eggs or toast. It wasn’t an actual meal unless we were out somewhere.” Oh, that asshole. 

“Well, I don’t know how much we’ll be having breakfast together, but I have no problem making it for you.” Your eyes lit up, grin widening. “And it doesn’t even have to be morning, either.” 

“Oh, perfect. Breakfast for dinner.” The coffee pot finished then and you stood, moving back toward it. “Coffee, Din?” He told you yes and then watched out of the corner of his eye as you rummaged through the cabinets for sugar, setting it down before you went back to the fridge and grabbed one of the creamer containers. “I know what you ordered the other day, but I’m not even going to try to -”

“Just a little of the flavor. No sugar.” He nodded. “It’ll be fine.” 

You poured the coffee as he started plating the food, Grogu standing by his feet and whining. “You already had your breakfast, little guy. How are you still hungry?” 

“I told you, he’s always hungry. You’d never know it looking at him, though, he’s still pretty small.” Nudging the dog away with one foot, Din carried the plates to the table and sat down just as you did, sliding one mug of across and toward him. “How’s it look?”

“Fucking amazing, Din. Smells great, too.” 

It felt oddly domestic to him - sitting and eating with you in his kitchen after cooking a meal, and he hoped that you could do it more often, even if it wasn’t in the morning. “Well there’s plenty left, so eat as much as you want.” He watched you take your first bite, your eyes closing as you nearly moaned at the taste, eyes rolling back into your head. “Good?” 

He barely managed the single word, his grip on his own fork tightening at the sound you’d just made. Damn, it’s going to be … “It’s great Din, this tastes like you spent hours cooking it.” He finally took a bite, too, trying to distract himself - but you kept talking. “Where’d you learn how to cook?” 

“It was actually one of the things we did at school. Everyone had to learn. And I just kept going after I finished - got better over time. I cook a lot for Fennec, even though she could eat way better than my cooking, because she lives in the palace.”

“Boba’s palace.” You swallowed, sipping your coffee. “And soon to be yours. I bet that kitchen’s amazing. I hope you have time to cook after you’re k… Mand’alor.” He appreciated the fact that you corrected yourself. The terms were somewhat interchangeable, but it was a sign of respect to use the Mandalorian language, especially as an outsider. “Are you going to be able to take Grogu back with you?”

“Yes. He’s family.” Din took a long swig of coffee. “Boba and Fennec can’t wait to meet him.” He glanced down, eyeing the dog as he laid next to the table on his side, legs stretched out. “Not very regal, but…” You snorted, looking down too. 

“He’ll learn. Get him a friend or something to teach him the ropes.”

“He’s one of a kind.” Din sighed. “And, to be honest, I don’t think I could handle two of him right now, so once I’m … busier, it’ll be even less possible.” 

“You’d figure it out.” Chewing, you narrowed your eyes at him. “So, Din… what are these ground rules you wanted to establish?” He nearly choked on what he had in his mouth, coughing as he leaned forward, bringing a closed fist up to stifle the sound. “Or just go ahead and choke on that instead of - “ 

“Gimmie a second.” He coughed again, shaking his head. “You really just jump right in, don’t you.” 

“I do. I want to know what to expect from situations, and … I really want to know what to expect from this one.” You got up then, walking over and pulling out a carton of juice and then another glass. “Want one?” 

“Sure.” That one you poured for him with no pause, replacing the carton and then carrying both glasses to the table. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah. Like I was saying, Din… I like knowing where things stand. And the sooner I know what you’re… what you want, the sooner I can figure out if it’s something I’m capable of giving you.” He almost couldn’t believe it - that you were being so straightforward with him, telling him what you needed to hear from him. 

“Well… first of all.” He cleared his throat, coughing again. “First of all, it goes without saying that who I am and what I am has to stay secret. I’m not worried you’ll say anything, but I just wanted to be clear.” 

“Of course.” You took another bite, brows knit together thoughtfully. “But I’m not sure who would actually believe me even if I did say anything, so…” You shrugged. “It’s kind of an unbelievable story, you know? Heir to the throne of Mandalore working as an IT guy for some tiny little company here in Mistletoe? It kind of sounds like one of those dumb movies we started to watch last night.” 

He didn’t disagree. “Thank you.” Thinking for a few seconds, Din continued. “We should probably keep any sort of PDA to a minimum, too. I know I kriffed it up kissing you in that hallway, and then again last night, but …”

“Those were accidents. You got carried away.” Finishing your meal, you pushed your plate forward. “But that’s fine with me, too. I feel like most of the time we’ll be out somewhere in public, it would be at work, or -”

“No, I want to hang out with you.” He reached across the table, hand flat atop it. “That isn’t … we can do that, but once I do take the throne, if people start digging, they’ll find out I lived here for a while, and it could … it could come back on you if they find anything. And I won’t be here to deflect it.” 

“Oh.” You glanced down, and Din hated to hear the hurt in your voice, but he needed to be honest. “That makes sense.” 

“People knowing we’re friends is one thing, and that’s fine especially because we’re coworkers, but …” This is the shitty part. “In public, that’s all we can be.” 

“People here will think something different. It’s a small town, and I’m sure some people are already talking about the fact that we’re partners. So it’s … that’s probably a good idea.” You met his eyes again. “What else?” 

“If… if things were to get to…” He glanced up. This isn’t hard, you kriffing idiot. “If we ever sleep together for real, we need to use protection. Accidents happen, and that wouldn’t… I would hate myself if -” 

“Got it. Sex is on the table, but we’ve gotta be safe about it.” He could tell that you were upset - not at his requirement, but at the fact that such a serious conversation between the two of you was even necessary in the first place. I’m not happy about it either, if it makes you feel any better. “Can’t have any little Dins running around.” 

“No, that’s another thing. Like I said, on Mandalore, since the throne isn’t passed down to a blood heir every time, I don’t need to have kids. And to be honest with you, I …” He frowned. “There are perks. A lot of them, but I know how I feel about this whole thing, and I don’t want … I don’t want to … If I had a kid, they’d be expected to take my place, especially if it happened soon.”

“So instead you’ll just pick someone else - like Boba did.” He nodded. “So how do you make sure that the person you pick is going to want it?” Good question. 

“Boba asked me because he knows I don’t want it, and he trusts me to act in the best interests of the country. I’ll… I’ll have plenty of time to find someone to replace me that’s the same. Maybe someone that isn’t as hesitant, but …” Din shrugged. “That’s what advisors are for.” You actually smiled at that, finishing your juice. 

“Ok, so what else is there? You’ve covered PDA and safe sex and discretion. But after next week, Din, we won’t have any reason to see each other outside of work, and if we start spending the night at each other’s houses when there’s not a foot of snow outside, it… it’ll be a little hard to hide.” 

“Yeah, it will.” He pushed the remnants of food around on his plate, frowning at it. “But we can figure it out, and -”

“So we’d be friends with benefits.” You stood, grabbing your plate and heading to the stove, continuing to talk as you got a second serving. “I don’t know if you’re familiar with the term, but here, it means people that casually date and do things together - including sleeping together - but that’s all it is. It’s not meant to be long term, but it’s a little more serious than just hooking up.”

You didn’t come back to the table, instead standing next to the stove and eating - plate in one hand, fork in the other. “Yeah, I … I haven’t heard that before, but … that’s…” It’s bullshit is what it is. It sounded almost ridiculous coming out of his mouth, and he knew it - meaning that you knew it, too, and yet you weren’t turning him down. You were agreeing, continuing to eat what he’d made for you and having a conversation that was no different than if you were discussing the weather. “Does this make things weird between us? Making rules for -”

“No. It’s a little formal, but it’s better to get this all out in the open now.” You rinsed your plate off. “I can’t say that I’ve ever set up an arrangement like this before, but it’s not everyday that the future ruler of a foreign country asks for some discretion because he wants to kiss me.” You sat back down across from him, laying both hands on the table. “I’ll be honest and say that this kind of sucks, Din, because like I said, I like you, and we don’t have a chance to see if this could be something more, but it is what it is.

“You can say no.” He reached out again, settling a hand over both of yours. “Call me a terrible person for even suggesting any of this, and I wouldn’t blame you.” I don’t want you to, but… “But I want to be honest with you. I want to see what this is, and see if … see if maybe it would be possible for it to turn into more later, and -”

“No, Din.” Shaking your head sadly, you squeezed your eyes shut. “You’ll be thousands of miles away, and while you’re learning how to lead, you won’t have time for distractions. Let’s just … let’s just do this now, and not … not worry about anything else. Don’t get our hopes up. It’s easier with an expiration date.” It wasn’t - and he thought you knew, it, too, but at the look on your face, he couldn’t do anything but agree - though he did it in his own way. 

“Yeah, that’s a good point. We might not like each other much by the time we’re done with this competition, especially if we don’t win.” It took you a second but you laughed at his words, pulling your hands from beneath his and reaching for your coffee mug. 

“You never know.” Taking a sip, you curled your upper lip and stared at him over the rim of the mug. “Din?” He hummed, frowning. “This is going to hurt when it has to end, you know that, right?” Again with the honesty.

“I do.” Rubbing at his forehead, he nodded. “But I think it would be worse if we just tried to ignore all of this.” 

“Yeah.” Averting your eyes, you stared into your cup. “It would.” Grogu sighed from the floor, Din’s attention dropping to him - and giving himself a chance to think. It was almost cruel that you’d agreed to the arrangement with him, especially with so little time left. 

He wished that he’d started speaking to you sooner after he’d found out that you were single. But I didn’t want to seem like I was taking advantage of an opportunity. He wished that he’d been able to keep his feelings and emotions hidden - something that he’d been so good at after a lifetime of growing up in Mandalore. But months in Mistletoe had changed him even though he’d kept to himself, and part of Din wondered if he’d be able to go back to his old self when it was necessary. But is it necessary? 

Din didn’t know for sure, and as he looked back at you, catching you staring out the window over the sink, he realized that in that moment, it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because I’m not there right now. I’m here… with her. 

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Din pushed to his feet, picking up his plate and the juice glass, turning toward the sink. “I’m going to need to clear the driveway before you leave. With both cars parked there, that cuts down on what needs to be shoveled, but it’s still going to take me some time.” 

“I can help if you want.” You stood too, carrying the remainder of the dishes to the sink and setting them down, though you didn’t move from his side. “If you have two shovels, it’ll take even less time.” 

“I don’t.” Turning to face you, he crossed one arm over his chest, gripping his shoulder. “But you could clean the cars off, or play with Grogu.” Your eyes lit up at the second suggestion, Grogu’s dog tags jungling as he sat up at the mention of his name. “He’s pretty good about staying in the yard.” 

“That sounds like fun. I’ll keep these pants on though, that way I can change into my jeans before I go home.” Whatever you want to do. “I wish I had my hat. The hood won’t stay up on my jacket.” 

“I have a couple. You can wear one of them as long as you don’t mind them not being just washed.” You said you didn’t, and so he headed up and into his bedroom a few minutes later, leaving you standing by the sink and rinsing dishes. 

He used the bathroom and changed his pants quickly, pulling on a pair of thick socks and grabbing his spare beanie before heading back out into the hallway and then downstairs, tossing the fabric onto the table. “Dishes are rinsed and loaded, but I didn’t know what you wanted me to do with the pan you used. Some people are weird about -”

“Like I said, the house was furnished. They’re not mine.” Holding up a hand in understanding, you moved to load them into the dishwasher, closing it while he leaned against the table and watched you. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I don’t like leaving a mess in the kitchen.” Wiping your hands on a towel, you spun to face him. “Besides, you cooked, so it’s the least I could do.” He liked the way you had an answer almost immediately no matter what he said, and told you as much. “I say what I mean, Din. You’ll have to get used to it.” 

“I definitely could.” You stepped over to the table, picking up the hat - dark gray with a faintly metallic sheen - and pulled it onto your head, tugging it into place. His eyes widened as he watched you, his attention locked on your form as you adjusted the hat. It looks better on her than it does on me. 

“Well?” You held up a hand, cocking your head to one side. “How’s it look?”

“Good. I brought that one from home. I’ve had it for years, but I don’t wear it much here.” He saw the happiness in your eyes as he spoke, your smile growing with each word. “Maybe I should, though.” 

“Want to switch?” Not a chance. “Thanks for letting me borrow it.” Taking a breath, you pointed at the front door. “Should we get out there? The sooner we start, the sooner I can head home and see how bad my own driveway looks. 

“Do you need help clearing it? I can always bring over my -”

“No. The neighbor has a plow on the front of his truck. He usually does it for me before he goes out and does his contracted work, but I won’t know until I get there.” You were both putting on your boots and coats as you talked, you using one hand on the hallway wall for balance. “And if not, I’ll just park in the street and clear enough space to get my car into the garage until he can get to it later.” 

“The offer stands.” He zipped up his coat, pulling his hat into place. “Grogu doesn’t need a leash, Just say “k’olar”, and he’ll listen.” He opened the door leading to the garage and Grogu bolted past the two of you and into it, yipping happily. “I’ll keep an eye on him, too.” 

You thanked him, and as Din pressed the button to open the garage door, you both blinked slowly in the brightening light, the dog sitting on his haunches and waiting. “You should pull your truck forward. That’ll give you a place to start.” It was a good idea, and Din retreated into the house, grabbing his keys. 

When he went back into the garage, he saw that you’d picked up a broom and were clearing his windshield off, careful not to step on and compact the snow in the driveway. He let you continue, stepping forward to keep an eye on Grogu - the dog zooming back and forth across the yard, and was surprised to hear his name a few seconds later. 

“All done.” You had snow on the front of your jacket and pants - but a huge smile on your face. “I’ll go out there with him.” Setting the broom back in place against the wall, you moved around the front of the truck and carefully stepped toward the yard, hopping over undisturbed snow. 

He watched you for a few seconds - smiling as you bent down and called for Grogu while you picked up a handful of snow and tossed it into the air. I’m glad they get along. Looking away, he unlocked the door of his truck and climbed in, starting the engine and letting it idle for a few seconds before pulling into the garage. “Fuck.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the steering wheel. “Fuck, this is a dumb plan.” 

It wasn’t dumb because it was a bad plan, it was dumb because he knew how foolish it was to let yourselves have a few months of happiness before separating. But we agreed to it. We both …we both want something instead of nothing. And when he got out of the truck’s cab and tossed the keys onto one of the shelves in the garage, trading them for the shovel and stepping to the edge of the driveway, he returned his gaze to you, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

You and Grogu were still playing, the dog running in circles around your legs as you gently kicked snow at him, his jaws snapping as he tried to catch the powder. He could have watched you all morning, but instead tore his gaze away and started to shovel, making quick work of the side he’d been parked on before beginning behind your car. 

He checked in on you occasionally, making sure that you and Grogu were alright, but when he was almost done clearing the apron, he felt an impact against his left shoulder - and then, seconds later another. What the… 

When he looked up, you were standing in the center of his yard with a snowball in each hand, Grogu rolling around on the ground next to you. “Did you just…” He trailed off as you reared back and lobbed another snowball at him, Din able to duck out of the way of that one. “You did.”

“I did.” Laughing, you bent down and quickly formed more snowballs. “This is perfect packing snow, Din.” He brushed the snow from his coat and turned his head to look at the remaining section of the driveway - likely only a few more passes of the shovel - and then let it drop to the ground instead, striding toward you and bending to scoop up some snow of his own. 

“You asked for this.” Grinning, he stood and threw a snowball in your direction, Grogu quickly getting to his feet and barking happily. “Remember that.” But you didn’t reply, sending another snowball over - and that was all it took. 

The two of you traded shots for the next ten minutes, snow flying through the air and both of you laughing as you danced through the drifts, Grogu underfoot as he ran back and forth between you. He didn’t concentrate as hard as he would have if he were actually aiming with something that wasn’t snow, but he still hit you quite a few times despite your attempts to duck and avoid the snowballs. 

The hat you were wearing was covered in snow, clumps of it sticking to the cloth parts of your jacket and pants, and Din assumed that his outfit looked the same - but he didn’t care. I’m having fun. I’m … this is … He groaned as you hit him square in the back with a large snowball, Din shouting out your name as he spun back to face you, three leaving his hands in rapid succession. “Oh, now you’re gonna get it.” 

He advanced toward you, Grogu leaping and trying to bite the snow he still held, but before he reached you, Din felt his boot sole catch on a slick spot, his arms flailing as he fell onto the ground. Ow. You took advantage, surging forward and scooping up more snow - but instead of forming it, you moved to stand next to him and then dropped it on his head, Din shutting his eyes at the last possible second as his skin was sprinkled with the cold powder. “Am I?” You laughed again, moving to step back - but he was too quick for you, a hand shooting out to take yours into his, tugging once and pulling you down so that you fell across his lap, both of you laughing as his arms went around you, urging you closer to his chest. “Alright, Din, you win.” 

He held you close, watching as you turned your head up to look at him. This wasn’t a bad idea.  This is … the best idea. 

Pulling one gloved hand back, Din used a finger to wipe snow from your cheek, his eyes locked on the movement and the way your lips parted at the touch. “Do I?” A tiny nod was all you managed before Grogu jumped into the mix, placing his paws on Din’s leg and leaning in, licking the side of your face. “Grogu, daab. Get down!” 

“No, it’s fine.” You laughed again, letting go of Din and wrapping your arms around the dog. ‘He just wants to play.” 

“We should go back in. I’m soaked, and you have to be, too.” He hated to get up, but didn’t want either of you to get sick from the cold. “Come on. You can change and I’ll throw our wet clothes into the dryer for a couple minutes before you leave.” 

He didn’t want you to go but knew that he couldn’t keep you all day. “Sounds good.” You pushed to your feet and brushed your pants off, staring down at him. “My hands are kind of cold anyway.” 

Within a few minutes, the two of you were back inside the house, your outer layers removed. He brought your jeans and shirt from the previous night up from the dryer and handed them to you. “Be right back.” You nodded as he headed up the stairs, Din’s hand on the railing the entire way. 

He changed quickly, just putting on a different pair of sweatpants and a dry hoodie before pulling on a new pair of socks. What a great morning. What a great … weekend. He was still smiling as he went back downstairs - but it disappeared when he saw you standing in the kitchen, phone in hand and a horrified look on your face. 

“What’s wrong?” You didn’t respond right away, instead lifting one hand to cover your mouth, head whipping back and forth. Din said your name, reaching you in only a few steps. “What happened?” 

“Look.” It was only one word - and whispered through your fingers, but Din’s eyes moved to the screen of your phone, his heart sinking at what he saw on it. 

It was a picture of the two of you from the night before - his arm around you as he kissed you. Oh, that’s not …  But as he continued to look at the screen, the pit in his stomach grew when he saw that not only was there one picture of the two of you there - the one with your snowmen in the background was posted, too… and both your names were listed beneath it. Ibic cuyir dush. This is really bad.

— 

Ko’lar: come here:

Daab: down

Ibic cuyir dush: this is bad

Tag list reblog coming soon!

[snuhee]

shoot your shot ꕀ kim sunwoo

genre: fluff / wc: 0.9k / no warnings

the cafeteria noise was drilling into your ears, making it impossible for you to concentrate on your studies. you were deciding to go to the library; a very familiar place for “nerds” like you. although you didn't like the nickname, the classmates who constantly called you that weren't wholly wrong. as you tried to open the doors, to your surprise it was locked. the librarian must have gone to the bathroom and you were getting impatient.

so for a change of scenery, you chose to go into the courtyard where all the opposite people from you hung out aka the sporty type. 

you took out your notes at a small bench near the basketball courts, placing your stationery neatly to your side. this way, you’ll get more work done without any stress. as you calmly breathed in and out, you focused on the textbook in front of you. progress was shown through the many annotations you put in the paper. this is what you loved to do. understanding a subject gave you so much serotonin and energy. suddenly, you felt an object approaching your head and the peace was broken. as you fell over, your vision blurred as a figure hovered over your body, but their face was just a blob. 

next thing you know, you found yourself in the nurse’s office with a boy sitting across from you completely dozed off. he had a basketball next to his feet. before he could wake up, you took a mental note of his fluffy black hair, the way his plain black clothes fit on him, and his gorgeous lips. not to mention he was way taller compared to you. 

busy staring at his build, you didn’t feel his eyes on you. “hm?” you could hear him softly mumble.

“oh! you woke up.” he jolted up from his quick slumber, eyes wide open. 

“uh yeah…what happened?” you questioned the boy.

“i accidentally hit you with my ball. i’m so sorry about that by the way.” he apologized sincerely. you could tell by his boba ball eyes. 

“it’s fine. where’s my stuff? it’s really important.” you only cared about your items as they were precious notes you needed for the upcoming test this week. 

“it’s in the main office. don’t worry,” he reassured you as he felt your body stiffen up. 

“oh okay. thank you. anyway, nice to meet you. i gotta go now.” you slowly lifted yourself up and out of the bed. 

as you were about to leave, he stood up quickly making you look back at him. 

“i’m kim sunwoo by the way.” he scratched the back of his neck which made you chuckle. you could tell he was a grade below you from the way he acted towards you. 

“oh cool. sunwoo. i’m y/n.” you gave him a quick smile before exiting the room. 

whilst walking to the main office, that whole interaction with sunwoo wouldn’t leave your mind. you couldn’t think of any reasons why you weren’t upset with him. he ruined your study session but why weren’t you mad? is it because he was your exact ideal type? how come you never noticed him? what’s the point of thinking this hard if you guys would never meet again. you guys are from two different worlds. talking to a pretty boy like him just seemed like a one-time thing. 

a week goes by and sunwoo was on your mind 24/7. he would appear everywhere. even in the halls, he’d find your eyes in the ocean of students passing by. it was driving you crazy. would your worlds ever cross paths? it never seemed possible whenever you’d see girls surround him. he felt so far from you. 

you haven’t been to the courtyard this whole time since the library was finally open. it was peaceful and quiet again. although your life seemed boring to others, just the simple things made your day such as seeing the beautiful morning sunrise. who knew such things could impact you so much. when you walked into the library, almost every table was packed. the only seat left was near the window right next to the courtyard. 

as you were highlighting a section of your textbook, a basketball was thrown onto your desk from the window. this person must have great aim. as you glimpsed at the ball, a white paper taped onto it caught your attention. it read ‘come to the basketball courts - sunwoo’ with a cute face doodle next to his name. you couldn’t help to laugh at his silly way to get you to talk to him. it still felt like a fever dream that he would want anything to do with you. was this a way for him to get a tutor? the possibilities in your head were endless. 

when you reached the courts, you were met with sunwoo who had a playful smile plastered onto his face. this boy had trouble written all over him but you were curious about what he wanted to say. 

“it’s been a while y/n.” he beamed, putting his hands in his pocket.

“i guess so sunwoo.” you cheekily responded. 

“so.. i was wondering…if you’d like to get to know each other a little more…” he stepped towards you leaving a small space between you both. this sexual tension and eye contact made you swoon.

“a little straightforward isn’t it?” you joked, trying to remain calm but sunwoo easily made you flustered. with his troublesome flirty ways, he smoothly made his way into ruining your peaceful quiet life. you didn’t mind though. 

 “i’m just trying to shoot my shot,” he smirked while shrugging his shoulders. 

a/n: oh i love this concept <3 truly a classic like what the person who requested this said !!! thank you for asking for this it was fun writing it mwa 

@snuhee's please do not steal or copy 2022