#Descent Towards Death

[petpluto]

I get that the writers ‘needed’ Tara to die to get their surprise Big Bad of season 6 in Dark!Willow, but it destroys one of the better parts of season 6 for me. Which is -

Tara going back and trying with Willow is the culmination of one of the main conflicts I see in season 6; that being fear versus trust, and how various characters fail (or succeed) when confronted with a fork in the road. “Understand we’ll go hand in hand but we’ll walk alone in fear” is there for a reason. I think Willow acts out of fear for a lot of season 6, before starting to work on herself and trusting herself. Xander doesn’t go through with his marriage due to his fear. Giles *leaves the country* because he fears he’s holding Buffy back (and sub-textually, losing her again). But Tara comes back because she has spent that time alone, and chooses to trust in Willow, and to trust that letting go of the past is the right move. She triumphs where the others falter.

And she does so again and again in season 6. She becomes wholly realized as a separate character from Willow, with bonds with other members of the Scooby Gang (mostly Buffy and Dawn, but still) outside of Willow in a way other romantic partners don’t get to have. She has a life outside of Willow and outside of their group, and has more firmly found her place in that group.

And season 6 rips that away from us, for what to me is a lackluster exploration of Willow’s grief and insecurities and fears. The show that has as a running theme the tragedy of girls being used as tools for a greater “good” commits the same sin.

[gemissleeping]

Moonlight & Masks

Theodore Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Newly turned Death Eater Theodore Nott is tasked with hunting down Harry Potter and the Order Operative protecting him. Only to discover the person he hunts happens to be the one he loves.

Length: 1.8k

Notes: Back from the dead (I am so sorry things are hectic and I don’t want to release a chapter I’m not feeling) with this little one from @thatdammchickennugget’s Hogmarch Challenge! Death Eater Theo. Use of the killing curse. Angst as always because we know I live for the drama. For those of you wanting more Veleveteen, in my head this occurs in the same story universe (which I know isn’t the same as an update pls forgive my sins). Not proofread, we have deadlines to meet.

The sting of lightning hung in the air as she weaved through the trees. The thundering footfall still pressing behind her. Lungs burning with need, she pressed on. Dizzied from the turbulent descent she and Mad Eye had suffered.

Alastor. He was dead.

She hadn’t even been able to take his body from the dirt where it had fallen. And the Death Eaters certainly wouldn’t afford him the dignity of a proper burial.

Tears clawed at her cheeks as she bounded over the tree roots twisting across the forest floor. Thinking only of Mad Eye, the way his voice had simply ceased when the curse had hit him. No cry of pain, no strangled wail. Only silence.

Her grip on her wand tightened as her tears ran hot. The taunting laugh of one of her pursuers echoing through the trees as they crashed after her. The darkness spinning endlessly around her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Gone were the rules they had been taught to play by. Humanity sacrificed for power. Thoughtless with rage, she cast back her wand into the leering shadows. Letting the words fall from her lips before her heart could catch them.

Avada Kedavra

The green light felt as though it tore right through her as it ricocheted from her wand. Scattering through the trees and hitting its mark with a crack. Ripping at her chest with blistering heat, forcing her ribs apart until the spell dissipated. The laughter ceased. That same absence that had followed earlier resting through the trees. She was dragged to a still.

The force of the spell brought her to her knees. Bark breaking the skin of her palms, blood blooming as she fell forward in agony. She felt it being torn from her throat just now; some vital piece of herself. What she had given to cast the curse. The crack rung through her ears. Trailing her even as its ringing grew soft, faded into the background of the forest’s creaks and stutters. She could feel the heaving of her chest, dizzied by the absence that had been dug into her.

Before she could break upon the forest floor completely, the snap of a twig behind her brought reality rearing back. Whipping to face the darkness, she searched the teasing shadows that surrounded her. Nothing answered but the wind. She pushed herself up on bloody palms, staggering towards the nearest tree. Catching the glint of a metal smile hit by moonlight as she turned. But it was too late.

The Death Eater was on her in a second, wand jammed to her throat. One hand wrenching her head back by the hair. A mutilated snarl coming from the unmoving mask.

“Potter.”

She still had Harry’s face.

The figure towered before her, gloved hand pulling harshly at her hair as she strained against their grip. More tears pricking at her eyes as she faced the smooth and indifferent wall between them. Both of them were wearing masks really. But the thought brought little comfort to the nausea biting at her.

She was going to die someone else.

Wand to her throat, she closed her eyes. Preparing for the flurry of hot green light. Perhaps it was what she deserved, it could be a mercy. This way she would never have to truly face what she had done. There was no doubt in her mind that the person before her would finish the job. And yet she waited, but nothing came.

Opening her eyes once again she found him watching her carefully. Blue eyes clouded with something foreign, his silver mask lodged in the dirt at their feet. Looking at her with nothing but quiet restraint. She felt her throat close at the sight of him, all defences leaving her as she stared up at the boy before her.

“I asked something of you, when I saw you last,” Theo spoke lowly, wand still jammed to her throat as though he didn’t fully trust the person he saw before him. “Do you have an answer for me?” His voice fell flat against the forest air, low and heavy as his empty eyes.

His words sent another wave of dizziness crashing through her. The events of the past ten minutes threatening to bring everything up from her stomach. She wanted to fall into his chest and let his robes soak up her tears. To slice her palm clean across his cheek. Fall to the forest floor and not get up. Beg him to finish the job.

But instead, she did as she was told; she stayed quiet. Like the good little soldier they had taught her to be. Counting the freckles and moles that dotted the skin of his cheeks like they were her favourite constellations.

“Answer the question,” Theo snarled again, shoving her back forcefully. Back hitting the jagged edges of bark with an audible crack as a groan left her. Still she didn’t speak, blinking up at him as her head spun from when it had made contact with the tree.

“I’ll do it Potter,” he hissed lowly. His wand cutting further into her throat as she struggled to breathe under its pressure. He barely seemed to notice, staring down at her with empty eyes. “Don’t think I won’t just because you have something I want.”

She only watched him carefully, trying not to let herself give it away as she watched him. Staving off the clouds of memory that threatened to consume her at the sight of him.

“No?” He chimed, a sharp edge to his warm voice, “Very well.”

He drew a breathe, anger taking him in its burning grip. But just as the curse he had planned to cast was forming a whisper of air on his lips; she felt it. The rippling beneath her skin. Pulling and tugging and melting at the fibres of her. She bit her tongue as the pain of it ripped through her. Reforming beneath the skin as everything cracked and popped in and out of place. Until only she remained, swimming in Harry’s ridiculous hoodie.

Theo still had her pressed against the tree, all colour drained from his face as he watched the skin seem to melt and reform on her bones. His hands began to shake. She watched him with distant eyes, trying to hold onto what little restraint remained.

“What’s wrong?” She asked hoarsely, her throat aching from the potion’s due course. Theo’s wand still hesitantly pressed to the delicate skin of her throat. “Can’t do it anymore?”

It happened like the break of a dam. Her name fell from his lips in a rush of credence. Lips falling apart at the sight of her before him, what he’d almost done without realising. His wand dropped in a stagger, as though she had struck him. The darkness of the forest enclosing around them.

“You left me there,” he breathed suddenly, as though it hadn’t meant to come out. She blinked up at him as confusion swept her. But the lost look he carried only washed away as his eyes hardened.

“What?” she breathed.

“You left me there alone,” he spoke again, ignited with a sudden rage. His words were like kindling to her own. Her brow cracking with anger.

“No, Theo,” her voice shook, “you left me.” Theo looked to the ground, shaking his head gently in denial. He took a hesitant step forwards, as though to reach for her. But she stepped back, her spine hitting the tree. “Do you know how much I had to go through alone before I got out of there? Because you were too busy running off with Draco, or-”

He closed the distance between them with a blistering intensity.

“Do you know what it’s been like since? Without you?” It came out in a boiling whisper. “He wants your head almost as much as he wants Potter’s,” Theo’s eyes softened at the words, swept up in whatever memory they procured. “And I just have to sit there and take it, listening to the vile things they plan to do to you. Knowing there’s not a single fucking thing I can do about any of it, except for-”

He didn’t have to say it, the break of his voice said enough. The way his eyes fled from her own. He had meant to kill her.

“Why don’t you do it then?” She whispered, eyes brimming with more tears. Looking to the boy she had loved since she was too young to understand the word. “It would save me the-”

“Stop it.”

“I deserve it, don’t I? For leaving you. You said so yourself, in your letter. I read it you know.”

“No, I didn’t mean-”

“I know you’ve cast it before-”

“I said stop,” he bellowed, pressing himself against her in a flash of pent up fury. His body flush against hers as his chest heaved with the weight of his rage. “Even if I wanted to,” he whispered, his lips brushing lightly against her ear, “I can’t.” His hands tightened into fists, “He wants to do it himself.”

He peeled himself away from her, as though every inch of his skin that couldn’t feel hers was the worst form of torture. Drinking in every part of her except for her eyes, which he couldn’t bring himself to meet. She searched his, begging him to pull himself to meet hers.

“Is it that?” She breathed, fearful eyes rounded as she looked up to him. Searching for that thread that had always hung between them. His eyes grew tense as he saw what thoughts lay in hers, “Or is it because-”

“Stop.”

-you love me.

“Don’t,” he snapped, but even the sharp edge of his voice couldn’t distract from the despair swimming in his eyes. “Please,” he breathed, his head dipping towards her neck in defeat, but not daring to brush the skin, “don’t.”

He wanted to hold her, let his fingers trail across her cheeks, brush his thumb over her eyelashes. Just to make sure it was really her. Not some cruel trick made out to test his loyalty. But instead he let his breath fan across the bare skin of her neck. Knowing it was the only way he could allow himself to touch her.

“It was you I asked after,” his confession fell dead against the skin of her neck. He heard the breath she drew as though it was taken from him. Felt himself unravelling being so close to her now, after months of waiting and silence and searching.

Fuck it.

He’d be flayed for it, but everything could be damned. None of it mattered if he could feel her lips on his again. His hands flew to the delicate skin of her cheeks. Palms soaking in the remainder of her tears as his lips met hers. They parted effortlessly for him, welcoming him in as though she had been waiting just as he had. The softness of her lips balancing against his hunger. Her head tilted towards him, completely at his mercy beneath his calloused palms. Just as she should have been all this time.

[quitepossiblybamboozled]

I've seen so many posts about how Coriolanus is cold and calculating and a user first and foremost but like. y'all are forgetting that he genuinely cared about people. He loved his family fiercely, he had a best friend in school (Festus) and even seemed worried about him because of what Nero Price had done during the war to feed his family (the line, "Did you tell your best friend his crush was a cannibal?")

We see other instances of his compassion throughout, too. Even if you discount everything he ever did to protect Lucy Gray, even if you boil his affection for her down to infatuation and obsession, he cared about other people.

he had the capacity for kindness (shown many times with Lysistrata), for guilt (for Clemensia's encounter with the snakes and for how he ignored her after), for genuine sympathy (he nearly cried for Festus when his tribute died and he left the dais), for regret (over turning Sejanus in), for grief (Arachne, the Ring twins, Gaius, Sejanus—to an extent, we even witness the grief he still feels for his mother's death).

The entire book of tbosas is a constant example of his anxiety, as well.

Yes Coriolanus turns out evil in the end, but discounting his capacity for humanity and genuine warmth will only serve to make us forget that his tale is one of choice.

this was not predestined.

he wasn't born a monster; he was molded into something bitter, and tired, and scared, and shaped himself into something monstrous after. his descent was not a steady decline; it was full of moments where he nearly turned himself around! it was his feeling of obligation to his family's legacy that kept him on a dark, easy path.

Lucy Gray believed they were written in the stars, and the book comments that Coriolanus didn't truly believe in mysticism or destiny or anything like that.

Because Coriolanus made every possible choice he could to delay the inevitable: his own disgrace. He valued his image more than his morals, which is what eventually led to his first downfall and eventually his death. remember what Tigris said? about having to choose between those?

Well, Coriolanus did have a tendency toward greed.

[starhoppin]

pick a picture; who is your soulmate

pile 1 -> pile 2 -> pile 3

disclaimer: this is a general reading! these messages may not fit everyone. please take what resonates and leave the rest.

「 pile one 」

[personality] queen of swords, queen of pentacles rv, ten of pentacles this person is very intellectual. in fact they might tend to overanalyze and overthink things/events/situations that have happened in their life. this can be a burden for them. however, i'm also seeing that they're a bit of a dreamer. specifically, they're someone who struggles with grounding themselves in the present. they may have a lot of ideas that they want to put out into the world, but they have a difficult time turning their fantasies/ideas into something tangible. they're driven and optimistic. they're someone who always views the cup as "half full" rather than half empty. they know that as long as they work towards their true desires, they will be able to obtain them.

[appearance] long dark hair (both men and women), distinct nose (specifically large noses), strong jawline, might like to wear jewelry (specifically necklaces - may like to layer them), native or asian descent.

[love language] the mapmaker of destiny, gaia's garden i'm getting for some that your soulmate may be into art - specifically painting or drawing? they might like to give you those types of gifts. they might also like to give you flowers. consequently, their main love language might be gift-giving.

[potential zodiac signs] lots of fire sign energy - specifically aries as well as leo placements. i'm also getting strong pisces energy. they might also have gemini placements.

[songs that may resonate] f*kin' perfect - p!nk, mr. loverman - ricky montgomery, falling - chase atlantic

「 pile two 」

[personality] eight of cups, death (cb: six of swords), page of cups this person is a dreamer - some might describe them as someone with their "head in the clouds." i'm getting the image of them thinking of something happy, but when someone asks them what they're smiling about, they just shake their head and say never mind. they have innocent/puppy/golden retriever energy. they're like a bundle of sunshine. i wouldn't be surprised if this was someone with a lot of friends or was described as the life of the party. however, this person might have a fear of change or asking for help. they may seem they're strong and independent, but they might feel the need to do everything by themselves.

[appearance] for some, their soulmate may dress in a boho aesthetic? your soulmate may have either dark hair or blond (like i'm getting either they have super dark hair, or super blond- almost white hair. nothing really in between). if they're a guy, they may have facial hair.

[love language] the lady of the gift, the horse king rv this person's love language is definitely gift-giving. i'm not seeing anything in particular, but i'm getting that they'll buy things that they think you will like on a whim. literally like anything that reminds them of you. also their love language could be acts of service. they will want to spoil you - which, in their mind, means giving you "the princess treatment." this is the kind of person who will open the car door for you, cook you dinner to make your day easier, etc.

[potential zodiac signs] lots of water sign energy - specifically scorpio; however, they may also be a cancer. i'm also getting heavy aries energy. they might have some aquarius placements too.

[songs that may resonate] golden hour - jvke, once upon a december - liz callaway, battlefield - svrcina

「 pile three 」

[personality] king of swords, knight of swords, nine of wands your soulmate is very logical. when it comes to a decision of any kind, they carefully weigh the facts beforehand. when they have to make a choice, they're very practical - meaning they might go against their true desires if they deem that route "illogical." this person values fairness and truth above all else. this person may be a bit rigid when it comes to their plans. they like having control and may get frustrated when their plans go astray or things don't unfold exactly how they planned. they may take on more than they can handle because they're eager to get to their end goal. they may struggle with burnout - specifically because they tend to ignore signs that they should rest. however, their dedication and resiliency translates into your love life in a positive way; this is the type of person who will refuse to give up on you (both in terms of pursuing you in the beginning and throughout your relationship). they will always want to work through problems and they aren't the type to brush things under the rug.

[appearance] if your soulmate is a man, they may have dark hair as well as facial hair. if they're a woman, they have long hair - blonde or reddish. they may also like to experiment with makeup - such as trying out different looks or they may like to wear unique eye makeup. in general, they may like to wear hats.

[love language] the lady of the gift, the hawk prince this person loves to give gifts - in particular, things that you may be eyeing. if you look at something while you're out shopping but put it back, they will make a mental note to go back and buy it. they pay attention to what you like/dislike because they want to give you thoughtful gifts that show that they care.

[potential zodiac signs] heavy water sign energy - specifically pisces and cancer. some air sign energy as well - particularly libra. they may also have some aries placements.

[songs that may resonate] enchanted - taylor swift, slow dancing in the dark - joji, dive - ed sheeran

tarot decks used in this reading: cirque du tarot & wisdom of the hidden realms oracle cards

[rxzennia]

thrice shall the bell toll

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 expands on 2.2 leaks, dark content towards the end, character death (everyone dies), heavy angst(?), not proofread. totally did not die a little inside when i wrote this, no. thank you all for 100+ followers! gold and gears, achievement grinding are driving me nuts and seeing everyone else get him makes me want to quit the game altogether. perhaps it’s time i focus more on other things. 

“never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

the musicians begin to play with rigor as the symphony enters crescendo, building up to its climax as the orchestral music increases in intensity and irregularity. the choir sings, paving the way for the descent of an aeon, of justice; their harmony announcing the impending doom of the sinner, promising his demise, promising him eternal rest.

you arrive at the central plaza, just in time for the closing act.

you meet sunday’s eyes, the bastard head of the oak family, the mastermind conducting this cacophony of noises and disturbances. he has the gall to smirk, to flash you a smirk, as if he’s daring you to do anything.

“aventurine, ambassador of the interastral peace corporation.” sunday stalks around the man bound in shackles, like predator circling prey, hands behind his back as he looks down at him with contempt. “you are hereby found… guilty.”

the baton descends – with it, the melody dramatically tips over its climax into decrescendo. 

people often say that death has no place in a dream of prosperity and privilege. 

but when the distinction between dream and reality blurs as the very dimension crumbles, who’s to say that to die is to wake, and who’s to say that death is not still death?

in his last moments of consciousness, aventurine sees you reach for your scarf with an expression he had never seen before. acceptance, perhaps? or disappointment? regardless, you have still chosen to surprise him at his last moment. must you continue to exceed his expectations even at his execution? but both you and he know that it is already too late, and his final solace is that you are present to witness the final chapter of his story.

that he is not left behind again.

the golden hands come full circle, palms closing as the strings lift their bows in unison, leaving only the winds to continue playing. the conductor drops their baton as the inevitable quickly encroaches upon the center stage, as the music ceases until only a sole trumpet remains sounding –

he closes his eyes with a last smile for you; aventurine has finally won, at the cost of losing everything.

once shall the bell toll, for the blessed prisoner condemned to a life of deceit and insincerity.

in a split second, the sky darkens; what used to be perpetually golden and bright has been eclipsed without a trace. the artificial sun goes out, street lamps are extinguished, a veil of darkness envelops the golden hour. what was once paradise becomes the abyss, and lament stands where joy once stood. 

your scarf flutters to the ground as you give it a strong tug, undoing its loops around your neck as you let it fall. you are half-expecting a gasp followed by a waterfall of words, but it never comes.

because there is no source. aventurine isn’t here anymore. 

there’s no more of your boss staring at you with the most awestruck expression as you reveal your face anymore. there’s no more of your boss’s endless pestering anymore.

there’s no more of aventurine opening up to you, getting you to open up, or him tentatively trusting you with fragments of his past anymore.

for the first time, you experience anger. a wrath so intense that it is enough to set even the heavens alight.

it’s about time someone ripped up this disgusting dream woven with fabric made of lies. this facade of extravagant luxury built upon a decaying foundation and the desperation of the masses’ escapism, a nightmare delicately packaged into fantasy that had stripped countless people of their ambitions and futures, it’s about time someone demolished it all.

the dreamchasers who voluntarily surrendered their realities for a temporary escape, the family members who could only obey, the heads of families who put together a ploy like this, and the harmonious strings who composed such a chaotic melody…

none of them matter. 

all that matters is that aventurine is executed, publicly, in utmost humiliation.

your scarf disintegrates into tiny specks of dust. brilliantly platinum scales extend from your fingertips to your jaw, threatening to stretch along your face, too. as if answering your call, serpents emerge from all corners of your shadow, slithering off towards all directions as they respond to your will.

in the sky that is pitch black, even darker shadows rear their heads; they fly, circle around the plane of the masterfully crafted illusion, around penacony itself. they await your orders, they await your next command. 

“eat up, my darlings.”

twice shall the bell toll, for the manufactured illusion of utopia drowning in the afterglow of opulence.

there is a reason why oroboros the voracity has kept to themselves in an unseen corner of the universe – they are not titled the unsatisfied devourer without reason.

with each corner you take for your own sustenance, you feel the universe tilt. the scales are tipping, the balance is tipping. with each piece of reality you consume, the boundary between subconscious and conscious blurs, falsehoods bleed into truth, and you feast upon them all the same.

in your rage, you are not merely tearing lives and environments apart. you are tearing religions apart, tearing peoples apart. worshippers and monuments of xipe the harmony, their symbols and their emanators, the hard-built resort destination called the dreamscape, and the plainly unremarkable penacony in reality, you are tearing it all apart.

you know you have upset the balance, and you know the consequences. you can hear the crystalline chime of the arbiter’s footsteps approaching you, you can almost see the blinding white light of the operating theater.

as the planet of festivities begin to fall out of orbit, so too do the serpents begin to decompose into glittering ashes. 

people scream as gravity somersaults, some swallowed by the caving ground, some swallowed by the gaping maws of the faceless serpents, and some dying by the hand of their kin as they struggle for survival.

you watch impassively as mortals scramble to prolong their lives, and you watch impassively as your serpents are lost, one by one, to the hands of an aeon.

if the mere handwave of an arrogant upholder of justice and a simple declaration are justification enough for an execution, for what reason should you not return the gesture?

if people would simply watch as someone is served the death penalty, what reason do you have to act as they become feed one after another?

and what reason do you have to cling onto mortal sentiments, now that your anchor to mortality is gone?

the man they killed is aventurine. your sometimes-too-annoying boss that you would not trade for anything in the world. your anchor; your dear, dear friend.

you see no reason to rein in your instincts anymore. the primal urge to consume overwhelms you, and all you want to do is to devour, devour, until there is nothing left.

voracity. oroboros’s will.

eat up while you still can, fill your metaphorical stomach with the blood of implicit killers, and tear into the flesh of the perpetrators of this grave transgression.

make them pay. before your judgement rains upon you, before the trumpeters herald your doom, before the star radiating false light meets its end in a supernova, make them pay.

their surgery is swift and painless – precise incision; two, three motions of the scalpel; complete excision.

at long last, the curtains fall. theatrics reach its conclusion, and when you look – there is no one left in the audience. 

thrice shall the bell toll, for the leviathan whose fury burned brighter than the ordinance of equilibrium.

[fanaticsnail]

The Hawk and the Fledgling (P2)

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here.

Word Count: 3,365 (Yeah, it was meant to be a drabble but the words ran away with me again)

I ended the year with Mihawk, looks like I'm starting the year off with him too! Lets goooooooo.

Warnings: Kissing, pining, longing, fighting, mentions of illness, drinking, kissing.

Taglist: @whatthemonsterfuckisthis, @writingmysanity, @gingernut1314, @alphaash99, @someobsessionrequired, @bookandstar

Hanahaki Disease is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from  unrequited love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings, or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear.

You presented your thumb and index finger up to your swollen lips, chapped and coarse from the hoarse coughing while warm to the touch. You felt no remanence of the illness that once eclipsed your body and rendered it unresponsive and trapped beneath the curling vines. The only aspect that remained was a small flurry of pale flower petals atop your tongue, prompting you to reach your fingers inwards to pull them out.

You were still sitting atop the wooden table Mihawk had placed you on moments prior, shock falling from your every fiber. You felt warm, light and breathless. Even though you had no weight placed on your chest, you felt burdened by the knowledge that lord Dracule Mihawk thought himself not to be the harborer of your affections.

As soon as you pinched one of the soft petals from its place atop your tongue and held it up to your eyes to examine the almost innocent-looking harbinger of doom, the door swung wide and Zoro was shoved harshly onto the cobblestone floor. His heavy boots were thumping franticly against the stone with haste, his eyes wide and searching yours for any affliction.

“I’ve brought the oaf for you,” your mentor spoke, his eyes not meeting with yours as he hastily walked through the kitchen to the leather-bound wall displaying his vast collection of wines. The many bottles were laying flat, perpendicular to the floor in catalogued rows from whites, roses and reds. Selecting one without reading the label, he reached his hand down and found a corkscrew and began hastily, and almost aggressively, brandishing it to rid the cork from the bottle neck.

Zoro gasped, sauntering over to you with wide strides and taking your cheek beneath his palm. He rose your chin upwards with the angle of his wrist, eyes darting between yours as his thumb smoothed a small circle over your cheekbone. He circled his grip down, your bottom lip feeling contact from his calloused thumb atop it as he continued looking you over.

“Hanahaki, right? Love unrequited?” he whispered softly, leaning down lower to your face in a low stoop. His eyes were warm, soft and almost apprehensive – a painted triad you were yet to see atop the green-haired swordsman.

This was the fifth time you were rendered speechless this day: the first being the knowledge that such an affliction exists in this realm, death and withering away your body by the doomed flowers and vines strangling your organs. The second was the knowledge that your unrequited and intense emotional love for your mentor, Dracule Mihawk, was the factor propelling you into this dooming fate. The third, Mihawk assumed your doom was due to the fact you were infatuated with your peer and his fellow pupil – not himself. The fourth, Mihawk confessed he had held a certain romantic fondness towards you; your love not as unrequited as you once thought.

The fifth was the fact that Zoro was descending in his stoop; his face leaning closer and closer to you, his lips drawing ever nearer to yours as he closed his eyes. Halting his descent, he raised his unoccupied hand up to brush several strands of hair out from shieling your gaze from his. Your lips were almost brushing, you could feel the heat from his breath tinted with the flavor of green matcha-mochi and cherry blossom tea.

“I do not yet harbor love powerful enough for you romantically,” he whispered, moving his hand through your hair to cradle the back of your head, while falling his other to rest atop your shoulder, “but I am a fast learner.”

At that, your eyes widened further as he pressed his lips against yours in a slow and deliberate kiss. You rasped out a small squeak as Zoro deepened the kiss, his brow furrowing as he deeply inhaled through his nose and circled his chin to rotate the open mouthed kiss he was pressing against you. He reached down, pulling your wrists upwards to circle his neck in order to bring you closer against him. His torso pushed flush against yours, he redrew his palms upwards to collect your face and lace his fingertips into the back of your hair once more.

He was passionate, deliberate and also cautionary. He was falling all of his desire onto you, along with the desperation that comes with the knowledge that one of his friends is ill – this embrace being the only cure, to his current knowledge. Hearing a small ‘pop’ of the cork being pried away from the green-stained wine bottle, the next sounds that were heard within the room was the glugging pour from the bottle into a crystal glass.

Continuing to remain unresponsive, and eyes perpetually unblinking and wide in shock, you brought your shaking hands down to Zoro’s chest and gave him a small shove to halt his movements. He apprehensively drew himself away from your lips, eyes first closed while his lips almost chased yours in response to his withdrawal. You pushed him a little harder to halt more deep and passionate kisses being pressed into your lips, while listening to a small whistled chirp sound indicating Mihawk was oxidizing his selected vintage over his palate and tongue.

Zoro received the message and pulled away from your lips, a frown prominent against his face and kiss-swollen lips partially parted. His eyes searched yours, leaning forward to press his forehead against your own to bring himself closer to you.

“Are you okay? Is everything okay? Was this okay-?” he began, halting as you pressed your four fingers against his lips to halt his words. Pushing your forehead against his in return of his physical affection, you whispered in a voice only audible for him to hear.

“Zoro, I adore you. You are my best friend, my peer. My brother in arms,” you removed your hand from his lips and caressed his cheek. Sighing out a deep breath, you shut your eyes as you spoke low your confession, “but it was not you that was holding me hostage to the disease.”

Zoro’s eyes widened, immediately seeking the gaze of his mentor who seemed to be looking bored and as disinterested as he could make himself out to be. His arms were crossed, him holding the crystal wineglass filled to the brim with crimson liquid and leaning against the marble benchtop with his legs crossed at the ankles.

“But you’re okay now. What does that mean?” he asked, his tone curious and almost frantic. He drew his gaze back to you and a warm blush tinted his cheeks as your confession dawned on him. “You haven’t spoken to Perona yet, so I doubt it was her. Does that mean- did he, did he-.”

“-Zoro, if you wouldn’t mind,” you winced out, a blush rising of your own to spread warmth over the apples of your cheeks and tips of your ears. Zoro immediately got the message, his nose scrunching up and shoving you playfully with his arm as his wolfy grin spread over his lips to paint his face with his knowing smile.

“A shame,” he chuckled, turning from you to make his way out of the kitchen, “I would’ve liked to see where this goes.” You laughed in response, looking to the ground as you swung your legs down from their position atop the table and jumped to place them on the floor. Mihawk’s unblinking gaze trailed after Zoro, scowling at the smirk his young apprentice offered. Zoro turned once more, arched his eyebrows up twice at you and closed the kitchen door behind him.

“What does that mean, Fledgling? Rabbit done with you so soon?” He arched his brow up as you approached. You steadied your breath and reached up to collect the wineglass from Mihawk’s fingers and placed it on the countertop behind him.

“I was drinking that, Fledgling,” he lazily disregarded you, turning away and bringing his hand over to collect the stem of the crystal glass from atop the counter. You immediately halted him by placing your hand atop his wrist, your eyes brimming with caution over how he’d receive such a touch. Keeping your gaze fixed on the hand clutching his wrist, you sucked in a slow breath and allowed the caution to remain steadfast in shielding your intentions from him.

“Sir,” you addressed him, his chin lazily snapping over to hold his intense and spiteful irises against your smaller form.

“Yes, fledgling?” was all he said in response to you words. You took a moment to syphon through your thoughts, attempting to relay what you needed to in order to confess your disease and the cure of it; only to have them halted as soon as they formed behind your lips.

“Little kiss fixed you up, did it? The rabbit and the fledgling, hardly a fit I would match. However,” he turned his gaze away from your face to fixate on his wineglass atop the marble bench behind him, “it is fitting, considering your age and stage. A match many would desire: similar interests-.”

“Sir,” you uttered a little more firmly, hoping to break him away from his lazy and annoyed rant; but alas, to no avail.

“I should move your rooms closer together. It would be good to spur on your training: pit you against one another to bring more passion into your sparring-,” he continued, rolling his eyes and breaking his wrist away from your grip to reclaim his crystal chalice filled with the bitter taste of a darkened Shiraz. Your temper was hanging by a thread, your nerves shot alite under your emotional state.

You had nearly died of a broken heart, Mihawk had confessed his fondness for you – healing you with his words. Zoro had kissed you, something you neither needed nor desired for yourself – especially since recovering from the death-like illness. And Mihawk: your boss, your mentor, your love, he was continuing to absolutely dance around his own confession by continuing to drink, and talk.

“My lord-,” you attempted to draw in his attention to you by using his formal title, to no avail.

“-I shall send for a priest. Perhaps you’ll be married by the weeks end-,” he turned away from you and drew up the chalice to his lips. Agitation was growing within him, his lips curling up and eyes narrowing.

“Lord Mihawk-,” you hoped his name would bring some kind of sway over him, but he continued on his tirade of nonsensical theatrics.

“-I will have Perona be your witness. Considering no family for either of you present; it will be up to me to give you away, I suppose-,” his voice was increasing in volume, his anger rolling off him in waves.

“-Lord Dracule Mihawk!” you reached your arm to collect his shoulder beneath your palm, only for him to roughly shake off your tender touch.

He turned to face you, his brows deep in their descent against his forehead. He was enraged; understandable from his perspective. He not only witnessed his own unrequited love be cured of their disease by another, but willingly drew him in to present his lips against your own. All he could do was watch and wallow in his own rage.

“And where will you honeymoon, hm?! Going to make some strong, sword-wielding children soon, I presume! You’ll need to halt your training in favor of your-.”

You lunged forward, jumping high enough to grip his shoulders with your arms and wove yourself around his form: legs hooking his hips and joining together behind him by your ankles. You immediately circled his neck with your arms and dragging him onto you and smashing his lips against your own to silence his taunts. Your hands wove into his hair, his form immediately falling victim to your embrace with a small stumble. His right hand clutched the wineglass firmly, although the liquid spilt over the brim at the hastiness of your embrace.

His unoccupied hand drew itself up to hook itself around your waist and hold you flush against his torso. Opening his lips, he danced his tongue around your swollen bottom lip and joined it with your own with a low gasped moan. Sharing breaths, you continued to harshly reciprocate his almost violent and desperate collision of lips, tongue and teeth. If he pushed firm, you pushed harder. If he brushed his tongue with yours, you lightly bit the organ with your teeth.

As he trained you to continue to advance in brandishing your blade towards an enemy, never backing down for any reason; you continued this mantra as you wove your fingers into his blackened waves of loose curls atop his head. The actions, however, were absolutely reciprocated by the man woven between your thighs. If you bit his tongue, he pushed your face away and trailed a violent flurry of open mouthed kisses against your chin, jaw and neck – tongue swirling over your pulse before reclaiming his lips with your own.

You reached your hands up, removing his wide hat from his head to get a better anchorage against his body, prompting him to unceremoniously throw the crystal chalice against the polished cobblestone floor. The red liquid pooled at his feet, prompting a gasp to rise from your parted lips. Taking this small moment of distraction, Mihawk used both arms to hook beneath your legs and rotate you around him – pressing now your body against the marble countertop and burying his face on the exposed flesh between your neck and shoulder. His lips grazed over the skin, a tingle shooting up your spine and elevating the hairs on the back of your neck to stand to attention.

“M-My lord,” you stuttered out in a breathy whisper, your eyes glazed over and irises blown with lust. He growled in response, claiming a small portion of skin between his pearled teeth and biting your flesh gently. He moved his lips up, trailing and pressing soft and tender kisses against each area of skin revealed to him.

“If this be the only time I will ever be permitted to kiss you,” he whispered against your cheek, pressing a soft brush of his kiss-stricken lips atop the smooth area; his silken moustache scratching against the skin, “I won’t waste a single moment on words, Fledgling.” He pressed a slow and timid kiss against your lips, his eyes closed as he allowed himself this small tender moment to fall over him and onto you.

You shook your head into the kiss, arching your back against his torso to remove his latch on your lips. His strong arms held you firm, you feeling his arms grip you tighter in response.

“Mihawk,” you managed to utter, his name being the only thing to halt his advance at this stage. He fell his forehead against the base of your neck, feeling his dark curls tickle your chin, and his heavy breath fall against your chest.

“Forgive me, Fledgling,” he uttered, removing his hands from their grip beneath your thighs and placing them atop the marble beside your hips. He was not quite ready to fall away from your embrace, but did not want to push his luck further.

Gathering enough courage to finally break your confession through, the words flew from your mouth at lightning speed.

“My lord, it’s you. You were the reason I suffered in such a way. You were why I was pushing myself so hard in training. You were the reason I broke my body under your direction, daily. My lord,” you took his whiskered chin beneath your fingers and elevated his gaze to you. His eyes were glazed, pupils blown only a little while he held such sorrow behind their deep amber. You brought your hand up, tracing the manicured beard up and cradling his cheek within your palm, “It’s you.”

His eyes widened, reality of the situation finally dawning on him. The pin had dropped, finding below it’s descent a balloon of latex and puncturing it beneath its small prick. As a balloon would deflate from its air and dart all around the room with no rhyme nor reason, Mihawk began to place the pieces of the evening together.

“But the Hanahaki-,” his words were halted within his throat as he continued to place them together, “-was broken with my offhand confession.” He sighed deeply, shaking his head to rid itself of his own assumed stupidity.

You smiled at him, continuing to hold his face within your palm and take in a visual map of the man you had come to adore. Dark hair tussled, lips swollen and tinted with the bruising shade of red, great-cloak disheveled and hanging loosely over his shoulders - his bare chest more so exposed to you. He was so beautiful.

“I hold such a deep admiration for you, my lord Mihawk,” you shook your head as you brought your other hand up to his forehead and brushed his hair from shielding his face, “it fell into something deeper along the way. As the disease indicates, it has swelled into love. I love you.”

He sighed, leaning first into your palm before placing his forehead against yours. You both felt waves of emotion falling from the two of you in this one moment, both pausing to feel the rise and fall of one another’s breaths and the heat reverbing from your bodies’ proximities. He allowed himself one final moment before he spoke his own confession.

“I loved you from the moment you first came to me,” he drew his hand from its position on the counter and placed it over the middle of your chest, “your spirit was so strong. At first, I wanted to break you as punishment for drawing such weakness from me. But then,” he withdrew his forehead from yours and replaced his prior position with his lips, “I saw you soar.”

Withdrawing his lips from your head, he held such deep devotion in his eyes as he relayed his final words to you, “and that is why I love you.”

“Because I’m a glutton for punishment?” you quipped at him, withdrawing your eyes from its connection to his and falling to the pooling red wine and shattered glass on the floor.

“No,” he chuckled at you, hooking his index finger below your chin and pulling your gaze to return to him, “it’s because, Fledgling, you are not a fledgling at all.” You knit your brows in confusion, knowing that he gives names to all of his apprentices. Zoro, the rabbit. Perona, the ghost. You, the fledgling.

“If I am no fledgling,” you whispered, “then what am I to you?” He smiled deeper, his eyes crinkling up at the corners as he revealed a rare and intimate smile with you.

“You’re a Formel,” he whispered, “My Formel.” You laughed a breathy giggle at this new title, placing a small kiss against the whiskered chin below his lips.

“Does that make you my Tiercel, my lord?” you asked him after pulling away from his chin. He chuckled at you and offered you one final utterance.

“Only in private moments, Formel,” he cautioned you, “which I hope we are to share more of together.”

Mihawk broke away from your embrace and looked to the mess he’d made on the floor with the wineglass. As you were about to hop yourself down from your seated position against the marble countertop, a strong arm hooked its way beneath your knees while another steadied itself around your back. You squeaked in surprise as he lifted you up and began carrying you away from the mess to exit the kitchen. You looked at the puddle of wine and glass on the floor before turning back to your love carrying you. His expression was almost playful, with his signature flavor of arrogance cascading over his face and posture.

“I’ll have Zoro clean that up,” he grimaced, lips pulling up in a sneer, “a fitting punishment for kissing my Formel.”

“On your orders, sir,” you uttered in return. He hummed, leaning down to press a small kiss against your cheek as he continued walking you both away from the kitchen and into the halls.

[raineandsky]

Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

Love Ur writing!!

aaaaaaa this was such a fun idea - im absolutely in love with this lil dynamic!! hope you enjoy reading as much as i did writing it :D

-

tw blood, death

Animals. That’s all the agency ever saw the villains as. Animals they could poke and push and test and break into nothing.

So when the jail’s power-dampeners fail, the villains are more than happy to make like the tigers are out of their cage.

The villain to the supervillain’s right is burning the lock on his cell door. The villain on his left has fazed straight through hers. The supervillain steps up to the iron bars across his own cell to look beyond.

VIllains are flooding the corridor, breaking for the stairs one by one. “You,” he snaps as someone passes, and they thankfully slow down. “Open the door.”

Escape might be tantalising, if the villain’s quick glance to the stairs is anything to go by, but no villain ignores a supervillain. They rest their hands against the door for a moment, their brow knitted in concentration for a moment, before the lock clunks open.

They pull the door outward as the supervillain steps into the corridor, waiting impatiently. “Thank you,” the supervillain says shortly.

The villain wastes no time continuing their great escape, chasing the tails of the other villains. Golden light flashes against the walls of the stairwell like fireworks, panicked shouting drifting from above, dull thumping as inevitable bodies hit the floor. The superhero strolls up the steps to take in the carnage the villains are wreaking on the pristine agency.

Gunfire showers the corridor in the light of heaven itself. Agency guards are backed up against the one exit. Most of the villains have already pushed past them into the room beyond, but those who haven’t are springing on them from all directions with fire or ice or electricity or nothing but hatred.

He can see someone familiar through the chaos, the eye of the storm. His gun sprays death, his face twisted into a mix of anger and fear, his eyes set on the villain currently making her way towards him with palms of steaming water.

Almost all of the villains have passed through. Most guards are either lying in a puddle of crimson blood or following the flock into the next room. There’s two of them—his Favourite, and someone he couldn’t care less about.

The villain’s water flicks from her fingers and sprays the guard, earning a pained cry and a cringe away from her. His attention falls to the scalding cutting through his skin, and in one fatal move the villain swipes the gun from his hands.

The supervillain doesn’t have time to intervene. The other guard swings his weapon to the villain, and with a flash of golden light she drops to the ground. The gun clatters to the floor with her.

The two of them heave a breath like they’re free, and the supervillain sees his chance. He sweeps up the gun from the floor, shouldering his Favourite out of the way, before turning it on the other guard and opening fire. The force of the bullets shove the guard into the wall behind him, and his descent to the floor is accompanied by a nauseating streak of red.

The supervillain turns his gaze to the last guard, his Favourite, the one who helped him from the day he got here. The one who saw past the animals and saw a person.

The guard returns his gaze with abject horror, defenceless, trapped. His eyes are wide, his back pressed into the wall, his mouth working in a desperate attempt at what is probably a beg for mercy.

The supervillain doesn’t waste time. He doesn’t have any. He grabs the guard’s arm, earning a startled squeak, tucking the gun under his arm. He can see the burns left on the man’s arm from the villain’s attack; small but undoubtedly painful. He lays a hand over them and the guard hisses and pulls in his grip, whether in pain or fear of pain he can’t tell.

His hand is cool—he can tell from the way the guard relaxes in his hold after a moment. The supervillain holds down a pleased smile. “That’s it,” he says smoothly. “Is that better?”

He lets go and the guard tips his gaze to his skin, unblemished and unharmed. Like the water never touched him at all. His mouth opens. Closes. His brow creases.

“Your power…” he tries after a moment, confused, “they never figured it out. They thought you’d have something violent.”

The supervillain throws him a smile, unhidden this time. “They never expected a healer at the head of evil, did they?”

The supervillain drags him along, following the path of bloodshed like a map. Some villains are still loitering—one of them slinks up to the pair with a grin. They inspect the guard closely for a moment before running the edge of their knife across his jaw in thought. He tries to shrink away but the supervillain’s grip on him holds fast.

“Oh, isn’t this one pretty?” the villain purrs. They give the blade a flick for emphasis, and the guard flinches as the edge cuts a crimson line into his cheek. “Can’t wait to show the agency what happens to good little boys like him.”

“No one touches him, understand?” the supervillain snaps coldly. “He’s with us.”

The villain scowls, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. “Oh, we keepin’ pets now, boss?”

“We don’t keep pets, [Villain].” His gaze turns to the guard for a moment, a touch softer, almost thankful. “They’re not animals.”

[zorosdimples]

DUSK, RESPLENDENT

pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader

warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).

word count ⟢ 1208

notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!

It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.

You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.

Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.

It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.

You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.

As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.

“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”

Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”

“And if it is?”

“He should join.”

You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.

“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”

Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.

“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.

“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—

“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”

Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.

You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”

Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.

He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.

The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you're connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.

When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.

One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.

You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.

A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.

“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.

Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.

[venussaidso]

𝗞𝗲𝘁𝘂 𝗗𝗼𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀 — 𝐍𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (part 1) 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏𝟎

disclaimer: spoilers for all movies or shows mentioned.

the warnings: mentions of drug abuse, sexual violence, self-harm, genocide, mental disorders/illnesses, cannibalism and self amputation.

The most interesting theme within all the Ketu nakshatras was one that was unexpected, as it is common to mainly associate Ketu with concepts of disconnection or isolation from society as a whole -- since Ketu is often linked with the 12H. But it is more about the interactions with the unseen forces within society more than anything. Because the 12H also represents the collective's consciousness and all the interconnected energies that come with that which Ketu becomes possessed by. And it is Ashwini that is the most sensitive Ketu nakshatra, as it easily becomes consumed & absorbed by these 12H energies which often leads to chaos and loneliness.

Ashwini nakshatra embodies Nothingness which is the oldest energy in the universe. It's between a space before actualized creation, and after the rise of awareness that's emerged from Nothingness (or the Cosmic Void). It is very fitting that this is the first nakshatra; but it should also be considered the last as it essentially represents the non-duality of Life & Death. This theme is further extended in Bharani and beautifully explored in that nakshatra, but in Ashwini we focus on the spirit's evolution. The energy found in this nakshatra is as undeveloped as it is chaotic, which is why evolution needs to take place -- and this usually involves extreme harsh forces to tame it. It is in Ashwini where there's confusion or lack of self-awareness of one's own identity as energies here become repressed, unconsciously accumulating. I'm going to use some films as examples to explore this point.

First, I'm going to use the most typical Ketu-coded character. Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's Patrick Bateman in "American Psycho". This film follows an investment banker who relishes in the wealthy excesses of his superficial lifestyle in which everybody else around him also revels in. His life is empty, mostly revolving around getting into exclusive restaurants, wallowing in designer suits, having a meticulous morning routine etc. There's a pressure in general for conformity and Ashwini is sensitive to these energies which they take up, driving them to compete and also go too far with this -- because it's no longer about conforming anymore. It's become an obsession, and these pressures drive Patrick Bateman into homicidal tendencies as an outlet. This film perfectly encapsulates modern-day consumerisms, and it is of course an Ashwini native who is driven into a descent of madness from this empty, superficial culture he's subjected to.

Nothing can fill up the emptiness inside of him and he knows that. This crippling, painful understanding is what continuously manifests his violent self-hatred and hatred towards others. And this is why he is forever trapped in a cycle of loneliness, as he is surrounded by the same narcissistic, self-absorbed suits who will continue to maintain this soulless, superficial culture.

The movie was adapted from the book with the same name, written by Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis whose own experiences inspired the book "American Psycho".

Quote from an interview; OregonLive (2010);

"[Patrick Bateman] did not come out of me sitting down and wanting to write a grand sweeping indictment of yuppie culture. It initiated because my own isolation and alienation at a point in my life. I was living like Patrick Bateman. I was slipping into a consumerist kind of void that was supposed to give me confidence and make me feel good about myself but just made me feel worse and worse and worse about myself. That is where the tension of 'American Psycho' came from... It came from a much more personal place."

-- Mula Moon Bret Easton Ellis

Now, onto the movie "Fight Club", which was directed by Magha Sun David Fincher, and stars Magha Sun Edward Norton and Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

The most highlighted character from this film, played by Brad Pitt, is Tyler Durden, who plans on making a revolution to destroy the hyper-capitalistic, materialistic superficial culture that we saw destroy Patrick Bateman from the inside in "American Psycho".

(video - 🎧)

Of course, just like Ashwini Moon Patrick Bateman took his obsessive consumerism too far; Mula Sun Tyler Durden lays on the opposite spectrum -- aiming to destroy modern society by blowing up all credit card companies and ruining the world's economy. Mula is related to destruction as it is ruled by Nirriti, the goddess of destruction. The oppressive forces that weigh on this Mula character, Tyler Durden, causes him into a spiral for freedom (9H), using extremities and acts of terrorism to be rid of ego/society. Whereas Ashwini, having no solid identity and just being undeveloped in nature, is more likely to conform; but so long as Ketu is there, there will always be an emptiness in the ambitious pursuit of things. Ashwini can grant excess wealth and fame, but with no inner fulfillment or balance, you see characters like Patrick Bateman. Or Daniel Plainview from "There Will Be Blood".

A movie directed by Paul Thomas Anderson who has Ketu in Magha, and stars Ashwini Moon, Mula Ascendant Daniel Day Lewis who portrays Daniel Plainview. Plainview is more Ashwini, as he is an extremely ambitious, capitalistic and competitive oilman.

His pursuit for wealth and power leads him to personal loneliness, isolation and emptiness -- we see how Ketuvians become so drained and eaten alive by the energies they absorb in the pursuit of things. Similarly to Patrick Bateman, he not only hates others but himself and wishes for no one to succeed in life.

(click on the gif(s) if they're buffering lmao, i swear they're cheap)

His primal competitiveness and self-loathing even drives away his only family -- his only child. His adult son means to do his own oilrig business and cuts his partnership with him. But Plainview's unchecked ambition shows that even after attaining success and power, he literally goes ahead to disown his own son as he considers him competition now. And now he extends the same hatred he has for others to him. Further isolating himself; this validating his deep sense of loneliness that was always there with his self-loathing.

The film ends in an Ashwini fashion; in which Plainview goes into a psychotic meltdown and murders someone who he has had a long stewing hatred for.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

I wanted to provide a brilliant video from the YouTuber "The Vile Eye", who explored the dark nature of this character; because it perfectly illustrates Ashwini nakshatra in a twisted way -- especially in how Aries in this segment is influenced by Ketu forces. Everything about this character is every Aries stereotype you can think of from the top of your head, but Ketu exaggerates it to the point of extremity and tragedy.

Amazing video for anyone who wants to understand Ashwini at its extreme which can manifest in real life of course.

Now in the series "Peaky Blinders", which I quickly wanted to mention, stars Ashwini Moon Cillian Murphy whose character faces moral dilemmas, as his relentless pursuit of power contributes to his moral ambiguity.

His ruthless ambition to become the most powerful in the criminal underworld is something I couldn't help but relate it back to Ashwini's drive & competitiveness.

The movie "Scarface" stars Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays Tony Montana. And fun fact, Tony Montana is loosely based and inspired by the real-life figure, Al Capone, who was literally a goddamn Ashwini Moon. So, I say Scarface is a fucking Ashwini movie.

Both Tony Montana and Al Capone had unchecked ambitions and an unrelenting desire for power. In Ashwini, extreme power can be attained, and we saw how Tony Montana quickly rose to it (as Ashwini is the Star of Transport and it is associated with Shidhra Vyapani Shakti which translates to 'The Power to Quickly Reach Things'). Similarly, Al Capone was also driven by the desire for power and he attained it.

Like Daniel Plainview in "There Will Be Blood", Tony Montana starts to experience isolation after all of his achievements. His chaotic behaviour contributes to his alienation, and he starts to feel intensifying loneliness, which seems to be a theme with this nakshatra. And this film also ends in Ashwini fashion; with absolute chaos, the psychotic unraveling of Tony and of course death.

I wanted to also add in the movie "Nightcrawler" which stars Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal who plays a character willing to go to the extreme lengths for success and personal achievement, to the point of exploiting others and not giving two fucks about ethical boundaries.

He has a distorted view of success and has an unchecked, ruthless ambition which is common in Ketu nakshatras. He is also a socially isolated character, behaving inappropriately as he is disconnected from social norms. He lacks zero empathy. In his obsessive & relentless pursuit of success, he is devoid of humanity. Had to mention this film because these themes are not exclusive to Ashwini.

But as I did mention, Mula is more likely to be aware of societal pressures and these natives often feel deeply disturbed by them -- while Ashwini is more focused on the Self, as it's ruled by the 1H. In the film "Falling Down", Mula Moon Michael Douglas plays a character who has become disillusioned and is now aware of the pressures and oppression caused by the modern-day life. This movie is literally directed by Magha Sun Joel Schumacher.

He confronts many issues such as homelessness and crime, which are heavily rooted in the greedy, capitalistic system of modern society. But he becomes violent and chaotic himself, going into a descent to madness (from absorbing the energies felt by the collective who also feel the weight of these oppressive forces within society). This movie deals with the consequences of unchecked rage, a theme shared in all Ketu nakshatras.

The film "Taxi Driver", which stars Magha Sun Robert De Niro and is directed by Magha Ascendant Martin Scorsese, depicts a man who suffers from extreme loneliness, alienation from society, and struggles with existential crisis. The film explores social decay; such as social disparities, the disillusionment of our main character to society's ills, crime, poverty etc. He goes into a descent into vigilantism, using violence as a catharsis which is a common thing for these Ketu nakshatras (mainly Magha and Mula as it looks at societal frustrations and the emptiness in life/modern culture).

The character also suffers from a possible case of untreated mental illness, and insomnia -- and this seems to be a theme with all Ketu nakshatras in general.

Another film where the main character suffers from extreme insomnia is "The Machinist", starring Ashwini Moon Christian Bale whose character's insomnia and untreated mental illness literally contribute to his isolation and alienation.

will be coming back to this film in my part 2 post

And the film "Fight Club", in which Magha Sun Edward Norton plays an insomniac character who has dissociative identity disorder. And his split personality is interestingly played by Mula Sun Brad Pitt.

Then we have the film "Insomnia", directed by Ketu in Magha Christopher Nolan, starring Ashwini Sun Al Pacino who plays an insomniac detective who faces some mental challenges.

There is a spiritual belief about insomnia, which suggests that there may be a disturbance in one's spirit; unresolved issues that have been long suppressed can be linked to an imbalance of energy within the body. This causes restlessness and more mental problems. This could make sense as Ketu and the 12H deal with what is unconscious -- and how that tends to be our deep, rooted traumas and the way in which they affect us & those around us. And not just traumas, could just be repression of one's own internal suffering from either loneliness or external pressures. We see this with Patrick Bateman, whose only outlet is literal murder, or Tyler Durden's 'revolutionary' fight club causing more destruction around him as planned. Both characters violently act out from these unaddressed decaying energies within themselves and from within society.

The series "Sharp Objects", directed by Magha Moon Jean-Marc Vallé, mostly deals with family traumas, but also shows how those traumas and unresolved energies literally cause death and chaos around them.

Camille Preaker, who is played by Magha Sun Amy Adams, is deeply traumatized and troubled. She has a history of self-harm and has many scars on her body; her self-destructive behaviour is a coping mechanism for what happened when she was young (sexual violence by a group of boys and witnessing the slow, painful and preventative death of her sister). Then we have her younger half-sister Amma, played by Magha Moon Eliza Scanlen, who has a hidden dark side that has been shaped by the family's troubled history and generational trauma. By the end of the series, we find out that Amma is the killer of the violent murders that have shocked the townspeople of Wind Gap. It is Amma who is responsible for all of the gruesome deaths of the girls whose teeth were removed. As Camille's coping mechanism is cutting herself as self-punishment for all the guilt she harbours from the death of her sister, Amma literally commits homicidal acts. All of this connecting to just how messed up, and complex, their trauma and the community they grew up in is. And then we have their mother, played by Mula Moon Patricia Clarkson, who has Munchausen syndrome and is responsible for the death of her oldest daughter. Camille was a witness to her sister's suffering and death, and she sees her mother as a monster and now her little sister is an extension of her. This series is such a good example of how our own personal unchecked traumas affect others, especially those who aren't involved. And how much destruction can be caused, as we see with Amma killing other girls as an 'outlet'. This is why I now realize how wrong I was about Ketu, as Ketu is not necessarily about isolating from society. Regarding society, Ketu will be the complex yet intricate unaddressed/rotting energies within society, and it always relates back to individuals' personal generational traumas. It makes sense that Magha relates to ancestry roots and origins of oneself, even the origins of one's trauma.

Now onto the film "Nocturnal Animals", which is directed by Magha Sun Tom Ford, stars Magha Sun Amy Adams and Mula Sun Jake Gyllenhaal.

Amy Adams plays Susan who is a successful art gallery owner. She receives a manuscript for a novel called Nocturnal Animals sent to her by her ex-husband Edward who's played by Jake Gyllenhaal. The book is extremely violent & tragic; but it actually turns out to be a symbolic reflection of their relationship and marriage. Bringing in the Ketu themes of unresolved trauma and getting to the roots of it (Mula theme). This book serves to make Susan confront how much of her actions fucked him up. The movie focuses on the confronting of one's past, telling of how trauma will still continue to shape the lives of those involved. And the movie shows that even Susan still has unresolved issues just by her repulsed reactions to extreme parts of the novel.

The movies "Split" and "Glass", stars two Ashwini Suns, Anya Taylor Joy and James McAvoy. McAvoy's character, Kevin, has dissociative personality disorder and these different personalities exist to keep him safe. His trauma is so extreme and deeply painful that it manifested into the creation of The Beast, the most dangerous and superhuman personality. Three kidnapped girls are prey to The Beast as they end up being devoured by it but there is only one doesn't fall victim to him -- and that's Anya Taylor Joy's character Casey.

The reason why she doesn't fall victim is because she, too, has suffered extreme trauma and her resilience through it is what creates an immediate connection with Kevin. It is when The Beast sees her scars that he calls her pure, implying that those who have been damaged are the ones who are truly evolved.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Also, "Split" is another example of how deeply repressed energies and traumas of one can ruin everything around them and victimize those close to the Ketuvians (usually uninvolved people's lives being violently taken; "Split", "Sharp Objects", "American Psycho", "Falling Down" etc.).

Ashwini Moon Zendaya in the series "Euphoria" plays a character, Rue, who has been through a significant amount of trauma, including the passing of her father. She uses self-destructive ways to cope with her deep emotional pain and grief, very similarly to Magha Sun Amy Adams's character in "Sharp Objects". Rue uses drugs to numb herself from her harsh realities. There is a moment in the series in which she has a chaotic meltdown.

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Something I now understand with Ashwini is how explosive, volatile and scary its ungrounded energy can be -- exactly why I'd commonly associate it with hysterical meltdowns which can lead to accidental or unplanned homicidal acts or other forms of harm/self-harm. This scene of Rue is vaguely taking me back to Ashwini Moon Christian Bale's spiraling and meltdowns in "American Psycho".

(YouTube clip by me - 🎧)

Ketu, especially with Magha, seems to cause erratic behaviours when its natives aren't purified of their long-accumulated baggage in their unconsciousness -- exactly why the 8H is also ruled by Ketu as Scorpio shares this particular theme. As long as there is deep disturbance and imbalance in the body, there is no rest for the soul -- even for future incarnations to come.

But now, I want to touch on the senseless harshness of Ketu. Remember, this energy embodies the eternal sucking void. Mula nakshatra relates to the center of the cosmic void and goes straight into the roots of it. Ashwini has already risen from it, while Mula is centering itself back into it. Mula is where we seek an awakening to the truth of what is behind reality. What is on the other side of the cosmic void? Truth is searched in Mula, but it seems that it is Ashwini that understands that chaos is the absolute truth of reality. There is no meaning to anything, which sounds nihilistic, but it is what makes life beautiful.

In the film "The Pianist", written & directed by Magha Sun Roman Polanski, starring Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody, starts out quite warm with a well-put together family and a handsome talented Ashwini man who dreams of being a pianist. But things take a drastic turn. We see a once bright-eyed boy turn into the shell of the person he once was after going through such harrowing events, and things just keep getting tragically worse and worse until there is not even a sliver of hope anymore. The majority of the film is literally just despair, senseless cruelty, and the protagonist's soul slowly becoming annihilated.

I've never watched a film more Ketuvian than this; surrounded by genocide, death and being completely isolated while being eaten by one's own lonely misery.

One moment you think one character is going to make it out alive somehow because they have the conviction and drive to survive, but the film immediately takes that idea away as they helplessly die. You think the protagonist is going to see some light, and the film even makes you slightly comfortable in some moments given the harsh realities, but you witness just how everything remains tragic. There are no answers to any prayers, as suffering is just ongoing. This tonality creates another layer of feeling trapped, and you watch as the character just lets life do whatever it wants to him as he is trapped in a world where he is helpless anyway. With Ketu, you realize that there was never any security or answers to this senseless chaos in this world to begin with.

But his survival at the end makes you question why he even went through all of that. There was no lesson to be taken from such a tragic, horrifying experience. Why did his other friends and family die but not him? In the end, he became a successful pianist as he dreamt of from the beginning. He was exceptionally talented from the start; these events took everything away from him except his passion for the piano. What he went through was senseless, as Ketu has no prime motivation. Saturn will push you through the worst so that you can reach a level where you can now attain all of your reaped rewards, Ketu doesn't care for what you get in the end -- that's Rahu's objective, as Rahu deals with ego; Ketu deals with the evolution of one's soul and that usually involves its annihilation.

The kdrama "Save Me", stars three Ketu natives; Magha Moon Seo Yea-ji, Mula Moon Woo Do-hwan and Mula Sun Ok Taec-yeon. It follows Seo Yeah-ji's character, Sang-mi, and her family after moving into a new town. They become influenced and entangled by a religious cult. Sang-mi becomes aware of just how oppressive and dangerous the cult is when she & her family literally lose all control to them. Sang-mi's attempts to escape become futile, as she remains trapped under the oppressive abuse of the cult, turning her more into a shell of the person she once was.

(The Mula male characters are the ones who find out about the Magha girl's whereabouts, and they plan to save her and her family from the clutches of the cult.)

She witnesses extremely harrowing events, and the drama makes you feel the sense of hopelessness that she's feeling -- trapped and completely helpless no matter how much she tries to save herself and family. There is a similar sense of hopelessness and lose of one's own identity found in "The Pianist", but in this drama it's more about extreme involuntary isolation from society (which I will be expanding on in part 2 of this exploration).

The film "Society of the Snow" is literally directed by Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona, based on real life events. There's a documentary based on these events as well, "Stranded: I've Come From A Plane That Crashed On The Mountains", directed by Magha Moon Gonzalo Arijon.

Now, in the "Society of the Snow", there is a tone of hopelessness set in the film because of the gruesome reality that these characters (based on real life people) experience. And never in their lifetime did they think that everything was going to change so drastically from just living the average life of normal teenage boys. These characters, who were in a rugby team, get on a plane that would soon crash onto glacier surrounded by endless cold harsh mountains -- with just a piece of the wrecked plane remaining in which they take shelter in. The protagonists are surrounded by the dead bodies of friends who did not survive the crash, and now they must spend the first night in harsh coldness while many are severely injured. They couldn't even sleep, the first night being spent with many of them crying and wailing out loud, nearly freezing to death. One day after, a rescue helicopter searches for them, and they all scream out for help. But the helicopter misses them as they're barely noticeable under all the glacier that surrounds them. This is when the sense of hopelessness and despair kicks in and intensifies as the story progresses. Now that chances of being rescued have completely fallen to zero, they realize that they can't ignore their growing hunger anymore. They all have no choice but to eat the flesh of the dead bodies after running out of chocolates. We see how these decisions mentally challenge some of the characters. It is truly tragic as they were stranded, isolated from the world and completely in despair in every waking day, for a span of 72 days.

After being rescued, we see just how malnourished they were from the looks of their bodies. They come back home bone-skinny and weak. And the monologue in the ending scene tells us how the survivors wondered; "Why didn't we all get to come back [home]?" "What is the meaning of it all?" These are the questions asked when we observe these raw Ketu events.

Ashwini Moon J.A. Bayona also made the film "The Impossible", which is about survival and resilience -- based on real life events. Much like "Society of the Snow", it also has a sense of complete despair and there is an involuntary separation of a family (which reminds me of "The Pianist" in which Ashwini Sun Adrien Brody's character is also separated from his family in the story).

"Nothing is more powerful than the human spirit" it writes on the poster.

"Nowhere", is directed by Ashwini Moon Albert Pintó, a survival thriller about a pregnant woman who finds herself isolated from society as she's drifting in the sea trapped inside a container. Because of her newborn baby, she is forced to survive and protect her child even when there is no hope. The reason why she's even in the container is because she was fleeing a society of a dystopian future in which women & children are caged and murdered (Ketu's oppressive forces and her attempt to run away from them leads her to total isolation which is another manifestation of Ketu).

And we also have the film "127 Hours", directed by Ashwini Moon Danny Boyle, starring Ashwini Sun James Franco who plays Aron Ralston whose right arm becomes trapped against the canyon wall when he was on a solo canyoneering trip. When he is unable to release himself, we realize the severity of his situation. He is completely isolated and alone. His own supplies running out and he's losing his mind. The struggle for survival and one's own helplessness is a theme of Ashwini nakshatra as this eventually drives one into taking extreme measures for freedom -- as the audience sees him resorting to cutting his own arm off.

These themes seem to speak of the power and resilience of the human spirit, as emphasized in "The Impossible" and "Society of the Snow". Our ability to survive even just our own personal traumas must be a testament to our spirit being an extension of the Higher Power which is behind the happenings of all of these senseless yet significant experiences and events we go through.

It is in Ashwini that one's experience through harsh forces contributes to the spirit's evolution after total annihilation, which leads us on the path towards moksha. This is particularly why I state that Ashwini must be the last nakshatra, in my opinion of course.

Ketu is very pure by nature, and it wants to destroy impurities. The repression of one's accumulated dirt can manifest in destructive tendencies, this being a misdirected flow of Ketu energies wanting to express the very raw forces we're wired to run away from. By facing one's true inner self and embracing your entirety is how you embrace Ketu in general. But one must go deep and inward. All three Ketu nakshatras deal with getting to the roots for this reason.

Ashwini is ruled by the Ashwini Kumaras, gods of medicine and healing. Also known as divine physicians. In order to heal, one must get to the root of all disturbances in order to create the perfect medicine to heal. As Ashwini is ruled by the 1H, this does involve getting into the roots of oneself for self-liberation. Magha, on the other hand, is about tracing your own existence back to the consciousness of others -- usually family members and ancestors. Magha relates to generational trauma and shining light on that in order to be freer. Mula is symbolized by the roots of a tree, and 'mula' translates to 'roots'. It signifies ancestry roots as well, but mostly the truth. Mula is where disillusionment takes place as one gets directly into the roots of everything; going right into the galactic center -- which can also signify going right into the roots of our demons and letting all of that rotting energy burn from your body. And after this purification process, one's consciousness raises by default.

Ashwini has strong, undeveloped energies which can be tamed and grounded to be properly channeled -- in order for this to be achieved, one must let go of poisonous impurities so that they're no longer controlled/possessed by unseen forces. It is in Ashwini that we expand on the interconnection of the collective consciousness being tight, as this was secretly discovered in Uttara Bhadrapada and remembered in Revati. Ashwini nakshatra is extremely sensitive to outward energies, as are the rest of the Ketu nakshatras. Every individual's consciousness is affecting the whole world somehow. This being a Ketu theme in general describes the whole energetic field of the world and how we each play a part in it and affect each other's lives. As all Ketu nakshatras deal with getting into the roots of things, we must get dirty by digging into our own roots which are connected to the reasons for our layers of repressed emotions such as rage, numbness, resentment, hatred and grief which are commonly harboured in Ketu natives. These unconscious emotions, which form our Shadow Self, contribute to how we interact with the world and other people -- and there's always that capacity to harm or further traumatize others because of our own unchecked, hidden troubles. Mula also perfectly shows how all of the complex, interconnected traumas of everyone else are intertwining and creating more chaos and confusion in society; and the disillusionment to how the oppressive systems of society are just breeding more of these pains & troubles -- which in turn, in Ketu fashion, demonstrates just how trapped everyone is.

Continued in Part 2 of this exploration

[tatumrileyslover]

i absolutely adored your amber fic, I was hoping you could write a tara x reader (with an established relationship) where she’s the first to arrive to see her at the hospital arriving long before the others? maybe tara could have been texting her during the attack?

Solace

☆〜Pairings: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

☆〜Genre: Hurt/Comfort, angst, slight fluff

☆〜Word Count: 5.7k

☆〜Warnings: mentions of pet death, ghost face attack, blood, stabbing, hospitals, violence, language

☆〜Authors Note: I did NOT intend for this fic to be almost 6k words long, I literally have work tomorrow and it’s four am. You Tara Carpenter hoes gonna love this one, also the sheer amount of words making my tumblr lag so much

☆〜 Sequel: Redemption

Laying spread out on her couch, (Y/n) sighed in contentment. Tonight, their long-awaited date finally materialized as a beacon of hope after countless cancellations. The first time was due to Tara catching a stomach virus, and the second was cancelled when (Y/n) had a family emergency. Praying to any deities she could think of, that tonight would go exactly as planned, Tara had procured the snacks and (Y/n) scoured her parent's old stash of movies to find something good to watch.

As the golden hues of the Californian sun gently descended, casting a warm glow that seeped through the curtains of the living room, (Y/n) gazed out the window. Outside, the autumnal symphony of colors unfolded, as leaves gracefully danced in the breeze, their descent creating a delicate tapestry upon the porch. " I should get going," she groaned to herself, not ready to leave the comfort of her home, but eager to see Tara nonetheless. They were two souls who found solace in each other's embrace, navigating the highs and lows with unwavering support. Their mothers said the two were like two puzzle pieces perfectly aligned, they fit together in seamless harmony. Where you'd find one, you'd find the other.

Moving swiftly toward the coffee table where her phone rested, (Y/n) snatched it up and eagerly turned it over, her eyes darting across the screen in anticipation. Amongst the sea of notifications, a particular text caught her eye, demanding her immediate attention.

Tara:

hey any way we can resched movie night? ambers planning to come over

(Y/n)’s heart plummeted as disappointment crashed over her like a relentless wave. Not again. This week had been filled with one hardship after another, and the movie night had been the single gleaming light that had kept her going. She felt the weight of her emotions welling up, threatening to spill over as tears pooled in her eyes.

It hadn't escaped (Y/n)'s notice that something was amiss between Tara and herself. Lately, their once vibrant connection had dimmed, leaving behind an unsettling silence. Tara's responses to her texts were delayed, leaving them unread for what felt like an eternity, only to receive curt and simple replies. Their nightly calls, once filled with laughter and heartfelt conversations, had dwindled to mere whispers of their former selves.

(Y/n) had tried to attribute Tara's behavior to exam stress, desperately clinging to the hope that it was a passing phase. But deep down, a gnawing doubt lingered, as if an invisible force was eroding the foundation of their relationship. It was a silent ache that chipped away at her sense of security, whispering the possibility of something more significant beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) wrestled with her conflicted thoughts, battling between wanting to confront the issue head-on and fearing the answers that lay beyond. As tears streaked down her cheeks, she realized that the movie night had symbolized more than just a chance to unwind—it had become a symbol of the dwindling connection she desperately longed to reignite.

In the midst of her turmoil, the sadness transformed to rage.

(Y/n):

Seriously tar

(Y/n):

Istg we’ve been planning this night for months now

(Y/n):

I seriously need you right now, we haven’t hung out in so long and you want to cancel on me

Determined to break the silence and confront the anguish that consumed her, (Y/n) resolved to make Tara fully aware of the pain she was inflicting. She refused to suffer in the darkness any longer, vowing to express the depth of her emotions and lay bare the impact of Tara's actions on their relationship.

With bated breath, (Y/n) watched the notification indicating that Tara had read her text. Her eyes fixated on the screen, heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, as she anxiously awaited the telltale signs of Tara's response. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity, every passing moment fueling her need for a reply, a sign that their connection still held a glimmer of hope.

Tara:

I’m sorry but ambers been having a bad day

In an explosion of fiery emotions, (Y/n)'s anger consumed her. The realization that Tara had prioritized a friend's well-being over her own girlfriend's struck a nerve deep within her. How could Tara fail to show even a shred of concern for what (Y/n) had endured throughout the week? The flames of resentment burned brightly, fueled by the perception that Tara lacked the basic decency to make an effort to understand and support her partner. (Y/n) yearned for acknowledgment, for Tara to see the depth of her pain and recognize the importance of their connection.

With each passing second, the fire within (Y/n) raged on, threatening to consume everything in its path. The time for silence and complacency was over. (Y/n) vowed to confront Tara, to unleash the inferno of her feelings and demand the respect and consideration she deserved.

(Y/n):

What about your own fucking girlfriend huh?

(Y/n):

Do you even know what the fuck happened to me this week!

(Y/n):

No you don’t, because it’s always Amber this, Amber that, Amber Amber Amber

Tara:

R u being serious rn

(Y/n):

my dog died on Monday

(Y/n):

it’s Saturday Tara

(Y/n):

and you didn’t even know because you aren’t even talking to me anymore.

(Y/n) let out a heavy sigh, frustration and hurt weighing heavily on her shoulders. She tossed her phone onto the couch, its screen illuminating the room for a moment before sinking into the soft cushions. She buried her head in her hands, seeking solace in the darkness, hoping that this act of vulnerability would finally make Tara realize the profound impact of her actions.

As (Y/n)'s fingers interlaced, a subtle vibration traveled through the cushions beside her. Startled, she lifted her head and turned her gaze toward the source of the unexpected movement. A flicker of hope sparked within her, wondering if perhaps Tara had sensed the gravity of the situation and was reaching out in response.

With a mixture of anticipation and trepidation, (Y/n) reached for her phone, hoping to find a message from Tara that would acknowledge the pain she had caused and signal a willingness to address the underlying issues.

Tara:

Milos dead?

As tears streamed down her face, (Y/n)'s heart sank deeper into despair. The painful truth hit her with a forceful blow—Tara hadn't even acknowledged her feelings, let alone shown remorse for the hurt she had caused. In that moment, (Y/n) realized the difficult decision she needed to make.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped away the tears, a newfound determination taking root within her. It became clear that she couldn't continue in a relationship where her needs went unacknowledged and her emotions were dismissed. (Y/n) understood that she deserved someone who would put in the effort, who would cherish and respect her.

With a heavy yet resolute sigh, (Y/n) made up her mind. She would give Tara the space to figure herself out, to confront her own shortcomings and decide if she was willing to put in the effort required to mend their fractured bond. (Y/n) knew that she deserved a partner who would meet her halfway, who would prioritize their love and demonstrate genuine care.

As she made this decision, a bittersweet sense of liberation washed over (Y/n). It was a painful realization, but also a necessary one. She was prepared to step back, to let Tara find her own way, and to focus on healing herself in the process. With newfound clarity, she resolved to no longer tolerate being taken for granted.

(Y/n):

Tara I think we should take a break

Tara:

WHAT

Tara:

(Y/n) you can’t be serious

Tara:

We need to talk about this in person

Tara:

Come over I’ve told Amber to stay home

(Y/n):

we’ll talk on monday

With a heavy sigh, (Y/n) flipped her phone over and gently placed it back on the couch cushion. The persistent buzzing continued for a couple of minutes before gradually fading into silence. As she sat cross-legged on the floor, her gaze fixated on the plain wall before her, her mind swirled with a mixture of emotions.

In an effort to divert her thoughts, (Y/n) decided to immerse herself in a familiar and comforting activity. Rising from the floor, she made her way to the kitchen with determined steps. As she gathered the ingredients for baking cookies, the room filled with the sweet and nostalgic aroma that enveloped her senses.

With each measured scoop and gentle mix, (Y/n) found solace in the rhythmic process of creating something warm and inviting. The familiar motions of baking temporarily transported her to cherished memories of love and comfort, memories intertwined with moments shared with Tara. It was bittersweet, a reminder of the love they had once shared and the warmth that had brought them together.

As the cookies began to bake, filling the air with an irresistible scent, (Y/n) couldn't help but be caught in a swirl of conflicting emotions. The aroma wrapped around her, providing a temporary respite from the pain and uncertainty. Yet, within that comforting scent, lay memories of the love and connection she and Tara had once shared. It was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost, but also a glimmer of the love that still lingered in her heart.

As (Y/n) carefully laid the freshly baked cookie onto the cooling rack, her mind drifted into a melodic trance. Humming a tune that played on repeat in her head, she found solace in the rhythmic melody. Lost in the sweet moment, her worries momentarily faded away.

However, her blissful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the persistent buzzing of her phone. Buzz, buzz, buzz. The sound echoed through the room, piercing the tranquility she had cultivated. (Y/n) let out a weary sigh, wondering what urgent message or notification could demand her attention at this moment.

Her playful imagination offered a lighthearted explanation, imagining that Mindy must be spamming her with updates about a newly announced horror movie. The thought brought a small giggle to her lips, a brief respite from the emotional heaviness that weighed upon her.

Curiosity piqued, (Y/n) reached for her phone, eager to discover the nature of the buzzes that had disrupted her peaceful interlude. With a mix of anticipation and amusement, she unlocked the screen, preparing herself for the unexpected and hoping for a welcome distraction from her swirling emotions.

Tara:

there’s some psycho calling me

Tara:

I answered an unknown number they know my name

Tara:

Shit

Tara:

I’ve locked my doors

Tara:

Please come over asap

Tara:

i can’t leave cars with my mom

Tara:

He’s fucking calling again

Tara:

Ambers acting weird

Tara:

False alarm maybe?

Tara:

She’s telling me to answer it

Tara:

(Y/n) seriously get your ass over here, the creeps using her phone, they knew when the landline was ringing

Tara:

I’m seriously freaking out right now

(Y/n)'s body went rigid with a chilling dread as the series of alarming texts from Tara unfolded before her eyes. Panic surged through her veins, and she knew she had to act swiftly. With a sense of urgency, she scrambled to put on her shoes, her fingers trembling as she hastily laced them up.

Her mind raced, consumed by a growing sense of unease. The cryptic messages from Tara painted a haunting picture of a dangerous situation unfolding. (Y/n)'s heart pounded, propelled by both fear for Tara's safety and a desperate need to unravel the mystery that now threatened them.

She frantically searched the couch cushions, her hands darting between the crevices, determined to find the misplaced car keys that held the key to her escape. Time seemed to slip through her fingers, each passing second amplifying the urgency of the situation.

Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the car keys, and a flicker of hope ignited within her. With a gasp of relief, she pulled them free, clutching them tightly in her trembling hand. There was no time to waste.

(Y/n) dashed toward the door, her heart racing like a drumbeat of adrenaline. The gravity of Tara's messages resonated within her, spurring her forward with unwavering determination. She needed to reach Tara's side, to offer comfort, protection, and an unwavering presence in the face of their shared fear.

Sitting in the front seat of her car, (Y/n)'s hands trembled as she realized the urgency of letting Tara know she was on her way to help. With swift determination, she typed out a message,

(Y/n):

Omw gimme 5 mins I’ll call cops otw

Before she could even start the engine Tara had replied

Tara:

Hurry

Amber:

ANSWER THE PHONE OR AMBER DIES

Tara's heart raced as she sprinted towards the ringing landline, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. Every fiber of her being was driven by the desperate need to save her friend from whatever horrors were lurking on the other end of the line. She knew her girlfriend, was already on her way, determined to reach her side as quickly as humanly possible, speeding down the suburban streets, driven by an urgent need to make the ten-minute drive shorter.

With trembling hands, Tara snatched the receiver from its cradle, her voice filled with anger and defiance as she spoke into the phone, “This isn’t fucking funny Amber!”

The voice that emanated from the other end of the line sent a chill down Tara's spine. It was a voice shrouded in mystery, draped in a tone that seemed to drip with a malevolent aura. It held an eerie calmness, devoid of any warmth or humanity, as if it existed solely to strike fear into her heart.

As the words, “I told you, this isn’t Amber,”resonated through the receiver, the voice carried a bone-chilling quality. It was a voice that sent a shiver racing down Tara's back, conjuring images of hidden dangers and unseen terrors. There was an unsettling cadence to the voice, a calculated rhythm that left no doubt that it was intended to provoke fear and uncertainty.

Tara's immediate internal fear intensified in response. The realization that the voice on the other end of the line was not who she initially assumed filled her with a sense of dread. It was a realization that shattered any lingering hope of this being a mere misunderstanding or prank. Instead, it emphasized the presence of an unknown figure, one with malicious intentions and a voice that resonated with a menacing power.

In that moment, Tara's fear became palpable, her instincts urging her to take caution and be on guard.

Tara's heart skipped a beat as a message flashed across her phone screen. Her trembling hands reached for the device, and with a mixture of curiosity and dread, she opened the message. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched the video that unfolded before her.

Amber, caught in an intimate moment, unaware of the malevolent presence that lurked just outside her bedroom window. The chilling voice that narrated the video through the crackling receiver broke the silence, dripping with a sarcastic tone that sent a shiver down Tara's spine.

As the video played, Tara's breath hitched, her mind reeling with the realization that Amber’s phone had been cloned. How long had she been talking to this unknown psycho for? She felt exposed, vulnerable, and at the mercy of an unknown adversary who had found a way to infiltrate her most personal moments.

“What do you want?” Tara quivered, unsure of what the voice wanted from her.

“I told you, I want to play a game,”

“Stab movie trivia,”

The malevolent figure had known she didn’t know anything about the Stab franchise, just moments before, she had confessed to only watching the first movie—and even then, it was at a sleepover six years ago—Tara felt a wave of panic wash over her as the weight of her predicament settled in her chest. The options before her seemed daunting: she could reach out to the authorities, but the looming threat of immediate harm or worse, death, loomed over her. The malevolent figure had made it clear that any wrong move, any misstep, would have dire consequences for Amber.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmarish scenario. She felt the weight of the Stab franchise's intricate details and plot twists bearing down on her, her limited knowledge leaving her vulnerable to the malevolent figure's sadistic game. The questions that awaited her were poised like traps, ready to ensnare her and seal Amber's tragic fate.

“Question one, who wrote the original books that the Stab movies are based on?”

Tara's mind raced as she desperately tried to recollect her memories. A book? The details were hazy, fading remnants of a distant recollection. She racked her brain, grasping for any shred of information that could help her in this dire situation. In a moment of clarity, a name burst forth from the depths of her memory.

"Th-the chick from TV," she stammered, her voice quivering. "Oh, Gale Weathers! It's Gale Weathers, you motherfucker!"

A chilling silence hung in the air, interrupted only by the masked figure's sinister chuckle. "Correct," the voice responded, dripping with a perverse satisfaction. "Amber might live to see the sunrise."

“Question two, who played the dumb bitch in the beginning of Stab one, who answers the phone and gets carved up by the killer?”

Tara’s hands quivered, the voice speaking almost mockingly to her situation, she never thought such an innocent phone call would end up like this, “fuck you!” She whispered quietly.

“Is that the answer you’re going with?”

Tara's sobs escaped her lips, a mixture of fear and frustration enveloping her. Time was slipping away, and the pressure to find the answer mounted with each tick of the taunting noises in the background. Desperation fueled her actions as she hastily pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she searched for the cast list of Stab.

The voice on the other end of the line relished in her panic, using the ticking noises to remind her of the ever-dwindling seconds. Tara's eyes darted across the screen, her fingers swiping frantically, searching for that one crucial detail she needed. Where was it? The pressure weighed heavily upon her, pushing her to the brink.

"Heather Graham!" she blurted out, her voice quivering with a mix of uncertainty and hope. It was the answer that had come to mind, a name she hoped was associated with the first Stab movie. In that fleeting moment, she clung to the belief that her response was correct, that it would be enough to keep Amber safe.

A pause hung in the air, the voice on the other end relishing in the suspense. Then, a response echoed through the phone line. "Correct," the voice acknowledged, a sinister satisfaction lacing its tone. "Now, the final question: Who was the killer in Stab one?"

Tara almost sighed in relief, her voice laced with a mix of distress and defiance. "Oh, I know this one, you fuck!" Her words carried a defiant edge, fueled by a surge of determination. With a swallowed gulp, she didn't hesitate to provide her answer. "It's Billy Loomis! He's Sidney's boyfriend, and he was played by Luke Wilson. I've got you, asshole!"

An air of relief and triumph began to creep into Tara's voice, ready to celebrate her victory over the voice that had tormented her. She was certain of her answer, convinced that she had outsmarted the sinister figure on the other end of the line. "I've got it!"

A chilling silence hung in the air before the voice delivered a shocking response. "Oh, I'm sorry, Tara, but that's just not correct."

Tara's look of relief crumbled, replaced by a mix of confusion and growing concern. Doubt gnawed at her as she attempted to double-check her answer, her fingers frantically navigating through her phone. How could she have been so wrong? Billy Loomis was the killer, wasn't he?

"The correct answer is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher," the voice coldly explained, reveling in its control over the situation. "There are two killers in the original Stab. I'm afraid someone's gotta die now."

With a surge of adrenaline, Tara rushed towards the front door, her sole focus on saving Amber's life. Her trembling hands fumbled with the lock, desperately trying to unlock it and swing the door open. As the door swung wide, her path was abruptly blocked by a figure standing in the doorway, clad in the iconic Stab Ghostface costume. The sight sent chills down her spine.

In the intruder's hand gleamed a knife, its blade poised for attack, slashing at her side. Fear coursed through Tara's veins, but she refused to let it paralyze her. Summoning her courage, she lashed out, delivering a powerful punch aimed at the intruder's face. The blow momentarily stunned the masked figure, giving Tara a brief moment of respite.

Seizing the opportunity, she pushed against the door with all her might, attempting to shut it on the intruder. A grunt escaped her lips as she exerted every ounce of strength, her body pressed against the door. However, the relentless assailant's gloved hand snaked through the narrowing crack, the glint of a hunter knife threateningly waving in the air.

With a final burst of effort, Tara managed to force the intruder out and swiftly locked the door from the inside. Trembling and gasping for breath, she clutched at her pouring wound, tears streaming down her face in hysterics. Despite the pain and fear overwhelming her, she managed to summon the presence of mind to activate the home security system, a desperate attempt to fortify herself against any further intrusion.

The deafening bangs against the front door reverberated through the house, each thud echoing with a bone-chilling intensity. Tara clutched a knife tightly in her trembling hands, attempting to assert some form of control. She threatened the intruder with the arrival of the police, hoping to deter them. Yet, as abruptly as the banging started, it ceased, leaving the house shrouded in an eerie silence.

Tara cautiously backed away from the door, her gaze fixed on it, her senses on high alert. The wound on her side throbbed with pain, each heartbeat a painful reminder of her vulnerability. The momentary respite was disrupted by a loud noise emanating from her phone.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Fear gripped her heart as she realized the intruder had tampered with the security system. With a desperate rush, she quickly accessed the app, her fingers trembling as she frantically locked the doors once again.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The repeating cycle of the security system continued, amplifying the tension that hung in the air. Tara's mind raced as she tried to regain control, her wounded body screaming with each movement. She tapped on the lock button in a frenzied frenzy, desperately hoping to deny the intruder any chance of entry.

But the unrelenting repetition of the words continued, mocking her efforts.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

Tara's fear escalated, her voice choked with terror as she attempted to shout for help. Yet, no words escaped her lips, only hoarse noises of distress. Her movements became erratic, each pause prolonging the time it took to secure the locks.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

ALL SYSTEMS DISARMED.

SYSTEMS ARMED.

The relentless cycle of the security system added to the mounting tension, amplifying the sense of impending danger. Tara's breaths grew ragged as she slowly backed into the kitchen, her gaze never straying from the front door.

The piercing ring of the landline shattered the silence once again, sending a surge of fear coursing through Tara's veins. Her scream of terror echoed through the house as she hit her back against the wall, tears streaming down her cheeks like a torrent. With hesitant steps, she moved toward the ringing phone, each movement laden with trepidation.

"Hello?"

"Bonus Question, Tara!"

Tara's plea fell on deaf ears as the voice on the other end continued with sadistic glee. Her body curled inward, overcome by fear. She couldn't bear the torment any longer. Her thoughts raced to (Y/n), praying for her swift arrival. Tara wished she would come sooner, but deep down, she hoped the police would arrive first, shielding her from harm. In that moment, Tara realised she couldn't bear the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt. If she made it out alive, she vowed to never let her go again.

"Do you think I made it inside your house before you could rearm?"

An icy arm coiled around Tara's trembling torso, pulling her forcefully against a chilling presence. The killer's other hand, wielding the gleaming blade, plunged mercilessly into her gut. Agonized screams tore from Tara's throat as the knife was wrenched out, leaving a trail of crimson in its wake. Fighting against the searing pain, she managed to push herself away from her assailant, her front colliding with the cold, unforgiving countertop.

Summoning a surge of determination, Tara spun around with a sudden backhand, striking the killer with a burst of defiance. But her resistance was short-lived as a vice-like grip seized her hair, wrenching her down onto the unforgiving hardwood floor. The impact jarred her senses, leaving her disoriented and vulnerable, face pressed into the unyielding surface.

Desperation fueled her every movement as Tara attempted to kick away her attacker, her hopes of escape crushed under the brutal force of a stomping boot. The sickening crack of bone echoed through the air, intertwining with Tara's anguished screams. Her ankle mangled and shattered, rendering her attempts at resistance futile.

The killer, relentless in their pursuit, sought to position Tara for a final, fatal blow. But she refused to succumb without a fight. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her trembling hand in a desperate bid for defense. The blade tore through her flesh, eliciting a surge of searing pain, yet she persisted. Pushing against the blade with an agonizing determination, her blood mingling with the tears streaming down her face.

A fleeting moment of distraction granted Tara a brief respite. Seizing the opportunity, she mustered her remaining strength and launched a fierce kick at her tormentor. The force sent them hurtling backward, colliding violently with the kitchen island. Tara, lying prone on her stomach, dragged herself across the floor, a crimson trail left in her wake, intermingled with her anguished sobs.

The killer, slowly rising to their feet, taunted her with sadistic amusement. Their presence shadowed her every move as she struggled towards the distant patio doors, the faint wail of sirens growing louder. But her desperate escape was cut short as they viciously seized her ankles, yanking her back into their clutches. With chilling precision, they struck her back twice, puncturing her with each merciless stab.

A crimson halo enveloped Tara, her strength waning, yet she fought against the encroaching darkness. The killer spun her around, their malevolence masked by the reflection of red and blue police lights bouncing off their plastic Ghostface facade. As the world blurred and her life hung in the balance, a final cry reverberated through the night, a desperate plea for salvation.

“TARA!”

When (Y/n) burst through the front door, her heart sank at the sight of Tara's bloodied body sprawled across the floor. Ignoring the fading smudge of black, her focus was solely on Tara's well-being. She rushed over, cradling Tara's unconscious form against her chest, an instinctual need to protect taking over. If only she had come over as planned, if only she hadn't let jealousy cloud her judgment about Tara's friendship with Amber. (Y/n)'s tears streamed down her face as she held Tara's good hand, pressing gentle kisses to its back. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice laced with regret.

To her astonishment, Tara's hand weakly squeezed back, a glimmer of hope amidst the despair. (Y/n)'s touch shifted to cup Tara's blood-stained cheek, her eyes filled with concern. "Just hold on, darling. The ambulance is right outside," she reassured, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. The sound of approaching footsteps alerted (Y/n) to the presence of others in the house, as people hurried into the kitchen, acknowledging the need for immediate medical assistance.

Tara was swiftly transferred to a waiting stretcher, (Y/n) steadfastly refusing to let go of her limp hand. A paramedic approached, inquiring about their relationship. (Y/n)'s voice trembled as she pleaded, tears streaming down her face, "I'm her girlfriend. Please, let me go with her. I can't leave her alone again." The paramedic nodded sympathetically, granting her request. "Go ahead," they said, understanding the depth of (Y/n)'s anguish.

With a mixture of hope and trepidation, (Y/n) followed Tara into the ambulance, her grip on her girlfriend's hand unyielding.

The ride to the hospital seemed like a hazy dream, (Y/n)'s mind clouded with worry and guilt. Tara remained unconscious, her pale face framed by the sterile hospital lights. The paramedics worked diligently, tending to her wounds with professional efficiency. (Y/n)'s gaze never wavered from Tara's face, her eyes searching desperately for any flicker of awareness. She wanted Tara to know that she was there, that she would never leave her side, even if the hospital staff tried to force her out.

The sight of Tara in the hospital bed, connected to various monitors and IV drips, filled (Y/n)'s heart with a mix of anguish and determination. This could have been prevented if only she had been there with her girlfriend. Now, Tara lay covered in gauze and dissolvable stitches, a stark reminder of the violence she had endured. (Y/n) vowed silently to be her rock, to support her through every step of the recovery process.

As the hospital staff continued their work, (Y/n) gently held Tara's hand, offering a silent reassurance in her touch. She whispered words of love and encouragement, hoping that somewhere within the depths of Tara's unconsciousness, her presence would be felt. The beeping machines and sterile hospital environment faded into the background as (Y/n)'s focus remained solely on Tara, her unwavering devotion shining through her eyes.

(Y/n)'s thoughts swirled with conflicting emotions as she sat by Tara's side in the hospital room. The urge to reach out to their friends and inform them about what had happened tugged at her, but a part of her hesitated. Almost selfishly, she wanted this moment to be just between her and Tara. She wanted Tara to wake up and find solace in her presence, to see the remorse and love etched in every fiber of her being.

Clutching Tara's hand tightly, (Y/n)'s eyes never left her girlfriend's face. She longed for Tara to open her eyes, to see the love and dedication shining through her gaze. It was important for (Y/n) to express her deepest apologies, to make sure Tara understood that she would never abandon her, no matter what. She needed Tara to know the depths of her love and commitment, to feel the unwavering support and presence by her side.

Growing weary, (Y/n) felt herself slipping into the realm of dreams, her grip on Tara's hand never faltering. But just as she began to drift away, a voice reached her ears, pulling her back to consciousness. With a sudden squeeze of her hand, Tara's touch broke through the veil of sleep. (Y/n)'s eyes shot open, wide with surprise and relief. There was Tara, sitting up in her hospital bed, her disheveled hair tied back, her eyes red and weary, and yet her presence was a beacon of beauty and strength.

Tears welled up in (Y/n)'s eyes, streaming down her cheeks like an unstoppable cascade. It was as if a dam had burst within her, releasing all the pent-up emotions she had been holding onto. Tara's loving gaze quickly shifted to concern at the sight of (Y/n)'s tears. "What's wrong? Please don't cry," Tara's voice, raspy from the ordeal, carried that familiar softness and affectionate tone that (Y/n) had longed to hear.

Through her tear-strained voice, (Y/n) choked out her words, unable to contain the overwhelming remorse and love she felt. "Tara, I'm so fucking sorry. I should have just come over, I should have been there for you-" Her words trailed off, interrupted by the weight of her guilt.

Tara's expression softened, a tender smile gracing her lips. "Hey, hey, it's okay," she reassured, her voice filled with warmth and understanding. "None of this was your fault. I know you would have been here if you could. What matters now is that you're here with me, and I love you.”

Tara scooted to the edge of the hospital bed, patting the space beside her, an invitation for (Y/n) to join her. The desire for comfort and solace radiated from Tara's eyes, a silent plea for the warmth of her girlfriend's embrace after the harrowing ordeal they had both endured. (Y/n) hesitated for a moment, mindful of Tara's injuries, but the need for their souls to intertwine and find solace in each other's presence outweighed any physical discomfort. Gingerly, she laid down beside Tara, careful to support herself and cradle Tara's head in her arms.

Nuzzling her nose into Tara's hair, (Y/n) whispered with a voice filled with love and longing, "I missed you." The words carried the weight of their shared experiences and the depth of their connection. In that tender moment, they sought solace in each other's embrace, finding strength and healing in their love.

Tara shifted slightly, snuggling closer to (Y/n)'s chest, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The rise and fall of each other's breaths created a rhythm that matched their heartbeat, a synchrony of love and reassurance. (Y/n) pressed gentle kisses to the top of Tara's head, conveying the depth of her affection and the promise of unwavering support.

As they lay there, entwined in each other's arms, the world outside the hospital room faded away.

“I missed you too”

[valyriantarg]

Dance Of Dragons

1.Harsh truth

Winterfell

Once in Winterfell, Prince Jacaerys had taken his chance and won the trust of Lord Cregan. He was a young lord used to ruling his vassals and even more used to the harsh weather and the wild things that roamed the north.

Cregan and Jace became close friends, hunting together, drinking together and discussing political issues. At night the two exchanged stories of their families. Lord Stark was happy to meet another man like him and found his equal in the prince. Jace spent many days in winterfell enjoying the company of the Stark Lord.

It was a calm afternoon, Cregan and Jace were sitting by the fireplace in the main hall of Winterfell as the autumn wind howled outside the great keep. They were discussing the events that were about to unfold in the continent, but both were surprised by the sound of a dragon's screech coming from the horizon.

"Did you hear that?" Cregan asked his friend, raising his head to listen.

Both Cregan and Jace listened carefully in silence as the sound of the dragon's screeching echoed through the castle. There was no doubt that a dragon was near and judging by the sound of its screeching it was flying towards Winterfell.

They exited the main hall and walked out into the great courtyard of Winterfell. The massive black dragon was hovering right above the castle keep, its wings outstretched as it kept up its wailing scream. They stopped outside the main doors and looked up, Cregan observing the dragon with a mixture of awe and fear.

The mighty black dragon made its descent from the sky and landed outside the great doors of Winterfell. It filled the entire place with its enormous size, its wings outstretched and its tail lashing dangerously from side to side. Cregan watched with awe and cautious as the dragon landed, its massive claws gripping the ground.

Jace saw none other than his step sister Jaehaera. The princess dismounted the cannibal and walked towards Jace and Cregan; she was a vision to behold, Cregan thought, her silver hair flying in the wind, and her amethyst eyes staring at the pair.

“Sister, what brings you to winterfell?” Jace asked her as he approached her. Her dragon remained still behind her thrashing its tail back and forth.

“I’m afraid I carry bad news”. She said and looked at her brother with a solemn face, her amethyst eyes filled with sorrow. The growl of the cannibal making the situation worse.

"What is it?" Jace asked, his voice also soft and worried.

“Luke has been killed. I’m sorry Jace.” she revealed .

Jace's heart froze and his breath caught in his throat as his sister delivered the devastating news to him. He had expected that she came to Winterfell with a message, but not that it would be this harsh.

"Luke is dead?" He spoke in disbelief his eyes already watering.

Jaehaera placed her hand on his.

“When he arrived to Storms End Aemond was already there. He taunted him, threatened to take out his eye as a debt was left unpaid. Luke tried to run away. Aemond chased him on vhagar and…” she paused

Jace listened to his sister, his eyes widening in disbelief as she told him the story of his little brother's death.

"And?" Jace asked her, his voice tense. "What happened afterwards? Jaehaera speak!"

“Vhagar ate Luke and Arrax….” She spoke the final words her eyes already filled with tears.

Jace felt like someone had punched him in the stomach at those final words. His breath catching in his throat as he collapsed on the ground.

“Rhaenyra wants you back for his funeral” she kneeled down and spoke more calmly to him.

“Mother must be devastated. The two of them had a special bond” Jace spoke as he shed tears.

“I promise you brother, Luke will be avenged. They will pay for what they have done.” She said firmly to her brother.

“I’ll stay in winterfell to continue the plans with Lord Stark. But you, you must head back to Dragonstone.” She said and helped him back to his feet.

With these last words Jace was off to Dragonstone leaving Jaehaera back in Winterfell with Lord Cregan Stark.

Taglist

@littleshadow17

@lightdragonrayne

[hyperfixat]

hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment.  This… you rub your face with your hands.  You can’t do anything right, you sigh.  Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life.  You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field.  This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home.  Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan.  Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected.  In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven.  The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate.  It seems you cannot permanently die here.  Though… what if it was a fluke…?  With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you.  You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you.  Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously.  He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?  

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you.  Venti calls your name again.  He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers.  “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…?  Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts?  You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.”  You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”  

Uh-oh.  He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine.  How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.”  His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated.  “I think there’s been a mistake.  I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon.  Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants.  “Please!  I’ve waited so long for you.”  He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads.  You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”  

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline.  His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name.  “I can keep it a secret from the public.  Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you.  We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat.  Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.”  He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon.  His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay.  Just for the night.”  You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish.  Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide.  He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes.  She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes.  When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.  

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading.  If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go.  You won’t know unless you go, though.  Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would.  That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.  

Who will you meet there?  Albedo…?  He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such.  Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on.  Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought.  He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look.  “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”  

“That’s…” not at all what you want.  “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue.  Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that.  What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?  

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore.  If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor.  You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself.  Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight.  In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there.  And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.  

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm.  There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage.  Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.”  He does, promptly so. 

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.  May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No.  Thank you, Childe.” 

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding.  “Do you need an escort to Liyue then?  Is that where you’re heading?” 

“No.  I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay?  I hope to see you again.”

“I will.”  The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here?  Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city.  You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well.  Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful.  “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers.  They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel.  “Why?  Where’re you tryna go, friend?”  

“Snezhnaya.  How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.”  Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper.  You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you.  You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm?  Do you think so little of my intelligence?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that.  But I’m not.  I’m just a regular person.  And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh?  The Creator themself, seeking me out?  It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?”  He pulls himself up with a startled question.  “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore.  I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning.  “You could make use of me.  I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me.  I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”  

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here.  I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?”  Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything.  He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so.  The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.  

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily.  You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap.  But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him.  How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you.  There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones.  Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth.  You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore.  You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you.  It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word.  “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show.  “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you.  You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no.  He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart.  This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely.  “I see.”  Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears.  Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.”  You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.”  Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you.  I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain.  After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist.  You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears.  A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.  

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough.  “Come.”  His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him.  You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab.  The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.  

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness.  The size is comparable to an average hotel room.  Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently.  Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows.  While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down.  “Arm.”  Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed. 

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it.  You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle  and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm.  Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.  Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you.  You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes.  She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier.  You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise.  Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while.  Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore?   Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed.  Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you.  His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue.  I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep.  “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet.  You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept. 

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag.  He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body.  In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested.  “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?”  He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.” 

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor.  “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you.  You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand.  “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs.  I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself.  A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes.  After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body.  It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice.  He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision. 

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns.  Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before.  The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better.  More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better.  He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him).  It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.  

It only further confuses you, though.  Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something?  He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it.  It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click.  Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms?  Yes, I am.  What of it?”  Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm?  Why would I not?”  He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am?  That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so.  Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion.  Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen?  But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened.  You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!”  You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while.  You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs.  It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh.  “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same.  I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future.   But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you.  It’s dysphoric.  

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well.  “Perhaps some more rest will do you good.  I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

[elijeon]

Lucifer | JJK (i)

— pairing: demon jungkook x (f) reader

— summary: Y/N's life has always been full of disappointments, but that would change upon 'accidentally' meeting Lucifer himself.

— word count: 1.5k

— warning: yandere behavior, detailed smut, manipulation, mentions of blood/death/ violence.

📍authors note: everything mentioned from names to places and beliefs, is purely a creation of the authors imagination and does not reflect anything from reality.

Jungkook found himself ensnared in a dream so vivid and unsettling that beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His closed eyes scrunched in confusion, as if battling the nightmarish visions that unfolded within his subconscious. The scene before him resembled a descent into the abyss, reminiscent of a nightmare that gripped his very soul.

In this surreal realm, he wasn't in the common realms of the underworld he rules in. Instead, it was a place where his younger self belonged—a time when the heavens cast him out like a discarded ragdoll, undeserving for any kind of love, only because of his identity. The sky above was perpetually gloomy, with a chaotic swarm of ravens and crows filling the air, their panicked flight accompanied by ominous whispers from nowhere that intensified with every passing moment.

The scene unfolding in front of him brings back the memories of the past, yet despite an overwhelming urge to spread his wings and soar toward the source of those haunting voices, an unseen force restrained him. It was as if the weight of his past, the echoes of celestial rejection, held him captive.

As the loud and chaotic noise reached its peak, a figure of what seemed to be a woman in her mid-20’s, cast by the golden sun emerged on the dark and gloomy world where he was in.

Unbeknownst to her surroundings or the mysterious voices, she bore an angelic smile that seemed to defy the gloom. Her hair, as dark as pitch, radiated a glow akin to the brilliance of the sun. 

The chaotic noise slowly transformed into coherent words, seeping into Jungkook's consciousness like an otherworldly revelation: "To break free from the curse, the daughter of Aphrodite must be yours."

With those haunting words lingering in the air, Jungkook abruptly awoke from the clutches of his enigmatic dream. The transition from the surreal underworld to the waking world left him disoriented, the remnants of the dream fading like mist in the morning sun. Yet, the echoes of a cryptic message lingered, leaving Jungkook with a sense of both curiosity and foreboding.

The daughter of Aphrodite…

“But wait... doesn't that Aphrodite chick not have any daughters?” Taehyung, a grim reaper allied with Lucifer, as they have both intentions of spreading death and madness in the human world, asked Jungkook as he continued to munch the apples in the demon’s table. 

Jungkook,who’s now seated on his throne, frowned as he replied to the reaper’s question, “ I know, that’s why it baffles me.”

While most human dreams are often random and meaningless, Jungkook, as Lucifer, the doomed angel, was far from being human. Beings like him don't normally dream, so if they do, it's likely something important.

“Didn’t you say that you saw what the woman looks like? So what kind of creature is she like? Is she just like one of us? A fairy, an angel, or perhaps a mermaid? But I do hope she ain’t a mermaid tho, cause she would smell stinky as hell” 

“She’s a human, Taehyung. She has human features, and wears those stupid looking human clothes.” Jungkook replied, annoyed with the numerous stupid questions that Taehyung was asking him. 

“Then if so, what are you waiting for? Shouldn’t we go into the human world?”  Taehyung suggested, after taking the last bite from the apple he was eating.

“There are 8 billion people living there, there’s no way we could find her that easily, we don’t even know that woman’s name” 

“So? Did I say that we’re only going there for her? C’mon dude, try to visit other realms instead of locking yourself in this palace. Plus, It’s been a while since you’ve visited the human world, shouldn’t Lucifer himself make a visit to those pathetic beings?” 

“I’ll think about it. But for now, make sure that things will go easy on finding that woman, use your connections if needed. Once you find out who, and where she is, then that’s the only time I’m going there again. And mind you, I am not locking myself here, I’m just busy in handling the ongoing matters in hell”

“Aye Aye, Captain!” Taehyung teased before leaving the place. 

The echoing click-clack of my heels resonates through the colossal office hallway as I hurriedly run with a thick file of documents in my hand. Beads of sweat dot my forehead from all the running that I did just to get here, but I quickly wiped them away, as an attempt to somehow still maintain a presentable appearance despite my obvious stressed and tired state, before entering the meeting room.

After fixing my hair, and wiping the beads of sweat from my forehead, I looked at my left hand to see what time it is already; 10:16 am, well fuck it…what could be worse in my life today than being 16 minutes late on an important meeting. 

“Just what a way to get fired from your internship, Y/N” I thought I eye-rolled at myself for sucking at my work. I let out a deep sigh, before trying to gain the right determination and word to come up with a reasonable explanation of why I got late. 

But to my unfortunate luck, just as I got on my third step, my boss had already called me out in an obviously mad tone. 

“Min Y/N, why are you late? Do you lack the capacity to respect other people’s time?! You’re still new to the company, yet you’re already showing these negative traits of yours.” 

“I… I’m sorry Ms. Han, I came on time, it’s ju- just that I forgot the documents at the my table so I went back to get it” 

Shit, this thing is so embarrassing, most of my colleagues are literally here, hearing all these insults that she’s throwing at me. But what can I do aside from remaining quiet and let her say all those things to me till she decides to stop, if I do the opposite, then I’ll surely gonna get fired right away from my job. 

It’s not like I intended to be late… 

In all those minutes that she spent scolding me, I just looked at shoes and daydreamed about random stuff instead of actually listening to her. There ain’t no way I’m letting her get into my emotions.

“You can leave now, I don’t need your presence in this meeting. Do your job properly or else I’ll fire you”

I immediately complied with her, not wanting any more minutes to be in that room. 

Being a 23 year old freshly out of college girl, things haven't been easy for me. Especially in the aspects of working, I’m originally from Ilsan, but I moved here in Seoul Alone two months ago to seek more work opportunities that could somehow ease up my financial burdens.

 Aside from finding opportunities in a new big city like Seoul, I've also actually moved out to somehow move on from the death of my grandma, ever since I was a child, it was just really me and her, through thick and thin. I never really had a mother or a father, my grandma said that someone just left me at her doorstep when I was still a baby, so it’s logical that me and her had a strong bond, since it was just really us. 

But now… I’m all alone.

Which is why I’m trying to survive life in the only way I could think of – by working and getting all the bills paid. If that could not even give me any happiness, then might as well just die.

A  pat on my shoulders has distracted me from my thoughts, “Hey, I heard what happened in the meeting room” Daniel, one of my coworkers said as he spotted me spacing out. 

“Well it seems that that topic already spreaded like a wildfire” 

“Hey, cheer up!”

“How can I? it’s literally just been one and a half months since I started my internship here, and it looks like I’m not getting anywhere” I replied in defeat as his attempt to make me feel better failed.

“Well, I’m sure luck will be on your side next time. I mean, you don’t know, life’s full of surprises, you might just suddenly experience something unnatural that could literally change your life in a heartbeat”  I just laughed off at his comment, though I did not believe that any of it would happen.

“Yeah, Like meeting up a demon lol”

📍this story will have 2-3 chapters, and updates will be on weekends or in wednesday.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Ghost!Robin Arc 2 Part 3

Ghost!Robin once again won this week's WIP Wednesday poll. This week's poll is up as well if you want a say in what I work on this week (though the poll is slightly different this week).

Story Summary: Everything changed the evening Jason met Jazz's brother. Danny introduced him and his entire family to the ghost that is, apparently, haunting him. The ghost of the Robin he had been.

The ghost of the person everyone he's ever known wishes he still was.

All he wants is to make it go away.

First, Previous

Word Count: 1.6k

-----

“All right!” said Danny, clapping his hands. “I got us close to the Far Frozen, but it’s rude to show up in another ghost’s haunt. So we’ve a little bit of a flight ahead of us.”

“How long is a ‘little bit?’” asked Jason. He refused to look behind him at the lack of a portal. He’d come here for a reason and he trusted Jazz. That had to be enough.

“Oh, maybe fifteen minutes? Twenty?”

Jason closed his eyes and tilted his head back. At least Bruce would be pissed if he knew where Jason was at this exact moment. “Lead the way,” is all he ended up saying.

In the distance, Jason could see islands floating in the air. Between them were stand alone doors with no walls.

“What are those islands?” he asked Jazz.

“They’re haunts,” she said. “Homes for individual ghosts. Islands tend to be reserved for ghosts who want visitors—either to fight or play—and doors for the ones who want to be left alone.”

“Danny referred to the Far Frozen as a haunt. Is that the same thing?”

“Yes,” said Jazz. “But the Far Frozen is home to hundreds of ghosts led by Frostbite. Those islands you can see will only be home to one, maybe two ghosts. The Far Frozen is much bigger.”

Jason wasn’t sure what he thought about that. In front of them, Danny and the interloper had pulled ahead a ways. He could tell Danny was talking, but they were too far away for him to make out the words.

“It’ll be okay, Jason,” said Jazz after a few moments of silence.

“Things were finally starting to go right with my family,” he admitted quietly.

“They won’t give up on you.” Jazz slipped an arm around his waist. “They care about you.”

Jason snorted. “They care about who I used to be and put up with who I am now. It’s not the same.”

“They care about both who you were and who you are. I’ve seen how Dick acts around you. You could go full super villain and he’d join you in the descent.”

“He just feels guilty for not being there when I died, the idiot.”

Jazz huffed a laugh. “You know, I don’t know why I’m surprised you died. It really is just my luck.”

Jason didn’t answer. It was strange that the one person he’d been interested in dating seriously since his return had ties to death and the afterlife. He shivered, what did that say about him? That he couldn’t just fall for a normal woman?

Jazz noticed. “I think we’re getting close. Temperature’s dropping. Can you feel it?”

“I suppose it is.” His getup, far too warm for the Jersey spring they’d left, wasn’t leaving him sweltering anymore.

Sure enough, just a few minutes later, Danny was turning and waving them closer. “Look!” he said, once they were close enough to hear. “You can see the Far Frozen!”

Ahead, partially obscured by a green fog, a great wall—or was that a cliff?—of ice rose up from nothing ahead of them. They still had some distance to go to reach it, but they’d arrive before long.

“I’m just going to announce our presence,” said Danny. “It’s only polite.”

Jason wasn’t sure what Danny did, but for a moment, it felt like he was being pushed in on from all sides. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. Then, as soon as it had started, it was gone.

“Frostbite will send someone to meet us, I’m sure.”

Jason just grunted and Jazz nudged him again. “Be nice,” she whispered.

The ghost stuck his tongue out at Jason. It took all of his fraying self control to limit his response to just an eye roll.

Danny led them towards the top of the ice and, just as predicted, by the time they were nearly there, a contingent of actual yeti’s came forward to greet them. Five of them, each at least twice Jason’s size, flew down from the island. Each carried what looked to be weapons. Jason tensed, hands immediately reaching for his own.

“Great one!” boomed the largest and first of the party. “It has been too long since you’ve come for a visit. I hope you are not injured?”

Danny laughed and rushed forward to give the yeti a hug. Jason could barely see Jazz’s brother through the being’s fur and arms. Any response Danny gave was muffled by the creature’s fur.

He must’ve said something, though, because the yeti was letting him go and peering at Jason and Jazz and the ghost. Jason tensed under the look. Was that an angry glare? He didn’t know the first thing about the body language of yetis.

“You must be the one who is courting Princess Jazz. Greetings. I am Frostbite, ruler of this section of the Realms. Welcome to my haunt. King Phantom has expressed his concerns for you health and I will, of course, be pleased to offer any assistance myself or my people can.”

Jason just blinked back, then turned to his girlfriend. “Princess Jazz?” his voice sounded strangled even to his own ears. “Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?”

Jazz rolled her eyes and poked him in the side. “Not important.” To the yeti, she said, “Thanks, Frostbite. Any help you can give will be beyond helpful. I didn’t even know that Jason had died until last night, let alone that he was being haunted by his own ghost. We’ve been calling his ghost Robin and his living self Jason to make it easier on everyone.”

“Well, then, young Robin and noble Jason, come. Follow me and I will see what I can learn of your condition. I must admit I have not heard of a case like yours before. But, before the Great One first came to us, we had never had the chance to examine a living ghost in any capacity before.”

Jason grunted. “I though Danny said you were the expert in the field.”

Frostbite nodded. “I am. However, that is simply because everyone else knows nothing. That I know something is all it takes to be called the expert in this situation.”

Jason’s stomach sank. This was going to be completely useless, wasn’t it? Why did Danny have to raise his hopes like that! “So you don’t think you’ll be able to do anything?”

Frostbite bared his teeth—a threat or a smile? “I never said that. I’m sure there’s plenty I can learn from an examination. I just won’t make any predictions until I’ve got some results. To do so would be conjecture and the height of incompetence. Now, come, all of you. When the Great One announced his presence, I had some of my people prepare an examination room.”

Danny groaned. “Oh, come on, I’m not that bad!”

The yeti ruffled his hair with a paw as big as Danny’s entire torso. “Your majesty, you have never once made a surprise visit unless you were injured. I am glad that, at least this time, you are not the one hurt. However, you have still come seeking medical advice.”

“Danny!” scolded Jazz. “What have I told you a million times?”

Danny looked at her with confusion. “To get more sleep?”

“No! Well, yes, actually. But not what I was talking about!” Jazz left Jason’s side to smack Danny on the back of his head. “You don’t just visit friends when you need things from them. It’s important to spend down time with your friends, too.”

Frostbite laughed. “Fear not, Princess Jasmine. I am not upset with his majesty. He has only just taken up his crown and has many responsibilities. I am merely relieved he still turns to me when in trouble. Now come, follow me to the examination room.”

Danny talked animatedly with Frostbite as they made their way through a village. Jason and Jazz followed a few steps behind.

Jason couldn’t help but stare. Every building was made of ice. Rather than sharp edges and plain facades, they bent in graceful curves and had been decorated with ice and snow sculptures. Sculptures here were as common as gargoyles and grotesques in Gotham. As they wound through the streets, residents left the buildings to greet Frostbite and Danny. It felt more like they were part of a parade than just passing through.

And above it all loomed a giant castle. No other word could describe it. Delicate turrets pierced into the sky and stairs wound around the outside of the walls while banners added some much-needed color to the structure.

By this point, Jason wasn’t even surprised when they were led to the castle. The inside was just as ornate as the outside and Jason stared in wonder at the statues that decorated the hallways and the patterns pressed into the walls. It was like something from a fairy tale.

So much so that when they finally made it to the examination room, it was rather a disappointment. It looked just like a regular doctor’s office, though the machinery was different.

“Thank you for accompanying us, Your Majesty, Princess Jasmine. However, I must ask for the both of you to leave as I examine my patients.”

“Of course, Frostbite,” said Danny. “We’ll wait outside.” He waved to Jason and made another of those trilling sounds that was repeated by the interloper.

Jazz squeezed his hand. “I love you. Everything will be fine, you’ll see. I’m just outside if you need me.”

Jason pulled her in for a hug and whispered in her ear, “Love you, too.”

Then he was alone with the yeti and the interloper. He refused to look at the ghost of his past and instead addressed the doctor. “So what now?”

-----

Next

Hope you enjoy!

Jason would be doing so much worse without Jazz right now.

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[anashins]

His Love in Her Force

Pairing: undercover detective!Jaehyun x ballerina!reader

Genre: fake marriage au, hate to love, action, drama, fluff, romance, small town au, slow burn, smut, suspense

Word Count: 28k (it's worth it if you like slow burn, promise)

Summary: Fleeing from a ruthless stalker, you are forced to participate in a witness protection program at the other side of the world, pretending to be the wife of a taciturn undercover detective from now on. Despite all differences, you slowly start to settle with your new life as a married couple - until your newfound happiness is stripped away from you all over again.

A/N: Loosely inspired by a friend's friend case that went viral where I live. Jaehyun goes by several names here (Jay Jung, Jung Jaehyun and Jeong Yuno).

Imagine leaving everything behind. 

Your home, your friends, your family.

Life as you knew it, vanished overnight, and you had to start anew at the other side of the world.

People easily let such a wish slip when their ordinary life got too exhausting. But what many truly meant was that they wanted to take a break from their daily routine and relax a few weeks under the tropical sun. 

They could always come back to the security and comfort of their stable home, and that was why only the minority was serious and courageous enough to actually go through with the plans of starting anew somewhere far away.

And then, there were people like you. The ones who didn’t have a choice.

“Mrs. Jung, please put up your table, we’re starting to descend,” the stewardess told you.

Mrs. Jung. That was your new name now. 

You had no relation to this surname that you had gotten assigned to only sixteen hours ago through a fake ID and passport at the airport. It sounded so foreign and disturbing to your ears. 

This “Mrs. Jung” wasn’t you, yet you had to slip into her role and pretend to have been someone else’s wife for a significant part of your life already. It was a role you didn’t deem yourself to be suitable for at all.

You were a young, single woman who lived her childhood dream of being a ballet dancer. After having attended different dance academies around Asia and Europe, you had settled with your first engagement, the Korea National Ballet, back in Seoul for the meantime where your family was residing.

A week ago, you had gotten the confirmation letter that you were accepted into the Dutch National Ballet after having studied there the year prior.

Your life was finally everything you had been working so hard towards since you were little.

And then, your future had gotten stripped away from you. Just like that.

“Mrs. Jung?” The stewardess passed by again. “The table.”

“Oh sorry,” you quickly apologized and put it up to properly lock it.

You then proceeded to stare out of the window, the plane having brought you to a continent you had never set foot on ever before. Narrow streets, tiny houses and small forests passed by you in a blur of earthly colors as the plane slowly angled downwards to start its final descent. 

You hated your new life already.

_____

“My duty here is finished,” the officer, who had been accompanying you all the way to the US, told you. “I’ll be taking the next flight back. But no worries, a driver is already waiting for you and will escort you to your new home. You must be relieved, you’re almost there now, Miss.”

“Relieved, detective?” you mocked and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I’ll be exchanging the life of a successful ballerina for the one of a housewife, stuck in the nowhere on the other side of the world, because you couldn’t do your job right. What in the hell should I be relieved about, tell me?”

“Listen, Miss.” He lowered his voice as though there were other people besides you in this domestic charter flight. “Detective Jeong is one of our best people for this job here, I heard. So when it’s about life or death, there is no other place you’d rather be at the moment. He surely wants to be elsewhere as well, so that makes you two people that have to arrange themselves with this situation.”

“Jeong?” You raised a brow. “Isn’t his name Jung also?”

“Your fake name applies to the both of you of course. It’s a fine, but grave detail to his real one, also for easier spelling. Don’t ever use it in front of anyone though.”

You barely listened to him. “I don’t care. I don’t care about any of this.”

“I’m sorry this happened to you, really.” He sounded almost empathetic. Almost. 

“Don’t be, I know that deep inside, you aren’t. You think you did a good job, detective. If you wouldn’t have sat on your asses all day long and laid out all my collected evidences properly instead, I wouldn’t even be here on this stupid plane, in this stupid country!”

“I already told you there is nothing that we can do anymore, Miss. Stalking cases, where the suspect hasn’t done any harm yet, are always hard to handle since not everything can be considered solid evidence. That’s the thing with social media.” He was tired of leading this conversation, but you weren’t, because you knew you were right. “Besides… The judge hasn’t even passed the sentence yet.”

“But they’re close, and we all know what the sentence will be, otherwise I wouldn’t be here! And it’s only because my father pays such a huge amount of money that you’re willing to get me into this program and away from him.” Your heart was full of hostility, and you let him feel every single bit of it. “Otherwise I would possibly be dead by tomorrow.”

“Again, I’m sorry this happened to you, Miss.”

“Screw your half-assed apologies! I’ve lost my trust in the police a long time ago!” you yelled at him. “You’d rather want a woman dead than get a stalker behind bars!”

And, once again, replied with, “I’m sorry, Miss.”

You didn’t want to hear any more of this, so you remained quiet for the rest of the landing approach and just bid an annoyed farewell to the detective when you disembarked the aircraft. By the exit, after you had picked up your luggage, you were welcomed by the announced driver. 

“Hello, Mrs. Jung. I will accompany you to your new home,” he greeted you. “Welcome to Connecticut. Follow me please. Here, let me help you with your luggage.”

You tagged along with a distance of two steps until you got out of the airport and into his car. The ride distanced you from the airport and thus from the next city as well. While you were hoping to cross another town soon, no such thing happened.

“How far is it?” were the words you finally brought out after half an hour of driving. “It’s been quite a while and all I’m still seeing is… green.”

“Oh, it’s still an hour, Mrs. Jung.”

“An hour?” you squealed and sat straight up from the backseat. “Where are we driving to? Maine? This was Connecticut already, how far into the province are we going?”

“Where your persecutor won’t find you that easily, Mrs. Jung.”

You swore to god, if he called you “Mrs. Jung” again, in every sentence… But it was the first time someone used the word “persecutor”, and it kind of caught you off guard to have someone not talk down on your case.

You leaned back in your seat and closed your eyes to relax after such a long flight that also included a layover. It worked out a bit too well in the end though, sleep eventually engulfing you with the mundane sound of the car rolling over the road in the background.

You only woke up much later when the car had already come to a halt. At the outside, when you groggily opened your eyes, you saw two figures talking to each other in front of your side window. One of them was the driver who had brought you here, the other though, you could only make out the outlines of as he stood with his back turned to you, but it was definitely a much taller man.

“Couldn’t you have gotten someone else?” the unfamiliar man spoke. 

“Since when do detectives in your position get to choose the person they will protect?” the driver asked back.

“It’s just… that she’s…” He faltered.

“A young dancer at the peak of her career?”

“Don’t go there.”

At that moment, he turned around to you and your eyes met. You didn’t know who was more shocked to see the other. So that was him, your “husband”. How dare he speak about you like that! As though you were happy over this situation!

Your eyes were wide open now and you aggressively unbuckled your seatbelt. Opening the door, you stepped outside, getting greeted by the driver right away.

“You’re awake, Mrs. Jung! May I introduce you to your husband Jaehyun? Around here, for better pronunciation, he’s known as Jay.”

The unfamiliar man, obviously going by the name of Jaehyun/Jay, said nothing to you, not even during the entire time your eye contact didn’t break. You felt him clearly examining you from head to toe though, but not in the way a guy checked out someone he was interested in.

No, he was eyeing you from head to toe like he was inspecting a piece of leftover meal that he was unsure of whether to still eat after finding it in the very back of his fridge seven days after preparing. He was full of disgust, and his off-putting behavior was masking how ridiculously good he looked at the same time. 

In the end, he decided against the meal and shifted back to the driver. “She’s looking even gaudier than in the pictures.”

“Excuse me?!” You clenched your fists. “What do you mean?!”

But he ignored you. “She’s looking like a Christmas tree, drawing attention to her wherever she goes. So flamboyant.”

“This is called fashion! People in Seoul wear such outfits!” you retorted, upset that he was still treating you like you weren’t there and simultaneously insulting you. 

The driver just patted his shoulder. “I’ll get going.”

When he had driven away, you were left alone with Jaehyun or Jay - if that was even his real name, but you supposed it wasn’t, a fake name like yours and your both’s surname most likely as well. 

You stood there kind of awkwardly in the small driveway of the house you needed to call your new home from now on. Judging from the outside, admittedly, it looked like a cozy country style bungalow, spacious enough for two people and with no other houses in the immediate radius. 

You would have liked it very much for a short vacation if you wouldn’t have to share it with a stranger who apparently didn’t have the hots for you anyway.

“Let’s go inside,” he barked with suppressed anger, and you wondered why he was already behaving so hostile towards you. 

But at least, the feeling was mutual since he was a policeman as well. Starting from the day they had laughed at you when you called 911 shortly after the physical stalking had started, you had vowed to hate every single one of them.

When you stepped through the entry door, heaving the luggage up the stairs yourself, because Jaehyun was not gentleman enough to help you, you were positively surprised. 

The interior was bright and modernly furnished. There was a huge kitchen, open to the living room that looked equally comfortable and cozy with a soft couch. Additionally, there was an entire wall filled with books only at the opposite of the window facade by the entrance.

“The bathroom is over there.” Jaehyun stood next to you and pointed with his finger to one of the two doors behind the kitchen. “And that is the bedroom. No worries, it’s all yours, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“You better do so,” you murmured and went straight to the bedroom, dragging your luggage behind you.

“You’re not allowed to go outside all alone. Either I accompany you or you ask for my permission and tell me exactly where you go and for how long.”

He spoke like a robot who had memorized an instruction, and who knew, perhaps he was even one. This already felt like jail. Whether you were here or at home, leaving either wouldn’t be safe for you. It didn’t make any difference except that you hated it here. And him.

Jaehyun cleared his throat. “I’ll prepare dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

You shut the door behind you and looked around in the room before you let yourself fall onto the huge bed and stared at the ceiling. Minutes later, you found yourself crying so hard like you had never cried before in your life. 

Your entire body shook, and you sobbed so loudly, you feared that Jaehyun might hear it. But you actually didn’t care. You would gladly let him know that he wasn’t the only one feeling miserable in this situation you two were in, even though you voiced it differently.

Missing your parents, grandparents, friends and everyone else dear to you, you now realized that you were all alone. You hadn’t been allowed to keep your phone in case you’d be tracked down and thus weren’t allowed to get in touch with anyone from your former life either in case someone accidentally revealed your whereabouts.

Another part of you mourned the end of your career that you had been working so hard towards and that hadn’t even really started yet. This same part hated your father for putting you into this program, but loved him at the same time to go through these lengths to ensure your protection. 

But the biggest part of you hated the man who had laid his eyes on you a year ago and vowed to never leave your side again in the most controversial ways. 

The man who had ruined your life. 

This was what he had wanted for you - cornered, shut off, frightened. When admiration turned into hatred, there was no space for happiness anymore. You had never felt more agonized. And lonely.

And with this feeling, after your sheets were all wet from too much crying, you slept in long after night had fallen.

____

The ringing doorbell woke you up, and judging by the misty light that flowed into the bedroom from the outside, it must not be past nine in the morning. You must have slept for over fourteen hours.

Opening your eyes in a slow manner, it took you a few moments to adjust to your surroundings. At first, you were happy to have woken up in your home again - until you realized it quite wasn’t and reality dawned on you, a dreadful feeling instantly weighing down on your heart that nearly caused you to bawl right there and then again. 

You grabbed a pillow and put it over your face to drown out the noise that was coming from the door. If anything, it was Jaehyun’s responsibility to open it as he was closer to the source, and you weren’t even sure whether you were allowed to let strangers in. 

But the string of constant noise just wouldn’t subside, and jet lag was hitting you hard.

“Goddammit!” you yelled in annoyance, jumped out of the bed and stormed into the living room.

But there was no sign of Jaehyun, the couch neatly made, so no one was even able to suspect that someone had slept on it the night before. You tiptoed to the window close by the entrance door to get a look at the person standing outside. 

It was an old, asian woman with gray hair. 

The moment she spotted you by the window, she quickly hurried over and excitedly signed you to open the door. In her hands, she presented a bag, dangling it in front of your vision. You neither had the time nor the patience to put up with her right now, but since she had spotted you already, there was no chance that you could still avoid her.

“Yes?”

You opened the door, not paying attention to your disheveled hair and the clothes from the day before. Whatever she wanted, you hoped that she would finish fast.

“My, my!” she called out in delight. “You must be Mrs. Jung, having arrived yesterday, right?”

You nodded, still not having adjusted to that name. At least you were fluent in English. “Yes, that’s me. May I help you?”

“I brought you a set of dumplings as a welcome gift. Here, take them. According to the villagers, they taste the best in my restaurant, Mrs. Jung. I’m sure they only say it because I’m running the only restaurant here, though.” She winked and then laughed as you took the package into your hands, slowly waking from your petrification. “Far away from your home country, I thought you needed something familiar, and food always manages to lift the mood, am I right? I must know, because when I immigrated here from Vietnam, I also felt lonely.”

This old woman’s surprising genuine gesture seemed so sweet to you though, you had to gulp big time to hold back your tears that were still present from before. Amidst a sea of turmoil, she radiated so much warmth and grandmotherly love, it made your chest tighten and soothed your pain at the same time, and you regretted your malign thoughts from earlier.

“Thank you so much,” you said wholeheartedly, softly.

“Grandmother Anh!” The two of you simultaneously spotted Jaehyun hurrying in your direction while crossing the front yard. “What are you doing here so early in the morning?”

“I wanted to drop by and bring you a set of dumplings as I remembered your wife must have arrived by now,” she explained and pointed at the bag in your hands. “Freshly made.”

“Thank you so much, grandmother Anh!” He wasn’t paying attention to you. “It wasn’t necessary for you to come all the way up there though!”

She waved aside. “A short trip up to here hasn’t hurt anyone yet, right?”

“You want to come inside for a cup of tea?” you offered her as you deemed it suitable for a situation like this despite not knowing whether you actually had tea. It earned you an angry gaze from Jaehyun though, and you wondered what you had done wrong.

“No worries, dear, I have work to go after now, and I’m sure you want to have some time to adjust yourself to your new living situation. Thank you for the invitation though. And don’t forget to step by my restaurant!”

When she was gone, you retreated to the inside, but as soon as the door closed behind you, Jaehyun threw a fit.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he yelled at you. “Oh, I know! You weren’t even thinking! Opening the door for someone you don’t know, even though you’re currently in a security program, are you nuts?!”

“Of course I’ve looked through the window before!” you shot back at him angrily. Stranger or husband, nobody was allowed to talk to you this way, and in contrast to the day prior, you had enough energy now to give him hell back. “If it was a suspicious looking man, I wouldn’t have let him in, but this was a nice grandma! My stalker is still in detention until the court decision, so he won’t come here so easily, and I doubt he has accomplices in the middle of the american nowhere when he’s just a simple korean man!”

“Listen up here, I’m trying to teach you a point,” Jaehyun pressed through gritted teeth, urging you to move backwards until your feet hit the baseboard and your back rested against the wall. “You know why you’re not allowed to use the phone or the internet? You log yourself into your social media account, congratulations, you just disclosed your location and he’ll appear here once he’s free. You call a friend while being connected to a local radio mast, congratulations, you’re now in danger again, because he’s hired a technician to track your steps. The same goes for people. One tells the other who they’ve seen here, words spread, someone knows someone who knows someone who knows him. Or one of them takes a picture, it lands on the internet, and things on the internet stay on the internet. It will then only be a matter of time until he comes across it. How do you know what he’s capable of? Because he’s ‘a simple korean man’? You’re smarter than this!” For the time he paused and inhaled deeply. “I’m here to prevent all this from happening, to prevent him from finding you, so you have to follow me. Since you’re not known by anyone yet, I have to run a background check, and we still have time to study our story so that they’re going to match. Until then, you’re gonna stay quiet and inside.”

“I didn’t ask you to be my protector!” you defended yourself, his closeness flustering you still. “No one from the police has ever helped me anyway, so stop acting like you care about my wellbeing!”

“Care about your wellbeing?” He revealed his pearl white teeth when he scoffed. “I don’t care about your wellbeing. It’s just that I want to get out of here as fast as possible and you’re just something that holds me back if I don’t take care of it. So you play by my rules or you go back now.”

“You-!” You swallowed the rest of the sentence.

With a slip to the side, you escaped from his fearful presence and crossed the living room in a hurry to lock yourself inside the bedroom again.

Only hours later, when hunger got the better of you, you dared to come out. The dumplings laid on the dining table where you had dropped them off earlier, and you couldn’t ignore the gurgling sounds your stomach was making anymore. 

Jaehyun was sitting on the couch, typing something into his laptop and minding his own business without looking up to you. You were grateful for his ignorance as neither of you wanted to back off from your argument earlier, so you took half of the dumplings and retreated back into the bedroom from where you didn’t come out for the rest of the day.

At night, you cried yourself to sleep again.

____

“Let’s go grocery shopping.”

You were very much surprised when Jaehyun offered to take you on a short trip to the supermarket two days later. Yesterday, you had only been living off leftover dumplings and hadn’t felt any appetite, even until now. This was your very first interaction since the argument.

“I don’t want to,” you blocked it off.

“It’s weird and actually more suspicious when everyone now knows that you’ve already arrived, but don’t show yourself. We have to blend in, that’s how it works here in the countryside. And I have already done a background check on everyone, they’re clean. Besides…” He hesitated. “You should start eating properly.”

You didn’t care about his reasoning as you didn’t want to go out at all. Staying inside, hiding and being left alone sounded like the proper activity according to your mood, but Jaehyun wouldn’t budge, so you had no other choice than to finally dress up and accompany him against your will.

You hadn’t seen anything from the village except for your own house so far, so you got a bit excited when you finally stepped out onto the streets. The sun was shining brightly that morning, and it was kind of comfortably warm already for early spring. 

When you did a 360 degree turn, you silently noted that the village was located on the slope of a hill, your house placed on the highest point and the other houses stretching a few hundred meters apart from each other along the main street and scattering into narrower ones. 

The view and the location were splendid, you had to give credit for that. You weren’t the kind of person to seek this kind of tranquility as you were more a fan of a buzzing city, but somehow, you didn’t find it so bad here. 

The houses were all so small and looked so cozy, embedded and blending in with nature, and the village overall was surrounded by trees and the greens of the connected grasslands that reached to the very top of the mountains.

“If we should come off as a couple, you have to stay by my side.”

You hadn’t noticed how Jaehyun had gone ahead already and quickly fell into his step. You were kind of grossed out by the idea that he would suddenly want to take your hand or do something else that young couples usually openly showed to prove their affection towards each other, so you kept your arms close to your body. But luckily, he didn’t seem to be fond of such a thing right now as well.

As you were walking down the street leading to the village center, Jaehyun told you, “I’ll be starting my work tomorrow. I’m a police officer here, so I’ll be gone for the majority of the day.”

“You work?”

“In contrast to you, I have to.”

“I see,” you noticed curtly. It wasn’t like you minded. No, you rejoiced even!

“But don’t get the wrong idea,” he reminded you as though he was reading your thoughts. “It doesn’t mean you can do what you want and go wherever you want.”

You rolled your eyes. “I understood the first time already.”

“Very well. We’re here,” he then declared when you stood in front of a store, not bigger than a 7/11.

“That’s it? That’s the grocery store?”

“Yeah. What did you expect anyway?”

Yeah, what exactly did you expect to discover in this small village? You sighed. “Let’s go inside.”

A high-pitched voice directly greeted you from the inside. “Mr. Jung! Is this your lovely wife? I can’t believe I finally get to see her! Welcome, Mrs. Jung!” A middle-aged man approached you from the counter, took both of your hands and shook them excitedly. “I’m Mr. Jones. Please help yourselves. You’ll find here everything that you need. My store might be small, but it’s rich in its ingredients.”

You felt Jaehyun’s stares in your back when you carefully greeted him back with a, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones” before you went back to his side like the obedient wife you were supposed to play.

Jaehyun was wandering through the small aisles and put one grocery after another into his shopping basket. From afar, he truly looked like a caring husband. But you knew better. 

“What do we want to cook for dinner?” he asked nonchalantly, almost kindly.

For the first time, his voice wasn’t filled with anger or tension that you would also find in your own tone whenever you opened your mouth to speak to each other. In front of the people, you had to conceal your negative feelings towards each other. 

“Hmm…” You looked through the shelves, Jaehyun tagging along. “I’m kind of craving fried rice.”

“I’d rather have steak.” He put the meat in the basket. 

Of course he’d get what he wanted. But you didn’t want to back down either and bought the ingredients for your own cravings.

“Mrs. Jung, please make sure to step by again,” Mr. Jones told you when he packed your groceries. “We always have fresh fruits, you’ll love them!”

You nodded, totally not in the mood for smalltalk with strangers.

Back at home, you waited until Jaehyun had finished preparing his steak before you cooked your own dish. You ate in silence, him on the couch, you in the bedroom, both of you then cleaning after yourselves in silence, too. 

And that slowly became your arranged routine. Silent and separate, yet still together physically.

____

You had spent the past days inside the house mostly, reading, watching TV and staring at the ceiling. At home, you barely had time for these trivial things as you were always practicing, even during your free time. But your free time now was endless, and simple leisure activities prevented you from falling back into this deep, black hole that engulfed you every night, luring out your tears.

You didn’t want to go out, you didn’t want to talk, you barely wanted to eat.

When you felt like this at home, you would just start dancing, but now, you didn’t even have that. Your life was dull after you had been ripped off your passion and your entire future. You didn’t know whether, if you’d ever return, you could catch up again.

At this point, you were asking yourself whether this life was actually worth living. But if you were to give up now, it only meant your stalker had succeeded. This was what he wanted, and you wouldn’t give him this.

As you were lying on the couch that evening again, staring into space, you heard Jaehyun coming home and immediately shot up to go back into your room. You wanted to spend as little time around him as possible.

But he didn’t let you go far. “Mr. Jones saw you in the driveway this morning as he drove by.”

“...And?”

“You know for sure that this isn’t allowed,” Jaehyun hissed sharply. “I prohibited it.”

“But why?” you genuinely wanted to know. “I was only catching some fresh air, nothing to fret about.”

He didn’t show any compassion. “If you want some fresh air, open a window, but, under no circumstances, are you allowed to leave the house when I’m not there. Think about what would have happened if it was someone else driving by, not Mr. Jones!”

“You’re totally nuts!” you yelled now. “And paranoid! That man doesn’t even know I’m here, so technically, I can roam around freely if I want to!”

“This is why I didn’t want you,” Jaehyun growled, his voice full of contempt. “The moment I saw you in the car, I knew what kind of person you would be. And I was proven right. You’re so reckless and neglecting in regard to your own life. On top of that, you’re so audacious as well, and I actually despise people like you. You didn’t even need this program, you’re only here because your father wanted to protect his little princess!”

You froze, and Jaehyun turned stiff in the same breath, your eye contact not breaking despite the interruption. Almost simultaneously, it became clear to you both what he had just said, and the extent of his hurtful words.

Jaehyun opened his lips, his eyes wide in shock. “I-”

The ringing doorbell broke through the distressing silence between the both of you and Jaehyun crossed the living room to hurry to the entrance door.

“Hello Mr. Jung!”

“Grandmother Anh, what a surprise!” he greeted her, still a bit overwhelmed, but trying to downplay the situation. “What brings you here?”

“I was wondering whether you and your wife already have plans for dinner and whether you are interested in joining me and a few other villagers at my restaurant this evening?” she asked politely, trying to get a glimpse of the inside. 

“My wife is doing fine, only still adjusting. There is just so much work to still go after inside the house, so we barely have time at the moment. I’m afraid we have to decline.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the old woman commented. “But I still hope that you can make time this evening and join the dinner. We would be really pleased!”

“I’m going to ask her, alright?”

“Actually I wanted to ask her pers-…”

“Grandmother Anh?” you popped up behind Jaehyun and interjected. “I would happily join the dinner along with my husband! Thank you so much for the invitation!”

“Oh dear, I’m so glad! Then I’ll be going to prepare something nice for you two then, alright? See you later!”

When she was gone, you didn’t resume the topic from earlier, but instead said, “She probably heard it. She probably heard everything and was anxious about what was going on in here. Perhaps, she even thought we were physically fighting, so I had to show myself to let her see that everything is okay.”

“You could have just politely declined,” Jaehyun interposed.

“That’s not the point,” you explained calmly, walking around in the living room and pulling the curtains together. “The whole point of us being here is that we will pretend to be a happy couple, not drawing any suspicion on us. Doing grocery shopping every few days together just doesn’t do it. Didn’t you yourself say that words spread fast here?”

He didn’t want to concede it, but Jaehyun’s following words were his own gesture of acknowledging your believability. “So, what do you suggest we should do?”

Perhaps, he also realized at that moment, that he was missing something that you had been contributing from the very beginning: the ability to not only think rationally, but also compassionately. 

And that sometimes, your reckless acts originated from this character trait of yours, being a person who relied mostly on emotions and urges. He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again.

“We’re going to show everyone how happy we are as a couple. That it was a usual lovers’ quarrel, that we don’t physically fight, and that you don’t keep me locked up or whatever. And since you’ll be there too, it’s safe. Satisfied?”

You weren’t fond of all that, of the thought of going out, meeting people and pretending you were living the happy life of a married couple. But you had no choice.

You didn’t admit this openly, but this was your only way to survive this hellhole and eventually return to your old life one day.

____

You were more anxious than excited to finally step out of the house again. When you stood in front of the restaurant later that evening, you barely brought yourself to crack a smile. How were you supposed to pretend to be happy when all you wanted was to cry?

“Stop.” Jaehyun held you back when you already wanted to enter through the front door. “Didn’t you forget something?”

You cursed inwardly, having hoped that he had forgotten about it. Why had you even mentioned such a thing as holding hands to prove the nature of your relationship? You would rather not, but you also saw that it was necessary to come off as a true couple and not two strangers who had just met. Even though the latter was true.

So you placed your hand in Jaehyun’s for the first time. It felt surprisingly warm and tender, and so different from the attitude he always showed you. How could someone so grouchy and cold have such tender and warm hands?

Jaehyun’s fingers enclosed around yours, and the unexpected feeling he caused you to experience currently didn’t have anything to do with the fear of getting touched by him. By far not. Not even something close to it.

You were so flustered that you barely noticed how he led you into the restaurant, right towards a large table on which a handful of people were already seated, and all their heads turned to you.

“Oh my, it’s the Jungs!”

You directly spotted grandmother Anh who approached you from behind the counter, taking your hands into hers and out of Jaehyun’s grip.

“Welcome! Dear, let me introduce you to the other villagers,” she addressed you. “Mr. Jones already told me that you two met, but these are…”

She proceeded to list four names that you forgot right after again, and you then took one of the two left free seats at the table along with Jaehyun while the old woman was bringing in one dish after another.

“Please help yourselves!” grandmother Anh then announced after she had sat down well. “Dig in!”

The entire table was filled with different dishes from the region, but also asian food. You felt your mouth watering after having lived off your humble cooking skills ever since your arrival.

“You see, this is a special restaurant,” grandmother Anh explained to you. “I’m not specialized on Asian or Western food. Basically, I can cook anything by order.”

“That’s true,” a middle aged woman next to you answered, Mr. Jones’ wife. “Mrs. Anh started off with an Asian restaurant, but since she’s running the only food place here, the requests started to pile up.”

You swallowed the last bite of delicious fried rice - your go to comfort food - before you responded, “No matter Asian or Western, your food is very delicious, grandmother Anh.”

“I’m so happy you like it, dear!” She smiled from ear to ear. “Hurry, eat up before all the others do!”

You nodded, and for the first time since you had gotten here, you didn’t only feel hunger, but also appetite as you reached for fried chicken, more fried rice, baked potatoes and steamed vegetables all at once. 

When you were training - which was usually all the time - you hadn’t had the pleasure to eat such delightful food as you had to follow a very strict diet to remain your figure. Just a few grams more would have gotten you kicked out of every academy. Of course you stole a secret bite of fast food and sweet treats here and there, but tonight was the first time you could actually eat without compunction.

“... And you left everything behind for your husband, even your job?” Mrs. Jones casually dropped when the dinner slowed down and everyone was finishing off. “That’s so courageous!”

Before you had come here, you had studied both of the roles that had been assigned to you very thoroughly. Jaehyun was the cop who had found a new job here, and you, his wife, had followed from Korea to settle with him in rural Connecticut. That was the part of the script that bothered you the most as this was something you would never ever consider doing in the first place. Giving up your dreams for a man - they wished!

“The things women do for the love of their life, hm?” you only brought yourself to say reluctantly, dripping with hidden sarcasm.

“My husband also made us both move from Vietnam to here,” grandmother Anh clinked herself into your conversation. “He was always dreaming so big, dreaming about living the American dream. I wasn’t fond of the idea, but I was even less fond of living a life without him. So I followed him.”

“Where is your husband now?” it blurted out of you, and you regretted it right at that moment already when her face fell. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, dear,” she brushed it off in understanding about your unawareness. “It’s been five years without him, and I still miss him dearly. With my experience, I can put myself in your shoes very well. You feel lonely and depressed very often, hm? A new country, new people, an entirely new environment, and a husband who’s not home for the majority of the day. It’s hard to adjust.”

Those feelings had nothing to do with Jaehyun, but with yourself only, so you confirmed them with a nod. 

“How about you join our female poker round every wednesday?” Mrs. Jones then proposed. “It’s grandmother Anh, the girl sitting over there named Rosie, and me.”

When the girl heard her name, she briefly raised her head and smiled at you.

“Poker?” you asked carefully. “I’ve never played poker before.”

“You’ll learn it in no time!” Rosie encouraged you. “I’m pretty sure we aren’t playing it accurately either, but we’re having lots of fun and drinking lots of wine. You’ll love it!”

Poker with two elderly women and a girl around your age that you had barely interacted with before didn’t sound like your usual pastime activity back there in Korea. But at least there would be alcoholic drinks, and it would help you avoid this dark hole for a little while, you assumed.

“I’m afraid my wife might not be able to join,” Jaehyun then cut you off at the moment you wanted to excitedly accept their invitation. The three women looked at him in the same confused manner as you. “She’s really busy with work around the house and chores.”

“I’m sure I’ll be done by wednesday, that’s how fast but thorough I always work,” you affirmed to the women, avoiding Jaehyun. “So I’ll join you for sure.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth again, but it perhaps dawned on him that when he objected now, he’d look more like a husband mistreating his wife. The fact that he was known as a police officer didn’t affect the situation positively. 

“Okay,” he then gave in. “I’ll let you ladies have fun.”

“Oh it’s going to be so fun!” Rosie exclaimed and clapped her hands together. 

You were really looking forward to something now as well, for the first time since you had gotten here.

____

“Go, yell at me,” you provoked Jaehyun when you walked through the front door of your house after the dinner.

But he didn’t. Instead, he hung up his jacket, totally muted, put his phone on the kitchen counter and walked straight into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Whatever, if he didn’t want to talk about it, then you didn’t need to talk about it either.

With dragging steps, you then moved over to the kitchen yourself to get something to drink before your eyes fell onto Jaehyun’s phone.

Your front teeth sank into your bottom lip as you stretched out your hand in the direction of the device. You knew it was wrong, you knew what consequences it would all bring, yet you couldn’t hold back. The temptation was too strong.

Your fingers glided swiftly over Jaehyun’s display as you typed the name of your stalker into the search bar. And the first article that popped up was the one reporting about his release. 

Dated today. You knew it. You just knew it.

You cursed under your breath as you read through the comments that were almost all defaming him and the acquittal following everything he had done to you. When it had gotten public that a popular ballerina had been stalked, the media was quick to cover the story. Before, no one had cared about it. 

The majority of people having your back in the comment section were only a drop in the bucket. But it still was soothing somehow.

When you went back to the search results, you found an article about you retiring from the Korea National Ballet. It wasn’t a big one, but had still gotten covered by a local newspaper after your absence from the performances had been noticed, and they were quick to link your decision with your stalker not getting a sentence because the state of evidence was too insufficient. 

Your fingers trembled, because now, as soon as he picked up these news, he would start searching for you and carry out his threat that he had sent to your home through a letter a week before you had started your new life here,

I will come for you.

“You know for sure that this isn’t allowed,” Jaehyun scolded strictly next to you, and you flinched, nearly letting the phone drop before he snatched it out of your hands. “Didn’t I already tell you that with today’s technology, every time you go online, you leave traces? You want that? Having him here?”

“I didn’t log into any social media or anything,” you defended yourself. “I just… looked him up, and hundreds of other people pulled up that website also, so.”

“Even that is not-”

“He’s free,” you interrupted him, your breathing only coming in hitches as you realized what it meant for you. “As of today, he’s free again, and he’ll come for me. Like he wrote in that letter.”

You shut your eyes, ready to get yelled at, but Jaehyun didn’t say a word again. With the phone in his hand, he went into the bedroom - your room - and you followed him. You didn’t know what this meant. Had you gone too far tonight? 

“What are you doing?”

He jerked something out of the closet, and at second glance, you recognized the thing in his hands as your suitcase which he then threw at your feet.

“Go pack. You’re going home.”

You blinked in confusion. “What?”

“If you don’t give a damn about your life, you don’t deserve to stay here. So you should go home.”

He was so cold and indifferent about it, it made you shudder. And that stare of his. You hadn’t seen it before. This was serious.

When you had first come here, you would have rejoiced and would have willingly accepted a flight ticket back. But with this knowledge, the thought about setting a foot on Korea’s grounds with your stalker on the loose raised your hackles. Then, this entire nightmare would start all over.

Hesitantly, you brought yourself to admit that this was where you were the safest now. On the other side of the world, by the side of a detective. 

“Please…” you started.

“What am I supposed to say?” Jaehyun asked, overly annoyed, not breaking eye contact. “You defied my orders. Again. You think I didn’t know about this? I knew before you did, before the media did. It’s because of your reaction that I wasn’t supposed to say a word. Now look at what it has done to you! Will you ever get a good night’s sleep again?”

“I’m sorry!” You had never said that to him before, so this was a huge step for you. But you meant it. “I couldn’t resist. I had to know.”

“Of course you had to. You always have to meddle. Did something positive ever result from your meddlings? Perhaps, your meddlings have even brought this upon you!”

You stared at each other and Jaehyun’s face fell when it dawned on him what he had just said. Once again.

“You’re not better than any of them,” you hissed. “Yet, I’m not going anywhere.”

You picked up your suitcase and threw it back into the closet. When you turned around, Jaehyun had left your room already, so you quickly closed the door in case he would return and hid in the safety of your familiar four walls until the next morning. 

____

When wednesday finally came around, you were still feeling some sort of anticipation that Jaehyun’s hurtful words hadn’t been able to entirely tear down. You had only interacted with him when it was truly necessary since the day he wanted to kick you out, otherwise avoiding him at all costs. At least, he hadn’t prohibited you from going today.

“Remember to only share the most necessary things about us,” Jaehyun repeated again as you walked along the streets to grandmother Anh’s restaurant. “And not more. Don’t invent anything, just dodge the topic. If someone wants to take a picture, prohibit it. But luckily, people here aren’t so obsessed with social media.”

“It’s so easy for an emotional klutz like you to say such things,” you grumbled. “But it’s something entirely different when people put pressure on you, especially when you’re in such a small group.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged it off. “Just dodge everything you can dodge.”

You rolled your eyes. You hadn’t wanted him to come with you, but one of his conditions was to still accompany you everywhere once you stepped outside of the house, so you had no choice but to walk with him all the way there. 

“I’ll pick you up at ten, okay?” Jaehyun confirmed, and you nodded. “If something happens-”

“What should happen? We’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m just playing poker with the three less suspicious people on earth. Give it a rest already.”

“If something happens,” he continued unbothered, “or you start to feel uneasy… even if you only want me to pick you up no matter the reason, even if you’re only a few minutes away…” He reached his hand into his pocket. “Take this, just in case.”

He held up a black flip phone in front of you. One which you had only seen in action way back then in primary school, and which you deemed antique by now, because you were only able to send text messages and make calls with it. That kind of phone.

You took it into your hand and opened it up. The black and white display only showed one number when you pulled up the contacts list. You proceeded from the assumption that it was Jaehyun’s.

“It’s curbed, so you can only call me. Shortcut is one. The card has fifteen bucks on it, but I doubt you’ll spend it all unless we talk to each other for six hours straight. So don’t even think about calling someone you know from back home.”

Perhaps, a tiny part of him did care in the end. At least more than any policeman back there in Korea throughout the span of a year.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “See you later then. At ten.”

What you had wanted was an apology. But this was nearly just as good and his very own way of saying sorry, you saw that now.

Jaehyun turned his back to you and slowly walked back while you stored the phone away in your purse and entered the restaurant through the front door.

Not much later, you found yourself laughing among the other three women, having forgotten about your miserable situation for the evening as you hadn’t had so much fun in a long time already. 

Poker had faded into the background and you were getting to know about the other women more than playing cards. And while you were talking, you emptied one bottle of wine after another.

“So tell me,” Rosie urged, “how did you and Jay meet? It’s so rare having such a young couple deciding to live with us so secludedly!”

“We’ve met when we were both still in university,” you revealed, having studied this part of your new identities very carefully so that your stories would match. Yet, you couldn’t help but to spice it up a bit. “Through mutual friends. We couldn’t actually stand each other at first. I hated his guts, and he hated mine. But we slowly warmed up, and the rest is history.” 

“At first, I couldn’t quite read him as well,” Rosie admitted. “So I found his character very off-putting. But Jay is actually really warm-hearted and caring.”

No way she was talking about Jaehyun. You suppressed a laugh.

“That’s true!” Mrs. Jones nodded. “When he came into the hardware store earlier today, I was there too, talking to Mr. Alden. And he was searching every shelf high and low for an MP3 player. You know, one of these old things that you can only listen to music with which no one uses anymore. Mr. Alden didn’t have one of these of course, so he ordered it for him. He looked very stressed about it, but in a desperate and not angry way. More like a gift he needed promptly.”

An MP3 player? What would he need it for? In your world, your husband wasn’t capable of showing or even bearing feelings at all. Why was it then, that these people had a whole other picture of him?

“One time, at my father’s pharmacy,” Rosie added, “he asked what my father could recommend if someone suffered from a stomach ache. Apparently, his wife, so you, was in pain one night, and he wanted to be prepared for the next time this could occur. So, I would say you truly have a dedicated husband.”

You frowned. You had indeed suffered from a stomach ache one night, searching through the shelves and ending up making tea instead as you hadn’t found any medicine. That you had found it the next day, you had blamed it on your absent-mindedness.

“Mr. Jung surely has a warm heart despite his stoic demeanor. Otherwise he also wouldn’t have helped me when I had fallen on my back. That happened only last week. He carried me all the way to the doctor’s,” grandmother Anh continued.

There had truly been a day when Jaehyun had only come home much later than usual, and he was commonly very strict in keeping his routines. You hadn’t asked him about it though and had shrugged it off again. That was how indifferent you always were at home. Perhaps, you then realized, you should start doing exactly that: communicate. 

You couldn’t continue living with a person you openly despised and didn’t care about. Jaehyun had said a few awful things to you, but the phone in your purse and what people were telling about him were proof enough to you that he was, indeed, different from the cops you had encountered until now.

Most likely, he wasn’t so awful and you had only failed to see. Jaehyun had given you a few second chances. Now, it was your turn to give him one.

“Why the long face?” Rosie pulled you out of your thoughts. “Let’s celebrate the start of your new life here! Grandmother Anh, I’m going to open another bottle, alright? The night is still young, cheers!”

You heard it pop for the second time.

____

You woke up the next morning with a headache. You didn’t know how you had gotten home or when, but the last time you had gotten so drunk, it was in the academy in the Netherlands. These village people’s alcohol tolerance was really on a whole other level!

A glimpse at your phone told you that it was midday already, and you suddenly were sitting up straight in your bed. But since you had no business anywhere anyway, you fell back against the mattress.

You then slowly drifted off to sleep again when the doorbell interrupted your nap. That was the downside of living in such a small village. People just came over whenever they wanted.

“Have you just woken up?” Rosie asked you.

A bit embarrassed, you scratched your head. “Maybe…”

“It’s been a tough way home, hm?” she laughed. “Jay also didn’t quite know what to do with you.”

“To do… with me?” you repeated with widened eyes.

“Oh my!” Rosie covered her opened mouth with her hand and giggled. “You can’t remember a thing?”

You shook your head. “Nothing.”

“You were so drunk after our fourth bottle of wine, you slept in right there and then. Jay had to carry you in a piggy back out of the restaurant and all the way home up here, and you didn’t even bat an eye.” She chuckled again. “And then, you only cried, ‘I wanna go home, I wanna go home!’ while he constantly replied, ‘You’re gonna be home soon’. And you said again, ‘But not this home!’”

“Holy!” you gasped. “I really can’t remember!”

Everyone knew about the drunken truth, and Jaehyun had also certainly known that you didn’t mean this home when you had said you wanted to return. If the alcohol had gone to your head much more, you would have probably revealed your true identity by accident! You suddenly felt so defeated. You had put yourself in danger. Again.

“Make sure to reward him properly for all the convenience with a nice meal or otherwise, okay?” Rosie winked and handed a paper bag over to you. “And start out by giving him these painkillers for his back pain. My father doesn’t recommend using it on a daily basis. Perhaps, change your mattress to a less soft one as they probably stem from that.”

“But our mattress is not soft,” you commented naively and accepted the painkillers when it suddenly crossed your mind that he didn’t even sleep on the bed. “It’s probably only because he naps on the couch so often,” you briefly corrected yourself. “I’ll have an eye on it.”

After Rosie said goodbye to you, you closed the entry door behind you and directly went into the bedroom to prepare something before Jaehyun came home.

When he eventually walked through the front door a bit later that day, he didn’t say a thing about the night before, but calmly took off his jacket and went to sit on the couch without greeting you. 

Communicate. Your start. “Can you come to the bedroom real quick, please?”

Without a complaint, he arose again and followed you. When you opened the door, you presented a room to him with your clothes and other stuff all gone, the bedding freshly exchanged.

“This is your room from now on.”

Jaehyun blinked in irritation, and it was not the first time that you witnessed him turning so startled. You continued to take him aback. “I don’t understand…”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized to him quietly and bowed. “For having caused such havoc last night, being a burden to you again. When Rosie told me what happened because I can’t remember a thing, I realized that I put us both in danger again, now with my habit of drunkenly telling the truth. It wasn’t my indication to do so, and I will look after my alcohol consumption much better from now on. As I will do with everything else, of course. I will be obedient and follow the rules.”

He slowly turned around to you, his expression not quite distinctive enough for you to read. “Okay.”

“And because of your back pain, Rosie dropped by earlier with the painkillers. But I know it’s all because of me too. So, here, have the bedroom. It’ll be much better if you sleep on the bed as the mattress is not as soft. I’ll take the couch, I’ll be fine.”

You both stood there, quiet for a while. Until Jaehyun broke the silence himself. “There is a mattress.” 

“What?”

“Here.” He crouched down, put his hands in the compartment under the bed and pulled out a small mattress that had been kept there apparently. “It’s too small for me, but for you, it should be fine. Let me carry it to the living room for you, okay?”

You smiled and nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for the stomach medicine as well.”

He opened his mouth to return something, but seemed to get too flustered and closed his lips again. It was familiar to you.

“I’m sorry too.” You turned keen-eared. What had he just said? Jaehyun’s ear tips turned red as he looked to the side. “I- I didn’t mean it. You’re not… you know.”

He didn’t elaborate what he referred to. But he didn’t need to. You knew what he had exactly apologized for, and accepted it. All the things, little and big. About you being a princess, about you always meddling. And about you having brought this upon yourself.

Your husband wasn’t a man of many words, but he had silently accepted your apology too by starting to sleep in the bedroom that night and leaving the new mattress to you. 

You hadn’t been much of a great wife either, and you silently promised to him to be a better one from now on.

____

You were alone the next night, Jaehyun working overtime as one of his colleagues had spontaneously wanted to change shifts, so he had to take up on two in a row.

That was why, even by 1am, you still weren’t able to sleep. In your pajamas already though, you wandered up and down the living room, your thoughts swimming. You had kept the lights turned off as you went back to your mattress every now and then when you felt ready to finally fall asleep, only to fail once again.

You had gotten so used to having Jaehyun sleep in the room next to you that now that he was gone, you couldn’t fall asleep at all as you felt so defenseless. You were not paranoid about your stalker having gotten here, but with Jaehyun around, you had been able to fall asleep with more ease.

All by yourself though, you felt at your own fear’s mercy.

THUD

You froze on the spot. What in the hell was that?

You were currently facing the window, but the noise came from the other side of the closed door where the bedroom was located. Believing that your hearing might have fooled you, you held in your breath and listened closely.

Thud.

Again. This time, not that loudly, but it was clearly the same noise as before. You almost didn’t dare to make a move. It was in the middle of spring, the weather was warm and the moon was shining brightly. This was not the background noise of a thunderstorm.

Thud.

No, you hadn’t been fooled by your own hearing. There was definitely something going on in the bedroom that should not be going on, and Jaehyun was not here tonight! Restraining your breathing volume, you tiptoed to the kitchen area, hoping the parquet under your feet wouldn’t audibly give in.

THUD.

Louder. Your heart was racing, but you told yourself over and over again that you couldn’t afford losing your nerves now. Perhaps, it was an animal trying to get in, perhaps the wind pressing a branch against the glass, but perhaps also someone trying to break in. 

It couldn’t be him.

… right?

He was still in Seoul, you had obediently followed Jaehyun’s rules, you had left no traces. There was no possibility that he could be here.

… right?

The faults you had made hadn’t been that grave. You were now obediently following the rules.

… right?

As your gaze fell upon the kitchen counter, you reached for the phone Jaehyun had given to you and dialed the shortcut. The phone was shaking in your trembling fingers as the display lightened up and you saw it trying to connect to Jaehyun. 

But he didn’t pick up. You tried again and again. But he didn’t pick up even after the fifth attempt. You nearly wanted to cry. What was a police officer husband good for when he wouldn’t even come to rescue you? 

Whatever, you didn’t need him anyway. You were a strong, independent woman, you would take matters in your own hand. Literally. So you grabbed the pan that was lying on the stove and headed for the bedroom door. 

At this moment, you didn’t know what was louder. Your own heartbeat, your own breathing or the thudding that came from the bedroom. Perhaps, all at once, and the only thing that kept you going right now was the thought that you just didn’t want to die here, all alone, on the other side of the world, without having seen your friends and family again. 

BAM.

“Hey!”

You flinched the second you stretched out your hand to press down the door handle as the lights suddenly turned on, and a sharp scream escaped your lips as you were sure your life was flashing before your eyes. The pan fell onto your feet, missing your toes by a hairbreadth, as a pair of strong arms wrapped around you from behind.

Then, you realized that you were crying as you twisted and turned, trying to escape. “Let me go! Let me go!”

“It’s me!” a familiar voice then came through to you. “It’s Jaehyun! It’s me!”

His voice, his scent. This all suddenly embraced you as it dawned on you that indeed, it was him. You had just not known what it was like to be held by him which had startled you so much as you had never had any physical contact before.

In his arms, your chest was still heaving up and down heavily, but he held you closely and tightly, with no intention to let you go now as tears continued to stream down your face.

“It’s okay,” you then heard Jaehyun whisper, his voice close to your ear. “I’m here now.”

He only let you go after you had stopped trembling and crying out loudly, and only reluctantly with a deep sigh from your part. You didn’t know where that had exactly come from though.

As you then turned around to him, you clenched your fists and hammered against his chest. “You idiot! Where have you been?!” you yelled at him. “I’ve called you five times, but you didn’t pick up! What do you have a cell phone for!”

Jaehyun didn’t hinder you from letting out your anger. Only when your strength was slowly subsiding as exhaustion settled, he enclosed your fingers and explained to you calmly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear it ring as I was in the car with my colleagues, and when I got out, I was already here and saw that you have called five times.”

“I- I… I heard,” you stuttered, but you didn’t quite know how to explain your situation. What if he would think you had only imagined it and didn’t take you seriously? 

But Jaehyun did exactly that without you having to explain yourself. “My colleagues are currently searching the property high and low. I came here the moment I left the car.”

“I heard a thudding noise coming from the bedroom. As though… I don’t know. Someone was trying to get in. Through the window… I don’t know, there was definitely something!”

“Okay, let me check.”

You were hiding behind Jaehyun as he slowly pushed the door open and got in position. Then, he switched the lights on and you saw, as you peeked from behind him, exactly nothing. With slow steps, Jaehyun crossed the room and positioned himself in front of the closet. As he drew the door open, as expected again, you only found clothes inside of it.

“All clear inside here,” he then confirmed and approached the window to open it, calling outside, “What’s up out there?”

“All clear out here!” you heard someone yell in the distance.

“All clear in here as well!”

“You want us to stay put?” 

Hesitantly, Jaehyun turned around to you, and then back to the window. “It’s okay, for tonight, I got this. Thank you.”

“Alright.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you stood by the door and felt embarrassment crawling up your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I was so sure…”

“Don’t ever apologize for such things,” Jaehyun cut you off, and you faced him with insecure eyes. “You were scared, and your feelings are valid. Nothing else matters.”

The majority of people would have brushed it off. But Jaehyun had taken you seriously the moment he saw you all alone, so scared.

Only later that night, when you were ready for bed again, it sank into you that this was probably what the other women had talked about when the topic revolved around Jaehyun last week. Finally, even for only a short moment, he had shown you this part of him as well.

“Where is my mattress?” you then asked when you came out of the bathroom.

“In the bedroom,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “Come.”

You raised a brow, but willingly followed him to the bedroom where you found your mattress lying next to the bed. 

“Tonight, you can stay here. Just…” You heard him gulp. “... just… in case you feel unsafe and scared again.”

He made it sound like you had requested for it, which you surely hadn’t, and you both knew. It was Jaehyun’s manner of offering you some kind of security and solace, just because he wanted to, not because you had asked for it.

“Thank you.”

“And next time when I have the day off, I’m going to show you how to shoot with a gun.”

“... what?”

For the first time since you had come here, you didn’t cry yourself to sleep. You didn’t know whether it was because of the shock that was still lingering or because of someone else sleeping right next to you, even though not on the same bed.

“Jaehyun?”

“... Hm?”

You had your back turned to the side of the bed and were facing the wall from your small mattress, eyes wide open while listening to Jaehyun fiddling with the blanket just two feet away from you.

If you had faced him at this moment, you didn’t know if you would still have said what you were about to say.

“I take it back. You’re better than all of them combined.”

He knew what you meant, and despite his missing audible answer, you were sure he had gratefully acknowledged it.

When Jaehyun’s breathing rhythm became quieter and more regular, you could finally relax as well, a foreign nervousness falling off your shoulders and letting you drift off to sleep shortly after.

You felt so safe like never in your life before.

____

“What exactly happened with that man, if I may ask?” 

You were standing in the backyard, Jaehyun getting the gun prepared while you watched him.

“I thought you had all the background info about me before I got here already?” 

“Not the details. I only know about a guy who’s stalked a popular ballerina in Seoul. She dragged him to court, but the judge decided that the evidence was too insufficient and that he’d most likely get free. Since the ballerina claimed he had threatened her again, she was put in this program voluntarily.”

“I didn’t claim that he threatened me,” you disagreed. “He sent a letter. With a death threat. To my home. But the judge said it cannot be proven that it’s from him.”

“I only told you what I heard.”

Yet, he had still taken your fears from the night before seriously. You wondered whether, if Jaehyun had been responsible for your case back there in Seoul, you would still be here now.

“It started with a simple bouquet of roses after every performance shortly after I joined the Korea National Ballet a year ago,” you started. “I just returned from the Netherlands and it was my first engagement as a professional ballerina. At first, I found it flattering to already have such a dedicated fan. He’s a man in his early thirties, neat, groomed and very polite. Until he made his intentions clear and I rejected his advances. That’s when he stopped being polite.”

“That’s where it usually starts,” Jaehyun noted.

You nodded. “Admiration turned into obsession with bouquets that got even bigger and more pompous. With letters that claimed his unconditional love for me. With presents that I’m too embarrassed to talk about. Then, obsession turned into harassment. With phone calls from different numbers over one hundred times a day. With a date’s car tires all slashed. With fake online profiles of mine where manipulated nudes popped up. Back then, I still thought I could handle this all by myself. I’m a grown up woman. I’m responsible for myself.”

“When did it change?” Jaehyun questioned. “When did you report everything to the police?”

“When I started getting texts like ‘Better pull the curtains together when you sleep’ right after I went to bed and ‘Home sweet home’ with a picture of me entering my apartment building. I never disclosed my home address to anyone.”

Jaehyun was lost for words.

“And what did the police do? Nothing. Because they had too little conception of such things, they told me. The guy never signed his gifts, never showed up physically again as well. Presents, calls and letters aren’t a crime. And they didn’t take the phone calls as well as texts seriously enough to track the source as they claimed they wouldn't be able to do it.”

“I’m sorry.” Jaehyun released the gun’s safety catch, and you heard it in his voice that, in comparison to the detective from the plane, he was sincere about it. “There are detectives who care and detectives who don’t care. After all, we’re all normal people. But they were clearly people who didn't care enough.”

“I’m not alone with this situation. There was a case where the stalker waited under the girl’s bed. Another one waited in her roommate’s closet. Another one waited for her right on the streets. And they all ended up dead. I don’t want to join them. I’m only lucky to be here, because my father had the money to. These other girls weren't so lucky. But I want to be lucky and strong for all the girls who couldn’t be and can’t be in the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I will come back home,” you responded determinedly. “I will come back home and get him imprisoned. This time, forever.”

“I haven’t encountered a woman like you until now,” Jaehyun concluded after some beats of silence passed by in which his gaze didn’t divert from yours.

You furrowed. “Like me?”

He nodded and held up the gun. “So fearless.”

You took it as a compliment and smiled. You hadn’t heard such kind words out of his mouth until now. But then again, this was the first proper conversation you two shared since you lived together.

“Here.” Jaehyun showed you how to properly hold the weapon. “Make sure this finger is here and this one here. Right now, it’s not locked anymore. If you pull the trigger…”

“... it will shoot.”

“Yes. Here, let me lock it again and then try releasing the safety catch yourself.”

You took the gun from his hand after he was done and placed it in your own palms. Positioning your fingers where Jaehyun had shown you, you weren’t able to get it right on the first attempt.

“Your index finger must be here.” Jaehyun touched it and moved it around. “And your thumb… right. Here. But a bit lower for a better grip.” He gently motioned this finger down as well. 

Where you had loathed his touches before, you still minded them. But oddly, not in the same, negative way. No, better say in a way that made you wish he would have his fingers placed on yours for a little bit longer and one that made you crave for more than these little touches.

“You wanna know how to aim at your target?”

Excitedly, you nodded and heard Jaehyun chuckle. For the first time, very genuinely. It was like last night had broken the ice between you two that should have melted weeks ago already.

“Hello? Someone home? It’s me, Rosie!”

“Quick.” Jaehyun took the gun from your hands and hid it behind his back.

“We’re outside!” you called out and saw Rosie turning around the corner a moment later. 

“Hey you two! What a beautiful sunday, right? I hope next week, the weather will be just as beautiful, because then… drum roll please… we’re going to hold our annual spring festival!” She lifted up her hand and presented a few colorful flyers to you. “Please come, okay? There will be boots, an animal competition and a stage for karaoke!”

Immediately, you were hooked. “Of course!” But then, it crossed your mind that you were only allowed to go outside with Jaehyun’s confirmation and instantly fell back into silence, unsure whether to face him.

“You two have fun together. I have volunteered to patrol that day, so I’ll be kind of there anyway.” 

Jaehyun had indeed given you indirect permission!

“Oh, it’s going to be so cool, trust me!” Rosie clapped her hands. “Okay, I’m going to inform the next house! I’m telling you, the people coming into the village center less than you are the Schmidts! See you next week at the latest, alright? And you, we’ll be seeing each other tomorrow at poker, okay?”

You hadn’t known that you were invited again, that you had gotten welcomed with open arms and accepted into this community. But it made you very happy, and you nodded.

“Of course. See you tomorrow.”

Later that day, Jaehyun placed a small object on the table that you hadn’t seen in quite a while. Since primary school, to be exact.

“This is for you.”

“What’s this?” you asked, even though the answer was quite clear. 

You were sleeping in the living room again, but somehow, since the night you had spent by Jaehyun’s side, you felt a bit more lonely than before. You weren’t crying yourself to sleep at all anymore, yet the feeling of loneliness still lingered. 

And it was not the kind of loneliness that made you long to hear a family member’s voice, it was more than that. This, you were sure of.

“An MP3 player,” Jaehyun announced and crinkled up his nose. “I figured, if you were to spend your time here with no connection to the outside world aside from the TV, you might as well spend it with your passion.” He placed a pair of earphones next to the device. “You can use it to listen to music only or to dance. Just as you please.”

You looked at Jaehyun, and saw it clearly now. With the person who had made you feel so unwelcome the day you had landed in this unfamiliar country, he had nothing in common anymore. 

This was not only a side of him, this was him. 

The man Mrs. Jones had talked about who had searched the shelves high and low for exactly this device. The man Rosie saw buying stomach medicine and the one who had helped grandmother Anh when she had fallen. 

This man had finally shown himself to you too in all his aspects.

You didn’t know what had made Jaehyun accept you for who you were to him, but somewhere along the way, he had settled with this arrangement.

And you were getting adjusted to your new life as well, you realized as your features softened. 

“Thank you.”

____

When the day of the festival finally came around, you stood with Rosie in front of grandmother Anh’s booth and tasted her dumplings together.

“My dear girls, you need to try these too! I experimented with another filling, so please give me feedback.”

The old woman shifted another plate in your direction, but you and Rosie waved aside in unison.

“Granny, we’re so stuffed already!” Rosie said. “And you don’t even want us to pay! Leave these for your actual paying guests.”

“Alright, alright! But I’ll make them for our next poker night! And then, you’ll tell me how they taste!”

“Okay!” you agreed. “We’re going to Mrs. Jones’ booth now, grandmother Anh. See you later!”

Linked with Rosie’s arm, you made your way through different booths, passing by people from neighboring villages as well as the stage, until you reached Mrs. Jones at the other side of the festival ground.

“Hello my favorite girls!” she greeted you cheerily. “Look what I have! A cotton candy machine! You can each have one for free!”

“Are you sure you can operate this?” Rosie skeptically raised a brow. “When people serve these, they look so professional, but you haven’t ever used one before, or am I wrong?”

“That’s not true!” the woman whined playfully. “Don’t be so rude, Rosalind Richards, or I’ll have a talk with your father!”

“Guess I’m not one of her favorite girls anymore!” Rosie whispered to you, and you chuckled while Mrs. Jones prepared the cotton candy for each of you.

In the end, the outcome wasn’t even that bad, she only needed to practice a bit more. With the cotton candies in each of your hands, you and Rosie walked over to watch the animal competition. 

People had brought their dogs and walked with them up the stage where they demonstrated different tricks. You and your friend were standing there for the entire time, eating your cotton candy and watching the dogs show off what they had practiced for. When the competition was over, you rode a few rounds on the small ferris wheel and visited the other booths, only finishing your tour when the sun was already setting.

Your last stop was a shooting gallery where you met Jaehyun overlooking the situation. He had been here since the morning, so you assumed he was off duty now as he wasn’t in his uniform anymore, standing at the sidelines, joking with another colleague. 

You had never seen him effortlessly interacting with other people in daily situations before, and for the first time, you perceived him as the normal man that he was outside of your fake marriage. Casually standing there, talking, laughing. A normal man whose dark hair was blowing in the wind, his sleeves rolled up, his arms folded in front of his chest.

A perfectly normal man who was also very attractive. 

As his head slowly moved to the side, your gazes met, and you gulped, somehow embarrassed that you had gotten caught, although it was only natural to look at your partner. 

Jaehyun was a man you could have easily felt attracted to if you had met under normal circumstances, not as your fake husband and your taciturn protector.

You had only failed to see clearly until this day.

“Oh look, it’s your husband Jay!” Rosie then finally noticed as well. “Let’s go over to them!”

A smile spread across Jaehyun’s face and he lifted his hand to wave at you. When you approached his group though, he got called over to the booth and took a rifle in his hand. Apparently, he had lined up to shoot.

“Oh let’s watch him!” Rosie urged.

“Jay is our best shooter,” one of his colleagues said proudly. “Look closely.”

He was leaning over the booth’s counter, his rolled up sleeves revealing his muscular arms and veiny hands. His entire body was tensed up, every single nerve concentrated on bringing down the targets. The air was almost static due to the tension as even other people stopped to watch.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Before you could even process what had happened, Jaehyun had shot down all three targets at the first go, and the spectators were rejoicing. 

“Wow!” Rosie exclaimed. “What was that? I couldn’t even follow the happenings!”

Indeed! You watched Jaehyun giving back the rifle and having presented the prizes in the back of the booth which offered everything, from giant plushies, different toys to knick-knacks. Knowing Jaehyun, he would probably take a pass on that, so you were quite surprised when he chose something from the knick-knacks.

You couldn’t see what it exactly was, but as he shifted around to you, Jaehyun approached you with a keychain dangling between his fingers. It was a yellow elephant that wore a red tie. It looked hella ridiculous and childish - but not to you. 

Stretching out his hand, Jaehyun held it out to you, and you were stunned, not exactly knowing where to turn your attention to: the gift or Jaehyun who looked at you with a gaze you had never seen on him before.

As you didn’t move, you felt Rosie’s elbow poking into your back, pulling you back to reality. No, you shouldn’t behave like a dumbfounded twelve-year-old, this was officially your husband after all!

So you raised your hand and took the keychain between your fingers. It was a plush knick-knack that probably wasn’t valuable at all. But Jaehyun had chosen this one among everything he had been offered to give it to you. And you would treasure it dearly.

You smiled. “Thank you.”

“It’s late. Let’s go home?”

You nodded and said goodbye to Rosie before you followed Jaehyun across the festival ground. You had trouble keeping up with his steps among all these people, so Jaehyun did what every other good husband would do: he reached for your hand and kept it in his until you had left the premises.

That was only for the show in front of all these people, you kept telling yourself the entire time. You had to prove to them that you were a happily married couple, and such couples did things like these.

The keychain, which you had attached to your purse, dangled with each step you took as you raised your voice, “Jaehyun…”

“Hm?”

“Why are you here?” you wanted to know. “You know my story, but what about yours? Is this your department?”

You spent every day alongside this man, yet knew nothing about the true him. At first, you hadn’t cared either. But the more time you spent by his side, the more it irked you that he was still such an enigma.

You thought he’d stonewall, but he gave you a clear answer, “I’m the NYPD, as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, I see. New York, hm.” You nodded. “And… why are you here?” 

The way his fingers cramped up around yours made you freeze despite having to keep up with his pace while walking. You had hit a sensitive nerve, you immediately became aware of that.

“I’m sor-”

“You really want to know?” he asked back. 

“Yeah.” You shrugged. 

“I did something a good detective should have never done.”

And with this sentence, he wasn’t about to tell you more. He didn’t need to express this, you were able to read the atmosphere. But that only kept your thoughts spinning. What was something so terrible that a detective could do that got him transferred to another area of responsibility?

You didn’t believe that Jaehyun was a bad person. 

He was cold at times, but an entirely cold person wouldn’t have let you sleep on the bed while they were enduring back problems. He was grumpy at times, but an entirely grumpy person wouldn’t have warmed up to the point of letting a smile slip every now and then. He pretended not to care at times, but a person who entirely didn’t care wouldn’t make sure that the people around them would be well and healthy. 

He was crude at times, but an entirely crude person wouldn’t have held your hand until you were home.

____

“What are you doing?” Jaehyun asked you when he came home from work that day and found you sitting at the edge of the bathtub with the bathroom’s door wide open.

“Dyeing my hair.”

“Pink? Red?” he asked.

“Magenta. It was quite an adventure until I had the base, but I think I’m there now,” you explained while you stirred the color in the small bowl in your palm. A huge amount had already been put on your head.

“Isn’t it too…” He stopped.

“Too flamboyant?” You intentionally used the word he had described you with the first time you had met. “Probably. But, just in case someone will ever make a connection between me and the ballerina from Seoul, they will dismiss the thought immediately since my English is almost flawless and my hair doesn’t match the color.”

Jaehyun seemed to ponder about it, but then confirmed your way of thinking. “I think you’re right.”

“Besides…” You smiled mildly. “Ever since I was little, I was never allowed to alter my appearance. A ballerina has to look perfect where perfect means we all have to look the same. Same hair, same makeup, same figure. It’s kind of nice to try something new after all this time.”

“Okay.” Jaehyun held up a plastic bag. “Grandmother Anh gave me these dumplings when I dropped by her restaurant today. I’ll prepare them for dinner, okay?”

“Alright!”

“Hurry up, they’ll be done in a few.”

“Got it.”

You quickly finished dyeing your hair and wrapped it all up with a shower cap before you went to the dinner table where Jaehyun had not only prepared the dumplings, but also different side dishes such as rice and vegetables.

You hadn’t known that he was such a good cook, but thinking back, Jaehyun had always prepared more extravagant dishes in comparison to you who just threw rice and vegetables together.  In fact, you had never quite learned how to cook.

This was the first time that you and Jaehyun ate dinner together and the first time that he had cooked for you, too.

“You look ridiculous,” he commented while he scooped rice on each of your plates. But was this a chuckle that had accompanied his voice?

“It’s not quite done yet. Wait until it’s washed out and dried. I’ll be the only pink-haired ballerina walking on this earth!”

You threw your hands in the air, almost tipping over a bowl, but you didn’t mind. Somehow, this was a very good feeling - to finally make your own decisions for your own body, your own appearance. It was only a minor change, but to you, it felt like you could conquer the world. 

“Enjoy the meal!” you announced and then dug in. 

By the first bite you could tell that Jaehyun was not only a good cook, but an exceptionally good cook. This, you also told him, which turned him all flustered. He then asked about your day to which you answered that you had thought of finally picking up dancing again after much struggle.

“Why did you struggle?”

You lowered your head. “Because the last time I danced, it only brought me misery.”

You were at your last bite, but suddenly didn’t feel like finishing anymore. Before, you had felt something like easiness, even happiness almost for quite a constant while. Now, your thoughts got thrown back to your stalker who was roaming around in freedom.

“If it’s your passion, you shouldn’t lose sight of it. Because you don’t know whether you will still be able to enjoy it whenever you want in your future.”

You didn’t know what he meant with that, but he wasn’t keen on explaining either as he gathered your plates and brought them over to the sink the moment after.

It was the first evening in a long while that you peacefully enjoyed without a burdened heart. You wouldn’t mind this becoming your routine.

Later that evening, when you had washed out the dye and dried your hair, you hid in the backyard of your house where no one could see you with earplugs in and the MP3 player attached to your body, picking up some ballet moves again.

Sheltered from the whole outside world, you tried to let the fact sink in that you were safe here and that no one would come to make your life miserable after a performance. Here, you could actually be at peace again.

And then, you danced until it turned dark.

When you returned to the inside, Jaehyun had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch with a book on his chest. On tip-toes, you sneaked up to him and wanted to take the book out of his hand to put a blanket over him when something suddenly urged you to halt.

The first two buttons of his white shirt were open, and right there, between the first and second one, you spotted a scar.

Of course. A detective always went hand-in-hand with danger. He was your husband, you saw him every day, yet this was the first time that you noticed this visible mark on his chest. How many more dangers had he encountered so far? How many more bullets had he caught during his young career? You knew nothing about it.

You stretched out your hand, determined to touch the spot, but snapped out of your trance-like state just before you laid your fingers on him. In your head, you scolded yourself. What in the hell were you thinking, behaving like such a creep?

You tried to calm yourself down when suddenly, Jaehyun’s hand snatched forward and wrapped around your wrist before you could even blink. You got bent forward over the backrest with his other arm then enclosed around your neck, his eyes full with surprise as he brought your face close to his.

“You’re so beautiful.” Barely a whisper from him.

You stared at each other for a moment in near disbelief, and you didn’t know where the ground and where the ceiling was anymore as everything around you seemed to rotate. Your whole body felt so hot as though you were suffering from a fever, but your heart beating out of its usual rhythm told you that the reason for your body reacting this way was nowhere near something rational things could explain.

A part of you wanted to break free, another part wanted to look into his soft eyes just a bit longer.

“It’s you!” With a sigh of relief, Jaehyun let go of you and fell back down on the couch. “I wasn’t able to recognize you at first because of your new hair! I thought it was a thief or something!”

“Ha.” You couldn’t even explain the sounds coming out of your mouth anymore, and thus decided to remain quiet about it. “I’ll go take a shower.”

“Okay. I’ll go to bed then. Good night.”

When the door fell close behind you, you leaned against the bathroom’s tiles, trying to calm yourself down once again. But even when you placed your palms on your cheeks a few minutes later, you were still hot all over.

Staring at your face in the mirror over the sink, you gritted your teeth, having tried to fight against this feeling for so long. But looking at your reflection, you came to the realization that this was the expression of someone who had lost this fight a long time ago.

You had never wanted this to happen, because you wanted a way out of this fake marriage someday. 

Now, it seemed like the exit door was blocked by your own feelings.

____

“Can I tell you something?” Rosie asked you the next time you gathered to play poker. “Because you’re my friend now, I want to be honest with you.”

Mrs. Jones was currently giving out the cards, and while you collected them, you nodded. “Go ahead. Is it my hair? You’ve been staring at it forever. I like it though.”

“I love the color, but it obviously looks like you did it yourself. Why didn’t you call me? I could have helped!”

“I’m sorry, it was an urge, I’m very impulsive. So, what is it then?”

“To be honest, in the beginning, you and Jay didn’t quite radiate the happiness of newlyweds to me. You were so distant and cold towards each other,” Rosie laid out her first impression. “I thought it was because of the cultural difference. I know from grandmother Anh that in Asia, public display of affection is not very common and you both immigrated from there. But it was like…” She halted. “Like you were strangers. Not familiar with each other at all. As though you had just met.”

You didn’t know how to properly react to this revelation, and Rosie wanted to apologize right away before grandmother Anh stepped in to support her, “I second that. You tried so hard to conceal it and pretended to be a happy couple, but my old eyes can see beyond that. When he bought the music player for you though… I knew that something had entirely changed between you two.”

Between you two?

You had only assumed that for you things had changed since the day of the festival. When he had looked a little too good that day. When he had smiled a little too genuine. When he had held your hand a little too long.

But never for him either.

“Everything has changed,” grandmother Anh continued. “You look so in love, just like when my late husband was courting me back then.”

You pressed your lips together to a fine line and you tried so hard not to blush, but to no avail as you looked into everyone’s eyes and encountered a smug grin from each side. 

No, you were wrong. The day of the festival was the day you had assumed first, admitting it to yourself the day you had picked up ballet again. But something had changed for you before all that. Slowly, continuously. And it was still in process.

“See?” Rosie teased. “This is how Jay looked as well when I told him exactly the same!”

“Quit joking,” you replied briefly, but your voice only came out as a whisper while the hotness wandered further to the very tips of your ears. “You’re giving out cards now or what?”

“Let me tell you something!” Mrs. Jones now meddled too, not wanting to be left out. “After so many years of marriage, I haven’t seen my husband getting so stressed about buying a gift for me, not even on my birthday!”

But you hadn’t even talked to each other regularly back then when Jaehyun was looking for the MP3 player for you. 

It just didn’t make sense to you.

Or were you just in denial because it couldn’t actually be possible? After everything that had happened between you two, Jaehyun had grown fond of you from the very beginning already, even before you? 

“Oh dear, why are you making such a face?” Grandmother Anh sounded worried as your hands still laid on the table, not touching the cards you had been given while everyone else had already picked up theirs. “Are you not feeling well?”

You were certainly not feeling well. Your stomach had turned upside down, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t breathe, on the verge of a collapse. While it had become so obvious to everyone around you, you had been left in the dark this entire time.

“I need to get fresh air.”

You arose, pushing the chair under you away with your legs and hurried to the entrance door before you thought you were going to run out of air entirely now. But even the outside didn’t make a difference, and you were supporting your arms against the wall while breathing in and out heavily.

After a while, you heard the entrance door open and close again, and judging by the shoes that you could see from your position, Rosie had followed you to the outside. 

“I called Jaehyun to pick you up.”

“What?!” Your eyes widened and you felt your stomach turn. In your hot ears, you heard it ringing while simultaneously, your loud heartbeats tried to steal the show. “I’m all fine!”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “But I thought you’d rather want to be with your husband today than with us, and this is a good excuse to leave the round. Just pretend to be a little dizzy.”

“Rosie!” you called her out while the next moment, you heard fast footsteps approaching in your direction. “I’m not coming to your birthday barbecue anymore next week!”

“I know you’re lying.” She winked.

“Are you okay?!” Jaehyun came to a halt in front of you, totally out of breath and beads of sweat visible on his forehead. He only needed a brief moment to take a breather before he faced you, his features drawn with apprehension, his eyes mirroring pure concern. 

The next moment, his palms were on your cheeks, and he gasped, feeling your heat burning against his skin.

“You’re all glowing and hot!” Jaehyun stated in shock. “Do you have a fever?”

“I-I’m… I’m all fine!” you tried to brush it off, but his hands cupping your face possibly made it only worse as you felt like melting from within.

“Jay, you need to take her home, okay?” Rosie persuaded him. “The gathering is over. Have a good night!”

With these words, she turned around and closed the door behind her, leaving you alone with Jaehyun. Despite having been alone with him so often already, with all this new knowledge, everything was different now.

You were jittery and all nervous around him, having problems looking into his eyes, and he noticed of course - but for all the wrong reasons.

“Come, we’re going home! You’re sleeping in the bed tonight, no questions asked. I’ll get a few more blankets so you’ll have it all warm in case you’re catching a fever. Tomorrow, you’ll be doing fine again, no worry. It’s probably the change in weather since it’s been unusually hot these past days for spring.”

You hadn’t ever seen him so talkative and openly expressing worry, and it somehow took you by surprise. Goosebumps raised all over your arm as Jaehyun’s hand slid down your side and his fingers intertwined with yours.

There were no other people aside from you out here at this hour, there was no need to pretend being a couple - yet, he held your hand as you walked all the way up to your house in silence.

It didn’t feel real to you.

But the night sky was your witness.

____

A few days later, long after nighttime had fallen, you were lying on your mattress, still wide awake like the nights before. 

You hadn’t noticed until now, but your life wasn’t so dull anymore. You weren’t on the verge of depression anymore in contrast to the first month in your new home. You had made new friends, had picked up your passion for ballet again, trained during daytime, and spent the evenings with Jaehyun, cooking, eating and then watching a movie or taking a stroll on the hill behind your house together. 

It was an entire different life from the one you had lived back at home in Seoul, but nothing you enjoyed less. No, which you enjoyed even more, if you said so yourself. 

A warm feeling embraced you every time the clock approached the hour your husband would return home, and even though you saw each other every day, it was like seeing him for the first time, your heart almost jumping out of your chest whenever he walked through the door, greeting you with a smile.

You were able to clearly name that feeling now that made you so excited, you were barely able to sleep at night while Jaehyun was lying in the room next to you, sleeping peacefully.

Or… could he not either?

There were noises coming from the bedroom. You sat straight up on your mattress, feeling a rush of hotness wash over you with your heart beating out of its usual rhythm. Flipping the blanket over, your naked feet touched the wooden floor, but you didn’t bother slipping into your shoes.

You tiptoed to the bedroom to make sure that your ears hadn’t misled you, but you swore you could hear him walking up and down in there as well. With a trembling hand, you placed your fingers on the handle, but before you could even think about how in the hell you could explain what you were doing in front of Jaehyun’s bedroom in the middle of the night, only dressed in your light pajamas, the door suddenly opened from the other side.

Jaehyun was just as shocked to see you as you were shocked to see him. You wanted to stutter something about sleepwalking, but as you made eye contact, you realized that he wasn’t expecting an explanation from you.

He wasn’t expecting anything as he closed the last remaining gap between you two, his hands cupping your face again, this time to pull you against his chest. 

And as his lips met yours, you now were assured that he had lied awake every night like you as well. 

____

With hasty movements, Jaehyun unbuttoned your pajama top all while not letting his lips slip from yours, his fingers rather fumbling, but knowing exactly and precisely what they were doing and the carelessness most likely stemming from pent-up anticipation, because he was finally getting what he had wanted all along:

You.

You felt him smiling into the next kiss that came rather sloppy in his hurry as your shirt glided from your shoulders, the palpable traces along your skin getting replaced by Jaehyun’s fingers that drew down the same path in a feathery-light manner. 

He was holding himself back until it almost hurt, you felt it as his fingers’ grips were first tight, then froze and softened lastly. But you didn’t want him to hold back. You had both been holding back for way too long already.

Both of your hands slung around Jaehyun’s neck as you deepened the kiss until it almost became hard for you to breathe, that was how wildly and hungrily you were craving for each other. With a little jump, you also hooked your legs around his waist, feeling him supporting you instinctively from the bottom with a strong grip.

You moved from the door frame to the bed where Jaehyun seated himself down and placed you on his lap, but you had no intention of moving away as your fingers vanished under his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion.

But Jaehyun’s lips didn’t find their way back to your mouth. Instead, they traveled down the side of your neck, eliciting a moan from you in the process, and stopped by the raising of your breasts. You threw your head back, your nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders, leaving red marks as he took your nipple between his lips.

Sucking sounds mixed with the audible rhythm of your heavy breathing, thwarted by suppressed squeals whenever he bit into it, pulling it between his teeth and teasing you until you couldn’t take it anymore. So Jaehyun then wrapped his arms around you and flipped you both around.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve been holding back,” he told you with an expression on his face that you had never encountered before as he was hovering over you. 

Lust, desire, and so much… passion. 

Yes, you for sure had had no idea. But you luckily did now. 

Strands of your red hair had gotten disheveled, partially disturbing your view, and he brushed them off, smiling. For a short while, you shared a moment of loving understanding, and your heart thumbed so fast against your chest, you were scared he was going to hear it.

There was a distinct feeling growing inside of you that didn’t want to admit. That you couldn’t confess, not even to yourself. Because you knew, this was only temporary.

“Then show me,” you challenged him.

“Very well.”

His grin widened, revealing his teeth even in the semi-darkness when his mouth came back down on yours, his hands roaming across almost every single inch of your body as though he wanted to keep a map of your body in his mind. As though he shared the exact same thought with you:

That this was not permanent, struggling with holding himself back to prolong the experience and going through with the act as fast as possible because he had been looking forward to it for so long already.

Jaehyun’s lips left yours, passing by your neck and tracing down to your stomach where he placed butterfly kisses around your navel, and you shuddered from the soft touches that you had been missing out on for a very long time already.

Your hands disappeared in the thickness of his hair as his lips further approached your nether regions, and you gave him credit for still being so patient when release was so close as it made you almost go crazy in contrast.

Tender warmth covered your core, the fabric of your pajama bottoms being the only barrier between the two of you, and you craved for nothing more than to feel his tongue inside you right now, feel how it dipped into your wetness, his mouth doing the same as he had done to your breasts before.

But Jaehyun’s patience had reached its limit. There was nothing left of it anymore.

After several moments of internal conflict, Jaehyun decided to not withhold anymore and to go for it instead. At the end, he had the entire night, and he would make use of every single second he had left.

The mattress gave in under you when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your pajama bottoms after he had removed his own boxers, the feeling of his weight then carefully pressing back down on you, now the both of you entirely naked. It felt so surreal to you as you locked your gazes, and you needed a moment to process this situation, to let the fact sink in that this was indeed real.

Then, as though he had just done the same, Jaehyun eased between your thighs and started to enter you. The night was still so long, but it felt like he didn’t want to lose any time, and neither did you. You hadn’t noticed how wet you had gotten throughout the foreplay which had made his entrance so easy, almost imperceptible.

Your pupils rolled to the ceiling as he adjusted and you finally felt him inside you fully. You couldn’t quite remember the last man you had been intimate with, even though it had happened only shortly before moving here, but somehow, Jaehyun had clouded your memories of every other man in your life who wasn’t him at this point.

As a matter of fact, on the contrary, you now knew that you had never desired another man this much. Every fiber of your body was longing for him so badly that despite him being right here, it ached so much not to have him even closer. And that wasn’t even physically possible.

“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asked suddenly, having noticed your conflicted expression and coming to a halt.

You shook your head. No, nothing was wrong. Everything was perfect, it was almost unbelievable.

“I-... I…” You were so overwhelmed by your feelings, the words nearly slipped carelessly out of your mouth. Luckily, for you though, you were able to swallow all of them. Instead, you said, “I’m just so happy.”

The corners of Jaehyun’s lips tilted up, and he took this moment of sweetness to tenderly peck your lips and confess, “Me too. I’m happy too.”

Soft moans fell from your lips as he started moving inside of you again. His motions were deliberate and powerful, and you enjoyed every single thrust of his. Jaehyun was so excited, but put you first still, and you appreciated that.

There were times, his thrusts seemed insatiable as he rammed into you nearly in a trance, seeking for his release, but despite you enjoying these rough phases very much as well, he always calmed down and feeded you with slow, sensual pushes that put you on the verge of being delighted and desperately wanting more.

His lips were wet and warm against your lips when his hips got a rest on top of yours, and you were quick to hook your ankles around his waist when he picked up his pace for the nth time, but this time being the last that would finally bring the long awaited release, you both knew at that moment.

Jaehyun’s chest glistened with a paper thin layer of sweat, and your eyes wandered along his neck to his face where you watched him in awe changing his features to a more tensed one, working towards your orgasms. Your fingers slithered up his arms that were propped up to the left and right of yours, and you held tightly onto him, breaking your eye contact to not let his hard work go to waste and concentrate on yourself.

You bit into his arm as you came, and he let out a groan, whether it was because of your bite or because of him reaching his own heights as he released into the sheets next to you, you didn’t know. But at that moment, as you slipped out of this world for a few seconds, you wished that you could have this for the rest of your life.

Especially for - no, because of - what followed after.

Your grumpy and always stoic husband rolled onto the space next to you to take a rest, a smile spreading across his face that just wouldn’t vanish anymore as he turned his head aside and looked at you. And you genuinely felt the same. 

Instinctively, you moved over to him, and he stretched out his arms to pull you onto his chest where you laid yourself down. You didn’t say anything for a long time until you felt him pressing his lips on your forehead.

Now, you truly felt like you had arrived at home.

There, it was so warm, and so comfortable that you wanted to stay forever.

____

Rosie’s birthday barbecue took place the next day where the festival had been held weeks prior. If anything, you knew by now that her father, the pharmacist and major apparently, technically built this village. Aside from the pharmacy, he owned several other stores here.

Unfortunately, you had come all by yourself. 

Jaehyun had left early in the morning already, rudely awakened by a call from his supervisor, so you weren’t able to fully concentrate on celebrating Rosie’s big day right now as you wished, but for reasons that couldn’t wipe that grin from your face.

Your thoughts revolved around Jaehyun as well as around what had happened the night before - several times in different positions as though he had feared he was running out of time to do all this to you.

This morning, you had woken up with your limbs entangled and strands of your hair in his face, but he hadn’t complained. Instead, after getting the call, he had pulled you closer to him, lying in bed with you a few minutes more and even kissing you goodbye when he had walked out of the door.

You flushed when you recalled the memories.

“My, my! What’s that?” Rosie called you out as she took the seat next to you. “What’re you blushing for? Long night with your husband?”

“Rosie!” you called out indignantly, totally shocked, but she only laughed.

“Come on, nobody heard! Lucky you!”

You shook your head and shifted a small box in your friend’s direction. “Open it.”

“What are you doing?” Rosie feigned upset. “I told you to not get me anything!”

“Well, the gift shopping area in this village is very limited, but I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”

You could tell Rosie was very excited as her fingers fiddled with the ribbon that held the gift wrap together. As she untied it, a small, flat box was revealed.

“It’s not much, but where I come from, these are very trendy now, and I’m more of a personal gift giver than buying something random. My husband had to order them from the internet, but the rest was made by me. I hope you like it.”

Rosie stilled her motions. “Did you just say ‘my husband’?”

Did you? You gasped nearly inaudibly. You had never referred to him like this before, and truth to be told, you hadn’t even intended to do so now. It had just slipped somehow.

Your friend giggled. “Your husband always refers to you as ‘my wife’, and I found it odd that you hadn’t until now. Perhaps, it took you longer to get used to it, right?”

“...Right.” You kneaded your fingers in uncertainty.

“Are you kidding?!” Rosie then squealed as she opened her gift fully and pulled out a pearl bracelet. “It’s so cute!”

It was made of freshwater pearls in different colors that you had beaded yourself with all the colors Rosie liked the best. You had never seen her wearing jewelry, so she apparently didn’t want to bother taking them on and off.

“It’s an elastic band, so you don’t have to close and open it every morning. You can wear it all the time or take it off and put it on easily.”

Rosie pulled it over her hand and held her wrist against the sunlight. “Such pretty colors! Thank you so much! I will cherish this all my life! It’s a token of our friendship!”

She cuddled you a little bit too tight for your liking, but you didn’t mind. You hadn’t seen such an openly pure reaction to your gifts ever when you had given presents to your friends or family all along. And they had been more expensive and impressive than what you had given to Rosie.

Here, life was much easier. People seemed to be content and satisfied with the little things life had to offer, that was why they had chosen to stay in the countryside. You admired this mindset as people in the big city always thrived to achieve more and to be better than everyone else. 

You wanted to be more like Rosie and the villagers.

“Okay, let’s eat now! The meat is ready!”

You really wanted to enjoy the barbecue, and more often than not, you earnestly did. But watching Mr. and Mrs. Jones' banter-like but loving interactions, along with many other married and dating couples, made you long for something which you had never expected to be missing. 

“What is it, dear?” Grandmother Anh then asked you as most of the people were slowly finishing their meals and moved on to play with the children or to talk with each other. “You look so somber.”

You, among only a handful of other guests who were still eating, had remained in their seats. Next to you, there was an extra plate with food that hadn’t been touched yet.

“Grandmother Anh…” You turned to her, your eyes expressing exactly what was going on inside of you. “Is it possible to miss someone so much, your heart hurts even though you had only been together in the morning?”

Because that was how you were feeling now. You wanted to be around Jaehyun all day, all night, not missing out on his presence even a single moment. Where you had loathed his existence before, it was all you could think about now and how you’d probably die of a heartache if he was ever gone.

You had never experienced something close to this.

“Oh dear…” Grandmother Anh squeezed your arm and smiled compassionately. “I miss my husband starting from the moment I open my eyes in the morning. And I even felt like that when he was still with me. We weren’t separated for a single day, and I know that even now, he’s with me.”

Because they loved each other wholeheartedly. You couldn’t say the same about what Jaehyun felt for you.

“But why are you so upset right now, dear?” she asked you. “He’s here now.”

“... what?”

You looked up and spotted Jaehyun walking down the street in your direction. You suppressed the urge to blink a few times in case this wasn’t real. But grandmother Anh had just said so, and he would be standing right in front of you not too long from now.

Suddenly, you were all nervous and excited like a child on the first day of school. Jumping out of your chair, hitting the table’s edge in the process and flushing to your cheeks, you didn’t quite know what to do at first. You wanted to run towards him and jump into the safety of his arms like this morning, but were too shy to do so.

What if he rejected you?

What if last night and this morning were an exception?

What if he had returned to being the reserved and taciturn Jaehyun from the beginning?

These were thoughts that were running through your head when you were standing there awkwardly to welcome him.

“I…” you then started when he stopped right in front of you, his mien not quite expressive enough for you to read. “I saved you some meat and potato salad.”

You didn’t know what you were saying, you were only trying to downplay this awkwardness that had weighed down the lighthearted atmosphere of the party as Jaehyun also clearly didn’t know how to behave after your intimate encounters.

“Are there n-”

But your words got stuck in your throat as Jaehyun stretched out his arms and cupped your glowing cheeks with his palms. It was almost magical how instantly, you were able to calm down. Then, he pulled you towards him, covering your lips with his as though he had been waiting all day only to do that.

As he kissed you there, in front of everyone, chastely, but also deeply, you knew that this wasn’t an act. This was not staged for the villagers to believe that you were a truly married couple.

This was honest. His feelings were real.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that all day,” he admitted, tucking a strand of your hair that had gotten loose behind your hair. “I thought time would never pass.”

And you were on the same page.

You were still on the same page when the front door of your house closed behind you later that evening and Jaehyun shoved you against the door, devouring all of you with an open mouth and his tongue, his fingers locked with yours in a tight grip, pinned against the wall above your head.

You were still on the same page when he bent you over the kitchen counter, not even showing the slightest patience by undressing you clothing for clothing as he just dragged your pants down and pushed into you from behind with a long-suppressed groan that made you scream in excitement.

You were still on the same page when you laid your palms flat on the surface in the illusion of getting support, moving along his length to meet his thrusts whenever he pulled out to just slam back into you full-force, because you couldn’t take being apart from him for even a second.

You were still on the same page when you were shaking from past-orgasm spasm, his cum dripping down your hips as he had released on your back, and he carried you on his hands to the bedroom with the words,

“I’m not done yet.”

It was raw.

And it was real.

____

For the fifth morning in a row, you woke up next to Jaehyun. And every time, it still felt so surreal to you that you wanted to give yourself a pinch to make sure this was real. But whenever you turned to his side, his arms tightly wrapped around you, and looked into his eyes that were so sincere and clear, you didn’t mind if this was a dream after all if only you wouldn’t wake up from it.

But today, his expression was clouded, and you could tell something was bothering him gravely that he couldn’t let go of.

“What is it?” you asked him, barely awake yet, but irritated that he wasn’t cuddling with you as usual. “Did something happen?”

It was odd. The fact that you could live with a person for so long and still know nothing about them. That was what Jaehyun told you the next moment.

“What do you mean?”

“That you don’t know my biggest secret yet. And that it might make you hate me.”

You feared that your whole world would teeter under your feet the further he spoke about what he had to confess to you. At this point, you loved him so much, you didn’t know what could possibly make you hate him. After all, he was a detective, and one of the good ones.

The last thing he would have done was kill an innocent person.

… right?

Jaehyun’s struggles were almost palpable for you as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, the muscles on his chest straining and never seeming to relax anymore as he withdrew into a deep hole of silence.

Minutes passed without him crawling out of it, and you sat up yourself, leaning against the headboard while Jaehyun was leaning forward, not facing each other. You wanted to hug him from the back to give him comfort, but also sensed that this would only restrain him from crossing over the final line he was so close to reaching.

And he really wanted to pass it.

“I could never hate you,” you told him. “I l-...” You gulped. “You’re a good person. What would ever make me hate you?”

“Not even knowing that I ruined someone’s life?”

There it was. The elephant in the room that rendered you totally motionless and emotionless. Ruining someone’s life was a wide term and could come in many shapes and forms, each that had a different impact on the victim, and the culprit. 

You desperately wanted to know Jaehyun’s dimension, and you knew he desperately, finally wanted to tell you.

“Explain to me. Has it got something to do with the scar on your chest?”

“Yes. As a detective, my job is to protect the victims. But I failed to do so once when I purposely hurt them.”

“How so?”

Jaehyun bent further forward, and you perceived how he lifted his hands to ruffle his hair in aggravation before he continued, “Last week, at Rosie’s birthday party when I got called to my supervisor, I told you it was about my case.”

You nodded. You hadn’t pushed the topic, because if Jaehyun had wanted to talk, he would have come forward. And now, it was apparently the time.

“This case has brought me here to this witness protection program. I’m clearing my name and serving my sentence, because I hurt a victim. The trial is long finished since the victim decided not to press charges, but hurting a hostage is not seen as a peccadillo among the police nonetheless. After I got suspended for a few months, I got sent here to prove myself again while working in another unit and eventually return to the NYPD.”

You had a hard time processing what Jaehyun tried to get into your head. Inwardly, you were repeating every single syllable until they settled.

“I ruined a life. That hostage, a woman… I shot at her,” he pressed bitterly through gritted teeth. “There, you have it. The reason to hate me.”

Your brow arched. “I don’t quite understand. Why did you shoot at a hostage?”

Being nosy was one of your characteristics, but the best part of it was that you never judged a situation before you got all the details, and you hadn’t collected enough details to waive Jaehyun’s action as something bad yet.

“The kidnapper was holding her hostage with a gun pointed at her head.” 

It was difficult for Jaehyun to speak about this situation, you could tell from the way he expressed himself, with hitches and deep breathers in between, but you gave him all the time he needed.

You lifted your hand and touched his back in a reassuring gesture, scared he would shy away, but still wanted to try. Instead of retreating, you felt his muscles relaxing under your palm, and you exhaled in relief, letting him know you were there for emotional support, no matter what was to come.

And what was about to come was really hard to digest.

“Instead of shooting at the kidnapper, I shot at the hostage’s leg. Of course I didn’t want to hurt her on purpose, but at this moment, it was the best thing that I could do. I could see it in his eyes. He really wanted to pull the trigger, that was how ruthless and brutal he was. As soon as I would shoot at him, he would shoot at her. So I had to do the last thing a policeman is supposed to do, and aimed at the hostage instead.”

Your forehead was in creases. You couldn’t grasp the entire situation as it sounded just so absurd to you. As a ballerina in the spotlight, you had never gotten in touch with this dark side of the world.

But Jaehyun was a good person. So good, that he omitted the entire story from you.

“You shot at the hostage, because an injured hostage is useless to the culprit,” it suddenly became clear to you. “You’re not a bad person, Jaehyun. That’s very courageous. And honorable as you did everything to save the hostage.”

His shoulders shook, and you were irritated whether he was laughing or crying. Until you noticed that his shaking was actually trembling, and that he was uttering indistinct sounds. Only moments later, you realized that he was, indeed, silently crying.

You just weren’t sure whether these were tears of guilt or tears of relief for finally coming clear with you.

“The scar… it’s from a bullet, right? Did he shoot directly at you after that? Is that how you got it?” 

“Even if, at the moment I pulled the trigger, he let go of the culprit and shot at me, I didn’t save her life.”

You felt a tight knot in your stomach. “Jaehyun… that woman… is she still alive?”

It didn’t sound like she didn’t survive the entire incident, but you wanted to hear it from him. Almost instinctively, he nodded with much hesitation, and relief washed over you. 

“But at what cost?” he broke through your thoughts. “That woman… one of her legs was rendered useless. I hit der at such an unfortunate spot-”

“But she still has her life,” you interfered. “And you risked your own life for her. You were ready to die for a victim. But she’s still alive, and you as well. That’s all that matters.”

“All that matters? Here’s the thing you’ll hate me for…” He sucked in a rush of air. “She was a professional ballerina. Just like you.”

You didn’t know what to say. Perhaps, it was best to not say anything at all now.

For a ballerina to lose the ability to use even one of her legs was the most unfortunate thing that could happen. All your life, you were trained to rely on your legs. They were your pillars that carried your passion, your career. You were dependent on your legs. You hadn’t learned how to use anything else to get through life.

You leaned forward and replaced the palm of your hand on his back with both of your arms. Gentle, you snuggled up against him and held him in your arms, resting your head in the crook of his neck and closing your eyes, listening to his silent cries.

“Jaehyun. Still. You didn’t ruin a life.”

Everything happening in the past weeks suddenly made so much sense to you. Why Jaehyun had been behaving so hostile upon seeing you for the first time, why he hadn’t wanted you to think so lowly about your safety, why he had wanted you to pick up your passion again, why he had bought you the MP3 player…

“You saved hers.”

Reluctantly, he placed his arms over yours. You really felt his insecurity, but your support was unwavering, and you let him know.

“And you saved yours as well. No lives were lost. You’re a good detective.”

At that moment, you assumed that you were the first person he actually opened up to. And the first person who actually truly understood his deepest feelings.

“Thank you.”

Jaehyun turned to you and kissed you. It tasted of tears and despair. 

And a bit of wishful thinking.

____

“I’m still in therapy because of it,” Jaehyun spoke the day after when he was ready to pick up the topic again. “Well, when I’m in New York, I mean.”

It was constantly warm outside nowadays, you two sitting on the slope of the hill behind your house, and you couldn’t wait to finally embrace summer fully in this part of the world where you had never experienced this season before. 

Your hair was glowing in the bright sunlight. Jaehyun liked to compare it to a pink rose when you woke up in the mornings and he ran his fingers through the strands.

“That’s good,” you coaxed him, showing full support ever since his confession. “I think it’s always good to speak with a professional about traumatic experiences. They will never go away at some point, but we all have to learn to live with them.”

You stood by your opinion that Jaehyun had had no other choice and actually had made the right decision in this situation. You respected him for that, and you had learned that the hostage, who had attended the trial of course, thought so as well as she had voiced during the process.

It was only the inner demons Jaehyun was fighting now, and you would help him get every single one of them caged.

“It’s odd.”

“What is?”

You stretched yourself, enjoying the warmth. “The fact that I know about your most traumatic experience, but not even where you were born.”

“I was born in Seoul, as a matter of fact,” he clarified instantly.

“The city where I live?” you called out in surprise. 

Jaehyun nodded. “I lived there with my mom until I graduated from high school. Then I went to New York because my dad has been working there, and pursued a career as a policeman.”

You pulled grass between your fingers, the mild breeze playing with the tips of your hair strands. “Why did you want to join the police?”

“I’m good at solving cases. And I really want to help people, but didn’t have the patience to go to med school.” Jaehyun looked up, smiling softly against the wind. “Why did you take up ballet classes?”

Yeah… why? You shrugged. “It was something I was passionate about ever since I was a little child.” Your reasoning was not as extensive and detailed as his, but for you, it had always been enough.

And for Jaehyun as well. He turned his head against the sky and basked in the sun. “That’s great. Anything else you want to know?”

“Fair enough, since you knew every fact about me before I even set foot in this country. Do you have siblings?” you jumped at the chance. 

“No.”

“Favorite food?” 

“Nothing specific. I like anything.”

“A country you’d like to visit one day?”

“Japan.”

“A country you have visited and is your favorite?”

He smiles. “I’ve only been to South Korea and here, so… Here.”

“Can you imagine going back there though?” you then asked. “To Seoul, I mean.”

“Absolutely not.”

You didn’t know why his answer hurt you. Disappointment seeped deep into your heart at the realization that your real home and his real home were separated by an entire ocean if you were ever to go back. 

“Do you miss your home?” Jaehyun then returned.

Did you still?

You weren’t so sure about that anymore. You missed your family and your friends, as a matter of fact, and not a day passed in which you didn’t think about them. But not as much and as hurtful as in the beginning where tears had kept you up all night. Your sadness had stepped back, making space for a feeling that was much greater.

But you didn’t want to tell him that.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jaehyun shifted his head back to you. “I can imagine that.”

He kissed you then, right at your favorite spot in the entire village, his fingers entangled in your rosy hair. You felt so happy, yet so regretful as you hadn’t had any memory of a moment where you had been at such a high in your life back there in Seoul.

There, you had everything. The spotlight, your family and your friends. But despite everything, right here and now was where your heart was going to burst because you didn’t know how much bliss it could still grasp.

There were so many more questions you wanted to still ask him.

How his life back there in New York was. How he imagined life when this was all over. Whether he had someone he held dear back home.

But you swallowed all of them down. You were scared of the answers.

You didn’t need to know every little detail about a person’s life to fall in love with them. All it took was to know how they treated others, how they treated you and their outlook on life, nothing more.

Not even their real name.

The rest would fall into place.

Deep down, you had accepted your new life with every aspect it offered itself to you, and whenever you thought about the village and its people, a certain warmth enclosed your heart that nearly made you teary-eyed.

You didn’t want to leave anymore. That was now clear to you.

____

Call it intuition. Gut feeling. A woman’s instinct.

Whatever it was called that you were experiencing that day, it would be right. Your whole world crashed when Jaehyun walked through the door after work that day.

“You have to leave,” were his first words as soon as he spotted you. “Now.”

“... what?”

With widened eyes, you watched the sweat drops on his forehead slowly rolling along his temples. Had he run all the way here? And why did he seem so anxious as though he was trying to uphold a friend? You had never seen him like this.

“Go pack your things. You have five minutes.”

“Jaehyun…” You stood up from the couch. “I don’t understand, only last wee-”

“It’s all settled,” he interjected calmly but curtly. “The day I got called to my supervisor, you remember? They told me I was free to return to the NYPD. My job here is done as they finally found someone else for you. I can go back home, to my old life.”

“That means…?” You halted. You wanted to cover your ears. You didn’t want to hear.

But Jaehyun broke the hard truth down for you. “You’ll be moved to another city, get assigned another fake husband, exactly. The driver will be here in a few.”

You were flabbergasted at how factual his way of delivering the news to you was. “You only stayed with me to deal with your bad conscience, right? Because I’m a ballerina as well, and for protecting me, you would pay your debt? Now that the time is over, you want to get rid of me?”

Of course you hoped he would deny everything you had just accused him of. But he didn’t. This was like a nightmare.

“This program works like that,” Jaehyun explained to you like you were some twelve year old, with much repulsion written all over his face. “You move from one city to another, from one husband to another. You brought this upon yourself.”

Here was the deal with anger. You didn’t feel how it got implanted into you. You couldn’t feel it grow and feed on your pain. Suddenly, it was there, and you didn’t have any control over it until, from one moment to another, it made itself aware verbally and physically.

You wanted to scream, grab for the nearest vase nearby and throw it against the wall, yelling at him how much of an asshole he could be, leading you on this entire time. But sometimes, people were stronger than anger.

And so were you.

He had never led you on. You had always been aware of the rules. He didn’t owe you anything.

“Is that all?” you only brought out dryly, the vowels stuck in your throat. 

You didn’t want to cry, you didn’t owe him a single tear in return, not a single word anymore, because you had known all along that this was about to come eventually. 

This… all this wasn’t real. This wasn’t your life. And the next one wouldn’t be your real life either.

You didn’t know what your next fake home and fake husband would be like. You didn’t know for how long they’d stay this time. All you knew was that you didn’t want them. You didn’t want anyone else other than Jaehyun.

“That’s all.”

But he didn’t want you anymore.

You just wondered how he could stand there, as stoic and taciturn and as cold as when you had first met. 

What had happened to the Jaehyun that woke up next to you every morning, playing with your hair, snuggling up against you and kissing the nape of your neck? The Jaehyun that showed you a different side every night, making you feel so special and loved? The Jaehyun that had let you into his deepest secrets?

Perhaps, he was just so good at his job. No wonder they wanted him back in the NYPD.

Your fingers grabbed just whatever piece of clothing they could find, regardless of whether you had picked up everything that belonged to you or not.

When you rolled your suitcase to the door a few minutes later, you had digested the first waves of shock and were only barely able to hold back your tears. You had expected that the end would come in little steps, with signs that would indicate the last days were approaching, giving you time to adjust, prepare and linger around.

Now, it was like ripping off a band aid. 

As you turned away from him, who had not moved since, tears were burning behind your eyes, but you didn’t want to lose your dignity in front of him. You wanted to defy him again, show him that you were just as strong as him and that it all didn’t bother you. That you had only played the role of a wife so perfectly, you had not only fooled the ones around you, but him as well - just as he had done with you.

But in contrast to Jaehyun, for you, it had meant everything to the point you had wished that this was your real life.

This, you couldn’t lie to yourself about. And it was the thing that hurt the most.

When the car pulled up the next moment, you expected Jaehyun to still say something to you, but he just stood there, with an expressionless face, watching you getting into the vehicle. Your eye contact didn’t break, even though you wished so. You just couldn’t tear your gaze away from him as you still hoped that he would raise his voice and beg you to stay.

And you would have.

But he didn’t.

When the car reverted, he just stood there. When you drove along the main street, he just stood there. Even when you were almost out of his sight, he just stood there.  

“You’re going to Phoenix this time, Miss!” the driver, the same as from your first day, told you, looking through the rear mirror. “I’m sure you’ll like it there!”

No, you wouldn’t. 

This was the most miserable day of your life, and still in the car, you broke down in tears.

You would have given everything to sit down with Rosie, grandmother Anh and Mrs. Jones just once again, playing cards and drinking wine. You would have given everything to go shopping with Rosie and hear her lighthearted laughter again. You would have given everything to eat grandmother Anh’s dumplings and get her advice again.

You would have given everything to just spend another day in the village, appreciating what you had had and saying goodbye to everyone.

But even this, he had pried out of your hands, rendering you so defenseless and vulnerable.

You hated him.

And whenever your gaze fell upon the key chain of the yellow elephant wearing a red tie on your purse, you cried even harder, wanting to rip it off and throw it out of the window.

But no matter how much you wanted to hate him and talk yourself into it, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly feel so.

You didn’t care about your old life anymore. You didn’t care whether you could never go back. You didn’t care about your career, about your future.

You were willing to give all of this up forever just to spend another day in the life that had been such an illusion, but had made you the happiest so far.

“Uhm… Miss…”

____

Klick.

The sound of the safety catch of a gun getting released.

“You’re late,” Jaehyun announced into the semi-darkness as he took the weapon back into his hand. “She’s not here anymore. She just left.”

“I know,” a voice he had never heard before, answered back. “I actually came for you.”

“Oh. Be my guest then.” Jaehyun chuckled with sarcasm. “I wasn’t sure when exactly you’d arrive since my people couldn’t find the flight you boarded, but this is what I call perfect timing as I just left the door open. So, how did you find us exactly?”

He shrugged. “You know… it cost me a fortune and a few private detectives, but I was always watching her, even during detention. I always knew where she was. That I’m only coming now is because I thought that eventually, when she sees that I’m free and behaving, she’d come back.” His voice cracked. “But she didn’t.”

Jaehyun remembered the night you had claimed to have heard someone roaming around in the bedroom or garden. So there had been truly someone among you, a private detective most likely. He hated himself at that moment for not having been able to protect you better. 

“You know what happened to the former guy she dated?” 

The stalker stepped into the light that flooded into the room from the window, and as Jaehyun looked into his face, he encountered a man who he, and probably every other person, would deem harmless at first glance. He looked like a normal office worker, not intimidating or even dangerous at all with his slicked back hair and wide glasses.

“They packed their things and went away as soon as they met me,” he illustrated, almost boastful with much pride in his voice. “One of them didn’t want to back off, so I had to slash his tires. That was when he got the message.”

“Lucky you that I’m not one of these guys. I’m not scared of you.” Jaehyun grinned. “I’m her husband, and I’m going to protect her at all costs.”

“She doesn’t belong to you!” he then yelled, throwing around his arms. “She belongs to me! … But… she’s always running away from me… She never comes back to me. Why would someone do that when you’re destined to be together?”

Despite the semi-darkness, Jaehyun saw the insanity coming forward in his eyes that gradually slowly took power of his entire body. He wasn’t familiar with stalking cases personally himself, but had read quite a few things prior to your arrival.

Clearly, this guy followed the delusional disbelief of your both’s romantic destiny despite you having made it clear several times that no such thing existed at your side. Yet, his obsession with you had made him want to continue being a part of your life and change your mind at all costs until it turned unhealthy and dangerous for you, watching you and following each of your steps. Admiration had quickly turned into the sadistic urge to torment you, because if he couldn’t have you, nobody could.

And now, you didn’t even deserve to live if it wasn’t with him.

“I’m not going to run away like the other guys,” Jaehyun spoke calmly. “I’m here to set an end to this, because she deserves to live freely and happily. And I want to give this to her.”

“No!” he screamed, sweat dripping down his temples, and only now, Jaehyun saw the blade glistening against the dim light. “She can only be happy with me! With me only, not with someone else or even alone!”

Jaehyun lifted up his arms and aimed the gun at him. He flinched. “She’s happy with me. How does that sound, asshole?”

Suddenly, he laughed. “If you shoot at me, you’re going to jail, and you’re not going to have her either.”

“I don’t care,” Jaehyun spoke calmly and the guy raised his brows. “I don’t care if I might go to jail because of this, because no one else before cared enough. I don’t care if I have to give my life for hers, because my life is not worth living if she’s dead. I don’t care if I have her or not. I just want her to be far away from you and live her life to the fullest, because she deserves it. Because this is what love is.”

“Oh, you fool.” He laughed again, this time like a maniac. “She has you in her force. That’s what she usually does.”

“Maybe.” Jaehyun’s finger enclosed the trigger. “But that’s what love also is. Forceful.”

The stalker raised his hand, the huge knife between his fingers fully visible now as he prepared himself to dash forward, but the second he moved, your voice echoed through the house.

“Stop!”

You stepped into the living room, totally out of breath, but lucky to have convinced the driver to turn around before it was too late after he had empathized very much with you during your breakdown in the car and told you the entire truth.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, having reached the premises only seconds ago. “I see it clearly now. I can’t be with you, Jaehyun. I can’t run away from my feelings either.” You smiled mildly and stepped closer to the stalker. “I see where I belong to.”

Jaehyun couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “What-!”

“I know we didn’t have a great start,” you said, your gaze not wavering from the guy who had made your life on earth a living hell, yet you tried to conceal that you were trembling all over and sweating in fear as this was the only way to save Jaehyun. “While you only wanted to protect me, I always tried to defy you. I felt caged, imprisoned and really unhappy. It was only later that I realized that you did all that because you cared. About my safety… about me.”

Jaehyun saw that you were directing these words to your tormentor, but he also saw that they were not lies. They were only directed at the wrong person.

“Yes, yes!” the guy blurted. “That’s totally it!”

“Will you now please put away the knife? I will willingly come with you.” Then, you finally spun around to Jaehyun. “Please put the gun away as well.”

“But-!”

“Please!”

Hesitantly, he did as he had been told, so did the persecutor. He knew where you had come from as the guy wouldn’t have done the same, but still didn’t find the thought to be so weaponless appealing. 

After the stalker had placed the knife on the kitchen counter, he turned around to you with a bright smile on his face, but it got wiped out very quickly - with your knuckles rolling nearly in slow motion over his cheek and continuing along the bridge of his nose. He lost balance and was thrown against a chair, folding like a piece of paper as he collapsed against the furniture.

Your fist had met his face full-force, and you stilled the seconds after, having totally caught him off guard - and yourself as well.

“The knife!” Jaehyun then screamed, reaching for his gun once again.

But as your fingers moved to reach for the weapon, your hand got slapped away and the blade vanished in front of your eyes and back into the possession of the stalker. Only this time, the knife was not the only thing he claimed to have taken control over.

The sharp blade slightly buried itself into the side of your neck as he had rendered you motionless by having you in a choke with his other arm wrapped around your middle. All your twisting and turning didn’t benefit you in any way as he was much taller and stronger, and you could only watch all the color drain from Jaehyun’s eyes as he looked back at you in horror.

“What wishful thinking, I’m such a fool,” the stalker whispered into your ear, blood streaming down your side, and the pain slowly overshadowed the shock you had initially felt. “If you can’t have someone yourself, all you can do is kill the person.”

You heard it click as Jaehyun was now pointing his gun at you. “Not before I kill you first.”

And then, there was pain.

____

When you were in the hospital, you dreamed of Jaehyun.

He was holding your hand at night, not leaving your side. It was tender and warm, just like the first time he had held your hand when you had joined the dinner with the other villagers. You could even hear what he was saying to you. Many words you had been longing to hear for so long.

Too bad that these were only fever dreams.

Because instead, when you woke up three days later, there was Rosie.

… Rosie!?

But you weren’t able to bring these words out as your throat was dry, so the syllables only came out as rasping sounds. She was quick to serve you a glass of water before you were finally able to ask,

“...Rosie? What happened?”

“Jesus!” she let out in wonder. “You can’t remember a thing?”

You shook your head. “Do you?” And then cocked your brow. “... what do you know exactly?”

“Jay told me everything. About you. About the program.” Your eyes widened and you prepared yourself to sit up, but Rosie gently pushed you back against the pillow. Only then you noticed that you couldn’t have made it further anyway. Your entire middle hurt. “It’s okay, lay still. Nobody can harm you anymore. He’s dead.”

“... dead?” You barely believed your own ears. 

Rosie nodded. “Jay’s bullet hit you, but it was only a graze, barely visible, but enough to take the stalker by surprise so that he suddenly let go of you. But… he was on top of you the next moment… with the knife.” She struggled to find the right words. “When I arrived after the reinforcement you called before… there was so much blood, and Jay was holding you in his arms… he was screaming… wailing. He thought he’d lost you, and so did I.”

You got stabbed?!

That would explain the immense pain that turned more distinct with each bypassing second, and you were so close to calling a nurse to pump some more morphine into you.

“W… what happened to… him?” you asked, though a part of you already knew the answer.

“Jay shot at him. He died on the spot.”

You didn’t blame yourself for feeling so much relief at this moment. For the past year, this man had robbed you of all your happiness and freedom. Now, it was all over. You were safe and free. You had every right to be happy.

But you weren’t.

“Where is…” Suddenly, you stilled as a dangerous thought crossed our mind. “Is he-”

“He’s fine.” The corner of Rosie’s lips tilted up. “Even now, you’re only thinking about him. He’s outside. Should I call him in?”

“Yes, please. And Rosie?” You reached for her hand, squeezing it. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot.”

She squeezed your fingers back. “Even though this life of yours wasn’t real… I know our friendship is.”

She was so right.

When Rosie left, Jaehyun didn’t come in right away. You waited for at least five more minutes until the handle moved downwards and the face you had been longing to see all along finally appeared in your room.

“How are you doing?” he asked, and it made you shudder how distant he sounded as opposed to the look in his eyes. 

They were telling a whole other story, and you wondered what was holding him back from running over to you and finally taking you into his arms. 

“Fine.”

The pain in your stomach really did feel fine when the pain in your heart was a much graver one.

“Don’t lie to me. You got stabbed right through. It’s not like it’s nothing.” He lowered his head. “And it’s my fault. Again.”

You saw where he was coming from after everything that he had been through. Your mind was still working only slowly as it hadn’t been able to make the connection right away, but now, it was all clear.

“It’s thanks to you that I’m still alive. I’m very grateful.”

Eventually, the pain in your stomach would pass, leaving only a scar. You couldn’t imagine what the stalker would have done to you if Jaehyun wouldn’t have been there. You counted yourself very lucky to still be alive.

“Thank you, honestly.”

He acknowledged your feelings with a nod, though you weren’t entirely convinced that he thought the same about you. And as he didn’t move away from the door further in your direction, you finally grasped that he just wasn’t there by your side yet. Not only physically, but also emotionally.

At some point, everything happening in the past months had been real for him too. But now that he could have it all, he was getting cold feet. You didn’t know why, but you knew that it wasn’t your fault, and it certainly wasn’t in your power to lay out all the reasons as to why he shouldn’t feel this way.

He just wasn’t ready.

“You’re going back to the NYPD, right?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow already, as a matter of fact. I have things to take care of.” He scratched his head in nervousness. “You’ll be okay?”

Oddly, you could affirm his assumption.

You’d return to Seoul and to the Korea National Ballet. If you’d had a talk with the academy, you were positive that you could also still join the Dutch National Ballet as originally planned. You had your old life back, and it would all fall into place.

Your future, everything you had worked so hard for, laid in front of you again.

And without Jaehyun. 

Again.

“I’ll be okay.” Despite these insights, you smiled through your pain. “Really.”

“Okay.” Jaehyun’s smile was equally painful. 

Perhaps, he had wished for another outcome as well. But whatever was holding him back was more powerful than everything he’d ever felt for you, and you wished that you could share his pain again, telling him that he didn’t need to go through this all alone.

But you knew, this time, he wouldn’t let you.

Rosie was there for you after he had long left, comforting you throughout the entire night. She was also there when you got discharged two weeks later, bidding you farewell at the airport and showering you with so much love a friend could possibly feel for another. 

“We’re going to meet again,” you promised her.

“I’ll come visit you,” she promised you too.

And with that, you returned to your old life.

____

The curtain call was your favorite part of each performance. Then, all the burden and pressure fell from your shoulders and you could finally breathe again, showering in the spotlight and relishing the applause.

Today was the first time that you stood on the stage of the Korea National Ballet again after the events in the States and thus, your first curtain call after such a long time.

Your hair had returned to its natural color, and despite the fact that you hadn’t changed at all from the outside, you knew that on the inside, you were an entirely different person. Nothing would be like before ever again.

“Good performance,” your instructor remarked and moved on to tell the same to the others as well.

You hadn’t danced an important position, only moving in the background as your instructor had been sure that you had let things slide in the months you were away. Before, you would have gotten angry, practicing day and night to lose the remaining weight and catch up with the others. Yes, you surely had let things slide, but to you, nothing of this was important anymore.

The Dutch National Ballet hadn’t wanted you back, and you couldn’t hold it against them. You were glad to have been able to pick up some kind of engagement again. Until you were back at the top, a lot of time would pass.

You just weren’t so sure anymore if you wanted to climb up that high again.

You took off your tight shoes in the dressing room and rubbed your wounded feet, your thoughts drifting off. You had seen him again. In the audience, sitting in the first row and watching you. Usually, you didn’t let your eyes wander through the people, but this time, your role had given you enough time to do so.

Not your stalker, but Jaehyun.

He had sat there, in a black tuxedo, and had watched you with the same gaze that he would share only with you during your time together.

You knew immediately that this wasn’t real. He wasn’t here. He couldn’t be here. 

Because lately, you saw and felt him very often. Next to you on the bed when you were waking up, walking close to you as you strolled through the streets, and in the mirror whenever you lifted your head after washing your face. 

This was what it was like when you couldn’t let go of a person you had once loved so much.

“There is someone waiting for you in the lobby,” another dancer told you in passing.

“Who is it?” 

“Said his name was Yuno.” She shrugged. “Wears a black tuxedo and waits by the stairs.”

“Okay.”

You didn’t know a person named Yuno, so you didn’t hurry changing your clothes and took your sweet time, until a sudden thought crossed your mind. This was how it had started out with your stalker as well! 

But it couldn’t be. He wasn’t alive anymore, and here, nobody would give you the same attention as you were only a background dancer. You sucked in a rush of air, halted, and then continued your way.

You’d be fine.

Just as you had promised Jaehyun.

“Mister…” you called out when you came around the corner. You didn’t know his surname, so you faltered, only able to watch him from behind as he stood with his back to you.

“Jeong. Mister Jeong.”

“... Mister...”

Your voice was stable, in contrast to your inner feelings as a storm broke free deep within you. You hadn’t seen him in so long, and you wanted to cry, scream and slap him all at once.

“I saw your performance.” He smiled. “You’re marvelous. I wanted to bring you a bouquet of flowers, but thought it would be a bit too tactless…”

“You’re late,” you interrupted him.

“I know,” he agreed. “There were a few things I had to take care of.”

“Things that took you three months?” You folded your arms across your chest. “I thought… I thought you moved on.”

“Is that what you think of me?” He looked hurt. “Have you moved on?”

Not a single bit. Every night, you lived through every moment you had spent together in the States. As much as you had wanted to, you hadn’t been able to move on.

Almost unnoticeably, you shook your head.

“You want to know what I did during this time?” He stepped closer to you as the lobby was emptying, and you didn’t retreat. “I visited the ballerina. She’s doing well. She’s a counselor now, helping people who are as handicapped as her. She said it’s fulfilling and that she’s very happy, and she thanked me again for saving her life. Hearing it from her personally takes a huge burden off my heart.”

Despite your controversial feelings, you smiled. “That’s good to hear. I’m happy for you.”

“And I finished my therapy sessions,” he continued. “For a long time, I thought I was the person bringing harm to people. I’m a detective, why am I only bringing harm to people I desperately want to protect? It just didn’t get into my head. My therapist said that not everyone is made for this life and I should focus on finding a partner who is as equally courageous and fearless as me. Who shares my views on life, who doesn’t back down and looks danger right into the eye. Only then, when I have a partner who can take care of themselves, I don’t have to fear for two lives, but only for one. For mine, because my partner will be fine by themselves.”

Then, he smiled too as you recalled, “I slapped the hell out of that asshole.”

“Yeah, you did. You also defied all my orders. You always know how to take care of yourself. You don’t run away when it’s getting dangerous. And you didn’t hesitate even for a single second when you found out that I lied that day. You came back right away to help me. If there is a woman suitable for me, then it’s you.”

You chewed on the inner flesh of your mouth to keep the growing smile from showing. You still didn’t know what exactly this all meant, but you were eager to hear it from him soon.

“But I didn’t come here to tell you this only.”

You tilted your head. “What did you come here for then?”

“I came to pick up my wife,” was his answer that nearly made your heart jump out of your chest.

You stared at him, lost for words and mouth agape.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long. I wanted to get everything cleared and settled. I wanted to be emotionally ready for a new path in my life, with you by my side. I… I mean… If you hate New York and want to stay in Seoul instead,” he hemmed and hawed, “I would be happy to cross the ocean again as long as you’ll be waiting for me at the other side. But if you want to come back to the US, I’ll be fine with that as well. In Seoul, New York or Connecticut… I can call any place my home as long as you’re with me. This time, as my real wife.”

You felt tears gathering in the brims of your eyes. “As… as your wife?”

“As my wife.” He nodded. “You want me to repeat that again?”

“Yes, please.” You blinked, your shoulders starting to tremble.

“Perhaps, you rather want to read it,” he dismissed softly and reached into the inner pocket of his tuxedo to pull out a sheet that he carefully unfolded and handed over to you.

You read attentively.

MARRIAGE CERTIFICATE APPLICATION

of

Jeong Yuno

and

….

There it was. His real name. Your real name. 

This was real.

You looked up to him, the tears now streaming down your face, and you desperately tried to dry them with the back of your hand.

“If we get all your papers together, we can apply tomorrow and be officially married by next week.”

You could barely see through the blurry curtain of tears. 

“This time, for real?” 

you asked as Yuno, as his real name was, took your hands into his, and it felt just like the first time when you had walked along the streets of the little countryside village.

“This time, for real,” he promised.

[dulcewrites]

Fool Me Once (part 4)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 4.5k)

Summary: Your paranoia spikes as the safety of your children is put into question. Familiar faces come to King’s Landing as the fight for power continues to grow.

A/N: When I posted the first part, I had no idea this would be the response i get, let alone that I would be making multiple parts. I’m so grateful for all the support I have gotten, and I hope to keep writing hotd stuff y’all enjoy. This part will span events that happened in ep 8 of the show. Ep 9 and 10 will be part 5 🫶🏽🫶🏽. Hope y’all like it, and PLEASE come talk to me. Love chatting about fmo

Fmo masterlist

You tried to make it to your chambers without disturbing the party. Your father seemed confused by you sudden departure after Jayne pulled you away from him.

Ser Quinton insisted going into the chambers before you. There was a sick part of you that hoped she was in there. Waiting for Aemond; or better yet, waiting for you. At least if you saw her, you would feel less… mad. The descent to insanity may be held off by finally putting a face to worst time of your life. You think about the knife trick Quinton had taught you, and if he was right when he said it led to a slow death.

Your bottom lip wobbles when you walk into the room and see red. Alaric’s cot is smeared with blood. Whoever did this did not go to his nursery, they came here knowing you also have a place for him when he is extra restless in the night.

Quinton gives you a look. He can tell you are about to panic and reaches out for your arm. Lord Larys stands there, a dubious look on his face.

“You know it is quite rude to leave you own party. Mother told me to come get you,” Aegon strolls in casually with a lazy smile, and goblet in his hand. His smile falters when he sees the blood and the look on your face. “Seven Hells.”

“We need to tell the Queen,” Quinton pipes up after a beat of silence.

Your mind strays to what Alicent could have said to her son. What Aemond could have said to Alys. The woman that have haunted your thoughts for moon now being in Red Keep… in the room where you rest your head.

You look down at the bloody box, your hands stained red. Time seems to slow down and speed up as you think of what to do.

“This is your house sigil,” you turn to Larys ignoring Quinton’s request. “She was here. That bastard witch was here. She touched my child’s things.”

There’s a vibrating anger that courses through your body. It was not good enough to have your husband, or carry his child. Now she must resort to messing your child, to trying to goad you into a something.

Well, if that is was she wants…

Lord Larys raises a single brow, looking at the box quizzically. A normally self assured and smarmy man just as put out as you. “Maybe we should follow Ser Quinton’s idea by telling Queen Alicent.”

“Tell me what? The feast is about to start.”

Alicent’s rich tone cut through the room, and the four of you turn towards the chamber doors.

“What is all of this,” she gets a familiar furrow in her brow when she sees the blood stained box in your hands. Her doe eyes going from you, to her son, to Quinton, then to Larys before landing on the bloodied cot near the bed.

Alicent rushes into the room, and over to you. You watch as her face falls when she sees Strong sigil edtched in the box and Alaric’s blanket.

“This does not make any sense,” she mutters, shaking her head.

Your eyes flicker quickly over to Aegon, who has an I told you so look on his face. It sets in that any possible reprimand that Alicent gave Aemond was also met with giving him a chance to repair the situation. He had a chance to make a choice, and still chose wrongs. Your imbecile husband.

It is almost a joke at this point. He must really enjoy making you look foolish. That is the only explanation. Before you ask Alicent what she said to him during their talk, a flash of silvery hair at the door catches your eye.

There had been times you thought about killing Aemond. A slip of poison in the goblet, or smothering him with a pillow. Even more lately since you two share a room again. Not ideas you were ever proud of, especially when you thought about your children not having their father in their lives. Living with the grief of a dead father the rest of their lives.

But there’s something about this moment that makes you think you and your kids would be just fine without him. Just fine away from all these people.

“What is going on,” Aemond cautiously walks in, clearly apprehensive of the collection of people in the room. “Your parents are asking for us.”

“Aemond, you should go ba-,” Alicent starts. She is using the voice you have heard her put on when speaking to members of court. Collected and stern.

“This is your fault,” your voice trounces out hers. You move past Alicent and throw the box at his feet. “Your whore left us a gift.”

Aemond leans down to look at Alaric’s blanket. His shoulders stiffening instantly when he sees the box. He looks over at his mother. You have learned that they have their own little language through looks. A connection that can only be expected through mother and child. It only infuriates you more.

“She would not do this.”

Aemond shakes his head in disbelief, and you throw your hands up in frustration. The blood from them now starting to stain your dress. Your favorite purple dress tainted.

“Is her cunt so magical that it is making you blind in both eyes,” you hiss. “She came into this room, and soaked your son’s blanket in blood. Gods know whose blood.”

“My wife-“

You hold a hand up to stop him.

“You have already shown you have no respect for me, but if you think I am going to let your love affair with her effect my children, you are more foolish than I thought.”

Your eyes drifts down the small dagger around his waist. One slit to the throat is all you need. There’s a strange sense of adrenaline that runs through you.

A blood lust.

“We need to all keep our composure, fighting will do no good,” Alicent steps in between you two. “…. And we must remember our stations.”

She eyes you when she says the last part of the sentence.

“Before we jump to any other conclusions, let’s get one of the maidservants to clean this room up, and I’ll see to it that extra guards are sent to all the living quarters. We will discuss how to go forward after the feast.”

Alicent grabs Aemond’s arm in an attempt to pull him out of the room. Your vision blurs with anger. Jump to conclusions? Playing coy and hurt has gotten you nowhere. Your mother was wrong all those years ago; keeping your head is not the always answer.

“That is not going to work my Queen,” Alicent turns back around with a frustrated look in her eyes. “This a threat towards Alaric. And your son’s disrespect of his marriage is directly responsible; what other conclusion is there?”

She sighs before walking back over to you. Alicent takes your hand softly and lays the other over yours.

“Sweetling, do not let jealousy cloud your judgment,” the sweet tone of her voice makes your throat tight. “Anger will not change what happened.”

There is something about the way she is looking at you that reminds of when you used to go hunting with your father. A hobby you hated, but were forced to do when you were younger. You are the doe or wild sheep being toyed with before being slaughtered. Made submissive once the chase is too much to bear.

She hopes you will eventually grow tired of running. That you will take each blow gracefully… Just like she has, just like is expected of a dutiful wife. Is that not what sacrifice is; to become a cold carcass for the dragons to feed on.

Even with people on your side in the room, you have never felt so alone.

“He’s your grandson,” there’s a desperation in your voice that makes you feel so small. Your eyes move past her to Aemond. “He is your blood.”

Your husband is the one that set this all into motion, and you still have to be the one the beg for sympathy. Sympathy for you, and for your children.

“You know I would not want anything to happen to him,” Aemond addressed you with a low voice. Alicent nods in agreement. You bite your tongue that you taste blood.

“Fine, if you both want to make this right, we can do this my way,” you return the farcical sweet voice.

Alicent’s brown eyes darken a bit. As if she knows where you are going with this. You let go of her hand to turn towards Ser Quinton and Lord Larys.

“I want her gone… permanently.”

Quinton’s eyes widen a bit. There had been hushed whispers in the past. Funnily enough, your chivalric knight had the same idea Aegon did. Kill her before it gets too far.

“Sweet daughter, you are not thinking clearly,” the desperation that was once in your voice has now transferred to Alicent’s.

“She made a threat against the son of a Prince of the Realm. That is treason, and calls for punishment.”

“That is enough,” Aemond raises his voice. An unwavering glare pointed on your direction. “This discussion is over.”

You stare in disbelief as he walks out the room. Alicent looks as if she wants to say something, but just sighs and follows her son out. Lord Larys does not even give you a glance as we walks by, trying to catch up to Alicent. Silence permeates in the room, as you stare at the door. Foolishly expecting one of them to turn back around.

“We can figure something out,” Aegon finally speaks up.

A lump grows in your throat. You look down at the dried blood on your hands and dress.

“Give me the room please,” you mutter to him and Quinton. Neither of them move. “I need to change. Just please go.”

Your voice cracks at the end. They both have seen you cry before, more times than you are proud of. But there is something different about this time. More painful; more humiliating. You do not want to be seen this way.

“I will be outside if you need me,” Quinton says softly.

When the door finally shuts, your legs give out from under you. A sob caught in your throat as you take in the room. Your watery eye land on the chest full of dresses. Some a deep red, others vivid green. Pristine and pressed.

Your life sullied… just like your favorite purple dress.

The feast goes as expected. People dote on Daella and Alaric. Aemond and Alicent keep their distance; Alicent spares you sympathetic glances when she thinks you are not looking. Your mother does not seem to pick up on your discomfort. Your father, on the other hand, continues to give you puzzled looks throughout. Especially when you came back in a different dress.

There was a rush of relief that follows when your father suggest the children visiting your home. Anything that gets you away from King’s Landing is welcomed. Even if it is for a short time.

Your worries seems to get push to the side when news of Lord Corlys Velaryons declining health hits the Red Keep. The Queen, who already spends her days caring for a sick king, must now concern herself with the issues that arise from a sick lord.

Daella and Alaric have not left you sight. Much to her surprise and enjoyment, you even joined Daella in the Dragonpit and in the library for her lessons. The constant vigilance extends to them coming with you to the Grand Sept.

Jayne keeping them company, and Quinton watching on as you kneel in front of the candles.

There is so much for you to pray for, you do not know where to begin. Before you eyes can flutter shut, a voice interrupts you.

“I was hoping to find you here,” the familiar deep timber of Lord Hightower’s voice.

He kneels beside you with a gruff groan. Otto Hightower is not a man you speak with often, and by choice. An intimating man through and through.

“I am glad to see you are well,” he starts blowing out one of the incense sticks. “Especially after what happened at the feast.”

As Hand of the King, and now acting in place of Viserys as his health declines, it should not surprise you he knows. It is his job to know everything, but mentions of your behavior still makes you shift nervously.

“It is a shamed. What bullishness can bring; Aemond has always been too proud for his own good, even when wrong.”

You furrow your eyes, and turn to look at him as he continues.

“You and your children are very important to this family, especially now,” he says softly.

He means your money is important to him. He means the fleet that sits on the outside west of Westeros is important to him.

“So, if you still want that problem taken care of permanently. There are those that would be happy to find her and do that.”

Talk of murder in the sept… the irony is not lost on you. Killing Alys means possibly murdering a child. It was one the reasons why you felt so guilty about what happened at the feast. Larys had told you sick rumors, one about what she does to her children. Though your expectation of her are low, you can not imagine even her doing such heinous things. Her state leaves you utterly confused.

Your silence seems to give him all the answers he needs.

“I will leave you to your prayers,” Otto starts to get up.

Alaric’s babbling grows as Daella rubs his head while Jayne holds him. Your babies.

You grab Otto’s hand before he can fully get up.

“After the deed is done, bury her near Harrenhal. Let her be on her ancestral home,” you say lowly, eyes trained on your children before flittering over to his.

Otto gives you a head and a smile before getting up.

Targaryens take care of their own. It is time you do the same. The Mother will understand.

Aemond is tense, even more than usual. At first you thought he knew. That maybe he could smell the anguish on you. The suspicions of him knowing about you giving his grandsire the go ahead diminished when you learned that Rhaenyra and her family were coming back to the Red Keep.

With the Driftmark claim up in the air, the castle is expecting many visitors.

A part of you can not blame Aemond for being on guard. The history between the other side of his family is bad for obvious reasons. There will also be a divide and uneasy feeling now.

It is the anxious feeling that washes over when you see Prince Daemon walking towards you. Instinctively clutch Alaric closer to you, bouncing him as he begins to fuss. With all the self-assurance in the world, there is something eye catching about the bravado Daemon Targaryen has. His confidence would be a trait you admired if it did not often go hand in hand with his arrogance.

The last time you saw the Prince was at your wedding. A surprise to everyone, especially Alicent and Viserys. The joy Viserys showed when seeing his brother dimmed when Daemon made it clear he was not staying afterwards. Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena, his daughters, sending well wishes and gorgeous jewelry. Pearls from the Driftmark Seas and rubies earrings that you are sure from Pentos. Your family frequented Pentos during the summers when you were younger, the three of you crossing paths briefly during that time.

His appearance at your wedding was a confusing to both Aemond and you, especially since he came alone. No Rhaenyra in sight. A crude choice on the princess’ part your mother remarked.

“Ah there is my niece and my grandnephew,” his smile is bright. Brighter than you expected considering why he is here, and the state his brother is in.

You were expecting a cold reception, one to the match the treatment they received. You exchanged a knowing look with Aegon when all of you were told not to greet them on their arrival.

A fake smile fights to replace the furrowed look on your face.

“Prince Daemon, I hope your trip from Dragonstone was well,” you catch how his eyes instantly go to Alaric in your arms. The Godswood is quiet except for you two, and the sound of chirping birds.

“Would have been smoother on dragon back,” he shrugs. “I am glad to see all is well.”

He holds his arms out expectedly. You blink at him, and his blinks back; realizing he is not one to back down, you gently hand over Alaric. Alaric tiny hand reaches out to touch the shiny material of Daemon’s coat.

Daemon resolves brightens even more when Alaric is placed in his arms. You know him and Rhaenyra have had children, with one on the way. You wonder if that positive disposition has been shown to Baela and Rhaena. Or even to Rhaenyra’s other children.

“He looks like his father,” he gives you a sly smile. This time you can not try to muster up a fake smile. “How is he, your husband?”

He is goading you. Even from the handful of times you have been around Daemon, you know he likes playing these games. Riddles and leg pulling; he likes knocking people on their asses. It is the warrior in him.

“He is doing well,” short and sweet, the best way to go you think. Daemon gives you smirk in return. As if in his head, he is laughing at a joke that you are clearly not in on. You tilt your head in confusion.

“That is good to hear,” he does nothing to squash the curious look on your face. The uneasiness comes back. Thankfully before it can go any further, Helaena calls your name from across the garden, stating that Daella wanted to show you something. You can tell by the smile she gives you, it is a lie. You are once again reminded of why you are eternally grateful to call her sister.

“Duty calls.”

His tone is light but his eyes say something more. What they say is something you are still unsure of. He hands Alaric back to you. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on your back.

The fleeting happiness you got from seeing Baela and Rhaena came to a screeching halt once the petitions are heard the Great Hall.

Who held the throne of Driftmark after Lord Corlys eventually passes was of no consequences. Everyone knew this was for something bigger. To call Lucerys Velaryon’s claim into question meant calling his mother’s as well. There was a sense of disappoint that tugs at you when the doors swept open to show a hunched, and rotting Viserys. His ability to prioritize Rhaenyra over his other children should not surprise you, but as a mother it still makes you upset. You can’t imagine not fiercely defending both of your kids equally. You see the looks on Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena’s faces; it tells you everything, more than the look on Rhaenyra’s.

You raise a brow at Rhaena from across the room when her grandmother announces her and her sister’s betrothals. She shrugs back at you. You want to let out a sardonic laugh. Another generation of girls bound by what good for their parents, bound by what will be good for others.

Thoughts are broken by Lord Vaemond Velaryon’s angry words ringing out. His actions may not be what you have done, but you understand his ire. There is a irony to House Targaryen, one that fiercely protects its own blood to the point of incest, snuffing out another house.

Daemon has a look in his eye. Much like the one he gave you when he asked about Aemond. He is itching for a reason to say or do something. Vaemond gives the perfect opportunity.

Loud gasp fall over the Great Hall when Vaemond body and head hit the ground… separate from each other. Both Helaena and you instinctively turn away in shock. You do not consider yourself a squeamish person, but there is something about it that makes your stomach churn. Aemond’s hand goes to yours, and he squeezes it. You can’t remember the last time you two have held hands.

It could be the obviously grotesque nature of it all. Or how inconsequential lives seem to those who get in the way of this family. It makes you think of Alys. Are you like that now? Years of being in this family making it easy for you to digest moving pieces on a board?

Vaemond’s body gets carried out, with Rhaenys following closely behind. The Queen Who Never Was; life riddled with loss, and now her good brother can be added to the list. You wait for Aemond to let go of your hand, but once Rhaenyra and Alicent finish watching Viserys leave the Great Hall, she sets her eyes on you.

“I was hoping we could have tea,” she eyes Aemond who makes no effort to move from semi in front of you.

Rhaenyra is a hard person to say no to, and she clearly knows it. So, when you simply nod, she gives you smile. She holds out her arm for you to take it. As you two walk out of the Great Hall, you look back. You expect to see Aemond or Aegon looking at you, but instead your eyes catch Alicent’s.

A sad look of longing etched into her pretty face.

“They are darling,” Rhaenyra remarks in a hushed tone as you two watch Daella interact with little Aegon and Viserys. Alaric resting near the two of you.

Jayne had made sure tea and mini tarts had been brought to the Princess’ chambers.

“I am secretly hoping this one is a girl.”

She smiles softly at you, rubbing her swollen belly. You know she must crave that bond between mother and daughter, especially after the untimely death of her own.

“I was surprised you wanted to have tea,” the small talk was sweet, but you knew it was leading to something else. Your walls up even more after your conversation with her husband.

“I was worried that you might have took me not coming to your wedding as… a slight on you,” she starts. “That was never the case. I just felt that it would be best for me and my children to stay away.”

Outside of the snide comment made my your mother and Alicent, her absence did not concern you. You keep that you think Aemond was happy she was not there to yourself. It had been years, and you could count on one hand how many times you thought about it.

“Jacaerys was quite upset with me,” she laughs a bit. “I think he wanted to see if it was actually happening. Uncle Aemond getting married to pretty girl from court.”

You did not return the laugh. You knew little of her oldest boys, the only things you have heard came from Aemond and Aegon. Not positive representations you are sure.

“As we move past that, I want to say that if you need anything, I am here. If you need any help… any advice or a place to stay. You are welcome at Dragonstone.”

The words make your wandering eyes snap to hers. Rhaenyra gives you a look. The Realm’s Delight sitting across from you in all her glory. Her form of intimidation is different from her husband or her half brothers. A presence that is hard to come by, and even more difficult to replicate.

They know.

You don’t know how, but they do. They are dangling it in front of your face. Taunting you, and your crumbling marriage. Showing weakness at this point will do you no good, not until you have proof or an explanation.

“Thank you Princess,” you lean over to pick up Alaric gently. You need to get out of here. “If I need any advice on fickle men, I will come to you. I know have your fair share of experience with that.”

Rhaenyra’s confident look flatters a bit. She hums softly.

“Daella love, let us go see how grandmother is doing,” you pick an excuse to leave. The mention of Alicent makes Rhaenyra frown. Her light eyes darkening with sadness.

As you leave the the Princess’ chambers, it comes to you. How the hell did Aemond and Alys even meet?

You have seen first hand that being around her grandchildren is the only time Alicent happy. Unabashedly sweet and warm; dimples on full display. The two of you had not had a real conversation since the feast, but you knew better than to keep your kids away from their grandmother. It was the quickest way to anger her.

“Rhaenyra would not do that,” her tone reminds you so much of her son. So certain, as if it was an insult to question the virtue of the people they… love. “Maybe she actually wants to help.”

“They both know. I cannot explain it, but they know about Alys or they at least know she was here.”

Her shoulder slump as Alaric reaches out to touch the large seven pointed star dangling from her neck. Alicent’s ability to defend Rhaenyra will always leave you a bit speechless. If one of the boys ever said something disparaging about their half-sister, Alicent was the first to give them a warning look. She was allowed to be upset, they were not. A fractured relationship being held together by longing.

“I understand it…. How hard it is,” you shuffle closer to her. “Having your mind consumed by someone who does not extend that same grace for your feelings.”

“I did not think she would go after the children,” Alicent whispers. “I get why you would want her…”

She trails off. Her big eyes get glassy, and she swallows thickly. She does not say anything as she looks into fire. She reminds you of a painted tapestry. Beautiful and tragic.

“Princess Rhaenyra may not have orchestrated anything. But do we put it past Prince Daemon?”

“We will figure it out,” Alicent says after a bit of silence. “You are right, something is off.”

A thought comes to your mind. “Do you know what Prince Daemon for Aemond as wedding gift?”

Daemon never got you a gift, simply giving you the ones Baela and Rhaena sent. But you vividly remember him getting Aemond something. Alicent thinks for a second for her brows raise in realization.

“A book of stories about warriors from the across the Realm,” how was he putting that to good use, “Oh, a map of the red keep. I silly wedding gift if you ask me.”

She shrugs. Your eyes go to fire to. A map seems inconsequential enough, but as your growing paranoia seeps into everything it becomes clear.

You must find this map.

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